Washington sentinel., 1854-04-08

pTtScultllOu WOuiu udtt RNeu IcE tuc lbuiSi
of the tragic muse, and have entitled her to
that repose from further effort, which rewards
the miner Of Golconda, who brings forth the
jewel which outshines all the former brilliants
in his sovereign's diadem.
If this is enthusiasm, it is shared with us by
more than a thousand people who we're present
at the Metropolitan on the occasion referred to;
and we will add, that the folly, If such It IS,
was united in by an amount OF intelligence
| that can scarcely be got together IN any chance
| audience in the world. The positions OF many
| of the spectators, too, is worthy OF remark.
| Above the rank and file OF general respecta-
| blity that filled the house, might have been
| noticed the governor and lieutenant governor
of the State, two-thirds of the senate and as
sembly, Judges of the supreme court, Generals
Wool and Foote, nearly the entire press, and
a brilliant array of ladies, representing the
choicest society of San Francisco. From all
of these we have not yet heard a dissentient
opinion; and, as far as we have gathered that
opinion, the one expression IS, that 1T was the
greatest histrionic effort that each and all had
ever seen. Many among those spectators had
not been much impressed by Miss Heron be-
fore, and some were converted from state OF
entire doubt. AS for ourselves, our apprecia-
tons were reached to depth, which our for.
mer notices of her but inadequately represent,
and hence our desire, at time SO appropriate
as the close of her late engagement, to do her
the justice she deserves.
The style of Miss Heron is a most peculiar
one. When you first see her, it jars with all
your preconceiyed notions of what you have
considered "acting" There is nothing of the
actress about her, and your first impression is,
that she has mistaken her vocation; indeed,
you will scarcely escape a sensation of concern
at her impending modification. Generally, in
her earlier scenes, there is an utter absence OF
effort, and she sails along, touching only the
| top waves of critical observation, and making
no impression by her lighter and more quiet
excellences on the heavier flood. In this
gliding ease consists her deepest art. She
never attempts to be grand before her subject
warrants it but when she has gathered suff-
cient warmth and vitality from her character,
she rises with the story of the piece, and re-
serves her intensest powers until it breaks into
its climax. Her very style, therefore, which
some Of her present admirers first condemned
as aneren, is, like all her particular points,
founded on the deep philosophy of nature.
Life itself is one continual progression.
Point by point it travels to Its climax, and
loses portion Of its interest as soon as it de-
clines. The same philosophy governs the laws
Of taste. To satisfy an audience, a performer
must progress in merit from the first scene to
the last. 1t will not do to begin well, and con-
tnue only as well as he commenced; but he
must end better than he began. lie must not
stand still for evenness pals, and sinks below
the appetite, and becomes demerit.
We admit, therefore, that the style of Miss
Heron is fuctuating and uneven; but it is the
unevenness of nature which takes repose be-
tween great efforts, and makes mountains by
carving valleys in between. This was the un-
evenness that made Kean great; an uneven
ness that is described to us by one who saw
him in Othello, as making him look in the first
two acts like little slipshod tailor, but which,
in the third, increased him to the measure of a
giant-nay, to Jove, with his lightnings shoot
ing through his fingers! This, too, was the
unevenness of Matilda Heron, when, after
dropping through the sodden sentiment of Mrs.
Haller, she rose at the end of the fourth act
where she first meets the Stranger, to pitch
of dignity, which one of the audience impul
sively described as sixteen feet highr
1t is this unevenness, this burning and wa
ming of her genius, which makes her require so
deep an attention to be appreciated. Those
who see her, by dropping in ON her performan-
ces for an act or two, will never like her much:
those who converse through her scenes, by way
Of enlightening dull neighbor with captious
criticism, will never do their own opinions jus
tice, or give her fair chance but if they vii
sit still, and patiently take lesson in this new
style Of nature our word for it, she will capture
them into disciples before the lesson is over
1t is this habit of critics, of drifting in and out
| upon play, and Of giving their attention piece
meal, which doubtless was the prime cause why
Miss Heron, though well approved, was not fully
appreciated in the Atlantic States. The same
course kept Edmund Kean obscure for years,
rejected Byron, and has discouraged every new
merit that came forward to conflict with the set
notions Of the world. This desultory kind OF
observation will do to measure the merits of a
performer Of the old school. One scene will test
the lungs and walk and gesture Of such candi-
date, and give tolerable index of all that is to
follow but such examination will not suffice to
decide the merits of a new genius or a new in
vention.
We do not relinquish our prejudces, our
habits Of thought, or pride of opinion, at mo-
ments summons. Innovations must have time
and patience, and deliberate attention; but, af
ter they have once won their way to our appre-
Citations, the conquest is good forever.
| The chief peculiarity of Matilda Heron's style,
is its quiet intensity in the passages where
others rave; and in this, as in the grand ex-
preston OF her face, she exhibits her remarka-
BILE likeness to Rachel. Without correspond
ence with the French artistic, and apparently
almost without study, she has discovered the
trait Of nature to exhibit its strongest throes in
a condensed and smothered energy; and the
same low Kissing speech, which, in the mouth
of the French woman is louder than the thunder,
and chills the listeners blood, is frequently EN-
ployed with the equal effect by this new rival
for her fame. This was first given by Miss
Heron in the poisoning scene Of Juliet, (the
trial scene for all female candidates for the
honors of the tragic muse) but in which Matilda
Heron, outstripping all, became the tragic
muse herself
None who saw that scene will ever forget it.
Her preparation to take the draught, her sus-
picion of the friar, her conjuration of the hor.
rors of the tomb, her pursuit and shrinking
from the ghost of Tybalt with her eyes, and her
final awakening to find herselfin her own cham.
Der, with her parents in the adjoining room,
were given with such close and terrible effect,
that it pressed upon the audience like a weight,
and the only applause which she received for a
few seconds, was deep-drawn breath of relief.