have been the bond of society." This applies to the liberal, as well as the useful, arts. The first poet and the

the best while the Scripture, which preceded them both, excels them in the authenticity, the utility, and beauty of its writings, in the same ratio, that it does by its priority. Revelation, the first and most inte resting truth, is also the simplest and most rational. To obtain universal assent, it needs only to be-universally proclaimed.

SUPERBIA CASTIGATOR, PROBITATISQUE VINDEX.

On the Extent of the Historic Relation, in discovering and marshalling

the Subjects of Human Knowledge. (Continued from Part i. p. 592.)

AVING endeavoured to show

Hvat all Screen (which makes

one of the three divisions in Lord Bacon's scheme above mentioned) is reducible to his first, an historical process; it remains to show that the other division is the same: to show that Poetry is, either literal history, or in the nature of history.

We take Poetry here in the most extensive signification: as synonymous to Composition, in all the fine arts. In which sense it comprehends even numerous prose-Music, and picturesque gardening. Any harmonious, and ordinate composition, of human contrivance, whatever mediums are employed, whether language, colours, or wood, metals, or marble-whether the things themselves, or the imitation of them only: nay, any thing that addresses itself to the faculty of Taste-not only where man, but even Nature is the artistwe shall here consider as Poetry.

It has been well observed that "the writers among the ancients abounded in matter were rich in FACTS: and that they have more seeming invention and originality, precisely because they wrote first." They may be said to have had the gathering of the first fruits of nature. "All the ideas conducive to the advantage, pleasure, and real use, of man, were the first known in all ages they

:

Taking, therefore, the widest basis for our speculation, we shall here enumerate the subjects of Taste, its qualities, its laws, and standard: and having succeeded in defining it, thence arrive at its true principle, which will appear to be, in every sense of the word, historical.

But let us enumerate the subjects of taste-and afterwards notice, cate

gorically, its modes, qualities, and

circumstances-in order to arrive at its standard, its real archetype, and Its subjects

governing principle.

are-the living models in real Nature, corporeal and mental: Nature inanimate, and with it the sentient, though irrational-these, I suppose, wellformed or struck off; also well preserved, and judiciously presented to view. But of these models I should name as first and chiefest, the human form the human voice, where the organ is well framed-the tones of passion--tones of melody-and all instrumental sounds, whether simple, or combined in their mathematical proportions: the order of societythe human character, rank, station, the symbols of power and dignityrituals, pomp, and ceremonies, the universals of costume-architecture, elegant forms of utensils-composi tion in all the works of art, but principally language, the elements of which are to be found in the antique : elegant conversation, propriety, congruity, sympathy (with reference ever to climate, manners, age, sex, station)--harmony in the selection of the private social circles: urbanity, politeness, address, grace in manners (the mere genteel is but the stamp of condition): personal dignity as distinguished from that of station--the art of pleasing (including, of course, that of avoiding to give offence: the tact here depends on having sensi

bility of heart, and a discreet marshalling of others) :---lastly, variety in the plan of life, subject to uniformity which mixture is not only conducive to the happiness of the person concerned, but is also most agreeable to the spectator.

We must separate from the exercise of this faculty called taste, all gratification of appetite; confining it to the pleasures of the eye and ear only. So the relation of utility (called the beauty of utility) may coalesce with it, but is specifically distinguishable from it. And with regard to associations, national modes and customs, the UNIVERSALS only of these can be admitted into our definition--- of which the ANTIQUE is either the expression, or what approaches nearest to it. The universals, or science, of any thing, we have already in a former section endeavoured to show, are purely an historical operation.

The Theatre is not the tribunal of taste, any more than the hustings at an election are the tribunal of public virtue and eloquence. Neither is it the palestra of morals; but merely of the exercise of an illusive sympathy. To this, ADAM SMITH would reduce the principle of Morals: by which rule, NERO would turn out a man of virtue. For he wept at a tragedy. If we wish to see, what, in modern Europe, expounds and pronounces the law in this matter, we should read the Cortegiano of CASTIGLIANO. The rule of manners, dress, orthoepy, &c. are given by a virtuous and enlightened court, in a large, mixed, and, of course, free monarchy. The stage is but a feeble and very faulty echo of this.

Whenever we say, that "there is no disputing about tastes," we mean only that the laws leave this matter to ourselves. What ethics are to jurisprudence, taste is to ethics; and of this latter there is much, that the laws do not intermeddle with in the way of coercion, even by theoretical expression and prohibition. The analogy of the divine and human government, do, besides, admit of a great variety of taste. There is a good final cause for this. It is, however, still a variety in the midst of uniformily that is desirable: and this serves the more to prove that what is most beautiful in itself is ever most

pleasing to the greater number. But that there is a standard is implied by the constant appeal to right and wrong in these matters: of which the very persons are conscious, at the very instant of declaring that there is no disputing about tastes. The only real question is, what makes that standard? The determinations are nice, and the expressions difficult and unsatisfactory that there is a standard is unquestionable.

:

Sometimes we mean by this maxim, that a thing is beyond all dispute; as we say in matters of honourable feeling; upon which, if any mind entertains the least doubt, or indecision, it is useless to dispute. It cannot understand the appeal, for the want of, or disease in, the appropriate organ.

We have a common nature, invariable in all ages and countries; a conception of what is pleasing in Nature's models, of what is irregular, disorderly, imperfect, monstrous, ridiculous, and absurd. A latitude is allowed, and must be; for we all differ by excess, defect, or wrong direction in some one respect or other, as to stature, features, proportions, &c. But as these differences are above, beside, or below, the standard, they thus preserve it by still ever referring, and pointing, to it, as a centre, though they miss their aim. And those who persist in saying, "that we must not dispute about tastes," are still secretly (and sometimes openly) anxious to prove, to themselves, as well as to others, that they are conformable to that standard.

The aspect, and voice, of Nature, are directly pleasing to man :-and of course any medium which excites the recollection, or ideal presence, of them in our minds, is interesting. It unavoidably and instinctively is gratifying to our curiosity. We are not now speaking of it as a phenomenou, or standing fact; carrying the imagination to some event past or to come. But the bare aspect of Nature, of its colours, forms, &c. are pleasing to us, antecedent to all association or speculation. The great and the only artist, of the original models, whether in the external or human creation, is the Deity. We can cultivate and preserve these models, but we can do nothing_more. And we can no more account for HIS works thus affecting our taste, than

we

we can for any other historical phenomenon, truth, or experience, affecting, as they do, our understanding, affections, and appetites. We are made so-is the amount of our whole philosophy.

By comparing, however, a number of cases together, the mind classes them by some common principle of agreement, difference, or contrast: these again, by a simpler common principle, until it reaches the first elements. Some of these we shall notice presently-and these only are the proper subject of philosophical analysis. This process of the mind is nothing more than what it performs in putting together the arts and sciences. The historical process it employs in discovering, and framing together, the objects of the mechanical arts, superadds another notion to taste, the beauty of utility :as that part of history (called the circumstances of a fact) suggests the beauty of association. The whole process is called the philosophy of criticism-(that is, the judgments of taste as an art, reduced to first principles in the elements of science)while it is clearly nothing more than a registered açt: every step of it is an historical observation. The harmonious proportions of figure, colour, complexion, of movement, of sound, are so many coincidences, and historical systems-invented by an arithmetical, or mathematical process the result takes the name of beauty or harmony. And thus is our taste informed, disciplined, and instructed, as any other faculty, art, or science.

The models of beauty are all in Nature in artificial compositions, the productions of all taste and genius-the very journal of their progress, is the degree in which they stand conformable to truth and nature-or are imitative-in other words-historical. It is to the overlooking this obvious truth, we may attribute that long-agitated question: "Is poetry an imitative art?" It is, cumulatively, so it is imitative in its materials, medium, process, prototype, and subject or theme. The three unities of time, place, and action, are, obviously, historical. The historical truth of HOMER (besides that there is internal evidence of the

ILIAD having been founded on a particular story, or matter of fact) forms the commanding interest of his work. The same may be said of SHAKSPEARE and MILTON. Nor is any poetry, novel, or romaunt, good, but as it is history, or in the nature of history. The same principle runs through not only painting aud sculpture with picturesque gardening, but even architecture. All the fine arts are imitative-even music-whether that of Haydn, in the oratorio of the Creation or any other. Nay, even the mechanical and useful arts, are but collected systems of hints taken from some process in nature, discovered by historical observation. Every one of the arts, liberal or mechanical, every science, and every language, are nothing but parts illustrative of, or operations subservient to, and after the model of religious, moral, or natural history. We are only successful imitatorsmere plagiarists, from the works of the Deity. We can CREATE nothing.

(To be continued.)

YORICK.

of

Queen-square, Mr. URBAN, Blooomsbury, July 14. HE following anecdotes Frances the first Queen of Henry IV. of France, may deserve insertion in your Miscellany.

"She

Margaret de Valois, first wife of Henry IV, was possessed of every noble and endearing quality: was," says Mezeray," a true de scendant of the Valois; a liberal refuge to men of letters, always had some at her table, and so improved by their conversation, as to write and speak better than any woman in her time. Part of the day she used to spend in her bed, on each side of which stood beautiful singing-boys." "When she was at Toulouse," says President Laroche," she received the Parliament's compliments in a very rich white damask bed, at the feet of which stood little choristers, singing and playing on the lute. Don John of Aumis, Governor of the Low Countries, rode post, incognito, from Brussels to Paris, purely to be present at a ball where she was to dance."

Her conjugal obsequiousness and good-nature appears from what she

relates

relates in her Memoirs concerning one of her Husband's Mistresses: "She lay in the Maids of Honours' Chamber; and her pains coming on, at day-break, she sent for my phy sician, and begged of him immedi ately to acquaint the King, my husband, with her condition, which he did. It was our custom to lie in different beds, though in the same room. This news made him very uneasy, being at a loss what to do; at length he determined to own the whole matter to me, and to beg of me to assist her, being pretty sure that, notwithstanding what had happened, he would always find me ready to comply with any thing that was agreeable to him. He drew my curtain, and said to me, Honey, I have concealed something from you, which now I must acquaint you with; excuse me, I desire you, and forget whatever I have said to you on this head; but oblige me so far as to get up immediately to assist Fosseuse, who is very ill. You know the love I have for her; I beg you would oblige me.' I answered, that I would; and take as much care of her as if she was my own daughter; in the mean time, it would be advisable for him to go a hunting, and take all his attendants with him, that it might be the better hushed up.'

6

"I had her quickly put into a byeroom, recommending to my Physician, and some women, to be very careful of her. The child proved a daughter, and that still-born.

"The King, finding, on his return, that I was gone to bed again, as indeed I was extremely tired with rising so early, and the pains I had taken about Fosseuse, desired me to get up again, and go and see her: I told him all was happily over; and that if I went to her, it would rather tend to discover than to conceal the matter.' He seemed extremely angry; and this also vexed me not a little, as what I had done in the morning seemed to deserve a very different

return."

Another passage in the Princess's Memoirs gives a lively description of the horrors attending the Massacre at Paris: "When in a very sound sleep," says she, "I was suddenly awakened by a knocking at the door, and calling out Navarre! Navarre ! GENT. MAG, July, 1820.

room.

My Nurse, thinking it was the King my husband, hastened to the door; it was a gentleman named De Tejan, bleeding very much, being wounded in two places, and with four Yeomen of the Guard at his heels, who forced their way after him into my bedHe ran to my bed, as a sanctuary: 1 leaped out and he after me, clasping me round the body by the bed-side. We both cried out, one being no less frightened than the other. At length the Captain of the Guards came, and finding me in such a condition, though there was no call for pity, fell a laughing, as at something droll. In the Louvre, in the King's sister's chambers, even on her very bed, gentlemen are butchered, contrary to oaths and treaties! and Naniac, who had the character of one of the worthiest men at Court, laughs at the sight! He laughs in this horrible juncture! on this so execrable day he could laugh!

66

Having shifted my linen (adds the Princess) because I was all over blood, and throwing a night-gown over me, I went to the apartment of Madame de Lorraine. I was no sooner in her ante-chamber, than a gentleman, flying from the Yeomen of the Guard, was struck dead with a halbert close by me. Five or six days after, the authors of these doings having failed in their principal scope, they went another way to work, persuading the Queen, my mother, to get me unmarried, who first made me swear to speak the truth; then asked me some extraordinary questions relating to the King, and then said,

there was a way to unmarry me.' I begged of her to believe that I did not understand what she asked me; but, as she had married me, I was for continuing so."

Henry IV. having no children by her, an overture was made to her, in his name, for annulling the marriage; she assented to it in a manner equally noble, modest, and disinterested; requiring only the discharge of her debts, and a decent allowance. Yours, &c.

Mr. URBAN,

FOR

W. R.

May 12.

OR the entertainment of the curious, and the observations of your more serious Readers, I send you a copy of a Card, now in circulation