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n dramatick composition, has been infringed, seriously, by giving inward turpitude to so alluring a disguise. Besides his avarice, cruelty, and voluptuousness, he has the glaring faults of a liar, a drunkard, and a robber. But, in palliation of all this, you must hear his message to Mrs. Ford: "Bid her think what man is; let her consider his frailty, and then judge of my merit." His remarkable cowardice is an essential part of his character, and obliges us to remove our attention to the poet. It is a trite and indisputable truth, that fortitude is the offspring of none but virtuous principles. This feature of his character, therefore, while it is closely natural, the poet observed would likewise prove an endless source of ridicule amusement to the audience. How and Judicrous is it to see this egregious liar, who insists that "manhood, good manhood, will be forgotten upon the earth, when he dies," standing at a respectful distance, while his fellows are plundering the poor pilgrims, and Strike! Down with them! Cut the exclaiming villains' throats!" with all the energy of a bloodthirsty hero. Or who can refuse a smile, when he hears him request the prince, in the camp at Shrewsbury, in this ignoble form of words: "Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so; 'tis a point of friendship?" Even his detestable cruelty, is rendered laughable, where he observes of his poor scare-crows, with whom he was ashamed to walk through Coventry, "I have led my ragamuffins where they are pepper'd: there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive,

and they are for the town's-end to
beg during life."

tions are so well depicted, and so
Thus all his faults and imperfec-
effectually made the objects of de-
rision, that we can scarcely refrain
from loving the company of the man
who affords us
at his own expense. For we find he
so much diversion
has always so much grace left as to
be continually pleading and pro-
claiming his purposes of reform.
In one place he says: "I must give
over;" and adds, "I'll be damned
over this life, and I will give it
for never a king's son in Christen-
dom." So he tells Bardolph he
will repent, and that quickly, while
he is in some "liking," &c. and, in
his letter to the prince, he gives him
this advice: "Repent at idle times
This is, indeed, holding the mirror
as thou may'st, and so farewell."
up to Nature. Those who have
most reason to reform their habits,
talk violently of their resolutions,
The same opportunities of indul-
and are ever last to execute them.
same complying weakness.
gence recur, and always find the
specifically exemplified where sir
This is
penitence; and, after he has finished,
John makes a long parade of his
shall we take a purse to morrow,
is asked by the prince: "Where
Jack?" and the hoary sinner answers:
one; an I don't, call me villain, and
"Where thou wilt lad, I'll make
baffle me."

He has, however, in a manner, no They are all the natural excrescenunnecessary or superfluous vices. inclined to connive at his "drinking ces of his character. We may be old sack," "unbuttoning after sup

It is to be remembered that robbers, at that time of day, were very differently received in society from what they are at present. It could not be otherwise, when the example began around the king's person, by courtiers who pleaded in justification the scantiness of their allowance from their royal master. This made it a "vocation," as sir Jolm calls it, of less publick disgrace. Matthew Paris mentions two merchants of Brabant, in the time of Henry III. who complained of an open robbery in the middle of the day, and after much trouble the perpetrators were discovered to be men of rank ȧt court. Yet even then "resolution was fobbed by the rusty curb of old father Antick, the law," for no less than thirty of them were hanged.

per," and "sleeping upon benches at noon," because he tells us he has more flesh, and therefore more frailty;" and we may allow him to ask: "Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn?" but no indulgence must blind us to his real faults, and he must be reprobated for too often "leaving the fear of God upon the left hand;" in his dishonesty to Dame Quickly, and Master Shallow; for his enormous lies and obscenities; and the vices consequent upon his avarice. Hence, the exhibition of such a character to a young person, should be attended always with an admonition to distinguish between the fascinations of poetry, and the depravity which it may seem to exsenuate, by the beauty of the resemblance to nature.*

But, it is astonishing how much the attention is drawn aside from these dark parts of his character, by his wit and incessant humour. I before hinted to you, that there are persons who value his wit no more than the jests and scurrilities of a buffoon; who look upon him as no better than the clowns in Twelfth Night, and, As You like it; and who conceive that the same degree of talents would be requisite to personate them all. To these Falstaff might answer in his own words: "Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me; the brain of this foolish compounded clay, man, is not able to produce any thing that tends to laughter, more than I invent, or is invented on me. I am not only witty myself, but the cause that wit is in other men." Contrary to the fashion of Shakspeare's age, Falstaff's wit is, for the most part, pure and sterling; and often supported through a whole soliloquy. Few men can read half a dozen lines of any of them, without acknowledging

it. If the definition of wit is just, that it discovers real congruities not before apparent (and to me it ap pears a very just one) the effusions of Falstaff are, in most instances, entitled to that name. It would be useless to demonstrate what is selfevident in every scene of his appearance. Much of his wit, so called, however, is of another description, and arises from his assigning wrong causes, which, from their seeming probability and relation, produce the same effects as the bulls attributed to the Irish.

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The effects of wit upon the hearers, are generally favourable. In addition to its known influence upon the muscles, which are never moved without a degree of pleasure, it opens a new source of gratification, by flattering our vanity. We feel almost as though we ourselves were the authors of it, when we give ourselves the credit of understanding and experiencing its full force. It is, perhaps, from this causé likewise, that we look with favour on the more objectionable parts and profligacies of this "gray iniquity," sir John. The man who would win upon our affections, or rather our partiality, cannot do better than to address himself to our self-love. This kept alive the prince's affection for Falstaff; and continues to excite in us the same favourable sentiments.

Having said thus "much in behalf of that Falstaff," I cannot help adverting to the prospect of a New Theatre. Whatever may be the intended plan of such an establishment, I am sure the lovers of rational amusement (for if it ceases to be rational, it had better cease altogether) look forward to a long wished for reformation in theatrical representation. I am far from think

Plutarch gives the same advice at greater length: De Audiendis Poetis. Sec. 11, 12, 13, 14. Speaking of subjects of this kind, he adds: voi, pansa del Tov Edised', diδασκόμενον ότι, τον πράξιν εκ επαινω. μεν, της γεγονενή μίμησις αλλα την τέχνην, ει μεμιμηται προς σημαντας το υποκείμενον.

ing it fastidious pedantry, to condemn, with very few exceptions, the whole mass of modern dramatick poetry.

It has mistaken the plan, the means, and the end, of such compositions. The plots, intrigues, and characters, of these plays, are either bad imitations of originals, unnecessarily neglected, grotesque transcrips from low life, or they are so unnatural and unmeaning, as to disgust even the criticks of the gallery. As to the means, I believe no one ever thought of fixing in his memory a single line or sentiment of these plays, for the instruction contained in them; and with regard to their wit, none but raw apprentices would ever consider them worth repetition. But, to the publick are these authors amenable for their deviation from the great end of dramatick writing. I am not inclined to cant, when I declare my abhorrence of the oaths, obscenities, immoralities; nay, of the solemn addresses and prayers to the Deity, which are without number so perniciously introduced.-This may be called stage-effect. The only effect I know of from such representations and expressions, is the gradual depravity of the ignorant

and inexperienced part of the audi ence; and the familiarizing all with words and actions at which they ought to shudder. Let us, therefore, hope, that the theatre now in contemplation to be erected, will give the lie to those who think propriety and popular amusement incompatible. The first step towards this will be the formation of an "Index Expergatorius," containing the names of plays not to be represented on any terms, and the names of those which shall be prohibited, "donec corrigantur." It is absurd to imagine that we want new plays: we have already a great sufficiency whose merits have been approved. Let these, and these only, find admission on our new stage; and whep the evening's amusement is announ ced, every man will know whether he may safely indulge his children, or introduce a female, where, as the stage is now constituted, common prudence fordids their appearance. Much more might be advanced upon the regulation of such a theatre, which, if I had influence to effect, it should be almost exclusively a Shakspeare theatre.

A. B. E.

FROM THE EUROPEAN MAGAZINE.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE NEWLY DISCOVERED ART OF PRINTING WITH STONE.

IT will probably be in the recollection of many of our readers, at least we will endeavour to bring the circumstance to their knowledge, that, in our review of that splendid and truly ingenious work, "The Antiquities of Westminster, by John Thomas Smith," a method of drawing and engraving on STONE, invented and practised by Mr. Aloys Senefelder, is mentioned, and two specimens of the different methods of increasing copies alluded to. We there, although we allowed the discovery to have been extremely curious, from

a minute inspection and deep contemplation of the engravings, stated, that there was a coarseness in the art, or rather in the material upon which it was practised, which only adapted it to the production of large works; at the same time we admitted, that it included properties capable of great improvement. This improvement has, we understand, been in progress, and learn that experiments have been made, and are now making, that afford the prospect of very considerable advantage to the arts in general, and to these

dependent upon the multiplication, and consequent wide dispersion, of copies in particular. We, therefore, in order to facilitate the improvement to which we have alluded, feel great pleasure in inserting the following account of the elementary principles of the art of printing with stone, in order to introduce, or superinduce, disquisition, which, in the efforts of ingenuity, has been deem ed the portal that leads to perfection.

THE art of printing from stone, originally discovered in Germany, about nine years ago, and which has since been successfully practised in Italy and France, appears till lately to have been but little used, or even known, in this country, though meriting, from its simplicity, its expedition, and its economy, to rank high among modern discoveries, and offering some real and important advantage to the arts. Its inventor was, as already stated, Aloys Senefelder, a native of Prague, in Bohemia, who first obtained, in 1801, an exclusive privilege for the exercise of it from the then elector of Bavaria: and, in 1803, a like privilege from the emperour of Germany. Senefelder, in consequence, established stone printing houses at Munich and at Vienna: and, under his directions, similar establishments have been formed in France and Italy. It is at Munich, however, that the art has been brought to the greatest perfection.

There are three different methods of printing with stone, namely, the method in relief (most generally used) and particularly adapted for musick; the hollow method, preferable for engravings; and the flat method, which is neither hollow nor in relief, but which is very useful for the imitation of chalk and other drawings. To print or engrave according to this process, a slab of inverrated marble, or any other calcareous stone, is used, provided the

stone can be easily cut, and takes a good polish. These stones may thus be compared to the copper plates, or wooden blocks, for which they are, indeed, substituted. They ought to be from two inches to two inches and a half thick, and of a size proportioned to that of the work which it is meant to engrave upon them. When the stone is dried and well polished, the next operation is, to draw the design, notes, or letters, that are intended to be printed upon it with a pencil, and afterwards retrace the pencil marks with an ink made of the solution of gum lac, in pot-ash, coloured with lamp-black, produced from burning wax. In about two hours, the letters, or musical notes, impregnated with the ink, will be dry, when there is passed over them nitrick acid [aqua for tis] more or less diluted, according to the relief or hollow which it is de sired to form upon the stone. The acid attacking all parts of the stone, but those which have been impregnated with the resinous ink only, the notes or drawing remain untouched. The slab of marble is then washed with clean water, and a printer's ball is charged with an ink analagous to that used in other kinds of printing, and being pressed by the hand only, the letters or notes take the ink from the ball, so that they are found to be properly coloured. After this, a sheet of paper being put in a frame, the latter is lowered, and an impression is obtained by a brass cylinder being passed over the paper; or a copper plate press may be used. At each proof it is necessary to wash the plate with water. When the intended number of copies are printed, and there is no further use for the work, the stone is polished again; and thus the same slab will, according to its thickness, serve for thirty or forty different works.

The hollow method does not differ greatly from the method in relief, except that the nitrick acid is made to act stronger upon the stone,

so that the letters are more relieved, and the stone itself much hollower: stronger and heavier rollers are likewise requisite.

The flat method requires less nitrick acid than either of the other two; and great care must be taken, that the stone prepared for this purpose is quite flat."

The kinds of work that are engraved on stone are the following: imitations of wood cuts, imitations of the dot manner, drawings, musical works, all kinds of writing, geographical maps, and engravings in mezzotinto.

The advantages resulting from the manner of printing or engraving, described above, are, that it has a peculiar character, which cannot be imitated by the other methods of printing, and that it can easily imitate any of the former. But its greatest advantage is, the quickness with which it may be performed. A design which an artist could not finish upon copper in the space of five or six days, may be engraved upon stone in one or two. While the copper plate printer draws off six or seven hundred impressions, the printer from stone, can take off, in

the same space of time, two thou-> sand impressions. An engraved cop-. per plate will seldom yield 1000 impressions; but the stone slab will yield several thousand, and the last will be every whit as good as the first. It has been tried in the stoneprinting office at Vienna to take off thirty-thousand impressions of the same design; and even then the last impression was nearly as handsome as the first.* They have even carried this number of copies to a greater extent in printing bank notes. The most industrious and most skilful engraver of musick can hardly engrave four pages of musick on pewter in a day, while the engraver on stone may engrave twice as many in the same time. Every kind of work which artists engrave upon copper or pewter, and which the printer executes with movable types, may also be performed by using stone. Our limits will not permit us to enter into all the details of the cost of this method of printing; but experience has shown, that it may be performed with a saving of one third of the expense, in comparison of the printing upon copper or pewter.‡

PRESENTIMENT OF DANGER AND DEATH.

AT the siege of the Havanna, in 1762, the Namur and Valiant took it day and day about to fight a sap battery; and the relief of the

people was effected every midnight, to save from the observation of the Spanish garrison one party's approach and the other's retreat. We

If this art could be in some degree refined, and its productions adapted to periodical publications, for instance, its explanatory advantages must be incalculable.

The facility of printing these in this country, we are of opinion, need not be increased.

Contemplating the rise of engraving, and particularly adverting to the wood-cuts of Albert Durer (who was the first that practised the art in that manner) which we erst have frequently considered with attention, as we have those of M. Antonio, we cannot help congratulating this age upon the very great improvement that has been made in the art of engraving upon wood. The two celebrated artists whom we bave mentioned, though correct, perhaps too correct, in their outlines and their muscular delineations, are, in their general designs, stiff, harsh, and tasteless; which leads us to observe, that the wood cuts that embellish the works of modern times, the Life of Leo X. for instance, exhibit such traits of improvement, indeed of excellence, that we are induced to hope stone engraving, which, as we have said, seems to promise still greater advantages, will be as sedulously pursued.

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