army. In examining the bulletins it appears as if Blake's army had been completely destroyed twice at least, before the battle of Espinosa : but yet at that time it seems the struggle was more violent, and the battle longer contested than any one which has occurred since the commencement of hostilities.

CONTROVERSY.

THE editors of the Ordeal have received the following communication from a correspondent, and were doubtful at first of the propriety of publishing it, on account of its being too late to discuss the subject, and of its tendency to excite controversy. But frequency of importunity has at length overcome, or at least overruled their scruples. They take leave however, to observe, that they have on the whole, about as indifferent an opinion of the Pilgrims as the writer in the Repertory, though perhaps on other grounds. EDIT ORS..

Messrs. Editors,

THE PILGRIMS.

I AM so far from being an enemy to Theatrical Criticisms in general, that I have sometimes dabbled in them myself; but it is my opinion, that while they should always be dictated by a spirit of fair dealing towards the author, even in the most severe animadversions, they should most especially exhibit an apparent intention to benefit the taste of the publick. In reading some remarks on the unfortunate production of The Pilgrims, published in the Repertory of Friday, Feb. 24th, I was particularly struck with their want of candour, and their utter destitution of critical knowledge. Some lines in Pope's introduction to the Essay on Criticism, may very fairly be applied to the writer of that communication:

''Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill

Appear in writing or in judging ill;
For of the two, less dang'rous is th' offence,

To tire our patience than mislead our sense?'

I confess myself, sir, a friend to American plays: I am fond of seeing them encouraged. I do not pretend to be acquainted with the author of the Pilgrims, nor even to know who he is. I give no credence to common report, for I am sure the gentleman who has the credit of being the author, is far superiour to a composition so generally derided. Yet though I do not pretend to admire the production, I do say that the remarks of the Repertory fault finder, might apply to many other plays as well as the Pilgrims.

Thus for example, we are told that this actor was really not calculated to represent the person of Gov. Carver in any respect whatever." If this writer expects that every historical personage is to be represented by an actor resembling him in person, it is highly unreasonable. Al

exander the great, was known to have been rather small in stature ; but from the custom of the stage the part has been generally appropriated to large sized actors; because, for heroick tragedy such persons are best adapted. Garrick renounced Othello because he was too small to give effect to the part. It is not reasonably to be expected, therefore, according to the custom of the stage, that the persons of actors should have any peculiar resemblance to the characters they perform. The charge of the neglect of costume however, has more foundation; but the author knows very little of our stage, if he expected to find a strict conformity in this particular, to the fashion of the year 1620. Besides, the audience would have been convulsed with laughter to have seen our mothers represented by young women, dressed in long waists, wide sleeves and ruffs. The custom has always been to allow the ladies to dress in a modern costume in any comedy; so that the Mrs. Fainwould of Congreve, and the Lady Teazle of Sheridan, may appear without impropriety in a similar habit. That this errour should not be suffered is indeed true, much less should the variety of costume, which every player exhibits, be allowed; but the ladies will not be laughed at, and cannot be controled.

Our author suggests as a wonder, that the Indians should speak the English language; this is all very true; but I should be glad to know what language he would substitute? If the Indians are to be brought upon the scene, it is necessary that they should have some evident means of conveying their ideas. If this were effected by signs, the play would of necessity be tedious and uninteresting. The only proper way then, is to introduce their thoughts in such English, as might convey the supposed literal meaning of the Indian expressions. Besides the practice of the author of the Pilgrims is in this respect conformable to that of the best English dramatists. It is an argument of necessity that characters of all nations should speak English. Thus Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Spaniards, French, Germans, &c. are introduced on the stage, speaking our language, at a time before the English nation was known. I apply a case still more strongly in point; there are PIZARRO and COLUMBUS, one adapted to our stage by Sheridan, and the other written by Moreton, in which the natives of America are introduced, speaking the English language. It is as unreasonable to object to this circumstance, as to say that aside speeches should not be spoken loud enough to be over-heard by the other characters on the stage with the person who utters it; when it is evident by such a lowness of voice, the very end of uttering the speech would be lost, since the audience would be deprived of the benefit of knowing the intention of the author.

1

The objections against the kind of language made use of by the Indians are sound, because some expressions imply civilization and refinement.Seraphs, tales of treachery, types of beauty,' should have no place in the composition of Indian language. The author on

the other hand, is licensed, in order to represent the event of a choice of Carver for governour, to allow him to be proposed on shore. It is incident to Shakespeare and Dryden, to many of the old, and indeed of the modern dramatists, to take similar liberties.

Our author is mistaken when he asserts that the metrical composition' delivered by the Genius of Columbia, was not existing at the beginning of the seventeeth century. There are many specimens in ancient dramatists, previous to that period, of compositions of a similar description; but even if it were not the case, was it not a goddess who spoke it? and might she not very fairly be considered to have the right of inspiration?

Whatever charms Oceanus Fuller might have had for our author, we venture to say he would have had very few for the audience generally and therefore was very wisely omitted. If any coarse expressions were introduced, the writer of the Pilgrims would do well to expunge them, when he prints the Melo Drama; though as this writer observes, that coming from Indians they are no doubt perfectly excusable: which remark however, does not seem to correspond with the censure, which he immediately after casts upon them, when he says 'it should have been remembered, that dirt without wit, is always extremely dirty.'

I will conclude, with remarking to the writer in the Repertory, that as there is nothing easier than to find indiscriminate faults, so there is nothing more difficult than to point out real errours and the methods by which they may be corrected. In the first case no body is benefitted; in the last, the author is corrected and the publick taught discrimination. PETER QUINCE.

REMARKS on ' FOSCARI, or the VENETIAN EXILE.'

WE left the parents of Foscari with the council of ten, fruitlessly soliciting his pardon. In the meeting of the father and son, which takes place in prison immediately after this, Foscari is very anxious to be made acquainted with the Fate of Almeria, and learns that she lives in a lone retreat ;' and he enquires why she does not

' within the bosom of her friends,

Look for that comfort which the world denies ?"

The Doge however, for what sufficient reason we cannot discover, re、 fuses to satisfy his curiosity, but tells him he soon shall be informed and then remarks

Now this was superfluous, for Foscari knew it before, as he says

'I know too well, he owes me deadly hate.'

However he comforts himself with the following very natural reflection, and exceedingly ingenious remark !

'O, if I were free,

Free from the bonds which so disgrace my name,

This instant would I fly to comfort her,

And clasping her within my arms, defy

His malice, and laugh to scorn his power.'

They depart, Foscari of course giving up all expectation of comforting Almeria in this way, as perfectly idle; in the mean time Policarpo, the assassin, whom Erizzo has employed in his service to watch Almeria, has learned that she and Foscari intend to meet in a bower, before they knew any thing respecting it themselves; and he and the Count enter armed and in disguise. They hide under some elms, and Policarpo advises the Count, who probably was a clumsy footed swain,' to tread light,' for fear they should be overheard! After so necessary a caution, it was natural they should proceed with circumspection. Foscari enters in great despondency; how he gets away from his father and mother, is another affair. But his melancholy is relieved by the sight of, first

• Th' initials of her name:

Carved upon a tree;'

And then immediately underneath,

'Carv'd at length the name of her Foscari?

From this affecting incident, he was roused by the approach of the lady herself. She comes in moralizing upon his picture, and after debating some time whether he is guilty or no, and satisfying herself of his innocence, she exclaims

'O! could I but behold that face again,

But press unto my soul.'

She then discovers him, throws herself into his arms, and enquires 'Isn't this a dream of a distemper'd mind ;'

After all this she abruptly tells him to

'Avaunt, avaunt thou parricide!' calls him 'unparrallel'd assassin, wretch, a blight that witherest all before' him. Now though this transition of language astonishes, it does not daunt Foscari, and he is so near overcoming all her scruples, that she deems it necessary to fly from him. However, she soon returns, being pursued by Policarpo and Erizzo; Foscari protects her, and in the squabble, the assassin Policarpo, misses his man, and kills the Count instead of him. Erizzo, having some compunctious visitings of nature, thinks proper to send for the Doge, and confesses himself the real murderer of Count Dona

to, and of course establishes the innocence of Foscari. But he in the mean time, had departed for the vessel in which he was to re embark for Candia, and being overcome with agony at parting from his friends, he died before he reached the ship. Almeria runs mad at this event, and in conclusion, every body is as unhappy as so tragick a catastrophe could reasonably make them.

Although the play of Foscari is somewhat better than American dramatick productions have generally proved, it is to the last degree common-place in the conduct of the plot, the language and thought. There are numerous prosaick lines; mere prosecuttings of ten syllables,' and the best of the composition affords very little specimen of true poetry. There is sometimes discoverable a taudry embellishment in description, which only serves to render the poverty of the thought it is intended to illustrate still more evident. We do not recollect a single idea contained in this play, which aspires to the praise of excellence or novelty; but a kind of equal mediocrity universally prevails. The following examples, taken at hazard, evidently read as if they were plain prose:

'Weakness such as this will make me spurn thee;

Submit my child unto thy country's laws,

Nor ask of me what 'tis not in my power

To obtain.'

"How often hast thou clasp'd me to thy bosom,

Prest me with thy maternal tenderness,
Supported, carried me in those tender arms.

Yet the moment I hope is arriving.

'By heaven, Almeria, I am innocent,

By all that's sacred, THOU dost wrong me.'

Our author's originality of thought and strength of expression are

fairly exhibited in this passage.

'Full six long years have past since 'neath these shades

Almeria listen'd to my tale of love ;

I do remember the blest evening well;

We stroll❜d together from our youthful friends,

And this appear'd the choice propitious spot,

Which tempted me to open all

my soul :

Amid these groves we oft have sat and read,

And often have I seen her cheek bedewed

With tears, as her soft eyes have past the page

Of e'en fictitious woe.'

We sometimes discover mere transpositions of words, to give the language a poetical chime;

'But hast thou of Almeria yet no news?'