some shape or other, bear traces of the sources from which it originated. The feeling of the moderns is, upon the whole, more intense, their fancies more incorporeal, and their thoughts more contemplative.”

And it is in this modern or romantic poetry that Shakspeare stands by himself, and unrivalled. The earnest looking forward to the future; the bringing of death, and the grave, and the world beyond the grave, as an all-powerful motive into his dramas, is the peculiar characteristic of his genius In Hamlet and Macbeth this is remarkably striking; the soliloquies of the Prince of Denmark need hardly be cited as illustrations. It is not that he refers to a supernatural and invisible world, apart from the natural and the visible, but he knew the one to be influenced by the other-this seen state by the unseen; and he describes men's actions accordingly. For we must never forget that Shakspeare is the poet of nature, and that when he paints events as arising from this or that cause, however remote the cause may appear at first, it is in reality the one by which the person who acts is influenced, and by which any one of us would be influenced under similar circumstances.

It must be evident, then, that we cannot judge the Shakspearian drama by the rules which may be applied to the ancient, or that which has followed the ancient. It is free and unshackled; it takes men as it finds them in this world, and places, line for line, their actions before the reader, and draws those actions as being influenced by causes which weigh with us all. No wonder, then, that the stiff unities, upon which the French critics and others lay so much stress, are unheeded by him. The unities of time and place he has judiciously discarded, for the reasons for their observance in the classical drama had disappeared, and found no more place in the romantic. But he has adopted one unity, and made it peculiarly his own, which must always be necessary, and in the observance of which he is more perfect than any other writer; we mean, unity of feeling, and this not only in individual character, but as regards the tone and influence of each play. It is to this that he owes much of his magical power over the hearts and understandings

of his readers. In "Othello," how distinct the tone of feeling which is excited by the two characters of Iago and of the Moor himself! And yet each is perfect of its kind. How well is the distinct feeling preserved throughout " Macbeth!" we have there tempests, enchantments, midnight horrors, human passions: ambition, revenge, remorse, are there for ever howling around us. And then contrast all this with the tone of "Romeo and Juliet ;" every thing is there full of the softness and freshness of youth; its love, its innocency, its sweetness, meet us on every side from beginning to end. So perfect, indeed, is this unity, this oneness of tone so distinct, in each, that it seems almost impossible that the same mind could have produced them both. It has been well said, that this unity, by which the separate parts of a drama are rendered so strictly subservient to a single and common object, to the production of a combined and uniform impression, is one of the most remarkable proofs of the depth and comprehensiveness of the mind of Shakspeare.

And this is the more wonderful, because it is preserved in spite of the peculiar management of his drama, in which one of the things to be especially noticed is the constant mixture of comic and tragic effect, the blending of the serious with the mirthful. But his skill contrives that this combination shall only serve to promote the one effect intended; and to bring it more completely before us, the ludicrous personages in his plays, such as his clowns or fools, are brought in often at the most tragical parts, so that by contrast they may heighten their effect. This is the case in " Macbeth," when, amidst all the horror caused by the king's murder, there is introduced the laughable speech of the drunken porter, when he hears the knocking at the door, and when he answers Macduff and Lennox. In "King Lear," also, when Lear is deserted by his children, and driven forth houseless and exposed to the inclemency of the tempest, how is the anguish which tears his bosom increased by the foolish sayings of his fool; and how is the keen perception of his condition depicted the more strongly by being put side by side with the listlessness and indifference of "mad Tom!"

And if in the genius and conduct Shakspeare is thus excellent, he is not less so in the characters, the passions, and the imagination of his dramas. We will proceed, then, to make some observations on each of these. His characters live and breathe before us; not only do we perceive what they say and do, but also what they think and feel; the very motives of their actions are laid bare in our presence. Is he describing the king on his throne, or the peasant in his cottage; the statesman in debate, or the soldier on the battle-field; the youth in all his eagerness and fervour, or the old man in his repose and decay; guilt in agony and remorse, or innocence in peace; one abandoned to vice and pleasure, or one in self-denial, selfcontrol, and virtuous pursuits. In each and all of these we perceive his magic hand; the character unfolds itself not by self description, as is the case in so many of the ancient dramas, but as it were in actual experience, through the force of passing events, and the influence of surrounding agents. All is life itself; and just as in our daily experience we discover the real disposition of those who are around us, gradually and by their actions, which passing events call forth, so it is in Shakspeare's dramas; events happen which develope the characters of the actors without any effort on their part.

Nor is Shakspeare's sway over the passions less wonderful. The birth and progress of the numerous passions which awaken pity and terror, he has unfolded with such minute fidelity to nature, that it is scarcely possible, as it has been well observed by a celebrated French writer,' to sympathize entirely with his sufferers, without tasting also of the bitter experience of real life.

And what can be said to praise sufficiently the splendour and almost infinity of his imagination? In his bold flights he is not inferior to the greatest of poets: Homer, Dante, Milton, Scott, Southey, Coleridge, must not be placed before him; and in the loveliness and softness of his fancy he has a charm which is peculiarly his own, and which endears him to our feelings beyond any other poet that ever lived. How great, how deep

(1) Madame de Staël.

the poetic power which could imagine the mysterious horrors of Macbeth and Hamlet, the unhallowed rites of witchcraft, and the visitations of the midnight spectre; and could also conceive the sportive revelry of the elves in the Midsummernight's Dream, and of Ariel in the Tempest! What a mind must that have been which could describe the fiend-like character of Iago, the noble disposition of Hamlet, the distraction of Lear, the softness and love of Juliet and Miranda, the maternal affections of Constance; and other excellences which it would be needless to particularize!

And can it be necessary to speak of the morality of Shakspeare's works? Scarcely can a page of his plays be opened without perceiving it, not only as applies to the extraordinary occasions of life, but to the common business and every day routine of it. We know that indelicacies of expression and allusion may be discovered, but considering the age when he lived, it must be a matter of wonder that these objectionable passages are so few; and this wonder will be increased when we read the writings of his contemporaries, and see how grossly even some of the best of them have offended in this way.

We have left it to the last to say of William Shakspeare what is the highest praise-that he is essentially and beyond all others the Poet of Nature; and we have deferred giving him this his most deserved applause because we would conclude what we have said of him in the words of that greatest of critics, Dr. Johnson. 66 Shakspeare," he says, "is above all writers, at least above all modern writers, the poet of nature; the poet that holds up to his readers a faithful mirror of manners and of life. His characters are not modified by the customs of particular places, unpractised by the rest of the world; by the peculiarities of studies or professions, which can operate but upon small numbers; or by the accidents of transient fashions or temporary opinions; they are the genuine progeny of common humanity, such as the world will always supply, and observation will always find. His persons act and speak by the influence of those general passions and principles by which all minds are agitated, and the whole system of life is continued in motion. In the writings of other poets a

character is too often an individual; in those of Shakspeare it is commonly a species.

"It is from this wide extension of design that so much instruction is derived. It is this which fills the plays of Shakspeare with practical axioms and domestic wisdom. It was said of Euripides, that every verse was a precept; and it may be said of Shakspeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence. Yet his real power is not shown in the splendour of particular passages, but by the progress of his fable and the tenor of his dialogue; and he that tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he offered his house to sell, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen.

"It will not easily be imagined how much Shakspeare excels in accommodating his sentiments to real life, but by comparing him with other authors. It was observed of the ancient schools of declamation, that the more diligently they were frequented, the more was the student disqualified for the world, because he found nothing there which he should ever meet in any other place. The same remark may be applied to every stage but that of Shakspeare. The theatre, when it is under any other direction, is peopled by such characters as are never seen, conversing in a language which was never heard, upon topics which will never arise in the commerce of mankind. But the dialogue of this author is often so evidently determined by the incident which produces it, and is pursued with so much ease and simplicity, that it seems scarcely to claim the merit of fiction, but to have been gleaned by diligent selection out of common conversation and

common occurrences.

"Upon every other stage the universal agent is love, by whose power all good and evil is distributed, and every action quickened or retarded. To bring a lover, a lady, and a rival, into the fable; to entangle them in contradictory obligations, perplex them with opposition of interest, and harass them with violence of desires inconsistent with each other; to make them meet in rapture, and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy, and outrageous sorrow; to distress them as