Travels in France during the years 1814-1815 by Patrick Fraser Tytler (beach read book .txt) 📖

the talents of the actor are limited to the display of such sentiments only as accord with the simple and decided expression of character which he is anxious to maintain.

But on the other hand, the impression which this representation of character makes upon the mind, is on the whole much more profound, and the interest which the spectator takes in the circumstances in which the character is placed, is much greater when the actor is so wholly under the influence of the feelings which the situation of the part ought to excite, as never to betray any emotion which can weaken that general effect which this situation would naturally produce. To those, therefore, accustomed to the greater variety of expression which the practice of the English stage renders necessary in the countenance of every actor, and to the strong and often exaggerated manner in which common sentiments and ordinary feelings are represented, there may perhaps appear some want of expression in Talma's countenance; but no one can attend fully to any of the more interesting characters which he performs, without feeling an impression produced by the power and intelligence of his countenance, which no length of time will ever wholly efface. It is not the expression of his countenance at any particular moment which fixes itself on the mind, or the force with which accidental feelings are represented; but that permanent and powerful expression which suits the character he has to sustain, and never for an instant permits you to forget the circumstances, of whatever kind, in which he is placed; and those who have seen him in any of the greater parts on the French stage, can never forget that unrivalled power of expressing deep grief, of which nothing in any English actor at present on the stage can afford any idea.

At the same time it must be admitted, that Talma has arrived at that time of life, when the hand of age has impaired, in some degree, the vigour and expression of the human frame, and when his countenance has lost much of that variety and play of expression which belongs to the period of youth alone; it has lost much of the warmth and keenness of youthful feeling, and probably might fail in expressing that openness, and gaiety, and enthusiasm, which time has so great a tendency to diminish. But these qualities are not often required in the parts which Talma has to perform in the French plays; and if his countenance has lost some of the perfections of earlier years, it has, on the other hand, gained much from the seriousness and dignity of age. If, for instance, he does not express so well the ardour—the hope—the triumph of youthful love, there is yet something irresistibly affecting in the earnestness with which he expresses that passion; something which adds most deeply to the interest which its expression is calculated to excite, by reminding one of the instability of human enjoyment, and of the many misfortunes which the course of life may bring with it to destroy the visions of inexperienced affection. We have already mentioned, that in the expression of profound emotion and deep suffering, the countenance of Talma is altogether admirable; and we doubt whether there is any thing is this respect more true and perfect, even in the performance of that great actress who has, in the present day, united every perfection of grace, and beauty, and genuine feeling which the stage has ever exhibited. But the countenance of Talma, in scenes of distress, expresses not merely suffering, but if possible, something more, which we have never seen in any other actor. He alone possesses the power of expressing that impatience under suffering—that restless, constant wish for relief, which produces so strong an impression of the truth and reality of the affliction with which you are called upon to sympathise.

His attitudes and action are uncommonly striking, seldom in the exaggeration of the French stage, and never running into that immoderate expression of passion in which dignity of character is necessarily sacrificed. Talma appears to understand the use and management of action better than any actor on the French stage; and though at times some prominent faults, inseparable, perhaps, from the character of the plays in which he is compelled to perform, may be observable; yet, in general, his action appears to possess a power and expression beyond what is attempted by any actor on the English stage.

Nothing can be conceived apparently so inconsistent with the character of the French plays, as the manner in which they are delivered. The harangues, which are tedious to many when read, might probably be very uninteresting to all when performed, if delivered with that unbending and unimpassioned declamation, which seems to suit "their stately march and long resounding lines:" to a French audience, in particular, such representations would be intolerable, and the actors, accordingly, have been led to perform them with a degree of energy and passion which they do not appear intended to admit, but which was necessary, perhaps, to awaken those emotions which it must be more or less the object of theatrical representations to excite, wherever they are to be performed to all classes of mankind. As might have been foreseen, the French actors, compelled to counterfeit a degree of warmth and feeling which was not suggested by the sentiments they utter, or the language they employ, have fallen very naturally into the error of making the expression of passion immoderately vehement; and thus, when not guided by the language they are to use, have become not only indiscriminate in the introduction of violent emotion, but often run into a degree of warmth, totally destructive of every feeling of propriety and dignity.

The striking circumstance in Talma's acting is, that he alone seems to know how to act the French plays with all the feeling and interest which can be necessary to produce effect; and at the same time, to avoid that exaggerated representation of passion which represses the very emotions it is intended to excite. The means by which the genius of this great actor has accomplished so important an effect, and overcome the difficulties which seem insuperable to the rest of his countrymen, afford the best illustration that can be given of the talents and imagination he displays. Talma appears to have thought, and most justly, that the only manner in which the French tragedies can approach and interest the heart, is by the impression which the character and the moral tendency of the play may, upon the whole, be able to produce, not by the force or pathos which can be thrown into any detached speeches, or by the effect with which individual parts of the tragedy may be given. The impression which might be created by the delivery of any particular passage, or by the expression of any occasional sentiment, he seems at all times to consider as of subordinate importance to the preservation of that permanent character, whether of intense and overpowering suffering, or wild desperation, by which he thinks the feelings of the spectators may be most deeply and heartily interested. Much as we admire the excellencies of the English stage, and none we are persuaded can have an opportunity of comparing it with the acting of the French theatre, without being more sensible of its perfections, we think it may yet be observed, that many important objects are sacrificed to the desire of producing continual emotion,—to the practice of making every sentiment and every word tell upon the audience, with an effect which could not be greater, if that sentiment were the whole object of the tragedy. We admit, most willingly, the talent and feeling which are often so beautifully displayed in the course of the inferior scenes; and the impression, which is so frequently produced over the "whole assembled multitude," by the delivery of a single passage, of no importance in itself, attests sufficiently the merits of the actors who can thus wield at will the passions of the spectators. What we are anxious to observe is, that the general impression, from the play must be less profound, when the mind is thus distracted by a variety of powerful feelings succeeding each other so rapidly, and when the interest, which would naturally increase of itself as the performance proceeds, in the history and moral tendency of the tragedy, is thus broken, as it were, by the influence of so many transient passions. It is very singular to observe the difference, in this respect, between the character of an English and a Parisian audience: To the former, every thing, as it passes, must be given with the greatest effect; no opportunity can safely be omitted, by any one attentive to the public opinion, of displaying the power with which each sentiment may be expressed; and there is no common feeling among the spectators, of the subserviency of all the different parts of the tragedy to one great import, or that it is only in the more important scenes, where the events of the story are coming to a close, that great talent is to be exerted, or profound emotion excited. The feelings of a French audience, as might be expected, are such as better suit the character of the plays which have been so long addressed to them; they like to have their interest awakened, and their feelings excited, only as the story proceeds, and the deeper scenes of the tragedy begin to open upon them; and it is to the general impression which the progress and close of the play leave upon the mind, that they look, as to the criterion of the excellence of the manner, in which that play has been performed. Nothing, therefore, can be apparently quieter than the commencement of a French tragedy; and a person unacquainted with the language, would be disposed to conclude what was passing before him as uninteresting in the highest degree, if he did not observe the most profound and eager attention to prevail in those to whom it is addressed. It would be a subject of very curious and instructive speculation, to examine the circumstances, in the situation and intelligence of the people in both countries, which have occasioned this remarkable difference in their feelings, in moments when the influence of prejudice, or the effect of peculiar character, generally gives way, and when the genuine sentiments of mankind, as invariably happens when the different ranks of men are assembled indiscriminately together, assume their natural empire over the human heart. It might unfold some interesting conclusions both as to the great object of the drama, and the genuine style of dramatic representation; and might place, in a more important point of view than is within the consideration, perhaps, of many who so hastily decide on the superiority of the English stage, the excellence they admire.

Much as the French tragedies are despised in this country, and sensible as we are of many essential defects which belong to them, when considered as the means of exciting popular feeling, or of applying to the duties of common life, we must yet state the very great and lasting impression which many of them left on our minds, and which, we can truly say, was never equalled by any effect produced by the most successful efforts of the English stage. At our own theatres, we have been often more deeply affected during the performance of the play,—we have often admired, much more, the grace, or feeling, or grandeur of the acting we witnessed, and been more highly delighted with the species of talent which was displayed; but yet, we must acknowledge, that the impression that all this left upon the mind, was not such as has been produced by the powers of Talma in the French tragedies. We had many occasions, however, to see that this effect was to be attributed chiefly to the genius of this great actor, and that it was only