modes of reasoning, &c.; protests, not- S in the beautiful paintings of ob of all this, you must hear his message to man Ajects in themselves ugly or con- and strides, en, now point of friend. temptible, such as are observable in the works of Murillo, Schalkens, Hemskerck, and the greater part of the Flemish school, the attention is forcibly drawn from the consideration of the minute parts and their deformity, and rests with pleasure on the natural colours, or striking proportions, of the whole; so, in a full view of the character of Falstaff, his vices seem completely in the back-ground. There is a charm, which withholds the spectator from the contemplation of them. Still, however, they are of no inconsiderable magnitude; and it may well be objected, that moral propriety, which can never be too much attended to in dramatic 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 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 John calls it, of less public disgrace. Matthew Paris mentions two merchants of Brabant, in the time of Henry II. who complaired of an open robbery in the middle of the day, and after much trouble the perpeMONTHLY MAG. No. 204. a ship?" Even his detestable crucity is Thus, all his faults and imperfections · He has, however, in a manner, no unnecessary or superfluous vices. They are all the natural excrescences of his character. We may be inclined to connive at his "drinking old sack," "unbuttoning after supper," and "sleeping upon benches at noon," because he tells us "be 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 scurri Jities 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 Shakespeare's age, Falstaff's wit is, for " *Plutarch gives the same advice at greater length: De Audiendis Poetiș. Sec. 11, 12, 13, 14. Speaking of subjects of this kind, he adds: εν οις. μαλισα, δεν τον νέον εθίζεσθαι, διδασκομένον ὅτι, την πράξιν εκ επαινε, μεν, ης γεγονενή μιμησις αλλα την τέχνην, ει μεμιμηται προσηκόντως το υποκείμενον. the most part, pure and sterling; and often supported through a whole soliloquy. Few men can read balf 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 Faistaff are, in most instances, entitled to that name. would be useless to demonstrate what is self-evident 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 dee gree 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 our selves 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 "grey iniquity," Sir John. The man who would win upon our affections, or rather our partiality, cannot do better than to ad dress 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 refor. mation in theatrical representation. I am far from thinking it fastidious pedantry, to condemn, with very few exceptions, the whole mass of modern dramatic 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 onginals unnecessarily neglected, grotesque transcripts from low life, or they are so unnatural and unmeaning, as to disgust even the critics 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 thein; and with regard to to their wit, none but raw apprentices would ever consider them worth repetition But, to the public are these authors amenable for their deviation from the great end of dramatic writing. I am not inclined to cant, when I declare my abhorrence of the oaths, obscenities, immoralities; nay, of the solemn ad. dresses and prayers to the Deity, which are with out number so perniciously introduced.-This may be called stage-effect: The only effect I know of from such re presentations and expressions, is the gra Let us dual depravity of the ignorant and inex- collected from a house-top, after it be To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. SIR, Is your last Number, entitled Tis scarcely possible to read the ar "A Vindication of the Banking System," without being struck with the extreme unfitness of its title. One should rather imagine it was written with a view to expose the improper practices of bankers, than to vindicate their conduct. The practice to which it alludes, as the cause of the many recent failures amongst bankers, of lending money upon bills of exchange to merchants and speculators, is of this nature, and so far is it from being, as the writer of that article represents, the business of a banker, that no banker can embark in it, and thus expose the money deposited with him, to the risk and uncertainty of trade, consistently with the obligation to return it on demand, which he contracts on receiving it. I am perfectly aware that it is not, and cannot be expected, that a banker should make no use whatever of the money placed in his hands; if so, it would not be possible for him to support himself, to pay his clerks, or to keep his house open: but, though it is known that he cannot keep it idly in his hands, yet it is understood that he is only to employ it in such a manner, as not in the slight est degree to expose it to the risk of being lost. The public funds, India bonds, exchequer bills, mortgages of land, and similar securities, from which To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine. (though slight fluctuations in their price SIR, A. B. E. may occasionally endanger the interest IF any of your correspondents will take payable upon them), no loss of the prin the trouble of mentioning where the best account of gold fish is to be met with, it will confer a favour on some of your readers. How long have they been known to live in glass vessels? Do they ever breed in them? How often should the water be changed? What proportion of fish ought there to be to any given quantity of water? How is it Known when it is quite necessary to change the water? As they require soft water, and it sometimes is difficult to procure that from a river, will rain water, cipal can be apprehended, are the only description of securities upon which bankers are supposed to invest the money of their customers; and never, I believe, has it happened that a banker has failed who has so, and only so, employed the money entrusted to his care. But this way of employing it cannot yield annually more than about 5 per cent.; and though that rate of interest, upon the large sums deposited with bankers, must produce a very ample income, and be a sufficient reward for the trouble for (for as to risk there is none) of keeping the accounts of their employers; yet the avarice of modern bankers, it appears from the vindication of their system alluded to above, has induced them to seek another method of employing the money confided to their care; and that is, by lending it to merchants upon the security of their bills of exchange. By thus hazarding the money of his employer, the banker, if the speculation entered into by the merchant to whom he lends the money happens to answer, makes an enormous profit, and his customer is lucky enough to get back the money he bad deposited in his hands: but if the speculation should prove an unfortunate one, and such perhaps is the case four times out of five, why then, says this vindication, “ the merchant de clares his insolvency, the banker is ru ined, and the evil spreads widely:" in other words, the banker stops payment, and those who had placed their money in his hand, as they thought in a secure and sacred depositary, are defrauded of their property; and hundreds of honest industrious tradesmen are ruined, and many are thrown from a state of comparative opulence, into irrecoverable poverty. Thus the banker, and his customers, enter into a new kind of partnership; the banker employs their money in trade; he takes all the profit, and they sustain all the loss! This is indeed a pretty vindication of the banking system; one to which the vindication of the coiners of base money, contained in the concluding paragraph of the article in question, is a most worthy companion! It is much to be regretted that the legislature has never yet passed any law to subject bankers, who fail through practices so avaricious and dishonest, and commit frauds so ruinous and extensive, to the same punishment it in flicts upon coiners, whose frauds, compared with theirs', are trifling and inconsiderable. This would be the best preventative to the evil resulting from these practices. H. government. The reign of a minor is ever favourable to the machinations of the ambitious and designing. Immediately therefore, upon the accession of Edward VI. the two Seymours, who were his uncles, seem to have formed separate schemes for seizing upon, and retaining during the period of his minority, the supreme power in the state. The earl of Hertford, the eldest brother, who was appointed an executor, and one of the sixteen regents, by the will of the late king, soon procured himself, by indiscreet means, to be constituted sole protector of the realm; and was further gratified with the title of " Duke of Somerset." His younger brother, sir Thomas Seymour, who was nominated only a privycounsellor, but who was equally aspiring, and perhaps jealous of the duke's supe riority, appears to have determined, at any price, to purchase further distinction. The princess Elizabeth, then very young, was placed under the guardianship of the queen dowager; and the frequent visits of Seymour (upon whom was conferred the title of lord Sudeley, and the rank of high admiral) were generally attributed to an endeavour to obtain the affections of the princess, with the hope of advancing his ambitious projects by so splendid an alliance. How far this conjecture may be correct, is uncertain; for he must have been aware of the impossibility of gaining the consent of the regents to such an union, and must also have known, that by mar 3 rying rying without their approbation, she was effectually debarred from succeeding to the crown. We have soure authority for believing, that an attachment had subsisted between the queen and the admiral, prior to her late marriage; and the additional wealth and high rank which she had acquired by this union, powerfully incited him again to renew his solicitations. Dugdale has described him as being "in fashion courtly, in personage stately, and in voice magnificent." Possessed of these attractive qualities, and well versed in the art of advantageously employing them, can we be surprised that the influence which he is said to have acquired over the queen and the princess, was, in those days of ignorance and superstition, ascribed to magical incantation? As a proof however how warmly he pressed his suit, and how artfully he prevailed on Katherine to deviate from the strict line of prudence and propriety, for which her deportment had hitherto been so eminently conspicuous, the following passage from one of her letters may be cited: "Whereas ye charge me with a promyse written with myne one hand to chaunge the two yeres into two monethes, I thynke ye have no suche playne sentence wrytten with my hand. I knowe not wether ye be a paraphryser or not: yf ye be lerned in that scyence that ys possyble, ye may of one word make whole sentence, and yet nott att all tymes after the true meanyng of the wryter as yt aperyth by thys yowr exposycyon apon my wrytyng." Wearied with the tyranny of her former husband, for whom she never could have felt much affection, and anticipating years of happiness, united to one of the most distinguished subjects in the kingdom, she at length submitted to his importunities, and consented to a private marriage in the sixth month of her widowhood. This unguarded procedure proved fatal to her future peace, for she now became embroiled in the various discords that agitated and perplexed the political parties of the day; and the short period of her life which was spent with lord Sudeley, was cruelly embittered with vexation and regret. The stern and haughty spirit of Seymour was still restless and dissatished; feuds were industriously fomented between the brothers, by those who envied their advancement; and thus, from being secret rivals, they soon became open enemies. During the absence of the duke on the Scottish expedition, the admiral sought every opportunity of ingratiating himself with the king. He even made an attempt to be appointed governor of his person; and secretly caballed with those who were most iniinical to his brother's administration. The decisive cons. duct however of the duke, defeated these. malevolent schemes, and the subsequent submission of the admiral produced a temporary reconciliation. Katherine, in, the mean time, had many domestic dis-, quietudes to contend with. The duke had disapproved of her hasty marriage; and the duchess, a proud imperious, woman, was mortified at being obliged to give precedence to the wife of the younger brother; although the king, as a mark of respectful regard, had ordered her to be prayed ter immediately after himself. In the course of the first year of her, marriage, Katherine became pregnant, and she probably left with much satis-> faction the vicinity of a turbulent court, and retired to Sudeley to prepare for her approaching confinement. About this time the admiral is suspected of again aspiring to the hand of the prin cess, and much stress has been laid upon. the familiarities that passed between. them at Hanworth and Chelsea; but, as the queen appears to have been a party in these pleasantries, I think we have no right to conclude that he was actuated by any criminal intention, or to infer that the encouragement which he received, induced him to accelerate the death of his wife. Katherine, however, was delivered of a daughter on the S0th of August, 1548, and died on the 5th of the following month. The circumstance of the admiral's having been accessary to her death, is curiously introduced into the bill of attainder which was subsequently passed against him. The testimony of some of the witnesses who were examined on this point, is still preserved; but it does not appear that the charge was substantiated, although from the evidence of lady Tyrwhil, who attended the queen during her illness, it should seem, that she reproached him with "wylling her no good," and with having given her "many shroud taunts;" but these expressions may be considered as the wanderings of delirium, or as allu sions to some former unkindness, rather than as indications of a suspicion that he was guilty of so atrocious an act. In addition to this, it may be observed, that |