air, not too warm or cool, blows through the whole play; everywhere there are beautiful trees and green foliage, and at the end an entire forest comes marching in, when Birnam wood doth come to Dunsinane. In Hamlet also the loveliness of nature contrasts with the heat of the action; though it may be black night in the heart of the hero, the sun rises not less beautifully in morning red, and Polonius is an amusing fool, and comedies are calmly played, and poor Ophelia sits among green trees, and with pretty motley posies binds her wreath.
But in Lear no such contrasts prevail between the action and nature, and the unbridled elements howl and storm in emulation with the mad king. Does a moral event of most unusual kind also act on the so-called soulless nature? Is there indeed between this and the mind of man an external visible relationship? Had our poet ever experienced this, and did he strive to depict it?
With the first scene of this tragedy we are, as I have said, put at once into the midst of events; and clear as the sky may be, a sharp eye can foresee the coming storm. There is a little cloud already in the intellect of Lear, which will thicken anon to the blackest mental night. He who in, such fashion gives all away, must be already mad. We learn perfectly the spirit of the hero, and the character of the daughter, even in the first act,
