son's productions were not at all known; being left to himself, therefore, he took the earliest opportunity of showing his incompetence. I am satisfied that nothing has so much contributed to bring our old poets into disrepute, as the insignificant notes and tasteless remarks of the commentators upon Shakespeare*.

It was said just now (observed Elliot), that there was no kind of applause that might not deservedly, be applied to Shakespeare; and I follow it up by subjoining, that there is no kind of abuse in which I cannot heartily join against his commentators: I could find in my heart to hack and hew every one of them with as much coolness as Friar John, in Rabelais, did the guard that was placed over him, It would do us good to be up to the elbows in the destruction of them and their laborious nothings, until, as Lucan bombastically describes the consequences of the civil wars of Marius and Sylla, the slayers had scarcely room to wield their weapons, or the slain to fall. I can scarcely except one of the annotators, but least of all such a punctilious puny

* In the preface, reprints " from judiciously selected productions of our early writers" are spoken of, but the late republications of not a few of them have neither been judicious in the manner nor in the matter, and have contributed, in some degree, to injure the cause they might be intended to support: literary "nothings" have been "monstered" with all the pomp of the press, while the editors, generally, could not venture to pronounce a just opinion upon their authors, lest they should discredit the labour and expense bestowed on their revival.

as Malone, such a dull dust-raking drudge as Theobald, or such an overweening witling as the selfworshipping Steevens.

Theobald was a drudge, it is true (remarked Bourne), but I by no means think him the worst of the annotators; as for Malone, he was quite as selfconceited as Steevens, with as little capacity of deciding what was or was not really good in poetry. One proof may be taken out of a hundred; what he says of Henry VI. is amply sufficient.

You mean (said Elliot) his long and firm persuasion, that all three parts were so full of what he terms" evident Shakespearianisms," that he never could bring himself to advert to the arguments against the genuineness of any one of them.

I do (replied Bourne), and his subsequent sapient discovery, that not one of his "evident Shakespearianisms" were to be found in the first part. The fact was, that in the mean time it had been found that the first part of Henry VI. was probably not Shakespeare's, and then all the passages which this sagacious annotator had before been convinced were " evident Shakespearianisms," became the efforts of some "sweet creature of bombast." Yet these are' the men who in their grandia certamina take upon them to decide on the merits of Shakespeare.

"Have some forbearance towards the dead," said Morton.

If they are dead, that is all the good that can be said of them, (continued Elliot, borrowing the point

of an epigram by one who might have been a worthy annotator): and why are they to be spared when dead, who in their lifetime spared neither dead nor living; torturing their author, and tormenting his readers? There is scarcely a page or a line in Shakespeare that has not been made the subject of feeble and futile comment, or of needless illustration. I have seen it said of some writer of the middle age, who had met with a really learned and efficient scholiast, that the book itself well deserved to be burnt but for the notes upon it; and really had the plays been written by any other man than Shakespeare, one would almost be tempted to throw them into the fire, for the sake of getting rid of the irksome and impertinent commentary.

You are almost hot enough (interposed Morton) to consume them yourself; but if you disturb the trim of the boat in your vehemence, you are likely soon to have your fire most effectually quenched.

Of course (continued Elliot, without taking any notice of this friendly caution), you recollect that passage in Hamlet, as excellent in the sentiment as appropriate in the expression of it,

"'There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.”-

It seems to want no remark; but what do

is the ridiculous, the absurd, the degrading comment of Steevens upon it—I think you must remember it? As for me (said Morton), there is nothing of

which I am so laudably and satisfactorily ignorant as of the notes upon Shakespeare.

I well recollect the very expressions of this paltry pretender (added Elliot): he is alluding to the trade of Shakespeare's father as a wool dealer or butcher, and to the conjecture that the poet followed the same business before he came up to London; and how do you imagine he draws an argument in favour of the supposition from the lines I just quoted? You might guess to eternity: all the ingenuity of the riddle-solvers, from Edipus down to Dame Partlett, would be of no avail. He first gives the passage, and then he adds, with solemn gravity, "Dr. Farmer informs me that these words are merely technical. A wool-man, butcher, and dealer in skewers" (and he takes care that the point shall not be lost for want of italics), "lately observed to him, that his nephew, an idle lad, could only assist in making them he could rough-hew them, but I was obliged to shape their ends. Whoever recollects the profession of Shakespeare's father, will admit that his son might be no stranger to such a term. I have seen packages of wool pinned up with skewers."

An involuntary fit of laughter, that made the very shores re-echo, here burst from Bourne and Morton, in which Elliot joined. The boatmen looked up astonished, and so much forgot their steerage that the wherry nearly ran foul of Putney-bridge. This circumstance suspended the mirth for a few mo

ments, but after the boat had passed the arch, the conversation was renewed.

I have always thought that Dr. Farmer, who was a man of learning and judgment (resumed Bourne), was playing off a joke upon the credulity of poor Steevens, never imagining that it could be taken seriously that Shakespeare had put into the mouth of the Prince of Denmark, in reference to the superintending wisdom of Providence, a figure taken from the exalted occupation of a skewer-maker. I recollected the note immediately after you repeated the first sentence; and I remember too, that Dr. Drake, in his late volumes on Shakespeare and his times, quotes it with as much solemnity as Steevens inserts it. Dr. Drake's work is an industrious and useful congregation of facts, and his dissertations on Fairies, Witches, &c. have some novelty, and learning; but I do not think he introduces a single anecdote of, or line regarding our great dramatist that had not been discovered before his chief merit is, that he has collected scattered materials into one body. Nearly all his knowledge of the literature of the age of Shakespeare is derived from the British Bibliographer, and productions of the same class.

His illustrations of the manners of the age (said Morton) are amusing, and it is but justice to admit that he does not pretend to any great originality, for he freely cites his authorities. The most defective and ill-judged part of his labours seems to me, the