De Courcy
Giffard

Lady St. Valerie

Mr. Aickin.

Mr. Packer. Mrs.Siddons. Lady St. Valerie, in the belief that fhe has loft her husband by the hand of Hildebrand, who murdered him in the Holy Land, retires to a caftle on the fea coaft of the Isle of Wight, where the paffes her days in folitude. The fcene with which the play opens relates to an event which happens twenty years after her husband's fuppofed death, when Hildebrand, and the Carmelite, who proves to be the Lord St. Valerie in difguife, are caft away near her refidence. Her doors are open to them, on account of their calamity; but elfe, we are told, no ftrangers are ever permitted to pafs her gates. This fuccour is procured them through the interpofition of Montgomery. Hildebrand is ftruck with horror, on being told the roof which receives him is that of Lady St. Valerie; this difcovery, together with the wounds occafioned by his being dafhed on the rocks, tend to exhauft the remaining fources of life, and he appears unable to fupport himfelf:-The Carmelite foothes him, and tells him long repentance and abfolution have expiated the crime. Lady St. Valerie comes forward in a mourning habit to receive the Carmelite and Hildebrand. The Carmelite tells her he knew her lord well; that he was his dearest friend. During this interview, he obferves that Montgomery appears in her confidence; and, on her retiring, queftions Giffard, one of her fervants, concerning him. He is anfwered, that Montgomery was originally her page; but that he is afpiring, and too much a favourite. The Carmelite, from this, conceives a diftruft of her conftancy.

In the fucceeding fcene, Lady St. Valerie informs Montgomery that he is her fon; that the protracted the difcovery to a time when the might be fenfible of his many virtues, and when he might be of years to ftep forward as the avenger of his father's death; in her maternal fondnefs, the calls him, among other appellations, hufband; which being obferved by Giffard, he makes report of it to the Carmelite.

At this period De Courcy, a knight in King Henry's train, arrives at Lady St. Valerie's caftle, to inform her that the King is ready to fummon Hiide brand (who is fuppofed to be then in Normandy) to give combat to fuch knight as may be ready to enter the lifts in revenge of her deceafed lord. He meets the Carmelite, who discovers himfelf to be the Lord St. Valerie, his friend. He tells him, that the wounds he had received from Hildebrand did not prove fatal; that he recovered, but being afterwards taken at fea by a pirate, he remained in captivity to that period: he tells him alfo of his apprehenfions of his lady's fidelity. On this ground, De Courcy endeavours to diffuade Lady St. Valerie from saffering Montgomery to enter the lifts, when his birth and condition by no means entitle him to that honour. Lady St. Valerie becomes indignant at his fcruples, but declines fatisfying him in refpect to Montgomery. Soon after this interview Hildebrand throws himfelf at the feet of Lady St. Valerie, and tells her that he, whom she has refcued from death, is the murderer of her hufband. Montgomery at this inftant enters; Lady St. Valerie points to Hildebrand, as the ruffian who flew his father; Montgomery draws his fword, but is ftopped by Lady St. Valerie, on account of his adverfary being unarmed. Hildebrand addresses them, fays he has but little time to live, and sequefts he may have Chriftian ceremonies. At this time the Carmelite appears; and, to make his death eafy, difcovers himself to be the Lord St. Valerie. Hildebrand looks up, begs forgiveness for the crime he had intended, and dies. At this crifis Montgomery enters, and, upon fpeaking of Hildebrand's guilt, is anfwered by the Carmelite, that he died innocent of Lord St. Valerie's death. De Courcy addreffing himself rather freely to Montgomery, he replies with fpirit; whereupon De Courcy throws down his gauntlet; but the Carmelite feizing it, prevents confequences. At the fame time, taking his departure, he leaves a bracelet of pearls with Montgomery, to be delivered to Lady St. Valerie. Here the fourth act clofes;

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and the beginning of the fifth difcovers Lady St. Valerie at devotion in her chapel: Montgomery addreffes her, delivers the bracelet; learning it was her gift to his father, is anxious to find the Carmelite, that he may trace out how he came by it. In this fituation, the Carmelite, De Courcy, and Giffard appear; Lady St. Valerie foon after comes forward, and the denouement is foon effected, to the general tranquillity of the parties.

Such is the outline of the fable; the fituations are productive of the higheft dramatic effect, and are beautiful throughout. Under this defcription may be confidered the Carmelite's first interview with his lady; the revealing of Montgomery's birth; the difcovery Hildebrand makes of his being the murderer of Lord St. Valerie; the comfort Hildebrand receives, in finding St. Valerie ftill lives; and many others, equally productive of effect.

The language is elegant; and many images, ftrongly poetical and juft, are diffufed through the piece; but we must cenfure the author for feveral commonplace phrafes, which may be called cue plagiarifms!

The performance of Mrs. Siddons was above panegyric; the tears which fell at her call are the nobleft tributes of praife! Mr. Smith, in the Carmelite, played in an excellent ftile. Why will Mr. Kemble restrain himself by critical refinements? Why does he not give the paffions fuller fcope? He is beyond compare the most graceful actor upon the stage; but he muit get rid of his referve, and affume greater animation, before he can be the best. We muft, however, acknowledge that he comes forth with new advantages whenever he appears.

The drefs of Mrs. Siddons was raven grey filk, trimmed with black crape, and appeared well calculated to exprefs dignity and forrow. The other characters were habited with propriety.

The scenes confifted of a view of the

fea in a ftorm; a Gothic hall in Lady St. Valerie's caftle; and her chapel, with painted windows; each of which has great merit.

The prologue was fpoken by Mr. Palmer, and was preparatory to the fubject of the tragedy. The epilogue was fpoken most forcibly by Mrs. Siddons, and contained many sprightly points. The whole performance was received with uncommon applause.

Dec. 23. Laft night, a new comedy, called THE NATURAL SON, was performed for the first time at this theatre.

The fable and incidents of this comedy are fo like thofe of Fielding's celebrated Tom Jones, that our readers will have a better idea of it by that intimation than by any account we can give them.

The characters are not fo well drawn, arranged, and grouped, as in the novel. The principal perfonage does not occafion fufficient anxiety and intereft; and his character is not fo finely and naturally blended as that of Fielding's wonderful Foundling.

The fentiments and dialogue have confiderable merit; and they have alfo confiderable defects. Uncommon expreffions; artful flashes of wit; pointed fimilies forcibly introduced, and an evident anxiety to produce epigrammatic turns, disfigure, inftead of embellifhing, a comedy. It has been often and juftly obferved, that it is with literary compofitions as it is with women, where a certain fimplicity, and even plainnefs, of manner and of drefs, is more captivating than the glare of paint, and the studied ornaments of drefs, which may dazzle the eye, but never reach the affections.

The play is the production of Mr. Cumberland; to whom the theatre is certainly much indebted; and whofe efforts we have been ever inclined to commend.

It was performed in the beft manner by the comic ftrength of the theatre; but it was not well received.

Dec. 14. THE FOLLIES OF A DAY, a comedy, from Beaumarchais' famous

piece, by Mr. Holcroft, was reprefented at this theatre. The original 3 Q2

has

Figero, who had been Count Almaviva's chief inftrument in ftealing the Countefs from her guardian, Doctor Bartholo, is appointed one of the Count's principal domeftics; in this fervice he becomes enamoured of Sufan, the Countefs's maid, a woman of principle at bottom, but with a ftrong tincture of the coquet in her difpofition: the favours his addreffes; the day is fixed, and the bufinefs of the piece commences with preparations for their nuptials. The violence of the Count's paffion for his lady being much abated by three years poffeffion, he gives a loofe to his natural turn for gallantry, and ranges after the females of every defcription. In thefe purfuits, Bafil, the mufic-mafter, is his prime agent, though entertained in the caftle under colour of inftructing the family to play. Sufan feems to be the Count's favourite object, and to obtain her confent to gratify his defires the endeavours of Bafil are chiefly directed. The youth and perfon of Hannibal recommending him to the favour of all the women fervants, the Count, in his amorous purfuits, finds himself circumvented in almost every inftance, and refolves to get rid of him, by giving him a commiffion in his regiment. Hannibal, deep in grief for leaving a fituation in which he found himself fo happy, makes a confeffion to Sufan of

a paffion he has conceived for the Countefs; this Sufan reports to her lady, and fhe, half inclined to be frail, principally through refentment for the Count's neglect of her, defires to fee the page, under pretence of reproving him for his libertine conduct, and prefumptuous love, but with a fecret wish to encourage him in it. Their interview, the only téte-à-tête the ever had with him, is interrupted by the unexpected coming of the Count; the page is concealed, and the Count, alarmed at fome fufpicious circumftances, which confirm a jealousy he had for fome time felt, from an anonymous letter he had received, refolves to fatisfy his doubts, by fearching all the moft fecret apartments, and goes off for inftruments to force the doors, which the Countefs refused to open, taking her with him. During their abfence, Sufan effects the page's efcape through a window into the gar den, and fecretes herself in his hidingplace. The Count, on his return, finding nobody but Sufan (who contrives to acquaint the Countess of her dexterity) full of contrition for his fuppofed mifconception, is imploring pardon, when all his fufpicions are revived by the entrance of Antonio, his drunken gardener, who had feen Hannibal jump from the window, and comes to complain of the injury done to his flowers-from this embarrassment they are relieved by Figero, who declares that it was he Antonio had feen; and affigns for a reafon, his perfect knowledge of the Count's impetuofity of temper, and fear of his rage, in cafe he had found any man in his lady's apartment after the anonymous billet he had received, and which Figero now avows himself the author of

Marcelina, who had formerly lived fervant to Doctor Bartholo, being removed to the Count's family, had, in the courfe of time, lent Figero feveral large fums of money, for which the, ftill having a colt's tooth, obliged him to give her a conditional acknowledgement to repay her upon a certain day, or to marry her; he, finding himself unable to perform the former, and unwilling to perform the latter, the mat

ter

ter is brought on to be heard in a court, which the Count, as lord paramount in his district, appoints to be held in his great hall, before Don Guzman, a mere cypher in office, labouring under the infirmity of ftammering fo continually as to render almost every thing he fays unintelligible. The Count fufpecting that Figero and Sufan play into each other's hands, and are really practifing upon him, refolves to ftretch his influence to the uttermoft, and prevent their union, by deciding in favour of Marcelina's claim upon Figero; with this decifion Guz man, who is too ftupid to have a will of his own, accords, and judgement is accordingly pronounced. To this decifion Figero peremptorily refufes to fubmit, and Sufan, enabled by the bounty of the Countefs, offers to difcharge the pecuniary obligation; this brings on an explanation, which proves Figero the natural fon of Doctor Bartholo, by Marcelina. Marcelina of courfe relinquishes her claim; Bartholo is prevailed upon to acknowledge his fon, agrees to marry Marcelina, and all the contending parties are reconciled. The way to matrimony feeming now perfectly smooth, Figero and Sufan plot to lead the amorous Count into a fool's paradife, by a pretended affignation, which is never intended to be kept; but the Countefs coming to a knowledge of this plot, determines to perfonate Sufan, and by that means get incontrovertible proofs of the Count's infidelity, keeping the whole of this new fcheme from Figero, left his intriguing fpirit fhould fuggeft fome further plan, which might interfere with her's. He, getting a very imperfect information of this intention, fancies his credulity is wrought upon, and that his bride elect means to play him falfe, therefore refolves to watch them close.

Agnes, enamoured of the page, the page of her; the Countefs to expofe the Count, he to his fuppofed affig

A

nation with Sufan; Sufan and Marcelina to affift their lady, and Figero to watch his wife that is to be, accompanied by Bartholo, Bafil, &c. all come into the garden, where a variety of perplexing incidents take place. Figero is at length convinced of the purity of his wife's intentions; the Countefs is gratified in the humility of the Count; he is reconciled to the feeming improprieties of her conduct; Bartholo and Marcelina are united; the page is confirmed in his appointment; Sufan is rewarded by a prefent the Countefs, as her reprefentative, had received from the Count, and the piece concludes with a refolution to proceed to celebrate the happy marriage of Figero and Sufan, and fome pointed reflections upon the Follies of the Day.

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was

Such is the fable of the Follies of a Day, which was in the hands of the tranflator three weeks only, before he prefented it to the manager, and, in the words of Mr. Lewis, who gave it out for the fucceeding evening, read, ftudied, and performed, in the courfe of a fortnight," which circumftance he urged in apology for the want of an epilogue, and in excufe for fuch defects as might be obferved in the courfe of the performance." The difpatch with which the comedy has been brought forward may account for its not appearing in fo perfect a ftate as a future performance may render it.

This compofition is light; the incidents are numerous, and well contrived; but thofe fituations on which the denouement principally depends exceed the verge of probability too much for English comedy, but which the licence of the French theatre may warrant. The dialogue is neat, and the fpirit of the original well preferved. If the effect of fome of the points is diminished, it is in a trifling degree; and fuch a failure as is a certain attendant on tranflation. The piece was throughout well received, and was given out with general applaufe.

MBITIOUS men who meet with di fappointments either become

quite defperate, or fink into a state of indolence and infenfibility. Extract