group. Lord Byron's mind was of this order, and it belongs to the egoisme of the age. It is the character of Wordsworth's muse, of Shelly's, of Keats', of Moore's, of nearly all of the great modern English writers, with the almost single exception of Walter Scott, who, in this power of yielding himself to the character he wishes to portray, comes nighest to Shakspeare of all the authors of our period. Mr. Mathews, with the proneness of youth to try all things, and the ambition of real talent to conquer them, has attempted the drama, but, as we are inclined to think, regarded as matter for the stage, with very indifferent success. "The Politicians-a comedy," is one of the works of this collection. This is a sufficiently lively and spirited performance,-more satirical than comic, more smart than humorous, a pleasant satire enough, sharp but not malignant, full of innocuous censure, but not biting, and perhaps rather too much exaggerated in its limning for success. We are not told that it was brought upon the stage, or, if so, that it was successful. We should be inclined to say that it would better suit for perusal than performance. Bating what has been already said of the absence of any peculiar dramatic ability of our author, we are prepared to discover a special unfitness for the stage in the comedy before us. It wants action,―the dialogue is too much elaborated, and the persons of the drama have characteristics too nearly on the same level,-too decidedly of one order, to admit of much variety in the several parts they play. We can better illustrate this objection by a reference to the names of the characters. Thus, we have "BRISK," a "Candidate for Alderman," "GUDGEON, the rival candidate," and these are followed by such persons as Messieurs "Crowder," "Botch," "Glib," "Old Crumb," "Bill Baffin," "Tom Lug," "Joe Surge," "Mrs. Gudgeon," "Kate Brisk," and so forth. The scene is laid in the city of NewYork. The story is purely local, and the author gravely assures us that his purpose is a national drama. Now, the first question that occurs to us, is, whether society in NewYork is made up wholly of "Brisks" and "Gudgeons," and "Crowders," and "Botches," and "Baffins," and "Lugs," and "Surges?" What can you expect from such people, thus designated? Nothing but what is low,-no objects but what are inferior, no characteristics but what are common-place and deficient in dignity. The very names of the persons are conclusive of the design of the author, to give us an un qualified, unredeemed picture of vulgarity,-of slang and cunning and stupidity, of thoughts and opinions without sentiment or strength, and purposes without moral or elevation. There is nothing attractive in the bill of fare. There is nothing natural in the combination. Good comedy is suggestive of society,-society as it is, and not as it appears through the jaundiced medium of a disappointed expectant, or a surly and impatient cynic. Look at all the better portions of the old English comedy,-of comedy in its best day every where. You will find that, though there are many common, and some vulgar, people among the characters, there is always a fair sprinkling of the dignified and the noble, and these almost always indicated by their names. We need but refer to the best works of Congreve, Cumberland, and Geo. Colman. Nay, Shakspeare shall content us with a fitting illustration. We turn to the "Merry Wives of Windsor," a story from humble life avowedly, yet with just such an admixture of the high with the humble,-the several constituencies of society in such combination,--as we find ordinarily in society, and by which that curious moral amalgam is kept from becoming utterly monotonous and wretched. There is the professed humorist, Sir John Falstaff; Fenton, Shallow, Slender, Ford, Page, Sir Hugh Evans, Dr. Caius, Bardolph, Pistol, Nym, Robin, Simple, Rugby, "sweet Anne Page," and dear, bustling Mrs. Quickly. Here we have names, some of them unusual, none of them gross or unseemly, all apparently gathered from the ordinary walks of the city. Probability is not outraged at the very threshold of the performance, we are not warned to be on the lookout for monstrosities. On the contrary, life as it is, is presented to our survey,-a just picture of the world in which the scene is laid, and without which the boast of the drama, that of holding the mirror up to nature, would be excessively idle. If one or two of the names, "Slender" and "Shallow" and "Pistol," for example, are unusual, they are not low, and are plainly suggestive, not broadly so, of what we are to expect from the characters. The rest are ordinary names, with a few, somewhat aristocratic in their sound, and which naturally contribute to the naturalness of the design. These better names are employed to idealize the rest, and to show society as it is,-the good and the bad, the high and the low, the noble and the mean,-in juxtaposition, it may be, but working together, as we ever find them, willingly or - otherwise, in the common toils of social progress. The quick instincts of the dramatic veterans of the days of "Queen Bess," led them at once to see that any unmixed representation of inferiority,-not to say vulgarity,-must really defeat the purposes of satire, no less than comedy. We do not see society, any where, utterly unmixed, utterly unredeemed, by the presence of better names and better natures than those of ordinary herdlings. It is the purpose of our author to satirize our petty political partisanships. Let him take, for example, one of their great-or, if he pleases, one of the small party assemblages, as they constantly occur, when the object. is an approaching election. This, in fact, is our author's case, it furnishes much of the staple of his comedy,-and very good staple it is for sarcasm and exposure. Let the scene be laid in New-York or Philadelphia, Boston or Charleston,-it matters not,-and where do you see the mass ruling from among their most inferior representatives? Where do you see the "Gudgeons" and the "Botches," the "Crumbs" and the "Crowders," leaping to the front seats, calling meetings to order, and prescribing what they shall do and whom they shall elect? We see nothing of this. On the contrary, if such were the case, no business would be done, there would be no order, but a most admired confusion through all. The truth is, that the American people, every where, with that wonderful good sense which is their characteristic, in spite of all their levities, have a remarkable knack in finding out, in every community, not only who are their cleverest, but who are their very best men. There is always talent, and frequently eloquence, in those who are summoned to do the business. These are qualities which the people require. Let any underlings attempt to lead them,-any whom they discover wanting in the necessary qualities,-and how soon do they revolt. How soon do they shake off the mere pretender, whose specious arts may have deceived them for a while, turning to better counsellors, and less questionable authorities. Mere talent does not suffice. It attracts, but does not control,-pleases, but does not satisfy,-does not win that perfect confidence, which the true leader is required to secure. The politician who is discovered to be characterless, whatever his talent, is soon distrusted,-soon let down the wind, and, with the regretful lament of Othello to Cassio, is told by the rude voice of Demus, "Never more be officer of mine." Such men may get a temporary sway and ascendancy, but it does not last. They may be listened to with admiration as speakers, but not trusted as leaders. The mass among us have an exquisite faculty, as we once heard said by an uncoated democrat in Tammany Hall, of extracting the juice from the orange, before they fling away the skin. Now, to make this satire successful, it should have been as nearly as possible an exhibition of the living manners, the daily passing acts, of the society from which it professes to be drawn, with just such an exaggeration of outline, in all phases, as to idealize the common forms and phraseology of life. This is the happy art of the dramatist, whether he walk in the regal steps of tragedy, or in the livelier paces of the comic muse. The minor objections to "The Politicians," as a performance for the stage, are several. It will be necessary, perhaps, to distinguish one: the author has not yet learned the art of condensing a character into a sentence, and conveying a history, by a brief word--a glance—an exclamation--to both actor and audience. His characters speak little essays. The one suggests a text to the other, which moves him to descant; and, instead of so speaking and acting as to hurry forward the action, they dilate on casual matters, deal in analyses of their neighbors and of the opposite party, and waste time in dialogue which should be spent in action. These essays read very well,-the play reads very well, if you can only dispossess your mind of the natural objection, that it does not give a fair picture of society. Exaggeration, indeed, is scarcely necessary, where you aim to ridicule and show off the scandal-things of party. They are sufficiently shocking, set forth as they are. Where they are the subject, the satirist, to be truthful, is to be terrible. Their filth, their falsehood, their selfishness, their slang, their beastly beer barrels, and almost as beastly songs,-these furnish sufficient material, ready to the hands, that not only do not need, but would be absolutely impaired, for the purposes of satire, by any exaggeration. With every disposition to think well of "The Politicians," as a drama, we are constrained to consider it only as a lively story, broken up into dialogue; and its very merits are of a class which persuade us that its author would always succeed better in narrative,in the discursive and descriptive,-than in the dramatic. For this department of art, his mental nature does not seem sufficiently flexible, nor his mode of utterance sufficiently direct. His style is diffuse and elaborate, when it should be concentrative, and he leaves nothing to the doubts and apprehensions of the spectator. It is the great characteristic of poetry in general, and the drama in especial, that language should be suggestive rather than full. Something is left to the imagination of the audience. The clue is put into their own hands, and they are left to follow it; and it is because of the actual part which they thus are made to take in the progress of events, that the drama forms an intellectual exercise much more exciting than any other which mortal genius has yet been able to conceive. The spectators are, themselves, to a certain extent, participators in the scene. Their fears and hopes are awakened. They know not what is next to come. They feel the danger that they but behold, and tremble with personal expectation, which crowns with reality, and makes perfect and true, the illusion which is in progress before them. Where a writer leaves nothing to his audience to conjecture,-nay, where, by completing the tableau of his thoughts, he leaves nothing for the actor, he will scarcely succeed in dramatic writing. Mr. Mathews writes his play more like a critic than a dramatist. His characters do not speak to events, but to one another. They relate long stories. They canvas ordinary matters of speculation. They are, in short, all of them, more or less political satirists and essayists. The next work in this collection, to which our attention is drawn, is that, we suspect, upon which our author has expended most time and labor. It does not follow from this, however, that it is his work of greatest excellences. This is "The Career of Puffer Hopkins,"-a story of satirical character. The production is entirely too long, as a first objection. This defect is somewhat due to the too great elaborateness of our author's writings, and, perhaps, still more to the manner in which it was originally printed, by piece-meal, in the pages of a periodical. "Arcturus" was a New-York magazine, of which our author was one of the editors. It is due to this journal to say that it deserved to have been successful. We have been at some pains to procure the volumes which were published, and we find them distinguished by some of the very best characteristics of Review or Magazine. The tone of it was earnest and thoughtful,-the temper was good, the views indicated equal sincerity and originality,qualities which, though of the very last importance to a wholesome periodical literature,-particularly to its criti |