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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 extenuate, 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 foolishcompounded 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 appears 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. The effects of wit upon the hearers, are generally favourable. In addition to its known influence upon the muscles, which are never so 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 cause 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 be. half 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
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 audience; 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 ; names of plays not to be represente 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 when the evening's amusement is announced, 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.
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 deemed 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 i. 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 acAcording 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 fortis] more or less diluted, according to the relief or hollow which it is desired 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 thousand impressions. An engraved copper 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.f 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.}
• 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
# 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 frequentiy 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 have 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.
had marched forty in number, a lieutenant leading, and myself [a midshipman] bringing up the rear, to relieve the Valiant's, when Moor, one of our men made frequent calls to stop; these at last became quite frivolous, and my distance had got so long from the lieutenant, that the party was halted to close the line. In the interim, Moor fairly owned he had no stomach for the battery that night, knowing he should be killed. Our officer, a hard-headed Scotchman, steady and regular as old time, began sharp upon me: my excuse was the man’s tardiness, and I reported his words, “Killed, indeed, and cheat the sheriff of his thirteener and a baubee | No, no, Paddy: trust to fate and the family honour of the O'Moors for all that. Come, sir, bring him along: point your sword in his stern-post.” Moor, of course, made no reply, but under a visible corporeal effort and a roused indignation, stepped into the line: our whole party - moved on. Now this Moor was seldom out of a quarrel on board ship, and having some knowledge of the fistycuffsart, he reigned pretty much as cock of the walk on the lower gun-deck. When we had relieved the battery, and the Valiant had gone silently off,
all the guns were manned. There.
remained on the parapet only one heavy piece of ordnance, and our very first discharge dismounted it. Elated with that success, up jumped all hands upon the platform, and gave three cheers, when a little de
vil of a gun took us in a line, and
knocked down five men. Sure enough
amongst these, Moor, being the foremost upon his legs, was the first person killed. From whense had Moor this fore-knowledge He quoted no dream. In 1778, to come nearer the recollection of survivors, at the taking of Pondicherry, captain John Fletcher, captain Demorgan, and lieutenant Bosanquet, each distinctly foretold his own death on the morning of their fates. L’Oriflame, a well appointed 40 gun French ship, had been taken by our Isis of 50. Captain Wheeler, immediately prior to close action, sent for Mr. Deans, surgeon of the Isis, and intrusted him in certain particular injunctions about family concerns. The doctor attempted to parry funeral ideas, but was bluntly told: “I know full well this day’s work: Cunningham will soon be your commander. All the great circumstances of my life have been shown in dreams: my last hour is now come.” He was killed early in the fight; and lieutenant Cunningham managed so well in the devolved command, that admiral Saunders made him a post captain into L'Oriflame in Gibraltar bay. This fore-knowledge of things at hand is a subject many profess themselves positive about: , their strong argument is experience, and all who have not been so favoured, may reasonably enough doubt, stopping short of contradiction. Certain instances then afloat in the navy, I may take
the liberty to produce, anticipating,
however, an adventure of some such kind, never in my power to comprehend.