The Sun.
London, England, 1825-02-10 00:00:00

mer to another, while Tragedy is represented on the British
Theatre.
Mr. Knowles owes much of the success he has obtained, to
his not attempting too much, by stretching and straining his
powers beyond their natural play ; but walking easily forward,
without stepping asic!.?.. and floundering to the right and left by
the assistar, Ceaa pair of unmanageable stilt:4. His scenes are
trimmed, dressed, and contracted for stage purposes, with in-
genuity and effect; and, in this respect, illy. Knowles, has
" set a copy" to his brother dramatists, they would do well
and wisely to follow.
The plot of Virginias is faulty in this respect—the main in-
terest of the piece ceases after the sacrifice of the heroine. The
fifth act, therefore, becomes rather a postscript to the others
than a part " one and indivisible" of the whole. Julius, the
lover, and the rest of flue characters, appear only as a company
of mourners at a funeral, after the death of Virginia. This
defect of plot might have been remedied, had the sacrifice of
the daughter been made the climax to the last act. Appius
might then have died as well by the knife, as the fingers of Vir-
ginias. Neither is in accordance with the facts of history ;
but either were allowable to the dramatic poet.
The style of this play is, no doubt, imperfect and incorrect :
yet, if it is not lofty or poetical, it is, on that account, more the
language of real life. It is not, however, low and without
dignity. On the contrary, if " well mouthed" on patent
boards, (and accompanied by a judicious sprinkling of starts
and pauses, of Edmund Kean's invention), it will pass current
with an audience for unadulterated sterling ore. The dialogue
is easy and spirited, and free from the faults of affectation and
pretension. The following is rather a favourable specimen of
the language of Virginias. Dentatus having been treacherously
slain near the Roman camp, Virginius is mourning over the
body, and breathing revenge, when Lucius enters, to inform
the latter that his daughter at Rome is claimed as a slave in his
absence by Claudius:—
Luc. Virginius !
. Vir. I did not mind thee, Lucius !
Uncommon things make common things forgot.
Hast thou a message for me, Lucius ? Well !
I'll stay and hear it—hut be brief ; my heart
Follows my poor Dentants.
Lee. You are wanted
In Rome.
Vir. On what account ?
- Luc. On your arrival
You'll learn.
Vir. How ! is it something can't be told
At once? Speak out, boy ! Ha ! your looks are loaded
With matter—ls't so heavy that your tongue
Cannot unburthen them ? Your brother left
The camp on duty yesterday,,-hath aught
Happen'd to him ? Did he arrive in safety ?
Is he safe ? Is he well ?
Lae. He is both safe and well.
Vir. What then ? What then ? Tell me the matter,
Lucius.

Luc. I have said
It shall be told you.
Vir. Shall ! I stay not for
• That shall, unless it be so close at hand
It stop me not a moment.—"ris too loaf;
A coming: Fare you well, my,Lucius. (Going.)
Luc. Stay,
Virginius.—Bear me then with patience.
Vir. (Returns.) Well,
I am patient. •
Luc. Your Virginia—.
Vir. Stop, my Lucius !
• I am cold in every member of my frame !
if 'tis prophetic, Lucius, of thy news,
Give me such token as her tomb would, Lucius—
I'll bear it better.—Silence.
Luc. You are still
Vir. I thank thee, Jupiter !—I am still a father
. Luc. You are, Virginius, yet.
Vir. What, is she sick ?
Luc. No.
Vir. Neither dead not sick ! All well ! No harm !
Nothing amiss ! each guarded quarter safe,
That fear may lay him down and sleep, and yet
This sounding the alarm ! I swear thou tell'st
A story strangely.—Out with't ! I have patience ,
For any thing, since my Virginia lives,
And lives in health !
Luc. You are requir'd in Rome,
To answer a most novel suit.
Vir. IVhose suit ? ( Virginius, Act. 3, Scene 5.)
In this selection of style (and throughout the Play it is simi-
lar), two of Mr. Lacy's essentials of dramatic language, are
observable. It is " accommodated to action"—and "common
dialogue appears on its surface." Here; nothing resembling
the "mellifluouss purling of ultra-poesy," •or the " hollow
heroics of the rhetoric school" can be discerned." Reduce the
capital letters at the commencement of each line to the common
size, read the sentences according to the punctuation ; and this
uyould-be poetry will become something very like " honest un-
pretending prosc.t.
With imperfections of style, indisputably, and though
written for the stage rather than the closet, Virginius, yet pos-
sesses a share of
.merit of high, order. .Action, bustle, and bu-
siness prevail from the commencement of the first act to the
termination of the fifth. There is much pathos interwoven
with the composition of the story : and the interest to the end
of the fourth act, when Virginhis stabs his daughter to pre-
vent her being dishonoured by the Decemvir, progressively in-
creases :

Lo ! Appius ! with this innocent blood,
I do devote thee to th' infernal gods !
is the frantic exclamation of the father, as he withdraws the
fatal knife from the bosom of the murdered Virginia.
This Play powerfully excites the passion of pity—if not the
paSsion of
_terror—in the human breast. This is the touch-
stone of tragedy : and higher praise than this, if justly me-
rited and bestowed, no dramatist need seek to obtain.
•Of 0-this Gracchus, a tragedy by the same Author, I had
rather not speak. John Home, wrote one play—Douglas—and
wisely put an end to his intercourse with Melpomene. James
Sheridan Knowles wrote Virginius: and after that, in imi-
tation of Home, ought to have forsworn the embraces of the
embraces of the Muse. Mr. Knowles's genius, is not akin to
that of the Scotts and Byrons. His is not the creative prolific
imagination of the poet. In one instance (by contrast as it
were), he proved successful. But one Roman story is enough.
Should he again be tempted by the " nightly visitings of
Melpomene, let him resist the allurement—and remember the
fate of the son of Daylalus.

I must now, Mr. Editor, bid you farewell. I have but slight-
ly touched, in the course of my observations, on many of the
topics that connect the history of the Drama. I wished to have
summed up the remarks I have made, generally ; to have ex-
plained several of them, and to have added one or two to the
number. But this (my last) letter, has already run to an in-
convenient length, and—l must hastily conclude.
Perhaps some Dramatist, or Critic " of the day," may find
leisure to read, and answer, the following queries :-
Ist, Have we in this country (in France they have) a stand-
ard by which we can judge of a perfect Tragedy !
2d, Mr. Lacy has said, that Richard 111. is what may be
called a perfect Tragedy. What Richard 111. does Mr. Lacy
allude to ? To Richard 111. as written by Shakspeare: or to
Richard 111. as altered, transposed, and interpolated by Cib-
ber ? The latter, has possession of the Stage. In nice discri-
mination and contrast of character, and brilliancy of execution
throughout, Richard 111. is what may be called a perfect Tra-
gedy—but in nothing else.
3d, Have the writings of Shakspeare improved or injured our
national dramatic taste ? Shakspeare has taught us to despise
the Drama of other countries--Shakspeare is, in every sense of
the word, inimitable !—A dilemma!
4th, Can Theatrical Management, chiefly in regard to the
productions of authors, be assisted or controuled by the medium
of a Committee—(such as I have ventured to suggest in my
Fourth Letter)—or otherwise ?
Until this reform, in one shape or other, is accomplished, the
Drama cannot recover from its present state.
sth,. Is there any probability of removing the stigma from the
age
true •
toneve its,
dramaticghin g
ltnonigt naag legitimate
The desideratum is now defined ; the object is in view the
T rage y written in
the
field is open : and the " chivalry of England," are invited to
shiver a lance on that ground where defeat is not dishonour.
PROTE US.

Gtoraccici 182;j7,
alndde
panttlte ts tfrthis
experiencedtragaaniyd, practisedo r fr,
cc rat;
ten lines, that will identify them, by any possibility, as be-
longing. to the school of drama, denominated by Air. Lacy—
th
ee , poet
teaic p
oure.— the inThi
disvidual shews the wisdom- of stigmatizing the
f g insd .
Applicable, of course, to the Speeches. •

a • The series of letters which termini:N-(1 with the above
c ,
•
ince so much dramatic taste and judgment that we hope they
willv he collected by the Author and published together. They
have justly been admired by the readers of the Slur and
will be a valuable guide for dramatic writers. We beg leave
to set the author right respecting the author of Douglas, who,
he seems to think wrote that tragedy only. ROME also wrote the
following tragedies : —viz. Agis, The Siege of
Acquileia, The
Fatal` Discovery, Alonzo, and Alfred. 111 r. Gray, in a letter
to Dr. Warton (See Mason's Memoirs) has the followin re-
mark on the tragedy of Agis :—" I cry to think that it should
he by the author of Douglas : why it is all modern Greek ;
the story is an • antique statue, painted white and red, frized
and dressed in a negligee made by a
maker."—ED. Yorkshire mantua.

THE SUN.

SOLEAI QUIS DICERE F.4LSU.7I AUDFAT

LONDON,
THURSDAY EVENING, FEB. 10, 1825.

The Paris Papers of Monday do not contain
any fresh intelligence from the Continent. The
attention of the French. Journalists is chiefly oc-
cupied with the policy and proceedings of the
English Cabinet; and from the tone of the
Ministerial Paper we •may infer that the resolu-
tion adopted by our Government with respect to
the South American States will not lead to the

interruption of general peace.
The private letters from Lisbon received in
the French Capital concur in representing the
chapge in the Portuguese Ministry a 5 a complete