question." But, we may ask, how is it possible for a man accused
of palming off a forgery upon the public to regard the question as
impersonal, even although it may not be alleged in specific terms that
he is the forger? Mr. Collier is like the frog in the fable. This
pelting with imputations of forgery may be very fine fun to the pelters,
but it is death to him. To them, indeed, it may be a mere question of
evidence and criticism; but to him it must, in any case, be one of vital
personal concern. Yet we cannot find any sufficient excuse for the
manner in which Mr. Collier has behaved in this affair from the very
beginning. His cause is damaged almost as much by his own conduct, and
by the tone of his defence, as by the attacks of his accusers. A very
strong argument against his complicity in any fraudulent proceeding
in relation to his folio might have been founded upon an untarnished
reputation, and a frank and manly attitude on his part; but, on the
contrary, his course has been such as to cast suspicion upon every
transaction with which he has been connected.

First he says[C] that he bought this folio in 1849 to "complete another
poor copy of the seconde folio"; and in the next paragraph he adds, "As
it turned out, I at first repented my bargain, because when I took it
home, it appeared that two leaves which I wanted were unfit for my
purpose, not merely by being too short, but damaged and defaced."
And finally he says that it was not until the spring of 1850 that he
"observed some marks in the margin of this folio." Now did Mr. Collier,
by some mysterious instinct, light directly, first upon one of the
leaves, and then upon the other, which he wished to find, in a folio of
nine hundred pages? It is almost incredible that he did so once; that he
did so twice is quite beyond belief. It is equally incredible, that if
the textual changes were then upon the margins in the profusion in which
they now exist, he could have looked for the two leaves which he needed