What if thou heardst him now? What if his spirit Ord. [Struggling with his feelings.] Yes, my father, He is in heaven! Alv. [Still to Ordonio.] But what if he had a brother, Who had lived even so, that at his dying hour Val. Idly prating man! Thou hast guessed ill: Don Alvar's only brother Stands here before thee-a father's blessing on him! He is most virtuous. Alv. [Still to Ordonio.] What if his very virtues Had pampered his swollen heart and made him proud? And what if pride had duped him into guilt? Yet still he stalked a self-created god, Not very bold, but exquisitely cunning; And one that at his mother's looking-glass Would force his features to a frowning sternness ? Young lord! I tell thee that there are such beingsYea, and it gives fierce merriment to the damned To see these most proud men, that loathe mankind, At every stir and buz of coward conscience, Trick, cant, and lie; most whining hypocrites! Away, away! Now let me hear more music. [Music again. Ter. 'Tis strange, I tremble at my own conjectures! But whatsoe'er it mean, I dare no longer Be present at these lawless mysteries, This dark provoking of the hidden powers! Already 1 affront-if not high HeavenYet Alvar's memory! Hark! I make appeal Against the unholy rite, and hasten hence To bend before a lawful shrine, and seek That voice which whispers, when the still heart listens, Comfort and faithful hope! Let us retire. REV. CHARLES ROBERT MATURIN. The REV. CHARLES ROBERT MATURIN, author of several romances, produced a tragedy named Bertram, which, by the influence of Lord Byron, was brought out at Drury Lane in 1816. It was well received; and by the performance and publication of his play, the author realised about £1000. Sir Walter Scott considered the tragedy 'grand and powerful, the language most animated and poetical, and the characters sketched with a masterly enthusiasm.' The author was anxious to introduce Satan on the stage, a return to the style of the ancient mysteries by no means suited to modern taste. Mr Maturin was curate of St Peter's, Dublin. The scanty income derived from his curacy being insufficient for his comfortable maintenance, he employed himself in assisting young persons during their classical studies at Trinity college, Dublin. The novels of Maturin (which will be afterwards noticed) enjoyed considerable popularity; and had his prudence been equal CR Matwin to his genius, his life might have been passed in comfort and respect. He was, however, vain and extravagant-always in difficulties (Scott at one time generously sent him £50), and haunted by bailiffs. When this eccentric author was engaged in composition, he used to fasten a wafer on his forehead, which was the signal that if any of his family entered the sanctum they must not speak to him! The success of Bertram' induced Mr Maturin to attempt another tragedy, Manuel, which he published in 1817. It is a very inferior production; the absurd work of a clever man,' says Byron. The unfortunate author died in Dublin on the 30th of October 1824. [Scene from Bertram."] [A passage of great poetical beauty, in which Bertram is represented as spurred to the commission of his great crimes by the direct agency of a supernatural and malevolent being. -Sir Walter Scott.] PRIOR-BERTRAM. Prior. The dark knight of the forest, So from his armour named and sable helm, Bertram. I'll ring a summons on his barred portal Shall make them through their dark valves rock and ring. Prior. Thou'rt mad to take the quest. Within my memory One solitary man did venture there- vent. Unto that dark compeer we saw his steps, In winter's stormy twilight, seek that pass- Horrors to me are kindred and society. Or man, or fiend, he hath won the soul of Bertram. [Bertram is afterwards discovered alone, wandering near the fatal tower, and describes the effect of the awful interview which he had courted.] Bertram. Was it a man or fiend? Whate'er it was, How spoke the eloquent silence of its motion, I felt those unseen eyes were fixed on mine, Forgotten thoughts of evil, still-born mischiefs, To bide the eternal summons I am not what I was since I beheld him- Enter two of his band observing him. That brightness all around thee, that appeared To adorn its habitation with itself, In the same year with Mr Sheil's 'Evadne' (1820) appeared Brutus, or the Fall of Tarquin, a historical tragedy, by JOHN HOWARD PAYNE. There is no originality or genius displayed in this drama; but, when well acted, it is highly effective on the stage. In 1821 MR PROCTER'S tragedy of Mirandola was brought out at Covent Garden, and had a short but enthusiastic run of success. The plot is painful (including the death, through unjust suspicions, of a prince sentenced by his father), and there is a want of dramatic movement in the play; but some of the passages are imbued with poetical feeling and First Robber. Seest thou with what a step of pride vigorous expression. The doting affection of Miran he stalks? Thou hast the dark knight of the forest seen; For never man, from living converse come, Trod with such step or flashed with eye like thine. Bertram. [Turning on him suddenly.] Thy hand is First Robber. Mock me not thus. Hast met him of a truth? RICHARD L. SHEIL-J. H. PAYNE-B. W. PROCTER- Another Irish poet, and man of warm imagination, is RICHARD LALOR SHEIL. His plays, Evadne and The Apostate, were performed with much success, partly owing to the admirable acting of Miss O'Neil. The interest of Mr Sheil's dramas is concentrated too exclusively on the heroine of each, and there is a want of action and animated dialogue; but they abound in impressive and well-managed scenes. The plot of Evadne' is taken from Shirley's Traitor, as are also some of the sentiments. The following description of female beauty is very finely expressed : But you do not look altered-would you did! dola, the duke, has something of the warmth and the rich diction of the old dramatists. Duke. My own sweet love! Oh! my dear peerless By the blue sky and all its crowding stars, Woman was ever loved. There's not an hour I speak the truth, by Dian. Even now Duke. We'll ride together, dearest, [Exit. Isid. Just as you please; farewell. About the same time Conscience, or the Bridal Night, by MR JAMES HAYNES, was performed, and afterwards published. The hero is a ruined Venetian, and his bride the daughter of his deadliest enemy, and the niece of one to whose death he had been a party. The stings of conscience, and the fears accompanying the bridal night, are thus de scribed:- [LORENZO and his friend JULIO.] Of dying; but pity bids me live! Never again: even at my bridal hour Thou sawest detection, like a witch, look on And smile, and mock at the solemnity, Conjuring the stars. Hark! was not that a noise? Lor. Have none approached us? Jul. None. Lor. Then 'twas my fancy. Every passing hour Is crowded with a thousand whisperers; The night has lost its silence, and the stars Shoot fire upon my soul. Darkness itself Has objects for mine eyes to gaze upon, And sends me terror when I pray for sleep In vain upon my knees. Nor ends it here; My greatest dread of all-detection-casts Her shadow on my walk, and startles me At every turn: sometime will reason drag Her frightful chain of probable alarms Across my mind; or, if fatigued, she droops, Her pangs survive the while; as you have seen The ocean tossing when the wind is down, And the huge storm is dying on the waters. Once, too, I had a dream Jul. The shadows of our sleep should fly with sleep; Nor hang their sickness on the memory. Lor. Methought the dead man, rising from his tomb, To clasp my wife; but she was pale, and cold, JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES. The most successful of modern tragic dramatists is MR JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES, whose plays 2. Knowles have recently been collected and republished in three volumes. His first appeared in 1820, and is founded on that striking incident in Roman story, the death of a maiden by the hand of her father, Virginius, to save her from the lust and tyranny of Appius. Mr Knowles's Virginius had an extraordinary run of success. He has since published The Wife, a Tale of Mantua, The Hunchback, Caius Gracchus, The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green, William Tell, The Love Chace, &c. With considerable knowledge of stage effect, Mr Knowles unites a lively inventive imagi nation and a poetical colouring, which, if at times too florid and gaudy, sets off his familiar images and illustrations. His style is formed on that of Massinger and the other elder dramatists, carried often to a ridiculous excess. He also frequently violates Roman history and classical propriety, and runs into conceits and affected metaphors. These faults are counterbalanced by a happy art of constructing scenes and plots, romantic, yet not too improbable, by skilful delineation of character, especially in domestic life, and by a current of poetry which sparkles through his plays, 'not with a dazzling lustre-not with a gorgeousness that engrosses our attention, but mildly and agreeably; seldom impeding with useless glitter the progress and development of incident and character, but mingling itself with them, and raising them pleasantly above the prosaic level of common life."* [Scene from Virginius.'] APPIUS, CLAUDIUS, and LICTORS. Appius. Well, Claudius, are the forces At hand? Claudius. They are, and timely, too; the people Are in unwonted ferment. App. There's something awes me at The thought of looking on her father! Claud. Look Haste ! Upon her, my Appius! Fix your gaze upon Till they are thine. Haste! Your tribunal! The treasures of her beauty, nor avert it [Appius ascends the tribunal. [Enter NUMITORIUS, ICILIUS, LUCIUS, CITIZENS, VIRGINIUS leading his daughter, SERVIA, and CITIZENS. A dead silence prevails.] Virginius. Does no one speak? I am defendant here. Is silence my opponent? Fit opponent To plead a cause too foul for speech! What brow Shameless gives front to this most valiant cause, That tries its prowess 'gainst the honour of A girl, yet lacks the wit to know, that he Who casts off shame, should likewise cast off fearAnd on the verge o' the combat wants the nerve To stammer forth the signal? App. You had better, Virginius, wear another kind of carriage; This is not of the fashion that will serve you. Vir. The fashion, Appius! Appius Claudius tell me The fashion it becomes a man to speak in, Whose property in his own child-the offspring Of his own body, near to him as is His hand, his arm-yea, nearer-closer far, Knit to his heart-I say, who has his property In such a thing, the very self of himself, Disputed and I'll speak so, Appius Claudius; App. Stand forth Claudius! If you lay claim to any interest Claud. Most noble Appius Vir. And are you the man That claims my daughter for his slave?-Look at me And I will give her to thee. *Edinburgh Review for 1833. [Retires. Num. Will she swear she is her child? Is she not his slave? Will his tongue lie for him- To ask him if she'll swear! Will she walk or run, In jeopardy by such a bare-faced trick! App. No law in Rome, Virginius, Icilius. Fear not, love; a thousand oaths App. You swear the girl's your child, App. Your answer now, Virginius. [Brings Virginia forward. Is this the daughter of a slave? I know "Tis not with men as shrubs and trees, that by The shoot you know the rank and order of The stem. Yet who from such a stem would look And sympathetic fount, that at her cry Sent forth a stream of liquid living pearl Women and Citizens. You have, Virginius. App. Silence! Keep silence there! No more of that! You're very ready for a tumult, citizens. [Troops appear behind. Lictors, make way to let these troops advance! We have had a taste of your forbearance, masters, And wish not for another. Vir. Troops in the Forum! App. Virginius, have you spoken? I have; if not, I'll speak again. Virginius; I had evidence to give, App. My conscience will not let me [Aside. That Claudius' father, at his death, declared me The guardian of his son. This cheat has long Been known to me. I know the girl is not Virginius' daughter. Vir. Join your friends, Icilius, And leave Virginia to my care. App. The justice I should have done my client unrequired, Now cited by him, how shall I refuse? Vir. Don't tremble, girl! don't tremble. App. Virginius, [Aside. [Aside. I feel for you; but though you were my father, The tongues that told him she was not my child him To the honour of a Roman maid! my child! Citizens. They are yours, Virginius. App. Keep the people back Support my Lictors, soldiers! Seize the girl, Icilius. Down with the slaves! [The people make a show of resistance; but, upon the advance of the soldiers, retreat, and leave ICILIUS, VIRGINIUS, and his daughter, &c. in the hands of APPIUS and his party.] Deserted!-Cowards! traitors! Let me free You see how 'tis, we are deserted, left Alone by our friends, surrounded by our enemies, App. Separate them, Lictors! Vir. Let them forbear awhile, I pray you, Appius: It is not very easy. Though her arms Are tender, yet the hold is strong by which She grasps me, Appius-forcing them will hurt them; They'll soon unclasp themselves. Wait but a little You know you're sure of her! App. I have not time To idle with thee; give her to my Lictors. Vir. Appius, I pray you wait! If she is not A little time for parting. Let me take A moment with her nurse; perhaps she'll give me And knotted round my heart, that, if you break it, App. Have your wish. Be brief! Lictors, look to them. Virginia. Do you go from me? Do you leave? Father! Father! No, my Virginia-come along with me. Virginia. Will you not leave me? Will you take me with you! Will you take me home again? O, bless you! bless you! My father! my dear father! Art thou not [From ' The Wife, a Tale of Mantua.'] As e'er they were before. How grew it? Come, Which thou dost fear to show-I wait your answer. Mariana. As my stature grew, Which rose without my noting it, until They said I was a woman. I kept watch Beside what seemed his deathbed. From beneath Who wandered through our mountains. A long time Lorenzo. I perceive: you mingled souls until you mingled hearts? You loved at last. Was't not the sequel, maid? Lorenzo. You loved, and he did love? Were to affirm what oft his eyes avouched, Lorenzo. This spoke impediment; or he was bound Mariana. I saw a struggle, But knew not what it was. I wondered still, [Kissing her. That what to me was all content, to him Was all disturbance; but my turn did come. At length he talked of leaving us; at length He fixed the parting day-but kept it notO how my heart did bound! Then first I knew It had been sinking. Deeper still it sank When next he fixed to go; and sank it then To bound no more! He went. [Stabs her, and draws out the knife. Icilius Lo, Appius, with this innocent blood App. Stop him! Seize him! Lorenzo. To follow him You came to Mantua? |