racter have changed as it proceeded; and, from being at first merely a species of Physiognomy, it has become a science capable of the most useful and interesting applications. Another great mistake is generally committed in supposing that little has been done to perfect the system. No doubt it is still far from perfection, but the leading facts are established with a degree of precision of which no one can form an adequate conception who does not appeal to nature on the subject. The first discovery was made by Dr Gall in the year 1788, and the prosecution of it has since been the business of his life. It is now twenty years since he was joined in his labours by Dr Spurzheim, and during this period the latter gentleman has been incessant in his observations. Nor do they stand alone as the improvers of the science. There are now many individuals in all the southern countries of Europe who have attended to the subject, and either published their own observations directly, or communicated them to the founders of the system, who have profited by them in their studies. The degree of truth in the system, therefore, and its advancement as a science, must be estimated by the time and talent devoted to its culture, and the opportunities of improving it enjoyed, and not by the numbers of those who believe or who do not believe it. It does not advance one step in intrinsic truth by the number of its votaries : it only becomes the more credible as a matter of faith. Those, therefore, who intend to decide upon its merits on testimony alone must, no doubt, suspend their judgment for a time, although even on this ground its credibility is already considerable. The evidence of one candid and intelligent mind, founded on examination, outweighs the scorn of a thousand who think it too contemptible for inquiry; and, in point of fact, every advocate founds his belief on examination, and every opponent on preconceived prejudices, for no individual of common honesty and attainments has ever inquired into the subject and continued to scoff, and I am certain that none will ever do so. The sooner, therefore, that those who take an interest in human nature resort to observation, so much the better for their own cakes; but they must not suppose that the science cannot advance a step, or contain any portion of truth, till they believe it, or measure its progress by their knowledge of its principles. Instead, therefore, of the mode followed by Drs Gall and Spurzheim, in propounding the doctrines, being a proof of empiricism, it is the most incontestible proof of their bona fides. If their discoveries had from the beginning assumed the aspect of a regular and polished science, and been hammered into accordance with the prevailing doctrines of the times, this would have been a clear proof that they were theorizing; for a beautiful system of philosophy could not arise at once, and in a mass, out of observation of facts. Look at Chemistry, Geology, Physiology, or any of the Physical Sciences, and it will be seen how isolated, how inconsistent, nay, how empirical and worthless, numerous facts appear for a time, until future discoveries link them into the chain of causation, and exhibit them in all the beauty and importance of essential parts in a system of truth. The fact, therefore, that order and consistency, and beauty, have arisen out of the mass of incoherence which the discoveries at first presented, affords a strong presumption that the doctrines are not the delusions of a bewildered imagination. That_individual would have been less than a man who would have founded a system of speculative philosophy in the way this system was founded; and he would have been more than a man who, from such a foundation, could have raised such a superstructure as this system presents. Time will prove these observations to be just. Dr Spurzheim observed, that the most deadly blast of calumny against him had proceeded from our city; but, from what he saw, when here, of the intelligence, and candour, and philosophical spirit of her people, he was convinced, that from Edinburgh also would proceed the first vindication of his opinions, and that here Phrenology would first triumph over the errors of the old philosophy.From the liberal and candid spirit displayed by your correspondent, and by the public in general, on the subject, it is clear that this prediction will ere long be fulfilled. Res non verba quæso, ON THE ENGLISH DRAMATIC WRIT ERS WHO PRECEDED SHAKESPEARE. No. VIII. UNDER all the difficulties surrounding the question, and for the reasons assigned in my last article, I am disposed to think, that if the foundation of "the school of Shakespeare" is to be attributed to any one dramatic poet in particular, Marlow has a fairer claim to the distinction than his contemporaries. It is not likely, however, that it was brought to perfection at once-indeed, we have already seen that long previous to the date when Shakespeare began to write for the stage, all the dramatic unities had been disregarded; and if he, in his turn, introduced some improvements, they had been preceded by the gradual advances of others towards the completion of that system upon which his plays are constructed. But whether any and what praise is due to Marlow upon this score, above Greene, Peele, Lodge, or Nash, it seems clear from the prologue to the first part of his "Tamburlaine," and from the testimony of Greene in his " Perimedes the Blacksmith," that Marlow was the first, or one of the first, to bring blank-verse into common use upon the stage in preference to rhime, and that he also was the occasion of another important alteration, in changing very much the nature of the subjects that had previously engaged the attention of audiences. Supposing, therefore, that he had less to do than I have imagined with the invention and establishment of the romantic drama, his productions of this kind deserve, on other accounts, independent even of their poetry, a close examination. To say the least of them, they are all plays of great curiosity to the literary antiquary, in as much as Marlow died about the time when Shakespeare, as far as we can ascertain, began to write for the theatre. In my last article on this subject, I examined in some detail the first part of the historical play of "Tamburlaine the Great," and I endeavoured to account, perhaps successfully, for the heightened, and, in some respects, bombastic strain in which it is penned, and which drew upon it the ridicule of Shakespeare, and Beaumont and Fletcher. I also shewed that there was in it a good deal of powerful writ ing, some highly poetical passages, and a scene or two of more pathos than was to be expected from the nature of the plot, and the general style of the composition. Before I enter briefly upon the second part of the same play, I wish to quote a portion of a scene, the conclusion at least of which seems very much in the spirit of Shakespeare, and could not have been produced but by a bold masterpoet,-by one (according to the expressions of a master-poet) "whose raptures were all air and fire." The scene lies before Damascus, and the troops of Tamburlaine, his pavilions, and ensigns, are all black, which, according to history, denoted that the conqueror was about to storm the place with remorseless fury, sparing neither age nor infancy. A train of virgins issues from one of the gates of the city, and they sue to Tamburlaine for mercy in the following terms: O then for these and such as we ourselues, For vs, for infants, and for all our bloods, That neuer nourisht thought against thy rule, Pitie, O pitie (sacred emperour) towne ! And take in signe thereof this gilded wreath, Whereto each man of rule hath giuen his hand, And wisht as worthy subiects happy meanes Tum. Virgins, in vaine you labour to That which mine honor sweares shal be perform'd: Behold my sword, what see you at the point? Virg. Nothing but feare and fatall steele, my Lord. Tam. Your fearful minds are thick and misty then, For there sits death, there sits imperious death, Keeping his circuit by the slicing edge. Act V. Sc. 2. The inhabitants are, accordingly, butchered by the sword. One of the latest incidents in this first part of "Tamburlaine the Great" is the preservation of the life of the Sultan at the instance of his daughter Zenocrate, mistress to the hero. The title of the second part, also printed as early as 1592, is as follows: "The Second Part of the bloody Conquests of mightie Tamburlaine. With his impassionate fury for the Death of his Ladie and Love, faire Zenocrate: his forme of exhortation and discipline to his three sons, and the manner of his owne death.' From the opening of the prologue, we learn that it was written by the author in consequence of the great success of the first part; at what interval it would be idle to inquire, because we could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion, nor, if ascertained, would the fact be worth the pains of obtaining it. The generall welcomes Tamburlaine receiued, When he arriued last vpon our stage, Hath made our Poet pen his second part, Where death cuts off the progres of his pompe. The experiment, to which allusion has before been made, was, therefore, completely successful, though the second part is not written in quite the same extravagant strain as the first; and we shall see by and by, that Marlow, having weaned the frequenters of the theatre in a great degree from the " jigging veins of rhyming mother wits, and from such conceits as clownage keeps in pay," before the end of his career reduced the drama very much to that more re strained and sober condition in which Shakespeare found it. Yet there are scenes in the second part of Tamburlaine sufficiently highly wrought and gorgeous, and of this character is the following passage, where Callapine, son of Bajazet, endeavours to prevail upon Almeda (one of Tamburlaine's generals, who had him under his charge) to allow him to escape. By Cario runs to Alexandria bay Darotes streames, wherein at anchor lies A Turkish gally of my royal fleet, Waiting my comming to the riuer's side, Hoping by some meanes I shall be releast, Which, when I come aboord, wil hoist vp saile, Choose which thou wilt, all are at thy com- » mand. A thousand gallies, mann'd with Christian slaues, I freely giue thee, which shall cut the straights, And bring Armados to the coasts of Spaine, And, as thou rid'st in triumph through the streetes, The pauement vnderneath thy chariot wheeles And cloath of Arras hung about the walles, Shal ride before thee on Barbarian steeds, As that faire vaile that couers all the world, When Phoebus, leaping from his hemi spheare, Discendeth downward to the antipodes. Against a quotation like this, reand the vulgar notion then existing collecting the object of the speaker, as to the wealth and splendour of the country described, nothing can be reasonably urged; on the contrary, considerable applause may be given to the poet for the luxuriant manner in which he has worked up the picture. It is not my intention to go at all at of the second part of "Tamburlaine ;' length into the story or the conduct but in Act IV. there is a striking scene, which deserves some notice. Tamburlaine sets down before Balsora, which is valiantly defended by a captain, afterwards slain. His wife Olympia kills her son, and is about to destroy herself, to avoid falling into the hands of the enemy, when she is prevented by Theridamas, one of the hero's minor monarchs, who subsequently endeavours to make her yield to the gratification of his passions. Ther. Nay, lady, then if nothing wil preuaile, Ile vse some other meanes to make you yeeld: Such is the sodaine fury of my loue, And you shal se't rebated with the blow. Ther. Why gaue you not your husband some of it, if You loued him, and it so precious? But was preuented by his sodaine end; Ther. I will, Olympia, and I will keepe Olym. Now, stab, my Lord, and mark your weapon's point, That will be blunted if the blow be great. Ther. Here, then, Olympia.-What, haue I slaine her? Villaine, stab thy selfe: Cut off this arme that murthered my loue, In whom the learned Rabies of this age Might find as many wondrous myracles, As in the Theoria of the world. This incident would have a very good stage effect, and it is very well managed by the poet, coming upon the audience unexpectedly, yet naturally.* It shews that Marlow was ac There is a similar incident in Miss Baillie's play of Constantine Paleologus, but it is almost the only scene of that fine drama which we had but little satisfaction in witnessing on the stage. It is, no doubt, much less rapidly executed than Marlow's; we see what is to happen long before the blow is struck, and a trick of this sort, seen through, has a ludicrous air, and only makes us wonder at the stupidity of the persons who are gulled by it. In Marlow, indeed, it is so much of a coup de quainted with the Italian poets, or at least with Ariosto, for the same circumstances are related in Orlando Furioso, c. 29, as occurring between Rodomont and Isabella. Bagnosi, come disse, e lieta porse There is, however, a considerable difference between the composition of the two ointments employed, Marlow's being calculated, like the whole of his play, to confound and astonish. How" the essential form of marble stone" could exist in a liquid state, would puzzle some of the firmest believers in alchymy, even of that credulous day. The finest part of this play is unquestionably what is introductory to the death of its hero, who, in Act V. Sc. 6, is represented as afflicted with a mortal malady, the force of which he struggles at times to overcome, and, at others, is compelled by exhaustion to submit to it. Techelles, one of his attendants, thus addresses Tamburlaine: Sit still, my gracious Lord, this grief will cease And cannot last, it is so violent. Tam. Not last, Techelles, no, for I shall die; See where my slaue, the vglie monster death, Shaking and quiuering, pale and wan for feare, Stands aiming at me with his murthering dart; Who flies away at every glance I give, Because I stay; Techelles, let vs march, And wearie death with bearing soules to hell. internal maladies, excepting in such cases as King John and Cardinal Beaufort, must commonly be untheatrical, and it is only when the imagination of the writer, as in the case before us, adds new and dreadful characters to the scene, that a lasting impression is produced. The presence of death to the eyes of Tamburlaine, " shaking and quivering," flying before his resolute glance, and then "stealing on" as the monarch's agonies increase, perhaps is finer than any thing of the same kind in our memory. Marlow be upon the title-page, I feel satisfied that it is merely the imposi tion of the bookseller, availing himself of the popularity of so esteemed a poet. that is the repetition of the incident On the other hand, "The Tragical Historie of Dr Faustus," "The Rich Jew of Malta," "Lusts Dominion," and the English historical play of "Edward II." all possess, in a greater or less degree, strong claims to our admiration. The first of these † has had justice done to it in Mr Lamb's Specimens, where several characterisThe other dramatic productions in tic extracts are inserted. It is well which Marlow was alone concerned known that the greatest living poet of are five in number, and as we have Germany has constructed a tragedy before alluded to the gradual change upon the same story. There is one he occasioned from rhyme to blank circumstance in Marlow's play of verse, from low comedy to stately" Faustus" deserving remark, and tragedy, and subsequently from inflated bombast to a more refined and chastened style, it is comparatively easy to trace the course and progress of his muse. His plays were all printed at very different dates, between 1590 to 1657; but the order in which they were written may be arrived at without much difficulty or uncertainty. His first effort was, doubtless, that the examination of which we have just completed, and his last, his Edward II. which, as a historical play, has more to recommend it than the "True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York," with many of the materials of which Shakespeare constructed his Henry VI. Part 3. All Marlow's other pieces are in various gradations of improvement, with the exception, perhaps, of" The Massacre of Paris," which was obviously a work of great haste, and got up for the purpose of gratifying the vulgar feeling at that date against popery: indeed, it has hardly any thing to recommend it, and I forbear to quote from it, because though its excessive rarity may render it curious, it would throw but a faint light on this undertaking. I may say, however, that the plot, as far as it deserves the name, is most irregularly conducted, and is little better than mere bustle and confusion, and incongruity from beginning to end. Scarce ly a single poetical passage is to be found in it; and though the name of A copy of it was not many months since sold by Mr Evans of Pall-Mall for about ten guineas. My liege, the tongue of true obedience sleep Till I have fetched those traitors to the court. contrasted with such delightful pasThis puffed-up stuff may well be has a curious allusion to the representation The superstitious zealot W. Prynne of Marlow's "Faustus" at the Belsavage Theatre, in his Histriomastix: he states, that, in Queen Elizabeth's days, while the actors were playing the tragedy, the devil himself made his visible appearance on the stage, and distracted many of the spectators; "the truth of which," he sagaciously adds, "I have heard from many now alive who well remember it."-Prynne's Histriomastix, fol. 556. |