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But still it is impossible that he can have invented the main fact, that a Westminster boy has been wounded, to the danger of his life, by two of his school-fellows. Nay, neither can it have been invented that those who inflicted the wound are suffered to remain at large. This last fact we must consider a very great disgrace to the authorities of Westminster school. They must know that the law requires that where a party is injured, to the degree that his life is endangered, the inflictors of the injury should be taken into custody till the event becomes decided, and the circumstances of the transaction be thoroughly ascertained. That these boys can be suffered to go at large reflects also upon the police, if the Master of Westminster will not do his duty.

It is clear to us, that this unfortunate occurrence has arisen from that party spirit which exists with regard to what at Westminster are called Town Boys and King's Scholars. There, it is the contrary to Eton: though the distinction is not nearly so great, as between Colleger and Oppidan, in the estimation of the latter,-yet what there is, as we have understood, is rather the contrary way, namely, the King's Scholars in some degree have the pas. This unfortunate lad Harrison seems to have entered a particular yard from which the Town Boys are excluded; and, accordingly, in the exact spirit of a public school, the King's Scholars proceed to beat his brains out.

If we considered this a merely accidental occurrence, we should not say one word about it:-but we regard it as naturally springing from the principles of the Public Schools. And we shall never let slip an occasion of shewing the fruits of such a tree, as we consider we are doing a service to society in exposing the results of a system so directly contrary to all its best interests.

24th.-Wonders will never cease. Exeter Change is moved to Charing Cross: for that Mr. Cross's Collection of animals will ever be called any thing else but Exeter Change, it is vain to suppose. We were passing the new abode of the beasts yesterday evening, and we were politely asked in to their dinner. We begged leave to decline the invitation; and we did so from a feeling which has long prevailed in our mind, and which we ardently wish were general and strongnamely, that the very existence of such collections is an act of great cruelty. We do not allude to the treatment of the animals-but to the unavoidable fact of their confinement. We are thoroughly convinced that it is to these poor beasts far greater torture than to human beings, and it is considerably distant from a pleasure to them. But they have minds to supply them with some substitute for the excitements of change of locality, though the mere physical restraint must be most irksome. Imprisonment is the punishment we adjudge for many very heavy crimes, yet we never shut a man up in a place in which he can scarcely turn-which is the case in most collections of animals-nay, what is a few yards' extent in comparison with boundless wastes and forests?

We have been, before now, exceedingly touched by gazing upon a tiger, just able to turn in a narrow den, and by reflecting upon his natural habits. Truly does confinement reduce the fiercest spirit, or he would

die from its vain ebullitions. A tiger is accustomed to live in vast woods, in very hot climates-here he is kept in a band-box, in a cold one: all his habits are thoroughly destroyed, and it is a strong matter of wonder to us that his existence can continue. We have pitied the tiger the more from the absurd prejudice which still exists among many, that a tiger is not to be felt for because he is treacherous and cruel. This is not true, in fact, more than of the lion, who is so extravagantly praised; but, even if it were, it is equally foolish and cruel to regard one animal less favourably than another, on account of the qualities he has received from the great hand of Nature.

We are far from running into the extreme that man has not, for useful purposes, the most just power over animal life. But under no circumstances has he any right to inflict needless pain. And the needlessness of the misery inflicted upon these poor brutes is undeniable. We do not, indeed, see that an intimate knowledge of the habits of beasts in countries they do not inhabit is of much use: but if it were, we should not acquire them by these museums, as the animals are of necessity prevented from displaying any of their natural propensities. As for mere curiosity, we think its gratification far too highly bought at such a price as is paid for its indulgence in this instance.

With regard to the study of this branch of natural history, it is scarcely at all advanced, in any of its useful purposes, by having these animals encaged here. The true mode of studying them is as they are, in their own countries.-A collection of the observations of many, each animal being described by those who have habitually seen it in its natural state, would make the best natural history in the world. How can they be duly judged of, poked here into a pen? And, as to what they may become, so lodged, we cannot think we have any right so to lodge them for the sake of the experiment.

Perhaps, the knowledge of the structure of some of these beasts may be of use in comparative anatomy. Very well; that is a legitimate object. If it be useful-of which we have no knowledge one way or the other let a sufficiency be brought for that purpose. But they are brought to live-and in the most miserable manner, for such it must be to them.

But birds!-live birds!-Can any thing be so cruel as that? If a bird be born in a cage, even then it is probable that the constant impossibility of exercising that impulse which nature has given to the race, may be productive of pain. This we know not. But we do know what a bird which has been caught at its full growth must feel. A bird used to the green foliage, and the bright sun, and the fresh and cheerful air, must be exceedingly happy, truly, screwed up in a cage in a room. The depriving it of the possibility of flying, is, we cannot doubt, an infliction, the suffering under which must be of a degree that would have been envied by inventors of tortures, in the agreeable days in which tortures were invented. The distinguishing gift of nature to a bird is that it flies. We catch a parrot, an eagle, or a sea-fowl, and we chain them to a staff, or put them into a cage, in a different hemisphere, or at all events a different climate, from that to which they have been used and above all they never can soar into the air, as they were wont, on those wings which are the characteristic gift of their

nature. And all this that we may have a curious or a pretty thing to look at!

We believe there are many people in the world who will sneer at what we have been saying as false sentiment." No shaft of argu. ment is so easily let fly as a sneer-but fortunately, it recoils, and strikes the bowman far more often than the mark; for few who could use it with effect, will. No-we have confidence that the bulk of our readers will never think that false sentiment, the object of which is to diminish suffering, though it be of the lower classes of the creation, Neither do we believe that they will think it false sentiment, if we say that we consider the alliance between compassion for them, and kindliness of feeling towards our own fellow-creatures, to be very close indeed.

25th. In reading over the proof of the article on Euripides by the Harrovian, (what an unpoetical apropos!) we have been reminded by the very spirited mot of Canova, in answer to Napoleon, of one or two others, which equally display his remarkable power of thought and felicity of expression. We believe they never appeared in print ;-we heard them from a lady who was in Rome at the time of his death, a very great authority in any matter of gusto or literature. The first was said in answer to a person who, in a melancholy mood, exclaimed he did not care how soon he died. "Ma perchè morire? c'è sempre tanto tempo da morire-tanto tempo!" We agree thoroughly with the great sculptor's philosophy, quaintly as it is expressed. There is always plenty of time for that, to say nothing of the duration which follows it.

The next was also about death, but alas! about his own death. We heard the two anecdotes in the succession in which we have placed them, and we were curious to know how he, who thought of it thus, met it. His mind seemed full of his art; when informed his recovery was beyond hope, he exclaimed “Oimè-allora non farò più Venere!"-His success in his statues of Venus had been so great, that he had determined to devote himself entirely to their sculpture. There fore his death, and his ceasing to make Venuses, were the same thing. It is a very characteristie trait, and therefore we shall not enter into the objections we should have to Venuses being sculptured at all, were it not that their being in white marble, and without eyes, cause them to raise no sort of idea of a human being,

We must, now, do a most uneditorial thing-namely, recommend the paper, which brought up the recollection of these anecdotes to our readers' attention. They will plainly see that it is the production of a young man and an enthusiast; but we think there is much --genius mingled with the enthusiasm. There are more poetical images in these few pages of prose, than in many pages of very successful verses. Probably the writer will ultimately see that they would be better-placed in some poetical measure; but we can have no reason to object-for such a style will be certain to attract the lovers of sentiment, and deservedly, to a classical article.

We have, however, just two points on which we wish to say to him a few words. He is wrong-not in opinion really, but verbally, and

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therefore to the many it will seem to be an opinion, in stating that "Indistinctness" is "a merit" in poetry. It is not, and never can be, and the Harrovian, we are persuaded, does not so consider" it. His very exposition proves this, and he is obliged to have recourse to "the understanding of ordinary men," to support his apparent dogma. His "conception" is not " erroneous," but his representation of it is. What have men of ordinary understanding to do with imagination?— let them stick to their lasts!-But with men who have any right to have dealings with such things, "the characteristic charm of the imagination in its purity," is certainly not "indistinctness." Its creations convey to such minds distinct images-delicate, varied, shifting, if you will, and as we hope;-but still distinct. Nay, they may and ought, if highly imaginative, and received in an imaginative mind, to give rise to a long train of ideas, all beautiful, all exquisite; and perhaps the first from the last very different; but still connected by real though invisible links— unlike perhaps in accidental semblance, but still all similar in spiritnamely, that of the original creation from which they arose. Every product of the imagination we consider does more honour to the source whence it springs, in proportion as it is clear, defined, tangible to the imagination, and therefore enjoyed by it. These properties also should be made perfect by the exquisite delicacy of distinction-which we believe to be exactly that which our correspondent calls indistinctness. If it be not, then he is wrong in fact;-for it is quite clear that no man of really powerful imagination ever created an image, or a crowd of images, of which he could not stamp a perfect picture to his own mind, if words failed him to convey it to the mind of others. It is a great error to think that reason and imagination are other than the most real and naturally-assisting allies. They often exist separately to a very high degree-but never perfectly. Their nobler and more delicate qualities are not identical, but twins.

The other point on which we slightly dissent from the Harrovian, is an exception which he seems to be rather inclined to extend into a rule. We are not Fadladeen-we do not in the least share his indignation at that which is

"Like the faint exquisite music of a dream," because there are eleven instead of ten syllables in the line-very mu sically brought in, however. But this is quite different from a constant shifting from eight syllables to seven, which injures the rhythm without any corresponding advantage that we can see. We say this to our correspondent-because we consider the version to which we allude—the first, namely to be so beautifully made, and we hope to gratify our readers so much by a continuation of the series, that we are determined they shall not consider we are calling their attention to the singular and beautiful character which pervades the paper, being blind to what appear to us, though we may be wrong, as a few blemishes of execution.

27th.-On Saturday we went to hear Madame Malibran Garcia. We did not chance to be in town when she was here some years ago, so we had no grounds of comparison of advancement, or lingering recollections of what might be unchanged. We went perfectly

free from bias to judge of this extreme reputation of Parisian gift. The last person who came to England under nearly similar cireumstances-having been previously here with but slight success, and "Is there to be a having then been the rage at Paris, was-Pasta. second?" thought we. As the thought was crossing our mind, we heard the voice of one of the stock Opera men say to a friend, in speaking of the performance of Tuesday" Oh! she beat Pasta to death!positively to death!" "Indeed!-well, this will be worth listening to." She came on: her appearance is pleasing-quite sufficiently so for stage-purposes, except, and it is a sad exception for real expression, that the formation of her eye is round. The conclusion we drew in the first scene was not shaken by many things very much superior to We cannot but consider her style and it which she did afterwards. taste utterly false and bad; and they pervaded the opera throughout. There were one or two hits in one or two airs which were free from it but no one air was so completely, or even nearly. We shall by and bye allude to these exceptions; we must first say what that style and taste are which we so unqualifiedly reprobate. They are, then, the system of constant, unsparing ornament, of shake, shake, shake,-of roulade ever recurring, be the sentiment or the music what they may. We really think we do not exaggerate when we say, that nineteen-twentieths of the passages in Madame Malibran's performance were disfigured by this disease-for it is scarcely less. This tricksy style of ornament has been much fostered by Rossini's mode of composition. It is so utterly hostile to the real taste and beauty of Mozart's music, that it does require a singer to be most irreclaimably given up to this cacoëlhes, to be able to introduce it to any great extent in his operas.. But Rossini has encouraged, if not created, the system-he has adopted it a good deal in composition, and now he suffers for it; for his filagree being filagreed a second time, makes it absolute tinsel.

We do not think that, with the very few exceptions we shall notice presently, Madame Malibran gave any bar without an additional trill. In the last duet with Othello this was carried to an excess so a Parisian admirer of remarkable, that a friend of ours, who was Malibran, and had been an amateur all over the continent, turned round and said-" Well, I do acknowledge your objection now." We answered-" Do you think she would have any success in Italy or Germany? Do you think they would listen to her at Milan or Vienna ?" Our friend seemed struck with this. He said, "I think you have hit upon a true criterion, and I believe they would not."

We should not thus strongly object were it a moderate ornament,— though it always is very open to abuse-but when sentiment, meaning, taste, nay the very music itself are sacrificed to it,-it becomes intolerable. We like to hear the real notes given tastefully, feelingly, and with simple power or delicacy according to the sense of the words, and the expression of the music. Such is our principle in judging of music; we own at once we have no technical knowledge of the art. We know nothing of effaut flat, as Bayes calls it but we do know that those who are most truly acquainted with the art have always admitted that principle to be just.

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