+

6

-whether agreeably to truth and conscience, or otherwise.
In vindicating the royal sufferer, she exhibits not less strik-
ingly the constancy and temerity of her friendship; and
neglects no opportunity, which either presents itself or can
be contrived, for lauding his character, or for lamenting his
misfortunes. The unhappy Charles, faultless as a man,
and at worst only ill-advised as a monarch,' says Mrs. W.
Now, even if we were disposed to allow, that the principles
of veracity, of humanity, of honour and justice, might be
violated by a king, without impeaching his innocence as a
man, we should scruple to admit that the public errors of
this unhappy prince, were solely those of his counsellors.
To the fatal inflexibility of the king himself,' must be at-
tributed some of the leading mischiefs of his reign, and de-
terminations heavy with blood. It is observed by Coke,
his apologist, that as his actions were without counsel, sud-
'den and inconsiderate; so were his resolutions as variable
' and uncertain;' and if any advised him against his will
he would never ask it after.' Bishop Burnet asserts, that
he hated all who offered prudent and moderate counsels.
He thought it flowed from a meanness of spirit, and even
when he saw it was necessary to follow such advices, yet
he hated those who gave them.' We are further informed
by Lord Clarendon, that, after his standard was erected at
Nottingham, and the parliament had invited him to return,
all hopes of an army seeming desperate, he was privately
advised by some, whom he trusted as much as any, and
whose affections were as intire to him as any man's, to give
'all other thoughts over, and instantly to make all imagin-
able haste to London, and to appear in the parliament
house before they had any expectation of him. And they
" conceived there would be more likelihood for him to pre-
vail that way, than by any army he was like to raise.
And it must be solely attributed to his Majesty's own reso-
lution that he took not that course.' But Lord Clarendon,
who certainly was his majesty's personal friend, and Bishop
Burnet, in writing the History of his Own Times, could not
of course, be so accurately informed upon such subjects as

these as Mrs. West.

In what manner our author acquits herself as an impartial historian, and enlightened controversialist, and with what care and judgement she enters upon a difficult service, our readers may now be able, in some degree, to ascertain. For ourselves, we advise, (and we conjecture that the advice may not be wholly new to her,) that she abstain from controversy till she have learned to reason; and by no means expose a favourite cause, whether religious or political, by en

↓

deavours so mortifying to its friends, and, if in theological warfare such a term is allowable as its enemies, so satisfactory to them. Perhaps, considering the disadvantages under which she labours-the contracted and clouded views she has habituated herself to take-her pitiable entanglement of thought and expression-and the consequent inconclusiveness of her most elaborate reasonings-it would be too severe, to complain of any misrepresentations with which she endeavours to compensate these defects. For denied the assistance of mis-statement, and false colouring, what can be done, in + a doubtful cause, by a poor logician?-what indeed, but relinquish it? But to this happy alternative, Mrs. West appears to be pertinaciously disinclined. Expostulation, remonstrance, warning, do but animate this intrepid controversialist. Yet, if she could hear a friendly whisper, amidst the clatter of weapons she has so little skill to wield, we should intimate, that the retired occupations of a "Mother," or the story of a "Gossip," are best suited to her situation, her opportunities of research, and her ability to reason; and that to consign King Charles to the care of Lord Clarendon, and the Established Church to that of Bishop Hooker-to all, or even to any of the bishops,-might be nearly as politic, as to stake their reputation upon the learning and the arguments, of Mrs. West,-an eminent novel writer of the nineteenth century.

Art. IV.-Comedies of Aristophanes, viz. the Clouds, Plutus, the Frogs, the Birds. Translated into English with notes, 8vo. pp. 500. Lack. ington and Co. 1812.

THERE is, perhaps, no species of composition, of which we

He

can so easily conceive the first occasion and rude beginnings, and the minute and gradual improvements, as of comedy. Nothing appears more natural, than that at some season of unrestrained hilarity, at harvest-home, or when the vintage was got in, some wicked wag, full of the "veteris Bacchi, pinguisque ferinæ," should undertake to amuse his companions with the oddities of a ridiculous or obnoxious individual. would suppose him in some ludicrous situation-put on his face as well as he could-use his cant phrases and particular gestures-and, exaggerating and caricaturing the whole, he might manage to give the taste and malignity of his rude audience a very tolerable afternoon's entertainment. support a monologue, however, would be difficult and tedious, and his memory would easily supply him with more than one fit subject of mimicry. He would probably, therefore, soon introduce two characters in dialogue, playing the two parts

To

alternately, till some one of his companions, ambitious of his honours, should rid him of half the burthen, and sustain the conversation with him. It would then become necessary to preconcert, in some measure, the story and the dialogue; and two successful performers would soon draw a company around them. They would next claim some reward for their trouble, and would wander about, amongst villages, a kind of strolling improvisatori, exacting, at fairs and festivals, contributions from the lovers of drollery. They would contrive a moveable booth in which they might receive their audience in unfavourable weather. By a natural division of labour, the dialogue would soon be provided for the performers by another hand,' and the poet and the player would become distinct personages. The taste of the auditory would in time become more fastidious, and dresses must be used, appropriate to the characters. Rude scenery too would begin to be introduced; and these would gradually improve, as the fables of the poet, still employed about particular and well-known persons, grew more attractive, and drew more forcibly the attention and liberality of the public.

The strolling company would, from a consideration of interest, manage to be at any particular place, at the time when the pomp and pageantries of Pagan worship had attracted thither a great concourse of people, as they do in fact, among ourselves, follow in the rear of the fairs. Thus the festivities of the theatre would connect themselves with the solemnities of religion, and hence we may account for the introduction of the Chorus, who, in the infancy of the drama, interrupted the action of the piece with hymns in honour of the gods. When regular theatres were established, this connection was necessarily dissolved, and the chorus then took a wider range.

It appears certain that in the time of Aristophanes, (who, all our readers know, was the chief of the old school of comedy,) great magnificence and dexterity must have been attained in the scenery and machinery of the stage. We do not argue from the expense and management requisite for the adequate representation of some of his comedies, as, for instance, of the Clouds, where the introduction of the chorus, and the conflagration of the school, would require considerable ingenuity; or of the Birds, of which the winged 'dramatis persona' would occasion inexperienced dress-makers much perplexity; or of the Frogs, in which the passage of Styx is a matter of even greater difficulty ;-because we know the poet is used to make the greatest demands upon the good nature and imagination of the audience, when the wardrobe and

machinery of the theatre, the least intitles him to do so. When our stage had scarcely sufficient decorations to distinguish a country-house from a banquetting-room, Shakspeare introduced his Tempest, with a dialogue on board a ship, in a storm at sea, and Beaumont and Fletcher had occasion for a sea-fight. But it is upon record, that the Athenians lavished great sums upon the drama; that Eschylus frightened pregnant women into miscarriage by his Chorus of Furies, and that, in consequence thereof, a decree of the state diminished the number of the chorus from fifty, (an army of players not often poured, we imagine, even on the stage of Covent-garden,) to fifteen. Of all the advantages which spectacle could give him, Aristophanes, probably, found it necessary to make use, as he was supporting the old comedy against the rival writers of the middle school, and as his partisans, therefore, must have been chiefly among the populace, who may be supposed most likely to be taken with the tricks and finery of the playhouse.

We say that the partisans of the old comedy must have been principally among the populace: for the personality and scurrility of its satire was such, as we can scarcely conceive to have been tolerated among persons of any high degree of civilization. Not only was the greatest possible freedom taken with the names of notoricus individuals, but the very persons were introduced upon the stage, and masques devised, that copied and caricatured their countenances. Thus Socrates is the hero of the "Clouds ;" the 60 Knights" was written against Cleon, who had been imprudent enough to hint at the expediency of restraining the petulance of Aristophanes's muse. Euripides is one of the dramatis persona in several plays. Eschylus, Demosthenes, Nicias and others, all play their parts in turn. Of the personality of the dialogue the reader may take a few specimens. Si quis erat dignus describi,' says Horace, multa cum libertate notabant.On the first entrance of the Chorus of Clouds, Strepsiades asks,

• If these be clouds, (d'you mark me?) very clouds,
How came they metamorphos'd into women?

Socr. This it is in short,

Hast thou ne'er seen a cloud which thou could'st fancy
Shap'd like a centaur, leopard, wolf or bull?
Streps. Yea, marry, have I, and what then?
Socr. Why then

Clouds can assume what shapes they will, believe me;
For instance; should they spy some hairy clown
Rugged and rough and like the unlick't cub

Of Xenophantes, strait they turn to centaurs,
And kick at him for

VOL IX.

vengeance.

Y

Streps. Well done, Clouds ?

But should they spy that peculating knave,

Simon, that public thief, how would they treat him?

Socr. As wolves-in character most like his own.

Streps. Aye, there it is now, when they saw Cleonymus,
That dastard run away, they turn'd to hinds

In honor of his cowardice.

Socr. And now,

Having seen Clisthenes, to mock his lewdness

They change themselves to women.' pp. 35-37.

In the "Frogs," Bacchus tells Hercules, he is going to the shades to bring back Euripides.

*.

Herc. With what design?
Bac. I want a clever poet
Our modern ones are wretched.
Herc. How? I pray,

Is Jophon dead?

Bac. The only good one he

We've none left:

Remaining, if he's certainly a good one :-
But that's a question I am not so clear in.

Herc. But if to th' shades you go to seek a poet,

Say why not. Sophocles, as he's the senior.

Bac. Not him by any means, unless indeed

I could keep Jophon separate from him,
To try what he without his sire can do.
Besides, Euripides, a crafty fellow,
Will do his best to get away with me;
But Sophocles, as here, is there content.
Herc. Where's Agatho?

Bac. He's gone away from me,

A worthy bard, the darling of his friends.
Herc. Poor fellow! where ?

Bac. To th' banquet of the blest.

Herc. Where's Xenocles?

Bac. I care not;-hang the dog!

Herc. Pythangelus ?

Xanth. Why talk you not of me?

I'm sure this shoulder's bruis'd most horridly.

Herc. Say, are there not besides an endless tribe

Of beardless dramatists, who prate so fast,

They beat Euripides by many a mile?

Bac. Aye those young sprigs, that chatt'ring nest of swallows,

*I want a clever poet. Bacchus was supposed to be interested in the composition of tragedy, as his festivals were the principal occasions upon which tragedies were exhibited.

An application of a line out of the Eneus of Euripides.

Jophon, A tragic poet, the son of Sophocles, supposed to avail himself of his father's writings.