Landor.—Yes, Aristophanes had, however, but little true wit. [61]
North.—That was lucky for Euripides.
Landor.-A more skilful archer would have pierced him through bone and marrow, and saved him from the dogs of Archelaus.
North.—That story is probably an allegory, signifying that Euripides was after all worried out of life by the curs of criticism in his old age.
Landor.—As our Keats was in his youth, eh, Mr. North? A worse fate than that of Aeschylus, who had his skull cracked by a tortoise dropt by an eagle that mistook his bald head for a stone.
North.—Another fable of his inventive countrymen. He died of brain-fever, followed by paralysis, the effect of drunkenness. He was a jolly old toper: I am sorry for him. You just now said that Aristophanes wanted wit. What foolish fellows then the Athenians must have been, in the very meridian of their literature, to be so delighted with what they mistook for wit as to decree him a crown of olive! He has been styled the Prince of Old Comedy too. How do you like Menander?
[Footnote 52: Vol. ii. p. 298.]
[Footnote 53: Vol. iii p. 514.]
[Footnote 54: Vol. iv. p 80.]
[Footnote 55: Vol. i. p. 233.]