Star.
London, England, 1829-10-06 00:00:00

COVENT GARDEN THEATRE.

The opening of Covent Garden Theatre for the sea-.
son, and the announcement of Miss KEMILLE'S debut
in the charac where uliet, hurried us at an early hour to
the Theatre ; notwithstanding all our expedition,
we arrived too late to obtain a comfortable seat. Wedged
closely in by a sturdy crowd, we stood in anxious ex-
pectation of the Rising Star ; and, as a fear of disapt
pointment shot sometimes across our mind, we thought
of our trampled corns and martyred sides with a groan.
Mrs. St DDOI4IB was our idol—Jou KEM ate the very
standard of our judgment in scenic art. The transcen-
dent powers of these highly cultivated tragedians first
inspired in us that love of the Drama which, through all
the change of years and travel, has never been weakened.
We have seen the Talma and the Mars, in the zenith
of their reputation; and have witnessed all that the stage
can produce in talent throughout Europe. But
n Doris and KEMBLE still remain the first in our
recollections ; and we fear a century must elapse
" before you look upon their like again." Forcibly
drawn to the new candidate by the attractive name
of KEXBLE, while fancy speculated in a thousand Sid-
donian associations, we could not but smile at our own
eagerness for the play ; and triumphed to find the heart
and the fancy just as warm as when, beardless and un-
experienced, in the drama of life, we patiently suffered
Our young sides to be crushed to mummy, to enjoy the
luxury of imagination, transformed almost to reality, by
the divine acting of the uncle and aunt. Still these
recollections made us apprehend': we might not feel
indulgent—the talents of &Orions being a for-
midable scale indeed by which to measure 'the
merits of a debutante. On the other hand, we regretted
that Romeo and Juliet was chosen for the occasion.
We have seen it so often mangled, that we have long
only enjoyed it in our closets. It is an ungrateful play
for acton m general. The Poet is so rich in his con-
ceptions here—has thrown so bright a halo round his
fiction—so playful, so diversified ; while giving full,
career to all his wildness and warm passion, he has ap-
proached so very near the line it requires the greatest art
in the declaimer not to make him bound like buffoonery
or fustian, while almost every English reader has em-
bodied, in early enthusiasm, a Romeo and a Juliet in his
own mind, the artist rarely can come up to.
At the rising of the curtain, we were saluted, as usual
on the opening occasion, with• the National Arithem,
chaunted in chorus by the whole dramatic force of the
Theatre. But never did an anthem appear so long—the
hundred and nineteenth psalm seemed an ariette in com-
parison. At length, after submitting to those murderers
of all effect—the ranting ABBOT, and that thing of legs
and arms Mr. BAKER—the moment arrived, and Juliet
herself appeared upon the stage. We were, at first,
struck with the symmetry of her person—carried with a
demeanour which gave an appearance of taller stature
than we found she really possessed. Her countenance,
which we had shaped in thought after the Queen-like
face of St DDON s, seemed not of the majestic : dark, well-
proportioned, and expressive; but unaccompanied, we at
first thought, with that fire of the soul, we are api to
think, should play around the eye of talent. At last she
spoke—her tones reashed the very heart, and at once
captivated all our sympathy. When Romeo shortly after
presents himself, and requests to kiss her hand, the coun-
tenance—gradually lighted up—proved at once that she
felt and could depict a passion.. Timid and reserved
before her new lover, he no sooner retires then, with a
burst of nature, aboUriloning herself ,to confidence in
her old Nurse, she eagerly exclaims :
" What's he that is now going out of door ?"
we do not recollect this trait in any former actress—
the question being generally demanded in a subdued
tone of dissimulated feeling —we prefer the latter
mode as more faithful to the Author's conception
of his artless heroine. The rising vivacity of her man-
ner at the *conclusion of this scene began to realize
the fondest hope. Then came the garden, which was
to be the ordeal of her merits. The audience became
hushed with intense interest in this trial, which was to
decide the dramatic fate of a KEMBLE. Every eye and
ear was strained to catch the least movement or sound ;
but when, in her passionate musings, she ejaculated—
* 0, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name :
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no beget be a Capulet"—
Her voice, swelling with emotion—seeming to convey
the sigh from: her heart—thrilled to the very soul of the
coldest. When she thus questions him,
" How cant'st thou hither
the seeming desire to ascertain herself to be the object
of his nocturnal search was displayed with a nature
which made us forget ourselves and Miss KerinLe—to
fancy we were contemplating a Juliet of reality, and not
of fiction. As the scene progressed, her fervour in-
creased ; till, yielding with all • the seeming candour of a
young heart to the voluptuous delirium of a first innocent
love, she communicated the delicious intoxication to the
audience ; and we—even we—so long hardened in
matter of fact, felt ready" to shake our years away," and
offer up existence at her feet. After this, there was no
victory to be gained—her triumph was complete—she had
stormed every heart, and led us on with admiration till
the curtain dropped,—where the whole of her per-
formance still clung to the memory like the last lingering
sound of some delicious music, or soft recollections of a
recent dream. As she entered into the Jeep business of
her part, and exerted all her force in the heart-rending
tragic, she swelled into importance, till the clear accents
of her beautiful voice—managed with exquisite energy
and pathos—gloriously demonstrated her atfinity to that
genius who was the Melpomene of her age.
If she had faults, the first rate order of her beauties
redeemed them all. There was, perhaps, a flurry in her
acting, which she will soon correct ; and an occasional
whining in passages of complaint that is out of fashion,
and now unproductive of effect. It is not the expression
of nature. She has been taught this from her pre-
ceptors of the old school ; but as the natural seems to
be her passion, she will soon throw aside all antiquated
mannerisms. Fault has been found with her conception
of the scene in which she swallows the sleeping draught,
as being an extravaganza—unfaithful to truth.. This,
we deny. The language of the poet is descriptive of
delirious feeling. It is the fevered distraction of a young
thing—torn by contending emotions, and driven by des-
peration to an awful act. The bold trait of picturing
the phantom of Tybalt, at which she seems to point
with her finger, is an admirable thought ; and the at-
titude of her person, while she kneels, is a study for the
statuary. We shall take leave of her to-day—shortly,
we hope, to felicitate her as the acknowledged Queen of
English Tragedy.
The whole of the other parts, with the exception of
Mrs. DAVENPORT'S Nurse and CHAS. KEMBLE'S Mer-
cutio, were wretchedly supported : spch a Romeo would
damn any Juliet. Madame DAVENPORT'S costume was
that of the 17th century. KEN at..E was equally badly
dressed, and nothing like the .3fercutio of.aur thoughts.
'We were highly amused to observe a modern London,