and went in quick succession, all brilliant, all attractive. From the beginning to the end there was no repose; and we begin to suspect that when we are able, in a calmer mood, to view the whole picture together, the constant and dazzling light will appear excessive; and we shall need, what a more perfect art would have supplied, intervals of rest-rest which a more sedate and quiet narrative would, from time to time, have afforded. The illustration here taken from the sister art of painting we believe accurate, and, for the moment, useful, because it gives our criticism a sort of palpable existence, and will enable others at once to decide whether their feelings have been the same as our own. The epigrammatic style employed throughout the work appears to great advantage, and is, indeed, then perfectly appropriate, when individuals are to be described, and their habits of thought and feeling, their moral and mental character, have to be brought vividly before the reader. In his delineation of the numerous actors in this vast drama, Mr. Macaulay shines with a steady, clear, and almost unequalled lustre. His spirit is, however, well under control, and he is never unjust for the sake of his epigram. From Sharpe's Magazine. LITERARY IMPOSTURES OF WILLIAM HENRY IRELAND. THE Shakspeare forgeries of William Henry Ireland form a curious, if not very edifying passage in the literary history of the last century. An imposture on a grander scale was never conceived or executed; and perhaps we may add, with all respect to the learned celebrities who were deceived by it, that dupes more easily satisfied, more credulous and unsuspecting, were never met with. It must be admitted that a very opportune period, was chosen for the imposition; and, taking into consideration the youth of the individual by whom it was perpetrated that he had not at the time attained his twentieth year-it must also be confessed that it was carried out with considerable cleverness and ingenuity. William Henry Ireland was the son of a gentleman who is known as the author of several Picturesque Tours, and some illustrations of Hogarth-a man of considerable taste, and an ardent admirer of Shakspeare. He had been articled to an attorney, and having daily opportunities of inspecting ancient deeds and writings, he seems to have occupied his leisure, first in deciphering, and afterwards in copying and imitating them. Possessed of this dangerous talent, his father's reverence for the great English dramatist, and his own ambition for distinction, suggested to his mind the daring scheme of imposture by which he has rendered himself remarkable. From an attentive examination of the authentic signatures of Shakspeare, he soon learned to imitate the character of his handwriting with facility; and from time to time presented his father with scraps of manuscript, to account for the possession of which he invented a most romantic and improbable story. One of the earliest of these forgeries was "Shakspeare's Profession of Faith;" a document intended to prove that the great dramatist was a Protestant. The papers were soon shown to many learned individuals. Among others, they were inspected by Dr. Parr, and young Ireland could hardly repress his feelings of exultation when he heard that great man say to his father, in his presence, "Mr. Ireland, we have many fine things in our Church-service, and our Litany abounds with beauties, but here is a man has distanced us all." For a long time Ireland made almost daily additions to his pretended discoveries. Was it possible that his father had no suspicion of their origin, and was he entirely deceived by the monstrous assertions of his clever, but unprincipled son? The appearance of the manuscrips went far to prove their genuineness. The color of the inkthe water-marks in the paper, deceived the eyes of the most practiced antiquaries. The precious relics were regarded with reverence and almost superstitious awe. Mr. Boaden, a gentleman of great dramatic taste, in a pamphlet written at a subsequent period to expose the fraud, was not ashamed to con 1849.] LITERARY IMPOSTURES OF WILLIAM HENRY IRELAND. fess that he first beheld the papers with a tremor of the purest delight, touched the invaluable relics with reverential respect, and deemed even existence dearer, as it gave him so refined a satisfaction." A number of literary gentlemen and patrons of literature met at Mr. Ireland's house, and voluntarily subscribed their names to the following document: "We, whose names are hereunto subscribed, have, in the presence and by the favor of Mr. Ireland, inspected the Shakspeare papers, and are convinced of their authenticity." Amongst the signatures are those of Dr. Parr, Herbert Croft, Dr. Valpy, Henry James Pye, (poet-laureate,) and James Boswell, the biographer of Johnson. It is further stated that Mr. Boswell, previous to signing his name, fell upon his knees, and, in a tone of enthusiasm and exultation, thanked God that he had lived to witness the discovery, and exclaimed that he could now die in peace. One of the ablest critics of the day, however, remained unconvinced. This was Mr. Malone, the ingenious and indefatigable editor of Shakspeare, who professed from the first a contemptuous disbelief in the socalled "discoveries," but intimated that he would not deign to notice them till they had been made public. He kept his word. When the famous documents were published, he addressed a letter to Lord Charlemont, in which he satisfactorily proved and exposed the fraud. It is rather amusing to find the great English advocate, Erskine, a devout admirer and diligent reader of Shakspeare, and whose course of study and practice at the bar must have made him thoroughly conversant with all the rules of evidence, thus expressing himself with regard to these papers, and Mr. Malone's incredulity: "I went to-day to Ireland's from curiosity, and having heard from several quarters that the new Shakspeare was a forgery, and having seen an advertisement from Malone on the subject, all I can say is, I am glad I am not the man who has undertaken to prove Mr. Malone's proposition; for I think I never saw such a body of evidence in my life to support the authenticity of any matter which rests upon high authority. I am quite sure a man would be laughed out of an English court of justice who attempted to maintain Malone's opinion in the teeth of every rule of probability acknowledged for ages as the standard for investigating truth." Believing himself possessed of a most invaluable treasure--in spite of the protestations of his son, who dreaded and foresaw VOL. XVI. NO. III. 27 417 the exposure of the fraud-Mr. Samuel Ireland determined on publishing the "discoveries," and in the year 1796 printed a large proportion of them in a fine folio volume, under the title of "Miscellaneous papers and legal instruments under the hand and seal of William Shakspeare, including the tragedy of King Lear, &c., in the possession of Samuel Ireland." A very slight examination of this volume would, it has been thought, have shown the transparency of the fraud. The orthography adopted by Ireland was ludicrously inaccurate. The redundancy of consonants in nearly every word had a very grotesque appearance, and was by no means charaeteristic of the age of Shakspeare. Thus, for "one gentleman," the orthography is "owne gennetellemanne." Although Shakspeare had "little Latin," he would never have committed the blunder of "Glosterre exitle," (for exit.) The concluding lines of Lear's denunciation of his daughter Without wishing unnecessarily to multiply examples of this ridiculous orthography, we will quote the title of King Lear, as it appears in the volume. "The tragedye of Kynge Leare isse fromme Masterre Holinshedde. I have in somme lyttle departedde fromme hymme, butte thatte libbertye will notte I truste be blamedde bye mye gentle readerres." "Gentle readers," we need not remind our readers, were not appealed to by the dramatists of Shakspeare's time, whose great object was to prevent their works from from being printed, and thus getting into the hands of rival companies. The mode in which Ireland accounted for the possession of the manuscript of Lear and other treasures is so curious, (perhaps the proper word would be impudent,) that we cannot help referring to it. He drew up a deed, in which he represented Shakspeare bequeathing them to one of his ancestors, an intimate friend of the poet, in acknowledgment of a special service he had rendered him. Divested of its grotesque orthography, the document, after the usual preamble, runs thus: "Whereas, on or about the 3d day of the last month of August, having with my good friend Master William Henry Ireland and others taken boat near unto my house aforesaid, we did purpose going up the Thames, but those that were so to conduct us being much too merry through liquor, they did upset our aforesaid barge. All but myself saved themselves by swimming, for though the water was deep, yet our being close nigh to shore made it little difficulty for them knowing the aforesaid art. Master Ireland not seeing me did ask for me, but one of the company did answer that I was drowning; on the which he pulled off his jerkin and jumped in after me. With much pains he dragged me forth, I being then nearly dead, and so he did save my life, and for the which service I do hereby give him as followeth first, my written play of Henry the Fourth, Henry the Fifth, King John, King Lear, as also my written play never printed, which I have named King Henry the Third,” &c. One would think that to have believed all this required a greater degree of credulity than usually falls to the lot of critics. An original letter, purporting to have been written to Shakspeare by Queen Elizabeth, is a forgery almost equally daring. We print it as it appeared in the volume: from a short specimen, is not quite worthy "Is there in heaven aught more rare The last document we shall notice, is a "Deed of trust to John Hemminge," drawn up by Shakspeare himself, who states in the preamble, as a reason for being his own attorney, that he has "found much wickedness among those of the law," and does not like "to leave matters at their will." wena, The most daring part of the imposition, however, remains to be told. On the 2d of April, 1796, the play of Vortigern and Ro"from the pen of Shakspeare," was announced for representation at Drury-Lane Theatre. Public excitement was at its height. As the evening approached, every avenue to the theatre was thronged with anxious crowds, eager to obtain admission. When the doors were opened, there was a furious rush, and thousands, it is said, were turned disappointed away. The play had been put on the stage with unexampled "Wee didde receive youre prettye verses goode care. Mr. Kemble himself sustained the Masterre William through the hands of oure Lorde part of Vortigern. The imposition, howChambelayne ande wee doe complemente thee onne theyre greate excellence Wee shalle departe gent audience, as will appear by the following ever, was too palpable to deceive an intellifromme Londonn toe Hamptowne for the holy-characteristic account of the performance, dayes where wee shalle expecte thee withe thye beste actorres thatte thou mayste playe before ourselfe toe amuse usse bee not slowe batte comme toe usse bye Tuesdaye next asse the lorde Leicesterre wille bee withe usse. ELIZABETH R." "Thys letterre I dydde receyve fromme mye moste gracyouse Ladye Elizabethe ande I doe requeste itte maye bee kepte with alle care possyble. WM. SHAKESPEARE." Amongst the papers, also, was an amatory epistle to Anne Hatherreway," in which was enclosed a lock of the poet's hair. The letter is not long, but its affected grandiloquence is rather amusing. "I pray you," it commences, "perfume this my poor lock with thy balmy kisses, for then indeed shall kings themselves bow and pay homage to it. I do assure thee that no rude hand hath knotted it; thy Willy's alone hath done the work. Neither the gilded bauble that environs the head of majesty, no, nor honors most weighty, would give me half the joy as did this my little work for thee." There is also a paper of verses, inscribed to the same lady; the style of which, as will appear bad which appeared in the Times newpaper of 'I would this solemn mockery were o'er ! he was not allowed to proceed for several minutes." An attempt was made to announce the play for repetition, but the unanimous voice of the public having proclaimed the imposture, it was wisely withdrawn. The failure of Vortigern was a death-blow to the fraud; but it must occasion no slight surprise that such a barefaced forgery should have succeeded so far. Without possessing the genius of Chatterton, it cannot be denied that Ireland exhibited a large amount of misdirected ingenuity. At the time of the completion of Vortigern, he was only nine- | ces seemed to warrant the suspicion that teen. The play was written and transcribed father and son were equally implicated, and in secret, and at stolen intervals; and if we even the latter's solemn declaration to the may take his own word, "he appeared in contrary could not remove the impression public at the same time as much as he that had been made on the public mind. could, in order to make the world believe he was a giddy, thoughtless youth, incapable of producing the papers.' The closing scene of the comedy-for so we may style the whole affair-may be readily anticipated. Gratified by the notoriety he had acquired, Ireland was easily induced to publish a full and free confession of his fraud. He hastened to take upon himself the whole responsibility, and anxiously endeavored to exculpate his father from any participation in the imposture. It must be confessed that circumstan Mr. Samuel Ireland died in the year 1800, and it has been asserted that his days were shortened by the exposure of the shameful fraud of which he had been made the dupe. The son subsequently published in his own name many plays, novels, and poems, which are now almost forgotten. His death is recorded in the Gentleman's 'Magazine, as having taken place on the 15th of April, 1835; and it may be further stated, that up to that period he had kept, and that he carried with him to his grave, the significant soubriquet of Shakspeare Ireland. Ay, be the scandal what you will, The little spark becomes a flame, If you won't hold your tongue; Look you!-two children playing there, To keep their shuttle in the air Must strike it as they stand; And so Fame's shuttlecock would drop, From Fraser's Magazine. MEMOIR OF A SONG. "Oh, that I were the viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A breathing harmony !" I AM an old song now, and have been often sung. Mine has been a long and brilliant career; and though now put on the shelf amid the dust of departed forefathers, let me, ere I sink into annihilation, retrace the early years of my glorious being, when I flew triumphant from throat to throat, roused the heart, and filled the eyes of men with tears of gladness, sympathy, and love. I am by birth an Italian. I was created by the maestro in his twenty-fifth year. It was while rocking lazily on the moonlit lagunes of Venice that I first became conscious of existence: in the magic hall of the brain I first bestirred my wings, but found the quarters too confined for my ambitious and expanding energies. I was, however, allowed to move, as the Scotch say, "butt and ben," between the head and the heart, for from both I sprang. Ay, thy life-blood, poor Stefano, ran in my veins, with the wild fire of its burning passion, and the pathos of its sombre melancholy, indelibly impressed on the wild earnestness of my adagio and the marvellous rapture of my allegro! The author of my being had been a poet and a musician from his earliest years. In the poverty-stricken home of his father there were few opportunities for the improvement of any but such an one as Stefano. His was the heart to which all Nature speaks in her fondest and deepest tones; the airy tongue that addressed the spirit of Stefano whispered ceaselessly in the ear willing to hear, of all that was beautiful, poetic, and ennobling. Now to return to myself. Shall I tell the secrets of the brain? Shall I reveal to Mr. Faraday the electric flashes which accompanied my gradual formation in the thoughts and will of my creator? Shall I trace my being back to its first dawn, through its gradual perfecting, to the full splendor of its perfect organization, when, consigned to the throat of a great prima donna, I first spread my wings and sailed forth triumphant, conquering and to conquer? It was fully two years from the time that the first bars of my being were laid down in the brain to that when, in an hour of despair, agony, and insanity, I was put down upon paper and brought out into the world. Talk of Minerva, all ready armed, leaping, bucklered and helmeted, from the brain of Jove! what was her start into life compared to mine? In me were centred a thousand perfections, for I came adorned and crowned with Love's idolatry-an offering, a dying offering, to the only woman Stefano ever loved in his life. Of course, I was in all his secrets. Giulia was a young actress-you do not need a description of her; she is in all the London print-shops; but yet she is not now as she was then. Ah! era stella del mattin. Originally a flower-girl at Florence, she had a voice of three octaves and two notes, a head of glorious form, and a face of enchanting loveliness. At sixteen, she had the grace of a nymph and the ease of a child. She was taken in hand by old Giorgio, and taught to sing, some time before she learnt to write or read. She was the strangest girl—a mixture of vanity, vice, fascination, and good-nature; with some superstitions, that made her very diverting when she took a fit of fright about a new character. I know that she vowed fifteen pounds to St. Mark if she got through the Casta Diva, with an encore to the quick part. By the way, I have a spite at Casta Diva ever since she was preferred to me at the San Carlo. But to return. This Giulia was the very girl to drive Stefano crazy. He imagined he saw her enacting the part of Zara in his Montezuma. He followed her everywhere. He besieged her with bouquets, |