| | | For some time past we have felt an apprehension that the | modern habit of collecting into volumes the scattered | contributions of men of letters to the reviews and magazines, | might be carried too far ~~ that the vanity of authors might | trespass too far on the patience of readers, or at least of | critics. We have had among our periodical writers some | half-dozen, perhaps more, names of historic celebrity in | literature; and the essays such men have thrown off, | generally in the intervals of more definite application, cannot | fail to have an interest, not only in themselves, but form the | light they shed on the character of their authors, and the | progress they denote in their intellectual career. But it should | be remembered by those who are meditating the collection | of such fugitive pieces in separate publications, that the chief | charm of periodical writing lies generally in what we may call | its setting. Essays on the passing questions of the hour, | political or social, belong to the hour, and appeal to the | thoughts and feelings of the hour. Turn back to an odd | volume of one of our leading reviews, and cast your eye over | its articles; you are thrown into the times themselves ~~ | each paper reflects a colour upon the rest, each enhances | the interest of its companions. You learn to estimate the | feeling of the day on politics or philosophy y observing what | was its standard of taste in poetry, what its sense of social | duties, what its views of spiritual enlightenment. But take | away any particular article from this companionship or | setting, and all this illustration is lost ~~ its merits must now | be judged in the abstract. An old master has painted his | chef-d’oeuvre for a particular altar in a particular | church, where a particular light falls upon it, and you strip it | from the wall, and hang it in the full blaze of a modern | exhibition room ~~ or an architect has constructed his hall or | tower to group with certain objects around it, and you pull | down half a street to open up to it a vista or clear it from | obstructions ~~ and then you wonder perhaps that the effect | is quite different and by no means equally satisfactory. So | with the periodical essay. Displaced from its natural and | original accompaniments it comes out bald in tone, poor in | effect. it clashes, perhaps with the temper of the new times | on which it has fallen ~~ at least it has lost its freshness, its | application, and the opportuneness which constituted half its | value. It may still have indeed its use to the antiquarian, the | historian, or the philosopher; but to the general reader at | least, it will, in too many cases, be probably little better than | dust and ashes. | This fashion of republication commenced, it will be | remembered, with certain well-known contributors to the | Edinburgh Review. In their case it had | undoubtedly a reason, and a propriety. The most salient | essays of the Edinburgh, particularly those of its | earlier years, were meant to teach abstract principles in | politics, in literature, and in social science; and as far as they | succeeded, which was certainly to no mean extent, in | placing such questions on grounds of positive and abstract | truth, they still retain a permanent importance in English | literature. The essays of Jeffrey on the Belles Lettres, | of Horner and Brougham on Political Economy, of | Sydney Smith on the application of common sense to | Politics and Ethics, mark that era in our national progress in | which principles now current after half a century of debate | were first plainly and boldly enunciated. Lord Macaulay’s | displays in intellectual pyrotechnics stand upon other | grounds ~~ their merits, transcendent in their kind as they | must always be considered, do not rest on the admitted truth | or the acknowledged depth of their philosophy. We do not | mean it as a disparagement of the interest which has | attached to the great rival of the Edinburgh when | we say that the essays contributed to the | Quarterly have rarely had the same claim to | independent existence. The interest of the Tory journal has | generally lain, not in the preaching of abstract truth and the | assertion of universal principles, but in its light and easy | treatment of the transient emotions of the day. Its politics | have been ephemeral ~~ their hue has shifted with every | successive crisis, almost with every successive Ministry. The | losing side must live from hand to mouth; its polemics must | be temporary and occasional; its defence must be a system | of shifts and skirmishings. The papers of the Quarterly | may be full of eloquence and satire, of terse argument | and lucid exposition, but they express for the most part the | feelings of the moment only, and their sense and spirit | evaporate when they are made to stand alone. No periodical | writers have been more effective in their day than Southey | and Croker; yet who would think of reading a collective | volume of their articles, in which, perhaps, there is not a | general principle advanced which has not been belied by the | deliberate judgment of a later generation. | While, in throwing out these observations, we would call the | attention of writers and publishers to the distinction between | papers written for the purpose of the moment, and with the | views of the moment, and essays of higher aim and more | lasting interest, we would designate the collection before us | as eminently worthy to be preserved in a substantive shape. | The papers which Mr. Donne has here brought together | have been contributed to different periodicals ~~ to the | Quarterly, the Westminster, and Fraser, | in the course of the last six or seven years. They all | refer to kindred subjects. They are all, according to their title, | Essays on the Drama, beginning with one on “Menander and | the Athenian Comedy,” and ending with a review of “Popular | Amusements,” both ancient and modern, among which the | drama, in some shape or other, has generally held a | prominent place. Sound criticism on the principles of the art | both of the dramatist and the actor has a general interest, | independent of the feeling or fashion of the day, and Mr. | Donne has given to his remarks a permanent value by the | justness of his maxims, the abundance of his illustrations, | the sparkling vivacity of his language. We will not affirm that | his observations are as thoughtful as Coleridge’s, as | pungent as Hazlitt’s, as deep and tender as Lamb’s; but they | have the charm of truth and freshness, and are | recommended by the graces of a style which in these days | of hasty scribbling is itself a study. | The subjects of two of these essays have been already | mentioned. Among the others is a review of Mr. Dyce’s | Edition of Beaumont and Fletcher, containing a fair and | kindly estimate of the commentator’s labours, together with a | genial criticism on the brother bards themselves, and a view | of the dram in their times. Another, under the title of | Plays and their Providers, gives an account of the | present state of the dram and the dramatic profession in | London and the provinces, which is amusing now, and will | be curious hereafter, coming as it does from the experience | of one whose official post is behind the scenes. No age has | understood so well as our own how to write for posterity ~~ | to throw together those unconsidered trifles of daily usage | which will acquire an interest and value with the rust of ages. | Then follows a light and pleasing sketch of the Songs of | the Dramatists, collected by Mr. Robert Bell, in which | the reviewer shows his acquaintance with the bye-ways of | English poetry, and a true appreciation of its more retiring | beauties. We will mention last the paper which is perhaps | the most interesting of all ~~ the obituary notice of Charles | Kemble which appeared in Fraser’s Magazine. | This seems to us quite a masterpiece of kindly yet | discriminating eulogy. it is evidently the tribute of a personal | friend; it is impossible to mistake in it the outpouring of | personal regard and admiration; yet the eulogy is tempered | with so much just reserve and allowance, so handsome is | the praise accorded to rivals in the art, so generous the | concession to their special superiority, as to satisfy, we | should think, the partisans of all our modern protagonists. | But in truth, without the stimulus of personal attachment, a | generous mind feels naturally drawn to sing the praises of | the departed hero of the stage. It sees in him, to the last | moment, the same face and figure which charmed it in its | own early years ~~ it recals the recollection of its juvenile | transports ~~ it associates him with its own first initiation in | the mysterious of scenic illusion.

“What a piece of work” | was the “man” who figured as the hero of our first tragedy! | “How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form how | moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an | angel! in apprehension how like a God! the beauty of the | world! the paragon of animals!”

The writer of this notice | is perhaps the only contributor to the Saturday Review | who has seen John Kemble. it was once only; and it | was in Cato, and we were but five years old. The lion’s head | epaulettes of Syphax still mingle in our recollections with the | dark hair, and deep-set eye, and godlike bearing of the noble | Roman. We cannot determine whether it was a trick of our | young imagination, or whether we actually saw a stream of | crimson worsted issuing from his wound. But we incline to | the worsted ~~ the more so, as in later times, though still far | distant, we have undoubtedly seem Edmund Kean | marshalled on his way as Macbeth by a real dagger dangling | from the ceiling. But however this may be, our first | impressions of the stage and its heroes must always be the | last. Mr. Donne has been brought up in the faith of Charles | Kemble, and while his judgment balances between him and | various competitors, it is evident that he has ever been the | real star of his affections. | | Charles Kemble’s great and merited successes were late in | arriving. he played through more than one period | unpropitious to the bent of his genius, before the second | quarter of the century crowned with tardy honours the most | industrious, thoughtful, and philosophic of our artists in every | department. The more concentrated character and greater | physical advantages of his elder brother overshadowed him | in his early career. | The Sturm und Drang period which succeeded ~~ | the period of our military triumphs ~~ the age of amazing | exploits and glowing anticipations ~~ the age of vehement, | undisciplined genius, of Byron in poetry and Kean in acting | ~~ the age of extravagance in dress and manners ~~ was | unfavourable to the appreciation of a player who gave to the | study of his profession, and who required to give to it, as | many hours as in other paths of life have gone to form a | statesman or a philosopher. But Charles Kemble lived on, | and played on, till he fell upon another generation which | understood him better. Our tamer genius smells of the lamp, | and we take every sign of care and thoughtfulness in our | instructors as a compliment to our taste and discrimination. | Wordsworth and Tennyson have succeeded to Scott and | Byron; Charles Kean to Edmund, Charles Kemble to glorious | John. These things mostly go in cycles, and our children will | probably run off again into spasms. In the meantime, Mr. | Donne’s description of the elder Kean may avail to justify to | them the idolatry of our fathers: ~~