approval of four centuries, had not lost his influence even at this dread

period; but was still "Ut magus," the wizard to rule our hearts and govern

our imaginations. I came in during the interval between the third and

fourth act. I looked round on the audience; the females were mostly of the

lower classes, but the men were of all ranks, come hither to forget awhile

the protracted scenes of wretchedness, which awaited them at their

miserable homes. The curtain drew up, and the stage presented the scene of

the witches' cave. The wildness and supernatural machinery of Macbeth, was

a pledge that it could contain little directly connected with our present

circumstances. Great pains had been taken in the scenery to give the

semblance of reality to the impossible. The extreme darkness of the stage,

whose only light was received from the fire under the cauldron, joined to a

kind of mist that floated about it, rendered the unearthly shapes of the

witches obscure and shadowy. It was not three decrepid old hags that bent

over their pot throwing in the grim ingredients of the magic charm, but

forms frightful, unreal, and fanciful. The entrance of Hecate, and the wild

music that followed, took us out of this world. The cavern shape the stage

assumed, the beetling rocks, the glare of the fire, the misty shades that

crossed the scene at times, the music in harmony with all witch-like

fancies, permitted the imagination to revel, without fear of contradiction,

or reproof from reason or the heart. The entrance of Macbeth did not

destroy the illusion, for he was actuated by the same feelings that

inspired us, and while the work of magic proceeded we sympathized in his

wonder and his daring, and gave ourselves up with our whole souls to the

influence of scenic delusion. I felt the beneficial result of such

excitement, in a renewal of those pleasing flights of fancy to which I had

370

The Last Man