shoots, and every day fresh burgeons are forcing themselves through the rind, giving fair promise of successful progress. As About a fortnight after the return of Elliot from Germany, and during one of Morton's longest visits to London, the three friends had appointed a place of rendezvous, for it was agreed that they should spend ten days or a fortnight together at Bourne's house at Mortlake: they took a boat at Westminster-bridge, and embarked for their destination, on one of the serenest evenings of August. The sky was perfectly clear, and the majestic river, swollen to the edge of its banks by what is termed a spring tide, was almost its exact counterpart; both were equally bright and transparent, and as the wherry, by the assistance of a light breath that seemed to evaporate from the water without ruffling its surface, delicately cut its way, the voyagers might almost have fancied themselves in mid air in that ship of heaven so lately and so delightfully described. this was not, by several, the first time they had met since the arrival of the tonguegifted traveller,' the topics which would of course earliest occur had been, in a great degree, exhausted, and the conversation involuntarily turned by the habits of the party, and the natural influence of the scene, upon that subject which, unlike all others, affords something new and delightful whenever it is introduced-poetry. Besides, supposing no absolute novelty in the way of illustration, criticism, or quotation be offered, what other matter of discussion can be found that will so well bear repeating? But in truth it is as impossible to exhaust such a source of enjoyment, as that the great stream on which the three friends were embarked should run dry it may be higher or lower, more or less powerful, at different times, but with its influx it bears tidings from distant shores, and with its reflux it brings down the cultivated beauty of domestic provinces." pp. xi. xiv. So they begin to converse about this grand river, and the various allusions made to it by the poets, from Gray and Collins as far back as Spenser's marriage of the Thames and Medway. Spenser brings in Drayton, and then we get into the heart of Queen Elizabeth's poets, whom Mr Elliot cannot look upon with all the veneration of his companions. "I take it (says he) that the moderns know quite as well what good poetry is as the ancients, (I mean the ancients of our own country,) and write much better, with two or three exceptions. "With two or three exceptions!" Indeed! (said Bourne,) is that all you can allow ? Omitting Spenser and Shakespeare as out of the question, what say you to Fletcher and Jonson, to Chapman, Drayton, and Nash, to Greene, Lodge, Hall, Marston, Peele, Marlow, Daniel, and perhaps a hundred others ?" "You may spare yourself the trouble of going through a list of names, many of which are quite as new to me as their works," resumed Elliot. "I do not mean to contend with you on the merits of authors I never heard of. When I spoke of two or three exceptions, I alluded to such men as Spenser, Shakespeare, and Jonson, who assuredly have never been equalled, perhaps never can be excelled, and very rarely if ever approached. For the rest, generally speaking, I think the common observation unanswerable, that had they deserved to be as well known as the poets I have mentioned, they would not for so many years have been consigned to dusty death.' As it is, nearly all that people hear of them is what the commentators on Shakespeare have been pleased to quote in the way of illustration in their precious notes. Dr Johnson might well say, in reference to this subject, that the great contention of criticism was to find the faults of the moderns and the beauties of the ancients.' Critics are always ready enough to raise the tardy bust' to buried merit,' but it is with the utmost reluctance, and never without the hard compulsion of general approbation, they admit that a living poet deserves to be read: * Vivis quod fama negatur, Et sua quod rarus tempora lector amat. "You have little reason to say so now," be in the time of Martial: do we not every replied Morton, however true it might day see poems that might be included in small volumes, at the price of a few shillings, sold in immense numbers for about strange, that, confessing your ignorance of as many guineas? Besides, it is somewhat our old poets, you venture to pronounce upon them so dogmatically. To be acquainted with Spenser, Shakespeare, and three best poets of their age, but they were Jonson, is unquestionably to know the not the only poets, nor the only good poets, as you would yourself allow, even with the information you possess regarding several of the writers who have found a place in our popular collections, or whose dramatic or undramatic works have been recently reprinted. You have been so much abroad of late, that though of course you must have heard and read a great deal of our Byrons, our Southeys, our Scotts, and our Campbells, (four names always united in the mind of a devourer of modern poetry,) you know little or nothing of the advance that has been made within only the last few years in the acquisition of a knowledge of those, who, for the sake of distinction, I will call the minor poets of the reigns of Elizabeth and James; minor only in comparison with those poets whom you separated from the rest, and who, of themselves, would make (and, indeed, in the opinion of many up to this day have made) an era in the literature of this country. There is scarcely any praise that you can bestow upon them, that I will not immediately allow to be well deserved: so far are they above rivalship, that others will seldom bear even comparison. I do not know any quotation more applicable to Shakespeare, than three lines in one of his own exquisite sonnets, I think the 150th. "In the very refuse of thy deeds There is such strength and warrantise of skill, That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds !" This, however, I may say, that an author who can write as well as Shakespeare when he wrote his worst, deserves examining and preserving Various uses of old books are then suggested, besides their intrinsic merit, such as, that they contain specimens of the fine old English language, at the time when words were used in their original and forcible senses, and were not clipped, filed, and perverted, as at the present moment;"- -moreover, that in them the living traits of ancient manners and customs appear in all their freshness: And we cannot refuse to admit how much inspiration may be derived from them in this view, after comparing any of Sir Walter Scott's poems, with the notes subjoined to it, or contemplating the minute knowledge of English antiquities which must have gone to the composition of Ivanhoe. The ingenious author of that romance was certainly greatly indebted to his friend Dr Dryasdust, whose death, by the way, we are sorry to announce, and, of course, the cessation of those erudite researches, from his pen, into the old state of the English universities, which we were in hopes of continuing through a series of Numbers. The learned Doctor had, unfortunately, his skull fractured (not an easy job it may be supposed) by the fall of all the volumes of Dugdale's Monasticon upon it, as he was reaching for one of them from a high shelf, to find out the topography of the Monastery of Kennaquhair. Notwithstanding, however, the importance ascribed to these black-letter studies, Elliot does not scruple to fall foul of Shakespeare's commentators. "Montaigne says, (observes he,) la difficulté donne prix aux choses, and it is as true of books as of every thing else; because so much pains have been bestowed in raking and sifting dust and rubbish for some neglected relic, it is considered by the discoverer much more valuable than its real worth. I admit the truth of much that you have advanced, but to put it to a sort of test, let me just ask, for instance, what have the laborious commentators on Shakespeare been able to do for the poet, with all their knowledge (not to dignify it by the name of learning) of old English literature? I do not say that they have accomplished absolutely nothing, but it is nothing compared with what might have been expected, if all you represent of the value of old books were true. It is almost a proverb in Germany, especially since the publication of the Lectures of Schlegel has shown off our illustrators to such disad vantage, that as it has pleased heaven to bestow upon England the best dramatic poet that ever lived, so, in its justice, it has endeavoured in some degree to counterwith the most puerile and incompetent an. balance the benefit, by afflicting the nation ly one of those individuals whose names notators and critics upon that poet. Scarce are ostentatiously appended to the comments of what is called the Variorum Edition of Shakespeare, seems to have had an idea beyond the particular word or syllable he was discussing. Yet they congratulate themselves, and belaud each other upon their fancied discoveries, with much more zeal than they bestow upon the poet. They constantly bring to one's mind Steele's that there seems to be a general combishrewd remark in the Tatler, when he says, nation among the pedants to extol one another's labours, and to cry up one another's parts."" He afterwards gives a ludicrous example of one of Steevens's explana tions. "Of course (says he) 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 you think is the ridiculous, the absurd, it-I think you must remember it? the degrading comment of Steevens upon "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-how them, but I was obliged to shape their ends. Whoever recollects the profession of Shakespeare's father, will admit that his soon 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 moments, 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 re collected 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 list he supplies of no less than one hundred and ninety-three minor poets of the reigns of Elizabeth and James; to whose names he ventures to affix a certain mark, denoting whether they were above or below mediocrity, when probably the most laborious antiquary that ever existed never had an opportunity even of seeing more than half of their productions. "That is a pretence of learning (continued Bourne) almost offensive; nor can I agree with you, that he always cites his authorities: I know that he over and over again quotes from the British Bibliographer or Restituta, without naming it, and as if he had before him the original book there reviewed. In this way he has made up his table of one hundred and ninety-three minor poets. "You quite astonish me (cried Elliot) when you talk of such a number of minor poets, not including, I suppose, many who made a greater figure in the world of letters at that time. • "Yet the minor poets, I apprehend, exceed that amount, and the major poets, (added Bourne,) some of whom are about as little known, would of themselves almost fill a library. To these the editors of Shakespeare have resorted; some of them were the first to make discoveries in this unploughed Atlantic, however insignificant may be the use they have generally made of them. Yet such a man as Mr Douce knew how to employ them in his Illustrations of Shakespeare,' and I might name others who have made industry, learning, taste, and acuteness, combine in investigating the literary history of what has been often called the Golden Age of English poetry. Among the most distinguished of these you will allow is the editor of the recent reprints of Ben Jonson and Massinger. Can you wonder then, notwithstanding the admitted disgrace brought upon the pursuit by unlearned knowledge, and the blind zeal of bibliomaniacs, who judge only of the value of books by their scarcity, that I and others, with such a field for inquiry before us, should enter upon it with ardour, in the certainty of finding something in the productions of between two and three hundred poets, and innumerable prose writers, that would well reward our Pains without toil, and labours without pain? "You make me envious of your knowledge, (returned Elliot,) if not ashamed of my own ignorance; and I should be ashamed too, if I were not aware how many thousands are in the same predicaxxviii-xxxii. ment to keep me in countenance." pp. cites Elliot's curiosity; and the following conversations pass in Bourne's library, when the friends turn over one book after another, with no great attempt at connection, and the two learned critics open upon Elliot, in a pleasant and rambling manner, the stores of their knowledge upon these subjects. The first dialogue commences with Mr Bourne taking up a little book, which, he says, is "Charles Fitzgeffrey's poem on the death of Sir Francis Drake; the production obviously of a very young man, but with a great deal about it that is both admirable and reprehensible. There are few pieces that have greater defects or more striking beauties. The title-page is this, Sir Francis Drake, his Honorable Life's commendation, and his Tragicall Deathe's laIt was printed at Oxford, by Joseph Barnes, in the year 1596." mentation.' A great many digressions spring from this text; the conversation is on fifty other subjects besides the poem in question, though it always returns to it, and in a pleasing way introduces specimens and critical observations. The following is a good example of the style in which it is conducted. «Bourne. Here, I think, is a tolerably fair specimen of Fitzgeffrey's more restrained style. suc "Elliot. Read it. Dr Johnson, in his preface to Shakespeare, says, that those who endeavour to recommend our great dramatist by select passages, would ceed like the pedant in Hierocles, who, when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen ;' but in criticising every work this is more or less unavoidable. "Bourne. Dr Johnson alludes to mere sententious quotations, detached from all the connecting portions of the scene; our extracts shall be longer. "Elliot. The Brit. Bibl. did not even present us with a brick of the house: the writer of the article thought it necessary to bring only the branch of a tree that grew before it the dedicatory sonnet. "Bourne. What I am about to read is from the body of Fitzgeffrey's poem. O dire mischance! O lamentable losse ! O now I see she smiles but to beguile! As heauens hard eares; therefore do we plaine, And therefore weepe because we weepe in vaine !' "Elliot. I confess that what you have just read seems to me but a few degrees above mediocrity; nor do I see much of that ambitious effort of which you spoke. "Morton. The last stanza appears to me the best. I am pretty sure that I have seen somewhere plagiarised that line, And therefore weep because we weep in vain ;' the copier has, I think, a little altered it, And weep the more because we weep in vain.' "Bourne. It is familiar also to my ear. I will give you a quotation or two presently, in rather a more animated and aspiring style. "Elliot. In what you read just now there is an obvious anxiety to say some thing good, without the accomplishment. "Bourne. We ought to recollect that in all poems of this kind, on the deaths of persons in high stations, with whom the writer in all probability is unconnected, there must be more or less of what appears forced and unnatural; a pumping up for tears, sighs, and groans, and this defect belongs to Fitzgeffrey: even George Chapman, one of the most eloquent writers of that day, and a little later, and a fine majestic poet, betrays the same fault upon as fine a subject as could well be chosen, I mean in his Epicede on the death of Henry Prince of Wales,' 1612. "Morton. There is a poetical and a private grief, if one may so say; in proportion as the last prevails, the first cannot operate a good poem on a subject of this kind is the result of strong feeling, no doubt, but it must not be immediately actcd upon: the mind must be something like the sea, which still continues its noble "Elliot. Very just. A good poem of this kind is the effect not merely of passion, but of reflection-of feeling regulated by thought: while passion rages, reflection, of course, is banished; the helm and rudder are carried away in the storm. 6 "Bourne. Fitzgeffrey's lines have had the effect of making you both figurative and poetical: the first is the most new, and the last, perhaps, the most applicable. But to advert for a moment to the subject of plagiaries, which you mentioned just now, I will show you one of the most impudent I ever remember, and which I discovered only the other day. Here is Feltham's Resolves,' a book you well know, the third edition, bearing date in 1628. In the address to the reader is this passage: I haue so vsed them' (authorities and quotations) as you may see I do not steale but borrow. If I do, let the Reader trace me, and if he will or can, to my shame discouer; there is no cheating like the Felony of Wit: Hee which theeves that, robbes the Owner, and coozens those that heeare him :' an excellent sentiment, expressed with the force and terseness that belong to Feltham. Here, on the other hand, is a book called the Drunkard's Character, or a true Drunkard with such sins as raigne in him,' &c. by R. Junius, and the date, observe, is 1638, ten years after the third edition of Feltham's Resolves: the first sentence of the Dedication to Bishop Hall, the satirist, is this: I see many make vse of your lines, few acknowledge, none return to giue thanks: but no cheating like the fellony of wit, for he which thecues that, robs the owner, and coosens all that heare him." "Elliot. A most unblushing thief and cheat by his own confession; at the moment too, when this Mr R. Junius was accusing others of making use of Hall's lines without acknowledgment. "Bourne. Yet Junius's book has many eloquent passages in it, and, upon the whole, merits much of the praise bestowed npon it by the Rev. Mr Todd, in the introductory matter to his new edition of Johnson's Dictionary, where he devotes the following sentence to the Drunkard's Character: An octavo of near 900 pages, in many of which are very acute and forcible passages and descriptions, It is dedicated to Bishop Hall, to whom, as to other authors, he professes his obligations; commencing his address with this just and pithy remark,' quoting the very words stolen from Feltham. Had the reverend editor been aware of the theft, he might have been less sparing of his applause of the thief. "Elliot. And might have entertained some doubt whether some other acute and forcible passages' might not also have been bare-faced plagiaries. "Bourne. Among all the authors cited by Mr Todd, there is not one who receives such lengthy and distinguished approbation as R. Junius. "Morton. I have been turning over the leaves of his book, and I find here a curious passage on which Cowley may have founded his Naufragium Joculare. "Elliot. Indeed; let us hear it. "Morton. And have you not heard what Athenæus relates, how a tavern was, by the fancy and imagination of a drunken crew, turned into a gally; who, having a tempest in their heads, caused by a sea of drinke within, verily thought this taphouse on land a pinnace at sea, and the present storm so vehement, that they unladed the ship, throwing the goods out at window, instead of overbord, calling the constable Neptune, and the officers Tritons; whereupon some got under the tables, as if they lay under hatches, another holding a great pot for the maste; all crying out, that so many brave gentleman should be cast away.' "Bourne. It is not very likely that this should have given the hint to Cowley, as his Latin play was printed in the same year, 1638; he might have read the original, or most probably he had seen Thomas Heywood's play, The English Traveller,' (1633,) in which the scene described by Athenæus is humorously brought upon the stage. "Elliot. But, methinks, we are at sea ourselves, and shall soon be beyond our reckoning: if we go out of our course for the sake of giving chase to pirates in this way, we shall never reach the end of our present voyage-the end of Fitzgeffrey's poem. "Morton. Our pilate led us out of our track. "Bourne. I beg pardon; the crew mutinied, and ran away with the ship :-however, the joke is not worth keeping up; we are now again in a direct course, with the greatest navigator of the world to steer us Sir Francis Drake. "Elliot. Do not suppose from my interruption, that I am generally averse to these digressions, excepting when we are really wandering too far. C'est être,' (observes Montaigne,) mais ce n'est pas vivre, que se tenir attaché et obligé par necessité à un scul train.' "Bourne. I think so too, but the difficulty is first to fix bounds, and afterwards to observe them." pp. 22-28. We believe we must here fix our bounds for the present; but we are happy to think that this amusing and well-written "Much ado about No |