he has the power to resist temptation, and the courage to fear an unjust act.

It is worthy of notice, too, that Shakespeare impresses us with the one prevailing quality in his characters, quite as much by casual actions or insignificant remarks, as by the most formal display or announcement of them. For instance; true gentleness of heart is rarely unaccompanied by an appreciation of the beauties of nature, animate and inanimate. To Banquo, therefore, with delicate taste and propriety, is given that lovely reflection upon the characteristics of the houseswallow, confirming Duncan's commendation of the pleasant position of Macbeth's castle. He says:

"This guest of summer,

The temple-haunting martlet, does approve,
By his lov'd mansionry, that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze, buttress,
Nor coign of vantage, but this bird hath made
His pendent bed, and procreant cradle: where they
-Most breed and haunt, I have observ'd, the air

Is delicate."

Banquo has himself noticed this fact in natural history, and the exquisite polish of his diction displays the man of quality and attainment. Macbeth testifies to the superiority of his

nature:

"Our fears in Banquo

Stick deep; and in his royalty of nature

Reigns that which should be fear'd: 'tis much he dares;

And to that dauntless temper of his mind,

He hath a wisdom that doth guide his valour

To act in safety. There is none but he

Whose being I do fear; and under him
My genius is rebuk'd, as, it is said,

Mark Antony's was by Cæsar.”

It has been objected, as a violation of propriety, the introduction of one of the murderers during the banquet. But, in

B

the first place, we must bear in mind the different ordination of ceremony, or rather the absence of all ceremony, in that early and rude stage of society, when royalty, in its roughhewn simplicity, sat, as it were, "at the receipt of custom," and was accessible to all comers. Besides, the ruffians in this play were gentlemen of broken fortunes; they had been fellow-soldiers of Macbeth and Banquo,-men "whom the vile blows and buffets of the world had so incensed, that they were reckless what they did to spite the world." It is with such instruments that such deeds are commonly achieved.

I will dismiss these remarks upon the character of Banquo with one more observation, and that upon the disposition of one of the incidents in this wonderful drama. Of all the appalling situations, (and it is brimful of them,) no one makes so powerful an appeal to my own individual feelings as the unprepared introduction of Banquo's spirit at the supper-table. The idea of such a visitation, at such a point of time, is sufficiently ghastly in itself; but the effect is enhanced by the consummate skill and simple power of the poet in causing the murderer to recognise his victim. The Earl of Rosse says to Macbeth—

"Please it your highness

To grace us with your royal company?

"Macb. The table's full.

"Lennox. Here's a place reserv'd, sir.
"Macb.

Where?

“Lennox. Here, my lord. What is 't that moves Your highness?

"Macb.

Which of you have done this?"

The abrupt and startling force of this incident has, I should suppose, never been surpassed; and it is one which an ordinary writer of plays would have diluted, and spread over pages of talky-talk, and, in consequence, he would have missed his point. Whereas, Shakespeare has simply denoted the action,

and left the result to the imagination of the reader. The first impulse of Macbeth's mind in saying, "Which of you have done this?" is, that his treachery has been discovered, and that the real body of Banquo, with its twenty gashes, has been placed in his presence in order to confront and confound him;-a course of proceeding perfectly reconcileable with the primitive and savage era of the history.—The next impression is, after his wife has sneeringly told him that, "when all's done, he is but looking on a stool!" that the spirit of his victim has come to taunt him; and he makes that tremendous appeal to the apparition, "Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves shall never tremble:" &c. And lastly, upon her upbraiding him with his unmanliness, he gives her the most convincing excuse for it: "If I stand here, I saw him!" How artful, too, is the using of that relative pronoun, "him," upon the occasion, not naming the object of his thoughts—she knowing it. After all that may be said in the way of comment and eulogy, it is such minute points as this that confirm the true poetic genius.

The purlieus of a court have never been famed for breathing the pure air of homely and sincere speech-scarcely, mayhap, of sincere thought; but in the region of a usurper, and who is also tainted with violence and crime, men had need bear "charmed lives," if they are afflicted with incontinence of speech. Then the feeble-minded and the self-seeking become strengthened in duplicity; and the bolder resort to the equivocation of irony,—the only freedom triumphant, and which cannot be quenched under a tyranny. Even this subtlety has not escaped Shakespeare in drawing the characters subordinate to the hero in this tragedy. It is to be remarked, that whatever conversation arises among them relative to the murder of the king, he has contrived to impress the reader with the feeling that they all suspect the same man of the crime, and no one breathes a suspicion to his fellow.

Their dialogues are short, and conducted in dry sentences. The Earl of Rosse says to Macduff: "How goes the world, sir, now?" "Why, see you not?" is his brief reply. "Is't known," he resumes, "who did this more than bloody deed?"

"Macd. Those that Macbeth hath slain."

The man who makes the nearest approach to a plain attainder is Lennox; and his speech is ironical throughout. In conversation with another lord, he says:—

"My former speeches have but hit your thoughts, Which can interpret farther: only, I say,

Things have been strangely borne; the gracious Duncan
Was pitied of Macbeth: marry, he was dead :
And the right valiant Banquo walk'd too late;

Whom you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,
For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too late.
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous
It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain
To kill their gracious father?-damned fact !
How it did grieve Macbeth!-did he not straight,
In pious rage, the two delinquents tear,

That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of sleep?
Was not that nobly done?-Ay, and wisely too?
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive
To hear the men deny it. So that, I say,

He hath borne all things well: and I do think,

That had he Duncan's sons under his key,

(As, an't please Heaven, he shall not,) they should find What 'twere to kill a father; so should Fleance. .

But peace!"

Again, towards the close of the play, in the dialogue between the physician and Lady Macbeth's waiting-woman, an ordinary play-writer would have followed the usual recipe for concocting a lady's maid, by making her clack like a millwheel. Shakespeare knew that courtly serving-women hear, see, and say nothing; and in such a court as that of Mac

beth, an attendant would scarcely be over-confidential. The whole of this scene is a masterpiece of natural effect; the first two or three sentences of which will be sufficient to confirm my previous remark. The curiosity of the Doctor,-who is, moreover, a court-doctor, and characteristically inquisitive, -and the cool reserve of the waiting-woman, are, in their respective vocations and habits, both edifying. The Doctor says:

"I have watched two nights with you, but can perceive no truth in your report.

"Gent. Since his majesty went into the field, I have seen her rise from her bed, throw her night-gown upon her, unlock her closet, take forth paper, fold it, write upon it, read it, afterwards seal it, and again return to bed; yet all this while in a most fast sleep.

"Doct. A great perturbation in nature! to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching. In this slumbery agitation, besides her walking and other actual performances, what at any time have you heard her say?

"Gent. That, sir, which I will not report after her."

Doct. You may to me, and 'tis most meet you should. “Gent. Neither to you, nor to any one, having no witness to confirm my speech."

Such points as these, interwoven with the tissue of the plots of his plays, produce that harmonious proportion mentioned in my introduction; and which we may vainly seek, in equal proportion, from any other dramatic writer.

Again,-and still referring to his consistency in maintaining the propriety as well as the harmony in his characters,I may bring to recollection the grand manner in which he has made Macbeth and his wife severally to descant upon the indelible testimony of their crime-their bloody hands. He, the masculine and more robust being, uses the stronger and more magnificent image :