MATERNAL FAITHFULNESS. 337 MATERNAL FAITHFULNESS. BY S. T. MARTYN. strengthen him in the hour of temptation, or seek to lead him to the Lamb of God, who taketh away the sins of the world? Can faith rely cheerfully on the promises, under circumstances such as these? An incident which occurred a few years since may, perhaps, answer this question. The husband of the writer was at that time settled in the ministry, in a seaport town in New England. Vessels from various quarters of the globe were constantly in the harbor, and his sympathies were strongly excited in behalf of that interesting class "who go down to the sea in ships and do business on the great WHERE is the Christian mother whose heart, as she looks upon the beloved nursling in her arms, does not involuntarily utter the prayer-"O that this child might live before God! That this heart, so unconscious of sin and its attendant misery, might even now be new created by the blessed Spirit, and this infant voice learn to lisp the praises of the Redeemer, while yet earthly joys and sorrows are a sound unknown!" Can a mother's love, in all its depth and intensity, be content on behalf of her child, with any boon short of the sal-waters." Little comparatively was then felt or done vation of his soul? Can she rest satisfied, while pouring out the heart's richest and purest affections over the precious gift, without an ardent desire that it may be improved to the glory of the great Giver? Surely not, if she remembers the ten thousand claims of her Redeemer to the undivided love and service of the creatures he has made; surely not, if she remembers the uncertainty of life, and the possibility that death may untwine those clasping fingers from her neck, and shroud her beloved one in the darkness of the sepulchre. for their salvation by the American churches, and many of them were hardened and degraded in the extreme, but Mr. soon found one avenue to the heart through which he could always approach the most abandoned. The simple question-"Have you a mother-a praying mother?" never failed to touch a chord which vibrated through every nerve, and brought down the scoffing unbeliever in the tearful simplicity of childhood, a willing listener to the voice of kindness and instruction. tation to those present who were impenitent, related his story, which was substantially as follows: He was a native of the adjoining town of T-, and had a pious mother who dedicated him to God in infancy, and endeavored faithfully to train him up for heaven. In early youth he had the misfortune to lose this best of earthly friends, but on her dying bed she warned, in He who well knew a mother's love, has made ample On one occasion, at an evening meeting in the vesprovision in the promises for the fulfillment of its ut-try, a sailor came forward, and after a thrilling exhormost desires. The blessing of Abraham has come on the Gentiles through faith, and it secures to faithful, believing parents, the everlasting interests of those who are dearer to them than life. Resting with unshaken confidence on the word of Him who cannot lie, the pious mother may sow the seed of divine grace in the youthful heart, water it with her prayers and tears, and then, in the assurance of hope, wait the blessed issue.structed, and prayed for him, and before her death exHer head may be whitened with the frosts of age, or it may be resting on its last cold pillow before those prayers shall be answered; but if there is joy in heaven over one repenting sinner, surely that sainted mother who is bowing near the throne, will not be ignorant that it is the son of her love, he for whom she suffered, and wept, and prayed while on earth, whose conversion has sent a thrill of rapture through all the bright ranks of the redeemed. Amid myriads of sympathizing and re-gazing upon the stars which glittered above him, joicing spirits, she shall confess that he is faithful who hath promised, for this her son was dead and is alive again, he was lost and is found! But there is a Christian mother whose heart, as it yearns over her distant "sailor boy," and remembers all the perils and temptations with which he is surrounded, almost refuses to be comforted. He who, in childhood and youth, was so tenderly watched and nurtured-whose infant prayer was lisped at her knee, and in whom her heart was so bound up that the very thought of separation seemed to chill the current of life within it-he is now far from her, exposed to hardships and dangers which she shudders to contemplate. "His path is on the mountain wave, His home is on the deep." And among all the associates with whom he comes in daily contact, who shall care for his soul? Who, like a mother, shall guard him from the approaches of evil, acted from him a solemn pledge that he would seek her covenant God, and prepare to meet her before his throne. He became soon after a sailor boy, and in that school of depravity forgot the lessons of his childhood, and learned the language and habits of the enemies of Jesus. As a good seaman, however, he was promoted to the rank of first mate, and in this capacity was one beautiful evening keeping his watch on deck alone, when, as he was thoughts of his neglected God, of his childhood's promise, and more than all, of his beloved mother, came suddenly into his soul, until it was overpowered with strong emotion. His lips invountarily uttered the inquiry-" Where is my mother?" and an answering voice from those bright stars seemed to reproach him with his broken vow, as memory brought up from her secret cell the whole scene of that mother's last illness and death. Conviction fastened upon him, his sins were set in order before him, and in the agony of his spirit, he fell on the deck and cried aloud for mercy. The captain supposing him deranged, sent another to supply his place, and had him removed to the cabin; but as his distresses continued to increase, they made the nearest harbor, and sent immediately for a physician. He could not "minister to a mind diseased," and advised the captain to call in a clergyman. This was accordingly done; and as the Rev. Mr. F. entered the 338 THE GREEK CLASSICS. cabin, he was accosted by the trembling penitent with Original. BY GEO. WATERMAN, JR. GRECIAN DRAMA-COMIC WRITERS-EPICHAR MUS ARISTOPHANES-MENANDER-DIPHILUS. the eager inquiry, "Are you a minister of Christ? THE GREEK CLASSICS.-NO, VIIL Can you pray?" The conversation was deeply interesting, and at its close the sailor promised to accompany Mr. F. to a prayer meeting which was to be held in the THE neighborhood that evening. While there, the Savior of sinners was revealed to his soul, his burden taken off, and a new song of praise put into his mouth. He left the vessel and started at once for home, that he might proclaim to his old friends and neighbors the wonderful love of God to his soul. The mother, who had prayed so often for his conversion and had died without the sight, was low in the dust, but who can doubt that as the joyful tidings of another repenting sinner reached the heavenly host, her harp was loudest in its notes of praise! The above is not an isolated case. If all the instances in which God, in a remarkable manner, has answered prayer and honored maternal faith were recorded, the unbelief of Christian parents would be rebuked: but of the hundreds who are the recipients of his mercy, very few give him the glory. Enough is known, however, to warrant us in asserting, not only from the word, but from the providences of Jehovah, that the provisions for the salvation of our children are as broad and ample as for our own souls, and that it is our privilege to train them up for God, with the full assurance that he will accept the offering, and in his own way bring them into his family, and make them "heirs to an inheritance incorruptible, undefiled, and that fadeth not away."-Mother's Magazine. —་ ྂ 39་་་་ THE ROSE. GRECIAN Comedy, like her sister, tragedy, traces her origin to the rites of Bacchus. Both were the offspring of the choral songs performed in the worship of that divinity. Those of a serious character, and in which sublime sentiments were inculcated, constituted the base of the noble tragic structure; while from those of a lighter cast, and whose object was mirth, sprung the more simple yet pernicious comedy. The Phallic songs from which comedy arose, were a part of the Bacchanal worship, and consisted in what might, perhaps, be appropriately termed ballads-whose object was to create mirth either by sneers, or satire, or sarcasm. About the time that Eschylus, from the Dittryramb, and the Satiric Chorus, erected the tragic structure, Epicharmus, from the Phallic song, constructed that of comedy. After him Aristophanes improved and enlarged its pow ers, which continued so long as Greece was a people. Under Aristophanes, and those of the same school, comedy was frequently used to censure the vices of those who would not bear reproof in any other way. In comedy every thing was done in jest, and generally for sport. Hence, parodies on different tragic compositions were frequent. From the characters of tragedy thus remodeled to suit the taste of the laughter-loving, were afterwards added those of tragic writers themselves. This paved the way for the introduction of every character upon the stage. Personal animosity and private jealousy were never at a loss for subjects on which to vent their malignity. Hence the virtuous as well as the vicious were frequently made to feel the lash of satire from the pen of the comedian. Even the good and virtuous Socrates did not escape. These scenes could only be enacted when the people were free. Af a considerable change. "Simultaneously with the overthrow of Athenian independence appeared the first distinct specimen of a new species of dramatic poetry, in which the pungent sarcasm, the political heat, and the rampant humor of the Aristophanic muse were exchanged for graceful lessons of morality, accurate delineations of character, and the interest of regular plots." The author of this change was Menander. After him followed Diphilus. With Posidippus ends the history of the Grecian comic drama. Grecian literature and Grecian liberty expired together. I saw a rose perfect in beauty: it rested gracefully upon its stalk, and its perfume filled the air. Many stopped to gaze upon it, many bowed to taste its fragrance, and its owner hung over it with delight. I passed it again, and behold it was gone! its stem was leafless, its root had withered, the inclosure which sur-ter the subversion of their liberties, comedy underwent rounded it was broken down. The spoiler had been there: he saw that many admired it, he knew it was dear to him who planted it, and beside it he had no other plant to love. Yet he snatched it secretly from the hand that cherished it; he wore it on his bosom till it hung its head and faded, and, when he saw that its glory was departed, he flung it rudely away. But it left a thorn in his bosom, and vainly did he seek to extract it, for now it pierces the spoiler, even in his hour of mirth. And when I saw that no man who had loved the beauty of the rose, gathered again its scattered leaves, or bound up the stalk which the hands of violence had broken, I looked earnestly at the spot where it grew, and my soul received instruction. And I said, Let her who is full of beauty and admiration, sitting like the queen of flowers in majesty among the daughters of women, let her watch lest vanity enter her heart, beguiling her to rest proudly upon her own strength; let her remember that she standeth upon slippery places, "and be not high minded, but fear."-Mrs. Sigourney. EPICHARMUS. Much dispute has arisen between learned men in fixing the birth-place of Epicharmus. Some have thought him a native of Crastus, some of Coos, and others of Megara in Sicily. All, however, agree that he passed his life at Syracuse. About as much doubt exists concerning his parentage. His father's name was Chimarus, or Tityrus. His mother's name, as is most generally thought, was Sicida. He flourished about the THE GREEK CLASSICS. 339 tropolis of the democratic states. It was among the multitude he sought and obtained popularity. It is true the great and the good according to the standard of that age were his admirers. And his writings, regarded merely as specimens of literary labor, are, many of them, worthy of all the commendations that have been bestowed upon them. But it is doubtful, after all, whether they really felt for him that respect which they on many occasions manifested. The true secret-at least with many of them-was, Aristophanes was exceedingly popular, and possessed a vast amount of power among the common people, and, from mere selfish considerations, they desired his friendship; for his malevolent muse knew no one too exalted or too virtuous to year 500, B. C. Of his personal history we know but || ist a doubt," says a writer in the Encyclopedia Metrolittle. He was for a time a school teacher in Syracuse, politana, "that our author was a man of considerable inand instructed pupils about four years previous to the fluence and political importance among his countrymen." Persian invasion. He seems, however, to have devoted The circumstances of the times in which he lived were the greater part of his time to the composition of liter- well calculated to give a bold and daring spirit, like that ary works. According to Diogenes Laertius he com- of Aristophanes, immense influence over an ignorant, posed several treatises on medicine and philosophy. vicious, and fickle multitude, such as the great mass of His greatest works, however, were of a dramatic charac- Athenians were at that time. The fatal Peloponnesian ter. About the time, or perhaps a little before Eschy-war was then in progress. Hence, all the vices incident lus brought the first regular tragedy upon the Grecian to such a state of things were to be expected at the mestage, Epicharmus produced the first comedy properly so called. Before him this department of the drama consisted of nothing but a series of licentious songs and sarcastic episodes, without plot, connection, or consistency. He gave to each exhibition one single and unbroken fable, and converted the loose interlocutions into regular dialogue. As we have before stated, tragedy, under Phrynicus, had begun to assume something of that stately form which was perfected, or at least much improved by Eschylus. The woes of heroes, and the majesty of the gods had already become its principal theme. The Sicilian poet seems to have been struck with the idea of exciting the mirth of his auditors by the exhibition of some ludicrous matter, dressed up in all the grave solemnity of the newly in-shield him from his attacks, if caprice or any other vented art. Discarding, therefore, the low drolleries of motive should call forth his keen sarcastic powers. the ancient comedy, he opened a novel and less invidi- Even the virtuous Socrates did not escape the lash of ous source of amusement, by composing a set of bur- his satiric wand. Yet this boldness and fearlessness of lesque dramas upon the usual tragic subjects. These character were frequently exerted in a good cause. succeeded very well, and for a long time the principal || He was undoubtedly a lover of his country. He therefeature of comedy was a burlesque upon some tragic fore earnestly contended for peace. The same motive scene. And when comedy returned, as it afterwards led him to expose to the public view, with all the vividdid, to personal satire and invective, the tragic poets ness of reality, the vices of those who administered the were the chief characters against which its efforts were affairs of state. The degeneracy of the times was also directed. inveighed against by the same pen which did so much Epicharmus was a very voluminous writer. Apollo-to promote and perpetuate the very vices of which he dorus is said to have made a collection of his works in ten volumes. His plays number between forty and fifty. Suidas reckons fifty-two. He was celebrated as well for the beauty of his style as for the originality of his conception. The Greeks gave the name of "Epicharmion" to his style, thus making it proverbial for its beauty and purity. complains. That he was a favorite of the great body of the people we have abundant evidence. Nor was this fact unknown to foreign nations. The fame of his boldness had extended far and wide. It had even reached the throne of the Persian monarch; for we are informed that, on a certain occasion, when the Lacedæmonian (or Spartan) ambassadors had an interview with the Persian monarch, the first question he asked was, whether they were masters of the seas, and the second related to our author: "Which of the two pow His moral character could not have been very high, as we are informed by Plutarch that he was severely fined and doomed to heavy manual labor by Hiero for some improper jests which he introduced in the pres-ers does he censure?" inquired the King; "for the ence of the Queen. Of the further particulars of his life we know nothing. He is said to have lived to the age of ninety. Only fragments of his works remain. ARISTOPHANES. cause of the party which he espouses will certainly come off victorious in the present war, inasmuch as they have him for their coadjutor." Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, greatly desired Aristophanes to take up his residence at the Sicilian court, but in vain. He loved the soil of Attica too dearly to exchange it for even a royal abode. Aristophanes was a native of the island of Ægina, a small island opposite Athens. He was a son of Philip of Rhodes, and born B. C. 456. Although born at Ægina, he seems to have been educated at Athens, where he spent nearly the whole of his life. Of his early history but little is known. He was a writer of comedy, and doubtless the most illustrious of that class of writers which Greece has ever produced. "There cannot ex- tion. The style of Aristophanes is deservedly admired. He wrote many plays. Eleven only of his comedies, out of more than sixty, are preserved. These, however, are sufficient to judge of the style of his writings, and the character of his powers of concep 340 THE GREEK CLASSICS. Of the time or manner of his death we are not cer- || stage is, that the former was a national institution. tainly informed. He probably lived to nearly the age of eighty. MENANDER. An admission fee of two oboli (about six cents) was charged each person entering for the support of these exhibitions. But even this, at the instigation of Pericles, was paid out of the public treasury to all such as desired it. The buildings necessary for theatrical exhibitions belonged, also, to the state, and were erected at the public expense. Another difference was, that dramatic performances were alike attended by all. The learned and This poet was a native of Athens, and born B. C. 342. His father, whose name was Diopithes, was, at this time, commander of the Athenian forces at the Hellespont, and must therefore have been a person of considerable influence among his countrymen. Of the history of Menander we know scarcely any thing. He the illiterate, the rich and the poor, the highest officer was the inventor of what has been termed the new of the state and the meanest citizen, all here met tocomedy-so called because it dropped personal abuse, gether for the purpose of instruction or amusement. and became more regular in its construction. He died The religious character of these performances, and the at the age of fifty, having written 105 plays. It is said exclusion of females from all exhibitions excepting by the Roman poet, Ovid, that all the plays of Menan- those of tragedy, gave also a distinctive character to der turned upon love. If this be true, as it undoubted- the ancient drama which is wanting in that of more ly is, we have in his works, one of those chief charac-modern date. These differences were all calculated to teristics of the modern drama which has rendered it so elevate the Grecian stage, both in its intellectual and exceedingly pernicious to the morals of society. When moral character, far above that which, in later ages, has amarous scenes are brought upon the stage, their direct taken its place. Yet, if we examine the moral influtendency is to injure and impair the moral sensibilities ence of theatrical exhibitions, even among the Greeks, of all who witness them; at least such has been the we cannot but be pained at the result. The stately universal result, and we must judge of the tendencies and majestic character of tragedy created a desire for of a thing by its actual results. something of a lighter character, and better suited to the morals, or rather want of morals, of a degraded populace. This desire was fully satisfied in the debasing exhibitions of comedy. The laughter-loving here found that which excited their mirth. The malevolent could here vent his malignity unharmed, and the profliDiphilus, the contemporary of Menander, was born gate of every character here found all that he desired at Sinope, in Pontus, and died at Smyrna, in Ionia. to gratify the propensities of a vitiated taste. It is no His comedies were celebrated for their wit, sense, and wonder, then, that comic performances acquired such pleasantness. He, together with Posidippus, who be- an influence over the public mind. The expenses began to write three years after the death of Menander, ing paid out of the public treasury afforded an opporwas the last Grecian comic poet. "Below this pe-tunity to all to witness these exhibitions. The funds riod it is vain to search for genius worth recording. thus appropriated were taken from the military resources Grecian literature and Grecian liberty expired together. of the country. Hence, in time of danger there was A succession of sophists, pedagogues, and grammarians filled the posts of those illustrious wits whose spirit, fostered by freedom, soared to such heights as left the Roman poets little else except the secondary fame of imitation." Menander seems to have been patronized by Ptolemy Lanus, the successor of Alexander the Great in the government of Egypt. Of his writings fragments only remain. DIPHILUS. no supply to meet any emergency that might arise. Fearing lest, in great difficulties, these funds might revert to their original use, and thus infringe upon their favorite amusement, the Athenians passed a law making it a criminal offense of the highest character to introduce any law for that purpose. Twice during the invasions of Philip of Macedon did Demosthenes attempt to restore the theatrical fund, as it was called, to We cannot leave the general subject of the drama without a passing remark upon the influence of the Grecian stage upon the character of the nation. This was of two kinds, intellectual and moral. Its intellec-its proper use in the defense of the nation. But his tual influence was in general salutary. It called forth those talents which might otherwise have lain dormant, or been awakened only to deeds of violence. The exhibition of dramatic performances called together the talent of the nation of every character. Its direct tendency, therefore, was the diffusion of knowledge. Its intellectual advantages were not altogether unlike those derived from modern lectures. In judging of the intellectual or even moral tendency of the Grecian theatres, however, we must not compare it with our own. The points of dissimilarity were so numerous and so great, that in many respects little or no analogy can be traced. Especially is this true with respect to tragedy. One marked difference between the Grecian and modern efforts were fruitless. The corrupted multitude were so wedded to this chief source of their corruptions, that, rather than give up their amusements, they suffered their country's liberties to expire. Had it not been for the degenerating influence of the stage, Greece might long have survived the period of her overthrow. Her vices, and nothing else, proved her ruin. Morality and liberty stand or fall together. If, then, we would preserve our own country free and happy, we must seek to promote religion and a deep-toned morality by every means in our power. The same elements which destroyed Greece are at work among us; and nothing but the Bible and a consequent healthy moral influence can save us from a similar ruin. Original. THE CONTRAST. THE CONTRAST. You shall see some gay, elegant youth, as he passes the street, noting with a sort of wonder the cordial, earnest salutation of some young working man, as he meets his acquaintance, perhaps a market girl, or a laundress. May be she is not comely-may be positively awkward; and the young aristocrat says to himself, "Foh! that coarse featured dowdy! It is all put on, that warmth and heartiness! He can't care for her-he can't admire or love her!" and in fancy he compares with her the soft, fair, graceful, petted syren who for the time enslaves his own youthful spirit. "How opposite-how unlike!" he says; and unlike and opposite she is, indeed, both in person and in char acter. 341 the comparative worthlessness of mere beauty, and affords occasion to show that in a marriage sought in trueness and earnestness of feeling, the parties, by a reciprocation of the common burdens of life, by dividing the cares and sharing the satisfactions, lessen the evils, and enhance the felicities of both. MATILDA. Original. THE HILLS OF CHENANGO. BY MISS DE FOREST. YE beautiful hills! in your ever-green dress'd- We do not affect to say that goodness never consists Our two pictures together may illustrate the position that a youth of hardship and labor, in blunting the sense to mere externals, has the effect to make early wise-in choosing. And, as in the partner, what, by the drudgery of life, may be lost in grace and elegance, in one of a true nature be more than compensated by the necessity of goodness. And whilst we would point out the weakness of a fastidious and false motive in the most important step in life, and of the irretrievable and bitter chagrin which it occasions-marking, also, Ye raging storm spirits, that sweep o'er the breast The azure of heaven alone is unchanged; The homes of the good, and the hearths of the brave- Each season its tribute of beauty shall bring; |