Ir gives us great pleasure to be able to state that their Majesties and the rest of the Royal Family have been in the enjoyment of excellent health during the past month. The Court is expected to leave Brighton the beginning of the present month. Fires are daily kept in the Apartments of Windsor Castle, and every thing is prepared for the return of their Majesties. The Countess of Brownlow resumes her duties at Court this month as one of the Ladies of Honour to the Queen. His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland has arrived at Berlin from Hanover. At St. James's Palace, and also at Kew, the preparations for the return of the Royal Duke have commenced; but it is probable he will not arrive in England until Easter. The Duke of Devonshire will give a concert early in the present month. The extensive saloons at Devonshire House are undergoing re-embellish ment. The Duchess of Cannizzaro will not commence her splendid parties until after Easter. The Duke and Duchess of Sutherland are likely to remain in Paris until Easter. The Duchess has nearly recovered from the effects of her late indisposition. The Marquess of Camden has paid into the Bank of England the sum of 17,2471. 3s. 4d., for his contribution to the public service for the last year. The Marchioness and Ladies Cornwallis are expected in town early this month. The Earl of Scarborough will commence his dinner parties next month. The Earl and Countess of Wilton are entertaining a select party at Melton Mowbray, where they will remain until the end of the hunting season. The Earl of Scarborough will commence his dinner parties this month. We understand that a marriage is on the tapis between Earl Bruce, eldest son of the Marquess of Ailesbury, and Lady Mary Herbert, youngest daughter of the Countess of Pembroke. The Earl of Balcarras, having let his mansion in Berkeley Square to Lord Brougham, will remain during the spring at Haigh Hall, near Wigan, Lan cashire. VOL. X.-No. III.-MARCH, 1837. The Earl of Belfast has taken a mansion in Belgrave-square, as his Lordship's future town resi dence. A marriage is said to be in contemplation between Lord Glanduce, son of the Earl of Norbury, and Lady Georgiana Russell, eldest daughter of the Duke of Bedford. The Earl of Burlington, it is stated, intends to remove from his present residence in Belgravesquare to a more spacious mansion. The Earl of Tankerville's dinner parties will commence at Easter. Viscount Ebrington will occupy the mansion of his noble and venerable relation, Earl Fortescue, in Grosvenor-square, during the season. Lady Anne Beckett will commence her assemblies after Easter. Lord Kenyon will shortly resume his dinner parties in Portman-square. Lord and Lady Suffield will entertain a select party at Gurton Park, during Easter. Lady Dudley Stuart will shortly resume her soirées at her residence in Wilton Crescent. The Hon. Fulke Greville, who lately died at Dover, has left the bulk of his property to the eldest son of Lord Combermere. Sir Edward Knatchbull, Bart., has taken the mansion in Hanover-square so long the residence of the Bishop of Durham. Lord Maryborough is about to withdraw from his delightful seat, Herne Hill, near Windsor. Lord Rokeby, and the Hon. the Misses Montague are at Melton Mowbray. They return to Montague House the first week in April. General Lord Hill has taken possession of his new residence in Belgrave-square, the lease of the mansion on Westbourne Green having expired. Wentworth Beaumont, Esq. M.P., has taken a spacious mansion in Hamilton Place, which is being prepared for the reception of his family. It is rumoured, that one of the amiable and accomplished daughters of Lord and Lady Bridport, will shortly be led to the altar by Henry Hall, Esq., of Holbrook House, Somerset. The Speaker will commence his levees early this month at his residence on Carlton Terrace. U REVIEW OF NEW WORKS. The Comedies of Aristophanes; translated into corresponding English metres. By Benjamin Dann Walsh, M.A. Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. 3 vols. Vol. I. London, 1837. Ir would seem to be too late to find any thing new to say about the Comedies of Aristophanes. By this time a writer, who stood alone in his age, who represented, in excess undoubtedly, the prevailing characters of the polished society in which he lived, and who is more valuable to us as a painter of remote manners, and a recorder of Athenian life, than all other writers that his own or any other times have produced, should be thoroughly understood. Criticism might fairly be expected to have exhausted itself upon his relics, and to have left nothing more for mankind to do than to ponder in admiration over his amply-illustrated pages. Yet, it is no less true than surprising, that the comedies of Aristophanes, the character of his genius, and the objects of his satire, have not yet been thoroughly sifted, and present many problems to the scholar, upon which speculation has taken an extraordinary variety of shapes. The deficiencies and contradictions of critical annotators on subjects of this kind, may be accounted for by the dearth of authorities we have not sufficient means of penetrating the domestic life of the ancients, to enable us to judge closely or fully of the truth and vraisemblance of these remarkable plays: and, indeed, we are in some sort compelled to make Aristophanes himself the standard, by which Aristophanes must be tried. Internal evidences are abundant throughout his pieces of traits and customs which are not chronicled any where else, and these taken in connection with what we do know from authentic sources of the public acts of the Athenians, of their institutions, forms, and usages, assist us to a clearer view, not merely of the comedies themselves, but of the state of society to which they were addressed. : democracy under which the Athenians lived, their jealousy of the power of their rulers, their inordinate love of costly display, their pride, independence, and licentiousness, were qualities which naturally produced that free expression of public opinion, which is always calculated to give a wider range, and a higher importance to the exhibitions of the theatre. In more modern times, when the science of government came to be better understood, and the experience of extinct thrones had taught the monarchs of Europe the wisdom of encouraging public amusements, as a safety valve for the passions of the multitude, the stage was tolerated as an escape for the spirit of popular discontent, which, were it denied such a vent, would soon have taken a shape dangerous to the public safety, and fatal to established authority. But in Athens, the stage possessed even a more enlarged utility: it was an essential part of the commonwealth: it afforded a means of conveying the sentiments of the community, which, in some form or another, was indispensable to a people who entertained so vigilant a regard for their liberties: it gratified the gorgeous vanity of the crowd: it yielded a ready channel for that species of satire, which in a republic so open, and necessarily so unrestrained, indulges in personal as well as political severities it was an instrument of revenge and ridicule as well as justice, and fulfilled alike the ends of individual animosity and contempt, and the heavier retributions of offended freedom; and it was consequently resorted to by the populace with an enthusiasm, which could hardly fail to encourage the excesses of that genius, which achieved its mightiest triumphs. And this view of Attic society, develops in a great measure the secret, not only of the success of Aristophanes, but of his levity, which is frequently so prurient as to outrage the chastised taste of this more subdued and more scrupulous age. It is held by some writers, that Aristophanes formed the character of his times,— but this is palpably a false estimate, both of the dramatist and his audiences: his comedies are, in truth, a reflection of their character, exhibiting its powers, it follies, its vices, and its extravagance with fidelity, but heightened of course, to suit the atmosphere of excitement. We find in them an accurate representation of the scenes by which he was surrounded, darkened, no doubt, by a mask of allegory, which his contemporaries could easily detect, but which at this distance it is difficult to penetrate. But enough of the allusive, however, is intelligible to enable us to speculate with tolerable certainty upon the rest and taking these lights to guide us, we discover in his pieces a vivid commentary, not only upon the most distinguished men of civilised and polished Athens, but upon the habits and manners of the whole people. Had we space to extend our remarks upon the subjects into which these plays would lead us, we might show the obvious effect which the absence of a recognised aristocracy inevitably produces upon national character: but within our limited confines it will be enough to observe that the republican institutions of Athens gave a tone at once coarse and immoral to the Athenians; which these comedies exhibit somewhat in caricature. That they were a highly cultivated people is unquestionable: but that, in the very exercise of their personal rights, they carried the assertion of liberty to such wild extremities, as to degenerate into grossness, is also undeniable. There was no superior class to check their exuberant indiscretions: no titled and honorable body, invested with weight in the public councils, inheriting a responsible position in the state, and calming by its dignity the turbulent criminalities of the canaille. The grace of the refined presence-the restraining majesty of hereditary and traditional glories, were wanting to curb the lawlessness of the mob. Hence their more popular entertainments were remarkable for scourging sarcasm, for bald indecencies, and unsparing ridicule. They reserved all their epic grandeur, their fine feeling of the beautiful and the great, for tragedy; which swept the boards with a lofty and sublime mien, that affords a strange contrast to these mocking plays of Aristophanes. If we were to describe in a few words the most striking points in a dramatist, who more than any other expressed the tone of his period, we should say that Aristophanes was distinguished less by subtle wit than by broad and relentless humor; that he was untouched by delicate sympathics, that he was an inveterate hater, and made his plays the medium of his uncompromising personal dislikes: that he loved to assail even virtue and genius for the sake of the ridiculous: that he was indifferent to truth, so long as he could produce brilliant effects by its sacrifice and that he possessed a skill that has never been surpassed in the distribution and management of his materials. Wherever the plot was deficient in intrinsic interest, he atoned for it by the rapidity and fascination of his dialogue, which is usually so piquant that we cease to wonder at the delight with which it filled his audiences, frequently numbering no less than 18,000 spectators. The point of the pungent satire was always visible to them, so they lacked nothing of mere dramatic fable to render their amusement complete. But we have been speaking all this time of Aristophanes, when we were called upon to pronounce an opinion only on the merits of his translator. Mr. Walsh has executed his undertaking very successfully. But the attempt to render Aristophanes into corresponding metres often reduces him to the necessity of imitating rather than translating his author, so that the version must not be considered as affording a literal view of the original. It is a transfusion of Aristophanes into English; a labour much more difficult than that of a close translation, requiring much higher powers, and producing results much more felicitous. Perhaps Mr. Walsh in some places carries the imitation a little too far; for in his attempt to make Aristophanes thoroughly intelligible to the mere English reader, he modernises him after a fashion so grotesque, that it becomes almost impossible to recognise the venerable classic in his new and fantastic dress. Thus, he makes the Megarian pigdriver speak in broad Scotch, by way of affording a notion of the provincial dialect of the "Achar. nians." Ex. gr. I'se dress ye up as pigs, and say 'tis pigs I bring to sell. Pit on your nieves thae cloots, Who could guess that this was Aristophanes ? Yet the effect is by no means so absurd as may be supposed, and there is some excuse, as well as precedent, for such travesties! Games and Sports; being an Appendix to 66 Manly Exercises," and "Exercises for Ladies," &c. By Donald Walker. London, 1837. IN the good old times old people used to play cards, and the younger branches had a thousand outlets for their natural hilarity, being left to the selection of their own means of pleasure and enjoyment. By degrees, however, cards fell into desuetude, and declined into the last resource of passive senility; and so the young were prematurely drawn into the whirl of intercourse above their age, and their innocent amusements gave way to entertainments which were not well calculated to improve their hearts. An attempt to restore those harmless games which were once universal, but which are now almost exclusively confined to the rural districts, is entitled to approbation and Mr. Walker's attractive volume is likely to fulfil that end as well as any other similar compilation with which we are acquainted. In France, where society is of a more lively and brilliant character, games of this description are in common request, and frequently take a turn of the most sparkling wit, to which the language of the people is as favourable as their genius. The acted charades of the French -little impromptu dramas-exercise the mind, while they captivate the imagination of the young; and, although neither our tone of thinking nor our modes of expression are congenial to such inventions, we might derive a sufficient harvest of agreeable pastime from them, if those who regulate such matters would unbend to encourage them. Wherever there is a little coterie of ardent spirits to be found, these springs of mirth are freely loosened; but, unfortunately, there is too much fog in our atmosphere to permit a hope to be entertained that we shall ever make any considerable advances in that direction. Enough of our own old spirits, however, remain behind, and if it were only for the sake of associations with the past, and the cultivation of genuine English feelings, we venture to commend this repertory of juvenile games to the public. Here we have for the winter's evenings, Blind Man's Buff, (think, good reader, of the Vicar of Wakefield and Tom Jones), Shadow Buff, (this hunting of shadows, by the way, is not confined to children), Questions and Answers, Proverbs, and other beguiling in-door jousts:-and for the summer, Groups, Archery, Barley Brinks, MayDay and Harvest Sports; and many more equally joyous diversions. Mr. Walker pretends to no higher merit than that of a compiler: and, as far as we can judge, his compilation is very excellent of its kind. The Life of Alcuin. By Dr. Frederic Lorenz, Professor of History at the University of Halle. Translated from the German, by Jane Mary Slee. London, 1837. Ir is to be regretted that the lives of Englishmen who were distinguished for their erudition or their virtues during the Anglo-Saxon period, are not more generally known to the public at large : or that there does not exist a sufficiently active spirit of research in proper quarters, to draw out into popular forms those stores of learning and of piety, which are to be found in an age which is flippantly held to be barbarous, simply because the multitude is utterly ignorant of its treasures. The venerable Bede is a man unknown to the great bulk of the so-called reading world: and who, of the multitude of book-buyers and explorers, knows any thing of Alcuin, the "intellectual premier' of Charlemagne? Yet, the history of this country does not contain two names more worthy of reverence. Of Bede, it would be superfluous to speak: and Alcuin requires a larger share of consideration than in our limited compass we can afford to bestow upon him, with any advantage to a subject of such deep and extensive interest. He was born in Northumbria, in 735, the year when Bede died. Educated at York, which was then one of the most distinguished seminaries in the world, he early displayed the extraordinary powers, which afterwards raised him to so great a height in the esteem of the foremost man of his time. Before he was twenty years of age, he was elevated to the station of tutor, and he subsequently became the head of the school. His fame was rapidly spread over Europe, and York was soon celebrated for its superiority in theology over all other institutions. Foreigners from the remotest places hastened to complete their studies under the guidance of Alcuin, whose simple and laborious life was one unbroken scene of devotion and learned acquisition. Such was the greatness of his name, that when he was sent to Rome upon an ecclesiastical mission, Charlemagne solicited him as a favor to repair to France, flattering him with the offer of a post of considerable importance, in the formation and superintendence of the educational institutes of the kingdom. But Alcuin was not to be easily tempted from his useful avocations at home; and he was so fond and so proud of his country, that unless he had obtained the consent of his own abbot, his archbishop and his king, to remove to France-a sanction for which he stipulated before he would entertain Charlemagne's proposal-he would have rejected at once and for ever the invitation of the French monarch. That sanction, however, was obtained, and Alcuin, reluctantly enough, took up his residence at the court of Charlemagne, becoming tutor to that emperor and his children, as well as to the sons of the principal nobility. His labours during this period exhibit almost unequalled activity, and develope an extent of erudition which, in these degenerate days, would shame the best of our scholars. His time was devoted principally to the restoration of old MSS.; and their dissemination by means of multiplied copies. He founded, also, a great number of schools, gave a new impulse to education, and justly acquired admiration throughout Europe, as the chief reviver of letters in France, the character which he received at the hands of the monks of St. Maur, who possessed the best opportunities of appreciating his claims to it, and whose stupendous labours in recondite literature entitled them to be admitted as judges beyond appeal. These constant employments, however, at last shattered the health of Alcuin, and after repeated applications to Charlemagne, he obtained permission, at the age of sixty, to retire to the abbey of St. Martin, at Tours. In this sequestered retreat, he might have honourably reposed for the rest of his days, having already done enough to surround his name with imperishable lustre, but the spirit of good was too strong within him to suffer him to indulge in the luxury of rest, when the diffusion of truth yet required such aid as he alone could give it; and he continued to labour at his former tasks, until his physical strength gradually sunk under the weight of his self-imposed responsibilities. In vain, Charlemagne, who had no sooner granted leave to Alcuin to go into retirement than he desired to recall it, entreated the venerable scholar to return: in vain he wrote to him to request that he would accompany him to Rome, on the memorable occasion when he was to receive the imperial crown; Alcuin's infirmities compelled him to relinquish the gratification of seeing the monarch who had so early recognised his merits, and who placed him, throughout, in a position which was so favourable to their developement: but Charlemagne continued to press his invitation so frequently upon him, that, in order to relieve himself from the pain of refusing any farther, he resigned his abbey, and dedicated the remnant of his life to prayer. He died in 804. We are disappointed in Dr. Lorenz's life of this celebrated man. It is very German in conception and execution: it magnifies needlessly, and extols extravagantly, and too often decides darkly. It does not enter with critical acumen into the details which the career of Alcuin presents: it does not tell us enough about his original compositions, and appears, indeed, to underrate the whole literature of the period. Yet, these are defects that will be felt only by the few: to the many, this will be a most acceptable book. Its summary of the character of Alcuin is excellent: its general view of the age is good as far as it goes: and the spirit in which it is written is undoubtedly a spirit of knowledge, however we may be disappointed in those parts, where we had a right to expect, from the nature of the subject, a more elaborate exposition of the peculiar studies to which it refers. As a work likely to be popular, and certain to extend the acquaintance of the public generally with the ecclesiastical productions of the middle ages, it deserves unqualified approbation; and the translator has done full justice to a task of no slight difficulty. Recollections of Europe. By J. Fenimore Cooper, Esq. author of "The Pilot," &c. 2 vols. London, 1837. MR. COOPER's former volumes on France and Switzerland are, we presume, familiar to our readers. This work traverses a part of the same ground, but consists not of a regular account of his experiences in England and Europe, but of the "gleanings of a harvest already gathered." It consists of a series of letters, into which broken form all his surplus notes are thrown, enriched with the advantages of more mature reflection than the voyageur who writes out of the fullness of first impressions can find time to make. In this respect these "Recollections" are totally different from Mr. Cooper's previous works of travels, and indeed from any other works that profess to describe journeys of pleasure and observation. They are decidedly individual, and are marked by decided characteristics of the writer's mind and feelings; they trace the gradual progress of his opinions on the institutions and habits of European society, and present a continuous contrast, which does not always take a palpable shape, but which is perceptible in the tone throughout, between the New World and the Old. On this account the publication is curious, and, to a certain extent, valuable; although it must be confessed that there is a great deal of space lavished in its pages upon very unimportant topics. When Mr. Cooper left New York in 1826 to visit Europe for the first time, he was biassed by strong American partialities—perhaps we ought to say prejudices. National pride, which is always the most invincible in a people who have been the architects of their own greatness, unassisted by alliances, and owing nothing to diplomatic leagues and commercial treaties, is carried to an excess in America that is unknown, and almost incomprehensible, in the old states who repose quietly upon their historical fame, and who maintain their prosperity under settled and long established institutions. The American is proud of his own land, and vain of his pride-if that sort of accumulation of the sentiment can be understood. There are no rivers, or lakes, or forests, in the New World, such as are to be found in the States: the industry of America covers a larger space, and exhibits a more vital principle of activity, than that of any other country. Then the Americans are a money-getting and money-loving race, and money is the main-spring of the power of nations as well as of individuals, and their resources in the way of profitable labour are almost inexhaustible. What care they for idle fashion, and cold ceremonials? Plenty, and the prospect of superabundance, stand them in the stead of style; and they are enabled, by the rich fruits of their spirit of enterprise, to look with contempt upon the shallow luxuries of Europe, where the gilded shell is too often naked within. If you reproach them with their sordid views, their vulgarities, and their mean attempts to attain that elegance which they profess to despise, they refer you to what America will be a thousand years hence; they tell you that they live for the future and not for the present, that the arts of effeminate repose are unworthy of a power that aspires to the highest place in the scale of independent and selfsubsisting governments, and that practical sense is more enduring and respectable than the most refined externals. Such was the school in which Mr. Cooper's views of society were formed; and his first literary essays in Europe abundantly proved, that the spell of his early love maintained its influence over him for a long time, even after the novelty of the new scenes in which he mixed had passed away. In the beginning, no doubt, Mr. Cooper's feelings were, in great part, political: he had been accustomed to democracy on a large scale, and the civil checks of a different form of government, as well as the restraints of more cultivated intercourse, instead of shaking his faith in American habitudes, seemed to have had the effect of confirming him in all his predilections. Whenever an opportunity occurred in his novels for the expression of such sentiments, Mr. Cooper's opinions could not be mistaken: he regarded monarchies with distrust, considered aristocracy a great evil, and betrayed an anxious tenderness for what are called, in their most vague acceptation, popular rights. But as Mr. Cooper's experience enlarged, he appears gradually to have undergone a very remarkable transition. We could detect certain misgivings in his latter works, as if he were growing doubtful of long cherished theories, and had not yet quite made up his mind to abandon them. In his books on France, and Switzerland, these doubts become almost resolved into a renunciation of the theories altogether; and the volumes before us must be received as a clear recantation of the whole American heresy, and in some sort as a profession of the old established faith of the rest of all the civilised world. The reader may not discover this fact in a cursory perusal, nor is it disclosed in any direct avowal on the part of the author. But it is, nevertheless, the spirit of the production; which is a sort of reluctant, or perhaps unconscious, confession of that which nobody but an American would ever think of contesting-the superiority, intellectual, social, and political, of England and France over the United States. That other enlightened Americans will rapidly arrive at the same conclusion-that a few years will develope an energetic action in the people, either for the dismemberment of the republic into separate states, or in ambitious rulers for the union of the whole under one arbitrary head (which is much more |