it: and he has done the utmost that mortal man can do the best that might be done under the circumstances of the case. Howbeit, we must allow to the full extent the remarks of the pamphleteer :-that the patent has been of little avail to him-for that an outlay of capital such as he has made would have been sufficient to prevent an injurious competition, without the existence of any legal monopoly. Before the granting of the exclusive patents, in sixty years a drama was produced that will last out the world; while the one hundred and seventy-nine years, since the adoption of the plan proposed by the rigid monopolists to be again enforced with greater vigour, have not produced one play that will live out the present century. These are facts, saith the writer, and speak for themselves.

What then? Shall we go to extremes, and represent tragedy in barns, with chalked boards for scenery? Verily, we believe that "we must even take the goods the gods provide us." Relatively to the supposed appeals to their imagination and the senses, we must moreover recollect, that painting appeals to the imagination, and so does the business of the scene, and all the more in precise proportion to its artistic arrangement. The imagination is sadly interfered with, when any bungling exhibition is made; it is assisted and excited by a smooth and orderly proceeding. It is for the poet to exercise the imagination in the way spoken of as to the audience, they require the awakening of their's. The one is agent, the other merely patient. The splendour of large theatresthe grouping of the characters on the stage—the accomplishments of elocution -the accuracy of the scenic dispositions-cannot fail to assist the illusions. We know, we feel, that it is so assisted. The imagination is more excited by Henry V., as now represented, than it was last year without its present adjuncts. Nay, when we come rightly to consider the matter, HENRY V. is a play that demands much circumstantial illustration. A play? Why it is an epic poem ! and the chorus between the acts, particularly as now contrived, has all the effect of presenting us with an acted epopea. The very first words of the prologue shew that Shakspere himself desired ampler means than the stage of his time afforded, for the representation that he intended :

"O for a muse of fire, that would ascend

The brightest heaven of invention;

A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,

And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!".

The aid of Mr. Stanfield's pencil has been called in, to portray to the eye what Mr. Vandenhoff, as chorus, has to describe to the ear The business of the scene, too, is intimately linked with the pictorial illustrations. Altogether, it may be taken as an evidence of modern luxury. Our poetry volumes now are seldom sent forth without pictures, and our drama is likewise embellished, not only with painting, but with music.

An inconvenience, however, clearly arises on this: few plays in a season can be thus expensively produced, and fewer still of new plays. This, we suspect, is the grievance that is felt; dramatic authorship claims more opportunity. We think that this is a matter for legislative consideration; for we are rich in poets, capable of dramatic production. Could not a small theatre be endowed for five act pieces only, where only what had never been previously performed, should be enacted? An arrangement of this kind would, we think, answer the purpose reasonably well. Certes, it will never do to content ourselves, as a nation, with the reproduction, however magnificently, of old plays. We must have space for general exertion in new forms of developement.

We repeat, however, that Mr. Macready has done all that could be expected from him, and relatively to his Shakspere revivals, more than could have been hoped. We must accept his management as a path of transition. It is only necessary, in fact, for some poet to do for the drama, what this actor has done for the theatre; and the desirable result will appear in its season. An appeal should be made, in the first instance, to public sympathy and the aid of parlia

ment. The wealthy, both in mind and purse, should then assist the scheme with funds. Funds will be needed-for in many respects the public taste will require creating, and this takes both time and money. We are not of a temperament to decline any honorable risk; what we propose for another, we would ourself do, let there be but given to us an arena for action.

OUR MONTHLY CRYPT.

MODERN PYTHONISM,

BY THE MODERN CRYPTOLOGIST.

SOME people believe every thing, some believe nothing, and some will give credit to any thing. I am none of those. I can only say that I do not disbelieve any thing. It is very convenient to be in such a liberal state of mind as this, considering the multiplicity of opinions that prevail in society. To sympathise with the feelings of those with whom you correspond or associate, is one of the first maxims of common politeness; and the only danger you incur in so doing is that of a passive neutrality which makes no distinction between truth and falsehood. If you have got any good sense about you, you will easily avoid this breaker. If you are not well furnished with good sense, you may as well err passively by doing no harm, as blunder actively, doing a world of mischief. Thus by the aid of the Baconian Philosophy-(which, by the by, was in common use long before Bacon was known, but not before bacon was relished, which philosophy is as likely to lead wrong as right, since, under its guidance, his lordship himself concluded, that the Copernican system was erroneous) I have come to the conclusion that if I err, I err on the side of safety, and do not a bit of harm to myself or the universe.

I have read some curious books-being sick of common-place onesI have searched out some curious characters-being anxious to know if God had not made some human peculiarities, which the dull routine of vulgar life had refused to register and take account of,-I found what I imagined. I found here specimens of every thing I had read of. I have found in England what Lane and Lord Prudhoe imagined is only to be witnessed in the land of Ham, and I have discovered even more than they have seen or dared to report, but which, as my ordinary countrymen will refuse to credit, I hesitate to relate.

There is witchcraft in England; astrology and sorcery are beginning to revive under the lenity of the whigs!

There is something serious, awful in this! If you doubt it (that is the awfulness), read what I quote from my learned authorities, men who are not to be paralleled in modern times for talent, eloquence, research, industry, and curiosity-men of masculine minds-bearded men, with bearded faculties. Wierius, who writes on the delusions of devils, and is called by Sennertus the greatest of all medical authors-the patron of witches, inasmuch as he doubted, what all the great men of his age believed, even he acknowledges that there are many things hard to be understood; but the demons being spirits, he is clearly of opinion that they can effect more than delusions. Hence he concludes that witch

craft is a delusion. But he relates numerous stories of enchanted individuals, who drew out of their mouths, and spat, and ejected old keys, knives, wisps of straw and hay, coals, wood, files, and rasps, pins, needles, balls of yarn and hair-in large and fearful quantities-Cornelius Gemma speaks of a girl who voided a live snake eighteen inches long, and an inch in diameter. Alexander Benedictus (lib. 7. Prac. c. 25) reports, that he saw two women who were potioned, one of whom vomited a large needle wrapped up in long female hair, with the pairings of nails; the other ejected pieces of glass, with three large fragments of a dog's hairy tail, equal when used, to a tail entire. If you want more authority go to Henricus ab Heer-then take up Laurentius de Morbis Melancolicis,-and if you are not convinced by all these, then I tell you have no authority to believe history itself-Hume is only a Mandeville-Mandeville an Ovid-and Ovid an Æsop-and Esop a German Neologist.

To allay the fears of the gentle reader however, I must observe, that modern witchcraft is assuming a milder form, in harmony with the more benevolent and kindly spirit that characterises modern times. I have never seen any one who was troubled with live snakes inwardly, but I have no occasion to doubt the testimony of Pliny, who assures us that the marrow of a man's back bone will grow into a snake sometimesi. e. when it finds an opportunity. It is to be hoped that the modern discoveries in medicine have entirely prevented this misfortune for the future, and the increased consumption of pills, nostrums, and drugs, has probably diverted the principle of life in another direction.

The sketch which I mean to draw for the contemplation of the reader at present, is the sketch of a real character, whom I myself have personally conversed with; she is also one of a class of whom I know many both in London and elsewhere. They are however, known to few, and although exceedingly interesting as mental phenomena, they are almost wholly neglected by metaphysical philosophers, and even by animal magnetists themselves. Few men are very inquisitive in such matters, they generally have a littleness of pride in seeming contemptuous and scornful. I once, in the city of Edinburgh, saw a woman preaching very fluently before Broughton Chapel. The people all laughed, and the boys seemed half disposed to pelt her. I alone spoke kindly to the woman, took her away from the crowd, and walked along with her. I enquired the cause of her preaching; she said that, that very morning she heard a voice speak distinctly in her ear, and order her to go and deliver a message to the congregation in Broughton Chapel. As a sign, it told her the Psalm that the clergyman would give out to sing at dismissal. The sign being fulfilled literally, she felt full of the spirit of confidence, and rose up to deliver her message at the conclusion of the service. The beadles immediately silenced and put her out, and accordingly she held forth in the street, denouncing God's righteous judgment upon the beadles and all other deaf-adders, who hear not the voice of the charmer, charm she ever so wisely. She told me many curious things about her experience, in which I was greatly interested, and amply compensated for my philosophic calmness in kindly addressing a human being, who was evidently labouring under the influence of strong emotions-true to her-though imaginary and absurd to others.

But this is not the Pythoness, this is merely a specimen of the man

ner in which I find out curiosities that seem totally unknown to all my acquaintances, and are equally unknown to, or overlooked by, our literary purveyors. The girl whom I call the Pythoness, I met in a country town in England. I was led to her house accidentally by a man with whom I entered into a conversation upon such subjects. I saw nothing remarkable about her at first but a species of devout melancholy and careless indifference concerning the world and those that dwell therein; she was very civil, but was not disposed to speak of her own experience. She was so much accustomed to lectures from one party, expostulations from another, exorcising from a third, and ridicule and burlesque, and charges of hypocrisy from a fourth, professing superior enlightenment, that she was very suspicious. However I got acquainted with her at last, and once had the good luck to see her in an ecstasy. She was on her knees, her hands were clasped, and her hair all in disorder; but this was merely by accident, her inmates having uncombed and unbanded it, to give her head a free circulation of air. She spoke with amazing power, every ear was charmed-the attention was commanded. She was let alone. She was in apparent agony ; yet the melody of her voice and the sweetness of her language, the rich, wild, religious, fanatical poetry of her thoughts, the dreadful judgments she painted, and the exhilarating mercies of God which she conditionally promised, were enough to suspend for a season the most resolute mind, and thaw into religious feeling the proudest philosophy. I cannot repeat her words, but if I could they would fail in producing a similar effect upon the reader to what I myself experienced. I was entranced as well as she, and I fancied I saw and heard all that she described. She was in a vision, her eyes were motionless like those of the Baron Dupote's Somnambules. They were intently gazing at something, and that something was no less than the Son of Mary, according to her own declaration. In his name she spoke-and from him she declared her message to the auditory was sent. About twenty people altogether witnessed the scene. Some said she was mad, others an impostor, others an epileptic, some went off with a loud laugh. I made this observation on the spot, that no one seemed disposed to inquire into the matter with much candour, and the most ridiculous and uncharitable conjectures were expressed by some, which were wide of the truth as pole from pole.

In afterwards enquiring into this phenomenon, I found that this ecstasy could in some respects be voluntarily produced; but not without the concomitant circumstance of excitement. That is to say, by going into a certain species of excitement, and passively yielding to its powerful influence on the mind, trance or vision might be produced; but very frequently it was totally unexpected, and had its origin solely from within. I was satisfied it had a mental origin, although I do not mean to deny that it was, or might be also, connected with a certain bodily modality of constitution. It was the imagination in a cramp, as a wag very funnily observed, without perhaps suspecting that there was much philosophy in the remark.

This was one of the first specimens of Sibylism that I had ever seen. I have had numerous subsequent opportunities of forming an estimate of this class of human beings. I will not call them mad, nor impostors. Neither do I believe their predictions and denunciations. I have seen

them literally falsified. But I have seen them also fulfilled, and could inform the reader of one case, at least, of national interest in which an individual personally known to me, was commanded by an unknown voice, to make a combustible preparation of seven different ingredients, and take this preparation to several of the public buildings in London, to cast it within their precincts, and pronounce aloud in the name of the Lord "Thus shall this place be destroyed by fire." This was done to the old Houses of Parliament, the Royal Exchange, Somerset House, and Buckingham House. I have known it many years, and have now seen two of the fore doomed buildings enveloped in the flames. I say I do not believe in these predictions, I would not risk a sixpence upon their fulfilment; but there are specimens of foresight connected with the history of modern Pythonism, which would startle the wisest and puzzle them to discover why Nature has thus revealed a secret, and enveloped it in mist and even falsehood at the same time. The ore is larger than the gem, and the chaff is a bushel to the grain of wheat; but the grain and the gem are sometimes to be found, and when they are found they are worthy of admiration. There is a prophetic principle in nature, and it comes out both amongst the learned and the unlearned. The learned forecast by Baconian induction, and the concatenation of causes-the unlearned predict as the bird builds its nest, and the bee its cell by a divine instinct which forsees, in highly coloured romance, what learning reduces to a dull reality. But ignorance has charmed society with its raptures, and philosophy can do little more than prune its exuberance.

We need not, as some closet philosophers do, dispute the reality of heathen oracles; the man who denies that reality, is a very inaccurate observer of humanity. We have materials for an oracle in England. Build the temple, provide the tripod and the frankincense, and I will produce a genuine Pythia-Tricks of priests! I should like to see the priest who could do more than find a Pythia! I challenge all the priests in the world to make one, and yet they are corruptible, and have been corrupted, and nevertheless are genuine. The explanation of this, however, I cannot enter upon at present.

It is faith that produces the divine fury. There never was a Pythia who did not firmly believe in her mission. With that faith, the temple, the tripod, and the frankincense, are sufficient inspiration to rouse the God within; for he is always there, and only wants awakening. He does not come from the clouds, or from a distant shrine, or a hallowed grove; he springs up in the soul when passivity is produced, and the female nature is the fittest instrument for her awakening power. I have often consulted the oracle, and always found a dubious answer as of old.

"Sortilegis egeant dubii, semperque futuris,
Casibus ancipites."

Lucan, lib. 9.

These words are put into the mouth of Cato, when Labienus advised him to consult the oracle in his distress. The philosophers replied, that the oracle still left one in doubt. But this doubt is supposed by many ancient philosophers to have been the principal source of Grecian acuteness. It stimulated the reflective faculties; it awakened the imagination, the wit, and the judgment; Plato had the deepest reverence for oracles, and Socrates, in the "Republic," confers upon them the sove