ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS. " Choice of a Wife," C. K. may choose his wives how he pleases, but his choice does not suit our work. "M. P.'s Love" is not worthy of him. The sooner C. H. P. thinks no more of " Forget me-not" the better."T. E's Reflexions on a Rose" might have soared higher. That gentleman who wrote " The Wanderer's Return” might have advertised it in a newspaper, for it does not concern us in the least. We hope W. will remember to keep his " Juvenile Recollections" to himself for the future. "The Meeting on Moor," by X X., is not half so strongly written as we should have supposed from his signature. Palemon sends us some clever lines (as he calls them) upon Mira," for our part we see nothing ad-mira-ble in them. The author of "Manou ring" will not manœuvre us into publishing his trash. C.'s lines on " A Cat's Death" is the vilest cat-erwauling we ever read "Carlo's Birth Day" does not do for us in the least. The "New Joe Miller" is too personal. Project" is only subject to the jokes of the " John Bull.” Quiz" should not have troubled himself about the London University, because we know the managers are allied to the long-eared race. And thus end the Rejected Addresses. 66 66 66 "C.'s" letter from Gloucester, under consideration. Another "C.'s Ode of Horace" is in a similar predicament; "C" does not see his author's meaning exactly. We must inform the gentleman who wrote an "Address to the Editor," in a phrase which he will well know," that he won't do at no price." If there be any other who sees no mention of his article here, we leave him to suppose it was made light of in the awful conflagration which took place at our office. THE LITERARY LOUNGER. JANUARY, 1826. THE DRAMA. THE devotion of a space in our Miscellany to the consideration of the drama, will render a few prefatory remarks necessary; we shall thereby be enabled to state our intention with regard to the future disposal of the subject, and we do this, lest in entering at once on the ungracious task of theatrical criticism, our readers should imagine that we intended to furnish long periodical essays on the subject, be the events of the month worthy record or not-we do it, moreover, to avoid the misery of being obliged to furnish the uninteresting plot of every uninteresting drama presented to our notice. In the first place then, it is not our intention to report on every new melodrama, or every newly revived farce, or every newly arrived monkey; we would rather hand down in our brief abstract and chronicle, the appearance of legitimate novelty, or the novelty of legitimate performance; it is our wish to raise the drooping energies of our drama, and not, by glozing over its faults, tend to its further debasement, we shall hail with real pleasure revivals of those plays, which, though mellowed by the hand of time, appear as fresh, and as gay, and as racy as ever, and shall always preserve sufficient taste to prefer Shakespeare and his cotemporaries to the playwrights of 1825. We shall raise, as far as our humble means extend, the claims of native, though hidden talent, and shall pursue with invective, the presumptuous effrontery of those who, possessing no real claim to distinction," split the ears of the groundlings," and gain the applause of those who are devoid of judgment, with the vilest trickery and rant, with their false readings and glaring inconsistencies-and we shall endeavour, at the same time, to controvert those overwhelm B ing advantages which splendid scenery and costly decorations have obtained over good writing and good acting "To chase the charms of sound, the pomp of show, For useful mirth and salutary woe." Having said thus much, we shall briefly state our opinion of the drama as it now is, and without any reference to the immediate cause-be it fashion, or be it any other circumstance—we must state that it is, in every respect, very inferior to what it has been-and what it has been too, within a very few years-we must say that every succeeding season tends to compromise its dignity, that every succeeding month produces some dangerous innovation; and when these facts are continually presented to our notice, it is no wonder that we find the review of our drama, even in its abstract state, a far from pleasing task; and when we consider it as it is, and as we know it was—when we compare the splendid triumphs which dramatic poets have achieved, with the insipid maudlin every day placed before us--when we see all this, no wonder that we find the task unpleasing, and the duty irksome; we shall endeavour, however, to discharge it with justice and impartiality, and shall be in some measure recompensed, by now and then discovering a pearl on the dunghill, which we are obliged to rake-for Hard is his lot, that here by fortune placed, Must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste. Of the two national theatres we will now speak, and first of Drury Lane, "Old Drury"-the theatre where Garrick shone, and where, in later days, Kean and Young played Othello and Iago-the theatre where Macready first appeared in William Tell-(that splendid achievement!) the theatre too where, some two years ago, Munden, the incomparable Munden played, and from whence he sent his farewell audience" weeping to their beds"—of that theatre we must speak. Alas! it now presents the wreck of former grandeur! and why is it? No combinations of talent can be formed; it has been proved that one good actor cannot support the interest of a play, and at Drury Lane any thing beyond that is out of the question. The performers are generally good; the stormy, good-hearted Dowton is there, and the mercurial Harley, and "Little Knight,” and Liston too, Mrs. Davison, and the ever charming Miss Kelly—and yet what has been done? Nothing! literally nothing! Some re vivals have taken place it is true, but the witty dialogue has been most mercilessly murdered by some walking gentlemen; in tragedy the same when that has been played at this theatre, those actors who would have succeeded well in the second-rate parts, have attempted and spoilt the first, and in the same ratio, the third-rate performer has usurped the part of the second. This looks bad; the evil is deeply rooted, and desperate means must be used to eradicate it. Where is Kean? Banished to America! Why not recall him, surely by this time his fault is expiated? Where is Macready? and where is Young? Their fame, their professional existence is dependent on a metropolitan engagement, and yet they appear not! Suppose them engaged at this theatre, what delight would the lover of the drama feel, in attending the performance of Othello or King John, or seeing Macready in Virginius and William Tell, Young in Hamlet and Sir Pertinax Macsycophant; or, if those gentlemen refuse engagements, why not have extended that of a man of talent, though disfigured, in some measure, by rant and affectation, but still possessed of genius and talent-we mean Booth. In these days, the least appearance of incipient talent should be nourished; the spark of honourable ambition once excited, may become a beautiful and a steady light. As it now is, this theatre can present no diversity of entertainment, nor any one department equably supported. Tragedy is out of the question; one or two characters in Comedy may be well supported, but the rest are miserably personated; and Opera, can at present boast but Horn and Cooke, although report and the play bills state that Sinclair and Miss Stephens have accepted engagements. At Covent Garden, if we except the grossest outrage of the propriety of the drama, in the introduction of a man whose talent consists in personating the action and manners of an ape, some progress has been made towards an improvement. In the first place, the performers are capital; and although Mr. Young's secession from the theatre must be regretted, yet the varied talents of Mr. Kemble himself, added to the more than respectable declamation of Warde, and energetic delivery of Cooper, the terseness of Farren, the heartiness of Fawcett, the gentlemanly ease and buoyancy of Jones, and the naïveté of Keeley, to which may be added the dry caustic humour of Blanchard, and the portly presence and good-humoured manner |