292 Excellence of Shakspeare's Delineation of King Lear. [May 1, of this sphere, as Dryden observes, none but he could enter. The proper method of exhibiting with truth the actions or discourse of our fellow-creatures, either in a dramatic or historical form, is sufficiently obvious. The writer must suppose that he is the very person whom he wishes to represent; and ask himself how he would act or speak if similarly circumstanced. It does not appear, one would think, very impracticable, even in imagination, to kindle in our minds sentiments of love, of indignation, or contempt, all of which we have experienced, or are capable of experiencing. Yet, to paint human passions in their true colours has been found a very rare accomplishment, and one of the highest efforts of genius. What astonishing force and sublimity of mind, then, must that writer possess, who can, in some shape, transport himself out of his own nature, and enter into the notions of a merely imaginary race, who are supposed to be actuated by a distinct set of principles; and, what appears still more difficult, can give form and consistency to the conduct of madmen, whose minds are subject to no fixed principles ! Of all the varieties of madness which Shakspeare has exhibited, that of King Lear is in all respects the most conspicuous. It is so lively and affecting that it may be said to I recollect be alinost nature itself. once, that when a gentleman was reading this play, a lady present was so much impressed with a sense of reality, in the actions and language of the distracted king, that she could not help calling out "Was Shakspeare mad?" Another very curious and striking illustration of the truth of Shakspeare's delineation of madness in the character of Lear lately occurred to me:-I happened to be in conversation with an old gentleman, now deceased, whom I had known for some years, but never before at times not in suspected that he was his perfect mind." He was recounting to me the transactions of his past life, on which he dwelt with the utmost composure for a considerable time; but when he entered on a particular topic, the purchase of some valuable leasehold property, of which, as I afterwards understood, he had been swindled by the artifices of a brother, I soon perceived that he was approaching the subject which had been the cause of his derangement. He appeared suddenly wrapt in thought, his countenance darkened, and be looked around him with the wildest stare imaginable. It was evident that he Oh that way madness lies; let me shun that, In like manner did this poor gentle- Lear. What have his daughters brought him to this pass? Couldst thou save nothing? didst thou give them all? Fool.-Nay, he reserved a blanket, else we had been all shamed. Lear. Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air Hang o'er men's faults, light on thy daugh ters! Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. We are continually hearing many cant praises of the inimitable genius of Shakspeare,of his bold untutored imagination, and his intuitive knowledge of human nature; but his judgment is never parIt appears to me, ticularly pointed out. however, that in this faculty he eminently excelled; and, indeed, yields to no other poet, ancient or modern. On account of some glaring, but trivial blunders, which the meanest capacity could have avoided or corrected; and certain chronological and geographical errors, some of which it is evident he was sensible of but disregarded, it is the custom to represent him as the wildest and most injudicious of all writers. A 1818.] Improvement in the common Tea-pot. few of his plays are indeed of little value in any point of view; but in those where he has exerted the whole force of his genius, they will be found, in the material parts, equally conspicuous for judgment and imagination. I know no narrative, either historical or dramatic, conducted with more good sense and deep reflection than the account of Lear's madness from its commencement to its consummation. Not only will the man of taste experience the highest delight from its perusal, but the most profound philosopher may be instructed by it. With what infinite art and sagacity does the poet prepare us for the catastrophe! He leaves no circumstance untouched that might tend to aggravate the distress of the unhappy king. His extreme old age; his royal character; the irritability consequent on the long use of absolute power; the distracting discovery, when too late, of his injustice to Cordelia; the harshness and ingratitude of his eldest daughters contrasted with the simplicity and overflowing kindness of his own nature; the midnight tempest to which he is exposed; are facts selected and expanded with the most perfect judgment, and adorned with the most pathetic touches, as well as the highest beauties of eloquence. Madness is commonly occasioned, as in the case of Lear, by the perpetual pressure of some overwhelming idea. Addison, in his account of Sir Roger de Coverley, describes him as having his mind, in some degree, thus disturbed; and wished to impart to his character a 293 tincture of madness; but the task proved too arduous; he afterwards found himself (as Dr. Johnson thinks) incapable of filling up his original delineation. "He describes the Knight (says this writer) as having his imagination somewhat warped, but of this perversion he has made very little use. The variable weather of the mind (he continues) the flying vapours of incessant madness, which from time to time cloud reason without eclipsing it, it required so much nicety to exhibit, that Addison seems to have been deterred from prosecuting his own design." But what this ingenious writer, with all his various knowledge of human nature, could not so much as attempt, has been performed by our poet in the highest perfection. He has not merely drawn a picture of madness in its state of maturity, but has also presented the world with a complete historical representation of this mental disease, with philosophical acuteness, tracing it from its remote causes, and marking its progress in all its various stages. Bedford-row, Jan. 1, 1818. W. N. To the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine. THE preference you have expressed for communications of practical utility, has induced me to send you the following attempt to remedy the acknowledged defects of the common tea-pot, occasioned by the spout's becoming furred and foul, so that it pours slowly, and imparts an ill flavour to the tea after standing unused; 294 Mr. Taylor's Epitome of the Plantonic Creed. such construction the spout may be easily cleansed and dried, and the general figure of the vessel, while it is susceptible of great variation, will be brought nearer to some beautiful forms of the antique. If this appear an unimportant trifle to some, there are not wanting those who know that the simplest and commonest articles of life and comfort are the most difficult and desirable to improve. I believe the plan to be original, and that in your pages it will meet the eyes of those whose business it is to apply it. It may happen, notwithstanding, that we shall hear either that it is already known, or that we have anticipated a patent. Your's, &c. FIDEL. To the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine. PHER'S CREED. (Continued from p. 130.) 10. I believe that this world, depending on its Divine artificer, who is himself an intelligible world, replete with the archetypal ideas of all things, is perpetually flowing and perpetually advancing to being, and, compared with its paradigm, has no stability or reality of essence. That considered, however, as animated by a Divine soul, and as being the receptacle of divinities from whom bodies are suspended, it is justly called by Plato a blessed God. 11. I believe that the great body of this world, which subsists in a perpetual dispersion of temporal extension, may be properly called a whole, with a total subsistence, or a whole of wholes, on account of the perpetuity of its duration, though this is nothing more than a flowing eternity. That the other wholes which it contains are the celestial spheres, the sphere of æther, the whole of air considered as one great orb; the whole earth and the whole sea. That these spheres are parts, with a total subsistence, and through this subsistence are perpe tual. 12. I believe that all the parts of the universe are unable to participate of the providence of divinity in a similar manner, but some of its parts enjoy this eternally, and others temporally; some in a primary, and others in a secondary degree. For the universe, being a perfect whole, must have a first, a middle, and a last part. But its first parts, as having the most excellent subsistence, must always exist according to nature; and its last parts must sometimes exist according to, and sometimes contrary to, nature. Hence, the celestial bodies, which [May 1, are the first parts of the universe, perpetually subsist according to nature, both the whole spheres and the multitude coordinate to these wholes; and the only alteration which they experience, is a mutation of figure and variation of light at different periods. But in the sublunary region, while the spheres of the elements remain, on account of their subsistence as wholes, always according to nature, the parts of the wholes have sometimes a natural, and sometimes an unnatural subsistence: for thus alone can the circle of generation unfold all the variety which it contains. I believe, therefore, that the different periods in which these mutations happen, are, with great propriety, called by Plato periods of fertility and sterility. For in these periods a fertility or sterility of men, animals, and plants takes place; so that in fertile periods mankind will be both more numerous, and on the whole superior both in mental and bodily endowments, to the men of a barren period. And that a similar reasoning must be extended to irrational animals and plants. I also believe, that the most dreadful conse quence attending a barren period, with respect to mankind, is this, that in such a period they have no scientific theology, and deny the existence of the immediate progeny of the ineffable cause of all things. 13. I believe that as the divinities are eternally good and profitable, but are never noxious, and ever subsist in, the same uniform mode of being, that we are conjoined with them through similitude when we are virtuous, but separated from them through dissimilitude when we are vicious. That while we live according to virtue we partake of the gods, but cause them to be our enemies when we become evil; not that they are angry (for anger is a passion, and they are impassive), but because guilt prevents us from receiving the illuminations of the gods, and subjects us to the power of avenging dæmons. Hence, I believe, that if we obtain pardon of our guilt through prayers and 'sacrifices, we neither appease nor cause any mutation to take place in the gods; but by methods of this kind, and by our conversion to a divine nature, we apply a remedy to our vices, and again become partakers of the goodness of the gods. So that it is the same thing to assert, that divinity is turned from the evil, as to say that the sun is concealed from those who are deprived of sight. 14. I believe that a divine nature is not indigent of any thing. But the honours which are paid to the gods are 1818.] Mr. Baumeister on the Gothic Style of Architecture. performed for the sake of the advantage of those who pay them. Hence, since the providence of the gods is extended every where, a certain habitude or fitness is all that is requisite for the reception of their beneficent communications. But all habitude is produced through imitation and similitude. On this account temples imitate the heavens, but altars the earth. Statues resemble life, and on this account they are similar to animals. Prayers imitate that which is intellectual; but characters, superior ineffable powers. Herbs and stones resemble matter; and animals which are sacrificed, that irrational life of our souls. From all these, however, I believe that nothing happens to the gods beyond what they already possess; for what accession can be made to a divine nature? But a conjunction of our souls with the gods is by these means effected. 15. I believe that as the world, considered as one great comprehending whole, is a divine animal; so, likewise, every whole which it contains is a world, possessing, in the first place, a self-perfect unity, proceeding from the ineffable, by which it becomes a god; in the second place, a divine intellect; in the third place, a divine soul; and in the last place, a deified body. That each of these wholes is the producing cause of all the multitude which it contains, and on this account is said to be a whole prior to parts; because, considered as possessing an eternal form which holds all its parts together, and gives to the whole perpetuity of subsistence, it is not indigent of such parts to the perfection of its being. And that it follows by a geometrical necessity, that these wholes which rank thus high in the universe must be animated. 16. Hence, I believe, that after the immense principle of principles, in which all things causally subsist, absorbed in superessential light, and involved in unfathomable depths, a beautiful series of principles proceeds, all largely partaking of the ineffable, all stamped with the occult characters of the deity, all possessing an overflowing fullness of good. That from these dazzling summits, these ineffable blossoms, these divine propagations, being, life, intellect, soul, nature, and body depend; monads suspended from unities; deified natures proceeding from deities. That each of these monads is The monad is that which contains things separated from each other, unitedly; just as the inerratic sphere contains the fixed stars. But the one is the summit of multitude (xogun Twoλλ). And hence the one is more simple than the monad. 295 the leader of a series which extends to the last of things, and which, while it proceeds from, at the same time abides in, and returns to its leader. Thus, all beings proceed from, and are compre hended in, the first being; all intellects emanate from one first intellect; all souls from one first soul; all natures blossom from one first nature; and all bodies proceed from the vital and luminous body of the world. That all these great monads are comprehended in the first one, from which both they and all their depending series are unfolded into light. And that hence this first one is truly the unity of unities, the monad of monads, the principle of principles, the god of gods, one and all things, and yet one prior to all. THOS. TAYLOR. Manor Place, Walworth. (To be concluded in our next.) To the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine. THE remarks on architecture in a late number by your correspondent D-T appear to me to be of a most unexceptionable description as far as they go; and I am sure I shall only be expressing the wish of every reader of taste, when I request that he will continue them, and apply the principles of taste, not only to the different styles of this art, but even condescend to criticise a few of our public buildings, with a view of bringing these principles home to the "businesses and bosoins" of our fashionable routine artists who will (many of them at least) not otherwise understand what is meant. The origin of styles in architecture is treated by D-t in a most philosophic manner; and its truth is confirmed by what we see in aboriginal countries. The mud cabins of Ireland, and the boarded huts of Russia, would each have led to a peculiar style, had not the principle of imitation stepped in and interposed forms and arrangements already perfected by other nations, and though in many respects unsuitable for the imitating countries, yet rendered in a manner sacred by classical or chivalrous associations. D-t mentions Sir James Hall's book which developes a theory of Gothic architecture, on the supposition that the object was to imitate the interlacings of a lofty avenue or a bower of willows.does not belong to Sir James Hall, but Any credit that may attach to this theory to the late Dr. Anderson, who in his "Bee," and subsequently in the Recreations on Agriculture," and natural his 296 Mr. Wm. Carey on the Merits of Chantrey and Canova. [May 1, The Gothic or pointed style appears to me to be the natural style of most naked countries, since it may be executed with smaller stones and less timber than any other style. The Indian is but a variety of this style, since its arches where they occur, are nearer the pointed openings of this style, than the circular openings of the Grecian manner. The oldest known Gothic churches are in and about the Holy Land, and these forms were in all probability imparted to Europe during the crusades. The terms Saxon and Norman are particularly ill applied since there are very few Gothic buildings in Saxony, and the best Norman buildings in this style in Normandy as the Cathedral at Rouen, were erected by our English ancestors. These, however, are mere crude hints thrown out with little order; the grand object of an artist whatever style he adopts ought to be to form a consistent and characteristic whole, beautiful as well as useful. As your correspondent has well remarked, there must be something radically wrong where the same sort of portico may be applied to the New Bedlam, Carlton House, Coventgarden Theatre, and Mary-le-bonne church. I am, &c. JAMES BAUMEISTER. Pimlico, April 4, 1818. To the Editor of the New Monthly Magazine. THE lovers and patrons of the fine arts have just reason to be proud of that galaxy of talent which at present adorns this country. When they consider how much of this talent has been drawn from obscurity, fostered and encouraged by judicious observations conveyed to the public through the medium of the press, they will not fail to congratulate the professors of the arts on possessing a Permit me to transcribe from this little work a passage in which by means of a kind of comparative view, the au thor has contrived to pay a most cheering tribute to native genius, and a most impressive homage to royal worth: As subjects too far removed from human sympathy are sometimes misunderstood and coldly noticed, the choice of subject is of much importance; of which an instance occurred in the Sculpture Room at the Royal I shall never forget Academy, this year. the impression produced by CHANTREY'S monument of the Two Children to be placed This affecting in Lichfield Cathedral. group was exhibited within a few feet of the Terpsichore and Hele by CANOVA, a sculptor deservedly raised to the first rank of his profession on the Continent. The number of his public works, his fame, his fortune, his having been selected by Buonaparte, and employed by almost every other sovereign in Europe, combined with the prepossessions in favour of Italy, and the prejudice which too many entertain against native genius, were all on the side of this celeThe learned taste, deep brated Italian. science, and polished style of his statues at Somerset House, were duly appreciated and applauded to the full extent of their desert. The delicate beauty in the arms and hands, neck, shoulders, bosom, breasts, and all the naked forms of the Hebe, were justly admired. The tender fleshiness and slender elegance of youth were most happily expressed in the whole figure. But the touching graces and gentle feeling in CHANTREY'S two Innocents, embracing in the sleep of death, turned the tide of opinion in favour of his performance. The mournful sweet ness of the conception and exquisite beauty of the execution found their way to every breast. The sentiment appealed at once to every character. Nature, in this instance, the most successful of all instructors, had |