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EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION.

THIS once popular tragedy is the production of the celebrated Irish Barrister, Richard Lalor Shiel, the author of "Adelaide," · Evadne,” and “Bellamira." Mr. Shiel appears to have imbibed his dramatic inspiration from the transcendant powers of Miss O'Neill; for the whole series of our author's dramas were written expressly for that highly gifted actress. "The Apostate" was produced at Covent Garden theatre, in 1816, and was the first original part Miss O'Neill appeared in on the London boards. The array of tragic talent combined in the original cast, embracing, as it did, young Charles Kemble, Macready, the veteran Murray, and Egerton, with the exquisitely beautiful and thrilling personation of the heroine by Miss O'Neill, secured for the play a success, which its intrinsic merits could not singly have produced.

It is a dramatic incident worthy of record, that to this play Mr. Macready is indebted for the first decided appreciation of his peculiar and fine talents, by a London audience. The part of Pescara had been assigned to Booth, then a member of the Covent Garden company, and in the zenith of his fame. The eccentric and irritable tragedian resigned the part after a few rehearsals, considering it inferior to Charles Kemble's part of Hemeya, and Mr. Macready, in the exigency of the case, was entrusted with Pescara. His success in the part was little inferior to Miss O'Neill in Florinda. Our recollections of the original cast of this play, are still vivid; it was, indeed, an exhibition of concentrated talent, then common at the two great theatres in London, on which the lover of the drama still dwells with many a lingering reminiscence of the bye-gone glories of histrionic excellence.

The author's preface to this play will show the source from which he obtained his materials for constructing his plot. It is as follows:

"Sismundi gives a detailed account of a tragedy by Calderon, called Love after Death; or the Mountains of Grenada,' and founded upon the revolt of the Moors against Philip the Second. It is an historical play, and embraces the principal events during a warfare of three years.

"The political condition of the Moors, as described by Calderon, appeared to the author to be highly dramatic. He has not consciously adopted a single incident in the plot, or line in the composition of the Spanish poet, but has endeavoured to catch his general tone and colouring in depicting the detestation which the cruelty of the Spaniards had naturally generated in the Moors. He mentions this to relieve himself from the imputation of having sought the illegitimate assistance of political allusion; and he hopes that, upon reflecting on the nature of the subject, the reader will consider the introduction of the Inquisition as unavoidable. It would be hard, indeed, to write a play upon any event in the reign of Philip the Second, without inveighing against the persecutor and the tyrant. It would be impossible in the present instance. If it be a fault, Schiller and Alfieri have fallen into it. It would be a very strange delicacy, indeed, were the author to spare the guilt, the ferocity, and the baseness of Philip, out of respect for such a man as the present king of Spain !"

That Shiel has skilfully availed himself of the hints which gave rise to "The Apostate," cannot be denied. The situation and incidents are strikingly dramatic in their character, and the leading personages in the drama are all sufficiently conspicuous, and contrasted enough to produce a well-concerted whole. As was usual with Shiel, his heroine is, perhaps, unduly prominent, but the powerfully drawn character of Pescara, as played by Macready, and subsequently with even greater effect by Booth, leaves an impression upon an audience fully equal to that produced by the woes and sufferings of Florinda.

The accumulation of intense suffering and overcharged horror with which this tragedy abounds, prevent it from sustaining its original position on the stage. From the London theatres it is entirely withdrawn; and in this country it only retains its place in the acting drama, from the superior powers of Booth, who occasionally "stars" it in Pescara. H.

PROLOGUE.

WRITTEN BY WILLIAM WALLACE.

VARIOUS the realms, and boundless are the views
Where fancy wanders with the Tragic muse.
What spot a-night, o'er that expansive sphere,
Wakes manhood's sympathy-asks woman's tear?
'Tis Spain-th land where oft, enthroned sublime,
Shone muse-loved chivalry in olden time!

'Tis Spain-where late Britannia's conquering hand
Unmanacled the genius of the land,

Glory's bright beacon lighted once again,

Bade prostrate Europe blush, and burst her chain;
And gave the world that noblest chivalry
Of reas'ning man-immortal liberty!
What time stern Philip's ruthless edict fell
With persecution, and her band of hell,
In frantic ruin o'er the Moorish race-
Our poet chose his fancied scene to trace.
He there presents, in virtue's bold relief,
A Moorish lover and a Moorish chief;

And shows a villain robed in guilt and shame,
Although the villain bear the Christian name;
Convinced, when man in virtue's light you view,
Alike the crescent or the cross to you!

But not alone those springs, whose strong control
With ruder force can wake and vex the soul,
He tries-but still, in softer strains, would prove
That dearer spell of mightier power to move-
A woman's sorrows, and a woman's love!
One praise at least he claims to bless his lays—
Nor scene immoral, nor offensive phrase,
Wounds the chaste ear of virgin modesty-
Quells the pure ardor of young beauty's eye,
Or spreads the crimson of ingenuous shame
On outraged innocence's cheek of flame!
Next-though a foreign land the scene supplied-
Think not he chose a foreign muse his guide:-
Spurning wild Germany's uncultured schools,
And self-pleased Gallia's boasted borrowed rules,
A native muse, to-night, by native arts,

Would please your judgments and subdue your hearts-
And this, her simple suit, by me she sends

Give British justice !-Yet-as British friends!

Pet. Delighted!

Ger. Only think

—a poor orphan girl like me, whom nobody loved, and nobody cared about

Pet. It isn't true. I cared about you-I loved you— I doated on you!

Ger. You, Peter! you! Mercy on me! And why didn't you tell me so, then?

Pet. Because I didn't know it myself, then; but I do now, Gertrude-I do now.

Ger. Now!-now that it is too late?

Pet. But is it ?-Is it too late? You are not married yet.

Ger. No, but I have promised. The contract is ordered, and this beautiful dress was bought by the Captain on purpose. You would not have me behave so shamefully to one who loves me dearly?

Pet. But I-I love you dearly.

Ger. Ah, if you had but said so an hour ago! But you thought of everybody but me.

Pet. I know it-I know it. But then nobody thought of you; and now everybody does, and it proves to me that you-you are the only girl in the world that I ought to marry; and if you won't have me, I-I know what I'll

do.

Ger. Dear me, Peter, what?

Pet. I'll fling myself into the canal.

Ger, Nonsense!

Pet. You see if I don't then.

I'm not desperate till I

take anything in my head; but then nothing can turn me.

AIR.("Take care of the corner.")

PETER.

I rush to my fate,

And my funeral straight

Way shall follow my latest transgression'
And in the church-yard

It shall go very hard,

But it meets with your bridal procession'
When my coffin appears,

You will melt into tears,

And your friends in your grief will be shares

GERTRUDE.

Oh, yes, not only J,

But my husband will cry

"Stand out of the way," to the bearers!

Pet. Laughed at! I'll jump over the wall, here, into the canal, before your face.

Ger. Indeed you shan't. Peter, don't be a fool.-[Trying to hold him.]—Oh, dear, he will! Murder!-help! Enter ERNESTIne, r.

Ern. What's the matter now?

Ger. Oh, Mamzelle, help me to hold Peter. He wants to drown himself.

Ern. He is sillier than ever I supposed him, if he would drown himself for so worthless a person. I wonder you are not ashamed to look me in the face.

Ger. I'm very sorry, Mamzelle. I know you only lent me a lover; but how cau I give you him back, if he wont go ?

Ern. Cease your impertinence. Your simplicity is all affected.

Ger. I'm sure, Mamzelle, if the Captain will only consent, I'll give him up with pleasure.

Pet. You will?

Ern. You will? Hark ye, Gertrude! Don't think that I care the least about Captain Amersfort-his behaviour has entirely destroyed any little affection I might have had for him; but only to vex him in my turn, if you will promise not to marry him—

Pet. Do, do.

Ern, I will settle a handsome income on you.

Pet. There! there!

Ern. Tell him that you do not love him.

Pet. Yes, yes.

Ern. That you love another-anybody.

Pet. Yes, me!-I'm ready to be loved.

Ger. [Aside.] I see him!-now's the time. [Aloud.] Well, Mamzelle, 1 believe it would be only the truthhave a great respect for Captain Amersfort, but I certainly do not love him—and perhaps I do love somebody else. [Looking at Peter.

Pet. Oh, Gertrude !

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