at a distance, an effect upon the nerves of those whom it is about to assail. But wit is most successful when it bursts from an unexpected ambush, and carries its point by surprise. The best jest will lose its effect on the stage, if so much preparation is employed as leads the spectator to anticipate what is coming, as it will suffer in society if introduced with the preface of "I'll tell you a good thing!" In this species of surprise Molière surpasses every writer of comedy, but the jest at which you laugh springs as naturally out of the subject, as if it had been obvious to your apprehension from the very commencement of the scene. A brief sentence, a word, even an exclamation, is often sufficient to produce the full effect of the ludicrous, as a spark will spring a mine, in the place and time when the explosion is least suspected. The most unexpected means in the hands of this great artist are also the most certain; and you are first made sensible of what he has aimed at, when you admire his arrow quivering in the centre of the mark.

The depth and force of Molière's common sense is equally remarkable in displaying his own just and sound opinions, as in exposing the false taste and affectation of others. Ariste, Philinte, and the other personages of his drama, to whom (as the ancients did to their choruses) he has ascribed the task of moralizing upon the subject of the scene, and expressing the sentiments which must be supposed those of the author himself, have all the firmness, strength, and simplicity, proper to the enunciation of truth and wisdom; and much more

of both will be found within the precincts of Molière's works, than in the formal lessons of men of less acute capacity.

Molière himself knew the force and value of his simplicity, although sometimes objected to by fastidious critics as hurrying him into occasional vulgarity. In order that he might not depart from it, he adopted the well-known practice of reading his pieces, while in manuscript, to his housekeeper, La Foret, and observing the effect they produced on so plain, but shrewd and sensible a mind, before bringing them on the stage. The habit of being called into consultations of this kind, had given the good dame such an accurate tact, that it was in vain that Molière tried to pass upon her the composition of another poet for his own. The circumstance proves how well she deserved to sit in the chair of censorship which her master had assigned her. Mons. Taschereau thinks, that the opinion of La Foret was only demanded by Molière upon low and farcical subjects. But though we allow that some parts of his higher comedy might be above her sphere, we can easily conceive, that the author might have an interest in knowing exactly how much his housekeeper-at once an exact and favourable specimen of a great majority of his audiences-might be able to comprehend of his higher comedy, and in what particulars it was elevated beyond the line of her understanding. Nor is it unreasonable to conceive, that an author who desired above all other things to be generally understood, should have paused on the passages which La Foret comprehended less perfectly, and omitted

or explained what was like to prove caviare to the multitude. It would not be perhaps unnatural to suppose, that to the shrewd, frank, acute, and penetrating character of Molière's housekeeper we owe the original idea of those clever and faithful, but caustic and satirical female domestics, the Toinettes and Nicoles, whom he has produced on the stage with so much effect.

We must now take our leave of M. Taschereau, to whose entertaining work we are obliged for so much instruction or amusement. Some readers may be disappointed, that, after pronouncing Molière the prince of the writers of comedy, we should have limited the talents by which he attained such pre-eminence to the possession of common sense, however sound-of observation, however acuteand of expression, however forcible, true, and simple. It is not, however, by talents of a different class from those enjoyed by the rest of humanity that the ingredients which form great men are constituted; on the contrary, such peculiar tastes and talents only produce singularity. The real source of greatness, in almost every department, is an extraordinary proportion of some distinguishing quality proper to all mankind; and of which, therefore, all mankind, less or more, comprehends the character and the value. A man with four arms would be a monster for romance, or for a show; it is the individual that can best make use of the ordinary conformation of his body who obtains a superiority over his fellow-creatures by strength or agility. In a word, the general qualities of sound judgment, clear views, and powerful expression of what is

distinctly perceived, acquire the same value, as they rise in degree above the general capacity of humanity, with that obtained by diamonds, which in proportion to their weight in carats become almost inestimable, while the smaller sparks of the same precious substance are of ordinary occurrence, and held comparatively in slight esteem.

ARTICLE VIII.

CHATTERTON.

[From the Edinburgh Review, April, 1804. On "The Works of THOMAS CHATTERTON; containing his Life, by G. GREGORY, D.D., and Miscellaneous Poems. 3 vols. 8vo. London, 1803.]

THE works of Chatterton, whose life and death will be the lasting honour and indelible disgrace of the eighteenth century, are at length, after the lapse of more than thirty years, edited in a collected state. We were at some loss to conceive what could have occasioned the long delay of so interesting a publication; and the explanation has proved rather mortifying. A priori, such a work seemed particularly calculated to engage the public

attention. To the internal merit of the poems, now at length published, is united all the interest excited by the romantic history and lamentable death of the wonderful author, as well as that which arises from the exercise of critical investigation, and the ardour of literary controversy. Nevertheless, the delay may be attended by its own advantages in aiding us to ascertain the real merits of the disputed question. The works of Chatterton, or the poems of Rowley, have survived the controversy which attended their appearance in 1770. Of the assailants and defenders of their originality, many have paid the debt to nature, and others will remember their ardour in the contest as the emotions of an agitating dream.' It may therefore be supposed that the public will coolly and impartially determine the controversy (if it yet remains a controversy) upon the solid grounds of evidence; and it might also have been hoped, that circumstances of additional proof, suppressed or misrepresented while the feelings of being duped were yet too acute, might now have been recovered. We will endeavour to show how far we have been gratified by the present edition, and in what respects it has fallen short of our expectation.

The preface bears the well-known and respectable name of Mr Robert Southey; but we are informed that so much of the business has devolved upon Mr Cottle, that it becomes necessary to use the term editors in the plural. Both poets, and

1 [See at the end of vol. iii., Life and Works of Chatterton, a Catalogue raisonnée of Twenty-eight Publications relating to the Controversy. 1772-1795.]