ought to be kept to some standard. Orthography should be steady, be made the guide to orthoepy, or at least a check upon it, and not orthoepy be the guide to orthography. Had such a rule as this, founded in reason and the nature of things, been attended to in all writings, though it is easy to see that it required a knowledge equal to divine to be able to write words truly in the first language, posterity would not have found so much difficulty as they now do, in understanding them; the etymology and meaning of words would have been more determinate, and the streams of knowledge traced with more certainty up to their fountain head."

The subject of the third dissertation is style, or the art of just writing; that of the fourth, elocution, or the art of speaking: both contain rules that may be useful, hints that are new, and ingenious observations. Upon the whole, the author attempts to give a rational and universal view of language, from its elements through its several combinations and powers, in writing and speaking. He is possessed of learning to examine his subject minutely, and good sense to avoid incurring the imputation of pedantry; so that his book will be found equally useful to the student and entertaining to the critic.

X.-BURTON'S GREEK TRAGEDIES.*

[From the Monthly Review, 1758. "Pentalogia; sive Tragediarum Græcarum Delectus." 8vo. Oxford.]

DR. BURTON, whose former productions in the learned languages are more than sufficient proofs of his abilities for an under

* [Dr. John Burton was born at Wombworth, in Devonshire, in 1696, and died rector of Mapledurham, Oxfordshire, in 1771. His works consist of

taking of this nature, has here presented the public with an edition of five Greek tragedies, indisputably the best in that language; and we may venture to add, superior to all that were ever composed in any other. Three of these are the Edipus Tyrannus, the Edipus Coloneus, and the Antigone of Sophocles; the first peculiarly excellent for its fine complication of terror and distress, especially towards the catastrophe; the second, for its pathetic opening, which Milton has so happily imitated in his Sampson Agonistes; the third, also a master-piece, for what is called by Aristotle the Των επεισοδίων οικονομίαν, the just disposition of incidents. The other tragedies in this book are the Phoenisse of Euripides, and the Septem ad Thebas of Eschylus, which, though inferior to those of Sophocles, have, however, with great propriety, a place in this edition. They are introduced with intention to show (as our author expresses it), "in materia consimili ingeniorum dissimilium concertatio," the efforts of different geniuses in the same species of composition.

This edition, as we are informed, was long since undertaken; but the death of a young gentleman, who was principally instrumental in forwarding it, occasioned its being for some time discontinued and it had perhaps been totally suppressed, but for the assistance given the editor by Dr. Markland and Mr. Heath, and the advantage of printing at the expense of the fund bequeathed to the university by Mr. Rolle, for purposes of this

nature.

The work is a performance of much less ostentation than use; not being calculated to amuse the critic, but to advance the learner. The notes annexed contain no minute philological disquisitions,

"Occasional Sermons," "Opuscula Miscellanea Theologica," and "Opuscula Metrico-prosaica, &c." "He was," says Dr. Kippis, "an able divine, a sound scholar, and an excellent academic; and set a useful example to University men, whether as fellows, tutors, officers, or editors."]

which are often still more obscure than the text, and counteract their intention, by increasing that labor which they profess to lessen. Here we have the conduct of the drama laid open, the grammatical difficulties explained, the different readings exhibited, and the text receiving proper light from a just punctuation. Notwithstanding this, the learned author seems sensible of one objection that may be raised against the present performance; namely, that he has given no Latin translation of the text, as is usual in most editions of the Greek classics. This objection he has taken some pains to obviate. The idioms of the Greek and Latin languages, as he observes, are so different as to render a translation very difficult, if not impossible; but though such a labor were actually effected, it would rather obstruct than promote the end it seems intended to answer. He who, in learning Greek, has continual recourse to a translation for assistance, is insensibly drawn into a disuse of his grammar and lexicon, the proper guides for introducing him to an intimacy with the language he desires to be acquainted with. "Opibus alieni adjustus nihil de suo promet; nihil demum marte proprio sibi elaborandum esse censebit: et velut in regione ignota hospes inelegans, ducem secutus aliquando falsum sæpe fallacem, huc illuc temere circumvagabitur: et cum Græciam universam itinere rapido peragraverit, nihil fere de Græcia, nihil vere Atticum aut quovis modo memorabile, domum reportabit." We should in this respect imitate such as first revived Greek learning in the West; who, without translations, instructed those that afterwards became so eminent for their skill in this enchanting language.

The assistances, however, which are denied in a translation, are amply recompensed here, by the explications of every material difficulty in the text, in notes at the bottom of each page; by a separate phraseology, and by a lexicon of the uncommon words subjoined to the whole. These are the helps offered to

the scholar, and we will venture to assert, that the learner who will be at the pains of reading Sophocles with only the assistances here offered him, will know more of the real beauties of the original, and the true structure of the language, than if he spent double the time in poring over a faulty Latin version The translations hitherto published of Sophocles, will be more apt to lead the scholar astray, than to direct him to the meaning or spirit of the original; for, whether through ignorance of the language they attempted to translate, or through an awkward affectation of elegance, certain it is they are almost always mistaking the meaning of their author.

Though much may be said in commendation of the design and usefulness of the edition now before us, there is room for some objection to the method which our commentator has thought proper to pursue. Not content with the illustrations at the bottom of each page, he adds, by way of appendix, his devregai portides, or Scholia, which are the result of more mature deliberation. These second thoughts, which were not entered upon, as we are informed, till the other parts of the work were printed off, are not only a further comment upon the original, but sometimes corrections of his former annotations, which they frequently profess to contradict, amend, and explain. This ingenious way of confessing one's faults, though it should serve to show a man's modesty, may, it is feared, rather lead to prejudice his reputation in other respects. Some may be apt to remark, that criticisms which could, upon a review, want so much amendment, were prematurely inserted: they may say, that it would have been most prudent in our editor to have kept his work by him till repeated amendments had rendered a palinodia unnecessary. And we may add, though second thoughts are generally allowed the preference, yet our annotator, it must be confessed, often corrects himself where there seems very little occasion for correction. As to the

edition, upon the whole, it may be numbered among the most correct productions of the British press, some few faults in the accenting excepted. The book is certainly well calculated for the use of schools; and deserves all the encouragement due to the best performances of this kind.

XI. CICERO'S TUSCULAN DISPUTATIONS.

[From the Monthly Review, 1758. "The Tusculan Disputations of Marcus Tullius Cicero. In five Books. A new translation. By a gentleman." 8vo.]

THE panegyric upon Cicero, which Erasmus hath left us, at the same time that it does justice to the merits of the philosopher, reflects honor on the taste of his encomiast. "I am incapable of determining," says that judicious critic, "whether or not my judgment be improved by time, but certain it is, Cicero never so much pleased me in youth as he now does in my old age. I am now at a loss whether most to admire, the divine felicity of his style, or the purity of his heart and morals. His influence upon me rises almost to inspiration; and I always feel myself a better man upon every perusal. I make no scruple, therefore, to exhort our youth to spend their hours in reading and retaining his works, rather than in the vexatious disputes, and ill-mannered controversies which at present perplex mankind. For my own part, though I am now in the decline of life, yet as soon as my present undertakings are completed, I shall think it no reproach to seek a renewal of my acquaintance with my Cicero, and an increase of that intimacy which has been for many years interrupted."

How differently does Montaigne express himself on the same