racter of Leah; and before any critic can fairly judge of her powers as an actress she must be seen in a variety of plays. To personate Leah well is a task of some difficulty. It would be easy either to over or to under do it; the result of the former would be to vulgarize it, of the latter to make a complete failure. Miss Bateman's conception is the happy medium, and her faults are in herself and not in her acting. Of those faults we would speak in the first instance. Her voice is her weakest point; even had it the power which it lacks, a strong American accent makes it monotonous-gives a guttural sound to her tones when they are soft and pathetic, and a harshness when she exhibits force and passion. Her appearance is so pecuhar, her face so refined and beautiful, and her figure so graceful, that it occurs to us, as we watch her, that she would do well to allow her face and figure to do their own work, and not to gire so much of studied expression to the one, and of attitude to the other. But as the piece goes on we are inclined to alter that opinion: her face, with its total absence of colour, and its finely chiselled features, is wanting in natural expression, and when in complete repose it looks more like the face of a statue than of a living woman. Owing to this lifelessness of feature her wonderful eyes are overworked, and there is a decided want of harmony between them and the rest of the face; this is more marked in the passionate scenes than in the pathetic. Let any one watch Leah closely in the celebrated malediction scene, and then in the scene with Rudolf's child, and they will at once remark the difference we have pointed out. In the former the eyes have everything to do, and from the absence of scorn, wounded pride, outraged feeling, and the other emotions which a passionate and wronged woman might be supposed to feel at such a time, appearing in the face and playing over every feature, Leah has the aspect of an angry fish-wife railing at an unfortunate customer. Of course the words which we hear her speak, and the fine pose into which she falls at the end, lessen this impression considerably. In the last scene of the play Miss Bateman leaves nothing to be desired. When, hunted by the mob she rushes in, looking haggard, worn, and wasted by the love she has not conquered, and with which hatred and remorse are waging such a fierce war, she catches at once our admiration, interest, and sympathy, and holds them securely to the end. She hardly looks like the same woman: the severe lines of the face have softened, the wonderful eyes have retreated into the head, and, surrounded as they are by dark violet circles, give an almost unearthly expression to the countenance. of The very dress too, an unbecoming loose gown grey stuff, and the disordered hair which seems to oppress the poor sufferer by its weight, betoken that with broken health and a broken heart all womanly vanity has departed. The short scene with Rudolf's happy wife is admi rable: we can see that the bitter spirit of hate and revenge is not yet dead; it appears in one or two excellent points of the acting. The sullen apathy with which Madelina's offers of assistance are received-the hoarse, ungracious monosyllables in which the delicately offered food and shelter are refused-the craving of exhausted nature for the drink so eagerly swallowed, and then the shiver, as of pain, cold, and utter hopeless misery which runs through the slight frame of the poor outcast Jewess, as she returns the cup, without looking at the gentle giver the restless, almost mechanical movement with which the hair is pushed back from the forehead, upon which we can actually see the stamp of racking pain, and then the crouching of the figure together, the shoulders gathered up and the hands crossed and hidden in the loose sleeves of the dress; not a point is lost, and every movement is simple, natural, and without effort. In the scene with Rudolf's child, the gifted young American is equally happy. We are, above all, touched with her perfect womanliness: she has overheard Rudolf's longing for forgiveness, and she would at once have rushed forward to bestow it upon him, were it not that Madelina-towards whom, as the wife of him she still passionately loves, her woman's nature must ever retain its jealousy-offers to help in the search for the warderer. Leah, although she can forgive the past, cannot as yet bring herself to accept the mingled pity of husband and wife. And again we see the true woman, when, their search in vain, Rudolf and Madelina disappear within their house, and Leah comes creeping in again, with that wildly mournful face and drooping figure. She feels that she has not long to live, and she cannot tear herself from the spot hallowed in her sight as the dwelling of her lost love. She crosses the stage with slow, uncertain steps-steps which falter so visibly that you long to rush forward to support them; again the hair is pushed back by the ever restless hands, and you hear a sigh, oh! such a weary heartbroken sigh! She pauses in sight of Rudolf's house, and what a wondrous change takes place in her! what a flush of pleasure passes over the wan face! what a tender light beams from the sad eyes! what a sudden bracing we observe of the listless figure as she sees the pretty little child standing at the house door. His child! she has seen it at last : the wish, the longing which had been breathed out on that weary sigh, is gratified, and she darts forward with outstretched arms! In the most tender and cooing tones she lures the little creature to come to her; she kneels beside it, and clasps it in her arms, murmuring inarticulate words of fondness. But when she hears from the childish lips that Rudolf has called his little daughter after her, the poor Jewess Leah, whom he had once professed to love, the last dying embers of her hatred are extinguished, and no words can describe the look of unutterable rapture which lights up her beautiful features, and she again presses her little namesake to her heart, and strokes and fondles it for its father's sake. one character out of many to which he would do the fullest justice-John Mildmay, in "Still Waters Run Deep," we cannot of course tell. That "Lord Dundreary" was popular is perhaps the true reason, and who that has seen the vacant expression of his lordship's face, while trying to repeat a simple proverb or solve an absurd "widdle"-who that has heard his hopeless entanglement about his own mother and "Sam's"-the effort to count upon his fingersthe chuckle of satisfaction at what he considered some wonderful piece of wit, and, above all, his half-skip half-hop across the stage, can wonder for one moment at his popularity? Then having sent a message of forgiveness to Rudolf through his child, she disappears to die alone-and happy. But she is found by Rudolf and his wife, and then comes the last and most beautiful and touching scene of all, her death in Rudolf's arms. We can alinost fancy that she is really dying, and we wonder how any acting" can be so natural. The wild, scared look has vanished, the contraction of pain has left the brow, the restless hands are still, and there is a shadow coming over the eyes which are ever turned on Rudolf. Yes, even when with a slight, gasp the hands are pressed upon the heart, and the head falls back upon the supporting arm, the eyes are turned with a look of the most yearning affection upon the man who had doubted her and cast her off to die. As the curtain fails, we feel for a moment that we have been looking at a real tragedythat the beautiful pale face we have just lost sight of is really the face of the dead Jewess Leah. But we are soon recalled to the actual : there is around us a sound of vociferous applause, and our last illusion respecting the reality of what we have seen vanishes, when Leah comes on, led by the smiling Rudolf. I think it is well that we are thus rudely brought back to earth again; but most certainly it required the sight of Miss Bateman alive and well, coupled with the belief which instantly followed that she would go back to her Hotel, and probably eat an excellent supper after the fatigues of the evening, to erase the impression of that wonderful and perfect piece of acting. Miss Bateman has appeared as Leah for two hundred and eleven nights in London, and when her engagement there ceased, she began a tour in the provinces of the United Kingdom. It now remains to be seen how she will succeed in her next essay; but, there can be no doubt of her success if she chooses some piece in which the gentle womanly traits exceed those that are fierce and tragic. We should imagine that her Desdemona and Ophelia would be perfect. In direct contrast to the heavy Tragedy of "Leah" is a bright little piece, containing few situations and still fewer characters, which had a short but entirely successful run last season in London, and which brought prominently forward, in a new aspect, an actor, already well known, and a decided public favourite. We allude to the "David Garrick" of Mr. Sothern. When that gentleman appeared as Dundreary," and night after night filled the Haymarket to overflowing, and convulsed the audience by his inimitable personation of a vapid "swell", there were hundreds who declared that, excellent as "Lord Dundreary" was, Mr. Sothern was quite incapable of playing any other part. "Lord Why Mr. Sothern did not at once show how false was the estimate which the public had formed of his powers by coming out as-to name But when it was announced that Mr. Sothern was about to appear in an entire new piece, and to personate a character not in the least resem bling that of "Lord Dundreary", great was the curiosity and excitement among the London playgoers. "David Garrick", the title of the piece, told nothing: every one knew who David Garrick had been; but how he could have been moulded into a play was the question. Almost every one now knows the nature and plot of the little drama. The only and very romantic young daughter of a rich city merchant has been taken to the theatre by some friends, and has seen the celebrated David Garrick, in "Hamlet"; her enthusiastic nature and romantic heart are touched, she has Shakespeare by heart, but her admiration of the poet was miserably lifeless until she heard the glowing words spoken in a voice which thrilled her soul. Surely the man who could so fully enter into the spirit of the poet must himself have a noble nature, he must soar far above the petty vices and failings of mankind; in short, Garrick, through the influence of Hamlet and Romeo, is idealized into the embodiment of everything that is grand or noble in the world. And Garrick himself, while bowing before his enchanted audience, is conscious of nothing, save a beaming young face in one of the boxes, which night after night he has seen radiant with smiles or bathed in tears, as the part which he plays is gloomy or the reverse. He soon begins to look for that one face, and by-and-bye he plays to it alone, out of all the brilliant throng that nightly crowd the theatre. But the father of the girl grows anxious; his daughter spends her time reading Shakespeare, and worries his life out by entreating his admiration for her favourite passages. She goes to the theatre every night that Garrick plays, she raves about him, and, what is worse than all, she scorns the addresses of her cousin-and for this we cannot blame her—a coarse-looking, roughspoken, horsey young gentleman, whose conversation is made up of stable-talk and slang. The old gentleman (old Ingot) is in despair; he is enormously rich, but money will not bring his pretty Ada to a sense of her folly. But a thought strikes him he will see the great actor himself, not on the stage, but in private, and try what can be done with him. The second scene of the play is the first in which Garrick appears: he comes by ap- And then the interview with the harassed old father, who would gladly, if possible, accomplish his purpose without betraying his child, and who is mightily confounded by the discovery that the actor is a very fine gentleman indeed, one far removed in every way from the vulgar city people with whom he is accustomed to associate. The contrast between the two men is most striking: Garrick, with a distrait and rather supercilious air, leans back in an easy chair, with an expression of face which seems to say-" You may be a very worthy old gentleman, but you are an intense bore." The old gentleman flounders hopelessly on, and Garrick's start of astonishment is admirable, when, at last, out comes the question about his "wages", what he "earns in the year" by acting. His esprit de corps is wounded, and he is up in arms directly; but, mingling with his annoyance, there is evident curiosity to know what the aim of all this can possibly be. This curiosity reaches its climax when Ingot, having heard that the actor's income exceeds two thousand a year, offers to make it four if he will quit the London boards and never appear on them again. There is something so original in all this that "Davie" cannot longer remain angry; he suddenly becomes genial and amiable, and begs the old gentleman to explain. Good-humoured banter of the fond and anxious father follows the explanation. Why make so much of the romantic fancy of an impulsive girl? Then, assuring Ingot, upon his word of honour, that she shall be cured of her folly, and that his own affections are irrevocably engaged, he suggests that in order to effect the cure he shall come to dine at the merchant's house that very day. Ingot, who has not been altogether blind to the fascinations of his companion's manner and appearance, demurs; but Garrick tells him to have no doubt: the disenchantment shall be full and complete. The scene of the dinner is the scene of the play. Sundry Smiths and Browns make the party; and Ada, whose innate refinement is outraged by their gross vulgarity, will not condescend to make any change in her dress to receive them. But, as the dinner hour draws near, and she is preparing to submit to her fate as best she can, a footman ushers in the last guest of the evening, Mr. David Garrick! He enters, and Ada flies from the room, unseen by him, to dress in a manner suitable for her hero's eyes. Garrick enters, and moves about the room with all the courtly grace of the old school, and, as we contrast his high-bred air and manner (to say nothing of his faultless dress) with those of Messrs Smith and Jones, we are inclined to echo old Ingot's doubts of the wisdom of having brought personal intercourse to complete the work which fancy has begun. The young lady presently reappears, as her father exclaims, "Dressed like a duchess!" and she is face to face with Garrick. He gives a slight start, and we at once perceive from his manner that in the girl before him he has recognized the beautiful "unknown" of the theatre. But his honour has been pledged, and the work of disenchantment must be done. And how it is accomplished we soon learn-to disgust the romantic creature who believes in him so thoroughly. Garrick pretends to get drunk at dinner, and it is in the portrayal of this phase of the character that Mr. Sothern shows his consummate skill. More perfect acting of that particular kind was never seen on any stage: there is nothing overdone, nothing gross or vulgar, although your sense of disgust at the change which drink has apparently made in the person and speech of Garrick is very keen. From his first appearance after dinner, when he comes in with a hiccup and a maudlin laugh, his face scarlet all over, and his wig slightly awry, half-tripping in the carpet, half-falling over a chair, you begin to doubt whether it is acting after all, and suspect that Mr. Sothern has really been indulging in Champagne behind the scenes. He goes from bad to worse, to the horror of poor Ada, who, regardless of her duties as hostess, looks upon the downfal of her hero with amazement and disgust. There are intervals when the mask is dropped, however, and we catch glimpses of the real Garrick; but these glimpses are very momentary, for the vow is not forgotten, and we can see that, if Garrick allows himself to look at the pleading face which has so long haunted him, all will be lost. But the crisis comes on; Ada resolves to make one appeal to the better nature of the man in whom she believes she has been deceived. Surely when she recalls to his memory the scenes in which she has seen him play with such power and pathos, he will remember himself, and be ashamed! Meanwhile David, after some romping with the vulgar Miss Brown, has fallen upon a chair; his face is hidden, Ada imagines from drunken stupidity, but it is in reality to still a burst of relf-reproach. She goes towards him, and we can see the start and shiver with which he hears her softly-uttered "Mr. Garrick!" We watch for his reply as eagerly as does Ada herself. He looks up at her with a stolid, intensely tipsy expression, and answers by a hiccup only. It is the last straw. Ada can bear no more. Garrick feels that the work of disenchantment is complete, and we soon see that he begins to rejoice in his supposed drunkenness in order to give vent to his feelings. He drains a bowl of punch at a draught, and then grows rapidly riotous and disorderly; he sits down to play cards, but soon oversets the table and accuses his companions of cheating; he kicks over the chairs, insults Mrs. Smith, makes a butt of stuttering Jones, and, finally having recited a passage from Hamlet, in a voice almost inaudible from drink, he kicks over the tea-table and rushes from the house. It would be scarcely too much to say that with the dinner-scene the chief interest of the play ends, for even Mr. Sothern's genius cannot make the last act anything but far-fetched and unuatural. Of course the piece ends happily, but we are put out by many incongruities, the greatest of these being that it strikes us as most unnatural that Garrick, after a declaration of love somewhat in the style of "Claude Melnotte," should coolly advise Ada to give him up, and return to her father. But, ta, en as a whole, the little piece is very good, and it has proved, beyond all question or doubt, that Mr. Sothern is an actor of great versatility, and capable of competing with any of the celebrated light comedians of the day. In the little farce of "Dundreary Married and Done-for," he is also excellent. The cares of a household, which apparently comprises every member of his wife's family to the third and fourth generation, have in a great measure changed the train of his lordship's ideas, but he is stupid as of old, and his face is as usual quite enough to convulse us with laughter. Hoping to meet him and Miss Bateman this year in new characters, we now take our leave of them, acknowledging the great pleasure they have afforded us, and wishing them the success they so undeniably deserve. S. G. MEMS OF THE MONTH. On the 17th December there was snow, then came a thaw-a most unpleasant thaw-which made the streets exceedingly disagreeable even for those pedestrians who were lucky enough to escape being splashed from top to toe by the cabs, since the making any progress on the slippery pavement was attended with considerable difficulty. As organ-grinders and costermongers may be ordered to move on, we would ask whether something cannot be done with those urchins who come round before we are out of bed, with the unpleasantly suggestive cry of "Have your doorway done, mum?" It is true that the occupation may, once in a way, afford employment to those energetic youths, though it in no way administers to our peace, but, on the contrary, rather irritates our sensitive mind at an early hour. Why cannot the servants do all that is necessary at the proper time? Or, if these boys must appear on such occasions, they should be silent, and take it for granted that our doorway wants "doing." 66 In the way of serious calamities, attended with loss of life, we may refer to the wreck of H.M.S. Racehorse," in the China seas, when ninetynine men perished, dropping one by one into the sea from sheer exhaustion. Also we should mention the loss of the ships "Bombay" and "Columbian," with fearful results. Of the disastrous effects of the late gale we are afraid we have not yet heard the worst. The total destruction by fire of the Edinburgh Theatre, when among others the Dean of Guild fell a victim beneath the crumbling walls, and the accident at a music-hall in Dundee, whereby nineteen people were crushed or smothered to death, and inany seriously hurt, are sad events to chronicle. We have been informed that Tennyson saw twenty revises of the proofs of his "Enoch Arden.' The murderer Köhl was condemned to death, and there appeared to be not the slightest question of his guilt from the first, but he has strongly protested his innocence to the last. The first anniversary of the birthday of his Royal Highness Prince Albert Victor is an event that should not be passed over in silence. The opening of the Birmingham Exchange, by Mr. Scholefield, M.P., was an interesting occasion, the more so as there were speeches by Messrs. Bright and Scholefield, who, since that event, have been addressing their constituents. The Charing Cross Terminus Hotel is rapidly approaching completion, and there will be no finer building in London: in the meantime the old buildings in or near the metropolis are being rapidly demolished or destroyed by accident; for instance, Cromwell House, at Highgate, has been much damaged by fire; the old staircase, however, has fortunately escaped destruction. In the City the custodians of the churchyards have been reported to be lax in their duties, and to their disgrace it has been stated that the monuments are not respected-notably the last restingplace of Bunyan. Some sensation has been recently created by the disappearance of a girl from her home, and by her being taken charge of by the inmates of the Brompton Oratory, who do not appear to have cleared themselves in a perfectly satisfactory manner. General Tom Thumb and Mrs. Stratton have not been able to withstand the temptation of exhibiting themselves at the Crystal Palace, in addition to Commodore Nutt and Minnie War ren. وو Sala, in his "Echoes of the week,' says, "The public taste runs small this Christmas. Vive les Nains! Long live Lilliput!" Apropos of the Crystal Palace, we notice that it is advertised as the only place in which to spend a pleasant day! We should give the preference to our own fireside at this season if we had the choice; but this is quite a matter of taste. We have seen the magnesium wire, for illuminating purposes, manufactured by the Magnesium Metal Company, which gives a light equal in brilliancy to the electric light; but we have yet to learn if it will succeed for practical purposes. It appears to burn very rapidly, and is expensive. From the little we have seen of it, we do not expect that it will supersede our present means of lighting, or that we shall see it introduced as an improvement even in the transformation-scene of a pantomime, for which, in some respects, it appears suitable. It is a very blinding light, much too powerful for or dinary use, and a slight—a very slight-smell may be detected. Mornings of the Recess in 1861-4" is the happy title of a series of literary and biographical papers reprinted from the Times, by permission, and revised by the author, Mr. Samuel Lucas (Tinsley), 2 vols. The same publishers have just brought out Sala's Diary of his Residence in America. Mr. Sala followed up his account of Niagara in the winter by a description of the appearance of the falls as he viewed them in the summer. The Pall Mall Gazette is the title of an evening newspaper and review announced shortly to appear. as Mr. Byron's "Paid in Full" has appeared in a complete form. "Broken to Harness" and "The Doctor's Wife" are running rapidly into fresh editions. "Sir Jasper's Tenant" will be the title of Miss Braddon's next tale in "Temple Bar ;" and in the number for March Mr. Yates will commence a new story, to be called "Land at Last." Mr. Bellew's successful novel of "Blount Tempest" has gone into a second edition. Miss Annie Thomas' new novel, and it is spoken very highly of. We may mention, amongst interesting works lately published, Mr. Timbs' "Walks and Talks about London" and "The History of Playing Cards" (Hotten), in which there is a very clever etching by George Cruikshank, which appeared in one of his almanacks years ago, but it is an acceptable revival. Mr. Hollingshead has produced a series of sound and readable essays, under the title of "To-day." "The Mayne Reid Library" is the title of a new issue of the works of Capt. Mayne Reid. We have seen the first two numbers of a new publication entitled "The Printer's Journal and Typographical Magazine." John Ruskin and Peter Cunningham are, we perceive, writing on Art matters, in the "Art Journal." That the former should do so is a strange coincidence after the hard hitting he has received therein; but "Time works wonders." We observe an announcement, that Leech's sketches are to be sold at Christie's in April. This artist's later pencillings from Punch have appeared uniform with the others, to which they are a most acceptable addition. Mr. Roberts' sketches are also announced as about to come to the hammer. Messrs. Horsley and Faed, have been elected from the rank of Associates, to that of Royal Academicians. The vacancy which has been occasioned by Mr. Roberts' death will not be filled at present. The first soirée this season, of the Langham Sketching Club, has been given at their chambers in Langham Place. A large gathering of literary and artistic celebrities were present, and a very charming collection of new pictures and sketches adorned the walls. These meetings are always agreeable, and are of the true “Our Mutual Friend" (the first volume of Bohemian order. It would be invidious to which is finished) is becoming interesting. attempt to point out any one picture amongst There is a great deal of the author's former such a display of really good productions; but power in the January number-especially in we may mention the names of Messrs. SmallJohn Rokesmith's, otherwise John Harmon's, field, Fitzgerald, Cattermole, Watson, Rossiter, soliloquy; but it is very sensational reading. Green, Hayllar, Beavis, Hayes, and last, but by Of the illustrations the less said the better-one no means least, that of the courteous secretary, of them is altogether confused and inartistic. Mr Pidgeon. We have been shown some We congratulate the well-known and accom-admirable photographs of Phillip's "Prison plished Lady Chatterton on the true beauties of Window," of O'Neill's "Eastward Ho!" and "Leonore" (recently published by Macmillan), "Home Again," and Landseer's "Challenge." and we believe that the volume will obtain that They are the most perfect photographs from success which its charm of sentiment and deli- engravings that we remember to have seen, cate grace so richly deserve and should attain but should not the engravers and printsellers in the estimation of those who prize the un-be protected? laboured flow of fancy and the clear embodiment of poetic thought. The genial wit and occasional feeling exhibited in the pieces comprised in the latter portion of the work prove beyond question that the writer possesses that combined power over the humorous and pathetic which might have been expected from the graceful pen of the authoress of "Home Sketches and Foreign Recollections" and "Rambles in the South of Ireland." "Barry O'Byrne" (Maxwell) is the title of It is expected that Charles Dickens will take the chair at the next anniversary dinner of the newspaper-press fund. Amongst recent deaths we should not overlook those of Lady Brougham, and the mother of William Makepeace Thackeray, Also we have to refer to the loss of the Hon. Mr. Dallas, the ex-American minister, whose handsome face we remember seeing a few years ago at the dinner of the Royal Literary Fund; M. Proudhon, one of the most vigorous French writers of the day ; |