Of blood; whose unmov'd stream was never drawn She is, however, eventually forced to marry Rousard; and on the evening of the ceremony, Borachio, a scoundrel in the employ of D'Amville, disguises himself as a soldier, and announces the death of Charlemont. After describing a battle, he proceeds in these pretty fanciful lines. "Walking next day upon the fatal shore, A man that folds his arms, or wrings his hands This is too much for Montferrers, who is taken suddenly ill, and persuaded, by a hypocritical, pretended clergyman, to make a will in favour of his brother D'Amville. The Atheist now determines to consummate the business by a master-piece of policy, and, with the assistance of Borachio, contrives the murder of Montferrers. The thunder roars, and the lightning flashes around them; but D'Amville, believing in neither good spirit nor bad, white spirit nor grey, exults amidst the war of elements in the success of his stratagems. To deceive the relatives of the deceased, he pretends excessive grief; and, to cheat the world, performs a solemn funeral over Montferrers and Charlemont. Meanwhile, the ghost of Montferrers appears to Charlemont in a dream, apprizes him of his father's death, and admonishes him to return to France. Charlemont awakes and endeavours to argue away his fears. "Charl. O my affrighted soul! what fearful dream Was this that wak'd me? Dreams are but the rais'd Impressions of premeditated things, By serious apprehension left upon Our minds; or else the imaginary shapes Should dream thus, for my mind has not been mov'd Fore-sight and knowledge, ere it understand To come. Why should I think so?-left I not No apparition of a man? Sol. You dream, sir, I saw nothing. Of things retain'd in them; and make 'em seem Some bloody accident upon my mind; Incorporate, as if his body were The owner of that blood, the subject of That death; when he's at Paris, and that blood An idle apprehension; a vain dream." He, however, obeys the admonition, and on arriving at the church-yard, where his father's remains are deposited, he sees Castabella shedding tears over his own monument. She thus addresses the Deity: "Casta. O thou that knowest me justly Charlemont's, Though in the forc'd possession of another, Since from thine own free spirit we receive it, That our affections cannot be compell'd, Though our actions may; be not displeas'd, if on The altar of his tomb, I sacrifice My tears. They are the jewels of my love His blasted spring, as April dew upon A sweet young blossom shak'd before the time." The last lines are prettily said-of course the young soldier learns the wrong done to his love. Charlemont's appearance somewhat disconcerts the Atheist: he, however, puts a bold face on the matter, and throws Charlemont into prison for the thousand crowns he had lent him. Castabella solicits the mercy of D'Amville in favour of the prisoner, in terms which would melt any thing that had a heart." "Casta. O father! Mercy is an attribute In goodness. Rich men should transcend the poor, As clouds the earth, rais'd by the comfort of The sun to water dry and barren grounds." From prison he is released through the means of Sebastian, the second son of D'Amville. Again foiled, he becomes kind in appearance, but rancorous in purpose, and employs his friend Borachio to shoot Charlemont while in the church-yard. Borachio misses aim, and falls beneath the sword of his intended victim. On the very day of Castabella's marriage, Rousard, it seems, had been struck with sudden infirmity, and D'Amville, whose hopes of posterity are now becoming fainter, persuades Castabella to walk into the church-yard, where he makes an attempt against her chastity, but his design is frustrated by the appearance of Charlemont, who had put on a disguise he accidentally found, and which gave him the semblance of his father's ghost. "Misery makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows." Charlemont and Castabella are found asleep in the church-yard, with each a death's head for a pillow, by D'Amville, who immediately accuses them of the murder of Borachio, and they are sent to prison. D'Amville now retires to rest, but is alarmed in his sleep by the ghost of Montferrers-he wakes, and soliloquizes on his superior wisdom to the simple honest worshipper of "a fantastic providence," and is exulting over the state of his posterity, when the dead body of Sebastian, who had been slain, is brought in, and he immediately afterwards witnesses the death of his other son Rousard. The boasted reason of the Atheist gives way before these repeated blows, and be appears before the court, which is about to try Charlemont and Castabella, in a state of frenzy. They are both convicted on their own confession (for Castabella is nobly resolved to share the fate of Charlemont), and offer themselves with alacrity to death. D'Amville, in a fantastic mood, determines, that they shall die by no ignobler hand than his own; but as he raises up the axe to cut off the head of Charlemont, he strikes out his own brains-confesses his villainy, and dies. The two lovers are doubtless made happy, and so concludes the Atheist's Tragedy; and, with the following little extracts, so must we conclude. Impudence. "Impudence! Thou goddess of the palace, mistress of mistresses, Strike thou my forehead into dauntless marble, Horror. "Our sorrows are so fluent, Our Avarice. "Here sounds a music whose melodious touch, Whose wandering speculation seeks among With unprevented sight. Unmask, fair queen; [Unpurses the gold. Vouchsafe their expectations may enjoy ART. IX.-Anecdotes of the Life of the Right Hon. William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, and of the principal Events of his time. With his Speeches in Parliament from the year 1756 to the year 1778, in 3 vols. 8vo. London, 1790. The character of Lord Chatham has been so often (and in many cases so ably) delineated within the last forty years, that some apology may be required for any attempt to throw upon it additional light. Every one knows, that all the political parties who, within that time, have divided the state, though differing in every thing else, have yet been emulous to admire and to quote Lord Chatham: that Burke and Grattan have left to the world sketches of his character, which do equal honour to him and to themselves; and that even the pen of Junius has conspired to praise him. Nor is his name heard |