THE STUDENT OF PADUA.

THIS "domestic tragedy" is privately printed ; but we learn by a preface, dated from Venice, that its author rather defies than declines criticism, and if he does not nourish the hope that his piece will be performed, lie "cannot deny that he thinks it worthy of a trial:" a conclusion in which the critic differs from the

The The moral which the Student of Padua is written to inculcate, appears to be, the misery that arises from thwarting the natural dispositions of children. The father of Julian, the Student, is a Venetian merchant, bent upon seeing his sena doctor, whereas the aspirations of the son are to become a poet. After some domestic dissensions springing from this difference of views, Julian is cast upon the world by his father, Lorenzo, just as lie has fallen deeply in love with Bianca, the daughter of Lorenzo's intimate acquaintance. The ambition of the lady's parents has previously destined her to be the wife of Barbarigo, a dissipated, unprin- cipled noble, m ho entertains a grudge against Julian in conse- querce of being defeated by him at college. When affairs have reached this conjuncture, Frederick St. Cyr, a dissipated poet and a friend of Julian, overhears Barbarigo proposing to a hired serenader the assassination of the Student; challenges him, fights, and falls—we know not why ; but the noble subsequently encounters Julian, is disarmed, and both are arrested by the po- lice. Gold procures the release of Barbarigo; the tribunals dismiss the Student ; who, after wandering on the Euganean Hills, re-

turns to Venice in distress and shaken in his mind, and haunts one of the neighbouring islands in a kind of Mad Tom fashion. Here lie is poisoned, by a contrivance of Barbarigo's, in order to

facilitate his own suit by the removal of a rival; the dramatis persona. are assembled round the corpse, just after the fashion of witnesses dropping into un inquest; Lorenzo, after losing his wife through grief, repents too late, and rushes out distracted; Bianca goes distracted over the body ; the officers of justice arrest Barbarigo on the charge of murder ; and the tragedy ends with this reflection—

Now retribution falls upon you all ! Vengeance may slumber, but she never dies ! Time brings our deepest hidden sins to light, And justice one day overtakes us all ! Long, long, throughout the startled land, shall ring

The sad recital of this tragedy—

And may the moral not be cast away !"

How far the main elements of such a fable are adapted to dra- matic purposes, may be questioned ; for the tangible calamities which beset immature genius struggling with fortune are too sor- did in their nature to bear actual representation ; and the men- tal distress, arising from long corroding thought and continued emotion, scarcely seems to admit of that pithy anti condensed passion essential to scenic effect. But in the Student of Padua the author exhibits so little dramatic power in the combination of his original elements, and has contrived their dramatic arrange- ment with so little art, that the characters and occurrences seem insufficient to cause the catastrophe, or give rise to the distresses which precede it ; whilst, as may be conjectured from this failure, the more specific parts do not redeem this fundamental defect. The action is languid; the incidents are few ; some of the scenes and persons neither carry on the story nor conduce to its denoue- ment ; most of the characters want vitality—they are abstractions rather than individuals; and the dialogue, though at times written with a view to effect in acting, is generally too long, and is defi- cient in that spirit and briskness which is the characteristic of true dramatic discourse.

These remarks apply to the tragedy as a whole. There are parts of some merit ; though often so little interwoven with the play as to look like interpolations by a superior artist. The character of St. Cyr, a sour and sensual Mercutio, is not un- happily conceived; and the more general aristocratic traits, which Barbarigo possesses in common with his " order," are marked with a fine and a firm hand. The parting interview between Julian and his mother has some faint touches of pathos; several of the scenes between the humbler characters are pervaded by a vein of comic satire, visible indeed in other places; and the play has striking thoughts vigorously expressed. In fine, the Student of Padua is the production of a man of talent, who has observed and

reflected, but whose studies have not familiarized him with the critical essentials of the drama, and whom Nature has not en- dued with dramatic genius.

The following fragment of a scene may be taken as a specimen Or his lighter powers.

BEI'YO—Well, Master Peter, you won't suffer under the defects of modesty. I never saw a servant who carried his head more fearlessly in the face of his master.

PETER—Why, friend Beppo, an' we will be civil to the insolent world, we must take tho consequence, which is—the world's contempt. But an' a mall carry his head with becoming hauteur, he at least keeps his nose above all ull• pleasant odours. Breeo—Hortur ! what a word for a Christian to swallow

PETER—It is an elegant extract from our neighbours the French. And, let me tell you, Beppo, to season your conversation with a spice of French, now-a-days, is the criterion whereby a person of breeding is judged.

BEEPOBIlt you cannot speak French. PETER—N'importe, voihi donc.

BEeP0-11oly mother !

PETE R—There again, Beppo, in that indigenous oath you manifest the coarse- ness of your extraction. Now, a lady's lips may pout out Sa'cristi,— which, being interpreted, is much worse ;Ilan yours ; but as the one is foreign, it comes within the pale of fashion, whereas the other is totally excommunicated from

ears polite.

BEPPO—Well, it must be a grand thing to travel. PETER—Truly, Beppo, it is the sign whereby, in these times, you shall know the gentleman from the boor. Look you! not to be able to speak of the Pyramids and Les Modes de Paris, Parnassus and Le Palais Royal, Tim- buctoa and the Holy Land, argueth an insignificance, not only very lamentable in itself, but militating much against the advancement of our great-toe into the drawing-room of the recherche.