The Sun.
London, England, 1837-06-30 00:00:00

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THE CONSPIRACY OF Q UERINI AND
TIEPOL O.
Smith, London, 1837.

The scene of this historical drama is laid in Venice,
and the period to which it refers, the close of the thir•
teenth century, when those convulsive struggles were
going on in the Venetian republic, which eventual!)
terminated in the absolute triumph of the aristocracy. '
The author has treated his subject throughout with
great skill, and occasionally with great power, but we
cannot but think that he has been unfortunate in the
choice of it. Otway and Byron have exhausted the
theme of Venetian conspiracies; they have brought
out with vivid effect nearly all that was to be urged on
the occasion ; and in their Pierres, Renaults, Jaffiers.
Israel Bertuccios, and Marino Falieros, have left us cha-
racters which it is unwise in a writer of the present day,
however gifted he may be, to dream of rivalling. Though
the conspiracy of Querini and Tiepolo is in every re-
spect an original play ; though its various dramatis
personce are the author's own undoubted creations,
full of life and shrewdly discriminated, the females
especially, yet it would be difficult to persuade the
public that such is the case. In their opinion, the
ground is fully pre-occupied--an objection which no
genius will be able to remove. If we except this un-
fortunate choice of subject, we have no fault to find
with the play before us. It bounds at once upon its
theme, Ivithout wasting time on irrelevant, introduc-
tory matter ; is replete with striking situations ; and,
taken in connection with other tragedies that have
lately been published, convinces us that the dramatic
talent of England, so long in a state of suspended
animation, is about to shake off its torpor, and spring
to active life. Heaven speed the hour, for we are'
sick of showy melodrames, and languid, wire-drawn
operas, which vitiate the people's taste, and enfeeble
their naturally sound understanding ! We have saic
that the present tragedy displays evidences of ability ;
but we feel that we may safely give it far higher praise,
and add, that its numerous characters have all the re-
quisite " mark and likelihood ;" and that, in its more
impassioned dialogues, there is no attempt made to
produce an effect by other than the chastest and most
natural means. Indeed the whole is penned in a care-
fully subdued style ; though when fierce energy and do•
quest declamation, bordering on the poetic, are demanded,
the author is never at a loss to supply them. His cha.
ratters of Beatrice, Costanza, Benedetto, and, abov(
all, of the patrician despot Gradenigo, will bear com-
parison with any that the modern drama can • show
The last, ill particular, is sustained throughout witl
singular tact and vigour, ever forcible, without being
in the slightest degree overcharged. The abrupt sar
casts against the People, of this fiery, intolerant aris
tocrat, is an impressive touch of character :
" The People I
Wi.y how that word is echoed in my ear.
The People I Is there nought above that sound?
Norlife, nor virtue, power, nor possession ?
Must it pervade all objects, like a God,
And matt bow down in impotence? The People
Their tyranny is worthiest of the name._.
One despot is less irksome than a thousand."

The following passage, put into the mouth of Bene•
detto, as he is watching the slumbers of Costanza
who is reclining on a couch, is graceful and poetic
and imbued with the right feeling :

" There sleeps the being blest,
Whom Love might once behold but to expire,
If he were mortal who is of the sky,
And wily visits as the sun-beans, felt
By us enkindling, incorporeal sent,
And all etherial—beautiful—divine—
Just seen—but never to be realized
Hush, let me look on thee, and gazing die—.
The never-failing well from which the mind
Extracts her crystal waters of reflection
My hope, and light, and land, which parted from,
I am as the lone, dark, and drifting wreck
Upon a shoreless sea ;—my present bold,
And my eternity hereafter I Oh
Sweet be the slumber, lady, on that brow
So fair, confiding, beautifully calm,
As nothing earthly moved its inner dwelling—
Breathe soft, ye zephyrs, and thou mystic Night,
Bring no black terror on thine cbon wing•,"

Wc had marked many other passages for quotation
but space and time compel us to a close ; we mus-
therefore content ourselves with the expression of
hope that the author will give us another drama, bu
choose some less hack-pied theme than a Venetian con
spiracy.

The London Sun has made inane' an effort to serve
the public with early authentic intelligence, and has uniform]'
been sueceaul ; yet never more so than on Wednesday last
On that evening, a second edition of the London Courier
dated half-past four, was received by a person in Ayr, an
nouncing the death of the King on Monday—which, as all th.
world now knows, was untrue—but the report was believed i.
town till we received our copy of The Sun by the very :am(
post—dated seven o'clock—which at once disabused the publi.
mind. Though The Sun's politics and our's be " wide as th
poles asunder," we deem it but justice to notice the exertion
of that Journal to supply the public with early and authenti.
intelligence.—Ayr Observer.

AWFULLY SUDDEN DEATll.—Yesterday morning
between nine and ten o'clock, a respectably dressed man, abou
fifty years of ago, was proceeding along Broad-street, St
Gdes's, when he was noticed to stagger as if seized with gid
diness, and directly afterwards fall on the pavement. 01
raising him up, he was found to be black in the face, and of
carrying him into the shop of Mr. Summers, chemist, it
Broad-street, the vital spark was found to be quite extinct.
The body was removed to St. Giles's workhouse to be owned
and to await the holding of a coroner's inquest.
Yesterday, about twelve o'clock, a cry of "Ma('
dog" was raised in Devonshire-street, Lisson-grove, and at
animal of the terrier breed, foaming at the mouth, and evi-
dently in a rabid state, was observed proceeding swiftly along
snapping at every person that it passed. On arriving at th,
corner of Hereford-street a labourer named Hennessey, win
was returning home to dinner, was seized by it, but fortunately
received no other injury than having his trousers torn. Th,
animal then proceeded on to Portman-street, Portman-market
where a butcher, who is a parish constable, succeeded, unhurt
in killing it with his staff.