hardly to have retained a more painful recollection
of his disappointment in that particular, than of
the general neglect and disgrace he had sustained at
the court of Lisbon. The last stage of a virtuous
heart, corroded into evil by wounded pride, has been
never more forcibly displayed than in the character
of Dorax. When once induced to take the fatal
step which degraded him in his own eyes, all his good
affections seem to be converted into poison.
The religion, which displays itself in the fifth act
in his arguments against suicide, had, in his efforts
to justify his apostacy, or at least to render it
a matter of no moment, been exchanged for sentiments
approaching, perhaps to atheism, certainly to total
scepticism. His passion for Violante is changed
into contempt and hatred for her sex, which he expresses
in the coarsest terms. His feelings of generosity,
and even of humanity, are drowned in the gloomy and
stern misanthropy, which has its source in the self-discontent
that endeavours to wreak itself upon others. This
may be illustrated by his unfeeling behaviour, while
Alvarez and Antonio, well known to him in former days,
approach, and draw the deadly lot, which ratifies
their fate. No yielding of compassion, no recollection
of former friendship, has power to alter the cold and
sardonic sarcasm with which he sketches their characters,
and marks their deportment in that awful moment.
Finally, the zealous attachment of Alonzo for his
king, which, in its original expression, partakes of
absolute devotion, is changed, by the circumstances
of Dorax, into an irritated and frantic jealousy,
which he mistakes for hatred; and which, in pursuing
the destruction of its object, is almost more inveterate
than hatred itself. Nothing has survived of the
original Alonzo at the opening of the piece, except
the gigantic passion which has caused his ruin.
This character is drawn on a large scale, and in a
heroic proportion; but it is so true to nature, that
many readers must have lamented, even within the circle
of domestic acquaintance, instances of feelings hardened,
and virtues perverted, where a high spirit has sustained
severe and unjust neglect and disgrace. The whole
demeanour of this exquisite character suits the original
sketch. From “the long stride and sullen
port,” by which Benducar distinguishes him at
a distance, to the sullen stubbornness with which he
obeys, or the haughty contempt with which he resists,
the commands of the peremptory tyrant under whom he
had taken service, all announce the untamed pride
which had robbed Dorax of virtue, and which yet, when
Benducar would seduce him into a conspiracy, and in
his conduct towards Sebastian, assumes the port and
dignity of virtue herself. In all his conduct
and bearing, there is that mixed feeling and impulse,
which constitutes the real spring of human action.
The true motive of Alonzo in saving Sebastian, is
not purely that of honourable hatred, which he proposes
to himself; for to himself every man endeavours to