in criticism of Homer or of Shakespeare.  In a corner of the preface to an edition of “Shakspere” which bears on its title-page the name (correctly spelt) of Queen Victoria’s youngest son prefixed to the name I have just transcribed, a small pellet of dry dirt was flung upwards at me from behind by the “able editor” thus irritably impatient to figure in public as the volunteer valet or literary lackey of Prince Leopold.  Hence I gathered the edifying assurance that this aspirant to the honours of literature in livery had been reminded of my humbler attempts in literature without a livery by the congenial music of certain four-footed fellow-critics and fellow-lodgers of his own in the neighbourhood of Hampstead Heath.  Especially and most naturally had their native woodnotes wild recalled to the listening biped (whom partial nature had so far distinguished from the herd) the deep astonishment and the due disgust with which he had discovered the unintelligible fact that to men so ignorant of music or the laws of music in verse as my presumptuous and pitiable self the test of metrical harmony lay not in an appeal to the fingers but only in an appeal to the ear—­“the ear which he” (that is, which the present writer) “makes so much of—­AND WHICH SHOULD BE LONG TO MEASURE SHAKSPERE.”  Here then the great Sham Shakespearean secret is out at last.  Had I but known in time my lifelong error in thinking that a capacity to estimate the refinements of word-music was not to be gauged by length of ear, by hairiness of ear, or by thickness of ear, but by delicacy of ear alone, I should as soon have thought of measuring my own poor human organs against those of the patriarch or leader of the herd as of questioning his indisputable right to lay down the law to all who agree with his great fundamental theorem—­that the longest ear is the most competent to judge of metre. Habemus confitentem asinum.

{266} A Latin pun, or rather a punning Latinism, not altogether out of Shakespeare’s earliest line.  But see the note preceding this one.

{269} The simple substitution of the word “is” for the word “and” would rectify the grammar here—­were that worth while.

{270} Qu.  So there is but one France, etc.?

{271} Non-Shakespearean.

{273} I choose for a parallel Shakespeare’s use of Plutarch in the composition of his Roman plays rather than his use of Hall and Holinshed in the composition of his English histories, because Froissart is a model more properly to be set against Plutarch than against Holinshed or Hall.

{278} This brilliant idea has since been borrowed from the Chairman—­and that without acknowledgment—­by one of those worthies whose mission it is to make manifest that no burlesque invention of mere man’s device can improve upon the inexhaustible capacities of Nature as shown in the production and perfection of the type irreverently described by Dryden as ‘God Almighty’s fool.’