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-nor do we care one farthing for the killed a ck, he would do it in a high next point to which our author pro- style, and make a speech." Truly, ceeds, the long-contested question con- we are inclined to think this is the cerning the right spelling of the poet's true bill, and wonder at the dulness name, whether it is Shakespeare of the commentators, who do not see Shakespere,-Shakspeare,-Shaksper, it confirmed in Hamlet's answer to

-or Shackspere. The poet, it seems, spells it in three or four different ways in the course of his last will and testament; but the final signature seems to be (for it is not very legible) Shakspeare; and, therefore, as this was the after thought, we are rather to suppose it was the spelling he most approved of.

Shakespeare's house, we admit, is a more interesting subject of contemplation than all these; and even although it was despoiled of its old oak-chair by the Princess Czartoryska, who visited it in 1790, and bought this relic for 20 guineas, and carried it off we suppose to Russia, where it will be much like a fish out of water, or the Elgin marbles at a distance from Athens, we should still enter under the lowly roof, with no slight emotion of reverence. Two years after Shakespeare was born, one half of his native town was depopulated by the plague, but the disease did not reach the house in which his infant genius was enshrinel, protected, as our author happily applies from Horace,

"Sacra Lauroque, collataque myrto, Non sine Diis animosus infans."

It is known that he was sent to the free school of Stratford, where it is supposed he acquired the small Latin and less Greek which Ben Jonson has attributed to him; and though never an adept in any of these languages, it seems to be the reasonable conclusion which our author has adopted, that he never entirely forgot them.-What profession did he follow? Here is another fine subject of conjecture. His plays are ransacked to shew that he was well acquainted with the wool trade, and even very tolerably with the butcher's business; and Dr Drake accordingly concludes, that he was certainly engaged with his father in the first of these trades, and must at least have seen cattle killed; but he will not admit it as probable, that the poet, with his own hands, stuck a knife into the throats of sheep, or struck down oxen. Aubrey, however, has left upon record, that, when Shake speare "was a boy, he exercised his father' trade," and that "when he

Polonius, when that great minister says, "I did enact Julius Cæsar: I was killed i' the Capitol; Brutus killed me."-" It was a brute part of him to kill so capital a calf there." Shakespeare's plays shew likewise, it seems, so minute a knowledge of the technicalities of the law, that nothing less will satisfy Mr Malone, than he must also make an attorney of our poet; and in order to get rid of an assertion of Aubrey's, that "he had been in his younger years a schoolmaster in the country," that learned commentator shews, that if he taught any thing it must have been the mysteries of scrivening. Could Pope be so wicked as to have an eye to our poet, when he says, "Will sneaks a scrivener, an exceeding knave?" If, however, we are to go to Shakespeare's dramas for proof of the profession which he followed, there is none un der the sun which might not be ascribed to him. Why not say he was a great general, or a pious bishop, or a king, or a buffoon,-for in all these characters, and in their phraseology, and in a hundred more, he is equally at home?

Shakespeare married when he was little more than eighteen. The lady was Anne Hathaway, daughter of Richard Hathaway, a substantial yeoman residing at Shottery, a village about a mile distant from Stratford. Another chase is made through parish registers, to find every thing about her family, and with about as much success as that sort of inquiry is generally attended with. In her cottage, too, there were not long ago old chairs and bedsteads. Mr Ireland bought Shakespeare's courting chair, but the good old woman who then possessed the house would not part with her antique bed for love or money. Another controversy follows, Whether this marriage was for love or money? The lady, it seems, was eight years older than the poet,-and Mr Theobald is, therefore, clear it could not be a love match on his side. Mr Capel is of another opinion; and Dr Drake cannot bring himself to think that interest could sway Shakespeare in so unpoetical a manner. None of his verses to his sweet Anne

Page remain, and very possibly he
never wrote any; or, if they were
no better than the little epigrams
and satiric songs said to be written by
him at this time, they are quite as
well sunk in oblivion. One of these
precious relics is as follows:-"A
drunken blacksmith, with a carbuncled
face, reeling up to Shakespeare as he
was leaning over a mercer's door, ex-
claimed, with much vociferation,
"Now, Mr Shakespeare, tell me, if you

can,

The difference between a youth and a young man ;"

:

A question which immediately drew
from our poct the following reply
"Thou son of fire, with thy face like a
maple,

The same difference as between a scalded
and a coddled apple."
Shakespeare remained a few years
at Stratford after his marriage, and
begot sons and daughters,-when his
quarrel with Sir Thomas Lucy occur-
red, in consequence of his stealing deer
from the baronet's park. A stanza of
his lampoon upon Sir Thomas is hand-
ed down, in which the point turns on
a play of words between Lucy and
lousy. He is supposed to have the
baronet in his eye again in a similar
strain of wit in the beginning of the
Merry Wives of Windsor. It is be-
lieved that this adventure hurried our
poet's departure for London, where he
went about the year 1587, and entered
upon that mighty career which has
thrown so much glory upon his name
and country. He left his wife and
family behind him, and seems, in-
deed, never to have taken them to re-
side with him in town; but he paid
annual visits to Stratford, and an in-
crease of his family was the common
consequence. This great and import-
ant division of Shakespeare's life is, if
possible, still barer of incident than
the preceding. He was first employ-
ed, some say, in the lowest offices a-
bout the theatre; he afterwords play-
ed in insignificant characters; and he
appears never to have reached any high-
er than the Ghost in his own Hamlet.
The common story is, that he was a
very indifferent performer, though Dr
Drake brings forward some laborious
proofs to the contrary. His first com-
position was not dramatic. The Ve-
nus and Adonis, though not published
till 1593, he himself terms "the first

heir of his invention." His earliest drama, supposed to be Pericles, appeared in 1590; so that the Venus and Adonis must have been written some years before it was published.

His last play, supposed the Twelfth Night, was written in 1613; and our poet soon after retired to his native town, and resided in the bosom of his family, seemingly quite satisfied with the career of fame which he had run, and, in the flower of his years, looking forward to no higher object than the enjoyment of domestic happiness, and the well-earned fruits of his in

dustry. He lived in Stratford much
respected; and Mr Rowe tells us,
that his pleasurable wit and good-
nature engaged him in the acquaint-
ance, and entitled him to the friend-
ship, of the gentlemen of the neigh-
bourhood." A foolish story is told
of an ill-natured epigram made by
him at this time on an old gentleman,
Mr Combe, which we hope is not true
and, if it is, it is only one proof a-
mong many, what silly things are re-
collected, if they happen to be put in
rhyme, and repeated from mouth to
mouth, while, at the same time, the
most interesting particulars of great
men are totally lost and forgotten.
There is a little memorandum pre-
served in the notes of one Green, a
relation of Shakespeare, respecting an
inclosure, in which the poet had an
interest, which is infinitely more to
the purpose, though, after all, it
contains nothing, except a proof that
the worthy poet did not neglect
common business; but any little an-
ecdote coming from the fountain-
head, and not traced in the idle cir-
cuitous way of Shakespeare's commen-
tators and biographers, has a fresh-
ness and vivacity about it that cannot
but delight, even although it is no-
thing superior to the following:
"Jovis 17. No. (1614.) My cosen
Shakspeare comyng yesterday to town,
I went to see him how he did. He
told me, that they (the partics wish-
ing to inclose) assured him they ment
to inclose no further than to Gospel
bush, and so upp straight (leaving out
p' of the Dyngles to the field) to the
gate in Clopton hedg, and take in Sa-
lisbury's peece, and that they mean in
Aprill to sey, the land, and then to
gyve satisfaccion, and not before; and
he and Mr Hall (Shakespeare's son-
in-law, probably present) say they

think y'. will be nothyng done at all." Here we have Shakespeare brought into a room before us, and talking about an actual affair in life; and we will positively affirm, that there is nothing one half so interesting in all the wandering conjectures with which Messrs Malone, Steevens, Drake, &c. fill quartos. Our poet's family grew up; some of his daughters married to his mind, and some not. He seems to have had a favourite, Judith. He made his will in 1616, when he was in perfect health and memory, and was cut off, by what disease is unknown, in the same year, the fifty-second of his age.

We may seem, perhaps, to have spoken somewhat disrespectfully of Dr Drake and his book, but we are, as yet, very imperfect judges of its merit. We think, in his account of the poet's life, that he has been unnecessarily diffuse and conjectural; but he may be excused in saying too much where he had nothing to say. By far the most important part of the work remains to be considered; and, although we despair of giving any adequate notion of the information which it contains, yet we may attempt something of the kind in a following Number of our Journal; and have no doubt, from what we see, that we shall find in it much interesting and pleasing matter. At present, in concluding, we are tempted to say, that, although many people may regret that so little is known of Shakespeare, we are not of the number. Whatever we know of him is pleasing to the imagination. His deer-stealing and wicked epigrams are mere specks in the sun; and the general tenor of his life appears to have been happy and virtuous. There were probably no events in it worth recording. Most great poets have come down to us merely in their works; who knows any thing of Homer? When the works of any great benefactor of his species have had a prodigious influence upon the world, he himself, and every thing about him, is apt to be swallowed up in the general vortex. Who knows any thing of the apostles of Christianity, except the short notices in Scripture? They were themselves lost in the splendour of their performances.

We may regret, perhaps, after what Fuller has told us so inimitably, that there was no Boswell in those days to

preserve Shakespeare's conversation-it would probably have been equally precious with his dramas. Yet they are a mine of happy thoughts, thrown out with all the ease of conversation, and they have in them more wit and reflection than Providence has ever yet, in any other instance, permitted us to obtain from the storehouse of any one individual's mind. Upon the whole, we are grateful for what we have; and, if Shakespeare had been no more known to us than the author of Waverley, (what a fund is here in store for quartos of conjectural history in some future age!) we should still delight in his dramas, with scarcely one feeling of repining.

A Father's Gift to his Children; being a Short View of the Evidences of the Christian Religion. Adapted to the Understandings of Young Persons, and presented to his own Family. By a Layman. Edinburgh, White. 1818.

We have perused this unpretending little treatise with an interest arising principally from the affecting circumstances in which it was prepared, but heightened in no small degree by our concern in the rising generation, to whom we think it calculated to be eminently beneficial. The study of Christianity, and of the evidence by which it is supported, ought to form a prominent part in every system of education. In the docile and unsuspecting years of childhood, the heart is easily impressed with the great truths, and obligations, and motives of religion,-and is readily moulded to obedience, or kindled into devotion. But when curiosity begins to be awakened, and the reasoning powers to expand, when temptations multiply, and are seconded by the growing strength of natural propensities, doubt begins to succeed to the happy confidence of our earlier years, and the conviction of the understanding becomes necessary to control the tendencies of the heart. At this critical period of life, it is of ineffable importance that the mind should be engaged in an earnest and candid investigation of the origin and authority of that religion, which, while it is the only infallible rule of faith and practice, is the source of all our best consolations, and our most animating hopes.

We cordially assent to the judicious observation of our author, that " while much doubt remains on the subject of its evidences, Christian devotion and its concomitant supports must be nearly out of the question." To banish such doubts from his own mind seems to have been the purpose for which he first composed this short but comprehensive treatise; to prevent such doubts in the minds of his children was his object in presenting it to them; to extend as widely as possible the good effects which had resulted from it within the sphere of his domestic experience, is the benevolent motive which has induced him to render it public. In doing so he has conferred, in our opinion, an important obligation on parents, and on all who are engaged in the education of youth. None can estimate more highly than we do the labours of Paley, Campbell, Hurd, Powell, Jenyns, Chalmers, and other eminent champions of Christianity; and whatever our southern neighbours may think to the contrary, we can assure them, that the works of all the best writers on this interesting subject are not only known, but very generally studied on this side of the Tweed. * In several respects, however, we regard this little work as better adapted to the ends for which it is designed, for establishing the religious principles of the young on the immoveable basis of conviction, and for attracting the attention, and confirming the belief of general readers. It is better adapted to these ends by its brevity; for as the author himself very justly remarks, "To those who are young and not accustomed to extensive reading, discussions of much length lose great part of their value by their seeming tediousness. While the mind, in such a case, becomes fatigued with the minuteness and number of the subordinate observations, it is apt, in some measure, to lose sight of the general reasoning, and finds itself often perplexed with the disquisition as a whole." In truth, there are few long discussions on subjects of mere opinion which would not admit of much compression; and when science is so widely extended, and so many things

See an article in the last number of the Quarterly Review, on Dr Chalmers's Evidences of the Christian Reveation,

are to be learned, to say much in few words, provided it be said distinctly, is the most valuable talent which a writer can possess. It is better adapted to these ends, by the character in which the author appears. A layman, calmly stating the grounds of his own conviction of the Divine origin of the Christian religion, can be suspected of none of those interested motives,none of that professional bias, which are ascribed, how unjustly soever, to the ministers of religion, while they maintain its cause: a father, in the interesting attitude of confirming the religious faith of his children, and pointing their views to that heaven to which all his own hopes habitually tend, is regarded, not only with candour and confidence, but with a degree of vencration which gives to all he utters the most impressive weight. It is better adapted to these ends, by the professional habits which he has brought to the inquiry. The kind of evidence which, in his practice as a lawyer, he is accustomed to sift, is in many respects exactly similar to the evidence for the truth of the Christian religion; and the illustrations which he sometimes draws from his profession, are equally apt and convincing. The plan which he lays down is, 1. To obviate the presumptions which have sometimes been supposed to lie against the reality of the Christian Revelation. 2. To shew that the way was paved for this Revelation by the Jewish dispensation, and the polity and religion of the Jewish people. 3. To shew that the Christian religion, when it arrived, was such as was to have been expected; and that all the sound presumptions are in its favour. 4. He then proceeds to prove the authenticity of the books of the New Testament. 5. The veracity of their contents. 6. To shew that the mission of our Saviour was proved by miracles, and foretold by prophecies; and, lastly, he marks the miraculous hand of the Deity, which protected and fostered the religion of his Son, in its wonderful propagation in the world, notwithstanding all the obstacles which impeded it.

Upon the whole, we can very confidently recommend this compendium of the evidence of Christianity, to all who, either for their own satisfaction or the benefit of others, take any interest in the discussion of these im

portant topics. Embracing all the best arguments which have been adduced in support of our faith, and stating them in a concise, perspicuous, and easy manner, it is quite sufficient to convince the candid and confirm the wavering; and will be, at all events, an excellent preparative for the perusal of longer and more elaborate treatises.

Mandeville; a Tale of the Seventeenth
Century in England. By WILLIAM
GODWIN. 3 vols. Edinburgh, Con-
stable and Co. 1817.

The cause of this temporary dereliction, or change of ground at least, may be traced, perhaps, to the fastidiousness of novel-readers, who probably now constitute a much larger body, and comprise a much greater portion of the talents of all ranks, than at any former period. The writer of a tale of fiction who aspires to great popularity, places himself at the bar of a most enlightened judicature, where his claims are sure to be rigorously scrutinized; and he has to encounter powerful rivals,-who are perhaps indebted to himself for much of the skill which they display in de preciating his merits, or exaggerating his faults. To make an impression on so numerous and so heterogeneous an audience, there may be good policy in calling the attention from topics which are already familiar, and, therefore, however true to nature, little calculated to excite deep and instant emotion. The truth seems to be, whatever may be the cause, that characters and adventures, if drawn from the unappropriated expanse of society, please no more in this fastidious age; but the characters must be embodied in beings with whom we are previously acquainted by history or personal observation; and the adventures must be blended with real occurrences, or bear upon questions which continue to agitate the public mind. The principal personages, accordingly, are sometimes only individuals, not generalizations, and their story belongs to themselves, and to their peculiar situation, rather than to the species at large.

It has often occurred to us, but never more forcibly than during the perusal of the present work, that the limits which former writers of fiction seem to have prescribed to themselves have been frequently passed of late,-while not a little of the territory over which they held dominion has been abandoned or neglected by their successors. The province of fiction is not now confined to a slightly caricatured representation of those foibles and peculiarities, which, rising from time to time to the surface of society, impart to it a factitious and somewhat unnatural colour, presenting a prominent and legitimate object to ridicule and derision; nor to the errors and vices, and crimes, of beings whom we recognize as belonging to our own species, so unsparingly exhibited by Smollet and Moore; nor to those still more faithful pictures of character into which, as in real life, vice and virtue enter in every varied proportion, which the pages of Fielding and It may be made a question, howEdgeworth so happily display; nor ever, whether a writer does not lose to those perfect and immaculate per- as much in the durability and extent sonages whom Richardson loved to of his fame, by thus gratifying the delineate. The authors of our most prevailing appetite for strong emotion, popular tales do not seem ambitious as he gains in present popularity. It to" catch the manners living as they is not enough for the permanence of rise," or to describe those ephemeral his fame that his pictures are drawn but strongly marked phenomena which from real life, and that their likeness are incessantly developed by the fer- is recognized by his contemporaries. mentation of society and while we They may, nevertheless, be pictures have all sorts of novels, historical, po- of disease and deformity, exceptions litical, metaphysical,-it seems to be to the general laws of nature, which, left to a future age to pourtray the after gratifying a momentary curiosity, form and pressure of the present, af humanity would wish to conceal, and ter time must have worn down the from which the eye soon turns away protuberances on its surface, and the with loathing and disgust. The anapencil will be tinged with the habits tomist may feel an interest in examinand associations of a new race of being the occasional anomalies of the corporeal system, and the philosopher

ings.

VOL. 11,

H

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