which the modern stage is in want of the return.-In the appendix to this lecture, a scene is translated from Aristophanes, in which Euripides is happily ridiculed.

The seventh lecture relates to the middle comedy of the Greeks, which more nearly resembles that of the modern world than the early comedy of Aristophanes. We here meet with an ingenious application of Xenophon's doctrine of two souls to criticism:

"There are other moral defects, which are beheld by their possessor with a certain degree of satisfaction, and which he has even resolved not to remedy, but to cherish and preserve. Of this kind is all that, without reference to selfish pretensions, or hostile inclinations, merely originates in the preponderance of sensuality. This may, without doubt, be united to a high degree of intellect, and when such a person applies his mental powers to the consideration of his own character, laughs at himself, confesses his failings to others, or endeavours to reconcile them to them, by the droll manner in which they are mentioned, we have then an instance of the self-conscious comic. This kind always supposes a certain inward quality of character, and the superior half, which rallies and laughs at the other, has from its tone and its employment a near affinity to the comic poet himself. He occasionally delivers over his functions entirely to this representative, while he allows him studiously to overcharge the picture which he draws of himself, and to enter into a sort of understanding with the spectators, to throw ridicule on the other characters. We have in this way the arbitrary comic, which generally produces a very powerful effect, however much the critics may affect to under-rate it. In the instance in question, the spirit of the old comedy prevails; the privileged fool or buffoon, who has appeared on almost all stages under different names, and whose character is at one time a display of shrewdness and wit, and at another of absurdity and stupidity, has inherited something of the extravagant inspiration, and the rights and privileges of the free and unrestrained old comic writer; and this is the strongest proof that the old comedy, which we have described as the original species, was not founded alone in the peculiar circumstances of the Greeks, but is essentially rooted in the nature of things.'

We do not, however, feel convinced that the critic can so easily teach a comic as a tragic poet. There is an instantaneous contagiousness in skilful ridicule, which must be learnt by practice, not from precept. In life, he who reasons about conduct before he acts is commonly a loser of opportunities; and he who must be jogged for a repartee will invent it too late for effect. The painful have not the rapidity of the cheerful emotions.

Lecture viii. gives an account of the Roman theatre, which had little original merit. Its tragedies are imitated from the Greek; and some of its comedies are referred to an Etrurian origin. A tragedy intitled Medea, and ascribed to Ovid, is probably the piece included in Seneca's collection.-From the declension of Roman art, M. Schlegel proceeds to the commencement of modern or Italian art; notices the pastoral drama as a peculiarity which had no classical model; and describes the masked comedy

conducted by improvisator actors. Alfieri is criticized with severity: but we would assign to his Conspiracy of the Pazzi, a more elevated station than M. Schlegel allots.

The ninth lecture treats of the antiquities of the French stage, and of the influence of Aristotle and his supposed rules on the forms of French plays. The three unities are discussed; and the unity of action is alone defended.

Lecture the tenth criticizes the principal dramatic works of the French. To the Cid of Corneiile a high rank is granted: but, though it has the merit of neglecting unity of place, and the earlier scenes are spirited, the interest is in anti-climax; and the love of Chimene almost acquires a comic character in the latter acts.Of Racine's tragedies, Athalie and Britannicus are especially praised: but his Greek and Turkish plays violate all costume of manners. Among Voltaire's tragedies, Alzire is here preferred. We do not think, however, that the philosophic dialogues, which it includes, are placed with probability in the mouths of Peruvians: here is surely as gross a violation of the costume of manners as we find in the Achilles of Racine. In Zaire, the discovery of her relation to Lusignan, which occurs early in the play, is perhaps more interesting than the catastrophe, so that the anxiety of the spectator is in an inverted order; and the character of Orosman is not Sultanic, but French:-still we consider this tragedy as the most masterly and original of all those of Voltaire. The Peré de Famille of Diderot is grievously under-rated. Its fable, or plot, is perhaps the completest of any dramatic poem extant: the action is intricate, progressively interesting, and the solution or catastrophe is rapid and complete: the characters are various and well-discriminated; and, though the style is perhaps too declamatory, this poetic prose is the French substitute for metrical diction, even in epic writing, and must be taken, like recitative at the opera, as the condition of the appropriate frame of mind in the spectator. The situations are critical, picturesque, and ethically harassing, yet admirably probable; and all the unities are conquered without constraint. It is perhaps the only French play in which the exposition is accomplished without any narration: generally speaking, the French dramatist is as aukward as Euripides in his opening: but in the Péré de Famille, the necessary preliminary information is all communicated by implication, and wrought into the action.

With the tenth lecture, the Second Volume opens. It continues in greater detail a survey of the French theatre, and the Horatii, the Death of Pompey, Cinna, and Polyeucte, pass in review. On the whole, the best tragedies of the French are those which treat on Roman subjects: Voltaire, in his Brutus, his Cæsar, and his Triumvirate, enters more into the spirit of the times than in Oedipus or Semiramis; and the Britannicus of Rachine is its master-piece.

hte in care. M. Schega antas na asins The Lagish ma he Sansa berz SasaPT IS JOLIT BERS et: peras #sume parruas. Someti Bance, u vuca de fra 2:2 15 recrutem, and muca le are a on zumance árce 3 15 1 T fund and compies vir Pad we possess a 1 a wi pay. of wica Scapeart re-te de it at lestre, ant en rady urred de vie etre me public, va inex touching of the rest. The slips in the coast of Benemia, a the Wäsche Tag, is here defended a vag errands the seapora of Aquila mnd Trieste were appendages of the crowns of Bobela at the time at which the scene is at and i a cerance to you a dependent terrory by the name of the Metrocitan Connery-As appendix to this crtical survey of the works of Shakspeare declares for ascribing to him as the contested pieces, wes is Teus Andronsema; and, with a rastness that is excusable only m a foreigner, it attributes to him Lic's frien of Freesham, which was written in 1736, and first acted in 1762. In the Two Noble Kinsmen of Fletcher, M. Schlegel would detect extensive aid from Shakspeare.-A short life of our great bard is also introduced; and his sonnets are justly stated to contain several auto-biographical particulars which have escaped his historians. -This whole lecture will be read with great interest in England and will supply future editors of Shakspeare with welcome additions to the critical estimates of Dr. Johnson, which usually accompany the several plays.

The thirteenth lecture continues the history of the English stage, and deservedly praises Marlow, whose works ought to be collected and regularly edited. If the plays of Beaumont were

thrown out of the collection by Beaumont and Fletcher, the remainder would form a richer ore. Dryden's Don Sebastian is under-rated. Rowe is justly characterized. George Barnwell is properly cried down, and is far inferior to the Arden of Feversham and to the Fatal Curiosity of the same author.

Lecture xiv. treats of the Spanish theatre, which well deserves the study of dramatic authors as a mine of fable rather than of dialogue. To Calderon, the palm is assigned over all the play writers of his country. Catholic Germany may perhaps import his religious tragedies and pageants: but they would not succeed in London.

The fifteenth and concluding lecture, which relates to the German theatre, gives but a concise, cursory, and somewhat deficient view of it. Perhaps, for the very reason that the audience were familiar with the German master-pieces, it was deemed needless to prose about them; and perhaps even that which was said has undergone some abridgment, from an urbane regard to the feelings of living merit.

In Schiller, the Germans possess more than an Eschylus, since he has all the energy and majesty of the Greek, with more plasticity and variety. His Friesco, his Mary Stuart, and his Wilhelm Tell, affect on the theatre as much as in the closet.

Of Lessing's plays, Minna von Barnhelm, an elegant sentimental comedy, and Nathan the Wise, a serious didactic drama, are especially extolled: the latter is peculiarly original, and unites the merit of painting character and emotion with delicate and discriminate precision.

Kotzebue is, in our judgment, unfairly depreciated by M. Schlegel. His slightest pieces, comic or tragic, have succeeded on every European stage, from Moscow to Paris; and in theatrical effect, in rapidity of power over the feelings, he is without a living rival. Some of his plays may justly be accused of flattering dangerous inclinations: thus the Stranger seems to palliate adultery, La Peyrouse to extenuate bigamy, and Brother Moritz to excuse impure marriage with the concubine of another: but these dramas are nevertheless in a high degree impressive; and many of his tragedies superadd to a vehement interest a patriotic, sublime, moral, and liberal aim. Such is Gustavus Vasa; which, for every requisite of fable, of character, and of emotion, surpasses any Gothic drama of Goethe, and is inferior only to the Wilhelm Tell or the Mary Stuart of Schiller. Kotzebue's Count of Burgundy will bear a comparison with the classical Merope, of which it transplants the fable to chivalrous times. His Octavia, which repeats the old story of Antony and Cleopatra, has the merit of delineating the hero with ethic probability, and of arranging the incidents with felicitous impression:-but the character of Cleopatra is too depraved for her to have overpoised the heroic and disinterested Octavia, in the mind even of an Antony.

Goethe, a living poet, and of all dramatists the most various. has produced several acknowledged master-pieces, and may be called the Euripides of Germany, or the Shakspeare, since he exels, like those poets, in distinct character z.tion, in variety and truth of nature, in reliance on internal resource, and in a rich verstility of diction. His feminine characters are perhaps more nicely discriminated than his men; and be may betray some want of ra pidity or energy in his manner, which intercepts popularity of effect. Excellent in portraying the delicate feelings, and more akin by nature to Sophocles. Rowe, and Racine, than to the writers whom he has chosen fo his models he has expended in the delineation of energy much inadequate toil. His Godfried of Berbchingen, and even his Egmont, fall short of expectation: but not so his Clavigs, or his Iphigenic in Teurie.

On the whole, M. Schlegel's lectures deserve to be considered as forming an epoch in the history of criticism. With an eloquence worthy of Plato, with a command of fact worthy of Aristotle, he has for the first time shaped into a system those new principles of decision respecting dramatic art, which Sulzer, Herder, and Lessing, had partially and severally evulgated in Germany; and which must naturally arise from that more extensive and comprehensive comparison of models, which this age of translation has placed within the power of all Europe. If any thing be wanting to the taste of M. Schlegel, it is some portion of tolerance and liberality towards those who have written domestic dramas, and have brought on the stage the polished men and women of modern life.-The translation is executed with elegance, and displays an intimate conversancy both with the English and German tongue.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. A Romaunt. Canto III. By Lord Byron. New York, reprinted.

THE dislike which we entertained towards the productions of this writer, and the personal disgust which he excited by his unmanly behaviour-to employ the mildest term-towards his wife, have hitherto prevented us from noticing any of his productions. But the cause of sound morals and good taste, requires that we should suppress our own feelings, when the republic is in danger, and we do think it is like to sustain great harm, when one of its most conspicuous personages is detected in the act of sapping the foundations of virtue by the perversion of the attributes of genius.

* These are not Columbian words."-Ed. P. F.