into haughty is a trifle to an outrageous sophistication in the second edition of the Maid's Tragedy, In this passage the first edition reads,— that v. 2. appears "So, if he raile me not from my resolution In the next edition, instead of the second line, we find the words, "I shall be strong enough;" a sophistication which runs, I believe, through all subsequent editions, ancient and modern. No doubt the original reading is slightly corrupt, but the cure is obvious. We should read, "So if he rail me not from my resolve, As I believe he shall not, I shall fit him." The corruption in the second line resembles that in Cymbeline, iv. 2, fol. p. 388, col. 2, "Thou diuine Nature; thou thy selfe thou blazon'st" &c., where Pope's substitution of how for the second thou has been received by universal consent. In Pericles, iii. 2, the first edition has the following defective line,— "Such strong renown as time shall never.' where Mr. Dyce cures both the sense and metre by adding raze, no doubt the genuine word. The other old copies have the palpable sophistication, "as never shall decay." In the Maid's Tragedy, ii. 2, I must confess, I think Theobald was right in altering the corrupt reading of the original edition," Be teares of my story," to "Be teachers of my story." The reading of the subsequent old copies, "Tell that I am forsaken," seems to me another cool sophistication, the hint of which was given by a subsequent passage, "It is the lady's pleasure we be thus With these and similar sophistications before my eyes, I must utterly dissent from Mr. Halliwell's notion (see his pamphlet on Smothers her with Painting, page 4), that old correctors are more likely to be right than modern ones. Old readings deserve peculiar regard only when they seem to be derived from some now lost authority. If we once admit that they are mere conjectures, we give up their only claim to more than ordinary notice. A good modern critic, well versed in Shakespeare's language, would be more likely than one of the poet's contemporaries to correct his text with success, because conjectural criticism has now been cultivated for more than two centuries longer, it has been reduced to a consistent system, and its principles are well understood. What critic of the present day would dream of altering "As I believe I shall not, I shall fit him," into "I shall be strong enough "?-who would presume to propose any conjecture without being able to show with some probability how the assumed corruption was derived from the proposed new reading? I have ventured on these observations from thinking it not improbable that readers, who are accustomed to the system of recent editors, may imagine that Walker has occasionally gone too far in applying conjecture to remove the corruptions of the old copies. If, however, they carefully peruse his volumes, and strictly examine the grounds on which he has founded his opinions, I trust that their scruples on this point will gradually disappear. We should remember that it is only where our authorities are defective that it is requisite to resort to conjecture. In the criticism of the New Testament, for instance, where scholars are as much bewildered as assisted by the multitude of manuscripts, conjecture is unnecessary; one authority supplies the defects of another; the only difficulty is to select with judgment. Now, in Shakespearian criticism we have the reverse of all this. The first folio is not merely our best, but our only authority for more than half the plays; in the rest it is frequently derived from the latest and worst of a series of quartos, of which even the earliest and best, when it comes to be examined, too often turns out to be only comparatively correct. These are the foundations on which an editor of Shakespeare has to build; these are the guides whom too many critics are willing blindly to trust, rather than weigh probabilities fairly and impartially, and act according to the result. Some editors not merely leave corruptions in the text, but snatch at every shadow of a pretext to defend them as genuine readings; the more intelligent admit in their notes that this or that conjecture was probably what Shakespeare wrote, and yet with strange inconsistency leave in the text the very corruptions they condemn in their annotations. This is not the manner in which people proceed in other matters; it is only in Shakespearian criticism that they toil to do nothing, and take the trouble to cultivate knowledge without desiring that it should produce a crop of acts and deeds. It is far from my wish that the reader should take my word only for the defects of the folio. Let him turn to the preface of Mr. Dyce, who has lately given us the best text that has yet appeared of Shakespeare, and peruse the formidable list of delinquencies, far too long to insert here, which that accomplished critic has attributed to Heminge and Condell; let him turn to Mr. Hunter's testimonial, which Mr. Dyce has sanctioned by his high authority: "Perhaps in the whole annals of English typography there is no record of any book of any extent and any reputation being dismissed from the press with less care and attention than the first folio;" let him turn to Mr. Grant White's Shakespeare's Scholar, p. 6, and he will find that critic, who is most prejudiced in favour of Heminge and Condell, lamenting that "their labour of love," "this precious folio, is one of the worst printed books that ever issued from the press." After these testimonials, what shall we think of the anonymous critic, who reviewed the Old Corrector in Blackwood's Magazine, 1853, and came to the curious conclusion, "that the text of no author in the world is so immaculate as that of our great national poet, or stands in less need of emendation, or departs so little from the words of the original composer"! Surely such a critic is only worthy to associate with "the kinde Life rend'ring Politician," who exercises his philanthropy in the Hamlet of the first folio, and to pass his days on the dreadfull Sonnet of the Cliffe, That beetles o're his base " in a column of the same immaculate edition. With regard to the text of Shakespeare, the best critics have pronounced that our authorities are defective; it is in exact proportion to this defect that it is our duty to resort to conjecture. That we cannot do altogether without it, is admitted by every editor, even by those who are most disposed to extol the old copies with preposterous panegyrics. But it goes against the grain with them; they are willing to submit to any inconvenience, they eagerly snatch at at any trifling excuse, rather than frankly adopt the only available remedy. The professors of other arts are frequently exposed to serious risks, but they are willing to confront them from a reasonable hope of success. A physician would think it disgraceful to throw up a doubtful case, and let the patient perish without an effort to save him, because he was not absolutely certain of the nature of the disease. Generals and statesmen exercise their respective arts in a cloud of uncertainties, though they are well aware that not merely their own reputations, but the fates of armies and empires depend on their decisions. These men are not afraid of acting on probabilities. It is only those whose errors cannot be irretrievable, those who deal in such mighty matters as words, and syllables, and letters, and half-letters, that shrink from respon e |