members, [ministers ?] Connected with power and office by their very profession, all members (ministers) of the church have an original tendency, not easily overcome, to take the side of Government, and those who desire to rise to distinction in the hierarchy generally make a display of servility, as the surest means of elevation. Or if raised BY SOME RARE ACCIDENT from real merit, super-add a varnish of adulation to their other acquirements. Yet it must be said that a cringing churchman has not that scoffing contempt of virtue and affected disbelief of all public principle which distinguish the apostate lawyer." Though these essays will not tend much, if at all, to establish the noble author's reputation as a literary man, it had been better had he confined his efforts to this species of composition exclusively for though it demands many high qualifications, not the least of which is the faculty of compression, "to give the virtue of a draught in a few drops," the task is far easier than the one which belongs to the elevated flights of the dramatic aspirant. Don Carlos, a Tragedy. Success is the mother of rashness, and though often a diminutive parent, the infant is commonly remarkable for its size. The success of the noble lord as an essayist, whether as Joseph Skillet, or in his own proper person, if we can form any opinion, must have been of the most limited kind; but the rashness engen dered was as colossal as the success was mi croscopic, and bears out the epigrammatic character of the premier so felicitously hit off by a defunct canon of St. Paul's, for wit re nowned. Dr. Johnson declares, 66 that a man who writes a book thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he sup; poses that he can instruct or amuse them;" but a man who writes a play must have a still higher estimate of his powers, if we receive the opinion of his Grace of Bucking ham : "That to write plays, why, 'tis a bold pretence To judgment, breeding, wit, and eloquence; Nay more, for they must look within to find The secret turn of nature in the mind." The hardihood of the venture in the present instance is not a little heightened by the circumstance that the story of Don Carlos had already exercised the skill of the most celebrated dramatic writers, not forgetting Schiller and Alfieri. And this in defiance of the highest critical authoritics, who condemn the selection of the unhallowed perversions of one particular passion for the source of dra matic interest as unworthy of genius, and resorted to only by men of puny and sterile imagination, though by genius alone can such exhibitions be made sufferable. How far Lord John's treatment of the story redeems the play from the strictures of this canon we shall inquire. Schiller more modestly styled his work a dramatic poem, and declared that his hopes of its success on any stage were not high. Here it is ushered in with all the pride and pomp of circumstance, "A Tragedy in Five Ac's," entitled "Don Carlos, or Persecution." The alternative, or explanatory title, must, recommendation of some waggish friend of we are convinced, have been inserted at the the author, alluding to the reader, or intended audience of Covent Garden. It is dedicated to Lord Holland, in the usual strain of mixed adulation and depreciation, rather at variance with the preface, which savors strongly of the puff preparatory, and in which there is an affectation of research, and a careful apology for slight historical deviations on the score of poetical license. We shall in a few lines explain the nature of the plot; since, though " Don Carlos" may works of Schiller and Alfieri, it has not been be familiar to those acquainted with the made so through Lord John Russell to the of noble authorship, and all the knavish English reader: for with all the prestige adjuncts of the stage, ("Fourberia della Scena,") the play was acted once, and once only. Not that its failure as an acting drama would be conclusive against its merit altogether, for Johnson's "Irene" met with the Whether Lord John felt, as Johnson exsame fate, as indeed have a hundred others. pressed himself to have done after his de feat, "like the monument," or whether he derived consolation from the reflections of Mr. Wire Wove Hot Press, "that there may be calamitous eclipses of the most effulgent minds," must remain mysteries buried in the womb of time. The plot turns upon the intrigues of the Inquisition, whose chief, Valdez, the grand Inquisitor, works upon the suspicious mind of Philip king of Spain to destroy his son, Don Carlos, suspected of favoring the Protestant cause; and the modus operandi is by insinuating to the King an incestuous intercourse of Don Carlos with the Queen. In the opening scene of Act I., Valdez, the grand Inquisitor, and one of his adherents, Lucero, discuss the King's character and the chances of their success. Valdez tries to remove some scruples of his fellow conspirator. "Valdez. Fear not; The King has got a demon: 'tis suspicion That men are somewhat better than they are, Here, at the very outset, some of the peculiar defects are visible which pervade the whole of the play, and, we might say, the whole of the noble lord's writings. It is evident that the address of Valdez is intended to be dignified, and if tumid metaphor and false aphorism could atone for positive breaches of all rules, both of grammar and composition, it might be; but it is in fact grand nonsense, which, of all things, is the most insupportable. Scene II. discloses the King soliloquizing upon his Queen's dishonor; he requires the attendance of one of her women, Leonora, when the following dignified dialogue takes place. [Enter Donna Leonora.] The King. I ask you how the Queen receives our son? Leonora. I know not well to answer. The King. Yet my words are plain and simple. Leonora. Sire! Indeed The King. Reply; I must have truth. Her cheeks blush deep with rosy streams, her eyes Leonora. Yes, sire: such welcome gives As when upon the dark blank world the sun Pours forth his beams; when undistinguished space Grows rich with meaning; hill, and lake, and plain * Glitter in new-born light, and hail the day :Such is the Queen, when to our quiet hours Don Carlos gives his leisure. The King. It is well; She should rejoice to see our royal son. My office here is to attend the Queen, The King. "Tis well, 'tis well : know Not that these things which you have told to me Or Leonora. Never, gracious sire, have I beheld Aught but of reverence from our royal prince, With due and subject duty Have you observed the Queen at any time Leonora. Sire, Don Carlos gave a necklace to the Queen The King. Madam, it is well: [Aside.] Yet like I not such tokens always worn; We cannot pursue this contemptible trashy dialogue further. The "stilted talk" of the duenna Leonora is only surpassed in non sense by the royal catechist. It is positively beneath all criticism as to versification. It is a mere collocation of words and syllables, marshalled into array by the printer to make a kind of poetry to the eye. It is a species of bad prose in ambush, a jumble of forced metaphor and low phraseology, destructive of both sense and propriety-passing by the morale of the whole, which is flagrant. Can anything be so utterly silly as the exclamation of the King "That I, the king, should know the slightest sign, The breath of air, or creaking of a door!" Or more unintelligible and nonsensical than "Love leading his march :" and "Warm desires LOOKING on the life:" "Gifts, bonds of courtesy that ADD CIVILITY to kindred ties." The constant recurrence of the same words and the same phrases is enough to nauseate the most indefatigable and indulgent reader. The word "Tale" occurs no less than ten times;* though it will hardly be said "decies repetita placebit." But when we turn to the other characters of the play, we find no better entertainment. ACT II. SCENE I. [Apartment of Don Carlos.] Don Carlos, like his royal father, is given to soliloquizing, and makes his debut to the audience in a metaphorical Jeremiad, bewailing his hard lot in having been born a prince instead of a bird-catcher or rustic. His friend Cordoba enters, to inquire by what plan he intends to defeat his unforeseen arrest-a rather curious use of the word defeat, applied to a "fait accompli," the said Don Carlos being safely lodged in durance vile. The prince, very surveyor-like, replies, "I have no plan." Cordoba seems to think such an answer more suited to an architect, and rejoins-" Such a reply but ill becomes a Prince." Don Carlos is piqued at this, and determines to make up for his brevity of response by a grandiloquent confession of his un-princely faculties. * "Or failed, when reason was, to bear the tale unto your majesty." "Sire-The tale is of that kind the bearer fears to let escape too rudely." "The tale was dreadful, but your royal countenance," &c. "My king, I will proceed, though harsh and crude the tale." We fear Mother Nature has played off some of her tricks on Lord John. We have sad misgivings, however, that he, like the prince, was more calculated to "wander idly in the woods," "to feed on the wild grape,' and "drink the natural spring," than for court or camp. Poor Cordoba's dull matterof-fact brain finds some difficulty in comprehending these pastoral longings, not exactly, perhaps, appreciating the distinguished propensities of his royal master for drinking natural springs and feeding on wild grapes. "Cordoba. Yet still You think of public weal; and even now You were embarking in a public cause: &c. &c. &c. Don Carlos. See you, Don Luis, no distincBetween a choice of lot, and bearing ill tion, then, What is already chosen? I stand here Prince of Asturias, the heir of Spain: To leave the mighty interests of mankind To follow nightingales, would be in me Consummate baseness, treason to my state, The people of two hemispheres, who own Cruel injustice to collected millionsThe Spanish rule, and on some future day, Which Heaven long avert, will take their hue Of joy or sorrow from my smile or frown. Overwhelming thought! would it were other wise." Can there be anything more trashy than this. Even in the interview between the king and his son, which might have given scope to something like passionate feeling, we have the same miserable monotony of yes and no dialogue, interspersed with the same frothy declamation and vexed metaphor. It is really impossible to single out a page, or even a passage that rises to mediocrity, though we have not paraded the most ridiculous portions. Mark the Noodle and Doodle style of Act. IV.-Scene II. : "Osorio. "Tis strange!-Don LuisCarlos. Don Luis was invited to assist In this unnatural treachery, where the father ACT II.-SCENE I. continued. [Enter King Phi- Plotted his son's destruction, but he shrunk 66 lip.] Cordoba relires. Philip. Don Carlos, 'tis with heavy grief The safety of the State has forced me thus To place a guard upon your sacred person: Your highness has been charged with crimes— Philip. Softly, my son. I came not to accuse, &c. Carlos. By Heaven, not so. Philip. Nay, interrupt me not. If it be thus, This threat of spectral forms, and the Ill do you know, must of course freeze up the boiling indignation of the Prince, and he simply puts in his disclaimer to all unfilial hankerings after his father's crown. From horrors so Satanic. Osorio. Did he, indeed? Carlos. He did indeed: what means that Osorio. Nay, prince, I know not. The stain he has contracted; and to-night He comes with friends in arms to save my life. Carlos. Indeed! Indeed! Had you been there, &c. &c. &c. This may be certainly selected as an apt illustration of the art of sinking, in poetry. The malicious reader would perhaps be gratified by more extracts, especially from the concluding act, but we abstain from the cruelty of further selections. Lord John, like Fielding, and many others, evidently curses "Carlos. Oh! far from me is lust of that sad the fellow "who invented fifth acts." Poison power: I hate it all. Philip. If truly, 'tis with reason. &c. &c. and the dagger, the old-fashioned aids, come to the rescue and do the business; but, contrary to Aristotelian law, they do it before Carlos. I know not what means your Ma- the audience, and Don Carlos and Don Luis jesty. Philip. Listen, Don Carlos! Your honored grandsire, when a manly beard While to his empty treasury a new world Beards pluming,-new worlds wafting,— aspiring to privacy-Mrs. Malaprop, "thy occupation's gone!" Carlos reiterates his disinclination to wield a sceptre. 66 die in most appropriate confusion. Unfit as the tragedy clearly is for the stage, we can find no merits that fit it for the closet. There is not a vestige of poetical feeling, not a single passage that rises above common-place, not a character or creation in the whole dramatis persona. They are mere automata; a more undignified, pitiful puppet than Philip, could not be walked through five acts of any play; nor a more puling, characterless personage than Don Carlos, whose mawkish sentimentality would overpower even a boarding-school Miss of the last generation. The Queen is a mere piece of pageantry, a walking gentlewoman, whose Philip. You do not wish to take it from me, "yes" and "no" are often in the wrong then?" place; while Valdez, the arch intriguer and supposed mover of the pieces, who is to conduct the check-mate, is a mere cut-and-dried specimen of the old hacknied rogue of a hundred penny stories. There is throughout a palpable attempt at dignity and elevation of style, by a lavish use of metaphor, of which the noble lord seems to have a kind of hortus siccus; but which he so mixes and involves that they make a perfect jumble of images, and the radical idea is completely lost sight of, in the tangled heap of metaphorical excrescences. The noble littérateur has decidedly made a "fiasco" he has, with all his incubation, produced a wind-egg. We are sensible of the greatness of the effort, we see the straining of the wires, and hear the creaking of the pulleys, and have a strong sense of smelling tallow and rosin-but no illusion. Plenty of rant aud fustian, but "no storming of the breast, or holding enthralled the sense;" "there is all the contortion of the Sybil without the inspiration, all the nodosity of the oak without the firmness ;" and we only come to the conclusion, that the owlets who fancied themselves eagles, are a breed by no means extinct. The last three lines of this "doleful mystery" must, we think, have been added by the same satirical wag who had a hand in fixing on the title; and who probably knowing the sensibility of the noble author's feelings on literary matters, slyly depicts the anguish the noble lord would feel (no doubt has felt) at rushing into print, and neglecting the wise Horatian maxim, nonum prematur in annum.' May this sad story [play ?] rest forever secret; Vain hope! in one short day I have destroyed My peace of conscience, and my hope of fame." ing fresh interest to an oft-told tale." Unless he succeeded in doing this, his work, as he knew, would be regarded as a pure literary superfetation. Not that we can point to any eminently successful productions of this class among our countrymen. Memoir writing does not appear to be so well suited to the genius of the English as of the French character; and when lacking the esprit fringant, "the shaping spirit of imagination," which our neighbors contrive to throw into their most trivial works, it drops down into a mere dry compilation of fragmentary documents, seasoned, perhaps, with obsolete stories and resuscitated anecdotes, a species of annotated chapter of the historical accidents of a period-a kind of dropsy of history. The fourth edition would seem to imply success, and the fame of the noble premier secured; but as nearly all of the noble lord's works have been invested with the same honor, we must decline this as any very searching test of excellence. If the end of fame, however, "is but to fill a certain portion of uncertain paper," then the noble author's exertions have been crowned with success. In the Introduction, (for the noble writer loves Introductions,) there is no inconsiderable parade of erudite research and quasi philosophical deduction; but it is the parade of a very school-boy in both cases, and in the most slovenly method. A very few extracts will suffice to illustrate our meaning. [Page 1, Introduction.] "The communities of modern Europe are distinguished from those of ancient times by many broad and conspicuous marks; among these there is none more remarkable, or which more forcibly arrests the attention of the historian, than the difference of the mode in tions have been formed. Ancient cities falling at once into political society, and requiring forms of government to hold them together, were obliged to appoint some one person or body of persons, to frame regulations for the conduct of general affairs, and the maintenance of order. These early legislators, finding themselves thus called upon to prescribe the institutions of an infant which might influence the well-being of the comstate, extended their directions to everything monwealth; manners, dress, food, amusements, became an object of public care for punishment or reward. The members of these communities thus became attached to the peculiar customs of their city; and, when attacked by a foreign enemy, they defended themselves with the more vigor and only of liberty, but of all the habits of their lives, perseverance, as conquest implied the loss, not endeared to them by long prescription and by leg which the characters of ancient and modern na There is some craft, however, in being voluminous, for voluminous authors have a warrant for occasional dullness, and the most severe readers make allowance for many rests and nodding places in quarto volumes, which would be fatal to the author in octavo. This principle, however, must be sparingly used, for, though history, it is true, quoque modo scripta delectat," the interest springing out of the subject itself will only secure that author from oblivion whose mediocrity is shielded by a monopoly of being the only chronicler of his time. This monopoly the noble lord does not enjoy, and he must have been prepared to encounter the difficulty of "lend-islative sanction." |