THE TEMPEST. SHAKSPEARE was indebted solely to the inspiration of his genius for the material of this exquisite creation. His critics and commentators have wholly failed to trace the origin of the plot to any other source. The poet Collins, however, claimed that it was founded upon a romance entitled "Amelia and Isabella," printed in the Italian, Spanish, French, and English, in 1588. There is nothing, however, in "Amelia and Isabella," not even the faintest outline, to warrant such a conclusion. Warton, in commenting upon. the above, says that Collins had searched the subject with no less fidelity than judgment and industry; but during a moment of mental aberration probably gave the name of one novel for another. Warton also expresses the opinion that the original novel will yet be discovered, inasmuch as Collins mentions that the principal character of the romance answering to Shakspeare's Prospero was a chemical necromancer, who had bound a spirit like Ariel to obey his call and perform his services. Tieck earnestly maintains that the TEMPEST was taken from an Italian drama, of which a German version is preserved in Ayer's play entitled Die Schöne Sidea (the Beauful Sidea). His arguments are based principally upon some striking points of resemblance between the two plays; but as the earlier drama is not known to exist, it is probable that the Beautiful Sidea is only an adaptation or imitation of the TEMPEST. SHAKSPEARE's reference to "the still vex'd Bermoothes has given rise to the opinion that the scene of the drama was laid in the Bermudas. Sir George Somers, who was wrecked upon one of these isles, published an account of his voyage about three years before the play was written, in which he gave a glowing description of this land of enchantment, of groves of coral, of perpetual blossoms and ever verdant bowers. The poet doubtless had read the account of this voyage, and had had the Bermudas in his mind's eye; but Ariel's flight from "a nook of the isle" to "fetch dew" from "the still vex'd Bermoothes," is, we think, a convincing proof that the isles were some distance from the scene of the drama. The TEMPEST has often been compared with the "Midsummer-Night's Dream." The contrast between the real and the ideal, the natural and the supernatural, in both of these dramas, is unquestionably carried to a greater extent than in any other of the author's productions. The two plays, however, are too widely dissimilar to admit of any general comparison. The "Midsummer-Night's Dream" is perhaps adorned with the fairest flowers of poetry, and the most exquisite and delicate word-paintings, and the most varied and complicated confusions of beauties; but the TEMPEST possesses a greater unity of effect, and a greater combination of thought and interest, and a more harmonious blending of opposite elements. It also possesses more depth of feeling, affection and sentiment, and a more refined and contemplative philosophy. The TEMPEST is generally regarded as the finest play, and the "Midsummer-Night's Dream" as the finest poem. In the character of Ariel we have a beautiful exhibition of the poet's power for giving form and distinctness to winged and immortal beings. Ariel is called "the feature less angel." He hurries to and fro with the swiftness of thought, and drinks the air before him. We have scarcely time to look at him in one shape before we see him in another. He is as frolicsome and mischievous as he is bright and ethereal. He does all his spiriting gently, and is too delicate to act earthly, and abhors commands. It matters not how he presents himself to our fancy, either as a water-nymph or a harpy, or "sleeping in a cowslip's bell," or "imprisoned in a cloven pine," or "diving into the fire" or "into the salt sea," or "riding upon the curled clouds," or "living in the colors of the rainbow," or "running upon the sharp wind of the north," or "flying upon the bat's back, after summer merrily," or "refusing to do his master's strong bidding," he seems ever the same self-consistent being, kindling thoughts to wander throughout eternity. We confess our inability to analyse the character of Caliban. He is something infrahuman, a mixture of man, brute, and devil, and yet in no way presents the distinctive elements of either. Monster as he is, he is sensible to kindness, and endeavors to show his gratitude as best his savage nature will allow him. He says to Prospero : "When thou cam'st here first Thou strok'dst me and made much of me; wouldst give me To name the bigger light, and how the less That burn by day and night, and then I lov'd thee, And show'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, The fresh springs, brine pits, barren places and fertile." His mind has been compared to a dark cave through which the rays of light serve not to warm or illumine, but to set in motion the poisonous vapors that generate in it. His malignity is easily aroused, and when it is he cares only for the use of language to vent the deepest curses. Prospero moves through the diverse elements of the 50 TEMPEST with unequaled power and beauty and wisdom. His high charms work only for the noblest and most praiseworthy ends. SHAKSPEARE has chosen him to utter two of the finest passages of poetry in the drama. It is almost unnecessary to say that we mean the description of the disappearance of the vision he has conjured up, and the speech where he abjures his art and proposes to break his staff and bury it "fathoms in the earth," and drown his book 66 Deeper than did ever plummet sound." The former is so full of poetic splendor that we cannot resist reproducing it here : "Our revels now are ended. These, our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air; And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, Miranda is the most purely ideal of all SHAKSPEARE'S women. She seems to belong to a higher order of beings than of this earth. All the aerial splendor and magical mystery of her father's isle seem to be interwoven in her nature, and yet she is as distinct and palpable a creation as if she actually existed in real life. She has no acquired or artificial manners, and is totally ignorant of the false notions of society that teach us to flatter and dissemble. Modesty, and truth, and honor, and purity, and virtue, and nnocence, are her dower, She never saw one of her own sex, and has grown up with no companions save her father, and the ministering spirits of the air and the rocks and trees and caves and dells and brooks and fountains of her fairy home. Her heart swells with filial affection and all the attending virtues of holy innocence. She is a celestial being, breathing thoughtful breath. She sees everything through her own hallowed imagination. Even Caliban is to her simply a villain she does not love to look on." No wonder Ferdinand approaches her as something above the earth earthy, as "a goddess upon whom the airs attend." The courtship between her and Ferdinand is managed with exquisite grace and delicacy. "At the first sight They have changed eyes." We cannot imagine anything more beautiful than the following extracts from the third act: FER.-" Full many a lady I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd So perfect and so peerless, are created MIRA.-" At mine own unworthiness, that dare not offer What I shall die to want: But this is trifling; And all the more it seeks to hide itself, The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, I am your wife, if you will marry me ; If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow, |