Didst make my entrance easy, to possess What wise men wish and toil for! Hermes' moly, Imagin'd only by the alchemist, Compared with thee are shadows,-thou the substance, My brother made thy place of rest his bosom, Heaven's abstract or epitome! rubies, sapphires, To draw in more. I am sublimed! gross earth Supports me not; I walk on air!-Who's there? (Enter lord Lacy, with Sir John Frugal, Sir Maurice Lacy, and Plenty, disguised as Indians). Thieves! raise the street! thieves!-Act 3. sc. 3. It was a great effort by which such a train of violent emotions and beautiful images were drawn, with the strictest propriety, from the indulgence of a passion to which other poets can only give interest in its anxieties and disappointments. Every sentiment in this fine soliloquy, is touched with the hand of a master; the speaker, overcome by the splendor of his acquisition, can scarcely persuade himself that the event is real: "It is no fantasy, but a truth; a real truth, no dream; he does not slumber;" the natural language of one who strives to convince himself that he is fortunate beyond all probable expectation; for, "he could wake ever to gaze upon his treasure." Again he reverts to his assurances: “it did endure the touch; he saw and felt it." These broken exclamations and anxious repetitions are the pure voice of nature. Recovering from his astonishment, his mind dilates with the value of his possessions; and the poet finely directs the whole gratitude of this mean character to the key of his stores. In the description which follows, there is a striking climax in sordid luxury. That passage where Each sparkling diamond from itself shot forth A pyramid of flames, and in the roof Fix'd it a glorious star, and made the place though founded on a false idea in natural history, long since exploded, is amply excused by the singular and beautiful image which it presents. The contemplation of his enormous wealth, still amplified by his fancy, transports him at length to a degree of frenzy; and now seeing strangers approach, he cannot conceive them to come upon any design but that of robbing him; and with the appeasing of his ridiculous alarm this storm of passion subsides, which stands unrivalled in its kind, in dramatic history. The soliloquy possesses a very uncommon beauty, that of forcible description united with passion and character. I should scarcely hesitate to prefer the description of Sir John Frugal's countinghouse to Spenser's house of riches. It is very remarkable, that in this passage, the versification is so exact, (two lines only excepted), and the diction so pure and elegant, that, although much more than a century has elapsed since it was written, it would be perhaps impossible to alter the measure or language without injury, and certainly very difficult to produce an equal length of blank verse, from any modern poet, which should bear a comparison with Massinger's, even in the mechanical part of its construction. This observation may be extended to all our poet's productions: majesty, elegance, and sweetness of diction predominate in them. It is needless to quote any single passage for proof of this, because none of those which I am going to intro duce will afford any exception to the remark. Independent of character, the writings of this great poet abound with noble passages. It is only in the productions of true poetical genius that we meet with successful allusions to sublime natural objects. The attempts of an inferior writer, in this kind, are either borrowed or disgusting. If Massinger were to be tried by this rule alone, we must rank him very high. A few instances will prove this. Theophilus, speaking of Diocletian's arrival, says The marches of great princes, Like to the motions of prodigious meteors, Are step by step observed.—Virgin Martyr, act 1. sc. 1. The introductory circumstances of a threatening piece of intelligence, are But creeping billows, Not got to shore yet.-Id. act 2. sc. 2. In the same play, we meet with this charming image, applied to a modest young nobleman: The sunbeams which the emperor throws upon him, Shine there but as in water, and gild him Not with one spot of pride.-Id. sc. 3. No other figure could so happily illustrate the peace and purity of an ingenuous mind, uncorrupted by favour. Massinger seems fond of this thought. We meet with a similar one in the Guardian. I have seen those eyes with pleasant glances play Upon Adorio's, like Phoebe's shine, Gilding a crystal river.-Act 4. sc. 1. There are two parallel passages in Shakspeare, to whom we are probably indebted for this, as well as for many other fine images of our poet. The first is in the Winter's Tale: He says he loves my daughter; I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes.-Act 4. sc. 4. The second is ludicrous: King. Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars to shine Ras. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter; Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water. Love's Labour's Lost, act 5. sc. 2. The following images are applied, I think in a new manner: As the sun Thou did'st rise gloriously, kept'st a constant course In all thy journey; and now, in the evening, When thou should'st pass with honour to thy rest, Wilt thou fall like a meteor?-Virgin Martyr, act 5. sc. 2. Whose flattering leaves that shadow'd us in our Prosperity, with the least gust drop off In the autumn of adversity.-Maid of Honour, act 3. sc. 1. In the last quoted play, Cameola says, in perplexity, What a sea Of melting ice I walk on!-Act 3. sc. 4. A very noble figure, in the following passage, seems to be borrowed from Shakspeare: What a bridge Of glass I walk upon, over a river Of certain ruin, mine own weighty fears Cracking what should support me! The Bondman, act 4. sc. 3. I'll read you matter deep and dangerous; Henry 4, part 1. act 1. sc. 3. It cannot be denied that Massinger has improved on his original: he cannot be said to borrow, so properly as to imitate. This remark may be applied to many other passages: thus Harpax's menace, I'll take thee, and hang thee In a contorted chain of isicles In the frigid zone.-The Virgin Martyr, act 5. sc. 1. Is derived from the same source with that passage in Measure for Measure, where it is said to be a punishment in a future state, To reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice. Again, in the Old Law, we meet with a passage similar to a much celebrated one of Shakspeare's, but copied with no common hand: In my youth I was a soldier, no coward in my age; To greet the cheerful spring of health again. Act 1. sc. 1. Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty; MEMOIRS OF MARSHAL RANTZAU. MARSHAL RANTZAU." He was a German of high birth, and a general of such great note, that Mazarin used to oppose him to the prince of Condé, when that great commander had the misfortune to be in arms against his country and his prince." M. Rantzau possessed admirable qualities both of body and mind. He was tall, fair, and very handsome. To see him only, one would say he was born to command. He was the finest horseman ever beheld. He would hit a single piece of money with a pistol, at a hundred paces distant. He was invincible with the small sword. He spoke the principal languages of Europe, and had a general taste for the sciences. He was acquainted with all the great generals of the age; having made war under them from the time he was able to * In an expression of Archidamas, in the Bondman, we discover, perhaps, the origin of an image in Paradise Lost: O'er our heads, with sail-stretch'd wings, Milton says of Satan, His sail broad vanns He spreads for flight. |