LANDLADY-Have you carried the Dinner to the prisoner in the Vaults of the Abbey? WAITER-Yes-Pease Soup, as usual, with the scrag end of a Neck of Mutton-The Emissary of the Count was here again this morning, and offered me a large some of money, if I would consent to poison him. LANDLADY-Which you refused? (with hesitation and anxiety.) WAITER-Can you doubt it? (with indignation.)* LANDLADY (recovering herself and drawing up with an expression of dignity.)—The conscience of a poor man is as valuable to him as that of a Prince WAITER-It ought to be still more so, in proportion as it is generally more pure. LANDLADY-Thou says't truly, JOB. WAITER (with enthusiasm)—He who can spurn at wealth when proffered as the price of crime, is greater than a Prince. Post-born blows-Enter CASIMERE (in a travelling dress-a light blue great coat with large metal buttons-his hair in a long queue, but twisted at the end; a large KEVENHULLER hat; a cane in his hand.) CASIMERE-Here, WAITER, pull off my boots, and bring me a pair of slippers. (Exit WAITER). And heark'ye, my Lad, a bason of water (rubbing his hands) and a bit of soapt-I have not washed since I began my journey. * The confinement of some great personage in a dungeon, on whose existence the hinges of the plot are made to turn, seems a necessary comcomitant to a German drama; some inferiour agent, a low bred servant or peas. ant, is constituted his keeper, who however is made to have sentiments much more exalted and capacious than the tyrant who employs him. Thus Herman, in the Robbers, Kenrick, in the Castle Spectre, have so much humanity left that they make known the concealment of the Count de Moor, and Reginald, after having kept the secret for many years; and this from the impulses of their latent humanity. The sentiments of the landlady and waiter in the Rovers are a fair example of this mock dignity and heroick virtue. Let it not be understood that the intention of the author is to ridicule virtue in low bred persons generally; it is only applied to the authors, for personifying this kind of exalted sympathy, in characters who have no other than a poetical existence; and who in real life could not be expected to feel its power. The errour is in deducing a general principle from a particular instance. † A ludicrous example of an introduction of circumstances which have no agency in promoting the progress of a fable, and which when mixed with serious contemplations, destroys their effect; and renders the whole ridiculous. Throughout the whole of this scene, these instances frequently occur. So in Cabal and Love, Ferdinand, after a rhapsody about the seraphick sweetness' of Louisa, asks her the great question on which his happiness or misery depends Didst thou write that letter? WAITER (answering from behind the door)-Yes, Sir. CASIMERE-Well, Landlady, what company are we to have? LANDLADY-Only two Gentlewomen, Sir.-They are just stept into the next room-they will be back again in a minute. CASIMERE-Where do they come from? CASI (All this while the Waiter re-enters with the bason and water. MERE pulls off his boots, takes a napkin from the table, and washes bis face and hands.) LANDLADY-There is one of them I think comes from Nu remburgh. CASIMERE (aside).-From Nuremburgh-(with eagerness)Her name? LANDLADY-MATILDA. CASIMERE (aside).-How does this idiot woman torment me!-What else? LANDLADY-I can't recollect. CASIMERE-Oh agony !`(In a paroxysm of agitation.) WAITER See here-her name upon the travelling trunkMATILDA POTTINGEN. CASIMERE Ecstacy! Ecstacy! (embracing the Waiter.) LANDLADY-You seem to be acquainted with the Lady-shall I call her? CASIMERE-Instantly-Instantly-Tell her-her lov'd, her long lost-Tell her LANDLADY-Shall I tell her Dinner is ready? CASIMERE-Do so in the mean while, I will look after my portmanteau. (Exeunt severally.). SCENE changes to a Subterraneous Vault in the Abbey of QUEDLINBURGH; with Coffins, 'Scutcheons, Death's Heads and Cross-bones. -Toads, and other loathsome reptiles are seen traversing the obscurer parts of the Stage.-ROGERO appears, in chains, in a Suit of rusty Armour, with his beard grown, and a Cap of a grotesque form upon his head. Beside him a Crock, or Pitcher, supposed to contain his daily allowance of sustenance. A long silence, during which the Louisa-Then by the God of all-I did. Ferdinand Merciful Heavens !-(Thunder struck and falling against the scenes.) In the next sentence he says, My head burns-Louisa! will you make me a glass of Lemonade?' Now, though this request ultimately is made to apply to the plot, yet so ludicrous is the request, that it cannot be read without a smile. Nothing can therefore be more improperly introduced. wind is heard to whistle through the Gaverns. ROGERO rises, and comes slowly forward, with his arms folded. Eleven years!* It is now eleven years since I was first immured in this living Sepulchre-The cruelty of a MinisterThe perfidy of a Monk-Yes, MATILDA! for thy sake-alive amidst the dead-chained-coffined-confined-cut off from the converse of my fellow men. Soft!-what have we here? (stumbles over a bundle of sticks.) This Cavern is so dark, that I can scarcely distinguish the objects under my feet, Oh !-the register of my Captivity-Let me see, how stands the account? (Takes up the sticks, and turns them over with a melancholy air; then stands silent for a few moments, as if absorbed in calculation)—Eleven years and fifteen days!-Hah-the twenty-eighth of August !How does the recollection of it vibrate on my heart! It was on this day that I took my last leave of my MATILDA.—It was a summer evening-her melting hand seemed to dissolve in mine, as I pressed it to my bosom-Some Demon whispered me that I should never see her more.-I stood gazing on the hated vehicle which was conveying her away forever-The tears were petrified under my eye-lids.-My heart was crystallized with agony.-Anon-I looked along the road.--The Diligence seemed to diminish every instant.-I felt my heart beat against its prison, as if anxious to leap out and overtake it. My soul whirled round, as I watched the rotation of the hinder wheels.-A long trail of glory followed after her, and mingled with the dustit was the Emanation of Divinity, luminous with Love and Beauty-like the splendour of the setting Sun-but it told me that the sun of my joys was sunk forever-Yes, here in the * Our readers will readily recollect the various dungeon scenes which comprise so considerable a part of the merits of the German plays; the chains, the bundle of sticks, the 28th of August, the fatal day, the retrospec tive glance at previous prosperity, and the pathos of present desperation, are circumstances which very naturally arise, and of which almost every victim of tyrannical vengeance makes indiscriminate use. The song of Rogero is a fancy of the poet's, as is the full accompaniment of the violins from the orchestra. So in the Melo-Drama, the characters are obliged to wait for the musick to strike a chord in unison with the sensation to be produced, before the passion can be exhibited. And the actor is frequently obliged to give a signal to the leader of the band, by a wink, a motion, a stamp of the foot, that he may begin ; as, 'now, sir, I am to be mad, let your instruments express distraction; now disappointed, let your violin indicate disappointment; now I wish to wash my hands, let your musick be expres sive of soap and water,' &c, depths of an eternal Dungeon-In the Nursing Cradle of HellThe Suburbs of Perdition-In a nest of Demons, where Despair in vain sits brooding over the putrid eggs of hope; where Agony woos the embrace of Death; where Patience, beside the bottomless pool of Despondency, sits angling for Impossibilities -Yet even here, to behold her, to embrace her-Yes, MATILDA, whether in this dark abode, amidst toads and spiders, or in a Royal Palace, amidst the more loathsome Reptiles of a Court, would be indifferent to me-Angels would shower down their hymns of gratulation upon our heads-while Fiends would envy the eternity of suffering Love... ... Soft, what air was that? it seemed a sound of more than human warbling-Again (listens attentively for some minutes)-Only the wind-It is well, however It reminds me of that melancholy Air, which has so often solaced the hours of my Captivity-Let me see whether the damps of this dungeon have not yet injured my Guitar(Takes his Guitar, tunes it, and begins the following Air, with a full accompaniment of Violins from the Orchestra.) .... (AIR-Lanterna Magica.) SONG BY ROGERO. Whene'er with haggard eyes I view I think of those Companions true NIVERSITY of Gottingen,— ➡NIVERSITY of Gottingen. (Weeps, and pulls out Sweet kerchief, check'd with heav'nly blue, At least I thought so at the U —NIVERSITY of Gottingen -NIVERSITY of Gottingen. (At the repetition of this Line ROGERO clanks his Chains in ca dence.) Barbs! Barbs! alas! how swift you flew Her neat Post-Waggon trotting in! Ye bore MATILDA from my view; —NIVERSITY of Gottingen- This faded form! this pallid hue! This blood my veins is clotting in, -NIVERSITY of Gottingen -NIVERSITY of Gottingen. There first for thee my passion grew, -NIVERSITY of Gottingen -NIVERSITY of Gottingen. Sun, Moon, and thou vain world, adieu, —NIVERSITY of Gottingen !— During the last Stanza ROGERO dashes his head repeatedly against the walls of his Prison; and finally, so hard as to produce a visible contusion. He then throws himself on the floor in an agony. The Curtain drops-The musick still continuing to play, till it is wholly fallen.) END OF ACT I, POETRY. THE following Verses, supposed to have been written by one of the authors of 'Salmagundi,' are copied from Godwin's Album, at Pas saick Falls. The writers of Salmagundi certainly have much genius * A manifest error-since it appears from the Waiter's conversation (P 293), that Rogero was not doomed to starve on water-gruel, but on peasesoup; which is a much better thing. Poffibly the length of Rogero's im prisonment had impaired his memory; or he might wish to make things appear worse than they really were; which is very natural, I think, in such a case as this poor unfortunate Gentleman's. PRINTER'S DEVIL. |
