MR. ROSS NEIL'S PLAYS.*

THE publication of another volume by Mr. Ross Neil is a matter of literary interest. His Lady Jane Grey and Inez showed beyond all controversy that he possesses some of the choice qualities demanded of the dramatist and the poet. In those dramas there were a dignity and character of style, a felicity of expression, a play of imagination, and a sustained interest, which raised them far above the rank of most modern plays, whether intended for the stage or for the closet. And the reception they met with, if not from the public, at any rate from men whose judgment was of the highest value, was marked by a glow of sympathy rarely accorded to the first work of an unknown author. In those two plays the imagination of the poet was blended with the skill of the playwright. Whether, in the present degenerate state of the theatre, the representation of such plays would prove • Plays—The co. The King and the Angel. Date for a Day ; or, the Rater of Di' eels. By Bon Neil. London: Ellis and White. 1874. satisfactory to a manager may be doubted ; but if it were possible,. as has been frequently proposed, to have one theatre in London for the sole representation of the poetical drama, and if this idea, so fruitful in suggestion, could be carried out satisfactorily by- actors who were proud of their calling, and before a sympathetic audience, Mr. Neil's dramas would be received, we think, with the approval they merit.

Of the three plays before us, the first appears eminently fitted for the stage, or rather for what the stage was in the days of Mrs. Sid- dons and John Kemble. Recollections of Corneille's drama and Herder's ballads, of Southey's translations of the Spanish Chronicle, of Lockhart's versions of eight romances of the Cid, and of Mr. Dennis's short chronicle of the Cid, will probably occur to the reader as he takes up Mr. Neil's play. It may be as well to say,. therefore, that the dramatist occupies new ground, and neither fol- lows the ancient histories of the Cid, nor the modern interpreters of those famous stories. The names are familiar, and the chief occurrences of the drama are founded on the old narrative. Here, as in the Chronicle, Count Gomez insults Diego, the father of Rodrigo, and is slain in fair combat by the son ; here, too,. Ximena figures as Rodrigo's lover, but in the Chronicle she asks the King to marry her to Rodrigo, in order that she may share his wealth and pardon him with a good-will, while in the play the two are secretly engaged before the unfortunate encounter, after which Ximena's love is, to all appearance, turned to hatred. Indeed the author is justified in saying that in details of execution, and in some essential features of the general plan, he has worked independently of either French or Spanish predecessors. The re- sult is in many respects eminently satisfactory. From first to last, the play is free from weakness or extravagance, there is in it nothing that is superfluous, the situations are powerful, and might be made highly effective on the stage, the language is pure and elevated, never rising indeed into a splendid strain of poetry, but on the other hand, never falling below the dignity of the subject. Moreover, the characters are well conceived and well sustained. Mr. Neil, how- ever, should be warned against trying his skill in the direction of the lyric, for he has not the lyrical faculty, and his songs, at the best, axe but clever exercises in verse. They are respectable pro- ductions, but they are not poetry. The writer's dramatic genius is _ shown mainly—as no doubt it ought to be—in the delineation of character and in the representation of strong scenes. There is no rare beauty of description, no words that seize hold of the imagi- nation, no dainty passages likely to live in the memory, and here and there, where Mr. Neil does attempt to supplement action with what may be called prettiness of expression, he is not always suc- cessful. Sometimes, and the remark applies equally to the three plays, the reader acquainted with our Elizabethan dramatists will come upon passages that sound like the echo of their verse, and occasionally the imitation is as obvious as it is unfortunate. For instance, Marlowe's exquisite couplet, which many a lover may have since addressed to his mistress,— "0 I thou art fairer than the evening air,

Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars,"

suggests the following lines, which sound something like a parody :-

" 0 ! she is fairer than the star that lies, A brooch in the morning's bosom."

These, however, are but small blemishes in really noble work, and we gladly turn from them to give a passage or two from The Cid illustrative of the writer's dramatic power.

When Roderigo, to his own deep grief, has slain Count Gomez, the King (so runs Mr. Neil's version of the story) yields to the passionate outburst of Ximena, and consents to banish the noble youth. Before leaving, Roderigo ventures into the garden of Ximena's house. There are passages in this scene which remind us, though slightly, of Romeo and Juliet ; but the interview, a portion of which we now transcribe, is of a widely different char- acter to that so exquisitely represented by Shakespeare in the second act of his play. Ximena, on Rodrigo's discovering him- self, declares that she is bound to avenge her father's death, unless he slay her first :— " Xim. Wilt thou not strike?

What shonldst thou fear ? If thou hast slain the chief Before whose sword the Moorish ranks went down Like the tall grass before the hissing scythe, This task is light ; strike quick, and slay thy foe.

Rod. Art thou so much my foe? then slay thou me ;

Here will I stand bare-headed to thy wrath. Call forth thy people, bid them hew me down : My life to me is hateful as to thee— So will I joy to prove it in thy sight.

Behold, I stand unweaponed. [Casting away his sword.

Call them forth ;

A word shall lir avenge thee. Xim. Ay, a word— Thou art bold to tempt me thus—a word—'tis so— Away'. I'll be avenged, but not by thee

Or aid of thine ; I'll be avenged, doubt not, But in the sight of day, before all men, 'ith warlike vengeance worthy of my house. Away, I say—and yet remember wall 'Tis not my pity spares thee, but my pride ; Deem not 'the pity, f were such strengh mine I could be well content to snap the pillars That hold up heaven's vault, and Samson-like Lie crushed myself in the ruin of all things, So might I crush the e too.

Rod. Thou hat'st me much—

I marvel not. Be happy, then, to know Thy hate hath found a helper in my love, Which in what land soe'er I wander forth Follows and gnaws my heart. As thou hat'st me So love I thee, and will till friendly death Bath pity on my pain.

Xim. Love, say'st thou? love ! Now would I hate myself were't not I know That in a traitor's word there dwells no truth.

Rod. Not traitor ! nay, not traitor I wretch accursed And hateful, but not traitor—that I did Wae done at honour's bidding.

Xim. And bath honour

No voice for me ? if honour bade thee slay, Shall it not bid me bate ? It shall, it doth- And finds me willing—murd'rer, never think But that it finds me willing.

Rod. Yea, I know—

Thou hat'st me—hat'st me—even so. Farewell ; I have seen thee—'tis enough—I will not stay To vex thee more ; a. banished man I go Forth from Castile, to breathe another air Than that thy breath makes gracious. Fare thee well

Thou hest my love for ever—I thy hate. [Exit. Xim. My hate-0 doubt it not—my hate—what else ? Is not this hate ? What ! weep ! 0 this is ill—

But 'tis with hate—so may I weep my fill. [Sinks down weeping. The Curtain falls."

In the third act, Rodrigo returns home in triumph after slaying the Moors, and saving his country. Ximena witnesses the honours paid to him, and when the King and the Cid—for this is now his title—appear in public, craves his Majesty either to put Rodrigo to death, or to send him once more to exile. Rodrigo declares his willingness to depart if she wishes it, and in the height of his glory feels himself the most accursed of men :-

".Yet was joy

Once mine; it lighted on me as the bird Rests on the tree in passing, and takes wing."

Ximena is shamed, but not changed, by the King's rebuke and the Queen's mild entreaties, and when Teresa, her companion, praises the Cid, and reminds her how greatly he suffers " by the pain of his great love," she replies that if she thought he loved her still, she would slay herself with rage, cries out vehemently for revenge, and laments her womanly weakness. Sancho, a former rival of Rodrigo, takes advantage of Ximena's excite- ment, and offers to avenge the Count's death, on condition that she gives him her hand. Ximena accepts the offer, but without dreaming that Sancho can really overcome the mighty Cid. She thinks not of treachery, however, and when her champion re- turns and tells her that he has betrayed Rodrigo to the Moors, her love revives in all its strength. She denounces Sancho, and implores succour and help for the man upon whom she had before desired to be avenged. When Ximena, accompanied by the Queen, enters the King's presence, the terrible news has been just received that the Cid is slain. In a fine passage the King relates the story, as heard from one who had escaped from "the place of blood." Then the true feeling of Ximena finds free expression, and the hatred which appeared to animate her whole being is swept away in a moment. She had thought it her duty to be angry, but the love so long repressed can be concealed no longer :—

" Queen. Alas, the day !

Xim. Who is't that weeps? What cause to mourn halt thou?

What cause have any here to mourn save me, That loved him and was loved? Fools, knew ye not? Had ye no eyes ? I loved him. 0 my Cid I My love, my life, my Cid, death will be sweet, Now that in dying I have leave to say I loved thee, loved thee, loved thee.—yea, and love, And will until my soul itself shall die.

King. Have I heard right? Xirn. How now You marvel, ha?

Ay marvel, marvel still ; you have good cause ;

I loved him, and I slew him. Slay me too,—

'Tie I have been his murderer. Yea, 'tie so ; I gave him up to death. 0 strike me down !

And I will bless vou for avenging him, Who is my heart's dear love.'

We may add that the concluding scene, which ends happily, is very admirably given.

Of the two dramas which follow The Cid, we have only space to say a few words. The King and the Angel gives the old story, presented in a modern dress by Leigh Uunt, of a King who for his evil deeds was changed for a time into a peasant, while an angel assumed his form and occupied his place. It is a skilfully written drama, and is intended to be humorous; but the humour, though genuine, is faint, and will scarcely raise a smile in the reader. On the stage, however, the case might be different, and there is assuredly no lack of power in the evolutions of the plot. King Robert, when deposed, has a fool for his companion, who, like the fools in Shakespeare, utters snatches of song, and gives sound advice to his companion. Mr. Neil's fool is a good moralist, but as a dramatic conception he is, we think, a failure. Indeed, the play, on the whole, does not leave a strong impression on the mind.

The Duke for a Day reminds the reader of the humour ex- hibited in the induction to the Taming of the Shrew, and such a comparison is, perhaps, unfortunate. The tailor of Brussels, Peter Schenk by name, is a demagogue who talks largely of freedom and equality, and of what he would do were he Duke for a day. The real Duke, a wanderer in disguise, overhears Peter's talk, and with the help of his companions, drugs the tailor's wine, carries him off to the palace, and treats him when he wakes as the Duke of Burgundy. Peter accepts his new position readily, and when puzzled at the transformation, is content to accept the statements of those around him, and especially of the doctor, that some fever has touched his brain. The humour of the piece lies in the contrast between Peter's character as tailor and as Duke, and in the manner in which he utters, after his former wont, his denun- ciations of tyranny, and then proceeds to act as a tyrant. Of course Peter grows a better and a wiser man after this brief experi- ence of the pains of government. In this play, as in the former, the writer carries out his plot with considerable skill.

These pieces, however, cleverly rendered though they be, will do nothing towards raising the reputation of the author of Lady Jane Grey and the Cid. They will be read with pleasure, for they are full of lively dialogue, and conta'n some striking scenes, but their value as works of art is by no means extraordinary.