nise an author. To us there seems something preposterous in the idea, it is an unnatural inversion of the order of things, as if a child could patronize its father. Actors live, move, and have their beings from authoas: the poet is the breath of their nostrils, they would not have a word to say if he did not first put it into their mouths, and some of them are such bad mouth pieces that as Shakspeare said, 'I had as lief the town crier spoke my lines.' Actors are the author's puppets whose every look word, motion or gesture is prompted. The author is the Prospero who by his spells raises the spirits of which the actor is but the embodiment, and when he has played his part, he is dismissed but the author's spells still remain to evoke fresh spirits. Actors are but creatures of their creator, the author. How absurd then it is to talk of an actor patronising an author! We know that Macready, with a self-inflation, very unbecoming one in his ephemeral position, boasts of patronising authors; and those little people who fancy there is something great in Mac. ready, echo his boast. But who are the authors he has patronised—where are they to be found? Will it be alledged that Macready patronised Knowles and Bulwer, the most successful of our living dramatists. Is not the contrary more consonant to fact. Knowles was the making of Macready. The eminent' was little known and less regarded, till his impersonation of Virginius and William Tell. Was Macready the patron of Lovell, the next in success? Those whom he has patronised do not seem to be much the better for his patronage, for they still remain unknown. The fact is that Macready never had judgment to discern the merit of an unknown author, and still less had he the liberality to bring him forward. It is notorious that those pieces which have been brought on the stage at the instigation, or under the auspices of Macready have all been failures. Unless an author had a prestige of his own, this actor was incapable of giving him eclat. Of all our dramatic authors, we do not know one that acknowledges him as his patron. It is singu lar that all should be ungrateful. He has sown is seed in bad ground. But while none of our authors are found willing to own Macready as their patron, there are not a few of them who tax him with a downright design to burke them. Macready's patronage has been like that which Rolla ascribes to the eagle in respect to the lamb covering it, to devour it. We know that while he held the management of Covent Garden, and was in a position to pat. ronise, if he had chosen to, he raised a general outery against himself by his insincerity, his false promises never meant to be performed, and bis absolute betrayal of those who put their trust in him. Let us hear no more of Macready's patronage of authors; and what has he done for actors. Judging by the fruits, he has been equally unfortunate in his patronage of them The actors evince full as much ingratitude to him as the authors. Singular that all should be des void of goodness! They know best, we may suppose, where the shoe pinches. If Macready was deficient in liberality towards authors, he was more likely te be so towards actors, who come more immediately into competition with him. It is well known that wherever this monarch of the stage can exercise a despotic influence, he will not suffer the slightest competition. All those who act with him must be entirely subordinate to him he must be the one star of the night, and all others must veil their heads or shine but to give him more light-be his foils, that he may stick fiery off indeed,' This is most ungenerous towards his fellow-actors, and is anything but the behaviour of a patron-it is most unjust to the author whose piece must suffer in representa tion when all the inferior characters are com pelled to stifle their points, and it is most injuri ous to the interests of the drama, and to all cons cerned in its cause. Such an actor is the worst enemy that authors, actors, and the drama itself can possess. The fame of such an actor is not legitimate, it is obtained by discreditable, absolutely dishonest and dishonourable means. Yet this is the patron of actors: if an actor be too independant, or have too just a sense of his own merits and duties to submit to this dictatorship, he must then be denounced or bought. It was thus with Anderson-Macready jealous of his rivalry, offered him a sum of money to retain him er price on himself than the patron' set on him, in subserviency to him; but Anderson set a great and accordingly Anderson must be denounced as ungrateful. Brooke was in like manner attempt ed to be bought and gagged. Phelps broke away from the pupilage of Macready, but he has spoiled himself by imitating him. We do not reckon Macready a great actor, and those who imitate him, degrade their own talents. It is well known that both actors and actresses play with more spirit and excellence when not on the same stage with Macready, and they have only to burst their trammels to show themselves superior to him. He has exercised a very blight ing influence over the drama. In this paper we have shown his merits as a patron-in a future number we shall consider him as an actor. BOURCICAULT AS A DRAMATIST. If Bourcicault's comedies are to be taken as lively and truthful representations of the spirit and manners of the ape, we certainly should say that our high state of civilization is somewhat low. Bourcicault either mistakes his mission as a comic writer; or is entirely inadequate to it. Comedy should ridicule the vices and follies of society with the moral view of laughing them out of countenance-out of that countenance which they receive from fashion; but the writings of this dramatist have no such moral tendency-on the contrary, they are full of sinful compliance with the faults which they ought to endeavour to cor. rect or amend; just as if a tutor, sent to reprove a parcel of wild pupils, should be won by their persuasions and example to join them in their frolics and excesses. Beings whose sole prestige is derived from their vices and follies, are the characters introduced with eclat in Bourcicault's plays, and their success is in general proportioned to their violation of all the decencies and duties of civil and religious life. Certainly this picture of fashionable manners, has a degree of verisimi litude in its favour: but ought it to be drawn with an approving or a reprehensive hand-ought it to be drawn at all? At best, such comedies can but have the wishy-washy reputation which fashionable noveis have attained. We do not wish to be too severe on Bourcicault, but we had hoped that modern writers would have eschewed the licentiousness which has condemned writers of far greater talents to lie on the shelf. We were reforming our stage, and lo! comedy in the hands of this writer turns again like a dog to its vomit, and a sow to its wallowing in the mire. We regret this exceedingly, for the sake of the drama. Mr. Bourci. cault may live by pleasing those whom it would be more a virtue to offend; but how much more to his honour, if instead of pandering to vitiated tastes, he had honestly striven to restore them to a sound and pristine health. He may say that plays with a moral tendency would not be popu lar-that he would gain no money by them, and for th s pitiful considaration he is willing to sacrifice conscience, and to bow the knee to Baal. Verily he will have his reward. Why should the temple of the muses be prostituted to the worship of such idolators? Why? because the managers, that is, the door-keepers, betray their trust. We have ever held it a maxim that those who are deficient in virtue have a corresponding deficiency of talent, and his Bourcicault is an instance, Choosing frivolous creatures for his heroes, he is himself not less frivolous. His comedies are all He five-act farces. He cannot reach true comedy. The farces of O'Keefe and Foote are more deserving the name of comedies. In the first place, Borcicault has no plot or story worthy of the name, and this we take to be a fatal defect, be cause it is the chief thing to be thought of; but he has no thought, he cannot construct or invent his pieces are not works of art, nor of nature— for he possesses as little genuine feeling as under. standing, he has neither a good head nor a good heart-neither intellect nor imagination or fancy. What has he then? he has a kind of butterfly ficial, to and fro, self-diverting faculty, that flippancy and pertness-a light, skimming, superothers, as little as himself, might find amusement in pursuing for an hour, and then forgetting. Bourcicault begins at the wrong end. possesses a few smart or caustic witticisms, probably gathered in coffee-houses and noted down in his common.place book; these are his stock in trade, reserved for use, and he seeks out certain appropriate characters to utter his wares for him, flirts, coquettes, jilts, fops, &c. having got his characters, he brings them together by a kind of medley of incidents, composed of elopements, duels, etc., and you have his comedy. What can you expect from such an inversion? just what we ånd. We are entertained with small talk attempting at every word to be witty, as though the people's tongues were all pins and needles-and the characters pop in and out like the dancing Puppits on an Italian's organ-fresh acquaintan ces being introduced to us in every act, even to the last. As may naturally be expected, the stage directions form not the least important, nor least amusing part of the comedy. (To be concluded in our next.) THE NATIONAL DRAMA. We have been accustomed to hear Shakspeare entitled our National bard! but for ever hence. forth let Shakspeare hide his diminish'd head,' for lo! Webster, of the Haymarket, has published a series of dramas which he calls, National. We have not read these national dramas, but we have collected the titles of a few of them, which we think will satisfy our readers. They are as fol lows:- My young Wife and my old Umberella,' A Quarter to Nine,' 'Why did you Die?' Puss in Boots,' 'The Dancing Barber,' You Can't Marry your Grandmother,'' Did You Ever Send your Wife to Camberwell,' &c. &c. Such is Webster's National Drama! and to such low tastes are the public reduced by such like managers. But perhaps this idea of the National' is a joke of Mr. Webster; whose business is to cater for those who love fun, and who boasts of frequently exciting roars of laughter!' Well may Shaks. peare and all who love him, retire in disgust from the stage where such managers rule, and accordingly this drama of Webster is now the National Drama! Webster has been for e number of years the manager of the largest and best theatre now open in London, and yet, see his idea of the Na. tional Drama! What wonder that the stage should beve fallen into such low repute! J.W. WHAT HOPE FOR THE DRAMA? SIR.-There probably never was a time when the aspect of the drama of this country looked more inauspicious than at present. The only theatres in London where there is a probability of seeing five act plays well acted are the Haymarket and Sadler's Wells, and even then we have not a single tragedian of absolute genius, although I am disposed to consider Phelps a better actor by many degrees than he is in the estimation of your correspondent J. W. Macready and Mrs. Butler-who if not perfect, have yet high tragic merit, are gone to America, and it is doubtful whether what other talent we have, will be col. lected at any theatre in the metropolis during the year to come. When Edmund Kean burst upon the town in all the plenitude of his powers, notwithstanding the strangeness of his style, the defects of his voice, and other spots upon the sun of his genius and although theatricals were nearly at as low an ebb as they are now, the great theatre where the little bright comet was to be seen, was crowded as it never had been since the days of Betty the first.' If another Shakspeare had written another Othello, and it was acted with a cast which we will suppose to consist of C. Kean, Wallack, Creswick, Mrs Kean, and Miss Addison, would it attract as Edmund Kean did? Certainly not. People prefer to read a great play to see it even respectably performed by fourth and fifth rate actors. If we had another Garrick, Siddons, or Betterton, or even another Kean or Cooke, I should have hope for a great theatre; but what resources are there now? Macready and Mrs. Butler are not popular performers, and the former is no longer young. When he was best he did not reach a surprising altitude of genius; and Mrs Butler, who occasionally is very great, is a most unequal actress. After them come Miss Faucitt, the Vandenhoff's, Phelps, Miss Cushman, Brooke Betty, Creswick, Bennett, Wallack, Mrs Warner, Mrs Kean, Miss Addison, &c. Here is abun dant talent to support a great actor in an efficient style; but where is he to come from? Were a sublime performer to arise, the exorbitant salaries demanded by elegant and pleasing, but not wonderful artistes, must be abandoned; but even to a star like Kean, managers cannot always be giving 501. a night. No, we want one great actor supported by the Vandenhoff's, Betty, and Miss Addison, or a selection from the others, and then tragedy will flourish. We must however try to get new plays in abundance, for who can see Hamlet and Lear for ever and ever? Comedy, and plays of the Wife's Secret' order will be performed at the Haymarket chiefly this year, and revivals will be continued at Sadler's Wells. is problematical whether they will attract as they have done, for novelty-novelty is the cry, and good music is preferred to mediocre acting. I am, Sir, Yours &c. DRAMATICUS. It ADVICE TO DRAMATIC AUTHORS. We believe that dramatic authors of the High school of art, generally complain, now a days, of the want of encouragement-that is to say, when they have written a drama, they find it next to impossible to get it acted. Do the managers lack enterprise?Not so. We see are they afraid of the expense? managers constantly reviving obsolete plays that require more cost to re-produce them than would the produc tion of the new plays which remain unacted. then shall we account for the backwardness of managers to bring out original pieces? Is it owing to that mean and illiberal feeling which makes little minds reject the effusions of co-temporary or living merit ? Authors who write now, are more likely to suit the taste of the age than those who flourished three centuries ago-unless out progress has been backward, or down How ward. Writers of the present age are certainly free from the licentiousness which seems to recommend those of a past age to the adoption of onr managers, But however, this or rather of our manageresses. consolation there is for our modern dramatists; were we to write a play, so far from offering it to one of our managers (for we do not know an exception) we should resolutely lay an embargo on him if he were to come forward himself and take it up for representation, and why? because there is no theatre open at present in which an author could gain honour by the production of his play; for since Drury Lane and Covent Garden are closed against the legitimate drama, small is the a me that is to be acquired at a minor theatre. even supposing such an unlikely thing as that Drury Lane or Covent Garden were to re open-and imagining a greater improbability, namely that they were in the hands of enlightened managers-where are the actors to be found fitting for characters in a play of High art. When the actors are found the Houses will open, and perhaps the managers may appear; for We could such actors alone possess the Open sesame. sooner point out great dramatic authors, than great actors or good managers. But are the authors to wait till fit actors arise? What we advise is this-that But dramatic authors should turn actors and act their own plays; for we are certain that they could not only better conceive, but better execute them than the present race of actors, and for proof of our assertion, we need only point to certain amateurs who played far better than the professed actors. Thus authors might do justice to themselves and to the public; for if they wait till our actors or managers do them justice, they may wait till doomsday. Acting Drama. 'Imitatio vita, speculum consuetudinis, imago veritatis” Cicero. The imitation of Life-The] mirror of "Manners-The representation Truth SADLER'S WELLS. severe In our hurried sketch of the re-opening of this house last week, we were unable to do more than merely mention the performances, without detailing their merits. The piece selected for representation was Coriolanus,' certainly a most difficult drama to deal with; Shakspere himself found the theme a one to treat: he has modified the harsh points in Plutarch's hero, as well as the circumstances of the story, making out a case for the Roman aristocracy, more accordant with the opinions of his own day, than with the public spirit of the present age. According to the poet, Coriolanus is a patrician of high principle and upright intention, but exceedingly intemperate and incautious in his conduct-born to a certain cause, he sees nothing but falsehood in the opposite: being rich, he can afford to be contemptuous of those who labour for subsistence. To realize this idea of Coriolanus requires an actor of a very peculiar style, and of even peculiar qualifications. Mr. Phelps does not convey the notion of the noble patrician who could awe down the enraged mob, by his innate dignity and lordly deportment: he requires more the vigour of Vandenhoff: the scene where Coriolanus arrives at Antium lost half its beauty from this cause: and his delivery of the last scene, though not wanting in pathos still required the massive weight of the Roman character. Nevertheless there were some admirable points in Mr. Phelps's impersonation: the struggle between unwillingness and compliance when, with ill grace, he supplicates the votes of the citizens, is beautifully conceived, as is also the scene where he yields to his Mother's entreaties to answer the charges brought against him: Mr. Phelps occasionally threw great en thusiasm into the part, and rose into the picturesque ness of passion. The character of Volumnia was played with great care by Miss Glynn: she is earnest and painstaking throughout; her greatest defects are too much gesticulation, and too little ease, and a want of stage-confidence. We think the character has, generally, been misunderstood. Volumnia is certainly sternly sublime and severely great: but there is, nevertheless, a tenderness in her heroism which com mands honest sympathy. This was far better pourtrayed by Miss Glynn than we have been accustomed to see it; passages of pathos and force were frequent; and the audience readily forgave some imperfection in the acting for the sake of the obvious design and general merit. Mr. Younge played the friend of Coriolanus (the merry Menenius Agrippa,) in his usual admirable style of acting; he was greatly favoured by the audience. Messrs. G. Bennett and H. Marston gave good readings of their parts, and all the other characters were well assumed. We would, however, recommend a greater regard to the delivery of the poet's blank verse; the text is frequently given as though written in the plainest prose, thereby greatly destroying the true understanding of the language. The text used is nearly the same as that adopted by Mr. Macready during his Covent Garden management -nearly the whole bearing the genuine Shaksperian stamp. The first act is very judiciously consolidated : we must enter our protest against (where the entire scene is adopted from the original text,) the practice of altering the positions of speeches, or parts thereof, so as to produce other effects than those intended by the poet-occasionally injuring the purity of his design : Shakspere doubtless knew the due relations of his arguments better than his interpreters. The getting up of the piece is costly in every respect, and has been put on the stage with all that care and regard to detail for which Mr. Phelps is so distinguished. The scenery is entirely new: the views of Rome and Antium very beautiful and characteristic. Amongst the brilliant effects are those produced by the scenes of the Interior of the Capitol with the August Assembly, and the Volscian camp before Rome, with the throng of richly-costumed soldiers and glittering banners. Mr. Scharf has the direction of an efficient and bustling mob, Mr. Phelps having adopted Mr. Macready's principle of giving animation and meaning to the rabble. Mr. Phelps and Miss Glynn are nightly called before the curtain, by very crowded auditories. The comedietta of a Match in the Dark,' enables Miss Cooper to show her graceful acting. Mrs Mars ton, Mr Scharf and others also appear greatly to ad< vantage. We cannot refrain from saying, in addition to our last notice, a few words respecting the decorations at this temple of legitimacy,' which has altogether a fresh and cheerful appearance. The proscenium is supported by pilasters painted in imitation of yellow marble, with gilt capitals, and is adorned with a head of Shakspeare, having a leopard on each side. The painting of the ceiling is of a light arabesque character. The panels of the boxes and gallery have a ground of bright crimson, with patterns of stone colour, the one being ornamented with scrolls and cupids, and the boxes apparently enclosed by a balcony. The interior of the private boxes, and the light cool colour of the paper of the walls at the back, relieve the heavy effect of the preponderating crimson. The greatest satisfaction is expressed at the new staircase and entrance to the dress circle. OLYMPIC. The Lady of Lyons' would alone hand the name of Sir E. L. Bulwer down to posterity with honour, though all the other splendid triumphs of his genius were blotted from existence. In its happy combination of dramatic power and natural truth, we may fairly assert that it is far superior to most of the productions of the present day. It has now become, and most worthily too, an established favourite with the playgoing public, and the impersonation of the two principal characters for the first time, by those who have to a considerable extent established their reputation, is always looked forward to with anxious interest. We have said thus much preparatory to a brief notice of Mr. Leigh Murray's benefit at the Olympic on Monday night. His Claude Melnotte must, we feel assured, add con siderably to his well-earned reputation. Excepting by one, (who by the bye, we are glad to welcome back again to our own boards,) we do not think the character throughout has ever been more literally con ceived, more truthfully delineated. Whether as the peasant, the prince, or the soldier, he looked the cha racter to perfection, the true 'nobility of nature' shone forth conspicuosly in all he said and did, and it must have been extremely gratifying to his feelings, at a time when all dramatic representations have been as it were so long in their death struggle, to stand before a house filled to overflowing with an audience who were as keenly alive to the merits of the play, as they were satisfied and delighted with the triumph of the player. And most heartily do we congratulate Mrs. Stirling on her Pauline-the fearful struggle between love and pride on the discovery of her betrayal, though it might perhaps lack the somewhat boisterohs passion which Miss Faucit throws into it, wanted nothing of its intensity; in short, Mrs. Stirling's Pauline was a beautiful piece of acting, whose chief merit consisted in the difficulty and at times almost impossibility on the part of some, at any rate, of the audience to bear in mind that it was acting. The other characters of the piece were for the most part well filled. Emery was capital as the bluff old soldier. Miss Bryant was almost too young looking for the Widow Melnotte, but otherwise acted her part creditably, and we were well pleased with the consummate dandyism of Mr. Hammerly's Glavis. It is superfluous to add that the applause at the fall of the curtain was long and hearty. Mr. Leigh Murray, responding to the unanimous call, led forward Mrs. Stirling and was followed by Mr. Emery. We were somewhat surprised that Mr Leigh Murray should not have responded to the evident desire of the audience, for his appearance before the curtain at the end of the third act, so great was the 396 enthusiasm, and so loud the applause at his brilliant acting. Had it not been for Mr Murray's natural retiring character, he might have shared with Mr Macready the honour of a call in the middle of a piece. His conduct must gain admiration in whatever light it may be viewed. MARYLEBONE. The management of this popular house never fails to issue a constant succession of first-rate talent, and the great support he receives is the due reward of his merit. The retirement of the Keeley's, led to the engagement of the Hibernian delineator, Mr Hudson, and his secession has been followed by the advent of the talented Mrs Mowatt, the American authoress and actress, (who has just recovered from a severe indisposition,) supported by Mr Davenport; they ap peared on Monday night as Rosalind and Jacques, in Shakspere's As You Like It;' we had proposed an analysis of their assumption of these characters, but owing to the extremely crowded state of columns, consequent on the re-opening of so many houses, we are reluctantly compelled to defer its inser tion till our next. We can only say that the greatest delight will be afforded to those who have not yet witnessed the performance, by a visit to this house, id which indeed, it is a difficult task to obtain a seat. Mrs Mowatt was received with the most enthusiastic applause, and an ovation of bouquets. The piece is admirably put on the stage, the mise en scene' being perfect in every particular. Provincial Theatricals. our BRADFORD THEATRE. (Lessee, Mr. John Mosley.) Monday, Virginius,' Virginius, Mr Rogers, Virginia Miss Charlotte Thompson, with the farce of Wooing a Widow.' Tuesday, Hamlet,' Hamlet Mr H. Lorain, whose conception was not Shakspeare's, with the farce of Blue Devils,' Megrim Mr Rogers. Wednesday, 'Old Honesty' was announced, but in consequence of the indisposition of Mr Rogers, the 'Dream at Sea' was substituted, to the disappointment of rather a numerous audience. The afterpiece was the Maid and the Magpie.' Friday, Old Honesty,' Michael Bradshaw Mr Rogers, Toby Perch, Mr Coe field; both characters very artistically played: some good dancing by the Misses Fife, and the petite comedy of the Young Widow,' Amelia Fairlove, Mrs Swift. Saturday, Alice Gray.' and the farce of the Rendezvous,' re-baptised with the title of Sparks n the Dark.' Business during the week has been very good. BACUP.-An amateur performance took place here on Monday evening, before a crowded and respectable audience. The pieces selected for the occasion were the Eddystone Elf,' and the Irish Attorney,' being under the management of Mr Walshe, late of the York circuit. Several of the young gentlemen sustained their parts with great credit, and were loudly applaud ed by the audience. The parts of the Elf and Pierre O'Hara, were performed by Mr Walshe with great judgment, he is a promising yonng man, and is much respected by the nobility and gentry of Bacup. He is about to leave for the Leicester theatre, we wish him Owen, the celebrated tragedian, his first appearance ་ LIVERPOOL THEATRE ROYAL. (Lessee Mr. Simp son).-Mr. and Mrs. Keeley concluded a successful week's engagement on Friday last, the performance being for their benefit; they appeared in 'The Govern or's Wife,' Lola Montes' and other of their favourite pieces. Madame Celeste and Mr Webster are engaged for the present week, and appears in ' Harvest Home' Mysterious Stranger,' 'Flying Colours,' Taming a Tarter,' &c. Mr and Mrs Kean and Mr and Miss Vandenboff are engaged and will shortly appear. Mr Fitzroy is stage manager. The AMPHITHEATRE. (Lessee, Mr Copeland.)-The present week terminates the dramatic season. celebrated French company of Equestrians (Franconi's) are engaged and appear on Monday next. In addition to all the old favourites there are several new candidates for Liverpudlian favors. LIVER THEATRE.-Robert le Diable (we humbly apologize) Kobert Houdin is astonishing the natives The present is the fourth week here to some tune. of his performance, during the whole of which period the house has been nightly crowded, and often daily, for the morning performances are equally successful. He is really a wonderful man, a nonsuch, his audience in many instances can scarcely believe the evidence of their own hearing and seeing-the apparent impossibility of many of Mons. Houdin's tricks, making many think they are labouring under the effects of optical delusion, or that they are actually transmogrified' into a state of mesmerism. He leaves us at the close of the week, but his success has been so great, that we doubt net, he will soon be at his tricks' here again. MANCHESTER QUEEN'S.-Mr. John Sloan closed his lesseeship at this theatre on Saturday the 23rd ulto, when there was a good attendance of visitors. The entertainments were Frankenstein, or the Man and the Monster,''Asmodeus, or the Little Devil's Share," Irish Lion,' and Ben the Boatswain,' all of which went off well. In the course of the evening Mr. Sloan came before the curtain, leading Mrs. Sloan; both artistes were received with a burst of hearty applause. Mr. Sloan addressed the audience thus :-"Ladies and gentlemen: There are men who on making their farewell speech have it written previously, and bring pocket handkerchiefs and cry. I am not one of that sort, however I may feel. I hope I shall leave you so that if ever I come again I may meet you again as I do leave you. For the compliment you have paid me, by giving your attendance on my wife's benefit, though more might have been anticipated, allow me to return I have my sincere thanks to those who have come. been among you 15 years as an actor, six as a manager, and be assured I am delighted with every success I have received here. Perhaps at one time I have been more successful than at another. I am about to leave perhaps you are aware I am going to Sheffield; and, if that does not succeed, I shall enter on my profession as an actor. When I commenced here as manager, I was making a pretty good income at the time as an Irish comedian. What I say is from my heart; and I only wish that trade, which has been bad for a considerable period, may be a great deal better; and if it is, if I have ever an opportunity of |