Few children under 10 would be likely to understand
or enjoy the greatest of poets: and those, who have passed out of girlhood,
may safely be left to read Shakespeare, in any edition, 'expurgated'
or not, that they may prefer: but it seems a pity that so many children,
in the intermediate stage, should be debarred from a great pleasure for
want of an edition suitable to them. Neither Bowdler's, Chambers's,
Brandram's, nor Cundell's 'Boudoir' Shakespeare, seems to me to meet the
want: they are not sufficiently 'expurgated.' Bowdler's is the most
extraordinary of all: looking through it, I am filled with a deep sense
of wonder, considering what he has left in, that he should have cut
anything out! Besides relentlessly erasing all that is unsuitable on
the score of reverence or decency, I should be inclined to omit also
all that seems too difficult, or not likely to interest young readers.
The resulting book might be slightly fragmentary: but it would be a real
treasure to all British maidens who have any taste for poetry.
If it be needful to apologize to any one for the new departure I have
taken in this story--by introducing, along with what will, I hope,
prove to be acceptable nonsense for children, some of the graver
thoughts of human life--it must be to one who has learned the Art of
keeping such thoughts wholly at a distance in hours of mirth and
careless ease. To him such a mixture will seem, no doubt, ill-judged
and repulsive.
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