Of the language and sentiments we now proceed to speak: and perhaps a more difficult task was never assigned us. If we did not allow many whole speeches, nay whole scenes to be exquisitely beautiful, we should not do justice to Mr. Milman; and if we were to pass over, without censure, certain prominent errors, we should not do justice to ourselves. Mr. Milman is no ordinary scholar, and the language in which he has clothed his thoughts fully declares him to be such. But the principal fault with which this tragedy abounds, is the too great display of poetical imagery, and the want of the language of common life. By this we do not mean cold and pointless dialogue, but that dignified simplicity of diction which acts as a foil to the more high-flown and poetical language of the Tragic Muse. Mr. Milman has a fertile and a vivid fancy, but it sometimes hurries him into the concetti of the modern Italian school, which his own good taste would, in the composition of another, teach him most justly to reprehend. His images indeed, are classical, his metaphors are just and powerful, but they both occur too often to give their due and desired effect. The ornaments of Mr. Milman are too classically and elegantly meretricious. Chastity in expression, and sometimes even in conception, must be his future aim. Should this or any other play of our author be produced upon the stage, he cannot be made too acutely sensible of the clownish risibility of an English audience, who, when once put out of their tragic taste by some unfortunate conceit, continue to titter throughout the whole performance. We leave it for those, who may find it more to their purpose, to particularise each error in conception or language, it is enough for us generally to state their existence; and to leave it to that taste, which Mr. Milman so unquestionably possesses, in some future effort, to alter and amend them. They are faults of exuberance, not of poverty; the remedy, therefore, is not difficult of application. We now turn, with much satisfaction, to the beauties with which this composition abounds. The scene of Bartolo's death is well managed. "FAZIO opens the Door. "What! Bartolo! "BARTOLO, "Thank ye, my friend! Ha! ha! ha! my old limbs! "Who, neighbour, who? "FAZIO, "BARTOLO 1 "BARTOLO. "Robbers, black crape-faced robbers, "Aye, one of your kind butchers, And rings unhandsomely. Have I escaped robbing, "FAZIO. "Nay, then, a confessor! "BARTOLO. "A confessor! one of your black smooth talkers, Oh! there's a shooting!-Oozing here! Aye me! Oh! misery, misery! Just this very day, And that mad spendthrift Angelo hath not sign'd 1. Oh! misery, misery!-Yet have I scaped them bravely, [Dies." P. 9. The scene where Fazio discovers to Bianca his ill-gotten wealth is spirited and good. The reproach of Fazio to the Improvisatore, who flatters him upon his newly-acquired fortune, deserves our commendation. "Fie, sir! O fie! 'tis fulsome. Sir, there's a soil fit for that rank weed flattery, That That thou, with lips tipt with the fire of heaven, Upon the subsequent Ode to Italy, we cannot entirely compliment Mr. Milman. The latter end of the second stanza and the third are excellent, the remainder is far too obscure. The agony of Bianca, at the discovery of Fazio's treacherous love for Aldabella, is finely expressed, and the whole of the trial scene is worked up in no common style. The parting between Fazio and Bianca has no small share of real pathos. The supposition that Bianca has murdered the children is original, and in the representation would be attended with great effect. 12 No, it is my love, -I'll not see them My wife, my children's mother!-Pardon me, 3 "BIANCA. "What, had I freed them From this drear villains' earth, sent them before us, Of this sad sunshine? "FAZIO. "Oh, thou hast not been So wild a rebel to the will of God! If that thou hast, 'twill make my passionate arms, "BIANCA. 66 me, They live! thank God, they live! I could sleep on thy bosom, Fazio." P. 92, The passage, however, which nearest resembles the language of Shakespear, is the concluding speech of the Duke, where he condemns Aldabella to banishment. We extract it with considerable pleasure. "How hast thou discredited All that doth fetter admiration's eye, P. 102, From these extracts even the most prejudiced reader must allow that the Tragedy before us has no small degree of merit. Mr. Milman has considerable qualifications for an eminent dramatic poet. Before, however, he can attain that eminence which is the object of his wishes, he must study more deeply the workings, and adopt more generally the language, of the heart. He must consult the feelings, not of himself but of others; and instead of imagining how he himself would have acted in the various situations in which his dramatis persona are involved, he must mark how others have acted in similar circum stances stances of real life. In this his first composition his enemies will find enough to deride; it is sufficient for us that we find enough to admire, and to pronounce, that if Mr. Milman does not rise hereafter to be the first dramatic poet of his day, it will not be because he had not the powers, but because he used those powers amiss. ART. VIII. Howard; by John Gamble. Esq. Author of Irish Sketches, Sarsfield, &c. In two volumes, 12mo. pp. 436. Baldwin. 46 IT is with a mingled feeling of pain and pleasure that we renew our acquaintance with Mr. Gamble, on whose novel of Sarsfield" we, a few months back, considered it as our duty to make some pointed animadversions. The pleasure, however, is far outweighed by the pain; and is, indeed, of that undesirable kind which is felt by the spectator of a conflagration, who, while he deplores that such an event should have happened, cannot help admiring the ceaseless and rapid whirls and convolutions, the shifting lights and shades, and the glowing and ruddy hues of the destructive flames. In his present work Mr. Gamble does not give us less reason for complaint than he did in his former. He continues, we hope unintentionally, to propagate principles, which can have no other tendency than to demolish the very foundations of virtue, to render man miserable here, hopeless of an hereafter, and most unfit to encounter its terrors, when too late convinced of its existence. The story is even more simple than that of "Sarsfield," and the characters and events are fewer in number. The text of the author is comprised, as a motto, in two lines from Pope's Homer: To suffer is the lot of man below, And when Joye gave us life, he gave us woe." and of this text the two volumes are a continued illustration. Howard is an Irishman, who is, and has been even from his infancy, a creature of enthusiasm, melancholy, and romance, firmly believing in the irresistible power of fate, and possessing an ardent imagination, feebly controuled by reason. Among the few particulars of Howard's early days, we think Mr. Gamble would have done well had he omitted the youth's aquatic perils in the grain tub, which he had converted into a boat. It was not worth while to borrow so worthless an incident from the Lyrisal Ballads of Mr. Wordsworth. Previously to his embarking |