[The Works of Charles Lamb in Four Volumes, Volume 4 by Charles Lamb]@TWC D-Link bookThe Works of Charles Lamb in Four Volumes, Volume 4 CHAPTER XIII 30/165
The painters themselves feel this, as is apparent by the awkward shifts they have recourse to, to make them look not quite naked; by a sort of prophetic anachronism, antedating the invention of fig-leaves.
So in the reading of the play, we see with Desdemona's eyes: in the seeing of it, we are forced to look with our own.] It requires little reflection to perceive, that if those characters in Shakspeare which are within the precincts of nature, have yet something in them which appeals too exclusively to the imagination, to admit of their being made objects to the senses without suffering a change and a diminution,--that still stronger the objection must lie against representing another line of characters, which Shakspeare has introduced to give a wildness and a supernatural elevation to his scenes, as if to remove them still farther from that assimilation to common life in which their excellence is vulgarly supposed to consist.
When we read the incantations of those terrible beings the Witches in Macbeth, though some of the ingredients of their hellish composition savor of the grotesque, yet is the effect upon us other than the most serious and appalling that can be imagined? Do we not feel spellbound as Macbeth was? Can any mirth accompany a sense of their presence? We might as well laugh under a consciousness of the principle of Evil himself being truly and really present with us.
But attempt to bring these things on to a stage, and you turn them instantly into so many old women, that men and children are to laugh at.
Contrary to the old saying, that "seeing is believing," the sight actually destroys the faith; and the mirth in which we indulge at their expense, when we see these creatures upon a stage, seems to be a sort of indemnification which we make to ourselves for the terror which they put us in when reading made them an object of belief,--when we surrendered up our reason to the poet, as children to their nurses and their elders; and we laugh at our fears, as children, who thought they saw something in the dark, triumph when the bringing in of a candle discovers the vanity of their fears.
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