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conduct of a man who has no home. That the influence of the court of Charles had some agency in producing the sudden change of manners that immediately succeeded his restoration, is pretty certain; but I am by no means inclined to admit that this example alone produced the extraordinary change. This, however, is not the proper place to pursue the subject.

Whatever may have been the cause, it is acknowledged that the court of Charles II. was an exceedingly corrupt one, and this corruption of morals was followed by a corresponding corruption of literary taste. The enchanting simplicity of the old writers became a subject of ridicule, and what was worse, the same licentiousness that pervaded the manners and poisoned the morals, debauched the tastes of those who by their situations or their talents directed the general opinion. It is only necessary to refer to the comedies of that day, to be convinced of the general corruption of the public taste, and it is needless to point to any particular drama to prove the fact. The dramatic representations of any country are perhaps the best criterions by which to judge of the state of morals, and the degree of refinement to which it has attained. I speak principally with a reference to comedy, which, being a picture of real life, is for the most part drawnfrom an observance of those manners and habits, adopted by such as we are in the practice of intimately associating with, and is, consequently, a pretty correct representation of the general state of society. Add to this, that no author who writes for popularity, would ever be guilty of the preposterous folly of polluting the public ear with licentious ribaldry, unless tolerably well satisfied that it was attuned to such harmony. Tragedy, on the contrary, being dependent on those strong passions which are for the most part uniform in their operations, and founded on remote events, may be indeed admitted as a criterion of the public taste, though not of the public morals.

By the former criterion, then, independent of historical testi mony, it distinctly appears, that at the period when Dryden first commenced author, and until his death, he, in addition to the temptation of occasional poverty, had to contend with the corrupt taste of the times. That he sometimes yielded to the united force of these assailants, will be a subject of lasting regret to

those who are accustomed to look upon him as the great master of legitimate English verse. It was Dryden who first caught that beautiful and perfect mode of versification, over which so many have since hung with enchanted ear; and it was he who gave the last blow to that barbarous style, which devested the noblest thoughts of their dignity, degraded the highest soarings of fancy, and fettered the muse with a load of meretricious ornaments, that destroyed the beautiful symmetry of her proportions, while it enfeebled the vigour of her flight.

Who, then, that lingers over the inspired pages of this man of poverty and temptation, will not find in his heart an excuse for his occasional wanderings from the genuine path of genius, whose steps ought always to lead to the temple of virtue? Who does not wish that the memorials of such departures should be forgotten, and the name of Dryden stand, as well an example of rectitude as a monument of illustrious genius? It is not meant that falsehood or disingenuousness should be resorted to, in order to disguise or gloss over the faults of celebrated men; or that those who were in reality worthless, should be held up to after times as models of spotless integrity. In writing the life of a man, his faults should appear with his virtues, or biography becomes worthless. But no attachment to truth, and no sense of justice to posterity, makes it necessary that those writings which are calculated to injure the morals of mankind should be preserved. On the contrary, is not the man who thus deliberately draws from obscurity, and obtrudes upon the public, those immoral effusions that pollute the mind with licentious precepts, and influence the imagination with glowing delineations of barefaced debauchery, equally culpable with their author?

This unhallowed industry of research is still more to be reprobated, when, as in the present instance, these indecent effusions had, by the general consent of the world, been consigned to forgetfulness. It is like opening the fountain of some polluted stream, and turning it again into its former channel, there to stagnate, and foster its unwholesome exhalations.

There can be but one motive to stimulate men thus to revive these obscene impurities, and that is the hope of gain. Such, indeed, is the avidity with which the English public hail the discovery, or revival of works that had fallen into oblivion,

because they were not worth preserving, that whoever can add to his edition of an old writer, a single worthless scrap, or paltry copy of verses, may boast in triumph of the superiority of his labours, and confidently challenge the reward of his very beneficial industry.

It is this sordid motive which has perpetuated the poison of many an immoral production, and quickened the interested labours of many a pains-taking editor; and to this, and not to any liberal desire to add to the fame of Dryden, it is owing that his name is thus shrouded in a cloud of immorality, and his sins brought to light with such unfeeling research. Certainly no true admirer of genius, or real lover of poetry, can be gratified with the quantity of offensive trash raked from obscurity and here presented to the public. It is only the gossiping curiosity of laborious idlers; the bedridden imagination of the worn out debauchee; or the black letter taste of the indefatigable book hunter, that can receive gratification from this delving among the ashes of the dead for topics of antiquated scandal, or specimens of obsolete profligacy.

In justice to the celebrated editor who is the object of these strictures, it is proper to observe, that in his preface he apologizes for the insertion of some of these exceptionable pieces, by declaring that he was not at liberty to omit them. Conscious, however, that this excuse is somewhat weak in the mouth of a free man, living in a free country, and acting as high sheriff of a county, he confidently observes that there is little danger that the broad and disgusting obscenity of Dryden will injure the taste of the present enlightened generation.

Perhaps it might be said, in reply to this, that though the public taste has of late been refined to a perception of the pure chivalrous heroism of Border Forays, to the noble exploits of Johnny Armstrong, and William of Deloraine, so as to be in no danger from the clumsy, inelegant, and stupid immorality of Dryden; yet the public morals, though fortified by the example of the above distinguished freebooters, may possibly sustain some little injury. At all events, it would seem that the same pure and gentle precept which enjoins upon us not to speak ill of the dead, should also restrain us from doing that which would inVOL. II. New Series.

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jure their memory. I would not lightly accuse Mr. Scott of being governed on this occasion by motives of interest; but where we see a wealthy poet contracting to furnish the booksellers with a certain quantity of good merchantable poetry, at a certain rate per line, we are forcibly reminded of a contract for so many feet of timber, or any other every day matter of bargain and sale, and cannot help suspecting that he loves money better than reputation.

It can certainly answer no one purpose of public utility, or gratify one rational admirer of Dryden, to remind us anew of those unworthy effusions of his genius, which, impelled by want, or perhaps irritated at the indifference of the world to his nobler productions, he sold to the booksellers, or to the managers of the Theatres. For my part, I sicken at such baneful industry of research, and sincerely lament that Mr. Scott should have employed' his valuable time so little to the advantage of the public, or the reputation of the hapless Dryden. Equally unhappy in his life and posthumous fame-he was assailed while he lived by a tribe of worthless scribblers, by poverty, by party virulence, and by the example of a licentious age; and after his death was blessed with a pains-taking editor, who was careful that the consequences of these multiplied temptations should be recorded where they were certain never to be forgotten-among the rest of his imperishable works.

P.

SPIRIT OF MAGAZINES.

LETTERS FROM ATHENS; BY M. FAUVEL, VICE-CONSUL OF FRANCE AT THAT CITY, AND CORRESPONDENT OF THE IMPERIAL INSTITUTE.

[From the Monthly Magazine.]

Athens, April 4, 1811.

SIR-I have had considerable diggings made in this city, and some foreigners have caused still greater excavations to be undertaken; we have been fortunate enough to make some interesting discoveries. Our search took place on the great road which leads from the Hippades gate to Acharnes, to the left, on going towards those suburbs, at about 130 fathoms from the gate just mentioned, and nearly 140 from the present gate. We there found some ancient burying grounds, about fifteen feet below the surface.

It may not, perhaps, be irrelevant to inform you, that the spot in which are the remains of the Hippades gate, is still called by the Greeks and Turks the Race-gate, because it is here that the diversion of foot-races is still performed. One circumstance worthy of notice is, that the competitors run naked, with only a simple piece of linen round the middle. There are three prizes, or, more properly speaking, two, as the third is nothing but an enormous radish, or carrot, which causes the gainer to be rewarded by the hootings of the populace. These roots are here two feet long, and about three inches in diameter.

You know that the moderns have their wrestlers, the same as the ancients had. These persons are naked, except a cloth round the loins, which is steeped in oil, with which the body is likewise rubbed. They also roll themselves in the sand, that they may take a firm hold of each other at the time of the contest. The prize is gained by him who throws his adversary.

I found, as I have told you, the ancient soil at fifteen feet below the surface; the tombs were close together. We saw several cippi of different forms, which were overturned, as well as sarcophagi of marble, and others of common stone; there were some tombs formed of fine tiles, three feet long, which had

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