DRAYTON, MICHAEL, a celebrated English poet, was born at Harshill in Warwick in 1563. The events of Drayton's life are involved in great obscurity. It is believed that he went to Oxford, which he quitted without taking his degree, and that he afterwards entered the army. In 1593 he published his first work, under the title of The Shepherd's Garland, a collection of pastoral poems, in a style which was then becoming highly popular in England. As a whole, this work was utterly unworthy of its author's powers, and it is now almost entirely forgotten, with the exception of the ballad of Dowswell, which Percy incorporated in his Reliques. The Shepherd's Garland was reprinted in 1619, under the title of Eclogues. To the historical poetry of his era Drayton made two valuable contributions in his Barons' Wars, and England's Heroical Epistles, works in themselves highly interesting, and in many passages both touching and imaginative, though neither of them exhibits a just
the balance or fitness of the whole design or picture. By Drayton, thus habituating the eye to a correct delineation of the parts, it has little difficulty in coming at the power of representing the general effect and appearance of the whole; and thus a picture, whether consisting of figures, rocks, trees, or marine objects, is managed with comparative ease; while, on the other hand, when a design has been commenced without due attention to the outline and balance of the objects, a loose and disjointed performance is produced.
Many other difficulties present themselves at first to the anxious student, and not the most unimportant is the feeling which seizes him upon the contemplation of works of excellence when seen in a finished form; but let him not despond, for much pains have been used, and great and palpable errors committed, even by the most accomplished masters, in the details of their works, which, the more accurate they are, the greater has been the difficulty encountered. As an illustration of this, we have thought it proper to direct attention to the variety of lines used to represent the objects of Plate CCXVI., taken from a sketch by Raffaello. The subject is the study for a portion of the picture of the School of Athens, and contains much valuable information to the learner respecting the progress of this great master in the management of his compositions, of one of the most important of which this is the first rough sketch.
Plate CCVII. Initiatory lessons for drawing the various parts of the face. Figs. 1, 2, 3, represent the human eye in a variety of positions. Figs. 4 and 5 the nose. Figs. 6, 7, 8, the nose and mouth.
Plate CCVIII. Second lesson. Figs. 1 and 2 the ear. Figs. 3, 4, 5, studies of heads.
Plate CCIX. Plate of male and female hands in a variety of positions, as represented in figures 1 to 11.
Plate CCX. Contains eight figures or studies of the human foot.
Plate CCXI. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Thalia; fig. 2, Clio; both examples of sitting figures. Fig. 3, Bacchus. Fig. 4, Venus of Arles. Fig. 5, a Discobolus.
Plate CCXII. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Hercules and Telephus. Fig. 2, the Torso of Michel Angelo. Fig. 3, Jason. Fig. 4, the Dying Gladiator.
Plate CCXIII. Studies from the antique. Fig. 1, Venus de' Medici. Fig. 2, Venus of the Capitol.
Plate CCXIV. Study from the antique. Fig. 1, the Apollo Belvedere.
Plate CCXV. Study from the antique. Fig. 1, Group of the Laocoön.
Plate CCXVI. Specimen of sketching by Raffaello.
Plate CCXVII. Specimens of sketching by Claude Lorrain.
Plate CCXVIII. Example of the mode of conducting a drawing in Indian ink, bistre, sepia, &c., from outline to finished performance. (W. H. L.)
conception of the poet's privilege of idealizing the actual. Drayton's fame as a poet, however, rests on his Polyolbion, the greatest of his works. The general outline of this composition is descriptive, though it partakes largely of the nature of didactic, historical, and pastoral poetry. The thinly disguised design of the author is to furnish a topographical description of England; a purpose so dangerously prosaic, that his greatest work, though redeemed by many passages of fine fancy and sentiment, as well as splendid diction, has hardly ever perhaps been read through from beginning to end. The immense length of the poem, as well as its occasional obscurity and cumbrousness, have likewise greatly interfered with its popularity. The measure which Drayton adopted for the Polyolbion is the Alexandrine, which has rarely been managed with greater skill. The Barons' Wars again are written in the Ottava rima. Drayton's little fairy tale, entitled Nymphidia, is a composition which, in its peculiar vein, has never been surpassed.
After the publication of the Polyolbion, the only event
of importance in the life of Drayton was his appointment to the office of poet laureate. He died in 1631, and his tomb may still be seen in the Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey.
DREAMS are those thoughts which pass through the mind, and those imaginary transactions in which we often fancy ourselves engaged, when in the state of sleep. Of all the subjects upon which the mind of man has speculated, there is perhaps none which has more perplexed philosophers than that of dreaming.
In regard to the immediate cause of dreaming, the opinions of the ancients were very various. Aristotle observes—Every object of sense produces upon the human soul a certain impression, which remains for some time after the object that made it is removed; and which, being afterwards recognised by the perceptive faculty in sleep, gives rise to the varied images which present themselves.
Amongst English writers on this subject, none have written with more acuteness in support of his theory than Baxter. He supposes that our dreams are prompted by separate spirits—an opinion generally entertained by the heathen, and which opinion has given rise, in all ages and in all countries, to endless superstition and imposture—(Essay on the Phenomenon of Dreaming, vol. ii., 3d edit., 1745).
Professor Dugald Stewart, in endeavouring to reduce the phenomenon of dreaming to some established principles, remarks, that in sleep those operations of the mind are suspended which depend on our volition. He then says that, if the suspension of our voluntary operations in sleep be admitted as a fact, there are only two suppositions which can be advanced concerning its cause;—the one is, that the power of volition is suspended; the other, that the will loses its influence over those faculties of the mind and those members of the body which, during our waking hours, are subjected to its authority. Now it may be shown that the former is not consistent with fact, whence the latter follows as a necessary consequence. Hence it is inferred that all our mental operations which are independent of our will may continue during sleep; and that the phenomenon of dreaming may, perhaps, be produced by these, diversified in their apparent effects in consequence of the suspension of our voluntary powers. Two obvious consequences follow:—1st, That when we are asleep, the succession of our thoughts, in so far as it depends on the association, may be carried on by the operation of the same unknown causes by which it is produced while we are awake; and, 2d, That the order of our thoughts in these two states of our minds must be very different, inasmuch as in the one it depends solely on the laws of association, and in the other on those laws combined with our own voluntary exertions.
If, then, the succession of our thoughts during sleep is regulated by the same general laws of association to which it is subjected while we are awake, and if the circumstances which discriminate dreaming from our waking thoughts are such as must necessarily arise from the suspension of the will, this may account for the inaccurate estimate we form of time when dreaming: the rapidity of thought is such that in the twinkling of an eye a crowd of ideas may pass before us, to which it would take a long discourse to give utterance; and transactions may be conceived which it would require days, or even years, to realize. But in sleep the conceptions of the mind are mistaken for realities, and therefore our estimate of time will be found not according to our experience of the rapidity of thought, but according to our experience of the time requisite for realizing what we conceive.—(Stewart's Elements of the Philosophy of the Human Mind, pp. 328–348.)
There seems a strong analogy between dreaming and insanity. Dr Abercrombie defines the difference between the two states to be, that in the latter the erroneous impression, being permanent, affects the conduct; whereas, in
dreaming, no influence on the conduct is produced, because the vision is dissipated on awaking. Dredging.
Dreams appear to be ordinarily the re-embodiment of thoughts which have before, in some shape or other, occupied the mind. They are broken fragments of our former conceptions revived, and heterogeneously brought together. If they break off from their connecting chain, and become loosely associated, they exhibit oftentimes absurd combinations, but the elements still subside. If, for instance, any irritation, such as pain, fever, &c., should excite the perceptive organs while the reflective ones are under the influence of sleep, we have a consciousness of objects, colours, or sounds being presented to us, just as if the former organs were actually stimulated by having such impressions communicated to them by the external senses; whilst, in consequence of the repose of the reflecting power, we are unable to rectify the illusion, and conceive that the scenes passing before us, or the sounds that we hear, have a real existence. This want of mutual co-operation between the different faculties of the mind may account for the disjointed character of dreams. This position might be fully substantiated by an appeal to the evidence of fact. Dr Beattie speaks of a man who could be made to dream anything by whispering in his ear. Dr Gregory relates of himself that, having once had occasion to apply a bottle of hot water to his own feet when he retired to bed, he dreamed that he was ascending the side of Mount Ætna, and that he found the heat of the ground almost insufferable. Persons who have had a blister applied to their head have been known to dream of being scalped by a party of North American Indians. Sleeping in a smoky room, we may dream of a house or a city being in flames. The smell of a flower applied to the nostrils may call forth the idea of walking in a garden; and the sound of a flute may excite in us the most pleasurable associations.
The only one of our mental powers which is not diminished while dreaming is fancy, or imagination. We often find memory and judgment alternately suspended and exercised. Sometimes we fancy ourselves contemporaneous with persons who have lived ages before: here memory is at work, but judgment is set aside. We dream of carrying on a very connected discourse with a deceased friend, and are not conscious that he is no more: here judgment is awake, but memory suspended.
How God revealed himself by dreams, and raised up persons to interpret them, the Scriptures abundantly testify. That divine dreams, which actually were imparted to God's servants, should be imitated in fictitious representation by ancient and modern writers, was consistent no less with the general objects of superstition and imposture than with those of literature. Hence divine dreams became the constant appendages of the heathen mythology, and accounts, real and fictitious, of communications in vision, were interwoven in every production. Information which was superior to the vulgar philosophy of the time, intimated its discoveries as suggestions imparted by inspiration. If a warning was to be conveyed, what so affecting as the admonition of a departed friend! Such machinery was particularly adapted to works of imagination; and the poems of antiquity, as well as those of modern times, were frequently decorated with its ornaments.