line only, but the different nice and innumerable points within it, at all that the variation of tints, and the endless combination of light and shade can express. So it was with Shakspeare, he perceived at one glance, and intuitively comaprehended all the inexhaustible varieties of life. To copy only what another designs, is to render superiour perspicacity in vain; and neither the poet nor the painter can hope to excel, who is contented to reflect, or to seek for nothing in nature which others have not found.

But there are beauties in Shakspeare, not relative; powers that he did not imagine, but create. He was as another nature. He represents not only actions that were not performed, but beings that did not exist. Yet to those beings, he assigns not only faculty, but character, he gives them not only peculiar dispositions, but characteristick modes of expressing them; they have character, not merely from the passions, and understanding, but from situation and habit. Caliban and Ariel, like Shal low and Falstaff, are not more strongly distinguished in consequence of different natures, than of different circumstances.

As there was no poet to seduce Shakspeare to imitation, there was no critick to restrain his extravagancies; yet we find the force of his own judgment sufficient to rein his imagination, and to reduce to a system the world he had made!

Does any one now inquire whether Shaks peare were learned? Do they mean whether

he knew how to call the same thing by severalnames? For learning, with respect to lan guages, teaches no more. Learning, in its best sense, is only nature at the rebound! It is only the discovery of what it is ; and who looks upon nature with a penetrating eye, derives learning from its source; rules of poetry have been deducted from examples, and not examples from rules. As a poet, therefore, Shakspeare did not need books; and in no instance, where he needed them as a philosopher or an historian, does he appear ignorant of what they teach.

His language, like his conception, is strongly marked with the characters of nature it is bold, figurative, significant; his terms, rather than his sentences, are metaphorical; he calls an endless multitude, a sea, by a happy allusion of the perpetual succession of wave to wave and he immediately expresses opposition, by taking up arms! His language will be found that in which a figurative and rapid conception → will always be expressed. In a word, the language both of the prophet and the poet ofte native eloquence, and of divine inspiration!

It has been objected to Shakspeare, that he wrote without any moral purpose; but I boldly reply, that he has effected a thousand! He did not, indeed, always contrive a series of events, from the whole of which some moral purpose may be inferred; but he has contrived some rule of conduct, some principle of knewa

ledge, not only in every speech of his dialogue, but in every incident, character and event.

Thus great was Shakspeare, as he appears in his works. But in himself, he was greater still. The genius in every art has an idea of perfec tion, which he cannot attain. This idea, be-: yond what others feel, and a perpetual effort to reach it, produced that excellence which distinguishes his works. But Shakespeare appears to have despised his performances, when he compared them, not only with his ideas, but with his powers; for how else can we account for his taking no care to collect them? When he saw part of them incorrectly published by others, heneither amended the faults nor,secured the rest from the same injury. It appears, therefore, "that he judged those works unworthy of being preserved, by restoring and explaining which, the criticks of succeeding ages were to contend for fame!"

Thus, without the incentive of future reputation, without any other exertion of his powers, than what would satisfy an audience, wholly unacquainted with the rules of the drama, he has excited universal admiration, as the sun becomes glorious, by the spontaneous effusion of his rays.i

Is there any here, whose attention has been fixed; whose imagination. filled; and whose passions moved by other scenes, as they have been fixed, moved and filled by the scenes of Shakspeare. If there be any, speak for him have I offended.

To feel the powers of Shakspeare, is at once pleasure and praise. When we express these şensibly, therefore, by an act of homage to his memory, we erect a monument of honour to to ourselves. To ourselves indeed, and to posterity. To posterity, whom we stimulate to excellence by the hope of fame, all that we offer to the manes of Shakspeare, must eventually relate. In these fields, where we are pleased with the notion of doing him honor, he is mouldering into dust!

• Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.'

5

How awful is the thought! If I speak, it must be in my own character and in yours. We are men; and we know that the hour approaches with silent and irresistible rapidity, when we also shall be dust! We are now in health and at ease; but the hour approaches when we shall be sensible only to sickness and to pain; when we shall perceive the world gradually to fade from our sight, and to close our eyes in perpetual darkness. These truths we know to be indubitable and important, yet they are sometimes forgotten, and, stranger still, are sometimes remembered with indifference! Let one, by whom the poet of Avon has so often touched the heart with imaginary woe, be now forgotten, if, unassisted by his language or his thoughts, I have tried the force of reality and truth. If, at this moment, we not only know, but feel, that where Shakspeare 2...VOL. 4.

is, we shortly shall be, let us preserve that sacred sensibility which will never embitter the enjoyments of life, if it effectually remind us of its use!

MEMOIRS OF MRS. CHAPONE.
Written by Mrs. Barbauld.

So may some gentle Muse,

With lucky words favour my destined uro,
And as he passes turn,

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.

MRS. Chapone, who died, December 25th, 1801, in her 75th year, has long been known to the publick, as an elegant and highly moral writer. The first productions of hers which were given to the world, were the interesting story of Fidelia in the Adventurer, and a Poem, prefixed to her friend Mrs. Carter's translation of Epictetus; but her name only became known on the publication of a deservedly popular work, Letters on the Improvement of the Mind, addressed to a Young Lady. This was printed in 1773, and will long, it is to be hoped, maintain its place in the library of young women.

It is

distinguished by sound sense, a liberal, as well as a warm, spirit of piety, and a philosophy applied to its best use, the culture of the heart and