J821.] 



News from Parnas,ms ..No. VII. 



ject, no two plays could be mentioned 

 more decidedly at variance in their ex- 

 cution. The Venice Preserved is a 

 genuine drama, lull of passion aud 

 effect. It is easy, natural, pathetic, and 

 vohiptuous. The Doge of Venice, on 

 the other hand, is lofty and severe, and 

 couiparcafively speaking, laborious. We 

 may contrast them best in the charac- 

 ters of their heroines, and the same 

 compaiison will Jiold good throughout. 

 -T-Belvidere pi-oduces a high tragic in- 

 terest — Angiolina little or none. The 

 first is an exquisite picture of woniauly 

 beauty, tenderness, and weakness. — 

 The latter is a most exemplary wife, 

 conducting herself with the grealest 

 good sense and decorum, and entitled 

 to our utmost respect. AVe willingly 

 grant it to her, and to the poet who has 

 embodied so desirable an epitome of 

 the graver virtues; but we feel con- 

 vinced that tliis single character pre- 

 cludes the necessity of a longer contrast, 

 as. tragedians, between Byron aud Ot- 

 way. They had little congenial in 

 their talents, and could not, perhaps, if 

 they had been willing, have borrowed 

 from each other. 



About the year 1355, Marino Faliero, 

 Hoge of Venice, ventured, when arriv- 

 ed at a mature old age, to unite himself 

 to a young and beautiful orphan, the 

 daughter of an intimate friend, who 

 died in reduced circumstances. The 

 noble spirit of Angiolina admired the 

 generosity aud loved the virtues of this 

 ageil nobleman, and she pioved herself 

 worthy to be his wife. Tn the exercise 

 of his authoiity the Doge had occasion 

 to repress the insolence of a young 

 Venetian, Sfeno, who revenged himself 

 by affixing a libellous sarcasm on the 

 Ducal chair. The virtue of Angiolina 

 looks down upon this insult with calm 

 disdain ; but the fiery Doge demands 

 the infliction of signal punishment on 

 the oft'euder. The case is referred to 

 the Council of Forty, wlio sentence 

 Steno to a short imprisonment. To 

 the Doge, who meditated no less a re- 

 tribution than death, this judgment 

 conveyed a grosser insult than his ori- 

 ginal ground of complaint. His r.ige 

 and hatred are transferred, with in- 

 crease, from the criminal to his judges. 

 He resolves ujwn a capable and full 

 revenge, to effect which he is driven to 

 adopt a solecism of state, a kind of 

 ]M)litical paradox. He commits, as it 

 were, high treason against himself; 

 and leagties with a baml of malcontents, 

 w lio by discomfiture became rel>els, to 



Monthly Mag. No. 355. 



525 



cut down the overgrown aristocracy (jf 

 hiscitj', and set up in its place, the like- 

 ness of a free government in his own 

 person. The plot is revealed by (he 

 humanity of a confederate, who wishes 

 to spare (he life of his ])atron and 

 friend ; and the t)ligarchy are ingenious 

 enough (o turn the tables upon the 

 Doge, and contrary, as we think, to 

 the pure aud invariable principles of 

 legitimacy, to strike oft' the head of 

 their venerable aud paternal sovei'eign. 

 To him, this is a matter of little mo- 

 ment. He displays throughout the 

 spirit of a lion, and of a magnanimous 

 one too. He is a true hero — an animal of 

 prey — and the life or the death of others 

 or himself, is of small consideration in 

 his eyes. — But the breath of dishonour 

 he cannot brook; and to wipe of its 

 taint, he will dare and lose every thing. 

 This character (for of the others little 

 need be said,) is boldly conceived, skil- 

 fully developed, and vigorously sus- 

 tained to the last. A gloomy and 

 threatening cloud hangs over the 

 remnant of his days. His enter- 

 prize fails, he is tried, convicted, and 

 e>.ecuted. But he rises superior to his 

 oppressors aud ' his fate, and when 

 death approaches, he rushes ou it, like 

 aAvhirlwiud. The catastrophe to which 

 we allude, and which we slu-.U subse- 

 quently extract for the gratification of 

 our readers, is appalling. We are tlmn- 

 derstruck, not by the horrors of death, 

 but by the force and vehemence of will 

 with which those lioi-rors are set at 

 nought and overcome. The Doge de- 

 fies death into insignificance. Of the 

 two, we feel inclined to say, that 

 " He is the elder aud more terrible." 



After the fatal blow is given, we feel 

 as if we had witnessed some mighty ex- 

 plosion, and can hardly believe that 

 such dangerous and ardent materials 

 have resolved themselves into thin air 

 and silent dust ; that a little heap of 

 earth was once the domicile of »uch a 

 fierj' and unconquerable spirit. 



In the ducal chamber, we find the 

 Doge awaiting v/ith impatience the sen- 

 tence of the Forty upon Steno. Their 

 secretary arrives with it at last, and 

 retires while the Doge requests his 

 nephew to read the rescript. 



" Take thou this paper ; 

 The misty letters vauish from my eyes, 

 I cannot fix them." 



The uepliew Bertuccio Faliero, reads, 



" That Michel Steno be detained a mouth 

 In close arrest — 



Doge. Proceed. 



3U Bert. 



