The part of Athenais, in the "Force of Love," which she first performed on the 20th of January, 1797,* gave her not only the attractiveness of a new character, but fair scope for the tenderness and force of her acting. She liked this part much, and she told me that she had played it with great popularity. The name of the piece reminds me of an incident that gave me cause at once to be grateful for her good-nature, and to admire the tenacity of her memory, and the beauty of her recitation. One day, forgetting that she had ever played in any of Lee's dramas, and, what was worse, forgetting the merit of his masterpiece, "Theodosius," I talked contemptuously of the crack-brained Nathaniel. In justice, I deserved a rebuke, if it had been only for speaking at random of dramatic poetry in the Siddons's presence. But it was a part of her benign character, so little understood but by those who knew her intimately, to argue unassumingly, even on the subjects which she best understood; and she answered my uncharitableness towards Lee more effectively than by censure. She discoursed on the merits of his "Theodosius;" drew a brief and clear sketch of the story, and quoted, as fluently as if she had been reading the play, from the speeches of all its characters. So charming a commentary on dramatic poetry I never heard, nor shall ever hear. It was a higher treat, if any thing could be so, than even her subsequent readings of tragedy,-to be thus familiarly instructed, under her own roof, and with her own lips, by the Tragic Muse. Her looks and her voice were, at that time, still perfect; and, though not a young woman, yet the womanish sympathy which she evidently felt for Athenais' sorrows, made her seem much younger than she was. The noble being never seemed to me so feminine and so natural as on this occasion. 66 Her success in her next new character was still more striking. On the 3d of February she played Arpasia, in Tamerlane," a tragedy by Rowe, which, though it be chargeable with declamation, has some passages of a high tone, and an underplot that is strongly affecting. Mrs. Siddons, at least, thought so; for she wrought herself up in the character to a degree of agitation that was perilous almost to her life. The lover of Arpasia (Moneses) is brought in, in the fifth act, to be strangled by mutes. Arpasia says, * Varanes, J. Kemble; Theodosius, Barrymore: Marcian, Whitfield; Leontine, J. Aickin; Athenais, Mrs. Siddons; Pulcheria, Mrs. Powell. + Tamerlane, Palmer; Bajazet, Kemble; Moneses, Barrymore; Axalla, Campbell; Arpasia, Mrs. Siddons; Selima, Mrs. Powell. R "Of something soft, Tender, and kind-of something wondrous sad. Moneses. "My tongue is at a loss. Thoughts crowd so fast,-thy name is all I've left. [The Mutes struggle with him. Arpasia. "I have a thousand, thousand things to utter- Moneses. "Speak to thee !-'tis the business of my life. Stand off, ye slaves !-To tell thee that my heart Enter BAJAZET, KALY, and Attendants. Bajazet. "Ha! wherefore lives this dog? Be quick, ye slaves! Moneses. "For only death, and the last night, Can shut out my Arpasia." [The Mutes strangle MONESES. Arpasia. "Oh dismal!-'tis not to be borne! Ye moralists! After these words, it was Mrs. Siddons's part to feign a swoon, but she swooned in earnest. Clutching her drapery with convulsive fingers, she fell back so that her head was heard striking the stage, and her limbs were exposed, which at once made it palpable to the spectator that her fall was neither studied nor voluntary. In a moment there was a rush from the pit and boxes to inquire for her on the stage. It was long before she recovered from the fainting fit. Palmer, for his benefit this season, got up a tragedy called "The Queen of Carthage," in which Mrs. Siddons performed the part of Dido. I have never been able to get a sight of this piece. It was printed, but the publication of it, according to the Biographia Dramatica, was stopped by the friends of its deceased author, Joseph Reed.* The son of the author, nevertheless, gave Palmer 100l. for reviving it, and Mrs. Siddons 501. to buy a new dress. When she acted Millwood, in "George Barnwell," Mrs. Siddons was generally alleged to have condescended to a part beneath her dignity. But, on the 2d of May, her performance of Agnes, in Lillo's "Fatal Curiosity," was reckoned among her most wonderful exhibitions. An instance of her effect in that character was related to me by Mr. Young the actor, who had it from a spectator of her performance on that very night. The individual to whom I allude is Mr. Crabbe Robinson, a gentleman of the bar, and a scholar well known in the world of literature. He was a young man at the time, but he since states that in the course of a long life, he never felt such an impression from acting. When Mrs. Siddons, as Agnes, was asked by Old Wilmot how they should support themselves, and when she produced the jewels of their unknown son, giving a remote hint at the idea of murdering him, she crouched and slid up to Wilmot with an expression in her face that made the flesh of the spectator creep. Mr. Robinson said that from that moment his respiration grew difficult, and in a few minutes he lost all command of himself. When the murder-scene approached, he laughed aloud, and there was a general cry in the pit to turn him out. The process of his ejectment was even begun, and he had received some harsh treatment, when a humane woman interposed, who saw and explained his real condition. He was in strong hysterics. At the close of that same evening, Mrs. Siddons took a formal farewell for the season 1796-7, during which she acted Jane Shore twice. * It was first acted at Drury Lane in 1767, with a Prologue by Garrick. Lillo. To be sure, when I first read him, and found, to my unbounded satisfaction, that with a fire-side tragedy, and without either a king, or a grandee, or a ghost, he could move,—ay, and master,—the heart, I thought him a greater genius than even Shakspeare. But, renouncing all that exaggeration, I still He is so cannot consent to call him less than a potent writer. masculine, so stanch, so much in earnest with his subject, that when I compare him with the bulk of tragedy-makers, they seem to be only playing at their art like children, while he, to use Ben Jonson's phrase, “writes all like a man.' It was suggested to Mrs. Siddons that it would be of service to Charles Kemble to be brought forward in the character of George Barnwell.* Mrs. Siddons asked Miss Pope, seemingly by way of conversation, if she had ever played Lucy, in that tragedy. The other said that she never had played the part, nor ever would play it; but added, in joke, that if Mrs. Siddons would be Millwood, she would consent to be Lucy. When the part was sent to Miss Pope, she returned it to the prompter, with an angry note; but sent back for it, with an apology, when she learned that her illustrious friend was really to play Millwood. 66 George Barnwell, or the London Merchant," was first brought out at Drury Lane in 1731. It drew crowded houses. Pope, when he saw it represented, gave it high and almost unqualified praise. Many persons, on the first night, had bought the old ballad of "George Barnwell,” with an intent to make a ludicrous comparison between that and the new play; but they found themselves so affected by the tragedy, that they threw away the ballads and took to their handkerchiefs.† * Nov. 28, 1796. George Barnwell, C. Kemble; Thorowgood, J. Aickin; Trueman, Holland; Millwood, Mrs. Siddons; Maria, Miss Miller; Lucy, Miss Pope. The Mr. Genest, in his "Account of the English Stage," says, "In the first edition of this tragedy, the last act consists of eleven scenes. tenth ends with George Barnwell going off to execution. The eleventh scene is short. Trueman, Blunt, and Lucy enter: the last says that Millwood goes to death with horror, loathing life, and yet afraid to die. Between these two scenes, Lillo afterward inserted another, as the place of execution, with the gallows at the further end of the stage. This scene, though omitted in the modern theatres, was probably acted for seven years, and ought never to have been laid aside. "Dr. Percy printed the old ballad in his collection; he observes, 'The Ballad was printed as early as the middle of the 17th century. The tragical narrative seems to relate a real fact, but when it happened I have not been able to discover.'"-Genest, vol. ii. p. 296. The part of Athenais, in the "Force of Love," which she first performed on the 20th of January, 1797,* gave her not only the attractiveness of a new character, but fair scope for the tenderness and force of her acting. She liked this part much, and she told me that she had played it with great popularity. The name of the piece reminds me of an incident that gave me cause at once to be grateful for her good-nature, and to admire the tenacity of her memory, and the beauty of her recitation. One day, forgetting that she had ever played in any of Lee's dramas, and, what was worse, forgetting the merit of his masterpiece, "Theodosius," I talked contemptuously of the crack-brained Nathaniel. In justice, I deserved a rebuke, if it had been only for speaking at random of dramatic poetry in the Siddons's presence. But it was a part of her benign character, so little understood but by those who knew her intimately, to argue unassumingly, even on the subjects which she best understood; and she answered my uncharitableness towards Lee more effectively than by censure. She discoursed on the merits of his "Theodosius;" drew a brief and clear sketch of the story, and quoted, as fluently as if she had been reading the play, from the speeches of all its characters. So charming a commentary on dramatic poetry I never heard, nor shall ever hear. It was a higher treat, if any thing could be so, than even her subsequent readings of tragedy,—to be thus familiarly instructed, under her own roof, and with her own lips, by the Tragic Muse. Her looks and her voice were, at that time, still perfect; and, though not a young woman, yet the womanish sympathy which she evidently felt for Athenais' sorrows, made her seem much younger than she was. The noble being never seemed to me so feminine and so natural as on this occasion. Her success in her next new character was still more striking. On the 3d of February she played Arpasia, in "Tamerlane," a tragedy by Rowe, which, though it be chargeable with declamation, has some passages of a high tone, and an underplot that is strongly affecting. Mrs. Siddons, at least, thought so; for she wrought herself up in the character to a degree of agitation that was perilous almost to her life. The lover of Arpasia (Moneses) is brought in, in the fifth act, to be strangled by mutes. Arpasia says, * Varanes, J. Kemble; Theodosius, Barrymore: Marcian, Whitfield; "Leontine, J. Aickm; Athenais, Mrs. Siddons; Pulcheria, Mrs. Powell. † Tamerlane, Palmer; Bajazet, Kemble; Moneses, Barrymore; Axalla, Campbell; Arpasia, Mrs. Siddons; Selima, Mrs. Powell. R |