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UNIV. OF

decessor. By the rules of a very judicious critic,* the characters in this piece appear to be of too elevated a rank for comedy; yet, though the plot is somewhat embarrassed by this circumstance, the diversity, spirit and consistency of the characters render it a most interesting play.

In tragedy, Massinger is rather eloquent than pathetic; yet he is often as majestic, and generally more elegant than his master. He is as powerful a ruler of the understanding, as Shakspeare is of the passions. With the disadvantage of succeeding that matchless poet, there is still much original beauty in his works; and the most extensive acquaintance with poetry will hardly diminish the pleasure of a reader and admirer of Massinger.

OWENS, THE IRISH TRAGEDIAN.

JOHN LENNERGAN OWENS, actor, was born in Ireland, and was there esteemed the best Zanga that ever succeeded Mossop; but frequent intoxication prevented him from retaining his situation at the theatre. Having appeared one night in a state of inebriation while representing the character of Polydore,† (Orphan) the audience took an occasion, when he was alone on the stage, to express their indignation at his conduct by a loud hiss. Owens came forward, and looked at them with an Ajax's frown; then proceeding with his soliloquy," Here I'm alone and fit for mischief," put himself in the attitude of a pugilist. The audience's resentment was subdued by the rage of the actor. They joined in a universal laugh, and Owens was permitted to finish his character. This unfortunate attachment to liquor reduced him at last to ex

* See the Essay on the Provinces of the Drama.

This strange incident occurred the very night on which Mrs. Melmoth made her first appearance on the stage. The writer of this note was present. Mrs. Melmoth played Monimia for the benefit of her husband, Courtney Melmoth, who played Castalio. Of this lady we are desirous to give the public a true biographical account; because some writer, as unjustly as - ignorantly, has misrepresented her in a London publication, stating, that in Dublin she went to mass in order to fill her house at her benefit. If the writer had known Dublin he would have known, as Mrs. Melmoth did, that going to mass there would rather injure than serve her in that way. If he knew herself, he would know that she was incapable of such impiety and meanness. Mrs. Melmoth was a sincere avowed catholic, in the very teeth. of her interest.

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treme poverty; and he latterly became a very beggar in the streets. At this time, not having played his favourite character for six years, he was struck upon reading Kemble's name in the bills for the part. He sighed; and meeting a person of decent appearance, implored pecuniary assistance. The gentleman was curious enough to inquire his name; upon which he replied, "Has six years' cruel absence extinguished majesty so far, that nought shines here to tell you I'm the real Zanga?—Yes, sir, John Lennergan Owens, successor to Henry Mossop." The gentleman, moved with compassion, gave him a trifle. Owens now hastened to get a morsel of dinner; but on his way was stopped by another mendicant, who implored his assistance. "I have but one shilling in the world," says he, "and that was given me this moment; however you shall have half." To his honour be it added, he stepped immediately into a public house, changed his shilling, and divided it with his brother in affliction!

THE EFFECT OF MUSIC ON DIFFERENT ANIMALS.

THOSE who pretend that the love of music, and especially instrumental music, is a natural instinct, say that even brute animals are sensible of it. One day when I was in the country, I resolved to try if it were true; and, while a person played upon a trumpmarine properly tuned, I considered with attention the effect on a cat, a dog, a horse, an ass, a doe, some cows, some small birds, and a cock and hens; all which were in a court-yard, directly under a window out of which I leaned.

As for the cat, she did not seem to be at all sensible of the sound of the instrument; and to judge by her deportment, she would have given all the music in the world for a single mouse: she did not show the least mark of pleasure, but basked quietly in the sun. The horse stopped short before the window, and lifted up his head now and then, while he was grazing. The dog sat on his haunches like a monkey, keeping his eyes fixed all the time on the person who played. He continued in this attitude more than an hour, and seemed to comprehend what was going forward. The ass gave no token of sensibility, but kept on calmly eating his thistles. The doe raised her large ears, and seemed very attentive. The cows stopped a little, and, after having looked as if to see whether they knew us, went on their way. The small birds, some in an aviary, and others on the trees, seemed as if they would burst

themselves with singing. The cock, solely attentive to the hens, and the hens employed in scratching the ground, gave no indication that they received any pleasure from hearing a trump-marine. Shakspeare, in the Merchant of Venice, thus describes the effect of music on horses:

"Do but note a wild and wanton herd,

Or race of youthful and unbridled colts,

Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing round,
Which is the hot condition of their blood;

If they, perchance, but hear a trumpet sound,

Or any air of music touch their ears,

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of music."

THE TRAVELLER.

An Oriental Apologue.

As soon as I perceived the first sparkling fires of day, I mounted my ass, and took the path which leads to the high road of Babylon; scarce was I there, when, in raptures, I exclaimed,

O how mine eyes do wander with joy o'er yon green hills! With what delicious perfumes do these flowery meadows embalm the air!

I am in a beautiful avenue; my ass and I may retire under the shade of the trees when it shall seem good unto us.

How serene the heavens! How fine a day! How pure the air I breathe! Well mounted as I am, I shall arrive before dusk.

Whilst I uttered these words, besotted with joy, I looked kindly down upon my ass, and gently stroking him:

From afar I see a troop of men and women, mounted upon beautiful camels, with a serious and disdainful air;

All clothed in long purple robes, with belos and golden fringes, interspersed with precious stones.

Their camels soon came up with me; I was dazzled by their splendor, and humbled by their grandeur.

Alas, all my endeavours to stretch myself served only to make me appear more ridiculously vain.

Mine eyes did measure them incessantly; scarce did my head reach their ancles; I was sorely vexed from the bottom of my soul: nevertheless did not give over following them.

Then did I wish that my ass could raise himself as high as the highest of their camels, and fain would I have seen his long ears peep over their lofty heads.

I continually incited him by my cries; I pressed him with my heels and my halter; and though he quickened his pace, yet six of his steps scarcely equalled one of the camels'.

In short we lost sight of them, and I all hopes of overtaking them. What difference, cried I, between their lot and mine! Why are they not in my place? or why am I not in theirs?

Wretch that I am! I sadly journey on alone, upon the vilest and the slowest of animals; they, on the contrary,-happy they!-would blush to have me in their train; so despicable am I in their eyes! Busied in these reflections, and lost in thought, my ass, finding I no longer pressed him, slackened his pace, and presently stooped to feed upon the thistles.

The grass was goodly; it seemed to invite him to rest; so he laid him down; I fell; and, like unto him who, from a profound sleep, awaketh in surprise; so was I on a sudden awaked from my meditations.

As soon as I got up, the voice of thousands came buzzing in my ears: I looked around, and beheld a troop still more numerous than the former.

These were mounted as poorly as myself; their linen tunics the same as mine; their manners seemed familiar; I addressed the

nearest.

Do your utmost, says I, you will never be able, mounted as you are, to overtake those who are a-head of you.

Let us alone, says he, for that; the madmen, they risk their lives; and for what? to arrive a few minutes before us.

We are all going to Babylon; an hour sooner or later, in linen tunic or purple robes, on an ass or a camel, what matters it when once one is arrived; nay, upon the road, so you know how to amuse yourself?

You, for example; what would have become of you had you been mounted on a camel! Your fall, says he, would have been fatal. I sighed, and had nothing to reply.

Then looking behind me, how great was my surprise to see men, women and children following us afoot, some singing, others skipping on the tender grass; their poor backs bowed under their burdens. Then, cried I, transported beyond myself, they go to Babylon as

well as I: and is it they who rejoice? and is it I who am sad? when on a sudden my oppressed heart became light; and I felt a gentle joy flow within my veins.

Ere we got in, we overtook the first party; their camels had thrown them; their long purple robes, their belos and gold fringes interspersed with diamonds, were all covered with mud.

Then, ye powerful of the earth, even then it was I perceived the littleness of human grandeur; but the just estimation I made of it did not render me insensible to the misfortunes of others.

CHARACTER OF THE SPANISH NATION.

SOME Customs, and some traits of character, run through all the provinces. The national pride is every where the same. The Spaniard has the highest opinion of his nation and himself, which he energetically expresses in all his gestures, words and actions. This opinion is discovered in all ranks of life, and classes of society; among the great and the small; under the rags of poverty, as much as in the royal palaces. Its result is a kind of haughtiness, repulsive sometimes to him who is its object, but useful in giving to the mind a sentiment of nobleness and selfesteem, which fortifies it against all meanness.

The Spaniards are extremely reserved: they have little of those exterior demonstrations of that deceitful show, which is called politeness. They do not make advances to a stranger; they wait for him to begin; they watch his conduct; and do not give him their confidence till they think they know him. Their address is serious, cold, and sometimes even repulsive; but, under this unpromising exterior, they conceal a worthy heart, and a great disposition to oblige: they scatter around their benefits, without endeavouring to make a merit of them, and grant without having promised.

The Spaniard is very slow in all his operations. He often deliberates when he ought to act, and spoils affairs as much by his temporizing, as other nations do by precipitation. They have a proverb contrary to ours: they say, that one should never do today what may be put off till tomorrow. This slowness of the Spaniards appears incompatible with the vivacity of their imagination: it is the consequence of the distrust and circumspection that are national to them; but when their pride is irritated, their anger proVOL. III.

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