On this page
- Departments (1)
-
Text (4)
-
Untitled Article
-
Untitled Article
-
<&{tt Ms.
-
Untitled Article
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
-
-
Transcript
-
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
Additionally, when viewing full transcripts, extracted text may not be in the same order as the original document.
Untitled Article
1 vinff n ° relationship to their new localities , arid that it is not always ssible to distinguish styles which are indigenous , from those which are ot numerous anomalies must be looked for . It is not improbable that the general idea above developed , may be somehat misinterpreted . Possibly some will take the proposition to be that men intentionally gave to their buildings the leading characteristics of neig hbouring objects . But this is not what is meant . I do not suppose that they did so in times past any more than they do so now . The hypothesis is , that in their choice of forms men are unconsciously influenced by the forms encircling them , with the images of which they are most familiar . That flat-roofed , symmetrical architecture , should have originated in the
East amongst pastoral tribes surrounded by their herds and by wide plains , seems to imply that the builders were swayed by the horizontality and symmetry to which they were habituated . And the harmony which we have found to exist in other cases between indigenous styles and their localities implies the general presence of like influences . Indeed , on considering the matter subjectively , I do not see how it could well be otherwise . For as all conceptions must be made up of ^ images , and parts of images , received through the senses—as it is impossible for a man to conceive any design save one of which the elements have come into his mind from without ; and as his imagination will most readily run in the direction of his habitual perceptions ; it follows almost necessarily that the characteristic which predominates in these habitual perceptions must impress itself on his design .
Untitled Article
MEDEA . It is of Medea I wish to . speak , although the re-opening of the XiYCEtjm , my pet theatre , and the public ' s pet , ought to command my eloquence , mats que voulez-vous ? the theatre reopens to a crammed audience , expectant of refined amusement—such as can only be found at the Lyceum , and as ill luck will have it , the opening piece is a mistake ! The Mysterious Lady , an inoffensive comedy , written in very blank verse , with neither character nor plot to interest , and with the kind of thin dialogue some people call " level" ( they mean dead level ) , was listened to with meek endurance , the audience looking to the Golden Fleece as a compensation .
The Golden Fleece , one of Planchc ' s very best burlesques , was played many years ago at the IIaymaiucet , when the Antigone was astonishing Dkuky Lane with its eternal beauty , and proving to a British pit that the Greek Drama had in it something more vital than pedants in mi had over discovered . It is a burlesque of' that pathetic tragedy of Medea , wherein Kuripides first displayed his mastery over dramatic passion ; and it is a burlesque in the true spirit of burlesque , carrying the pathetic into the ludicrous which borders it , taking tragedy from its Cothurnus , and making it walk in the familiar highlow !
To give an instance of what I mean , where Medea , in the antique tragedy , " stilling the mighty hunger of her heart , " kills the children of her faithless husband , in the modern burlesque her passion finds its instrument in the domestic birch . | "Nothing , by the way , could bo more perfect than the manner , at once tragic and ludicrous , with which Madame Vcstris produced that birch . ] The very fact that . Euripides lias chosen a human interest for his tragedy , opens infinite possibilities to burlesque . How grand and passionate it is will never he forgotten by those who have studied Medea , or seen Pasta in the opera taken from it . Tho outliving of love , the rage of jealousy , tho " pangs of disprized love , " and the fluctuations of maternal tenderness and womanly despair , are iinol y touched by the old Cireok—something too elaborately , perhaps , and with
a Schiller-like tendency to dwell on ideas longer than befits the rapidity of passion ; yet still like a true dramatist and most pathetic poH ; . I have been turning over the pages of this drama , and should like l . o write some columns of criticism , if it would not force me into extracts of intolerable length . That see-no of Medea with her children , was the delight of all antiquity . Tho Anthology abounds with references to it , ami Winckeliiiaim speaks of the many statues and pictures representing Medea about to immolate the children smiling up at her . Then again , that scene between Medea and . Jason , a scene of reproach , of rage , of irony , and of menace ; a situation admirably reproduced by Racine in Andromaque , which winds up with Rachel ' s famous tirade ( who can forget
itP)" Tu comptuti leu moments quo tu perdu av «!< : nioi . I ' orto mix p iodw den lintels cc < - ( rur <| tii in ' iibandoiuu ) . Va } eours ; rnaitt crainx encore d ' y tro-itver . IlerimuiU ! . " Besides the dramatic forcu of this play , there are some quotable bits ( for those who want to leaden their sandals !) such as this reproach to . Jupiter for having , by luimiHtakoablo aigntf , enabled men to discover , alloyed gold ,
Untitled Article
PASSAGES FROM A BOY'S EPIC . in . Ariadne and Ph ^ edka . Unwelcome fell the golden gleams of Day On Ariadne's eyes , unvisited By any gentle dream ; for when she prest Her face against the couch , a sudden gloom Rusht spangling up , and from its inmost depth Weird faces met her's , prophesying woe . Soon risen and soon attired the Princess left Her cedar chamber , and thro' porphyry halls Advanced to where broad palace portals shone , Fronting the dawn , and won her lonely way , Like some pale woman wandering while she sleeps , Thro' streets whose marble framework toucht the clouds , And veiled in silver breathings of the Moon , Colossal rose , and watcht her as she past , Till all that marble splendour left behind , A valley deep received her 'mid the shade And silence of green woods . The dripping leaves Hung diamonds in the round and orient sun , And all the air and chiming coverts rang With voices of glad birds that love the light . Far in this vale withdrawn a temple once Sacred to Bacchus stood , but built , it seemed , In careless mood and for some passing end , Now mourned its own decay . One here , one there , Huge fragments of white marble lay around ; And one sole pillar rose with ivy wreathed , And with thick garlands of the budding vine . Here Ariadne paused , and leaning half Against the pillar , with low weeping words Gave to the elements her thoughts of grief : " Hear me , O Heaven , and all-beholding Sun ! And hear me , Mother Earth , and bless thy child ! My vision travels back , thro' vanisht years , To those delightful days when I beheld No cloud in all the firmament of life But had its rainbow—when I saw no thorn That lackt its rose , hid among glittering leaves , And sweeter so concealed . But now no more file rainbow and the rose their brightness keep ; The old splendour fails me , and in vain I kneel T <> the Majestic Powers that order life And make men happy . Yet my earlier days Took warmth and colour from the gleams that felt »'» 'om the descending Gods , and when I moved A silent presence that I could not see , Was with nu . Jls (| le li K Jl ( . () U ^ i . ' s with the ( jJods I lived till mellower years lii-oug ht love , and then I wasted no delight 1 hat lovers have ; but dim sweet longings rose , ¦ ' 'ike far faint meadow airs ; and eve and morn ^ arne Thoughts , more beautiful than any Birds , And Mung to me . But that was long ago , ll * some old yesterday that ne ' er returns . <> , why was 1 left desolate ? () , why i ( l < nc miul ( ire pans thro' my heart and brain ? < - 'dl on lOaith and Heaven , from Sim and Wave , "iplore an answer , but my sorrow broods
Over the Universe , and makes it dumb . " So mourned she ; but a footstep on the grass , Gave token of one coming , and ere long Came Phaedra , bringing kind and peaceful words : " Turn not from me , O sister ! O beloved ! But let me hold thy hand , and , holding mine , Walk by my side when sorrow walks with thee . " " Pheedra , " said Ariadne , " on my heart Sits grief , as heavy winds on summer grass Drowned in the trampling storm . " But Phaedra said , " When heavy winds depart the grass revives , Grief comes and goes , and dwells not anywhere , And ever when grief passes , joy returns . " " Joy ! " said the impatient Princess , " What is joy ? I tell thee there is no such thing as joy , Nor is there hope , or love , or beauty more ; Theseus is—dead . " Then Phaedra answered not , But took one hand , and led her tenderly To the great ocean , as a mother leads A tiuiid child , and lends both voice and hand . Fresh blew the morning breeze : the ascended sun Stood on the waters , wearing purple light Around his golden limbs , and garlanding His radiant brow with roses of the dawn . " Here rest we , " Phsedra cried , " while soft sea-winds Make cool with virgin breath our glowing cheeks . " Then Ariadne on a rock enthroned , With stedfast vision looked athwart the waves , To the blue rim where sky and water touch , And , in the mazes of her blinding grief , Groped helplessly . But when the soft surprise Of sleep o ' ercame her , gently Phaedra rose , And wandered , kissing her jjale lips and eyes , Among the rocks that sunned their patriarch brows , In the young smiles of the rejoicing day . Now leave the maiden to pursue alone , O ' er sand and cliff her labyrinthine path , For we approach the shining goals of Song . M .
≪&{Tt Ms.
< & { tt Ms .
Untitled Article
October 23 , 1852 . ] THE LEADER . 1025
-
-
Citation
-
Leader (1850-1860), Oct. 23, 1852, page 1025, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse2.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct1957/page/21/
-