soner, is but the beginning! What said my advocate? did he not name the galleys? Oh! rather a thousand times would I welcome death! better the scaffold than the chain-better annihilation than mortal hell! rather could I bow my neck to the axe of the guillotine, than to the collar of a galley's crew-the galleys-oh just heaven!" The condemned ship sets sail, and the prisoner hears a young child, daughter of the gaoler, singing a robber's song-and all the horrible expressions which she unconsciously repeats, appear to him the slime of slugs upon a rose. 'Ah!' exclaims he, what infamy is in a dungeon! defiling all around, and withering even the song of an artless girl!'

"The Court of Appeal has not yet pronounced its decree, and the prisoner still has hope, when early in the morning an old man with white hair, and wrapped in a great coat, enters, and throwing open his coat displays a cassock. This clergyman announces that the appeal has been rejected, and that sentence is to be executed forthwith-on that very day. The prisoner is removed to the gaoler's house, whither the priest follows and addresses him, but his voice has no power to touch the culprit's soul. 'And how,' says he, 'should it be otherwise? The priest is the pensioned pastor of the prison, whose livelihood depends upon the exhortations and consoling sentences which he has prepared for all occasions. The culprits are confessed and assisted by him because he has an office to fulfil, and he has grown old in leading men to death. He has been long accustomed to what makes others tremble-the galleys and the scaffold being his daily scene of action.'

"There is an affecting scene between the prisoner and his daughter, who is brought to see him, but, in his altered dress and appearance, cannot recognize her father. After this heart-rending interview, the prisoner is led forth to execution, when a respite is announced; but before his first shock of joy has subsided, the wretch receives intelligence that sentence of death is confirmed against him; and thus the work concludes."

So much for the romance. Turn we now to the tragedy. Victor Hugo, in "Hernani,"

"Carries us back to Saragossa, aud the era which M. Hugo has assigned to its events is that of 1519. It is night; a light is burning in the bed-chamber of Donna Sol; a duenna enters with stealthy step; knocking is heard at a secret door-she hurries to open it; a cavalier forces his way into the apartment, and, grasping the terrified duenna, by the arm, orders her, on pain of death, to conceal him in the apartment, that he may witness the intended interview between her mistress and the expected Hernani. Scarcely is he concealed when Donna Sol enters, and is almost immediately followed by her mysterious lover, dressed in the costume of a mountaineer of Arragon. The dialogue of this scene, broken and natural, reveals to us that Hernani (though he alludes darkly to his former possession of rank and property), is now a proscribed bandit, commanding a mountain horde among the fastnesses of Catalonia; but that, poor and proscribed as he is, he is dearer to Donna Sol than the

renowned Ruy Gomez de Sylva, her uncle, to whom the king has destined her hand in marriage. She soothes with tenderness the impetuosity and jealousy of Hernani, and announces her resolution to follow him, whatever might be his fate-to the mountains, or to the scaffold.

"Moved by her devoted affection, Hernani is about to unfold to her his real rank, when the disclosure is interrupted by the sudden appearance of the stranger from his concealment. His cool familiarity and the gallantry with which he addresses Donna Sol, are too much for the patience of the mountaineer of Arragon. Swords are drawn, and a combat is on the point of ensuing, when a new embarrassment arises from the sudden appearance of a third admirer of the heroine, in the person of her uncle, old Ruy Gomez de Sylva. The fiery old man bursts out into a torrent of eloquent abuse against these intruders into the apartment of his niece, but to his surprise, the stranger steps forward and announces himself as Charles, king of Spain, come to confer with the duke, in regard to his claims on the empire, now vacant by the death of his grandfather Maximilian, and Hernani as an officer of his suite; with some difficulty, the old nobleman accepts this explanation, and the retreat of Hernani is thus covered. He goes, however, with new cause of hatred against Charles; his father had been put to death by the late king, and now the son comes to interpose his hateful gallantries between himself and Donna Sol. His heart wavering between love and vengeance, now throws itself with its whole weight into the scale of the latter. Charles, the son of his father's murderer, the rival of his own love, it is resolved must die.

"ACT II.-Amidst the confusion of the last scene, Donna Sol has found an opportunity of concerting with Hernani the plan of their escape next night. Again, however, their interview is interrupted by the interference of Charles. He watches under her window until light after light is extinguished, and when at last the trembling fair descends into the court, she finds herself in the grasp of the king, instead of the embrace of her lover. He offers her his crown, the imperial diadem-every thing-but in vain; he reproaches her with her attachment to a proscribed bandit; he threatens at last to have her carried off by his guard. Suddenly, Hernani appears behind him; Donna Sol rushes into his arms: and the bandit, fixing his sparkling eyes upon the king, reproaches him with his base attempt. In the midst of this trying scene the king does not falter; he preserves a calm provoking air of royal superiority, he refuses to fight with Hernani, who calls upon him to defend himself; he will not sully his royal sword by crossing it with that of a robber.

"Charles departs with a threat. Donna Sol conjures her lover to take her with him; but the near prospect of the danger to which she would be exposed from the pursuit and vengeance of the king, oppresses the mind of Hernani, and he struggles against her resolution. Overpowered by her pathetic pleading, he is on the point of yielding; when the sound of the alarm bell of Saragossa, the cry of approaching voices, and the glare of torches, announce to the lovers that the part

ing threat of Charles was not an idle one.

Hernani must fly, and that instantly he kisses the forehead of Donna Sol, and exclaims,

'Alas! it is the first.'
DONNA SOL.

"Perchance- the last.'

"He disappears-she sinks upon the seat.

“Act III.—The tumult and confusion of the night are gone. We are in the gallery of the castle of Sylva, hung round with the portraits of its warlike possessors. Donna Sol, dressed in white, is seated near a table; beside her stands the old duke Ruy Gomez, in a dress, the magnificence of which announces the approaching nuptial ceremony. He congratulates himself that in an hour her hand will be his; he entreats her to forgive his violence, his suspicions, on finding Hernani and the king in her apartment; he pleads the fears, the jealousies, the anxieties of age, while under the influence of an overpowering passion. A touching and mournful eloquence pervades his impetuous apology.

"Their interview is interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who announces that a pilgrim at the gate requests an asylum. It is Hernani, who, escaping alone from the slaughter of his companions, and believing Donna Sol faithless, has come to die before her eyes, and amidst the splendour of her nuptials. When the servants and attendants throng in, and Ruy Gomez, advancing, offers his hand to lead his bride to the altar, the pilgrim steps forward, throws aside his disguise, proclaims his name, and asks who wishes to gain the thousand Carolis which had been set upon his head. Not a voice answers, not a step moves. He is the guest of Don Ruy Gomez de Sylva; he has been promised protection, and the old noble reiterates that promise, even in the event of his being claimed by the king He goes out to give orders to close the gate. Meanwhile the lovers, who are left together, come to an explanation. Hernani learns that his mistress resigned her hand to her uncle only from compulsion; and overpowered with regret and shame for having brought tears into her eyes, he bursts out into reproaches against himself, and expressions of tenderness towards Donna Sol. Forgetful of every thing else, locked in each others' arms, they stand motionless, till surprised by the return of Ruy Gomez. His rage and consternation are unbounded; he pours out his feelings in a bitter strain of irony; he is on the point of following up his vengeance by his sword, when the blast of a trumpet without announces the approach of the king, who, having traced Hernani to the castle, comes to demand the fugitive. The mind of the old nobleman is agitated by a storm of contending feelings. Vengeance calls upon him to sacrifice the treacherous rival, who had twice intruded into his castle; hospitality and Castilian honour plead for his preservation. The latter prevail: he steps up to his own picture, presses a secret spring, and, disclosing an aperture in the wall, conceals Hernani. Charles enters, surrounded by his guards; he advances slowly; his right hand in his bosom,-his left grasping the hilt of his sword—his eyes fixed on the duke, and lowering with indignation. The silence of expectation and terror reigns through the hall.

He demands his prisoner. The duke admits he is concealed within the castle, and the king replies that either his own head or that of the fugitive must fall. The old nobleman bends low before his king, and tells him he shall be satisfied. He takes his arm-he leads him up to the long row of ancestral portraits, which, in their silent majesty, look down upon them from the walls. He describes to the impatient king the characters of the Sylvas, whom they represent,

'Their pure high blood, their blazon roll of glories.'

And at last pausing before his own portrait, behind which Hernani is concealed, he asks him, if that catalogue of heroes is to be closed by one of whom it shall be said, that he treacherously sold the head of his guest.' He offers his own in exchange; but the king, more ungenerous in his vengeance, carries off his niece as a hostage. The old man kneels to him, and implores his pity, but in vain. His bride is dragged from him; the king with his cortége depart; the servants retire. He is left alone with his concealed guest, and the tumultuous emotions of his own tortured bosom. He unlocks the concealment; he calls upon Hernani to come forth, and either receive the death he merited, or put an end to a life which is no longer worth retaining.. In his dark recess, Hernani has heard nothing; but, now that he learns from the despairing old man that Donna Sol is carried off, and in the power of Charles, he urges him, before he inflicts upon him the death he courts, to join him in his efforts to reclaim the victim from the grasp of the king. When that is done, he will place his life in his hands. He attests his vow by the head of his father. He places his hunting horn in his hands, and adds, that be the hour, the place, the situation, what it may, the duke has but to sound that horn, and he is ready to fulfil his vow. Gomez clasps his hand, and calls the portraits of his ancestors to witness the obligation.

"ACT IV.-The opening scene unfolds to us the existence of a conspiracy against Charles, into which Hernani and the Duke of Sylva, following out their concert of vengeance, have entered; and with which the king is made acquainted by his follower, Don Ricardo. Confident in himself, however, the king enters the very vaults of the cathedral, where the conspirators have been accustomed to hold their sittings. He stands before the tomb of Charlemagne ; and, in a long monologue, details his hopes-his anxieties-his views, as to his own situation, and that of society around him, and glances at the glorious prospects that open to him with the possession of the empire. The advancing steps of the conspirators lead him to enter the tomb; and, closing the door behind him, he listens to their deliberations. While the conspirators raise their swords in token of their resolution to accomplish the death of Charles, should Hernani fall, the distant sound of a cannon shot is heard. The gate of Charlemagne's tomb is half opened, and Charles is seen listening, and pale with anxiety. A second shot is heard a third. He throws open the door of the tomb, and, standing motionless upon the threshold, exclaims,—

'Move further off, my friends, the emperor hears ye!'

"The conspirators, half-thinking that the voice of Charlemagne

himself had addressed them, quench their lights; but the momentary darkness of the vault is dispelled by the brighter lustre of a thousand torches, which, at the signal of Charles, arise on all sides; while soldiers, arquebusiers, nobles, and, lastly, the whole train of electors, throng in to do homage to the new successor of Cæsar. The question now is, what shall be the punishment of the conspirators; the vengeance of the emperor cannot descend to the crowd; he directs the guards to arrest none beneath the rank of a count. Donna Sol, who, by the order of the new emperor, had been conducted thither, exclaims, pointing to Hernani, 'He is saved.' But it is not so. He separates himself from the group of the conspirators, and claims admission into the circle of death, as John of Arragon, duke of Segovia and Cordova, marquis of Monroy, count Albutera, and lord of places whose very names are too long to enumerate. He covers his head as

The

a grandee of Spain, and takes his place among his brethren. distracted Donna Sol throws herself at the emperor's feet to plead for him. 'Spare him,' she exclaims; I love him! He is mine, as the empire is yours.' The emperor looks at her for a moment, then with a deep sigh he replies: Rise, duchess of Segovia, countess Albutera, marchioness Monroy,-what other names, Don Juan?' Overpowered by surprise, Hernani flings away his dagger, and with it his hatred, and rushes into the arms of Donna Sol. All is joy, except in the heart of Ruy Gomez. The happiness of Hernani is the seal of his misery-and while the crowd are hailing with shouts the elevation of the new emperor, he alone preserves a mournful and ominous silence.

"ACT V.—It is night. Saragossa is blazing with the preparations for the nuptials of Don Juan of Arragon and Donna Sol. On a splendid terrace of the palace, a gay crowd are awaiting their appearance, amidst the sounds of voluptuous music, the lustre of variegated lamps, and the murmur of dashing fountains. In the midst of the festivity, a solitary mask, clad in black, crosses the scene, and disappears in the garden. The newly united pair enter and receive the congratulations of their friends. The crowd disperses, and they are left alone. Donna Sol addresses her husband by the name of Hernani, that name by which she had known him in the infancy of their love. But he wishes to banish the remembrances connected with it; for he is now once more Don Juan, a grandee of Spain and the husband of Donna Sol. Suddenly, the distant sound of a horn is heard. Hernani has recognised but too truly the notes of that terrible horn, which, like that blown by the expiring Orlando in Roncesvalles, is the herald of death. It is the wretched Ruy Gomez, now converted into a savage by jealousy and despair, who comes thus to turn a bridal to a sacrifice, and to claim the forfeit of his bond from his victim. Shuddering, he obeys the mandate; he detaches himself from his wife, to whom his wild and incoherent expressions have already communicated a presentiment of evil, and rushes into the garden to seek his tormentor. a sepulchral voice, Gomez repeats to him the words of his vow, and claims its fulfilment, offering to him the choice of poison or the dagger. A calmness, more frightful than violence, pervades his move

In