husband is placed repeatedly before us. King Philip, especially, in his address to John upon their first meeting, says, pointing to Arthur: Look here upon thy brother Geffrey's face: Here, then, is strong countenance for Constance's own allegation in answer to Elinor: My bed was ever to thy son as true As thine was to thy husband; and this boy Than thou and John, in manners being as like Nor, considering the established character of Elinor We find it the more necessary to cite these sentences of Constance, because they are not heard upon the stage. The constant omission, in modern acting, of the most characteristic passages in this dialogue between her and "the mother-queen," cramps exceedingly the developement which the dramatist, in this place, has clearly, though rapidly, made of the respective moral character and position of the two personages; and has contributed to establish the prevalent notion of this scene, as a mere piece of scolding between two angry rivals. The nature of the moral tie between Elinor and John-a bond much more of common interest than affection-contrasts finely, throughout the piece, with the mutual tenderness between Constance and her son. The "little prince" desires not greatness at all; and his mother desires it only for his sake. Elinor and John love power equally for its own sake: but as for personal affection, the mother-queen loves E the greatness of her son chiefly for the sway which it secures to herself; while John betrays no spark of filial, any more than he does of any other attachment. He loves everybody, even his royal mother, just after the fashion that he so vehemently protests he loves Hubert-that is, exactly so far as he can use them. Thus, in his exclamation upon hearing of Elinor's death My mother dead! How wildly then walks my estate in France ! we find the language, not of affection, but of sheer self-interest. Elinor, indeed, is shown here, as in history, to have been John's political genius, infusing such spirit and sagacity as had found their way into his councils; and accordingly, in the course of righteous retribution which forms the sequel of the play, the death of Elinor by the hand of heaven is made by the dramatist to follow immediately upon that brought upon Constance by maternal anguish and despair The Lady Constance in a frenzy died "My mother dead!" is the exclamation we find John still repeating. Feeling the sole stay of his mean and cowardly spirit to be thus struck from him at the moment when he needed it the most, we find his resolutions thenceforward utterly paralysed; we see him staggering on from one personal and political meanness to another; abandoning wholly to his "valiant kinsman Faulconbridge" "the ordering of this present time;" and dying at last, in spite of all that kinsman's eloquent exhortations, not like a brother of Coeur-de-Lion, with harness on his back, but like a craven plunderer of monastic treasuries, with poison in his stomach. Although, from the limited space which this character occupies in the drama, we are aware that it can seldom fall into the hands of a first-rate performer, yet it is plain, that the actress who under takes to personate Queen Elinor should be as imperiallooking as possible. Heiress to a sovereign duchy, married successively to the two most powerful monarchs of the age-Louis the Seventh of France, and Henry the Second of England,-and now brought before us in the drama as directing the councils of her royal son, the habit no less than the love of command should be expressed in her every look and tone, as well as in all the rest of her demeanour. No approach to tenderness should be heard in her accent or read upon her brow. She should present to us that very impersonation of pride and love of sway-that conscious self-importance-somewhat of that "acting of majesty," as we have said beforewhich both critic and performer have too frequently attributed to Constance herself; although they should have seen, that the most palpable dramatic propriety requires the natural dignity of person and rank in the mother of Arthur to stand out very clearly distinguished from the arrogant dignity of her intriguing and ambitious rival. The lady (Miss Ellis) who now enacts this part at Drury-Lane, though manifestly very young to represent a character so decidedly aged, sustains it respectably. One error which she commits as regards the business of the stage, we will point out, because it seems to us to be at once evident and easy of correction. In the scene immediately following Arthur's capture, the dramatist, it will be remembered, makes Elinor take Arthur aside, as if to leave John at liberty to confer with Hubert about the disposal of the young prince's person. And from John's words to Hubert "Throw thine eyes on yon' young boy "-it is plain that the boy is meant to be taken aside to some distance on the stage. The glance of the king's eye towards him, even at the farthest corner of the stage, Shakespeare evidently and naturally thought would be regarded as intelligible enough to so confidential a servant as Hubert, even though John's desire of getting Arthur into his power had not been pretty notorious. But in the present acting, the queen-mother does not really go aside at all. She remains in the front of the stage, almost in the middle of it, and so near to John and Hubert, that it is difficult to conceive of their talking together in ever so low a whisper without their being overheard by Arthur himself. To this palpable improbability is added one yet more painful to the eye and mind of the auditor. Instead of alternately bending and raising her figure, as if diverting the child's attention with some light and varied conversation, Elinor's representative remains stooping over him, and he looking up to her, in one unvaried posture, during the very considerable time occupied by the conference between Hubert and his master. There are some matters relative to arrangement and grouping on the stage, respecting which, perhaps, the auditor is better situated for judging than the manager himself. The case before us seems to be one of these, and deserving attention, since the defective arrangement here complained of can so easily be remedied, and, while it is continued, mars one of the most effective scenes of his own acting. The Lady Blanch, occupying still less space in the piece than Queen Elinor, is one of those subordinate characters, as they are commonly called, which nevertheless demand very graceful and judicious acting. The part is in itself so slight, and yet so elegant, that we cannot help regretting to see such interest as the poet has given to it abridged by omissions in acting. The leaving out, indeed, of the beautifully descriptive lines If lusty love should go in quest of beauty, Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? Whose veins bound richer blood than Lady Blanch ?—— is one of those curtailments which, we suppose, the necessities of the stage, as regards time, now render indispensable: but we can hardly admit any such plea as an excuse for omitting the short pathetic speech of Blanch herself, when her heart is torn asunder, as it were, by the fresh rupture which takes place between her husband's party and her uncle's, even on her bridal day : To - The sun's o'ercast with blood. Fair day, adieu ! Lewis. Lady, with me-with me thy fortune lies. Blanch. There where my fortune lives, there my life dies! suppress this passage, is to destroy the chief point of tragic interest about the character of Blanch, which consists in vividly showing her as the victim, in her torn feelings, of the triumph of political over domestic considerations. Miss Fairbrother is playing what is left of this part prettily; that is, she looks pretty in it, for she cannot look otherwise. It would be well, however, if she could so far imagine herself to be the highblooded "daughter of Spain," as to throw more dignity into her air and her delivery-that same graceful majesty in carrying the head is so very, very hard to acquire. As for the few sentences that have to be spoken in Lady Faulconbridge," they are delivered, perhaps, as adequately by Mrs. Selby as they would be by any other lady. We will only venture to suggest, that, in any case, the dramatist's conception of Philip Faulconbridge's mother, must have been of a lady whose personal charms might at some time have done honour to the choice of Richard Coeur-de-Lion. say this, be it well observed, without at all presuming to raise the delicate question as to how far the present Lady Faulconbridge fulfils this condition. It is just one of those points whereupon each auditor must be left to judge for himself. We |