on the 28th, to St. Lawrence Island, remaining there from the 31st of July till the 2d of August. We then steered for Behring Island, where we anchored at its south-west point on August 14th. We found here a small village with a church, and twenty-five wooden houses built and owned by an American firm, Hutchinson, Kohl, Philippens, & Co., who here, and on the neighboring islands, carry on seal-fishing. The inhabitants of the island, consisting of a few Russian Government officials, some employés of

the Company and natives of the Aleu tian Islands, make in all about 300, who reside in the village. There we received our first news from Europe 'through American newspapers, whereof the last were printed in San Francisco, in April, 1879, and brought from thence by one of the Company's steamers. On the 19th of August we left Behring Island and set our course for Yokohama, where we arrived on the evening of the 2d of September.-Blackwood's Magazine.

IN May, 1817, Ludwig Tieck, critic, dramatist, and poet, visited England. He was then forty-four years old; his powers of mind and body at their best. Shakespeare was the one great object of his worship; and he justly regarded a personal acquaintance with the country and countrymen of the poet as indispensable for the systematic study of his works, and those of his contemporary dramatists, in which he was then engaged. Probably no Englishman then living was more conversant with the history of the English stage than Tieck. Of Burbage and Shakespeare's other fellow-actors, of Betterton, Booth, Quin, Macklin, Barry, Garrick, through whom its early traditions had passed, he knew all that the scanty records of our theatre had preserved; and he came to England with the natural hope that some traces of what their genius had done for the illustration of the supreme poet might be found in the great theatres with which their names were identified. It was hard-and it might well be so for a German enthusiast for the drama to believe that the great histrionic power in the actors of his own time, on which Shakespeare had relied to interpret his works to his countrymen, unaided by the splendor of scenic appointments, should not have left its mark upon their successors. In any case he might hope to see such of the poet's works as kept their hold upon the stage treated with the sympathetic reverence which the loudly proclaimed admiration by the English for their greatest poet led him to expect,

and which he had been accustomed to see applied to the acting of Shakespeare on the stages of Hamburg, Berlin, Dresden, and Vienna.

Tieck's first inquiry on reaching London was, whether the two great theatres of Covent Garden and Drury Lane were still open. It was late in the season, but, fortunately for his purpose, he was not only in time, but had come just as John Kemble was playing a series of his Shakespearean characters at Covent Garden, previous to taking his final leave of the stage. The great actor had begun these farewell performances on the 22d of April, and had been playing on alternate nights up to the 30th of May, when Tieck first saw him. Never a very strong man, his health for some years had been a good deal broken. A succession of thirty performances, within less than two months, which included King John, the Stranger, Coriolanus, Brutus in Julius Cæsar, Penruddock in The Wheel of Fortune, Hotspur, Cato, Hamlet, Zanga, Cardinal Wolsey, and Octavian in The Mountaineers, was enough to have exhausted the forces of a much younger man. Tieck therefore saw him at great disadvantage; and in reading the German critic's remarks, this circumstance must, in justice to Kemble, be kept steadily in view. Much of the languor and slowness which he found in the great actor was due not so much to his habitual style as to the constitutional asthma and physical weakness which compelled him to husband his resources. The passages in his im

personations which, as we shall see, wrung from Tieck a reluctant admission of their splendor, would be sufficient evidence of this had we not known it from the lips and writings of others who had the good fortune to be familiar with what Kemble had been, and to know him as he then was.

Tieck, whose own reading of Shakespeare subsequently became famous, had studied the actor's art in the critical school of which Lessing was the founder. He had, moreover, seen all the best acting of the German stage at a period rich in actors and actresses of great gifts and accomplishments. He had a right, therefore, to speak with authority; and before turning to what he has to say of the English stage it may not be amiss to illustrate, by his account of the great German actor, Fleck,* the high standard of excellence to which he could refer in judging of the leaders of the English school.

Fleck was slender, not tall, but of the finest proportions; he had brown eyes, whose fire was softened by gentleness, finely pencilled brows, a noble forehead and nose, and in youth his head resembled that of the Apollo. In the parts of Essex, Tancred, Ethelwolf, he was fascinating, especially so as the Infanta Don Pedro in Inez de Castro, a part written, like the whole piece, very feebly and vulgarly, but every word of which as spoken by him rang like the inspiration of a great poet. His voice had the purity of a bell, and was rich in full clear tones, high as well as low, beyond what any one could believe who had not heard them; for in passages of tenderness, entreaty, or devotion, he had a flute-like softness at command. And, without ever falling into the grating bass, which often strikes so unpleasantly on our ear, his deep tones rang like metal, with a roll like thunder in suppressed rage, and a roar as of a lion in the unchecked tempest of passion. The tragedian for whom Shakespeare wrote must, in my opinion, have possessed many of the qualities of Fleck, for those marvellous transitions, those interjections, those pauses, followed by a tempestuous

* Johann Friedrich Fleck was born in 1757, appeared on the stage in 1777, rose rapidly to the first rank in his profession, and retained it till his death in 1801. He had the qualities of a fine figure, eyes, and voice, and of an expressive face, without which no actor of the poetic drama can be great. Humor, that other essential of the great actor, he seems also to have possessed in an eminent degree. His distinction among the actors of his time was the thoroughness of everything he did. He was not fine in passages, but left upon his audience the impression of a great whole, of characters, true and consistent as life itself.

torrent of words, no less than those side strokes and touches of nature, spontaneous, naive, nay, sometimes verging on the comic,

which he threw into his performance, were given with such natural truth as to make us understand for the first time all the subtlety When and peculiarity of the poet's pathos. he appeared in any of his great impersonations there was a halo of something supernatural about him, an impalpable horror went with him, and every tone, every look went through our heart. In the part of Lear I preferred him to the great Schröder, for he dealt with it more poetically and more truly to the poet, inasmuch as he labored less visibly at the indications of coming madness, although when it came he exhibited it in all its appalling sublimity. To have seen his Othello was have surpassed him, for he gave the first act a great experience. In Macbeth Schröder may without sufficient significance, and the second act feebly, and with a want of decision, but from the third onward he was incomparable, of a weird horror, never commonplace, but, on and in the fifth grand. His Shylock was full the contrary, noble throughout. Many of Schiller's characters were quite written for him; but the triumph of his greatness, however great he might be in many of them, was the Robber Moor. To this Titian-like creation of a young and daring imagination he gave a terrible reality, a noble elevation; the ferocity was mingled with tenderness so touching that the poet, when he saw it, must unquestionably have been struck with wonder at Even the so-called character parts in the drama of every-day life Fleck played with distinction and spirit, infusing a humor into them which made them most attractive.

his own creation.

For the sake of dramatic history, as well as of Kemble's reputation, it is a pity that so competent a critic as Tieck should not have seen the actor at his

best. His report might then have claimed the same authority as the admirable account of Garrick in the last year of his public life, which is to be found in the German philosopher and critic Lichtenberg's letters from London to his friend Boye. Still, after making every allowance, there is "much matter to be heard and learned" about Kemble and his contemporaries from the sketches, composed in a great measure from his London letters, which Tieck published in his Dramaturgische Blätter in 1826, but which have not hitherto been made known to English readers.

Barren although our stage unhappily is, for the time, of the powers, natural and acquired, which can alone do justice to the Shakespearean drama, Tieck's account of what he saw is not wholly without consolation for us. All was not

so perfect in those so-called palmy days of the stage as some would have us believe. Bad acting was not uncommon then any more than now-as, indeed, how can it ever be otherwise than common-the art being so difficult as it is? And although there were actors of great natural gifts, and who, by a lifetime of study and observation, had trained themselves to grapple with the great characters of the poetic drama, and to portray the "high actions and high passions" by which they lifted delighted audiences into that ideal world which, after all, seemed to be the only real one, the stage of that period was far behind our own in this-that liberties of excision and addition were taken with the text of Shakespeare which would now be impossible, and that those accessories which give life and variety to the action of the scene were neglected to an extent as culpable in one way as the excess in scenic splendor and elaboration of costume to which we have of late years been accustomed is objectionable in another.

The first play which Tieck saw at Covent Garden (May 30th) was Cymbeline, which he justly calls "the most charming of the poet's dramas."

I was prepared to find (he says), owing to the length of the piece, and want of capacity in the actors who could not fill all the parts, much less fill them all well, that I should not see the whole play, and that much of what I should see would be performed in a mediocre style, for we are accustomed to this sort of thing, even in the case of weaker plays; but that there should be an absolute want of connection, and of illusion in many of the finest scenes, nay, that not so much as an attempt at this should be made-for this, I confess, I was not prepared. The whole was treated as a series of declamations, in which some things were spoken admirably, many gracefully, and much, very much, as stupidly as could be, without regard to the poet's meaning, or even to the elementary rules of elocution.

It frequently struck me as strange and ludicrous that the performers should have adopted any costume, as they seemed in truth to ignore the fact that they were acting altogether. I felt this chiefly in those scenes, assuredly among the finest which even Shakespeare has written-I mean those of that marvellous solitude in which old Belarius, and the king's two stolen sons, Guiderius and Arviragus, appear. All the more that the poet has given peculiar richness of color, and a glorious freshness to these scenes, did one feel outraged by seeing these youths deport themselves like two young Englishmen, who had dropped into

the theatre for their amusement from the nearest tavern. This revolting kind of commonplace made havoc of these scenes, but the audience appeared to be unconscious of any. thing amiss.

The curtailments and alterations in the arrangement of this play for the stage have been made in the most reckless way, according to a prevailing usage with the English in such matters; for since adaptations of their poet (like Dryden's of the Tempest, and Shadwell's of Timon of Athens) are no longer represented, they are content with arbitrary abridgments, in which the play often becomes unintelligible, and the meaning of the poet is always sure to suffer. A general knowledge of the work is assumed; the most celebrated passages are allowed to stand; undue prominence is often given to the leading actors; unimportant scenes and speeches are taken from their place, and given to some favorite. One scene is lengthened out, by interpolations or dumb show, to very weariness, while other scenes are shortened or wholly omitted, although they are to carry on the action-in short, such violence is done to the author that an unprejudiced observer finds it hard to reconcile this tyranny with the reverence and homage which the English seem to pay to their great poct whenever they can.

Those whose studies have not shown them how deeply the vice here denounced by Tieck had penetrated into our acted Shakespearean drama, will read his statements with amazement. It was not indeed until long afterward, when his management of Covent Garden, and subsequently of Drury Lane, enabled Mr. Macready to introduce a thorough system of reform, that the scandal was effectively abated. When, among other revivals, Cymbeline was produced by him, the play was probably, for the first time, seen upon the stage in something like its true proportions. Local color and correct costumes were introduced, with a skilful reserve, to set off the fine acting of his powerful company. How reverently and beautifully the forest scene, alluded to by Tieck, with the two young men of royal breed, was handled, must still be a delight to many to remember. But to return to our chronicler.

On his first entrance John Kemble reminded me, by his noble presence, his stature, and speaking, expressive face, of our excellent Heinrich Jacobi. The English themselves admit that, even when he was young, the part of Posthumus was one of his weakest ; how much more now! His voice is weak and tremulous, but full of expression, and there is a ring of feeling and intelligence in every word, only much too strongly marked, and between every second and third word there

comes a pause, and most of the verses or speeches end in a high key. In con

sequence of his tedious style of delivery the piece, even though probably one half of it was cut out, lasted an unusual time. This, so to speak, musical declamation was incompatible with all real acting, nay, in a certain degree made it impossible; for when everything is made to depend on little nuances of speaking, and every monologue and every single passage is sought to be rounded off into an artistic whole, any delineation of character, of the ebb and flow of passion and feeling, is out of the question. Here and there one saw the great master; for example, in the second act, when Iachimo after his return tells how he has succeeded; the despair, mingled with rage, the kindling of fresh hope, and the falling back into comfortless anguish, were admirably given, and one could see clearly that if Kemble had not succumbed to mannerism, and a one-sided school, he would have been a truly great actor.

The Iachimo of the evening was Young, who threw, says Tieck, no character into the part. He was probably not actor enough to be a villain of a stamp so abhorrent to his own honorable nature. Miss Foote was the Imogen.

She was graceful" is Tieck's criticism, in the boy's dress; but she was not really equal to the part." How could she be? she, the airy, graceful, fine lady of comedy, how was she to depict all the pathos, the passion, the ineffable mixture of womanly grace and power and dignity of this paragon of Shakespeare's women ?

Liston's Cloten, we are told, "was the part played with the most spirit and intelligence. His stuttering, bullying manner was full of meaning, and the uncouthness of his nature was extremely well expressed." But there follows a qualification of a very serious kind.

The actor fell into the mistake of not letting the somewhat heroic side of the Prince peep out through his boorishness. He was all through too thoroughly the clodpole. Thus," continues Tieck,

my longing to see a play of the great national poet performed in London has been at length fulfilled, but not satisfied. Schröder and Fleck, and their brother performers, did much more toward adequately representing the poet; and, fallen though at the present moment the German stage is, were Cymbeline to be attempted there, there are undoubtedly many places where a more complete performance would be aimed at, and this wondrous poem would not be so mercilessly mangled. If Shakespeare must be abridged and cut to pieces, let those who set about the task remember what Brutus says of Cæsar :

NEW SERIES.-VOL. XXXI., No. 5.

Let us be sacrificers, but no butchers, Caius ! Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods, Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds." The next night Tieck saw John Kemble in Brutus.

As my anticipations (he says) were no longer vague, so was my enjoyment greater. The play itself, too, being narrower in its range, and more easily understood, was altogether better given. Brutus, it is true, was not acted, but only declaimed with intelligence. The celebrated quarrel scene between him and Cassius (Mr. Young) produced but little impression; for scenes of this kind Kemble's voice is much too weak. The orations were well spoken. Charles Kemble, brother of the famous actor, delivered his speech as Antony with great energy, only there was too much malignant bitterness in his laugh at its close, when he saw the people roused, showing a false interpretation of the poet's purpose! Here was an instance of what we often see-that an inferior talent infuses too much of itself into the poet, and thereby drags him down to a lower level. Much may be introduced well and properly in the plays of other writers is concerned. which is quite out of place where Shakespeare

The scene of the mob, with its rising turbulence and its calming down again, was very well given. On this occasion too the costumes were satisfactory.

Tieck had found great fault with the costumes in Cymbeline, which appear from his description to have been ludicrously inappropriate. He also objects strongly to the vastness of the stage, which seemed to him to make the effective arrangement of groups upon it almost impossible. And certainly he had good reason for this complaint if no more skill was shown in grappling with this difficulty than in the scene of Cæsar's assassination, as he describesit :

The stage was deep, and Cæsar sat upon a chair in the extreme background. When the:

petition was presented, and rejected by him, the conspirators arranged themselves in a welldefined pyramid, of which Cæsar formed the apex, while Brutus stood well forward in the proscenium to the left. Casca is the first to stab him; then Cæsar turns to the right and receives a second blow from the second of his enemies; again he staggers in affright to the left, a few steps forward, and receives a fresh wound, then the same to the right now the free space on the stage grows larger, and thisstrange movement of the mortally wounded man becomes more extraordinary and unnatural, but he still goes on staggering across the stage five or six times, so as to be stabbed by the conspirators, who remain quietly standing, until he receives his death-blow from Brutus, and falls forward, exclaiming, Et tw

35

Brute!" This scene, arranged like the most formal ballet, lost all dignity; and it was rendered outrageous by its pretentious solemnity. It was even impossible to laugh at it.

To what will not men become accustomed! I believe, of all the native audience, there was not one who was disturbed by this grotesque piece of stage business.

The First Part of Henry V. was the next play in which Tieck saw John Kemble, and his disappointment breaks out in the following prelude to his criticism of the great actor's treatment of Hotspur.

Again I let myself be deluded with the hope that I should see real acting, real impersonation, penetrating truth, and grasp of character, that infusion into noble poetry of life and action which, by exalting all our faculties and rousing them into harmonious exercise, offers to us perhaps the highest enjoyment

which man is capable of receiving from art. But all I got for my pains was to hear some passages finely spoken, with a total break-down and failure, as a rule, in all that is most essential. Where was the humor of Hotspur, the young fiery hero, who is as brave as he is unmannerly, who out of vanity hates vanity in others; who, himself the head of the conspiracy, with the best resources in his hands, has so little self-command that he scares away the most powerful of his confederates, and who, as general, as husband, and as friend, by his fiery temper and good humor, shows characteristics so marked and peculiar have them vividly stamped upon his fancy? John Kemble declaimed leisurely, intelligently, making frequent efforts at the humor of the part, but never grasping it. Here too he spoke quite as slowly as in the parts I had previously seen, made two or three considerable pauses, now drawled (klagte), now emphasized every second or third word, one could not say why, and then ended so frequently in a sort of sing-song in all, that I thought I was again listening to one of those Protestant preachers whom one used to hear twenty years ago in provincial places indulging in this wailing, tedious tempo. Percy's first long story to the king Kemble seemed to take as serious earnest, only exaggerated by youthful violence. To this solemn, almost torturing, slowness the ear became so accustomed that when Percy came to the passage

that the most careless reader never fails to

'In Richard's time-what do you call the place?

A plague upon 't it is in Gloucestershire'Twas where the madcap Duke his uncle

kept," etc.,

and he all at once spoke it with a quick, sharp utterance, like a man who suddenly cannot call a name to mind, and seeks for it with impatience, the whole house broke out into vehement applause at the sudden drop of the voice and alteration of the tempo. It is something noticeable when a thing of this kind, which is a mere matter of course, and which

can be easily hit off by the mediocre actor, is received by the public with such marked admiration. This mannerism, which often shows itself in Kemble, as in other actors, capriciously and without cause, reminds one of the tragic recitation of the French, who in every scene fling out some verses at a galloping pace in succession to passages spoken with measured and exaggerated emphasis.

66

Tieck, however, in summing up his criticism, is compelled to admit that Kemble gave a noble and manly portraiture of the young and impetuous Prince, although without the attractiveness, and the gayety of spirit, which the poet has assigned to his hero." In judging of this criticism, one must keep in view, that if the critic had seen Kemble in his best days, or even on some other night, when he was less fatigued, or less out of health, he might have found in his his performance the very life, the vivacity, the wayward charm, which he missed on the evening in question. Actors are but mortals, and the finer their sensibilities the more apt are they to be at times unstrung. Kemble, it is well known, during these last performances taxed his powers unfairly. In Mr. Macready's autobiography an account is given of the performance of Macbeth, two nights after Tieck saw him in Hotspur, where the same flatness through much of the play was obviously due to this cause. It was contrary to Kemble's principles as an artist, as it was to those of his great sister,* to slur any part of his work. Had he been himself, he would never have languished through the first four acts of the play, as we learn from Mr. Macready he did, that he might electrify his audience in the fifth.

Through the whole first four acts the play moved heavily on, Kemble correct, tame, and ineffective; but in the fifth, when the news was brought," The Queen, my lord, is dead! he seemed struck to the heart; gradually col

ter.

*"You never," are Charles Young's words, caught her slumbering through some scenes. in order to produce, by contrast, an exaggerated effect in others. She neglected nothing. From the first moment to the last she was, according to theatrical parlance, in the characThere were no pauses protracted until they became unintelligible. What was passing in her mind was read in her changing countenance. Each character became á perfect picture, in which, through all the changes of passion, a harmony was perceived."-Campbell's "Life of Mrs. Siddons," vol. ii. p. 383.