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and Mr. Tyrwhitt. You cannct surely suspect me Steevens had undoubtedly, as he says of himself on of having wished to commence hostilities with either another occasion of you, but you have made a very singular com- “Fallen in the plash his wickedness had made;' ment on this remark indeed. Because I have said and in some instances contested the force and proI could overturn some of both your arguments on priety of his own remarks when applied by Malone other occasions with ease, you are willing to infer to parallel passages; or, as Malone observes : that I meant all of them. Let me ask, for instance' They are very good remarks, so far forth as thev sake, what would become of his “undertakers," are his; but when used by me are good for nothing, &c. were I to advance all I could on that subject. and the disputed passages become printers' blunI will not offend you by naming any particular posi- ders, or Hemingisms and Condelisms. Hence his tion of your own which could with success be dis- unremitted censure of the first folio copy, and sup. puted. I cannot, however, help adding, that had I port of the readings of the second folio, which Ma. followed every sentence of your attempt to ascer-| lone treats as of no authority ;-his affected contain the order of the plays, with a contradiction tempt for the Poerns of Shakspeare, &c. sedulous and unremitted as that with which you Mr. Boswell has judiciously characterized Stee. have pursued my Observations on Shakspeare's vens :—With great diligence, an extensive acWill and his Sonnets, you at least would not have quaintance with early literature, and a remarkably found your undertaking a very comfortable one. I was retentive memory: he was besides, as Mr. Gifford then an editor, and indulged you with even a printed has justly observed, “a wit and a scholar.” But foul copy of your work, which you enlarged as long his wit and the sprightliness of his style were too as you thought fit. The arrival of people on busi- often employed to bewilder and mislead us. His ness prevents me from adding more than that I hope consciousness of his own satirical powers made to be still indulged with the correction of my own him much too fond of exercising them at the ex notes on the Yorkshire] T[ragedy). I expect al- pense of truth and justice. He was infected to a most every one of them to be disputed, but assure
puted, but assure lamentable degree with the jealousy of authorship; you that I will not add a single word by way of re- and while his approbation was readily bestowed ply. I have not returned you so complete an an- upon those whose competition he thought he had swer as I would have done had I been at leisure, no reason to dread, he was fretfully impatient of a You have, however, the real sentiments of your brother near the throne : his clear understanding most humble servant,
G. STEEVENS. would generally have enabled him to discover what The temper in which this letter was written is was right; but the spirit of contradiction could at obvious. Steevens was at the time assisting Ma- any time induce him to maintain what was wrong. lone in preparing his Supplement to Shakspeare, It would be impossible, indeed, to explain how any and had previously made a liberal present to him of one, possessed of his taste and discernment, could his valuable collection of old plays; he afterwards have brought himself to advocate so many indefen called himself a dowager editor, and said he would sible opinions, without entering into a long and unnever more trouble himself about Shakspeare. This gracious history of the motives by which he was inis gathered from a memorandum by Malone, but Auenced.' Steevens does in effect say in one of his letters ; Malone was certainly not so happily gifted, adding, "Nor will such assistance as I may be able though Mr. Boswell's partiality in delineating his to furnish ever go towards any future gratuitous pub- friend, presents us with the picture of an amiable lication of the same author : ingratitude and imper- and accomplished gentleman and scholar. There tinence from several booksellers have been my re- seems to have been a want of grasp in his mind to ward for conducting two laborious editions, both of make proper use of the accumulated niaterials which which, except a few copies, are already sold.' his unwearied industry in his favourite pursuit had
In another letter, in reply to a remonstrance placed within his reach : his notes on Shakspeare about the suspension of his visits to Malone, Stee- are often tediously circumlocutory and ineffectual: vens says :- I will confess to you without reserve neither does he seem to have been deficient in that the cause why I have not made even my business jealousy of rivalship, or that pertinacious adherence submit to my desire of seeing you. I readily allow to his own opinions, which have been attributed to that any distinct and subjoined reply to my remarks his competitor. on your notes is fair; but to change (in conse It is superfluous here to enlarge on this topic, quence of private conversation) the notes that drew. for the merits and defects of Johnson, Steevens, and from me those remarks, is to turn my own weapons Malone, as commentators on Shakspeare, and the against me. Surely, therefore, it is unnecessary to characters of those who preceded them, the reader let me continue building when you are previously will find sketched with a masterly pen in the Bio. determined to destroy my very foundations. As I graphical Preface of Dr. Symmons, which accom
to you yesterday, the result of this pro- panies this edition. The vindication of Shakspeare ceeding would be, that such of my strictures as from idle calumny and ill founded critical animadmight be just on the first copies of your notes, must version, could not have been placed in better hands often prove no better than idle cavils, when applied than in those of the vindicator of Milton; and his 10 the second and amended editions of them. I eloquent Essay inust afford pleasure to every lover know not that any editor has insisted on the very of our immortai Bard. It should be observed that extensive privileges which you have continued to the Editor, in his adoption of readings, differs in claim. In some parts of my Dissertation on Peri- opinion on some points from his able coadjutor, with cles, I am almost reduced to combat with shadows. whom he has not the honour of a personal acquaintWe had resolved (as I once imagined) to proceed ance. It is to be regretted that no part of the work without reserve on either side through the whole of was communicated to Dr. Symmons until nearly that controversy, but finally you acquainted me with the whole of the Plays were printed ; or the Editor your resolution (in right of editorship) to have the and the Public would doubtless have benefited by inst word. However, for the future, I beg I may his animadversions and suggestions in its progress be led to trouble you only with observations relative through the press. The reader will not therefore to notes which are fixed ones. I had that advan- | be surprised at the preliminary censure of some tage over my predecessors, and you have enjoyed readings which are still retained in the text.
e same over me ; but I never yet possessed the Dr. Johnson's far famed Preface-which has sa means of obviating objections before they could be long hung as a dead weight upon the reputation or efectually made,' &c.
our great Poet, and which has been justly said to Here then is the secret developed of the subse- look like 'a laborious attempt to bury the characquent, unceasing, and unrelenting opposition with teristic merits of his author under a joau of cumwhich Steevens opposed Malone's notes: their brous phraseology, and so weign nis excenencies controversies served not to make sport for the and defects in equal scales stuffed fuil of swering vorlie' but to annoy the admirers of Shakspeare, figures and sonorous epithets,' --will, for obvious WV ovurlonding his page with frivolous contention. I reasons, Form no part of this publication. His brios
etrictures at the end of each play haye been retain- | The text of the present edition is forined upon ed in compliance with custom, but not without an those of Steevens and Malone, occasionally com nccasional note of dissent. We may suppose that pared with the early editions; and the satisfaction Johnson himself did not estimate these observations arising from a rejection of modern unwarranted devi. very highly, for he tells us that in the plays which ations from the old copies has not unfrequently been are condemned there may be much to be praised, and the reward of this labour. in those which are praised much to be condemned !' The preliminary remarks to each play are aug. Far be it from us to undervalue or speak slightingly mented with extracts from the more recent writers of our great moralist; but his most strenuous admirers upon Shakspeare, and generally contain brief critimust acknowledge that the construction of his mind cal observations which are in many instances op. incapacitated him from forming a true judgment of posed to the dictum of Dr. Johnson. Some o the creations of one who was of imagination all are extracted from the Lectures on the Drama, by compact, no less than his physical defects prevent the distinguished German critic, A. W. Schleghel, ed him from relishing the beautiful and harmonious a writer to whom the nation is deeply indebted, for in nature and art.
having pointed out the characteristic excellencies of Quid valet ad surdas si cantet Phemius aures ?
the great Poet of nature, in an eloquent and philoQuid cæcum Thamyram picta tabella juvat?"
sophical spirit of criticism; which, though it may It has been the studious endeavour of the Editor
sometimes be thought a little tinctured with mysa to avoid those splenetic and insulting reflections upon
tical enthusiasm, has dealt out to Shakspeare his the errors of the commentators, where it has been
due meed of praise; and has, no doubt, tended to his good fortune to detect them, which have been
dissipate the prejudices of some neighbouring na. sometimes too captiously indulged in by labourers
tions who have been too long wilfully blind to his in this field of verbal criticism. Indeed it would ill
Mr. Gifford, as it appears, once proposed to fa. become him to speak contemptuously of those who, with all their defects, have deserved the gratitude of
vour the public with an edition of Shakspeare: how
admirably that excellent critic would have perform. the age ; for it is chiefly owing to the labours of Tyrwhitt, Warton, Percy, Steevens, Farmer, and their
ed the task the world need not now be told. The successors, that attention has been drawn to the
Editor, who has been frequently indebted to the mine of wealth which our early literature affords; 1
remarks on the language of our great Poet which and no one will affect to deny that a recurrence to
i occur in the notes to the works of Ben Jonson and it has not been attended with beneficial effects, if it
Massinger, may be permitted to anticipate the pub
lic regret that these humble labours were not prehas not raised us in the moral scale of nations. The plan pursued in the selection, abridgment,
sented by that more skilful hand. As it is, he must and concentration of the notes of others, precluded
console himself with having used his best endeavour
to accomplish the task whith he was solicited to the necessity of affixing the names of the commentators from whom the information was borrowed; i
undertake; had his power equalled his desire to and, excepting in a few cases of controversial dis
render it useful and acceptable, the work would cussion, and of some critical observations, authori
have been more worthy of the public favour, and of ties are not given. The very curious and valuable
the Poet whom he and all unite in idolizing Illustrations of Shakspeare by Mr. Douce have been
The bard of every age and clime, laid under frequent contribution; the obligation has
Oi genius fruitful and of soul sublime, not always been expressed ; and it is therefore here
Who, from the flowing mint of fancy, pours acknowledged with thankfulness.
No spurious metal, fused from common ores, It will be seen that the Editor has not thought, But gold, to matchless purity refin'd, with some of his predecessors, that the text of
And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind; Shakspeare was 'fixed' in any particular edition
He whom I feel, but want the power to paint' beyond the hope or probability of future amend
JUVENAL, Sat. VII. Mr. Gifford's Translatz vie ment.' He has rather coincided with the opinion of Mr. Gifford, that those would deserve well of the public who should bring back some readings which Steevens discarded, and reject others which he has | MICKLEHAM, dopted.
1 Dec. 3, 1825.
REMARKS UPON HIS DRAMATIC WRITINGS.
OTHEREVER any extraordinary display of hu- , tory outline, we must have recourse to the vague W man intellect has been made, there will human reports of unsubstantial tradition, or to the stil. curiosity, at one period or the other, be busy to ob- more shadowy inferences of lawless and vagabond tain some personal acquaintance with the distin- | conjecture. Of this remarkable ignorance of one guished mortal whom Heaven had been pleased to of the most richly endowed with intellect of the endow with a larger portion of its own ethereal human species, who ran his mortal race in our own energy. If the favoured man walked on the high country, and who stands separated from us by no places of the world ; if he were conversant with very great intervention of time, the causes may not courts; if he directed the movements of armies or be difficult to be ascertained. William Shakspeare of states, and thus held in his hand the fortunes and was an actor and a writer of plays; in neither of the lives of multitudes of his fellow-creatures, the which characters, however he might excel in them, interest, which he excites, will be immediate and could he be lifted high in the estimation of his constrong : he stands on an eminence where he is the temporaries. He was honoured, indoed, with the mark of many eyes; and dark and unlettered in- friendship of nobles, and the patronage of monarchs . deed must be the age in which the incidents of his his theatre was frequented by the wits of the meeventful life will not be noted, and the record of tropolis; and he associated with the most intellecthem be preserved for the instruction or the enter- tual of his times. But the spirit of the age was tainment of unborn generations. But if his course against him; and, in opposition to it, he could not were through the vale of life: if he were unmingled become the subject of any general or comprehenwith the factions and the contests of the great : if sive interest. The nation, in short, knew little and the powers of his mind were devoted to the silent cared less about him. During his life, and for some pursuits of literature to the converse of philo- years after his death, inferior dramatists outran him sophy and the Muse, the possessor of the ethereal in the race of popularity; and then the flood of treasure may excite little of the attention of his puritan fanaticism swept him and the stage together contemporaries; may walk quietly, with a veil | into temporary oblivion. On the restoration of the over his glories, to the grave; and, in other times, monarchy and the theatre, the school of France when the expansion of his intellectual greatness perverted our taste, and it was not till the last cenhas filled the eyes of the world, it may be too late tury was somewhat advanced that William Shakto inquire for his history as a man. The bright speare arose again, as it were, from the tomb, in al. track of his genius indelibly remains; but the trace his proper majesty of light. He then became the of his mortal footstep is soon obliterated for ever. subject of solicitous and learned inquiry: but inHomer is now only a name-a solitary name, which quiry was then too late ; and all that it could recoassures us, that, at some unascertained period in ver, from the ravage of time, were only a few hu. the annals of mankind, a mighty mind was indulged man fragments, which could scarcely be united into to a human being, and gave its wonderful produc- a man. To these causes of our personal ignorance tions to the perpetual admiration of men, as they of the great bard of England, must be added his spring in succession in the path of time. Of Homer own strange indifference to the celebrity of genius. himself we actually know nothing; and we see only When he had produced his admirable works, ignoan arm of immense power thrust forth from a mass rant or heedless of their value, he abandoned them of impenetrable darkness, and holding up the hero with perfect indifference to oblivion or to fame. I! of his song to the applauses of never-dying fame. surpassed his thought that he could grow into the But it may be supposed that the revolution of, per- admiration of the world; and, without any referhaps, thirty centuries has collected the cloud which ence to the curiosity of future ages, in which he thus withdraws the father of poesy from our sight. could not conceive himself to possess an interest, Little more than two centuries has elapsed since he was contented to die in the arms of obscurity, William Shakspeare conversed with our tongue, as an unlaurelled burgher of a provincial town. and trod the selfsame soil with ourselves; and if it To this combination of causes are we to attribute were not for the records kept by our Church in its the scantiness of our materials for the Life of registers of births, marriages, and burials, we William Shakspeare. His works are in myriads of should at this moment be as personally ignorant of hands: he constitutes the delight of myriads of the "sweet swan of Avon” as we are of the old readers: his renown is coextensive with the civiminstrel and rhapsodist of Meles. That William lization of man; and, striding across the ocean Shakspeare was born in Stratford upon Avon; that from Europe, it occupies the wide region of transhe married and had three children; that he wrote atlantic empire : but he is himself only a shadow f certain number of dramas; that he died before which disappoints our grasp; an undefined form he had attained to old age, and was buried in his which is rather intimated than discovered to the native town, are positivelv the only facts, in the keenest searchings of our eye. Of the little howpersonal history of this extraordinary man, of which ever, questionable or certain, which can be told of we are certainly possessed; and, if we should be him, we must now proceed to make the best use in solicitous to fill up this bare and most unsatisfac-l our power, to write what by courtesy may be called
nis sife; and we have only to lament that the result | gious faith, has recently been made the subject on of our labour must greatly disappoint the curiosity controversy. According to the testimony of Rowe. which has been excited by the grandeur of his repu- grounded on the tradition of Stratford, the father of tation. The slight narrative of Rowe, founded on our Poet was a dealer in wool, or, in the provincial che information obtained, in the beginning of the vocabulary of his country, a wool-driver; and such sast century, by the inquiries of Betterton, the he has been deemed by all the biographers of his famous actor, will necessarily supply us with the son, till the fact was thrown into doubt by the result greater part of the materials with which we are to of the inquisitiveness of Malone. Finding, in an work.
old and obscure MS. purporting to record the pro
ceedings of the bailiff's court in Stratford, oui WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE, or SHAKSPERE, (for John Shakspeare designated as a glover, Malone the floating orthography of the name is properly exults over the ignorance of poor Rowe, and asattached to the one or the other of these varieties, sumes no small degree of merit to himself as the was baptized in the church of Stratford upon Avon, discoverer of a long sought and a most important as is ascertained by the parish register, on the 26th historic truth. If he had recollected the remark of
f April, 1564; and he is said to have been born on the clown in the Twelfth Night, * that "a sentence the 23d of the same month, the day consecrated to is but a cheverel glove to a good wit. How quickly the tutelar saint of England. His parents, John the wrong side may be turned outwards !” he would, and Mary Shakspeare, were not of equal ranks in doubtless, have pressed the observation into his serthe community : for the former was only a respect- / vice,
t it as an irresistible att station of able tradesman, whose ancestors cannot be traced the veracity of his old MS. into gentility, whilst the latter belonged to an an- Whatever may have been the trade of John cient and opulent house in the county of Warwick, Shakspeare, whether that of wool-merchant or of being the youngest daughter of Robert Arden of glover, it seems, with the little fortune of his wife, Wilmecote. The family of the Ardens (or Arder- to have placed him in a state of easy competence. nes, as it is written in all the old deeds,) was of In 1569 or 1570, in consequence partly of his alliconsiderable antiquity and importance, some of ance with the Ardens, and partly of his attainment them having served as high sheriffs of their county, of the prime municipal honours of his town, he and two of them (Sir John Arden and his nephew, obtained a concession of arms from the herald's the grandfather of Mrs. Shakspeare,) having en- office, a grant, which placed him and his family on joyed each a station of honour in the personal esta- the file of the gentry of England; and, in 1574, he blishment of Henry VII. The younger of these purchased two houses, with gardens and orchards Ardens was made, by his sovereign, keeper of the annexed to them, in Henley Street, in Stratford. park of Aldercar, and bailiff of the lordship of Cod- But before the year 1578, his prosperity, from nore. He obtained, also, from the crown, a valu-causes not now ascertainable, had certainly deable grant in the lease of the manor of Yoxsal, in clined; for in that year, as we find from the records Staffordshire, consisting of more than 4,600 acres, of his borough, he was excused, in condescension at a rent of 421. Mary Arden did not come dower to his poverty, from the moiety of a very moderate less to her plebeian husband, for she brought to him assessment of six shillings and eigh pence, made a small freehold estate called Asbies, and the sum by the members of the corporation on themselves; of 61. 13s. 4d. in money. The freehold consisted of at the same time that he was a.together exempted a house and fifty-four acres of land; and, as far as from his contribution to the relief of the peor. it appears, it was the first piece of landed property During the remaining years of his life, his fortunes which was ever possessed by the Shakspeares, appear not to have recovered themselves; for he Of this marriage the offspring was four sons and ceased to attend the meetings of the corporation four daughters; of whom Joan (or, according to hall, where he had once presided ; and, in 1586, the orthography of that time, Jone,) and Margaret, another person was substituted as alderman in his the eldest of the children died, one in infancy and place, in consequence of his magisterial inefficiency. one at a somewhat more advanced age; and Gil- He died in the September of 1601, when his illus. hert, whose birth immediately succeeded to that of trious son had already attained to high celebrity; our Poet, is supposed by some not to have reached and his wife, Mary Shakspeare, surviving him for his maturity, and by others, to have attained to con- seven years, deceased in the September of 1608, siderable longevity. Joan, the eldest of the four the burial of the former being registered on the remaining children, and named after her deceased eighth and that of the latter on the ninth of this sister, married William Hart, a hatter in her native month, in each of these respective years. town; and Edmund, the youngest of the family, ! On the 30th of June, 1564, when our Poet had adopting the profession of an actor, resided in St. not yet been three months in this breathing world, Saviour's parish in London; and was buried in St. his native Stratford was visited by the plague ; and, Saviour's Church, on the last day of December, during the six succeeding months, the ravaging dis1607, in his twenty-eighth year. Of Anne and ease is calculated to have swept to the grave more Richard, whose births intervened between those of than a seventh part of the whole population of the Joan and Edmund, th parish register tells the place. But the favoured infant reposed in security whole history, when it i cords that the former was in his cradle, and breathed health amid an atmosburied on the 4th of Apr 1, 1579, in the eighth year phere of pestilence. The Genius of England may of her age, and the latte on the 4th of February, be supposed to have held the arm of the destroyer, 1612–13, when he had neurly completed his thirty- and not to have permitted it to fall on the conseninth.
crated dwelling of his and Nature's darling. The In consequence of a document, discovered in the disease, indeed, did not overstep his charmed thresyear 1770, in the house in which, if tradition is to hold ; for the name of Shakspeare is not to be found be trusted, our Poet was born, some persons having in the register of deaths throughout that period of concluded that John Shakspeare was a Roman accelerated mortality. That he survived this desoCatholic, though he had risen, by the regular gra-lating calamity of his townsmen, is all that we know dation of office, to the chief dignity of the corpora- of William Shakspeare from the day of his birth tion of Stratford, that of high bailiff; and, during till he was sent, as we are informed by Rowe, to the
formed to the rites of the Church of England. The in the course of his education, till, in consequence asserted fact seemed not to be very probable : and of the straitened circumstances of his father, he the document in question, which, drawn up in a was recalled to the paternal roof. As we are not testamentary form and regularly attested, zealously told at what age he was sent to school, wo CH ROL professes the Roman faith of him in whose name it form any estimate of the time during which he l'ether speaks, having been subjected to a rigid examina- mained there. But if he was placed under his tion by Malone, has been pronounced to be spurious. The trade of John Shakspeare, as well as his relia
* Act iii. s. 1
master when he was six years old, he might have he continued in this situation whilst he remained in continued in a state of instruction for seven or even his single state, has not been told to us, and cannot for eight years; a term sufficiently long for any therefore at this period he known. But in the abpoy, not an absolute blockhead, to acquire some sence of information, conjecture will be busy; and thing more than the mere eleinents of the classical will soon cover the bare desert with unprofitable. languages. We are too ignorant, however, of dates vegetation. Whilst Malone surmises that the young in these instances to speak with any confidence on Poet passed the interval, till his marriage, or å the subject; and we can only assert that seven or large portion of it, in the office of an attorney, eight of the fourteen years, which intervened be« Aubrey stations him during the same term at the tween the birth of our Þoet in 1564 and the known head of a country school. But the surmises of period of his father's diminished fortune in 1578, Malone are not universally happy; and to the might very properly have been given to the advan- assertions of Aubrey* I am not disposed to attach tages of the free-school. But now the important more credit than was attached to them by Anthony question is to be asked-What were the attainments Wood, who knew the old gossip and was compe. of our young Shakspeare at this seat of youthful tent to appreciate his character. It is more proba. instruction ? Did he return to his father's house in ble that the necessity, which brought young Shaka state of utter ignorance of classic literature? or speare from his school, retained him with his was he as far advanced in his school-studies as father's occupation at home, till the acquisition of a boys of his age (which I take to be thirteen or four- wife made it convenient for him to removo to a teen) usually are in the common progress of our separate habitation. It is reasonable to conclude public and more reputable schools? That his scho- that a mind like his, ardent, excursive, and "all lastic'attainments did not rise to the point of learn- compact of imagination,” would not be satisfied ing, seems to have been the general opinion of his with entire inactivity ; but would obtain knowledge contemporaries; and to this opinion I am willing where it could, if not from the stores of the an. to assent. But I cannot persuade myself that he cients, from those at least which were supplied to was entirely unacquainted with the classic tongues ; him by the writers of his own country. or that, as Farmer and his followers labour to con- In 1582, before he had completed his eighteently vince us, he could receive the instructions, even for year, he married Anne Hathaway, the daughter, as three or four years, of a school of any character, Rowe informs us, of a substantial yeoman in the and could then depart without any knowledge be- neighbourhood of Stratford. We are unacquainted yond that of the Latin accidence. The most ac- with the precise period of their marriage, and with complished scholar may read with pleasure the the church in which it was solemnized, for in the poetic versions of the classic poets; and the less register of Stratford there is no record of the event; advanced proficient may consult his indolence by and we are made certain of the year, in which it applying to the page of a translation of a prosc occurred, only by the baptism of Susanna, the first classic, when accuracy of quotation may not be produce of the union, on the 26th of May, 1583. required : and on evidences of this nature is sup- As young Shakspeare neither increased his fortune ported the charge which has been brought, and by this match, though he probably received some which is now generally admitted, against our im- money with his wife, nor raised himself by it in the mortal bard, of more than school-boy ignorance, community, we may conclude that he was induced He might, indeed, from necessity apply to North to it by inclination, and the impulse of love. But for the interpretation of Plutarch; but he read the youthful poet's dream of happiness does not Golding's Ovid only, as I am satisfied, for the en- seem to have been realized by the result. The tertainment of its
of its English poetry. Ben Jonson, bride was eight years older than the bridegroom; who must have been intimately conversant with his and whatever charms she might possess to fascinate friend's classic acquisitions, tells us expressly that, the eyes of her boy-lover, she probably was defi"He had small Latin and less Greek.” But, cient in those powers which are requisite to imposo according to the usual plan of instruction in our l a durable fetter on th
e fetter on the heart, and to hold “in sweet schools, he must have traversed a considerable ex- captivity" a mind of the very highest order. No
touch even the confines of that of Greece. He in Stratford hy her husband during his long resi must in short have read Ovid's Metamorphoses, dence in the metropolis ; and on his death, she is and a part at least of Virgil, before he could open found to be only slightly, and, as it were, casually the grammar of the more ancient, and copious, and remembered in his will. Her second pregnancy, complex dialect. This I conceive to be a fair state- which was productive of twins, (Hamnet and Jument of the case in the question respecting Shak- dith, baptized on the 2d of February, 1584-5, terspeare's learning. Beyond controversy he was not minated her pride as a mother; and we know no. a scholar; but he had not profited so little by the thing more respecting her than that, surviving her hours, which he had passed in school, as not to be illustrious consort by rather more than seven years, able to understand the more easy Roman authors she was buried on the 8th of August, 1623, being, without the assistance of a translation. If he him- as we are told by the inscription on her tomb, of self had been asked, on the subject, he might have the age of sixty-seven. Respecting the habits of parodied his own Falstaff and have answered, “In- life, or the occupation of our young Poet by which deed I am not a Scaliger or a Budæus, but yet no he obtained his subsistence, or even the place of his blockhead, friend." I believe also that he was not residence, subsequently to his marriage, not a float. wholly unacquainted with the popular languages of ing syllable has been wasted to us by tradition for France and Italy. He had abundant leisure to ac- the gratification of our curiosity; and the history quire them; and the activity and the curiosity of of this great man is a perfect blank till the occur. his mind were sufficiently strong to urge him to rence of an event, which drove him from his native their acquisition. But to discuss this much agita. town, and gave his wonderful inteilect to break out ted question would lead me beyond the limits which in its full lustre on the world. From the frequent are prescribed to me; and, contenting myself with allusions in his writings to the elegant sport of faldeclaring that, in my opinion, both parties are conry, it has been suggested that this, possibly, wrong, both they who contend for our Poet's learn- might be one of his favourite amusements : and no ing, and they who place his illiteracy on a level thing can be more probable, from the active season with that of John Taylor, the celebrated waterpoet, I must resume my humble and most deficient * What credit can be due to this Mr. Aubrey, who narrative. The classical studies of William Shak-picked up information on the highway and scattered it speare, whatever progress he may or may not have every where as authentic? who whipped Milton at Cam
bridge in violation of the university statutes; and who, made in them, were now suspended ; and he was
making our young Shakspeare a butcher's boy, could replaced in his father's house, when he had attained embrue his hands in the blood of calves, and represeni his thirteenth or fourteenth year, to assist with his him as exulting in poetry over the convulsions of the aand in the maintenance of the family. Whether dying animals