execution, than the former. By becoming the pimp to Roderigo (of whom we hear nothing in the novel) he becomes more execrable; while his conduct appears much more consistent than if actuated solely by a personal passion towards Desdemona; and making him suspect his own wife of incontinence with Othello, adds another strong impulse towards the perpetration of the most diabolical catastrophe imagination can conceive, and in the perpetrator of which Shakespeare has wisely blended all the perversions to which nature is subject. Shakespeare's Moor is, in most respects, far superior to CINTHIO's; though we are not inclined to think that jealousy is most commonly the attendant on strong and virtuous passion, as our poet here teaches us to believe; and we are therefore of opinion, that had he made Otbello less credulous at first, he would, by adding strength of character, necessarily have increased still more the subtilty of Iago, and enhanced the interest of his plot. One variation, in which the play seems inferior to the novel, consists in this: Shakespeare makes Iago erroneously believe that Cassio is really in love with Desdemona; whereas CINTHIO makes the whole a plot of Iago's, whose treachery is thereby rendered more conspicuous, and the innocence of Cassio and Desdemona more immaculate. Emilia is one of the most inconsistent, and, as such, unfinished characters Shakespeare ever drew. Her stealing the handkerchief (another, though necessary variation from CINTHIO) accords so little with her fidelity and attachment to her mistress, and particularly with her conduct at the close of the play, that, appearing then in such an amiable light, the imagination is tortured with the ungrateful recollection that she is, almost as much as her husband, the cause of the miseries she is deprecating. But we are not unaware that much may be urged in extenuation of all this; for Shakespeare must have been doubtless much pe plexed in this part of his plot, and would not have made her the thief, had it not forcibly occurred to him as the only means of having the circumstance fully divulged in the denouement. There is another variation between the Novelist and the Poet, which is remarkable as an instance where Shakespeare seems, for once, to have been defective in his knowledge of human nature. In the novel, Desdemona, addressing her husband, says, You Moors are by nature so furious, that every little thing moves you to anger, and a desire of revenge.' History and our own observation confirm the justice of this remark; but which, however, Shakespeare contradicts; for when Emilia asks Desdemona, Is be not jealous?' the latter replies, Who, he! I think the Sun where he was born, Drew all such humours from him.' We shall conclude our remarks with one observation, which has its rise at the close of the play. When Othello murders himself, Cassio instantly exclaims, • This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon, For he was great of heart.' If great of heart' means proud of beart, our remark falls to the ground; but if, as we conceive, it signifies courageous, then the inference is both false and dangerous. Suicide can never be calmly supported upon any grounds; but, at all events, not as here stated; for, instead of being a proof of greatness of heart, it is invariably the refuge of a coward, under the mask of false honour. Not to detain the reader, what we would urge is more aptly comprised in DR. SEWELL'S short Epigram: · When all the blandishments of life are gone, REMARKS ON MORTON'S COMEDY OF A CURE FOR THE HEART ACHE. We have selected this comedy as the first among our modern subjects of remark, which seems to possess at once most of the merits and defects of living writers; and though we may appear severe in our censure of the latter, yet its portion of the former leads us to expect better things from Mr. Morton, were he to attempt the arduous task of stemming such a torrent as depraved public taste. He appears to us to possess a correct knowledge of human nature, and to be capable of diving into recesses and rouzing sensations attainable by few of his contemporaries; but of wit, the soul of comedy, we discover but a very scanty promise; and are mortified and disgusted at finding expressions thrown out to entrap transitory applause, which must in the end prove a more than proportionable drawback from sterling reputation. Authors once wrote for the Pit and for the Closet; in our days they court the Gallery. The design of this Comedy is trite yet praise-worthy; but in the plot we discover so much inconsistency, and what may be called convenient improbability, as must greatly diminish its intended effect. That a wealthy Indian should endeavour to supplant an ancient family is extremely probable; but that a taylor should be proposed as the instrument, is a specimen of the bathos which even we Minor Critics cannot accede to. Caricature is not the most effectual mode of ridicu'ing prevailing follies; nor can it answer the much desired end of shewing Virtue her own feature, Scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the Time his form and pressure.' Miss Vortex is too preposterous to be recognized; Lady Townly too natural to be doubted. The one describes the extravagance of a rout which nobody can believe; the other familiarizes us to scenes of which she is herself the proof.. Sir Hubert and his son have general merit enough to contrast with their situation; but we much doubt whether the most heinous abuse of his father can sanction the son's engaging in the duel. We are so far disciples of the old school as not to have learned to consider that a point of honour, which in the virtuous ages of Greece and Rome was esteemed the highest infamy: nor can we ever consider that an act of filial piety, which tends to prevent every future exercise of it; or which puts the life of a good man in competition with that of one less worthy. To the character of Frank Oatland we turn with much satisfaction, as displaying the talents of the writer in a very engaging light. Any character which displays the virtue of industrious poverty ought to be cherished in an age, when unceasing efforts are used to render the lower classes of society discontented with their stations; and though the manner in which the author has endeavoured to inculcate his moral is not always strictly natural, yet the general effect is such as to call for our decided approbation. Vanburgh is more delicate in his parliamentary use of Sir Francis Wrongbead than Mr. Morton in that of Vortex. The inference is to the full as disgusting as the circumstances can be comic: and surely we are prone enough to sport with authorities without being induced to do so nor ought we to take such an advantage of living in the only country where it can be done with impunity. None of the characters possess consequence enough to engage a firm attention; nor is there sufficient interest in the plot to create business enough for five acts. The humour and low phrases of the Rapids cannot be said to rise above the level of Farce; yet without their preposterous drollery, the whole would be insupportably tame and insipid. We are tired of finding fault; yet what shall we say to such expressions as these? I forgot that servants have no right to feel pleasure or pain, but as their employers please; and that suppressing the sensibilities of nature is considered in their wages.' And againJolly dogs within-the fat parson's a fine fellow-kept the bottle moving said a nice short grace!' This may perhaps be called wit, sentiment, and satire: but if it be, it is of the kind alluded to by Mr. Addison in the following passage from the 270th Number of the Spectator, with which we shall conclude this article:- It is so mean a thing to gratify a loose age with a scandalous representation of what is reputable among men, not to say what is sacred, that no beauty, no excellence in an author ought to atone for it; nay, such excellence is an aggravation of his guilt, and an argument that he errs against the conviction of his own understanding and conscience. Wit should be tried by this rule, and an audience should rise against such a scene as throws down the reputation of any thing which the consideration of religion or decency should preserve from contempt. But all this evil arises from that one corruption of mind, that makes men resent offences against their virtue, less than those against their understanding. An author shall write as if he thought there was not one man of honour or woman of chastity in the house, and come off with applause for an insult upon all the ten commandments, with the little Critics, is not so bad as the breach of an unity of time or place. Half-wits do not apprehend the miseries that must necessarily flow from degeneracy of manners; nor do they know that order is the support of society." MISCELLANY. THE HISTORY UP DAVID THICKHEAD, TIMOTHY NEWLIGHT'S SCHOOLMASTER. SIR, SEE IN A LETTER ADDRESSED TO THE EDITOR. EEING that you have given place to a letter from my old schoolfellow and comrade, Timothy Newlight, I wish also to become your correspondent. Although Tim be a lad of the right sort; although I approve very highly of his letter and of his conduct, which is perfectly conformable to the principles which we philosophers recommend and practise, I think you ought to have employed more time in describing our honoured master, to whose tuition we both owe that we are what we now are. You would be delighted, Mr. Editor, with Mr. Thickhead; at least I am delighted with him; he has such excellent notions on religion, government, and morals. The family of the Thickheads is from Wales; they claim a relationship with a Scotch family, called the Longheads; but I cannot say there is much family likeness. Taffy Thickhead received not much of what aristocrats call education; not that it was not offered him, but that he never could take it in. When he grew up, he was intended for a Welch Curate; and though not a very great portion of learning was in those days requisite for a Curate among the ancient Britons, more was wanting than Taffy Thickhead's stores could supply. Finding he could not get orders, Taffy took to preaching without then; and if they kept him from their churches, they could not keep him from their commons. There Taffy, having become a rank Methodist, would harangue the labourers upon faith without works, the danger of morality, and other doctrines so much in vogue among circulating field-preachers. As Taffy was a sturdy, active little fellow, many a mile would he walk, and many a county did he traverse, preaching wherever he went, and practising the doctrine of faith without works. Many a peril did he encounter in visiting female devotees, one of which, if nature had not been peculiarly bountiful |