and phrases, scattered through his plays, had got in some how or other, nobody could tell how, why, or wherefore, except that it was quite certain he wrote them not, because he was incapable of so doing from utter ignorance.

But as people began to direct more attention to Shakspeare, and look closely into his works, they also discovered that a vast proportion of the critical learning of the last age was flimsy and superficial; that of the two deductions stated above, the latter was ridiculous, if not impossible, and that Shakspeare, although not a profound scholar, like Jonson, had, nevertheless, a goodly smat tering of the humanities; and that his "little Latin and less Greek," lightly prized and lightly spoken of by his erudite associate and rival poet, had, nevertheless, carried him some way on the road to learning, and a tolerable distance from the starting post of ignorance. There are not many students of Shakspeare in the present age who will be inclined to echo the opinion, that Dr. Farmer's Essay is unanswerable. There can be no doubt, says he, that Shakspeare used translations freely, which were ready to his hand. We can easily believe he did. In the beginning of his career he wrote for bread rather than for fame, and was obliged to work quickly to answer the current demand, as his reputation rose and the attraction of his plays increased. His memory was most retentive, and he naturally supplied it from the readiest and the easiest sources; but he could not copy from translations which were not in existence when he

wrote, as we shall presently show, taking for our example one of the choice cases selected by Dr. Farmer.

In 1586, Pierre Le Loier, wrote in French, a treatise called "Huit Livres des Spectres, &c., se montrant sensibles aux Hommes." This book was translated into English by Zachary Jones. At page 32 is a passage quoted by Dr. Farmer, in his "Essay on the Learning of Shakspeare," to prove, among other instances, his hypothesis, that Shakspeare knew no language but his mothertongue. The passage is as follows:

"The physician Scaliger writeth how he himself knew a gentleman, his neighbour, which had in him such an antipathy at the sound of a violl, that as soon as ever he

Note in margin :

"Another gentleman of this quality lived of late in Devon, near Excester, who could not endure the playing on a bagpipe."

Now hear Dr. Farmer;-

an apology for his cruelty to Antonio, re"In the Merchant of Venice, the Jew, as hearses many sympathies and antipathies, for which no reason can be rendered'Some love not a gaping pig,

And others, when the bagpipe sings in the nose Cannot contain their urine for affection.'

"This incident Dr. Warburton supposes to have been taken from Scaliger's Exercitations against Cardan, Narrabo tibi jocosam sympathiam Regali Vasconis Equitis. Is dum viverat audito Phormingis sono, urinam illico facere cogebatur.' And, proceeds the Doctor, to make the jocular story still more ridiculous, Shakspeare, I suppose, translated Phorminx by bagpipe. Here we seem fairly caught, for Scaliger's work was never, as the term goes done into English. But luckily in an old translation from the French of Peter Le Loier, entitled 'A Treatise of Spectres; or, Straunge Sights, Visions, have this identical story from Scaliger: and Apparitions appearing unto Men,' we and what is still more, a marginal note gives us, in all probability, the fact alluded to, as well as the word of Shakspeare:- Another gentleman of this quality lived of late in Devon, near Excester, who could not endure playing on a bagpipe.' My edition, (adds Dr. Farmer in a note,) is in 4to. 1605, with an anonymous dedication to the king; the Devonshire story was, therefore, well known in the time of Shakspeare."

Admirable reasoning, and inevitable conclusion! Now, mark how a simple fact shall put this down. No translation of Le Loier's book ever appeared, but this one by Zachary Jones, and that not before 1605. There were two editions of the Merchant of Venice, containing the passage referred to, printed in 1600. It is, therefore, clearly impossible, that a book written in 1600 could borrow any thing from one written five years later. Both these books were in Dr. Farmer's library, as appears by the sale catalogue, 1798; therefore he knew the fact, although he chose to Burke it. When men, otherwise rational, get fairly astride on a pet theory, they gallop away nearly as far, and quite as recklessly, as the "beggar on horseback," according to the old proverb.

The pedigree of the interesting antipathy, which has caused all this discussion, is as clearly proved through the French, up to the Latin progenitor, as if the registry had been extracted (and the fees duly paid) from the Herald's office; but for aught that Dr. Farmer shows to the contrary, Shakspeare adopted it from Le Loier or Scaliger, either of whose treatises he could read in the original as easily as the Master of Emmanuel himself. These Oxford and Cambridge illuminati are prone to think, that no man has any right to claim knowledge of Greek or Latin, unless he has A.M. or A.B. at- | tached to his name. According to their doctrine, the degree alone legitimizes knowledge. The greater part of them grind for that same degree, plod through a prescribed course, and seldom look at any classic not included in the regular routine. And so they take high honors and pass for learned men. A friend of mine once quoted "Suetonius," a very common book, in conversation with a graduate of a college, and he frankly confessed to him he had never read that author; he was not in the course, and he had no time to go out of it. Many a "poor scholar" has a greater "bottom" of learning, as Dr. Johnson would have called it, than half the dignitaries with flowing robes and sounding titles. The principal of the College of Louvain, quoted by Goldsmith, is, perhaps, not a solitary case of the latter:

"You see me, young man, I never learned Greek, and I don't find that I have ever missed it. I have had a doctor's cap and gown without Greek; I have ten thousand florins a year without Greek; I eat heartily without Greek, and in short, as I don't know Greek, I do not believe there is any good in it."

Eugene Aram was master of nearly every known language, and profoundly skilled in logic, mathematics, philology, and antiquities. Scholars wrote to him from all parts of the world, and learned travellers came to consult the obscure and humble student in his abode of lonely poverty; yet he had never been within the walls of a college, and erected his pyramid of learning on a foundation created by himself. Equally sad and extraordinary is the fact, that he left nothing behind him, save a defence "too ingenious for truth," as was observed on his

trial, and the memory of a dreaming life, terminated by the hands of justice on a public scaffold.*

Dr. Maginn, who handled Dr. Farmer's Essay very severely in a series of papers in Fraser's Magazine, (1839,) maintains that "Scaliger was much more read in the days of Elizabeth than any ordinary dipper into books in the present day may be inclined to imagine." Commenting on this same passage of Farmer's, which we have selected, he, at the same time quotes another from Love's Labor Lost, with a note by Warburton, (which Farmer has entirely passed over,) to show, as he does clearly, that it was far more probable Shakspeare had read Scaliger, than any thing adduced on the opposite side can prove he was unable to do so. Maginn appears to have been unacquainted with either Le Loier, or his translator, and, probably, had never seen or heard of the edition of the Merchant of Venice in 1600; consequently, he could not avail himself of the dates we have referred to above. This is to be regretted. An argument, or assertion, refuted by a fact, and proved to be impossible, is strangled at once; whereas if only overthrown by superior logic it may “rise and fight again," according to Hudibras, and will always find advocates. There never was either case or character so utterly abandoned as to be "left alone in its glory," without a single supporter. It is useless to oppose reasoning to reasoning; the process is interminable. You may beat your man, but you will never finish him. He will return to the charge, again and again; you may knock his brains out long before he will confess that you have conquered him by argument.+ Your only chance of de

* We do not infer from any of this, that there is not good sound learning in colleges; we only wish to show there may be some elsewhere, and that Shakspeare may have had a little.

If he is a Kaffir, he will survive even that, and

prove, in opposition to Shakspeare, "that when the brains are out, the man will (not always) die." We have been assured by an officer of undoubted credibility, who served in the last Kaffir war, that some of the prisoners reported to be dying under eight or ten mortal wounds, including fractured skulls, escaped to the bush, when supposed to be unable to move, and were found in a day or two after as active and dangerous as ever. unquestionably, is more difficult to kill than a cat, and has as many lives. Let those decide who can speak from practical experience.

A Kaffir,

cisive victory is by facts. If you build a house upon a hill, there is a plain fact which nobody can dispute; but if you are rash enough to say, that is a good house, you are immediately told it is a bad one; and up springs a thirty years' war of controversy, likely to outlast both builder and edifice. In early life (I won't say how many years ago) I undertook to instruct the most determined matter-of-fact-man I ever knew, in mathematics, in return for a counter service. I had failed with two before, but they were imaginative, not practical, and I left them to their flights. At that time I was an enthusiast in mathematics, (which I have entirely lost since,) and rejoiced in the new subject. "This is the man I want," said I, "a reasoning being, who will be convinced by reason." I went to work, but to my utter amazement and horror, he broke down obstinately on the threshold. He never could be brought to understand or admit that a straight line was the shortest possible distance between two points. "It was an assumption," he said, "not a fact;" | he "couldn't conceive it!" "Do not twoand-two make four ?" said I, "is not that a fact?" "No," replied he, "it is a mere conventional arrangement, accepted for convenience." I went on, hoping to convert him in time, but to every quod erat demonstrandum, he retorted, "Humbug! D your reasonings. Give me facts." Poor fellow he got a fact soon after, and an astounding one, in the form of a grape-shot in the abdomen, in one of the battles in America, which wound up his earthly cogi

tations in ten minutes.

I once heard a very able logician handle the arguments of a subtle opponent one by one, and shiver them like glass, as I, and all the listeners thought, who were astonished at his powers of conviction, and wondered what his adversary could advance in reply. "He is floored," whispered one; "he has not a leg to stand on," murmured another. When his turn came, he looked thick and stolid, and said, with most imperturbable collectedness, "I have only this to observe -I differ with you, entirely." I thought if the other had knocked him on the head in- | continently, and I had been on the inquest after, I should have found a verdict of justifiable foolicide. From that moment I determined, whenever I got hold of a fact in reply

to an argument, to cleave to it, as man and wife ought to do, "till death do us part."

Dr. Maginn's three papers in refutation of Dr. Farmer are very logical, acute, and convincing. As far as argument can go, they are sufficient. If they do not thoroughly establish the learning of Shakspeare, they demolish the theories set up to prove his ignorance. They settle the question negatively, if not positively-a little too acrimonious in personal expression, the besetting sin of all controversialists, and a very supererogatory one when you are strong on the right side. Shave your opponent as closely as you like, but let your razor be as polished as it is keen. Violence and illtongued invective imply a conviction in your own mind of being in the wrong, and convey the same impression to the minds of all who read or listen. Dr. Johnson, sometimes, in the pride of argumentative superiority, used to take the wrong side on purpose, and when beaten, retreated on vehemence and abuse. "There's no reasoning with you, sir," said Goldsmith once, most happily, "when your pistol misses fire, you knock one down with the butt-end."

Poor Maginn was a man of much scholastic acquirement-brilliant, witty, and acute. He was fond of Shakspeare, and wrote in Bentley's Miscellany a series of articles on some of his most prominent characters; in many respects they are among the best that have been written, but like all who have grappled with Shakspeare, he made mistakes, as we shall endeavor to show in two or three instances. He says, himself:

"I have been accused by some who have taken the trouble of reading these papers, that I am fond of paradoxes, and write not to comment upon Shakspeare, but to display ble side of every question. But I have given logical dexterity in maintaining the untenamy reasons, sound or unsound as they may be, for my opinions, which I have said, with old Montaigne, I do not pretend to be good, but to be mine."

There is less logic than epigrammatic smartness in the last sentence. Extensive indeed is the range, and thoroughly opposite the views, which endless criticism has embraced in examining the creations of Shakspeare. Take the single character of Lady Macbeth as a sample. Dr. Johnson pronounces her an ogress, Mrs. Jameson is inclined to make her amiable, Dr. Maginn de

ual."

In a very lively paper on the character of Iago, Dr. Maginn says, "He is the sole exemplar of studied personal revenge in the plays." Shylock occurs to him immediately, but he says, "In Shylock, the passion is hardly personal against his intended victim, the hatred is national and sectarian." Let us try this opinion by the text, the only sound way of finding out the real character. Shylock, speaking of the man he loathes, Antonio, thus expresses himself:

"I hate him, for he is a Christian."

So far the feeling is, as Dr. Maginn calls it, national and sectarian. But what follows:

"But more for that in low simplicity,

He lends out money gratis, and brings down
The rate of usance here with us in Venice.
If I can catch him once upon the hip,

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him;
He hates our sacred nation, and he rails
(Even there where merchants most do congre-
gate)

On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,
Which he calls interest. Cursed be my tribe
If I forgive him."

Here is one line for the sectarian feeling, and ten most pungent ones for the individual hatred, arising from distinctly individual injury.

While closely investigating the character of Iago, after some preliminary reasoning, he draws this conclusion:

"We accordingly find that Iago engages in his hostilities against Othello, more to show his talents than for any other purpose. He proudly lauds his own powers of dissimulation, which are to be now displayed with so much ability

"When my outward action doth demonstrate The native act and figure of my heart, In compliment extern, 'tis not long after But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at. I am not what I am.'" According to Dr. Maginn's showing, he makes his revenge subservient to his dissim

ulation, rather than his dissimulation the means through which to obtain his revenge. Now, we take the latter to the fact, as proved by the context. He does not speak of his talent for duplicity at all, until replying to a remark of Roderigo, in answer to his direct question, after stating his hatred of Othello:

"Iag.-Now, sir, be judge yourself,

Whether I in any just term am affined
To love the Moor?

Rod.-I would not follow him, then!
Iago-Oh, sir, content you,

I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.
Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,
But seeming so, to my peculiar end;

For when my outward action doth demon-
strate," &c., &c., &c.

Then we have Cassius, who struck more

love of Rome. Brutus abhorred the dictator, but Cassius hated the man, and sought revenge for personal injury. And what becomes of Don John, in Much Ado About Nothing, who weaves a tangled web of mischief to be revenged on Claudio, for, as he supposes, unfairly supplanting him with his brother? "That young start-up," says he, “hath all the glory of my overthrow; if I can cross him any way, I bless myself every way." And again, “I am sick in displeasure to him, and whatsoever comes athwart his affection, ranges evenly with mine. Only to despite them, I will endeavor any thing." If this is not unmixed personal revenge, what is it? And yet Dr. Maginn reiterates, Iago is the only example in Shakspeare of |

:

"It is plain that he does not pretend to lay any great stress upon this, nor can we suppose that even if it were true, it would deeply affect him; but he thinks lightly of women in general, and has no respect whatever for his wife."

The latter part of this opinion may be correct, but it astonishes us not a little that a perspicuous writer, with the text before him, should fall into such an error as to say Iago lays no great stress on his jealousy, and that it scarcely affects him. How does the case stand by his own words? stating the rumor he says:

"I know not if 't be true,
But I, for mere suspicion in that kind,
Will do as if for surety."

After

"I do suspect the lusty Moor

Hath leapt into my seat, the thought whereof
Doth, like a pois'nous min'ral, gnaw my inwards,
And nothing can, nor shall, content my soul,
Till I am even with him-wife for wife!"

We know not how language can express with more distinct intensity the deep impression this rumor has left on the mind of Iago, or the powerful manner in which he is affected by it. If Shakspeare did not mean this, what did he mean, or why is it so plainly indicated?

One remark more before quitting this subject. Why do actors in general make Iago rude almost to brutality, on the few occasions when he discourses with Emilia alone, through the play? They represent him as uniform and studied in his politeness to every one else, but uncivil to his wife. This is very contrary to the systematic hypocrisy with which he conceals his real character and feelings from all the world, save only from himself. If he threw off his mask before his wife, she would, as soon as she suspected him, endeavor to put her mistress on her guard, which she never does, not because she is afraid, but because she has no suspicions of her husband. She merely calls him "wayward," and wishes to please him. When his real villainy is exposed at last, she is quite as much astonished as either his victim or the bystanders. He has imposed on her, as he has on all the world, which would have been impossible had his common deportment towards her been such as his stage representatives are prone to indulge in.

matic purposes, to relieve and carry his dark, unrelenting wickedness through five long acts, without utterly nauseating the audience. They are the artificial lights made use of by the painter, to prevent his portrait being all shadow.

In commenting on Shakspeare's characters, as on the disputed passages in his plays, I have always thought difficulties have been created where they never existed, and meanings ascribed to him which he never had a notion of. His genius is as varied and prolific as nature itself, but has no tendency to the obscure and unintelligible. There is nothing mysterious or complicated either in the structure of his mind, or the expression of his thoughts. With him, grandeur and simplicity appear combined without effort, and whether in a highly finished portrait or a mere sketch, there is always the same individuality and distinctness. Some of the passages on which the longest explanatory notes have been written require them the least, and are not at all improved by the supposed emendations. In nine cases out of ten they are merely errors of the press, arising from want of revision or the carelessness of the printer. A quaint annotator, Zachariah Jackson, who had been a printer, made some ingenious solutions, founded on this theory, in a volume called "Shakspeare's Genius Justified;" but after the example of more pretending expounders, he so enlarged his corrections, that what began in reason ended in extravagance and absurdity.

From "Bentley's Miscellany."

THE EXPEDITION TO CHANTEMERLE