kindness of the heart is not on every accent, there is a chilliness, as on the gale that wafts along the night-cloud. Another; pride, anger, jealousy, revenge; and he trembles 'neath the sweeping of their fury, as with unrelenting purpose they prepare the poisoned chalice for their victim, and in their reckless progress overthrow alike the innocent and the offending. The majority of mankind exhibit their peculiar characteristics equally in their conversation as their conduct. They are not content with practising the virtues and talents they possess, but must needs publish to the world their benevolent intentions and acts, their generous and exalted sentiments-how often without just warranty, we will not pause to consider. But there are occasionally found gentle beings, and they are almost all of the fairer sex, who are satisfied with the exercise and the reward of goodness; who do alms, and wait on many an act of mercy, without sounding the trumpet before them; and whose beauty, like the hidden violet, is discovered only by its breeze-borne sweetness. And we cannot too highly appreciate their charms; they are the pure ones of earth, the angels sent on blessed missions to our world. To this class does the beautiful Cordelia belong.

It is evident that a character of this description, whose manifestations are so silent and unobtrusive, rather to be felt than heard, must be the most difficult of delineation. If she be the herald of her own perfections, and raise the veil that shrouds at the same time that it shrines her with a glory, to attract a passing praise, the charm is at once destroyed, and in proportion as she stood high in our estimation before, does she thenceforth fall. The extreme delicacy, therefore, which is required in the portraiture of such an one, so that this principle may never be infringed, is the gift only of the most refined genius; and although amid that constellation to which our hearts turn for all that is lovely in woman, there are many which bear more obvious traces of the master-hand, no creation, in our opinion, is more worthy of our immortal Shakspeare than Cordelia. Whether we consider the conception or execution, we must equally admire. Her disposition is so loving and gentle, so pure, guileless, and untainted with the selfishness common to mortality, and withal, so firm and uncompromising in its fidelity and truth, that she wins our affections at once, by a silent yet subduing influence. She appears only in one short scene at the commencement of the play, and having by her conduct given us the key to her character, she departs. But though she is absent, the developement of her nature is still proceeding, trait after trait being brought to light, till on her return we are prepared to greet her with the

reverence and love which acquaintance with her true desert inspires.

Without the slightest intention of attempting to lessen the importance of so glorious a delineation as king Lear himself, who towers above us like a lofty mountain, whose base, indeed, is on the earth, but whose summit is lost in heaven, we unhesitatingly assert that the whole action of the play is intended to work out the delineation of Cordelia's character. Whilst the various events possess an interest which irresistibly carries us on with them, making us thrill with horror or burn with indignation, as the case may be, there is an under current still flowing onward, which may escape the unreflecting mind in the excitement of the moment, but which ever advances till the re-appearance of Cordelia. She is never forgotten, although she be not present, but lingers on the mind throughout the whole progress of the play; indeed, from the very opening, everything is conceived and arranged to develope her character, the misfortunes and madness of Lear even tending to this end.

Shakspeare never wrote a play without an object independent of the plot. He ever set himself the task of dissolving some social problem, some delicate phase of character; and so deeply read was he in the human heart, so endued with the faculty of unravelling the mysteries of our nature, that his delineations have all the force and vitality of the original-the more abstruse and difficult the case, the more vivid the portraiture. It seems as though he exerted his powers with greater pleasure on such occasions. Alexander, when he had vanquished the world, would have despised the conquest of a petty province; but he sighed for another world on which to plant his victorious standard. Ambition cloys with every new gratification; what was a triumph yesterday is monotony to-day. So Shakspeare, in the greatness of his mind, seized on every knotty point which presented itself, as the epicure does on some bonne bouche, which may restore his pristine enjoyment. Cordelia was just such a being, then, as he would delight to discover; for apart from its intrinsic beauty, he would find infinite attractions in the difficulty of delineating the character of one, who, though teeming inwardly with warm and ardent impulses, with pure thoughts and womanly tenderness, nevertheless preserved a placid exterior, a silent and unobtrusive manner, and contrary to the generally received character of her sex, felt yet spake not. We may gaze upon the bright and cloudless ether of a summer evening, when all is still and peaceful, when the very airs that wanton 'mid the sunbeams are hushed and motionless, and the perfume of the flowers hangs above them all, unable to ascend; and gazing on its

liquid placitude, undimned by any shadow,-what dream we of the heavenly messengers, whose wings perchance are sweeping through its currents, as they bear sweet thoughts and holy aspirations to the gates of heaven: and thus to represent a being who, whatever stirred within her spirit, did not let its voice be heard, was an undertaking truly worthy of genius. What wonder, then, that in its execution he should have produced the noblest tragedy the world e'er saw. He went forth like a giant when the spirit of his strength is on him, and burst the withies that bind us to the earth like fibres of the undressed flax.

The play opens with king Lear's partition of his kingdom amongst his daughters, and it is essential to our argument to determine what was the intention of this introduction; for Shakspeare almost invariably commences his dramas, by giving a clue to the subject whose characteristics he is about to exhibit. Thus Romeo and Juliet opens with a brawl betwixt the servants of the Montagues and Capulets, ominously presaging the woe which those dissensions wrought. Hamlet, with the conversation respecting the appearance of the ghost, whereon the whole plot hinges. Macbeth, with the incantations of the witches, whose murderous inspirations so mainly contributed to egg on the superstitious general, and "screw his courage to the sticking point." And so it is with his other works. Then, was this first step intended only as a preparative for the madness of Lear? We think not, for many reasons. Whilst the mere fact of his abdication of the kingdom, and intent

To shake all cares and business from his age;
Conferring them on younger strengths, while he
Unburdened crawl'd toward death;

certainly did not indicate the probability or possibility of his future sorrows and madness, the singularity of the mode of partition, is calculated, in the extreme, to call attention to the peculiar trait in the disposition of Cordelia, whose predominance constituted the unity and beauty of her character. thus expounds his intentions,

Tell me, my daughters,

Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most?

That we our largest bounty may extend

Where merit doth most challenge it.

He

By this course, not only was her character brought into action most forcibly, but it was also placed in direct and striking con

trast with those of her voluble, but hollow-hearted sisters. A being constituted like Cordelia with exquisite sensibilities, hearing the fulsome and degrading protestations of the covetous Goneril and Regan, would, through mere disgust, and fear of being classed with them, apart from her natural aversion to breathe openly the thoughts that lie "too deep for tears," be silent. The working of this feeling is clearly exhibited, for whilst she listens to the flatteries of her sisters, she whispers to herself,

"What shall Cordelia do? Love, and be silent."

And again :

Then poor Cordelia !

And yet not so, since I am sure my love's
More richer than my tongue.

And when Lear turns, the very words he uses are such as would confirm her resolves of silence, since anything she might say must have appeared dictated by a sordid motive:

What can you say, to draw

A third more opulent than your sister's? speak.

This manner of procedure was admirably calculated to give point to her reply, which, without some clue, might have appeared but the evidence of stupid taciturnity,—

Nothing, my lord.

Here commences the development of her character, after the whole attention has been centred upon her. In answer to the wonderment of her father, at a conduct so different from her subtle sisters, so different from what he expected from her who was "his joy," she says,

Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave

My heart into my mouth. I love your majesty,
According to my bond; nor more, nor less.

Yet how much is signified by this expression! A gentle and feminine heart whose impulses are all tender and holy, viewing the love she felt for her parent as a duty, wherein there could be no supererogation, and thus blending with filial affection, a sweet religion and sanctity, would far more truly love, than

one who felt but the mere promptings of sense, which we have too good reason to know, are oftimes capricious and unconstant. That such a feeling actuated Cordelia, is evident. She does not assume any merit, nor attempt to exaggerate her sentiments; nay, fearful that what she had said might be construed into boasting, she even qualifies this, to the thoughtless, ambiguous declaration, shrinking from the utterance of aught like selfpraise. That she did not underrate her obligations to her father, we see from her subsequent explanation :

She had a branches,

Nor did she bear a callous heart, and live and move but as a cold automaton, in a dull round of senseless duties. due appreciation of the worth of love in all its therefore, she asks:

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,

That lord whose hand must take my plight, shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty :

Sure I shall never marry, like my sisters,

To love my father all.

During the whole of this dialogue, the quiet beauty of her disposition is exquisitely preserved, and although in every word she utters, we may discover the goodness and purity of her spirit, not one comes near the praising of herself." It is the perfection of love, to "love, and yet be silent ;" the love that is not content with the dear "happiness of loving," but still is prating of its own excess, has at least as much self-love in its composition. Even the exclamation of Lear, "so young and so untender," unkindly touching, as it does, the very quick of sensibility, for it is most bitter to be belied on such a point, fails to elicit from her any further avowal, or a single word breathing of asperity; she only returns,—

So young my lord, and true.

Never was there juster word than that of Kent,—

Nor are those empty-hearted whose low sound
Reverbs no hollowness.