15 SCENE II.-" A bedchamber," &c. THE stage directions in the original copies of Shakspere are very scantily supplied; and we

have here this advantage, that by the pillars which divided the little central theatre from the proscenium, or proper stage, not only could a double group be presented, but it could be

ticular localities. In the scene before us, the original direction is, enter Othello, and Desdemona in her bed. It appears to us that, to understand this scene properly, we must refer to the peculiar construction of the ancient theatres. In 'Romeo and Juliet' (Illustrations of Act III.) we have described the balcony or upper stage, in explanation of the old direction, enter Romeo and Juliet aloft. We there gave Malone's description of the uses of this balcony. Mr. Collier has also thus described another arrangement of the old stage, independent of the balcony: "Besides the curtain in front of the stage, which concealed it from the spectators until it was drawn on each side upon a rod, there were other curtains at the back of the stage, called traverses, which served, when

drawn, to make another and an inner apart

be played, which could be wholly comprehended, although not everything in the smaller frame was expressly and evidently seen." It appears to us not very material to determine whether Ulrici is right about the "broad steps." Certainly the elevation of the "little central theatre" was not considerable-it was "somewhat elevated," as Tieck observes. Now, let us apply this principle to the scene before us; and we doubt not that we shall get rid of some anomalies which are presented to us in the modern representations. Enter Othello, to the proper stage; Desdemona in her bed is concealed from the audience in the little central stage, whose curtains are drawn. After Othello has said, "I'll smell thee on the tree," he ascends the little elevated stage, and undraws its curtain. The dialogue between him and Desdemona then takes place. After the murder

he remains upon the central stage, while Emilia is knocking at the door; and after

"Soft, by and by:-let me the curtains draw," he steps down. The dialogue between Emilia and Othello at first goes on without any apparent consciousness on the part of Emilia of Desdemona's presence. When Desdemona has spoken Emilia withdraws the curtain of the secondary stage. When Montano, Gratiano, and Iago enter, a long dialogue takes place between Iago and Emilia, without Montano and Gratiano perceiving "what is the matter." Had Desdemona been upon the stage proper, there would have been no time for this dialogue. Her murder would have been at once dis covered. The actors now get over the difficulty by having a four-post bedstead, with curtains closely drawn. When, however, Emilia ascends the central stage, and exclaims,

"My mistress here lies murther'd in her bed,"

door without? Othello has entered into the secondary stage, and he speaks from within the curtain to Gratiano,

"I have another weapon in this chamber,

It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper; -
O, here it is:-Uncle, I must come forth."

Gratiano, still remaining upon the proper stage, answers, "If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear." But when Othello says, "Look in upon me then," the curtain is withdrawn, and Gratiano ascends to the secondary stage. It is the practice of the modern theatres to get over the difficulty by making Gratiano go out with Montano, contrary to the original text; and to make him enter again when Othello says, "Look in upon me." But how then shall we account for the speech of Lodovico, when he subsequently enters, - " Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?" without the secondary stage? From that stage Othello answers, "That's he that was Othello; here I am." The subsequent events take place upon the stage proper; although it was probably contrived that Othello । should kill himself on the secondary stage.

16 SCENE II.-" Like the base Indian."

rejects him, because the word tribe appears to have a peculiarly Hebrew signification. To show how far conjecture may be carried, we may mention that a correspondent wishes to impress upon us that the allusion was to Judas Iscariot. Boswell, in a very sensible note, shows that tribe meant in Shakspere's day kindred; that base is used in the sense of ignorant; and, what is very important, that two poets after Shakspere have described the Indians as casting away jewels of which they knew not the value. Habbington, in his 'Castara,' has these lines :

"So the unskilful Indian those bright gems
Which might add majesty to diadems
'Mong the waves scatters."

And Sir Edward Howard, in 'The Woman's
Conquest,' has-

"Behold my queen-
Who with no more concern I 'll cast away
Than Indians do a pearl, that ne'er did know
Its value."

A correspondent adds the following valuable illustration to those already given :

In turning over the poems of Carew I lighted upon these two lines :

"I'll deal with no such Indian fool as sells

Gold, pearls, and precious stones for beads and bells."

The reading "Judean" always puts into my head a passage in the 6th Satire of Juvenal-the points of resemblance being that there is a "base Judean," and a precious stone in both.

"Adamas notissimus et Berenices

In digito factus pretiosior:-hunc dedit olim Barbarus incestæ, dedit hunc Agrippa, sorori." There is such a seeming similarity between the two, that I wonder some "Judean"-ite has not attempted to press the latter into his service

THE general costume of Venice, both male and female, as well as the official habits of the doge and senators, at the close of the sixteenth century, have been described in the prefatory notice to 'The Merchant of Venice.' We have only to add that the figure engraved at p. 310 is from Vecellio's often quoted work, and represents the identical dress worn by prince Veniero, when he was raised to the dignity of general of the Venetian army, on the very oc

casion which Shakspere has selected for the like appointment of his "valiant Moor," namely, the Turkish war, A.D. 1570.

The Stradiots (Estradiots, or Stratigari), mentioned by Howell, were Greek troops, first employed by the Venetians, and afterwards by Charles VIII. of France. The figure of one of these picturesque auxiliaries is engraved at p. 286 from Boissard's 'Habitus Variarum Orbis Gentium,' 1581.

'THE Life of Tymon of Athens' was first published in the folio collection of 1623. The text, in this first edition, has no division into acts and scenes. We have reason to believe that, with a few exceptions, it is accurately printed from the copy which was in the possession of Heminge and Condell; and we have judged it important to follow that copy with very slight variations. In the 'Studies' we have entered into a minute examination of this play, for the purpose of expressing our belief that it was founded by Shakspere upon some older play, of which much has been retained; and that our poet's hand can only be traced with certainty in those scenes in which Timon appears.

The Timon of Shakspere is not the Timon of the popular stories of Shakspere's day. The 28th novel of 'The Palace of Pleasure' has for its title "Of the strange and beastly nature of Timon of Athens, enemy to mankind." According to this authority, "he was a man but by shape only"-he lived "a beastly and churlish life." Neither was the Timon of Plutarch the Timon of Shakspere. The Greek biographer indeed, tells us, that he was angry with all men, and would trust no man, "for the unthankfulness of those he had done good unto, and whom he took to be his friends;" but that he was represented as "a viper and malicious man unto mankind, to shun all other men's companies but the company of young Alcibiades, a bold and insolent youth." The Timon of Plutarch, and of the popular stories of Shakspere's time, was little different from the ordinary cynic. The Timon of Shakspere is in many respects essentially different from any model with which we are acquainted, but it approaches nearer, as Mr. Skottowe first observed, to the Timon of Lucian than the commentators have pointed out. The character of Shakspere's misanthrope presents one of the most striking creations of his originality.

The vices of Shakspere's Timon are not the vices of a sensualist. It is true that his offices have been oppressed with riotous feeders, - that his vaults have wept with drunken spilth of wine, that every room "Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy." But he has nothing selfish in the enjoyment of his prodigality and his magnificence. He himself truly expresses the weakness as well as the beauty of his own character: "Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we call our own than the riches of our friends? O, what a precious comfort 't is to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes!" Charles Lamb, in his contrast between 'Timon of Athens' and Hogarth's 'Rake's Progress' has scarcely done justice to Timon: "The wild course of riot and extravagance, ending in the one with driving the Prodigal from the society of men into the solitude of the deserts; and, in the other, with conducting Hogarth's Rake through his several stages of dissipation into the still more complete desolations of the mad-house, in the play and in the picture are described with almost equal force and nature." Hogarth's Rake is all sensuality and selfishness; Timon is essentially highminded and generous: he truly says, in the first chill of his fortunes,

"No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given."

In his splendid speech to Apemantus in the fourth Act, he distinctly proclaims, that in the weakness with which he had lavished his fortunes upon the unworthy, he had not pampered his own passions:

"Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath, proceeded
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords
To such as may the passive drugs of it
Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself
In general riot; melted down thy youth
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd
The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself,

Who had the world as my confectionary;
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men
At duty, more than I could frame employment;
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare
For every storm that blows.

The all-absorbing defect of Timon - the root of those generous vices which wear the garb of virtue is the entire want of discrimination (by which he is also characterised in Lucian's dialogue). Shakspere has seized upon this point, and held firmly to it. He releases Ventidius from prison, he bestows an estate upon his servant, - he lavishes jewels upon all the dependants who crowd his board. That universal philanthropy, of which the most selfish men sometimes talk, is in Timon an active principle; but let it be observed that he has no preferences a most remarkable example of the profound sagacity of Shakspere. Had he loved a single human being with that intensity which constitutes affection in the relation of the sexes, and friendship in the relation of man to man, he would have been exempt from

that unjudging lavishness which was necessary to satisfy his morbid craving for human sympathy.

With this key to Timon's character, it appears to us that we may properly understand the "general and exceptless rashness" of his misanthropy. The only relations in which he stood to mankind are utterly destroyed. In lavishing his wealth as if it were a common property, he had believed that the same common property would flow back to him in his hour of adversity. "Ο, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should ne'er have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living should we ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves." His false confidence is at once, and irreparably, destroyed. If Timon had possessed one friend with whom he could have interchanged confidence upon equal terms, he would have been saved from his fall, and certainly from his misanthropy.