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not drawn from nature, but from the fleeting and superficial forms of fashionable life." This is a hard sentence; accommodated to the more forcible illustration of the peculiar theory, which the German writer has avowed throughout his work; and which, however reasonable in its first principles, has led him into as exaggerated an admiration of the romantic models, which he prefers, as disparagement of the classical school, which he detests. It is a sentence, moreover, upon which some eminent critics in his own country, who support his theory in the main, have taken the liberty, to demur.

That a large proportion of Molière's pieces are conceived in a vein of broad, homely merriment, rather than in that of elevated comedy; abounding in forced situations, high caricature, and practical jokes; in the knavish, intriguing valets of Plautus and Terence; in a compound of that good-nature and irritability, shrewdness and credulity, which make up the dupes of Aristophanes, is very true. But that a writer, distinguished by his deep reflection, his pure taste, and nice observation of character, should have preferred this to the higher walks of his art, is absolutely incredible. He has furnished the best justification of himself in an apology, which a contemporary biographer reports him to have made to some one, who censured him on this very ground." If I wrote simply for fame," said he, "I should manage very differently; but I write for the support of my company. I must not address myself, therefore, to a few people of education, but to the mob. And this latter class of gentry take very little interest in a continued elevation of style and sentiment." With all these imperfections and lively absurdities, however, there is scarcely one of Molière's minor pieces, which does not present us with traits of character that come home to every heart, and felicities of expression that, from their truth, have come to be proverbial. With regard to the objection, that his characters are not so much drawn from nature, as from the local manners of the age; if it be meant that they are not acted upon by those deep passions which engross the whole soul, and which, from this intensity, have more of a tragic, than a comic import in them, but are rather drawn from the foibles and follies of ordinary life, it is true. But then these last are likely to be quite as permanent, and, among civilized nations, quite as universal, as the former. And who has exposed them with greater freedom, or with a more potent ridicule, than Molière? Love, under all its thousand circumstances, its quarrels, and reconciliations; vanity, humbly suing for admiration, under the guise of modesty; whimsical contradictions of profession and habitual practice; the industry with which the lower classes ape, not the virtues, but the follies of their superiors; the

affectation of fashion, taste, science, or any thing but what the party actually possesses; the esprit de corps, which leads us to feel an exalted respect for our own profession, and a sovereign contempt for every other; the friendly adviser, who has an eye to his own interest; the author, who seeks your candid opinion, and quarrels with you when you have given it; the fair friend, who kindly sacrifices your reputation for a jest; the hypocrite, under every aspect, who deceives the world or himself;-these form the various and motley panorama of character, which Molière has transferred to his canvass; and which, though mostly drawn from cultivated life, must endure as long as society shall hold together.

It is difficult to estimate the influence of our poet's satire on the state of society in general; and on those higher ranks, in particular, whose affectations and pretensions he assailed with such pertinacious hostility. If he did not reform them, however, he at least deprived them of their fascination and much of their mischievous influence, by holding them up to the contempt and laughter of the public.

From this view of the didactic purpose proposed by Molière in his comedies, it is obviously difficult to institute a comparison betwixt them, and those of our English dramatists, or rather of Shakspeare, who may be taken as their representative. The latter seems to have had no higher end in view than mere amusement; he took a leaf out of the great volume of human nature as he might find it; nor did he accommodate it to the illustration of any moral or literary theorem. The former, on the other hand, manifests such a direct perceptive purpose, as to give to some of his pieces the appearance of satires, rather than of comedies; argument takes place of action, and the pro and con of the matter are discussed with all the formality of a school exercise. This essentially diminishes the interest of some of his best plays; the Misanthrope and the Femmes Savantes, for example, which for this reason seem better fitted for the closet than the stage, and have long since ceased to be favourites with the public. This want of interest is, moreover, aggravated by the barrenness of action visible in many of Molière's comedies; where, indeed, he seems only to have sought an apology for bringing together his coteries of gentlemen and ladies, for the purpose of exhibiting their gladiatorial dexterity in conversation. Not so with the English dramatist, whose boundless invention crowds his scene with incidents, that hurry us along with breathless interest, but which sadly scandalize the lover of the unities.

In conformity with his general plan, too, Shakspeare brings before us every variety of situation-the court, the camp, and the

cloister-the busy hum of populous cities, or the wild solitude of the forest-presenting as with pictures of rich and romantic beauty, which could not fall within the scope of his rival, and allowing himself to indulge in the unbounded revelry of an imagination, which Molière did not possess. The latter, on the other hand, an attentive observer of man, as he is found in an over-refined state of society, in courts and crowded capitals, copied his minutest lineaments with a precision that gives to his most general sketches, the air almost of personal pursuits; seasoning, moreover, his discourses with the shrewd hints and maxims of worldly policy. Shakspeare's genius led him rather to deal in bold touches, than in this nice delineation. He describes classes, rather than individuals; he touches the springs of the most intense passions. The daring of ambition, the craving of revenge, the deep tenderness of love, are all materials in his hands for comedy; and this gives to some of his admired pieces, his "Merchant of Venice" and his "Measure for Measure," for example, a solemnity of colouring, that leaves them only to be distinguished from tragedy by their more fortunate termination. Molière, on the contrary, sedulously excludes from his plays whatever can impair their comic interest. And when, as he has done very rarely, he aims directly at vice, instead of folly (in the Tartuffe, for instance), he studies to exhibit it under such ludicrous points of view, as shall excite the derision, rather than the indignation of his audience.

But whatever be the comparative merits of these great masters, each must be allowed to have attained complete success in his way. Comedy, in the hands of Shakspeare, ex. hibits to us man, not only as he is moved by the petty vanities of life, but by deep and tumultuous passion; in situations which it requires all the invention of the poet to de vise, and the richest colouring of eloquence to depict. But if the object of comedy, as has been said, be "to correct the follies of the age, by exposing them to ridicule," who then has equalled Molière ?

POWER OF VISION. (From the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal. No. XI.)

ON SEEING IN WATER; HOW DO SOME ANIMALS SEE IN THE DARK? ON SEEING AT A DISTANCE.

1. On secing in water.

THOSE animals whose eyes are organized for seeing in water, see but indifferently in air. Hence, in those cases where the habits of the

animal require it, to see in both media, it is provided with two sets of eyes, or with eyes accommodated for seeing in each element. Thus the Gyrinus natator, an insect which generally swims on the surface of water, but half submerged, is provided on each side with two eyes, one pair situated on the crown of the head, for seeing in the air, and another pair under the head for seeing in the water. It is also probable that the fish named Cobitis anablep3, which has in each eye an upper and under cornea of different curvatures, and for each cornea a particular anterior surface of the lens, is capable of seeing in water with the one-half of the eye, and in air with the other half. Thus Semmering found in this fish, the semidiameter of the upper cornea = 1.0; the under 1.2; the two curvatures of the upper part of the lens = 0.5; and the two curvatures of the under of it= 0.2 Paris lines. It cannot be denied, that, in general, land animals can see under water, and aquatic animals in air; even man sees under water, although the contrary has been maintained. It is not, however, possible, that the same eye is ever so organized as to see equally well in both elements. Land animals always see indifferently in water, and aquatic animals imperfectly in air. The one is longsighted in water, and the other short-sighted in air. An animal in which the eye is adapted for seeing equally well in air and water, can have but imperfect vision in either. These conclusions are in conformity with what is known of the power of vision in those animals that live partly on the land and partly in the water. The Seal (Phoca) is one of those animals that live in both elements. But the seal has but imperfect vision in the air. Rosenthal, in his memoir on the organs of the senses of seals, says, "We have convinced ourselves by careful observation with living seals, of the species Phoca Grypus of Faber, that the animal is always short-sighted in the air; for when we held before it fish and other bodies, as pieces of wood or stones, it did not distinguish them accurately, until they were brought so near, that the organ of smell could be called into activity. Scoresby remarks, "Whales are observed to discover one another, in clear water, when under the surface, at an amazing distance. When at the surface, however, they do not see far." Scoresby's Arctic Regions, vol. i. p. 456. Faber, in his very interesting work on the habits and manners of birds that inhabit high northern latitudes, (p. 298, § 55), remark that Divers (Colymbus) do not see so well above water as Grebes (Podiceps), but better under water, because it is there they obtain their food.

It also appears, that birds which see well in one element, do not see so well in the other. Faber proposes the question, "Is it the case that divers, when under water, draw their nictitating membrane over the eye, as

they do when looking towards the sun, in order to prevent the contact of the water? It would appear, from the observations of Treviranus, from whose excellent work, entitled "Beiträge zur Anatomie und Physiologie der Sinneswerkzeuge des Menschen und der Thiere, von Dr. G. R. Treviranus, fol. Bremen, 1828," the observations on vision we are now detailing are principally ex. tracted, that, by drawing the nictitating membrane over the eye, divers, and all other land animals, which seek their food under water, are enabled, not only to prevent the immediate action of the water on the eye, but also to discover their prey. But, as the light loses more of its power on passing through water, than in passing through air, and is still more weakened in its progress through the nictitating membrane, it follows, that, owing to this membrane, vision must be less distinct under water than in the air.

2. How do some animals see in the dark? Is there any arrangement in the eye, and what is it, by which animals that see in the dark are enabled to make up for the want of external light? When we consider the metallic lustre of the tapetum, which in many animals occupies a great part of the choroid coat, or even its whole surface; further, its resemblance to a concave mirror, and its relation to the light that penetrates into the interior of the eye, we cannot help considering it as the means employed for this purpose, by its collecting the light, and illuminating, by its reflection, objects lying in the axis of the eye. Prevost objects to this explanation, that there are many animals whose eyes have no tapetum, although they conduct themselves as if they saw in the dark. This is actually the case. The tapetum occurs in carnivora, ruminantia, pachydermata, cetacea, owls, crocodiles, snakes, rays and sharks: it is wanting in man, apes, glires, chiroptera, hedgehogs and moles; in birds, with ex. ception of owls; and in osseous fishes. But the gnawers or glires, bats, the hedgehog and mole, are animals that obtain their food more by night than during the day; and many of them conduct themselves in the deepest darkness, as if they were directed by the sense of sight. But this objection may be obviated, by remarking, that it is probably some other sense than that of vision, which procures for many of these animals sensations of external objects in the dark. We have in favour of this opinion, not only the experi ments of Spallanzani on bats, from which it appears that, after these creatures were deprived of the use of their eyes, they conducted themselves as if they still possessed the power of vision, but also the examples of species of that family, in which the eyes are so imperfectly developed, or lie so much concealed behind the outer skin, that it is of little or no use to the animal. The genera

that see in the dark, have undoubtedly so irritable a retina, that they can only see during a very feeble light, whereas in those animals whose eyes are organized equally for day light and nocturnal darkness, the retina possesses less irritability. Hence, although these are without a tapetum, it does not follow that this organic part does not afford a mean for seeing during a feeble light.

3. On seeing at a distance.

When we speak of the distance to which vision extends, we can understand, as Treviranus remarks, either the sphere of distinct vision, or of seeing in general. The latter has a much larger semidiameter than the former and the series for the one is in animals different from that of the other. The extent of distinct vision, as is shown by Treviranus, is pretty nearly in relation with the distance of the lens from the retina in the axis of the eye. But the power of seeing at a distance, Treviranus remarks, depends, in general, in land animals, on the absolute magnitude of the semidiameter of the external surface of the cornea. The larger this is, the greater is the number of rays that reach from distant objects through the cornea to the interior of the eye, and the more easily are such objects rendered visible. But this applies to land animals only. The cornea has no such value in aquatic animals, in arresting the rays of light, as that the limits of vision can be determined by it.

The larger animals, in general, see farthest. But there are exceptions to this rule. It is worthy of remark, that birds which, in the distinct vision of a point, precede quadrupeds of similar magnitude, are inferior to them in distant vision, and that man agrees with birds in this respect. Thus the great owl (Strix bubo) ostrich, and golden eagle, excel in the first point; in the latter are inferior to the ox, elephant, &c. The chamoi and the lynx, and many other animals, have a wider power of vision than man, in which the radius of the sphere of distinct vision is much smaller than in him.

This conclusion is contrary to the generally received opinion on the subject. Birds, and particularly rapacious birds, are considered as having a much greater power of distant vision than most quadrupeds; and many will be disposed to challenge the fact, that the ox possesses this power in as equally high, or even in a higher degree. But when we consider fairly the experience on this subject, we shall find that it is not in opposition to what has just been stated. Mayer found in his experiments on the acuteness of vision, that, in seeing, it depends not only on the illumina tion of the object, and its distance from the eye, but also on the relation of the object and the eye to the neighbourhood. But it is quite otherwise with birds which look from above downwards, or with quadrupeds whose vision is directed upwards or forwards. No one has measured the great distance at which a far

seeing bird perceives its prey; and indeed it will always be difficult to do this with ac. curacy. But Treviranus remarks, "I doubt not, if we possessed certain observation on this point, that the greatest distance would not exceed that of a far-seeing man."

When, for example, Faber, in proof of the sharpness of sight of birds, remarks, "the high flying eagle or the kite perceive the motions of small animals on the ground; the solan sees a very small fish from a considerable height; and gulls, terns, rapacious gulls (Lestri), and petrels, fly from all sides to a particular point, where an object is seen floating on water;" he presents us with data which are far from being satisfactory. When, on the contrary, Ross affirms, in his voyage to Baffin's Bay, that he obtained certain data, proving that the power of vision of man over the surface of the sea extended to 150 English miles, it is conceivable that the farthest seeing bird could not exceed this. But experience would seem to show, that birds, although in general their power of distant vision is not very great, possess a very sharp sight, in a greater distance than most quadrupeds. In C. A. Schmid's Blicken in den Haushalt der Natur (Halberstadt, 1826, p. 26 et seq.), there are many curious observations illustra tive of what we have just said. He says, he threw at a considerable distance from a throstle or mavis (Turdus Musicus) a few small beetles, of a pale gray colour, which the unassisted human eye could not discover, yet the throstle observed them immediately, and devoured them. The long-tailed titmouse (Parus caudatus), flits with great quickness among the branches of trees, and finds on the very smooth bark its particular food. When we examine the spots where it steps for food, nothing is perceived by the naked eye, although minute insects are visible by means of the magnifying glass. A very tame redbreast (Sylvia rubecula) discovered from the height of the branch where it usually sat, at the distance of eighteen feet, small crumbs of bread spread out on the ground, the instant they were thrown down; and this by bending its heads to one side, and therefore using only one eye. A quail, at the same distance, discovered, by the use of only one eye, some poppy-seeds.

THE AERIAL SPIDER.

THE Cobwebs which are found occasionally floating in the air, alighting on the face and person as we walk, in threads of finest texture, and which are observable more especially in dewy mornings, at certain seasons, overspreading the fields with a tissue charged with pearly globules sparkling in the sun's rays, are the work of vast numbers of aerial spiders, which descending during the night to

imbibe the moisture, weave among the blades of grass the webs which collect the dew. The cause of the rising of this insect and its web into the air, since its specific gravity considerably exceeds that of the atmosphere, has been variously explained. Mr. Blackwall, in an address to the Linnean Society, professes to account for the ascent of the threads by ascribing it to the effect of warm currents of air emanating from the surface of the ground. Mr. John Murray combats this doctrine, and accounts for the phenomenon in these floating webs on electrical principles. The following is the substance of his observations on this interesting insect, in the "Magazine of Natural History," of November last. During the day these aerial spiders, according to the electrical state of the atmosphere, either rise in a vertical direction (and that rapidly or slowly, as they are affected by the same electrical circumstances), or they float at angles more or less inclined to the horizon, or on a parallel with its plane. They have the power of propelling their threads in a similar variety of directions, either in motionless air, or in an atmosphere agitated by the winds; or even against the wind, the threads preserving invariably the direction in which they are propelled, and never intermingling; and some< times a pencil of threads, presenting the appearance of a divergent brush, is propelled. On comparing these operations of the insect with the electrical state of the atmosphere, the following corresponding results are observable:when the air is in a positive state, as in clear and fine weather, the spider makes his ascent most easily and rapidly: when it is weakly positive, he rises with difficulty, to a limited altitude, and with but slight inclination of the propelled threads above the plane of the horizon; while when the negative electricity prevails, as in cloudy weather or on the approach of rain, he is altogether unable to ascend; so also as towards evening the positive electricity of the air becomes feeble, and during the night changes to negative, then the spiders descend to the earth. With regard to the habits of this little aëronaut in other respects, Mr. Murray says, he is greedy of moisture, though otherwise abstemious; its food is perhaps peculiar, and only found in the superior regions of the sky; like the rest of its tribe, it is doubtless carnivorous, and may subserve some highly important purpose in the economy of Providence such, for instance, as the destruction of that truly formidable, though almost microscopically minute insect, the Furia infernalis, whose wound is stated to be mortal. Its existence has been indeed questioned, but by no means disproved; that, and some others, injurious to man, or to the inferior creation, may be its destined prey, and thus our little aeronaut, unheeded by the common eye, may subserve an important good,Mag. of Nat. Hist.

WATERLOO, THE DAY AFTER

abruptly, and in half-an-hour drums were beating and bugles sounding. The good burghers of the city, who were almost all enjoying their first sleep, started from their

THE BATTLE.

BY AN EYE WITNESS.

(From the United Service Journal.-No. I.) beds at the alarm, and hastened to the streets,

I AM an idle man and a-bachelor, and being in possession of an independent fortune, I need scarcely add that I am fond of travelling. Indeed ça va sans dire, for the love of locomotion is so natural to an Englishman, that nothing can chain him at home, but the absolute impossibility of living abroad. No such imperious necessity acting upon me, I gave way to my oiko-phobia, and the summer of 1815 found me at Brussels.

The town was then crowded to excess-it seemed a city of splendour; the bright and varied uniforms of so many different nations, mingled with the gay dresses of female beauty in the park, and the Allée Verte was thronged with superb horses and brilliant equipages. The tables d'hôte resounded with a confusion of tongues which might have rivalled the tower of Babel, and the shops actually glittered with showy toys hung out to tempt money from the pockets of the English, whom the Flemings seemed to consider as walking bags of gold. Balls and plays, routs and dinners were the only topics of conversation; and though some occasional rumours were spread that the French had made an incursion within the lines, and carried off a few head of cattle, the tales were too vague to excite the least alarm.

On the 3d of June, I went to see ten thousand troops reviewed by the Dukes of Wellington and Brunswick. Imagination cannot picture any thing finer than the ensemble of this scene. The splendid uniforms of the English, Scotch, and Hanoverians, contrasted strongly with the gloomy black of the Brunswick hussars, whose veneration for the memory of their old duke, could be only equalled by their devotion to his son. The firm step of the Highlanders seemed irresistible; and as they moved in solid masses, they appeared prepared to sweep away every thing that opposed them. In short, I was delighted with the cleanliness, military order, and excellent appointments of the men generally, and I was particularly struck with the handsome features of the Duke of Brunswick, whose fine, manly figure, as he galloped across the field, quite realized my beau idéal of a warrior.

The next time I saw the Duke of Brunswick was at the dress ball, given at the assembly-rooms in the Rue Ducale, on the night of the 15th of June. I stood near him when he received the information that a powerful French force was advancing in the direction of Charleroy. "Then it is high time for me to be off," said the duke, and I never saw him alive again. The assembly broke up VOL. I. 2 Y

wrapped in the first things they could find. The most ridiculous and absurd rumours were rapidly circulated and believed. The most general impression seemed to be that the town was on fire; the next that the Duke of Wellington had been assassinated; but when it was discovered that the French were advancing, the consternation became general, and every one hurried to the Place Royale, where the Hanoverians and Brunswickers were already mustering.

Strange rumours were now whispered. Some said that the enemy were actually at the gates lying in ambush to surprise the city, and some that the security of the English general arose from his having bought over the French.

About one o'clock in the morning of the 16th, the whole population of Brussels seemed in motion. The streets were crowded as in full day; lights flashed to and fro; artillery and baggage waggons were creaking in every direction; the drums beat to arms, and the bugles sounded loudly" the dreadful note of preparation." The noise and bustle surpassed all description; here were horses plunging and kicking amidst a crowd of terrified burghers; there lovers parting from their weeping mistresses. Now the attention was attracted by a park of artillery thundering through the streets; and now, by a group of officers disputing loudly the demands of their imperturbable Flemish landlords; for not even the panic which prevailed could frighten the Flemings out of a single stiver; screams and yells occasionally rose above the busy hum that murmured through the crowd, but the general sound resembled the roar of distant ocean.

Between two and three o'clock the Brunswickers marched from the town, still clad in the mourning which they wore for their old duke, and burning to avenge his death. Alas! they had a still more fatal loss to lament ere they returned.

At four, the whole disposable force under the Duke of Wellington was collected together, but in such haste, that many of the officers had not time to change their silk. stockings and dancing-shoes; and some, quite overcome by drowsiness, were seen lying asleep about the ramparts, still holding, however, with a firm hand, the reins of their horses which were grazing by their sides.

About five o'clock, the word "march" was heard in all directions, and instantly the whole mass appeared to move simultaneously. I conversed with several of the officers previous to their departure, and not one appeared to have the slightest idea of an approaching engagement.

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