In this grand tragic opera is combined that which is terrific, sublime, infernal.
Spirits are called from the bottomless pit, to give additional horror to the crimes
which are here perpetrated. Yet supernatural agency is produced and conducted by such
natural means, that spectators return again to their childish credulity, and tremble,
as in the nursery, at a witch and a goblin.

It is impossible to contemplate the consistent disposition of able actors, of
appropriate habiliments, and of picturesque scenery, with which this tragedy is now
embellished, at the London theatres, and not boldly demand—where was Garrick's taste, his innovating judgment,
his common sense, and common feelings, as a connoisseur in his art, that he could
perform this historical tragedy² —Macbeth, of ancient
Scotland—with the characters dressed in coats, waistcoats, and hats, so as to
place the scene in modern times, or every scene in England.

Garrick had taste, it is said; and so,
they say, had his admirers: yet, taste like this, would be now exploded.—So, it
might be insinuated, perhaps, would be the acting of those days, could it have been
pre-b 2[Page 4]served, along
with the old attire, for the inspection of critics of the present era.

On this impossibility the actor's art triumphs over, yet sinks beneath, every other.
He has no rivals to vanquish, but cotemporaries. He has no former artists to excel,
but such as cannot come forth to claim the preference, or to crouch to superior
skill.

The story of Macbeth is founded on Scottish
history, and may be traced in the works of many writers. But, in a production called
"Shakspeare
Illustrated,"³
every event of that usurper's life is collected from different histories, and given
at large.

So conspicuous are the various excellencies contained in this tragedy, there is no
cause whatever to point them out to the reader; for, if he cannot see them at once,
it is vain to direct his sight.

But to those, who are unacquainted with the effect wrought by theatrical action and
decoration, it may not be superfluous to say—The huge rocks, the enormous
caverns, and blasted heaths of Scotland, in the scenery;—the highland warrior's
dress, of centuries past, worn by the soldiers and their generals;—the splendid
robes and banquet at the royal court held at Fores;⁴ —the
awful, yet inspiring music, which accompanies words assimilated to each
sound;—and, above all—the fear, the terror, the remorse;—the
agonizing throbs and throes, which speak in looks, whispers, sudden starts, and
writhings, by Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, all tending to one great
precept—Thou shalt not murder,—render
this play one of the most impressive moral lessons which the stage exhibits.

[Page 5]

It was the tragedy of Macbeth,
which conferred upon Shakspeare
the distinguished honour of receiving a letter, written with his sovereign's own
hand, James the First, in
testimony of his high admiration of the work!⁵

Steevens calls this play, "The first
of all dramatic enjoyments."⁶

Johnson says, in apology for some
occurrences contained in it, "I know not whether it may not be said, in defence of
some parts which now seem improbable, that, in Shakspeare's time, it was necessary
to warn credulity against vain and delusive predictions."⁷

b 3