richest harvest to a skilful and diligent observer. Cervantes has immortalized himself, by displaying the effect of one bad species of composition on the hero of his satire,* and Butler has delineated the evils of epidemic religious and political frenzy; but it remains as a task for some delicate pencil, to trace the miseries introduced into private families, by a state of mind, which "sees more devils than vast hell can hold," and which yet affords no proof of derangement, sufficient to justify the seclusion of the unhappy invalid. * There are beauties, in the character of Don Quixote, which can only be understood by persons. accustomed to lunatics. The dexterity and readiness with which he reconciles all events with the wayward system which he has adopted: his obstinacy in retaining and defending false impressions, and the lights of natural sagacity, and cultivated eloquence, which break frequently through the cloud that dims his understanding, are managed with consummate knowledge of partial insanity, though it is sometimes hardly perceptible to the general reader. This is a species of distress, on which no novelist has ever touched, though it is unfortunately increasing in real life; though it may be associated with worth, with genius, and with the most specious demonstrations (for a while) of general excellence. Addison has thrown out a few hints, on this subjeet, in one of the Spectators; it could not escape so critical an observer of human infirmities; and I have always supposed, that if the character of Sir Roger de Coverley had been left untouched by Steele, it would have exhibited some interesting traits of this nature. As it now appears, we see nothing more than occasional absence of mind; and the peculiarities of an humourist, contracted by retirement, and by the obsequiousness of his dependants. It has often occurred to me, that. Shakespeare's character of Hamlet can only be understood, on this principle. He feigns madness, for political purposes, while the poet means to represent his understanding as really, (and unconsciously to himself) unhinged by the cruel circumstances in which he is placed. The horror of the communication made by his father's spectre; the necessity of belying his attachment to an innocent and deserving object; the certainty of his mother's guilt; and the supernatural impulse by which he is goaded to an act of assassination, abhorrent to his nature, are causes sufficient to overwhelm and distract a mind previously disposed to weakness and to melancholy,' and originally full of tenderness and natural affection. By referring to the book, it will be seen that his real insanity is only developed after the mock-play. Then, in place of a systematic conduct, conducive to his purposes, he becomes irresolute, incon |
