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of the wealthy and refined . The dens of infamy , the haunts of squalor , nay , the horrors of the tomb , even the putrefying corpse , tortured and warped by disease , endowed with a new life and light by the genius of Rembrandt , came to be the delight of palaces , and to exact the homage of Europe . A heap of stones , and a solitary limping mendicant , painted on a few square inches of wood , will be an object of competition ; collectors swarm around , covet it , and become as children in their unaffected admiration . No word escapes them touching the choice of subject , no one regrets its meanness , no one believes it mean . Such vagabonds as Rembrandt paints , the critics shun in the streets . Everv sense is offended by the reality ,
and yet every beholder is charmed by the transcript . Wherein then is this magic which enables the painter so to win the homage of the fastidious 1 Rembrandt ' s beggars , culprits , and executioners , have the lineaments of the unmitigated realities they picture . Guilt , cunning , avarice , and infamy , are stereotyped in every line of the face . Were they alive , vye would turn aside , nor suffer them to start up in our paths , infest our streets , and prowl about our homes . Living , they baffle the intelligent , and overawe the proud , but in the pictures of Rembrandt they captivate and charm . What transformation have these objects underg one at the painter ' s hands that they appeal to sight with all this fascination ? The choice of subject certainly cost the painter no effort , but his whole art was exhausted in the setting , in making it effective , in rendering it dramatic in the fullest sense
of that term . .. .. The art of Rembrandt , considered in respect to design , consists in giving to each character of his selection the lineaments which truly bel&ng to it . His lines go home to the truth ; they express all and no more ; they never exaggerate . If they are forcible it is because they are accurate . If the forms they delineate are hideous it is because the models were deformed ; if they lack beauty and gracefulness it is because the sitters whom the artist affectioned excelled in ugliness . It is the same with his colours . They are all truth ; uncompromising truth . The flesh looks like flesh , and nothing else beside . You need no simile to explain what his colouring is like . Fix upon the local colours of any object , take into consideration the sort of light in which they are seen , and they are truthful to a shade . They are always
vivid , never staring . He knew the precise degree in which the contrast of opposing tints was to be risked , when it produced variety and force , and when its results were confusion and vulgarity . He could give tangible existence to the fleeting hues and transient effects of light and darkness with as much ease as ordinary Dutch painters transcribed the appearance of fixed objects . He revelled like an adept in the shadows of the night , peered wistfully into the solemn darkness , and drew order and system out of the portentous chaos . By the blaze of torch or the wavering embers , he saw in the profound gloom immensity of space . And whatever of interest or of wonder the eye comprehended , the hand as readily expressed . Thus he was empowered to endow common objects with sublime aspects . As an instance of what we mean , let us analyze one of his typical pictures .
Night has closed in over the distant horizon , the robbers have shaken off repose , and stand equipped and ready for the prey . The chief ' s eye , already on the road , detects the unsteady light of the traveller ' s torch ,, and , in gloomy patience , awaits the victim ' s coming . A moment more , and the torch , an unconscious traitor , lights up the banditti and their prey . This is the moment the painter has seized . The scowling crew , in all the mummery of antique garb , savage gesture , find implements of death , stand out in terrible relief . The tall chief plants his gaunt figure in the front ,
the rest , in straggling groups , fall into the darkening background , and gather apart into dark and threatening clusters : the more remote , like jagged rocks , which the imagination shapes into demons . The chiefs grizzly beard , keenly parted lips , and lowering eye , overshadowed by the ample briirr and dusky plume , compose n portrait at once forocious and grotesque , such as Frederic : Lcinaitrc would " make up" with real gusto . It is the ideal of a degraded gentleman who will rob you with a grim ceremony , and afterwards murder you with business-like calmness und dexterity .
A lurid vapour closes in the spot , half rcvwiling a narrow gorge , through which the eye , like a fugitive , fitfully pursues the far-oil' lightning ' s beekonin" truck . There seems no limit to the scene , which , like the valley of in . the shadow of death , is full of horrors . How different a theme , and how differently conceived , is that small and , at first glance , insignificant picture , entitled " Jacob ' s Dream . " From the rude heap on which the travel-worn . son of Isaac sleeps , to the opening in the amber clouds , seems to reach away into illimitable distance a road from earth to heaven , paved with glowing gems . The sleeper is utterly wanting in dignity , a mere pedlar in hob-nailed boots ; the angels faintly sketched
in , with ragged wings , men ; specks , only distinguishable from the varied shapes of the clouds , which form the interminable pathway through the sky . A warm and tranquil light shuts out the gloom , and breathes warmth upon the brief space around the wanderer's pillow , making that dreary wilderness a Miniling nook of rest . Nor was Rembrandt , less potent , when , at his spell , the calm sunless daylight Hooded his canvass with tranquillity . Witness that master-work of liia at the Hague . The livid-pa ]< : corpsi ' . and passionless countenances of tun physicians , once beheld , in their awful solemnity , are never more forgotten . The . blank , stone slabs , dark with the presence of the living , seem like the tomb and shadowy pull of the departed . And those doctors ! Life-blood » puKkl < m iu tUciir veins j their cyca arc deep and full of thought ,
and lustrous as the diamond ' s blaze . The clay-cold dead is as a tablet , on which may'be read the sufferings of the living man . Every vein and artery in dismal hieroglyp hics , proclaim a history of sorrow and of anguish . The works of Rembrandt demand to be objects of special contemplation , and to be studied one by one , apart . Each is a distinct drama , self-contained . Let the restorer approach them with reverence . The nre ot genius burns in every touch ! _
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OPENING OF THE FRENCH PLAYS , Thebe is no theatre I so thoroughly enjoy as the St . James ' s , when Mr Mitchell invites us there with his gay troupe of French , comedians . In the first place , one meets " everybody" there You know what a small circle " everybody" makes in London ! In the next place , you are so en famUle , that you are enabled to note , with pleased astonishment , that a crave important person-ww liomme sertenx—like ViscountJN oodle , ot the great Potts , » of the firm of Potts , Pans , and Co " unbends to oracious laughter just like an ordinary mortal ; and you begin to think , » after all , laughter may not be so frivolous . " Moreover , there is young Lord Boodle , who , although in a drawing-room he scarcely raises his voice above a languid whisper , deems himself bound—noblesse oblige ! --to talk huder than the actors , and the polite audience is too well bred to shout " turn him out . " This is so gratifying to us snobs ! we actually hear the opinions of that well-bred young nobleman ! we hear his voice I we catch the verdict ! we are saved the trouble of criticism , for he assures us that " Wavel is weally capital ; so vewy dwoll i But the piece is twash —oh ! damn it , twash , and no mistake ! " ,.- _ . ,, , . . Nor is this the only criticism we hear . Lady Dawdle , who is ancient and not handsome , and whose views of the French language seem to be imperfect , to judge by the few phrases we hear , tells us ma loud voice while waiting in the crush room , " We have no actors hkethe French ! This criticism I hear till atience is exhaustedand I don t think Lady
p , Dawdle is handsome enough to reconcile me to it . Let us understand the matter . As a general rule , French actors are certainly better than ours . But the French stage can show no actors superior to Charles Mathers , Keeley , or Mrs . Keeley , ( I stop there , lest , if I went further , it should look invidious . ) I know the French stage well , and greatly enjoy ifc , but three such actors in their peculiar departments it does not possess . Then , as to the general run of actors we have over here , only a very unskilful eye could fail to distinguish every variety of badness in them ; they are better taught than ours , and have at home a more critical and exacting public ; but in intelligence and feeling , they are as conventional as ourswith this difference in their favour , thaUJEnghsh audiences
, are not aware of these conventionalisms , so that what is really commonplace passes for excellence . St . Marie , Langeval , Tounllon , and others of our troupe are bad actors , and only seem good actors to . tnose who want a proper standard of comparison . It was the same with the German troupe . You may remember how coldly I spoke of Devrient and the others , and how enthusiastically the public and the press received them . I then hinted that the reason was because our public could not discriminate between the foreigner and the actor . "Well , what I then said has since received a striking illustration . An English troop of unnamed unnameablo actors has been playing in -various parts of Germanyand Mr . Ira Aldridge , the African , has been
, the Othello of this troop . Most of you know pretty well what sort of actor he is thought to be in England ; nevertheless , ho has been received with immense applause , and the papers pronounce him a first-rate Shaksperian actor ! Now I do not say that Devrient is of the same rank as Ira Aldridge , but I do say that if we in England could judge of him as intimately as we can Aldridge , we should say very little about him . " Hut all this has nothing to do with Itavel and the new pieces !" Vous croyez / It has this to do with them , —that I choose to make it the preface ; surely a man may write what preface lie likes V My pen runs on like that of " an agreeable rattle , " and if you don't care to follow it ,
skip ! ' i-i IWel and the new pieces ? Well , they are outrageously amusing , and none the lesn ho for being of tlio farce farcical . I was going to tell you in detail why I like the French p lays bo much ; but as you object to digressions , and think my oflice is to confine myself to the matter in hand , ( as if n digression " were not equally a matter in hand \) 1 refrain . I curb my Pegasus . I clip the wide-wandoring wings of Fancy . I become ? a reporter . Un Monsieur qui suit las famines shows uh a young gentleman of
adventurous and amatory turn of mind , whose passion and whoae business it in to follow every pretty woman , he sees , and , if possible , to make her acquaintance , not with strictly matrimonial views . Oneofhis persecuted elmrmors , after a long pursuit , relents , invites him to accompany her homo , presents him to her husband and guests an the gentleman whom ehe has not the pleasure of knowing . Thin was a very ingenious turn , and promised great fun ; the promise was kept as far an Ravel was concerned , but the incidents of the denouement were stagey and not amusing . York is a Palais Royal farce , very laughable , un pan risquie , and not
over probable : but laughter stuns criticism , and I am ashamed to Bay how much I laughed . Ravel i . s not only a droll , lie is an actor . lie represents character . The humour with which he represents it , the farco with whiuh ho embroiders it , may make one at first forgetful of tho Hiibstantial truth there is in Iuh personation . Hut compare his performance in Un Monsieur qui suit las famines with that in York , and you will obnerv (? Jiovv differently la ? embodies di / lerent clmructurfl . Let mo not forgot to point your attention to lamina . Floury , the debutante ; she in very young , apparently not more than seventeen , but she in natural , intelligent , pretty , and givca promise of becoming an actress . Vivian .
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i 4 ft THE LEADER . [ Satpbday ^
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Citation
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Leader (1850-1860), Feb. 5, 1853, page 142, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1972/page/22/
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