brated nomenclator, Mr. Tyson, speak ofice by Spanish gravity; and it seems he was riciate office vengeance. Is it not possible for you to strike

a casual spark of vivacity? You are even more solemn than The Rambler, of which old Will. Duncombe, that runner to the wits, used to complain so much, when it was first published; but I hope, if you hereafter make an attempt to gambol a little, you will not be as awkward in your gambols as the Doctor was. Perhaps, however, I am very mischievous in urging you to that, in which you will probably fail. I doubt if you can be merry; and I am sure you cannot be witty bitter I know you can be; a little spice of it would give a zest to your future ruminations.

:

Do you not think a few caustic touches on some of your cotemporaries would be as interesting as the nauseating sweets of perpetual praise? Some variety I know you are capable of.-Grave as is your present morality, I remember, not more than fifteen years ago, you could produce a love-tale, over which young girls and love-sick swains have ever since hung enamoured! Try another chord of your many-stringed harp; and prove, whether you cannot sound the notes of censure and shame!

Has every writer of verses merit? And are ⚫ literati always wise and good? Savage, and Boyse, and Dermody, and perhaps Chatterton, will exhibit

enjoy ferent story. If Johnson could cover over that you cathin disguise of apologies the profligate paons, and boisterous temper of Savage, you must not! But I am growing serious like yourself. Let me proceed upon my rambles.

Cannot you cut up poor Beattie like some of your brother critics, and prove that he was a very vapid and mediocre poet, and a very weak philosopher? That he was stained with the crime of corresponding with learned bishops, and learned ladies; and still more with the audacious guilt of despising the metaphysics of David Hume? Cannot you convict him of flattering a Duchess, and from the recluse habits of an academic life and a shy temper, of being not a little dazzled with her rank? Cannot you shew Roscoe to be a book-making drudge, and Hayley a man incapable of elegant and instructive composition? Mrs. Carter vastly learned, but vastly dull; and Tom Warton a diligent antiquary, but totally incapable of making a luminous use of his materials?

You may hence, if you will, turn to politics, and shew Pitt to have been a rash, ignorant and despicable statesman; and Lord Henry Petty the greatest of financiers. But be sure you do not abuse his worthy successor Spencer Perceval, who has learned so perfectly how to calculate for our pockets by his adroitness in crown-prosecutions;

and can terrify his adversaries into instant silence by a threat of the secrets he acquired in his late office of Attorney General. And do not reproach Canning for his apostacy from the Muses, or for his disrespect to those qualities, on which his own claims to notice were founded: make some allowances for the frailties of poor human nature, and yield something to the fumes of sudden elevation! Re respectful to birth and rank; touch not the foibles of a worn-out nobility; tear not off the ancient mantle, that covers a Howard; and let the bright ermine of a new Peer continue to hide his history and his origin!

Proceed, good Sir; fly along the surface, as I do, scratching some, wounding others; and you will be infinitely more entertaining to many, as well as to your humble servant, and constant reader, HARRY RANDOM.

June 4, 1807.

N° XII.

On the Scenic Representation of the Tragedy

of Macbeth.

SIR,

TO THE RUMINATOR.

MUCH as has been written concerning the mighty powers of Shakespeare, the subject is even now hardly to be considered as exhausted. Lives. of that extraordinary author, new editions of his works, with copious and even voluminous commentaries upon them, continue to be published almost in every year; and new matter and new illustrations are received by the public with such avidity, to use his own words,

“As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on.”

Far be it from me to dissent from the general opinion; on the contrary, my admiration of the bard, the pride of my country, and perhaps, all circumstances considered, her most original genius, increases with my years. It has grown with my

growth; and those humourous, moral, and pathetic scenes which were the delight of my youth, form one of the greatest charms and most attractive pleasures of a time of life not far distant from old age.

It has always appeared to me peculiar to Shakspeare, and a marked distinction between him and all other dramatic writers, that those scenes which appear the finest, and give the highest gratification in the closet, fall short of, and disappoint the expectation on the stage, sometimes even to disgust. Whether the remark has been made before I know not, but probably the sensation must have been often experienced. Other plays, both ancient and modern, are sometimes well represented throughout, and with appropriate scenes and decorations; but I never yet saw a play of Shakspeare, of either muse, which appeared to me to answer the design of the author, or give a just representation of his characters, situations, and scenery. The characters are often ill drest, the situations and scenery misunderstood, the comic parts made serious, and the serious comic.

This was, I presume, the reason why in the noble undertaking of Messrs. Boydell, the painters were directed to divest their minds carefully of every impression left on them, by the representation on the stage of the scenes allotted them to