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in a few months, may be granted; but when we find, that by the operation of the new act, new theatres in the provinces are legally opened for the performance of legitimate dramas, and the very saloons in and about London are almost nightly engaged, with many of the minor theatres, in the same endeavour, we repeat that we are justified in inferring that at least tentative processes are making, on no small scale, towards a better condition of things. Doubtless Mr. Macready, when he returned from America, found that the world. had not been standing still in England during his absence. As he has already proved, in his own case hitherto, how needful are new dramas to even the successful actor, the same experience will compel him, together with the external pressure proceeding from the fact of the legitimate drama being every where else performed, as well as in the theatre which he may sway, to seek for the best new dramas that may be obtained. We hope, too, that he may learn from his past failures not to trust to a clique for his supply, but, once for all and unreservedly, give plenary encouragement to the poetic and dramatic genius of the country. Whatever may be the risk and expense at first incurred by this plan, it is the only one that can succeed in the end. Nor will his task be so easy as it once might have been when a large majority had faith in his judgment. The failure of every piece that he put upon the stage during his management at Drury Lane Theatre, has sadly shaken confidence; and here we warn the reader that first nights and short runs are no criteria of success. "Mary Stuart," "The Athenian Captive," Glencoe," "Mina Sforza," Gysippus," "The Patrician's Daughter,' "Athelwold," "The Blot on the Scutcheon," were no less failures, though apparently so, than " Plighted Troth;" that is, they failed to bring the requisite funds into the theatrical treasury. This fact is not alleged to the disparagement of these authors, but with reference to Mr. Sergeant Talfourd's statement, that there were superior pieces which were passed by, and that, as we happen to know, because they were written by individuals who were supposed to be complainants against the system pursued. So far are we, indeed, from disparaging the merits of such poets, that we are aware that nearly every one of them has some well-grounded charge of unfair treatment in a greater or less degree, all arising from the monsterfact, that resort to new dramas was uniformly made, not as the staple of theatrical management, but as occasional material to stop a gap, when brought to a stand-still by reason of the failure of more favoured speculations. Such men as these, together with Mr. Horne and others, may no longer be so treated,

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or so neglected with impunity; and the sooner Mr. Macready confesses that he has (however unintentionally) insulted men of genius who are true poets, and manifests his willingness to conciliate them by giving to every one, without exception, a fair chance for exhibition, the better perhaps for the drama, and certainly for himself. Mr. Sergeant Talfourd, too, will do well to counsel him to bring out "Cosmo de Medici," for instance, as soon as possible; unless, indeed, in his sweeping condemnation of the acting profession the learned Sergeant means to include his friend, and to state that not even Mr. Macready has genius to embody the hero of this fine tragedy. The actor must fall, unless a race of poets come to his aid-the poet, as he existed before him, can and will exist without him, until he create him by the force of dramatic production. Meanwhile the restored freedom of the stage presents a possibility such as could not previously exist, and will not only permit but oblige a quick succession of new dramas. Enterprise is all that is wanting in a new field; many eyes are now directed thither; many inefficient attempts also are indeed made, but these are merely premature anticipations of a more mature time, which in due season will justify the hope and the faith which the poets of the age have expressed in the drama, for whose emancipation they have for several years made unwearied efforts, the legitimacy of which has been so far tested by all the success that they had either expected or desired.

But it were gross partiality in us to confine all our admonition, whether for reproof or for counsel, to the actor. The dramatic poet needs both, and now more than ever. He now stands in a new position to his age, and he should be careful to comprehend its duties as well as its rights. Let by-gones be bygones, no old grudges should be suffered to continue. He has to co-operate with the best actors that remain to him in the creation of a new drama and a new stage. For this purpose he has to learn an art; for, having been so long excluded from the actual stage, his period of apprenticeship has been superseded, and he must make up for lost time by extra diligence, in order to fulfil the master's office to which he has been unexpectedly called, at last, but not too late; for such are the excellence and the riches of our dramatic literature, that examples exist in full number to instruct him in the rules which are expedient in all literature, but in the drama are absolutely requisite to its success. To these rules genius must come in addition, not in substitution. We are not now proposing a strict, or any, attention to the classical unities, but to those principles (and by practice in composition the competent dramatic poet will find

that there are many such) which must regulate the conduct of plot, the entrance and grouping of characters, the interest of story, the production of situation, and whatever else may conduce to the general or particular effect. Nothing is to be despised-perfection is to be aimed at. He must recollect that he is playing for a high stake, with not only the ingenious living but the time-honoured dead for his competitors. And what if the theatrical world now lies in an apparent wreck! Yet now, as at the period when they fable the guardian deities forsook mankind, Hope still remains behind. His consolation in the season of danger and distress, Hope yet subsists to actuate the efforts of the poet, and to animate his soul with visions of future glory. Hope yet subsists, for his informing genius and dramatic inspiration has always proved itself to be a perpetual presence. A wide field is open for his exertions: the springs of passion, and feeling, and deep thought, are not yet exhausted. Let there then be no hasty writing permitted, much less hasty publishing, lest the public faith in the existence of dramatic genius should be weakened. No poet should feel now that he is working for his own private interests, but for those of a cause, and that his own success is dependant upon that of the latter. Dramatic poets have always appeared in clusters; one supports another; no one can live singly, for the dramatic poet cannot live at all except in the sunshine of popular favour, and that supposes a popular taste, which requires more than one mind to keep it alive, and feed it with the perpetual nourishment requisite to its vitality. A constant succession of new pieces is wanted to keep the new theatre open, and these can only be supplied by many minds. The public taste will be just in proportion to the genius which must create it, before it can exist at all, and this work must go on night after night-week after week-month after month. Combined effort and fair dealing one with another are therefore imperatively necessary to dramatic poets; peace amongst themselves, and with the theatrical artists who will have to embody their creations in order to preserve that relation with the public mind which is essential to success. The dramatic poet must now fully accomplish himself for his work, for he cannot longer labour as the caterer and servant of the actor. He has no right, henceforth, to call upon the performer to adapt his pieces to the stage; he must be in a condition to know what is right and have courage to do it. All things henceforth must depend on the responsibility of the poet; nay we know not whether the risk and business of a theatre must not again be undertaken by him as it was of old. Perhaps another Shakspeare or a Goethe is needed

for this, in its highest sense;-but shall it therefore be said, that nature has exhausted herself of her resources, and has not composition and quality enough for a new birth? Rich is she still,-passing rich. Unsunned mines of un

summed wealth await exploration, and these she is at all times ready to disclose to the truly brave adventurer. The fortunes of the drama may, however, not, after all, be left to private enterprise. The state has at length acknowledged its importance, and the wrong which by bad laws had been done to the drama's interests. It may meditate reparation. We think there are indications of this in the horizon. It would not be well, however, to adopt in London the Parisian system; it would fail here of the purpose we have in view the encouragement of high art in the drama, —and would be otherwise objectionable. But sanction and encouragement, at little or no expense, may yet be rendered; and the State cannot do better than proceed in the good work which it has commenced; nor could the aristocracy of the land better consult their own interests, or more readily conciliate the affections of the great body of the people, than by contributing to place a great and ennobling national amusement on a basis of permanent prosperity. Under the direction of sound judgment, (such is the love of the English people for their genuine drama, when tolerably well acted,) we can no more doubt of its success, than we can of the indestructible existence of the drama itself, as one of the living principles of the world's progress. From childhood to old age, we “con our parts," and some of us play many in our time;

"As if our whole vocation

Were endless imitation."

A thing so thoroughly rooted in our nature, so concurrent with the action of our lives, so pleasing to our nobler faculties, so beneficial in its influence, when under proper control, can never perish, and will not be disregarded and neglected by a government that wisely cares for the morals of the people over which it rules, and is as solicitous for the literary glory as for the commercial welfare of this great country.

ART. VII.-1. Système de Législation, d'Administration, et de Politique de la Russie en 1844; par un Homme d'état Russe. (The system of Legislation, Administration and Policy of Russia in 1844. By a Russian Statesman.) Paris. 1845. 2. The White Slave, or the Russian Peasant Girl. By the Author of "Revelations in Russia." 3 vols. London. 1845. THE public mind of Europe has long been agitated with the question of slavery, both black and white. The slavery of the negro race being more defined (more so, at least, by its colour), everything has been done to abolish it; not only have we witnessed the expenditure of millions of money, but international treaties by all the great European powers have been made, and some rescinded, and recently a new convention has been entered into between England and France, all with the view of putting down by combined efforts the so-called ignominious trade in human flesh. This great vexed question now seems to be in the fairest way for final settlement, and we shall in future have no black slaves. Humanity may exult at the result; and most cordially do we congratulate Christian philanthropy on the ultimate triumph of its zeal, perseverance and labour.

But, we would ask, does the prospect look as flattering with regard to white slavery-the slaves of our own race? Are there not still two great divisions-slaves abroad and slaves at home? Has the birthright of either been sufficiently inquired into and sifted? and, if so, has that birthright been acknowledged?— have any laws been enacted to reinstate the injured in the full possession of it, or any international treaties concluded to guarantee its undisturbed enjoyment? If indeed any such have been ratified, have they been permanent? or, rather, have they not been brutally trampled upon? Look at Prussia! Has she obtained that constitution, which in an hour of need was promised to her people? Behold Poland! What has become of her constitution, which was to protect her nationality, and to guard her, for the safety of Europe, against Russian thraldom? Look on Circassia-that land once renowned for female beauty, and now equally so for manly bravery and patriotism? Has any of the great European powers lifted its arm to shield her from the unrelenting blood-thirsty fury of her stupid aggressor? Has European diplomacy uttered one word of remonstrance to Russia (that Russia which was so prominent a party to the antislavery treaties respecting the blacks) when she permitted the resuscitation of the trade in Circassian females for the Turkish harems? Have we not seen the Czar, the greatest slaveholder

VOL. VI.-NO. II.

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