ber, 1827, and lasted only three years. | mie Française. His fame reached its highest They reappeared to give lectures, after an point towards 1827, at the time he reäsinterruption of many years, occasioned by cended, after an intermission of some years, the blind and bigoted policy of the old his chair at the Sorbonne. His eloquence Bourbons; they thus reäppeared with the reëchoed through every part of France; prestige of unjustly silenced and persecuted each of his lectures became a literary event; men. Public opinion was anxious to atone every sentence, every opinion, whatever it for this persecution, and eager to avenge might be, that fell from his lips, was hailed and glorify the popular professors. Hence, like the voice of prophecy; his influence was combined with their splendid and really su- immense. Collected by stenography, these perior abilities, the extraordinary eclat which lectures have been printed in five volumes, greeted their lecturing, the enthusiasm and of which two are on the middle ages, and influence which they produced throughout three on the seventeenth and eighteenth cenFrance and even Europe. turies. But the latter century was not completed; and some years afterwards, in 1837, he published two additional volumes, carefully composed in the closet, to supply the deficiency left in the literary history of that age. We will say something hereafter of these two volumes, which differ materially in character from the preceding.

Two thousand persons, the élite of society, but mostly young men between twenty and twenty-five years of age, crowded, long before the appointed hour, in the vast hall of the old Sorbonne, anxiously awaiting the coming of the professor, and when he was seen, they broke out in a perfect storm of plaudits. These lectures, collected by experienced phonographists, were printed by thousands in the shape of books, and spread through all Europe.

The oral lectures at the Sorbonne seemed to flow extempore. They had in effect the stamp of improvisation,-the abandon, the vivacity, the digressions, the flashes of wit Very few literary men have begun their or high flights of eloquence, which have so career as splendidly as M. Villemain. At magical an attraction. But we doubt not twenty-four years of age, he had obtained that they were carefully meditated and premany crowns from the Académie Française, pared, when at home. It was easy to perfor eulogiums upon distinguished men, Mon- ceive a deliberate order in a seeming disortaigne, Montesquieu, &c., and had won a der. But never did he avail himself of a celebrated name. The public had been sheet of paper as a help to memory. He struck with surprise and admiration in find- occasionally brought a few volumes from ing in the writings of a very young man, which to make quotations; and yet he was scarcely out of college, the purity of taste, gifted with so wonderful, so well-stocked a the maturity of thought, the superior style memory, that in a great many instances we and eloquence, which are so rarely met in a heard him deliver from memory long extracts debut. In 1816, he was appointed to the from orators or gods, without any hesitation, chair of French Literature and Eloquence at and with delightful expression and emphasis. the Faculty of Letters in Paris. He signal- He began usually in a conversational manized his advent to that position by inocu- ner, calm and dispassionate. But soon the lating criticism with a judicious compound spirit roused up, and his voice assumed an of vivacity, imagination, biography, and his- oratorical energy. His voice, sonorous, flextory; and gradually, as his studies extended ible, and vibrating, was admirably suited to over a wider circle, his ideas acquired greater the expression of strong passions, as well as energy and originality, his eloquence became to that of irony and sarcasm. He varied more glowing, and his admiration of intel- his intonations with a consummate skill; his lectual greatness more enthusiastic. His delivery kept the hearers in breathless delectures possessed in the highest degree all light. And when it is recollected that from the attractions of a fascinating conversation. these lips burst forth ingenious thoughts, witty There are no records of his lectures during allusions, profound reflections, brilliant and the first years after his appointment. Mean unexpected expositions, it will be easily conwhile, M. Villemain took an active part, at ceived how attractive and powerful was the different periods, in political affairs, and in lecture. His fluency and felicity of language that career exhibited a firm progressive spi- was extraordinary. He found always, as by rit. In 1821, he was called to the Acadé-inspiration, the proper or imaginative word,

to give to a sentence the utmost strength | first years of the empire of Napoleon. The or elegance. He excelled in biographical Emperor welcomed him in the most gracious sketches, in parallels, in great characteristics way. 'Well,' said he, one day, in a private of a literary period, as well as in what the conversation, 'you have lately left Germany; ancients call the playfulness of an orator, how did you leave your mother affected consisting of the attractive anecdote and the towards me? I have been told that she jocular sally. cordially detests me. Is there any hope that she will ever love me?' 'Sire,' replied the Count, with a respectful bow, it may be that her feelings are still confined to high admiration.' Could it be possible to find a more felicitous reply, to show respect both to truth and to high rank?"

almost encircled the globe with an uninterrupted chain of forts, factories, settlements, possessions and colonies, over which runs, like the electric fluid, the spirit of this mighty nation. And do you know how much time it took to conquer, to organize, and to secure this gigantic colonial empire? Hardly one hundred years! A wonderful, prodigious, and immense achievement!"

The professor had delivered this tableau with so much spirit and eloquence, (and alas! after twenty years, I can find only in my brain a faint and languid sketch of it,) that here he was interrupted by enthusiastic applause; upon which, assuming a stern look, he said, in a grave, but with half bantering smile: "Gentlemen, I should be much pleased to know if it is me you intend thus to applaud, or the colossean and wide-spread power of our proud rival, which I tried to delineate as an historical fact." The audience broke into a laughter, with new plaudits, and the lecturer passed on to other topics.

The originality of M.Villemain as a criticthat originality which elevated him to a position unequalled in France-was of a lofty character. Before him, criticism kept in a special narrow path, aiming solely to teach the art of writing correctly and of expressing thoughts rationally; or, if it exceeded the prescribed limits, under pretense of deducing the laws of nature, it fell into the strangest aberrations. Before him, it was either cold, didactic, and fettered, like that of Laharpe, or lyrical and highly paradoxical, like that of Diderot. He opened new and higher paths; he effected a great revolution in the history of literature.

In what consists the excellence of high critical literature? Undoubtedly in combining a profound and comprehensive knowledge of history with great powers of ima gination, in order to vivify the past. Criticism must follow the tide of ages, marking not only the vigorous intellects that speak with the action and tone of their nation and epoch, but also the political condition, whose practical influence is so powerful and universal on the development of genius. The critic, in following the stream of time, must alternately fix his eyes on the ruins he passes by and the abodes of the living; he must listen to the tumult that arises from the cities now flourishing, and note also the traces left on communities by preceding ages. Criticism, thus understood, is the history of in

tellect; it is history elucidated by the progress of arts and letters; it becomes a vast picture, presenting within its frame a succession of illustrious individuals, renowned in their day for their deeds or writings, to gether with all that has happened in the world, attended by striking and important effects, thus forming the most instructive ensemble that can be offered to the study and contemplation of mankind. Nations succeed each other; governments are established and fall to the ground; great battles have been fought in every era; all these worldly commotions reecho from the powerful intellects of each period, insomuch that criticism, or the history of letters, is the most animated part of history itself. When nations have disappeared from the earth, the literature that survives them serves as the beacon to guide explorers in the path of discovery and research.

M. Villemain was the first to feel that mere scholastic and literary inquiry could not satisfy the demands of our time, so aspiring in its objects of study, and so deeply agitated by political passions. He was the first to blend political science with art, to seek what had been the influence of an epoch on a writer, and, availing himself of a profound knowledge of history, of antiquity, and of several modern literatures, to draw historical pictures of a period, and to appreciate, with the searching impartiality of philosophy, the life and genius of an author. History with him vivities the imagination, and rhetorical precepts form but the ground-work of the picture.

M. Villemain possessed abundant sources of knowledge for his critiques, and what he drew from them, skilfully combined, formed the great material of his literary eloquence. The first of those sources consisted in a profound knowledge of antiquity and of classic authors. The second was derived from an arduous study of the Fathers of the Church, who may be said to form the Christian antiquity. After having abundantly nourished his genius with those inestimable and inexhaustible remains of human intellect, the third mine he worked was England-Milton, Shakspeare, and the English orators. Germany was overlooked. In fact, M. Villemain had, by his investigations on England, imparted an impulse so great to the study of English literature, as to be justly deemed a mighty step for France, a country that had

religious feeling, and, for that sole reason, we consider that his works are not destined to exercise a lasting influence on future generations.

before been so exclusive; and a knowledge | under the influence of the men he judges, of Germany is only now beginning to be and is partially dazzled by the splendor of generally appreciated among writers. The their talents. We think him deficient in fourth and last, but most prolific source of M. Villemain's criticisms lay in his immense historical studies; he has plunged into all the darkness of the middle ages, and proved himself as erudite an historian as able and sagacious a critic. Such is the vast stock of knowledge whence M. Villemain drew the multitude of parallels, the luminous illustrations, which characterize his lectures on French literature.

When M. Villemain takes up the pen, he ceases to be the literary orator; he no longer possesses the same vivacity nor the same style. When he writes, his phraseology is, no doubt, more polished and perfect, fitting the thought with precision; but it bears at the same time a character of frigidity or rather paleness, when compared to the vivid animation sparkling in the oral lectures. Furthermore, in general, the written style of M. Villemain is of the utmost correctness, elegance, and brightness; but it is somewhat

At the time when he gave them, the republic of letters was violently distracted by the strife of classicists and romanticists. He preserved a medium between the rival schools. Although praised by the latter, he has not shown himself duly sensible of their eulogiums; for, in his lectures on the seven-deficient at times in energy, pithiness, and teenth century, he often throws out indirect but warm reproaches on a school that had spoken irreverently of the polished language of Louis the Fourteenth's time, and even of the magnificent style of Bossuet. On the other hand, his propensity to extend the circle of literature and of language, his evident partiality for some of the most decided modern innovations, clearly absolve him from the imputation of being blindly opposed to all efforts for breaking the fetters of the old school.

vivid and soul-inspired eloquence. This is the case in the two additional volumes of M. Villemain, published within the last few years, on the eighteenth century. Nevertheless, they breathe a spirit of wholesome criticism, and abound in admirable disquisitions. There are some delightful pages on Vauvenargues, whose lofty and pensive soul is wreathed in the purest virtue; some remarkable ones on Rousseau, who is tenderly treated by the critic, notwithstanding the few partial chidings he addresses to the philosopher of Geneva towards the close of the chapter. Secondary names, as Prevost, Rollin, Louis Racine, D'Aguesseau, &c., are often revived with a peculiar charm and full appreciation of their merit.

His opinions on the eighteenth century steer equally clear of the fervent admiration entertained by many for the philosophy of that period, and, on the other hand, of the furious wrath with which it is regarded by by the brethren of the modern Catholic After the Revolution of 1830, M. Villeschool. Whilst sentiments and ideas remain main was transferred from the stage of Sorin such conflict as at present, there is nothing bonne to a higher, more splendid and influso difficult as to form a candid judgment, a ential, but somewhat dangerous theatreair appreciation of that extraordinary epoch. politics and administrative station. He beThe historical critic could not fail to appre-came a peer of France, Minister of the Public hend the great mission of this century as an intermediate agency to terminate all that belonged to the middle ages, and to prepare the way for modern society. All the thinkers of the eighteenth century were heralds of the new era; but M. Villemain scarcely seems sufficiently convinced of the error of many of those philosophers who labored to involve in one common destruction institutions founded on piety and faith, and abuses that had become burdensome and oppressive; and, however studious his efforts to attain a strict impartiality, he is nevertheless often

Instruction, and a man of political eminence and importance; but he was no longer a brilliant lecturer at Sorbonne, though he retained among his titles that of professor. The storm of 1848 having swept away the Chamber of Peers, M. Villemain renounced the political scene, to live in a quiet and literary retirement. He has scarcely attained the age of sixty. May he avail himself of his leisure to prepare and to perfect, for the enjoyment of his admirers and of the literary public, a new book of the same stamp as the former!

J. CH.

SOME SHAKSPEARIAN AND SPENSERIAN MSS.

THE LEARNING OF SHAKSPEARE.

favor. Thus, Pope and Theobald, consenting in nothing else, agree in assigning him a considerable quantity of classical learning. Upton, a man of deep and critical erudition, carried his belief of our poet's scholarship perhaps to an excess. Whalley, the learned editor of Ben Jonson, unswayed by partiality for his own hero, wrote a very able defense of his rival's skill in the languages; and the elder Colman, the translator of "Terence," found evidence in the works of Shakspeare enough to convince him that the author was not deficient in classical attainments. thorities such as these, and so numerous, ought at least to suffice to set the reader's judgment in equilibrio until he shall have time to examine the question for himself; and we believe that nothing more is necessary than an unprejudiced examination of his works, to lead to the conclusion that our

Au

HALES was a contemporary of Shakspeare, and disinterested; and if his opinion of his learning had been positive, it would have been entitled to the utmost deference. It is, however, any thing but conclusive; for it is put forward as a purely hypothetic case. "If," said he, speaking of Shakspeare's learning, "if he had not read the classics, he had likewise not stolen from them;" [a sly hit, by the way, at Ben Jonson;]" and if any topic was produced from a poet of antiquity, he [Hales] would undertake to show somewhat on the same subject at least as well written by Shakspeare." Of this testimony we make the opponents of our poet's learning a generous present. Next comes Milton; but might not the same thing, with equal truth, be applied to himself, without the slightest impeachment of his profound acquaintance with the whole range of literature, ancient and mod-poet was, to say the least, as well acquainted ern, as it was then known? The "woodnotes wild" of "Fancy's child" are as distinctly to be heard in the "Comus," the "Arcades," the "Lycidus," "L'Allegro," and "Il Penseroso" of Milton, as in the "Midsummer Night's Dream," the "Winter's Tale," the "As You Like It" of Shakspeare; and in neither case do they derogate from the scholarship of the respective poets. Rowe's opinion, founded on a vague tradition, inconsistent with the well-known facts of the case, and picked up some century too late, is a mere inference of prepossession, and is worth nothing; and as to Dr. Farmer's essay, it is really surprising how very little it contains seriously affecting the question at issue. We shall return to it presently more in detail; meanwhile, we must observe that the received opinion of Shakspeare's ignorance of the learned languages is far from having the general assent of the critics. Men of competent learning and observation have declared in favor of his erudition, however acquired; and were a true finding to be taken from the votes of the majority, the verdict would run in his

VOL. IX. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

with the writings of the ancients and such other branches of human learning as are cultivated in colleges, as if he had been a university student. We do not arrogate for him the highest attainments in the learned languages. We would not compare his learning with Thomas Heywood's, and admit him to have been as inferior to Ben Jonson in scholarship as Ben himself was probably inferior to Dr. Farmer; but, with those exceptions, we maintain (and the matter is capable of critical proof) that his works exhibit him a better classical scholar than any of his dramatic contemporaries,— Greene, Marlow, Peele, Lodge, Lylie, Nash, Duher, &c., &c.,-though they were all members of one or other of the universities, and many of them of both. We have neither time nor space for such a comparison here; nor, in fact, could it be made in any way so satisfactory as by a perusal of the productions of those worthies, contrasting them with these of our poet throughout; but whosoever will encounter such a task (as we have incidentally done) will not fail to come to the same conclusions as ourselves. If, then, he

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