ing to say that the Reviewers thought they had laid down a very droll impossibility when they talked of cutting a man's throat with a pound of pickled salmon, whereas much less dishes have performed as wonderful exploits. I have known a hard egg to fill a household with dismay for days together; a cucumber has disinherited an only son; and a whole province has incurred the royal anger of it's master at the instigation of a set of woodcocks." 4 "It is a thousand pities," said I," that history, instead of habituating us to love the pomp and circumstance' of bad passions, cannot trace the actions of men to their real sources." "Well, well, Mr. REFLECTOR," said the spirit, "now that you are getting grave on the subject, I think I may bid you adieu. Your nation has produced excellent philosophers, who were not the less wise for knowing little of me. Pray tell your countrymen that they are neither philosophic nor politic in feasting as they do on all occasions, joyful, sorrowful, or indifferent; that good sense, good temper, and the good of their country, are distinct things from indigestion; and that when they think to shew their patriotic devotion by carving and gormandizing, they are no wiser than the bacchanals of old, who took serpents between their teeth and tortured themselves with knives." So saying, the spectre rose, and stretching out his right hand, with a look which I believe he intended to be friendly, advanced towards me; he then took my hand in his own, and perceiving signs of alarm in my countenance, burst into a fit of laughter, which was the very quintessence of discord and baffles all description, being a compound of the gabblings of geese, grunting of hogs, quacking of ducks, squabbling of turkies, and winding up of smoke-jacks. When the fit was pretty well over, he gave me a squeeze of the hand which made me jump up with a spring of the knees, and gradually enveloping himself in a kind of steam, vanished with a noise like the crash of crockery ware. I looked about me; I found that my right hand, which held the Horace, had got bent under me and gone to sleep, and that in my sudden start I had kicked half the dishes from the supper-table.— Heaven preserve us all, and give us grace not only before and af ter meat, but particularly during it. K I 2 ART. ART. XII.-On the Origin of Shakspeare's Tempest, MR. REFLECTOR, I am not sufficiently smitten with the love of verbal criticism, nor so desirous of being ranked among the note makers on Shakspeare, as to wish to occupy the pages of the REFLECTOR With superfluous observations on the great bard, or notes on his commentators. That path is so worn,-that field has been so often and thoroughly tried, that no adventurer will hope for much amusement in the further pursuit, nor will any eagerly follow an invitation to so beaten a covert. The name of Shakspeare, however, sanctifies in some measure the attempt of whatever author seeks sanction under it, and however numerous and dissimilar the liberties which have been at one time or another taken with him, no writer has altogether used his name in vain. A subject more interesting, and somewhat less hackneyed than the literal illustration of the bard of Avon, are the sources whence he drew the foundations of those dramas which have already been the delight and admiration of two centuries, and of which time is likely ra. ther to advance than deteriorate the value, unless, indeed, the criticisms on him shall increase in proportion to his years, and there may then be danger lest the poet should be overwhelmed by the very props and buttresses raised to support an edifice imperishable in its nature. While the immortal bard, who was to advance the English drama to a degree of excellence unrivalled by any other country, was yet unborn, the highly poetic genius of Thomas Sackville, regulated by the standards and enriched with the stores of classical erudition, produced the tragedy of Ferrex and Porrex (in 1560); a drama uniting correctness and elegance of language with a propriety and consistency of conduct, of which theatrical exhibitions in England had hitherto no example. To those contemporaries who were zealous for the honour of the English stage, and had the advantage of enjoying the classic dialogues of antiquity, the appearance of a vernacular tragedy combining the va rious elegancies of the ancient theatre with a plot derived from the history of their own country, must have been an inexpressible treat, and must have been hailed by the wiser few as the era of great advancement in native dramatic composition. But this example passed not at once into imitation. The chaste and unim. posing character of this excellent model was caviare to the general" taste and feeling of a people, who in their public exhibitions, as is always the case in a rude state of language and the destitution of science, delighted rather in shewy and glaring dis. plays plays of distorted nature,—in the representation of savage valour, for instance in serious, and gross buffoonery in lighter dramas. While the stage in England was null and void as far as relates to what may be properly termed Comedy, Tragedy advanced by slow but progressive steps to a degree of purity and perfection, to which the other branch of the drama had small or no pretensions. Indeed, genuine wit and elegant dialogue were unknown to the stage, till Tragedy had attained something approaching to perfection and stability, from the excellence, variety, and number of its examples. To this advancement, the several plays of Christopher Marlowe greatly contributed; and in thus slightly referring to the subject, I would not pass silently over the merits of George Peele, even though his muse had produced nothing beyond the exquisitely poetical and polished scenes of King David and Fair Bethzabe. This is not the time, if it were the place, to enter into the merits of the question, whether to write tragedy or comedy require the greater genius ;-but, certain it is, that anterior to the appearance of Shakspeare on the boards, the dramatic muse had produced nothing representing the more familiar scenes of life deserving the name of comedy; for we can claim little merit from translated humour; while the buskined muse could boast several dramas which may yet be read with pleasure, and might be exhibited with applause, among which Marlowe's Jewe of Malta, performed in 1591, deserves to be particularly noticed. When the stage was thus in advancement towards rational composition, the tedious moralizations of such gentlemen as Lusty Juventus and Jack Juggler, (the latter of which, from a specimen lately published, has long been deservedly forgotten), were gradually sweeping to oblivion. There was, however, a mixed species of representation, which, for want of a more appropriate title, may be called drolls, and which, in one instance at least, maintained its popularity even after its competitors in mediocrity had given way to positive merit. The example to which I refer is that of Mucedorus; and as this is the only compleat and unso phisticated work of its kind which has descended to us, at least as far as I recollect, it would have been judicious to have reprinted it among the Old Plays, even if it had not come recommended by the popularity in its day, which five or six impres sions, an unexampled multiplicity of copies, unequivocally in dicate. Not that I would recommend to the next editor of the Old Plays (whoever may assume that office, for rivals will most probably outstep me by their celerity in this job of journeywork) to reprint indiscriminately "the trash of ancient days ;"-and, if I were to govern, I would decimate Andromana, The Pinner of Wakefield, and others already in the collection, which now add to the heap without enriching the stock; but specimens of the various distinct species are necessary for tracing the progressive history of the stage, and the “ conceitede comedie of Mucedorus” is one of that complexion.-I have other motives for the preservation of that droll; I think it probable that Shakspeare owed some obligations to Mucedorus, which I shall endeavour to show. It cannot have escaped those who have attentively observed the dispositions of our ancestors, as manifested in their public spectacles, that a peculiar fondness has been perpetually indulged for some outlandish personage,- -some Orson of the modern stage. It is only necessary to refer to the exhibitions provided for the amusement of Elizabeth, in her splendid and ruinous progresses, to remind them of this propensity. The several accounts preserved of these entertainments abound in passages like these:"As her Majestie returned from hunting the hart of fors cam ther out of the forest a huge salvage man, who addressed himself to her highnesse in the following verses," &c. Again, in Laneham's Letter from Killingwoorth Castle, 1575, "about neen a clock, at the hither part of the chace whear torch light attended, oot at the woods, in her Majestie's return, roughly cam ther foorth Hombre Salvaggio, with an oken plant pluct up by the roots in his hand, himself all foregrone with mosse and ivye.” These imposing personages seem never to have sallied forth upon the spectators in vain ;-the "terrible graces" of such formida. ble enactors arrested the feelings of the good-humoured lookerson with powerful effect;-the character, so interesting in the field, was equally attractive when transferred to the stage, and Bremo, the wild-man in Mucedorus, maintained his popularity notwithstanding the captivations of Shakspeare and "his fellows." have elsewhere expressed my belief that Shakspeare, in Bottom the weaver, levelled a keen shaft of ridicule at these devices ; Mucedorus was still presented, rude, inartificial, and even preposterous as he was;-Shakspeare saw that something better might be produced for the indulgence of the popular impression, and a singular occurrence at length supplied a foundation for the promising attempt. I In the month of July 1609, Sir George Somers, heading nine sail of vessels destined for the colonization of Virginia, was parted by a storm from the body of the fleet, and wrecked under singular circumstances on the island of Bermuda, "which island,” according to Stowe, "was of all nations said and supposed to be inchanted, and inhabited with witches and devils." The various reports which arrived in the mother country agitated in an extreme degree the public mind, and the interest felt on the subject may be gathered from the several pamphlets published on this occasion, the titles of which are given by Mr. Malone in a tract (privately (privately printed) on the source whence Shakspeare derived the principal incidents of the Tempest, and in which he has examined the several parts of the enquiry with his usual minuteness. After perusing the dissertation of Mr. Malone, I have no doubt, with him, that the shipwreck of Sir George Somers supplied Shakspeare with the title and the main features of the Tempest.—The injunctions, under which the donation of the tract was made, prevent my observing further on Mr. Malone's satisfactory discovery.-Collin's the poet, had a romance called Aurelio and Isabella, which fur. nished the loves of Ferdinand and Miranda; and the "conceitede comedie of Mucedorus," perhaps, supplied some of the features of the monster Caliban.-Strange! but thus it is, that the uncon nected fragments of Shakspeare's stories are to be collected Dissipant, multis invenienda locis. A few lines will convey some idea of the comedy, as it is called, of Mucedorus. Mucedorus, the King's son of Valencia, enamoured of Amgdine, daughter of the King of Arragon, having never seen the lady, imparts to his friend Anselmo the resolution he had formed of visiting the court of the latter disguised as a shepherd, in order to ascertain if fame reported truly of his mistress's beauty. He immediately sets forth. Mouse, the clown, then enters with a bottle of hay on his back pursued by a bear," or the devil in a bear's doublet," which comes in, and he tumbles over her, and runnes his way, leaving his bottle of hay behind him." This sportive sally must have put our ancestors into good-humour for the rest of the evening. The heroine, Amadine, is in turn chased by the bear, when Mucedorus rescues her, and slaying the ani mal, politely proffers its head to the lady, exclaiming, 66 Most gracious goddess, more than mortal wight, Amadine modestly assures him she is No goddess, but a mortal wight, which of course the lover is greatly pleased to hear. This com plimentary phraseology might have suggested to Shakspeare the more impressive address of Ferdinand to Miranda : -Most sure the goddess On whom these airs attend my prime request, To which Miranda replies, with the ingenuousness of Amadine, But sure a maid. -No wonder, Sir, Much stress, however, cannot be laid on a sentiment, which has been echoed on every similar occasion, by male as well as female; |