nymous opposition, which, as fuch, is deftitute of all authority and credit.

Yet, under the confiderations mentioned in our account of Colonel Fullarton's production, it may be doubted whether a name is of any great importance to publications on Eaft Indian affairs; and this writer might be ftrongly impelled to controvert the Colonel's reprefentations, and yet have cogent reafons against avowing his oppofition. Be this as it may, Col. Fullarton's account of the calamitous ftate of Bengal, already quoted, is thus adverted to:

We are warranted in affirming, that this paffage, as far as it relates to Bengal, is grofsly erroneous throughout. It is a fact of univerfal notoriety, that under the English government large tracts of land have been brought into cultivation, which never were cultivated prior to our government; that frontier Rajahs and Zemindars, heretofore independent of Bengal, but who lived by plunder. ing the industrious and inoffenfive natives of Bengal, have, under our administration, been brought into complete fubjection, and are now as profitable, as induftrious, and as contented fubjects, as any under our dominion. Famine was once, and but once, endured, fince the English have had an influence; and that at a time when Mahomed Reza Cawn was at the head of the revenues. It was a vifitation from God, and not to be imputed to the error of man. To the honour of Englishmen, the writer of these sheets can affirm, that, individually and collectively, his countrymen did their utmost to alleviate thofe miferies, which neither rapacity nor peculation had occafioned; and to the honour of Mr. Haftings (though an impeached man) be it mentioned, that the first object of his attention, after he fucceeded to the government of Bengal, was, to adopt measures for the effectual prevention of fo dreadful a calamity in future.'

Again, It is a fubject of curiofity to gentlemen who are well acquainted with Bengal, to perufe the defcriptions given of that country by thofe who have never feen it. An ingenious Member of the Houfe of Commons has defcribed the natives to be, as they undoubtedly are, a well-informed, numerous, and induftrious people, famed for all the arts of polished life, while we were yet in the woods.' Is it poffible for a moment to fuppofe, that the British government could exift for a year in fuch a country, containing ten millions of people, if it were of fo oppreflive a nature as this gentle. man and Mr. Fullarton have defcribed it to be, especially if it be also true, that our army is neither regularly paid nor well difciplined; and that entire corps never had any existence but upon paper? The truth is, that neither the one description nor the other is founded in fact. Our government is not oppreffive, our army is well paid, ably commanded, and the strictest attention is paid to its difcipline; or how could we have refifted fo fuccefsfully the efforts of an host of enemies in India, when we failed in every other part of the globe?'. Col. Fullarton's difadvantageous account of the military eftablishment in Bengal, which is alluded to in the above extract,

Mr. Edmund Burke.

feems

feems to be confidered by the Remarker, as the most material paffage in his book; accordingly many facts are appealed to, in order to invalidate it.

In other points, the Remarker agrees with the Colonel, and pays him leveral compliments on the truth and justice of his obfervations: particularly on his hints for the improvement of the army.

Since our perufal of thefe Remarks, we have seen a fecond edition of Col. Fullarton's book; to which the Author has given a Preface, containing fome general notices of the most material objections which had been made to his work, fince the appearance of the first edition. We have attended to this Preface with fatisfaction, as it has ferved to confirm the good opinion that we had conceived of the Author's candour,-let party fay what it pleases. For us, we are of no party, with refpect to any inte refts in India.' We are too poor to have much property at risk in the Company's affairs, and too proud to receive the dictates of any man, as to what we may think, or fay, concerning them, or their conductors, at home or abroad.

·

ART. XI. The Fate of Sparta, or the Rival Kings: A Tragedy. By Mrs. Cowley. 8vo. Is. 6d. Robinions. 1788.

F

ROM the title of this Tragedy, we were led to expect a difplay of Spartan virtue; a band of patriots, and legiflators, with fentiments towering above the fons of modern Europe, and rifing almoft to the incredible. But, being the work of a Lady, the fubject is befpangled with flowers and beauties of a very different kind. We shall ftate the action here reprefented, and then make a few obfervations on the fable, the ftyle, and compofition.

Leonidas and Cleombrotus were joint kings of Sparta, but the latter, by the ftratagems of his brother king, was depofed, and driven into exile. Chelonicè (the daughter of Leonidas) was married to Cleombrotus, and had to ftruggle with oppofite and contending paffions: fhe loved her husband, and was tenderly attached to her father. Filial duty prevailed, and she remained with her child at Sparta. Meanwhile, Cleombrotus affembled an army, and at the time when the play opens, had actually laid fiege to Sparta. The affault was to be made in the night. To prevent the flaughter, in which her father might fall, Chelonicè, in the difguife of a prieftefs, ventures to her bufband's camp, and by her powers of perfuafion fufpends the intended attack. She returns to the city, where her fecret vifit to the enemy is charged againft her as treafon to the ftate. For this the is tried before her father, and acquitted; but refufing to invite Cleombrotus into the town, that he might there be treacherously

cut

cut off, she and her child are ordered to be confined in prison, In this moment Amphares, who afpires at once to the bed of Chelonicè and the throne, goes, while night ftill continues, to the tent of Cleombrotus, and by a feigned tale endeavours to fire the mind of the depofed king with jealoufy. He talks of her intrigues, and of an affignation with a gay young lover in a grove within the walls of the city. Cleombrotus liftens to this ftrange ftory, and refolves to enter the town, and detect his wife and her paramour. Chelonicè, in the interim, remains confined with her child. We fee her in her prison-moments. The defign of Amphares is to murder the husband in the grove, but by mistake, instead of Cleombrotus, who is actually on the spot, he kills his own brother Nicrates. Cleombrotus having escaped the fnare, wanders about the town, and being foon pursued by his enemies, takes fanctuary in the temple of Minerva. Leonidas burfts in, and in violation of religious rites, orders Cleombrotus to be dragged away, and fent into exile. He crowns his daughter, and declares her the partner of his throne. Connubial love now prevails. Since her father is fafe, fhe is determined to fhare her husband's fate; but Leonidas, who had gone forth from the temple, returns mortally wounded. He has the fatiffaction, however, before he dies, to fee Amphares put to death by Cleombrotus, who now regains his fceptre, and finds that his wife was wrongfully accused. The play ends with the following moral:

The invelop'd will,

Who thus thro' darknefs works our brightest days,

And darts his glory o'er our thorny ways.

Such is the ftory of the piece. The firft obfervation that occurs is, that the whole is a chain of improbabilities. Would a general officer, at the head of an army impatient for the affault, fuffer the wife, whom he loves, to return again to his enemies, and into a city devoted to flaughter? When his wife has left him, would he, in a moment of fuch importance, liften to an idle ftory of an intrigue between Chelonicè and a young gallant? Would he quit his army, and venture alone into the town to be afpy upon the conduct of his wife? This is all a puny love bufinefs amidft the horrors of war. The fate of Sparta feems to be forgotten, and to give way to that which looks too like a modern intrigue. When Chelonicè refuses the crown, the child fays, What, won't you be a Queen? We do not know whether that raifed a laugh in the theatre, but to us it seems to border upon the ridiculous.

The ftyle and language of the play, by no means fuit the nature of dramatic dialogue. We have fimilies ill adapted to the occafion, altogether unneceffary, and feldom tending to illuftrate, or embellish. Natural diation gives place to meta

phor,

phor, and ttle prettineffes, that pall the taste of the reader, and are therefore blemishes. Of this we fhall give a few inftances: Grand horrors hailing the devoted night: what does that mean? Balmy night's ftill fabbath? The hour of repose is intended; why not more obviously expreffed?-Two kings are called a biarchy.'-Tears are cloistered in the heart.-Apollo is beamy-hair'd-The moon is the car of the nocturnal goddess.— We are to understand that there are two Suns in the hemisphere, for this day's fun refigns the race to him who gilds to-morrow.'— The eagerness of the foldier pants for crimfon labour. A warrior fays, what fragrant message from my love? To express fix years, fix funs have belted round the world. In the grove, where lovers meet, lawless Cupids reign; and fing peans to difhonour. Filiacide is a new word in the criminal law. The commander of an army, amidst the impending horrors of war, goes to the object of his love, as eager zephirs fly to kiss the rofe.' We do not imagine that a play, written in this anti-natural ftyle, could have much effect in the theatre: in the closet all this quaintnefs is difgufting. The general character of Mrs. Cowley's ftyle may be given in her own language:

Words, whofe founds vibrate on the ear,

But cannot raise ideas in the mind.

ART. XII. The Regent; a. Tragedy. As it is acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane. Written by Bertie Greatheed Efq. 8vo. Is. 6d. Robfon and Co.

A

1788.

S this Play is the work of a gentleman and a scholar, the Author fhould be received as a welcome member of the republic of letters. It is not often that we have plays from writers fo eminently qualified for this fpecies of literary compofition. Confidered as a first performance, the piece before us promifes well for the lovers of the Drama. The outline of the fubjeet here prefented to us may be compendiously stated. Anfaldo, Duke of Catalonia, went with his fon, Carlos, then of tender years, to vifit Alphonfo, King of Arragon, leaving Manuel Regent during his abfence. Alphonfo, as foon as his visitor had put himself in the power of a foreign Court, demanded that Manuel fhould be delivered up to him. This was refused; but to enforce compliance, the enraged monarch threw Anfaldo and his infant fon into prifon. After a year's confinement Anfaldo was released. Manuel, in the mean time, was fired with two paffions, which in all ages have disturbed the peace of man: he afpired at once to the throne and the bed of Dianora, the confort of Anfaido. In order to attain his purposes, he employed his brother Gomez, with a band of ruffians, to way-Jay Anfaldo on his return home, and put him to immediate death.

Gomez

Gomez undertakes the horrid bufinefs; but by miftake kills another, and lets Anfaldo efcape. The murder, however, is fuppofed by him and the Regent to be actually committed. Dianora, to foften her affliction, defired that her fon, Carlos, who ftill remained at the Court of Arragon, might be fent home to his mother. For this purpose, Manuel agrees to fend his brother Gomez to conduct the young prince.

In this fituation of things the play opens. In the progrefs of it, Carlos is reftored. But the mother's troubles are not at an end. Manuel declares his paffion; but in vain. Dianora is refolved to be true to the memory of her deceased husband. Meanwhile Anfaldo returns, and takes refuge with old Gerbin, an humble cottager. There he learns the state of affairs; and while he is concerting his measures, Carlos, the young prince, is taken from the arms of Dianora, in order to force her into compliance with the paffions of the Regent. The prince is to be put to death in the fight of his mother, if he will not yield confent. She is determined to perifh rather than fubmit. Anfaldo, in that moment, breaks into the palace with a band of friends. It then appears that Gomez, ftung with remorfe, became the friend of Anfaldo's caufe, and faved the life of Carlos. Manuel is killed in a combat with Anfaldo. Dianora embraces her lord and her child, and ends the piece with thefe lines: So boisterous the attacks of blifs and woe, That reft muft pacify our dafing fpirits, And drop his fhady curtain on the feene.

Conftructed with these materials, the fable is managed with art. The scenes are well arranged, and exhibit, in fucceffion, great variety of paffions. The horrors of a guilty mind are Arongly feen in the character of Manuel, inferior to nothing but Macbeth. The tender affections of Dianora are well contrafted to her fortitude. Old GERBIN has a fine effect, infomuch that one regrets that his part is fo fhort. The Author has dared, in imitation of our early dramatic authors, to write the dialogue of his under-characters in profe, and thofe fcenes are highly pleafing. In that ftyle of compofition the language is fimple and affecting. In verfe our Author is not fo chafte. Falfe thoughts and glittering expreffions occur too often. We fhall felect a few of thefe, not for the malignant pleasure of finding blemishes, but with a view to put an author, who promifes fo well as Mr. Greatheed, on his guard againft little embellishments in his future compofitions. We have in this play the many-manfioned bliss: the phrafe is not happy; but we fuppofe it is an allufion to Scripture-" In my father's house are many manfions." What are, blafts hurtling through peaked vaults? Imitations of Shakespeare do not always fucceed it is their misfortune to put us in mind of fomething better. The Phenix immortality is very quaint.