Leon, sink into common places before the princely, the philosophic, the benevolent Prospero.

The Bermuda Isles, in which Shakspeare has placed the scene of the Tempest, were discovered in his time; Sir George Somers and his companions having been wrecked there in a terrible storm, brought back a most fearful account of

*

those unknown islands, which they described as

66

a land of devils-a most prodigious and enchanted place, subject to continual tempests and supernatural visitings." Such was the idea entertained of the "still-vext Bermoothes" in Shakspeare's age; but later travellers describe them as perfect regions of enchantment in a far different sense: as so many fairy Edens, clustered like a knot of gems upon the bosom of the Atlantic, decked out in all the lavish luxuriance of nature, with shades of myrtle and cedar, fringed round with groves of coral; in short, each island a tiny paradise, rich with perpetual blossoms, in which

* In 1609, about three years before Shakspeare produced the Tempest, which, though placed first in all the editions of his works, was one of the last of his dramas.

Ariel might have slumbered, and ever-verdant bowers, in which Ferdinand and Miranda might have strayed. So that Shakspeare, in blending the wild relations of the shipwrecked mariners with his own inspired fancies, has produced nothing, however lovely in nature and sublime in magical power, which does not harmonise with the beautiful and wondrous reality.

There is another circumstance connected with the Tempest, which is rather interesting. It was produced and acted for the first time upon the occasion of the nuptials of the Princess Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of James I. with Frederic, the elector palatine. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader of the fate of this amiable but most unhappy woman, whose life, almost from the period of her marriage, was one long tempestuous scene of trouble and adversity.

The characters which I have here classed together, as principally distinguished by the predominance of passion and fancy, appear to me to

rise, in the scale of ideality and simplicity, from Juliet to Miranda;-the last being in comparison so refined, so elevated above all stain of earth, that we can only acknowledge her in connexion with it through the emotions of sympathy she feels and inspires.

I remember, when I was in Italy, standing "at evening on the top of Fesole," and at my feet I beheld the city of Florence and the Val d'Arno, with its villas, its luxuriant gardens, groves, and olive grounds, all bathed in crimson light. A transparent vapour or exhalation, which in its tint was almost as rich as the pomegranate flower, moving with soft undulation, rolled through the valley, and the very earth seemed to pant with warm life beneath its rosy veil. A dark purple shade, the forerunner of night, was already stealing over the east; in the western sky still lingered the blaze of the sunset, while the faint perfume of trees, flowers, and now and then a strain of music wafted upwards, completed the intoxication of the senses. But I looked from the earth to the sky,

and immediately above this scene hung the soft crescent moon-alone, with all the bright heaven

:

to herself and as that sweet moon to the glowing landscape beneath it, such is the character of Miranda compared to that of Juliet.

END OF VOL. I.

LONDON:

IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.