remembered the number of deadly gashes sufficiently punished by a life the tempter of Macbeth. It pronounce that there were no nat the voice that told the Thane of Scotland, was that of his own brewed the hell-broth, potent to y and blood; and its ingredients criminal hopes. Macbeth himself dictions of the witches as he desires. 1 his elevation to the throne, foretold would reign; and yet, after the comr as he is himself concerned, he enpart by the murder of Fleance. The more than the Evil Spirit which, in her prayers. They are but the permind. She, the wife of his bosom, knows ts; and, bound to him in love, exerts every ery feeling, to minister to his hopes and sin, and no more. He retains, in all his eeling for his wife. Even when meditating of blood, he addresses soft words of conjugal er" dearest chuck," while devising assassinaowledge of which he is unwilling to sully her bition, selfish in fear, his character presents no "It will have blood, they say He sees an enem from every fairest port of I might ut this one merit. Shakspeare gives us no hint I am dever arms, except when he makes her describe her hand ay be sure that there were few more thorough clear of mers," in the land of Scotland than those of its that ins by elegance and majesty; and, in private, by af ring in public towards Duncan, Banquo, and the mate, should dr, and ne indeed. He b rtain tenure of life retouched himself so t 1 y for her sanguinary lord. He duly appreciated her is pity that such a woman should have been united to if she had been less strong of purpose, less worthy of would not have disclosed to her his ambitious designs; and prompt of thought and action, she would not alled on to share his guilt; less sensitive or more harwould not have suffered it to prey for ever like a vulture eart. She affords, as I consider it, only another instance Omen will be brought to, by a love which listens to no con. which disregards all else beside, when the interests, the he happiness, the honour, or even the passions, caprices, ags of the beloved object are concerned; and if the world, in assionate mood, will gently scan the softer errors of sistermay we not claim a kindly construing for the motives which ed into the Aceldama of this blood-washed tragedy the sorely I and broken-hearted Lady Macbeth? - finds the deep me his ear-now discover an alunges into the combs, anto die the death of a s ve or suicide does not he Bloodshed, he feels a se dat last, when he find fings himself, after it be man by whose Kless fury of desp that bound him to d it was time that ate close. the last speech tongue Lady y her share a t to justify a e play to Those are the last words we hear from her waking lips; and with a hope that repose may banish those murky thoughts from her husband's mind, she takes, hand in hand with him, her tearful departure from the stage; and seeks her remorse-haunted chamber, there to indulge in useless reveries of deep-rooted sorrow, and to perish by her own hand amid the crashing ruin of her fortunes, and the fall of that throne which she had so fatally contributed to win. He now consigns himself wholly to the guidance of the weird sisters; and she takes no part in the horrors which desolate Scotland, and rouse against him the insurrection of the enraged thanes. But she clings to him faithfully in his downfall. All others except the agents of his crimes, and his personal dependents, have abandoned him; but she, with mind diseased, and a heart weighed down by the perilous stuff of recollections that defy the operation of oblivious antidote, follows him to the doomed castle of Dunsinane. It is evident that he returns her affection, by his anxious solicitude about her health, and his melancholy recital of her mental sufferings. He shows it still more clearly by his despairing words when the tidings of her death are announced. Seyton delays to communicate it; but at last the truth must come, that the queen is dead. It is the overflowing drop in his cup of misfortune. "She should have died hereafter;- There would have been a time for such a word." I might have borne it at some other time; but now-now-now that I am deserted by all-penned in my last fortress-feeling that the safeguards in which I trusted are fallacious,-now it is indeed the climax of my calamity, that she, who helped me to rise to what she thought was prosperity and honour,-who clung to me through a career that inspired all else with horror and hate, and who, in sickness of body, and agony of mind, follows me in the very desperation of my fate, should at such an hour be taken from me,-I am now undone indeed. He then, for the first time, reflects on the brief and uncertain tenure of life. He has long dabbled in death, but it never before touched himself so closely. He is now aweary of the sun -now finds the deep curses which follow him, sufficiently loud to pierce his ear-now discovers that he has already lived long enough and plunges into the combat, determined, if he has lived the life of a tyrant, to die the death of a soldier, with harness on his back. Surrender or suicide does not enter his mind; with his habitual love of bloodshed, he feels a savage pleasure in dealing gashes all around; and at last, when he finds the charms on which he depended, of no avail, flings himself, after a slight hesitation, into headlong conflict with the man by whose sword he knows he is destined to fall, with all the reckless fury of despair. What had he now to care for? The last tie that bound him to human kind was broken by the death of his wife, and it was time that his tale of sound and fury should come to its appropriate close. Thus fell he whom Malcolm in the last speech of the play calls "the dead butcher." By the same tongue Lady Macbeth is stigmatised as the fiend-like queen. Except her share in the murder of Duncan,—which is, however, quite sufficient to justify the epithet in the mouth of his son, she does nothing in the play to deserve the title; and for her crime she has been sufficiently punished by a life of disaster and remorse. She is not the tempter of Macbeth. It does not require much philosophy to pronounce that there were no such beings as the weird sisters; or that the voice that told the Thane of Glamis that he was to be King of Scotland, was that of his own ambition. In his own bosom was brewed the hell-broth, potent to call up visions counselling tyranny and blood; and its ingredients were his own evil passions and criminal hopes. Macbeth himself only believes as much of the predictions of the witches as he desires. The same prophets, who foretold his elevation to the throne, foretold also that the progeny of Banquo would reign; and yet, after the completion of the prophecy so far as he is himself concerned, he endeavours to mar the other part by the murder of Fleance. The weird sisters are, to him, no more than the Evil Spirit which, in Faust, tortures Margaret at her prayers. They are but the personified suggestions of his mind. She, the wife of his bosom, knows the direction of his thoughts; and, bound to him in love, exerts every energy, and sacrifices every feeling, to minister to his hopes and aspirations. This is her sin, and no more. He retains, in all his guilt and crime, a fond feeling for his wife. Even when meditating slaughter, and dreaming of blood, he addresses soft words of conjugal endearment; he calls her " dearest chuck," while devising assassinations, with the fore-knowledge of which he is unwilling to sully her mind. Selfish in ambition, selfish in fear, his character presents no point of attraction but this one merit. Shakspeare gives us no hint as to her personal charms, except when he makes her describe her hand as "little." We may be sure that there were few " more thoroughbred or fairer fingers," in the land of Scotland than those of its queen, whose bearing in public towards Duncan, Banquo, and the nobles, is marked by elegance and majesty; and, in private, by affectionate anxiety for her sanguinary lord. He duly appreciated her feelings, but it is pity that such a woman should have been united to such a man. If she had been less strong of purpose, less worthy of confidence, he would not have disclosed to her his ambitious designs ; less resolute and prompt of thought and action, she would not have been called on to share his guilt; less sensitive or more hardened, she would not have suffered it to prey for ever like a vulture upon her heart. She affords, as I consider it, only another instance of what women will be brought to, by a love which listens to no con siderations, which disregards all else beside, when the interests, the wishes, the happiness, the honour, or even the passions, caprices, and failings of the beloved object are concerned; and if the world, in a compassionate mood, will gently scan the softer errors of sisterwoman, may we not claim a kindly construing for the motives which plunged into the Aceldama of this blood-washed tragedy the sorely urged and broken-hearted Lady Macbeth? A Nation's love, in acclamations deep, Mingles even in thy unbroken sleep, Giving thee back, in many a vision wild, Thy days of youthful and unfetter'd charm; Pillows her regal child. Ah, when thou wakest, still that joyful face is seen, Beaming upon her daughter and her youthful queen! On the scroll of Fame Thy name Stands free, "Tis but another name for Victory! Long may it stand A law, a beacon,-and a will,— Till the Omnipotent command Bids Fame be mute, and the great globe be still! W. R. V. SUICIDE. "Die, and increase the demand for coffins!" Motto of Undertakers' Mystery. Free translation. A CERTAIN philosopher once said, with a degree of truth that proved the strength of his own head and the weakness of the human nature he was anatomizing, that "many men could easily bring themselves to practise those things they would in nowise permit to be preached to them." He saw the line of distinction between virtue in thought and virtue in action,-the ease with which we could have the former, the difficulty of possessing in practice the latter; he knew how easy it is to be good when and where there is no temptation to the contrary; he knew the proneness of people thus luckily located on the top of Fortune's wheel, to inquire with seeming wonder wherefore they who were being pulverized beneath the bottom of the same,the pulverization being no jot the pleasanter from the obvious fact of the inquirer's weight being on the top,-why the discontented fellows presumed to be so uncomfortable, when their superiors made so many inquiries after their well-being; he knew that the top wheelmen were but too apt to argue about the fellows below as if they were of themselves, and to conclude that it was as wicked a thing for a man to steal a penny loaf when starving, as for an alderman to do the same thing, whose well-turtled stomach would bring the robbery into an act of wanton appropriation, only to be explained by his superabundant organ of acquisitiveness. In short, respectable reader, he knew what we all know, after he has made it clear, that the degree in which we practise what we will not permit to be preached to us, is proof of human weakness, and measure of the want of health in our personal morals. It is a confession of our inability to act up to our conception of virtue; and the cherishing the theory of good without making tho practice follow after, is a postponement of active virtue sine die. Or if we beat away that pertinacious dun, conscience, by saying, "Ah! never mind, I'll start with bran-new morals next year," it is only like moving that a bill be read this day six months,-a humane method of knocking the measure on the head without the unfeeling necessity of saying in so many words that knocking is to be its entertainment. Now, if I were to say,-which I feel very much disposed to do,that cutting one's own throat (where there are no kindred feelings to be cut)" that cutting one's own throat in this case was a very proper |