touched by the mighty sway of a fictitious pres- as influenced by, and as influencing, the actual life ence."* The summit of Art is the Drama. of man. It should be borne in mind that history neither is merely a register of names and battles, The wonderful elasticity of their genius led the nor the paltry occupations of daily commerce,Greeks necessarily to dramatic art; and, even in nor poetry and science abstruse matters, useless to their epic poems, and, in the fragments of some of the world and its progress. I have referred altheir lyric poets, we find its traces. Well provi-ready to the connection between art and religion; ded with a large stock of facts-known through let me now, in this short sketch of the Greek the rhapsodists to every native, and cherished as stage show the mutual influence of art and the strictly connected with their religious views-political institutions of a state. well prepared by public recitations on all festivals, Grand actions, great events, high thoughts, paand by literary contests, and particularly by those triotism and devotion, are the features of the age admired lyrical incantations of an enthusiastic of Eschylus. He was born about the time when chorus-the Greek drama, to use the words of a Darius ascended the Persian throne, and was in great critic, sprang out of the head of Eschylus, the bloom of his life, when "the great king" sent in full armor, and with heroic strength, like Miner- his millions of myrmidons against free Greece. va from the head of Jove. We know so very This period, the greatest in the Greek history, little of the dramatic rudiments before schylus, was the cradle, in which the genius of Eschylus and according to all that we can find of them, they was rocked; and he was so much the child of his were so very indifferent,-Thespis with his strol-age-he had given himself up to his country so ling stage, and even Phrynichos show so appa- entirely-that he was more proud of having been rently, how incoherently and accidentally the epic a combatant at Marathon and Salamis against the and lyric elements were united,-that we cannot Medes, than of the laurels, which crowned his but consent to the general judgment of antiquity, head as poet : that schylus is the true father of the Greek drama; he appears like a magician, who, with his wand, calls new creations into existence. "The glades of Marathon attest his distinguished valor, And the long-haired Mede has proved it." Dramatic representations rose from the Dithy-These are the praises which he himself has writrambics-the lyrical songs of the chorus in honor ten on his epitaph,* not mentioning his glorious of Bacchus, and became soon the favorite diver-art. Such is the reflex of his time. Ornaments, sion of the Athenians on these days of joy, which, praises or commendation are not yet wanted as a three, perhaps, four times, occurred in the course of the year. foil to every exploit,-it gives us the bare fact, but this so great, so noble, that we almost fear it would My object is, to give a survey of the Greek lose by the application of any thing artificial. drama, as we find it; not a deeper inquiry into its We find the same in his dramas; they are the imorigin, progress and extent. In such an essay mediate form of his thoughts, revealed without nearly every step we make, must be fortified with much skill from his great genius, which had, within proofs, and can only be made after the most con- itself, together with the highest instinct of art, the scientious and diligent researches. If therefore I bounds and shades of beauty; a fact which Sospeak of the Greek drama, I mean that of Athens phocles himself admits, and which seems to have in the fifth century before Christ-in the glorious led to the story, that he composed his poems under period of the state. I do not consider it worth the influence of the fruit of Bacchus-a circunwhile to enter at present upon an account of what stance, also related of Aristophanes and the arthey call the ancient, middle and modern drama; dent Alcæus. The greatest poets are not confor, only of the first of them, we have some re-scious of all the beauty and deep wisdom, which mains; and if I take up only the theatre of Athens, they-favorites of the graces-display before us. I follow the ancient writers themselves, who but As in inspired works, new truths, new beauties very seldom speak of another. I confine myself press on us, whenever we read them anew, and moreover to the names of Eschylus, Sophocles the richer the mind of the reader, the richer will and Euripides, and that of the comic Aristophanes, be the harvest he gathers from the genius of the they being the only ones, whose dramas have poet. reached our times entire; and they excel all the others according to the unanimous judgment of antiquity. ESCHYLUS. The lofty flight, which the mind of Eschylus took, was well fitted for the patriotic feelings, which beat in his breast. They influenced greatly his views and ideas as a poet; and all his works have a bearing upon the present; he takes hold of Nowhere in history, is a fact isolated ;-and, them to the Athenians in the brilliant light of the important events of his time, and develops as the writings of the individual are an expression heroes and gods. Their laws, their customs, their of his mind, so the literature of a nation conveys very lives are enacted before them; he brings to us the type of its character and time, better them in connection with the gods, raises them to than historical narrations. Therefore do the three their level, represents them as always influenced and great tragic poets of Greece bear witness to the watched by their power, and points out the path, spirit of their age, and their individual characters in which the citizens should move. However, he admit of a comparison with the different spirit of remains poet in all this-his dramas are truly prothe time in which, and of the men to whom, they spoke. * Βίος Αϊόχυλου. Here, therefore, I consider poetry as connected with political life-the progress of art and science, * Ludu. Tick. Αισχύλον Ευφορίωνος Αθηναῖον τόδε κενέει "Seest thon this, awful Themis, and thou Ether, ductions of art; and he neither condescends to be- | and he sinks down to Tartarus, still asserting his come a dry schoolmaster, nor an always ready right, he exclaims: versifier on the events of daily life. No, he knows only two languages-that of his arm to defend his country as he did in the battles of Marathon and Salamis-and that of his dramas-they are the incarnation of his ideas, as his heroic deeds were that of his heroism. If Pericles make a speech in honor of those, who had fallen before Samos, But he does not allow his hero to perish. He has Eschylus composes his "Persians" as the exult-written not only a Prometheus Chained, but also a ing expression of his joy over the deliverance of Prometheus Loosed. They were written and reprehis country from the yoke, which the king of sented at the same time, and composed with refebarbarians wanted to lay upon them;-if in the rence to each other. Prometheus, according to the assembly of the Athenian people, in the ayopù or Greek mythology, was freed from his direful doom in the ro orators rise and plead against the degra- by the greatest hero of their nation-who, having dation of the Areopagus, Æschylus in his Eume-filled earth with his deeds and benefits, ascended in nides makes the gods themselves appear to sanction this institution, and to threaten the violator of purifying fire up to Olympus, where his father reigned over gods and men. Hercules was by his the sacred court of supreme justice in the state. mother, a descendant of lo, who is introduced in We have still seven of his tragedies-he wrote this tragedy. She hears her own and her demore than seventy- Prometheus Chained,' The scendant's fate, and also, that one of her grandseven Chiefs before Thebes,' The Supplicants,' 'The Persians,' and the Trilogy of Agamemnon,' sies his own deliverance by him. sons should free the chained Titan, who prophe'The Choephorac' and 'The Eumenides.' Eschylus has been blamed for the introduction I select Prometheus Chained' for a short ex- of Io in this play. But the motives for it are clear position, for two reasons. This tragedy has justly and distinct, when we bear in mind, that the Probeen called the tragedy of tragedies, the represen-metheus Chained and Prometheus Loosed were two tation of Greek tragedy itself. And none would show us better the relation between the chorus tragedies of the same Trilogy.' Her appearance and the scenic players, a relation which schylus time, adds to the charms of this play in a manner, the end of his pains-but, at the same in his dramas, has sustained in quite a different which not every one seems to have understood. manner from his successors. prepares The contrast between these two sufferers is one of We must go back to the idea of the Greek tra- the greatest beauties of the piece, and the guilt gedy—it represents, in accordance with their reli- of the lovely Io,-lovely even in her language, gious opinions, the strife of man against unaltera- which has something of an ionic tint-lovely even ble fate. This is the character of heroic strength, in her wildest despair-serves only to extol the and if strength, unconquerable strength and firm-hero's elevated virtue. The original idea of the ness, form a principal feature in the character of fable of Io, is not borrowed from an Egyptian Isis, Eschylus-he never wrote a drama, which can as the Orphic priests contended;--but to me it apbe called more his own, than this. The grandeur of the character of Prometheus honors greatly the author of this piece. Only a noble mind can conceive such a character. Prometheus appears as culprit:-against the will of Jove, he had loved the human race; and, to elevate them from their brutish life to an harmonious association, he brought the spark of heavenly fire to them, and taught them all arts; he suffers for it in chains, fastened to a rock. His sufferings afflict, but do not conquer his proud soul. Conscious of his right, he resists every temptation to submit, but rather suffers the hardest fate, and no threatening, nor that ravening eagle which, Shall mangle his body, and each day returning "Let him then work his horrible pleasure on me,- * Esch. Prom. Vinct. v. 1021-4. pears as a parable of the punishment of the insatiableness of man, who-not contented with his equals, seeks the company and love of gods. How can the secret and daring wish of the heart be represented in a sweeter and more poetical manner, than when lo confesses: "Still when retired to rest, air-bodied forms The couch of Jove to Lerna's deep recess The longings of her heart are here represented as little fairy visions, which haunt her even in sleep. Her lot-restlessness and discontent, never satisfied, she strives for something far remote, and roams North and South-East and West, ever longing, ever wishing. Prometheus is fettered to the rock. His proud soul did not utter so much as a word in the presence of the serfs of tyrannical Jove. When they are gone, his affecting complaints commence. His pain forces sighs and groans from him, when he is interrupted by the approach of the chorus. The drama having arisen from the Dithyrambics, * Esch. Prom. V. v. 1089-ult. + Ibid. v. 646-657. consisting of chorusses and solos, retained both shows too much individuality and independence, these elements, but only in the pieces of Eschy-to be classed with the trilogies of Eschylus, the lus we find an harmonious unison of them. His single pieces of which seem really to have been object was less the gradual development of the only part of the whole. subject, he scarcely had any plots. Giving only In the trilogy of Eschylus, which is left to us, the fact, he was able to give an active part to the each single piece brings out only one act of the chorus, in which even Sophocles could not succeed great drama. In the Agamemnon, the crime is so well, whilst in the dramas of Euripides the perpetrated; Agamemnon, the victorious Chief of chorusses, in spite of their great poetical worth, the Greeks, on the day of his return from Troy, are nothing but a heavy clog, which have lost all is murdered by Clytemnestra, and bold crime tritheir real signification. In the pieces of Eschylus, umphs at the end of the piece. With the gory there is an organic union of these elements-the axe, she appears on the stage and scorns the reone requires the other, and only in the existence proaches of the people. Vengeance is prepared by of both, is the harmony of the whole produced. the gods in the Choëphorae, but the matricide finds We find nowhere a better exemplification of this, no rest, the Furies rise and chase him over the than in his Prometheus. The chorus consists of country. But he finds, at last, in the Eumenides, virgins, daughters of Oceanus, who, having heard where he is discharged by the white stone of Mithe strokes of the hammer, when he was fettered nerva. I have already mentioned what object our to the rock, having heard the groans of the suffer- poet combined with this representation; the gods er, hasten to him from their grottoes, moved by themselves are brought before the eyes of the soft pity. The chorus of the Oceanides is the Athenian people, as the founders and guardians of loveliest of all that we meet with in the Greek the Areopagus. That schylus, however, was tragedies. It is astonishing, how the proud and not able to save this highest court of justice from stern mind of schylus was equal to the deline-degradation, is well known. Of his other pieces ation of the soft and gentle character of the fe- the Seven Chiefs before Thebes is the most emimale sex; yet we find them often very similar to nent. Até herself, seems to stalk over the scene those ethereal creations of Shakspeare and Goethe, before us, when Eteocles can no longer resist the whilst the females of the much milder and less daring Sophocles, are sublime heroines. fatal impulse to hasten before the gates of Thebes, to meet his brother in deadly combat. We feel The contrast between the unbending spirit of as if the air we breathe were growing close, and Prometheus and the timid compassion of the fraught with destruction, every moment ready to Oceanides, is an unrivalled beauty of this play; unload itself, when Eteocles-having heard from and in the whole of literature, both classic and ro- the Messenger, the account of the foreign chiefs, mantic, I do not know of any example, where the and sent out Theban chiefs to oppose them, refemale character has been represented in a bright-solves himself to encounter his brother Polynices. er and more honorable light, than here. Constant-The Chorus attempts to dissuade him. ly advising submission and the restoration of peace, they still do not leave the object of their compassion; and, in his last struggle, when the doom is to be executed, when they are ordered by Mercury to leave the culprit, when heaven and earth are in motion-they are naturally full of fear and apprehension, they hide their faces to prevent their seeing the terrors of their situation, but they do not leave the poor sufferer even at the risk of their own fate. "Thebes has no dearth of valiant sons t'oppose Etcocles. "Could man endure defeat without dishonor, Cho. Eteo. And let the race of Laius, let them all, To deeds of death, to unpermitted blood; The whole piece is an apotheosis of heroism, and the wrongs he suffered here, were expiated in the Prometheus Loosed, its continuation. Prometheus is a trilogy, that is to say-a great tragedy Cho. Cruel and murd'rous is the rage that fires thee divided into three. It was customary at the great Dionysia for those, who entered upon the contest with their dramas, to produce three tragedies and one satyric drama. It was not necessary, that they should be connected together. Yet the great mind of schylus, as we may conclude after the Cho. "O, rave not thus: fame will not call thee hase learned researches of Welcker, always united them in a whole. He differed in that respect from his successors Sophocles and Euripides. Sophocles decidedly refused to write trilogies, perhaps led by a theatrical tact; and although we possess three dramas of his, which might be said to compose a trilogy, yet each of them is too much a whole, * Even Goethe was not equal to this task, as his "natürliche Tochter" the first part of an intended trilogy, proves. +I mean his Edipus Tyrannus, Edipus Coloneus, and Antigone. In the last play Ismene says v. so: naipp is νῶν νλεχόμ'ς δυσπλεμ'ς τ' νηώλετο, which Prof. Woolsey explains ruined himself, though living." If this were correet, Antigone would not be a continuation of Ed. Colon. Or cowardly, if well thy life be order'd. Glory attends admiring: why then sue Sooth'd by th' abatement of this fiery valor, My sleep too true the real visions rise, And wave the bloody sword that parts his kingdom." at all, for Œdipus dies in this, but bewarra is really "be died," as diwcro v. 168; this is plainly seen from vv. 83 sqq. et v. 911. * ἑρρίτω πρόπας δόμος—“let the whole race perish." Eurip. Phoen. v. 633. THY WILL BE DONE!—A Hymn. BY ANNA CORA MOWATT. (Written on recovering from a dangerous illness.) Thy will be done, O heavenly King! I bow my head to thy decree; Its upward flight, Great God, to thee! To toil, and groan, and suffer here; And meet the world's unfeeling jeer; Yet must I live, and live for those Who mourn the shadow on my brow; The blessed mission scarce begun, WASHINGTON COLLEGE. The last Commencement of this venerable Institution passed off with more than usual eclat. Its popularity is rapidly spreading itself; and its affairs were never in a more flourishing condition-so much so and so high has its reputation become, under the management of its present faculty, that besides the present extensive additions now going on, it is in contemplation actually to tear down a part of the old buildings, and build larger. This is the Institution, our readers will recollect, to which the surviving members of the Cincinnati Society in Virginia made, a few years ago, the handsome donation of its funds; one of the conditions of that donation, was, we believe, that an Address should be delivered before the College annually forever, in defending the Society from the aspersions cast upon it by Mirabeau and other French writers. The College is now in a condition to fulfil in every respect, the wishes of the Society. And to the question which was some time ago propounded in this Journal, as to what had become of the Cincinnati Oration? We can reply that it forms Esch. Sept. adv. Th. v. 645-715. It will scarcely be necessary to state, that in these tragics I have made use of the translations of Potter and Franklin. part of the exercises of Commencement; and that the honor of delivering the last one, fell to John Blair Dabney, Esq. of Campbell, who acquitted himself of the charge, much to the satisfaction of those who had the good fortune to be present. SONNET. Inscribed to the memory of a young friend. BY L. J. CIST. Short, passing pilgrimage was thine, fair boy, Were ope'd, at thee the darts of Sorrow hurled; In glorious flight for that eternal clime, Himself their sun by day, their moon by night :' AWAY FROM THE HAUNTS OF MEN. Lines suggested by a visit to Crab Bottom, Pendleton Co., Va. BY CHARLES H. LEWIS. Oh! might I choose a home, I'd fly And the wild flower scents the gale; Oh! I would seek some lovely nook Away from the haunts of men! There the humble ivy's modest bloom Should yield to the zephyr's sigh; With the voice of love to greet me there, Of fashion's heartless throng, And list to the mock-bird's song; And the noise of hound and merry horn To the happy scenes of home; Away from the haunts of men! NOTICES OF NEW WORKS. THE MINERAL SPRINGS OF WESTERN VIRGINIA, with remarks on their use, and the diseases to which they are applicable. By William Burke. New-York: Wiley and Putnam ; 1842. We announced in a former number of this Journal that this little volume had gone to press. The favorable opinion then expressed of it, we are happy to say is fully gratified by the work itself. It is the most valuable vade mecum for the Spring-going community that is to be found. It contains an excellent travelling map of the rout to the springs from Guyandotte and Abingdon, Baltimore and Richmond. Complete and accurate descriptions are given of the Warm, the Hot, the White, the Red, the Sweet, the Salt Sulphur Springs, etc., with the diseases to which the waters of each are most favorable. Persons bound to the Springs for health, would do well to consult this book as a prescription, if for no other purpose--for Dr. Burke has paid much attention to the sanative virtues of the waters, and gives the result of his own observation, as well as of other distinguished citizens and physicians, with minute and satisfactory details. We cannot at this particular season, do our readers a better service than to make an extract or two from this little volume. "The first consideration of the invalid, after reaching his destination, should be to ascertain whether his system is in a suitable condition for commencing the use of the waters. It is quite probable, that, after a long journey he may be constipated-that his liver may have become torpid-that he may be over-excited by fatigue-in short, there are many circumstances, any one of which would render it imprudent to enter hastily on a free use of these powerful agents. If these conditions of the system exist, let the alimentary canal be freely evacuated by medicine adapted to the case, and a strict regimen instituted for forty-eight hours; or until oppression or excitement be 'subdued; and then let the water be taken in such a way, as that it shall gradually insinuate itself through the sys'tem, and act as an alterative on the different functions of 'the economy. The safest plan, in serious cases, is to ob'tain the advice of a physician, with the precautions already 'hinted at; but, physician or no physician, we say to the 'patient, festina lente. Be not influenced by the go-a-head'ism so characteristic of our country; but go to work, calmly and systematically. "If the weather and other circumstances admit, rise about six, throw your cloak on your shoulders, visit the 'spring, take a small-sized tumbler of water, move about in a brisk walk; drink again at seven, and once more at 'half past seven; breakfast at eight-(what that breakfast 'should be, you may infer from what we have said on diet.) After breakfast, if you can command a carriage, take a 'drive; otherwise, a slow ride on horseback till ten. From 'ten to twelve, enjoy yourself in conversation, or other 'mode most agreeable to you-eat no luncheon-at twelve 'take a glass of water, at one, another. From twelve 'to half past one take exercise at ten pins, quoits-billiards-dine at two-see remarks on diet,-amuse your'self in social intercourse till five. Take a drive, ride, or 'walk till six-drink a glass of water; exercise until 'seven-take a cracker and a cup of black tea. If you 'are a dancer, you may enjoy it, but in moderation, until 'nine-quaff a glass of water from the spring, and retire 'to your room. "If you find yourself improving, remain at the fountain; but if, after a fair trial of the water, taken after your sys'tem has been properly prepared, and accompanied by something like the course we have suggested, the symptoms of 'your disease become aggravated, or new ones supervene, 'then you should abandon the use of the water, and try to 'find another better adapted to your case. But if, by an 'act of imprudence, you render that noxious, which, under 'more auspicious circumstances, would have been salutary, 'you should not visit upon it the blame which is due to 'your own indiscretion." This is but a part of one of the many very interesting and excellent sailing directions' to be found in this work, relative to the Mineral Waters of Western Virginia. Those who would know more of them, we refer to the book itself, which is of a convenient form and in suitable type for a travelling companion in the stage. It may be had at the bookstore of Smith, Drinker and Morris, to whom we are indebted for a copy. Boston: William D. POEMS BY ALFRED TENNYSON. Ticknor. (Two volumes.) 1842. No American book which has fallen under our notice, is so perfect a counterpart, as regards type, paper, binding, and the whole style of execution, of the neatest issues of the London press, as these handsome volumes. They are, moreover, of a most readable size, and worthy to grace any boudoir or library in the country. The name of Tennyson is chiefly known in the United States by various pieces which have been reprinted in some of our newspapers and journals. His scattered admirers are not few, however, although far between; and their number will be greatly increased by this beautiful and complete edition of his works. Tennyson is a man of decided ideal tendencies and pure sensibility. His command of language, and his taste in the choice and arrangement of words, is very uncommon. He frequently unites the simple diction of Wordsworth with a tone of deeper emotion and more bold imagery. In the ballad style he has produced some exquisite compositions; and in meditative blank-verse, many of his specimens are the best of recent origin. Occasionally he indulges in quaint humor, but his forte is decidedly quiet sentiment and thoughtful pathos. Such poetry as that of Tennyson depends so much upon its general strain rather than occasional brilliancy, that brief quotations would do him great injustice. We therefore very cordially commend the volumes themselves to such of our readers as would commune with one, who, whatever faults may belong to him, is not only a genuine poet, but one of more individuality than any who has appeared for a considerable period. One of his ballads-"The Miller's Daughter"-commences thus: "I see the wealthy miller yet, His double chin, his portly size, "And forth into the fields I went, I wondered at the bounteous hours, "Then fled she to her inmost bower, and there "The Palace of Art," "The Gardener's Daughter,” “A Dream of Fair Women," and "Dora"-who "lived urmar ried till her death"-are among the gems of these volum.s A high moral strain is frequently encountered, and some delicious descriptive sketches so vividly drawn, as to prove the author an artist as well as a poet. |