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FOSCARI, OR THE VENETIAN EXILE.

past, was holding our senses and passions in chains, in the character of lady Macbeth, now scolding in Nell; or the weeping Belvidera holding forth in the vulgarity of Betty Blackberry. The Hibernian Burke has entertained us with the bullbaiting of “ Bunker Hill;" and we forget the name of the youth,who played such Tom-Thumb-tragedy with the woes of "Edwy and Elgiva." He, whose eyes have been parched with the dry lines of the "Persian Patriot,"* will remember them only from annoyance, and its dry author-as

"A meagre muse-rid mope, adust and thin,

In a dun night-gown of his own loose skin,

He grins, and looks broad nonsense with

a stare !"

whom Foscari was betrothed. The play opens with Foscari's return from a five year's exile, being remanded to Venice, on account of his soliciting relief from the Duke of Milan. This being a high of fence against the state, he is again arraigned before the council, and banishment for life is decreed against him.

Count Erizzo, the love with Almeria, persecutes him enemy of the family of Foscari, in with deadly enmity. Before Foscari departs, he obtains an inter view with Almeria, when Erizzo and his accomplice, Policarpo, rush on Almeria; Foscari fights them in her defence, and in the struggle Policarpo, through mistake, stabs ies, sends for the Doge, confesses Erizzo. Erizzo, in his last agonhis guilt, and avows the innocence

But enough of these "thin third- of his son, and himself the mur night" authors.

For so much preliminary matter we have to offer, in apology, the barbarism and ignorance, under which tragedy labours, on this side the water.

Foscari is fit for criticism, and therefore holds the first rank in American drama. Indeed, this is something with a beginning, a middle, and an end, containing a certain share of dramatick action, sentiment, and ornament of language.

The fable runs thus :...Foscari, son of the Doge of Venice, was banished to the island of Candia, having been charged with the murder of Count Donato, one of the council, and father of Almeria, to

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derer of Count Donato. Trouble turns Almeria mad; and as soon as the Doge informs his wife Valeria of the innocence of their son, they receive intelligence of the death of Foscari, who dies on his way to the ship, in which he was to embark for Candia.

If the rule of tragedy be true, and it comes from too high authority to be doubted, that the character of the poet is rather derived from the composition of the fable, than the verse; because imitation con stitutes the poet, and the fable is the imitation of an action, Mr. White cannot hold the highest ele. vation. His fable and his plot have no novelty, and not much interest. As a tragedy, we hardly know where to look for its peripetia, and where to feel for its pathos. Foscari has evidently no change of fortune whatever, for he is just as miserable at his first appearance, as at his last; he enters in his return from exile with a new polit ical crime, and all his additional

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ness

misery is the extension of his ban- Fos. Do I behold those eyes o'erflow ishment, which was the necessa

with tears,

And find, unmov'd, no moisture from ry consequence. The pathos is

my own? scarcely perceptible in his hero ; Alas! the tears that once could overFoscari suffers not enough, and his flow, dying off the stage with only a And gush like fountains from these very short, and rather a ridiculous,

eyes, are now narration of his death, gives the

Grown dry, and cease to spring at sore

row's call. audience not even a chance for

Doge. Thou wilt have greater need, grief or surprise. The poet has

my son, for tears, not altogether forgotten to ex

When thy fond mother's arms are open cite pity, though he has neglected To clasp thee to her bosom : For trust

wide terrour; what is wanting in the lat

me, ter, is amply made up in the for

She looks with tenfold greater anxious. mer. The character of Almeria is tender and affecting. Her frensy Tow’rds the approach of that blest moscene, though long, is no where ment,

Than e'er she did towards thy natal day. disgusting ; and if that high

Fos. Then bear me to her on the wrought action, which ends in

wings of speed, madness, be not absolutely disgust. Let my light steps not touch the earth ing, it must produce very powerful Until í throw me at my parent's feet! sympathy. Erizzo is an old-fash

Act III. p. 25. ioned rascal,and Policarpo a wornout assassin. The character of the The verse of Mr. White is gen. Doge is manly and dignified, and erally harmonious, though not sufthrough the whole is very plainly ficiently lofty and majestick for and thoroughly delineated. Some tragedy. Some of his lines have, of the scenes between him and however, much firmness. Foscari are happy and affecting, and display the truth of paternal And mark how eagerly he pants for

.........See where the ruffian stalks along, and filial affection.

blood !

I've listened oftimes to the hungry Enter Doge, (to Foscari.)

wolf, Do I behold my long lost son again ? When neighbouring caves have answered The only prop of my declining age !

to her cries, Fos. O, let me cling about thee!... And echoing woods returned the lengthened Let me kiss

yell, Those aged feet that bear thce to thy Still her sad howl ne'er seemed só ter.

rible, (Embracing his father.) As the detested voice of that fell villain. Doge. This is too much for nature to support!

The continuity of the dialogue Thou hast uninan'd me !...

is one of the excellencies of the Fos. My dearest father,

tragedy before us ; there are no Do I then hold thee in these arms once

breaks and pauses of sense in its more? Do my lips press again thy aged cheek? parts, and no irregularity of the Do I hear again that dear, that tender transition of sentiment in the charvoice ?

acters, though the rule of Aristotle 0! speak, my Father,...Speak to me!

is not altogether followed, as reDoge. My son, My soul is faint and overcome with gards the entireness of the episode, grief ;...

for many scenes might be taken What can I say of comfort to my child! out, without being missed.

son.

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And leave his name untained by te proach.

Eriz. To pass five years in exile, and
under

Imputation, foul as that of murder,
Is a reproach not wip'd away with ease.
Doge. Truly, my lord, I ne'er should
seek thy aid

To vindicate my name, tho' blacker than thine own.

Eriz. So then, my lord, I've rous'd thy indignation;

By hell, I'm glad to know thou hast some temper...

I've touch'd thee in a tender point, I find-

Doge. Hold, hold...thy pride becomes offensive,...Count,

Thou dost forget thyself.

Eriz. Most bravely said... Perhaps Erizzo may still more offend When he demands to be inform'd the fate

Of lady Almeria.

Doge. Yes, signor...yes...

Thou shalt hear it,...to thy shame shalt hear it...

'Twas no other than thyself who drove her

From the world....She hopes by close retirement

To avoid thy gross solicitations.
ACT I. p. 11.

The madness of Almeria, as was observed before, produces very forcible sympathy. Her frensy, like Ophelia's, has something in it, which bewitches the fancy, and so touches the heart, that he, who has not felt his dry balls of sight moistened for years, must" shake the holy waters from his eyes" in' the scene between lady Valeria and Almeria. We transcribe it, as the warmest expression of praise for the poet's powers in tender and exquisite misery.

Enter Almeria, drest fantastically, her hair flowing in wild disorder. Val. My sweet Almeria, how fares it with thee?

Alm. Good, my lady, this is a day of. mirth,

Of great rejoicing, throughout all Ve

nice:

I am glad to day, my heart has holiday

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She has no one now to love her!...No! No!

But no matter....I will dance and be happy

Shall I dance for you, lady?...Nay, don't frown!

No...I'll sing a funeral dirge...because Foscari is dead! No one loves me now! Val. I love thee, sweet maid,...most dearly love thee: Come, O, come my beloved to my arms! Alm. Throw away that corpse, then I will come to thee: How can you hug that lifeless body so? See! it is putrid! but it is Foscari's, So I too, will clasp it to my bosom. (She rushes into Valeria's arms, then suddenly bursts into a convulsive fit of laughter.)

But I have no cause to laugh...he's dead! I have cause to weep, for when he implor'd me

On his knees to hear him, why I did laugh.

How merry you all appear, while I am sad!

Rejoice with me, lady....I am going to

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The Trial of the Journeymen Boot and Shoemakers of Philadelphia, on an indictment for a combina tion and conspiracy to raise their wages. Taken in short hand, by Thomas Lloyd. Philadelphia, B. Graves. 1806. pp. 159.

THE cities of the United States flourish and rapidly increase in population, wealth, arts, and commerce. With these it is reason able to expect an influx of their concomitant vices and inconveniences. Regular government and strict internal police are necessary to preserve order and administer justice, where the business and concerns of man are so multipiied and complicated. Gain is the occupation of all; and the powerful love of lucre, like the principle of gravitation, impels to action even stocks and stones. Co-operation and concert are so useful to a multitude, pursuing a common end, that wefrequently find brethren of the same craft constitut

in our cup

mg communities, enacting by-laws, class, naturally advocate measures, and sanctioning them by the severe which elevate them, and depress penalties of ignominy and ruin to their superiours. Unfortunately the disobedient. These associa- our legislaturellas not looked tions frequently contravene the with an indulgent eye on all applirights and are very vexatious to cationis for incorporations, and has other classes of citizens. Rush- strengthened bonds, naturally too worth, in Hist. Coll. records the strong to be severed by the sword speech of a member of parlia- of justice. ment on this subject.

« It is a

This pamphlet contains the nest of wasps, or swarm of ver- report of the trial of journeymen min, that have overcrept the land. boot and shoe-makers for a comThese, like the frogs of Egypt, bination against their masters. have gotten possession of our The indictment against them condwellings, and we have scarce a tains two counts-Ist, for contriva room free from them. They sup ing and intending, unjustly, and

They dip in our oppressively, to increase and augdish. They sit by our fire. We ment the wages usually allowed find them in the dye-fat, wash- them. The other for endeavour. bowl, and powdering-tub. They ing to prevent, by threats, menaces, have marked, and scaled us from and other unlawful means, other head to foot. We may not buy journeymen from working at the our own cloathes, without their usual prices, and that they combrokage. These are the suckers, pelled others to join them. This that have suckt the common- cause, it appears, considerably agiwealth so hard, that it is almost be- tated the body of tradesmen in the come hectical. They have a vizard city. There were retained in the to hide the brand ; they make by- prosecution and defence of the aclaws, which serve their turn to tion some of the most able and squeeze us and fill their purses.” eminent counsellors of that city,

These combinations are certain- whose forum is thronged by honourly injurious, and wise policy dic- able, eloquent, and learned lawyers. tates that they should be repressed. After a solemn discussion of the By them all the members are question the Defendants were conplaced on equality, and consequent- victed and punished. ly ingenuity, skill, and diligence In the correctness of the deci. are deprived of their reward. sion all sound lawyers, and all who The ignorant and indolent, who wish for internal peace and induscompose the majority of every try, will acquiesce.

MONTHLY CATALOGUE Or New PUBLICATIONS IN THE UNITED STATES FOR NOVEMBER.

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NEW WORKS.

By Alexander Watt. Philadelphia, for

the author. A new, plain, and systematick com- The Complete Justice of the Peace, pendium of practical Arithmetick, a. containing extracts from Burn's Justice, dapted to the commerce of the United and other judiciary productions. The States;- with a Key, constructed as whole altered and made conformable to Telfair's Key to Gougl's Arithmetick. the laws and manners of administering

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