OULITA, THE SERF. * IN some things instinct is greater than

art. This tragedy has everything except the dramatic " innatus amor," or more properly the innate turn. There is definite design, clearly conceived ana steadily pursued ; there is a large moral, which if not so well en- forced as it might have been by a plot whose instinctive producer never perhaps cared about a moral, clearly impresses the author's convictions. Deep and fresh thought is visible throughout, mingled with touches of humour, and knowledge of the world. There are speeches and even scenes of passion as well as power, a studied development of together with consistency in the persons. But the foundation of the story is scarcely equal to the superstruc- ture put upon it ; some of the persons—as the Emperor and the Minister of Police—are rather generalized than individualized types ; the conduct of the lover in professing affection for a woman he is about to marry while he really loves a serf, though natural enough in a nobleman and man of the world, does not command the sympathies in a tragic hero.

The object of Oulita is to exhibit the workings of despotic power in Russia, by developing its direct effects especially upon the bulk of the people, and, indicating its latent pressure even upon the general conduct of the highest classes. Count Von Strau- benheim is a patriot, and a friend of the Emperor, whom he endeavours to influence in favour of freedom. This naturally es-

• Oulita,the Serf: a Tragedy. Published by Parker and Son. cites the displeasure of those who profit by abuses, and more par- ticularly. of Baron Grtibner' the Minister of Police. It does not appear that this worthy has formed any plan beyond relying upon the chapter of accidents, and trusting to absence ; for the Count is about to depart as Ambassador to England, when he shall have married Marie the daughter of Prince Lanskof,—a match made or rather ordered by the Emperor. The inertness of the villain as regards the action of the drama—for except in subsequently tracking his victim in the way of business the Police Minister does nothing—is a fault in the dramatic structure : but satire may be intended. Oulita, an educated serf and companion to the Princess Marie, sets the tragic business in motion. The Count has previously met her disguised at Moscow, when she was study- ing music. His intentions at first do not very clearly appear' but his feelings are roused by the Princess condemning her to cor- poral punishment. The Count determines on her rescue ; and in accomplishing the design burns part of Prince LanslEofs mansion, slays one of his people, and evades the police. The abduction or killing of a serf would have been no very great affair, but to defy the Imperial Police is another matter, and the Emperor condemns Von Straubenheim to Siberia, when Griibner catches him. Both the ladies, however, exert themselves to procure his pardon ; and the Emperor grants it, on condition that, in order to save his own dignity, the marriage shall take place as originally intended. To facilitate this, Oulita poisons herself; but her lover, parting with kindness from Marie, passes on to his exile. Of poetry as an etherial something which is quite distinct from prose, however lofty and imaginative prose may be, there is little in Oulita. The most remarkable feature in the tragedy is power, appearing in range of mind, in depth and variety of thought, and force of expression. If passion is not quite reached, there is something like it, though it may not be the fiery passion of the true drama. This is from a scene where the Princess acting under the advice of Griibner, probes the Count on the subject of his feelings for the serf-girl.

" PHD:CW.8.

Oulita is not taken, but they are hard Upon her steps. COUNT.

Indeed?

PRINCESS.

My father's joy Is almost childish, for the good old man

Deemed this escape a personal insult to him—

An insult to his princedom. If but once We have that girl within our fangs, we'll teach her What 'tis such loving masters to betray ! We'll have her life—slowly, her life!

COUNT. Who are The "we'? PRINCESS.

Why, my good Lord, you would not spare her ? An insult to your Marie ! Why, how righteously You counselled kfitchka, the poor serf who died.

(Aside)—False man, I see it all ! (Aloud)—I'll have her life! COUNT.

And mine ! Play not with me an actress' part.

'Tis not the Prince, but you have seen the Baron,

That worthy man, the Chief of the Police. Deep in your breast lie doubts of me, of every one. And say the doubts were certainties—what then ? Say that a beauteous girl awaited scourging ; Say that a man—we'll put aside both Counts And Princes—say this man declared the girl

Should not be scourged—nay, more ! say out, he swore it Say, too, this faithless man was the betrothed—

PRINCESS.

There's surely no such villain, my good Lord ?

COUNT.

Nature is large, and villany is various—

But I'll prolong my storyay this man girl Asked nothing from the he saved, although He loved her. PRINCESS.

Quite immeasurable insolence !

COUNT.

The truth, Marie ! PRINCESS.

The Princess Lanskoff, Sir.

cor-yr.

Princess, you see the Kremlin there ? Its roofs, Its gildedminarets, its cupolas, Its towers ? As varied, as grotesque in form, Is the dread power that broods o'er Russia's destinies ; Nor rules alone by exiles, stripes, or prisons. One central tyranny, pervading now Our subtlest thoughts, now clad in priestly claims, Now to be seen in art, or song, or commerce, (Such diverse forms it takes, no magic power, Changing from shape to shape, is half so fanciful,) Besets the land.

Say that this man, this wretch, this perjured villain, Who loved one girl the while he wooed another, Or seemed to woo was but a serf himself, Enmeshed in craftiest toils, who chose a marriage To save, if not his life, at least his freedom, Freedom from exile.

No more I justify myeelf, nor seek To avert by one submissive word your enmity : I prithee, let it have its course. Think not I've scorned your beauty, or prized not the wealth Of wit, of soul, of fierce and loving brightness, That dwells in you. Let us be noble enemies. I would not ask you to befriend me, but I would not have betrayal at your hands.

Not for my sake, for yours. Madam, farewell!

[Exit the Count.

PILMCFSS.

But for this hateful girl he might have loved me.

How grand he seems e'en in defeat ! for most men,

In such a plight—so brought to bay—would lie, And cringe, and lie, and make one long to spurn them.

Shall I betray him? It were sweet—revenge

Is sweet. His life's at stake. One word of mine

Makes the thing clear, gives that old spy the clue.

I cannot do it. No! But her, Oulita!

Let me but once embrace her in this hate, And it shall stifle her. No need of Mitchkas- de't myself! [Exit the Princess."