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days in privacy at Malta. There, at least, has been discovered a sepulchre inscribed with the Punic words, "Hannibal, son of Amilcar."

On the return of the Scipios from Asia, two tribunes of the people, the Petilii, stimulated by Cato, and not improbably assisted covertly with evidence by Lælius, accused the Scipios of embezzling public money taken in the Asiatic war, and of accepting personal bribes from Antiochus. Scipio produced a bundle of papers in defence: but, on being required to read them aloud, and to deposit them in the treasury, where the accusers could have access to them, he tore these papers with an air of insulted dignity. The tribune Nævius afterward revived this accusation; when his impeachment was flanked by documents so voluminous that the pleadings lasted until night, and were adjourned to the day following, which was the anniversary of the battle of Zama. The tribunes having taken their seats, Scipio arrived with a numerous train of friends, clients, and priests, in their robes of ceremony, and, turning to the assembly, said, "On this day, Romans, I conquered Hannibal and the Carthaginians; let us go and thank the gods:" in consequence of which a sort of thanksgiving-day was voted by acclamation, and the assembly of the people was dissolved without specific adjournment. This is called by Livy (xxxviii. 51.) a glorious day for Scipio: but we deem it a disgraceful one, and adapted to convince judicious bystanders that the alleged peculation could not be disproved; - and so it operated: for Livy is immediately afterward obliged to acknowlege that this specious day was the last which threw any lustre on the name of Scipio. The charges of malversation were again renewed, and he pleaded indisposition as a ground for deferring to fix the day of audit. Tiberius Gracchus, hitherto the supposed enemy of Scipio, lent authority to this excuse, and accomplished an indefinite adjournment: but it was presently found, or rather agreed at a coalitionbanquet of the parties, that he was to marry the daughter of Scipio, who thought that he manifested much condescension in so bestowing her. At length Scipio retired into a sort of voluntary exile at Liternum, where he died, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He desired to be buried in his own grounds, and, according to Valerius Maximus, dictated this epitaph: Ingrata patria, nec ossa mea habebis."

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We agree much with Mr. Hooke, who, in his Roman history, has dissected anew the antient testimonies concerning Scipio, and are far from conceding to him so blameless a character as Mr. Berwick would assign: but let our readers consider his summing up.

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If, as some authors write, Scipio died at Liternum, it is probable that his ashes were first interred at his villa, and were afterwards conveyed to the family sepulchre in Rome, on the Via Capena, where a sarcophagus was found a few years ago, inscribed with his name. Cicero speaks with great confidence of the year in which Scipio died; yet Livy found so great a difference of opinion among historians on the subject, that he declares himself unable to ascertain it. From a fragment in Polybius we learn, that in his time the authors who had written of Scipio, were ignorant of some circumstances of his life, and mistaken in others; and from Livy it appears, that the accounts respecting his life, trial, death, funeral, and sepulchre, were so contradictory, that he was not able to determine what tradition, or whose writings he ought to credit. The general opinion is, that he died in the fifty-seventh year of his age; though a modern writer in his Universal History, without quoting any authority, says he died at his country-seat at the age of forty-eight.

No character has been celebrated with more cordial praise by ancient and modern writers, (Hooke excepted,) than that of Scipio Africanus. His name stands at the head of the most eminent military characters of the republic, as being a man, whose talents as a soldier were peculiarly conspicuous; for at the age of seventeen, his father owed him his life, at the battle of the Ticinus ; and his 'country, its safety at the battle of Zama. Scipio was frequently heard to say, that he had rather save the life of a single soldier, than destroy a thousand enemies; a golden sentiment, which was frequently in the mouth of the virtuous Antoninus Pius. By this humanity of disposition, he was not only beloved by his army, who considered him as their father and protector, but likewise by all foreign nations, who admired his goodness and equity. In the sedition that broke out at Sucro, in Spain, which necessarily required the making some examples, he said, he thought it like the tearing out of his own bowels, when he saw himself obliged to expiate the crimes of eight thousand men by the death of thirty.

• But besides the many rare gifts of nature that Scipio had above all others, there was in him also, according as the old writer of his life wordeth it, a certain princely grace and majesty. Furthermore, he was marvellous gentle and courteous unto them that came to him, and had an eloquent tongue, and a passing gift to win every man. He was very grave in his gesture and behaviour, and ever wore long hair. In fine, he was truly a noble captain, worthy of all commendation, and excellent in all virtues, which did so delight his mind, that he was wont to say, (according to the report of Cato the censor,) "that he was never less idle than when at leisure, nor less alone than when alone." A magnificent sentence, exclaims Cicero, and worthy of so great and wise a person; by which it appears, that in the midst of leisure, he could turn his thoughts to business, and was used, when alone, to commune with himself; so that he was never properly idle, nor ever stood in need of company to entertain him in his solitude.

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The fame of his illustrious actions was so great, that wherever he went, all descriptions of people were anxious to visit him; and a report was current at the time, that several captains of pirates came to see him, and kiss his victorious hands; for virtue has such power and influence with all ranks of people, that it makes not only the good, but the bad, to love and respect it.'

ART. VII. Characters of Shakespear's Plays. By William Hazlitt. 8vo. pp. 352. 1os. 6d. Boards. Hunter.

ART. VIII. Lectures on the English Poets. Delivered at the Surrey Institution. By William Hazlitt. 8vo. pp. 331. 10s. 6d. Boards. Taylor and Hessey. 1819.

ART. IX. Lectures on the English Comic Writers. Delivered at the Surrey Institution. By William Hazlitt. 8vo. pp. 343. Ios. 6d. Boards. Taylor and Hessey. 1819.

MR. HAZLITT is perhaps the most sparkling prose-writer of

the present day. To whatever department of criticism he turns his versatile attention, he is sure of illuminating the objects in survey with the rainbow tints of fancy, and with a dazzling glitter of intellect. With respect to our greatest dramatist, he is a critic of the school of Schlegel, partakes the same warm profound admiration of Shakspeare, and, in his work now before us on the characters of the plays, has exemplified in detail those excellences which the German panegyrist had been content to indicate in gross.

The subject is introduced by a preface including severe but just observations on Dr. Johnson's well-known critique, which contains the glaringly erroneous assertion that, " in Shakspeare, each character is a species instead of being an individual." This proposition is convincingly refuted; and it must be acknowleged that in general Dr. Johnson's ideas were rather distinct than correct, and have often more vivacity than truth of colouring.

Cymbeline is the play here criticized first. It was probably one of the earlier works of Shakspeare, and is so much undervalued by Johnson as to have required this satisfactory apology.

Macbeth is next examined, but is not reviewed with so much originality or depth of thought as many other characters. Little, perhaps, was to be added to the excellent analysis of Richardson; yet on the master-piece of Shakspeare it was scarcely allowable to be otherwise than studiously complete. Itdeserved notice that Buirger, the German translator of Macbeth, has attempted to give more importance to the character of Banquo, by introducing a scene and a soliloquy in which E 3

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his weight and worth of nature are evolved. As Shakspeare attributes the remorse of Macbeth rather to the assassination of Banquo than to the still more criminal murder of Duncan, this alteration has a good effect. Another merit of the German play is that the witches are directed to appear in similar masks, which precludes the ludicrous effect of the chorus now exhibited on our theatres.

Julius Cæsar is not highly extolled; and no doubt the Emperor draws insufficient attention, and Brutus harangues very ill for an admired apostle of liberty. Some good scenes occur between Brutus and Cassius: but Anthony is in fact the hero of the piece, the centre of interest, and all the other characters are involved in shade, in order that his inherent majesty may be apparent.

Othello is well discussed, but required no defence.

Timon of Athens is justly praised: it is perhaps at present unduly neglected.

Coriolanus is happily illustrated from the old version of Plutarch; and Troilus and Cressida from Chaucer.

Anthony and Cleopatra is, according to Mr. Hazlitt, the finest of Shakespear's historical plays, that is, of those in which he made poetry the organ of history, and assumed a certain tone of character and sentiment, in conformity to known facts.' Hamlet is thus characterized:

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The character of Hamlet is itself a pure effusion of genius. It is not a character marked by strength of will or even of passion, but by refinement of thought and sentiment. Hamlet is as little of the hero as a man can well be: but he is a young and princely novice, full of high enthusiasm and quick sensibility the sport of circumstances, questioning with fortune and refining on his own feelings, and forced from the natural bias of his disposition by the strangeness of his situation. He seems incapable of deliberate action, and is only hurried into extremities on the spur of the occasion, when he has no time to reflect, as in the scene where he kills Polonius, and again, where he alters the letters which Rosencraus and Guildenstern are taking with them to England, purporting his death. At other times, when he is most bound to act, he remains puzzled, undecided, and sceptical, dallies with his purposes, till the occasion is lost, and always finds some pretence to relapse into indolence and thoughtfulness again. For this reason he refuses to kill the King when he is at his prayers, and by a refinement in malice, which is in truth only an excuse for his own want of resolution, defers his revenge to some more fatal opportunity, when he shall be engaged in some act "that has no relish of salvation in it."

"He kneels and prays,

And now I'll do't, and so he goes to heaven,
And so am I reveng'd: that would be scann'd.

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He kill'd my father, and for that,
I, his sole son, send him to heaven.
Why this is reward, not revenge.

Up sword and know thou a more horrid time,
When he is drunk, asleep, or in a rage.”

'He is the prince of philosophical speculators, and because he cannot have his revenge perfect, according to the most refined idea his wish can form, he misses it altogether. So he scruples to trust the suggestions of the Ghost, contrives the scene of the play to have surer proof of his uncle's guilt, and then rests satisfied with this confirmation of his suspicions, and the success of his experiment, instead of acting upon it. Yet he is sensible of his own weakness, taxes himself with it, and tries to reason himself out of it.

'Still he does nothing; and this very speculation on his own infirmity only affords him another occasion for indulging it. It is not for any want of attachment to his father, or abhorrence of his murder that Hamlet is thus dilatory, but it is more to his taste to indulge his imagination in reflecting upon the enormity of the crime, and refining on his schemes of vengeance, than to put them into immediate practice. His ruling passion is to think, not to act; and any vague pretence that flatters this propensity instantly diverts him from his previous purposes.

"The moral perfection of this character has been called in question, we think, by those who did not understand it. It is more interesting than according to rules: amiable, though not faultless. The ethical delineations of "that noble and liberal casuist" (as Shakespear has been well called) do not exhibit the drab-coloured quakerism of morality. His plays are not copied either from The Whole Duty of Man, or from The Academy of Compliments! We confess, we are a little shocked at the want of refinement in those who are shocked at the want of refinement in Hamlet. The want of punctilious exactness in his behaviour either partakes of the "license of the time," or else belongs to the very excess of intellectual refinement in the character, which makes the common rules of life, as well as his own purposes, sit loose upon him. He may be said to be amenable only to the tribunal of his own thoughts, and is too much taken up with the airy world of contemplation to lay as much stress as he ought on the practical consequences of things. His habitual principles of action are unhinged and out of joint with the time. His conduct to Ophelia is quite natural in his circumstances. It is that of assumed severity only. It is the effect of disappointed hope, of bitter regrets, of affection suspended, not obliterated, by the distractions of the scene around him! Amidst the natural and preternatural horrors of his situation, he might be excused in delicacy from carrying on a regular courtship. When "his father's spirit was in arms," it was not a time for the son to make love in. He could neither marry Ophelia, nor wound her mind by explaining the cause of his alienation, which he durst hardly trust himself to think of. It would have taken him years to have come to a direct explanation

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