WALSH'S TRANSLATION OF ARISTOPHANES.

IF a genius equal to that of the Athenian satirist were to arise, and be devoted from his youth to the study of surviving Greek art in-

stead of the nature around him, he would be unable to produce a perfeet translation or the works of ARI■TOPHANES, from the ob- sem ity which temporary allusions, characters, and circumstances have thrown over them. And if by • some literary miracle the Comedies were to he reproduced in English with all their original completeness, they would neither be properly apprehended nor fully enjoyed. To effect this, we must in fancy revive the past, and imagine the existence of a contemporary genius which should range at will from the lowest burlesque to the loftiest poetry ; whose wit should stand unrivalled for aptness and sharpness ; whose satire should expose to contempt and laughter; whose penetration should perceive the essence of the mean, the ridicu- lous, and all ugly qualities both in masses and individuals ; and whose consummate art should extract and reproduce it in apt and animated personifications, and set them in a framework adapted to the customs of his age. But this is not all : we must suppose an audience fit, and therefore few,—as many thousands or thereabouts as there are millions in the United Kingdom, whose chief employmentor amusement should be to watch public things and public men, who well know the persons and characters of the latter, and are familiar with the private scandal and public rumours attached to their names. Add to this, a drama accus- tomed to seize upon passing events, and introduce living persons upon the stage, not only designated by their names orthe incidents in which they figured, but by a mask (from artists of the school of Psi I miss)* which probably heightened any comic expression, after the manner of our HB.; and we may not only have an idea of the effect produced by the comedies of the Athenian, but shout for an ARISTOPHANES to cultivate the rich field that is before us. What a laugh would he raise at grave and elderly politicians beset by, but thrusting aside, Cares and personified Petitions in- truding on their hours of dalliance, till the curtain should fall upon the corning climax! How would graver saints look when tempted by the Protestant spirit to plot treason against the lawful heir, and to serve God by leaguing with sinners ! Then there are the Radical chiefs, with definite principles, lofty objects, and a numerous well-trained band to support them,yet injuring the cause by want of combination and vigour,—some shilly-shally, some fastidious, some too exacting, some "cutting blocks with a razor," and each standing alone in all the dignity of isolation—a mental monarch in his own mind, though fully admitting the common humanity of others. Janus, with his two faces, would make a good type of the Tories ; whilst PEEL and LvisrottURST might outbid each other for the office of his high-priest, as the Slave and the Blackguard in "The Knights" contend for the favour or the allegorical dotard. To typify and personify the Whigs would task the mighty satirist, himself; but a ship might serve his turn, with a tornado behind and gathering round her—a port before her for shelter and safety—the majority of the crew bold and willing, and ani- mated by " the right spirit," but the officers unequal to the com- ing crisis, and unwilling to quit the rudder and its rations, though obviously unable to guide the helm : too fickle to follow counsel, too fine for work, too feeble for self-decision, their successive diffi- culties, terrors, and ingeniously minute schemes for extrication from danger, would form a richer theme than the dilemmas of any old gentleman in any comedy,—it being remembered, too, that their perception of the danger is mainly limited to their sense of the troubles and inconveniences it would bring to themselves, and not extended to the momentous consequences that a storm would produce to the crew at large; just as Strepsiades, in "The Clouds," is convinced of the coming of the invoked goddesses by the disturbance that fear and the thunder excite in his inwards, rather than by any diviner emotion.

It will be gathered from these remarks, that the skeleton of the old Athenian comedy was of a more artificial nature than ours,—or, to speak more truly, was a sort of allegory, whilst what in modern language would be termed the plot, derived little attraction from the involved nature of the story, or the catastrophe it was to produce. The fable was merely a vehicle for character and satire, both relating to passing events; the application of which was not only helped, when needed, by the Chorus, but by direct ad- dresses from the actors to the audience; whilst the drama in a measure supplied the place of the pulpit in fanatic times, and the periodical press now. Exhibited at the public festivals, when all was mirth and jollity, and such mirth and jollity as a very unlaced and plain-spoken race delighted in, the old comedies were not nice in their attacks as to the who or the how, and still less nice in

• We need hardly remind the reader, that when ARISTOPHANS9 satirized Ccsos in The Knights," the dread of the demagogue's power was such that the poet could nei. thee find artist to make the mask nor actor to undertake the part, aud was therefore obliged to appear on the stage himself. their expressions. The cultivated tastes of the Greeks forbid the notion that any of the pieces were of a very inferior or common- place nature ; but it may he concluded that many must have been of a merely imitative kind, however good the type or spirited the woi kmanship. This, however, is matter of coojecture; for no work of the old comic writers has come down to us, excepting eleven of the fifty-four Comedies of ARISTOPHANES.

To write columns, or volumes, upon the subject of these pro- duetions in general, or the genius or this particular author, would not be difficult. Premising, however, that the qualities which perhaps distinguished ARISTOPHANES from all other writers, were his power of enduing allegory with reality, and distinctly pre. settling in one man the attributes of a class, yet at the same time retaining the indiy idual irliosyneracies of a single person, the better way of convesing an idea of the old Athenian comedy will be to give a brief account of one of his works; with such reflec- tions of his manner as the publication of Mr. W ALSH enables us to supply. For this purpose, we will take " The Clouds; " not perhaps as being the best, but as having a more general interest from SOCRATES being the subject of the satire. The fact of having attacked so venerated a name, has been matter of con- stant crimination against the poet ; but, as our author truly re- marks, no pretence exists for ranking ARISTOPHANES with the accusera of SOCRATES ; for " The Clouds" appeared some twenty years before the philosopher's death, and his personal peculiarities and affectations were of a ridiculcus kind, and his conduct not always the most decorous. It may be added, that suspicions of the foulest of practices attach to his name ; and if the satirist, as was not unlikely, had seen the philosopher drunk amongst cour- tezans, he had witnessed pranks not adapted to impress so shrewd an observer with much of veneration.

The title of "The Clouds" is taken from the circumstance of these "congregations of vapours " being represented as the Gods of SOCRATES. The drama derives its action from one Strep- siades, an Athenian squire. As a class, he represents what we should now term the "old school ;" admiring ancient before modern authors, and old customs in preference to new. As an individual, he is stupid, sordid, narrow-minded, and only re- strained by his want of ability from being a consummate cheat. His wife does not appear in the drama ; but we learn that he has unfortunately married a well-connected, fashionable woman, who has broken in on his ways, turned his house out of windows, and encouraged his son Phidippides in extravagant courses. At the opening, the results of this youth's chariot-racing, and so forth, appear in the shape of a load of debts, which are chargeable on papa. The day of payment—term-time—is approaching. Strep- siades cannot find the money without selling land, which will bring ill-repute and disgrace; but if be do not raise it, execu- tion will issue against him : so, to get quit of his debts without paying them, he determines to go to the Thinking-shop—the school of SOCRATES—and study the art of chousing. This resolve intro- duces the philosopher ; who seems to have made his appearance very much in the manner of what would now be called a mounte- bank; and, after a due exhibition of philosophic mummery, pro- ceeds to infuse his doctrines into his new pupil. The satire of course consists of exaggerated or distorted views of the Socratic philosophy. The humour arises from the misconceptions and wry or ridiculous answers of Strepsiades touching the abstruser p itts; though varied by absurdities of action,—as when the pupil, under pretence of initiation, is induced to take off his cloak and shoon, which are pounced upon as spoils of learning. The whole is liberally sprinkled with wit, and inspired throughout by genius. After due trial, the old man is found to be too stupid to be made a sophist and spouter for the Assembly ; and his son Phidippides, the author of his dilemmas, is sent to school in his place. His appearance gives occasion to the entrance of two abstract person- ages, representing the Old and respectable and the New and de- atructive Opinions ; and the arts and arguments of the last are put in no creditable light. Under Socrates, and such assistants, Phidippides is in due time qualified to " make the worse appear the better reason ;" and succeeds in defeating the creditors, by a series of quibbles, ridiculously exaggerating, we may be sure, the common cant of the orators of the day. After this feat, father and son retire to feast ; but the results of the Socratic training soon show themselves in a quarrel, in which Phidippides assaults and thumps his father,—a monstrous crime in the ancient world, and justifies himself by his new lights. A family reconciliation, however, takes place, at the expense of the" master ;" whose school is attacked by his pupils and their slaves, and Socrates and his scholars burnt out.

In selecting specimens of the translation, we shall chiefly aim

at conveying some specific idea of the method and character of the original. We commence with the magnificent invocation to the Clouds, already alluded to. The reader will bear in mind, that SOCRATES is represented at denying the existence of all other deities; and that the address was actually made in the presence of the heavens and such a prospect as Mr. Woanswoassr describes in his Athens and Attica. It is needless to point out the strong and natural contrast offered by Strepsiades, or that conversational spirit of the brief dialogue which amongst modern writers is only found in perfection in SHAKSPEABE.

SOCRATES.

Yes, come, ye adorable Clouds, and speak Your decrees to this suppliant lowly !

Come, whether ye sit on the snow-beaten peak Of Olympus, she towering, the holy ;

Or dance to the Nymphs with song and with smile In the gardens of father Ocean; Or in ewers of gold at the mouths of the Nile Draw upwards your watery potion ; Or haunt the sluggish Alwotian lake, Or Alimas's snowy-capped summit. Oh list, and receive the offering we make, Nor turn away angrily from it !

SONG BY TII F. CHORUS.

Rise, ever, flowing Clouds, Showing yourselves to the wondering crowds

Clad in your dewy corporeal essences! Fly from the hoarse-roaring Ocean's fountains !

Fly to the tops of the tree-clad mountains !

Thence will we view Earth's craggy excrescences! Thence the green harvests of which we're the givers, Thence the sweet books ti the murmuring rivers,

Thence, too, the sea's heavy-rumbling endeavours

(Distant thunder is heard.

Bright in the ether the Eye of the Day Blares unfired on his mission.

Shake off the showery mist of the gray Heavenly nature, and let us survey The Earth with our far- seeing vision.

SOCR &TES.

• Ye adorable Clouds, how my heartstrings rejoice To know that you've healif toe imploring! Hark ! did ye perceive not the sound of their voice, And the god-dreaded thunder roaring?

STREPSIA DES.

0 spare me, ye Clouds, I am frightened to death By your terrible thundering. flow else Could it happen that I should be seized in a breath With a thundering pain in my bowels ?

SOCRATES.

Don't strain after jests, or attempt to perform The Comedy-clown. h is odious.

Here are goddesses great, in a clustering swarm, Advancing to music melodious.

It will be recollected, that one charge against SOCRATES was blasphemy, or disbelief in the established religion. A good part of the first dialogue with Strepsiades consists in the arguments by which the philosopher shows that there is no such being as Jupiter ; and of the ludicrous proofs, clothed in obscure but sounding language, he brings forward in favour of his own theo- ries. The following passage may not only be quoted as a sample of this, but as furnishing an instance of the manner in which the contrast of the sophist and the squire heighten the humour, as well as showing how living persons and characteristics were pressed by the satirist into his service. The pupil has just been convinced that thunder is produced by the clouds, but doubts about the bolt.

STREPSIA DES.

But from whence are the fiery thunderbolts whirled,

That reduce us to ashes, and merely Singe others amongst us alive? They are hurled

By Jove at the perjurers, clearly.

SOCRATES.

You old•fashioned bekke•diluvian dolt, If Jupiter hurls them to floor us For forswearing, why does not be launch:q1bolt At CleOnyrous, Simon, Theorus ?

They are terrible perjurers, every one knows ; Yet they never -have met with their death hence. But he blasts his own fane, in the place of his foes,

" And SOnium, headland of Athens," And the crests of the innocent oaks of the wood.

For what reason ? an oak can't be perjured.

STREPSIALI.S.

I am sure I don't know; but your argument's good. In what way is the thunderbolt nurtured ? socitATES.

When an arid wind is upraised from below,

And enclosed in the Clouds, its capacity To inflate them like bladders is called in, and so It bursts them in two of necessity ;

And rushes outside with a vehement force

From its denseness, when it has rent 'ern,

Consuming and burning itself on its course,

By its friction, and noise, and momentum.

STRE PSIA DES.

I've been treated myself in the very same way, By Apollo, on many occasions. I neglected to nick a haggis one day I was roasting to dine my relations; When it puffed up, and suddenly to my surprise Burst open in tatters, and nearly Deprived me of sight by a spurt in my eyes, And scalded my face most severely.

Our last extract may be taken from the quarrel-scene. It will excite a smile to see how little alteration in the spirit of fashions has been effected in more than two thousand years: change the form of the thing a " wee bit," and the whole fable might apply to us. Suai PIM! s, let us remember, was the fashionable contemporary poet, and AiSCHYLUS was considered past. "The men of Marathon and Salamis," says Mr. THIRLWALL, "could endure his thoughts and words ; but they were too ponderous for the feebler criticism of the next generation, which complained that his language was not human."

STREPSIA DES.

tell you what it was that bred This most accursed quarrel.

While we were feasting, (as I said That we should do before all,) I bade him take his lyre and sing—

Unless he knew a better—a

Song by Simanides, that thing, "Tins Ram was shared, sketera."

But he declared he must decline ;

" 'Twas out of fashion fairly To play and sing over one's wine,

Like women grinding barley."

PHIDIPPIDES.

Now ought I not immediately To have begun to kick at

Your breech, for begging songs of me, As if I'd been a cricket?

STR EPSIA DES.

These are the very proofs and pleas He urged within to show it !

And lie declared Simonides Was a most stupid poet.

And this I bore, though not with all

The temper of a turtle.

And then I made a second call :

" Just tate a .prig of myrtle, And spout a bit of /Eschylus ! "

When he began to go it-

" Why lEschylus appears to us,

The most of any poet, An incoherent, mouthing, loud, Harsh, precipice -writing fellow." When this opinion was avowed,

I felt my heartstrings bellow ;

But still I bit my lips, and cried " Then pray commence reciting, From what the moderns have supplied, Some clever bit ot writing."

He sang Euripides's tale Directly—how a brother Deflowered a sister (powers of Hell !)

Born from the self-same mother.

And then I could restrain myself No longer, but directed

Floods of reproaches at the elf;

And, as you'd have expected,

We grappled phrase to phrase ; and then

He sprung on me and poked me,

And scratched and clawed me might and main,

And thumped, and bumped, and choked me.

The length of this notice shows that we entertain a high opinion of Mr. WALSH'S labours. His production does not pre- tend to be a metaphrase; and perhaps it is rather a para- phrase than a translation. It may also be alleged against him, that he takes bold and sometimes needless licence with his original; and that he has imbued the whole with a modern English, rather than an old Greek tone. But there is such a thing as being not only exactly constrained, but exactly false ; and, in the words of rOHNSON," the purpose of a writer is to be read, and the criticism that would destroy the power of pleasing must be blown aside." Mr. WALSH'S Comedies of An-stop/tunes will convey a general idea of the plays and the poet; and die transla- tion is free, spirited, and very readable. The author has not, like an injudicious actor, noted a number of particular parts to throw his strength upon, and left himself without breath or power for any thing else ; but has formed in his own mind a distinct idea of the whole, and aimed at presenting it to his reader. Some parts, of course, excel others ; and in places where the buffoonery of ARISTOPHANES is occupied with personal and temporary circum- stances, there is a necessary flatness; but we hardly remember any translation which possessed so much of the vivida via. As regards the " corresponding English metres," into which Mr. WALSH has endeavoured to render the original, they display much felicitous cleverness and pains ; but, what is of more importance than any mechanical excellence, they give variety to the versifi- cation and character to the expression. A good deal of prose, in the shape of introductions, notes, and so forth, is appended to the verse ; the object being chiefly criti- cal or illustrative. It is, no doubt, useful ;. but we admire Mr. WALsx more as a copyist than an original. He is lather diffuse in style ; and his mind is tinged by something slat,gish, and smacks of the University fermentation.