ther than the excellence of the school; and prove the skill of the workman, not the perfection of the system. Without dwelling on the expulsion of the chorus (a most unnatural and inconvenient machine), the moderns, by admitting a complication of plot, have introduced a greater variety of incidents and characters. The province of invention is enlarged; new passions, or at least new forms of the same passion, are brought within the scope of dramatic poetry. Fresh sources of interest are opened, and additional powers of imagination called into activity. Can we then deny what extends its jurisdiction, and enhances its interest, to be an improvement, in an art whose professed object is to stir the passions by the imitation of human actions? In saying this I do not mean to justify the breach of decorum, the neglect of probability, the anachronisms and other extravagancies of the founders of the modern theatre. Because the first disciples of the school were not models of perfection, it does not follow that the fundamental maxims were defective. The rudeness of their workmanship is no proof of the inferiority of the material; nor does the want of skill deprive them of the merit of having discovered the mine. The faults objected to them form no necessary part of the system they introduced. Their followers in every country have either completely corrected or gradually reformed such abuses. Those who bow not implicitly to the authority of Aristotle, yet avoid such violent outrages as are common in our early plays. And those who pique themselves on the strict observance of his laws, betray in the conduct, the sentiments, the cha

racters, and the dialogue of their pieces (especially of their comedies), more resemblance to the modern than the ancient theatre: their code may be Grecian, but their manners, in spite of themselves, are Spanish, English, or French :-they may renounce their pedigree, and even change their dress, but they cannot divest their features of a certain family likeness to their`poetical progenitors."

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Lope was contemporary with both Shakspeare and Fletcher. In the choice of their subjects, and in the conduct of their fables, a resemblance may often be found, which is no doubt to be attributed to the taste and opinions of the times, rather than to any knowledge of each other's writings. It is indeed in this point of view that the Spanish poet can be compared with the greatest advantage to himself, to the great founder of our theatre. It is true that his imagery may occasionally remind the English reader of Shakspeare; but his sentiments, especially in tragedy, are more like Dryden and his contemporaries than their predecessors. The feelings of Shakspeare's characters are the result of passions common to all men ; the extravagant sentiments of Lope's, as of Dryden's heroes, are derived from an artificial state of society, from notions suggested by chivalry, and exaggerated by romance. his delineation of character he is yet more unlike, and it is scarce necessary to add, greatly inferior; but in the choice and conduct of his subjects, if he equals him in extravagance and improbability, he does not fall short of him in interest and variety. A rapid succession of events, and sudden changes in the situation of the personages, are the

In

charms

charms by which he interests us so forcibly in his plots. These are the only features of the Spanish stage which Corneille left unimproved; and to these some slight resemblance may be traced in the operas of Metastasio, whom the Spaniards represent as the admirer and imitator of their theatre. In his heroic plays there is a greater variety of plot than in his comedies, though it is not to be expected that in the many hundreds he composed, he should not often repeat the same situation and events. On the whole, however, the fertility of his genius, in the contrivance of interesting plots, is as surprising as in the composition of verse. Among the many I have read, I have not fallen on one which does not strongly fix the attention; and though many of his plots have been transferred to the French and English stage, and rendered more correct and more probable, they have seldom or never been improved in the great article of exciting curiosity and interest. This was the spell by which he enchanted the populace, to whose taste for wonders he is accused of having sacrificed so much solid reputation. True it is that his extraordinary and embarrassing situations are often as unprepared by previous events as they are unforeseen by the audience; they come upon one by surprise, and when we know them, we are as much at a loss to account for such strange occurrences as before; they are produced, not for the purpose of exhibiting the peculiarities of character, or the workings of nature, but with a view of astonishing the audience with strange, unexpected, unnatural, and often inconsistent conduct in some of the principal characters. Nor is this the only de

fect in his plots. The personages, like the author, are full of intrigue and invention; and while they lay schemes and devise plots, with as much ingenuity as Lope himself, they seem to be actuated by the same motives also; for it is difficult to discover any other than that of diverting and surprising the audience. Their efforts were generally attended with success. All contemporary authors bear testimony to the popularity of Lope's pieces; and for many years he continued the favourite of the public. Stories are related of the audience taking so lively an interest in his plays, as totally to give way to the illusion, and to interrupt the representation. A spectator on one occasion is said to have interfered with great anxiety for the protection of an unfortunate princess-dando voces,' says my author, contra el cruel homicida que degollaba al parecer una dama inocente'-crying out against the cruel murderer, who to all appearanee was slaying an innocent lady."

quoted with approbation by their critics, but such as abound in antithesis, or such as are confessedly of a nature too lyrical for representation. The love of epigram may have rendered a metre, peculiarly favourable to it, popular; but, from the history of their poetry, I am inclined to believe that the epigram rather owes its popularity to the cultivation of a metre, which, when the language is somewhat refined, becomes insipid without it. Such short pauses are evidently more calculated for the expression of wit than of passion. Hence it is not unusual for the characters of Lope, when placed in embarrassing situations, and wavering between the most violent and opposite affections, to express their wishes, describe their feelings, and justify their conduct in a long string of reasoning epigrams; of which the logic is not very convincing, and the wit evidently misplaced.”

More than five hundred of Lope de Vega's plays are still extant. Many of them are exceedingly scarce, but all merit preservation.

A Dutch Vendue of Slaves, at Berbische, &c. From Pinckard's Notes on the West Indies.

On arriving at the town, we were surprised to find it quite a holiday, or a kind of public fair. The sale seemed to have excited general attention, and to have brought together all the inhabitants of the colony. The planters came down from the estates with their wives and families all arrayed in their gayest apparel the belles and beaux appeared in their Sunday suits even the children were in full

dress; and their slaves. decked out in holiday-clothes. It was quite a gala-day, and greater numbers of people were collected than we had supposed to have been in the colony. Short jackets, with tawdry wide-flowered petticoats, and loose Dutch slippers, formed the prevailing dress of the females. Scarlet, crimson, and poppy, with all the bright colours used in a northern winter, rivalled a tropical sun, and reigned conspicuous in the flaming broad-patterned petticoat. To the inhabitants it seemed a day of feasting and hilarity, but to the poor Africans it was a period of heavy grief and affliction, for they were to be sold as beasts of burden-torn from each other-and widely dispersed about the colony, to wear out their days in the hopeless toils of slavery.

The fair being opened, and the crowd assembled, these unpitied sable beings were exposed to the hammer of public auction. A long table was placed in the middle of a large room, or logis. At one end was seated the auctioneer, at the other was placed a chair for the negroes to stand upon, in order to be exposed to the view of the purchasers; who were sitting at the sides of the table, or standing about the different parts of the room. All being in readiness, the slaves were brought in, one at a time, and placed upon the chair before the bidders, who handled and inspected them, with as little concern as if they had been examining cattle in Smithfield market. They turned them about, felt of them, viewed their shape and their limbs, looked into their mouths, made them jump and throw out their arms, and subjected them to all the means of trial

as

as if dealing for a horse, or any other brute-animal. Indeed the indelicacy shewn towards the poor 'defenceless Africans, by some of these dealers in their species, was not less unmanly and disgusting than it was insulting to humanity.

We were shocked to observe women in the room who had come to the fair for the express purpose of purchasing slaves. Nay, even chil. dren were brought to point the lucky finger, and the boy or girl, thus chosen, was bought by papa at the request of superstitious mamma, to give to young massa or missy!

The price of these poor degraded blacks varied from 600 to 900 guilders, according to their age and strength, or their appearance of being healthy or otherwise. The boys and girls were sold for 600 or 700 guilders-some of the fetched as high as 900-and the women were knocked down at about 800.

men

In the course of the sale, a tall and robust negro, on being brought into the auction-room, approached the table with a fine negress hanging upon his arm. The man was order ed to mount the chair. He obeyed, though manifestly with reluctance. His bosom heaved and grief was in his eye. The woman remained in the crowd. A certain price was mentioned to set the purchase forward, and the bidding commenced: but on the slave being desired to exhibit the activity of his limbs, and to display his person, he sunk his chin upon his breast, and hung down his head in positive refusalthen, looking at the woman, made signs expressive of great distress. Next he pointed to her, and then to the chair, evidently intimating, that he desired to have her placed by

his side. She was his chosen wife, and nature was correctly intelligible. Not obtaining immediate acquiescence, he became agitated and impatient. The sale was inter

rupted, and as he could not be prevailed upon to move a single muscle by way of exhibiting his person, the proceedings were at a stand. He looked again at the woman,again pointed to the chair,—held up two fingers to the auctioneer, and implored the multitude in anxi ous suppliant gestures. Upon his countenance was marked the combined expression of sorrow, affection, and alarm. He grew more and more restless, and repeated signs which seemed to say-" Let us be sold together. Give me my heart's choice as the partner of my days, then dispose of me as you please, and I will be content to wear out my life in the heavy toils of bondage." It was nature that spakeand her language could not be mistaken! Humanity could no longer resist the appeal, and it was universally agreed that they should make but one lot. A second chair was now brought, and the woman was placed at the side of her husband. His countenance instantly brightened. He hung upon the neck of his wife, and embraced her with rapture-then folding her in his arms, and pressing her to his bosom, he became composed; and looked round, with a smile of complacency, which plainly said "proceed!-I am yours, yours, or yours! Let this be the associate of my toils, and I am satisfied." The bidding was renewed! They exhibited marks of health and strength, and, quickly, the two were sold together for 1650 guilders.

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"Enough"