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On ilka howm the sward was mawn,

Wi’ the rest o' my claes I hae rowed up the ribbon, The braes wi' gowans buskit braw,

The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie gae me; And gloamin's plaid o'gray was thrawn

Yestreen, when he gae me't, and saw I was sabbin', Out owre the hills o' Gallowa'.

I'll never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Wi' music wild the woodlands rang,

Though now he said naething but“ Fare yeweel, Lucy!" And fragrance winged alang the lea,

It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see : As down we sat the flowers amang,

He couldna say mair but just, “ Fare ye weel, Lucy!" Upon the banks o'stately Dee.

Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee. My Julia's arms encircled me, And saftly slade the hours awa',

The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when its droukit;

The hare likes the brake and the braird on the lea; Till dawin coost a glimmerin' ee Upon the hills o' Gallowa'.

But Lucy likes Jamie ;-she turned and she lookit,

She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. It isna owsen, sheep, and kye,

Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless! It isna gowd, it isna gear,

And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn! This lifted ee wad hae, quoth I,

For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, The warld's drumlie gloom to cheer.

Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return! But gi'e to me my Julia dear,

Ye powers wha row this yirthen ba',
And O! sae blithe through life I'll steer,

The Brownie of Blednoch,
Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

[By William Nicholson.)
Whan gloamin' dauners up the hill,
And our gudeman ca's hame the yowes,

There cam a strange wight to our town-en',
Wi' her I'll trace the mossy rill

An' the fient a body did him ken;
That owre the muir meandering rows;

He tirled na lang, but he glided ben

Wi' a dreary, dreary hum.
Or, tint amang the scrogay knowes,
My birkin pipe I'll sweetly blaw,

His face did glow like the glow o' the west,
And sing the streams, the straths, and howes, When the drumly cloud has it half o'ercast;
The hills and dales o' Gallowa'.

Or the struggling moon when she's sair distrest. And when auld Scotland's heathy hills,

0, sirs ! 'twas Aiken-drum.
Her rural nymphs and joyous swains,

I trow the bauldest stood aback,
Her flowery wilds and wimpling rills,
Awake nae mair my canty strains ;

Wi'a gape an' a glower till their lugs did crack, Whare friendship dwells and freedom reigns,

As the shapeless phantom mum'ling spak-
Whare heather blooms and muircocks craw,

Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum ? 0! dig my grave, and hide my banes

0! had ye seen the bairns' fright, Amang the hills o' Gallowa'.

As they stared at this wild and unyirthly wight;

As they skulkit in 'tween the dark and the light, Lucy's Flittin'.

And graned out, Aiken-drum! [By William Laidlaw.]

The black dog growling cowered his tail, [William Laidlaw is son of the Ettrick Shepherd's master at the lassie swarfed, loot fa’ the pail; Blackhouse. All who have read Lockhart's Life of Scott, Rob's lingle brak as he men't the flail, know how closely Mr Laidlaw was connected with the illus

At the sight o’Aiken-drum. trious baronet of Abbotsford. He was his companion in some of his early wanderings, his friend and land-steward in ad. His matted head on his breast did rest, vanced years, his amanuensis in the composition of some of A lang blue beard wan'ered down like a vest; his novels, and he was one of the few who watched over his But the glare o' his ee hath nae bard exprest, last sad and painful moments. Lucy's Flittin' is deservedly Nor the skimes o’ Aiken-drum. popular for its unaffected tenderness and simplicity. printing the song, biogg added the last four lines to complete Roun' his hairy form there was naething seen the story.')

But a philabeg o' the rashes green, 'Twas when the wan leaf frae the birk-tree was fa'in, An' his knotted knees played aye knoit between And Martinmas dowie had wound up the year,

What a sight was Aiken-drum ! That Lucy rowed up her wee kist wi' her a' in't,

On his wauchie arms three claws did meet, And left her auld maister and neibours sae dear :

As they trailed on the grun' by his taeless feet;
For Lucy had served i’ the glen a'the simmer; E'en the auld gudeman himsel' did sweat,
She cam there afore the bloom cam on the pea;

To look at Aiken-drum.
An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her,
Sure that was the thing brocht the tear to her ee. But he drew a score, himsel did sain,

The auld wife tried, but her tongue was gane;
She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stannin';
Richt sair was his kind heart her flittin' to see ;

While the young ane closer clasped her wean,

And turned frae Aiken-drum. 'Fare ye weel, Lucy!' quo' Jamie, and ran in;

The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae her ee. But the canny auld wife cam till her breath,
As down the burn-side she gaed slow wi' her flittin', And she deemed the Bible might ward aff scaith,

ye weel, Lucy!' was ilka bird's sang; Be it benshee, bogle, ghaist, or wraithShe heard the craw sayin't, high on the tree sittin',

But it feared na Aiken-drum. And Robin was chirpin't the brown leaves amang. "Oh, what is't that pits my puir heart in a flutter?

His presence protect us! quoth the auld gudeman;

"What wad ye, whare won ye, by sea or by lan?? And what gars the tears come sae fast to my ee?

I conjure ye-speak—by the beuk in my han'!' If I wasna ettled to be ony better,

What a grane ga'e Aiken-drum!
Then what gars me wish ony better to be?
I'm just like a lammie that loses its mither;

'I lived in a lan' where we saw nae sky, Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see; I dwalt in a spot where a burn rins na by; I fear I hae tint my puir heart a'thegither,

But I'se dwall now wi' you if ye like to tryNae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee.

Hae ye wark for Aiken-drum?


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I'll shiel a' your sheep i’ the mornin' sune,
l'll berry your crap by the light o' the moon,

An' ba the bairns wi an unkenned tune,
If ye'll keep puir Aiken-drum.

[By Joseph Train.)

(Mr Train will be memorable in our literary history for the I'll loup the linn when ye canna wade,

assistance he rendered to Sir Walter Scott in the contributia I'll kirn the kirn, an' i'll turn the bread;

of some of the stories on which the Waverley porels were An' the wildest filly that ever ran rede,

founded. He entered life as a private soldier, and rose by l'se tame’t,' quoth Aiken-drum.

merit to be a supervisor of excise, from which situation be

has now retired on a superannuation allowance.] To wear the tod frae the flock on the fell,

Wi’ drums and pipes the clachan rang, To gather the dew frae the heather bell,

I left my goats to wander wide;
An' to look at my face in your clear crystal well,

And e'en as fast as I could bang,
Might gi'e pleasure to Aiken-drum.

I bickered down the mountain side.
I'se seek nae guids, gear, bond, nor mark;

My hazel rung and haslock plaid

Awa' I flang wi' cauld disdain, I use nae beddin', shoon, nor sark;

Resolved I would nae langer bide
But a cogfu' o' brose 'tween the light an' dark

To do the auld thing o'er again.
Is the wage o' Aiken-drum.'

Ye barons bold, whose turrets rise
Quoth the wylie auld wife, 'The thing speaks weel ;

Aboon the wild woods white wi' snaw, Our workers are scant-we hae routh o' meal;

I trow the laddies ye may prize,
Gif he'll do as he says-be he man, be he deil-

Wha fight your battles far awa'.
Wow! we'll try this Aiken-drum.'

Wi' them to stan', wi' them to fa',
But the wenches skirled, 'He's no be here!

Courageously I crossed the main; His eldritch look gars us swarf wi' fear;

To see, for Caledonia,
An' the feint a ane will the house come near,

The auld thing weel done o'er again.
If they think but o' Aiken-drum.'

Right far a-fiel' I freely fought,

'Gainst mony an outlandish loon; • Puir clipmalabors! ye hae little wit;

An' wi' my good claymore I've brought Is’tna hallowmas now, an' the crap out yet?'

Mony a beardy birkie down: Sae she silenced them a' wi’ a stamp o' her fit

While I had pith to wield it roun', 'Sit yer wa's down, Aiken-drum.'

In battle I ne'er met wi' ane

Could danton me, for Britain's crown,
Roun' a' that side what wark was dune

To do the same thing o'er again.
By the streamer's gleam, or the glance o' the moon;
A word, or a wish, an' the brownie cam sune,

Although I'm marching life's last stage,
Sae helpfu' was Aiken-drum.

Wi' sorrow crowded roun' my brow;

An' though the knapsack o' auld age On Blednoch banks, an' on crystal Cree,

Hangs heavy on my shoulders nowFor mony a day a toiled wight was he;

Yet recollection, ever new,
While the bairns played harmless roun' his knee,

Discharges a' my toil and pain,
Sae social was Aiken-drum.

When fancy figures in my view

The pleasant auld thing o'er again.
But a new-made wife, fu' o' frippish freaks,
Fond o' a' things feat for the five first weeks,
Laid a mouldy pair o' her ain man's breeks

The Cameronian's Dream.
By the brose o' Aiken-drum.

[By James Hislop] Let the learned decide when they convene,

[James Hislop was born of humble parents in the parish el What spell was him an' the breeks between;

Kirkconnel, in the neighbourhood of Sanquhar, near the sources For frae that day forth he was nae mair seen,

of the Nith, in July 1798. He was employed as a shepherd-boy An' sair-missed was Aiken-drum.

in the vicinity of Airsmoss, where, at the gravestone of a perty of slain covenanters, he composed the following striking portal

. He was heard by a herd gaun by the Thrieve, He afterwards became a teacher, and his poetical efuegos Crying, 'Lang, lang now may I greet an' grieve;

having attracted the favourable notice of Lord Jeffrey, and For, alas ! I hae gotten baith fee an’ leave

other eminent literary characters, he was, through their infu0! luckless Aiken-drum !

ence, appointed schoolmaster, first on board the Doris, and sub

sequently the Tweed man-of-war. He died on the 4th DecemAwa, ye wrangling sceptic tribe,

ber 1827 from fever caught by sizeping one night in the open Wi’ your pros an' your cons wad ye decide

air upon the island of St Jago. His compositions display an 'Gain the sponsible voice o’a hale country side,

elegant rather than a vigorous imagination, much chastenes On the facts 'bout Aiken-drum?

of thought, and a pure but ardent love of nature.]

In a dream of the night I was wafted away, Though the ‘ Brownie o' Blednoch’ lang be gane, To the muirland of mist where the martyrs lay; The mark o' his feet's left on mony a stane ;

Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are seen, An' mony a wife an' mony a wean

Engraved on the stone where the heather grows green. Tell the feats o' Aiken-drum.

'Twas a dream of those ages of darkness and blood, E'en now, light loons that jibe an’ sneer

When the minister's home was the mountain and


; At spiritual guests an' a' sic gear,

When in Wellwood's dark valley the standard of Zion

, At the Glashnoch mill hae swat wi' fear,

| All bloody and torn 'mong the heather was lying An' looked roun' for Aiken-drum.

'Twas morning; and summer's young sun from the east a

Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's breast; At the roaring linn, in the howe o' the night,

Glistened there 'mong the heath bells and mountain Wi' sughs like Aiken-drum.

flowers blue.



And far up in heaven near the white sunny cloud, classes. The increased competition in business has The song of the lark was melodious and loud, also made our 'nation of shopkeepers' a busier and And in Glenmuir's wild solitude, lengthened and deep, harder-working race than their forefathers; and the Were the whistling of plovers and bleating of sheep. diffusion of cheap literature may have further tended And Wellwood's sweet valleys breathed music and tainment for the masses at home at a cheaper rate

to thin the theatres, as furnishing intellectual entergladness, The fresh meadow blooms hung in beauty and redness; appear to have had considerable influence in this mat

than dramatic performances. The London managers Its daughters were happy to hail the returning, And drink the delights of July's sweet morning.

ter. They lavish enormous sums on scenic decoration

and particular actors, and aim rather at filling their But, oh! there were hearts cherished far other feelings, houses by some ephemeral and dazzling display, than Illumed by the light of prophetic revealings,

by the liberal encouragement of native talent and Who drank from the scenery of beauty but sorrow, genius. To improve, or rather re-establish the acted For they knew that their blood would bedew it to- drama, a periodical writer suggests that there should

be a classification of theatres in the metropolis, as in

Paris, where each theatre has its distinct species of "Twas the few faithful ones who with Cameron were

the drama, and performs it well. We believe,' he lying, Concealed 'mong the mist where the heathfowl was endeavour of managers to succeed by commixing

says, 'that the evil is mainly occasioned by the vain crying,

every species of entertainment-huddling together For the horsemen of Earlshall around them were

tragedy, comedy, farce, melo-drama, and spectaclehovering, And their bridle reins rung through the thin misty the dramatic public to their respective houses. Im

and striving, by alternate exhibitions, to draw all covering

perfect-very imperfect companies for each species Their faces grew pale, and their swords were un- are engaged; and as, in consequence of the general sheathed,

imperfection, they are forced to rely on individual But the vengeance that darkened their brow was un excellence, individual performers become of inordibreathed;

nate importance, and the most exorbitant salaries With eyes turned to heaven in calm resignation, are given to procure them. These individuals are They sung their last song to the God of Salvation. thus placed in a false position, and indulge them

selves in all sorts of mannerisms and absurdities. The The hills with the deep mournful music were ringing, public is not unreasonably dissatisfied with imperThe curlew and plover in concert were singing;

fect companies and bad performances; the managers But the melody died 'mid derision and laughter,

wonder at their ruin; and critics become elegiacal As the host of ungodly rushed on to the slaughter.

over the mournful decline of the drama! Not in this Though in mist and in darkness and fire they were way can a theatre flourish; since, if one species of shrouded,

performance proves attractive, the others are at a disYet the souls of the righteous were calm and unclouded, count, and their companies become useless burdens ; Their dark eyes flashed lightning, as, firm and un- if none of them prove attractive, then the loss ends in bending,

ruin.'* Too many instances of this have occurred They stood like the rock which the thunder is rending. within the last twenty years. Whenever a play of

real excellence has been brought forward, the public The muskets were flashing, the blue swords were has shown no insensibility to its merits ; but so many gleaming,

circumstances are requisite to its successful repreThe helmets were cleft, and the red blood was stream- sentation-so expensive are the companies, and so

ing, The heavens grew dark, and the thunder was rolling, capricious the favourite actors--that men of talent When in Wellwood's dark muirlands the mighty were matic talent is also a rare gift. Some of the most

are averse to hazard a competition. The true drafalling.

eminent poets have failed in attempting to portray When the righteous had fallen, and the combat was actual life and passion in interesting situations on ended,

the stage ; and as Fielding and Smollett proved unA chariot of fire through the dark cloud descended; successful in comedy (though the former wrote a Its drivers were angels on horses of whiteness,

number of pieces), so Byron and Scott were found And its burning wheels turned on axles of brightness. wanting in the qualities requisite for the tragic

drama. “It is evident,' says Campbell, “that MelA seraph unfolded its doors bright and shining,

pomene demands on the stage something, and a good All dazzling like gold of the seventh refining,

deal more, than even poetical talent, rare as that And the souls that came forth out of great tribulation, is. She requires a potent and peculiar faculty for Have mounted the chariots and steeds of salvation.

the invention of incident adapted to theatric effect; On the arch of the rainbow the chariot is gliding,

a faculty which may often exist in those who have Through the path of the thunder the horsemen are been bred to the stage, but which, generally speakriding;

ing, has seldom been shown by any poets who were Glide swiftly, bright spirits! the prize is before ye,

not professional players. There are exceptions to A crown never fading, a kingdom of glory!

the remark, but there are not many. If Shakspeare

had not been a player, he would not have been the DRAMATISTS.

dramatist that he is.' Dryden, Addison, and Con

greve, are conspicuous exceptions to this rule; also Dramatic literature no longer occupies the promi- Goldsmith in comedy, and, in our own day, Sir Ednent place it held in former periods of our history. ward Lytton Bulwer in the romantic drama. The Various causes have been assigned for this decline-Colmans, Sheridan, Morton, and Reynolds, never,

9, the great size of the theatres, the monopoly of the we believe, wore the sock or buskin; but they were ti , large London houses, the love of spectacle or either managers, or closely connected with the scenic display which has usurped the place of the theatre. legitimate drama, and the late dinner hours now prevalent among the higher and even the middle

* Edinburgh Review for 1843.


In the first year of this period, ROBERT JEPHSON associates! partners my toil, my feelings, ar (1736-1803) produced his tragedy of The Count of my fame! Can Rolla's words add vigour to the Narbonne, copied from Walpole's Castle of Otranto, virtuous energies which inspire your hearts? Ye! and it was highly attractive on the stage. In 1785 you have judged, as I have, the foulness of the Jephson brought out another tragedy, The Duke of crafty plea by which these bold invaders would do Braganza, which was equally successful. He wrote lude you. Your generous spirit has compared, as three other tragedies, some farces, and operas; but mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, (2 the whole are now utterly neglected. Jephson was animate their minds and ours. They, by a strang no great dramatic writer; but a poetical critic has frenzy driven, fight for power, for plunder, and exrecorded to his honour, that, "at a time when the tended rule. We, for our country, our altars, and native genius of tragedy seemed to be extinct, he our homes. They follow an adventurer whom they came boldly forward as a tragic poet, and certainly fear, and a power which they hate. We serve a with a spark of talent; for if he has not the full monarch whom we love—a God whom we adore! flame of genius, he has at least its scintillating light.' Where'er they move in anger, desolation tracks the The dramatist was an Irishman by birth, a captain progress; where'er they pause in amity, afflictica in the army, and afterwards a member of the Irish mourns their friendship. They boast they come House of Commons.

but to improve our state, enlarge our thoughts, at The stage was aroused from a state of insipidity free us from the yoke of error. Yes, they will give or degeneracy by the introduction of plays from the enlightened freedom to our minds, who are themGerman, which, amidst much false and exaggerated selves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride. sentiment, appealed to the stronger sympathies of our They offer us their protection; yes, such protection nature, and drew crowded audiences to the theatres. as vultures give to lambs-covering and devouring One of the first of these was The Stranger, said to be them! They call on us to barter all of good we translated by Benjamin Thompson ; but the greater have inherited and proved, for the desperate chance part of it, as it was acted, was the production of of something better which they promise. Be our Sheridan. It is a drama of domestic life, not very plain answer this: the throne ue honour is the moral or beneficial in its tendencies (for it is calcu- people's choice; the laws we reverence are our brate lated to palliate our detestation of adultery), yet fathers' legacy; the faith we follow teaches us to abounding in scenes of tenderness and surprise, well live in bonds of charity with all mankind, and die adapted to produce effect on the stage. The princi- with hopes of bliss beyond the grave. Tell your pal characters were acted by Kemble and Mrs Sid. invaders this, and tell them, too, we seek no chanze

. dons, and when it was brought out in the season of and least of all such change as they would bring us' 1797-8, it was received with immense applause. In Animated apostrophes like these, rolled from 1799 Sheridan adapted another of Kotzebue's plays, the lips of_Kemble, and applied, in those dars Pizarro, which experienced still greater success. In of war, to British valour and patriotism arrayed the former drama the German author had violated against France, could hardly fail of an enthusiastic the proprieties of our moral code, by making an in- reception. A third drama by Kotzebue was some jured husband take back his guilty though penitent years afterwards adapted for the English stage by wife ; and in Pizarro he has invested a fallen female Mrs Inchbald, and performed under the title i with tenderness, compassion, and heroism. The obtru- | Lovers' Vows. “The grand moral of the play is sion of such a character as a prominent figure in the to set forth the miserable consequences which arise scene was at least indelicate ; but, in the hands of Mrs from the neglect, and to enforce the watchful care Siddons, the taint was scarcely perceived, and Sheri- of illegitimate offspring; and surely as the puljit dan had softened down the most objectionable parts. has not had eloquence to eradicate the crime of The play was produced with all the aids of splendid seduction, the stage may be allowed a humble en. scenery, music, and fine acting, and these, together deavour to prevent its most fatal effects.' Lovers' with its displays of generous and heroic feeling on Vows also became a popular acting play, for stage the part of Rolla, and of parental affection in Alonzo effect was carefully studied, and the scenes and and Cora, were calculated to lead captive a general situations skilfully arranged. While filling the audience. “Its subject was also new, and peculiarly theatres, Kotzebue's plays were generally condenined fortunate. It brought the adventures of the most by the critics. They cannot be said to have proromantic kingdom of Christendom (Spain) into pic- duced any permanent bad effect on our national turesque combination with the simplicity and super-morals, but they presented many false and pernicious stitions of the transatlantic world ; and gave the pictures to the mind. There is an affectation,' as imagination a new and fresh empire of paganism, Scott remarks, of attributing noble and virtuous with its temples, and rites, and altars, without the sentiments to the persons least qualified by habit ar stale associations of pedantry.' Some of the senti. education to entertain them; and of describing the ments and descriptions in Pizarro are said to have higher and better educated classes as uniformly de originally formed part of Sheridan's famous speech ficient in those feelings of liberality, generosity, and on the impeachment of Warren Hastings! They are honour, which may be considered as proper to their often inflated and bombastic, and full of rhetorical situation in life. This contrast may be true in parglitter. Thus Rollo soliloquises in Alonzo's dungeon: ticular instances, and being used sparingly, might

-- O holy Nature ! thou dost never plend in vain. afford a good moral lesson ; but in spite of truth and There is not of our earth a creature, bearing form probability, it has been assumed, upon all occasions and life, human or savage, native of the forest wild by those authors as the groundwork of a sort of in. or giddy air, around whose parent bosom thou hast tellectual Jacobinism. Scott himself, it will be re ! not a cord entwined of power to tie them to their collected, was fascinated by the German drama, and offspring's claims, and at thy will to draw them back translated a play of Goethe. The excesses of Kotze to thee. On iron pinions borne the blood-stained bue were happily ridiculed by Canning and Ellis in vulture cleaves the storm, yet is the plumage closest their amusing satire, The Rovers. At length, after to her heart soft as the cygnet's down; and o'er lier a run of unexampled success, these plays ceased unshelled brood the murmuring ring-dove sits not to attract attention, though one or two are still more gently.'

occasionally performed. With all their absurdities, Or the speech of Rolla to the Peruvian army we cannot but believe that they exercised an inat the consecration of the banners :— My brave spiring influence on the rising genius of that age.

They dealt with passions, not with manners, and single tragedies ; and she would have invented more awoke the higher feelings and sensibilities of our stirring incidents to justify the passion of her chanature. Good plays were also mingled with the racters, and to give them that air of fatality which, bad: if Kotzebue was acted, Goëthe and Schiller though peculiarly predominant in the Greek drama, were studied. The Wallenstein was translated by will also be found, to a certain extent, in all successColeridge, and the influence of the German drama ful tragedies. Instead of this, she contrives to make was felt by most of the young poets.

all the passions of her main characters proceed from One of those who imbibed a taste for the mar- the wilful natures of the beings themselves. Their vellous and the romantic from this source was feelings are not precipitated by circumstances, like MATTHEW GREGORY LEWIS, whose drama, The a stream down a declivity, that leaps from rock to Castle Spectre, was produced in 1797, and was per- rock; but, for want of incident, they seem often like formed about sixty successive nights. It is full of water on a level, without a propelling impulse.'* supernatural horrors, deadly revenge, and assassina- The design of Miss Baillie in restricting her dramas tion, with touches of poetical feeling, and some well- each to the elucidation of one passion, appears cermanaged scenes. In the same year Lewis adapted tainly to have been an unnecessary and unwise rea tragedy from Schiller, entitled The Minister ; and straint, as tending to circumscribe the business of this was followed by a succession of dramatic pieces the piece, and exclude the interest arising from --Rolla, a tragedy, 1799 ; The East Indian, a comedy, varied emotions and conflicting passions. It cannot 1800; Adelmorn, or the Outlaw, a drama, 1801; be said to have been successful in her own case, and Rugantio, a melo-drama, 1805; Adelgitha, a play, it has never been copied by any other author. Sir 1806 ; Venoni, a drama, 1809; One o'Clock, or the Walter Scott has eulogised Basil's love and MontKnight and Wood Demon, 1811; Timour the Tartar, fort's hate' as something like a revival of the ina melo-drama, 1812 ; and Rich and Poor, a comic spired strain of Shakspeare. The tragedies of Count opera, 1812. The Castle Spectre is still occasionally Basil and De Montfort are among the best of Miss performed; but the diffusion of a more sound and Baillie's plays; but they are more like the works of healthy taste in literature has banished the other | Shirley, or the serious parts of Massinger, than the dramas of Lewis equally from the stage and the glorious dramas of Shakspeare, so full of life, of inpress. To the present generation they are unknown.cident, and imagery. Miss Baillie's style is smooth They were fit companions for the ogres, giants, and and regular, and her plots are both original and Blue-beards of the nursery tales, and they have carefully constructed; but she has no poetical luxushared the same oblivion.

riance, and few commanding situations. Her tragic

scenes are too much connected with the crime of JOANNA BAILLIE.

murder, one of the easiest resources of a tragedian;

and partly from the delicacy of her sex, as well as The most important addition to the written drama from the restrictions imposed by her theory of comat this time was the first volume of Joanna BAILLIE's position, she is deficient in that variety and fulness plays on the passions, published in 1798 under the of passion, the form and pressure' of real life, which title of A Series of Plays : in which it is attempted to are so essential on the stage. The design and plot Delineate the Stronger Passions of the Mind, each of her dramas are obvious almost from the first act Passion being the subject of a Tragedy and a Comedy. -a circumstance that would be fatal to their sucTo the volume was prefixed a long and interesting cess in representation. The unity and intellectual introductory discourse, in which the authoress dis- completeness of Miss Baillie's plays are their most cusses the subject of the drama in all its bearings, striking characteristics. Her simple masculine style, and asserts the supremacy of simple nature over all so unlike the florid or insipid sentimentalism then decoration and refinement. 'Let one simple trait prevalent, was a bold innovation at the time of her of the human heart, one expression of passion, two first volumes ; but the public had fortunately genuine and true to nature, be introduced, and it taste enough to appreciate its excellence. Miss will stand forth alone in the boldness of reality , Baillie was undoubtedly a great improver of our whilst the false and unnatural around it fades away poetical diction. upon every side, like the rising exhalations of the morning.'. This theory (which anticipated the dis

[Scene from De Montfort. ] sertations and most of the poetry of Wordsworth) the accomplished dramatist illustrated in her plays,

[De Montfort explains to his sister Jane his hatred of Rezenthe merits of which were instantly recognised, and velt, which at last hurries him into the crime of murder. The a second edition called for in a few months. 'Miss gradual deepening of this malignant passion, and its frightful Baillie was then in the thirty-fourth year of her age. character of De Montfort, his altered habits and appearance

catastrophe, are powerfully depicted. We may remark, that the In 1802 she published a second volume, and in 1812 after his travels, his settled gloom, and the violence of his pasa third. In the interval she had produced a volume sions, seem to have been the prototype of Byron's Manfred and of miscellaneous dramas (1804), and The Family Lara.] Legend (1810), a tragedy founded on a Highland tradition, and brought out with success at the Edin

De Mon. No more, my sister, urge me not again; burgh theatre. In 1836 this authoress published My secret troubles cannot be revealed. three more volumes of plays, her career as a dramatic From all participation of its thoughts

My heart recoils: I pray thee be contented. writer thus extending over the long period of thirtyeight years. Only one of her dramas has ever been observe thy restless eye and gait disturbed

Jane. What! must 1, like a distant humble friend, performed on the stage : De Montfort was brought in timid silence, whilst with yearning heart out by Kemble shortly after its appearance, and was I turn aside to weep? O no, De Montfort ! acted eleven nights. It was again introduced in 1821, A nobler task thy nobler mind will give; to exhibit the talents of Kean in the character of Thy true intrusted friend I still shall be. De Montfort ; but this actor remarked that, though

De Mon. Ah, Jane, forbear! I cannot e'en to thee. a fine poem, it would never be an acting play. The

Jane. Then fie upon it! fie upon it, Montfort ! author who mentions this circumstance, remarks

There was a time when e'en with murder stained, * If Joanna Baillie had known the stage practically, Had it been possible that such dire deed she would never have attached the importance which she does to the development of single passions in

* Campbell's Life of Mrs Siddons.

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