, and revenge on
the one side, and ambition on the other, we expect to find more of
female nature in the first than in the last: and yet the contrary is the
fact: at least, my own impression as far as a woman may judge of a
woman, is, that although the passions of Medea are more feminine, the
character is less so; we seem to require more feeling in her
fierceness, more passion in her frenzy; something less of poetical
abstraction,--less art, fewer words: her delirious vengeance we might
forgive, but her calmness and subtlety are rather revolting.

These two admirable characters, placed in contrast to each other, afford
a fine illustration of Schlegel's distinction between the ancient or
Greek drama, which he compares to sculpture, and the modern or romantic
drama, which he compares to painting. The gothic grandeur, the rich
chiaroscuro, and deep-toned colors of Lady Macbeth, stand thus opposed
to the classical elegance and mythological splendor, the delicate yet
inflexible outline of the Medea. If I might be permitted to carry this
illustration still further, I would add, that there exists the same
distinction between the Lady Macbeth and the Medea, as between the
Medusa of Leonardo da Vinci and the Medusa of the Greek gems and bas
reliefs. In the painting, the horror of the subject is at once exalted
and softened by the most vivid coloring, and the most magical contrast
of light and shade. We gaze--until, from the murky depths of the
background, the serpent hair seems to stir and glitter as if instinct
with life, and the head itself, in all its ghastliness and brightness,
appears to rise from the canvass with the glare of reality. In the
Medusa of sculpture, how different is the effect on the imagination! We
have here the snakes convolving round the winged and graceful head: the
brows contracted with horror and pain; but every feature is chiselled
into the most regular and faultless perfection; and amid the gorgon
terrors, there rests a marbly, fixed, supernatural grace, which, without
reminding us for a moment of common life or nature, stands before us a
presence, a power, and an enchantment!

FOOTNOTES:

[66] Milton.

[67] "That the treachery of King John, the death of Arthur, and the
grief of Constance, had a real truth in history, sharpens the sense of
pain, while it hangs a leaden weight on the heart and the imagination.
Something whispers us that we have no right to make a mock of calamities
like these, or t