rior dramatists of antiquity appear to have done, that the chorus, in fact, formed no part of the dramatis persona; and we fancy they imagined it was a very fine improvement to take them off the stage where they seemed to fill up an unnecessary portion of room, and to embarrass the performers, and they, no doubt, looked upon it as sufficiently good treatment for them if they put them in an orchestra below, with fiddles in their hands, with which they might amuse them selves and their audience during the division of the acts. We suppose our refined moderns conceived, that the usage of retaining the chorus on the stage was one of the barbarities which stuck to the ancient drama from its first appearance in Thespis's cart, in which actors and musicians would be obliged to huddle together the best way they could; and they thought certainly that it would be quite as becoming to paint the cheeks of their actors with the lees of wine, because the strolling company of Thespis had done so, as to allow the chorus or musicians to retain their place on the stage. From some such mistaken notion it was, that the ancient chorus was converted into a set of fiddlers, and that the modern drama is chopped and divided into so many detached bits and corners." I am so much of a modern, however, I confess, that I have no very great taste for the ancient chorus considered in their active capacity, and though a finer entertainment might be substituted in their place than our modern orchestras, yet it appears to me, that the fine specimens of Lyric poetry which they have left behind them, are what recommend them chiefly to our admiration. Take the odes out of the Greek dramas, and string them together, and they will no doubt make a fine collection of odes, but the excellence of their effect in their native dramas, even I mean when they relate sufficiently to the subject of the drama, is to me by no means very apparent. For independent of the unnatural effect of singing when people are expected to speak, (an observation which has often been applied to the modern opera,) independently of this, I cannot help thinking, that the insertion of long pieces of poetry into the midst of animated and natural dialogue, had a greater tendency to destroy the effect of the representation, than if it were suspended altogether. By the latter means, the mind, to be sure, does recover entirely from the dream with which it was fascinated, but it is quite in the humour for yielding instantly again to the spell when it is renewed. By the former method it is prevented from recovering entirely, but yet it must begin to doubt, and be kept in a disagreeable state, betwixt sleeping and waking; for let the ancient critics, and Horace among the rest, say what they please, I think it evident that the chorus must have occupied in the eyes of the spectators a situation somewhat different from the actual performers in the drama. Take them at the best, there is still a want of interest, and an indifference in their character, which is not at all suitable to the spectators of such scenes as they are witnesses to. The observation of the most violent cruelties, and the most unheard of misfortunes, has no other effect upon them, than to produce some exclamations of grief at the most, and generally nothing more than some moral reflections. They are represented, indeed, in general, as people of no power, and who are unable, by any effort, to change the torrent of fortune, yet it would be natural sometimes for them, in the violence of sympathy, to make some such attempt; or allowing them to act properly, yet we have no satisfaction in seeing persons introduced who are so insignificant in point of action. I must therefore think that a kind of torpor is thrown over the whole play, by the use of a chorus; that the want of emotion which they display on many occasions is communicated to the spectator, and through the whole course of the exhibition, from the equivocal character which they hold in his eyes, he must often be kept in a state of doubt as to the reality of the whole representation. But besides this effect, which I conceive to be a general one, it appears to me that the chorus has a tendency to circumscribe very much the limits of the drama. Lay it down as a rule of art, that every play must have a chorus, who are to remain on the stage from the beginning to the end, how many scenes of secret passion must be withdrawn entirely from representation! Not to mention those bursts of agony which nature prompts an unfortunate sufferer to vent when he has no witnesses to his conduct which the dignity of his character might prevent him from giving way to, when he is under the observation of a fellow-creature; not to mention these which constitute our modern soliloquies, and which form in Shakespeare, particularly, some of the finest passages in the play, how many exhibitions of passion are there, likewise, in which two or three people only may be concerned, and which it would be quite absurd to introduce to the observation of a multitude of gaping spectators! Secreey, indeed, of some sort or other, is necessary for the full display of passion, and it is very seldom that persons of any dignity of character allow the intemperance of their passions to be displayed to the multitude. Were it not for this notorious fact in the human constitution, what need would there have been for the Devil Asmodeus to have pointed out to his disciple the retireinent and secret actions of the citizens of Madrid? A dramatic poet should perform, in fact, the part of this amusing lame devil, and we scarcely thank him for the view of those representations, which pass in broad day, and before all the world. The ancient poets, it is true, managed their department with great skill, and though the range of their representations was, from the reasons just stated, more limited than with us, yet they made the most of the narrow bounds within which they were confined. Although the scenes of distress and passion which they exhibited were necessarily of a public nature, yet they always laid hold of those fables into which some sudden and unexpected change of fortune was introduced, so that the leading person ages of the poem were taken at unawares, and off their guard, and might thus, without any violation of propriety, be supposed to express themselves, even in public, with great demonstrations of passion and emotion. But even thus, the passions they produced were all brought forward at the same point of excitation; and except in that high key, when it is not in human nature to resist the display of them, it was not in the power of an ancient dramatist to present them to his audience. I have no doubt that, as public events occupied most of the attention, and excited the interest more than any other of the members of the ancient republics, that, therefore, such representations were, of all others, most suited to the taste of a Greek or a Roman audience.-But to us there is not, in any degree, an indiscriminate satisfaction in those pub lic changes of fortune; and our poets are obliged to take upon themselves a much more difficult task, and to examine the appearances of passion in all its stages, as well in its first and most secret beginnings, as in the unrestrained fury of its full-grown strength. I cannot, then, at all subscribe to the opinion that a chorus is by any means a part of the drama which ought, on all, or on most occasions, to be adopted. Whether or not, on some occasions, in the case, for instance, of public events, which we may naturally suppose will call together many eager spectators to witness their catastrophe,-whether something similar to the ancient chorus may not then have a good effect, I will not positively determine. I am in doubts about the musical part, and am afraid the odes of the chorus are at all times unnatural, (there may, however, even here, be exceptions,) but that a set of spectators interested in the events may be supposed to look eagerly on, sometimes bear a part in the dialogue-and when the principal characters withdraw, make natural remarks on what they have seen and what they expect; that some such plan as this might occasionally be attended with a happy effect, I am rather inclined to believe. We should, perhaps, feel ourselves interested in a more lively way in the fortunes of the principal characters, if we saw men who were little more connected with them than ourselves, yet appearing to feel a lively interest in them, and expressing, in an apposite manner, what may naturally be the feelings of our own hearts. And if the unities be a matter of such importance, they might be preserved still, on some occasions, by this method. But they appear to me to be circumstances of very little moment. I will not argue against them, by saying that, in fact, the deception of the theatre is very incomplete, and lays but a very feeble hold upon the mind. It will still be maintained, that it is the intention of the dramatist to render it as complete as he can.-[ will rather say, on the other side, that it is a kind of deception into which, at once, we are disposed to enter, and with very little preparation on the part of the poet, to give into with all our soul and interest. All we look for in the poet, is a picture of nature when he presents any thing to us at all;-he may break off the representation as often as he finds it convenient. I think it was the common usage in the ancient theatres to have two or three plays performed in succession. Here was an evident proof that the audience could very speedily restore their interest, not merely to the continuation of the same fiction, but to an entire new series of events. Every act in a modern play ought to be looked upon in the light of a little drama in itself-an incomplete one to be sure-but yet such a series of events as it is very natural to think might be subjected to our observation, without our being witness either to any thing which preceded or was to follow. Is it not, indeed, the common case in real life, of which the drama is supposed to be a copy, that we are spectators only of some detached of a series of events, and part that it is a mere chance that we shall ever be acquainted either with the causes of what we see, or shall have any opportunity of witnessing the consequences? Every act of a drama, then, is itself a picture of as much of real life as we have generally any opportunity of witnessing in the course of any one train of events,-and nothing is more natural, therefore, than to find the whole scene vanish just when we are getting most warmly interested in its progress. It is a natural disappointment, and we can easily acquiesce in the common accidents of humanity. We are delighted, however, when it is again presented to us, and the greater our interest was, and the more our uneasiness from suspense-the more satisfaction do we feel when the whole interesting picture is renewed. So that, according to the modern method, while nothing takes place that is not quite natural, an additional source of enjoyment likewise is afforded us. THESPIS. (To be continued.) VOL. VII. MR BOWDICH'S REPLY TO THE QUAR- African traveller, having request- In the present case, this seems the gence and information displayed in more necessary, as the general intellithe Quarterly Review, in regard to voyages and travels, have rendered it with many persons an authority almost without appeal in regard to the characters of travellers. The Quarterly Reviewers, it will be remembered, at one time entertained a very good opinion of Mr Bowdich, as the following sentences from their account of the Congo expedition (in their Number for June 1818) will shew: "In the course of last year, a mission from the Governor of Cape Coast Castle Ashantee, consisting of Mr Bowdich, Mr was sent to Zey Tootoo Quamina, King of Hutchison, and Mr Tedlie. For some time after their arrival in the capital, they were kept in close confinement, owing to the jealousy instilled into the King's mind by some Moorish merchants, assisted by the intrigues of the notorious Daendels, once the servile tool of Buonaparte, and now the representative of his Netherlandish Majesty on this part of the coast of Africa. Their good conduct, however, enabled them to overcome all difficulties; and the King was so well satisfied of the sincerity of their views and declarations, that he concluded a treaty with them, and consented to send his children to be educated at Cape Coast Castle. "Mr Bowdich has been indefatigable in his endeavours to procure information respecting Ashantee and the countries beyond it."-Quar. Rev. June 1818. Mr Bowdich adds, in the paper before us, " Mr Murray told me, at the moment of the publication of my work, that the two principal contributors to the Quarterly Review (mentioning their names) had declared to him, that nothing could be more in 3 U structive or interesting; and that it appeared to them as if they had known nothing of Africa before." Whether in consequence, as Mr Bowdich asserts, of an unlucky quarrel with Mr Murray the bookseller, or of some other unexplained cause, that these gentlemen soon appears began to see the matter in a different light. it In the review of the mission to Ashantee, the following sentence is passed on the conduct of Mr Bowdich and his two associates in Ashantee, who, it will be remembered, took upon themselves to supersede their superior officer Mr James: "We incline to think that the annals of diplomacy do not furnish such an instance of contempt and disobedience to a superior officer as is here impudently avowed, in the face of the world, by the leader himself. Headed by Mr Bowdich, these gentlemen had evidently formed a conspiracy to get rid of Mr James, well knowing that he had it not in his power to take any steps against them with his wretched guard of two native soldiers. They presumed, no doubt, on the near relationship of Mr Bowdich (nephew, we believe) to the Governor-inChief, and the event justified their confidence."-Quar. Rev. Jan. 1820. A high character of Mr James, written by Sir James Yeo, is then quoted; and it is observed of the treaty which Mr Bowdich concluded with the King of Ashantee, that the two principal articles were, permission for a British officer to reside constantly at Coomassie, and the engagement of the two Kings to commit their children to the care of the Governorin-Chief, for education, at Cape Coast Castle; that" Mr Hutchison, who had beer. left behind as Resident at Coomassie, finding his situation irksome and useless, soon deemed it prudent to withdraw; and the King's children were never sent." After some farther ridicule of Mr Bowdich's political enterprises, and of his literary efforts, the Reviewer proceeds to his Geography, which he characterizes as wholly contrary to the laws of nature." He then follows Mr Bowdich to England, and thence to France, with unrelenting animosi ty. 66 "On his arrival in England he expected immediately to be appointed to a situation on the coast of Africa of his own carving out a salary of £500 a year, with the appointments of a member of council, commanding officer of the troops at head quarters, with the brevet rank of captain These are hard words; and when Mr Bowdich tells us, that he was himself anxious to reply to the Quarterly Review as soon as it appeared; but he adds, "The generous solici It should be mentioned that this is only L. 600 Sterling money. tude of a man venerated throughout Europe, who condescended to profess himself my admirer, when even the Quarterly Review smiled on me in the first moments of my successful debut as an African traveller, and who hastened to prove himself my friend when it became the fashion to slander and persecute me, influenced my silence by the following note:" "Je ne sais, mon cher Monsieur, si vos amis d'Angleterre vous ont donné un conseil bien utile en vous engageant à écrire contre le Quart. Review. "Je verrai avec plaisir citer mon nom chaque fois que je puisse vous donner un temoignage public de mon estime et de l'interêt qu'inspire votre noble, et courageux devoucment. J'ai retardè ma reponse: j'ai voulu consulter une personne qui vous est sincerement attachée, et qui comme moi, craint que votre reponse pourroit vous arreter dans la carriere utile que vous voulez suivre. M. Cuvier pense, comme moi, que l'on ne gagne jamais rien contre les journaux qui agissent comme les troupes reglées, comme des armées permanentes. Nous desirons votre repos, et des succès, Monsieur, qui doivent recompenser un si genereux devouement, des etudes si labo rieuses. Veuillez bien excuser ma franchise et agréer l'expression de ma haute et affectueuse consideration. (Signed) "HUMBOLDT. "Paris, ce 5 Mai 1820.”—Reply, p. 3. It was the subsequent note to the Article on the Course of the Niger, therefore, which called forth the reply of which we propose to state the leading points. The first charge is, that Mr Bow dich, trusting to the favour of his relation the Governor, formed a conspiracy against his superior officer, Mr James, interfered unnecessarily in the conference at Coomassie, and occasioned much mischief by so doing. Mr Bowdich enters into a long statement regarding the character of Mr Hope Smith, the Governor, and of Messrs Hutchison and Tedlie, his companions, to shew how improbable it is that these gentlemen should have acted the base parts here assigned to them. But what is more to the purpose, he then refers to public documents, which shew, that his conduct at Coomassie was fully approved and sanctioned, and that he was particularly recommended to the African Committee on account of it, not only by the Governor, but by the four other members of the council. "Extract from the Governor's Dispatch. "Mr James being ordered to return here as soon as possible, will, deliver you his instructions, and you will immediately on receipt of this letter, take upon yourself the management of the mission. I have every reliance on your prudence and discretion, and still firmly hope, that the termination of the embassy will be attended with success, and that the sanguine expectations which we have entertained as to the result of it will not be disappointed. "The king has received a very erroneous impression of the affair of the Fantee notes, which I regret to hear was the cause of a serious disturbance. I am glad, however, to find, that by your prompt mode of conduct, you were in some measure able to repress the unfavourable bias it seems to have occasioned. "T. E. Bowdich, Esq. Coomassie. "Extract from the Governor's Letter accompanying the Dispatch. "The fate of the mission was suspended by a thread; your decisive manner of acting has, I am happy to find, extricated it from the danger with which it was threatened. The zcalousness with which you are actuated in this very interesting cause, is highly gratifying to me, and I have every confidence that your exertions will be the means of accomplishing every object of the mission to the utmost of our expectations, and to the honour and credit of yourself. The public letter will inform you of Mr James's recal. "T. E. Bowdich, Esq. "Extract from the Letter of the Vice President of the Council. chief objects of the mission will now be effected, and that it will terminate in a manner highly creditable to yourself, and advantageous to the public. With sincere wishes for your success and safe return, I am, &c. "I feel the fullest conviction that the "T. E. Bowdich, Esq. "Dispatch of the Governor and Council of Cape Coast Castle to the African Com mittee. "We cannot conclude this paragraph without noticing the distinguished manner in which the negotiation with our new allies, the Ashantees, was conducted by Mr Bowdich. By his talents, energy, perseverance, and prudence, obstacles that seemed invincible have been surmounted, and whatever may be the extent of our future intercourse with the interior, the foundation must certainly be attributed to him: to recommend him to your notice, would be a reflection on your judgment.--Afri can Committee, pp. 12-14. |