ABSTRACT

There is great power in this drama, and even much fine poetry, but, on the whole, it shocks rather than agitates, and the passion is rather painful than tragical. There are, in truth, some scenes that altogether revolt and disgust, — and mean, abandoned, and unprincipled characters occupy too much of our attention throughout the action of the play. There is but little imagination breathed over the passions of the prime agents, who exhibit themselves in the bare deformity of evil, — and scene follows scene of shameless profligacy, unredeemed either by great intellectual energy, or occasional burstings of moral sensibilities. The character of Vittoria Coromboua, on which the chief interest of the drama depends, is sketched with great spirit and freedom, — but though true enough to nature, and startling by her beauty and wickedness, we feel that she is not fit to be the chief personage of tragedy, which ought ever to deal only with great passions, and with great events. There is, however, a sort of fascination about this 'White Devil of Venice,' which accompanies her to the fatal end of her career, — and something like admiration towards her is awakened by the dauntless intrepidity of her death.