approve their conduct, or accept their When they first broke the shell, and A B Their writers have indeed lately, As the apology, whether built on As to this period of their admini- Let us then call evidence.. But before we enter into the rigour of this enquiry, we will allow them, quite clear of examination, as much time as they can wish, to fcramble for re. verfions, and to convert every thing to the emolument of their families, which the patronage of their offices entrusted to them, to be employed for the good of the fervice. This was a pro. in the least wondered at it. It could not however wholly escape obfervation, that within a few months those two perfons hooked into their family no less than four lucrative reverfions; and pillowed the cradles of their infant children with offices which ufed to be the repofe and reward of long service to the public. By this proceeding they not only injured and abufed all present defert, but ftunted and starved the growth of future merit, by converting its reward into a family inheritance. But when the Financier had, as in duty bound, given in the first place a proper attention to his private fortune, let us see what he did for the public, being now hors de page, acting for himself, and from himself. To fhew his abhorrence of the fyftem of the Favourite, to whofe perfon Che profefies now fo violent an antipathy, the first thing we might have expected, was to see him reftore to their offices fome few at least of those who had been facrificed in fo unprecedented a manner, whilst he had acted only an under part in bufinefs, in order not only to relieve the innocent victims, but to stamp an indelible cenfure on the practice itself. This maffacre of office had undoubtedly been the most exceptionable part of the conduct of Lord Bute. To rectify it ought to have been the most leading feature in Mr G. Grenville. E But did he give the public this fatisfaction, or any fatisfaction at all? Quite the reverfe. He ratified the acts of his predeceffor, and he extended the example. Notwithstanding the havock which had been made in the Civil Offices, whilft the prudent Financier played the fecond fiddle, the Military had been thought fafe, and the nation hoped they might ftill enjoy the fervice of good officers, tho' they had perfevered in being alfo good Members of Parliament. Lord Bute had never proceeded thus far. This was destined to be one of the great inGtration was to give of a manly spirit, ftances which the Grenville adminiand of their having fhaken off the yoke of all fecret dependence. And this noble inftance of his independency was given at the trivial expence of the freedom of Parliament, the difcipline of the army, and the fortune cedure fo natural to the Grand Fi.of meritorious individuals. But the nancier, and to a late noble perfon freedom of your Parliament, the difcipline of your army, and the hand of oppreffion on your private proper ty, ty, are things of no confequence ! The grofs Financier will tell you a story of Lord Bute. Under the administration of Lord Bute, all private houses (I mean all that had efcaped the inquifition of that Excife which Mr Grenville defended, adopted, and fettled on us) were fecure. But under the administration of MrGrenville and his friends, we were prefented with a mafter-stroke of executive justice. The annals of France cannot furnish an instance of a Lettre de Cachet which made fo general and fo undistinguishing a sweep. I know that the Secretaries of State, as a full apology for their conduct in this particular, are pleased to alledge, that tho' they betrayed the Conftitution, they were true to the File; and tho' they wandered wide from the Law, yet they ftuck moft faithfully and reverently to the old venerable forms and precedents of office. This argument, to be fure, must be of force. It was the strong argument in favour of Ship money. It was the defence of the courie of the Star· Chamber; it was the fhield of the dif penting power; and will indeed forever prove to be the defence in cafes where office is oppofed to duty, and practice to law. An experience in Such office forms was the boast of the late Ministers; and their principal objection to the perfons who have fucceeded to their places, is their supposed ignorance of fuch useful precedents. They were not, indeed, inftructed in the ufe of thefe office forms, fo favourable to liberty and justice, by Ld Bute; their fubferviency to him at one period, their betraying him at another, their invectives against him at a third, do not make any change at -all in the nature of their proceeding on that memorable occafion, nor in our judgment upon it. We talk of Jaw and justice; and they tell us—a ftory of a Favourite. Perhaps it would be edifying to hear a little more of this fame Favourite. For variety, however, fuppose we were to look a little into the prefent ferious ftate of our affairs. There was a time, when your trade feemed a matter of as much importance as a court anecdote; but now things are changed. When the thoufands of your perifhing manufacturers call to the experienced Financier for the commerce which plentifully not. rished them and their children,'he tells ther, be has quarrelled with Lord Bute ; -they may go home and be filled. But admitting your trade, in the new fyftem of finance, to be a thing of no fort of moment, shall we for thatreafon pass over, with perfect unconcern, that other happy fcheme, which A for a paultry and precarious profit (ultimately to be wrung from our own manufacturers) has torn, perhaps for ever, from this mother country, the affection and reverence of her colo. nies. What does that knowing and experienced Minifter fay, when he fees B that his measures have fet all America in a blaze? and the British government brought to that pafs by his councils, that if the public confidence in the present Miniftry does not rescue us, we ftand in the miserable alternative of fuffering the authority of G. B. to be trampled under foot, or our fwords to be drawn afresh, to the ruin of our colonies. D E But, amidst our serious discuffions and bitter feelings, the difcarded ad. ministration prefume to infult us with idle tales and childish anecdotes of their difmiffion: That difmiffion is indeed their fole concern; but it is no concern at all of ours. We want to know this, and this alone; how their conduct agreed or difagreed with the commerce, the welfare, the tranquillity, & the liberty of our country. I do not indeed wonder, that thofe who put office forms in the place of laws, fhould confider the anecdote of a court faction as the fundamentals of politics. But if they mean to give their private hiftory any fort of weight, let them proceed like men. Let them firft speak to the measures of Lord B. whilst they acted under him. Let them fhew how culpable those meafures were, and how refolutely they oppofed them. Let them fhew, when they betrayed their mafter into a refignation of his power, that they repaired the errors of his conduct; and proved that they merited their freedom, by the generous ufe they made of it. When they have done this, we may poffibly be at leifure to enquire into the secret hiftory of their dismisfiGon; and we may lay by Mrs Manly's, in order to take up the Earl of Sandwich's New Atalantis. H But push them from post to post, ftill their maturity and experience never leaves these great men without a work to cover them. They own their exaltation by Ld B-; they allow their connection with him; they confefs their fubferviency to him. But they have a faluo for all; they affert they have have betrayed him, and they think they have abundantly apologized for their freedom from all public virtue, by proving that they were equally free from all private hohour. These are the men who are to free us from the yoke of clandeftine influence; who are to restore the nation to refpect abroad, and to tranquillity at home! Mr JOHNSON'S Account of Shakespeare's VOL V. A action, and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progrefs of the scene. So powerful is the current of the poet's imagination, that the mind, which once ventures within it, is hurried irresistibly along. On the feeming improbability of Lear's conduct it may be obferved, that he is reprefented according to hiftories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our thoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this ftory is referred, it will appear not fo unlikely as while we eftimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of one daughter to another, or refignation of do Firft, fecond, and third Part of HENRY VI. B minion on fuch conditions, would be yet OF F there three plays I think the fecond the heft. The truth is, that they have not fufficient variety of action, for the incidents are too often of the fame kind; yet many of the characters are well difcriminated. King Henry, and his queen king Edward, the duke of Glocefler, and the earl of Warwick, are very strongly and diftin&ly painted. RICHARD THE THIRD. credible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakespeare, indeed, by the mention of his Earls and Dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated by fofter manners; and the truth is, that though he fo nicely difcri Cminates, and fo minutely defcribes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign. This is one of the most celebrated of our authour's performances; yet I know not whether it has not happened to him as to others, to be praifed moft when D praise is not most deserved. That this play has fcenes noble in themselves, and very well contrived to strike in the exhibition, cannot be denied. But fome parts are trifling, others fhocking, and fome improbable. KING HENRY VIII. The play of Henry the eighth is one of those which still keeps poffeffion of the ftage, by the fplendour of its pageantry, The coronation about forty years ago drew the people together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. Yet pomp is not the only merit of this play. The meek forrows and virtuous diftrefs of Catherine have furnished fome fcenes which may be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. But the genius of Shake peare comes in and goes out with Catherine." Every other part may be easily conceived, and eafily written. VOL VI. The tragedy of Lear is defervedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakespeare. There is perhaps no pla which keeps the attention fo ftrongly fixed; which so much agitates our paffions, and interests our curiofity. The artful involetions of distinct interefts, the striking oppofition of contrary characters, the ludden changes of fortune, and the quick fic effion of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no fcene which does not contribute to the ag gravation of the diftrefs or conduct of the E F G H My learned friend Mr Warton, who has in the Adventurer very minutely criti→ cifed this play, remarks, that the inftances of cruelty are too favage and fhocking, and that the intervention of Edmund destroys the fimplicity of the story. These objecti ons may, I think, be answered, by repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an hiftorical fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a feries by dialogue and action. But I am not able to apologise with equal plaufibility for the extrusion of Gloucefler's eyes, which feems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and fuch as must always compel the mind to relieve its diftrefs by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered that our authour well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. The injury done by Edmund to the fimplicity of the action is abundantly recompenfed by the addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief defign, and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connecting the wicked fon with the wicked daughters; to imprefs this important moral, that villany is never at a step, that crimes lead to crimes, and at last terminate in ruin. But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakespeare has fuffered the vir tue of Cordelia, to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of juftice, to the hope of the reader, and what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicles, Yet this conduct is justified by the Spectator, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia fuccefs and happiness in his alteration, and de and artificial clofes, not always inelegant, yet feldom pleafing. The barbarity of the fpectacles, and the general maffacre which are here exhibited, can scarcely be conceived tolerable to any audience; yet we are told by Jobnon, that they were A not only born but praifed. That ShakeSpeare wrote any part, though Theobald declares it inconteftable, I fee no reason for believing. declares, that, in his opinion, the tragedy There is another controversy among the critics concerning this play. It is difputed whether the predominant image in МАСВЕТн. This play is defervedly celebrated for the propriety of its fictions, and fulemni'y, grandeur, and variety of its action; but it has no nice difcriminations of character; the events are too great to admit the inAluence of particular difpofitions, and the course of the action neceffarily determines the conduct of the agents. The danger of ambition is well defcribed; and I know not whether it may not be faid in defence of fome parts which now C feem improbable, that, in Shakespeare's time, it was neceffary to warn credulity against vain and illufive predictions. The paffions are directed to their true end. Lady Macbeth is merely detefted and though the courage of Mackberb preferves fome efteem, yet every reader reDjoices at his fall. Lear's difordered mind be the lofs of his kingdom or the cruelty of his daughters. Mr Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of particular paffages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary fource of his distress, and that the lofs of royalty affects him only as a fecondary and fubordinate evil; he obferves with great E juftness, that Lear would move our compaffion but little, did we not rather confider the injured father than the degra ded king. TIMON OF ATHENS The play of Timon is a domeftic tragedy, and therefore ftrongly fastens on the at- F tention of the reader. In the plan there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters various and exact. The catastrophe affords a very powerful warning against that oftentatious liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits; and buys flattery, but not friendship. In this tragedy are may paffages perplexed, obfcure, and probably corrupt, which I have endeavoured to rectify or explain with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot promife myfelf that my endeavours will be much applauded. TITUS ANDRONICUS. [In the 6th fcene of the first act of this play, there is a paffage manifeftly corrupt, with the emendation of which, the editor is not fatisfied, another therefore, is here fuggefted: The king having rewarded the fervices of The service and the loyalty I owe, Which do but what they fhould, by doing Safe tow'rd your love and honour. Upton has thewn by example, that Shakespeare ufes the word fafe as a verb, to fafe a thing, is to fecure it; poffibly, therefore the line flood originally, To fafe your love and honour. G To fecure that love and honour with which you have already distinguished us, The word ward, guard, might perhaps, be inferted in the margin, or over the line, as explanatory of fafe, and might afterwards be taken into the text and connected with to. It certainly made the verfe redundant, which feems to favour the supposition; and All the editors and critics agree with H therefore, is contracted to one fyllable Mr Theobald in fuppofing this play spurious I fee no reason tor differing from them; for the colour of the file is wholly different from that of the other plays, and re is an attempt at regular verfification, sow`rd.] [The Remainder of the Account of thefe Plays in our next.] W. B.'s Remarks on Jome PafJages in the New Teftament is received. A LITERARY ARTICLE. Mr URBAN, ed, by his will, to the Prefident Henault, a collection of original letters, written by the great Henry the IVth. of France, which make two confiderable volumes in folio: To this collection feveral additions have been fince made, and M. Henault has invited the literati to make farther contributions, by public advertisements, not with a view to hoard them, as a virtuofo does medals and old coins, but to communicate them to the public.-As a fpecimen of thofe already in his poffeffion, he has published the following, of which I send you a translation. LETTER I. Directed on the back to Madame de Gramont *. I know notre A patience, I beseech you, for the love of God, and if you love me, juffer no difquiet on this account, nor think your reputation injuredt. I fend mafter Cofmo to you, with all speed, who will inform you of every thing. He left a certain party in great dejection, which I am jorry fort. Thefe are your brother's tricks. We hold Rochelle to be as good as taken, for they have agreed to receive Monf. de Biron as governor, with fix companies of foot. However freely the rebels of Berne may think of their affairs, they will very foon fuffer more B than they expect, and more than I fhould know how to defend them from, if I was willing, which, however, is not the cafe. More than two hundred gentlemen have paffed thro' this city, who have all promised to join me if I should have any fervice for them. The moment I received your letter, and that of M. Belfance to you, I fent by exprefs to the King of Navarre, to folicit the government of Orion, and I make no doubt but that he will have it. I beg you would make my complements to him, and tell him that I long to fee him. I have nothing more to write, except that I am very much out of order, both in body and mind. Adieu. C that I came hither yefterday to drink the waters, from which I find great benefit. Monf. de Monluc is allo here, who fays he is more attached to me than any man alive, and I manage him pretty well; and now I have mentioned Manluc, I mult defire you to look into my little cabinet, for the letter he wrote to me, in which he tells me that he cannot continue to garrifon my company fo near me, because I employ them otherwife than in the fervice of the king; in the fame let. D ter he alfo tells me, that he has heard I have declared against the service of the king, in fome of the ftates that are under the jurifdiction of Berne. Send me a copy of that letter, and take particular care of the original, for before we part he shall make me fome fatisfaction. But pray fend it E me by an exprefs, with the utmost care and dispatch, far if I miss this opportunity I fhall fcarce find another fo good. I fhall now be able to do what I wish with a good grace, and fo as to make Monluc, and his friends, much more my friends for the time to come. I beg you would not fail. IF will fend you the mules, and the * *, to bring part of the furniture, and as foon as they return I fhall fet off. I fhall go to work at Semeac with all speed. Recommend me to the lit. tle girl. I have sent to seek after mafter Amanin. Adieu. From the Baths, the 12th of Sept. 1570. YOU tell me that I make no account of my children; but God for. bid that you should fuffer half so much on their behalf as I do: My folicitude and anxiety almost kill me. Have Madame de Grammt Corisand d' Andouin, the widow of Philibert, Count de Gramont, (Gent. Mag. Nov. 1765.) Bourdeaux, March 10, 1573. THIRD LETTER. THANK God my endeavours have been fo far fuccessful, that I have re-taken all the places in this country, of which thofe thieves and robbers had made themselves masters. An expedition which I ordered againft Ranfon, was yesterday executed with fuccefs. The place was taken, and thofe vagabonds driven out of it, fome being killed, and others taken prifoners, fo that this country being at prefent fet free from them, I fhall, after having spoken to Monf. de la Valette, take measures the more willingly to remove from hence: The country being now free, they may keep it fo if they will; however, I fhall, on this occafion, do whatever Monf. de la Valette fhall think proper. This you G may communicate to our neighbours of Bayonne and Dax, and tell them that it is at my inftance, that they may fee I am not unufeful where I come. The French is fy tu maimes ne t'en faches point, & garde que la fame ne s'en fache point. The French is, Cella ne lui part que de H kangueur ; mais il me defplaift de s'en eftre allé ainfin. Enfeignes de geans de pied. I have |