of the dramatic intelligence of the age from my sense of the sterling knowledge and acumen, which, whenever the occasion of a new play calls it forth, the only critical periodical I regularly read invariably exhibits "in this regard," . . as indeed it discovers in every other department of literature. Nor have two distinct and very erring articles, which, within the last twelve months, have appeared in the print I speak of, in the least affected my admiration of the genuine dramatic taste and superior capacity of the reviewer who penned them because I remain firmly persuaded, that that gentleman did not, in either instance, return a verdict according to the dictates of his enlightened judgment. Indeed it is quite evident to me, from the exquisite special pleading of the later masterly criticism, that, by whatever charm "overcome," he scrupled not to speak

"Against his better judgment, not deceived."

It may charitably be presumed, that the party alluded to, in evincing a fineness and correctness of judgment, in strong contrast to the dramatic obliquity of the day, does not stand alone; but any other exception has not happened to fall within the scope of my experience. Let not the reader from what I have let fall draw a false inference. The weekly print in question has not hitherto, and, after this perfectly sincere impeachment of its integrity, probably never will, review my "Gertrude and Beatrice;" the first edition of which tragedy, nevertheless, elicited as high praise from many quarters as any author, however vain or sanguine, could wish for. On the other hand, the play has been exclaimed against in certain obscure periodicals, with that insolent flippancy, which with trash and tinsel are in our times the staple commodity of such pub

lications. Seated on the bench of criticism, these aristarchs of the press at once practise upon the "little knowledge" of their readers, and indulge their own malice with impunity. In directing their attack on me, they have evidently gone to work, flagrante odio ; though they might, to as much purpose fire small shot at a rhinoceros. I am charmed by the remembrance, that "Avant nous ces envies ont regné, et regneront encore apres nous, si Dieu ne nous vouloit tous refondre.

I can more easily tolerate the envy, hatred, and uncharitableness of such soi disant critics than the absurd dicta of others, whose uncultivated taste incapacitates them from forming a competent judgment. And I say this, not, be it distinctly understood, because these quack anatomists did me the favour to cut up my tragedy, but because, in their use of the critical scalpel they so completely betray their unconsciousness of the just rules and principles of literary dissection. The public, however, would seem to love to be deceived by such shallow pretenders to authority in humane literature, since it holds good through all varieties of imposture,

Quo quis impudentior eo doctior habetur.

In determining the merits of a tragic composition it should be the endeavour in the first place to ascertain whether the characters delineated be fully conceived, and from first to last consistent with themselves, true to nature, strongly marked, and accurately discriminated.

After that, whether the situations have been so contrived with dramatic foresight, that they draw out, display, and illustrate those characteristic features with which the author has invested the persons of his

creation. Then the critic should see, that there is a strong and defined interest in the fable, yet not such as is unsuited to the dignity of tragedy, and that the plot has been so judiciously conceived, and is so conducted from its commencement to its conclusion, that all the parts bear upon each other, and yet never weaken that interest; that the incidents are not unexciting, nor infrequent; nor above all, that they take the shape of mere melo-dramatic clap-traps which meretricious coups-de-theatre are within the reach of the meanest capacity. He should ascertain, that the action of the piece never stands still that the performers may give utterance to sounding sentences and long similies, but that in every scene something at all events is developed or effected, which, although it may seem perhaps to retard the consummation, nevertheless is indispensable to the forwarding or carrying on the main design, until wound up by the catastrophe, which should be happily introduced.

When these points shall be clearly established one way or another; . . and a conclusion is not so quickly arrived at as certain absolute 7p7wves of their subject "minnows" may imagine, it will be requisite to examine the style in which the dramatist has clothed his conceptions. But style is a secondary consideration to character and story. Mere poetical diction may suffice to make a good dramatic poem, but, however indispensable, is wholly subordinate in an acting piece, which is very distinct from, and a much more exalted achievement of human genius than, the former. Wherever a passage of poetry is found isolated in a drama, and can be abstracted without detriment to character or plot, the same is an excrescence, and consequently faulty. The two passages in pages seventeen and forty-three of

the present attempt, where the excitement of the scene stagnates in description and soliloquy, may serve for examples of my meaning. As they were never intended for delivery on the stage, they ought not to have been suffered to break the entirety, or at least suspend the interest, of the respective scenes in solitary perusal. In a dramatic composition the imagery should be incorporated with the dialogue by an indissoluble tie, as par exemple, when Bankban, in the third act of my tragedy, has iterated again and again, that Beatrice is his wife, Waradin, startled, at length exclaims, "Who stirs? Who talks? My heart is void and lives on echoes sure." Here the poetical figure cannot be separated from the misgiving, the incipient doubt of the speaker, because his adoption of the metaphor serves to indicate his feelings; . . and this it is which constitutes one of the essential attributes of dramatic poetry, in contradistinction to poetry of every other description.

I have been simple enough to throw much of the strength... the interest indeed, of my play upon the conduct and character of the royal heroine, instead of affording greater scope for the consummate genius of our living Roscius to expatiate in Waradin or Rodna. The circumstance, however, of my having portrayed the queen in such overpowering colours would not be imputed to me as a fault, did the stage boast of a Mrs. Siddons to illustrate my conceptions.

The perusal of a good play, written with a view to representation, conveys no less pleasure to the cultivated mind than does its performance. The higher the character of the production, the greater that delight; and in my humble opinion there is not a single piece of Shakspeare's, let it be ever so well illustrated

on the stage, but what is still more effective with the imagination in the closet; which, however paradoxical it may appear, would not be the case with these wonderful works, were they of that class which goes by the name of dramatic poems.

Since this play issued from the press, my conception: (the value of which, as an author's estimate, were somewhat analogous to that of a minus quantity in algebra) of the legitimate dramatic effects which might be struck out of the part of Gertrude has been corroborated by the flattering testimony of more than one individual, qualified in every respect by high talent and theatrical experience and ability to pronounce a judgment. Few persons who have not turned their attention to dramatic studies, are gifted with that prospective taste, where a distinct insight into the nature and purport of any passage or scene, implies a consequent foresight of the impression the same is calculated to produce in representation. If the artiste who hereafter shall personate the Queen of Hungary only sympathise with, and let herself be borne away by, the rush of thought which agitated the author while employed in the portraying of her character, he is persuaded that many scenes, which may perhaps fall flat upon the reader's apprehension in the closet, would have a startling influence upon an audience. I shall not easily forget, how

Like to a little kingdom shook, and suffered

The nature of an insurrection,"

When, throwing my whole soul into the passionate character of Gertrude, I wrote

"Queen. (Solemnly.)

Thou dost inflict such injuries upon me,