of the Clerk of the Revels for the time being, from whose book of accounts the following is an extract:

"Thys forrest or pagent after the ews was had into Westmester Gret Hall, and by the King's gard and other gentyllmen rent, brokyn, and by fors karryed away, and the poor men that wer set to kep, theyr heds brokyn two of them, and the remnant put ther from with foors."

Another account by the same functionary gives us an insight into the origin of the drama. At Christmas, 1516, Cornish, the deviser of the revels (no sinecure, we should think, in Henry's masking days), and the children of the chapel, performed "the story of Troylous and Pander rychly imparylled. Also Kallkas and Kryssyd, imparylled lyke a wedow of onour, in blake sarsenet and other abilements for sec he mater; Dyomed and the Greks imparylld lyke men of war, akording to the intent or porpoos." After this "komedy" was played and done, a herald made a proclamation that three strange knights were come to do battle with those of the said castle, out of which issued "three men of arms with punching spears," apparelled in white satin and green satin of Bruges, lined with green and white sarsenet, and the satin cut thereon. A double cloak for Troylous, and a mantle and bishop's surcoat for Cornish to play Kallkas in, cost 107. 11s. The dress of the lady who played Faith cost 488., and "7 ells of Holland eloth for short wide sleeves for Diomed and his fellows" were charged 78. an ell.

Thus we see that, besides the more direct and purely historical element which predominates through these volumes, they abound with matter of a subsidiary character, and of surpassing interest. From them we are enabled to gather much curious information respecting many points about which we are glad to be informed, but for the elucidation of which we should search in vain elsewhere. The price of labour; the cost of furniture, dress, food, and luxuries; the domestic arrangements of the royal household; the rate of travelling; the names of the vegetables and flowers then in cultivation; the terms used in hunting, tilting, and shooting; the rate of interest, -these, and very many other subjects of a kindred nature, may be illustrated from Mr. Brewer's important volumes; indeed it is not easy to say what subject they do not illustrate.

Art and Beauty.

PART II.

WE may look on Beauty as an attractiveness not addressed to the wants of men, only to the sight,-—an ȧvýpiðμov véλaoua, a smile of joy in dimples, past the power of men to count; an element of perfect completeness, repose, satisfaction, spread over all created things, each in its degree,—some objects showing this in a singular degree, some only in connection with what is around them, as foils or contrasts, but adding still an atom to the whole; some things being made to honour, some to dishonour; but all, in one way or another, having a place.

Corruption, destruction, and death-agencies the existence of which is awful and unsearchable to us-show themselves in the natural world, to mar this visible delightfulness, to break off the completeness of its harmony. We pass by, and see from time to time the ruin of this perfect work; we see, in fact, something the very reverse of beauty, having its origin in some opposite force. And this sudden cessation of the existence of beautiful things or aspects is a mystery we must notice, but which we are not called upon to investigate. It is the negation-the contrary of this beautiful order; it is no part of it. Often, indeed, the powers or principles of destruction are contained in the substances and objects around us, which are so beautiful and so good; as, e. g., the principle of fire, and the lightning, which lies hidden in so many substances; the explosive powers of gases in vegetables, and so on. The capacity for actively rending asunder and destroying or consuming, thus hidden away for good ends, is collected, brought into violent exercise, and reverses the musical concord and progress of the natural order; as if that which Oersted calls the "soul in nature" were armed against its Author, and undid His work. This is emphatically "ugliness."

From this violent action we except what may be called consumption—such as that of herbs and fruits, appointed to be the food of men or animals-and the fall of leaves, of which the vital principle is spent, or has retreated into hidden store-places, to collect fresh strength and prepare for a renewed growth another year.

For this nature provides: nor does this succession mar its beauty. Violent forces do so; and though existing and coming into action-sometimes through the fury or design of men, sometimes by an upheaving of natural things-we do not recognise them as in the natural order,—rather as disruption of that order, happening we cannot tell why or when, telling of a mysterious influence which we cannot fathom.

Nevertheless, over the ruins thus brought about by wars, fires, earthquakes, floods, or other forces, after a while-shorter or longer -the natural order flows again, and has its will; as we say, “resumes her sway." Thus the scars, and rents, and the downfall of nature, or of men's works, put this healing power to the proof, and draw out its resources in the way of repair and restoration.

That which causes ugliness, horror-in short, want of beauty— either in its action or the marks of its action, we may speak of as death,—death going on, or death completed. This, though often before us in the world, is not part of this order of nature; it has no part of its beauty. Natural growth, on the contrary, strives against this disruption, overcomes it, and ends by showing, on the maimed and broken objects of its destructive agency, some of the most beautiful and attractive of its appearances.

Leaving aside, however, inquiry into the origin and action of this mysterious influence, that runs counter to the creation on all hands, while allowing the gaps and breaks that it brings about in what we call nature,-we may take it as indisputable that all created things have on them a seal of exquisite attractiveness, which we call beauty. Some creatures are more, some less beautiful; some singly, some when in combination; some standing out before us loved and desired by all men; some brought to our notice after long and careful examination. It is to the study and representation of what we here call Beauty that Art is directed. Art in this high sense has nothing to do with "usefulness;" and as we are calling attention to the distinction, it is worth while to consider the relative importance of these two qualities.

It is often said in our age, and especially in our own country, that the real important consideration of the day is usefulness. Railroads, canals, machinery, mines, coalfields, and so on, are sources of wealth, and are useful. Is Beauty, which is distinct from all this, of equal importance?

We argue now only with reference to Art, and to the dignity and importance of Art,-not on moral grounds at all. Whether wealth and abundance be good or bad, hurtful or profitable to men; and whether the pleasures of sight, which are enjoyable without the

necessity of the possession of the beautiful things we see, be liable to abuse or not,-are moral questions, which are not our business. But as we decided at the outset that there was a positive rank in pleasures themselves, and that some were more enduring and more capable of indefinite increase than others, so it was clear that that class of enjoyments was, in itself and on those accounts, higher and nobler than those which answer to a necessity, and proclaim our weakness in doing so. What is their relative value?

Let us look out on the creation, on "nature," as it lives and grows around us, for an answer. Now, nature produces useful objects-things with a beauty of their own-but clearly brought into existence for use: animals, e. g., corn, and fruits.

If we consider man as the visible master of the earth, and animals as subjects of his, then the animals in the first place, and the fruits that sustain both him and the animals, are the creatures most useful to him. He and they have certain wants: they and the fruits are the sources from which these wants are supplied. Now, amongst the countless order of vegetable productions, how many are useable for food? how many produce eatable fruits at all? Bread, as far as tradition can carry us back, has been the staff of man's life. A few animals form part of his food; a few others become his servants, help him to till the earth, to grind the corn, to give him eggs and rear their young for him, or to hunt and take for him what is wild, and to carry him and his goods to and fro according to his wish. A few fruits are useful to him rather as delicacies than dependable sources of nourishment.

But if horses and dogs, camels and asses and oxen, are his servants, and a few more animals are useful to him for food,-of what immense numbers has he no real need! And excepting hounds and horses, those he does use have comparatively little beauty. The wonderful and beautiful animals we see in the Zoological Gardens and other menageries are of no use. Many are our enemies; many live and die in primeval forests, receding and disappearing before the step of man, glorifying with graceful forms or brilliant plumage solitudes that the foot of man has never trodden.

Of what use, in the sense in which we are speaking here, are all these wonderful creatures? Men may take them, tame them in a measure, or destroy them, but have no need of them. Of birds and animals that man leaves room for, great numbers are useless. The hawk, the raven, the swallow, and so on, are of no use. If, as we hear now on all sides, the birds are friends to us, and are so by destroying insects, what is this but saying that one set of useless creatures subsists in order to find food for another? Others again

VOL. III.

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are requisite for them; and so on in a long chain. The vegetable world shows us a similar side. If corn and fruits are useful to us, and green herbs and grasses to our beasts, how few there are of these! The flowers, which are the glory of vegetable things, are for delight, and not for use; and, as in the case of animals, vast numbers of plants and flowers are known to bloom and grow where the feet rarely tread; some flourish most and are most beautiful where the air would be pestilential to men. So again the mountains and the sea contain recesses and creatures living or growing, which cannot be seen, but of which we know enough to be certain of their beauty.

Man is the only being that can enjoy beauty; and there are places in the earth and the vast extent of the sea which can never be his. Yet this superabundant beauty is every where; and vast tribes and genera of beautiful creatures succeed each other and perish, giving place to other kinds, though men get only glimpses of them, and have but heard enough to know of this truth.

We see, besides, that while to grow corn and eatable fruits tillage and care are wanted, yet the flowers neither toil nor spin. Though they are capable of enlargement or greater vividness of colour, or of other developments, yet they will come into bloom and be beautiful in their own places of their own accord. "Useful" nature requires and is obedient to the will and the exertions of men were it not so, they would perish. But Beautiful nature goes on whether they are present or absent; subsisted for long ages where man had never come, and springs to life again over the ruined cloister or the shattered tower, after its owner or its occupant has been driven from it never to return.

This beauty, then, continues independently of any helper, even of any human wiiness,-a perpetual declaration of glory; and we see it or hear of it, wonder at or love it, but with no thought that it is useful to us. Such is the answer nature gives us, when we look around us to find out the relative rank and importance of its beauty as compared with its usefulness.

We may observe, besides, that before useful things men are equal; that with all possible command of wealth and opportunity, the possession of land or of produce of all kinds, no one can increase his capacity for enjoying useful things except to a very limited degree. A rich possessor cannot eat much more, or wear warmer clothes than a poor man could. He may use horses and the services of other men, but his body undergoes no substantial change by the abundance of useful appliances; and for the less wealthy, if they have enough, they have as much as he has. The