much better off than those who have recently caused their tythes to be valued. Most of the original valuations are already exhausted, and of course, the burden of augmentations falls much heavier upon proprietors whose tythes have been lately valued, than upon those who are possessed of the first valuations. In no case, however, can stipend exceed the amount of free tythes, and in numerous instances it does not amount to one half of it, the balance remaining with the proprietor as a fresh fund for a future augmentation. The proprietors of land may have some cause to complain of the Scottish tythe system, as they, in the first instance, were obliged to buy their tythes from the Titular, or Lords of Erection, at nine years' purchase of their proven value, and are now subjected to pay the whole of that value to the clergyman, provided the court of tythes or teinds in Scotland considers an augmentation of stipend to that extent as expedient and necessary. To the cultivator of land, or, in other words, to the improvement of the country, these things, however, are not of the slightest prejudice. Hence a rapid progress in agricultural improvement, for a century back, has taken place in every quarter of Scotland, which could not possibly have occurred, had tythe in kind, or its value in money, according to annual valuations, been paid by the occupiers. Q. 3d. In what manner was the commutation effected? Did the Kirk resist? A. The commutation, or, more properly speaking, the regulation of tythe in Scotland took place in 1633, in the way already described, though it was many years after before it could be carried completely into execution. The Kirk did not resist, because, in point of fact, its members, with the exception of a few Bishops, were not in possession of the tythes when the submission was made to King Charles. By the decreet arbitral afterwards pronounced, it is believed, the Kirk was very much benefited, for it secured every clergyman in a competent stipend, so far as the teinds or tythes in his parish were sufficient for that purpose. In short, a provision far more liberal than allowed to the Presbyterian clergy at any former period was at that time bestowed upon them-a provision far exceeding what is given to the clergy of England; for though the dignitaries of that church are amply provisioned, it is well known that the great majority of those who bear the heat and burden of the day are by no means favourably dealt with. Q. 4th. Have the landholders of Scotland derived advantage from the regulation of the tythe system? A. It is difficult to answer this query in such terms as may be applicable to the country at large. Suffice it to say, that in general cases, had tythe, as formerly paid, been continued, its amount or value at this day might safely be estimated at six times of what is actually paid to the clergy of the country. But then it must be held in view, that the tythes were originally purchased from the titulars or lay-impropriators, and that nine years purchase-money was paid for them, which probably at the time was their full value, as land then sold at twelve years' purchase, whilst the interest of money was not less than eight per cent. Now, holding all these circumstances in view, and taking into consideration that a considerable expense, and not a little trouble, were incurred in the collection of tythes, it likely will appear, that any advantage gained by the landholders of Scotland from regulating the tythe system, has chiefly arisen from the improvements which in consequence were afterwards introduced, and the alteration which has since taken place in the value of money, as a good part of the tythe was valued according to the monied payments made to the titulars or their tacksmen. Q. 5th. What is the general rate of clerical stipends in country parishes, independently of the manse and glebe? and what may be the differences between town and country stipends? A. As the stipends of the clergy are in most cases paid in grain, or, in other words, paid in money according to the annual fiars of grain in each county, it is not easy to say what may be their amount communibus annis. Perhaps they may be estimated, independently of glebe, house, and garden, at something more than £200 per annum upon an average, though in many instances they amount to double that sum. In no case can a stipend be less than £150, because, in parishes where the stipend is less, and no funds remain for an augmentation, a parliamentary provision is made in behalf of the incumbent, which secures him the amount of stipend above mentioned. It is only of late that the stipends in towns have been greater than those in country parishes, the former being usually paid in money, whilst the greatest part of the other was paid in grain; therefore, whilst the market prices were high, the country clergyman, generally speaking, was in the most comfortable situation. Q. 6th. What is the common extent of the glebe land, and the general estimated value to the clergyman? A. The legal size of a glebe is four Scots acres; and if a grass glebe, sufficient to pasture a horse or cow, is not annexed, a certain sum, to be paid by the heritors of the parish, was fixed by the Parliament of Scotland to make up the deficiency. In numerous instances the arable glebe exceeds four acres; and perhaps the average of glebes may consist of five acres of the best land in the parish to which the glebe belongs. In some cases, the glebe extends to seven acres, but this rarely happens. The value of a glebe may be from £15 to £40, according to circumstances. Q. 7th. What may be the general average of country parishes, in regard to population and extent? A. Country parishes differ far more with regard to extent and population than to stipend. In the lowland districts the extent may be from 3,000 to 7,000 acres, and the population from 500 to 1800 souls. In the highland districts the extent is from 10,000 to 50,000 acres, and the population depends very much upon the system of management that is followed in the parish. Q. 8th. What may be the proportion between Dissenting Meetings and the Kirk, exclusive of Episcopal and Roman Catholic chapels ? A. It is believed that three-fourths of the people in Scotland are steady adherents of the Kirk, and that fully one half of those who dissent from it are more strict Presbyterians than even those who adhere to the Kirk. The number of Episcopalians and Roman Catholics is so trifling that no notice shall be taken of them. Q. 9th. Are the sects of Methodists increasing and from what cause? A The sect of Methodists is not in creasing in Scotland. In point of fact, that sect never had such a footing in the country as to make its numbers an object of inquiry. Q. 10th. Is there a sufficient supply of candidates for Kirk preferment-or does the moderate rate of stipend operate as a check? A. There is always a sufficient supply of candidates for kirk preferment; indeed the number of candidates far exceeds the demand. As the rate of stipends cannot be considered as moderate, no check arises from that circumstance to the supply of candidates. Q. 11th. In the ordinary course of things, do not the established clergy live on the best terms with their parishioners ? A. In almost every case the esta blished clergy live on good terms with their parishioners. Not having tythes to draw from them, any cause of difference can seldom arise. Perhaps, in no line can a man pass through life more comfortably and agreeably than he who fills the office of a country clergyman. Q. 12th. Is it likely that farmers in Scotland could be persuaded to pay a tenth of their produce for church tythes-and would they not consider such a regulation as highly discouraging to industry and enterprise? A. The farmers of Scotland could not be persuaded, by any influence whatever, to pay tythe in kind; and every one of them would consider a measure of that nature as highly discouraging to his industry and enterprise. But, independent of these circumstances, the trouble and vexation occasioned by an exaction in kind, is sufficient to show the impolicy and absurdity of continuing a burden merely because it originated in the days of barbarous ignorance, when such a thing as the circulating medium was almost unknown-when any trade betwixt man and man was chiefly carried on by bartering one article for another-and when society was in such a state that ecclesiastics and other stipendiaries must either have been paid in the produce of the soil, or have remained without any public support. But now, when these circumstances are wholly changed, the practice of former times ought to be departed from, especially as it may be done without injury to any one, and to the great benefit of the public. The distinctive principle of the Aristophanic comedy is not its personality, but its practice of investing general ideas, in appropriate visible forms, and turning them into dramatis personœ. It has often been remarked, that allegorical personages are cold, and excite little sympathy, because, so long as we keep the allegory in view, we are reminded that they are not real. This, however, is no argument against the Aristophanic comedy, which does not appeal to our sympathies and passions. It is addressed to the understanding; its true object being reflection and pleasantry, and the diversion produced by the play of general ideas, under their dramatic garb. Allegory, although unfavourable to sentiment, is well suited to the purposes of pleasantry, which can hardly bring general ideas into collision, unless by giving them a local habitation and a name. If Swift's Tale of a Tub had been written in the form of a drama, it would have been a modern specimen of Aristophanic comedy. To relish this species of composition, an audience would require to be acute, observative, and susceptible of pleasantry, in a high degree, and at the same time much interested in, and familiar with, the subjects handled in the piece. All these requisites were found among the Greeks; but it is questionable whether they can be found among modern nations. Madame de Stael, in speaking of this subject, observes, that modern nations, from the nature of their institutions, are not sufficiently habituated to contemplate bodies of men en masse; meaning, that when we think of the interests, passions, and opinions of particular classes, we do not conceive these classes, under any visible form, capable of being brought upon the stage. A lively imagination, however, might surely remedy this defect, and furnish us with personifications, more amusing and characteristic, than any exhibitions which popular institutions, addressed to the senses, can furnish. As, in this species of comedy, the expression of the countenance would be of secondary importance, masks of the boldest and most fanciful construction might be used, which would serve to denote the characteristics of the person who wore them; and an excellent source of pleasantry might also be found in their dresses. The political parties of England, and the views and characteristics of the different classes who compose them, would form a good subject for an Aristophanic comedy, provided it was handled in a manner somewhat philosophical, and not allowed to sink into the tone of vulgar political squibs. Each class might be represented under the form of an individual, with the appropriate dress, language, and manners, boldly caricatured; and the plot of the play might turn upon the solution of their contentions. A play of this description, however, could not be sufficiently impartial to save it from being condemned and overset, either by one party or another. Aristophanes made use of the absurdities of pagan theology to heighten the burlesque of his pieces, and was scarcely blameable for doing so; but in modern times, even the opinions of fanatics, who view Christianity through a perverted medium, are perhaps an unfit subject for the stage. The Tale of a Tub does not relate so much to the Christian revelation as to the temporal conduct of the different sects of Christians. Professions are no longer sufficiently pedantic and narrow-minded to answer the purposes of the Aristophanic comedy. Their respective characteristics and prepossessions have been so much obliterated by the diffusion of knowledge, that there would no longer be any diversion in bringing them into contact. When individuals become too knowing with regard to the point of view from which others contemplate them, there is an end to comedy, which founds its choicest scenes upon a mutual ignorance of sentiments and feelings, and upon that unsuspecting steadiness of self-love, natural to minds which have remained hoodwinked within their own peculiar sphere. The principal objection which occurs against the Aristophanic species of comedy is, that philosophical pleasantries and satires would not gain so much as ordinary dramas do from being acted. Sentiment and passion acquire a new warmth and interest in the person of a good actor; and his looks and gestures take an irresistible hold of our sympathies; but every one must have observed, that mere repartees or reflections, when they are once known by rote, fall very coldly from the stage, because they are little improved by looks or gestures. A good actor, in representing passion, knows how to kindle the flame anew in our bosoms, although we may have seen the same piece twenty times before. And there is also a species of humour consisting in the exhibition of feeling, contrasted with situation, which gains from the actor, because it hinges up on sentiment, and cannot be definitely and adequately expressed in words. But the species of pleasantry, consisting in the play of abstract ideas, capable of being fully conveyed by language, and which is the one peculiar to Aristophanic and allegorical comedy, is rather an intellectual perception than a personal feeling, of such a nature as to be enforced by gesture and sympathy. An Aristophanic comedy, however, might have all the advantages of a melo-dramatic spectacle; and some practical pleasantries might be represented by such a brilliant apparatus, as would prevent them from appear ing tedious. Allegory would afford many subjects fit for the display of machinery and decorations, in which particulars the Greek theatres seem to have been scantily provided. The intellectuality of the piece would thus be relieved by something addressed to the senses, and the wonder excited by bold flights of wit and imagination, would be supported by wonders better adapted to thick and cloudy capacities. It cannot be denied, nevertheless, that such an exhibition would please only once, unless it contained such diversified stores of thought as not to be easily remembered. These remarks are made merely for the sake of discussion. If any writer were now to succeed in the species of composition above-mentioned, his drama would be known only in the closet, and would not find its way to the stage. Few nations have taken so VOL. III. much pleasure as the Greeks in mere intellectual perceptions; and the only Greek audience which now remains, consists of men of talent and taste, who are sprinkled over the world at such distances from each other, that they have no chance of meeting within the confines of a theatre. He that looks along the benches of our playhouses, and observes the fine rows of human heads which are nodding around him, would do well to remember how much respect is due to human nature for, if he sees more traces of the porter and ale which we have been drinking for so many generations back, than of Athenian perspi-> cacity, there may be found an ample excuse for it in our national extraction, which certainly has had little to do with those southern amalgamations now talked of by philosophers. CASSANDRA. (From the German of Schiller.) might more easily be translated into French, although its poetical language is extremely "CASSANDRA, another work of Schiller's, bold. At the moment when the festival to celebrate the marriage of Polyxena and Achilles is beginning, Cassandra is seized with a presentiment of the misfortunes which will result from it,-she walks sad and melancholy in the grove of Apollo, and troubles all her enjoyments. We see in this laments that knowledge of futurity which Ode what a misfortune it would be to a human being could he possess the prescience of a divinity. Is not the sorrow of the prophetess experienced by all persons of strong passions and supreme minds? Schiller has given us a fine moral idea under a very poetical form, namely, that true genius, that of sentiment, even if it escape suffering from its commerce with the world, is frequently the victim of its own feelings. Cassandra never marries, not that she is either insensible or rejected, but her penetrating soul in a moment passes the boundaries of life and death, and finds repose only in heaven."-MADAME de STAEL'S Germany, vol. i. p. 348. Joy was heard in Ilium's walls, U Crowned with many a laurel-bough, Joyless in the midst of joy,— To the grove Cassandra bends- The wreath that bound her streaming hair. "Yes! the stream of joy spreads wide, I alone in silence weep,- "Lo! a torch all fiercely gleaming,- While they deck with hearts elate "Yes! they mock my silent grief,— To this heart with sorrows torn. "Why hast thou thy prophet spirit "Why, where terrors crowd the scene, Dread thought! that child of earth should dare To read thine awful mysteries! "Give me back those days of blindness, Each present good fleets past untasted- "Never yet, with bridal garlands, "See those hearts with whom my pleasures 66 Happy thou, my sister, lulled E'en this heart, tho' withered now, "Whence, ye paley phantoms, are ye? To scowl away youth's lightsome glee ;- Holds no longer joy for me. "Ha! the murderer's flashing steel! Nor yet my straining eyes avert, Hark! from out the temple's gate, Y. |