Hall is better than mony a house o' God in Scotland.' "Thus saying, Andrew led the way into the place of worship." The low vault in which the congregation met, the demeanour of old and young,-of thoughtful and inattentive, the preacher and his sermon, are all described in an inimitable style of picturing, in which, however, there is no exaggeration, but every thing is direct and plain. Here a singular circumstance occurred. "A voice from behind whispered distinctly in my ear, You are in danger in this city.'-I turned round as if mechanically. One or two starched and ordinarylooking mechanics stood beside and behind me, stragglers, who, like ourselves, had been too late in obtaining entrance. But a glance at their faces satisfied me, though could hardly say why, that none of these was the person who had spoken to me. Their countenances seemed all composed to attention to the sermon, and not one of them returned any glance of intelligence to the inquisitive and startled look with which I surveyed them. A massive round pillar, which was close behind us, might have concealed the speaker the instant he had uttered his mysterious 'caution; but wherefore it was given in such a place, or to what species of danger it directed my attention, or by whom the warning was uttered, were points on which my imagination lost itself in conjecture. It would, however, I concluded, be repeated, and I resolved to keep my countenance turned towards the clergyman, that the whisperer might be tempted to renew his communication under the idea that the first had passed unobserved. "My plan succeeded. I had not resumed the appearance of attention to the preacher for five minutes, when the same voice whispered, Listen-but do not look back. I kept my face in the same direction. You are in danger in this place,' the voice proceeded; so am IMeet me to-night on the Brigg, at twelve preceesely-keep at home till the gloaming, and avoid observation.' Here the voice ceased, and I instantly turned my head. But the speaker had, with still greater promptitude, glided behind the pillar, and escaped my observation. I was determined to catch a sight of him, if possible, and, extricating myself from the outer circle of hearers, I also stepped behind the column. All there was empty; and I could only see a figure wrap ped in a mantle, whether a Lowland cloak, or Highland plaid, I could not distinguish, which traversed, like a phantom, the Our young friend, after some consideration, determines to keep this appointment, and, in his evening walk towards the river, opportunity is again given for admirable and accurate description. Here, too, we have another specimen of Andrew, whom his master observes walking along in the meadow by the river. "To slip behind the row of trees under which I walked was perhaps no very dignified proceeding, but it was the easiest mode of escaping his observation, and perhaps his impertinent assiduity, and still more intrusive curiosity. As he passed, I heard him communicate to a grave-looking man, in a black coat, a slouched hat, and Geneva cloak, the following sketch of a character, which my self-love, while revolting against it as a caricature, could not help recognizing as a likeness. "Ay, ay, Mr Hammorgaw, it's e'en as I tell ye-He's no a'together sae void o' sense neither; he has a gloaming sight o' what's reasonable-that is anes and awa -a glisk and nae mair-but he's crackbrained and cockle-headed about his nipperty-tipperty poetry nonsense-He'll glowr at an auld warld barkit aik-snag as if it were a queez-maddam in full bearing; and a naked craig wi' a burn jawing ower't is unto him as a garden garnisht with flowering knots and choice pot-herbs; then, he would rather claver wi' a daft quean they ca' Diana Vernon (weel I wot they might ca' her Diana of the Ephesians, for she's little better than a heathen-better? she's waura Roman-a mere Roman)——— He'll claver wi' her, or ony ither idle slut, rather than hear what might do him gude a' the days o' his life, frae you or me, Mr Hammorgaw, or ony ither sober and sponsible person. Reason, Sir, is what he canna endure-he's a' for your vanities and volubilities; and he ance tell'd me, (puir blinded creature,) that the Psalms of David were excellent poetry! as if the holy Psalmist thought o' rattling rhymes in a bladder, like his ain silly clinkum-clankum things that he ca's verse. Gude help him! twa lines o' Davie Lindsay wad ding a he ever clerkit.' "While listening to this perverted account of my temper and studies, you will not be surprised if I meditated for Mr Fairservice the unpleasant surprise of a broken pate on the first decent opportunity. His friend only intimated his attention by Ay, ay,' and Is't e'en sae ?' and such like expressions of interest, at the proper breaks in Mr Fairservice's harangue, until at length, in answer to some observation of greater length, the import of which I only collected from my trusty guide's reply, ho nest Andrew answered, Tell him a bit o' my mind, quoth ye?-Wha wad be fule then but Andrew?-He's a red-wud devil, man!-He's like Giles Heathertap's auld boar; ye need but shake a clout at him to make him turn and gore. Bide wi' him, say ye?-Troth, I kenna what for I bide ' him mysell-But the lad's no a bad lad after a'; and he needs some carefu' body to look after him. He hasna the right grip o' his hand-the gowd slips through't like water, man; and it's no that ill a thing to be near him when his purse is in his hand, and it's seldom out o't. And then he's come o' gude kith and kin-My heart warms to the puir thoughtless callant, Mr Hammorgaw-and then the penny fee” At the appointed hour a stranger, "rather beneath than above the middle size, but apparently strong, thick set, and muscular," is observed walking alone upon the bridge, dressed in a horseman's wrapping coat, whom Mr Oshaldistone accosts, and finds to be the person who had spoken to him in the church. He ventures, at his request, to follow him, and, after a conversation, in which the stranger hints that he is an outlawed man, they find themselves at the door of the prison. "While he spoke thus we had reached the principal street, and were pausing before a large building of hewn stone, garnished, as I thought I could perceive, with gratings of iron before the windows. "Muckle,' said the stranger, whose language became more broadly national as he assumed a tone of colloquial freedom 'Muckle wad the provost and baillies o' Glasgow gie to hae him sitting with iron garters to his hose within their tolbooth, that now stands wi' his legs as free as the red deer's on the outside on't. And little wad it avail them; for an' if they had me there wi' a stane's weight o' iron at every ancle, I would shew them a toom room and a lost lodger before to-morrow-But come on, what stint ye for?" "As he spoke thys, he tapped a low wicket, and was answered by a sharp voice, as of one awakened from a dream or reverie, Fa's tat?-Wha's that, I wad say?—and fat a de'il want ye at this hour at een ?-clean again rules-clean again rules, as they ca' them.' "The protracted tone in which the last words were uttered, betokened that the speaker was again composing himself to slumber. But my guide spoke in a loud whisper, Dougal, man! hae ye forgotten Ha nun Gregarach ?' "Deil a bit, deil a bit,' was the ready VOL. II. and lively response, and I heard the inter nal guardian of the prison-gate bustle up with great alacrity. A few words were exchanged between my conductor and the turnkey in a language to which I was an absolute stranger. The bolts revolved, but with a caution which marked the apprehension that the noise might be overheard, and we stood within the vestibule of the prison of Glasgow, a small, but strong guardroom, from which a narrow staircase led upwards, and one or two low entrances conducted to apartments on the same level with the outward gate, all secured with the jealous strength of wickets, bolts, and bars. The walls, otherwise naked, were not unsuitably garnished with iron fetters, and other uncouth implements, which might be designed for purposes still more inhuman, antique manufacture, and other weapons of interspersed with partisans, guns, pistols of defence and offence. "At finding myself so unexpectedly, fortuitously, and, as it were, by stealth, introduced within one of the legal fortresses of Scotland, I could not help recollecting my adventure in Northumberland, and fretting at the strange incidents which again, with out any demerits of my own, threatened to place me in a dangerous and disagreeable collision with the laws of the country, which I visited only in the capacity of a stranger." In these comfortable quarters, we must leave Mr Osbaldistone for the present. Nor can we yet explain who the mysterious stranger is, or whether he has ever appeared to us before, or even introduce to the acquaintance of our readers the accomplished Baillie Jarvie, though we have no doubt they are already quite intimate with him, and all the other worthies and mysteries of the story. The only impenetrable secret, which all are gaping to discover, and which we have no means of knowing more than others, is the have long been in the habit of affixname of the author; and, though we ing it on a well known literary character, who comes into open view like the Campbell of this tale, and mingles in the familiar intercourse of society, yet the unseen Rob Roy conceals himself in the fastnesses of his retreat, and will not permit us to know whether, while he is foraging upon us, and carrying off the tribute of our admiration and applause, he is one and the same with our great and illustrious fellow-citizen. Whoever he may be, sure we are, that, in the present work, he has added another wreath to his crown, less gay and green perhaps, but of no less imperishable laurel than he has gathered from any of his preeeding performances. (To be concluded in our next.) Shakspeare and his Times: including the Biography of the Poet; Criticisms on his Genius and Writ ings; a new Chronology of his Plays; a Disquisition on the Object of his Sonnets; and a History of the Manners, Customs, and Amusements, Superstitions, Poetry, and Elegant Literature, of his Age. By NATHAN DRAKE, M. D. Author of "Literary Hours," and of "Essays on Periodical Literature." 2 Vols. 4to. pp. 735-677. London, Cadell and Davies. 1817. THE age of Shakespeare is, without doubt, the most distinguished in English literature. The genius of the nation then shot out in all its force and freedom, and if, in after times, its redundant branches were pruned away, and it assumed a character of greater compactness and regularity, yet it has never since, in any department, displayed equal vigour and fertility. This was, perhaps, the natural effect of a sudden impulse to literary exertion in a state of society far advanced in the arts of life, and in the powers of thought; but upon which the gifts of composition seemed to descend by an unexpected inspiration. In such a conjuncture, almost every one seems to think himself qualified to write on any subject, and in any manner, and is not deterred from making the attempt by the overpowering superiority of long acknowledged models. Every one, too, who writes, brings forward something from his own stores, and the style of the nation does not creep on in one cold and feeble strain of imitation. one stands in awe of criticism, while the writings of critics have not yet acquired any higher authority than those of their contemporary authors; and, in the boldness of unshackled experiment, while much extravagance and bad taste will come into play, the best scope is likewise afforded for the production of the highest efforts of genius. No This is pretty much the picture of the age in which Shakespeare lived; and he himself may be regarded as the great epitome of his age. He exhibits, in their highest perfection, all the faculties of thinking, of feeling, and of expression, which were severally divided among the great philosophers and poets of his country; and he likewise affords us specimens of all the pedantry, buffoonery, and drivelling, which overflow the pages of its minor writers. He possesses the capacity, in short, of becoming whatever his humour inclines him to at the moment; and he can either the soundness and originality of Bamake observations upon life with con, or follow out into all their amazing extent, his own peculiar powers of tragic passion, or comic representation; or else give himself up to the trifling and absurdity of the lowest and most despicable of his contemporaries. It is this variety of exhibition, no less, perhaps, than his frequent unrivalled excellence, which has made this wonderful poet so universal a favourite; and, in this view, we are really doubtful whether we should be inclined to part with any one line he has written, however preposterous and pitiful many parts of his writings must be acknowledged to be. Whatever they are, they are always pictures of his versatile and peculiar genius; and, in another view, they are pictures of his age, so that, without wading through the enormous mass of writers whom Dr Drake has enumerated in these volumes, we may almost find in Shakespeare himself a complete view of all the strength and weakness of English literature in that remarkable era. He It is a very interesting inquiry, however, what were the materials from which a genius of this character could be formed; and we are much indebted to Dr Drake for the fulness of detail with which he has entered upon this subject. has traced, in the manners and customs of the times, in the favourite authors and branches of literature most in vogue, the description of the English mind at this period; and we must return to the study of our favourite poet with much greater relish, when we see reflected from every page of his writings the spirit and the peculiarities of his nation. The facts accumulated in this work are indeed too slightly connected, both with its great subject, and with one another. We feel the want of one pervading interest throughout. When we are brought into the presence of Shakespeare, it is less to contemplate the character of his genius, than to listen to a tedious special pleading concerning the probability or improbability of some of the most unimportant events that are recorded of him; and when we quit him in pursuit of manners, usages, and contemporary writers, we forget the general design amidst a multiplicity of particulars. The work, in a word, is rather a dictionary to which it is useful to refer, than a book to be read through in any continued method; and, although the author has divided its subjects under three heads of the biography of Shakespeare, it is little matter where we begin, or in what direction we proceed. It is but just, however, that Dr Drake should explain his own method: "With a view to distinctness and perspicuity of elucidation," he says in his pre 66 face, the whole has been distributed into three parts, or pictures, entitled, Shakspeare in Stratford ;-Shakspeare in London;-Shakspeare in Retirement: which, though inseparably united, as forming but portions of the same story, and harmonized by the same means, have yet, both in subject and execution, a peculiar character to support. The first represents our poet in the days of his youth, on the banks of his native Avon, in the midst of rural imagery, occupations, and amusements; in the second we behold him in the capital of his country, in the centre of rivalry and competition, and in the active pursuit of reputation and glory; and in the third, we accompany the venerated bard to the shades of retirement, to the bosom of domestic peace, to the enjoyment of unsullied fame. It has, therefore, been the business of the author, in accordancy with his plan, to connect these delineations with their relative accompaniments,-to incorporate, for instance, with the first, what he had to relate of the country, as it existed in the age of Shakspeare; its manners, customs, and characters; its festivals, diversions, and many of its superstitions; opening and closing the subject with the biography of the poet, and binding the intermediate parts, not only by a perpetual reference to his drama, but by their own constant and direct tendency towards the developement of the one object in view. With the second, which commences with Shakspeare's introduction to the stage as an actor, is combined the poetic, dramatic, and general literature of the times, together with an account of metropolitan manners and diversions, and a full and continued criticism on the poems and plays of our bard. After a survey, therefore, of the literary world, under the heads of bibliography, philology, criticism, history, romantic and miscellaneous literature, follows a view of the poetry of the same period, succeeded by a critique on the juvenile productions cal sketch of Lord Southampton, and a of Shakspeare, and including a biographithe sonnets. new hypothesis on the origin and object of Of the immediately subsequent description of diversions, &c. the economy of the stage forms a leading feature, as preparatory to a history of dramatic poetry previous to the year 1590; and this is again introductory to a discussion concerning the period when Shakspeare commenced a writer for the theatre,to a new chronology of his plays, and to a criticism on each drama, a department the fairy mythology, the apparitions, the which is interspersed with dissertations on witchcraft, and the magic of Shakspeare: portions of popular credulity, which had been, in reference to this distribution, omitted in detailing the superstitions of the country. The second part is then termimatic character, by a brief view of dranated by a summary of Shakspeare's dramatic poetry during his connection with the stage, and by the biography of the poet to the close of his residence in London. The third and last of these delineations is unfortunately but too short, being altogether occupied with the few circumstances which distinguish the last three years of the life of our bard, with a review of his disposition and moral character, and with some notice of the first tributes paid to his memory." Our readers will easily perceive that it is scarcely possible to give a short precis of what Dr Drake has performed in the course of his voyage over this mare magnum; and we will indeed own, that we have not yet been able to follow him through all his course. We have rather left the line of his track altogether, and have hitherto done little more than trace the biography of the poet, where it can be picked out from the vast mass of matter with which it is encircled. That biography is, no doubt, most extremely meagre, and we do not think our author possesses the art of making it at all interesting, such as it is. The example of conjectural history, originally set by Shakespeare's learned commentators, and since carried to such a pitch by Mr Godwin in his Life of Chaucer, has woefully infected Dr Drake; and we have long details about the inspection of parish registers, and conjectures founded upou bits of painted glass, or manuscripts discovered between the rafters and tiling of old houses, which would be extremely tedious, if they were not ludicrous from their absurdity. The postulate with which this class of writers sets out is, that there is nothing, however trifling, which can be discovered concerning a remarkable genius, which will not fully reward the pains of the discovery; but we confess, that we are quite of a different opinion. It is interesting, no doubt, to have any fact related, however unimportant it may be in itself, concerning these great lights of the world,—and when we find a contemporary author telling us of the cut of their clothes, there is no doubt something delightful in it. The lively description given by old Fuller of the difference of the style of Shakespeare's conversation from that of Ben Jonson's, is almost the only thing that has been preserved concerning our great poet, which gives us a picture of him, and that is charming,-but to be set running through all the parish registers of Stratford, to discover some obscure name of some of his relations, or to have tedious conjectures concerning his early occupations, when there is not one distinct fact upon record to bear them out, is, we must say, about one of the lowest kinds of literary trifling. In the true style of this species of writing, the author gives us a long set of conjectures about Mr John Shakespeare, the father of our poetwho, it appears, was a woolstapler in Stratford upon Avon,-" and there is reason to suppose, in a large way, for he was early chosen a member of the corporation of his town, a situation usually connected with respectable circumstances, and soon after he filled the office of high bailiff, or chief magistrate of the body." This gentleman married the daughter and heir of Robert Arden of Wellingcote, in the county of Warwick, and from this union sprung our poet, on the 23d of April 1564. There is some uncertainty whether or no he was the eldest son,-for in the parish register there is another John Shakespeare hinted at; but truly it seems uncertain whether this second John is not one and the same with the first,-if there was only one John (the father), then William Shakespeare is the eldest son (there are two daughters before him) of the family, consisting in all of eleven. The excellent woolstapler seems at last to have fallen into reduced circumstances, for it appears (and we have this circumstance repeated over four or five times) that ten years after he had served the office of high bailiff, he was excused the weekly payment of 4d. imposed upon the aldermen, and was at last, upon the plea of nonattendance, dismissed the corporation. So far we seem to be proceeding on solid ground, when, behold, it turns out, that one of the leading reasons for supposing Mr John Shakespeare to have been a woolstapler, was the discovery of a bit of painted glass in the house in which Shakespeare was born, with the arms of the woolstaple merchants upon it. Drake is triumphant on this grand discovery, when, after recording it in the text, he is obliged to confess in a note, that this bit of glass had, it was now known, been once in one of the church windows, from which it was purloined by a glazier, who had come into possession of Shakespeare's dwelling!! Dr There is another story, that John Shakespeare was a butcher, and our author thinks it likely enough, that, in the decline of his fortune, he might take not only to shearing sheep, but to killing them. He was a mighty Roman Catholic, if a story be true of a manuscript discovered in the roof of his house, called a spiritual will, in which he recommends himself to the Virgin Mary and St Winifred, no less than to higher Beings. It is wonderful that Shakespeare's commentators have not discovered in this religious relic the first idea of the ghost of Hamlet's father. Mr John there speaks of being "cut off in the blossom of his sins," and gives a hint at purgatory, so much in the style of the ghost, that the coincidence can scarcely be quite accidental. We suspect, however, that "the fellow in the cellarage" must take the precedence in point of time to the manuscript in the garret. Our author brings many other reasons to shew, that very probably Mr John Shakespeare was a Roman Catholic,-and these, he adds, "are the very few circumstances which reiterated research has hitherto gleaned relative to the father of our poet,-circumstances which, as being intimately connected with the history and character of the son, have acquired an interest of no common nature." For our part, we have so little sensibility as to see no interest in them whatever, |