The Sun.
London, England, 1855-10-25 00:00:00

at the outset, but, as it chances, from the force ofper-
verse circumstances, rather than from any inherent
cross-grainedness ! So that all turns out happily
before the conclusion of the drama—though pre-
viously the entire plot hasappeared to be entangled in
the inextricable confusion of cross-purposes. Ra-
phael Sant Angelo, kinsman of the first-mentioned
of that name, and in reality, though younger, head
of their ancient house and heir to its princely pos-
sessions, shines upon the scene from first to last,
the good hero of the piece, selected by both sires
as the chosen spouse for the one cherished daughter
of each—Constance and Herminia. Gaston de
Courcy, nephew of De Beaufort, is the other lover
in the romance—the brilliant, brave, and chival-
rous suitor for the hand of the fairest of all the
fair ladies of that time in Florence. Raphael,
regarded originally by his kinsman as his future
sun in-law, becomes in the end the betrothed of
Constance, the child of the Gallic peer De Beaufort.
Gaston, after being apparently doomed to death
for illegal entrance into Florence, is accepted ulti-
mately by Herminia's father as the husband elect
of his beloved daughter. It is between the loves
of Raphael and Constance, of Gaston and ller-
minia, that the interest of the drama may be said
to oscillate. It were difficult to decide to which of
the two love-tales should by right be accorded the
preference. The walking gentleman of the piece
appears in the person of the Chevalier de Vaubel,
a kinsman of De Beaufort. The dowager dame
becomes visible in the Countess Matilda, god-
mother of Constance. The villains of the drama
are discernible fur a moment in a nameless cur-
mudgeon of a Senator, in two or three vagabond
robbers, and in some score or so of the insurgent
iabhle of Florence. Otherwise the dramatis per-
sonce are for the most part little less than paragons.
Yet, in spite of their so being, the sweetness of the
dramatic narrative as a charming love story, never
once degenerates into the mawkish, is never palls
upon the taste as a romance over-sugared with
moral excellences. Francis, Denis, and Sylvio are
the servants flitting to and fro across the scene with
messages for good or ill ; and beyond them, grouped
together in the background, aro discernible Sant
Angelo's steward, the steward's wife, Indies attend-
ant upon Herminia, men-at-arms, and citizens, who
happen now and then in their civic brawls to
come amateur men-at-arms themselves. Another
personage not yet mentioned is among the first
and foremost throughout. This is Polydor, the
good, simple-hearted, kindly, genial, learned,
loveable Polydor, formerly tutor to Raphael—now
the sago adviser at once of Gaston and Herminia,
conveying love tokens hither and thither between
the enamoured pair, ignorant of his being all the
while a carrier dove in a scholar's garment, with a
book under his arm and his head in the clouds.
Many of the " Passing Clouds " of the story from
which the play derives its graceful designation may
ho traced indeed, both in their origin and in
their ultimate dissipation, to the unconscious
hand of this delightful Polydor a sort of
Italian Dominie Sampson in his way, with all
the Dominie's goodness and none of his grotesque.
ness. If there is one flaw in the piece it is that the
intellectual verdure of Polydor is somewhat over-
coloured—reminding one of that classic version of
ono of the quaint old London signs :
Viridis home et tranquillus
How amusingly the old man, in reply to Hermi-
nia's inquiry as to whether Gaston finds anything
to praise in Italy and the Italians, exclaims—
" Ask what he praises not.
Tho' ignorant of many vital things,
Most gross in grammar, destitute of verbs,
He bath learned every adjective of praise
To paint our names with."
The rogue ! So well, indeed, that—hero is one of
the samples of his skill in translating into Hermi-
nia's northern tongue one of the barbarous Nor-
man lays, as honest Polydor calls them, of the
Trouvores or the Troubadours :

Whom doth my lady love 4
Is it he who evermore
Near her stands at hall and door,
Ready with unfaltering hand
To obey her least command ?
By all the pretty oaths that be,
It is not he 1

u.
Whom doth my lady love
Is it he who, when a child,
Shared her sports and made them wild,
And, a man, wild sports foz swore,
Thinking thus to please her more ?
By all the eager oaths that be,
It is not he !

111.
Whom doth my lady love
Is it he who standeth mute
When she plays upon her lute,
And whose soul, though far remote,
Trembles in each melting note
By all the whispered oaths that be,
It is not he !

IT.
Whom doth my lady love
Is it he whose name is beard
Crowned with many a flattering word,
First in field and first at home,
Whither he doth seldom come ?
By all the knightly vows that be
'Tis he 'Tis he !

---
Excellent Master Polydor not only carries hiero-
glyphics like these between the lovers, unconscious
himself of their hidden significance, but lo ! how
wisely he acts in the presence of one of them, ac-
cording to the account furnished by the tender so-
liloquy of Gaston :
" Here are the lines traced by her vary hand ;
For while her simple tutor-turned his head
To 'ie. a rainbow, whose bright Ark
.; (511" d