New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1873-04-29

----
provincial Press will breathe with freedom,
for then its lofty standard of civic criticism
will be satisfied. "Swift fly the days, and rise
"the expected morn! Oh spring to light,
"Auspicious Babe, be bornw ..-
Meanwhile, in the interval of patient waiting,
it is the greatest comfort and happiness thus TO
anticipate tho Coming Daniel. Fallen, criti-
caly speaking, upon dark days, there is plainly.
nothing left US but the blessed privilege OF
this rosy hope. How dark these days are, in
their utter lack Of truthful dramatic criticism,
we might not, perhaps. have fully realized,
but for the luminous testimony of newspapers
vouchsafed to us from the Sockets and Tuck
cts of virtuous interior These sweet re-
membrancers, not permitting themselves to
fall prey to cOncealment, have done their
duty, however, have spoken out their minds,
have shown us at once our peril and our
refuge-and we are saved. We understand
now--and we think the local public ought to
understand it-that far too much has been
expected of the frail human nature Of dramatic
critics There's such divinity doth hedge
about Duff or o Daily, there's such an awful
glory doth enwrap Wallack or Booth,
there's such scorching radiance doth cxude
from p. r. Barnum, George Wood, OF
Dan Bryant, that no ordinary man should be
required to speak of either of them in any
other way than with bated breath and whis-
"pered humbleness." Even as Marc Antony
felt his genius to be rebuked in the presence
of Casar's so do our doughtiest scribes feel
themselves to quake under the eagle glance
of Fox or a Tony Pastor. Well may they
tremble Well, moreover, may they lie supine
or in any other way that will bring them
off! For, not only are they thus overwhelmed
by individual greatness, but they are likewise
stunned, and as it were, dwarfed, not to say
petrifed, by the magnitude of the topics upon
which it is their mission to think. IL we
have no able and honest dramatic criticism In
New York, at least we have great actors. 1t is
race of giants: and what can poor pigmy do but
to take off the hat of respect and step humbly
into the gutter of security, when he beEolds
these Lords Of human kind pass by, Pride
=" in each port, defiance in each eye1" That
this is what he does do, at any rate, our cOun-
try friends are cOnvinced-and we arc not go
ing to deny it. How could we--rememberiDg
the black trousers, the patent leather boots,
the blonde wigs, and the masterpieces of
Worth that have so often bowed us down into
the dust of humility How could we-remem-
bering the wondrous series of plays, in which
the dollars and the adulterous pastimes OF our
population have been revealed only less clearly
than the stupendOus force of the native dra-
matte brain of the period 1t is not to be
denied. There is no way out of it. The more
We think of it the more our wonder grows
that dramatic critics in this metropolis
have survived at all. But the Coming
Daniel, when at last he gets to
Judgment, will change all this. For him there
will be no terror in the romantic eye OF Dir.
Booth or the romantic eYe-glass of Mr. Wal
lack. UnmOved will his meditatiye glance
repose upon the slender symmetry of Mr..
Duff and the austere magnifcence and stately
port of Mr.. DAILY. Beauty shall not melt him
TO compassion, neither shall gold tempt him
to turn aside the lightnings of his righteous
and understanding wrath. He will be an
able-bodied Daniel and those chests of treas
ure which royal managers and aurifcrous
"stars" now deposit, with fitting contempt,
at the door of every New-YOrk dramatic
critic-alOng with his morning rolls and
milk-can-our champion shall toss back,
with lofty scOrn and with the ease of the
athlete. He will be Critical Hero, beyond
all question, and wO betide the new race of
Folairs and Snevelliccis, destined to shriyel
in his refulgence.