day; and, moreover, it is a subject too weighty to be treated thus in by-play. Our object in penning these few lines has been to express our strong dissatisfaction at the manner in which this really serious circumstance has been treated by those who lay claim to be foremost in guiding the opinions of the public. THE DRAMA. The Maiden Aunt: a Comedy. By RICHARD BRINSLEY KNOWLES; as performed at the Theatre Royal Haymarket. Moxon. THE first dramatic critic of the day has declared it to be his opinion that there is in this Comedy an easy flow in the writing which the most practised hand could not have bettered;' and announces that he therein discovers a rich vein of promise for futurity. We, will be content to say that the play is worthy of the son of so gifted a father— worthy of the better days of the English Drama. Energy and spirit are very equally combined with softness and delicacy of expression; there is no reckless attempt at making points, nor any forced or turgid eloquence; and if there is not the wit and versatility of a Jerrold; or, if-and it may be so-this play is not so entirely complete in stage adaptation as it might be, there are compensating beauties of quiet and unassuming brilliancy. It is a favourite on the stage; it will be even more so in the closet. As an acting Comedy it merits full commendation, but as a Poem it deserves almost unqualified praise. We rejoice to see young men thus rising up around us fit to fill the places which their fathers must ere long vacate, and it is happy for them, and indeed for the existence of the English Drama, that a manager can be found possessing himself that talent which is necessary to its proper appreciation in others. The little Theatre in the Haymarket is now the citadel of the legitimate drama, and we say this with no overweening partiality. Other houses may secure the assistance of equal talent, but it is so evidently done with a view to filling empty boxes, and without any higher object, that while we applaud the paid actor, we cannot accord to the management that praise we would wish. With Mr. Webster it is otherwise: dramatic chroniclers will have to record of him better things than are told by services of plate,' or by the laudations of titled dulness; and we mistake much if his active honesty is not reaping a present reward. NEW MUSIC. Maritana: an Opera. Composed by VINCENT WALLACE. Cramer, Beale, and Co. WE Congratulate the composer of this opera on the success he has achieved in a trial of no inconsiderable magnitude. It has been as genuine as, on the whole, well deserved. Mr. Alfred Bunn is a worthy manager; and on this occasion his part was well performed: the mise en scene was unexceptionable. But no manager, not even our friend Mr. Webster, could drill Harrison into respectability, or make Miss Romer a prima donna. It is impossible. And whatever gratitude Mr. Wallace can afford to give to the performers, should certainly be paid to Miss Poole, who, perhaps with the exception of Borrani, alone does justice to melody as sweet as any it has been our lot of late to listen to. This opera is evidently the work of a master-hand, regulated by a refined musical taste and much dramatic skill. Good in itself, its great wealth is in its promise; and, if in parts unequal, it is as a whole well deserving of the approbation it is receiving. We will call attention to the several beautiful ballads with which it is interspersed on a future Page 640, line 5 from bottom, for Sir George Murray, read Sir Henry Hardinge. (No. VII. will be published on the 1st January, 1846.) |