rary intelligence, the fact was early communicated. His lordship thus adverts to it, July 1795:—
I have seen in the papers, which, by the way, my eyes will scarcely permit me to read, some account of the wonderful Shakspearian discoveries. And even before your argument convinced me of the forgery, I gave very little credit to it. It promised too much to keep its word; and I am only sorry that Mr. Steevens is not proprietor of the manuscripts. The lines you transcribe as part of one of the sonnets would alone be sufficient to prove the absurdity of the forger.
Literary imposture occasionally finds a ready ear in our country. Whenever a good excuse offers, we are willing to add to the fame of a popular idol, and in the first moments of enthusiasm at a new discovery are prone to indulge rather our partiality than judgment. So it proved with many in respect to these documents. Every one was interested in them because Shakspeare was every one’s author. But the gradual increase of successive “discoveries” led from surprise to suspicion; and although antiquaries of name avowed their belief, while others continued in doubt, the great body of professed commentators,—Malone, Reed, Farmer, Ritson, Lord Orford, Bishop of Dromore, Bishop of Salisbury (detector of Lander’s forgery),—and many more of the most distinguished men of the day, deemed them spurious.
Malone, as best fitted for the work, was persuaded to take the lead in disabusing the credulous. A few inquiries moderate in tone in the magazines, brought forth angry replies, sneers, and abuse. At length, early in 1796, the publication of a two-guinea folio of the Papers, the advanced guard of two more at the
