THE THEATRES.

Its producing the Two Foscari for his benefit, MACREADY has con- nected the name of BYRON with the stage by another link : we are not sorry it is the last. Lord BYRON'S tragedies have each in turn been brought to the only true test of dramatic excellence—representation ; and they have all proved comparative failures. The fir.e acting of MACREADY gives to the Two Foscari, as it does to Werner, an interest that renders its disagreeableness tolerable ; but both dramas must rank with those that are rather the property of an actor than of the stage, and after liv- ing their hour in the public eye, pass away and are seen no more. The reason of this is not to be found in the author's plea that they were not intended for representation ; for he avowedly took great pains to adapt them for the stage. He was only coquetting with Melpomene when be deprecated their performance : this was a salvo for his reputation in case of failure. His chagrin at the production of Marino Faller° was caused by its ill success. Had he lived to see Werner a popular acting play, he would scarcely have objected to his share of the triumph, not- withstanding he professed not to aim at victory. Who knows, indeed, but that he might have devoted himself to writing for the theatre, could be have witnessed MACREADVS personations of Werner and the Doge Foscari?

The grand defect of all BYRON'S tragedies is that they neither melt the heart nor elevate the mind. They excite pain rather than pity, and rouse the antipathies instead of awakening the sympathies. Be chose unpleasant subjects, and treated them very uncomfortably. He seems to have conceived them in a worldly and bitter spirit : the harsh and caustic dialogue is in keeping with the fierce and gloomy sentiment. The style is epigrammatic : every sentence is a sarcasm or a repartee. His theory of adhering to the severe simplicity of the Greek model, superinduces a bald phraseology almost amounting to uncouthness, and a poverty of incident bordering on sterility. This concentration and singleness of purpose is an element of sublimity where moral gran. deur and exalted sentiment are combined with profound pathos and rapid action ; but where the characters are not of the highest order, and their motives are sensual, sordid, or selfish, and the incidents are neither cumulative nor progressive, the effect is unfavourable.

The Two Foscari is, perhaps, the strongest example of these defects. It has less action than the others : the suffering is more severe and in- voluntary; and, though unmerited, is not relieved by hope, nor made beautiful by patient resignation. The story, however historically

true, seems improbable. Ohl Fou-ari has been made Doge for life against his will, and, as it would appear, rather to thwart honour him ; and he performs the duties of his office with a pedtnhe - punctiliousness, as if the merit were in proportion to the disagreeable ness. He presides over the torture of his only surviving son je" typo; whom, though innocent, he sentences to banishment. JacOpell'-a

under this blow,

afflicted with the ma/ du pays to such an extreme, that he prefers a dungeon and the rack in Venice to ease and liberty away fropm and purposely eotnmits an offence against the state that he might le brought back again to torture arid imprisonment ; when, being again banished, he dies in despair. The Doge, staggering receives the coup de grace by being deposed: he dies heart-broken at being deprived of that office he twice voluntarily offered to resign am unwillingly held. The woes of characters such as these are not the best materials for tragedy. Nor are they improved by the way in which they are wrought up. Loredano, the implacable foe of the Poscart, and the chief agent of their destruction, is prompted by revenge for supposed injuries; but even he seems to be but an instrument in the hands of Fate, and follows up his purpose with mechanical pertinacity

Marina, the wife of Jacopo Foscari. is the only sensible person. She alone breathes and speaks freely, and acts rationally : the others seem

to live in a moral atmosphere that stifles the natural emotions, and to be playing a deadly game of cross purposes. The author says his aim is to exhibit suppressed passion : in this he has succeeded ; but the re- sult is not in favour of the experiment. Nor was it necessary to run into this extreme to avoid rant. The eloquence of deep emotion, the overfitosings of the heart, the secret aspirations of the soul—these are the wealth of tragic poetry : when they are frozen up in the iced stoicism, all is cold, barren, and repulsive.

Maces:Apr as the Doge looked and moved and spoke as if he were

but the outward form of humanity,—a palsied machine of state : his heart appeared withered by age and suffering, and the soul seemed pining in a golden cage. As he sate trembling with the effort to sup. press emotions that mocked his lot titude, and clinging fondly to the notion of duty and patriotism, he appeared a living image of the fallacy of the stoic creed. When his natural feelings, freed from the restraint of dissimulation, found vent, and the father threw himself on his son's neck, then only were our sympathies awakened. MACREADY embodied the character with such art, that the most delicate indications of the author's idea became traits of individual resemblance, filling up the outline with living reality. The character itself being, to a great ex- tent, artificial, we bad more leisure to trace the skill of the artist. Mr. ANDERSON played Jacopo very well ; but his performance lacked the nice discrimination that is more the result of feeling than of study. WARDE, as the stern, unrelenting Loredano, showed too much mobility of manner : the character of this impenetrable man calls up the image of a bronze statue. Miss FAUCIT was the Marina : it is one of those characters that cannot fail of being effective in any hands, and its vehe- mence suits Miss Faucir's energy ; but she falls into the error of sub- stituting violence for passion. Her Marina is no better than a scold.

Every subordinate part was well tilled, as usual ; but the ensembk of

the costume and scenery was not so entirely perfect as we are accus- tomed to see it at Covent Garden. The hall of the Ducal Palace, hung round with portraits—that of Marino Faleiro covered with ahlack veil, inscribed with his doom—transported us in fancy to Venice, and we seemed to behold the paintings of TINTORET and PAUL VERO- NESE : the Doge in his gorgeous robes and bonnet realized the pic- ture. The dungeon, too, with its arched openings in the gloomy walls, through which the torches gleamed and the figures appeared as they descended, looked as if the Adriatic wave washed its sides.

MACREADY was greeted by a crowded house both on his first appear- ance and when called for after the play, with enthusiasm as lively u ever passed from gratified audience to favourite actor and meritorious manager.

The new opera, Windsor Castle, the music by GRE/SBACH, turned

out an unfortunate affair. The audience, after the strong excitement of time tragedy, were in no humour to be pleased with light and pleasing music, neither very striking nor various in character ; and, according to custom, introduced by an inefficient and uninteresting drams. Wisson looked the Prisoner-King extremely well, and sang very

chastely; but when the drop rose on the second act, and the Scottish Monarch, whom the chorus had just before been congratulating on oh. taming his liberty, appeared behind the bars of his prison at 1Vindsor, and after breaking away the stancheons of lath fairly jumped out of the window, laughter mingled with the hisses, and the doom of the piece was sealed: The prettiest air was a plaintive melody, which MANVERS sung very sweetly behind the scenes.