116 



Monthly Review of Literature. 



The Doom ofDcvorgoil and the Ayrshire 

 Tragedy ; a Melodrama and a Tragedy, by 

 Sir W. Scott, JBart.An old lord of Devor- 

 goil had ravaged the lands of Algionby, in 

 Cumberland, and encountering a storm on 

 his return, threw the miserable captives over- 

 board to save the more valuable treasure. 

 Though this same lord, apparently, died 

 quietly in his bed, the deed of atrocity 

 brought a curse upon his house, and the 

 grandson, at the period of the drama, was 

 sunk to the lowest pitch of sordid poverty. A 

 prophecy was, however, still to be fulfilled 

 the suit of armour which the guilty perpetrator 

 wore at the time was to drop from the wall, on 

 which it had hung fifty years, the " night 

 when Devorgoil's feast was full." Feasting 

 had long been a stranger at the Hall, and 

 the prophecy began to lose credit ; but the 

 fated night at last came, and with it unex- 

 pected supplies, and as unexpected guests. 

 During the unusual feast, a flash of light- 

 ning strikes the armour, and down it drops, 

 and discovers a scroll which bids them, 



Should Black Erick's armour fall, 

 Look for guests shall scare them all. 



The ragged chief, accordingly, and the 

 greater part of the family sit up to await 

 the coming of these awful guests ; but others 

 go to bed, and among them a goose of a 

 priest, who is conducted to a chamber, 

 which has the reputation of being haunted, 

 and left to his fate. In the meanwhile some 

 of the under agents of the melodrama get up 

 a little ghost scene to plague the unlucky 

 parson ; but scarcely had these frolicksome 

 persons played off their trick, when the real 

 goblins appear to execute the doom of 

 Devorgoil. This, from the firmness of the 

 lord, does not prove a very formidable one. 

 The stolen treasures had been all buried, and 

 by the aid of some elaborate machinery, 

 they are all laid bare, and, finally, clutched 

 poetical justice being fully satisfied by a 

 marriage between Devorgoil's daughter and 

 Algionby's heir, who figuresvon the scene as 

 a deer-keeper, and capital shot. 



The piece was written to oblige Sir 

 Walter's friend, Mr. Terry, of the Adelphi; 

 but the mixture of mimic and genuine 

 goblins, it seems, was found objectionable, 

 and the play was never subjected to the 

 stage ordeal, which, it was foreseen, it never 

 could sustain not for the reason alleged, 

 for that is obviously worth nothing scores 

 of more incongruous things succeed to admi- 

 ration but for the want of dramatic point. 

 It has neither incident nor character suffici- 

 ently marked to fix attention ; the humour 

 wants smartness, and the sentiments excite 



no sympathy. The proud chief was in rags, 

 and starving himself and his family, and 

 was doing nothing to relieve the common 

 misery, but whining or storming. Not a 

 gleam of the author's genius illumines a line 

 of it except, perhaps, this morceau. 



" I know, that minds 

 Of nobler stamp receive no dealer motive 

 Than what is link'd with honour. Ribands, tas- 

 sels 



Which are but shreds of silk and spangled tinsel 

 The right of place, which in itself is momentary 

 A word, which is but air may in themselves. 

 And to the nobler file, be steeped so richly 

 In that elixir, honour, that the lack 

 Of things so very trivial in themselves 

 Shall be misfortune. One shall seek for them 

 O'er the wild waves one in the deadly breach 

 And battle's headlong front one in the paths 

 Of midnight study, and, in gaining these 

 Emblems of honour, each will hold himself 

 Repaid for all his labours, deeds, and dangers. 

 What then should he think, knowing them his own, 

 Who sees what warriors and what sages toil for, 

 The formal and established marks of honour, 

 Usurp'd from him by upstart insolence ? 



The Ayrshire Tragedy is most revoltingly 

 tragical ; but calculated to illustrate the 

 ferocious habits of the Scots of the 16th 

 century. The subject developes a deadly 

 feud of the most horrible description. These 

 things are now over with the Scots ; but Sir 

 Walter doubts if the change among their 

 descendants be much better. They of old 

 committed crimes for revenge ; while modern 

 Scots are as atrocious for lucre. The loftier, 

 if equally cruel, feelings of pride, ambition, 

 and love of vengeance, were the idols of their 

 forefathers, while the caitiffs of the present 

 day bend to Mammon, the meanest of the 

 spirits who fell. The proud chiefs of the 

 older times do not, however, seem to have 

 forgotten the matter of " lucre." 



It would be difficult, perhaps, to name a 

 successful play written by a person not in 

 some way intimately connected with the 

 stage. The best plays from the days of 

 Shakspeare to Colman have been produced 

 by players themselves, or managers, or pro- 

 prietors, or persons given up, almost soul 

 and body, to scenic amusements. The 

 failures of men of the most eminent success 

 in other departments, and of the most bril- 

 liant abilities, are innumerable. Sir Walter, 

 we observe, gives sundry minute directions, 

 and some suggestions, for the management 

 of scenery, with some hesitation as to the 

 possibility and all with a ludicrous unac- 

 quaintedness with what has been actually 

 accomplished over and over again at the 

 London theatres, and at Edinburgh too, it 

 may very well be supposed. 



