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of youthful fancy, and an amiable and uncorrupted heart. *

James had six daughters, who were all honourably married, as the marriages of Princesses are commonly estimated; the first, (says Hollinshed,) named Margaret, to the Dolphin of France: the second, Eleanor, Elisabeth or Isabella, to the Duke of Britaine: the third, to the Lord of Treveer in Zealand: the fourth, [Eleonora,] to the Duke of Austrich: the fift, Annabella, to the Earle of Huntlie: and the sixt, to the Earle of Morton." Most of these matches, however splendid, seem to have been unfortunate :-but this subject is in much abler hands, and, it is to be hoped, will soon be illustrated, so far as it now admits of illustration.

Of the Lady Margaret, Grafton, with the patriotic spleen which was natural enough in his day, says, she "was of such nasty complexion, and evil savoured breath, that he (the Dolphin) abhorred her company, as a cleane creature doth a caryon: whereupon she conceyved such an inwarde griefe, that within short time after she ended her dayes." John Major calls her, with much more probability, virginem formosam et honestam ;" and the continuator of Fordun is so transported with the

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The same fatality attended her that seems to have attended most of our Queen Dowagers; and her second marriage with James Stuart," the Black Knight of Lorn," has generally been spoken of with an uncharitable harshness, which we can more easily account for than excuse; as, on the part of the Queen, it was an alli

ance of merit, not of ambition. The little
that we know of him,—his marriage, the
nature of his offence, his exile, and death,
(See Leshe, Lib. viii.) are all greatly in his
favour; and let it ever be remembered, to
his eternal honour and hers, that she, ("so
very womanly!") who had received two
wounds in attempting to save her first hus
band from his butcherly assassins, died of
grief for the loss of her second. The Prin-
Cesses, Eleonora and Elizabeth, were still
in Flanders, on their way to Paris, in 1446,
when they received the melancholy tidings
that their mother and sister (the Dauphin-
ess) were both dead of broken hearts; the
one, from having been married to a good
gentleman, and the other to a bad prince.

+ The long residence of Major, who was a Doctor of the Sorbonne, in Paris, gave him every opportunity of information, and his honest simplicity is sufficient warrant for his veracity.

prospect of an alliance, (the sequel of which he probably did not live to hear,) that he becomes quite enthusiastic, and forgets the reverence due to the scripture, which he is so fond of quoting: "Hic non qualiscunque vir, sed CHRISTANISSIMI REGIS PRIMOGENITUS, qui ad hoc, ut creditur, et scriptum est, natus est homo princeps fratrum, firmamentum gentis, et populi stabilimentum: de quo dicta domina, quanquam infans et juvencula, admirando dicere potest: Unde hoc mihi, ut veniat Regnum Franciæ ad me?" Lib. xvi. c. xi.

Of poor MARGARET we have learnt little more, than that she was very unhappy, very ill-used, and died of a broken heart about her twentieth year; which may be easily accounted for, without supposing any demerit on her part; as the treachery, violence, low profligacy, and "base conditions" of her reprobate husband, Louis the Eleventh, are well known. *

Of ELISABETH or ISABELLA, † who was married to the Duke of Britanny, (then. Comte de Montfort, and a widower,) all that we know is, that she inherited at least the personal attractions of her father and mother. On the return of the ambassadors whom the old Duke had sent into Scotland to treat of the alliance, he asked them, "de ce qu'ils pensoient de cette princesse; ils lui répondirent, qu'elle estoit assez belle, qu'elle avoit le corps droit et bien formé, et paroissoit propre a avoir des enfans; mais que du reste, elle parloit peu, ce qui sembloit partir, moins de discretion, que d'une grande simplicité. Sur quoi le Duc repondit: Chers amis, je vous prie, retournez en Escosse, et me l'amenez; elle est telle que je la desire. Ces grandes subtilitez en une femme nuisent plus qu'elles ne servent; je n'en veux point d'autre.-Par Saint Nicolas! j'estime une femme assez sage,

The insinuations thrown out to justify the brutalities of her husband, were such as might have been expected from the wretches of both sexes whom Louis commonly kept about him.

Few names have undergone greater changes than that of Elisabeth. The French, characteristically enough, converted Elisa-betha into Elisa-bella, which they afterwards shortened into ..isu-bella; and we have Lizzie, Isie, Betsie, Bettie, Bett, Bess, and Bessie, with Isobel, Isbel, Bella, Bell, Ibbie, Tib, Tibs, and Tibbie.

quand elle sait mettre difference entre la chemise et le pourpoint de son mari. -Il ne vécut pas assez pour voir par lui-mesme si le portrait qu'on lui avoit fait de la Princesse d'Escosse estoit fidelle." Hist. de Bretagne, par Lobineau, Tom. I. p. 618 and 621.)

ANNABELLA, whatever she was in other respects, was at least unfortunate in her marriage, although without any stain upon her good name; but a more happy fate seems to have attended the Princess ELEONORA; and it is with peculiar pride and pleasure that we learn, that the daughter of such a king, (who seems to have anticipated and identified in himself the perfections of a better age, which is, perhaps, yet to come) enjoyed in an eminent degree the talents and amiable qualities of her father, and was as great an ornament to society and good letters in Germany, as he had been in Britain.

In 1448 she was married to Siegmund, Archduke of Austria, and King of the Romans, who was born in 1427, and reigned till 1496. Her husband, who had been well instructed in his youth, cultivated the arts of peace, and was an encourager of learning, science, and virtue; and she has left behind her ample testimony of the singular good fortune he enjoyed, in being united to a princess whose age, taste, and acquirements, so well accorded with his own. She translated from French into German the beautiful Romance, entituled, "The History of the Knight Pontus, son of the King of Gallicia, and the beautiful Sidonia, Queen of Brittany." Of this translation, the authenticity of which is unquestionable, there is still extant in Gothæ a folio MS. of 100 leaves, distinctly written upon paper, and in good preservation. It was first printed at Augsburg, by Hans Schoensperger, in 1498, in folio, with wooden cuts, and at Strasburg by Martin Flach, in 1509, in 4to, with a wooden cut before each chapter. In this second edition, the story begins on the

The Archduchess died on the 20th of November 1488.

This transcript was made by Nicolas Huber, a Presbyter of the diocese of Brixen, in 1464, sixteen years before the death of Eleonora ; and may, therefore, be regarded as the best authority for the purity and integrity of the text.

first page of the first leaf, prefaced by the following notice: "The illustrious and high-born lady, the Lady Heleonora, of Scotland born Queen, Archduchess of Austria, made this laudable translation from the French into German, for the love and contentment of her Spouse, the Lord Sigmund, Archduke of Austria."(See Panzer's Annalen, I. 313, and Bibl. Panzer. P. I. n. 1120.) The third edition, in folio, is dated Strasburg, 1539, and the fourth, also folio, 1548. It appeared afterwards in "Das Buch der Liebe," (the Book of Love,) Fol. Frankfurt, 1687; and in 1809 was inserted by Buesching and Von der Hagen in the first volume of "the Book of Love," printed at Berlin, which now lies before us. It has been very extensively read in Germany, and always was, and is, admired, as an elegant specimen of classical German of its day.

To be able to translate with elegance and purity from one FOREIGN language into another, is no vulgar accomplishment in any age; and such a task, executed in such a manner, by a lady, in the middle of the fifteenth century, may well be regarded as a · proof of talent and refinement every way worthy of the daughter of the Author and Subject of the " King's Quair." No part of its popularity seems to have been owing to court influence, or respect for its illustrious origin; nor did it stand in need of such patronage, being itself one of the most beautiful, rich, and interesting tales of the kind that we have met with,-a perfect Mirror of Knightly Virtues, intended, (as it professes to have been,) and well calculated, for the instruction of youth in whatever is noble, generous, courtecus, just, humane, and praise-worthy. A MS. copy of the French original is preserved in the University Library of Goettingen; but the Princess has introduced many passages of her own, particularly such as were dedicated to the honour of the Archduke of Austria, and the King of Scotland.

Pontus and Sidonia gave rise to the metrical legend of THEUERDANK, which the Emperor Maximilian has been accused of being the author of; and which is certainly the dullest and most tedious and tasteless allegory that ever was printed in black letter, in folio, with block prints.

1819.

KEAN'S OTHELLO.

Kean's Othello.

OUR great dramatist has seldom been more successful in the developement of the more secret and refined workings of human nature, than in pourtraying the character, and pursuing the fortunes and passions of the Moor of Venice. On other occasions he may have lavished more profusely around him the treasures of an exuberant fancy, he may have decorated his theme with more of the marvellous, and conjured into light more of the unseen world: but never has he plunged deeper into the human mind, never has he explored with more penetrating scrutiny its lurking motives, or more distinctly revealed its latent principles. These seem to have been his objects, and these he has attained; and he who looks for other beauties, and will not be content without a superabundance of commonplace ornaments, deserves his disappointment in not understanding the scope and spirit of this fine drama.

But the genius which is displayed in the original invention of Othello, we own, is, in our minds, greatly enhanced by the successful efforts of a living genius. We know not a more unequivocal proof of Mr Kean's great talents, than his deep and delicate perception of this part; his fine evolution of its most recondite sentiments, and its most exquisite and evanescent touches, as well as the character of truth and unity with which he pervades the whole: and we confess ourselves not less indebted to him for impressing us with a vigorous and consistent idea of Othello's character, than for those deeply-marked absorbing pictures of passion with which he occasionally astonishes and overpowers us. He comes so fully possessed of the conception of the character, that the words which Shakespeare has left on record for his use, seem but the dim traces of that crowd of thoughts that is labouring within. You cannot by any effort conceive them to have been previously prepared; so much do they seem the spontaneous and inevitable overflowings of a mind wrapt up in its own deep sufferings. The fire and energy of his personal character have a fine vehicle for their exhibition in the character and fortunes of the Moor; and his person, though perhaps not quite portly enough, is not far from the

VOL. IV.

209

mould and vigorous idea of the swar-
thy general.

Though we are far from thinking
that actors, in general, afford the beşt
elucidation of Shakespeare, and though
we are very loath to have our own
conceptions of his characters distorted
and destroyed by the raving absurdi-
ties of every buskined fool that at-
tempts to personate them; yet we
find that Kean is so interwoven or
rather identified with our conceptions
of Othello, that we should find it vain
to attempt a separation. He has dis-
lodged all other pretensions, and has
taken full and entire possession of it
for himself. All other acting of the
part is mere mimicry. He is Othello
We mean, therefore, to fol-
himself.
low his guidance in contemplating the
And though by thus as-
character.
sociating the actor with the poet, our
paper may become a very unreadable
article to those who have not actually
seen the character moulded into sym-
metry, and animated into life, by
Kean himself, we flatter ourselves that
it will at least serve to recall to the
remembrance of those who have some
of those powerful strokes which re-
quire only to be hinted at to start up
in the mind with all their original in-
terest and vividness. And though this
is, no doubt, the severest test of the fi-
delity and consistency of acting, yet
we think Mr Kean can stand it.

The discourse of his subalterns, whether mixed with fear or imbittered with hate, prepares us to expect in Othello a character highly energetic, prompt in decision, somewhat haughty and stern; and when the dusky personage actually appears, we find all our conceptions realized and embodied in the firm, awe-inspiring composure of his presence. His bearing is entirely characteristic, and all the language he employs seems just the spontaneous emanation of such a mind. He has come abroad with confidence to meet his pursuers, and the first utterance we hear from him is a laconic sentence in the tone of authority, to repress the officiousness of Iago, who regrets he had allowed the old blood-hound to escape.

Oth. "Tis better as it is.

When the exasperated father of his Desdemona comes raging upon him, he displays a polite anxiety to treat the worthy Signior with due rever

D d

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The sarcastic power of this line, in the mouth of Mr Kean, is indescribable. It is one of those happy, but evanescent triumphs of acting, which can never be conveyed on paper, expiring with the voice which breathed it into being. It is an intonation implying supreme despight for the unwarlike effeminacy of his assailants, superciliously condescending to take concern in the lustre of their holiday blades. Yet he approaches Brabantio with the most conciliatory respect.

Good Signior, you shall more command with years

Than with your weapons.

And though the enraged father pours a torrent of abuse upon him, his unmoved, commanding air, so stuns and paralyses the wondering train of vassals, that we catch an instantaneous respect for a character of so much energy. Kean realizes before our eyes the august conception of a man who can smile internally at this puny tumult, at the passions which rave and guash in impotence around him, held in check so easily by his high character. Nor do we dream it could possibly be otherwise than that they should fall back as they do, trembling and abashed, when the haughty veteran contemptuously cries out

Were it my cue to fight, I should have

known it

Without a prompter.

He obeys the summons of the Duke with alacrity, and appears in the senate upon the business of the state; and when Brabantio furiously accuses him of having beguiled away his daughter by sorcery, he promptly meets the charge, and conducts his exculpation in a plain, direct, and confident manner. His eye is lighted up with vexation and contempt by the cool question of the senator, whether he had used indirect courses to "subdue and poison the young maid's affections," and his ardour breaks

forth with a rapidity that almost chokes his utterance. I do beseech you, Send for, the lady to the Sagittary, And let her speak of me before her father. And when permission is given, his eager spirit seems to burst away in a glance to the Sagittary, and throw itself with perfect confidence on the honour of the lady. This happy stroke is due rather to the actor than to the poet.

Ancient, conduct them, you best know the place.

That one glance, and the sudden ferreveal their mutual attachment and vour of those tones, more powerfully confidence, than a thousand gentle looks and sickening embraces could have done. All this is quite natural, delicate tenderness of mien and eye and is crowned by the manly and yet with which he welcomes his fair ad

vocate.

Here comes the lady, let her witness it.

The same 66 noble loving disposition" is brought out, when, as he bears off his well-earned prize with the approval of all, his father-in-law goads him with an insidious caution at parting.

Brab. Look to her, Moor, have a quick

eye to see,

She has deceived her father, and may thee. A smile of delighted confidence, mingled with scorn at the base idea of his gentle Desdemona proving un faithful, plays about his lips.

Oth. My life upon her faith.

The commanding dignity, the prompt decision, the energy of the general's character, are again strikingly displayed in the night-brawl, when suddenly appearing, he interposes his arm among the bacchanalian combatants, and bids them "hold for their lives." And the fire, which had hitherto only added a graceful glow to his actions, soon kindles into fury, when passion breaks in upon the sober sway of reason. It is, indeed, in the whirlwind of passion that Kean is supreme. He warms more and more into the spirit of the character.

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Assays to lead the way; if I once stir, Or do but lift this arm, the best of you Shall sink in my rebuke.

Quite in unison with this temper is his immediate dismissal, half in anger, half in regret, of his offending lieu

tenant.

Oth. Cassio, I love thee,
But never more be officer of mine.

When he turns his looks upon Cassio, his anger almost relents into affection, but in an instant his firm sense of duty freezes that affection into the coldness of rebuke and judicial decision.

We come at length to that portentous scene in which the first dawnings of jealousy throw their baleful light upon the mind of the Moor. He is not easily jealous." And here the acuteness and sound judgment of our actor more particularly displays itself. He does not break out all at once into the madness of the passion, nor foolishly attempt to give from the outset a violent personification of extreme jealousy. He has magnanimity enough to disappoint the fool who should expect so unseasonable an exhibition, and seems even to avoid the distraction that is in treasure for him, and waits, as any man in real life would do, till many suspicions have thickened into conviction. The suspicious circumstances in which he finds his wife, when, upon his appearance, Cassio, as if conscience-struck, suddenly breaks away from a close intercourse with her, throws him into disorder, but not into the ravings of agony. His looks indicate that his mind has been tainted with suspicion, and when the artful Iago whispers in his ear,

Ha! I like not that,

you see him astonished, and eager to learn the meaning of the insinuation, What dost thou say?

He is disconcerted at the very idea of Desdemona's unfaithfulness; and when she comes to him in confiding simplicity to press her suit for the poor lieutenant, confused and vexed at the unlucky and suspicicus coincidences, he does not trust himself to glance his eye of distrust upon her, but looks like one desirous to retire and ponder,-to compare what he has heard with what he has seen, and to weigh circumstances more at leisure

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Her pressing urgency doubles his confusion and distress.

Desd. But shalt be shortly? Shalt be to-night at supper?

The poison works; he seems sickened into stupefaction.

Oth. No, not to-night.

But the emotions that are boiling at his heart almost suffocate his utterance. He wraps himself up in thought, and the stream of feeling pours from his rigid and slow-moving features. The exigency of the moment distracts and oppresses him. He endeavours to relieve himself by grasping at all evasions, and the few words that escape from his lips afford but a distant glimpse of that gulf of emotion that is raging within. The unsuspecting Desdemona doubles her urgency, and the spell of Iago is too successful.

Desd. Why then, to-morrow night or
Tuesday morn;

Or Tuesday noon, or night; or Wednesday morn :

I pry'thee name the time, but let it not Exceed three days :-In faith he's peni

tent.

One touch more, and his governed soul gives way.

Desd. What, Michael Cassio, that came a wooing with you?

He falls at once into Iago's snare, the miserable victim of jealousy. Every word he hears drops fiercer fire upon his heart. The torture is extreme, and

Pry'thee no more

bursts from him as if without his will: and now quite unmanned and overwhelmed, he unconsciously raises his look-a look of rond and farewell regret on the fair traitor, whom, though he strives to hate, he yet loves most ardently and then at once, with the quickness of thought, when his tortured soul meets that eye of open, reposing confidence, he is melted into unexpected joy and tenderness. His features had exhibited the most heart-rending picture of mental agony His mouth had assumed the mould, of a tormented spirit vomiting forth its torture, and gasping in vain for one

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