Hampshire, encouraged me to appeal to the public through the Gentleman's Magazine.' Nor did he ftop here. He

allo fent one of the maps for the infpection of the Society,' and a drawing of the plan of Winchefter. And, as we are now told from the minutes of the Society, the gentleman, who was to communicate both, communicated neither; and therefore the Society could not receive the conviction from them, which Mr. Willis defigned.' The Society, however, made Mr. Willis and the public fome amends; by publishing his account of 1759 in their first volume, and by inferting his ampler account in the present.

-

Mr. Willis accordingly traces from the four remaining gates of this city,' Winchester, fix Roman ways;' two more than in Taylor's map, the firft that ever delineated a Roman way in the county.' One of these ways One of these ways' now makes

a grand, gravel terrace-walk. It is raised in a high ridge, on the fummit of a high hill, and commands a view of the Ifle of. Wight and Salisbury fteeple; the former at more than forty, the latter at more than twenty, miles distance. The bafis of. this caufeway, is a high bed of flint; the next ftratum, is like ⚫ the cinder and ashes of a blacksmith's forge; but from whence fuch a quantity could be collected, is truly marvellous. I analyfed it by washing it in a bason of water, and by often decanting the black ablutions whilft any colour ftained the water, what had looked like the cinder was left perfectly white at the bottom of the bason, and resembled the fmall fragments of ⚫ marble made by the ftone-cutter's chippings, and much of the fame grit. The fediment of the black water, being dried, "made a powder like gunpowder rubbed fine, but was not at all inflammable. The upper ftratum is not much less won⚫derful, though it is no more than a beautiful gravel; as no parts of the country near produce fuch materials.'

The grand defign of the effay, is to point out the real and genuine courfe of the Ikeneld Street; and to carry it from Southampton by Winchester to Gloucefter.' But what is the evidence adduced for the point, by Mr. Willis? This is wretchedly arranged. We will collect the scattered parts of it. The Ikineld Street took its name, from its beginning at the mouth of the river Ichin, and continuing its course thence to • Winchester parallel to that river.' This etymology is furely as poor in itself, as it is peremptory in its manner; and this evidence is no evidence at all. And the only argument, properly speaking, is this: Horfley, p. 387, fpells it Ikihenild Street; in old deeds of lands in Andover bordering on this ftreet, it is called the Hicknel or Hicknal way.' But furely this argument is not fufficient, to appropriate the name of the Ikeneld

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Ikeneld Street to this way. What has been hitherto fuppofed the real Ikeneld Street, he owns, comes out of Hertfordshire to Dunstable in Hertford hire, where it croffes the Watlingstreet

by the name of the Iknel way;' and then, paffing through Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire, approaches Wantage in Berkshire as a raifed way called Icleton Meer,' and, after it has paffed Wantage, is called Icleton Way all under the hills between them and Childrey, Sparfholt, Uffington,' &c. This is furely enough to balance, and indeed greatly to outweigh, the power of a fingle name near Andover. But let us obferve ftill farther on Mr. Willis's conduct here. He takes up his road, where Taylor's map leaves it running from Winchester by Andover to Chute Park; and traces it through Wiltshire in its course to Gloucefter. At Wanborough his road and the Hertfordshire road coincide *. This he denies to have crossed his road there+; and confequently it was continued with it, either towards Gloucester on the right or towards Andover and Winchefter on the left. If continued towards Andover and Winchester, it might well leave its own name in the Hacknel Way near Andover; as it had previously communicated its name to the Icleton Way in Berkthire, and to the Iknel Way in Bedfordfhire. Indeed the continuance of the road, and the continuance of the name, unite to point out the course of the real Ikeneld. Street; partly the fame with Mr. Taylor's and Mr. Willis's, but very different in its main direction from Mr. Willis's, and actually coinciding at Wanborough with what has been hitherto denominated the Ikeneld Street. And, as this brings the Ikeneld Street, from its long-fuppofed origin among the Senni; so it terminates it, where, as Mr. Gale fays, Drayton terminates it, upon the folent fea,' at Southampton.

[ To be continued. ]

ART. IV. Clariffa; or, The Fatal Seduction: a Tragedy in Profe. Founded on Richardfon's celebrated Novel of Clariffa Harlowe. By Robert Porrett. 8vo. 5s. Lowndes. London, 1788.

ΤΗ

HE author of this tragedy profeffes to have undertaken the work from a conviction of the truth of the late Mr. James Harris's obfervation, that tragedies, founded on domeftic events, are more ufeful to the generality of readers than the catastrophes of kings and heroes.' Admitting the truth of

* P. 94.

ENG. REV. VOL. XIV. NOV. 1789.

+ P. 94.
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Mr.

Mr. Harris's remark, does it thence follow that this fingle cir cumftance is fufficient to make a good play? For this purpose we would advife Mr. Porrett to look a little higher for authori ties the next time he calls on his muse, and following the advice of Horace,

-Vos exemplaria Græca

Nocturna verfate manu verfate diurnâ.

HOR. Ars Poet.

A few other very useful hints may be collected from this correct poet and long-approved critic, which we could with our author had attended to. Among the reft, Intererit multum davufne loquatur an eros. Let the reader peruse the following dialogue, which firft introduces Clariffa, and fee if he can observe any traces of Mr. Richardfon's gentle heroine:

• Scene CLARISSA's Chamber in Harlowe House.

CLARISSA, BETTY enters in bafte.

Betty. Mifs, mifs, mifs! will you be pleas'd to walk into the parlour? there is every body, I'll affure you, in full congregation, except your brother and filter, who are expected every moment to join them. Mr. Solmes is there, as fine as a lord, with a charming white peruke, fine lac'd fhirt and ruffles, a coat trimm'd with filver, and a waistcoat standing an end with lace; quite handfome believe me! you never faw fuch an alteration ! Ah, mifs! (fhaking her head) 'tis pity you've faid fo much against him-but no matter; you know how to come off for all that, I dare fay; I only hope it won't be too late.

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Clariffa. Impertinence! Were you bid to come up in this fluttering way? (fans herself, and throws away the fan through vex• ation).

Betty. Blefs me! how foon thefe fine young ladies are put into flufterations! I didn't mean to offend, nor frighten you, I'm fure.

Clariffa. Every body there do you fay? Who do you call every body?

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Betty. Why, mifs, there is your papa! there is your mama! there is your uncle Anthony, and, to crown all, there is Mr. Solmes himself, and with the air of a courtier, I affure you. He calls to me, and fays (mimicking him), Mrs. Betty, pray give my humble fervice to mifs, and let her know that I have the honour to wait her commands.

Clariffa. Your late miftrefs I fuppofe bid you put on these airs to frighten me out of a capacity of behaving with fuch calmness as may procure me my father's and my uncle's compaffion.

Betty. Dear madam, how can you think fo ill-naturedly of your fifter. Come now, do--(takes up the fan)-fhall I

• Clariffa.

Clariffa. Not quite fo officious, if you pleafe-(Snatches the fan from her)-But what did you fay, are all my friends below with him, and am I to appear before them all?

Betty. No, madam! they do not mean to be there when you make your appearance, but will retire into the antichamber for the convenience of overhearing the charming dialogue between you and Mr. Solmes.

• Clariffa. Say I can't go. But yet, when 'tis over, 'tis over fay I'll wait upon-I'll attend I'll-I'll come presently-fayfay any thing I care not what-only-but stop-no-you may go, I'll follow.

Betty. Ha! ha! ha! What a fufs my miftrefs makes. [Afide.

[Exit.

Clariffa. (Fans herself vehemently, hems feveral times, walks to and fro', and appears in great perturbation and flurry of spirits.] Well, heaven protect me! what a paffive machine is the body when the mind is difordered.

[Exit.

Another obfervation we may collect from the poet before alluded to, is the propriety of bringing on the fcene fuch events as do not offend delicacy or credulity, inftead of the uninterefting method of relating them to the audience either in foliloquy or dialogue. Segnius irritant animos dimissa per aures, &c. There is the more reason for this where the event to be brought about is of that intricate kind that, without tracing the leading fteps, it can never appear confiftent with the character of the agent, and still more where the most important movements of the drama turn upon it.

Let the reader form his own judgment of the following paffages:

Clariffa. What a wonderful and moft unhappy change have I experienced fince my firft acquaintance with Lovelace; my demeanour towards him was furely the most distant and difcouraging that a man of his rank and fortune could receive; which would have been attended with a direct refusal of his addreffes, had not the artful man too plainly discovered my defign, and therefore ftudiously evaded speaking to the point. My good-natured brother and fifter conclude all this to be mere artifice; but, if I may be permitted to know my own heart, I love him not; he is too unprincipled, too bold, impetuous, and prefuming, to merit even my esteem. Oh! my friendly, compaffionate coufin Morden, were you but here, no one would dare to moleft me; the adverse winds have furely met you, or you had arrived e'er now: how unfortunate do things turn out! My too great tenderness for an unworthy brother has also been a principal caufe of my prefent embarrafiment; his life threatened by the infolent Lovelace, how otherwilé could I act than by confenting to the only alternative allowed me a private meeting! How greatly does a ftep of that nature fhock the purity of my thoughts! God knows my heart!-I have acquiefced purely to fave the thed

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ing of a brother's blood, and, if poffible, to deter this Lovelace this man of violence, from farther molefting the peace of a family, which, till he was known to it, was all harmony and love→→ [thoughtful, a noise within] but who comes here, thus to disturb my privacy?"

*

• Scene, a Room in Belford's House.

• Lovelace and Belford.

Love. You fhall hear, if my exulting fpirits will allow me to explain myfelf. I am paffionately in love with Clariffa Harlowe, the fairelt, lovelieft, most accomplish'd of her fex. Her brother poffeffing great influence over his father, and keeping in remembrance fome pranks I played him when at college, vented his malice on me, by introducing into the family, as my rival, one Solmes; an object rich indeed, but, from his narrownefs of mind and grovelling difpofition, would create the most unconquerable averfion in a mind infinitely less delicate and refined than that of my incomparable fair one. Thefe detefted nuptials, infifted on with a tyranny which has few examples, have at length rendered the dear girl defperate; and by having dexterously managed a correfpondence I commenced with her by defire of her family for other purposes; by having a fervant in the house devoted to my intereft; and by a train of lucky events too numerous for me to relate, but principally, I believe, by threatening that her brother fhould feel the effects of my fevereft vengeance in case of her noncompliance to my entreaties, I have at length prevailed over this loveliest of women to grant me a clandeftine meeting at her father's garden door leading to the common; the time is at hand; the dear creature means nothing more than an interview, but I have my carriage and every thing prepared for an elopement; having previously been careful to inftruct the fervant in my interest how he is to act. If I fucceed, and I trust to dame Fortune and my own impudence that I fhall, then may I juttly plume myself in having gained a conqueft infinitely fuperior, in point of intricacy and difficulty, to the prowefs of all ancient and modern heroes. Thus, at one and the fame time, I attain to the fummit of my wifhes, and accomplish a glorious revenge over the moft fpiteful and malicious of my foes. The time is fhort. Adieu.'

This laft long speech feems intended for the relief of fuch of the audience as are troubled with winter coughs. After this we are introduced to a banditti living in a cave, and having intelligence that a nobleman is going through the skirts of the foreft with money and bills for his fummer expences. This might be very well in a country fo thinly inhabited as Spain, and in the days of Gil Blas, when paper remiffions were not fo well understood, but feems very ill adapted to England in the days of Lovelace.