victims by the prophetic menaces of the Furies. Iago did not profess to be the harbinger of welcome news. The reference to Milton's Satan and Lovelace is equally misplaced.' If Iago had himself endeavoured to seduce Desdemona, the cases would have been parallel. Lovelace had to seduce a virtuous woman to pleasure, by presenting images of pleasure, by fascinating her senses, and by keeping out of sight every appearance of danger or disaster. Iago, on the contrary, shows to Othello that he has a monster in his thought";2 and it is his object to make him believe this by dumb show, by the knitting of his brows, by stops and starts, etc., before he is willing to commit himself by words. Milton's devil also could only succeed by raising up the most voluptuous and delightful expectations in the mind of Eve, and by himself presenting an example of the divine effects produced by eating of the tree of knowledge.3 Gloom and gravity were here out of the question. Yet how does Milton describe the behaviour of this arch-hypocrite when he is about to complete his purpose?

She scarce had said, though brief, when now more bold
The Tempter, but with show of zeal and love
To man, and indignation at his wrong,
New part puts on, and as to passion moved,
Fluctuates disturbed, yet comely and in act
Raised, as of some great matter to begin,
As when of old some orator renowned
In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence

Flourished, since mute, to some great cause addressed,
Stood in himself collected, while each part,
Motion, each act, won audience ere the tongue;
Sometimes in height began, as no delay

Of preface brooking through his zeal of right;
So standing, moving, or to height upgrown,
The Tempter all-impassioned thus began.1

If this impassioned manner was justifiable here, where the serpent had only to persuade Eve to her imagined good, how

1 The Examiner had said: "How does Milton represent his Devil when he is meditating the ruin of Eve? . . . No bridegroom ever presented a more smiling mien: Lovelace himself never practised more insinuating obeisances nor rattled away with more lively volubility." 3 Paradise Lost, ix, 679-732.

2 Othello, III, iii, 107. 4 Ibid., ix, 664-78.

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much more was it proper in Iago, who had to tempt Othello to his damnation? When he hints to Othello that his wife is unfaithful to him—when he tells his proofs, at which Othello swoons, when he advises him to strangle her, and undertakes to dispatch Cassio from his zeal in “wronged Othello's service,”1 should he do this with a smiling face, or a face of indifference? If a man drinks or sings with me, he may perhaps drink or sing much in the same manner as Mr. Kean drinks or sings with Roderigo and Cassio: if he bids me good day, or wishes me a pleasant journey, a frank and careless manner will well become him; but if he assures me that I am on the edge of a precipice, or waylaid by assassins, or that some tremendous evil has befallen me, with the same fascinating gaiety of countenance and manner, I shall be little disposed to credit either his sincerity or friendship

or common sense.

Your correspondent accounts for the security and hilarity of Iago, in such circumstances, from his sense of superiority and his certainty of success. First, this is not the account given in the text, which I should prefer to any other authority on the subject. Secondly, if he was quite certain of the success of his experiment, it was not worth the making, for the only provocation to it was the danger and difficulty of the enterprise; and at any rate, whatever were his feelings, the appearance of anxiety and earnestness was necessary to the accomplishment of his purpose. "He should assume a virtue, if he had it not."2 Besides, the success of his experiment was not of that kind even which has been called negative success, but proved of a very tragical complexion both to himself and others. I can recollect nothing more to add, without repeating what I have before said, which I am afraid would be to no purpose.

I am, Sir,

Your obedient servant,

W. H.

1 Othello, III, iii, 467.

2 Allusion to Hamlet, 111, iv, 160.

II.

KEAN'S BAJAZET.1

November 12, 1815.

THE lovers of the drama have had a very rich theatrical treat this week-Mr. Kean's first appearance in Bajazet, two new Miss Peggys in The Country Girl, and last, though not least, Miss Stephens's re-appearance in Polly.2

4

Of Mr. Kean's Bajazet3 we have not much to say, without repeating what we have said before. The character itself is merely calculated for the display of physical passion and external energy. It is violent, fierce, turbulent, noisy, and blasphemous, “full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." Mr. Kean did justice to his author, or went the whole length of the text. A viper does not dart with more fierceness and rapidity on the person who has just trod upon it than he turns upon Tamerlane in the height of his fury. An unslaked thirst of vengeance and blood has taken possession of every faculty, like the savage rage of the hyena, assailed by the hunters. His eyeballs glare, his teeth gnash together, his hands are clenched. In describing his defeat his voice is choked with passion; he curses, and the blood curdles in his veins. Never was the fiery soul of barbarous revenge, stung to madness by repeated shame and disappointment, so completely displayed. This truth of nature and passion in Mr. Kean's acting carries every thing before it. He was the only person on the stage who seemed alive. The mighty Tamerlane appeared no better than a stuffed figure dressed in ermine. Arpasia moaned in vain, and Moneses roared out his wrongs unregarded, like the hoarse sounds of distant thunder. Nothing can withstand the real tide of passion once let loose; and yet it is pretended that the great art of the tragic actor is in damming it up, or cutting out smooth canals and circular

1 This article-which appeared in The Examiner, November 12, 1815-is referred to by Hazlitt on p. 284, ante.

2 November 6. See ante, pp. 25-8, for a criticism of her first performance of this part.

3 In Rowe's Tamerlane, revived at Drury Lane November 6. Pope was Tamerlane; Rae, Moneses; and Mrs. Bartley, Arpasia.

+ Tamerlane, II, ii.

basins for it to flow into, so that it may do no harm in its course. It is the giving way to the natural and strong impulses of his imagination that floats Mr. Kean down the stream of public favour with all his faults--"a load to sink a navy." The only wonder was to see this furious character suffered to go about and take the whole range of the palace of Tamerlane, without the least let or impediment. It showed a degree of magnanimity in Mr. Pope, which is without any parallel even in modern times.

It is understood that this play was originally written by the whig poet Rowe, and regularly acted on the anniversary of our whig revolution, as a compliment to King William, and a satire on Louis XIV. For any thing we know, the resemblance of Tamerlane to King William may be sufficiently strong-there the historian and the poet may agree tolerably well; but what traits the Tartar Chieftain and the French Monarch had in common it would be difficult to find out. If any more recent allusion was intended in its revival it fell still wider of the mark. The play of Tamerlane may be divided into two heads—cant, and rant. Tamerlane takes the first part, and Bajazet the second. This last hurls defiance at both gods and men. He is utterly regardless of consequences, and rushes upon his destruction like a wild beast into the toils. He utters but one striking sentiment, where he defends ambition as the hunger of noble minds.2 Bajazet's character is energy without greatness. He is blind to every thing but the present moment, and insensible to every thing but the present impulse. True greatness is the reverse of this. It shows all the energy of courage, but none of the impotence of despair. It struggles with difficulty, but yields to necessity. It does every thing and suffers nothing. It sees events with the eye of History, and makes Time the judge of Fortune. Courage with calmness constitutes the perfection of the heroic character, as the effeminate and sentimental unites the extremes of inactivity and irritability.

We never saw Mr. Kean look better. His costume and his colour had a very picturesque effect. The yellow brown tinge of the Tartar becomes him much better than the tawny brick-dust complexion of the Moor in Othello.

1 Allusion to Henry VIII, III, ii, 383.

2 Tamerlane, 11, ii.

Now for our two Country Girls.-We have seen both without any great effort of our patience: to confess a truth, we had rather see The Country Girl two nights running than Tamerlane; as we would rather have been Wycherley than Rowe. The comedy of The Country Girl1 is taken from Molière's School for Wives. It is, however, a perfectly free imitation, or rather an original work, founded on the same general plot, with additional characters, and in a style wholly different. Scarcely a line is the same. The long speechifying dialogues in the French comedy are cut down into a succession of smart conversations and lively scenes: there is indeed a certain pastoral sweetness or sentimental naïveté in the character of Agnès, which is lost in Miss Peggy, who is, however, the more natural and mischievous little rustic of the two. The incident of her running up against her guardian as she is running off with her gallant in the park, and the contrivance of the second letter which she imposes on her jealous fool as Alithea's, are Wycherley's. The characters of Alithea, Harcourt, and of the fop Sparkish, who appears to us so exquisite, and to others so insipid, are additional portraits from the reign and court of Charles II. Those who object to the scenes between this gentleman and his mistress as unnatural, can never have read the Memoirs of the Count de Grammont 2an authentic piece of English history, in which we trace the origin of so many noble families. What an age of wit and folly, of coxcombs and coquettes, when the world of fashion led purely ornamental lives, and their only object was to make themselves or others ridiculous. Happy age, when the utmost stretch of a morning's study went no farther than the choice of a sword-knot, or the adjustment of a side-curl; when the soul spoke out in all

The Country Girl, by David Garrick, altered from Wycherley's The Country Wife, was revived at Drury Lane on November 7, and at Covent Garden, November 8.

2 Memoirs of the Life of Count de Grammont, translated by Mr. Boyer,

1714.