another, and exhibiting ONE and TWENTY of his most perfect dramas, within the short space of about THIRTEEN YEARS. I should, therefore, find not the slightest difficulty in believing that both SOUTHAMPTON and PEMBROKE* Would order Jansen to enrich their respective seats with the most perfect likeness of Shakspeare; and, grateful, indeed, must have been their consciousness, as the resemblance hung before them, that they had not confined themselves to barren admiration, but had advanced the fortunes of the exalted genius whom they had honoured, yes HONOURED, with their personal friendship. * From all the surmises and statements given by Mr. Boaden, I do think but one conclusion can be drawn, which is, that neither of the above noblemen never had a picture done of Shakspeare; as we have never before had any intimation of the kind, it will, therefore, be necessary for this author to adduce stronger arguments than he has hitherto done, to support his hypothesis, which, at present, only tends to show his vanity, by speaking so positively on the subject.-A. W. SOME FURTHER REMARKS ON THE FELTON PICTURE. HAVING made frequent inquiries respecting the copy from the Felton picture, by Josiah Boydell, I was at last informed by Mr. Douce, that it was in the possession of Mr. Harris, at No. 15, Brompton Crescent. This gentleman told me he had left a commission to give the sum of five guineas for it, at the sale of Mr. Steevens's property, in King Street, Covent Garden, but was so fortunate as to purchase it for about three. It is a very good copy as far as regards the drawing, but the colouring is not so well. Since it has been in his possession, a son of Mr. Boaden's made a copy, for (as he understood,) an historical picture, but, having by some cause changed his opinion as to its authenticity, this head has not been used. On the back of Mr. Harris's picture, is this writing:May, 1797. "Copied by Josiah Boydell, at my request, from the remains of the only genuine Portrait of William Shakspeare. George Steevens."* * Of one to whom the readers of Shakspeare are so much obliged, a slight memorial will not here be considered as misplaced. GEORGE STEEVENS was born at Poplar, in the county of Middlesex, in the year 1736. His father, a man of great respectability, was engaged in a business connected with the East India Company, by which he acquired an handsome fortune. Fortunately for his son, and for the publick, the clergyman of the place was Dr. Gloucester Ridley, a man of great literary accomplishments, who is styled by Dr. Lowth poeta natus. With this gentleman an intimacy took place that united the two families closely together, and probably gave the younger branches of each, that taste for literature which both afterwards ardently cultivated. The first part of Mr. Steevens's education he received under Mr. Wooddeson, at Kingston-upon-Thames, where he had for his school-fellows George Keate, the poet, and Edward Gibbon, the historian. From this seminary he removed, in 1753, to King's College, Cambridge, and entered there under the tuition of the Rev. Dr. Barford. After staying a few years at the University, he left it without taking a degree, and accepted a commission in the Essex militia, in which service he continued a few years longer. In 1763 he lost his father, from whom he inherited an ample property, which if he did not lessen he certainly did not increase. From this period he seems to have determined on the course of his future life, and devoted himself to literary pursuits, which he followed with unabated vigour, but without any lucrative views, as he never required, or accepted, the slightest pecuniary recompence for his labours. His first residence was in the Temple, afterwards at Hampton, and lastly at Hampstead, where he continued near thirty years. In this retreat his life passed in one unbroken tenor, with scarce "The original had belonged to Mr. Felton, and is now in the Shakspeare Gallery, Pall Mall." I have no doubt but the above indorsement will any variation, except an occasional visit to Cambridge, walking to London in the morning, six days out of seven, for the sake of health and conversation, and returning home in the afternoon of the same day. By temperance and exercise he continued healthy and active until the last two years of his life, and to the conclusion of it did not relax his attention to the illustration of Shakspeare, which was the first object of his regard. He died the 22d of January, 1800, and was buried in Poplar chapel. To the elogium contained in the following epitaph by Mr. Hayley, which differs in some respect from that inscribed on the monument in Poplar chapel, those who really knew Mr. Steevens will readily subscribe : "Peace to these ashes! once the bright attire "How oft has pleasure in the social hour "Learning, as vast as mental power could seize, "This tomb may perish, but not so his name satisfy every impartial person, that Mr. Steevens believed in the genuineness of the picture, or he never would have written what he has on it, and, I think, this will fully justify what I have further to remark on the subject, which is, in case his belief is to be discredited in this respect, we should be as much warranted in asserting, that all he has argued on the portrait is equally unworthy of credit. I have no doubt but his profundity of knowledge, has tended to affect the mind of a competitor that has less comprehension on the subject, and which has been the means of his so fabulously describing both the commentator and picture. In the course of perusing his Book of Enquiry, his insight and general enarration has often reminded me of an anecdote, told of Jonathan Richardson, the painter, and writer on the art, who, in conjunction with his Son, published in 1734, Explanatory Notes and Remarks on Milton's Paradise Lost, with the Life of the Author. In apology for this performance, and not being very conversant in classic literature, the father said, "that he had looked in them through his son." Hogarth, in consequence, drew the old man peeping through the nether end of a telescope, with which his son was perforated at a Virgil aloft on a shelf. |