" Here and there some of the
old power may be lacking; but whatever was once subtle and insinuating
remains.
Shakespeare at the Lyceum is always a magnificent spectacle, and
"Coriolanus," the last Shakespearean revival there, was a magnificent
spectacle. It is a play made up principally of one character and a
crowd, the crowd being a sort of moving background, treated in
Shakespeare's large and scornful way. A stage crowd at the Lyceum always
gives one a sense of exciting movement, and this Roman rabble did all
that was needed to show off the almost solitary splendour of Coriolanus.
He is the proudest man in Shakespeare, and Sir Henry Irving is at his
best when he embodies pride. His conception of the part was masterly; it
had imagination, nobility, quietude. With opportunity for ranting in
every second speech, he never ranted, but played what might well have
been a roaring part with a kind of gentleness. With every opportunity
for extravagant gesture, he stood, as the play seemed to foam about him,
like a rock against which the foam beats. Made up as a kind of Roman
Moltke, the lean, thoughtful soldier, he spoke throughout with a slow,
contemptuous enunciation, as of one only just not too lofty to sneer.
Pages:
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59