Sarnem, brought down thunders of applause.- and misdeeds of the tyrant, and win for him In the ensuing scenes with Albert-sustained our pity and compassion. The concluding most happily by Miss Pelby-Mr Forrest suc scene, though unmarked by any striking pe. ceeded in awakening the more tender emo- culiarity was true to nature. tions of the heart, and the dialogue with his son in the presence of Gesler, was full of pa thos, and his voice modulated with uncommon skill, His Richard, III, at his benefit (Feb. 19.) though not to be compared with his Damon, or Sir Edward Mortimer, deserved and received the warmest commendations. Several of the scenes were marked with a striking originality of action and reading, and yet, there was occasionally an appearance of restraint,as if the actor feared to show all that he felt, lest be should be accused of imitation. The passage, "A horse! a horse! my Kingdom for a horse !" which has been the stumbling-block of every Richard that has trod the stage, was unmarked, perhaps very wisely,-by any peculiar or extravagant effort; yet the dream scene, was an uncommon exhibition of power, and here he seemed to have centered all his energies. Were we to say that Mr Forrest's performance of Richard was such as to satisfy us of his attainment to a thorough knowledge of the conceptions with which the poet wrote, we should bestow exaggerated praise; were we to withhold our humble tribute of admiration at the talents he actually possesses, we should do him gross injustice.. Feb. 22.-Macbeth.-Mr Macready displays in this character all the grace and dignity, without the cold, and often unnatural declamation of Cooper. The soliloquy in the first act, "If it were done," is marked, in Mr Macready's personation of Macbeth with a strange intensity of thought, yielding gradually to an agony of doubt, almost bordering on despair. The trembling accent, and fearful look accompanying the exclamation with which he bursts out on the entrance of Lady Macbeth, are as unique as they are effective. The scene Feb. 28-Fatal Dowry, and Agreeable Surprise.--The credit of reviving Massinger's tragedy of the Fatal Dowry is due to Mr Macready, whose noble representation of Romont has not been equalled by any actor of the present day. It is characterized throughout, by the frankness and confiding disposition of the generous soldier; by that course of conduct which evinces more carefulness of his friend's reputation than regard to his own safety and interest, and by an innate sense of honour, before the fire of which, the craven spirit shrinks and is almost annihilated. The dialogue with Charolois which eventuates in the separation of the bonds of amity between Romont and his former friend, though a decided plagiarism from that scene in Othello where Iago first excites the jealousy of the Moor, is admirably calculated for stage effect, and was rendered by Macready, powerful, in the fullest sense of the term. So too, in the scene with Young Noval-another plagiarism from Shakspeare-for Massinger, the silver-tongued could steal as well as his betters-where Romont compels the coward to sign the confession of his own disgrace, every line and word was calculated to produce a quaking at the heart. Messrs Kilner and Brown, and Mrs Pelby acquited themselves admirably in the afterpiece. March 5.-Henry V, and Floating Beacon. The best parts of this representation were the condemnation of the conspirators, the address to the army before the gates of Harfleur, the conversation with the soldiers in disguise, and the hasty prayer before the battle. This prayer was delivered with the most solemn earnestness, as if the very soul were bowed down in agony, yet with the haste of one who seizes upon the last moment that is spared him for his devotions before the commencement of a great and perilous undertaking. The scene of 100, in which the "air-drawn dagger" is presented to the imagination of the future king, was finely managed, and characterized by the developement of several new and striking points; and in the dialogue immediately suc Henry and Catharine presented Mr Macready ceeding the murder of Duncan, the low whisper. in a new and pleasing light, and gave us an ing with which he revealed the circumstances opportunity of witnessing his ease and graceattending the deed just committed, brought to mind the horrors attending it with the most startling and appalling distinctness. The pas sage commencing fulness in the more cheerful characters of the drama. March 7.-Othello.-Macready's Othello has more steadiness of purpose, and less impetuosity, than Kean's-with much of Conway's pa thos and solemnity. He differs more in this character from the readings usually adopted, than in any other he assumes, not even excepting his Hamlet. His variations are not however of the kind which startle and surprise by their brilliancy;-they have, on the contrary, the effect of silencing the auditory, till they forget to applaud, in admiring the beautiful simplicity of his manner. MACREADY AND FORREST. We do not mean, by placing the names of these gentlemen together, to rank the latter with the former; for allowing Mr Forrest the possession of all the genius and ability which his most strenuous supporters claim for him, his want of age and experience would leave him in the rear of Mr Macready. Yet as their characteristic points have not unfrequently been discussed together, it may not be amiss to draw the line of difference between the styles they severally adopt. Both have the same end in view, but they reach it by different ways. The one starts off at full speed, but checks his career at intervals, as if to recover from his fatigue, and be enabled to resume his course with renewed vig. our; the other goes forward in the straightest path, slowly at first, but with an increased exertion of strength as he advances-coming in at last like a courser that has won the race, and won it nobly. Forrest often mounts to an eagle flight, and sometimes sinks to tameness; Macready never attempts to gain a height which he has not measured,-which he is not sure he can attain, and never falls below the level of excellence. The former, like an untrained colt, bounds onward without restraint, yet in the full exercise of his untamed power, wild, spirited and beautiful in every attitude; the latter, like the thoroughly trained warhorse, moves on with majesty and dignity, and when, at his utmost speed is subject to the check of reason. Macready often astonishes us by the boldness of his conceptions, always delights us by the absence of unnatural effort in his portraitures; Forrest frequently sur prizes us by the elegance of his execution, occasionally disappoints our expectations by the carelessness of his reading. Macready knows how to go down into the heart, and stir up the best and tenderest feelings of our nature; Forrest can awaken the fiercer passions that have sway over us, and kindle a glow of an indignation in our bosoms corresponding to that by which he is influenced himself. The one is the dignified Roman father, the other the enthusiastic Peruvian warriour. Macready's voice is sweet and touching in its lower notes, harsh to a terrific degree in the higher tones ;-Forrest's is full and clear in the middle tones, but indistinct in its lower compass. In gesticu lation the latter is unnecessarily minute, though always graceful; the former less frequent in his movements, but more striking. Forrest treads the stage awkwardly, but without any appear. ance of study; Macready never stirs a single step that he has not previously decided to be the best and only proper movement for the occasion. In conception, Macready always philosophizes, while Forrest trusts rather to momentary impulse. CRITICAL NOTICES. MR. GREENWOOD'S ESSAY ON THE LORD's SUPPER.-The Christian community, whose time for religious reading must necessarily be limited, has long wanted a clear and compre. hensive view of the sacrament of the Lord's Supper; if indeed, some whose lives have been devoted to the subject of the scriptures, have not been in equal need of reason and common sense, to divest their minds of the rusty remains of those shackles, which, through the dark ages, held the world in the captivity imposed by a fascinating mystery. The author's mind seems to have a peculiar power of throw. ing off, like ill-fitting garments, such opinions as are incomprehensible to the understanding; as well as those which have only the qualities of ignorant antiqueness and superstitious mys teriousness to hallow them. Many of the subjects of theological and scholastic controversy, are placed beyond the reach of human reason. It is enough to know, that with them we have nothing to do, and instead of wasting our time in striving to account for what is unaccountable, we should seek rather to attain a knowledge of whatever operates directly on our own souls, and search into the nature and relations of our thoughts and passions. Within this sphere, all may and ought to be plain and clear; beyond, all must be darkness and mystery. This is true of religion, more than of any thing else; man cannot adopt, as a guide to his thoughts, and a guardian to his virtue, that which depends on the proper exercise of his thinking powers, if it be involved in un traceable intricacy;-and no subject has been more trammelled with fatal subtleties and inconsistencies 'I hese have been handed down, sacred and venerable, from father to son, until it is deemed sacrilege to dispute or doubt their propriety. The author of the little book before us does not pretend to the discovery of new truths, but to have brought out old ones from their massy shapes and cumbersome envelopements, and to have given them a plain and simple form. We cannot give a just abridgment of the argument of this work, for it is itself abridged to nearly the smallest compass; comprising in a pamphlet of sixty pages, all the matter upon the subject which has hitherto been spread over volumes. It is like a granary, where are nicely bestowed the various productions of a thousand hills. We will, however, attempt to state the general grounds assumed by Mr Greenwood, still asserting that the book alone can give a correct idea of the arguments, or of the elegance with which they are stated and enforced. Upon the general subject of rites and ceremonies, he says, "the peculiar rites of a religion, serve as a bond of union to those who possess it, not always a very strict one, to be sure, but a bond of union still."" Christians have hated each other, banished each other, and murdered each other; and still throughout the Christian world there has been a prevailing sentiment of unity. Af ter the whirlwind, and the earthquake, and the fire have done their worst, a still, small voice has whispered the name of brother!" He considers, that the nature of man demands ceremonies, to interest him in what, if left an abstract thought, would be neglected; and to unite him with his brethren in general observances and opinions, where, otherwise there would be no sympathy at all. In addition to this benefit, resulting from the Lord's Supper in common with other rites, its peculiar and main design, according to our author, is to awaken our grateful remembrance of the services and sufferings of the Saviour; and the performance of the rite is as much a duty enjoined upon all ages, as the feelings are, which it is intended to excite. The efficacy follows the design, of course, for "if true gratitude for the blessings purchased by his death, finds its way into our bosoms, it must be accompanied by a desire to deserve them; and this desire will be the same as a determination to discharge our duty as it is laid down to us in his Gospel." Then it is stated, that "they who feel a reverence for his character, a deep sense of the blessings, supports, assistances, and con solations which he suffered and died to secure to sinful man, a cheerful disposition to receive him as their master, and an earnest desire to keep his precepts and obey his laws, are qualified to come to his table-are not only qualifi ed, but invited, commanded, bound to come there." The opinion is maintained, that this holy institution was not given for the exclusive benefit of the pure, the perfect, the elect, but as a means of enabling the sinner to become so; and though a man may eat and drink damnation to himself by partaking unworthily, yet, not one, he contends, is unworthy to partake, however ignorant or sinful, who feels the desire expressed in the last quotation. He farther says, that no man has a right to exclude any one who comes to the communion table, for Christ set no such example, gave no such authority, the apostles assumed no such prerogative; and that it is time to protest against that "unhallowed exclusiveness" which could only have been invented as an engine of power in an age of bigotry. The command is as general as the invitation to come to the waters of life; ho! every one that will, let him come. The spirit of Mr Greenwood's book is sub versive of all church forms of admission, creeds, covenants, and the whole array of ex. aminations and propoundings that are so appalling to the simple, retiring minds of pure, unostentatious Christians. COMSTOCK'S MINERALOGY. We have hitherto, in the department of mineralogy, had no medium, adapted to the use of novitiates, between the Manual of Aikin, and the work of professor Cleveland. The former, it is true, contains the essence of what has been written upon this branch of science, but it carries the process of distillation too far, and the view it presents of the study it professes to illustrate, is of that general nature which serves rather to refresh the memory of the adept, than to direct the mind of the tyro from simple truths to a wide and extended range of observation. Professor Cleveland, on the other hand, claiming as he does, the decided approbation of our scientific men for his labour and learning, pursues his researches with patience and perseverance into the minutiae of the subject, and leads the pupil into the midst of all the beauties, and to him inexplicable mysteries of the mineral kingdom, without teaching him the paths which must be followed to attain a knowledge of the interesting curiosities around him. The merits of Dr. Comstock's work seem to consist in methodical arrangement, in a proper and orderly degree of condensation, in avoiding the use of all scientific terms not absolutely necessary, and in facilitating the progress of the student by a gradual developement of elementary principles. To common readers, this volume is not without attraction from its elucidation of very many particulars connected with the science, which are not generally sufficiently unfolded in works of this character. The work is moreover handsomely printed and forms a beautiful exception to the slovenly style of typography which, we are sorry to say is too frequently adopted in this country. THE TENNESSEAN. We would wish to be as courteous as possible to our fair country. woman, the authoress of the new novel, from our innate conviction of the tenderness due to her sex, as well as from the peculiar regard we have for our personal safety. We shall therefore, in giving utterance to our hasty remarks upon the truly original production before us, strive, if possible, to "keep cool." The Tennessean is such a book as might be expected from a very loquacious-for aught we know, a very good old lady, probably somewhat addicted to tea-table scandal, fond of using her tongue as well as her pen, and gifted with no inconsiderable portion of that small talk, which we sometimes hear poured down like a shower of hail-stones on a legion of kettle drums, and with as much noise, to use a very uncouth simile-as though it were "grog time among the builders of Babel." The plot of the novel is managed in a stiff and awkward way, for the sake of introducing sketches of American character, in different portions of our country; and though our authoress often discovers an ignorance of manners and customs, unpardonable in one who pretends to give a faithful delineation of them, yet there is here and there a stroke truly Hogarthean. We cannot say much of Mrs Royall's delicacy, for in truth, she seems to have but little regard for it, and is determined never to be accused of sqeamishness, or even of an uncommon degree of modesty. Nor has she much idea of writing for the gratification of her readers. Her main object seems to be to talk on paper--and she does talk like a mill-wheel in March, or any other swift-going machine.The best meed of praise we can bestow upon the Tennessean is to say that it consists of 372 closely printed duodecimo pages, very vilely printed, at New Haven. ALNWICK CASTLE. This little volume is generally recognized as the production of Mr Halleck, the popular author of Fanny,'against whom the only charge that is brought, is his unfrequent appearance before the public in the poetical garb, which he wears with much grace and little affectation. The first poem in this collection, is full of pretty thoughts, very prettily expressed; but like several of its successors it seems like the play. ful effusion of a mind in its moments of relax. ation,-or in its summer afternoon idleness, rather than the effort of any serious or continued train of thought. Marco Bozzaris,'-that bold and glowing specimen of Lyric poetry, has been known for a considerable length of time through the medium of the New York papers. 'Connecticut' and Wyoming' were, we believe, originally published in the United States Literary Gazette. The most beautiful article in the book, is the poem entitled Burns.' It abounds with warm, fanciful, and delicate imagery, and has a vein of tenderness running through every stanza. We might find fault with its versification which is occasionally loose and careless, but as a whole it is certainly sweet and touching, and will be read and remembered with pleasure by all the lovers of the Muse. ALMACKS The volumes of fashionable scandal which bear this title, after exciting something of a stir in the higher walks of life in London, have found their way across the Atlantic, and have been republished for the special edification of all who feel an interest in the mysterious and inexplicable. What possible attraction the book can have for the great. er part of American readers, we cannot conceive; for without an intimate acquaintance with the names and characters of London fashionables of both sexes, the ranges of stars with which it abounds are as enigmatical as the riddle of Oedipus. So far as we are able to judge from a cursory passage through its pa ges, we should be inclined to call it a gilded chronicle, where are recorded the annals of folly and vice, in all their multifarious forms, and where profligacy and debauchery are delineated in any and every colour that may conceal their native hideousness and deformity. THE BOSTON LYCEUM. VOL. I. APRIL 15, 1827. No. 4. THE LAST SUPPER. "It is enough," exclaimed the excellent old Andrea Verochia, mournfully smiling as he laid his easel aside and leant back in a remote corner of his room; "here I will rest.” He approached slowly and stood before the portrait of his departed wife, Joanna, whose countenance, the pencil of his scholar Leonardo de Vinci had drawn for the figure of an angel; but the etherial smile was more than the master himself could have pourtrayed. "Here" he again began, just as Leonardo entered and caught the sound of his master's voice. "Look my son," exclaimed Andrea, turning towards him-"With this angel thou hast begun, and it is where I leave off. One man cannot accomplish all, nor should any mortal have the presumption to expect to reach perfection in the noblest of arts. But one succeeding another may do much. I lay my pencil down and paint no more! But thou art in the spring-tide of life,--be active and vigorous, and the fame of thy glory shall extend over Italy!" Enraptured with the praise of his master, Leonardo stood and gazed, with sparkling eyes, on the portrait he had just completed. "There is no self-distrust there!" exclaimed Andrea, penetrating to the soul of Leonardo, and reading the secret pride of the youth. "Now is the time to administer a bitter dose that may assist his better nature in gaining the victory. Yes," continued he, pressing in a friendly manner the hand of his pupil, yes, my son, thou wilt shine, yet thy brightness will not be like the splendour of noon-day, but like the rising beam of the morning, or the mild lustre of the evening. Look at this angel VOL. 1.-No. 4. |