Ignorant that the fair captive who has thus subdued him is his own sister, Robert de Tracy, in order to rescue her from the robbers, conducts her to the lone cottage of his mother, Matilda: and afterwards, (as it should seem without knowing that the Baron is his father), prompted by humanity alone, he shoots an arrow into the castle carrying with it a note announcing the meditated attack, and preparing the inmates to resist it. Meanwhile Fitz harding has gained admission under the disguise of the Monk's hood and vestments: three of the banditti also are by his connivance introduced as minstrels, and partake of the hospitality always proffered to their order. In consequence of strange and wild rumours having reached the castle, concerning the woman of the heath who had practised witchcraft, the Barou sends some vassals with an order to bring the wretch before him, and whomsoever else should be found lurking in her hut. Whilst the false minstrels are touching the harp, in order to amuse their host, Matilda and Florence are brought in: the latter recognizes the features of the banditti under their disguise, and, disclosing the treachery, they are unmasked and secured. Fitzharding himself, however, for the present escapes detection, although he excites the keen suspicion of Florence. Notwithstanding that he is thus thwart ed in the full execution of his murderous project, Fitzharding is on the point of wreaking his revenge on the person of the Baron, when he is foiled by the presence of Matilda, who had watched his movements, and who, summons to her husband's aid the vassals of the castle. They are now restored to each other, Fitzharding is borne away, the Baron rewards Florence with the hand of her beloved Bertrand, and Robert, who had given information of the meditated attack upon the castle by means of the arrow, is once again the acknowledged son of De Tracy. Such are the outlines of the story; it is filled up with minor circumstances, not necessary to be detailed here. From these outlines, and from the passages already extracted, our readers will probably agree with us, that Mr. Tobin is not to be confounded with the vile herd of scribblers who disgrace the stage they write for; the sentiments he utters are moral, the language in which they are delivered is energetic, and of course free from those inflated periods which so frequently disgust us in attempts at the heroic. The scenes between the Baron and Fitzharding under the disguise of the Monk are striking: and the character of Matilda is well drawn. We have already quoted her excellent maternal admonition to Robert, when he brings the purse to her hut, and shall be pardoned for introducing part of the scene where she is brought before the Baron in the presence of Friar Fitzharding as a witch. For, from the inmost feeling of my soul, The wide interminable waste of waves; I gather undisturb'd-The day's delights [MATILDA is brought in, I am proscrib'd, and if I venture forth Bar. Now observe her then. To taste the morning's freshness, I am As one of nature's strangest prodigies. And unbreech'd urchins hoot me as I pass, Of having both the faculty and will with sickness Stand to be judg'd by man! Fitz. That's shrewdly put This is no common woman, (to the Baron.)" Mr. Tobin is weak in two parts where he ought to have put forth all his strength: we mean where Matilda preserves the life of the Baron, and stands before him as his long lost and lamented wife; and where the Baron's son also, Robert, is restored to him. These meetings, particularly the latter, are flat and insipid, and ought to have been made pré-eminently interesting. On the whole, we are certainly pleased with this play; it has had a great run, as the saying is, and gives a proof that the public may be interested in a serious drama, without the introduction of ghosts and hobgoblins. ART. III. The Young Hussar; or Love and Mercy. An Operatic Piece in Two Acts, by W. DIMOND. "TO praise it highly is impossible, but to censure it severely would be ill-natured." So says Mr. Dimond in his advertisement, and so say we, ART. IV. Town and Country; a Comedy in Five Acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. Written by THOMAS MORTON, Esq. MR. MORTON we believe is an old stager; and on more occasions than one has hit the taste, both of "Town and Country." Perhaps he has succeeded in the present instance; if so, the Town and Coun. try are very easily gratified.' ART. V. The Caitiff of Corsica, or Universal Banditto; an Historical Drama in Five Acts; exhibiting the Characters, moral and political, of the principal Personages throughout the French Revolution. With their Portraits, reduced from the original Oil Paintings in the Museum at Paris. 8vo. pp. 284. THERE are degrees and ranks even among the sons and daughters of beggary and wretchedness: some assail you with a smart-written brief of their distress, attested by the church-warden; some parade the streets, and collect a few pence by the song and the fiddle; others, the lowest of the class, are seen gro ping for garbage among the obscene rubbish of frequented corners. Of this rank is the writer before us: he has scraped together all the foul stories and malignant lies engendered by the revolution, and is feasting on the farrago. Much good may it do him! we envy not his appetite. ART. VI. The Fortress; a Melo-drama, in Three Acts. From the French, as performed with great Success at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket. Written by THEO. DORE EDWARD Hook, Esq. The Music by Mr. Hook, Senior. AFTER having been confined fortress, we are very glad to have half an hour in this gloomy, heavy made our escape from it. CHAPTER. X. MISCELLANIES. ART. I. Practical Illustrations of Rhetorical Gesture and Action, adapted to the English Drama. From a Work on the same, Subject by M. Engel, Member of the Royal Academy of Berlin. By HENRY SIDDONS. 8vo. pp. 400. "The European, when he would give a mark of respect, takes off his hat; the inhabitant of the East keeps his head covered, under the same circumstances. ENGEL'S Ideen zu einer Mimik contained observations on salutaconsists of a scries of letters on tion. gesticulation, and was published at Berlin in 1785. That German work has been the model of this English ane. Such passages as related to the general theory of representative action have been here transplanted entire; but the illustrations, which the German author derived from the situations and characters of his patrial drama, have been replaced by analogous instances borrowed from the English dramatic writers and actors. It was wiser thus to naturalize thau simply to translate the book; the interest of the reader is greatly enlivened by the delineation and criticism of scenes and of artists familiar to his recollection. The first letter introduces the subject; but contains less of the literature of this fine art, than the introductory letter of Engel; which abounds with quotations from Les sing, from Diderot, from Remond de Sainte Albine, from Sulzer, from Cahusąc, and others who had Occasionally agitated these topics. The avoiding of pedantry is a graceful, not an instructive change. The second letter treats of the costume of manners, of their varie ty in different parts of the world, and in different periods of time. We will make a short extract for the sake of rectifying one of the The former expresses the very highest degree of veneration and humility towards an acknowledged superior, by a bend of the head, and a trivial inclination of the back-he rarely bows the knee. The other, in the same predica prostrate on the earth. The uncovering ment, muffles up his visage, and falls of the head amongst the Europeans is by no means a natural expression, but sim, ply a mere allusion to some ancient and arbitrary custom. Probably it alludes to that of the Romans, who never allowed their slaves to carry any covering for the head till they had been legally affranchised; and, for this reason, the bonnet or cap is unto this day the symbol of liberty." The European practice of lifting the hat is an imitation of the older practice of lifting off the helmet, without which two armed knights could not become reciprocally known. When Sir Trystan and Sir Launcelot suspect each other's name, they are described in the romance as courteously taking of their casques to one another. Now that usages acquired under armour have no adequate motive, we are returning to the natural practice of nodding the head, or bowing the spine. The lower the bend begins, the more respectful; because in time act with all the energy of symptomatic of a disposition to spontaneous affections. prostration. To an inferior the head alone bends forwards. To an intimate the motion is executed rapidly; to a distant acquaintance, leisurely. The third letter is addressed to the actor. Be it observed that the actor, having to excite many passions by means of the associated gestures, must frequently caricature natural expression, in order to make it visible. His highest perfection is not the exact imitation of nature; but the display of the communicable marks of passion. Visibility of expression is accomplished by the selection of a few simple characteristic traits, and by magnifying them into conspicuity. The fourth letter divides gesture into the picturesque, and the expressive: it points out the absurdity of employing picturesque gesture in many circumstances, in which it has been recommended by the author of Chironomia, a work examined in our last volume, p. 553. When the mind has assumed the leading feeling, the body instinc tively adapts its features and tones to the precise expression of it: but the actor has often to disturb the proportion of expression which nature would assign to each organ, in order to render his feeling ap parent. A palpitation of the heart would naturally accompany a passionate and agitated curiosity: but the actor can only indicate such a symptom, by bringing for a moment his wrist to his side, where it vibrates with sensible pulsation. The fifth treats of the beautiful and the true; and, in the habitual spirit of the English school, advises the sacrifice of the graceful to the natural. In fact whatever is, unnatural can have only conventional, not real beauty. The eighth letter is full of refcrence to the annexed engravings, and elucidates points of theory, which require the aid of the graphic art. The ninth criticizes Sallust's description of the walk of Catiline: the historian converts that into a trait of habitual character, which was the temporary expression of an actual premeditation of perilous projects. The tenth proposes to talk of smiles, but talks more intelligibly of nods: the adquo and abnuo of the latins, which describe a perpendicular and a horizontal nod, have no equivalent names in English. The eleventh and twelfth treat of The sixth discusses the use of aversion and desire. gesture in common life. The seventh comments this remark of Quintilian. "Vidi ego sæpe histriones atque comados, cum ex aliquo graviore actu personam deponissent, Hentes adhuc egredi. The whole of the secret, says Mr. H. Siddons rightly, consists in an ardent imagination, which every artist ought to possess and exercise in the strong and rapid reproduction of images, He will thus habituate himself to penetrate entirely into the subject, with which he is occupied then, without labour or exertion, he will The thirteenth enters into further ramifications of this subject, and is adorned with two expressive engravings serving to discriminate the symptoms which accompany the select thirst of the voluptuary from those which mark the eager thirst of the heated labourer. The delineation of Juliet is well imagined and well expressed. "Let us consider, if you please, an example more noble than that of the wine-drinker, Represent to yourself the interesting Juliet, who, awaiting her dear Romeo, exclaims :-Hist! Romeo,' &c. |