The Sun.
London, England, 1834-07-03 00:00:00

VICTORIA THEATRE.

Miss Mitford's long-deferred tragedy of Charles the First
was brought out at this theatre for the first time last night.
Why the Lord Chamberlain, or that man of astringent virtue,
Mr. " George Colman, the Younger"—as he loves to intitule
himself, from the circumstance, we presume, of his being far
advanced in his second childhood—should so long have put a
veto on the performance of this drama, we cannot for the life
of us make out. Throughout, it enlists the sympathies of the
audience on the side of Charles, taking Hume as its guide,
who we need not assure our readers, is a zealous partizan of
the Stuarts. Not one passage—nay, not one single sentence
is there that can in the slightest degree wound the feelings of
the loyal—unless, indeed, we except a random remark let fall
by Cromwell, to the effect, that there shall be no more kings
in England—a hint which the audience received not without
dissatisfaction. The main fault we find with the play is,
that it falsifies history in its two leading characters. Charles
is too favourably, Cromwell too unfavourably, drawn. Miss
Mitford has gone to Hume for the former, and, as a matter of
justice and fair play, she should have gone to Godwin for the
latter. Charles was by no means the high-principled, patriotic,
chivalrous monarch she has represented him to be. He had
certainly many good qualities; he was amiable, accomplished,
a good father, and a good husband—we were going to add,
a good friend, but when we think of the fate of Wentworth,
we must deny him this praise—but he was insincere, capri-
cious, and with a strong leaning to despotism, which was only
kept from bursting out into absolute ferocity, by the gentle
nature of his disposition. He would have been the best of all
possible Kings, if his subjects would have only allowed him to
have his own way. He would have loved them to distraction,
if they would but have permitted themselves to be taxed up to
the chin. He asked little or nothing of them. All he desired
was their cash, and their unhesitating submission. The charac-
ter of Charles may be summed up in a word. He was not
to be trusted. He played false, alternately, with both parties
—his own and the republican. But for this vacillation and in-
sincerity, he would never have perished on a scaffold. It was
his own weakness of character that lent its chief strength to
Cromwell. It is now, we believe, pretty generally known that
the stern soldier would have saved his monarch, but at the
very moment when both parties were negotiating an amicable
adjustment, Cromwell found out that Charles was busy tam-
pering with the Royalists against him. From this hour, the
half-betrayed republican resolved on his death. It was a sad
necessity, but we know not how it could have been otherwise.
The whole dynasty of the Stuarts seem alike to have been
tainted with the grossest insincerity. There was a certain
something in their nature especially abhorrent to that manly
frankness and love of plain dealing that marks the English
character. Experience, which is the best wisdom, was wholly
lost on them". From the first, down to the last James, they
proved a curse to the kingdom they misgoverned. It is not a
little curious, that the very same double dealing which brought
Charles I. to the block, brought Louis the X V Ith to the guillotine.
The Republicans would have saved the one, as the Girondists
would have saved the other, but both parties felt equally that
neither monarch was to be trusted. We have hazarded these
few remarks, merely to show that throughout her tragedy
Miss Mitford—for praise-worthy reasons, no doubt—has taken
an ex parte, an ultra-Tory view of history. Her Cromwell
is a failure, not from any lack of energy, or acuteness of ap-
prehension, but because she has made him a regicide from
volition, whereas he was one from necessity. True, he might
have saved the King—even after his condemnation—but then
that act would eventually have insured his own destruction, if
not from the Royalist, at any rate from the'Republican party.
In every other respect, Miss Mitford's Cromwell is a well-
conceived character. It has vigour worthy of the most masculine
intellect. The struggles between the stern fanatic's sense of hu-
manity and his devouring thirst for self- aggrandisement—his
by-touches of remorse--his fierce breakings-out of enthusiasm—
and his strongly-felt consciousness that he was at best but an
agent in the hands of destiny—a conviction by:which all bis ac-
tions were regulated, and which reconciled him to his wildest
projects;—all these broad and subtle traits of character were
drawn out and anatomized by Miss Mitford with a force, a
distinctness, a minuteness and precision of purpose, which prove
that the profoundest secrets of the heart are to her no mystery.
She has probed Cromwell to the quick—sounded all the
depths and shallows of his mind. With consummate art, too,
she has kept under, and sobered down, his well-known love of
fanatical display ; and though with perfect truth and keeping
she might have made it prominent, yet she has wisely consulted
the taste and temper of the day, and borne in mind, that to a
large portion of her audience, the puritanism of Cromwell
would have been unintelligible. Mr. Cathcart played this
very. difficult character with marked skill and felicity.
He is an extremely chaste actor, though not without energy,
intelligent, and fond of his art. He avoided many temptations
to rant—even though he, must have felt that by so doing, he
could have drawn down the thunder of the galleries on his head.
His'voice is melodious, but not strong. Its under-tones are
remarkable for their distinctness and Impressiveness. In the
earlier parts of the play he was somewhat tame, but he nobly
redeemed himself when it began to stir and move forward,
which is not till the third act. Occasionally we detected a
slight imitation of Kean's mannerism, but it was not the imita-
tion of a mere servile mimic, but of a clever and zealous admirer.
We cannot say much for Mrs. Fisher's Henrietta. It wanted
almost every thing it should have possessed, grace, feeling, and
dignity. The lady, however, did her best ; but she should
look more to the intellect, than to the clap-trap of a character.
By-the-bye, this part, so far from assisting, only obstructs the
progress of the play. It is a drag-chain on its wheels of
action. Abbott's Charles was judicious and impressive, but
there was too much " sawing of the air" with his hands. His de-
livery was better than his gesticulation, which was redundant
throughout. He was attired after the fashion of Vandyke's
portrait, even to the wearing of the hair, and looked Charles
to admiration. The last act was the best. :It had more vigour
and action than all the rest put together, and might have justly
ended with the King's entrance on the scaffold, except that in
that case we should have lost the striking grouping in the last
scene, where the tolling of the Abbey bell announces the
wind-up of the catastrophe. The tragedy is beautifully and
carefully written—luxuriant in some, parts—in others
ap-
proaching quite to a puritanical simplicity. We cannot help
observing, that a few pretty Della-crusca touches of poetry,
about buds and flowers, and so forth, were put into the mouth
of Charles's daughter (a child only ten years old), quite con-
trary to all truth and propriety of character. On the whole,
the play was well received, well sustained, and well got up.
A spirited prologue, full of thought and poetry, was spoken_
and, we believe, written also--by that very intelligent actor,
Mr. Serie. By-the-bye, what is this gentleman about ? He
must not be idle. The drama cannot afford to lose him.

As Captain Lindsey, a gentleman residing at Ken-
sington Gravel-pits, was bathing yesterday morning in the
Serpentine-river, a man stole his coat and waistcoat, in the
pocket of which was a valuable watch and gold chain. Capt.
Lindsey saw the fellow take the Coat and waistcoat, but, being
in the middle of the river, he could not get out to stop him.
EUROPEAN COLONIES.—Mr. Howison the au-
thor of this work, is favourably known by his " Sketches of Up-
periCanada," and by another publication on Colonial Life,:whose
pleasant impressions we remember. After a silence of some
years, he again comes before the public, with a more exten-
sive personal experience, greater information, a much larger
field, and a higher aim. In clearness of delineation, graphic
effect, and light brilliancy of touch, he is equal to the best
writers of the day. Mr. Howisou does not give a measure-
ment of the height of mountains, a genealogical analysis of
the various soils, or any other of the specific details which are
classed by the geographer under the head of physical, but
something much more agreeable to read—a portraiture of the
land and sea, as they appear to a keen observer and lover of the
picturesque, and who finds that the dreary expanse of the
Great Sahara, or the unrivalled sterility of the Karroo, is not
barren, at least, of interest. According to our author's ex-
ample, there are better, or, at all events, pleasanter modes of
exhibitifig the social and moral condition of colonists, than
tables of imports, exports, Br,c. "...Spectator.