seems strange; but we must bear in mind, that the former was not the god of wine and joy alone, but of the higher inspirations." Transl. Lect. iv. (now vi.) vol. i. p. 96. (n) p. 74. Schlegel makes a remark in substance the same as this, Lect. iv. (now vi.) vol. i. p. 98: and again in Lect. ix. (now xvii.) vol. ii. pp. 165, 6. Ferner lagen zwischen, &c. (o) p. 75. Was der duft eines südlichen Frühlings berauschendes, der Gesang der Nachtigall sehnsüchtiges, das erste Aufblühen der Rose wollüstiges hat, das athmet aus diesem Gedicht. All that is intoxicating in the fragrance of a southern spring, all that is passionate in the song of the nightingale, all that is luxurious in the new-blown rose,-all alike breathe from this poem. Transl. Das Süsseste und das Herbeste, Liebe und Hass, &c. &c. "Whatever is sweetest and bitterest; Love and Hatred; glad festivities and gloomy resentments; tender embraces and vaults of the dead; fulness of life and self-destruction; here stand in thick array side by side; and in the harmonious miracle all these opposites are so molten into the unity of a compound impression, that the echo which the whole leaves upon the mind is like a single but endless sigh." Transl. Lect. xii. (now xxv.) vol. iii. p. 207. (p) p. 101. "In the zephyr-like Ariel the image of the air cannot fail to be perceived; his very name expresses it, as on the other hand, Caliban signifies the hard earthly element." Transl. Lect. xii. (now xxiv.) vol. iii. p. 200. Schlegel's criticisms on The Tempest and on The Midsummer Night's Dream are especially genial and eloquent. The light rich works of fancy seem to have delighted him more, and are, perhaps, in general, more adequately characterized in his book, than those which contain more for the understanding. His view of Shakspeare, however, on the whole is most discriminating-and enhances our surprise at his partial injustice to Ben Jonson and Molière, whose faults he has noted acutely, but whose redeeming merits he does not seem to have beheld with an eye of equally fine discernment. (q) p. 131. Mr. Collier thinks it very possible that the visions were parts of an older play. On the passage in Act i. sc. 5. he has this note. "The numbered beach" must be taken, as Johnson observes, for the numerous beach; and "twinned stones" of the preceding line refers to the likeness, as of twins, between the stones on the beach. Coleridge would read with Farmer "umbered" for "numbered;" but, if any change were required, we should be inclined to prefer that of Theobald," Th' unnumbered beach." It seems to be intended to bring the multitude of similar stones on the beach into comparison with the multitude of similar stars in the sky, and this interpretation brings out "the rich crop of sea and land" into clear intelligibility. But is it meant that men's eyes can distinguish the stars above from the stones below, or the stars one from another and the stones likewise, though both are so numerous and so much alike? The grammar and construction seem to require the former sense, and yet the latter seems the best. The passage of Act i. sc. 1. in Knight's edition stands thus: "You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods No more obey the heavens, than our courtiers Still seem as does the king:" - And is explained thus in a note: "As we have punctuated the passage, we think it presents no difficulty, Blood is used by Shakspeare for natural disposition, as in All's Well that ends Well "Now his important blood will nought deny That she'll demand." The meaning of the passage then is-You do not meet a man but frowns: our bloods do not more obey the heavens than our courtiers still seem as the king seems. As is afterwards expressed— "They wear their faces to the bent Of the king's looks." In Pisanio's speech (Act i. sc. 4) this edition has "his eye or ear." I would that my father could have seen Mr. Knight's Shakspeare, with its interesting illustrations, and its refined and genial criticism. (r) p. 143. Mr. Payne Collier remarks on "path" in the present passage: This verb was in use for walk by Drayton, one of the best writers of his time. All the old editions concur in 'path."" (s) p. 160. Schlegel says of Juliet in the Charakteristiken und Kritiken, "how thereupon her imagination falls into an uproar, so many terrors bewilder the tender brain of the maiden, and she drinks off the cup in the tumult, to drain which with composure would have evinced a too masculine resolvedness." p. 300. This is the only positive coincidence between my father's criticism on Romeo and Juliet with Schegel's eloquent essay on the same play; but it is interesting to compare the two, especially when they speak of the family bonds that form the groundwork of the tale, of Romeo's first love, and of Mercutio. Those passages of Schlegel's critique are as follows: "The enmity of the two families is the hinge on which every thing turns: very appropriately therefore the representation commences with it. The spectator must have seen its outbreaks himself in order to know what an insuperable obstacle it is to the union of the lovers. The animosity of the masters has rather rude representatives; we see how far the matter must have gone when these foolish fellows cannot meet without forthwith falling into a quarrel. Romeo's love to Rosalind makes up the other half of the argument. This has been to many a stumbling block, and Garrick rejected it in his alteration of the play. To me it appears indispensable; it is like the overture to the musical sequence of moments, which all unfold themselves out of that first when Romeo beholds Juliet. Lyrically taken, though not in respect of the action, -(and its whole charm surely rests on the tender enthusiasm which it breathes,)-the piece would be imperfect if it did not contain within itself the rise of his passion. But ought we to see him at first in a state of indifference? How is his first appearance exalted through this, that, already removed from the circumstances of cold Reality, he walks on the consecrated ground of Fancy! The tender solicitude of his parents, his restless pinings, his determined melancholy, his fanatical inclination for loneliness, everything in him announces the chosen one and the victim of Love. His youth is like a thundrous day in spring, when sultry air surrounds the loveliest, most voluptuous flowers. Shall his quick change of mind deprive him of sympathy?—or do we not argue from the instantaneous vanquishment of his first inclination, which in the beginning appeared so strong, the omnipotence of the new impression?" pp. 289, 290, 291. On the ancient feud of the two houses, Schlegel remarks in criticising the concluding portion of the play. "Nay more: the reconciliation of the heads of the families over the dead bodies of their children, the only drop of balm left for the torn heart, is not possible except through their being informed as to the course of events. The unhappiness of the lovers is thus not wholly in vain; sprung out of the hatred, with which the piece begins, it turns, in the cycle of events, back towards its source and stops it up for ever. Mercutio. "As it may be said of the whole piece, that it is one great antithesis, wherein love and hatred, what is sweetest and what is bitterest &c. &c. are closely intermingled, so likewise the jocund levity of Mercutio is associated with, and opposed to, the melancholy enthusiasm of Romeo. Mercutio's wit is not the cold offspring of intellectual effort, but flows spontaneously out of his incessant vivacity of temper. That same rich measure of fancy, which, in Romeo, joined with deep feeling, engenders an inclination to romance, in Mercutio, amid the influences of a clear head, takes a turn toward pleasure. In both the very highest point of life's fulness is visible; in both appears also the swift transiency of whatever is most exquisite, the perishable nature of all blossoms, over which the whole drama is one tender strain of lamentation. Mercutio, as well as Romeo, is doomed to early death. He deals with his life as with a sparkling wine, which men drink off hastily ere its lively spirit evaporates." I add this Character of Paris. "The well-meaning bridegroom, who thinks that he has loved Juliet right tenderly, must do something out of the common way: his sensibility ventures out of its every day circle, though fearfully, even to the very borders of the romantic. And yet how far different are his death-rites from those of the Beloved! How quietly he scatters his flowers! Hence I cannot ask, "Was it necessary, that this honest soul too should be sacrificed? Must Romeo a second time shed blood against his will? Paris belongs to those persons whom we commend in life, but do not immoderately lament in death; at his last moments he interests us especially by the request to be laid in Juliet's grave. Here Romeo's generosity breaks forth, like a flash of light from darksome clouds, when he utters the last words of blessing over one that has become his brother by misfortune." (t) p. 188. "In the progress of the action this piece (Macbeth) is quite the reverse of Hamlet; it strides forward with astounding rapidity from the first catastrophe (for so may Duncan's murder be named) to the last. "6 Thought and done!" is the general motto, for, as Macbeth says: "The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, Lect. ii. (now xxv.) vol. iv. pp. 9, 10. "If Romeo and Juliet shines in the colours of the dawn, but a dawn whose purple clouds already announce the thunder of a sultry day, Othello, on the other hand, is a picture with strong sha |