it. The least that can be said of this omission is, that it is a fine opportunity neglected by Shakspere for adding, had he been disposed, the graces of religion.

The strong sentiments of natural morality which we have noticed in Shakspere are brought out strikingly. Macbeth owes to Duncan that 'service that pays itself. Lady Macbeth, discovering in her doomed victim the lineaments of her father's face, is more shaken by it than by all the influences of religion. Macbeth is always strong in this idea; and while he fears no future, fears the turning of the poisoned chalice to his own lip. Here, again, with all the brilliancy of poetry, our author anticipates the moralist in Sir James Mackintosh.

Death and sleep are reciprocals with our characters throughout. Even the castle porter makes himself merry with the 'primrose way to the everlasting bonfire.' Banquo is dismissed to death, with a doubt and a sneer concerning his fate. The materialism of death is unfaltering. Duncan dead-he sleeps well-'nothing can touch him further.' The natural goodness of human nature, which principle the play so largely illustrates, is even shown to have been strong in the hired murderers, who, by the frowns and buffets of the world, had been chafed into assassins. The authoritative and dreadful interrogative of Macduff, as to whether heaven looked on and saw the murder of his little ones, and interposed no rescue, is one of those passionate pieces of impiety (invented by our author) in which blasphemy is clothed with the eternal apology of originating in hopeless anguish and unmerited misery.

JULIUS CÆSAR.

Shakspere has before given us sketches of men without religion, who at the same time challenge general admiration -as the death of Cawdor in the last play; but here we are treated to entire characters, the logic of whose lives is religionless, held up to admiration as the noblest of a nation celebrated for its natural nobility of individual character. Here are displayed men who enter into the most terrrible schemes without seeking any help of heaven, and who execute them without appearing to need it, and whose glory is

(contrary to Christian ethics), that they are self-dependent. Cassius is a professed follower of Epicurus. Cicero, of old, in what he has left us concerning the 'Nature of the Gods,' remarks, that "Those whom we call gods are only the nature of things.' In his book of Divination, 'It is a great folly to make the gods the artificers (effectores) of things, in place of inquiry into the causes of things.' The Cicero of our play reiterates these same sentiments, showing another of our author's favourite sources of opinion.

We find suicide, indeed, argued against, but the common objections of mankind are the staple of the arguments; while, in its favour, the fine and curious reasons of materialism are alleged and strengthened by being made to operate in practice. A striking instance is afforded us of Shakspere's real views in his management of the death of Brutus. Plutarch, whom Shakspere gives evidence of having consulted for materials, tells us, that Brutus died with the firm hope of future life. Shakspere suppresses this fact, and when he is disinclined to suicide, he converts him to it by the Epicurean reasons of Cassius, and depicts him dying as atheistically as Cæsar.

Cæsar's character accords with that atheism which, according to Sallust, he avowed in the open senate. It cannot be that great influence must not be exercised in favour of such sentiments when they drop, with all the graces of poetry, from the lips of the foremost man of all this world.'

Without even the reservation of Hume, our author depicts reliance on super-naturalism as 'hateful error;' and futher, to show its danger, Cassius, who at last listens to it, is ruined for his credence. Abundant are the passages in this play in which powerful support is lent to material philosophy. The solemn and manly parting of Brutus and Cassius, bearing up nobly against impending death, such as poet never before depicted -men who stooped not to seek religious aid-is a signal corroboration of our author's philosophy. None but Shakspere ever pronounced such an eulogy on such a character as Brutus-as is implied in those words, in which the onlooking world are supposed to accord that he was a model

man.

E

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

This play illustrates the principle that the omnipotence of the passions (in this case that of love) can annihilate all expectation or anxiety concerning death or futurity.

Antony, in his love, excludes all idea of, or room for, religion. He early reverts, as does Cleopatra and other characters, to that gross materialism which assimilates 'men and beast.' He and his mistress reduce all life's nobleness to a sensual kiss.

Diligently searches our poet the Scriptures for profane witticisms. We have Anna, the mother of John, the special subject of a jest and the pagan Antony borrows an oath from the Psalms of David. Ever diversifying the irreverent designation of Deity, we find the gods called the tailors of the earth, who performed for once certain functions of that craft. Antony affirms necessity's potency, Lepidus defends it, and Cæsar inculcates submission to it. Pompey opposes the expectation of men from prayer. Suicide is the great theme of the play's laudation-self-destruction is to conquer one's self-to win a nobleness in record; not to do it is goddetested baseness'- -a woman is made elaborately to defend the act-the patience which would endure joyless life is 'sottish-death is painted as proud to take the suicide—and six persons (Cleopatra included,) perish by their own hands, believers in this doctrine.

Cleopatra, in the prospect of death, declares, she has 'no friend but resolution and Antony, who disbelieves in the future, or, in a paroxysm of love anticipates a seraglio there, dies philosophising upon a kiss. Nothwithstanding these erratic peculiarities, for which our author apologises, Antony is declared the 'rarest spirit that did ever steer humanity.' Are these the philosophic lessons of a Christian poet?

We ought not to forget our Clown, who partakes of the usual clownish inspiration. He is sure the devil will hurt not woman, who is a dish for the gods.'

CYMBELINE.

This play is founded upon another story borrowed from Boccaccio. Antique in time and character, it abounds in

modern sentiments, and ranks next to Measure for Measure in its questionings of a future state.

We are introduced to two gentlemen, whose blood no more obey the king than they do the heavens. Iachimo, as so many, others have done, sees in sleep only 'the ape of death.' That Collins should have substituted another song for one of Shakspere's is not without meaning. Nature is always well spoken of, but the gods disparagingly. They are perpetually addressed as the servants of men, and threatened for their disobedience.

We have a gaoler who eulogises the 'charity of a penny. cord, and essays to reason Posthumus out of his religion. In the 'deep philosophical speculation' (for such is the Knightism by which it is designated) with which our gaoler favours Posthumus, he exhibits all the argument, and to Posthumus is given only speculative abuse. The humour of the gaoler is conceded to be Voltairian, and he quotes the speculative infidelity of Montaigne. Yet the gaoler is made a good man, and utters generous sentiments and betrays lofty aspirations, while the religious hero, Posthumus, is weak, credulous, cruel, and cowardly.

An amnesty is granted with grace, by Posthumus, in the end to Iachimo, and 'pardon,' proclaims Cymbeline, 'is the word for all,' as in Measure for Measure.

CORIOLANUS.

Julius Cæsar, Antony and Cleopatra, and Coriolanus, are three Roman plays of the poet's latter days, and with the intervention of Cymbeline, follow successively. In them our author seems to have drawn to his heart's content upon his favourite notion of the sufficiency of natural morality, and to have presented us with a series of 'godded'-men.

Coriolanus has a natural, an indomitable pride, on the wings of which he soars above the gods; 'he will not spare to gird them'-he cannot repent even for the gods, yet is he, despite of his haughty defiance of religion, depicted of such high quality as not to be induced to lie, nor to cease to honour his own truth.

The gods, in the mouth of Menenius, are denied even the attribute of mercy, while Volumnia asks Coriolanus, 'Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man still to remember wrongs??

A lofty strain of impiety pervades the characters of this play, apparently so supported by moral dignity as to be placed above the reach of censure. Our poet improves with experience.

Tullus Aufidius no more regards religion than Coriolanus. Sanctuary, church, prayers, and sacrifices are with him only so many 'rotten' principles or 'privileges' which do stop men's fury.

The doctrine of necessity is further explained in this play in detail. The citizens and Coriolanus carry it to the issue of non-responsibility. Shakspere again alters Plutarch to introduce his own blasphemy.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

This play is prolific in instances borrowed from Scripture, and appropriated with our author's usual freedom. In the person of Alcibiades we have another reasoner against the divine precept of passive endurance, and not only precept but example is given against the doctrine. Timon leaves Athens using the words of Jesus on leaving Jerusalem, with the variation of Timon wishing what Jesus merely predicted. Timon's wood-soliloquy is drawn both from the Old and New Testaments, and introduces the child Jesus under the anti-christian epithet of 'bastard.'

Besides other coincidences in events and circumstances, Timon's revulsion of feeling from philanthropy to misanthropy, is something like the character of Jesus-warm in its affections towards the world, wishing peace and good-will towards men, willing to nestle them under his wings, but in consequence of their rejection of him, heaping denunciations on them and prophesying of them every ill.

Timon is a thorough materialist—with him human 'nature grows towards the earth, and is fashioned for the journey dull and heavy.' Alcibiades speaks of him as becomes his character and opinions. He informs the senate that it hath pleased time and fortune to lie heavy on Timon, who, his fate aside, was a man of comely virtues. Timon's materialism is consistent, and he, consequently, defies the gods he disbelieves -he gives them ironical thanks for empty dishes at dinner. When he blesses the breeding sun, he improves on Hamlet,