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4 QUEEN MARY. Tennyson’s Great Drama of England’s Most Catholic Reign. REMINISCENCES OF SHAKESPEARE. A Grand’ Picture of an Ex- ceptional Age. PHILIP AND MARY. Cranmer in Prison and at the Stake. AN ESTIMATE OF THE WORK. The announcement that Alfred Tennyson had | written @ play was an event which created a sen- | | bastard, SECOND CITIZEN. No; it was the Lady Elizabeth. THIRD OFTIZEN, ‘That was after, man; that was alter, Finsr C1rizen. ‘Then which is the bastard? SECOND CITIZEN. | | _ Troth, they be both bastards by Act of Parlia- | | meut and Council. THIRD CITIZEN. Ay, the Parliament can make every true-born man 01 US & bastard, Vid Nokes, can’t it make | thee a bastard? thou shouia’st know, lor thou artas While as three Unristmases. OLD NokES (dreamily). Who's a@-passing? King Edward or King Richard? THIRD CITIZEN. No, oid Nokes, It’s Marry ! ‘THIRD CITIZEN. 1's Queen Mary. ‘ OLD NOKEs. The nen Mary’s a-passing! [Falls on his OLD Nokes. NOKES. Let father alone, my masters! He's questioning. ast your THIRD CITIZEN, Answer thou for him, then! Thou art po such cockerel thyself, for thou was born ? the tail end of old Harry the Seventh. NoKEs. Eh! that was afore vasiard-making b¢ ee: Was born true man at five in the forenoon 1’ the “tall of oid barry, and so they can’t make me @ THIRD CrrizEN, But if Parliament can make the Que bas- tard, Why, it Joulows all the more that tl can make thee one, who art fruy’d 1’ the knee: od out at elbow, and baid o’ the back, and bursten | Qt the toes, and down at heels, sation in the literary and artistic world that no ‘imilar announcement could have created. Ex- | pectation was at its height to ascertain whether | bis endeavor in an untried feld was a success; | whetler in @ work of @his Kind the laureate would | sustain bis reputation asa poet and win new | lustre asaGramatist. The indorsement of the | London Times, that notoing equal to it had ap- peared since Shakespeare, gave it a peculiar tn- terest on this side of the Atlantic, and the American people, ever ready to welcome tue | triumphs of genius, awaitéd is appearance NOKES. I was born of a true man end ring’a wife, and I | caa’t argue upon it; but Land my old woman ’ud | burn upon it, that would we. | MARSHALMAN. What are you ling of bastard: Queen’s own nose’ I'll have you burnt Loo, by tue Rood 1 will, First CIrizEN. He swears by the Rood. Whewt a cae SECOND CITIZEN, Hark! the trumpets. [The Procession passes, Many and Exiza- BETH riding side by side, and disappears under the gate. CITIZENS. under the jogged and With breathiess anticipation, Tennysoo, in his | lyrics a8 weil asin bis longer poems, nad shown Dimself such a complete master of his art, and in | “The Princess’ and in -his ballad poetry nad | evinced so much dramatic instinct, that the ques | tion of lis success as a dramatist was the highest | Mrerary problem of the age. Should he prove a | master 0 tre dramatic form, and at the same ume | fOrtain bis Tank a8 @ poet, it was conceded that | bis work would raise the Victorian epoch to the | height of the Elizavethaa age and mark the turn- | img point of the litera‘ure of the nmeteenth cen- 12 view of all this It was only natural that a should ve looked for with such wide- | spread expectation, and itis not surprising that | Mts appearance shoula be greeted with something | very like disappointment. | THE SCOPE OF THE WORK. _ | The epoch chosen for the drama.is the reign of Queen Mary of England. It was fleld not alto- gether unoccupied, out never completely filled, if | Shakespeare is accepted as the model of the his- | tericai drama. In lus play of ‘’Twixt Axe and Crown,” Tom Taylor bad partially employed the | events ef the period witb which Tennyson's | drama deals; out bis work was so purely the back work of a back dramatist and his Princess Elizabeth was se completely subordinated to the | capacity of an actress of very moderate abilities that it is impossible it should ever find recognition outsiae of the histrionic efforts of the artist to whose capadilities it was fitted, 4 fair acting play, it is not good enough tobe read. No other dramatist who dealt with the same epoch succeeded nearly so well as Mr. Taylor, and so it was left to Mr. Teanyson to eweep ail previous effor\s off the stage and out or | our literature should he prove himself the Saakespeare of thisage. This is what the great master of dramatic writing had cone with those who went before him, ana if the poet laureate has Bot succeeded in accomplissing this much, it is proof that tie claim whicn the London 7imes has made for uim !s unfounded. Our own opinion of Bis Work is that it is notsomuch a historical drama asa study of history. Itis lacking in all the easentials of a good acting play—striking situ- @uons and eWective stage business. The charac; ters are always faintly and sometimes ieebly drawn. The division of the scenes into acts is | artificial, and the drama(is persone, of whom there ere jorty-five, come and go like talking pugpets Mmstead of real mea and women. But ‘or ail this, the drama, even a8 & Grama, is a very gr work. Is Degins with the Leginulng of Mary’s reigu aua | ends witn the deatn of the ill-fated and aobappy Queen. In tue drstact the martyrdom of Uraomer | and the succession of the Princess Elizabeta are foreshadowed, wiile the singular love of the Queen for the yellow vearded, narrow and bigoted Philip | Of Spain is introduced as the chief motive of the play. Mary's attachment to that selfiah monarch, | ber devotion to Mother Church, the persecutions | and treasons of her uaiortumate reign, the bura- | ing of Cranmer, the intrigues of the Spania Band of Elizabetn, who is made to say of hi ——/ am not sare She will not serve me better—so my Queen Would leave me—as—my wile, OD the ceats of fhe Queen are ail there ts of piot | im the drama, and tnese are sometimes superbiy and oftes boldly wrought out. When we shall have | woked more closely into the work, as indicated oy the scope of the dram: t's effort, we shall see its (auite as well a merits more clearly, and pe: Baps be adie, With sowe degree of certainty. to Sasign to it its place in dramatic literature. THE OPENING OF THE DRAMA. To many respects, not only in detacked and spe- je passages, but evec ia the general method, here ars many reminiscences of Shakespeare shroughout tee work, There is something Shake. ‘oearian ia the lises pas in the moutn of Si Renard, the Spanisa Ambassador, who speaks to tne Queen of the block a8 no great scarecrow in ber father’s time, aud says:— Lbave beard ngue yet quiver’d with the jest | Ween tae oead leapt. | Nor could there be & prettier imitation of one | of Shakespeare's conceits than the scene in the | fret act between Renard aod the Lady Alice, where she upbraids uim for the overdrawn pic- sare of the Prince, is mascer, which be pas just ade to tue Queen. itis as follows:— ALICE. O, Mastes Renard, Master Renard, | f you have iaiseiy painted your One Prince Praised, where you showid lave viamed sim, I pray God No woman ever love you, Master enard. it breaks my heart to bear Bsr moan at night 48 too’ the nigotmare Hever leit her bed, RENARD. My pretty maiden, tell me, did you ever Sigh for @ beara? ALICE. That's Dot 4 pretty question, RENARD. Wot pretily put? I mean, my pretty maiden, & pretty man for such a pretty maiden. ALICE. My Lord of Devon is a pretty man. (mate Lim, Weill, but if i have, what then? KENAKD, Then, pretty maiden, jou should know that | whetner } A Wind be warm or cold, it serves to fam @ kingied Gre. ALICE. Aceording to t “Bis friends would praise bi His (oes would biawe him, aiid | 96: Fils inends—a i receive! ‘em, | His foes—the devil bad suborn's ‘em | | The imiroduction of tae Orst, second and tuird titizen, and of the first and second gentioman in whe opening scene is not ouly alter the Snakes- pearian manner, it ls (he Suakespearian method, sod what is Most remarkavie about it is (hat toe walk Of vastards tn the first scene uf the drat act \as almest the vigor of the witch's scene in “Mac. veth.” We reproduce the whole o/ it, ACT 1. SORNE L.—ALDGATE, RICHLY DECORATED, CROWD, MARSUALMEN, MARSHALMAN, Pp acieay inne, When will Ker thour Why now, even now; ck your heads und your horns And make What nowe you 89 It Le uot treason. Shous, knav Mi IT178: © Long live Queen Mary be Finer OITizeN, ames & hard Word, legitimate; wnat does it SeconD CitizEN. At means @ bastard. TRInD CrvizEy. Nay, it means true born. ant didn’t the Finer Citizen, Parliament make her a bas | act sione would nave made him in the eyes of po» | He burnsia pargatory, mi Ow. | Is Wiki be seen now, lorget | Ber to i Givorce—my painved motuer—Nol— Long live Queen Ma down with all traitors! God save Her Grace; and death to Northumber- jand! (Breunt. Tue scene closes witha somewhat aimless dia- logue between the Firstand Second Gentleman, and the act shifts toa room in Lambeth palace, where Archbishop Cranmer was lving at tne be- ginning of Mary’s reign. CRANMER, ‘The introduction of Cranmer in this part of the drama seems to have no dramatic purpose, as it certainly is without any dramatic effect. Itisa Scene comprising only @ dialegue between the Archbisnop and Peter Martyn, in which the latter urges the former to fy, saying jor himself— Ther have given me a sale conduct; for ali that ldare notstay. IL iear, (lear 1 see you, Dear friend, tor the last time; farewell and fly. Cranmer answers:— Fly, and farewell, and let me die the death. And then the Queen's oMicers are announced to take the Archbishop to the Tower, This 1s all | tnere is of it, Cranmer declaring his willingness to go and the scene changing with the ling, I thank my God it is too late to fy. Feeble as this certainty is and purposeless as tt seems it is the foundation for what is greatest and best in the drama. The Arcabishop does not again appear upon the stage until in the foarth act, and then only in @ scene preparatory to bis execution. Ifthe play had @plot and was governed bya real dramatic motive his reappearance would be Impossible, but then we should lose the gem of Tennyson’s work. As it is the praise of the London Times 1s not too great, tor this fourth | | His learning mak act isim reality the best piece of blank verse io the dramatic form since Shakespeare. Though | Gefictent mevery acting quality, it is still in- tensely dramatic, and some of the speeches are almost as great, though in a Gifferent sense, as those of Cardinal Wolsey in “Henry Vill.” That | our readers may judge of it without prejudice, | we reprint its most impressive passages, aud we have no doubt that most of them will indorse | cur opinion that in the whole range of English dramatic literature since speare there is nothing ‘o equal it in j | Sbake- purity of thought and expression and lofty deal- | ing With a singular and exceptional episode ia | | pistory. Lacking in fire, it is not deficientiu | vigor, and it glows with a brilliancy pecullariy its | own, Even in his most splendid speeches and | loftiest souloqueis Shakespeare 1s often bombastic | and sometimes vulgar. There is notuing of tnese qualities in Tennyson's verse, and the whole act isthe noblest embodiment wuica has yet been made of the bighest culture of the age. in speak: | ing thus weare not unmindful of the faults of the | work, but had the poet written nothing else this | terity like the prieat— Ever tie, and so gracious, Wits ail Bis learning. The excerpts are as follows :— Tux Purttion Zon | enema le What have you there? CARDINAL POLE. tion *rdus the foreiga exiel A long petition ‘rom the for ve 4 y the lie of Cranmer. Hishop (biriby Lora Wihawm Howard, , bearing of your Grace. ninsel—iniatuated— je? Mary. His life? Ob, no; Not sued for pe op o bay ctincty Bea tg vain. But +o mucy of the anti-papa e Works in aim ye! hate pray’ me not tosully | Mine own prerogative, and degrade tne rea! By seeking Justice at a stranger's band Against my natural subject. King and Queen, 10 Wuom Le owes his loyal.y alter God, Small these accuse him to # joreign prince? Death would not grieve him more. 1 cannot be ‘Prue to tuis realm o, Engiaud und the Pope Together, says the ueretic. PoLe And there erra; As be hatu ever err’d thro’ vanity. A secular kingdom is 0Ul as the body Lacking * soul; and in itself a beam. | The Holy Patoer in a secuiar Kingdom Is a8 the soul descending out of beaves into @ body generate. RY. Write to Bim, thes POLE. lw. Many. And sharply, Pole. POLE. | Here comes the Cranmerites! Enter Turaisy, Lozp Pavet, Lond WitLiam How- ARD. Howarp. Heaith to your Grace. Good morrow, my Lora | Cardinal; We make vur hamble prayer unto Your Grace ‘That Cranmer may witaaraw to foreiga parts, Or into privete ite within the realm. In several bills and @eciarations, Madam, He ato recanted all his heresies. Ay, ay; if Bonner have uot /orged the bills. 1 ' re Y. Did not More die, and ir? be must barn. Hewax. He hath recanted, ——- any. ‘The better for bim, jot iu bell, ARD. your Grace; but it was ¥ ove recaoting thu: iY. ‘adam, Madam! 1 thus implore you, low upon my kuees, To reach tue baud of mercy to ~ ir err’d with Bim; wien wine | hi What human reason is there why my t Should meet with lesser mercy (hau myself? uy this. a ° Lord of Ey, bang the leacers, iet t eran ww head ana | ning a6 they Cali it; me at most heed When HOWARD. Ay, ay, Out mighty doc' urs doubted there, The Pope uitself Waver'a; aud jore than one Kow'a iu that galiey—Guruiuer to wit, Whow truly I deny not to uave been ar faiiiul friend @ad trusty councillor. n bot your Hignness ever read bis bvok, His tractate upon Traé Obedience, Writ by Dimseu and bad ’ | iY. l will tame Such order with all bac heretival cooks ‘That none shail bold ter iD luis Bouse and live, Menceiorwerd, No, my Lord, HOWARD, vi The trutn i Your faim Uf auch Cojo ngacud, kxecept when wrots, you eye Anu Ool4 your own; and were he wroth indeed, You veid it less, or Dot at 1 Yuor ather had @ will t Your jasvher bad @ orain that beat wen down— | Say! | Su polsouing the Cour: | Mucu less snail others in like cause eg: Aod | can Dod no reluge Upod earth, | . NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1875.-IRIPLE SHEET. PoLx. Howarp. \o, for yeu were not b You sit upon this fallen Cranmer’s throm And it would more become you, my Lord Legate, To jolu a voice, so potent with her Highness, To ours io plea for Cranmer taap to stand On naked sseriion. Many. ‘ All your voices Are waves on Mint, The beretic must burn. Howakp. Yet once he saved your Majesty's own life; Stood out against the King in your beat, At his own peril, Not me, my Lord, Many, hi I kuow not if he did; And if he did I care not, my Lord Howard. MY Ille 1s pet so happy, no such boon, ‘That 1 should spare to take a weretic priest's, Who savea i or not saved. Why do you vex me? PAGET. Yet to save Cranmer were to save the Church, Yoar Majesty’s 1 mean; he is eMaced, Seli-blotied out; so wounded in bis honor, He can put creep down into some dark hole Like @ hurt beast, una vide himself aod die; Buti you barn him—well, Your Highness knows ‘VYhe saying, “Martyr's bicod--s0ec oi the Chureh.’? ARY, Of the true Church ; but bis is none, nor will be. You are too politic for me, my Lord Paget. And if he have to live so Joatn’d a iile, It were more merciul to burn him now. ‘THIRLDY. Oyevreient. O, Madam, if you knew him As | do, ever gentie, and so gracious, With ail his learning— ‘Mary. Yet a heretic still. his burning the more just, ‘THIRLBY. So worshipt of all those thas came across him; ‘Toe stranger at bis hearth, aud ail wis house— ARY. Tis children and ats concubine, belike. THIRLBY. To do him any wrong was to beget A kindness trom him, for his heart was rich, Ur such fine mould, that if you sow’d therein The seed of Hate, it niggsomnd Charity. POLK. “aiter his kind it costs him nothing,” there's An old world English avage to the polot, Yhese are but natural graces, my good Bisnop, Which in the Cathouc garden are as lowers, But on the heretic dunguii! only weeds. HOWARD. Sach weeds make duuguilis gracious, MARY. Enough, my tating God’s wili, the Holy Father's will, an Philip's will and mine, that he should burn, He ig pronounced Suathema. HOW akD. Farewell, Madam, God grant you ampler waniet a) your call mown to Cr % haan (Bxeunt Lords POLE. P ben 1 on Grace will hardly care to overiool Tals same petition of tue ioreign exile: For Cranmer’s life, Mary, i eat Make out the writ to-n! et feceunt, CRANMER IN PRISON. CRANMER, . el I dream’d tue lagots were al ay big tert: was fasten’d to the stake, And found it all a visionary fame, Cool as the light in old decaying wooa; And then King Uarry jook’d trom out @ cloud, ‘and bade me have good courage: and | heard An angel cry, ‘t re 1s Cott a ear hae the tram: “ 5 And alter Wat, [rumpets woe Why, there are trumpets blowlag now : wi atis ice . * * * * . . Enter BONNER. BONN NER. Good day, old friend; what, you look somewhat ec itis a day to teat your health tis a da einer the best: 1 s c@ bave spoken with you Since when!—sour degradation. At your tial Never stuod up a bolder maa taan you; You wouid not cup tue Pope’s commissioner— Your Jearning, aod your stoutnuess, and your heresy, Dumionnded half of us. So, alter that, We had to dis-archdisaop and auiord, And make you simple Cranmer once agatn, Tne common barber clipt your bar, aud L | Seraped irom your flager-poimts the holy oll; ‘Aud worse than all, you had to kneel to me: | Which was not pleasant for you, Muster Crammer, that Would uot recognize \oe Pope, xed Jou, that would not own tue Real Presence, Have jound 4 real presence in the stake, Which iriguts you back into the ancient faith; And so you have recanted to the Pope. | How are the mighty fallen, Master Cranmer! RANMER, been more Gerce against the Pepe than I; fing back the stone he strikes bear pheng 8 You Bat way © Bonner, if1 ever did you kinduess— b been given you to try faten by fre— Pray you, eemenvering how yourself have change: Be sowewhbat pit:ful, To the poor flock—te ‘vhat woeo | was “—— uit e or die! ntle as they call you—iivi ie Pitt to unis pitiiul heresy? j must obey the Queea and Connell, man, Win thro’ this day with bonor to yourself, And 1'll say sometuing for you=so-—g004-by. St. MARY'S CHURCH. 01 use; people in the foreground, Behold him— [4 baa 474 Oh, unhappy he te: run down lis jatoeriy face, sitet SBOOND PROTEST AMT. weal idet thou ever seo 4 carrion er Zea wareung ‘& Sick Least beture he dies? Finsr PROTES (ANT. reb’d up there? 1 wish some thunderpolt Foul make this Cole oo pulpit and all. 4 bim, brethren; be Nath cause to weep|— eouure we all; weep with him if ye will, itwe dient for one man to dic, ¥ the people, lest tae peooie ate. bereiore should be die that hatu return’d after I ha one, women and to chiidren— shop beld with me. 1 RST PROTESTANT. | Ps the one Catholic Universal Cbarca, tant ol bis errors rete PRorestat murmurs, Ay, tell us that, JOLE. { the wrong side will despise tho man, peoming oim nee thro’ the fear of death Gave up nis cause, eXcept ne seal his fain Ap sigut of al With famiug martyrdom, CRANMER. ay. COLE. Ye bear bim, and albeit there According tu tae Canons pardon cue To nim chat so repents, yet are tere causes 4 Council at tis ame bata veen @ traitor, ain 5 Wherelore our Queen Adjodge olm to the ceata. bi unuer-of th divorce ¥ He here, tnis heretic metrovolitan, Asif ne had been the Moly rathe And judged it, vidt him be: ‘A huge Leresiarch | never was it That any mau so writing. preacuing so, 80 long ae Hato joaud fis pardon; thereiure he must die, For waroing aud example. Other reasons | There be for this man’s ending, which our Queea And Council at this present dee: it not | Expedient to be known. PROTBSTANT Murmurs, 1 warraut you, | COLE. | Take thereore, all, example by this man, For if our Holy Queen not pardon iim, pe, THAt wil of you, the Mghest as tue lowes! Muay learn there ts Bo power agains: the Lord, | ‘There stands & mau, Ouce Of so lyn degree, Chiet preimte of our Churca, archoishop, Gret ln Council, second persun 1a tue reaim, Friena jor su joug ime Oo & migoty Kin) ‘Abd now ye see de vulaiien and Gedased From councivor to caitif—faiien so ow, Tue ieprous fatrerings of the byway, scum And offal of the city would not nge ais with bim; in brief, 80 miserab ‘Phere is Ho hope of better leit for Lim, No place ior worse, Yet, Cranmer, be thou glad, This is whe work of God. fe is giorifed In thy conversion: lo! thou art reciaim'd; He brings thee nom or eur Oat tat today Thou shait receive (he peniteat tniei’s award, And ve with Carist tae Lord in Paradise, Kemember how God maue tue ferce fire seem tures children like & pleasant dew, ber, Loo, atmph o} St, Andrew on his cross, ? tienes Of St. Lawreuce tn the fire, Tous, it tova cai on God sud aii Lhe suints, God wil veat down the fury of tae Lame, OF give thos saintly Atrength to Gavergo, And for thy #oul shal Masses here be sung By every priest iu Uxiord, Pray for him, URANMER, AY, one 40d Gil, doar Oro thers, pray lor me; Pray wits one breath, — oue soul, for me, vom. And now, jeat any one smung you doubt The man’s conversion aod ra6 Ol oeart, Yourseives #uall hear Din Speak. Speak, Master Cranmer, Fuifil yoar promise made moe, and proclaim Your irue undoubted faith, chat ali may beat CRANMER, And that [ will, O God, Father of Heaven! O son of God, Kedewer of the World! | O Holy Gaost | proceeding \rom them born, Three pers and one God, Lave mersy on me, | Most mixerabie sioner, wretcced man, ave Offended against levven and earte More grievously tian any ton we can tei, Town Wiituer should J lee lor wny hep? Lam ashamed to iit my eyce to heaven, God furvid | 0 God, For fnou art merciiai, resusiny none ‘Tawt come to Lhee lor succo’, Unto Thee, Thereiore | come; humbie inysed to Thee; , © Lord Gud, ai.uougn my sina ve great, i J despair wen? | | | Yea, even such a8 miue, incalculable, | Touching the sacrament in thut sal ercy have mercy! O God the Son, ults alone, when thou becamest mystery wrought; er, not for lirtie sins Didst thou yield up thy Som to human deatl But lor the wreatest sin that can be sinn’d, - Unpardouable—sin agaist the hight, The truth o: God, weieh Load proven and known, Thy mercy must be greater than aii st Forgive me, Father, ior no merit of mine, But that Tay vame by man be glorified, And Thy most vlessea Son's, who died for man, Good people, every man at time of death Would (ain set forva some saying that may live Alter his death ana betcer humankind ; For deata g life’s last word a power to live, Aud, like tue stone-cut epitaph, remain Aiter the vaulsh’d veice und speak to men, God grant ime grace to glorify my God! Aud Urst | say it is a urievous case, Many se dote upon this bupole worid, Whose colors in a moment break and fly, They care lor nothtag Wuat saith St, John? “Love of this World is hatred against God,’? Again, I pray you all that, next tu God, You do unmurmuringly ana willingly Obey your King and Queen, and not for dread Of these alone, but from lear of Him Whose mninisters they be to govern you, Thirdly, | pray you all te love togetner Like bretren; yet what ha'red oristian men Bear to each other, seeming uot as breturen, But mortal foes! But do yoa wood to all As muuch as in you lieth, Hurt no man more ‘Than you Would harm your loving natural brother Of the same roof, Same breast, If any do, Aibeit ne think bimsei! at home witn God, Of this be sure, he 1s whole worlds away. PROTESTANT murmurs. What sort of brotners then be those that lust ‘To burn each other? Wintiaus, Peace among you, there, ORANMER. Fourthly, to those tha: own exceeding wealth, Remember that sore saying speken once By Him that was the truch, “how bard it ts For tne rich man to enter into Heaven;" Let ali rich men remember that hard word. Thave not ume for more: if ever, now Let them flow jorta in charity, sseing now ‘Yhe poor 8e many, and ail food so dear, Long have I lain ia prison, yet bave heard OU; all their wretchedness, Give to tue poor, Ye give to God, He is with us in the poor, Aud now, ana Jorasmucti as I lave come To the lust end of life, and thereupon Hangs all my past, aod all my life to be, Either to live with Christ in Heaven with Joy, or to be still in pain with de bell; And, se¢ing in a moment, | shall bud Pointing upward, Heaven or else hell ready to eye hf ii Ww me, inting downward, I snall declare to you my very fain Witaoat all color, COLE. Hear him, my good brethren, P CRANMER, Ido believe in Ged, Fatuer o/ all; In every article of the Catholic faith, And every syllable taught us by our Lord, His prophets, and aposties, in the Testaments, Both Old and New, CouE. Be plainer, Master Cranmer, CRANMER, And now I come to the great cause that weighs Upon my conscience more (han any thing Or said or done tn all my life by we; For tuere be writings [ vave set abroad Against the truin! knew within my heart, Written for leat of death, to save my life, If that might be; the papers by my hand Sign’d since my degradation—by tuis hand Holding out his right hand, Written ano signed —I bere reuounce them all; And, since my hand offended, haviog writien Against my heart, my haga shail first be burot, So I'may come to tue dre. (Dead silence. Pao ANT murmurs, FIRS? PROTESTANT, Lanew it would be so, SECOND PROTESTANT. Our prayers are heard! ‘AIRD PROTESTANT. Tr God bless him! CATHOLIC murmurs. Out upon him! out upon him! Liar! dissembler! traitor! to the tire! WILLIAMS (raising his voice). You know that you recanted all you said Youu wrote against my Lord «f Wine te: Dissembie nut; play the piatn Curistian ma CRANMER, Alas, my Lord, l have beena man loved plainne: 1 did dissemble, but the hou come For utter truth and es: herefore, I say, i nold by all l wrote witain that book, Moreover, As lor the PopeI count him Aatichr. With ali bis evil’s doctrines Reject num and abnor him. | have said. {Cries on ail sides, “Pull bim down! Away with bm,” all my lies ‘ 0. VOLE. Ay, stop the heretic’s mouth, Hale him away. WILLIAMS, Harm bim not, barm him not, nave him to the fire. (CRANMER goes Out between Two Friars, smiling; hands are reached to him from the crowd, Lonp WittiaM Howarp and Loxp Pacer are left alone in the church, AGED. The nave and aisles all empty as a fool's jest! No, here’s Lord William Howard, Wha‘, my Lord, You bave uot gone to see the burning t Howarp, To stand at ease, and stare as at a show, And wutcn a cood man ourn, Never again, I saw tne deaths of Latimer aod Kidley. Moreover tho’ w Uatuolic, I would not, For tae pure honor of our common nature, Hear what I mignt—another recantation Of Crabmer at the stake, . . * * . . . Enter PErers. Peters, my gentiemaa, £u honest Catnolic, Who iollow’d with the crowd to Uranmer’s fre One that would neither misrepor: wor li Not to gain paradise: UO, Dor if the Pope Charged lim to do 1t—he 16 white as deatu, Peters, how pale you look! you bring ¢ Of Uratmer’s burning with you. PETERS, ‘Twice or thrice The smoke of Cranmer’s burning wrapt me round, HOWARD, Peters, you know me Vatnoug, but Englis! Dio he die bravely + Teil me toat, or ie: All else untold, PETERS. My Lord, ne died most bravely. Howarp, Toen tell me all. Pacer. | Ay, Master Peters, tell us, PETERS. him how he past among the crowd; ked the spanish iri: Still pied pim with eutreaty aad reproach: But Cranmer, as tue helmsman ac the heli dteers, ever ovkiug to the Lappy haven Where he suaii res! a uig&t, Moved to bis death; And I could see that many silent hang You And ever as be we nad come where Ridley vuret wilh Lati- me He, with a cheerful smile, as one whose mind 1s all made up, 1a baste put of the rags They hed mvcked nis misery with, and all in White, His iong white beard, which he had never «| Since Hebry's Geath, down-sweeplug to t Wuerewith (hey bound im to the stake, More uke a0 ancient fatuer Oi the Ui Waereat Lora Willis “Make short! make wood. Then Lrapwer Jilted nls left band to heaven, Ana thrust nis rigas into the bittcer fai And Crying, in his deep Voice, more than once, “his hacn © ed—this unwortay pana!!! So held it thi 1c all was bura’d, beior The fame had reaca’ ; [stood near— Mark’d Uin—ne never utiered woan of pain: He never scirr’d or writned, but, like & statue, Unmoving im the greatness of tue 1. me, Gave up the ghost; and so past martyr-like— Martyr J may aot pim—pasc—but whither? AGET. To purgatory, man, to purgatory. PETERS. Nay, bat, my Lord, he denied purgatory, PAGE. Why then to heaven, aud God ha! mercy on aim. Howanp. Paget, despive his fearful heresies, Lioved the mau, ana heeds Must moan for nim; | © Cranmer! PAGET. But your moan Is use! Come out, my Lord, it aa world As the drama has no claims to be considered an fotiog piay, though it ts to this extent a satiure, we need scarcely consider it in that aspect, Its | acting force may be judged irom the act irom | | which we have quoted so larzely as well as from | we have commended so warmly a | representation any part of the play; but even the scenes wnicn utterly de. like movement, The qaaity of @ piece intended for oo the siage 18 action, bat of thie Mr. Tennyson's drama possesses aimost uotniog. From beginaing to end ic is mere dislogue—disiogue, tov, of a kind tuat on Mr. Wallack’s or Mr, Day's stage would be pro« nounced dull, Events are related, uot acted, and the arr ma is consequently @ narrative, not a pia Except in one scone—scone 8, act which repre | gents the Great Haliin Whitenall, with Mary, Phiip aod Pole vn & duis at One end, aud the Communs on bencoes io front, there is 0 opportunity tor stage decoration; but even here the poet has failed a9 a dramatist, and bis grand scene would probably be pronounced &@ terrivie bore suould any manager have the courage to give it a setting. ‘ THE PIVOTAL SOBNR OF THR DRAMA. And yet this scene ia this act is the uinge upon Scent frat in everytuing smoxe 2 si ed which the drama turns, both as 8 work of art snd @study of history, Queen Mary ts made to say, almost a8 soon as her reign begius:— God bath sent me here ‘To take such order with ull neretics ‘That it sball be, nefore i die, as tho? My futher and ty brother naa not lived. And a little further on we havo her apostrophis- ing:— O, my lord te be, My love, for thy sake ouly. 1 am eleven years older But will he care for that ¢ No, by the holy Virgin, being noble, But love me only; then the busta My sister, 15 Jar fairer toan myseif. Wii he be drawn to her ? No, being of the true taith with myself. Paget 1s ior hun—for to wed with Spain Would treble England—Gardiver 1s against him; ‘The council, people, Pariiament against him Butt will save wim! My hard facher hated me My brother ratoer hated me than loved; My sister cowers and hates me. Holy Virgin, Plead with thy biessed son; grant me my prayer; Give me my Pailip; and we two will lead ‘fhe living waters o1 toe Faith again Back = their widow’d cuannel here and wate) The parch’d banks roliing incense, as of old, ‘Yo heaven, ana kindled with the palms of Christ! All thia points to the return of England to Mother Church, the formal ratification of which it is the business of this pivotal scene to represent 4m an historic picture of the assembied Parlta- ment, Other hands might have made the picture nm he 18. prout, effecuve, but Tennyson is too much @ painter of | stil life to quicken the scene with action, All there 1s of action in it is —— to supplicate ‘The legate here for pardon and acknowledge ‘The primacy of the Pope, The Legate, Oardinal Pole, responds im a very pretty speech, entirely Tennysonian in kind, and deelares that England’s sins are matters of the past— And range with jetsam aud with offal thrown Into the blind sea of lorgetiulness, ‘This grand occasion, however, 1s not the end of tne act, nor even of the scene itself, the latter closing with the arrest of Sir Kalph Bagernall, one of the most shadowy characters in the drama, because he stood up when the others knelt to receive absolution. A play so weak in its vital part must of necessity be weak in that which makes a drama most effec- tive—its situations, There are no tableaux from one end of the play to tne other. At the close of the first act, where Mary obtains her darling wish— her Philip—the curtain falis omthree persons, tle Queen and the Spanish Ambassador being the most important, And the fourth act, which is the strongest, closes with @ narrative of Cran- mer’s death at the stake. THE SPEECHES AND EPISODES. Iv is plain, them, that the charm or this drama lies in the speeches and episodes which are scat- tered through it like fowersin a river meadow. Some of Queen Mary’s speeches are woadrously fine. We nave, for instance, this picture of Mary in a room in the palace. Alice, and has im her hand @ miniature of Philip:— aes Mary (kisstng the miniature). Most goodly, Kinglike, and an emperor’s $on,— A king to be,—is he not noble, girl? ALICK, Goedly enough, your Grace, and yet, methinks, Thbave seen goodlier. Mary. ’ AY, some waxen do!l Thy baby eyes have r 4 OD, DEKE; All rea and white, the ion of our jand. Bat my good mother came (God rest her soul) Of Spain, and | am Spanisu in myseif And in my likings. ALICE. By your Grace’a leave Your royal mother came Of Spata, but took To the English red and white. Your royal father (For so they say) was all pure Illy and rose In iis youto, aud like @ lady. 0, Just God! Sweet mother, you nad time and cause enough To sieken Of bis Itlles and bis roses. Cast off, betray’d, defamed, divorced, forlorn! And then the king—that traitor past forgivencss, ‘The false archoishop fawning on hin, married The motner of Klizabeth—a heretic Ev’n as sne is; but God hath sent me here To take such order witn ali heretics Phat it shail pe, before I die, as tho? My father aud my brother had not lived. What wast thou saying Of tois Lady Jane, Now in the Tower? ALICE. Why, Madam, she was passing Some chapel down in Essex, and wito her Lady Anne Wharton, and the Lady Anne Bowed to the Pyx; but Lady Jane stood up Stuf as the very vackbone Of heresy. Aud Wherefore bew ye not, says Lady Anne, To bim within there Wao mace Heaven and Earth ? I can not ana I dare not, tell your Grace What Lady Jane repitea. ARY. But 1 will have it, a. vaon mie ‘ind ity her. id—pra; bho bath wearedanG evil counsel—an! ahe saia, ‘rhe baker made aim. And this is her exultation when she fancies she is to give birth to a King for England ana for Spain:— May. He hath awaked! he Bath awaked! He stirs within the darkness! On, Pauip, Busband | now thy love to mine Will cling more close, and those bleak manners thaw, make me shamed and tongue-tied in my love, coud Prince of veace— unborn bogey 4 ol He'com y L: ‘The stormy Wyatis and Northumberlands, ‘The proud ambitions of Elizabetu, And ali ber fiercest partisans—are pale ‘The ligat of this new learning wanes and dies: The ghosts of Luther aod Zuingiius fade Into the Geatoless bell whico is their doom Before my star! His sceptre suail go fort m Ind to Ind! a Word shal bew the b i¢ peoples down! His faith shall clothe the world that will be bis, Like univ lair aud sanseine! Upen, Ye everlasting gates! The King is vere !— My stur, my son! Alter Philip baa gone and came no more she thought fora moment he had come again, when | we have this speecn:— Mary. Pailip! quick! loop ap my hair! barat cushions of that seat, and make it throne- ike. Arrange my dress—the gorgeous Indian sbawi That Philip brought me tu our happy a That covers all, So—aim | somewhat Queenlike, Bride of the Migotiest sovereign upon carta? This is Gtiy supplemented by the last scene or ali—the dying scene :— Mary. O God! | have been tos slack, too slack; ‘There are tot Gospeliers even among our guards Novies We dared noc touch. We have but burat ‘be seretic priest, workmen, aud women and children. fame, ague, fever, storm, wreck, wrath— aye 8» play’d the coward; out by Gua's grace, We'll follow Philip's leading, and set up The Holy Udic> here—garner the wheat, gus barn tue tares witu uaquencnabie fre! 0D Fie, what a savor! tell the cooks to close shy doors Of ail Lhe ofices below. Latimer! bur, We are private with our women here— Ever a rougi, blunt and uncourtly jellow— ‘Thou hiwht @ toren toat never will go out! ‘Tis oul—mine dames, Women, the Moy Father Has te'ep the legateship (som our cvasin Poie— Was that well dune? aud poor Pole pines of tt, As ido, to the deatn. 1am but & woman, Lhave no power. Abd, Weak and meek old Man, Seveulold disvonor’d even in the sight O/ thine own sectaries—No, uo. No paraon |— Why tuat was fai bere is tbe right hand still Beckons me hence, Sir, you were burat for heresy. not for treason, Memeiber taac | 'owas | and Bonuer did it, and ¥ We are turee to one—Have you found mercy there? Grant it we h and see he smiles and goes, Gentle as tn 1: We ALICE. 2 — og goes? King Philip? A RY. No, Philip comes and goss, vat mover goes, Women, Wuen | am dead Open My eart, aad there you will fad written ‘wo pauwies, Patiip and Valais; open his So that he nave one— You wili find Philip oaly, policy, polley; AY, Worse than twat—not one hour true to met Foul Maguots Crawiing in & jester vice! Adultesous to the very beart of nell! Hast thou a knifey ALICE. Ay, Madain, bat 0’ God's meroy— MARY. Fool, think’st thou I would poril mine own soul By slaugoter of the body ? 1 could got, girl, Not toils way—Callous With & Cons.ant wiripe, Unowoundabie, Thy knife! 10R, Take heed, tako heed! ‘The biade ts Keon as death, MARY. ‘Thia Philip shail not Stare in upon me in my haggarduess; Old, Miseraule, diseased, Incapavie of Caildren, Come thou down, (Cuts out the picture and throws it down, Lie there, (Wails.) O God, | nave killed my Pullip. ALICK. No, Madam, you have vat cut the chuvas out, We Can replace a She is with the Lady | Many. All iy well then; rest— Twill to rest; he said, i must nave reat. THE TENNYSONIAN LYRICS AND CONORITS. One would natarally expect in Mr, Tennyson’ drama some of those litle songs which are so charming @ part of ‘The Princess,” bat ‘e | have only a Mulkmaid’s song and @ late song of | Queen Mary. Here is the MitxMarp (singing without). Shame upon vou, Koon, Shame upon you now! Kiss me would you? with my hands Milking the cow ? Daisies grow again, Kingcups vlow agatn, And you came and Kiss’d me milking the cow, Robin came behind me, Kiss’d me weil | vow; Cuff him could 1? with my hands Milking the cow? Swallows tly again, Cuckoos ery again, And you came and kiss’ me milking the cow. Come, Rovin, Robin, Come and kiss we now; Help it can I?’ with my hands Milking tne cow ? Ringdoves coo again, Ail things woo again, Come behind and kiss me milking the cow! We think, however, the lute gong the prettier conceit of the two, aud there 1s something won- | drously pathetic im the hopeless woman singing:— | Hapiess doom of woman happy in betrothing! Beauly passes like @ breava and love 18 lost im loathing: Z Low, my lute; speak low, my lute, but say the world is nothing— ow, lute, low | Love Will nover round the fowers when they rst awaken; Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken; Low, pla ft on low, my lute! we fade and are orsaken— Low, dear late, low ! Other Tennysomian conceits show themselves throughout the drama, of which one of the hap piest is the line— _ “To gorge & heretic whole, roasted or raw.’ ‘This, we take it, was suggested by the modern taste lor the oyster. We doubt, however, whether chess was 80 common in Queen Mary's day that the French Ambassador, in inviting the young Duke of Devon to his house to take part in an in+ trigue, could ask him to play it, This speech at least is due to the telegraph :—~ NOAILLES. King of France, ES, Ay! but we play with Henry, And certain of his court. OVes across the channel, , And there are messens His Highness makes bis We answer him wita our! gers That go between us. AN ESTIMATE OF THE DRAMA, The most surprising thing about this drama ts ita complete unlikeness to everything the critic could have anticipated. Jn spite of its ‘ew Tennysonian lyrics and conceits itis not Tennysonian, It has Done of the mawkish sentimentality of ‘*The Prin« cess’? and noue of the morbid and obscure tran- scendentalism of “In Memoriam,” In thought and treatment it is simple to severity. Even when it is most beautiful it 18 almost bal¢ from the want of adornment, There {8 nof @careless line nor au ili-considerea speech from the first act to the last. straint is too constrained and the severity toa severe, but thisis true only in the dramatic, not the literary sense. As the work of @ poet it mi be sald to be faultless, and if its dramatic triumph had been equally assured, the laureate might well contest with Shakespeare the paim of great- | | ness. Could Mr, Tennyson have beem am actor without losing his git of song, it 18 quite possible his’ work woulé have been ao play a8 well a8 @ drama. Its fault is in its failure to present to the eye what it reveals to the imagination, and yet ita very clumsiness of consjruction 1s its perfection asapicture, Toe stage carpenter's hand would mar its beauty and yet Jail to give it li it we jould see it on the stage we should miss in 10 that which is most exquisite, and find no recom pense in the multitude of its scenes, natural enough in a poem, but shifting awkwardly in a play. Itis dramatic in torm, but not im fact; but while we regret the loss of the play we are not condemuing the drama. As @ poem even the dramatic form was necessary ta the poet’s purpose, and if be has cheated tne play- house he has enricned player and playgoer alike. | Asan historical study, asthe pictare ofa reign and an age in Some respects the most marvellous in the world’s aunals, his work is unsurpassed, we migat say unsurpassaole. No etuer, not even Snakespeare himself, could have done better wita the materials at his command; aod this mach we may say of Tennyson's ‘Queen Mary,’’ that if isis not tke hig! fort of genius, it is at least the ripeas trait of intellectual culture, THE HARLEM FLATS, | SROMAASENG SEAS SH ENN AERRRE CROCE CO ‘ THE NUISANCES. The excessive heat of the past few days has ten flats. Disease has been consequently on the io- crease, and the whole neighborhood ia at the prea- ent time in @ pestilential condition. Smallpox prevails to an siarmiog extent and is on the in+ The air is poisoned for a consiierable in the vicinity of these plagi pots, and yes no reasonable attempt has been made by the au- thorities to disiniect the place. The following in- terview, had yesterday with Dr. Joon Dwyer, of | No, 224 East 112th street, who is professionally cognizant of all 8, will reveal new causes sor alarm: = Reronrer—Has the excessive heat of the last day or two, Doctor, addea to the dangers of the plague spot im your neighborhood ?. br. DwyEr—Professional calls to the flats yesterday disclosed to me a dpeadful state of at fairs there. Smallpox and pestilential feve; ‘e Nourisning in the locatity, ‘Tne fat-melting nouse at the [oot of 106/n street gave ont @ horrid stench, which, combined with the smeli of Mleod trom the | slauguter house next to it and the | able eMuvia from toe flats, whi so homcopathically disinfected with very dead oil indeed, and the thermometer being | in the hundreds, all renaered tue whole pla solutely pestiierous, and even at mignight the air | Was poisoned and the smell most offensive as tar | up as 114th street, and Lknow that as Jar over as h street and Madison avenue the residents e to Close the windows to the stench. | RePoRTER—Is not that fat-meltiog establishment an old annoyance in the nelgnournood t | De. DwyER—It is | AN OLD NUISANCE, and has been repeatedly compli | Board of Health, Lremember ti yt a | the Medical Board of Ward’, nd Hospital om. | clally complained of the place being dangerous to | the heaivn of the Inmates acrogs (ne river, but tae | Nuisance sill] exists, a hear the people who live in the n orhood, bas | who are not engaged In the melting house, speag of the cons:ant noxious smell, Rerorrer—I| noticed pore lying at the foot of Dr. Dwyer should jong a there for some time e nearly ofty tons of night soll, ¢v you may imagine How, In such Weather ag this, there inust necessa 1m the locality adjoining. VER 18 THERE POLLUTED. y the ilariem steamers pass by thi t, and the lives of tue pasa rs are one thereby, for the poison is swept inte Ss when the wind is westeriy, and 3K of infection 18 thas run. How blind ats the people of Hariew nuisances? The puolic and demand what is tne matcer, invoiviag the ‘uere $uould be such grows inattention on the part of the proper auth Ty the oulsance ta to be abated, you continae the exposure of it, Aad all the credit of what has been due to tne Henao. | Dr. Dwyer then stated that but @ day or two | since he bad a J Amallpox as high ap a4 117th duly novifed the Board oF yet, owing to the red tapism of that , tie patient wi 0 to remata daring t eentire night at 01 before removal te the hospital, The Doctor also expressed his ree gret that Commissioner Porter's request for au THority to fill the fata with @arth fad been tabied Al Et 2 by tas Boara ail the show the latter Nad made in sum MonIMRWitnesses, wo, in | the matter, | STATUE TO O'CONNELL A meeting of the OfVonnel: Statue Committee wa held at Delmonice’s, corner of Ubambers streerand Broadway, yesterday, General Jones in the onair, Mr. Jerome J, Oviling ac.ed as seoresary., The site | designated by the Park Commissioners in we northeast cor of the Mali Was accepted. | Alter tne transaction of some unimportant ous. | Bess o sUD-COMMILtee Was apvoiuted CO Wait Upon Mercnauia to ask their co-operation rection of the proposed actus, Some wad. | jvos hoving been handed in the meoting ude | murned Wutl Tuesday ween, Sometimes the con | * ee a a ET mr