Star.
London, England, 1829-10-15 00:00:00

THE NEW TRAGEDY.

Overdozed by the sickly Manna so often and so nau-
seously selected and prepared for us by those poisoners of
healthy minds—stage Doctors MORTON and REYNOLDS,
in the shape of melo-drama, caricatured opera, and
" Comedies Larmoyantes," we were not a little pleased
to learn their intentions of regaling us with that almost
obsolete thing—a tragedy. Grateful for the will, how-
ever we might find the treat we last evening were at
our post in Drury at an early hour. The Roman subject,
we must confess, created strange misgivings with us—
considering how much elevated genius was required to
adventure upon that theme ; and, on the other hand,
the long conversion of an English audience into very
froths, by the constant flimsy stuff of modern romantic
anti-classic texture, founded on superstitious legends
and feudal barbarism, which has reduced our stage
to a mere amusement for the nursery and pastime for the
Galleries. The view of the Roman toga instead of the
eternal mystery in a Spanish cloak was hailed with a
sentiment of extreme satisfaction, hoping, for once to
escape our nightly tormentors, devils dancing, and Mr.
Lee. The plot founded on the conspiracy of Piso, as
related in the annals of Tacitus, we will forbear to reca-
pitulate; a happier subject could not have been selected,
and the situations it affords hardly better conceived.
Faithful to his stibject the Author, with a delicate and
judicious taste, scrupulously adhered to the unities as
far as the habits of our Stage would permit, discarding
the eternal trick of action at the expence of mind, the
small motive for the start and pause, the supernatural
mystery and stale knack of rising up surprise
upon surprise, he strictly maintained the chastity of
the Roinan scene by which he has been ac-
cused by some of our bustle-enamoured con-
temporaries of penury in incident. Now we, who
are somewhat mercurial in disposition, who detest
the drowsy in composition as much as any of the
very lively fellows who conduct the Press, cannot per-
ceive how the author could have given more movement
to his piece, unless he had treated our contemporary cri-
tics with a song or two, a Ballet, or fire-works ; or, to be
sure, Rome might have been actually seen burning with
dioramic effect, instead of this interesting conflagration
being confined to dull narrative. Roman firemen, wa-
ter-engines, and underwriters, might have given great
life to the scene by running about the stage in the first
act. In the second, Proculus might have added rape
to outrage, upon which Epicharis might have rung all the
bells, and the servants have been seen running all over
the house in confusion and uproar. In the third act, in-
stead of Nero saying—

lllid ber attend—end choose some Partbian slave
From the last troop of captives, to endure
The trial other skill. Let him be deal
(For, cis my humour,) in a sumptuous vest,
And place a regal diadem on his brow,
That I may think 'tie Ttridates dies :
Then bid my deftest minstrels stand around
And sound their lutes, that so the fainting wretch
Sigh forth his soul to music.
Mr. PAUSLOZ, as the victim, might have been intro-
duced upon the stage to distort himself under the agonies
of poison, and have died to the delectable music of the
aforesaid composer of English Operas—Mr. Lee. In the
' fourth act, all the conspirators might have been hanged,
wives, children, servants, and slaves, each upon their own
family tree ; and the fifth act might have ended with
Nero being blown up by a barrel of gunpowder, slily
slipped by Epicharis under his splendid throne.
But the author, enemy, it would seem, to variety, has
contented himself by merely constructing an animated
scene between the hero and heroine, illustrative of the
warmest love and purest patriotism ; and a secret meet-
ing of turbulent conspirators, well marked in character,
jealous of each other—only lotting the fate of Nero and
of Rome. The second begins with a dialogue between
the hero and a tame Casca-kind of a rugged Roman, thus
introduced:—

Theism 'What a scowl of discontent!
His visage wears ! well may it. Hold, my friend ;
What! deep in dudgeon ! come, I know thou longest
To rail aloud—speak out—here's place and leisure.

The next which follows shows an lago unmasl
who uses violence, threatens the heroine with Nero,
and exit—in rage ; whili she, given up by her lover in
distraction, is left raving and fainting. In the third she
is dragged Nero, confronted with her accuser, who
is sent to Coventry ; while she is first wooed by the tyrant,
and naturally and in consequence imprisoned in his palace.
Then we have another meeting of the conspirators,who quer-
rel with Flavius, draw their swords, bind him, and are about
to massacre, when he is rescued by a troop of soldiers,
who capture his assailants, and restore him to liberty.
In the fourth act the plot thickens ; the leader Piso takes
poison, raves, and dies, and Ruffus schemes the destruc-
tion of the hero. Then in the fifth we have the heroine
newly racked, and in a dungeon, where she is secretly
visited by her lover raving in despair. Then we have a
funeral procession of the conspirators marching to the
place of execution ; then Nero on his throne. Stabbing,
poisoning, imprisonment, the rack and decapitation—the
list of the dead being two suicides by poison, eight con-
spirators hanged and quartered, one stabbed, and the
hero led off to torture and desperation. And yet our
contemporaries vow there is no incident ! Why, what in
the name of Tragedy and Vertigo do they expect for
mere six shillings in two hours and a half ? Do they
think the author and Mr. Price could kill a whole com-
pany for such a sum ? We recommend them to frequent
the Surrey, or Motley's, if they really insist upon the
beauties of incident.
But, in spite of these guardians of dramatic chastity,
these advocates of intellect over stage trick and panto-
mime, we maintain that incident richly pervades the
whole piece, and that the situations are admirably con-
trived to inspire interest That the language does not
correspond we grant with sorrowful regret; there are few
flights of the imagination---no little abstract gem in de-
tail---no lines to cling to the memory ; the words are
frequently of the merest common-place, in many parts
spun to unnecessary length ; while a negligence
.of construction breaking all harmony, forces recitation
to halt so infelicitously. That the language occa-
sionally appears like meagre prose—for instance, the
hero making an excursion from the immediate business of
the scene, to compare himself to a broken pillar, kindly
painted to assist the simile, thus expresses himself :
See you that'broken pillar—'ds a type
Of me. It stood unbroken and erect
Once : now 'ds fallen. I will rest my limbs
On its grey shaft ; and wait for my pursuers.
Now the author, assuming the ornament of com-
parison, isms evidently meant to poetise; but a more
areless sacrifice of smoothness could not have escaped