He must preserve these personages in their grand proportions; but, at the same time, he must subject their elevated language to natural accents, and a naïve and true expression; and it is this mixture of grandeur without pomp, and nature without being trivial, it is this union of the ideal with truth, which is so difficult to attain in tragedy.

*

! I shall, perhaps, be told, that a tragic actor has a much greater liberty in the choice of his means for offering to the judgment of the public objects whose types do not exist in society, while the same public can easily decide whether the comic actor furnishes an exact copy of the model before their eyes. I would reply, that the passions are of all ages. Society may weaken their energy, but they do not less exist in the soul, and every spectator is a competent judge from his own feelings.

As to the great historical characters, as it is the enlightened public that forms an opinion, (as well as, in some cases, the author,) it being familiarly acquainted with history, it can easily judge of the truth of the imitation. It will, therefore, appear, from what I have laid down, that the moral faculties ought to have more

force and intensity in the tragic than in the comic actor.

As to the physical qualities, it is evident, that the pliability of the features and the expression of the physiognomy ought to be stronger, the voice more full, more sonorous, and more profoundly articulate, in the tragic actor, who stands in need of certain combinations, and more than ordinary powers, to perform, from beginning to end, with the same energy, a part in which the author frequently has collected in a narrow compass, and in the space of two hours, all the movements, all the agitations, which an impassioned being can often only feel in the course of a long life. After all, I repeat it,—there are not less qualities required, though of a different character, in the great comic actor, than in the great tragic actor; and they have each need of being initiated into the mysteries of impassioned. nature, the inclinations, the weaknesses, and the extravagances, of the human heart.

When we consider all the qualities necessary to form an excellent tragic actor, all the gifts which nature ought to have bestowed on him, can we be surprised that they are so rare ?

Amongst the greater part of those who enter the career, one has penetration, but his soul is cold as ice; another possesses sensibility, and intelligence is wanting; one possesses both these requisites, but in so slight a degree, that it is as if he did not possess them at all. His acting possesses neither energy, expression, nor confidence, it is without colour. Sometimes he talks high, sometimes low, quick or plain, as if by chance. Another has received from nature all these rare gifts; but his voice is harsh, dry, and monotonous, and totally unable to express the passions. He weeps, without producing tears in others; he is affected, and his audiences are unmoved. One possesses a sonorous and touching voice, but his features are disagreeable; his stature and his form have nothing heroic in them. In fine, the requisites for a really great actor are so many, and so seldom united in the same person, that we ought not to be surprised at finding them appear at remote distances from each other.

It must be confessed, that Lekain had some faults; but, in literature and the arts of imitation, genius is rated in proportion to the beauties it creates its imperfections form no part of its

fame; it is gross matter, which would have fallen into oblivion were it not for the excellence of his noblest inspirations; and the recollection of his faults is only perpetuated in the celebrity which his perfections attained. Nature had refused to Lekain some of those personal advantages which the stage requires: his features had nothing noble in them; his physiognomy was vulgar, and his stature short; but his exquisite sensibility, the emotions of an ardent and impassioned soul, the faculty which he possessed of plunging entirely into the situation of the personage he represented; that intelligence, so delicately fine, which enabled him to divine and produce all the shades of the characters he had to paint, embellished his irregular features, and gave them an inexpressible charm. His voice was naturally heavy, and by no means flexible: it was covered with a light veil; but that very veil gave to his voice, defective as it was in some respects, such sad and penetrating vibrations, that they went to the bottom of the soul. He, however, succeeded, by dint of application, to overcome that stiffness, to enrich his voice with all the accents of passion, and to render it obedient to all the delicate inflexions of sentiment.

He had, in fact, studied his voice as one studies an instrument. He knew all its qualities, and all its defects. He passed lightly over the harsher chords, to give fuller effect to the vibrations of the harmonious ones. His voice, on which he had essayed every accent, became like the keys of a rich instrument, from which he drew, at pleasure, every sound he stood in need of; and such is the power of a voice thus formed by nature or modelled by art, that it affects even the foreigner who does not understand the words. Lekain's voice possessed this advantage.

The talent of Mademoiselle Gaussin, and that of Mademoiselle Degarcins, consists principally. in this happy gift of nature. I have seen, at London, Frenchmen, who did not understand a word of English, affected even to tears at the accents of the touching voice of Miss O'Neil.

Lekain, in the commencement of his career, like all young actors, gave way to boisterous cries and violent movements, for it is the neverfailing resource of youth, which thus fancies it triumphs over difficulties. But in time Lekain felt, that, of all monotonies, that of the lungs was most insupportable; that tragedy must be spoken, and not howled; that a continual ex