the poem of the Faerie Queene is often pensive, sometimes sad, but no vein of tragedy can be discovered in any portion of it. The knights are often made to suffer, as for instance, the red-cross knight in the dungeon of Orgoglio, or the knight of justice, when he becomes the bondsman of Radigund; but all our favorite characters, both knights and ladies, all in whom we feel interested, all but infidels, renegades, cowards, sorcerers, and vile hags, are eventually successful and prosperous.

Spenser wrote of chivalry as he found it in his own time; he either did not perceive, or he did not care to notice the fact, that a great change had been wrought in the system since the meridian of its splendor. He did but transfer the personages of his own time and the spirit of society around him, to an earlier age. His knights are but the great men of his own time transplanted into fairyland; his poem is a monument to the glory of his queen. His fairy court is only the court of Elizabeth, glittering with the charms which a fine imagination spread around it; but not essentially differing in accomplishments, in elegance, and in manly virtues, from the reality. His object, as he has himself told us, was, to "fashion a gentleman, or noble person, in vertuous and gentle discipline;" and again, "I labour to pourtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the twelve private morall vertues." That is, he wished to display in the person of his hero, the accomplishments and virtues which then constituted the perfection of manly character.

The form of the work and the distinguishing sentiments which pervade it, were undoubtedly due to the great interests, occupations, and sentiments of the age in which he lived. Allegory was probably popular in his time; many of the public amusements of the court partook of this character. Every one will remember how conspicuous a part they form in the revels of Kenilworth castle, as described by Sir Walter Scott; and they were exhibited generally on the occasions of the queen's celebrated "progresses" through her kingdom. Even the language of the times partook of the allegorical character. Sir Walter Scott, whose authority is decisive in points like this, has given us, in the "Monastery," a specimen of the fashionable conversation of the court, in the flowery verbiage of Sir Piercie Shafton, which we might rely on as correct, even were it not confirmed by the writings of Sydney and others.

But, besides this, it would seem that the spirit of the age itself presented, in some degree, an allegorical character throughout civilized Europe, and particularly in England. Opinions of vast importance and interest occupied nations as well as individuals. Wars were undertaken for new objects; hitherto they had been made for conquest or for defence; they were now begun for the support or the propaga tion of ideas. Up to this time, a river, a chain of mountains, or even an imaginary dividing line, distinguished the inhabitants on either side as hereditary and natural enemies. Now, a more fearful distinction was interposed between contending parties, than rivers or mountains, in the differences of opinion on the weightiest subjects: nations were divided and plunged into civil war; enemies of ages were become friends and allies. A feeling of brotherhood, more powerful than the sense of nationality, bound distant countries with the links of friendship. Conquest and glory even, had ceded their claims to the call of sentiments profounder still; and their burning desires were forgotten in the absorbing interests of more exciting and more impetuous motives. The civilized world was now, for the first time, ranged without distinction of nation, race, or language, under the broad and hostile banners of religious faith. Opinions thus came to be represented by parties, nations, and countries. Armed hosts were no longer the mere followers of ambitious or patriotic commanders, but stood forth as the type of this or that form of belief; national distinctions, and, to a degree, individual character, were lost in the overpowering and absorbing features of religious tenets. But more than this; in an age when monarchs, individually, exerted so vast an influence, their private opinions became a matter of the last importance. The faith of the sovereign was, in a great degree, the faith of the nation; he became the representative of the opinions of his subjects, and in this way assumed a sort of allegorical character, as the personification of certain tenets, dogmas, or systems of belief. The tendency of the age was to represent ideas under visible forms which stood as the type of them. This was particularly the case in England, where the queen, besides being the representative, as she was the champion of the reforma-. tion, was also invested by the chivalrous spirit of the times with many qualities, some of which she possessed in a small degree, and others not at all. Thus it was, that Elizabeth came to receive the costly homage of such men as Shaks

peare, Sydney, and Spenser. To the imagination which was illuminated with the golden light of chivalry, of patriotism, and loyalty, the sovereign appeared invested with beautiful attributes which made her the personification of all female virtues and loveliness; and this effect was much heightened by the striking and peculiar characteristics which she really possessed. To the nation, as well as to the courtiers and wits by whom she was surrounded, she became, in fact, an allegorical type of sovereignty, beauty, chastity, magnificence, and power. In the age of Elizabeth then, the great drama of life, in which the nations of Christendom were performing the parts-sometimes of comedy, but more frequently of deep and woful tragedy-assumed the form of a solemn masque, whose issue was life or death-triumph or annihilation and in which kings and nations appeared as the personifications of sentiments and creeds; converting the history of the civilized world into a profound and momentous allegory. In adopting this form for his great poem, therefore, Spenser obeyed the spirit of the age. Never was there a mind better fitted for the task. His deep sensibilities, his love of virtue and truth, his admiration for chivalrous excellence, and above all, his exhaustless imagination, eminently fitted him to present in allegory the sentiments of his times; so that when the age demanded the work of him, it was deep calling unto deep.

Another characteristic of the times was favorable to Spenser's undertaking. It was an age of great men. The freedom of intellect awakened by the reformation, called the master spirits of every nation into vigorous action. New interests and new motives were presented, new ideas were started, new hopes offered. Glory and greatness, such as the world never before afforded, were now displayed and placed within the reach of elevated ambition. Above all, these influences were felt in England. Here the mind had never been so completely enthralled by superstition as on the continent of Europe. Bigotry had ruled with a milder sway, and priestcraft had found a less genial clime on this island than on the main. Patriotism and nationality were stronger, and individuality of character more decided, than in the other portions of Christendom. The consequence was, that before the time of Luther, the work of reformation, in all its most important objects-the free action of mind, independence, intellectual vigor, and their effects upon literature and the ge

neral intelligence of the nation, was half completed in England. It was the fortune of Spenser to live at a time when the powerful, and in many respects, good influences of centuries were gathering into visible effects, and displaying themselves in the lives of England's great men. The thousand elements

of character, like the fluids that in their time harden into diamonds and rubies, had been filtered through the alembic of ages, and now, in the golden days of England, were found crystallized into beautiful symmetry, and blazed upon the world in gems of manhood."

Spenser was, therefore, surrounded by specimens of greatness which might serve to inspire his mind as well as to afford subjects for his muse. And we find, accordingly, that many, indeed most of the heroes of the Faerie Queene, are but representations of the characters who actually lived at the time.

The distinguishing characteristic of the Faerie Queene is, that it sets forth eminently the prevailing spirit of the times. Never was there a mind more completely filled with the genius of society, than Spenser's. He was penetrated by the grandeur of his age-he was inspired with the intellectual and moral healthiness, the just views of life, the practical sagacity, tempered by generous sentiment, the patriotism, the chivalrous loyalty, the learning, and the taste which surrounded him; and his great poem is but the reflex of these noble traits. The Faerie Queene is the voice of the age breathing through the trumpet of chivalry-not uttering the sterner tones of an earlier and a ruder time-nor like the prophetic bard of a later day, "blowing a dolorous blast" to warn and to threaten; but swelling out in high and triumphant notes of praise and victory, or soothing the heart with strains of melting pathos and sweetness.

ART. III.-1. Treatise on the physiological and moral Management of Infancy. By ANDREW COMBE, M. D., with Notes and a Supplementary Chapter, by JOHN BELL, M. D. Philadelphia: 1840. Carey and Hart.

2. Lectures on the Theory and Practice of Physic. By WILLIAM STOKES, M. D. Philadelphia: 1840. Haswell, Barrington, and Haswell.

THE doctrine of temperaments, at this time recalled to our mind by the reading of the admirable works just cited, has been the subject of acute and minute discussion since the time of Galen, who first directed the attention to constitutional differences. He considered that the human system was principally operated upon by four humors, tempered by four elements. The humors were blood, bile, phlegm, and the atrabilious, or black bile. The elements, of course, were fire, air, earth, and water. A warm and moist temperament he attributed to the blood, this he called sanguineous. A warm and dry temperament, was bilious; a cold and moist one, was pituitous; and a cold and dry temperament, was melancholic.

A classification so positive and curious could not fail to arrest the attention of all those who took an interest in physiological research; and philosophers, as they proceeded in the inquiry, generally accommodated their speculations to the doctrine. But, prone as we are to novelty, and strong as is the disposition to substitute our own theories for those which are already in favor, no one, thus far, has been able to change the arrangement made so long ago. It has been borne out by repeated observation, even in our changeful times, enlightened on all matters relating to health and organization, and we cannot but feel great respect for the author of so valuable a suggestion as constitutional differences, particularly when we reflect that the era of Galen was adverse to philosophical certainty.

But though the classification may be correct enough for common purposes, and in fact, is adopted, with little variation, by all writers on human physiology, yet, the doctrine of assimilation, which it involves, is found to be very defective. Of late, the curious discussion of red and white tissues, in