Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1872-04-02
Gb aap spp: adlmeser. GuesOap Munng, sprI 9, 1872

Shelley has embodied in art more fully than any
other poet the great ideas which are to this very
day the inspiration, the vital faith of progress
sive minds; that Of individual freedom rs the
basis of order; that of the periectibity of the
race and of its social redemption upon this
earth. His poetry springs out of these great
conceptions a tree from its root; they pervade
il as the sunshine permeatcs and Overtiows
cloud; they give form and perfume and color
to every flower that blossoms from his genius.
An interesting comparison might be drawn
between Shelley and Shakespeare, for Of all
poets that ever lived, they offer the most strik-
ing contrast, they are to the most remarkable
degree compliments of each other. The exact
reverse OF FALL that | have said of Shakespeare
is tUle of Shelley. In ShakeSpeare's poems you
seek in vain for an expression of impassioned
ldeality, of sublime aspiration; even in the most
tanciiul song that Shelley wrote YOU hear the
echo, you catch the reverberation of his central
thought. 1t is the glory of Shakespeare to have
peopled the world OF art with a real flesh and
blood humanity, as it were; it is the weakness
of Shelley that he could not wrest himself suffi
GENTLY from his beloved enthralling IDEAS to de-
scribe the world as it really is; it is the glory of
Shelley TO have scared highest of any poet who
ever lived in the region of pure deality; it is the
limitation of Shakespeare that into this heaven
of heavens he never entered. In the spirit world
/ think Shelley and Shakespeare must be lovers.
They must have found and in completing each
other have become the highest ideal the mind
cdii conceive uI Il poet soul.
If Miss Vaughan lectures next winter, as she
now thinks of doing, she will be God send to
yceums, with her undiluted thoughts, her bril-
liant style, her deep genuine feeling, and her
knowledge of literature.
The popularity of the theatres is as great as in
mid winter. Night after night the Black Crook
crowds the Boston; and Forrest fills the Globe
Everybody praises the Black Crook, and nobody
seems to be disturbed by it. The ST. James does
not fare so well-a vigorous protest has appear
ed against the indecency of Miss Ida dc We're,
one of the ST. James stars; but in what way Miss
de We're oflends above all her other undraped
and animated sisters of the ballet can not tell;
for | have not seen any of this years dancers
Our amusements are strange things to think Of
The Black Crook and King Lear! Lear is put
upon the stage with handsome costumes, uncom-
monty good scenery, and an effective imitation
OF Il thunder storm; the Globe company play
well, and Mr.. Forrest is woodworking king.
His acting is, in the main, dignifed; but the
scene where he curses his daughter is out
rageous. He throws his sceptre round, aud
raves and roars furiously, while Regain and
Goneri shrek, strike stage attitudes, and stop
their ears. In the midst OF the noise my quiet
neighbor, who is theatre lover, and the kind
Hest of critics, murmurs with kind OF despair
ing patience, "What an unpleasant family"
The mild condemnation was in delightful con-
traSt with the violent offense. Mr.. Forrest as
we said, PLAYS with dignity and power; he has
wonderful tones in his voice, and makes the
most of them to express grief and tenderness
80. T,,. 10,
only astonishing and painful But why should
such play be Iput upon the stage, even if
Forrest does play it well9 1t is web of vile
ness aud fury. All crimes are committed and
discussed; there is nothing suggestcd-thefe
are no delicate touches-the coarseness is bald
and brutal. The fits Of fury are disgusting; the
two oldest daughters are hard specimens of de-
pravity; the real insanity Of the king and the
feigned insanity of Edgar are inexpressby
painful; everything that can add to the depress
ing influence is brought forward and heaped
upon you-the long storm, the dreary wood, the
uncomfortable rags, madness, ingratitude blind
ness, loneliness, treachery, an awful catalogue
of crimes, and at the very last, Cordelia's body
is brought in with the rope by which
she was hanged, still dangling from her
neck. There is not one gmmer of light in this
night of horrors The old king dies wholly
wretched, and only half sane; the sweet Corde-
liza, the base Edmund, the dramatic and wronged
Edgar, the sturdy, faithful Kent, the weak,
kindly, mumbling Gloster, the hateful sisters,
all alike come to grief; virtue and vice, courage
and cowardice, crime and love alike end in an
guish, disappointment and death; and the stage
version has an additional touch of misery not
to be found in the popular editions. 1t ignores
Cordelias marriage with the king of France;
makes Edgar her chosen lover, keeps them
apart till the last, when the broken-hearted
lover and broken-brained father stand together
by the dead body with the dangling rope.
This is what we see on the stage. Notwith-
standing the comfort of the theatre, its artistic
mechanical appointments and good music, |
cannot think amusement is the proper word to
apply TO a combination of scenes fit for the pri-
yate cells of a mad-hOuse, and for the records of
the police and criminal court. Even the fine
touches which occasionally appear are pathetic,
and add fresh grief to the crushed and saddened
heart. For instance, when Lear, in the scene
with Edgar and Kent, one disguised as a mad
man, and the other as a fool, says, "What, have
his daughters brought him to this pass p
Could'st thou save nothing? Didst thou give
them alp the tenderness and beauty of For
rests, acting could not be surpassed Indeed, all
his mild insanity was great acting, and the
greater the acting the more painful the per-
Torrance.