To Burgundy's embraces !" "Of the heavenly beauty of soul of Cordelia, pronounced in so few words, I will not venture to speak." This was the impression which Shakspere's Cordelia produced upon Schlegel. In the whole range of the Shaksperean drama there is nothing more extraordinary than the effect upon the mind of the character of Cordelia. Mrs. Jameson has truly said, "Everything in her seems to lie beyond our view, and affects us in a manner which we feel rather than perceive." In the first act she has only forty-three lines assigned to her: she does not appear again till the fourth act, in the fourth scene of which she has twenty-four lines, and, in the seventh, thirty-seven. In the fifth act she has five lines. Yet during the whole progress of the play we can never forget her; and, after its melancholy close, she lingers about our recollections as if we had seen some being more beautiful and purer than a thing of earth, who had communicated with us by a higher medium than that of words. And yet she is no mere abstraction ;—she is nothing more nor less than a personification of the holiness of womanhood. She is a creature formed for all sympathies, moved by all tenderness, prompt for all duty, prepared for all suffering; but she cannot talk of what she is, and what she purposes. The King of France describes the apparent reserve of her character as "A tardiness in nature, Which often leaves the history unspoke That it intends to do." She herself says,— "If for I want that glib and oily art, into a French intrigante. She does not profess as her sisters professed, not because she wanted the "glib and oily art," but because she desired to accomplish a secret purpose, that was to be carried by silence better than by words she would lose her dower that she might marry Edgar. One more specimen of the Tatification of Cordelia, and we have done. The love-scenes, be it understood, go forward; and in the third act Cordelia, herself wandering about, encounters Edgar in his mad disguise. "The tardiness in nature" of Shakspere is thus interpreted in the production which "Garrick and his followers, the showmen of the scene," have inflicted upon us almost up to the present day, under the sanction of Dr. John To speak, and purpose not; since what I well sympathy with a prodigal disinterestedness, intend, I'll do 't before I speak." But the conception of a character that should fill our minds without much talk, and withal magniloquent talk, was something too ethereal for Tate: so Cordelia is turned frustrated by its own ostentation, and the mode and nature of its claims;-the anxiety, the distrust, the jealousy, which more or less accompany all selfish affections, and are amongst the surest contradistinctions of mere fondness from true love, and which originate Lear's eager wish to enjoy his daughter's | human feelings, a father's concentrated violent professions, whilst the inveterate love;-all these traces of what Shakspere habits of sovereignty convert the wish into only could effect, are utterly destroyed by the claim and positive right, and an incompliance stage conception of Lear, such as has been with it into crime and treason;-these facts, endured amongst us for more than a century. these passions, these moral verities, on which When the "showmen" banished the Fool, the whole tragedy is founded, are all prepared they rendered it impossible that the original for, and will to the retrospect be found nature of Lear should be understood. It is implied, in the first four or five lines of the the Fool who interprets to us the old man's play." They are implied, certainly, but the sensitive tenderness lying at the bottom of character which they make up is not described his impatience. He cannot bear to hear that by Shakspere. When Regan and Goneril "the Fool hath much pined away.”—“ No speak slightingly of their father, immediately more of that, I have noted it well." From after he has been lavishing his kingdom the Fool, Lear can bear to hear truth; his upon them, it is not the object of the poet jealous pride is not alarmed: he indeed calls to make us understand Lear, but to make us him "a pestilent gall," "a bitter fool;" understand Regan and Goneril. This, again, but the was Shakspere's art:-Tate, the representative of the vulgar notion of art, must have a defined character-something positive, something generic-a bad man, a good mana mild man, a passionate man—a good son, a cruel son. Upon this principle the Lear of Tate is the choleric king. Because Goneril characteristically speaks of "the unruly waywardness that infirm and choleric years bring with them," Gloster, in Tate, is made to say of Lear, "Yet has his temper ever been unfix'd, Chol'ric and sudden;" and, as if this were not enough to disturb an audience in the proper comprehension of the real Lear, we must have Cordelia call him "the choleric king," and, last of all, Lear himself must exclaim, in the trial-scene, "'t is said that I am choleric." And now, then, that we have got a choleric king-a simple, unmixed, ranting, roaring, choleric king, he is in a fit condition to be stirred up by "the showmen of the scene." Charles Lamb would be immortal as a critic if he had only written these words:"Tate has put his hook in the nostrils of this leviathan, for Garrick and his followers, the showmen of the scene, to draw the mighty beast about more easily." All the wonderful gradations of his character are utterly destroyed;—all the thin partitions which separate passion from wildness, and wildness from insanity, and insanity from a partial restoration to the most intense of "Poor, infirm, weak, and despis'd old man," in the depths of his misery, having scarcely anything in the world to love but the Fool, thus clings to him : "My wits begin to turnCome on, my boy: How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself.-Where is this straw, my fellow? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious. Come, The And all this is gone in the stage Lear. It agrees two. In every attempt at representing | consecration of Lear's madness. with all that is brought together;—the night the storms-the houselessness-Gloster with his eyes put out-the Fool-the semblance of a madman, and Lear in his madness,-are all bound together by a strange kind of sympathy, confusion in the elements of nature, of human society and the human soul! Throughout all the play is there not sublimity felt amidst the continual presence of all kinds of disorder and confusion in the natural and moral world; - a continual consciousness of eternal order, law, and good? This it is that so exalts it in our eyes."* The love-scene between Edgar and Cordelia, in the first scene of the first act of Tate's 'Lear,' was an assurance, under the hand and seal of Tate, that the play would end happily. He might be constrained, in the impossibility of wholly destroying Shakspere, to exhibit to us some of the most terrific conflicts of human passion, and the most striking displays of human suffering. He could not utterly conceal the terrible workings of the mind of Lear, which had been laid bare by the "explosions of his passion." But he takes care to let it be understood that there is nothing real in this; that all will be right in the end; that, though the flames rage, the house is insured; that a wedding and a dance will terminate the play much better than the "dead march" of Shakspere. "Cordelia," says Dr. Johnson, "from the time of Tate, has always retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add anything to the general suffrage, I might relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that I know not whether I ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise them as an editor." This was a bold or a lazy avowal in Johnson; for Aristotle describes the popular admiration of the tragedy which ends happily for the good characters, and fatally for the bad, as a result of the "weakness of the spectators ;" and though Johnson vigorously attacked Aristotle's Unities-or rather the *Blackwood s Mag.,' vol. v. †Treatise on Poetry'-Twining's Translation. doctrine of the Unities imputed to Aristotle -the good critic must have been sleeping when he gave his voice to the general suffrage at the risk of being accounted weak. Johnson was too clever a man not to know that he lost something by not reading "the last scenes" of Shakspere's 'Lear;' and we have considerable doubts whether he ever looked into the last scenes of Tate's ' Lear.' Carrying the principle to the end with which we set out, we venture to print the last scene of each writer; and we ask our readers to apply the scale of Tate, in the manner which we have indicated, to the admeasurement of Shakspere : [TATE.] "Enter ALBANY, KENT, and Knights to LEAR and CORDELIA in Prison. Lear. Who are you? My eyes are none o' th' best, I'll tell you straight: Oh, Albany! Well, sir, we are your captives, And you are come to see death pass upon us. Why this delay? Or, is 't your highness' pleasure To give us first the torture? Say you so? Why here's old Kent, and I, as tough a pair As e're bore tyrant stroke;-but my Cordelia, My poor Cordelia here, O pity Alb. Thou injured majesty, The wheel of fortune now has made her circle, And blessings yet stand 'twixt thy grave and thee. Lear. Com'st thou, inhuman lord, to sooth us back To a fool's paradise of hope, to make Our doom more wretched? Go to; we are too well Acquainted with misfortune, to be gull'd With lying hope; no, we will hope no more. Re-enter EDGAR with GLOSTER. Glost. Where's my liege? Conduct me to his knees, to hail His second birth of empire: My dear Edgar Has, with himself, reveal'd the king's blest restoration. Lear. My poor dark Gloster! Glost. Oh, let me kiss that once more scepter'd hand? Lear. Hold, thou mistak'st the majesty; kneel here; Cordelia has our pow'r, Cordelia 's queen. Speak, is not that the noble, suff'ring Edgar? Glost. My pious son, more dear than my lost eyes. "Enter LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Officer, and others. Lear. Howl, howl, howl! O, you are meu of stones; Had I your tongues and eyes I'd use them so That heaven's vault should crack:-She 's gone for ever! I know when one is dead, and when one lives; She 's dead as earth:-Lend me a lookingglass; If that her breath will mist or stain the stone, Why, then she lives. The wages of their virtue, and all foes Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou 'lt come no more. Never, never, never, never, never!— Pray you undo this button: Thank you, sir.— [He dies. Edg. He faints! My lord, my lord,— |