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

appear on the stage: "L'apparition se passe, (says Madame de Stael)[3], en entier dans la physionomie de Talma, et certes elle n'en est pas ainsi moins effrayante. Quand, au milieu d'un entretien calme et melancolique, tout a coup il aperçoit le spectre, on suit tout; ses mouvemens dans les yeux qui le contemplent, et l'on ne peut douter de la presence du fantome quand un tel regard l'atteste." The remark is perfectly just, nothing can be imagined more calculated to dispel at once the effect which the countenance of a great actor, in such circumstances, would naturally produce, than bringing any one on the stage to personate the ghost; and whoever has seen Talma in this part, will acknowledge that the mind is not disposed to doubt, for an instant, the existence of that form which no eye but his has seen, and of that voice which no ear but his has heard. We regretted much, while witnessing the astonishing powers which Talma displayed in this very difficult part of the play, that it was impossible to see his genius employed in giving effect to the character of Aristodemo, (in the Italian tragedy of that name by Monti), to which his talents alone could do justice, and which, perhaps, affords more room for the display of the actor's powers, than any other play with which we are acquainted.

But the soliloquy on death is the part in which the astonishing excellence and genius of Talma are most strikingly displayed. Whatever difficulty there may often be to determine the particular manner in which scenes, with other characters, ought to be performed, there is no difference of opinion as to the manner in which soliloquies ought in general to be delivered. How comes it, then, that these are the very parts in which all feel that the powers of the actors are so much tried, and in which, for the most part, they principally fail? No one can have paid any attention to the English stage, without being struck with the circumstance, that while there may be much to praise in the performance of the other parts, many of the best actors uniformly fail in soliloquies; and that it is only of late, since the reputation of the English stage, has been so splendidly revived, that we have seen these difficult and interesting parts properly performed. It is in this circumstance, more than any other, in which the talents of Talma are most remarkably displayed, because he is peculiarly fitted, by his complete personation of character, and the deep interest which he seems himself to take in the part he is sustaining, to excel in performing what chiefly requires such interest. He is, at all times, so fully impressed with the feelings, which, under such circumstances, must have been really felt, that one is uniformly struck with the truth and propriety of every thing he does; and of course, in soliloquies, which must be perfect, when the actor appears to be seriously and deeply interested in the subjects on which he is meditating, Talma invariably succeeds. In this soliloquy in Hamlet, he is completely absorbed in the awful importance of the great question which occupies his attention, and nothing indicates the least consciousness of the multitude which surrounds him, or even that he is giving utterance to the mighty thoughts which crowd upon his mind. "Talma ne faisoit pas un geste, quelquefois seulement il remuoit la tête pour questioner la terre et le ciel sur ce que c'est que la mort! Immobile, la dignité de la meditation absorboit tout son etre."—De l'Allemagne, 1. c. We could wish to avoid any attempt to describe the acting of Talma in those passages which the eloquence of M. de Stael has rendered familiar throughout Europe; yet we feel that this account of the tragedy of Hamlet would be imperfect, if we did not allude to that very interesting scene, which corresponds, in the history of the play, to the closet scene in Shakespeare. Talma appears with the urn which contains the ashes of his father, and whose injured spirit he seems to consult, to obtain more proof of the guilt which he is to revenge, or in the hope that the affections of human nature may yet survive the horrors of the tomb, and that the duty of the son will not be tried in the blood of the parent who gave him birth. But no voice is heard to alter the sentence which he is doomed to execute; and he is still compelled to prepare himself to meet with sternness his guilty mother. After charging her, with the utmost tenderness and solemnity, with the knowledge of her husband's murder, he places the urn in her hands, and requires her to swear her innocence over the sacred ashes which it contains. At first, the consciousness that Hamlet could only suspect her crime, gives her resolution to commence the oath with firmness; and Talma, with an expression of countenance which cannot be described, awaits, in triumph and joy, the confirmation of her innocence,—and seems to call upon the spirit which had haunted him, to behold the solemn scene which proves the falsehood of its mission. But the very tenderness which he shews destroys the resolution of his mother, and she hesitates in the oath she had begun to pronounce. His feelings are at once changed,—the paleness of horror, and fury of revenge, are marked in his countenance, and his hands grasp the steel which is to punish her guilt: But the agony of his mother again overpowers him, at the moment he is about to strike; he appeals for mercy to the shade of his father, in a voice, in which, as M. de Stael has truly said, all the feelings of human nature seem at once to burst from his heart, and, in an attitude humbled by the view of his mother's guilt and wretchedness, he awaits the confession she seems ready to make: and when she sinks, overcome by the remorse and agony which she feels, he remembers only that she is his mother; the affection which had been long repressed again returns, and he throws himself on his knees, to assure her of the mercy of Heaven. We do not wish to be thought so presumptuous as to compare the talents of the French author with the genius of Shakespeare, but we must be allowed to say, that we think this scene better managed for dramatic effect: and certainly no part of Hamlet, on the English stage, ever produced the same impression, or affected us so deeply. We are well aware, however, how very different the scene would have appeared in the hands of any other actors than Talma and Madle Duchesnois, and that a very great part of the merit which the play seemed to possess, might be more justly attributed to the talents which they displayed. At the conclusion of this great tragedy, which has become so popular in France, and in which the genius of Talma is so powerfully exhibited, the applause was universal; and after some little time, to our surprise, instead of diminishing, became much louder; and presently a cry of Talma burst out from the whole house. In a few minutes the curtain drew up, and discovered Talma waiting to receive the applause with which they honoured him, and to express his sense of the distinction paid to him.

The part of Orestes in Andromaque, is another character in which the acting of Talma is seen to much advantage: and to a foreigner, it is peculiarly interesting, as it displays, more than any other almost, that uncommon power of recitation which distinguishes his acting from the tame and monotonous declamation of the ordinary actors; and which gives to the splendid language, and elevated sentiments of the French tragedies, an effect which cannot easily be understood by any one who has never seen them well performed. The part is one which is remarkably popular at present in Paris, as there is something in the history of that fabulous being, who has been represented as the victim of a capricious and arbitrary Providence, and exposed during his whole life to the most unmerited and horrible torments, which seems greatly to interest the French people; and Talma has thus been led to bestow upon the character a degree of reflection and preparation, which the parts in a French tragedy do not in general require. There is a passage which occurs in the first scene, which exhibits very strikingly the judgment and genuine feeling which uniformly marks his acting. After mentioning what had happened to him after his disappointment, with regard to Hermione, and his separation from Pylades, he says, that he had hastened to the great assembly of the Greeks, which the common interest of Greece had called together, in the hope, that the ardour, the activity, and the love of glory which had distinguished the period of youth, might revive with the animating scene which was again presented to his mind.

"En ce calme trompeur J'arrivai dans la Grece
Et Je trouvois d'abord ces princes rassemblès,
Qu'un peril assez grand sembloit avoir troublès.
J'y courus. Je pensai que la guerre et la gloire
De soins plus importants remplissoit ma memoire
Que mes sens reprenant leur premiere vigueur
L'amour acheveroit de sortir de mon cœur.
Mais admire avec mois le sort, dont la pursuite
Me fait courir alors au piege que j'evite."

There is a similar passage in Othello, in which, when the passion of jealousy had seized upon his mind, the Moor laments the degradation to which he had fallen, when all the objects of his former ambition ceased to interest his imagination, or animate his exertions. In enumerating the occupations which formed the pomp and glorious circumstance of war, but for which the misery of his situation had completely unmanned him, the actors who have attempted this character, fire with the description of the arms which he now abandons, and of the scenes in which his renown had been acquired. In this analogous passage, Talma repeats these scenes with much greater propriety and effect. He appeared overwhelmed by a deep sense of the degradation to which a foolish and unmanly attachment had reduced him; no gesture or tone of voice, expressive of the slightest animation, escaped him, when he described the objects of his youthful ambition; every thing denoted the shame and regret of a man who felt that his glory and his occupation were gone, and who no longer dared to look up with pride to the remembrance of those better days, when his valour and his resolution were the admiration of Greece.

The scene between Orestes and Hermione on their first meeting, is one in which Talma displays very great power: with his heart full of the passion from which he had suffered so much, he begins the declaration of his constancy in the most ardent and impressive manner, and for a time seems to flatter himself, that resentment at the neglect which she had met with from Pyrrhus might have awakened some affection for himself in the breast of Hermione. At first she is anxious to secure Orestes in case that Pyrrhus should ultimately slight her, and is at pains to confirm the hope which she perceives that this passion had created: But when he urges her to take the opportunity which how offered itself, of leaving a court where she appeared to be detained only to witness the marriage of her rival, she betrays at once the state of her mind:—

"Mais, seigneur, cependant s'il epouse Andromaque.
Oreste. Hé, madame.
Her. Songez quelle honte pour nous,
Si d'une Phrygienne il devenoit lepoux.
Oreste. Et vous le haissez!"—&c.

The indignant and bitter irony with which Talma delivers this speech, when he finds that resentment at Pyrrhus, and not affection for himself, has made her thus anxious to rivet the chains which her former