REMARKS.

JEALOUSY has afforded subjects both for tragedy and comedy: since it is not in the passion itself, but the mind it has to work upon, .that its effects are seen. The jealousy of Othello and Alonzo could produce none other but its terrific results. The same may be said for that of Alicia

"" Daggers and poison dread from Delia's rage."

But these characters belong to romance; and romantic ladies and gentlemen have a very different method of going about their business, to the domestic, matter-of-fact people in ordinary life. Lady Restless and Mrs. Oakley are of the latter class; and their weapons, though less dangerous, are scarcely less annoying. The whole artil lery of sighs, tears, and reproaches, is drawn out in fearful array against the unhappy husband; nor is an armistice decreed, until the assailants are exhausted, and their ammunition spent. Jealousy is self-sown--it is never surfeited-it feeds upon itself

"As if increase of appetite had grown

By what it fed on."

Do the impossible, and prove a negative; and an affirmative shall spring up too strong even for facts. It is safer to come in contact with the sails of a windmill than with a jealous disposition. Pour oit upon flame; but never oppose reason to a temper predetermined to be jealous. Who ever argued with a volcano? The only prudent way is to let it exhaust its fury, and fairly burn out.

Mrs. Centlivre could not have chosen a more congenial spot for the. exhibition of this passion, than Spain, of which it is the very hot-bed. The phlegmatic dispositions of our English lovers are not easily excited by jealous fits. In this happy country, marriages are not made in Heaven but on 'Change. Wedlock is considered only in the light of a mercantile speculation; and the lady but as the ordinary appendage (too often so in the real sense of the word) to that more valuable acquisition-her fortune. But your Spanish lover is a different being and Don Felix is the beau ideal of this sensitive race; though candour must admit that his patience is put to sufficient trial by the fidelity of Donna Violante to her friend-and this brings us to the consideration of the wonder, that a Woman can keep a secret. . Mrs. Centlivre has done much towards rescuing her sex from this ungenerous imputation. Violante risks not only the loss of her lover, but her reputation-not but what there are many ladies, to whom a secret is such an exceedingly troublesome deposit, that they pass it, like boarding-school misses do the mark-hey presto! like a juggler's ball

"Till it belongs to nobody at all!"

Cowslip has a very diverting way of keeping a secret. Like the voice that startled Macbeth, she cries to all the house!" Still secrecy, like courage, though not one of the most vaunted attribates of woman, she can, when occasion requires, assume in a very extraordinary degree. Ben Jonson has shown that even silence, -" an excellent thing in women," is not incompatible with her nature. Let man, therefore, bear his faculties more meekly; and be content to share, rather than to engross, three qualities that may be fairly

placed among the cardinal virtues-courage, secrecy, and a quiet tongue.

The plot of the Wonder is truly Spanish. It consists of bustle, intrigue, hair-breadth escapes, and a sufficient leaven of that passion of which we have been treating. One portion of it, that which relates to Isabella's concealment, and Violante's fidelity, bears some resemblance to the play of Elvira, written by Lord Digby. As a literary production, it is superior to Mrs. Centlivre's two other capital comedies, The Busy Body, and A Bold Stroke for a Wife. The dialogue is less prurient, and the incidents are more natural. If there be a less redundancy of broad humour, there is a more genuine flow of wit, more nicely-discriminated character, and altogether a purer style of writing.

The character of Don Felix is admirably drawn: sensitive, generous, and gallant-carrying his sense of honour to that romantic height which distinguished Spain in her days of chivalry. His interviews with Violante, where his jealousy is alternately awakened and repressed by circumstances of strong suspicion-by ardent passion, and unbounded confidence in her fidelity, are drawn with so much tenderness and truth, that we never for a moment lose our respect for the lover, even in the midst of his delusion; while the lady commands all our esteem, who could risk the loss of such a lover, rather than abate one iota of her fidelity to her friend. The scene between the lovers, in the fifth act, where Don Felix asks Violante to give him her hand at parting, is highly impassioned and beautiful. Had Mrs. Centlivre always written thus, we may say, as Johnson said of Gray, it had been impossible to blame, and useless to praise.

Colonel Briton makes a very tolerable figure, considering he is a plain, straight-forward Scotchman, whom la fortune de la guerre has brought into a land renowned for gallantry. Had he been drawn sentimental and refined, he could not have been a military man, and certainly not a Scotchman. The character of Gibby is well preserved. With a very bluff exterior, that may reasonably pass for blunt honesty, he can crouch and pimp like a true parasite. Nor are his other northern propensities less palpable-he is your most obsequious humble servant for what he can get, and ís, moreover, too hungry to feed on compliments.

Like master, like man-Don Felix being in love, his comical valet Lissardo is too well bred not to follow the example: and Flora is too much of a woman, and a chambermaid, to let her mistress be enamoured of the master, without feeling a corresponding penchant for the man. This double affection produces some droll results. If Don Felix is as jealous as a grandee of the first class has a right to be, Flora carries her jealousy to a sublime height, that may fairly excite the emulation of all chambermaids and confidantes, to the day of doom. The introduction of Inis, and the contests that arise between the rival queens for the possession of Lissardo, is the very climax of the ludicrous, and reminds us of those in which Polly and Lucy urge their several claims to the person of Macheath, or, to compare small things with great, the contention between Ajax and Ulysses for the armour of Achilles. Lissardo's vanity, arising out of Violante's present of the diamond ring, is almost as entertaining as that of the cross-gartered Malvolio, or of the woollen-hose-legged Master Stephen; while his account of the merry life that his master and himself lead-his equivocation when Violante questions him more closely-the ingenious turn he gives to the treats and ballsand his "roast me.these Violantes," show the expertness of his invention, and the whimsicality of his wit. The Spanish valet, from

time immemorial, has been renowned for his dexterity in all affairs relative to love and gallantry; and Lissardo yields to none of his brethren in quick repartee and ludicrous effrontery.

Little expectation was formed of the success of this comedy on its first appearance, by the players, who however are among the worst judges of dramatic merit. Its own intrinsic worth, seconded by the admirable acting of Wilks and Mrs. Oldfield, secured the approbation of the Town; and it has ever since ranked among the standard comedies of the English language. Indeed, when the time arrives that a play like the Wonder shall fail, we shall unhesitatingly pronounce the drama at an end.

It was in Don Felix, that Garrick bade his final adieu to the stage-a circumstance that will always invest the part with more than ordinary interest. It is a character of great difficulty -the emotions exhibited are so various, and blended, that to perform it with proper effect, an actor must be master both of tragedy and comedy. In this difficult style of acting, Garrick had no superior-in the lighter parts of tragedy, where the passions are of a mixed character, and bear more affinity to real life, his excellence was unrivalled.

Mr. Elliston and Mr. Charles Kemble, though actors differing essentially from each other, are generally to be seen in the same characters. Elliston is without a particle of romance-he is downright human nature-pure flesh and blood from beginning to end. He coaxes and makes love with singular eloquence and persuasion; and, when he makes an effort to be angry, and endeavours to look grave, that laughing devil in his eye so utterly belies his words and actions, that his anger becomes vapour, and he raves altogether too much in Cambyses' vein. In the restless parts of the character, Elliston is quite at home. We can imagine nothing more excellent than his jealous misgivings, his returns of confidence, his vows of unalterable love, and his acknowledgment of Violante's absolute power over his heart. If Mr. Elliston lacks somewhat of the majestic port and graceful bearing of Mr. Charles, Kemble-if he renders the character less romantic and chivalrous than his accomplished rival, he has all the ease, all the passion, all the persuasion, that belong to this paragon of Spanish lovers.

Mrs. Jordan, in Violante, was simple, tender, and fascinating. She rallied Don Felix, and maintained the dignity of virtue, with a playfulness and spirit worthy of the best days of comedy. Mrs. Davison was throughout sensible and elegant; and the late Mrs. Allsop gave greater promise of future excellence in this character, than she ever afterwards attained.

Bannister's Lissardo was every thing that comedy could desire. He alternately provoked and soothed, by vanity and flattery the most self-sufficient and comical, the two fair ones, in whose bosoms he had inspired so mal-a-propos a passion. Fawcett's portrait bears a stronger outline; it stands more directly from the canvass; but it wants, in some respects, the richness and mellowness that rendered. Bannister's so delightful. Harley, to whom not only the characters of these great masters have descended, but a large portion of their humour also, plays Lissardo with a vivacity and whim that belong to youth, and a true comic genius. Let Harley depend more on the just delivery of his dialogue, and less on the rapidity of motion and utterance-let him look for those effects that are to be found within the magic circle of the eye, and his powers of entertainment, which are now considerable, will soon be without a rival on the stage.

DG.

1

DON LOPEZ.-Brown Spanish jacket and cloak; trunks, puffed with crimson and gold; scarlet stockings, sword, round black hat, white plumes, and gold band.

DON PEDRO.-Crimson Spanish dress, ditto, and cloak.

DON FELIX.-Dark crimson velvet Spanish jacket, brown velvet trunks, richly embroidered with gold, white silk stockings, white shoes, sword, round black hat, and white plumes.

FREDERICK.-Cloak and brown Spanish dress, puffed with light blue satin, embroidered with gold.

COLONEL BRITON-Blue English military coat, trimmed with silver lace, white pantaloons, and military boots, sword, cocked hat, with scarlet and white plumes.

GIBBY.-Highland jacket, cap, and kelt, flesh leggings, short Scotch stockings, russet shoes, and broad-sword.

ALGUAZIL.-Spanish dress, slightly trimmed, and black gown. VASQUEZ, &c.-Plain Spanish liveries.

LISSARDO.-Green jacket with flappits and yellow trimming, white waistcoat, green pantaloons, russet boots, three-cornered light drab hat, and red feather.

ISABELLA.-White satin trimmed with gold, no head-dress, but hair in ringlets.

VIOLANTE.-White satin and gold, white plumes, and veil.
FLORA.-White muslin dress, with blue trimming.

INIS.-Gown, with white skirt, pink body, and flounce.

Cast of the Characters, as Performed at the Theatres Royal,

THE WONDER:

A WOMAN KEEPS A SECRET.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-A Street.

Enter DON LOPEZ, meeting FREDERICK.

Fred. (R.) My lord, Don Lopez.

Lop. (L.) How d'ye, Frederick ?

Fred. At your lordship's service. I am glad to see you look so well, my lord. I hope Antonio's out of danger? Lop. (L. c.) Quite contrary; his fever increases, they tell me; and the surgeons are of opinion his wound is mortal.

Fred. (c.) Your son, Don Felix, is safe, I hope?

Lop. I hope so too; but they offer large rewards to apprehend him.

Fred. When heard your lordship from him?

Lop. Not since he went: I forbade him writing till the public news gave him an account of Antonio's health. Letters might be intercepted, and the place of his abode discovered.

Fred. Your caution was good, my lord. Though Í am impatient to hear from Felix, yet his safety is my chief concern.

Lop. If Antonio dies, Felix shall for England.-You have been there; what sort of people are the English? Fred. (R.) My lord, the English are, by nature, what the ancient Romans were by discipline-courageous, bold, hardy, and in love with liberty.

Lop. I like their principles: who does not wish for freedom in all degrees of life? though common prudence sometimes makes us act against it, as I am now obliged to do; for I intend to marry my daughter to Don Guzman, whom I expect from Holland every day, whither he went to take possession of a large estate left him by his uncle.