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The spirit, the soul, the every thought and sensation of the first character in this piece, De Monfort, is clearly discerned by the reader, and he can account for all the events to which they progressively lead : but the most attentive auditor, whilst he plainly behoids effects, asks after causes; and not perceiving those diminutive seeds of hatred, here described, till, swollen, they extend to murder, he conceives the hero of the tragedy to be more a pitiable maniac, than aman acting under the dominion of natural propensity.

Even to the admiring reader of this work, who sees the delineation of nature in every page,


may perchance occur, that disease must have certain influence with hate so rancorous ; for rooted antipathy, without some more considerable provocation than is here ad. duced, is very like the first unhappy token of insanity.

Strike not upon one particular chord in all De Monfort's feelings, and he is a noble creature; but from this individual string vibrates all that is mean and despicable in man. Thus is the mind of the lunatic generally tyrannized by one obstinate idea.

Though hatred be the passion described in this tragedy, pride was its origin, and envy its promoter.The school boy, who, by his ridicule, wounded the self-importance of his playfellow, might, we find, have been forgiven, had not good fortune bestowed, on this Rezenvelt, unexpected riches, social qualities, and friends, to rival those possessed by Monfort, his former superior.

From hence is derived this most admirable moral - The proud man, yielding to every vice which pride

engenders, descends, in the sequel of his arrogance, to be the sport of his enemy, the pity of his friends, to receive his life a gift from the man lie abhors, and to do a midnight murder !

Still the author's talents invest with dignity this cowardly assassin, and he inspires a sublime liorror to the last moment of his existence and even when extended as a corse.

The character of Rezenvelt is well drawn ; and, in one scene, gives an excellent sample of the writer's powers in comedy; in that comic dialogue, at least, which has most pleasant effect, when dispersed through a tragedy.

On Jane De Monfort she has bestowed some of her very best poetic descriptions; and, from the young Page's first account of the “ queenly” stranger, has given such a striking resemblance of both the person and mien of Mrs Siddons, that it would almost raise a suspicion she was, at the time of the writing, designed for the representation of this noble female.

This drama, of original and very peculiar formation, plainly denotes that the authoress has studied theatrical productions as a reader more than as a spectator ; and it may be necessary to remind her that Shakspeare gained his knowledge of the efiect produced from plays upon an audience, and profited, through such attainment, by his constant attendance on dramatic representations, even with the assiduity of a performer.

Of this tragedy, which she certainly possessed the genius to have made of the highest importance ia

theatric exhibition, she may now exclaim, in De Monfort's words--more impressive than any the whole composition contains

“ 'Tis done, 'tis number'd with the things o'erpast; 61?Would ! 'would it were to come!”

But let her also reflect, that other dramas may yet proceed from her pen, to gratify every expectation which this production has excited.




Mr Kemble.

Mr Talbot.

Mr Barrymore.

Mr Powell.

Mr Dowton.

Mr Caulfield.




Miss Heard. ABBESS, Nuns, and a LAY SISTER, LADIES, &c.

SCENE-A Town in Germany.




JEROME's House. A large old-fashioned Chamber,

Jer. [Speaking without.] This way, good masters. Enter JEROME, bearing a Light, and followed by MA

NUEL, and SERVANTS carrying Luggage.
Rest your burdens here.
This spacious room will please the marquis best.
He takes me unawares; but ill prepared :
If he had sent, e'en though a hasty notice,
I had been glad.

Man. Be not disturb'd, good Jerome;
Thy house is in most admirable order ;
And they who travel o' cold winter nights
Think homeliest quarters good.

Jer. He is not far behind ?

Man. A little way. {To the SERVANTS. Go you, and wait below till be Jer. [ Shaking Manuel by the hand.] Indeed, my


friend, I'm glad to see you here, Yet marvel wherefore.

Man. I marvel wherefore too, my honest Jerome; But here we are; pr’ythee be kind to us.

Jer. Most heartily I will. I love your master : He is a quiet and a lib'ral man: A better inmate never cross'd my door.

Man. Ah! but he is not now the man he was Lib'ral he will, God grant he may be quiet!

Jer. What has befallen him?

Man, I cannot tell thee;
But, 'faith, there is no living with him now.

Jer. And yet, methinks, if I remember well,
You were about to quit his service, Manuel,
When last he left this house. You grumbled then.

Man. I've been upon the eve of leaving him
These ten long years; for many time is he
So difficult, capricious, and distrustful,
He galls my nature--yet, I know not how,
A secret kindness binds me to him still.

Jer. Some, who offend from a suspicious nature,
Will afterwards such fair confession make
As turns e'en the offence into a favour.

Man. Yes, some indeed do so : so will not he: He'd rather die than such confession make.

Jer. Ay, thou art right; for now I call to mind That once he wrong'd me with unjust suspicion, When first he came to lodge beneath my roof; And when it so fell out that I was proved Most guiltless of the fault, I truly thought He would have made profession of regret ; But silent, haughty, and ungraciously He bore himself as one offended still. Yet shortly after, when unwittingly I did him some slight service, o' the suiden He overpower'd me with his grateful thanks; And would not be restrain’d from pressing on me

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