Star. — 1829-10-15 (London, England)

THE NEW TRAGEDY.  Overdozed by the sickly Manna so often and so nauseously 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, however 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 recapitulate; 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 accused by some of our bustle-enamoured contemporaries 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 perceive how the author could have given more movement to his piece, unless he had treated our contemporary critics 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, water-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, instead 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 introduced 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 meeting 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 querrel 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 destruction 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 conspirators 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 company 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 pantomime, we maintain that incident richly pervades the whole piece, and that the situations are admirably contrived 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 detail---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 occasionally 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 comparison, isms evidently meant to poetise; but a more areless sacrifice of smoothness could not have escaped