murdered king, he kills him in the fame place where Ægyfthus had killed Aga memnon *."

Before I leave the fubject of this tragedy, I cannot help taking notice of Monf. de Voltaire's criticism on it. His words are, "Indeed I am far from pretending to justify the tragedy of Hamlet in every refpect; it is a grofs and barbarous compofition, which would not be supported by the lowest populace in France or Italy. Hamlet runs mad in the fecond act, and Ophelia in the third; he takes the father of his miftrefs for a rat, runs him through the body; and in despair the heroine drowns herself. Her grave is dug upon the ftage; the grave-diggers enter into a converfation fuitable to fuch low wretches, and play,

Upton on Shakefp. p. 63.

as it were with fkulls and dead men's bones. Hamlet anfwers their abominable ftuff with follies equally disgusting: while this is going on, one of the actors makes the conqueft of Poland; Hamlet with his mother and father-in-law drink together upon the ftage; they fing at afterwards they quarrel; and battle and death enfue: in fhort, one would take this performance for the fruit of the imagination of a drunken favage *."

table

Such is the criticism of Voltaire +; and I think it is, without dispute, one of the

* Differt, on ancient and modern Tragedy. + I am perfuaded that this celebrated Frenchman did not always understand the authors he pretended to criticife. Several Italian writers have discovered how fuperficial many of his cenfures are, which he has paffed on fome of their poets. This is a general fault among the French, who tranflate our poems into their language,

the most impudent pieces of falfhood that ever escaped the pen of a man of fenfe

and

which will admit of few or none of those striking beauties which we admire fo much (and it is the fame with the Italian) and then a tribe of French writers criticise on them, judging merely by the tranflations. We may form a true notion of the opinion the French in general have of the English poetry, from the following tranflation of the first stanza of Pope's Ode to Cecilia,, by M. Lacombe. “ Descendez du haut des cieux, defcendez, chaftes Mufes, pour célébrer ce grand jour. Réveillez par vos divins concerts nos inftrumens affoupis. Faites réfonner ma tremblante lyre, elle imitera fans ceffe le fon amoureux & touchant de la voix. Que le luth foupire & rende des accens plaintifs, que la voûte de ce temple tréffaille aux fons eclatans de la trompette, & que les echos attentifs & fidéles les répétent mille fois le jour. Tantôt l'orgue profonde & majestueufe accorde lentement fes tons graves & nombreux; tantôt fes accords doux, `vifs, & brillans flattent légérement l'oreille: mais lorfqu'ils s'animent, qu'ils fe fortifient & s'élévent, ils ébranlent la terre & les cieux. Une mufique vive & hardie fait éclater la joie. Des airs doux & languiffans flottent mollement fur la VOL. III. furface

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and taste. As he certainly understands English, having refided here fome years, and composed in the language, his motive cannot be supposed, ignorance; but perhaps he intended to give the French a very mean opinion of our immortal poet, that they might not fufpect his own imitations of him. In fact Voltaire has been more indebted to Shakespear than to any other poet whatsoever *. How can it be faid that Hamlet runs mad in the second act? The critic himself muft have known that his madness was feigned: and it is abfurd to fuppofe that Voltaire thought that he took Polonius for a

furface polie de l'air, puis s'abbaiffent, s'affoibliffent par degrés, & fe perdent confufément dans le lointain." How ridiculous we should regard a French criticism on this tranflation! and yet there are many writers in France who judge only from fuch, but without owning it.

* Particularly in Mahomet and Semiramis See Gray's Inn Journal, vol. i. No. 41.

rat;

rat; the meaning is fo plain that he could not mistake it. Although there is no defending, on the whole, the gravedigging fcene, yet it is an abfolute falfhood to say that Hamlet anfwers their ftuff with difgufting follies. Nothing farther from the truth. The prince's reflections breathe a fine fpirit of morality, and are fuitable to the condition in which the poet fuppofed him. As to the criticifm on the catastrophe, it is likewife falfe, or at least thrown into a falfe light. How many excellent modern tragedies are concluded by drinking and brawling, if a bowl of poifon and a rapier are to be called by thofe titles? I fear moft of those of Sophocles muft alfo be damned immediately, according to Voltaire's opinion. But where is the finging at table, that difgufts our critic fo much? There is no fuch thing in the original. In fhort, E 2

the