dramatic expedient ever since there has been a drama; Æschylus recites the dream of Clytemnestra immediately before her son Orestes kills her; she fancies she has given birth to a dragon This newborn dragon, like an infant child POTTER. This which is done by Æschylus has been done by hundreds after him; but to introduce upon the scene the very person, walking in sleep, and giving vent to the horrid fancies that haunt her dream, in broken speeches expressive of her guilt, uttered before witnesses, and accompanied with that natural and expressive action of washing the blood from her defiled hands, was reserved for the original and bold genius of Shakspeare only. It is an incident so full of tragic horror, so daring, and at the same time so truly characteristic, that it stands out as a prominent feature in the most sublime drama in the world, and fully compensates for any sacrifices the poet might have made made in in the the previous arrangement of his incidents, No. LXXII. Servetur ad imum Qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet. HORAT. MACBETH now approaches towards his catastrophe; the heir of the crown is in arms, and he must defend valiantly what he has usurped villanously. His natural valour does not suffice for this trial; he resorts to the witches; he conjures them to give answer to what he shall ask, and he again runs into all those pleonasms of speech which I before remarked: the predictions he extorts from the apparitions are so couched as to seem favourable to him, at the same time that they correspond with events which afterwards prove fatal. The management of this incident has so close a resemblance to what the Poet Claudian has done in the instance of Ruffinus's vision, the night before his massacre, that I am tempted to insert the passage— Ecce videt diras alludere protinus umbras, A ghastly vision in the dead of night, Confiding in his auguries, Macbeth now prepares battle: by the first of these he is assured That none of woman born Shall harm Macbeth, By the second prediction he is told Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until These he calls sweet bodements! and concludes To sleep in spite of thunder. This play is so replete with excellences that it would exceed all bounds if I were to notice every one: I pass over therefore that incomparable scene between Macbeth, the Physician, and Seyton, in which the agitations of his mind are so wonderfully expressed, and, without pausing for the death of Lady Macbeth, I conduct the reader to that crisis when the messenger has announced the ominous approach of Birnam Wood-A burst of fury, an exclamation seconded by a blow, is the first natural explosion of a soul so stung with scorpions as Macbeth's. The sudden gust is no sooner discharged than nature speaks her own language, and the still voice of conscience, like reason in the midst of madness, murmurs forth these mournful words I pall in resolution, and begin To doubt the equivocation of the fiend, With what an exquisite feeling has this darling son of nature here thrown in this touching, this pathetic sentence, amidst the very whirl and eddy of conflicting passions! Here is a study for dramatic poets: this is a string for an actor's skill to touch: this will discourse sweet music to the human heart, with which it is finely unisoned when struck with the hand of a master. The next step brings us to the last scene of Maсbeth's dramatic existence. Flushed with the blood of Siward he is encountered by Macduff, who crosses him like his evil genius-Macbeth cries out Of all men else I have avoided thee. To the last moment of character the faithful poet supports him; he breaks off from single combat, and in the tremendous pause, so beautifully contrived to hang suspense and terror on the moral scene of his exit, the tyrant, driven to bay, and panting with the heat and struggle of the fight, vauntingly exclaims Mach. As easy mayst thou the entrenchant air To one of woman born. Macd. Despair thy charm! And let the angel, whom thou still hast served, Tell thee Macduff was from his mother's womb Untimely ripp'd. Mach. Accursed be that tongue that tells me so! For it hath cow'd my better part of man. There sinks the spirit of Macbeth Behold! where stands The' usurper's cursed head ! How completely does this coincide with the passage already quoted! Occulto fallitur ille Omine, nec CAPITIS FIXI præsagia sentit. Let us now approach the tent of Richard. It is matter of admiration to observe how many incidents the poet has collected in a small compass, to set the military character of his chief personage in a brilliant point of view. A succession of scouts and messengers report a variety of intelligence, all which, though generally of the most alarming nature, he meets not only with his natural gallantry, but sometimes with pleasantry, and a certain archness and repartee, which is peculiar to him throughout the drama. It is not only a curious but delightful task to examine by what subtle and almost imperceptible touches Shakspeare contrives to set such marks upon his characters as give them the most living likenesses that can be conceived. In this, above all other poets that ever existed, he is a study and a model of perfection: the great distinguishing passions every poet may describe; but Shakspeare gives you their humours, their minutest foibles, those little starts and caprices, which nothing but the most intimate familiarity brings to light; other authors write characters like historians: he like the bosom friend of the person he describes. The following extracts will furnish an example of what I have been saying. Ratcliff informs Richard that a fleet is discovered on the western coast, supposed to be the party of Richmond K. Rich. Some lightfoot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk; K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the Duke. [To Catesby. Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke? I am persuaded I need not point out to the reader's sensibility the fine turn in this expression, Good Catesby! How can we be surprised if such a poet makes us in love even with his villains?-Ratcliff proceeds Rat. What may it please you shall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go? Rat. Your highness told me I should post before. K. Rich. My mind is changed. VOL. II. N |