an admirer might, without overstraining his devotion, have called bold and laudable ambition, those of another complexion censured as unwarrantable;-neither of these parties, however, had any thing to do with it. As a mere matter of prudence, it belonged to Mr. Cooper, and to him alone. Of the result we can only say, that if there were any persons malicious enough to hope that he would disgrace himself, they were most egregiously mistaken;-and if there were any sanguine enough to hope that he would inhance his professional reputation by it, they were greatly deceived also. Speaking, however, with a view to the public judgment, it has been useful, inasmuch as it has served to draw the marked line of distinction between Messrs. Cooke and Cooper, which, before that, critics might write and talk about for ever, without ascertaining truth with any reasonable degree of precision.

Of the dissimulation, the plausibility, the cunning, the sarcastic, secret malignity, which constitute the basis of the character of Richard, there is, (comparatively speaking,) hardly a trace discernible in Mr. Cooper's representation of it. As little was there of those subtile discriminations of meaning which evince the philosophic actor, of those various inflexions and animated expressions of countenance that speak the inmost soul, or of

Those various powers which lie

Within the magic circle of the eye,

and which distinguish Cooke from all other actors. The predominant object of Mr. Cooper in his performance, seemed to be, to act the part in every respect differently from Mr. Cooke;-in doing of which, it would seem as if he forgot that Shakspeare's intention, and not Mr. Cooke's performance, was the clue by which he ought to be guided; unless it were first ascertained that Mr. Cooke's conception of the character was wrong, and ought to be avoided. On this point we may be permitted to affirm, that an actor who widely departs from Mr. Cooke's conception of Richard, must lamentably depart from the character itself; and that if he plays it in antithetical contradiction to him, he must go positively wrong. Hence it was that the craft, the smothered fury, the dissimulation and the policy of Richard, so miraculously pourtrayed by Mr. Cooke, were either lost in stormy vociferation, or sunk in an uninteresting calm: and hence too, arose the universal remark, that Mr. Cooper was formerly much greater in Richard than he was on this night.

In the opening soliloquy,-in the courtship scene with Lady Anne, and in the tent scene, Mr. Cooper deserves much praises in the last we think him much superior to Mr. Cooke. The scene with Lady Anne was very fine too; and as a piece of courtship, taken abstractedly, better than that of Mr. Cooke,-but as the courtship of the hellish Richard, it was very much inferior. The lurking demon did not grin through the suitor's smiles,-the lively malice mixt with vitious desire which glistened in the eyes of the one, did not in the other show and speak the fiendlike soul of Richard. Yet it was very fine acting, and sufficiently specious to impress some judgments with an idea of successful competition.

Of the tent scene we can safely avouch it as our opinion, that it has hardly ever been exceeded by any actor. That it is superior to Mr. Cooke's, is saying less of it than it deserves; because, with the exception of the one speech, the first,-the latter is but a sorry performance. Many find it difficult to account for this lamentable falling off in so great an actor as Cooke. An account for it, however, may be easily found in personal infirmity,-some injury accidentally received, we suppose, in the knees.

Mr. Cooper's dying scene was well done. There was a fine practical imitation of the anguish of a wounded man; and in the writhing of his body when he received the wound, and in his manner of falling, there was much stage effect: but in the subsequent part,-in the actual dying, comparison would rather injure Mr. Cooper.

Upon the whole, Mr. Cooper displayed in Richard great physical powers, and much spirit. But the plan upon which he played it was radically so wrong, that we are persuaded a person who never read or saw Richard but in his performance of it, would have but a very inadequate conception of the character as meditated and described by Shakspeare.

Saturday, September 28th,

HAMLET SYLVESTER DAGGERWOOD.

We cannot congratulate Mr. Cooper upon any improvement in his performance of Hamlet: to us he appeared more careless than usual. In the scene in which he used most to excel-we mean that which passes at the play before the king and queen, he fell short of his accustomed force-and the speech "He poisons him in the garden for his estate; his name's Gonzago," &c., was 66 come tardy off."-Of his old imperfections Mr. Cooper is more tenacious. Of

these there are two which he certainly owes it to the public and himself to "reform altogether." One is his disregard of the author's words, in which he is so constantly imperfect, that we cannot call to mind having seen him play a single part in which he did not make many and very great mutilations:-even in his Hamlet, which by this time he ought to have at his tongue's end, there were several omissions, and some whimsical substitutions: sometimes lines, sometimes large and important portions of a speech are left out. This demands his immediate attention.

Another fault is the very disagreeable and protracted sibilation in his utterance at the termination of lines or periods which end with a hissing sound. This is a subject upon which we gave our sentiments long ago, in another work, to which we have some reason to believe he was not altogether inattentive. The fault has since increased upon him. Mr. Cooper cannot but know that too much sibilation is one of the greatest deformities of our language, one which, more than any other, affords foreigners a pretext for censuring it; and is owing to the multiplied introduction of the hissing sound of s, c, ti-ce, &c. which so frequently occur in it. Unnecessarily to increase that deformity is unpardonable. Yet in lines or periods that terminate with s or ce, or any other sibilating sound, the hissing is carried on by Mr. Cooper as if it were thought a beauty, or as if organs were wanting to stop it.-This evil is not confined to Mr. Cooper himself-his rank on the stage makes his example injurious to others, and his defect passes over to his admirers and imitators.-We forbear to mention names; but there is one lady, whose speech seems as if it were employed to hiss herself. What shall we say of the termination of the word silence, ce being carried on with a protracted hiss of the duration of three or four seconds?

That this is a great fault, every one must admit-that it is a fault which, uncorrected, example would encourage and extend, may easily be proved. It is the critic's office to mark it, and if persevered in, it is his duty to hold it up to public censure.

Monday, September 30th,

STRANGER- -OSCAR AND MALVINA.

FOREIGN CRITICISM.

We have intelligence from London of a very curious and novel dramatic production lately represented at the Hay-market theatre, and intitled in the bills "A grand dressed Rehearsal of Tragico-Comico-Anglo-Germanico-Hippo-Ono-Dramatico Romance, a new piece in two acts, called "THE QUADRUPEDS OF QUEDLINBURGH, OR THE ROVERS OF WEIMAR." It is intended, in the first place, as a satire upon the taste of the town for equestrian spectacle, and as it was announced with more than ordinary tone, a more than ordinary expectation was excited by it. The principle of the piece is the same as that of the Rehearsal, and of Mr. Sheridan's Critic, but not equal to either.

The other object of the play is the ridicule of German language, plot, and sentiment; of those unnatural transitions of passion, and combinations of humour and character, which are nowhere found but on the German stage. The piece rehearsed is taken from the admired burlesque on the German School, which some ten or twelve years ago appeared in " The Anti-Jacobin," which has been frequently attributed to Mr. Canning, and which was said to be intended, as a witty raillery of the style of Southey. The characters of the German drama were very well characterized in the prologue, as sentimental pickpockets, heroic highwaymen, and inno cent adulteresses.

Such is the object of the piece, and certainly the wishes of the audience went with its success. "The question now, (says the London Critic) is as to the execution." He then proceeds thus:

"There are chiefly two forms of comic ridicule: the one is the heightening a folly or absurdity, by increasing as it were its effect and dimensions, by putting it forth under circumstances calculated to exhibit its deviation from nature. This may be termed comic caricature. The following is an instance of it. The Germans are very extravagant in their feelings and sympathies and sentiments; it is a ridicule of this extravagance; two ladies are introduced as passengers in the Brunswick wagon. They talk together about three minutes, and then perceiving their congenial natures propose an eternal friendship, and deluge each other's neck with tears. Now, there is no objection to this kind of caricature, as long as it has a show of ridicule, as long as it is a parody of a similar absurdity. VOL. IV. 2 C

By itself, however, and independent of any aim at ridicule, it is sheer nonsense."

"The second kind of ridicule is burlesque; which is of two kinds, the high burlesque, which parodies low images and affairs in a lofty style, and the low burlesque, which degrades what is serious and lofty, by low and buffoonish appendages. Both these kinds of humour were employed in this piece, but occasionally without an attention to their nature. Buffoonery was introduced without an aim and without any possible nature or probability; and the high burlesque was frequently mere grave stupidity and arrant nonsense." Upon the whole, however, The Rovers had a great and uncommon merit, a portion of wit and meaning which would be sought in vain in most other modern plays.

The plot is as follows:

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Prior of the abbey of Quedlinburgh-very corpulent and cruel. Rogero-a prisoner in the abbey, in love with Matilda Pottingen.

Casimere a Polish emigrant, in Dembrowsky's legion-married to Cecilia, but having several children by Matilda.

Puddingfield and Beefington-English noblemen, exiled by the tyranny of king John, previous to the signature of Magna Charta. Roderic, Count of Saxe Weimar-a bloody tyrant, with red hair, and amorous complexion.

Gaspar the minister of the count; author of Rogero's confinement.

Young Pottingen-brother to Matilda.

Matilda Pottingen-in love with Rogero, and mother to Casimere's children.

Cecilia Muckinfeldt-wife to Casimere.

Landlady, waiter, grenadiers, troubadours, &c. &c.

Pantalowsky and Britchiud-children of Matilda, by Casimere. Joachim, Jabel, and Amarantha-children of Matilda, by Rogero. Children of Casimere and Cecilia, with their respective nurses. Several children; fathers and mothers unknown.

The scene lies in the town of Weimar, and the neighbourhood of the abbey of Quedlinburgh.

Time, from the twelfth to the present century.

Rogero, son of the late minister of the count of Saxe Weimar,