TRAGIC ACTORS.

Montfleury, a French player, was one of the greatest actors of his time

for characters highly tragic. He died of the violent efforts he made in

representing Orestes in the Andromache of Racine. The author of the

"Parnasse Reformé" makes him thus express himself in the shades. There

is something extremely droll in his lamentations, with a severe

raillery on the inconveniences to which tragic actors are liable.

"Ah! how sincerely do I wish that tragedies had never been invented! I

might then have been yet in a state capable of appearing on the stage;

and if I should not have attained the glory of sustaining sublime

characters, I should at least have trifled agreeably, and have worked

off my spleen in laughing! I have wasted my lungs in the violent

emotions of jealousy, love, and ambition. A thousand times have I been

obliged to force myself to represent more passions than Le Brun ever

painted or conceived. I saw myself frequently obliged to dart terrible

glances; to roll my eyes furiously in my head, like a man insane; to

frighten others by extravagant grimaces; to imprint on my countenance

the redness of indignation and hatred; to make the paleness of fear and

surprise succeed each other by turns; to express the transports of rage

and despair; to cry out like a demoniac: and consequently to strain all

the parts of my body to render my gestures fitter to accompany these

different impressions. The man then who would know of what I died, let

him not ask if it were of the fever, the dropsy, or the gout; but let

him know that it was of _the Andromache_!"

The Jesuit Rapin informs us, that when Mondory acted Herod in the

Mariamne of Tristan, the spectators quitted the theatre mournful and

thoughtful; so tenderly were they penetrated with the sorrows of the

unfortunate heroine. In this melancholy pleasure, he says, we have a

rude picture of the strong impressions which were made by the Grecian

tragedians. Mondory indeed felt so powerfully the character he assumed,

that it cost him his life.

Some readers may recollect the death of Bond, who felt so exquisitely

the character of Lusignan in Zara, which he personated when an old man,

that Zara, when she addressed him, found him _dead_ in his chair.

The assumption of a variety of characters by a person of irritable and

delicate nerves, has often a tragical effect on the mental faculties. We

might draw up a list of ACTORS, who have fallen martyrs to their tragic

characters. Several have died on the stage, and, like Palmer, usually in

the midst of some agitated appeal to the feelings.[73]

Baron, who was the French Garrick, had a most elevated notion of his

profession: he used to say, that tragic actors should be nursed on the

lap of queens! Nor was his vanity inferior to his enthusiasm for his

profession; for, according to him, the world might see once in a century

a _Cæsar_, but that it required a thousand years to produce a _Baron_! A

variety of anecdotes testify the admirable talents he displayed.

Whenever he meant to compliment the talents or merits of distinguished

characters, he always delivered in a pointed manner the striking

passages of the play, fixing his eye on them. An observation of his

respecting actors, is not less applicable to poets and to painters.

"RULES," said this sublime actor, "may teach us not to raise the arms

above the head; but if PASSION carries them, it will be well done;

PASSION KNOWS MORE THAN ART."

Betterton, although his countenance was ruddy and sanguine, when he

performed Hamlet, through the violent and sudden emotion of amazement

and horror at the presence of his father's spectre, instantly turned as

white as his neckcloth, while his whole body seemed to be affected with

a strong tremor: had his father's apparition actually risen before him,

he could not have been seized with more real agonies. This struck the

spectators so forcibly, that they felt a shuddering in their veins, and

participated in the astonishment and the horror so apparent in the

actor. Davies in his Dramatic Miscellanies records this fact; and in the

Richardsoniana, we find that the first time Booth attempted the ghost

when Betterton acted Hamlet, that actor's look at him struck him with

such horror that he became disconcerted to such a degree, that he could

not speak his part. Here seems no want of evidence of the force of the

ideal presence in this marvellous acting: these facts might deserve a

philosophical investigation.

Le Kain, the French actor, who retired from the Parisian stage, like our

Garrick, covered with glory and gold, was one day congratulated by a

company on the retirement which he was preparing to enjoy. "As to

glory," modestly replied this actor, "I do not flatter myself to have

acquired much. This kind of reward is always disputed by many, and you

yourselves would not allow it, were I to assume it. As to the money, I

have not so much reason to be satisfied; at the Italian Theatre, their

share is far more considerable than mine; an actor there may get twenty

to twenty-five thousand livres, and my share amounts at the most to ten

or twelve thousand." "How! the devil!" exclaimed a rude chevalier of the

order of St. Louis, who was present, "How! the devil! a vile stroller is

not content with twelve thousand livres annually, and I, who am in the

king's service, who sleep upon a cannon and lavish my blood for my

country, I must consider myself as fortunate in having obtained a

pension of one thousand livres." "And do you account as nothing, sir,

the liberty of addressing me thus?" replied Le Kain, with all the

sublimity and conciseness of an irritated Orosmane.

The memoirs of Mademoiselle Clairon display her exalted feeling of the

character of a sublime actress; she was of opinion, that in common life

the truly sublime actor should be a hero, or heroine off the stage. "If

I am only a vulgar and ordinary woman during twenty hours of the day,

whatever effort I may make, I shall only be an ordinary and vulgar woman

in Agrippina or Semiramis, during the remaining four." In society she

was nicknamed the Queen of Carthage, from her admirable personification

of Dido in a tragedy of that name.

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