in contest with a man, crouching under the stroke, and yielding to the strength of his antagonist. The learned Baronet, moreover, obligingly communicated to me, from a MS. history of his family, which has been long preserved in it, some amusing anecdotes of the ancient feud that had subsisted between his ancestors and the Somervilles, of the inveteracy of which so many instances are detailed in Mr Scott's publication. And although such anecdotes must appear rather uninteresting in the present day, yet, I trust, you will admit the following few particulars into your useful work. In expressing this hope, I assure you, sir, that I act on no instructions from the gentleman in question; but I think it will not only appear as a proof of that impartiality, for which every public writer aspires to be distinguished, but as a matter of justice to a family, which certainly is at the head of one of the most ancient branches of the HOUSE of STEWART. The feud, it seems, which subsisted between the Stewarts and the Somervilles, was of very ancient standing, probably originating in some of those predatory excursions, or personal quarrels, which occupied the leisure, while they inflamed the passions, of a warlike race of men. Sir Walter Stewart and Somerville of Camnethan, it appears, had inherited the antipathies of their respective houses. Unlike each other in temper and pursuits, their animosity was imbittered by their religious prejudices, and by their political and parish disputes. For, while Sir Walter supported, with all his might, the solemn league and covenant (the popular doctrine of the times) Somerville adhered, with no less pertinacity, to the episcopal principles of his ancestors; and no man, who contemplates only the milder influence of religious opinions at present, can in any degree conceive their rancorous character nearly two centuries ago. When other topics failed, the antiquity of their families supplied a fruitful theme of jealousy and dissention, and was at that time an affair of no small interest as well as amusement to their neighbours. Camnethan (according to Lord Somerville, as well as the Stewart MSS.) was a vain and expensive character, who, by a course of extravagance, had run out his estate. Sir Walter, it appears, had his share of vanity also; but he was frugal, dexterous in the management of country affairs, and had added to his estates by such judicious purchases, that they greatly out-weighed the possessions of his rival. But the pas, or precedency, universally given to Sir Walter both in public and private, wounded the pride of Somerville, and induced him to bestow on his neighbour the slighting epithet of the "Goodman of Allanton;" a salutation which Sir Walter never failed to retaliate in kind; so that that of the "Goodman of Camnethan" was as courteously retorted, as often as opportunity offered. But this is a circumstance, which, though carefully recorded in the Allanton MSS., the good Lord Somerville has not thought proper to notice. Both, however, being fond of their pint-stoup of claret, they occasionally forgot these animosities at the parish change-house, according to the custom of the times, or at their respective mansions; and as Camnethan's residence was in the immediate neighbourhood of the church, it was the fashion of the day to wash down the sermon there, with copious potations of that exhilarating beverage. It was probably at one of these convivial meetings that Lord Somerville met Sir Walter, and his brother, Sir James Stewart of Kirkfield and Coltness, "with most of the honest men (as he says) within the parish, of any account:" And it was not unnatural in his Lordship to speak, in the language of the family, of two of its most inveterate political opponents, and of the only persons in the district, possessed of rank and fortune sufficient to overshadow the consequence of his kinsman. The fact is, that both the vanity and the consequence of Somerville were soon not only overshadowed, but completely eclipsed, in Lanarkshire; for Sir James Stewart, who was a merchant and banker in Edinburgh, and had acquired a handsome fortune in these honourable professions,* actually purchased the greater • He became commissary and paymaster. general, anno 1650, to the Scotch army un der General Leslie, which was defeated at Dunbar by Oliver Cromwell; and, together with the Marquis of Argyle and the Earl of Eglinton, was one of the three commissioners who, on the part of the Scotch, held the conference with Cromwell on Bruntsfield Links part of the Camnethan estate, leaving the owner in possession of only the mansion-house, and an inconsiderable space adjoining to it. This last portion, a few years after, was also disposed of to an advocate in Edinburgh, of the name of Harper; and it has since passed, together with other property of greater extent, into a younger branch of the Lee family. There is another anecdote of these two rival lairds, Sir Walter Stewart and Somerville of Camnethan, which is recorded in the family history above alluded to; and I shall beg leave to mention it, as illustrative of the characters of both. When Oliver Cromwell, after reducing Scotland to subjection, directed a valuation to be taken of the landed property of the kingdom (and which constitutes the rule whereby the cess, and sundry other public burdens, are still paid), the Laird of Camnethan, anxious to exhibit his importance as a landholder, gave in his rent-roll at an extravagant value, and, as it was supposed, greatly beyond the truth. Sir Walter, on the other hand, who would have spilt the last drop of his blood in a contest for superiority on any other occasion, when called upon for his return, took care to exhibit a statement as greatly below the mark. On this, his neighbours, who knew of their bickerings, did not fail to rally him, for being thus surpassed by his rival, although well known to be possessed of a far more valuable estate. But the wily knight, who guessed at the object of the Protector's policy, was resolved to act with becoming moderation on such an occasion, and encouraged his brother, Sir James, in the same pruIdent line of conduct. He therefore only laughed at the transaction; quietly observing, that his neighbour's estate was "bonny and bield, and all lying on the Clyde;" whereas his own (he said) was but cauld muirland, as every body knew, and naething like Camnethan's." Accordingly, the two properties stand thus taxed and rated in the cess-books, down to the present period. The bitterness with which Lord Somerville speaks of all his political opponents, and the soreness with which he details his friend's contest with his neighbour about changing the site of the parish church, and Sir Walter's successful application against him to the General Assembly (which, I find, are also given at length in the Stewart MSS.), are a sufficient evidence of his entering with eagerness into all the family quarrels. Hence his anxious desire, on every occasion, to detract from the character, and lessen the importance, of both the brothers, Sir Walter and Sir James; to represent them as fewars, "from some antiquity," however, of the Earl of Tweeddale's, in Allcathmuir; to describe them as persons whose ancestors had "sat below the salt," &c. &c.; ail of which, he himself must have felt, were what Tacitus calls Ignorantia recti, et invidia,* the mere ebullitions of party animosity,-of animosity of all others the most likely to go down with the uninformed among his own adherents, that it vilified their adver saries, and contained withal a certain intermixture of truth. But could Lord Somerville, even in imagination, have. anticipated that these his Memoirs were to descend to posterity,-that they were to be edited, in a future day, by one of the greatest geniuses of his age and nation, and, under the protection of his powerful name, sent forth to pass current with the world,― we may do him the justice to believe, that he would have repressed his envy, and tempered party_rancour with greater moderation. He seems, however, in his day, to have been what Dr Johnson called a "good hater," although, in the main, a very worthy and honourable man. In regard to the term Fewar or Vassal, it must be known to every one, however slenderly versed in feudal history, that it implied merely the condition of him who held an estate under the tenure of "suit and service to a superior lord," without denoting any personal inferiority, or any degra dation of rank. The greatest lords themselves, as well as barons of the first distinction, often held lands of a subject superior, and consequently were fewars or vassals to that superior, who, in his turn, held them of the crown. Further, that a tenure of lands from the church, in that period, was considered nearly as honourable as one under the crown itself. Of both of these holdings numerous examples occur in the course of the Somerville Memoirs. See vol. i. pp. 114, 117, • "Insensibility to merit, and envy of the possession." See Tacit. in Vit. Agricol, sub initio. &c. &c.-It appears that Sir Walter Stewart held one of his estates, namely that of Allanton, of the church, by which it was originally granted, as already mentioned, to his ancestor, Sir Allan of Daldowie. Soon after the Reformation, when the immense property of the clergy came to be parcelled out to the great lords who had interest at court, Lord Yester, the ancestor of the Marquis of Tweeddale, obtained a grant of the whole barony of Allcathmuir, as first vassal under the crown; and the "superiority" was retained by that noble family until a late period. Thus the Somervilles, as it appears, held some of their estates of subjects superior, and therefore might specially be termed their fewars or feudal vassals, with the same degree of justice; although it is certain that the epithet extended in general to yeomen, or persons of inferior degree. Haying now, as I trust, sufficiently vindicated the family honours of a respected friend (who is much more able, had he chosen, to have undertaken the task himself), I shall here close the subject, and take leave of the worthy Lord Somerville, for whose family I entertain the highest respect, and from whose work I have derived considerable pleasure as well as information. Without drawing any invidious comparisons between such distinguished families as the Stewarts and the Somervilles, who may be allowed to stand upon their respective merits, I will only say, with a judicious ancient, Non historia debet egredi veritatem, et honeste factis veritas sufficit. I agree, however, with this Noble Lord, and with a much better writer, namely Tacitus,* in thinking, that it is a subject of regret, that the lives of virtuous men, and the history of honourable families, however written, have not oftener been preserved. It is not alone the intrigues of the statesman, or the exploits of the warrior, that deserve to be transmitted to posterity: it is much more in the native freshness of narratives such as those to which I allude, it is in the minuteness of personal detail which they supply, beyond the sphere of history,that we must look for an acquaintance with the true character of past ages. I am, Sir, your most obedient servant, CANDIDUS. • In Vit. Agricol, sub init. REMARKS ON GREEK TRAGEDY. No III. (Septem adversus Thebas ÆSCHYLI— EURIPIDIS Phanissæ.) As THE Chorus was the distinguishing feature of the Greek tragedy. It was composed of a company of men or women, who, though they are to be considered as witnesses rather than personages of the play, were usually connected with the principal characters by the ties of domestic dependence, or friendship, or country, and took a deep interest in the events that were passing. They remained constantly on the stage; and though they did not by their actions promote or retard the views of the main agents, yet they bore a considerable share in the dialogue. Their office was to soothe the sorrows of the sufferers,-to shew to the vicious the danger of the unrestrained indulgence of the passions,-to strengthen the good in the pursuit of virtue, and to sing hymns in honour of the gods, in which an enthusiastic and elevated poetry was made subservient to morality and religion. Several inconveniences attended this singular appendage of the drama. they never quitted the stage there could be no change of scene, and it was necessary that many sentiments should be uttered, and many actions performed, in their presence, which it was inconsistent with the nature of man to reveal. From this contrivance arose the unities of time and place which were essential to the ancient drama. There could be no change of place where a number of people remained on the stage during the whole of the play; and as the time they could remain was limited, so necessarily was the duration of the action. The disadvantages of this arrangement are sufficiently obvious; for, besides that unnatural restriction, it is the chief cause why the Greek tragedy is so barren in incident, and, not unfrequently, so deficient in interest; and it is mere pedantry in modern critics to demand, that writers in these days should comply with rules that arose out of necessity, not choice; for it must be remembered, that tragedy was ingrafted on the chorus, not the chorus on tragedy. This species of composition, which has been the delight of so many coun→ tries and so many ages, had its origin in an annual festival of Bacchus. During the vintage it was customary to sacrifice a he-goat on the altar of that deity, and, at the same time, to chant hymns in his honour. Suitably to the genius of the Greek mythology, that delighted in the innocent pleasures of its votaries, this was a season of joy and festivity; and, for the amusement of the vintagers, to the original ode a short dialogue, historical or mythological, was added. To this origin even the name bears testimony, which means nothing more than the song of the goat. As in my last paper I brought into one view the Choephora of Eschylus and the Electra of Sophocles, because their subject is the same, for a similar reason I shall now contrast "The Seven Chiefs at Thebes" and "The Phenician Women." Nothing seems to be so rare, as the invention of a story at once so probable as to impress us with an idea of its reality, and so full of extraordinary events and sudden reverses, as to swell the soul with that delightful interest, without which the works of fiction are a dead letter. The tragic writers, from Eschylus to Shakespeare and Racine, aware of the difficulty, have contented themselves with selecting from history, or the legendary tales of a period anterior to it, such subjects as they thought most suitable to tragedy. But though they have no other merit in the groundwork of their dramas than judicious selection, enough is left to the genius of the poet in the magic touches, at which materials in themselves coarse and uninteresting rise in harmony and beauty, like the temple from the shapeless masses of the quarry. The misfortunes of the heroes of ancient tragedy often arose out of an idea of fatalism, which, as it extenuates their guilt, so it heightens our sympathy. In the Choephora and Electra, Orestes is hurried on to the murder of his mother, not more by the instigation of his sister than the commands of Apollo. In the disasters of the family of Edipus, on which so many of the Greek plays were founded,-and, among the rest, those I am now to analyze, all is the work of fate. Laius, king of Thebes, was married to Jocasta. From this union there was no issue, and Laius, anxious for a son to inherit his kingdom, went to consult the oracle of Apollo. The response was, that it would be happy for him if he had no children, for if his queen bore him a son, that son would be his murderer. Some time afterwards a son was born, and to avoid the accomplishment of the prediction, he was exposed, taken up and educated by the wife of a shepherd as her own child, and, when he grew to manhood, employed in the simple occupations of the pastoral life. His name was Edipus. One of his fellow shepherds reproached him with the circumstances of his birth, of which he had not before been informed, and this so roused his curiosity to discover his real parents, that, with this view, he went to consult the oracle at Delphi, and on his way met a stranger, whom he quarrelled with and slew. This was no other than his father Laius. About this time the neighbourhood of Thebes was infested by a monster called a Sphinx, who proposed enigmas to the inhabitants, and devoured them if unable to explain them. Jocasta, alarmed by the ravages made by this horrible creature, offered her hand, and the crown of Thebes, to any one who should solve the riddle, as it was understood that the death of the Sphinx was to follow. In this Edipus succeeded, and became the husband of his mother, and the king of Thebes. From this connexion sprung two sons, Eteocles and Polynices, and two daughters, Antigone and Ismene. The curse of Heaven was supposed to hang over a family produced by this incestuous intercourse, and its final extinction is the subject of these plays. When Edipus made the horrible discovery, he was so shocked, that in a paroxysm of madness he tore out his eyes and cursed his children. He retired from the government; and his sons, that they might avoid the fatal consequences of his imprecations, agreed to reign alternately, each an year. Eteocles, who was allowed precedence as the eldest, when his year expired, refused to relinquish the honours of royalty to his brother, who, enraged at this violation of the solemn agreement, retired to Argos, and married the daughter of Adrastus, king of that city, whom he induced to aid him with a great army in the recovery of his natural rights. The Seven Chiefs, or the Siege of Thebes, as it might have been named, is founded on the expedition of the Argive army against that city, in support of the claims of Polynices. The alarm of the inhabitants of Thebes, expressed by the Chorus-the description of the chiefs the assault of the besieging army-the cessation of hostilities and a single combat between the brothers, in which both fall,-are the leading incidents. In the Seven Chiefs, the first scene discovers Eteocles lamenting the cares and the difficulties of government, and animating the people to the defence of the city. A messenger comes in, and gives a description of the leaders of the invading army, in language at once so sublime and so tender, that though it is rather an epic than a dramatic beauty, as indeed are many of the finest of this play, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of laying it before my readers. "The impetuous leaders of the Argive host and swear By Fury, Mars, and murder-loving Terror, Either to make of Thebes a heap of ashes, Or with life's purest currents dye her soil; And hang, upon the chariot of Adrastus, Memorials of themselves, and send them home To their loved parents, and their wives and children: The tears of nature glisten in their eyes, Fierce as they are; yet does their voice relent not; Their steely souls are hot, and breathing fury, Like lions, from whose eyes the battle flames." A song of the Chorus succeeds, strongly descriptive of the terror and distraction that prevail in a besieged city. The army is seen approaching in the distance. "My sinking soul is stricken with fear, That the dreaded foe has struck his tent, The din of war is hastening on, To them our spirits fondly cling, Thy people, Mars, wilt thou betray, By the tempestuous gales of war. The Argives throng around the gates, spear, And all the horrors of war are near; |