And I now

not come successfully out of this controversy. call upon the more active portion of the Sub-Committee of last year, not only to lose all friendship for me, as a man, but, for the sake of public justice, for the interests of the proprietors of the theatre, and out of respect to the acknowledged talents of Mr. Kean.-I call upon them instantly to come forward and convict me publicly of a falsehood, if I am wrong in stating, that Mr. Kean, previous to his journey into Scotland, gave a distinct and positive pledge, that nothing on his part should prevent my tragedy from succeeding The Jew of Malta, and that too, without any reference to compassion.*

That Mr. Moore, when he found the conduct of Mr. Kean was operating to my disadvantage, might two or three months afterwards, plead the great expenses I had been put to, and the loss in time and money I should sustain, if the solemn pledges that had been given, my tragedy should not be performed, is very possible. For having long been in the habit of reading Seneca and Boethius, I felt no shame in confessing to Mr. Moore, nor do I now in publicly confessing to the world,-that, from several persons not keeping their engagements with me, my truly excellent wife, my children, and myself, were, for the time, in great comparative want.

From the second month of my marriage, up to the moment in which I am writing, I have been visited with such a series of afflictions as are I think, scarcely to be paralled in the annals of private life!-but I am too proud to excite even the sympathy of the public, much less the compassion of Mr. Kean. I am also too sensible of the beautiful advantages of adversity to repine; though it would be miraculous, did I not sometimes, feel impatience and disgust.

Mr. Kean, I understand, is occasionally in the habit of doing generous actions to persons of his own profession; but for him to presume to the consequence of exercising compassion towards me, would have been a subject of my ridicule, were I not so far advanced in the knowledge of

* Mr. Kean modestly says, "Mr. P. Moore excited with some ability my personal compassion for Mr. Bucke, in consequence of which I undertook to act in his play."

human nature to know that ridicule is the weapon of degenerate minds.

By the more active portion of the Sub-Committee, I, of course, mean Peter Moore, Esq. member for Coventry, and Col. Douglas, of York Place, Baker-street. These gentlemen are of high consideration in the country, and I call upon them, as men and as gentlemen, to do that justice to Mr. Kean, which I should wish, were I placed in Mr. Kean's situation, to have administered to myself. Should they be silent, their silence must, of course, be construed to my benefit.

Mr. Kean states, in his unfortunate letter, that when he read my worst of all bad tragedies, the only feelings it excited among the performers were uncontrollable laughter, and pity for the author! Now this is either a curious fact, or an alarming accusation. I am, therefore, resolved, that the public shall know the actual truth, or untruth of the assertion; and I call upon Mr. Rae, Mr. Pope, and Mrs. Glover,* to state publicly, in a body and with as little delay as possible, whether they did or did not commit that most disgraceful outrage on private feeling, of which Mr. Kean so roundly has accused them! if they did, the public will have a sure criterion by which to judge of them; if they did not, something better than my assertions will be afforded to the world, by which they might judge the veracity of Mr. Kean. The AUTHOR of the PHILOSOPHY of NATURE.”

March 21, 1819.

The merits of this controversy may be summed up in few words. Mr. Bucke is not perhaps a very excellent poet, but he is a shrewd man of the world, accustomed to periodical actions, and handles his weapons with no little dexterity. His withdrawing the "Italians," at the moment the public indignation was high against Kean for his conduct towards Miss Porter, and his calling upon Rae, Pope, and Mrs. Glover to "state whether they did or did not commit that most disgraceful outrage on private feeling," are plain proofs that he was no novice in literary warfare. His greatest defect is egotism; his preface will "awaken ex"intraordinary sensations in the public mind;" his cause

* The excellent Mrs. Bartley and Mr. Wallack are in America; but I request them to take the earliest opportunity of favouring me with their testimonies likewise.

volves interests of the first magnitude to the establishment;" of his tragedy, "the catastrophe is never once foreseen ;”* and further, he constantly reads Seneca and Boethius. With all this, however, his cause was certainly a just one, and the public, with few exceptions, were on the side of justice: but though the tide of popularity might ebb for a time from Kean, yet the period of that ebb was short, and the flood was the higher on its return. A few weeks, and Kean was again the idol of the people, and when, in 1820, he left England for America, his absence left a void, which could not be filled, even by the rivals of his genius.

CLITOPHON AND LEUCIPPE.

(Resumed from page 85)

THE day after, we went, together with Menelaus and Clinia, to the temple of Isis, where we mutually swore, before the altar of the goddess—I, that I would truly love her, and she, that she would make me her husband and lord of all her possessions. The next day, induced by a fair wind, we sailed from Alexandria; Menelaus accompanied us to the shore, where we parted, with mutual regret. Clinia determined not to leave me, but to sail with me to Ephesus, and there to stay till my affairs were settled.

At the end of five days we reached Ephesus. When we arrived at Melite's house, which was the principal one in the city, and furnished with a magnificent establishment, she immediately gave orders for a splendid supper, and proposed that during its preparation, we should go a few miles out of the city, to some lands of hers. While we were walking around them, suddenly a female, bound with thick cords and carrying a pick-axe, with dishevelled hair and emaciated body, her garments loose and ragged, her whole appearance wretched in the extreme, prostrated herself before Melite, and entreated her protection. Pity me," she exclaimed, "oh, pity me! formerly a free woman, but now, by fortune's decree, a slave!" "Rise, unfortunate creature," said Melite," and tell me who you are, and who has thus ill-treated you, for your appearance, though

* This last passage occurs in his preface.

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clouded by misfortune, indicates your nobility." "Your servant," she answered," because I would not yield to his impure desires, has thus loaded me with ignominious chains. I am, by birth, a Thessalian, my name Lacœna; free me, O free me from my present calamities, and afford me credit until I can repay you two thousand drachmas, the price for which Sosthenes bought me of the pirates, which, believe me, I will do with my earliest means. But, if not, I will remain your slave. Behold the marks of his unfeeling cruelty." With these words, she unclasped her vestment, and shewed us her back, lacerated in a most dreadful manner. For my part, I was dumb with astonishment, for her appearance was precisely that of Leucippe. "Be comforted," said Melite, "I will relieve you from servitude, without remuneration." Having said this, she commanded her chains to be taken off, and Sosthenes to be discharged from her service; and when she had given some directions relative to her estates, on account of which she came, we returned to the city to supper.

During supper, Satyrus made signs for me to rise. I excused myself to Melite, on the plea of indisposition, and followed him; when, without speaking, he placed a letter in my hands. At first sight, before I read it, I was struck with astonishment, for I knew it to be the hand-writing of Leucippe. The letter ran thus:

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Leucippe to her master-for so I must call you, since you are the husband of my mistress.-Although you know what I have suffered for you sake, yet I shall now bring them to your recollection. For you I left my mother, and became a wanderer-for you I suffered shipwreck, and captivity by robbers-for you I became a victim, and again braved the terrors of death-for you I have been sold as a slave, have dug the earth, have been chained, and scourged-and after this, shall you become another's husband-I another's wife? Just heaven forbid! I have borne my hard, my cruel fate, without a murmur-you, unhurt, untouched, are married! If yet a spark of gratitude remains, for what I have suffered for your sake, entreat your wife to send me away as she promised, Farewell, and may happiness attend your nuptials!"

When I had read this, the agitations of my mind were various; by turns, I glowed with heat, then as quickly

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turned pale; I was now amazed, then disbelieved the letter; I rejoiced, and at the same time grieved. At last I exclaimed to Satyrus, "Bring you this letter from the infernal regions? Say, is Leucippe still alive?" "She is," he replied; " it was her whom you this day saw, squalid, defiled with filth and wretchedness, her whole appearance so altered, that few could have recognised her form." Why," I exclaimed, "do you feast my ears alone, and not mine eyes with delight? I will this moment see her." Stay," he replied, "we must proceed cautiously." "Away!" I cried, "it is impossible!" Then again reading her letter, "Yes, sweet Leucippe," I exclaimed, “thou art right. It was for me that thou didst endure all this; I was the author of thy misfortunes. Would I could know the manner of this thy last escape!' "She will herself inform you," said Satyrus; "You must now write to her immediately, to soothe her." "Instruct me," I exclaimed," for, by heaven, I know not what to say or do." "I am no wiser than yourself," replied Satyrus, "but take your pen; love will dictate words." I then wrote to her the following answer.

יין

"Hail, my beloved mistress, my dear Leucippe! I am in one thing happy, yet miserable; though thy much-loved form is as faithfully pictured to my delighted fancy, as if thou wert thyself before me; yet the sight of thy letter convinces me too strongly of thy absence: but if, without hearing me in my defence, you condemn me, I swear, by those gods who have preserved you, that I will shortly free myself from all just ground of complaint. Farewell, my love, and listen to my prayers."

The day after, while we were seated at the banquet, a violent tumult was heard at the gate of the house, and a slave suddenly rushed in, exclaiming that Thersander lived and was coming. He was Melite's husband, who was reported to have perished by shipwreck, and some of his slaves who were shipwrecked with him gave this account. Scarce had he spoken, when Thersander entered the room, in order to seize upon me, for he had heard all the circumstances respecting Melite and me, immediately upon his landing. Melite, although violently agitated at this unexpected meeting, yet immediately recovered herself, and ran to embrace her husband; but he repelling her with indignation, turned to me, and exclaimed, "Is this the adulterous