his benefactor. That nameless friend had informed him (he swore)
that there were two persons of the same name, and that both
signatures were genuine. Ireland's impudence went the length of
introducing an ancestor of his own, with the same name as himself,
among the companions of Shakespeare. If 'Vortigern' had succeeded
(and it was actually put on the stage with all possible pomp),
Ireland meant to have produced a series of pseudo-Shakespearian
plays from William the Conqueror to Queen Elizabeth. When busy with
'Vortigern,' he was detected by a friend of his own age, who pounced
on him while he was at work, as Lasus pounced on Onomacritus. The
discoverer, however, consented to "stand in" with Ireland, and did
not divulge his secret. At last, after the fiasco of 'Vortigern,'
suspicion waxed so strong, and disagreeable inquiries for the
anonymous benefactor were so numerous, that Ireland fled from his
father's house. He confessed all, and, according to his own
account, fell under the undying wrath of Samuel Ireland. Any reader
of Ireland's confessions will be likely to sympathise with old
Samuel as the dupe of his son. The whole story is told with a
curious mixture of impudence and humour, and with great
plausibility. Young Ireland admits that his "desire for laughter"
was almost irresistible, when people--learned, pompous, sagacious
people--listened attentively to the papers. One feels half inclined
to forgive the rogue for the sake of his youth, his cleverness, his
humour. But the 'Confessions' are, not improbably, almost as
apocryphal as the original documents. They were written for the
sake of money, and it is impossible to say how far the same
mercenary motive actuated Ireland in his forgeries. Dr. Ingleby, in
his 'Shakespeare Fabrications,' takes a very rigid view of the
conduct, not only of William, but of old Samuel Ireland. Sam,
according to Dr. Ingleby, was a partner in the whole imposture, and