1828.] 
productive of very mischievous effects in a 
dramatic point of view. Not that we would 
advocate a French strictness in regard to the 
unity of time and place; though we should 
be glad to see that unity preserved in all 
other things, and above all in character and 
dramatic effect. But we must venture to 
confess our belief, that even the strict unity 
of time, which the French tragic drama 
exacts, is productive of very excellent effects, 
and effects which of themselves alone are 
often capable of, in some sort, compensating 
for the miserable deficiencies of that drama 
in other respects: since, by not taxing the 
spectator’s imagination too lavishly in the 
direction in question, it is left free to dwell 
on other and more important matters, and 
to busy itself about them alone. 
In the minor character of Angelo, we 
think Miss Mitford has been successful 
throughout. The proud and ardent, yet 
pure and high-minded beir of the Colonna, 
swayed for a moment from the haughty 
course which custom has made a nature, 
and almost a duty in him, turned from his 
filial allegiance, by love and beauty acting 
upon and rendering irresistible his young 
impulses to good, but retracing his steps 
the instant he has reason to doubt and dis- 
trust the motives and views of his new 
leader and director, Angelo Colonna ex- 
hibits, as far as his character is developed, a 
true picture of a noble nature, at the mercy 
{as even the noblest are) of passion and of 
circumstance. 
For the sweet Claudia, too, we have 
many thanks to offer Miss Mitford. It is 
one of those sketches in which much is at- 
chieved, because little is attempted. It is 
as touching as true feminine sweetness and 
simplicity can make it. These are the fe- 
male characters that we would fain see on 
our tragic stage, because it is these that we 
see in the real drama of human life: any 
thing beyond these, any thing more subtle, 
or more recondite, or more complicated, is 
© from the purpose of playing.” We have 
to speak of the general performance of this 
tragedy with great commendation ; but not 
_. with that unmeasured, because undiscrimi- 
é nating, praise which has been lavished on it 
by our daily and weekly cotemporaries— 
particularly on Mr. Young’s performance of 
Rienzi. We know of no character that is, 
upon the whole, so exactly adapted to display 
_ all the best qualities of that actor ; but we 
_ must nevertheless insist, that he might have 
_ played it much better than he did. It was, 
in fact, a most clever piece of acting, in- 
cluding some high beauties; but it was 
careless and off-hand to a singular degree ; 
and from this arose all its faults, certainly 
_—perhaps some of its beauties. Be this as 
it may, the performance occasionally touched 
the heights of passion, and now and then 
sounded the depths of pathos ; but not sel- 
dom it was “ full of sound and fury,” but 
signifying nothing,” or, rather, signifying 
yorse than nothing, because not what either 
Monthly Theatrical Report. 
539 
nature or the author meant that it should.* 
There was a vigour and a vitality in it 
throughout; and there were passages to 
which no human powers could have added 
either force or intensity. But a sense of 
even justice impels us to add, that there was 
not a little of mere school-boy declamation, 
in which the actor uttered words, and words 
only: vox, et preterea nihil. — . ; 
Mr. Cooper is an actor whom we do no 
greatly affect. He is prodigiously judici- 
ous, respectable, and “ all that.” More- 
over, there is an earnestness of purpose about 
him, which is capable of redeeming even 
respectability—that deadliest of dramatic 
sins. But. Mr. Cooper has a voice—to which 
sounding brass’’ issoftness. True, he has 
tutored it with great care; but a man’s 
voice has a will of its own, and ‘‘ commonly 
rebels,” just at those precise moments when 
it has most need to obey. It is because we 
are not always so gratified by Mr. Cooper’s 
efforts as his uniform care, his evident love 
of his art, and his earnest pursuit of excel- 
lence, lead us to wish we could be, that we 
are the more pleased at being able to speak 
with almost unmingled praise of his Angelo 
Colonna, which, to 2il his usual correctness 
and energy, adds, in one scene, a power and 
spirit that we do not desire to see surpassed 
on the stage. We allude to his conference 
with Rienzi, just before he is led off to 
death. 
Finally, what shall we say of Miss Phil- 
lips, the sweet and gentle representative of 
the sweet and gentle Claudia 2—At present 
we will say nothing in detail. But we will 
stake our modicum of critical reputation on 
the prediction, that, if she proceeds as she 
has begun, nothing can prevent her from 
being among the brightest ornaments of 
our stage, for the next twenty years : that is 
to say, if, (as we at once fear and hope) her 
personal charms do not prove the occasion 
of our losing her almost as soon as we have 
found her. Truly she is a sweet young 
lady, and as intelligent as she is sweet, and 
as modest as she is intelligent, and as fear- 
less and self possessed as she is modest. 
Her performance of Claudia offers much to 
think about it, but little to write about. 
When she appears in a new character she 
shall have our best attention, and (if she 
seems to need it) our respectful advice. 
But, so far as we can judge ut present, she 
seems likely (provided she is permitted to 
keep to her proper line of character) to 
claim little from us but a gratified admira- 
tion. , 
Mr. Price is doing excellently well this 
season. Let him proceed as he has begun, 
and we promise him success. In the very 
* We must let this passage stand, even after 
having read Miss Mitford’s unqualified panegyric 
of Mr. Young’s performance: for (putting the 
habitual politeness of dramatic prefaces out of 
the question) we are of opinion that a reader some- 
times knows what a writer means better than the 
writer's self! 
3 Z 2 
