nished and alarmed, are very natural. In the scene in the witches' cave, the " gorgons, hydras and chimeras dire," are more in keeping. The procession of kings looks visionary and unearthly. Banquo, however, is not so effective here. His quiet look is impressive, but it is not the ghastly smile of exultation described by Shakspeare. The expression of Lady Macbeth in the sleep-walking scene is finely imagined; her straining eyes are rivetted on the damned spot, which she vainly essays to rub out; and she appears to walk with hurried strides. This is a new and more striking picture than the vacant gaze and the gliding step Her hair is somewhat which we have been used to on the stage. too profuse; and its hanging in loose untangled tresses is theatrical, and not characteristic of the disorder of her thoughts. We like the scrutinizing look of the physician, and the mournful aspect of the waiting-maid. But why should the very lamp she has brought be made to look like a demon? This diabolization of accessaries is quite in keeping with German horrors, but not with the scenes of Shakspeare. The character and expression of the persons of the scene should render such trifles impertinent. Macbeth's action, in the scene where the messenger brings him word of the approach of the moving wood, is not expressive enough of contempt and sudden rage. He is not striking the man, but arguing with him, and looks as though he were disputing with an equal, instead of spurning an inferior. The last scene of the death of Macbeth is too like one of the "terrific combats" at Astley's; and the introduction of the visions in the midst of the battle gives an unreal character to the scene. Throughout, indeed, we are made sensible that these are studied, elaborate and ornate pictures, like stage tableaux, rather than stirring realities. The costumes and accessaries overlay the spirit. This is an error which an artist of high intellectual powers would never fall into: he would instinctively shun it, or rather, his imagination would receive so vivid an impress from studying the play, that the frippery and gewgaws of the stage would sink into nothingness, or at least keep their places as subordinate and accessorial aids to the pictorial representation. The accessaries in these designs of Retzsch are too prominent, and not always appropriate. We will not quarrel with the fanciful character given to the armour and dresses of Scotland, because they would be of minor importance were the dramatic character of the persons truly given; and as this is not the case, we fall back upon the picturesque, and allow a license of arrayment, as at a theatre. Retzsch has given a stage version of Macbeth, and as such we admire and applaud it. We wish, however, that it were otherwise. Retzsch's scenes are to Shakspeare's what melodrama and pantomime are to tragedy and

comedy. We have all the externals and the pageantry: the senses are addressed rather than the understanding.

Retzsch's scenes from narrative and descriptive poetry are dramatic: those from tragic and epic poems are merely theatrical. A hundred painters could depict the Celadon and Amelia of Thomson, where scarcely one would be found to delineate the Hamlet and Ophelia of Shakspeare. Retzsch is not the one. He realizes the pictures and tells the story of the poet, as far as that may be accomplished by means of the pantomime and masquerade of the scene, and the introduction of persons, and the expression of emotions of a particular class; but he can do no more. He cannot embody an individual character. His graphic power only deals with externals and generalities. So far his power is all-sufficient. His skill in drawing and grouping the figures; his taste in the combination and arrangement of costumes and accessaries; his feeling for the graceful, and his eye for the picturesque; all combine to produce that vividness which is so characteristic of his scenes-homely, romantic, or visionary.

Retzsch must leave illustrating Shakspeare. He will only fail if he perseveres.

The wild and the wonderful is the field for his genius. It cannot soar to the heights or dive to the depths of Shakspeare's imaginings; nor penetrate to the heart of his mystery. If he wishes to extend his fame by illustrating the poets of our country, let him take up Spenser, or Ossian; or the old ballads, or the visionary tales of "Monk" Lewis. In these his fancy would find a wide range, and his genius have free scope.

Retzsch is now, we understand, employed upon the second part of Goethe's Faust, an account of which, with extracts, was given in our last number; and he has lately finished a set of Illustrations of Schiller's Pegasus in Harness. We eagerly look for their appearance in this country; where his genius, confined to its proper sphere, has numerous admirers.

ART. IX.-Souvenirs de Mirabeau, et sur les deux premières Assemblées Législatives, par Etienne Dumont, &c. &c. Paris,

1832. 8vo.

Re

THOUGH We feel that we owe our readers some apology for having postponed our notice of this interesting work till more. than a year after its publication, we cannot say that we greatly regret the occurrence of the delay. We rather consider it unfortunate that a work of this character should have been published and read at a time in which our countrymen were so little inclined to view any work of merely literary interest with attention when the striking circumstances of our own political situation exclusively occupied the minds of men, or mingled with their speculations in every other matter. At such a period, any new work on the French Revolution was indeed pretty sure of attracting notice, of being much read and properly commented on. formers and Anti-Reformers were curious to find in every striking event of that period a prototype of some incident in the History of our Reform Bill: and, above all, to make out some such analogy between the designs and conduct of the different parties of each period, as should enable them to impute to their own opponents the worst designs or grossest follies of the factions of France. The relish for these instructive comparisons is now in some measure worn off: and we may hope that the time has come in which we can take up this work without being tempted to use it as a mere text for a party preachment, and in which our readers may find an interest in it when viewed merely as the personal narrative of an eye-witness of the Revolution, and intimate associate of its most illustrious orator.

The high reputation of M. Dumont as a philosophical politician, and the intimate connexion which he is known to have had with many of the most eminent characters of different periods and parties of the Revolution, led us at first to expect that his work would have contained some new information, or, at any rate, some comprehensive and luminous view of that interesting portion of history. In this we have been disappointed. The author enters into no narrative of the events of the Revolution; and gives us merely a few scattered and nowise novel or profound remarks on its origin or cause. The work indeed was left by M. Dumont in a very unfinished state. He composed it in 1799, at Bath, with the design of fixing in his mind the recollection of such remarkable persons and events as had been brought under his view during two or three visits to Paris. We are told by the editor that it was the intention of the author to employ these notes as the materials of a laboured historical work on the French Revo

lution. This design, unfortunately, was not executed: the work was never completed or even revised, and has very properly been given to the public in the unfinished state in which it was left by its author. It adds nothing to our historical information. In the few opinions expressed respecting the events of the Revolution, we find generally the clearness and fairness which characterized M. Dumont's mind: some prejudices and some carelessness in his judgments; but on the whole, views so wise and candid, that we much regret the loss of that comprehensive and matured account of the Revolution for which this work was intended merely to supply materials.

The interest, and indeed the instruction, to be derived from the work in the shape which it now bears, is merely that of personal anecdotes of some of the leaders of the Revolution. Even this is of a limited nature. Anecdotes there are, scattered up and down the work, and characters of various persons of all parties: and one portion of the book is devoted to a description of the characters and conduct of the Girondist party. Some of these are curious. The reader will probably be interested in the character given of Brissot, with whom the author was in habits of intimacy; and in the narrative of the intrigues respecting the appointment of a minister of war and an ambassador to England, respecting both of which he was consulted by the leaders of the Legislative Assembly. There is a striking character of Champfort, and a very beautifully drawn one of the excellent Bishop of Chartres, one of the earliest friends of the people, one of the first sufferers from its injustice. Of Sieyes he tells us that "he read little and thought much;" that, wrapped in the mantle of his reputation for abstract thought, he liked little to hazard it in discussion: "si on objectait il ne répondait point." "La politique est une science que je crois avoir achevée," was his modest saying to Dumont in a moment of unusual familiarity; one of the truths of which he had fully persuaded himself, and of which he had succeeded in forcing a belief on his countrymen, destined to serve him in good stead for more than ten years afterwards. There is an account, too, of the very ingenious and eloquent maiden speech of Robespierre: and his singular avowal of his excessive timidity and reluctance in addressing the Assembly, which it would have been well for mankind had he never got the better of. There are many anecdotes and many sayings recorded of M. Talleyrand, with whom Dumont lived in habits of great intimacy; and of whose benevolence and integrity he appears to entertain the same high opinion as has always been expressed of them by all who have known him well, or scrutinized his conduct deeply. These, however, are all subjects of minor moment. The ab

sorbing interest of the work consists in the anecdotes respecting MIRABEAU, of whom Dumont was the most intimate associate during the most active and conspicuous period of his life.

Among the various characters of the Revolution, the universal opinion of mankind has assigned the most distinguished, position to Mirabeau. This pre-eminence has been acknowledged as well by those who detest his character and policy, as by those who most fervently admire his political conduct. Unqualified admirers he can hardly be said to have had: none can deny or even palliate the vices which he took no pains to conceal. By all, however, the superiority of his genius is acknowledged: its power has been owned alike by those who imagine him to have convulsed his country from motives of the most guilty revenge or ambition, and by those who look upon him as having been the wisest statesman as well as the most effective orator of his day. From the first moment of his appearance in the Revolution, he stood forth as the leader of the people: the power of his eloquence is attested by the irrefutable evidence of its effect in mastering the will of that fierce democracy which he wielded: and the taste of his cotemporaries has been sanctioned by the judgment of posterity. All other individual reputations seem dwarfed in the contrast with the colossal events amid which they are seen the lofty form of Mirabeau stands forth as if alone, asserting the pre-eminence of human genius, and the influence of human character on circumstances. We look to others as exhibiting the influence of the Revolution on their actions and characters-to him alone as influencing the Revolution itself. Of others we ask, How did they act in the Revolution? of him alone, How he acted on it? In that fierce fray there were many leaders, who led for a while some portion of the battle; he alone was acknowledged Chief and Master by all his presence alone was so felt that men missed him as a general cut off in the heat of action, and still doubt what influence his existence, had it been prolonged, might have exercised on the fortunes of the war which he had seemed to direct.

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The mere curiosity which men commonly feel respecting the doings of men of genius, would give a peculiar interest to many details of the life and character of such a man as Mirabeau. The fortunes of his early youth-the habits of his later years-have been the subject of all the distorting exaggerations of vulgar wonder: we naturally desire to know the truth of all the marvellous tales of his various learning, his love of pleasure, and his wonderful appropriation of the labours of others--the lofty pride of his character, and the fervour of his democratic principlesthe reported atrocity of his secret machinations with Orleans, the