_An Historical Drama. By Frances Ann Kemble_.
This extraordinary production has awakened an interest in the dramatic and
literary world, scarcely equalled in our times. We know of its fortune
upon the stage by report only; but, from our acquaintance with the
requisites of the acting drama, we should conceive its permanence will be
more problematical in the theatre than in the closet; and considering the
conditions upon which dramatic fame is now attainable, we think the clever
authoress will not have reason to regret these inequalities of success.
That Miss Kemble's tragedy possesses points to be made, and passages that
will _tell_ on the stage, cannot be denied; but its interest for
representation requires to be concentrated; it "wants a hero, an uncommon
thing." It is well observed in the _Quarterly Review_, (by the way, the
only notice yet taken of the tragedy, that merits attention,) that "the
piece is crowded with characters of the greatest variety, all of
considerable importance in the piece, engaged in the most striking
situations, and contributing essentially to the main design. Instead of
that simple unity of interest, from which modern tragic writers have
rarely ventured to depart, it takes the wider range of that historic unity,
which is the characteristic of our elder drama; moulds together, and
connects by some common agent employed in both, incidents which have no
necessary connexion; and--what in the present tragedy strikes us as on
many accounts especially noticeable--unites by a fine though less
perceptible moral link, remote but highly tragic events with the immediate,
if we may so speak, the domestic interests of the play." This language is
finely characteristic of the drama. Again, the interest has "so much
Shakspearianism in the conception as to afford a remarkable indication of
the noble school in which the young authoress has studied, and the high
models which, with courage, in the present day, fairly to be called
originality, she has dared to set before her. In fact, Francis the First
is cast entirely in the mould of one of Shakspeare's historical tragedies."
The drama too was written without any view to its representation, as the
_Quarterly_ reviewer has been "informed by persons who long ago perused
the manuscript, several years before Miss Kemble appeared upon the stage,
and at a time when she little anticipated the probability that she herself
might be called upon to impersonate the conceptions of her own imagination.
We believe that we are quite safe when we state that the drama, in its
present form, was written when the authoress was not more than seventeen."
Yet it should be added that the above statement is not made by way of
extenuation; for, to say the truth, it needs no such adventitious aid.
A mere outline of the story will convince the reader that, as the Reviewer
states, "the tragedy is alive from the beginning to the end;" and our
extracts will we trust show the language to be bold and vigorous; the
imagery sweetly poetical; and the workings of the passions which actuate
the personages to be evidently of high promise if not of masterly spirit.
The tragedy opens with the recall of the Constable De Bourbon from Italy,
through the supposed political intrigue, but really, the secret love, of
the mother of Francis, Louisa of Savoy, Duchess of Angouleme, whom Miss
Kemble calls the Queen Mother. In the second scene the Queen Mother
communicates to Gonzales, a monk in disguise, but in, reality an emissary
of the Court of Spain, her secret passion for De Bourbon, and her design
in his recall.
Francis is introduced at a tourney, where he not only triumphs in the
jousts, but over the heart of the beautiful Françoise de Foix.
Bourbon returns, and the second act opens with his interview with Renée,
(or Margaret,) the daughter of the Queen Mother, and sister of Francis I.,
for whom he really entertains an affection. In the second scene the Queen
Mother declares her passion to Bourbon, who, at first supposes he is to be
tempted by Margaret's hand, but finding the Queen herself to be the lure,
he indignantly rejects her. The character of Bourbon in this scene is
admirably brought out. The artifice of the Queen--the scorn of
Bourbon--and the Queen's meditated vengeance are powerfully wrought: