y it--formed the subject
of deeper, more constant and more delightful meditation. Here at least
Macready was at no disadvantage in a comparison with the most
illustrious of his predecessors. Some there may have been who gave
more vividly the salient points of a character, or who, as in the case
of Kean's Othello, infused into their personations of some of the
grandest but least complex of Shakespeare's creations an intensity of
passion that defied all rivalry. But none ever brought to the study of
the poet the intellectual discernment, the sympathetic spirit, the
true and heartfelt devotion with which Macready ministered at his
shrine. Not his own part alone, but the whole play, including the
words and scenes omitted in representation, were imprinted in his
memory and continually revolved. The groundwork was thus laid in a
thorough knowledge of the _medium_, to use the expression of Taine,
applying it, however, not to mere external facts and circumstances,
but to that individuality of form, ideas and style which the great
dramatist has given to each of his works. Then the meaning and bearing
of every phrase received their share of light from the same general
source, and the performance was pervaded throughout by a consistency
and a subtle discrimination which rendered it a living commentary,
acting on the intellect through the emotions.

It is easy to understand why, in the great variety of Macready's
impersonations, none stood out by universal consent as indubitably the
greatest. To all he gave his unstinted devotion and the full measure
of his powers, and the choice was left to be determined mainly by the
peculiar taste of the spectator. Yet there were some which must be
recalled with especial vividness as best exemplifying the scope of his
genius and his general characteristics. Two of these parts, Werner and
Melantius, were not Shakespearian creations, but they were at least
devices of the poetical imagination, not of the mere playwright's
handiwork. In both we have the spectacle of a proud and sensitive but
open and loving nature blighted with dishonor and misery through the
crimes of one near in blood and cherished with an unsuspecting
affection. Here were conceptions that made no demands on his
imaginative power. He had not to transform himself into the
characters, but only to give free play to the springs of his own
nature. The grief, the passion, the sudden revulsions of feeling were
not mimetic displays: one