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Joyce + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1em; + } + h1,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + + h2 {text-align: center; + clear: both; + padding-top: 1em;} + + hr {width: 20%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + height: 1px; + border: 0; + background-color: black; + color: black;} + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + td.chapter {text-align: center; + padding-top: 1.5em; + line-height: 50%;} + + td.pagenumber {text-align: right; + padding-left: 2em;} + + td.facsimile {text-align: left; + padding-right: 13em;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + p.persons {margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + text-align: center;} + + p.publisher { + margin-top: 4em; + text-align: center; + margin-bottom: 3em; + letter-spacing: .20ex; + text-indent: 0em;} + + p.copyright {text-align: center; + font-size: smaller; + text-indent: 0em;} + + p.dedication {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + font-style: italic; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%;} + + div.note { + margin: 4em 10% 0 10%; + padding: 1em; + border: 1px dashed black; + color: inherit; + background-color: #F0F8FF; + font-size: smaller; + } + + img + {border-style: none; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em;} + + ins.correction { + text-decoration:none; /* replace default underline.. */ + border-bottom: thin dotted gray; /* ..with delicate gray line */} + + ul {list-style: none; + line-height: 150%;} + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + right: 1%; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + padding-left: 0em; + text-indent: 0em; + } /* page numbers */ + + a:link { + text-decoration: none; + color: #104E8B; + background-color: inherit; + } + a:visited { + text-decoration: none; + color: #8B0000; + background-color: inherit; + } + a:hover { + text-decoration: underline; + } + a:active { + text-decoration: underline; + } + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .right {text-align: right; padding-right: 1em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .quoteright {text-align: right; margin-right: 30%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + .poem {margin-left:30%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left; font-style: italic;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i10 {display: block; margin-left: 10em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i13 {display: block; margin-left: 13em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 14em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i16 {display: block; margin-left: 16em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i20 {display: block; margin-left: 20em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i3 {display: block; margin-left: 3em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i5 {display: block; margin-left: 5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i6 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Shakspere, Personal Recollections, by John A. Joyce + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Shakspere, Personal Recollections + +Author: John A. Joyce + +Release Date: January 31, 2007 [EBook #20487] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHAKSPERE, PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Afra Ullah, Irma Špehar and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + +<h1>SHAKSPERE<br /> +Personal Recollections</h1> + + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>COLONEL JOHN A. JOYCE</h3> + +<p class="center" style="padding-bottom: 4em; padding-top: 2em"><i>Author of "Checkered Life," "Peculiar Poems," "Zig-Zag," "Jewels of +Memory,"<br /> "Complete Poems," "Oliver Goldsmith," "Edgar Allan Poe,"<br /> +"Brick-bats and Bouquets," "Beautiful<br /> Washington," "Songs," etc.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nations unborn, adown the tides of time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall keep thy name and fame and thought sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the rolling world from age to age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy characters shall thrill the mimic stage!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="quoteright">—<span class="smcap">Joyce</span>.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.png" width="100" height="111" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p class="publisher"> +PUBLISHED BY BROADWAY<br /> +PUBLISHING COMPANY<br /> +835 BROADWAY, NEW YORK<br /> +</p> + +<p class="copyright">Copyrighted, in 1904.</p> + +<p class="copyright">BY</p> + +<p class="center" style="text-indent: 0em">COLONEL JOHN A. JOYCE</p> + +<p class="copyright">All Rights Reserved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/frontis.png"><img src="images/frontis_th.png" +alt="Frontispiece" title="Frontispiece" /></a></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="center" style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; margin-top: 2em">DEDICATION.</p> + + +<p class="dedication">I dedicate this book to the reader who has energy enough to borrow it, +bullion enough to buy it, and brains enough to understand its philosophy, +with the fervent hope that posterity may reap, thresh and consume the +golden grain of my literary harvest.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 70%"><i>J. A. J.</i></span> +</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="PREFACE" id="PREFACE"></a>PREFACE.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></h2> + + +<p>It would be a flagrant presumption and a specimen of magnificent audacity +for any man, but myself, to attempt, to give anything new about the +personal and literary character of William Shakspere!</p> + +<p>I speak of William as I knew him, child, boy and man, from a spiritual +standpoint, living with him in soul-lit love for three hundred and forty +years!</p> + +<p>Those who doubt my dates, facts and veracity are to be pitied, and have +little appreciation of romantic poetry, comedy, tragedy and history!</p> + +<p>It is well known among my intimate friends, that I sprang from the race of +Strulbugs, who live forever, originating on the island of Immortality, on +the coast of Japan—more than a million years ago.</p> + +<p>I do not give the name of the play, act or scene, in head or foot lines, in +my numerous quotations from Shakspere, designedly leaving the reader to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span> +trace and find for himself a liberal education by studying the wisdom of +the Divine Bard.</p> + +<p>There are many things in this volume that the ordinary mind will not +understand, yet I only contract with the present and future generations to +give rare and rich food for thought, and cannot undertake to furnish the +reader brains with each book!</p> + +<p class="right"> +J. A. J. +</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="TOC"> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td class="pagenumber">Page</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Sweepstakes</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Birth. School Days. Shows</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Launched. Apprentice Boy. Ambition</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Farm. Life. Sporting. Poaching on Lucy</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>In Search of Peace and Fortune</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>London. Its Guilt and Glory</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Taverns. Theatres. Variegated Society</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Theatrical Drudgery. Compositions</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Growing Literary Renown. Royal Patrons</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_61">61</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bohemian Hours. Westminster Abbey. "Love's Labor's Lost"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Queen Elizabeth. War. Shakspere in Ireland</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Rural England. "Romeo and Juliet"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_91">91</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Julius Cæsar"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Two Tramps. By Land and Sea</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Windsor Park. "Midsummer Night's Dream"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Jew. Shylock. "Merchant of Venice"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>The Supernatural. "Hamlet"</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Death of Queen Elizabeth. Coronation of King James</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Shakspere as Monologist. King James</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" class="chapter"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Stratford. Shakspere's Death. Patriotism Down the Ages</td><td class="pagenumber"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2>FACSIMILE PAGES.</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td class="facsimile">Autograph Letter of Shakspere</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_xxiii">xxiii</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="facsimile">Autograph Poem of Shakspere</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="facsimile">Autograph Letter of King James</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class="facsimile">Autograph Epitaph of Shakspere</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="SWEEPSTAKES" id="SWEEPSTAKES"></a>SWEEPSTAKES.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></h2> + + +<p>Shakspere was the greatest delver into the mysterious mind of man and +Nature, and sunk his intellectual plummet deeper into the ocean of thought +than any mortal that ever lived, before or after his glorious advent upon +the earth. He was a universal ocean of knowledge, and the ebb and flow of +his thoughts pulsated on the shores of every human passion.</p> + +<p>He was a mountain range of ideals, and has been a quarry of love, logic and +liberty for all writers and actors since his day and age, out of which they +have built fabrics of fame.</p> + +<p>No matter how often and numerous have been the "blasts" set off in his +rocky foundations, the driller, stone mason and builder of books have +failed to lessen his mammoth resources, and every succeeding age has +borrowed rough ashlers, blocks of logic and pillars of philosophy from the +inexhaustible mine of his divine understanding.</p> + +<p>He was an exemplification and consolidation of his own definition of +greatness:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness +thrust upon them.</i>"</p></div> + +<p>The poet finds in Shakspere a blooming garden of perennial roses, the +painter finds colors of heavenly hues, the musician finds seraphic songs<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> +and celestial aspirations, the sculptor finds models of beauty and truth, +the doctor finds pills and powders of Providence, the lawyer finds suits +and briefs of right and reason, the preacher finds prophecies superior to +Isaiah or Jeremiah, the historian finds lofty romance more interesting than +facts and the actor "struts and frets" in the Shaksperian looking-glass of +to-day, in the mad whirl of the mimic stage, with all the pomp and glory of +departed warriors, statesmen, fools, princes and kings.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was grand master of history, poetry and philosophy—tripartite +principles of memory, imagination and reason. He is credited with composing +thirty-seven plays, comedies, tragedies and histories, as well as Venus and +Adonis, The Rape of Lucrece, The Lovers' Complaint, The Passionate Pilgrim +and one hundred and fifty-four classical sonnets, all poems of unrivaled +elegance.</p> + +<p>What a royal troop of various and universal characters leaped from the +portals of his burning brain, to stalk forever down the center of the stage +of life, exemplifying every human passion!</p> + +<p>Shakspere never composed a play or poem without a purpose, to satirize an +evil, correct a wrong or elevate the human soul into the lofty atmosphere +of the good and great. His villains and heroes are of royal mold, and while +he lashes with whips of scorn the sin of cupidity, hypocrisy and +ingratitude, he never forgets to glorify love, truth and patriotism.</p> + +<p>Virtue and vice are exhibited in daily, homespun dress, and stalking abroad +through the centuries, the generous and brave nobility of King Lear, Cæsar, +Othello, and Hamlet, will be seen in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> marked contrast to Shylock, Brutus, +Cassius, Iago, Gloster and Macbeth. His fools and wits were philosophers, +while many of his kings, queens, dukes, lords and ladies were sneaks, +frauds and murderers.</p> + +<p>Vice in velvet, gold and diamonds, suffered under the X-rays of his divine +phrases, while virtue was winged with celestial plumes, soaring away into +the heaven of peace and bliss. He was the matchless champion of stern +morality, and the interpreter of universal reason.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was a multifarious man, and every glinting passion of his soul +found rapid and eloquent expression in words that beam and burn with +eternal light. The stream of time washes away the fabrics of other poets, +but leaves the adamantine structure of Shakspere erect and uninjured.</p> + +<p>Being surcharged, for three hundred and forty years, with the spirit and +imagination of Shakspere, I shall tell the world about his personal and +literary life, and although some curious and unreasonable people may not +entirely believe everything I relate in this volume, I can only excuse and +pity their judgment, for they must know that the <i>Ideal</i> is the <i>Real</i>!</p> + +<p>The intellectual pyramids of his thought still rise out of the desert +wastes of literary scavengers and loom above the horizon of all the great +writers and philosophers that preceded his advent on the globe.</p> + +<p>The blunt, licentious Saxon words and sentences in the first text of +Shakspere, have been ruthlessly expurgated by his editorial commentators, +adding,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> no doubt, to the beauty and decency of the plays, but sadly +detracting from their original strength.</p> + +<p>Pope, Jonson, Steevens and even Malone have made so many minute, technical +changes in the Folio Plays of 1623, printed seven years after the death of +Shakspere, that their presumptive elucidation often drivels into obscurity.</p> + +<p>Editorial critics, with the best intention, have frequently edited the +blood, bone and sinews of the original thought out of the works of the +greatest authors. While attempting to simplify the text for common, rough +readers, they mystify the matter by their egotistical explanation, and +while showing their superior research and classical learning, they +eliminate the chunk logic force of the real author.</p> + +<p>For thirty years Shakspere studied the variegated book of London life, with +all the human oddities, and when spring and summer covered the earth with +primroses, flowers and hawthorn blossoms, he rambled over domestic and +foreign lands, through fields, forests, mountains and stormy seas.</p> + +<p>With the fun of Falstaff, the firmness of Cæsar, the generosity of King +Lear and the imagination of Hamlet, Shakspere also possessed the love-lit +delicacy of Ophelia, Portia and Juliet, reveling familiarly with the +spirits of water, earth and air, in his kingdom of living ghosts. He +borrowed words and ideas from all the ancient philosophers, poets and story +tellers, and shoveling them, pell-mell, into the furnace fires of his +mammoth brain, fused their crude ore, by the forced draught of his fancy, +into the laminated steel of enduring form and household utility.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rough and uncouth corn of others passed through the hoppers of +Shakspere's brain and came out fine flour, ready for use by the theatrical +bakers. With the pen of pleasure and brush of fancy he painted human life +in everlasting colors, that will not fade or tarnish with age or wither +with the winds of adversity. The celestial sunlight of his genius permeated +every object he touched and lifted even the vulgar vices of earth into the +realms of virtue and beauty.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was an intellectual atmosphere that permeated and enlivened the +world of thought. His genius was as universal as the air, where zephyr and +storm moved at the imperial will of this Grand Master of human passions.</p> + +<p>Principles, not people, absorbed the mammoth mind of Shakspere, who paid +little attention to the princes and philosophers of his day. Schools, +universities, monks, priests and popes were rungs in the ladder of his +mind, and only noticed to scar and satirize their hypocrisy, bigotry and +tyranny with his javelins of matchless wit. The flower and fruit of thought +sprang spontaneously from his seraphic soul.</p> + +<p>He flung his phrases into the intellectual ocean of thought, and they still +shine and shower down the ages like meteors in a midnight sky. Like the +busy bee, he banqueted on all the blossoms of the globe and stored the +honey of his genius in the lofty crags of Parnassus.</p> + +<p>Shakspere and Nature were confidential friends, and, while she gave a few +sheaves of knowledge to her other children, the old Dame bestowed upon the +"Divine" William the harvest of all the ages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shakspere's equipoise of mind, placidity of conduct and control of passion +rendered him invulnerable to the shafts of envy, malice and tyranny, making +him always master of the human midgets or vultures that circled about his +pathway.</p> + +<p>One touch from the brush of his imagination on the rudest dramatic canvas +illuminated the murky scene and flashed on the eye of the beholder the +rainbow colors of his matchless genius.</p> + +<p>Ben Jonson, Greene, Marlowe, Fletcher and Burbage gazed with astonishment +at the versatility of his poetic and dramatic creations, and while pangs of +jealousy shot athwart their envious souls, they knew that the Divine Bard +was soaring above the alpine crags of thought, leaving them at the +foothills of dramatic venture.</p> + +<p>He played the rôle of policy before peasant, lord and king, and used the +applause and brain of each for his personal advancement, and yet he never +sacrificed principle for pelf or bedraggled the skirts of virtue in the +gutter of vice.</p> + +<p>The Divine William knew more about everything than any other man knew about +anything! He had a carnivorous and omnivorous mind, with a judicial soul, +and controlled his temper with the same inflexible rule that Nature uses +when murmuring in zephyrs or shrieking in storms, receding or advancing in +dramatic thought, as peace or passion demanded.</p> + +<p>He seemed at times to be a medley of contradictions, and while playing +virtue against vice, the reader and beholder are often left in doubt as to +the guilt or glory of the contending actors. He puts words of wisdom in the +mouth of a fool, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> foolish phrases in the mouth of the wise, and +shuttlecocked integrity in the loom of imagination.</p> + +<p>William was the only poet who ever had any money sense, and understood the +real value of copper, silver, gold, jewels and land. His early trials and +poverty at Stratford, with the example of his bankrupt father was always in +view, convincing him early in life that ready money was all-powerful, +purchasing rank, comfort and even so-called love.</p> + +<p>Yet he only valued riches as a means of doing good, puncturing the bladder +of bloated wealth with this pin of thought:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If thou art rich, thou art poor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death unloads thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He noticed wherever he traveled that successful stupidity, although +secretly despised, was often the master of the people, while a genius with +the wisdom of the ages, starved at the castle gate, and like Mozart and +Otway, found rest in the Potter's field.</p> + +<p>No Indian juggler could mystify the ear and eye and mind of an audience +like Shakspere, for, over the crude thoughts of other dramatic writers he +threw the glamour of his divine imagination, making the shrubs, vines and +briers of life bloom into perpetual flowers of pleasure and beauty.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With his mystic wand he mesmerized all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And peasants transformed to kings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While age after age in cottage and hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He soars with imperial wings.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>No one mind ever comprehended Shakspere, and even all the authors and +readers that sauntered over his wonderful garden of literary flowers and +fruits have but barely clipped at the hedge-rows of his philosophy, culling +a few fragmentary mementos from his immortal productions.</p> + +<p>Shakspere's chirography was almost as variable as his mind, and when he sat +down to compose plays for the Globe and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Blackfrairs'">Blackfriars</ins> theatres, in his room +adjacent to the Miter Tavern, he dashed off chunks of thought for pressing +and waiting actors and managers, piecing them together like a cabinet +joiner or machinist.</p> + +<p>In all his compositions he used, designedly, a pale blue ink that +evaporated in the course of a year, and the cunning actors and publishers, +who knew his secret, copied and memorized and printed his immortal +thoughts. He kept a small bottle of indelible ink for ideals on parchment +for posterity.</p> + +<p>I have often found his room littered and covered with numbered sheets of +scenes and acts, ready for delivery to actors for recital, and many times +the sunset over London would run its round to sunrise and find William at +his desk in the rookery, hammering away on the anvil of thought, fusing +into shape his divine masterpieces.</p> + +<p>Shakspere's bohemian life was but an enlarged edition of his rural vagabond +career through the fields and alehouses of Warwickshire. He only needed +about four hours' sleep in twenty-four, but when composition on occasion +demanded rapidity, he could work two days and rise from his labor as fresh +as a lark from the flowery bank of Avon.</p> + +<p>Most of the great writers of antiquity patterned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> after greater than +themselves, but Shakspere evolved from the illuminated palace of his soul +the songs and sentiments that move the ages and make him the colossal +champion of beauty, mercy, charity, purity, courage, love and truth.</p> + +<p>There are more numerous nuggets of thought in the works of Shakspere than +in all the combined mass of ancient and modern literature.</p> + +<p>The various bibles, composed and manufactured by man, cannot compare in +variety, common sense and eloquence, with the productions of the Immortal +Bard.</p> + +<p>All the preachers, bishops, popes, kings, and emperors that have ever +conjured up texts and creeds for dupes, devotees and designers to swallow +without question, have never yet sunk the plummet of reason so deep in the +human heart as the butcher boy of Stratford!</p> + +<p>Shakspere was the most industrious literary prospector and miner of any +land or time, throwing his searchlight of reason into the crude mass of +Indian, Assyrian, Persian, Egyptian, Greek, Roman, Frank, German, Russian +and Briton lore, and forthwith appropriated the golden beauties of each +nation, leaving behind the dross of vice and vulgarity.</p> + +<p>Marlowe, Burbage, Peele, Chapman, Greene and Jonson composed many fine +physical and licentious dramas, pandering to the London groundlings, +bloated wealth and accidental power; but Shakspere threw a spiritual +radiance over their brutal, sordid phrases and elevated stage characters +into the realm of romantic thought, pinioned with hope, love and truth. His +sublime imagination soared away into the flowery uplands of Divinity, and +plucked from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span> the azure wings of angels brilliant feathers of fancy that +shall shine and flutter down the ages.</p> + +<p>He flung his javelin of wit through the buckler of ignorance, bigotry and +tyranny, exposing their rotten bodies to the ridicule and hate of mankind.</p> + +<p>In lordly language he swept over the harp strings of the heart with +infinite expression and comprehension of words, leaving in his intellectual +wake a multifarious heritage of brain jewels. He flew over the world like a +swarm of bees, robbing all the fields of literature of their secret sweets, +storing the rich booty of Nature in the honeycomb of his philosophic hive.</p> + +<p>Through his brain the variegated paraphernalia of Nature, in field, forest, +vale, mount, river, sea and sky were illuminated with a divine radiance +that shall shine forever and grow greater as mankind grows wiser.</p> + +<p>Shakspere has paid the greatest tribute of respect of any writer to women. +While he gives us a few scolding, licentious, cruel, criminal women, like +Dame Quickly, Katharina, Tamora, Gertrude and Lady Macbeth, he gives us the +beautiful, faithful, loving characters of Isabella, Juliet, Desdemona, +Perdita, Helena, Miranda, Imogen, Ophelia and Cordelia, whose love-lit +words and phrases shine out in the firmament of purity and devotion like +morning stars in tropic skies.</p> + +<p>Shakspere studied all trades and professions he encountered in daily +contact with mankind. He thought what he was and was what he thought! To +him a sermon was a preacher, a writ a lawyer, a pill a doctor, a sail a +sailor, a sword a soldier, a button a tailor, a nail a carpenter, a hammer +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span> blacksmith, a trowel a stone mason, a pebble a geologist, a flower a +botanist, a ray of light an astronomer, and even a <i>word</i> gave him ample +suggestion to build up an empire of thought.</p> + +<p>He sailed upon the tides and currents of the human heart, and steered +through the cliffs and caverns of the brain with greater glory than those +who sought the golden "fleece" among the enchanting waters of Ionian isles.</p> + +<p>Shakspere conjured the characters of his plays from elemental principles, +measures not men, breathing and acting in his divine atmosphere. It is +strange and marvelous that he never wrote a line about the great men that +lived and wrote in his day and age, although Cervantes, Rubens, Camoens, +Bruno, Drake, Raleigh, Calderon, Corneille, Rembrandt, Kepler, Galileo, +Montaigne, Beaumont and Fletcher, Sidney, Marlowe, Bacon and Ben Jonson +were contemporaneous authors, poets, dramatists, navigators, soldiers, +astronomers and philosophers.</p> + +<p>Licentious phrases and actions were universal in Shakspere's time, and from +the corrupt courts of King Henry the Eighth, Elizabeth and King James, to +the cot of the peasant and trail of the tavern, morality hid her modest +head and only flourished among the puritans and philosophers who kept alive +the flame of love and liberty.</p> + +<p>Dryden, Spenser, Sidney, Marlowe and Jonson infected literature with a +species of eloquent vulgarity, and Shakspere, willing to please, readily +infused into his various plays sensuous phrases to catch the rabble cheers +and purpled applause. While he worshiped nature, he never failed to bend<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span> +the knee for ready cash, and often paid fulsome tribute to lords and +ladies, who flattered his vanity and ministered to his "itching palm."</p> + +<p>Physical passion, mental license and social tyranny ruled in home, church +and state, where Rome and Reformation struggled viciously for the mastery.</p> + +<p>There are nuggets of golden thought still scattered through the plays of +Shakspere that no author or actor has ever discovered, and although they +have read and repeated his lines, for more than three hundred years, there +has been no brain able and brilliant enough to delve into or explain the +secret caves of Shaksperian wit. Human sparrows cannot know the eagle +flights of divine philosophy.</p> + +<p>The golden gilt of imagination decorated his phrases and the lambent light +of his philosophy shone like the rosy dawn upon a field of variegated wild +flowers. The hut and the cottage were transformed into lordly castles while +the rocks and the hills became ranges of mountain, whose icy pinnacles +reflected back the shimmering light of suns and stars.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was a man of universal moods and like a chameleon took color and +force from every object he touched. The draughts he took from the deep +flowing wells of nature made no diminution in the volume of his thought, +that rushed through his seething brain like an underground cataract filled +from eternal springs.</p> + +<p>Fresh from the mint of his mind fell the clinking, golden coin of universal +value, bearing the glowing stamp of his genius, unrivaled in the an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span>nals of +time. Since he wrote and acted, no man ever understood the depths of his +wit and logic, or the height of his imagination and philosophy. The human +mackerel cannot know the human whale.</p> + +<p>Shallow, presumptive college bookworms, arrogant librarians and classical +compilers, have attempted to explain his plays and sonnets, in footnotes, +but they have only been entangled in the briers and flowers of his fancy, +finding themselves suffocated at last, in the luxurious fields of his +eloquent rhetoric and universal wisdom.</p> + +<p>School-teachers, professors, priests, preachers, popes, and princes are +brushed aside by the cutting phrases of Shakspere and go down to earth like +grass before the scythe of this rustic reaper. They are dumfounded by his +matchless mysterious logic. Religion, law and medicine are pitchforked +about by the Divine William on the threshing floor of his literary granary, +where he separates wheat from chaff, instanter, leaving the beholder +mystified by the splendid result.</p> + +<p>Viewing the great minds of the world from Homer to Humboldt, Shakspere +never had an equal or superior, standing on the pinnacle of the pyramid of +human renown, and lifting his mammoth mental form above the other +philosophers of the earth as Mount St. Elias soars above its brother peaks.</p> + +<p>Distance lends a wizard enchantment to his lofty form and down the rolling +ages his glory will grow greater until the whole universe is luminous with +the dazzling lights of his eternal fame.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such god-like men shall never die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They shine as suns in tropic sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrill the world with truth and love<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Derived from nature far above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shakspere's mind was pinioned with celestial imagination, and his rushing +flight circled the shores of omnipotence. He taught us that ignorance was a +crime, a murky night without a single star to light the traveler on his +weary way.</p> + +<p>Those who have attempted to fathom the depths of the Shaksperian ocean of +thought, have only rounded the rim or skimmed over the surface of its +illimitable magnificence. Tossed about by the billows of Shakspere's brain, +for three hundred and forty years mankind like a ship in a storm, still +wonders and runs on the reefs of his understanding, to be wrecked in their +vain calculation of his divine wisdom.</p> + +<p>Leaving the beaten paths of oriental and middle age writers, he dashed deep +into the forest of nature and surveyed for himself a new dominion of +thought, that has never been occupied before or since his birth. Like a +comet of universal light, he shines over the world with the warm glow of +celestial knowledge.</p> + +<p>With the tuning key of his matchless genius he struck the chords of sorrow +to their inmost tone and played on the heart strings of joy with the tender +vibrations of an æolian harp, trembling with melodious echoes among the +wild flowers of ecstatic passion.</p> + +<p>And to clap the climax and fathom the logic of love, he eloquently +exclaims:</p> + +<p>"Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds!"</p> + +<p class="right">J. A. J.</p> + + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/facsxxiii.png"><img src="images/facsxxiii_th.png" +alt="Facsimile page xxiii" title="Facsimile page xxiii" /></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2><a name="Shakspere_Personal_Recollections" id="Shakspere_Personal_Recollections"></a>Shakspere: Personal Recollections<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></h2> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h4>BIRTH. SCHOOL DAYS. SHOWS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One touch of Nature makes the whole world kin."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>William Shakspere was born on the 23d of April, 1564, at the town of +Stratford, on the river Avon, Warwickshire County, England; and died in the +same town on the 23d of April, 1616, exactly fifty-two years of age, the +date of his birth being the date of his death, a remarkable coincidence of +spiritual assimilation.</p> + +<p>For several centuries, his ancestors served their king and crown in war and +peace; and were noted in their day and age as country "gentlemen," a term +much more significant then than now, when even dressed up "dandy" frauds +may lay claim to this much-abused title.</p> + +<p>The grandfather of Shakspere fought on Bosworth Field with King Henry the +Seventh, and was rewarded for his military service, leaving to his son +John, the father of the "Divine" William, influence enough to secure the +position of a country squire and made him bailiff and mayor of the town of +Stratford.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<p>John Shakspere, in addition to his judicial duties, dabbled in trade as a +wool dealer and glove maker, and when he lost influence and office he +resorted to the business of a butcher to secure bread, meat and shelter for +his large family.</p> + +<p>He married the youngest daughter of Robert Arden, a very beautiful girl of +Wilmcote, a small village three miles from Stratford. When Arden died, +Mary, his favorite daughter, was bequeathed thirty-six dollars, and a small +farm of fifty acres, near the town of Snitterfield. Good inheritance for +that age.</p> + +<p>The Arden family were strict Roman Catholics; and Edward Arden, high +sheriff of Warwickshire, was executed in 1583, for plotting against her +majesty, Queen Elizabeth. Those were lively days, when the followers of the +Pope and King Henry the Eighth, banished, burned and hung presumptive +heretics for opinion's sake! The lechery and greed of King Hal was the +primary cause of his separation from papal authority, augmenting the +Reformation by licentious royalty.</p> + +<p>John Shakspere and Mary, his good wife, did not seem to have much of an +education, for in signing deeds of conveyance, they only made their mark +like thousands of the yeomanry of England.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was a very common name in Warwickshire and the surrounding +counties, and while the "Divine" William glorified the whole race, there +were others of his name who fought for king and crown.</p> + +<p>John Shakspere had ten children, with the affectionate assistance of Mary +Arden. Seven daughters and three boys, William being the third<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> child and +the most active and robust. Several of the flock died, thereby reducing the +trials and expenses of the household; the "old man" seeming to be one of +those ancient "Mulberry Sellers," that was forever making "millions" in his +mind, and chasing gold bags at the west end of rainbows!</p> + +<p>For many years he persistently applied to the College of Heralds for a +"coat of arms;" and finally in the year of 1599, a picture of a "shield" +with a "spear" and "falcon," rampant, was awarded to the Shakspere family, +all through the growing influence of the actor and author William, who had +become famous and wealthy. John Shakspere did not enjoy the glory of his +"coat of arms" very long, for we find that he died in September, 1601, and +was buried on the 8th of that month, at the old church in Stratford, and +his brave old wife, the mother of William Shakspere, followed him to the +tomb on the 9th of September, 1608.</p> + +<p>I first met Will Shakspere on the 23d of April, 1571, at the old log and +board schoolhouse at the head of Henley street, Stratford, on the river +Avon. It was a bright, sunny day, and Mr. Walter Roche, the Latin master, +was the autocrat of the scholastic institution, afterwards succeeded by +Thomas Hunt.</p> + +<p>Will Shakspere and myself happened to be born on the same day, and our +first entrance at the temple of knowledge marked exactly the seventh +milestone of our fleeting years.</p> + +<p>Will was a very lusty, rollicking boy and was as full of innocent mischief +as a pomegranate is of seeds. He was handsome and bright, wearing a thick +suit of auburn curls, that rippled over his shoulders like a waterfall in +the sunshine. His<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> eyes were very large, a light hazel hue, that glinted +into blue when his soul was stirred by passion. His forehead was broad and +high, even as a boy, rounding off into that "dome of thought" that in later +years, when a six-foot specimen of splendid manhood caused him to conjure +up such a universal group of immortal characters.</p> + +<p>His nose was long and high, but symmetrical, and his distended nostrils, +when excited at play, would remind you of a Kentucky racehorse in motion. +His voice was sonorous and musical, and when stirred by passion or pleasure +it rose and fell like the sound of waves upon a stormy or summer sea. His +lips were red and full, marked by Nature, with the "bow of beauty," and +when his luminous countenance was flushed with celestial light, he shot the +arrows of love-lit glances around the schoolroom and fairly magnetized the +boys, and particularly the girls, with the radiant influence of his +unconscious genius.</p> + +<p>Will was a constant source of anxiety and wonder to the teacher, who often +marked him as the scapegoat to carry off the surface sins of sneaking and +cowardly pupils. Corporal punishment was part of school discipline, and +William and myself got our share of the rule and rod.</p> + +<p>Through all the centuries, in youth and age, private and public, the +scapegoat has been the real hero in all troubles and misfortunes. He seems +to be a necessary mortal, but while persecution relentlessly pursues him, +he almost invariably triumphs over his enemies, and when even devoted to +the prison, the stake or the scaffold, as a martyr, he triumphs over the +grave and is mon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>umented in the memory of mankind for his bravery and +silent self-sacrifice!</p> + +<p>For seven school years Will and myself were daily companions. Spring, with +its cowslips and primroses, and hawthorn blossoms, found us rambling +through the woods and fields, and angling for the finny tribe disporting in +the purling waters of the crystal Avon.</p> + +<p>Summer brought its grain and fruits, with boys and girls scrambling over +hedges, fences, stiles and brooks, in search of berries and ripe apples; +autumn with its nuts, birds and hares, invited us to hunting grounds, along +the rolling ridges and the dense forest of Arden, even poaching on the +domain of Sir Thomas Lucy and the royal reaches of Warwick Castle, and old +winter with his snowy locks and whistling airs brought the roses to our +young cheeks, skipping and sporting through his fantastic realm like the +snow birds whirling in clumps of clouds across the withered world.</p> + +<p>Looking back over the fields, forests and waters of the past through the +variegated realms of celestial imagination, I behold after the lapse of +more than three centuries of human wrecks, the brilliant boys and glorious +girls I played with in childhood years—still shining as bright and fresh +as the flowers and fruits of yesterday!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For we are the same our fathers have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We see the same sights our fathers have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We drink the same streams and view the same sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And run the same course our fathers have run!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>I remember well the first time Will and myself attended a theatrical +performance. It was on the first of April, 1573, when we were about nine +years of age.</p> + +<p>A strolling band of comic, and Punch and Judy players had made a sudden +invasion of Stratford and established themselves in the big barn of the old +Bear Tavern on Bridge street.</p> + +<p>The town was alive with expectation and the school children were wild to +behold the great play of "The Scolding Wife," which was advertised through +the streets, in the daytime, by a cartload of bedizened harlequins, +belaboring each other with words and gestures, the wife with bare arms, +short dress and a bundle of rods, standing rampant over the prostrate form +of a drunken husband.</p> + +<p>Fifes, drums and timbrels kept up a frantic noise, filling the bylanes and +streets of Stratford with astonished country louts and tradesmen, until the +fantastic parade ended in the wagon yard of the tavern.</p> + +<p>The old barn had been rigged up as a rustic playhouse, the stage covering +one end, elevated about three feet from the threshing floor. Curtains with +daub pictures were strung across the stage, separated in the center and +shifted backward and forward, as the varying scenes of the family play were +presented for the hisses or cheers of the variegated audience.</p> + +<p>The play consisted of three acts, showing the progress of courtship and +marriage at the altar, country and town life with growing children, work, +poverty, and final windup of the husband driven from home by the scolding +wife, bruised in an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> alehouse, dead and followed to the graveyard by the +Beadle, undertaker and a brindle dog.</p> + +<p>The climax scene of the play exhibited the wife with a bundle of rods, +surrounded by ragged children, driving out into a midnight storm the +husband of her bosom, while peals of thunder and flashes of lightning +brought goose pimples and shivers to the frightened audience.</p> + +<p>The impression made upon the mind of William and myself did not give us a +very hopeful view of married life, and while the haphazard working, +drinking habits of the husband seemed to deserve all the punishment he +received, the modesty, benevolence and beauty of woman was shattered in our +young souls.</p> + +<p>On our way home from the country-tragedy performance we were gladdened by +the thought, that although the rude, vulgar, criminal passions of mankind +were portrayed and enacted day by day all over the globe, we could look up +into the star-lit heavens and see those glittering lamps of night shining +with reflected light on the murmuring bosom of the Avon, as it flowed in +peaceful ripples to the Severn and from the Severn to the sea. Nature +soothed our young hearts, and soon, in the mysterious realms of sleep, we +forgot the sorrows and poverty of earth, tripping away with angelic +companions through the golden fields of celestial dreams.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than are dreamt of in our philosophy."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>I shall never forget the great shows and pageants that took place in +Warwickshire County, in July, 1575. All England was alive to the grand +entrance of Queen Elizabeth to Kenilworth Castle, as the royal guest of her +favorite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Proclamation had gone forth +that all work be suspended, while yeoman, trader, merchant, doctor, lawyer, +minister, lords and earls should pay a pilgrimage to Kenilworth and pay +tribute to the Virgin Queen.</p> + +<p>Stratford and the surrounding villages were aflame with enthusiasm, and as +John Shakspere, the alderman and mayor, took great interest in theatricals +and particularly those festivities inaugurated for the entertainment of +royalty, he led a great concourse of devoted patriots through the forests +of Arden, blooming parks of Warwick Castle on to the grand surroundings of +Kenilworth, where the people <i>en masse</i> camped, sang, danced, took part in +country plays, feasted and went wild for eighteen days, over the +illustrious daughter of Henry the Eighth.</p> + +<p>William and myself were among the enthusiastic revelers, and for boys of +twelve years of age, we felt more cheer than any of the lads and lasses +from Stratford, because our parents furnished us with milk white ponies, to +pay tribute, and typify the virtue and chastity of the "Virgin Queen!" We +did not particularly care about virtue or virginity, so we shared in the +cakes and ale that were lavished in profusion to the rural multitude.</p> + +<p>A high grand throne made out of evergreens and wild flowers was erected in +the central park of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> Kenilworth, rimmed in by lofty elms, oaks and +sycamores.</p> + +<p>There, through the fleeting days and nights, the Queen and her royal suite +of a thousand purpled cavaliers and bejeweled maids of honor, held court +and viewed the ever-changing, living panorama evolved for their +entertainment. The Queen looked like a wilderness of lace and variegated +velvet, irrigated with a shower of diamonds.</p> + +<p>On the 9th of July Queen "Bess" and her illuminated suite entered the +Castle of Kenilworth, and the hands of the clock in the great tower pointed +to the hour of two, where they remained until her departure, as invitation +to a continual banquet.</p> + +<p>The Earl expended a thousand pounds a day for the fluid and food +entertainment of his guests, while woodland bowers and innumerable tents +were scattered through the royal domain generously donated to man and maid +by night and day. We boys and girls seldom went to bed.</p> + +<p>Companies of circus performers, and theatrical artists, from London and +other towns were brought down to the heart of Old Albion to swell the +pleasure of the reigning Queen. Continual plays were going on, while horn, +fife, bugle and drum lent music to the kaleidoscopic revel.</p> + +<p>Dancing, hunting, hawking and archery parties, through the day, lent their +antics to the scene, and when night came with bright Luna showing her +mystic face, forest fires, rockets and illuminated balloons filled the air +with celestial wonder, vieing with the stars in an effort to do universal +honor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> to the "Virgin Queen!" That's what they called "Bess."</p> + +<p>William and myself took part in several of the joint circus and theatrical +performances, and at the conclusion of one of the plays—"Virtue +Victorious," Queen Elizabeth called up William and a purple page named +Francis Bacon, patted them on the head with her royal digits, and said they +would soon be great men!</p> + +<p>I must acknowledge that I felt a little envious at the encomium, not so +much to William, as to the proud peacock, Bacon, who came in the train of +the Queen.</p> + +<p>At sunrise of the 27th of July, 1575, the festivities closed, and the royal +cavalcade with a following of ten thousand loyal subjects, accompanied the +ruling monarch to the borders of Warwickshire, with universal shouts and +ovations on her triumphal march to London.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I would applaud thee to the very echo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That should applaud again."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"All that glitters is not gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Often you have heard that told;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Many a man his life hath sold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But my outside to behold!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>LAUNCHED. APPRENTICE BOY. AMBITION.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our Stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in ourselves that we are underlings."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Will Shakspere and myself left school when we were fourteen years of age. +Our parents being reduced in worldly circumstances, needed the financial +fruits of our labor.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was bound to a butcher named John Bull, for a term of three +years, while I was put at the trade of stone-cutting with Sam Granite for +the same period.</p> + +<p>Will was one of the finest looking boys in the town of Stratford, +aristocratic by nature, large and noble in appearance, and the pride of all +the girls in the county of Warwick; for his fame as a runner, boxer, +drinker, dancer, reciter, speaker, hunter, swimmer and singer was well +known in the surrounding farms and villages, where he had occasion to +drive, purchase and sell meat animals for his butcher boss, John Bull. +Shakspere's father assisted Bull in selling hides and buying wool.</p> + +<p>In the winter of 1580, Will and myself joined a new thespian society, +organized by the boys and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> girls of Stratford, with a contingent of +theatrical talent from Shottery, Snitterfield, Leicester, Kenilworth and +Coventry.</p> + +<p>Strolling players, chartered by Queen Elizabeth and the Earl of Leicester, +often visited Stratford and the surrounding towns, infusing into the young, +and even the old, a desire for that innocent fun of tragic or comic +philosophy that wandering minstrels and circus exhibitions generate in the +human heart.</p> + +<p>Plays of Roman, Spanish and German origin, as well as those of Old Albion, +were enacted on our rural stage, and although we had not the paraphernalia +and scenery of the London actors, we made up in frantic enthusiasm what we +lacked in artistic finish, and often in our amateur exhibitions at balls, +fairs, races and May Day Morris dances, we "astonished the natives," who +paid from a penny to sixpence to see and hear the "Stratford Oriental +Theatrical Company."</p> + +<p>Shakspere always took a leading part in every play, poem and declamation, +but when an encore was given and a demand for a recitation on love, Will +was in his natural element and gave the eager audience dashes from Ovid's +Metamorphoses or Petrarch's Sonnets.</p> + +<p>The local company had a large assortment of poetic and theatrical +translations, and many of the boys and girls who had passed through the +Latin school, could "spout" the rhythmic lines of Ovid, Virgil, Horace or +Petrarch in the original language. And strange to say, the Warwickshire +audience would cheer the Latin more than the English rendition, on the +principle that the least you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> about a thing the more you enjoy it! +Thus pretense and ignorance make a stagger at information, and while +fooling themselves, imagine that they fool their elbow neighbor!</p> + +<p>Shakspere had a most marvelous memory, and his sense of taste, smell, +feeling, hearing and particularly seeing was abnormally developed, and +constant practice in talking and copying verses and philosophic sentences +made him almost perfect in his deductions and conclusions. He was a natural +orator, and impressed the beholder with his superiority.</p> + +<p>He had a habit of copying the best verses, dramatic phrases and orations of +ancient authors, and then to show his superiority of epigrammatic, incisive +style, he could paraphrase the poems of other writers into his own divine +sentences, using the crude ore of Homeric and Platonic philosophy, +resolving their thoughts into the best form of classic English, lucid, +brave and blunt!</p> + +<p>I have often tested his powers of lightning observation with each of us +running by shop windows in Stratford, Oxford or London, and betting a +dinner as to who could name the greatest number of objects, and he +invariably could name correctly three to my one. In visiting country +farmers in search of cattle, sheep or pigs he could mount a stone fence or +climb a hedge row gate, and by a glance over the field or meadow, give the +correct number of animals in sight.</p> + +<p>He was a wonder to the yeomanry of Warwickshire and the surrounding +counties, and when he had occasion to rest for the night at farm houses or +taverns, he was the prime favorite of the rural<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> flames or bouncing, +beaming barmaid. The girls went wild about him. The physical development of +Shakspere was as noticeable as his mental superiority. Often when he +ploughed the placid waters of the Avon, or buffeted the breakers of the +moaning sea, have I gazed in rapture at his manly, Adonis form, standing on +the sands, like a Grecian wrestler, waiting for the laurel crown of the +Olympic games.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great Shakspere was endowed with heavenly light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He read the book of Nature day and night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And delving through the strata of mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Divined the thoughts that thrilled the mystic mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt the pulse of all the human race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While from their beating heart could surely trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The various passions that inspire the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around this breathing world from pole to pole!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>My family and the Hathaway household were on familiar terms, for my father +at times worked an adjoining estate at the edge of the village of Shottery, +a straggling community of farmers and tradesmen, with the usual +wheelwright, blacksmith shop, corn and meat store and alehouse attachments.</p> + +<p>William, in his rural perambulations, often put up for the night at our +cottage, and as there was generally some fun going on in the neighborhood +after dark, I led him into many frolics with the boys and girls; and I can +assure you he was a rusher with the fair sex, capturing the plums that fell +from the tree of beauty and passion.</p> + +<p>On a certain moonlight night, in the month of May, 1581, a large concourse +of rural belles and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> beaux assembled at the home of John Dryden, washed by +the waters of the Avon, and thrilled by the songs of the nightingales, +thrushes and larks lending enchantment to the flitting hours.</p> + +<p>Stratford, Snitterfield, Wilmcote and Shottery sent their contingent of +roistering boys and girls to enjoy the moonlight lawn dance and rural feast +set out under flowery bowers by the generous Dryden.</p> + +<p>It would have done your heart good to see the variegated dresses, antics +and faces of the happy rural belles. I see them as plain as ever in the +looking-glass of memory. There is Laura Combs, plump and intelligent, Mary +Scott, willowy and keen, Jennie Field, sedate and sterling, Mary Hall, +musical and handsome, Annie Condell, modest and benevolent, Joyce Acton, +witty and aristocratic, Lizzie Heminge, bouncing and beaming, Fannie Hunt, +stately and kind, while Anne Hathaway, the big girl of the party, seemed to +be the leader in all the innocent mischief of the evening.</p> + +<p>William took a particular liking to the push and go of Anne, and she seemed +to concentrate her gaze on his robust form at first sight. William asked +me, as the friend of the family, to introduce him to Miss Hathaway, which I +did in my best words, and away they went, on a hop, step and a jump through +the Morris dance that was just then being enacted on the lawn.</p> + +<p>The clarion notes of the farm cocks were saluting the rosy footsteps of the +dawn when the various parties dispersed for home.</p> + +<p>The last I saw of William he was helping Miss Hathaway over the rustic +stile and hedge row that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> rimmed the old thatched cottage home of his new +found flame.</p> + +<p>It was a frigid day or night when William could not find something fresh +and new among the fair sex, and like a king bee in a field of wild flowers, +he sipped the nectar of love and beauty, and tossed carking care to the +vagrant winds.</p> + +<p>It was soon after this moonlight party that a picnic revel was given in the +domain of Sir Hugh Clopton, near the old mill and stone bridge erected by +that generous public benefactor.</p> + +<p>The boys and girls of the town turned out <i>en masse</i>, and enjoyed the +hawking, hunting, swimming, dancing, archery and boating that prevailed +that day.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the festivities, while a long line of rural beauties and +beaux were prancing and rollicking on the bridge, a scream, and a flash of +Dolly Varden dress in the river showed the struggling efforts of Anne +Hathaway to keep her head above water.</p> + +<p>One glance at the pride of his heart struggling for her life determined the +soul of the athlete, when he plunged into the running stream, caught the +arm of his adored as she was going down for the third time, and then with a +few mighty sweeps of his brawny arm, he reached the shore and heaved her on +the sands in an almost lifeless condition. She was soon restored, however, +by her numerous companions, with only the loss of a few ribbons and bunches +of hawthorn blossoms that William had tied in her golden hair that morning.</p> + +<p>William was the hero of the day, and his fame for bravery rung on the lips +of the Warwick<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>shire yeomanry, while in the heart of Anne Hathaway devotion +reigned supreme.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>"There is no love broker in the world can more prevail in man's +commendation with woman than report of valor."</i></p></div> + +<p>The courtship of William and Anne was rapid, and although her father died +only a few months before the 27th of November, 1582, license to marry was +suddenly obtained through the insistence of the yeoman friends of the +Hathaway family, Fulke-Sandells and John Richardson, who convinced the Lord +Bishop of Worcester that one calling of the banns of matrimony was only +necessary.</p> + +<p>William left his home in Stratford immediately and took charge of Anne's +cottage and farm, settling down as soon as one of his rollicking nature +could realize that he had been virtually forced into marrying a buxom girl, +eight years older than himself, and a woman of hot temper. <i>Six</i> months +after marriage Susanna, his daughter was born, and about two years after, +February 2d, 1585, his twin children Hammet and Judith were ushered into +his cottage home, as new pledges of matrimonial felicity.</p> + +<p>Things did not move on with William as happily after marriage as before, +and while his wife did most of the work, the Bard of Nature preferred to +shirk hard labor in field and wood, longing constantly to meet the "boys" +at the tavern, or fish, sing, hunt and poach along the Avon.</p> + +<p>Yoking Pegasus to a Flanders mare would be about as reasonable as joining a +practical, honest woman with a poet!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> + +<p>Water and hot oil will not mix, and the fires of genius cannot be curbed or +subdued by material surroundings. Beef cannot appreciate brains!</p> + +<p>Anne was constantly sand papering William about his vagabond life, and +holding up the picture of ruin for her ancestral estate, by his thoughtless +extravagance and determination to attend to other people's business instead +of his own. As the wife was senior and business boss, the Bard endured +these curtain lectures with meekness and surface sorrow and promises of +reformation, but, when out of her sight continued in the same old rut of +playing the clown and philosopher for the public amusement.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How hard it is to hide the spark of Nature!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>FARM LIFE. SPORTING. POACHING ON LUCY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Hanging and wiving go by destiny!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The drudgery of farm work was not relished by Shakspere, and the spring of +1586 found the man of destiny more engaged in the sports of Stratford and +surrounding villages than in the production of corn, cabbage, turnips and +potatoes. Where fun was to be found William raised the auction and the +highest bidder at the booths of vanity fair. He was athletic in mind and +body, and forever like a cribbed lion or caged eagle, struggled to shake +off his rural environments and dash away into the world of thought and +action.</p> + +<p>Home, with its practical, daily gad grind morality and responsibility, had +no charm for William, and his stalwart wife made matters worse by her +continual importunities to her vagabond husband to settle down with the +muttonhead clodhoppers and tradesmen of Warwickshire. He was not built that +way!</p> + +<p>Her farm logic fell upon deaf ears, for while she was preaching hard work +he was reading the love-lit flights of Ovid and pondering over the sugared +sonnets of Petrarch and Sir Philip Sidney, living in the realms of Clio, +Euterpe and Terpsichore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> preparing even then his pathway to the great +poems of Venus and Adonis, Lucrece, the sonnets and the immortal plays that +were incubating in the procreant soul of the Divine Bard. He was his own +schoolmaster, drawing daily draughts from the universal fountains of +Nature.</p> + +<p>And what a blessing it is to the public to have even a social scapegrace +hatch out golden ideas for their education and amusement, notwithstanding +the neglect of farm and family!</p> + +<p>The greatest good to the greatest number is best for all time.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"God moves in a mysterious way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His wonders to perform,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He plants His footsteps in the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rides upon the storm."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the first of September, 1586, the lord high sheriff of Coventry invited +the people to an archery and drinking contest.</p> + +<p>Representatives from twenty-five villages and towns were selected, from the +various working guilds and professions, to conquer or die (drunk) in the +Queen's name for the honor of Old Albion.</p> + +<p>Ceres, the Goddess of Harvest, had showered her riches on the fields and +forests of Warwickshire, and to glorify her abundance, a great athletic and +semimilitary carnival was thus given by the authorities to test the +bravery, endurance and greatness of the sons of Saint George and the +Dragon.</p> + +<p>The beautiful, broad, undulating, winding highways, leading from Stratford, +Warwick, Kenilworth and Birmingham to the ancient town of Coventry<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> were +filled with jolly pilgrims to pay devotion at the shrine of Hercules and +Bacchus, with the influence of Venus as an ever-present incentive to +passionate pleasure.</p> + +<p>That bright September morning I well remember! Dame Nature was just donning +her variegated gown of rustic-brown, while fitful airs from the realms of +Jack Frost were painting the wild roses and forest leaves in cardinal hue, +and the blackbird, thrush and musical nightingale flew low and sang hoarse, +but continually, in their assemblages for migration to lands of sun and +flowers.</p> + +<p>From Kenilworth to Coventry the rural scenery is as various and beautiful +as visions of a dream, and the undulating landscape by hill and dale, field +and forest, river, marge, cottage, hall, church and castle, grouping +themselves in shifting pictures of beauty and grandeur, where lofty elms +and sycamores rise and bend their willowy arms to the passing breeze, +indelibly impresses the beholder with a splendid kaleidoscopic view of +English hospitality and agricultural cultivation.</p> + +<p>The tall turrets of monasteries, castles and soaring church spires of +Coventry looked luminous in the morning sunshine, while the brazen tongues +of century bells rolled their mellifluous matin tones in voluminous welcome +to the great multitude of revelers within her embattled walls and +hospitable homes.</p> + +<p>Promptly at nine o'clock in the morning, in the Leicester Park, twenty-five +accoutered long bow men, in archery uniform, took their stand before the +bull's eye targets two hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>At the words "draw," "aim" and "fly" the whiz<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>zing arrows centered and +shivered in the oak targets, and none hit the bull's but Will Shakspere of +Stratford, who was proclaimed winner of the first prize, an ox, a barrel of +sack and butt of wine, with the privilege of kissing every girl in the +county.</p> + +<p>The entire day was spent in all kinds of sports, and with roasts, joints, +bread, pudding, sack, ale, gin, brandy and whiskey, the revelers did not +break up until daylight, when all were laid under the table but William and +his friends Burbage, Condell and Dick Field, who had come away from his +printing house in London to witness one of the greatest rural sports of +England.</p> + +<p>Although Stratford was not a day's walk from Coventry, William and his +friends did not succeed in getting back for three days, and often they +traveled by the light of the moon believing it was the sun in midday +splendor.</p> + +<p>Anne Hathaway heard of William's official and social victory, not in the +proud light of his Stratford and Shottery alehouse companions, but with a +tongue like a gad, she proposed to lash him into shame as a husband or +drive him from his cottage home to earn a living for his infant children.</p> + +<p>William was a little dubious as to his reception, and in order to temper +the storm to the "ambling lamb," he earnestly requested me to accompany him +home, as a buffer to his contemplated reception, believing that Anne would +mellow her words and actions in the presence of an old friend.</p> + +<p>I respectfully declined his pressing invitation and twitted him on being +afraid of a woman, when he plaintively exclaimed:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Anne Hath-a-way that gives me pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She scolds both day and night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her tongue goes pattering like the rain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And speeds my outward flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll soon be gone to London town<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And leave her house and land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where I will gain some great renown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That she may understand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I met William the next morning on his way to the Crown Tavern in search of +a "Martini Cocktail," a new drink that an Indian from America had invented +for Admiral Drake and Sir Walter Raleigh.</p> + +<p>William bore the appearance of a man who had slept by a smoky chimney, or +encountered the butt end of a threshing flail. He seemed sombre and +muttered to himself:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When sorrows come they come not single<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in battalions!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I joined him in liquidation at the tavern, for, to tell the truth, my +throat felt like the rough edge of a buffalo robe, and my nerves trembled +like aspen leaves in July.</p> + +<p>When our usual village sports filed around the table, and glee and song +once more prevailed, William began to soften in his statuesque attitude, +and laughingly proposed that we "go a poaching" on the imprisoned animals +and birds that Squire Lucy corraled for his special delectation, to the +detriment of honest apprentices and pure-minded yeomanry.</p> + +<p>His proposition was agreed to unanimously,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> and just as the sun tipped the +treetops of the Charlecote domain, we had scared up a couple of fat deer, +and sent our arrows through their trembling anatomy, and the number of +hares, grouse and pigeons we slaughtered that evening kept the landlord of +the Crown Tavern busy for two days to dish up to his jolly revelers.</p> + +<p>In this escapade we only imitated the aristocratic students of Oxford +College, who frequently made inroads into lordly domains and took some of +the treasures that God and Nature intended for all men, instead of being +hatched, bred and watched by impudent and cruel gamekeepers, employed by +tyrannical landlords, in defiance of the natural rights of the people.</p> + +<p>Even the fish in the Avon, Severn and Bay were registered and claimed by +scrubs of royalty for their exclusive use, fine and imprisonment being +imposed for hunting on the land and fishing in the streams that God made +for all men.</p> + +<p>These parliamentary laws should be voted or bulleted out of the statute +books, and the people again inherit their inalienable rights.</p> + +<p>My friend William was arrested by the malicious Lucy, and the gamekeeper, +Tom Snap, swore to enough facts to exile, hang and quarter the Bard.</p> + +<p>Through the influence of his father and John A. Combe, William, the chief +culprit, was not imprisoned, but compelled to pay a fine of one pound ten.</p> + +<p>He did not have but three shillings, yet the boys secretly passed the hat +around in the court yard and tavern, and soon extricated our chum from the +toils of Sir Thomas Lucy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> + +<p>William did not have the courage to face his wife after a week's absence, +and told me privately that he was going off instanter by the way of Oxford +to London and seek his fortune.</p> + +<p>I applauded his spunk and determination, and, at his solicitation willingly +joined him in his eloquent rambles. My parents were both dead, and being of +a bohemian tendency, my home has ever been on any spot of the earth where +the sun rose or set. Pot luck suits me.</p> + +<p>Natural freedom of body and mind has ever been my greatest delight and the +artificial fashions and tyrannical laws of society I despise and defy, and +shall to my dying day. My mind is my master.</p> + +<p>Right is my religion and God is my instructor!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I must have liberty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withal, as large a charter as the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To blow on whom I please."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The evening before we left Stratford William wrote a short note to his wife +and said that he would take her advice, leave the town, and seek his +fortune in the whirlpool of grand old London.</p> + +<p>I imagine that Anne was delighted to receive his impromptu note, for it +left her one less mouth to feed; and William was equally satisfied to be +relieved of the rôle of playing husband without any of the practical moral +adjuncts.</p> + +<p>In passing by the entrance gate to the lordly estate of Sir Thomas Lucy, or +Justice Shallow, William nailed up the following poetic shot to the +hot-headed old squire, which was read and copied the next morning, by all +the market men<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> going to town, and the tavern lads going to their country +ploughs:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The tyrant Thomas Lucy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lets no one go to mass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He's a squire for Queen Bess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in Parliament an ass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Charlecote is ruined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By this bluffer of the state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only his dependents<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will dare to call him great.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deer and hares and pidgeons<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are imprisoned for his use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, poaching lads from Stratford<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pluck this strutting, feathered goose."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>IN SEARCH OF PEACE AND FORTUNE.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Blessed are those whose blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And judgment are so commingled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'To sound what stop she pleases.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Give me that man that is not passion's slave,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will wear him in my heart's core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, in my heart of heart as I do thee."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Early on the morning of the 9th of September, 1586, William and myself took +our departure from the Crown Tavern. The landlord, Tom Gill, gave us a +bottle of his best gin and brandy to cheer us on our way to fame and +fortune. Fannie Hill, the barmaid, threw kisses at us until we rounded the +corner of the street leading to the old Grammar School. We carried +blackthorn cudgels to protect us from gamekeepers, lords and dogs.</p> + +<p>As we passed the modest cottage where William's parents resided, he +impulsively broke away from my presence to bid a long farewell to his +angelic mother, and soon again he was at my side, flushed with pride and +tears, exclaiming in undertone:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A mother's love and fervent hope<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are coined into our horoscope,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to our latest dying breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart and soul are ours to death!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In his clutched hand he held four gold "sovereigns" that his fond mother +had given him at parting to help him in the daily trials of life, when no +other friend could be so true and powerful. Gold gilds success.</p> + +<p>"Here, Jack, keep two of these for yourself, and if I should ever be +penniless, and you have gold, I know you will aid me in a pinch. The wine +nature of your soul needs no bush."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We still have slept together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wherever we went like Juno's swans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still we went coupled, and inseparable."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"William," said I, "memory with her indelible signet shall long imprint +this generous act of yours upon my soul, and when hundreds of years have +passed, I shall tell of the undying friendship of two bohemians, who, day +and night, set their own fashion, created a world of their own, and lived +ecstatically, oscillating between the blunders of Bacchus and the vanity of +Venus!"</p> + +<p>William's heart was heavy when turning his back on father, mother, brother, +sister, wife and children, at the age of twenty-two.</p> + +<p>We passed along the Clopton stone bridge, and as we tramped over Primrose +Hill looking back at the roofs and spires of Stratford, glinting in the +morning light, the Bard uttered this impulsive dash of eloquence:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell! a sad farewell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To glowing scenes of boyhood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye rocks, and rills and forests primeval<br /></span> +<span class="i0">List to my sighing soul, trembling on the tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vent its echoes in ambient air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more shall wild eyed deer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fretful hares, hawks and hounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entrance mine ear and vision,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or frantically depart when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealthy footsteps disturb the lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Phœbus' golden light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illuminates the dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Memory, many hued maiden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oft in midnight hours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall picture these eternal hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And purling streams, rimmed by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vernal meadows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pillowed even in the lap of misery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fantastic visions of thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall lull deepest woe to repose.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And banqueting at yon alehouse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nestling near blooming hedge and snowy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hawthorn, I shall live again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In blissful dreams among the enchanting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Precincts of the silver, serpentine Avon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee I lift my hands in prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disappearing, and pinioned with Hope;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Daughter of Love and sunrise—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go forth to multitudinous London,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, "buckle fortune on my back"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To bear her burden," to successful,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lofty heights of mind illimitable.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>With this apostrophe, we took a last look at the glinting gables and +sparkling spires of Strat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>ford, disappearing over the hill, our steps and +faces turned to London town, that seething whirlpool of human woe and +pleasure.</p> + +<p>The air was cold and the country roads were rutty and muddy, but the autumn +landscape was beautiful, in its gray and purple garb, while the notes of +flitting wild birds chirped and sang from bush, hedge, field and forest, in +a mournful monotone to the fading glory of the year.</p> + +<p>The various birds chattered in clumps along the highway, and then would +rise over our heads in flitting flocks, steering their course to the south +and seemingly accompanying us on our wandering way to the great metropolis.</p> + +<p>In our zigzag course we passed through the towns of Ettington, Oxhill, +Wroxton, Woodstock, Eversham and Oxford.</p> + +<p>It was near sunset when the lofty towers and steeples of ancient Oxford, +the great site of classic lore, met our view. In our haste to enter the +city before dark, we jumped a hedge fence, and stone wall, making a short +cross-cut over the lordly domain of the Earl of Norfolk, and just as we +were again emerging into the great road, a gamekeeper was seen approaching +with a huge mastiff, who rushed upon us like a lion.</p> + +<p>We were near a rough wall, and it appeared to both of us that unless we +stood for immediate fight the dog would tear us to pieces.</p> + +<p>The gamekeeper urged the dog in his barking, mad career, but just as he +made a grand leap at William's throat, his blackthorn cudgel came down with +a whirl and broke the forelegs of the mastiff, sending him to earth with a +growl and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> roar that could be heard over the castle walls that loomed up in +the evening gray. The gamekeeper aimed a blunderbuss at the Bard, but ere +he could fire the deadly weapon, I jumped on the petty tyrant whelp, and +cudgeled his face into a macerated beefsteak.</p> + +<p>We then leaped the garden wall and rushed into the city crowd where the +curtains of night screened us from dogs and licentious lords.</p> + +<p>We found our way to the Crown Tavern, kept by Richard Devanant and his +buxom black-eyed wife.</p> + +<p>The old Boniface was jolly, but was in his physical and spiritual dotage, +yet "Nell," his second wife, was the life of the place, being immensely +popular with the Oxford students, who circled about the "Crown" in midnight +hours, with hilarious independence, that defied the raids of beadles, +watchmen and armed constabulary.</p> + +<p>Those were gay and roystering days and nights when the greatest yeoman, +tradesman, student, or lord, was the one who "drank his comrade under the +table" and went away at sunrise like a lark, fluttering with dew from his +downy wing, and soaring into the sky of beauty and action.</p> + +<p>It was Saturday night when we pulled up at the old tavern, and there seemed +to be a great crowd of town people celebrating some local event.</p> + +<p>We soon found that the senior class of Oxonian students had conquered the +senior class of Cambridge at a great game of inter-college football and the +cheers and yells of Oxford bloods permeated the atmosphere until midnight.</p> + +<p>A round table spread in the tavern hall was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> loaded with food and liquors, +while songs and speeches were given with a vim, all boasting of the prowess +and patriotism of Oxford.</p> + +<p>A number of strolling players and boxers were introduced during the +evening.</p> + +<p>A young lord named Bob Burleigh, was president of the club, while Mat +Monmouth was the spokesman, who called on the various students and actors +to entertain the town roysters who dropped in to see the free and easy +celebration of the football victory.</p> + +<p>While drowning our grief and loneliness in pewter pots of ale at a side +table, in a snug corner, who should slap William on the shoulder but Ned +Sadler, our old schoolmate from Stratford. Ned was a jolly rake, and had +been in London sporting with theatrical companies, and, as a citizen of the +world, was perfectly at home wherever night overtook him.</p> + +<p>At the height of the college banquet Mat Monmouth announced that the +president of the Cambridge Boxing Club had just challenged the president of +the Oxford Club to fight, under the King's rule, for a purse of twenty +guineas.</p> + +<p>A wild cheer rent the room, and instanter the chairs and tables were pushed +aside, when Dick Milton and Jack Norfolk stepped into the improvised prize +ring, made by the circling arms of the students.</p> + +<p>Five rounds with gloves were to be fought, and the champion who knocked out +his opponent three times, should be the victor.</p> + +<p>Dick Milton, the Cambridge athlete, when "time" was called, rushed on Jack +Norfolk, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> Oxford man, with a blow that sent him over the circling arms +and into the chairs.</p> + +<p>Score one for Dick.</p> + +<p>Time was called, and Jack, although a little dazed, leaped at his opponent, +who dodged the rush, and with a quick turn got in a left-hander on Jack's +neck, and pastured him again among the yelling bloods.</p> + +<p>Score two for Dick.</p> + +<p>When time was called for the third round, the Oxford man looked bleary and +tremulous, but with that bull-dog courage that never deserts an Englishman, +he threw himself on the Cambridge man with great force and both went down +with a crash.</p> + +<p>Dick shook his opponent off like a terrier would a rat, and standing erect +at the end of the room, waited for the call of time.</p> + +<p>Jack Norfolk did not respond to the call.</p> + +<p>Score three for Dick. Victory!</p> + +<p>Then the yell of the Cambridge students could be heard among the turrets +and gables of classic Oxford, a recompense for their defeat at the +afternoon football game.</p> + +<p>Dick Milton, flushed with wine and victory, held aloft the purse of +guineas, and challenged any man in the room to fight him three rounds.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be no immediate response, but I noticed a flush in the face +of William, who modestly rose in his six-foot form and asked if the +challenge included outside citizens?</p> + +<p>Dick immediately replied, "You, or anybody in England." William said he did +not know much about fighting with gloves, but if the gentleman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> would +consent to three rounds with bare knuckles he would be pleased to +accommodate him at once.</p> + +<p>"All right, toe the mark!"</p> + +<p>Mat Monmouth called time.</p> + +<p>Dick Milton made a tiger leap at William, and landed with his right eye on +the right knuckles of the Stratford citizen. The quickness and science of +the Bard was a great surprise to the Cambridge athlete, and when time was +called he came up groggy with a funeral eye, on the defense, and not on the +tiger attack.</p> + +<p>Considerable sparring for place, and dodging about the human ring, was +indulged in by Dick, but William foiled each blow, and as the Cambridge man +inadvertently rubbed his swollen eye, the Bard landed a stinging blow on +the left optic of Milton and sent him into the arms of the landlord.</p> + +<p>When time was called, no response from the Cambridge champion was heard, +and Mat Monmouth handed over the prize purse to William, when the Oxford +lads cheered the Stratford stranger to the echo, and made him an honorary +member of their athletic club.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Screw your courage to the sticking place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we will not fail."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the second crow of the cock William and myself bid good-bye to the jolly +Boniface and his fantastic spouse, who made a deep impression on the Bard. +In fact, he was easily impressed when youth, beauty and pleasure reigned +around, and had he been born in Kentucky, no blue ribbon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> stallion in the +commonwealth could match his form, spirit or gait.</p> + +<p>Apollo with his rosy footsteps lit up hill, meadow and lawn, and kissed +away the sparkling dewdrops of bush and hedge, cheering us on our way +through the towns of Thane, over the Chilton Hills, on to Great Marlow, +Maidenhead and renowned Windsor, where forest and castle thrilled the +beholder with admiration for the works of Nature and Art.</p> + +<p>It was late in the afternoon when we entered the broad highway to Windsor, +passing numerous yeomen and tradespeople on their way to and from the royal +domain of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>In striding along, with hearts light and airy, we were suddenly startled by +cries of frantic yells coming from the rear, and looking around beheld a +wild, runaway horse, and an open wagon with two young girls screaming for +help.</p> + +<p>To see, think and act was always the way of William, and as the horse +rushed by with wagon and girls, nearly clipping our legs off, the Bard made +a leap for the tail board of the vehicle and landed in the midst of the +frightened girls. He then, as if inspired with the impulse of a tiger, +jumped on the back of the rushing animal, grabbed the trailing lines, and +neck of the horse, and steered him into a huge box hedge row that skirted +the castle walls of Windsor.</p> + +<p>Every one went after the runaway to see the fate of the party; but strange +to say, the horse was lodged high and dry in the hedge row, while William +and the girls crawled out of the wreck with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>out a scratch, soon recovering +from the fear, trepidation and danger that but a moment before reigned +supreme.</p> + +<p>We put up for the night at the Red Lion Tavern, and you may be sure that +William was the hero of the town.</p> + +<p>Rose and Bess Montagle were the young ladies whose lives had been +providentially saved, and their father was the head gamekeeper of Windsor.</p> + +<p>William was invited for breakfast the next morning at the stone lodge to +receive hearty thanks and reward for his heroic action in risking his life +for the salvation of others; but the Bard excused himself, saying that he +must start by daylight for his last stretch to London, and only asked from +the young ladies a sprig of boxwood and lock of their golden hair.</p> + +<p>At parting the father threw William a bag of gold, and the girls presented +him with the tokens desired, in addition to impulsive bashful kisses.</p> + +<p>We were off promptly by sunrise, and steering our course to Houndslow, +Brentford, Kensington, and to the top of Primrose Hill, we first caught +sight of the spires, domes, turrets, temples and palaces of multitudinous, +universal London.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"London, the needy villain's general home,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The common sewer of Paris and of Rome;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eager thirst by folly or by fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>LONDON. ITS GUILT AND GLORY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They say, best men are molded out of faults;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for the most, become much more the better<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For being a little bad."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>It was on the 13th of September, 1586, that William and myself first +feasted our eyes on the variegated wilderness of wood, mortar, stone and +tile of wonderful London.</p> + +<p>The evening was bright and clear, while a north-west wind blew away the +smoky clouds that hovered over the city like a funeral pall, displaying to +our view the silver sinuosities of old Father Thames, as he moved in +sluggish grandeur by Westminster, Blackfriars Bridge, the Tower, and to +Gravesend, on his way to the channel and the sea.</p> + +<p>To get a grand view of the town, an old sexton advised us to climb the +steeple steps of crumbling Saint Mary's, that once felt the tread of the +Crusaders, and heard the chanting hymn of monks, nuns and friars five +hundred years before.</p> + +<p>Standing on a broken column of the old steeple, three hundred feet above +Primrose Hill, William struck an attitude of theatrical fashion and uttered +the following oratorical flight:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glorious London! Leviathan of human greed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Palpitating hot-bed of iniquity and joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Greek, Roman, Spanish, Saxon, Kelt, Scot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pict, Norman and Dane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have swept over thee like winter storms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mighty Cæsar, Julius of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a myriad of bucklered warriors<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one hundred galleons of sailors<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triple-oared mariners, defying wave and fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have ploughed the placid face of Father Thames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Startling the loud cry of hawk and bittern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As his royal prows grated on thy strand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or skimmed over the marshes of thy infancy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, amid all the wrecks of human ambition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Pagan, Jew, Buddhist, Turk and Christian<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struggled for the mastery of gold and power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You still march forward, giant-like and brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Facing the morning of progress and liberty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carrying thy cross and crown to all lands—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with thy grand flotilla, chartered by Neptune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remain mistress of all the seas, defiant—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roar of thy cannon and drum beats<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard with pride and glory around the world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad, how sad, to think that the day will come<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When not a vestige of this wonderful mass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of human energy shall remain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the cry of the wolf, bat and bittern<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall only be heard, and Nature again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Resume her rustic, splendid desolation!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cities older and far greater than this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming of everlasting endurance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have been long since buried in desert sands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or engulfed in the pitiless waves of ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost forever from the rusty records<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Time, the tyrant and tomb builder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man, vain insect of a moment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who promises himself immortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then disappears like the mist of mountains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wandering meteors that sparkle and darkle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the midnight of oblivion!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We quickly descended from the steeple, passed by Buckingham Palace, Regent +Park, British Museum, through Chancery Lane into Fleet street, by Ludgate +Hill, under the shadow of old battered Saint Paul's Church on to the +Devil's Tavern, near Blackfriars Bridge, where we found gay and comfortable +lodgings for the night, it being twelve o'clock when we shook hands with +Meg Mullen, the rubicund landlady.</p> + +<p>The Devil's Tavern was a resort for actors, authors, bohemians, lords and +ladies, who did not retire early to their downy couches.</p> + +<p>The night we arrived the tavern was crowded, as the Actors' Annual Ball was +in progress, and many fair women and brave men belated by Bacchus could not +find their way home, and were compelled to remain all night and be cared +for by the host of the Devil.</p> + +<p>I told "Meg" we were Stratford boys, come up to London to seek our fortune, +and set the Thames afire with our genius.</p> + +<p>Plucking the "rosy" dame aside, I informed her that William Shakspere was a +poet, author, actor and philosopher; and, while he was posing over the +counter, smiling at a blooming barmaid, he looked the picture of his own +immortal Romeo. Meg told me in a quizzical tone that the town was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> full of +poets and actors, and that the surrounding playhouses could hire them for +ten shillings a week, with sack and bread and cheese thrown in every +Saturday night.</p> + +<p>After a hasty supper, I tossed Meg a golden guinea to pay score, as if it +were a shilling, to convince her that we were of the upper crust of +bohemians, not strollers from the Strand, or penny puppets from Eastcheap +or Smithfield.</p> + +<p>After passing back the change, Meg sent a gay and festive porter to light +us to the top cock-loft of the tavern, five stairs up, among the windows +and angled gables of the tile roof.</p> + +<p>A tallow dip and coach candle lit up the room, which was large, containing +two Roman couches with quilts, robes and blankets, a stout table, two oak +chairs, a pewter basin, and a large stone jug filled with water.</p> + +<p>The tavern seemed to be on the banks of the Thames, for we could see +through the two large windows, flitting lights as if boats and ships were +moving on the water, while across the bridge old Southwark could be seen in +the midnight glare as if it were a field of Jack-o'-lanterns moving in +mystic parade.</p> + +<p>William and myself soon found rest in deep slumber, and wafted away into a +dreamless realm, our tired bodies lay in the enfolding arms of Morpheus +until the porter knocked at our door the next morning as the clock of the +tower struck the hour of nine.</p> + +<p>Our first sight of sunrise in London gave us great expectations of fame and +fortune—for surely all we had was glowing expectations.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oft expectation fails, and most oft there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where most it promises; and oft it hits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where hope is coldest and despair most fits."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>While William stood gazing out of the roof windows of the Devil's Tavern on +the moving, meandering population of London as they passed below on lane, +street and stream, by foot, car or boat, he heaved a long drawn sigh, +turned to me and said, "Jack, what do you think of London?"</p> + +<p>"I like its whirl, dash and roar, far better than mingling with the rural +milk-sops and innocent maidens of Warwick. Here we can work and climb to +the top of the ladder of fame, while you, dear Will, will not be battered +in ear by crying kids and tongue-lashing spouse."</p> + +<p>Brushing away a tear of sorrow, no doubt for the absence of loved ones at +Stratford, he dashed down the stairs, and was soon in the jolly whirlpool +of tavern loungers, where beaming Meg greeted us with a smiling face, +having prepared in advance a fine breakfast, smoking hot from the busy +kitchen of the Devil.</p> + +<p>In passing out of the dining room, Meg led us through a back hall into a +low, long room, where a number of "ladies" and "gentlemen" were assembled +about a round table, playing "cut the card," "spring the top" and "throw +the dice;" small piles of silver and gold stacked in front of each player, +while the "King's Dealer," or fat Jack Stafford, lost or paid all bets on +"call."</p> + +<p>William and myself were incidentally introduced to the motley gang as young +"bloods" from Warwick, who had just entered London for fame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> and fortune. +The conclave rose with extreme politeness, and Jack as spokesman welcomed +us to their bosoms (so to speak), and asked if we would not "sit up and +take a hand."</p> + +<p>I respectfully declined, but William, surcharged with sorrow or flushed +with ambition, bethought of the guineas in his pocket and belt, and called +for the "dice box." "Deuces" won double and "sixes" treble coin.</p> + +<p>William, to the great amazement of the dealer, flung a guinea in the center +pot, which was immediately tapped by Jack, while the others looked on in +silent expectation.</p> + +<p>Grasping the dice box, he whirled it in his grasp, rattling the "bones" in +triumphant glee and threw on the table three "sixes," thus abstracting from +the inside pocket of the "Gentleman" at the head of the table, twenty-seven +guineas.</p> + +<p>Pushing back the coin and dice box, William proposed another throw, which +was smilingly consented to by the "child of Fortune," and grasping the box, +the Bard clicked the "ivories" and flung on the table three aces, which by +the rule of the game, gave all the coin to the "Royal" dealer.</p> + +<p>William never winced or hesitated, but pulling from his waist a buckskin +belt, threw it on the table, exclaiming, "There's fifteen guineas I wager +on the next throw."</p> + +<p>The polite Jack replied, "All right, sir, take your word for it."</p> + +<p>William frantically said:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have set my life upon a cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will stand the hazard of the die!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Then, with a round whirl, he threw three "aces" again, rose from the table +and bolted out of the room like a shot from a blunderbuss.</p> + +<p>I immediately followed in his footsteps and found him joking with the +landlady about a couple of infant bull pups she was fondling in her +capacious lap.</p> + +<p>At this juncture, who should appear on the scene but Dick Field, the first +cousin of William, who had been in London a few years engaged in the +printing and publishing business.</p> + +<p>If he had dropped out of the clouds William could not have been more +pleased or surprised, and the feeling was reciprocal.</p> + +<p>The printing shop of Field was only a short distance from the Devil's +Tavern, and we were invited to visit the establishment. On our way we +passed by the Blackfriars, Curtain, In Yard, Paris and Devil theatres, +interspersed with hurdy-gurdy concert hall, sailor and soldier, gin and +sack vaults, where blear-eyed belles and battered beaux vied with each +other in fantastic intoxication.</p> + +<p>Field did a lot of rough printing for the various theatres, issuing bill +posters, announcing plays, and setting up type sheets for actors and +managers, in their daily concerts and dramas for the public amusement.</p> + +<p>As luck would have it, old James Burbage and his son Dick were waiting for +Field, with a lot of dramatic manuscript that must be put in print at once.</p> + +<p>We were casually introduced to the great the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>atrical magnate Burbage, as +relatives from Stratford who were just then in search of work.</p> + +<p>James Burbage gazed for a moment on the manly form of William and blurted +out in his bluff manner, "What do you know?"</p> + +<p>Quick as a flash William replied: "I know more than those who know less, +and know less than those who know more."</p> + +<p>"Sharp answer, 'boy.' See me to-morrow at the Blackfriars at noon."</p> + +<p>We turned aside and left Field and Burbage to their business; while Dick +Burbage, the gay theatrical rake, invited us across the way to the Bull's +Head, where we irrigated our anatomy, and then returned to the printing +shop.</p> + +<p>Field informed me that he had given us a great setting up with old Burbage; +and would see his partner Greene, the playwright, and add to our +recommendation for energy and learning.</p> + +<p>We were invited to dine with Field that evening at eight o'clock at the +Boar's Head Tavern, where Dame Quickly dispensed the best food and fluid of +the lower town, and where the wags and wits of all lands congregated in +security.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"At the very witching time of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When church yards yawn and hell itself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathes out contagion to this world."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>TAVERNS. THEATRES. VARIEGATED SOCIETY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Man's evil manners live in brass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their virtues we write in water."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The Boar's Head Tavern in Eastcheap was one of the oldest and best inns in +London for free and easy rollicking mood, where prince and peasant, king or +clown, papist or puritan were welcome night and day, provided they intended +no wrong and kept good nature aglow even in their cups. Magistrate and +convent prior would sometimes raid the tavern until their physical and +financial wants were satisfied.</p> + +<p>Dame Quickly, with ruffled collar, was the master spirit of the house, and +had been its light and glory for thirty years. Her round, full face, fat +neck and robust form was a constant invitation for good cheer, and her +matchless wit was a marvel to the guests that nightly congregated through +her three-story gabled stone monastery.</p> + +<p>A tavern is the best picture of human folly, nature wearing no garb of +hypocrisy.</p> + +<p>You must know that the Boar's Head had once been the home of the +"Blackfriars," then a residence of a bishop, a convent, a brewery, and +finally fell into the hands of the grandfather of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> Dame Quickly, who +bequeathed it to his posterity and the public as a depot for plum pudding, +roast beef, lamb, birds, fish, ale, wine, brandy and universal pleasure. A +boar's head, with a red light in its mouth was kept constantly burning from +sunset to sunrise, where wandering humanity found welcome and rest.</p> + +<p>Supper parties from the adjacent theatres filled the tavern in midnight +hours, where actors, authors, politicians, statesmen and ladies of all hue, +reveled in jolly, generous freedom, beneath the ever-present +superintendence of buxom Dame Quickly.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The gods are just, and oft our pleasant vices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make instruments to scourge us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Boys, immature in knowledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pawn their experience to their present pleasure."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The main bar, decorated with variegated lights and shining blue bottles and +glasses, with pewter and silver mugs in theatrical rows, lent a kind of +enchantment to the nightly scene. Round, square and octagonal oak tables +were scattered through the various rooms, and rough leather lounges skirted +the walls.</p> + +<p>Promptly at eight o'clock William and myself passed the stony portals of +the Boar's Head, and were ushered into the back ground floor dining room +where we met our friend Field and a playwright named Christopher Marlowe, +standing before a great open chimney, with a blazing fire and a splendid +supper.</p> + +<p>Field seemed to take great pride in making us<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> acquainted with Marlowe, the +greatest actor and dramatist of his day, whose plays were even then the +talk and delight of London.</p> + +<p>"Tamberlaine the Great" and "Dr. Faustus" had been successfully launched at +the Blackfriars, and young Marlowe was in his glory, the wit and toast of +the town. He was but twenty-five years of age, finely formed, a voluptuary, +high jutting forehead, dark hazel eye, and a typical image of a bohemian +poet. It was a toss up as to who was the handsomest man, William or +Marlowe, yet a stranger, on close inspection could see glinting out of +William's eye a divine light and flashing expression that ever commanded +respect and admiration. He was unlike any other mortal.</p> + +<p>I, alone at that period, knew the bursting ability of William; and that his +granary of knowledge was full to the brim, needing only an opportunity to +flood the world with immortal sonnets, Venus and Adonis, and the incubating +passion plays that lay struggling in his burning brain for universal +recognition.</p> + +<p>During the evening young actors, politicians, college students and +roystering lords, filled the house and by twelve o'clock Bacchanalian folly +ruled the madcaps of the town, while battered Venus with bedraggled hair +and skirts languished in sensuous display.</p> + +<p>Field requested his friend Marlowe to recite a few lines from "Dr. Faustus" +for our instruction and pleasure, and forthwith he gave the soliloquy of +Faust, waiting at midnight for Lucifer to carry him to hell, the terrified +Doctor exclaiming to the devil:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh mercy! heaven, look not so fierce on me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adders and serpents, let me breathe awhile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ugly hell gape not; come not, Lucifer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll burn my books; oh! Mephistopheles!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then mellowing his sonorous voice, gives thus his classical apostrophe +to Helen of Greece:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Was this the face that launched a thousand ships<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And burned the topless towers of Illium?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lips suck forth my soul—see where it flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all is dross that is not Helena.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, thou art fairer than the evening air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he appeared to hapless Semele;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More lovely than the monarch of the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In wanton Arethusa's azure arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none but thou shalt be my paramour!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A loud round of applause greeted the rendition of the classical poem, not +only at our own table, but through the entire hall and adjacent rooms.</p> + +<p>At a table not far away sat a number of illustrious gentlemen, favorites of +Queen Elizabeth and greatly admired by the people.</p> + +<p>There sat Sir Walter Raleigh, lately returned from discoveries in America; +Francis Bacon, Attorney-General to the Crown; Earl Essex, the court +favorite; Lord Southampton, the gayest in the realm; with young Burleigh, +Cecil and Leicester,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> making night melodious with their songs, speeches and +tinkling silver wine cups.</p> + +<p>The young lords insisted that we give another recitation, pictorial of love +and passion. Marlowe declined to say more, but knowing that William had +hatched out his crude verses of Venus and Adonis, I insisted that he +deliver a few stanzas for the enthusiastic audience, particularly +describing the passionate pleadings of Venus to the stallion Adonis.</p> + +<p>Without hesitation, trepidation or excuse, William arose in manly attitude +and drew a picture of beautiful Venus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sometimes her arms infold him like a band;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She would, he will not in her arms be bound;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when from thence he struggles to be gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She locks her lily fingers one in one!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemmed thee here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the circuit of this ivory pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feed where thou wilt on mountain or in dale;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stray lower where the pleasant fountains lie.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Within this limit is relief enough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet bottom grass and high delightful plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round rising hillocks, brake obscure and rough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shelter thee from tempest and from rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then be my deer since I am such a park—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No dog shall rouse thee though a thousand bark!'"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>When he dropped in his chair the revelers went wild with enthusiasm, and +Marlowe and Southampton wished to know where the "Stratford Boy" got the +poem!</p> + +<p>William smiled, tapped his forehead and tossed off a bumper of brandy to +the cheers that still demanded more mental food.</p> + +<p>But as it was two by the clock, our friend Field suggested that we retire, +when Marlow and himself took us in a carriage to the Devil Tavern, where we +slept off our first spree in London.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O thou invisible spirit of wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou hast no name to be known by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us call thee Devil!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We arose the next morning a little groggy, and William had a shade of +melancholy remorse flash over his usually bright countenance.</p> + +<p>He abstractedly remarked: "Well, Jack, we are making a fine start for fame +and fortune. The stride we took last night, at the Boar's Head, will soon +land us in Newgate or Parliament!"</p> + +<p>I replied that it made little difference to intellectual artists whether +they served their country in prison or in Parliament, for many a man was in +Newgate who might honor Parliament, and many secret scoundrels who had not +been caught should be inmates of Newgate, or, if equal justice prevailed, +their bodies be dangling on the heights of Tyburn!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A Daniel come to judgment; yea, a Daniel!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O wise young judge, how I do honor thee!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poise the cause in justice' equal scales,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose beam stands sure?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was ten o'clock when we stretched our weary legs under the breakfast +table of Meg Mullen, who had prepared for us a quartette of fat mutton +chops, with salt pork, baked potatoes, a huge omelet and a boiling pot of +black tea, sent, as she said, by the Emperor of China for the guests of the +Boar's Head Tavern!</p> + +<p>Meg was a jolly wench, and garnished her food with pleasant words and witty +quips, believing that love and laughter aided digestion and cheered the +traveler in his journey of life.</p> + +<p>I reminded William that he had a business engagement with the great +theatrical monarch, Richard Burbage, at noon at the Blackfriars.</p> + +<p>The Bard was ready for a stroll, and after brushing our clothes and smiling +at the variegated guests, we sauntered into the street toward the Thames, +and soon found the entrance to the renowned Blackfriars Theatre.</p> + +<p>A call-boy ushered us into the presence of the great actor and manager, who +greeted us with a snappish "Good morning!"</p> + +<p>A number of authors and actors were waiting their turn to see the prince of +players, whose signet of approval or disapproval finished their +expectations. It was Saturday and pay day.</p> + +<p>Turning abruptly to William, the proprietor said: "I understand you know +something about theatres and acting?"</p> + +<p>"Try me; you shall be my judge."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, from this hour you are appointed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> assistant property man and +assistant prompter for the Blackfriars, at sixteen shillings a week, with +chance of promotion, if you deserve it!</p> + +<p>"Your business hours shall be from noon, every week day, until five +o'clock; and from eight o'clock in the night until eleven o'clock, when you +are at liberty until the next day!</p> + +<p>"Do you accept the work?"</p> + +<p>William promptly replied:</p> + +<p>"I accept with immeasurable thanks, and like Cæsar of old, I cross the +dramatic Rubicon."</p> + +<p>The Bard was then introduced to Bull Billings, the chief property man and +prompter, who at once initiated William into the machinery secrets of the +stage, with its scenes, ropes, chains, masks, moons, gods, swords, +bucklers, guns, pikes, torches, wheels, chairs, thrones, giants, wigs, +hats, bonnets, robes, brass jewels, kings, queens, dukes, lords, and all +the other paraphernalia of dramatic exhibition.</p> + +<p>William was now launched upon the ocean of theatrical suns and storms, with +Nature for his guide and everlasting glory for his name.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lowliness is young ambition's ladder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereto the climber turns his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when he once attains the utmost round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then unto the ladder turns his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which he did ascend!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>THEATRICAL DRUDGERY. COMPOSITIONS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet are the uses of adversity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wears yet a precious jewel in its head."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Shakspere had now his foot firmly planted on the lower round of the ladder +of fame, whose top leaned against the skies of immortality!</p> + +<p>The fermentation of composition began again to work within his seething +brain, and the daily demands of the Blackfriars spurred him on to emulate +if not surpass Kyd, Lodge, Greene and Marlowe.</p> + +<p>During the time Shakspere had been a strolling player through the middle +towns of England he had studied the works of Ovid and Petrarch, and read +with pleasure the sonnets and Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney.</p> + +<p>While playing at Kenilworth, the Lady Anne Manners, young and beautiful +cousin to the Earl of Leicester, honored the young actor with great praise +for his part in playing the Lover in "Love's Conquest." She presented the +Bard with a bunch of immortelles, that even when withered, he always<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> kept +in an inside pocket, and at various times composed sonnets to his absent +admirer, playing Petrarch to another Laura.</p> + +<p>The languishing, luscious, lascivious poem of "Venus and Adonis" was really +inspired by the remembrance of Miss Manners, and imagination pictured +himself and the lady as the principals in the sensuous situation!</p> + +<p>William, like Dame Nature, was full of life-sap, that circled through his +body and brain with constant motion and sought an outlet for the surplus +volume of ideal knowledge, in theatrical action, teaching lessons of right +and wrong, with vice and virtue struggling forever for the mastery of +mankind.</p> + +<p>The Bard worked night and day in his duties as theatrical drudge for the +Blackfriars, and made himself valuable and solid with old Burbage, who saw +in the young actor a marvelous development of new thought and force, that +had never before been seen on the British stage.</p> + +<p>In a few weeks Bull Billings was discharged for tyranny and drunkenness, +and my friend William was given the place of chief property man and +prompter.</p> + +<p>Various plays were put on and off the Blackfriars stage, through the hisses +or cheers of the motley audience, the autocrats of the "pit" seeming to be +the real umpires of the cessation or continuance of the most noted plays.</p> + +<p>The last week in October, 1586, was a mournful time for London, as the +greatest favorite of Queen Elizabeth, Sir Philip Sidney, was to receive a +State funeral at Saint Paul's.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> + +<p>All England went in mourning for the handsome cavalier and poet, who lost +his life at the siege of Axel, in the Netherlands, while serving as chief +of cavalry under his uncle, the Earl of Leicester.</p> + +<p>All business closed in honor of the young hero, and the celebrated military +organization, the "Ancient and Honorable Artillery," led more than thirty +thousand of the "train bands," who followed in the great procession to +Saint Paul's Church.</p> + +<p>The sacerdotal service began at noon, and Queen Elizabeth rode in a golden +car on a dark purple throne to witness the last rites in honor of her court +favorite.</p> + +<p>The bells of London churches, temples, turrets, and towers rang continually +until sundown, filling the air with a universal requiem of grief, while the +black clouds hanging over the metropolis shed showers of tears for the +untimely loss of a patriot and a poet.</p> + +<p>William and myself saw the funeral car from the steps of St Paul, and as +the coffin was carried in on the shoulders of eight stalwart soldiers, +dressed in the golden garb of the Horse Battalions, we bowed our heads in +holy adoration to the memory and valor of the sonnet-maker—lost in eternal +sleep.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, sleep, O sleep, the certain knot of peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The baiting place of wit, the balm of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The indifferent judge between the high and low!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>How truthful this extract from one of Sidney's sonnets!</p> + +<p>He was a synonym of bravery and politeness; for being carried from the +field of battle, thirsty and bleeding, he called for a cup of water, and +just as he was lifting it to his lips a fatally wounded soldier was being +carried by who fixed his longing eyes eagerly on the cup—and instanter, +the gay and gallant Sidney delivered the drink to the poor soldier, saying: +"Thy necessity is greater than mine!"</p> + +<p>Noble self-sacrifice, elemental generosity, imperial nature, sublime and +benevolent in thought and act!</p> + +<p>On our return to the Devil Tavern for supper we found Manager Burbage, of +Blackfriars, awaiting us. He was in great haste and desired William to look +over a play that had been submitted by Greene and Lodge, who composed it +jointly.</p> + +<p>It was a comedy-tragedy, entitled "Looking Glass of London," in three +rambling acts, and while Burbage was disposed to take the play and pay for +it, he desired that Shakspere should give it such ripping corrections as he +thought best.</p> + +<p>This was surely showing great confidence in a young actor and author—to +criticise the play of acknowledged dramatists who had been the talk of the +town.</p> + +<p>Shakspere modestly remarked: "I fear, sir, your friends, Lodge and Greene, +will not like or tolerate my cutting of their play."</p> + +<p>"Care not for their opinion! Do as I say, and have the play ready for +staging Monday afternoon at two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Your command is law, and I obey," said the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> Bard—and out rushed the +bluffing, busy Burbage.</p> + +<p>The constant circulation of bohemian customers, day and night about the +Devil's Tavern, was not conducive to careful composition of plays, and +William and myself moved to modest quarters near Paris Garden, kept by a +Miss Maggie Mellow, a blonde maiden of uncertain age.</p> + +<p>William continued to perform his theatrical duties diligently, while I was +engaged at the printing shop of Field, translating historic, dramatic and +poetic works from Latin authors, thus piecing out the price of food, +clothes and shelter in the whirlpool of London joy and misery.</p> + +<p>During my apprenticeship with Sam Granite, as a marble cutter, I spent my +nights with Master Hunt studying the intricate windings of the Latin +language, and became proficient in the translation of ancient authors, +delving also into the philosophy of Greek roots, with its Attic phrases and +Athenian eloquence.</p> + +<p>My parents desired me to leave off the trade of stone cutting and prepare +for the priesthood, where I could make an easier living, working on the +fears, egotism and hopes of mankind.</p> + +<p>I was always too blunt to play the velvet philosopher and saint-like +character of a sacerdotal vicaro of any church or creed, feeling full well +that the so-called divine teacher and pupil know just as much about the +"hereafter" as I do—and that's nothing! Put not thy faith in wind, +variable and inconstant.</p> + +<p>So, a life of bohemian hack-work for printers, publishers and theatrical +managers seemed best suited to my nature, giving me perfect freedom of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +thought and a disposition to express my honest opinion to prince or +peasant, in home, church or state.</p> + +<p>God is God, and Nature is His representative!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While man, vain creature of an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depressed by grief or blessed by power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but a shadow and a name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flash of evanescent fame!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Most of the dramatic writers during the reigns of Henry the Eighth, +Elizabeth, James the First, and Charles the Second, were graduates of +Oxford, Cambridge or other classical halls of learning. They borrowed their +plots and characters from ancient history and endeavored to galvanize them +into English subjects, tickling the ears of the groundlings, as well as +their royal patrons with Grecian and Roman translations of lofty +allegorical and mythological conceptions.</p> + +<p>Æschylus, Euripides, Sophocles and Homer, with Terence, Tacitus, Virgil, +Horace and Ovid, were constantly pillaged for thoughts to piece out the +theatrical robes and blank verse eloquence of playwrights who only received +for their best accepted works from five to twenty pounds; proprietors and +stage managers driving hard bargains with these brilliant, bacchanalian and +impecunious bohemians.</p> + +<p>The winter and spring of 1587-8 was a busy time for William. In addition to +his prompting and casting the various plays for Burbage, he was engaged in +collecting his sonnets, putting finishing touches on "Venus and Adonis," as +well as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> composing the "Rape of Lucrece," a Roman epic, based on historic +truth.</p> + +<p>He had also planned and mapped out the English play of "Henry the Fourth," +taken from an old historical play, and was figuring on two +comedies—"Midsummer Night's Dream" and the "Merry Wives of Windsor."</p> + +<p>Often when entering his workroom at twelve o'clock at night, or six o'clock +in the morning, I found him scratching, cutting, and delving away at his +literary bench and oak chest.</p> + +<p>He could work at three or four plays alternately, and, from crude plots +taken out of ancient history, novels, religious or mythological tableaus, +devised his characters and put words in their mouths that burned in the +ears of British yeomen, tradesmen, professional sharpers and lords and +ladies who crowded the benches and boxes of the Blackfriars.</p> + +<p>He reminded me of an expert cabinet-maker, who had piled up in a corner of +his shop a variety lot of rough timber, from which he fashioned and +manufactured the most exquisite dressers, sofas and bureaus, dovetailing +each piece of oak, rosewood or mahogany, with exact workmanship, and then +with the silken varnish of his genius, sending his wares out to the rushing +world to be admired, and transmitted to posterity, with perfect faith in +the endurance of his creations!</p> + +<p>In putting the finishing touches on the fifth act of a play he would +quickly change to the composition of the first act of another, and, with +lightning rapidity embellish the characters in the third act of some +comedy, tragedy or history, that constantly occupied his multifarious +brain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>His working den at the Blackfriars was crowded with a mass of theatrical +literary productions, ancient and modern, while our lodging rooms were +piled up with Latin, Greek, Spanish and French translations.</p> + +<p>Manager Burbage, Dick Field and even Chris Marlowe were constantly +patronizing the wonderful William, and supplied him with the iron ore +products of the ancient and middle ages, which he quickly fashioned into +the laminated steel of dramatic excellence.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a Colossus; and we petty men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk under his huge legs and peep about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find ourselves dishonorable graves."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>GROWING LITERARY RENOWN. ROYAL PATRONS.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Follow your envious courses, men of malice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In time will find their fit rewards."<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O beware, my lord, of jealousy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meat it feeds on."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The literary and dramatic world of London in the years 1589 to 1592 was +stirred with pride and astonishment at the productions of William +Shakspere, and from the tavern and guilds of tradesmen to the crack clubs +of authors, lords and royalty itself, the Dramatic Magician of the +Blackfriars was praised to the skies and sought for by even Queen +Elizabeth, who saw more than another Edmund Spenser to glorify her reign +and flash her name down the ages with even finer, luminous colors than +bedecked the sylvan pathway of the Faerie Queen!</p> + +<p>The Earl of Leicester was one of the first great men of England to +recognize the divine accomplishments of the Warwickshire boy who had made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +his first theatrical adventures through the domain of the old Earl, and who +was ever the friend of old John Shakspere, the impecunious and agnostic +father of our brilliant Bard.</p> + +<p>On the death of the old Earl in the autumn of 1588, his domain reverted to +his stepson, the young Earl of Essex, who continued to be the patron of +letters and often attended the Blackfriars, with his friend, the handsome +and intellectual Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, who took the +greatest interest in the plays of "Love's Labor's Lost," "Two Gentlemen of +Verona," "King John," "Henry the <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original has a missing closing quote">Fourth,"</ins> "Henry the Fifth," and "Henry the +Sixth," that were then fermenting in the brain of William.</p> + +<p>He had ransacked the history of Hollingshead and others to illustrate on +the stage the civil wars between the houses of York and Lancaster, known as +the war of the Red and White Roses, with canker and thorn to pester each +royal clan and bring misery on the British people because of a family +quarrel!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What have Kings that privates have not too,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Save ceremony?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The jealousy of Kyd, Lodge and Greene continued to secretly knife the +Stratford butcher boy, but the more they tried to cough him down the more +he rose in public estimation, until finally these little vipers of spite +and spleen gave up their secret scandal chase, when, like a roebuck from +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> forest of Arden or Caledonian heather crags, he flashed out of sight +of all the dramatic and poetic hounds who pursued him, and ever after +looked down from the imperial heights of Parnassus at the dummies of +theatrical pretense.</p> + +<p>They accused him of wholesale plagiarism and of robbing the archives of +every land for raw material to build up his comedies, tragedies and +histories.</p> + +<p>He laughed and worked on, night and day, acknowledging the "soft +impeachment" of his literary integrity, but at the same time defied them to +equal or surpass the marvelous characters he created for the edification +and glory of mankind!</p> + +<p>Yet, while he had a few envious literary, political and religious +detractors, he was building up constantly a bulwark of sentimental and +material friends in London that kept his name on the tongue of thinkers in +home, tavern, club and palace.</p> + +<p>The keen and generous Burbage knew the intrinsic value of Shakspere, and to +tie him to the interest of the Blackfriars, he gradually increased the +Bard's salary and gave him an interest in the stock company. Yet, other +theatres staged his plays.</p> + +<p>Edmund Spenser, the greatest rhythmic poet of his day, author of the +"Faerie Queen," and prime favorite of Sidney and Queen Elizabeth, was +lavish in his praise of the rising dramatist, while Michael Drayton and +Christopher Marlowe vied with each other in admiration of the newly +discovered star of intellectual brilliancy that glittered unceasingly in +the sky of poetic and philosophic letters.</p> + +<p>Essex, Southampton, Raleigh, Bacon, Monmouth, Derby, Norfolk, +Northumberland, Percy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> Burleigh, Cecil, Montague, and many other lords of +London club life, gave a ready adherence to Shakspere, and after his mighty +acting on the Blackfriars and other stages, struggled with each other as to +who should have the honor of entertaining him at the gay midnight suppers +that delighted the amusement world of London.</p> + +<p>One of the most valuable friends William encountered in London was John +Florio, a Florentine, the greatest linguist of his day, who had traveled in +all lands and gathered nuggets of thought in every clime. He spoke Spanish, +Italian, French, German and Greek, with the accent of a native, and had but +recently translated the works of Montaigne, the great French philosopher. +The Herbert-Southampton family patronized him.</p> + +<p>When not employed at the various theatres, the Stratford miracle could be +found at the rooms of his friend Florio, at the "Red Lion," across the +street from Temple Bar, where law students, bailiffs and barristers made +day and night merry with their professional antics.</p> + +<p>William employed Florio to teach him the technical and philosophic merits +of the Greek and Latin languages, and at the same time furnish him with +ancient stories that he might dramatize into English classics, and astonish +the native writers by dressing up old subjects in new frocks, cloaks, robes +and crowns.</p> + +<p>Florio would often read by the hour, gems of Latin, Greek and French +philosophy, and explain to us the intricate phrases of Virgil, Ovid, +Terence, Homer, Æschylus, Plutarch, Demosthenes, Plato, Petrarch and Dante, +while William drank<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> up his imparted knowledge as freely and quickly as the +sun in his course inhales the sparkling dewdrops from garden, vale and +mountain.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1591 William and myself paid a flying visit to Stratford, +the Bard to pay up some family debts and bury a brother who had recently +migrated to the land of imagination.</p> + +<p>The mother and father of William were delighted at the London success of +their son, and Anne Hathaway seemed to be mellowed and mollified by the +guineas William emptied into her lap, while Hammet and Judith, the +rollicking children, were rampant with delight at the toys, sweetmeats and +dresses presented as Easter offerings.</p> + +<p>No matter what the incompatibility of temper between William and Anne, he +never forgot to send part of his wages for the support of herself and +children, and although he was a "free lance" among the ladies of London, he +maintained the "higher law" of family purity and morality.</p> + +<p>When he violated any of the ten commandments, he did it with his eyes open, +and took the consequent mental or physical punishment with stoic +indifference. He never called on others to shoulder his sins, but on the +contrary he often bore the burden of cowardly "friends," who made him the +"scapegoat" for their own iniquity—a common class of scoundrels.</p> + +<p>He never bothered himself about the religion manufacturers of mankind, +knowing that the whole scheme, from the Oriental sunworshipers to the +quarreling crowd of Pagans, Hebrews, Christians and Moslems, was nothing +but a keen financial syndicate or trust to keep sacerdotal sharpers in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +place and power at the expense of plodding ignorance, hope and bigotry!</p> + +<p>The night we started back for London, by jaunting car, on the road to +Oxford, the Bard was in a mood of lofty contemplation. He had stowed away +in the bottom of the car, a mass of school-day and strolling-player +compositions, evolved in the rush of vanished years.</p> + +<p>"William," said I, "can you tell me anything about the silence of those +sparkling, eternal stars and planets?"</p> + +<p>He instantly replied:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I question the infinite silence,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And endeavor to fathom the deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That rests in the ocean of knowledge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dreams in the heaven of sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I soar with the wing of science,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its mysterious realm to explore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wail of the wild sea breakers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drowns my soul in the Nevermore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the answer of finite wisdom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is as fickle as ambient air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my wreckage of hopes are scattered<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the rocks and shores of despair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Arriving at the Crown Tavern, in Oxford, we were, as usual, received by the +old Boniface Devanant and his handsome wife, with warm words and luxurious +table cheer. After a day and night of reasonable revelry, we proceeded on +our way to London, and in due course found our sunny lodgings at the home +of Maggie Mellow.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The night after our arrival Sir Walter Raleigh gave a grand banquet at the +Mermaid Club to the principal wits of London.</p> + +<p>Burbage, Florio, Field, William and myself were invited as special guests, +in honor of the poetic and dramatic association.</p> + +<p>Representative authors and actors of the various theatrical companies were +present at the festive war of wits.</p> + +<p>The Queen's men, and those who played under the patronage of Leicester, +Pembroke, Burleigh, and the Lord Admiral were there, while Henslowe, the +owner of the Rose Theatre on Bankside, with his son-in-law, Edward Alleyn, +the noted actor, shone in all their borrowed glory.</p> + +<p>Spenser, Drayton, Marlowe, Kyd, Nash, Chettle, Peele, Greene, and a young +author, Ben Jonson, were a few of the literary luminaries present.</p> + +<p>A contingent of London lords, patrons of authors and actors graced the +scene. Essex, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Southhampton'">Southampton</ins>, Pembroke, Cecil, Mortimer, Burleigh and Lord +Bacon occupied prominent places at the angle table of the club, where +Raleigh sat as master of ceremonies.</p> + +<p>Promptly at eleven o'clock, the great courtier, sailor and discoverer arose +from his elevated chair and proposed a toast to the Virgin and Fairy Queen!</p> + +<p>All stood to their tankards and drank unanimously to the Virgin Queen.</p> + +<p>I thought I observed a flash of secret smiles pictured on the lips of +Essex, Spenser, Bacon and Raleigh when Elizabeth was toasted as the +<i>Virgin</i> Queen; and William whispered in my ear:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Her virtues graced with eternal gifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do breed love's settled passions in my heart!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After tremendous cheers were given for the Queen, Sir Walter, in his +blandest mood said: "We are glorified by having with us to-night the +greatest poet in the realm, and I trust Sir Edmund Spenser will be gracious +enough to give us a few lines from the 'Faerie Queen.'"</p> + +<p>Sir Edmund arose in his place and said:</p> + +<p>"In Una, the Fairy Queen, I beheld the purity and innocence of Elizabeth, +and in the lion of passion, hungry from the forest, I saw her conquer even +in her naked habiliments."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One day, nigh weary of the irksome way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her unhasty beast she did alight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the grass her dainty limbs did lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In secret shadow, far from all men's sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From her fair head her fillet she undight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid her stole aside, her angel's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the great Eye of Heaven, shone bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made a sunshine in the shady place—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did never mortal eye behold such grace!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fortuned, out of the thickest wood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ramping Lion rushed suddenly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunting full greedy after savage blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soon as the Royal Virgin he did spy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gaping month at her ran greedily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have at once devoured her tender corse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the prey when as he drew more nigh—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bloody rage assuaged with remorse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the sight amazed, forgot his furious force!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Spenser resumed his seat, while a whirl of echoing applause waved from +floor to rafter.</p> + +<p>Then Sir Walter remarked:</p> + +<p>"We are honored to-night by the presence of the counsel extraordinary of +Queen Elizabeth, the orator and philosopher, Sir Francis Bacon, who will, I +trust, give us a sentiment in honor of Her Majesty, the patron of art, +literature and liberty!"</p> + +<p>Bacon, handsome, proud, but obsequious, then arose and addressed the jolly +banqueters as follows:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen: The toast of the evening to her gracious Majesty, Elizabeth, +the Virgin Queen, meets my soul-lit approval, and had I the wings of fancy, +instead of the plodding pedals of practical administration, I should raise +her virtuous statue to the skies until its pinnacle shone above the uplands +of omnipotence!</p> + +<p>"Philosophy teaches us that vice and virtue are at eternal war, and that +whether married or single, the happiest state of man or woman is personal +independence!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pain his head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those that live single, take it for a curse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or do things worse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some would have children, those that have them mourn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wish they were gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is it then, to have or have no wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But single thraldom, or a double strife!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"My friends: The ocean is the solitary handmaid of eternity. Cold and salt +cure alike!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Men are like ants, crawling up and down.</p> + +<p>"Some carry corn, some carry their young, and all go to and fro—at last a +little heap of dust!"</p> + +<p>The states' attorney took his seat, with frantic applause rattling in his +ears.</p> + +<p>Although the sentiments of Bacon were variable, mixed, foreign and +epigrammatic, they received great attention; for no matter who may be the +speaker at a banquet where royalty and power are the subjects at issue, +there will be great and tremendous cheering by little sycophants who expect +reward, and of course, by those patriots who have already received favors +from the administration pie counter.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter at last arose and said "that although the hour was late, or, +more properly speaking, early, he earnestly desired the noble gentlemen +present to hear one whose fame, in the world of dramatic letters, like the +morning sun, had already flashed upon the horizon and rapidly approached +the high noon of earthly immortality—William Shakspere, of +Stratford-on-Avon!"</p> + +<p>Then could be heard roof-lifting cheers by all present, who had often heard +the Bard in his lofty language and kingly strides at the Blackfriars.</p> + +<p>William, in the flush of self-conscious, imperial, splendid manhood +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your toast of glory to The Virgin Queen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cracks high heaven with reverberation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the ambient air, sonorous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoing muses mingle the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harmony of the spheres with celestial repetition!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Elizabeth, I lift my song to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In holy adoration<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To echo down the flowing tide of ages!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the chronicle of wasted time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see descriptions of the fairest wights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty making beautiful old rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In praise of ladies dead and gallant knights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know their antique pen would have expressed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even such a beauty as you master now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So all their praises are but prophecies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this our time, all you prefiguring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, for they looked, but with divining eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They had not skill enough your worth to sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me, which now behold these present days<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can yet the lease of my true love control,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sad augurs mark their own presage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incertainties now crown themselves assured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And peace proclaims olives of endless age.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now with the drops of the most balmy time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since spite of him I'll live in the poor rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While he sweeps over dull and speechless tribes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, in this shall find thy monument,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When tyrant crests and tombs of brass are spent!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Rapturous and universal praise and applause greeted William and his +immortal sonnets; and if any critical reader or author will take pains to +delve into and scan the poetry and philosophy of Spenser and Bacon with +that of Shakspere, they will quickly and honestly come to the conclusion +that the former writers are merely rushlights to the flashing electric +lights of the Divine Bard!</p> + +<p>To paraphrase the encomium of Shakspere to Cleopatra would fit the +greatness of himself:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Age cannot wither him, nor custom stale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His infinite variety; other men cloy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The appetites they feed; but he makes hungry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where most he satisfies!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>BOHEMIAN HOURS. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. "LOVE'S LABOR'S LOST."</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have ventured<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This many summers in a sea of glory."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The literary bohemians of London three hundred years ago were an +impecunious and jealous lot of human pismires, who built their dens, +carried their loads, and were filled with vaulting ambition just the same +as we see them to-day.</p> + +<p>The hack-writer for publishers, the actor for theatrical managers and the +author of growing renown belonged to clubs and tavern coteries, pushing +their way up the rocky heights of fame, and struggling, as now, for bread, +clothes and shelter, many of the Bacchanalian creatures dying from hunger +at the foothills of their ambition; and instead of winning a niche in the +columned aisles of Westminster Abbey, dropped dead in some back alley or +gloomy garret, to be carted away by the Beadle to the voracious Potter's +field.</p> + +<p>They often courted Dame Suicide, who never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> fails to relieve the wicked, +wretched, insane or desperate from their intolerable situation.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fear'st to die? Famine is in thy cheeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Content and beggary hang upon thy back;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>How often at the Miter or Falcon taverns have I seen these little great +literary men swell like a toad or puff like a pigeon at the flattery +bestowed on them by fawning bohemians, meaner than themselves, who sought a +midnight snack and a tankard of foaming ale.</p> + +<p>Of all the despicable and miserable creatures I have ever known it is the +poor starving devil, with latent genius, who attempts to pay court to a +cad, snob, or drunken lord around the refuse of literary or sporting clubs +in midnight hours.</p> + +<p>William was always very kind to these threadbare wanderers, and although +they often gave him pen prods behind his back, he never betrayed any +recognition of their envious stings, but like the lion in his jungle, +brushed these busy bees away by the underbrush of his philosophy.</p> + +<p>He mildly rebuked their pretense, but relieved their immediate wants, +impressing upon them the study of Nature and not the blandishments of art, +having the appearance of Oriental porcelain or Phœnician glass, when it +was really crude crockery painted to deceive the sight and auctioned off to +the unwary purchaser as genuine material.</p> + +<p>How many authors, artists and actors of to-day<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> follow in the path of their +London ancestors who blow, and brag, and strut in midnight clubs and +taverns to the pity and disgust of their table tooters.</p> + +<p>Speaking one evening at the Red Lion, in the rooms of Florio, I asked +William how it was that his plays were so successful, while those of other +authors had almost been banished from the dramatic boards. He at once +replied:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I draw my plots from Nature's law<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To sound the depths of human life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through her realm I find no flaw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all her seeming, varied strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good and bad are near allied;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sweet and sour forever blent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While vice and virtue side by side<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exist in every continent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poison vine that climbs the tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is just as great in Nature's plan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As every mount and every sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Displayed below for little man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And every ant and busy bee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall teach us how to build and toil<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we would mingle with the free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who plough the seas or till the soil.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I shall never forget the visit Shakspere and myself paid to the cloistered, +columned, pinnacled proportions of Westminster Abbey.</p> + +<p>It was three o'clock in the afternoon of the 24th of December, 1592.</p> + +<p>The living London world was rushing in great multitudes by alley, lane, +street and park preparing for the celebration of Christmas Eve.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<p>Vanity Fair was decked off with palm, spruce, pine, myrtle, ivy and holly +to garnish home, hall and shop in honor of Jesus, who had been crucified +nearly sixteen hundred years before for telling the truth and tearing down +the vested arrogance of religious tyranny.</p> + +<p>A bright winter sun was gilding the tall towers of the Abbey with golden +light, and the mullioned windows were blazing over the surrounding +buildings like flashes of fire.</p> + +<p>We entered the court of Westminster through the old school by way of a +long, low passage, dimly lighted corridors, with glinting figures of old +teachers in black gowns, moving like specters from the neighboring tombs.</p> + +<p>As we passed along by cloistered walls and mural monuments to vanished +glory, we were soon within the interior of the grand old Abbey.</p> + +<p>Clustered columns of gigantic dimensions, with lofty arches springing from +wall to nave met the eye of the beholder, and stunned by the solemn +surroundings, vain man wonders at his own handiwork, trembling with doubt +amid the monumental glory of Old Albion.</p> + +<p>The Abbey clock struck the hour of five as William and myself stood in deep +contemplation at Poets' corner.</p> + +<p>The reverberating tones of time echoed from nave to floor, through +cloistered walls and columned aisles, noting the passing hour and ages, +like billows of sound rolling over the graves of vanished splendor.</p> + +<p>Here crumble the dust and effigies of courtiers, warriors, statesmen, +lords, dukes, kings, queens<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> and authors; and yet, there is no spot in the +Abbey that holds such an abiding interest for mankind as the modest corner +where lie the dust of noted poets and philosophers.</p> + +<p>The great and the heroic of the world may be bravely admired in lofty +contemplation of nationality, but a feeling of fondness creeps over the +traveler or reader when he bows at the grave of buried genius, while tears +of remembrance even wash away the sensuous Bacchanalian escapades of +impulsive, poetic revelers.</p> + +<p>The author, touched by the insanity of genius, must ever live in the mind +of the reader, and while posterity shall forget even warriors, kings and +queens, it never fails to preserve in marble, granite, bronze and song the +name and fame of great poets.</p> + +<p>David, Solomon, Job, Homer, Horace, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: changed a period into a comma">Ovid,</ins> Angelo, Dante and Plutarch are +deeply imbedded in the memory of mankind, and although great kingdoms, +empires and dynasties, have passed away to the rubbish heap of oblivion, +the poet, musician, painter, and sculptor still remain to thrill and +beautify life, and teach hope of immortality beyond the grave.</p> + +<p>After gazing on the statues of abbots, Knights Templar, Knights of the +Bath, bishops, statesmen, kings and queens, many mutilated by time and +profane hands, William stood by the coffin of Edward the Confessor and +mournfully soliloquized:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Westminster! lofty heir of Pagan Temple;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imperial in stone; a thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowns the record of thy inheritance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilding the glory of thy ancient fame,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With imperishable deeds—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Liberty of thought and action, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: removed an extra comma after 'shall'">shall</ins><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forever cluster about thy classic form;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While new men with new creeds, and reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall overturn the religions of to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thou hast invaded and destroyed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Pagan, Roman rules of antiquity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These marble hands and faces appealing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For remembrance, to animated dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Appeal in vain, for we, whose footfalls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only sound in marble ears, cold and listless,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall ourselves follow where they led, dying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not knowing the mysterious secrets of the grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here the victor and vanquished, side by side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep in dreamless rest, Kings and Queens in life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Battling for power, all conquered by tyrant Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose universal edict, irrevocable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Levels Prince and Peasant, in impalpable dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crowns to-day, coffins to-morrow, with monuments<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mossed over, letter-cracked, undecipherable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the mummied remains of Egyptian Kings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain, vain, are all the monuments of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greatest only live a little span;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We strut and shine our passing day, and then—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depart from all the haunts of living men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With only Hope to light us on the way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where billions passed beneath the silent clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, none have yet returned to tell us where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll bivouac beyond this world of care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these dumb mouths, with ghostly spirits near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not express a word into mine ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tell me when I leave this sinning sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I shall be transfigured with my God!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>In September, 1592, the second play of Shakspere, "Love's Labor's Lost," +was given at the Blackfriars, to a fine audience.</p> + +<p>He took the characters of the play from a French novel, based on an Italian +plot, and wove around the story a lot of glittering talk to please the +lords and ladies who listened to the silly gabble of their prototypes.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand, King of Navarre, and his attendant lords are a set of silly +beaux who propose to retire from the world and leave women alone for the +space of three years.</p> + +<p>The Princess of France and her ladies in waiting, with the assistance of a +gay lord named Boyet, made an incursion into the Kingdom of Navarre and +break into the solitude of the students.</p> + +<p>Nathaniel, a parson, and Holofernes, a pedant schoolmaster, are introduced +into the play by William to illustrate the asinine pretensions of ministers +and pedagogues, who are constantly introducing Latin or French words in +their daily conversation, for the purpose of impressing common people with +their great learning, when, in fact, they only show ridiculous pretense and +expose themselves to the contempt of mankind.</p> + +<p>There are very few noted philosophic sentiments in the play, and the +attempt at wit, of the clown, the constable and Holofernes, the +schoolmaster, fall very flat on the ear of an audience, while the rhymes +put in the mouth of the various characters are unworthy of a boy fourteen +years of age.</p> + +<p>I remonstrated with William about injecting his alleged poetry into the +love letters sent by the lords and ladies, but he replied that young love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +was such a fool that any kind of rhyme would suit passionate parties who +were playing "Jacks and straws" with each other.</p> + +<p>Ferdinand, the King, opens up the play with a grand dash of thought:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let fame that all hunt after in their lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Live registered upon our brazen tombs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then grace us in the disgrace of death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, spite of cormorant devouring time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The endeavor of this present breach may buy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That honor, which shall bait his scythe's keen edge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make us heirs of all eternity."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lord Biron, who imagines himself in love with the beautiful Rosaline, +soliloquizes in this fashion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A woman that is like a German clock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still a repairing; ever out of frame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never going aright, being a watch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But being watched that it may still go right!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not Love a Hercules<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subtle as a sphinx; as sweet and musical<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Holofernes, the Latin pedagogue, criticising Armado, exclaims:</p> + +<p><i>Novi hominem tanquam te.</i> His humor is lofty, his discourse peremptory. He +draweth out the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his +argument.</p> + +<p>And then Holofernes winds up the play with the Owl and Cuckoo song, a +rambling verse, Winter speaking:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When icicles hang by the wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Dick, the shepherd, blows his wail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Tom bears logs into the hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And milk comes frozen home in pail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When blood is nipped and ways be foul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When nightly sings the staring owl<br /></span> +<span class="i13">To-who;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While greasy Joan doth scum the pot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>QUEEN ELIZABETH. WAR. SHAKSPERE IN IRELAND.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now all the youth of England are on fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now thrive the armorers, and honor's thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs solely in the breast of every man.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The reign of Queen Elizabeth was a most glorious one for the material and +mental progress of England, but most disastrous for Philip of Spain, Louis +and Henry of France, Mary of Scotland, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'O'Neill'">O'Neil</ins>, O'Brien, Desmond and Tyrone +of Ireland.</p> + +<p>The Reformation of Martin Luther, a Catholic priest, against the faith and +financial exactions of the Pope of Rome, cracked from the Catholic sky like +a clap of thunder from the noonday sun, and reverberated over the globe +with startling detonation.</p> + +<p>The cry of personal liberty and personal responsibility to God, went out +from the German cloister like a roaring storm and echoed in thunder tones +among the columned aisles of the Vatican.</p> + +<p>Entrenched audacity and mental tyranny was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> broken from its ancient +pedestal, as if an earthquake had shivered the Roman dominions, leaving +sacerdotal precedents and papal bulls in the back-alley of bigotry and +bloated ignorance.</p> + +<p>People began to think and wonder how they had been bamboozled for centuries +by a set of educated harlequins, who, in all lands and climes exhibited +their antics and nostrums for the delectation and digestion of infatuated +fools! Millions yet living!</p> + +<p>Queen Elizabeth's elevation to the throne of England was a bid for the +banished and persecuted Protestants to return from foreign lands and again +pursue their puritanical philosophy.</p> + +<p>Pope Paul demanded of Elizabeth that all the church lands, monasteries and +cathedrals confiscated by her father, Henry the Eighth, be restored to the +Roman hierarchy, and that she make confession and submission to the divine +authority of the Catholic Church.</p> + +<p>Although religion and civil law was in a very chaotic state, Queen Bess was +not at all disturbed by the threats of the Vatican or the Armada of Spain. +With old Lord Cecil as her prime counsel, she never hesitated to believe in +her own destiny, and, like her opponents, the Jesuits, the end always +justified the means. When it was necessary to rob or kill anybody, the +Queen did so without any compunction of conscience.</p> + +<p>She did not care for religion one way or the other, and flattered the +Catholic and Protestant lords alike, manipulating them for her personal and +official advantage. Victory at any price. Business Bessy!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p> + +<p>She professed great love for her sister, Mary Queen of Scots, but to foil +the French Catholics and satisfy the Scotch and English Protestants, Lizzie +cut off the head of her beautiful sister. She professed great sorrow after +Mary's head was detached.</p> + +<p>Essex and Raleigh, and many other royal courtiers were sent to the Tower +and the block by this red-headed, snaggle-tooth she devil, who only thought +of her own physical pleasures and official vanities, sacrificing everything +to her tyrannical ambition. She died in an insane, frantic fit.</p> + +<p>Yet, with all her devilish conduct, she pushed the material interest of +Englishmen ahead for five hundred years, and by her patronage of sailors, +warriors, poets and philosophers, gave the British letters a boom that is +felt to the present day, and through Shakspere's lofty lines, shall +continue down the ages to tell mankind that nothing on earth is lasting but +honest work and eternal truth.</p> + +<p>Contention and war is the natural condition of mankind; for all animated +nature, from birth to death, struggles for food and shelter.</p> + +<p>The birds of the air, animals of the land and fishes of the sea, fight and +devour each other for food, while man, the great robber and murderer of +all, delights in destruction, and from his first appearance on earth to the +present day, has been earnestly engaged in emigrating from land to land, +seeking whom he may rob and kill for personal wealth and power! Doing it +to-day more than ever.</p> + +<p>Civilization is only refined barbarism; and this very hour the unions of +the world are inventing and manufacturing powder, guns and terrible bat<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>tle +ships for the purpose of robbing and killing each other in the next war, +nearly at hand. Japan and Russia will tear each other to pieces.</p> + +<p>Peace is only a slight resting spell for the nations to trade with each +other and make secret preparations to finally kill and secure increased +dominion.</p> + +<p>The minions of monarchy and lovers of liberty have invariably despised each +other, and waited only favorable opportunity to rob and murder. Even now, +they crouch like lions at bay, and fight to the death.</p> + +<p>Liberty is forging ahead with ten league boots and monarchy is silently, +but surely being relegated to the tomb of defeat.</p> + +<p>Of course, right is right in the abstract, but might is the winning card in +the lottery of Fate, and that nation having the most brave men, money and +guns will come out victorious!</p> + +<p>Strong nations have become stronger by robbing and killing weaker nations, +and the British Government for a thousand years—particularly from the +bloody reigns of Elizabeth and Oliver Cromwell—can boast that it has never +failed to rob and kill the weak, while truckling and fawning at the feet of +Russia and the Republic of the United States, which will soon extend from +Bering Sea and Baffin's Bay to the Isthmus of Panama—absorbing Canada, +Cuba, Mexico and Central America within its imperial jurisdiction. We +intend to, and shall rule the world!</p> + +<p>Then, this vast Republic, looking over the globe from the dome of our +national Capitol, at Washington, can invite all lands to banquet at the +table<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> of the Goddess of Liberty, and in mercy to the blind tyranny of +monarchy we may lay a wreath of myrtle on the graves of lords, earls, +dukes, kings, queens and emperors, to be only remembered as the nightmare +of tyranny, extirpated from the earth forever. God grant their speedy +official destruction!</p> + +<p>The gentle reader (of course) will excuse this enthusiastic digression from +the story of Queen Bess and my soul friend William Shakspere.</p> + +<p>If they were present at this moment, they would not dare deny the truth of +this memory narrative.</p> + +<p>In the summer of 1595, the periodical plague of London was thinning out the +inhabitants of that dirty city. In the lower part of the city skirting the +Thames, the sewerage was very bad and but the poorest sanitary rules +existed. After a hard rain, the lanes, alleys and streets ran with a stream +of putrefaction, as the offal from many tenement houses was thrown in the +public highway, where the rays from the hot sun created malarial fever or +the black plague.</p> + +<p>At such times the theatres and churches were closed, and those who could +get out of London, by land or water, fled to the inland shires of England, +the mountains of Scotland or to the heather hills of Ireland.</p> + +<p>Edmund Spenser, the poet and Secretary of Lord Gray for Ireland, invited +William and myself to visit his Irish estate near the city of Cork.</p> + +<p>One bright morning in May, we boarded the good ship Elizabeth, near the +Tower, passed out of Gravesend, then into the channel and steered our way +to Bantry Bay, until we landed in the cove<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> of Cork, as the church bells +were ringing devotees to early mass.</p> + +<p>The green fields and hills of Ireland were blooming in rustic beauty, the +thrush sang from every hawthorn bush, the blackbird was busy in the fields +filching grain from the ploughman, the lark, in his skyward flight poured a +stream of melody on the air, and all Nature seemed happy, but man.</p> + +<p>He it is who makes the blooming productive earth miserable, with his +voracious greed for gold and power.</p> + +<p>Elizabeth was then waging war with the various Irish chieftains, importing +cunning Scotchmen and brutal Englishmen as soldiers and traders to colonize +the lands and destroy the homes of what she was pleased to call "Barbarous, +rebellious, wild Irish."</p> + +<p>Whenever any strong power invades a weaker one for the purpose of robbery +and official murder (war), the tyrant labels his victim—a "Rebel!"</p> + +<p>That is, the original owner of the land destined to be robbed is regarded +as bigoted, barbarous and rebellious, unless he submits to be robbed, +banished and murdered for the edification and glory of freebooters, +thieves, tyrants, assassins and foreign man hunters.</p> + +<p>Leinster, Munster, Ulster and Connaught, the four provinces of Ireland, had +been marked out for settlement by Henry the Eighth and Queen Elizabeth, and +hordes of English "carpetbaggers" and soldiers were turned loose on the +island to rob, burn and destroy the natives.</p> + +<p>As soon as counties and provinces were conquered, the military and lordly +pets of the various<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> monarchs were given large grants of the lands stolen +from the people.</p> + +<p>O'Neil, O'Brien, Desmond, O'Donnell, O'Connor, Burke, Clanrickard and +Tyrone disputed every inch of ground with Pellam, Mountjoy, Gray, Essex, +Raleigh and Cromwell; and, although the original commanders and owners of +the soil have been virtually banished or killed, their posterity has the +proud satisfaction of knowing that more than a million of Englishmen and +Scotchmen have been killed by the "Wild Irish," and the battle for liberty +shall still go on till the Saxon robber relinquishes his blood sucking +tentacles on the Emerald Isle.</p> + +<p>Poet Spenser and Sir Walter Raleigh were rewarded by Queen Elizabeth with +thousands of acres, confiscated from the great estate of the Earl of +Desmond, who lived at the castle of Kilcolman, near the town of Doneraile.</p> + +<p>Spenser paid for his stolen land by writing a dissertation on the way to +conquer and kill off the Irish race, regarding them no more than the wild +beasts of the forest. He also flattered Queen Bess by composing a lot of +flattering verse, called the "Faerie Queen," and made her believe she was +the beautiful, sweet, mild, chaste, angelic individual that had thrilled +his imagination in the royal realms of dreamland.</p> + +<p>What infernal lies political courtiers, religious ministers and even poets +have told to flatter the vanity of governors, presidents, kings, queens, +popes and emperors!</p> + +<p>Yet in all the grand sentiments Shakspere evolved out of his volcanic +brain, he never bent the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> knee to absolute vice, but pictured the horrors +of royalty in its most devilish attitudes. His pen was never purchased +against truth.</p> + +<p>We remained at Kilcolman Castle with Spenser for about ten days riding and +sporting, and then with an escort of soldiers, were piloted through the +"Rebel" counties on to Dublin, where the head of O'Neil graced one of the +"Red" walls of that unlucky city.</p> + +<p>On our route from Cork to Dublin we beheld misery and ruin in every form, +burned cabins, churches, monasteries and bridges, and starving women and +children on the roadside, crouching under bushes, straw stacks and leaking +sheds, with smouldering turf fires crackling on the ashes of despair!</p> + +<p>We took shipping the next morning for Liverpool, as William was very +anxious to get away from the land of funeral wails, where the cry of the +"wake" over some dead peasant or defiant "Rebel" echoed on the air +continually.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where sorrow in her weeping form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shed tears in sunshine, and in storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er the land, a reign of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was running like a mountain flood!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As we pushed away from the sight of the Irish hills, Shakspere, leaning +against the foremast, in pathetic tone exclaimed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, old Erin, land of nameless sorrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albion crushes thee for opinion's sake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt the Bulls of Rome and Laws of England<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy children are robbed, banished and murdered.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cast away from native land, like leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bestrewing forest wilds, bleak and lone.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Merged in lands of Liberty, thy children<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall rise again, a new born glorious race—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Triumphant in home, church and State, honored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Masters of War, Wit, Eloquence and Poetry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move out and move on, like the rising sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose face so oft is clouded with shadows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, shall burst forth again in noonday splendor—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Irradiating a bleak and cruel world!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>RURAL ENGLAND. "ROMEO AND JULIET"</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweet musk roses and the eglantine."<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Stony limits cannot hold love out;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what love can do, that dares love attempt."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>We remained in Liverpool three days, and then determined to return to +London by land, crossing through the inland shires, taking in Manchester, +Sheffield, Derby, Birmingham, Coventry, Warwick, and on to Stratford, where +clustered the dearest objects of our affection.</p> + +<p>We were ten days walking, riding and resting at taverns, in our rural tour +of Old Albion. The fields were furrowed for the grain, the birds sang from +every hedge and forest domain, the cattle, sheep and swine grazed in +lowing, bleating, grunting security along winding streams, public fields or +on the velvet meadows of rich yeoman or lordly estates, while the men, +women, boys and girls that we encountered seemed to be infused with the +delights of May blossoms, forest wild flowers and re<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>freshing showers, all +noting the practical prosperity of England.</p> + +<p>How different these rural scenes to those we had recently encountered in +poor down-trodden Ireland, the Niobe of nations, besprinkled with the tears +of centuries for the loss of her crushed and exiled children.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, the world is moving upward<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the heights where Freedom reigns;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sunshine of redemption<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall give joy for all our pains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the cruel hands of tyrants<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be banished from the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With our God the only Master<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Dame Nature true and grand!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We arrived in sight of Stratford as the sun set over the hills of Arden, +and as the pigeons and rooks sought their nests for the night, a golden +glow flashed over the evening landscape.</p> + +<p>The last rays of Sol shone in dazzling splendor upon the pinnacle of old +Trinity Church as we gazed with ravished eyes on the winding, glistening +Avon, meandering through emerald meadows and whispering wild flowers to the +silvery Severn.</p> + +<p>The old tavern was still there, but the old host slept in God's acre near +by, while the lads we knew ten years before, had, like ourselves, gone out +into the world for fame and fortune.</p> + +<p>William sought out his father and mother, and then Anne Hathaway and the +children, who still resided at the old Hathaway cottage at Shottery. I +remained at the tavern for contemplation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>Time and age mellow the most violent spirits; and the temper of Anne had +become modified by family troubles, inducing an inward survey of self, +which brings a reasonable person to the realization of the fact that he or +she is not the only stubborn oak in the forest of humanity.</p> + +<p>A practical stubborn wife and a lofty poet never can assimilate.</p> + +<p>Shakspere had no equals or superiors. Shakspere was simply SHAKSPERE.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At home he found a scolding wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abroad he felt the joys of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all his glory and renown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were reaped at last in London town.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looked for truth in crowds of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In field, in street, in tavern,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mingled with the moving throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear their story and their song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He pictured life in colors true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As brilliant as the rainbow hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all his characters display<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pride and passion of to-day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He cared not for the crowds of men—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As fierce as beasts within a den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looked alone to Nature's God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Displayed in heaven, in sea and sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And held the scales of justice high-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uplifted to the sunlit sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weighing the passions of mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lofty and imperial mind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Puritan and Pope to him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were overflowing to the brim<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bigotry and cruel spleen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That desolated every scene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The midget minds of men in power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He satirized from hour to hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the stage portrayed the greed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those who live by crime and creed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He tore the masks from royal brows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And showed their guilt and broken vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exposing to the laughing throng<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The horrid face of vice and wrong.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every land and every clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He honored truth and punctured crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down the years his god-like rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be synonymous with Time!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>We remained among relatives and friends in Warwickshire until the middle of +September, when we heard that the London plague had abated and the +theatrical profession were busy preparing for a winter campaign of dramatic +glory. Shakspere had several plays partly or nearly finished, and, as +Burbage and Henslowe desired our immediate services, we took our departure +from Stratford, with the friendship of the town echoing in our ears.</p> + +<p>The flowers and growing fields, the leafy forests and circling and singing +birds seemed to say good-bye, good luck and God bless you!</p> + +<p>We felt happy and hopeful ourselves, and consequently Dame Nature echoed +the feeling of our souls. All was joy, song, feasting and laughter.</p> + +<p>William, on our way to Oxford, in one of his original flights taken from an +ode of Horace, impulsively exclaimed:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laugh and the world laughs with you;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weep and you weep alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This grand old earth must borrow its mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It has troubles enough of its own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing and the hills will answer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sigh, it is lost on the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoes bound to a joyful sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But shrink from voicing care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be glad and your friends are many;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be sad and you lose them all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are none to decline your nectared wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But alone we must drink life's gall.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's room in the halls of pleasure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For a long and lordly train,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But one by one we must all file on;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the narrow aisles of pain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Feast, and your halls are crowded,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fast, and the world goes by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Succeed and give, 'twill help you live;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But no one can help you die!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rejoice, and men will seek you,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grieve, and they turn and go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They want full measure of all your pleasure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But they do not want your woe!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>These lines impressed me very much at the time and from that day to this I +have never ceased to act on the philosophy of the poem.</p> + +<p>It has been part of my nature, and during my wanderings for the past three +hundred and twenty years I have never failed to carry in my train of +thought and action—sunshine, beauty, song, love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> and laughter—advance +agents to secure welcome in all hearts and homes throughout the world.</p> + +<p>We were beautifully entertained by Mrs. Daisy Davenant at the Crown Tavern +in Oxford, and many of the college "boys," who heard of our arrival in the +city, hurried to pay their classic friendship to the "Divine" William.</p> + +<p>We arrived in London on the 20th of September, and found that our old maid +landlady had died of the plague, but had kindly sent all our literary and +wardrobe effects to Florio, who was still alive and well at the Red Lion.</p> + +<p>In a couple of days William was up to his head and ears in theatrical +composition and stage structure.</p> + +<p>A few years before the Bard had "dashed off" a love tragedy entitled "Romeo +and Juliet," taken from an Italian novel of the thirteenth century, and a +translation of the old family feud in poetry, by Walter Brooke, who had but +recently delighted London with the story.</p> + +<p>Shakspere never hesitated to take crude ore and rough ashler from any +quarry of thought; and out of the dull, leaden material of others, produced +characters in living form to walk the stage of life forever, teaching the +lesson of virtue triumphant over vice.</p> + +<p>The exemplification of true love, as pictured in the pure affection of +Juliet and the intense, heroic devotion of Romeo, have never been equaled +or surpassed by any other dramatic characters.</p> + +<p>The lordly and wealthy gentry of Italy have been noted for their family +feuds for the past three thousand years, and the party followers of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> these +blood-stained rivals have desolated many happy homes in Rome, Florence, +Milan, Naples, Venice and Verona.</p> + +<p>Shakspere showed the finished play of "Romeo and Juliet" to Burbage, and +the old manager fairly jumped with joy and astonishment at the eloquence of +the love and ruin drama.</p> + +<p>The families of Capulet and Montague of Verona, stuffed with foolish pride +about the matrimonial choice of their daughters and sons, can be found in +every city in the world where a tyrant father or purse-proud mother insist +on selecting life partners for their children.</p> + +<p>The story of Romeo and Juliet shows the utter failure of such parental +folly.</p> + +<p>The play was largely advertised among the lights of London and announced to +come off in all its glory at the Blackfriars on the last Saturday of +December, 1595.</p> + +<p>Queen Elizabeth, in a special box, was there incog, with a royal train of +lords and ladies; and such another audience for dress and stunning show was +never seen in London.</p> + +<p>Burleigh, Bacon, Essex, Southampton, Derby, Raleigh, Spenser, Warwick, +Gray, Montague, Lancaster, Mountjoy, Blake, and all the great soldiers and +sailors of the realm then in London were boxed for a sight of the greatest +love tragedy ever enacted on the dramatic stage. All the dramatic authors +were present.</p> + +<p>William himself took the part of Romeo, for he was a perfect +exemplification of the hero of the play. Jo Taylor took the part of Juliet, +and I can assure you that his makeup, in the form and dress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> of the +fourteen-year-old Italian beauty, was a great success.</p> + +<p>Dick Burbage took the part of Friar Laurence, Condell played Mercutio, +Arnim the part of Paris, Field played old Capulet, and Florio played +Montague, Hemmings played Benvolio, and John Underwood played the part of +Tybalt, and Escalus, the Prince, was played by Phillips.</p> + +<p>The curtain went up on a street scene in Verona, where the partisans of the +houses of Capulet and Montague quarreled, while Paris, Mercutio, Romeo and +Tybalt worked up their hot blood and came to blows.</p> + +<p>Romeo and his friends, in mask, attended a ball at the home of Juliet, in a +clandestine fashion, and on first sight of this immaculate beauty Romeo +exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dancing done, I'll watch her place of stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, touching hers, make happy my rude hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ne'er saw true beauty till to-night!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The poetic apostrophe of Romeo to his new discovered beauty elicited +universal applause, led by the "Virgin Queen," who imagined, no doubt, that +his tribute to beauty was intended for herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> She never lost an +opportunity to appropriate anything that came her way. An epigram of +strenuous audacity. A winner!</p> + +<p>In the second act Romeo climbs the wall, hemming in his beautiful Juliet, +and in defiance of the family <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'fued'">feud</ins>, locks and bars of old man Capulet, and +seeks a clandestine interview with his true love, although at the risk of +his life.</p> + +<p>It was the evening of the twenty-first birthday of Romeo, and with love as +his guide and subject, he felt strong enough to attack a warring world.</p> + +<p>Beneath the window of the fair Juliet, Romeo soliloquizes:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He jests at scars, that never felt a wound—<br /></span> +<span class="i4" style="font-style: normal">(Juliet appears at an upper window.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who is already sick and pale with grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not her maid since she is envious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her vestal livery is but sick and green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none but fools do wear it; cast it off—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is my lady; O, it is my love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, that she knew she were!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She speaks, yet she says nothing: What of that:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her eye discourses, I will answer it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having some business, do entreat her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To twinkle in their spheres till they return.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What if her eyes were there, they in her head?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would through the airy region stream so bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That birds would sing, and think it were not night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See how she leans her cheek upon her hand!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, that I were a glove upon that hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I might touch that cheek!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Juliet speaks, and finally out of her fevered, love-lit mind says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deny thy father and refuse thy name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I'll no longer be a Capulet!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I take thee at thy word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Henceforth I never will be Romeo."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How cam'st thou hither?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The orchard walls are too high and hard to climb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the place death, considering who thou art."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo quickly responds:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For stony limits cannot hold love out;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what love can do, that dares love attempt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore thy kinsmen are no hindrance to me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that vast shore washed with the further sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would adventure for such merchandise!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Juliet, with her fine Italian cunning makes the following declaration +of her love; and considering that she is only fourteen years of age, yet in +the hands of a house nurse, older and wiser girls could not give a better +gush of affectionate eloquence:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain, fain, deny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I have spoke; But, farewell compliment!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say, Ay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will take thy word, yet if thou swear'st,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou may'st prove false; at lover's perjuries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They say Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll frown and be perverse, and say thee nay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore thou may'st think my conduct light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than those that have more cunning to be strange.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have been more shy, I must confess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that thou overheard'st, ere I was aware,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My true love's passion; therefore, pardon me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not impute this yielding to light love,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which the dark night hath so discovered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bounty is as boundless as the sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love as deep; the more I give to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more I have, for both are infinite!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The lovers part, promising eternal love and marriage "to-morrow" at the +cell of good Friar Laurence, the confessor of the fair Juliet.</p> + +<p>The friar, priest, preacher and bishop have ever been great matrimonial +matchmakers, and when "Love's young dream" is foiled or withered by +parental tyranny, these velvet-handed philosophers find a way to tie the +hymeneal knot, even in personal and legal defiance of cruel, social +dictation.</p> + +<p>Friar Laurence, in contemplation of tying love-knots soliloquizes in the +following lofty lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From forth day's pathway, made by Titan's wheels.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now ere the sun advance his burning eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The day to cheer, and night's dark dew to try,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must fill up this osier cage of ours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With baleful needs and precious-juiced flowers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth that's Nature's mother, is her tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is her burying grave, that is her womb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her womb children of divers kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We sucking on her natural bosom find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many for many virtues excellent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None, but for some, and yet all different;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In herbs, plants, stones and their true qualities;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For naught so vile that on the earth doth live,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the earth some special good doth give;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor aught so good, but strained from that fair use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vice sometimes by action dignified.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the infant rind of this small flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poison hath residence and medicine power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, this being smelt, with that part cheers each part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two such opposed foes encamp them still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the worser is predominant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full soon the canker death eats up that plant!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo implores the holy Friar:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do thou but close our hands with holy words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then love devouring death do what he dare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is enough I may but call her mine!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Juliet addressing Romeo in the Friar's cell exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Imagination more rich in matter than in words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brags of his substance, not of ornament;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They are but beggars that can count their worth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my true love is grown to such excess,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The good old Friar then says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, come with me and we will make short work;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till holy church incorporate two in one!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Mercutio and Tybalt fight, in faction of the Capulet and Montague houses. +Mercutio is killed, and then Romeo kills Tybalt and is banished from the +State by Prince Escalus.</p> + +<p>Juliet awaits Romeo in her room the night after marriage, and with +passionate, impatient longing exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take him and cut him out in little stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he will make the face of heaven so bright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That all the world will be in love with night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pay no worship to the garish sun.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, I have bought the mansion of a love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not possessed it; and, though I am sold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not yet enjoyed; so tedious is this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As is the night before some festival<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To an impatient child that hath new robes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And may not wear them!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Although the verdict of banishment was pronounced against Romeo to go to +Mantua instanter, he found means through the old nurse and good Friar +Laurence to visit his new-made bride the night before his forced departure; +and in spite of locks, bars, law, parents and princes, plucked the ripe +fruit from the tree of virginity.</p> + +<p>Romeo must be gone before the first crowing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> of the cock and ere the rosy +fingers of the dawn light up the bridal chamber, else death would be his +portion.</p> + +<p>Juliet importunes him to stay, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the nightingale, and not the lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Believe me, love, it was the nightingale."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It was the lark, the herald of the morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No nightingale; look, love, what envious streaks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night's candles are burnt, and jocund day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I must be gone and live, or stay and die!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Juliet further implores him to stay:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yon light is not daylight, I know it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is some meteor that the sun exhales;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be to thee this night a torch bearer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And light thee on thy way to Mantua;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therefore stay yet, thou need'st not be gone."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo willingly consents:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me be taken, let me be put to death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am content so thou wilt have it so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll say yon gray is not the morning's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor that it is not the lark, whose notes do beat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vaulty heaven so high above our heads;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have more care to stay than will to go;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is it, my soul? Let's talk, it is not day!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Juliet alarmed exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is, it is, hie hence, begone away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the lark that sings so out of tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some say the lark makes sweet division;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This doth not so, for she divideth us;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some say, the lark and lothed toad change eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, now I would they had changed voices too;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunting thee hence with hunts up to the day.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, now begone; more light and light it grows."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Romeo descends the ladder, saying his last words to the beautiful Juliet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And trust me, love, in mine eye so do you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu! Adieu!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After the banishment of Romeo, old Capulet and his wife insisted that +Juliet marry young Paris, a kinsman of Prince Escalus, and sorrows +unnumbered crowded on the new-made secret bride.</p> + +<p>To escape marriage with Paris, Juliet consulted Friar Laurence, who gives +her a drug to be taken the night before the prearranged marriage, that will +dull all life and the body remain as dead for forty-two hours. This scheme +of the Friar works<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> out favorably until Juliet is laid away with her +ancestors in the grand tomb of the Capulets.</p> + +<p>But Romeo hears of the whole trouble and hurries back from banishment, +dashing his way through all impediments until he kills Paris, grieving at +midnight by the grave of Juliet.</p> + +<p>Then, tearing his way into the tomb of Juliet throws himself upon the +gorgeous bier and exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3">"Oh, my love! my wife!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art not conquered; beauty's ensign yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is crimson on thy lips, and in thy cheeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death's pale flag is not advanced there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, what more favor can I do thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sunder his that was thine enemy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Juliet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unsubstantial death is amorous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that the lean abhorred monster keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee here in dark to be his paramour?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fear of that I will still stay with thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never from this palace of dim night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Depart again; here, here will I remain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With worms that are thy chambermaids; O, here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will I set up my everlasting rest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From this world-wearied flesh; eyes, look your last!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O, you,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dateless bargain to engrossing death!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, bitter conductor, come, unsavory guide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou desperate pilot, now and at once run on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dashing rocks thy sea-sick, weary bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's to my love! <span style="font-style: normal">(Drinks poison.)</span> O, true apothecary!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy drugs are quick; thus with a kiss I die!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Friar Laurence and Balthazar with dark lantern, at this moment approach the +tomb to extricate and save Juliet from the sleeping drug. She awakes with +the noise in the tomb and views the deadly situation.</p> + +<p>The Friar implores her to come, depart at once, as the night watch +approach. She says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, get thee hence, for I will not away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's here? a cup close in my true love's hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O churl! drink all; and leave me no friendly drop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make me die with a restorative.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lips are warm!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, noise? Then I'll he brief. O happy dagger!<br /></span> +<span class="i3" style="font-style: normal">(Snatches Romeo's dagger.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is thy sheath, there rust and let me die!"<br /></span> +<span class="i3" style="font-style: normal">(Stabs herself through the heart.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Prince, Capulet and Montague family soon discover all, and Friar +Laurence tells the true story, punishment follows, and the two contending<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +houses of Verona clasp hands over the ruin they have wrought, while the +Prince exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For, never was a story of more woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than this of Juliet and her Romeo!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The drop curtain was rung down and up three times, and the storm of +applause that greeted Shakspere and Taylor, as the representatives of Romeo +and Juliet, was never equaled before at the Blackfriars.</p> + +<p>The Queen called William and Jo to the royal box and by her own firm hand +presented a signet ring to Romeo and a lace handkerchief to Juliet!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What fates impose, that men must needs abide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It boots not to resist both wind and tide!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>"JULIUS CÆSAR."</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrunk to this little measure?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The assassination of Julius Cæsar by Brutus, Cassius, Casca and twenty +other Roman Senators, in the capital of the Empire in broad daylight, was +one of the most cowardly and infamous crimes recorded in the annals of +time.</p> + +<p>The historical and philosophical friends of Brutus and Cassius have tried +to justify the conspiracy and assassination by imputing the deep design of +tyranny to Cæsar, who was bent on trampling down the rights of the people +and securing for himself a kingly crown.</p> + +<p>They say the motive of the conspirators in the deep damnation of Cæsar's +"taking off" was purely patriotism. Many murderers have used the same +argument.</p> + +<p>The facts do not justify the excuse. For more than thirty years Julius +Cæsar had been a star performer on the boards of the Roman Empire, and his +family had been illustrious for five hundred years. Sylla, Marius, Cicero, +Cato, Brutus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> and Pompey had crossed lances with this civil and military +genius, and had all become very jealous of his increasing fame.</p> + +<p>From boyhood Cæsar had been a mixer with the common people, and in midnight +hours in Rome, among tradesmen, merchants, students, authors, sailors and +soldiers, he became imbued with their wants and impulsive nature. He had no +reason to doubt or oppress the people.</p> + +<p>As commander of invincible troops in Spain, Gaul, Germany and Britain, +Cæsar had secured a world-wide reputation, for the eagles of his victorious +legions had swept across the mountains and seas to the shore end of Europe +and screamed in triumph among the palms and sands of Africa and Asia!</p> + +<p>Cæsar was a poet, orator, historian, warrior and statesman, and the +imperial families and politicians of Rome, who were forced to sit in the +shade of his triumphs and glory, felt a secret pang of jealousy at the +stride of this colossal character.</p> + +<p>He was the pride and idol of his soldiers, and whether in the forests of +Gaul and Germany, the swamps of Britain, mountains of Spain, or among +Ionian isles, his presence was ever worth a thousand men in battle action.</p> + +<p>His plans were mathematical, his soul sublime and his purpose eternal +victory!</p> + +<p>Bravery and Cæsar were synonymous terms, and the little, mean, pismire +ambitions of Roman politicians he despised, striding over their corrupt +schemes for pelf and office like a winter whirlwind.</p> + +<p>Brutus, while professing horror at the contemplated assassination of his +friend and natural<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> father Cæsar, lent a willing ear and sympathetic voice +to the prime conspirator—Cassius; and although seemingly dragged into the +murderous plot, he was in heart the grand villain of the conspiracy, +believing he might rise to supreme control of the Roman Empire when Julius +the Great lay weltering in his heroic blood.</p> + +<p>Brutus was a dastard, an ingrate, a coward and a murderer, and no pretense +of patriotism can save him from the contempt and condemnation of mankind. +There is no justification for assassination!</p> + +<p>The death of Cæsar was the first great blow in the final destruction of the +Roman Empire, for up to this time the people had a voice in electing their +tribunes, consuls and governors, and were consulted as to the burden of +taxation, although many of their previous rulers had been terrible tyrants.</p> + +<p>Brutus and Cassius, and their coconspirators, city senators, who dipped +their hands in Cæsar's sacred blood, were finally driven from all political +power, their estates confiscated, fleeing like frightened wolves to foreign +fields and forests and perishing in battle as enemies to their country.</p> + +<p>When brought to bay at Philippi, Brutus and Cassius mustered up enough +courage to commit suicide, which is confession of guilt.</p> + +<p>In the winter of 1597 William was deeply studying the new translation of +Petrarch, and Florio was nightly teaching us the lofty philosophy of +Grecian and Roman classics. The lives of noted ancient poets, orators, +warriors, statesmen, governors, kings and philosophers, as written or +com<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>piled by the great Plutarch has furnished a mine of historic thought +for the dramatic artist, and Shakspere, above all the men who ever thought, +wrote or talked on the stage, took most advantage of the lines of Plutarch.</p> + +<p>The British people were clamoring for grand historical plays, not only for +the actions of their own kings and queens, but demanded the enactment of +the reigns of great, ancient warriors and kings who had given glory to +Greece and Rome and left imperishable memories for posterity to avoid or +emulate.</p> + +<p>Burbage, Henslowe and other theatrical managers, were ever on the lookout +for plays to suit cash customers, and of course, the Bard of Avon had first +call, because his plays went on the various stages like a torchlight +procession, while those of his so-called compeers, struggled through the +acts and scenes with only the flicker and sputter of tallow dips of +dramatic thought.</p> + +<p>He knew, and I knew, that his plays would be enacted down the circling +centuries as long as vice and virtue, hate and love, cowardice and bravery, +fun, folly, wit and wisdom characterized humanity.</p> + +<p>William told Essex and Southampton that he had just composed a play with +Julius Cæsar as the central figure, and wished an opportunity to test its +merits before a private party of authors, students and lords at the Holborn +House, the grand castle of Southampton.</p> + +<p>These noblemen were delighted with the suggestion, and on the night of the +first of March, 1597, Burbage, with his whole tribe of theatrical +"rounders," appeared in the grand banquet room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> of Southampton, and, under +the guidance of Shakspere, rendered for the first time "Julius Cæsar."</p> + +<p>Jo Taylor took the part of Cæsar, Dick Burbage acted Brutus, Condell +represented Cassius and Shakspere played Marcus Antonius, while the other +characters were distributed among the "stock" as their various talents +justified.</p> + +<p>Calphurnia, wife to Cæsar, and Portia, wife to Brutus, were represented +respectively by Hemmings and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Arnum'">Arnim</ins>.</p> + +<p>The play opens with a street scene in Rome filled with working, rabble +citizens who have turned out to give Cæsar a great triumph on his return +from successful war.</p> + +<p>Flavius and Marullus, tribunes, enter and rebuke the people for greeting +Cæsar.</p> + +<p>Flavius twits the turncoat rabble in this style:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Knew ye not Pompey? Many a time and oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you climbed up to walls and battlements,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To towers and windows, yea, to chimney-tops,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your infants in your arms, and there have sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The livelong day, with patient expectation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see great Pompey pass the streets of Rome;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when you saw his chariot but appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you not made a universal shout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Tiber trembled underneath her banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the replication of your sounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made in her concave shores?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do you now put on your best attire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do you now cull out a holiday?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do you now strew flowers in his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That comes in triumph over Pompey's blood?"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Brutus and Cassius witness the triumphal march of Cæsar with jealous, +vengeful and dagger hearts, and Cassius, the old, desperate soldier, first +hints at blood conspiracy.</p> + +<p>Brutus asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What is it that you would impart to me?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it be aught toward the general good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set honor in eye and death in the other,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I will look on both indifferently."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Fine talk! Brutus is not the only political murderer that talks of "honor" +through the centuries, a cloak for devils in human shape to work a personal +purpose and not "the general good."</p> + +<p>Cassius delivers this eloquent indictment against Cæsar, the grandest of +its kind in all history:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well, Honor is the subject of my story—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot tell what you and other men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think of this life; but, for my single self,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had as lief not to be, as live to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In awe of such a thing as I, myself.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I was born free as Cæsar; so were you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We both have fed as well; and we can both<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Endure the winter's cold as well as he.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For once, upon a raw and gusty day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar said to me, 'Dar'st thou, Cassius, now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leap in with me, into this angry flood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And swim to yonder point?' Upon the word,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Accoutered as I was, I plunged in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade him follow; so, indeed, he did.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The torrent roared and we did buffet it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lusty sinews; throwing it aside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stemming it with hearts of controversy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere we could arrive at the point proposed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar cried, 'Help me, Cassius, or I sink!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I, as Aeneas, our great ancestor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The old Anchisas bear, so, from the waves of Tiber<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did I the tired Cæsar; and this man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now become a god, and Cassius is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wretched creature, and must bend his body,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Cæsar carelessly but nod on him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had a fever, when he was in Spain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the fit was on him, I did mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How he did shake; 'tis true, this god did shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His coward lips did from their color fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did lose his lustre; I did hear him groan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark him, and write his speeches in their books;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! it cried, 'Give me some drink, Titinius,'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man of such a feeble temper should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So get the start of the majestic world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bear the palm alone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a Colossus; and we petty men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Walk under his huge legs, and peep about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find ourselves dishonorable graves.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men at some time are masters of their fates.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in ourselves, that we are underlings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brutus and Cæsar; what should be in that Cæsar?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should that name be sounded more than yours?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Write them together, yours is as fair a name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cæsar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now in the name of all the gods at once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he is grown so great?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Unanimous applause followed this cunning conspiracy speech, and Jonson, +Lodge and Drayton gave loud exclamations of approval.</p> + +<p>Cæsar, with his staff, returning from the games in his honor, sees Cassius +and remarks to Antonius:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me have men about me that are fat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleek-headed men and such as sleep of nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yonder Cassius has a lean and hungry look;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He thinks too much; such men are dangerous;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And are never at heart's ease<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whiles they behold a greater than themselves!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Casca, one of the senatorial conspirators, tells Cassius that Cæsar is to +be crowned king, and he replies thus, contemplating suicide:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know where I will wear this dagger then;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can be retentive to the strength of spirit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But life being weary of these worldly bars,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never lacks power to dismiss itself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That part of tyranny that I do bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can shake off at pleasure!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Brutus, contemplating assassination, says in soliloquy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To speak the truth of Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have not known when his affections swayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than his reason. But 'tis a common proof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That lowliness is young ambition's ladder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereto the climber upward turns his face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when he once attains the upmost round,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He then unto the ladder turns his back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which he did ascend!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This ingratitude of the great to the people is often recompensed by defeat +and death.</p> + +<p>After the senatorial conspirators decided that Cæsar should die, Cassius +insisted wisely that Marcus Antonius should not outlive the great Julius, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Let Antony and Cæsar fall together!"</p> + +<p>But Brutus would not consent to the death of Antony, believing that he was +not dangerous to their future, yet insisting that "Cæsar must bleed for +it."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let's kill him bodily, but not wrathfully;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let our hearts as subtle masters do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stir up their servants to an act of rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after seem to chide them!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>And yet this is the sweet-scented assassin who prates of "honor," and is +sometimes known as "the noblest Roman of them all!"</p> + +<p>Portia, the wife of Brutus, felt a strange alarm at his recent conduct, and +Calphurnia, the wife of Cæsar, implored him not to attend the session of +the senate, reminding him of the soothsayer's warning—"Beware the ides of +March."</p> + +<p>Yet, Cæsar threw off all fear and suspicion and said:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What can be avoided,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Cæsar shall go forth, for these predictions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are to the world in general, not to Cæsar!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cowards die many times before their deaths;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The valiant never taste of death but once!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The hour of assassination has arrived, and Cæsar, seated in the chair of +state, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What is now amiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Cæsar and his senate must redress?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Senator Metellus, one of the chief conspirators, throws himself at the feet +of Cæsar and implores pardon for his traitor brother.</p> + +<p>Cæsar says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i5">"Be not fond,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To think that Cæsar bears such rebel blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That will be thawed from the true quality,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With that which meeteth fools; I mean, sweet words,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low, crooked courtesies, and base, spaniel fawning;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy brother by decree is banished;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou dost bend, and pray and fawn for him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I spurn thee like a cur out of my way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know, Cæsar doth not wrong; nor without cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will he be satisfied!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I am constant as the northern star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of whose true fixed and resting quality<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no fellow in the firmament!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The conspirators at this moment crowd around the doomed hero with pretended +petitions—and, instanter, Casca stabs Cæsar in the neck, while several +other murdering senators stab him through the body, and last Marcus Brutus +plunges a dagger in the heart of his benefactor and father, when with +glaring eyes and dying breath, the noble Cæsar exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Et tu, Brute?" <span style="font-style: normal">(And thou, Brutus?)</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thus tumbled down at the base of Pompey's statue the greatest man the world +has ever known!</p> + +<p>Then the citizens of Rome—royal, rabble and conspirators, were filled with +consternation, while Brutus tried to stem the rising flood of indignation.</p> + +<p>Mark Antony was allowed to weep and speak over the pulseless clay of his +official partner and friend.</p> + +<p>Gazing on the cold, bloody form of the amazing Julius, he utters these +pathetic phrases:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O mighty Cæsar! Dost thou lie so low?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shrunk to this little measure? Fare thee well—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not, gentlemen, what you intend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who else must be let blood, who else is rank;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I myself, there is no hour so fit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Cæsar's death-hour; nor no instrument<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of half that worth, as those your swords, made rich<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the most noble blood of all this world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, while your purpled hands do reek and smoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fulfill your pleasure. Live a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I shall not find myself so apt to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No place will please me so, no mean of death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As here by Cæsar, and by you cut off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The choice and master spirit of this age!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Brutus gave orders for a grand funeral, turning the body of the dead lion +over to Antony, who might make the funeral oration to the people within +such bounds of discretion as the conspirators dictated.</p> + +<p>Standing alone, by the dead body of Cæsar in the Senate, Antony pours out +thus, the overflowing vengeance of his soul:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am meek and gentle with these butchers;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art the ruins of the noblest man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever lived in the tide of times.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over thy wounds now do I prophesy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby lips<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A curse shall light upon the limbs of men;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Domestic fury and fierce civil strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall cumber all the parts of Italy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blood and destruction shall be so in use,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreadful objects so familiar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That mothers shall but smile when they behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their infants quartered with the hands of war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All pity choked with custom of fell deeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Cæsar's spirit, ranging for revenge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Até by his side, come hot from hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cry, 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: inserted a missing closing quote after 'war'">war</ins>!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The wild citizens of Rome clamored for the reason of Cæsar's death, and +Brutus mounted the rostrum in the Forum and delivered this cunning and bold +oration in defense of the conspirators:</p> + +<p>"Romans, countrymen and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent that ye +may hear; believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that +you may believe; censure me in your wisdom, and awake your senses that you +may the better judge.</p> + +<p>"If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Cæsar's, to him I say +that Brutus' love to Cæsar was no less than his.</p> + +<p>"If then that friend demand why Brutus rose against Cæsar, this is my +answer. Not that I loved Cæsar less; but that I loved Rome more!</p> + +<p>"Had you rather Cæsar were living, and die all slaves, than Cæsar were +dead, to live all free men?</p> + +<p>"As Cæsar loved me, I weep for him; as he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> fortunate, I rejoice at it; +as he was valiant, I honor him, but as he was ambitious I slew him!</p> + +<p>"There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune; honor for his valor, and +death for his ambition!</p> + +<p>"Who is here so base that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for him have I +offended. Who is here so rude that would be a Roman? If any, speak; for him +have I offended. Who is here so vile that will not love his country? If +any, speak; for him have I offended.</p> + +<p>"I pause for a reply."</p> + +<p>And then the rabble, vacillating, fool citizens said, "None, Brutus, none," +and continue to yell, "Live, Brutus, live! live!"</p> + +<p>Brutus leaves the Forum and requests the human cattle to remain and hear +Antony relate the glories of Cæsar!</p> + +<p>Finally Antony is persuaded to take the rostrum, and delivers this greatest +funeral oration of all the ages:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come to bury Cæsar, not to praise him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The evil that men do live after them;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The good is oft interred with their bones;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be with Cæsar. The noble Brutus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath told you Cæsar was ambitious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If it were so it was a grievous fault;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grievously hath Cæsar answered it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For Brutus is an honorable man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So are they all, all honorable men);<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come I to speak in Cæsar's funeral.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He was my friend, faithful and just to me;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Brutus says he was ambitious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hath brought many captives home to Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did this in Cæsar seem ambitious?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that the poor hath cried, Cæsar hath wept;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ambition should be made of sterner stuff;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all did see, that on the Lupercal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thrice presented him a kingly crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, sure, he is an honorable man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here I am to speak what I know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all did love him once, not without cause;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What cause withholds you, then, to mourn for him?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And men have lost their reason! Bear with me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart is in the coffin there with Cæsar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I must pause until it come back to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, yesterday the word of Cæsar might<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have stood against the world, now lies he there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none so poor to do him reverence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, Masters! If I were disposed to stir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, you all know, are honorable men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will not do them wrong; I rather choose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I will wrong such honorable men.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here's a parchment with the seal of Cæsar;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found it in his closet, 'tis his will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let but the commons hear this statement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Which pardon me, I do not mean to read),<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they would go and kiss dead Cæsar's wounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dip their napkins in his sacred blood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, beg a hair of him for memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dying, mention it within their wills,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bequeathing it as a rich legacy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto their issue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you have tears prepare to shed them now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You all do know this mantle; I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first time ever Cæsar put it on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That day he overcame the Nervii;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look! in this place ran Cassius dagger through;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See what a rent the envious Casca made;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through this the well beloved Brutus stabbed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as he plucked his cursed steel away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark how the blood of Cæsar followed it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rushing out of doors to be resolved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If Brutus so unkindly knocked, or no;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Brutus, as you know, was Cæsar's angel:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Judge, O ye gods, how Cæsar loved him!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was the most unkindest cut of all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For when the noble Cæsar saw him stab,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite vanquished him, then burst his mighty heart;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his mantle muffling up his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even at the base of Pompey's statue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which all the while ran blood, great Cæsar fell.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, what a fall was there, my countrymen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then I and you and all of us fell down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst bloody treason flourished over us.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, now you weep; and I perceive you feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The impression of pity; these are gracious drops.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Cæsar's vesture wounded? Look you here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is himself marred, as you see, with traitors!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To such a sudden flood of mutiny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They that have done this deed are honorable;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What private griefs they have, alas, I know not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made them do it; they are wise and honorable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And will no doubt with reasons answer you.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am no orator, as Brutus is:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That love my friends, and that they know full well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gave me public leave to speak of him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stir men's blood, I only speak right on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tell you that, which you yourselves do know;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show you sweet Cæsar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid them speak for me; but were I Brutus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every wound of Cæsar, that should move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This oration fired the Roman people to mutiny, and Brutus and Cassius with +their followers fled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> from the city and prepared for war with Antony and +Octavius, who had suddenly returned to Rome.</p> + +<p>The passionate quarrel between Brutus and Cassius in their military camp at +Sardis was a natural outcome of conspirators.</p> + +<p>Cassius accused Brutus of having wronged him, and Brutus twitted his +brother assassin thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are much condemned to have an itching palm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sell and mart your offices for gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To undeservers!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Cassius fires back this reply:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I an itching palm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You know that you are Brutus that speak this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or by the gods this speech were else your last!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The night before the battle of Philippi the spirit of Cæsar appeared in the +tent of Brutus, who startles from a slumbering trance and exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ha! who comes here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I think it is the weakness of mine eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shapes this monstrous apparition.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It comes upon me! Art thou anything?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou some god, some angel or some devil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makest my blood cold, and my hair to stare?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak to me, what thou art."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Ghost replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy evil spirit, Brutus!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brutus: Why comest thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ghost: To tell thee thou shalt see me at Philippi.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brutus: Well, then I shall see thee again?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ghost: Ay, at Philippi!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The armies of Antony and Octavius and Brutus and Cassius meet in crash of +battle.</p> + +<p>Cassius is hotly pursued by the enemy, and to prevent capture and +exhibition at Rome, craves the service of Pindrus to run him through with +his sword. He says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now be a freeman, and with this good sword<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ran through Cæsar's bowels, search this bosom.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand not to answer; here, take thou the hilt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when my face is covered, as 'tis now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guide thou the sword; Cæsar, thou art revenged,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even with the sword that killed thee!" <span style="font-style: normal">(Dies.)</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Brutus is run to earth, and most of his generals dead or fled. He implores +Strato to assist him to suicide, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I pray thee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art a fellow of good respect;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy life hath had some smack of honor in it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While I do run upon it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, good Strato; Cæsar now be still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I killed not thee with half so good a will!"<br /></span> +<span class="i6" style="font-style: normal">(Runs on his sword and dies.)<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Antony and Octavius and his army soon find Brutus slain by his own sword, +and with a most magnificent and undeserved generosity Antony pronounces +this benediction over the dead body of the vilest and most intelligent +conspirator who ever lived!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This was the noblest Roman of them all;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the conspirators, save only he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did that they did in envy of great Cæsar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He only in a general honest thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And common good to all made one of them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His life was gentle, and the elements<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So mixed in him that Nature might stand up,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say to all the world, This was a man!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The whole audience, led by Southampton, Essex, Bacon and Drayton gave three +cheers and a lion roar for "Julius Cæsar," the greatest historical and +classical play ever composed, and destined to run down the ages for a +million years!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>TWO TRAMPS. BY LAND AND SEA.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"Travelers must be content."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The translation of Petrarch, Plutarch, Tacitus, Terence, and particularly +Homer, by Chapman, gave a great impulse to dramatic writers, and inspired a +feverish desire to travel through classic lands where classic authors lived +and died.</p> + +<p>Shakspere was a natural bohemian, and while he could conform to the +conventionalities of society, he was never more pleased than when mixing +with the variegated mass of mankind, where vice and virtue predominated +without the guilt of hypocrisy to blur and blast the principles of +sincerity.</p> + +<p>Art, fashion and human laws he knew to be often only blinds for the +concealment of plastic iniquity, and were secretly purchased by the few who +had the gold to buy.</p> + +<p>By sinking the grappling iron of independent investigation into every form +and phase of human life, he plucked from the deepest ocean of ad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>versity +the rarest shells, weeds and flowers of thought, and spread them before the +world as a new revelation.</p> + +<p>By mingling with and knowing the good and bad, he solved the riddle of +human passions, and with mind, tongue and pen unpurchased, he flashed his +matchless philosophy on an admiring world, lifting the curtain of deceit +and obscurity from the stage of falsehood, giving to the beholder a sight +of Nature in her unexpurgated nakedness!</p> + +<p>On the first of May, 1598, William and myself determined to travel into and +around continental and oriental lands, and view some of the noted +monuments, cities, seas, plains and mountains, where ancient warriors and +philosophers had left their imperishable records.</p> + +<p>Sailing through the Strait of Dover into the English Channel, our good ship +Albion landed us in three days at Havre, the port town at the mouth of the +river Seine, leading on to Rouen and up to the ancient city of Paris.</p> + +<p>Our good ship Albion was to remain a week trading between Havre and +Cherbourg, when we were to be again on board for a lengthy trip to the +various ports of the Mediterranean.</p> + +<p>Our first night in Paris was spent at the Hotel Reims, a jolly headquarters +for students, painters, authors and actors.</p> + +<p>LeMour was the blooming host, with his daughter Nannette as the coquettish +"roper in." Father and daughter spoke English about as well as William and +myself spoke French; and what was not understood by our mutual words and +phrases was explained by our gesticulation of hand, shoulder,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> foot, eye, +and clinking "francs" and "sovereigns."</p> + +<p>Cash speaks all languages, and it is a very ignorant mortal who can't +understand the voice of gold and silver.</p> + +<p>"Francs," "pounds" and "dollars" are the real monarchs of mankind! William +in a prophetic mood recited these few lines to the "boys" at the bar:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With circumspect steps as we pick our way through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This intricate world, as all prudent folks do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May we still on our journey be able to view<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The benevolent face of a dollar or two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For an excellent thing is a dollar or two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No friend is so true as a dollar or two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In country or town, as we pass up and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are cock of the walk with a dollar or two!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you wish that the press should the decent thing do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give your reception a gushing review,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Describing the dresses by stuff, style and hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the quiet, hand "Jenkins" a dollar or two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the pen sells its praise for a dollar or two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flings its abuse for a dollar or two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you'll find that it's easy to manage the crew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you put up the shape of a dollar or two!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you wish your existence with Faith to imbue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so become one of the sanctified few;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who enjoy a good name and a well cushioned pew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must freely come down with a dollar or two.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the gospel is preached for a dollar or two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Salvation is reached for a dollar or two;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sins are pardoned, sometimes, but the worst of all crimes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to find yourself short of a dollar or two!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Although the Bard delivered this truthful poem off hand, so to speak, in +"broken" French, the cosmopolitan, polyglot audience "caught on" and +"shipped" the Stratford "poacher" a wave of tumultuous cheers!</p> + +<p>That very night at the Theatre Saint Germain the new play of Garnier, +"Juives," was to be enacted before Henry the Fourth and a brilliant +audience.</p> + +<p>William and myself were invited by a band of rollicking students to join +them in a front bench "clapping" committee, as Garnier himself was to take +the part of Old King Nebuchadnezzar in the great play, illustrating the +siege and capture of Jerusalem.</p> + +<p>The curtain went up at eight o'clock, and the French actors began their +mimic contortions of face, lips, legs and shoulders for three mortal hours, +and while there was a constant shifting of scenes, citizens, soldiers, Jews +and battering rams, yells, groans and cheers, it looked as if the audience, +including King Henry, was doing the most of the acting, and all the +cheering! A maniac would be thoroughly at home in a French theatre!</p> + +<p>The play had neither head, tail nor body, but it was sufficient for the +excitable, revolutionary Frenchman to see that the Jews were being robbed, +banished and slaughtered in the interest of Christianity and the late +Jesus, who is reported as hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>ing taught the lessons of "love," "charity" +and "mercy!"</p> + +<p>The "Son of God," it seems, had been crucified more than fifteen hundred +years before the audience had been created; and although "Old Neb" of +Babylon had destroyed a million of Hebrews several hundred years previous +to the birth of the Bethlehem "Savior of Mankind," the "frog" and "snail" +eaters of France were still breaking their lungs and throats in cheering +for the destruction of anybody!</p> + +<p>It was one o'clock in the morning when we got back to the hotel; and with +the Bacchanalian racket made by the "students" and fantastic "grisettes" it +must have been nearly daylight before William and myself fell into the arms +of sleep.</p> + +<p>Sliding into the realm of dreams I heard the "mammoth man" murmur:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sleep, that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chief nourisher in life's feast!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jodelle, Lariney, Corneille, Moliere, Racine, La Fontaine, Rousseau, +Voltaire, Balzac, or even Hugo, never uttered such masterly philosophy.</p> + +<p>After partaking of a French breakfast, smothered with herbs and mystery, we +hired a fancy phaeton and voluble driver to whirr us around the principal +streets, parks and buildings of the rushing, brilliant city, everything +moving as if the devil were out with a search warrant for some of the stray +citizens of his imperial dominions.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<p>The driver spoke English very well, and with a telephone voice, surcharged +with monkey gestures, we listened to and saw the history of Paris from the +advent of Cæsar, Clovis, Charlemagne to Louis and Henry. A city directory +would have been a surplusage, and we flattered the "garcon" by seeming to +believe everything he said, exclaiming "Oh my!" "Do tell!" "Gee whizz!" +"Did you ever!" "Wonderful!" and "Never saw the like!"</p> + +<p>As our mentor and nestor pulled up at noted wine cafés to water his horse, +we contributed to his own irrigation and our champagne thirst. Be good to +yourself.</p> + +<p>It was sundown when we nestled in the Hotel Reims, but had been richly +repaid in our visit to the king's palace, the great Louvre, St. Denis, +Notre Dame and the great cathedrals, picture galleries, cemeteries and +monuments that decorated imperial Paris.</p> + +<p>The evening before we left Paris we accepted the invitation of Garnier to +visit the Latin Quarter. The playwright did not know William or myself, +except as young English lords—"Buckingham" and "Bacon," traveling for +information and pleasure, sowing "wild," financial "oats" with the +liberality of princes.</p> + +<p>A well dressed, polite man, with lots of money, and a "spender" from "way +back" is a welcome guest in home, church and state; and when it comes to +the "ladies," he is, of course, "a jewel," "a trump" and "darling." They +know a "soft snap" when they see it.</p> + +<p>Some of us have been there.</p> + +<p>While basking under the light of flashing eyes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> and sparkling wine at the +Royal Café, surrounded by a dozen of the artistic "friends" of the "toast +of the town," Garnier said he noticed us in the front bench the night +before, and knowing us to be Englishmen, was desirous to know how his play, +depicting the siege of Jerusalem compared with the new man Shakspere, who +had recently loomed up into the dramatic sky.</p> + +<p>William winked at me in a kind of <i>sotto voce</i> way, and with that natural +exuberance or intellectual "gall" that never fails to strike the "bull's +eye," I bluntly said that Garnier's philosophy and composition were as +different from Shakspere's as the earth from the heaven!</p> + +<p>The Frenchman arose and made an extended bow when his "girl" friends yelled +like the "rebels" at Shiloh and kicked off the tall hat of the noted French +dramatist! Great sport!</p> + +<p>Extra wine was ordered, and then an improvised ballet girl jumped into the +middle of the wine room, with circus antics, champagne glasses in hand, +singing the praises of the great and only Garnier! Poor devil, he did not +know that my criticism was a double ender. Just as well.</p> + +<p>I cannot exactly remember how I got to the hotel, but when William aroused +my latent energies the next morning, I felt as if I had been put through a +Kentucky corn sheller, or caught up in a Texas blizzard and blown into the +middle of Kansas.</p> + +<p>William was, as usual, calm, polite, sober and dignified, and while he +touched the wine cup for sociability, in search of human hearts, I never +saw him intoxicated. He had a marvelous capacity of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> body and brain, and +like an earthly Jupiter he shone over the variegated satellites around him +with the force and brilliancy of the morning sun. He was so far above other +thinkers and writers that no one who knew him felt a pang of jealousy, for +they saw it was impossible to even twinkle in the heaven of his philosophy.</p> + +<p>The day before leaving Paris we visited Versailles and wandered through its +pictured palaces, drinking in the historical milestones of the past. Here +lords, kings, queens, farmers, mechanics, shop keepers, sailors, soldiers, +robbers, murderers and beggars had appropriated in turn these royal halls +and stately gardens.</p> + +<p>Riot and revolution swept over these memorials like a winter storm, and the +thunder and lightning strokes of civil and foreign troops had desolated the +works of art, genius and royalty.</p> + +<p>Nations rise and fall like individuals, and a thousand or ten thousand +years of time are only a "tick" in the clock of destiny.</p> + +<p>Early on the morning of the seventh of May, 1598, we went on board a light +double-oared galley, swung into the sparkling waters of the Seine, and +proceeded on our way to Rouen and Havre.</p> + +<p>The morning sun sparkling on the tall spires and towers, the songs of the +watermen and gardeners, whirring ropes, flashing flags, blooming flowers, +green parks, forest vistas, shining cottages, grand mansions and lofty +castles, in the shimmering distance gave the suburbs of Paris a phase of +enchantment that lifted the soul of the beholder into the fairy realm of +dreamland; and as our jolly crew rowed away with rhythmic sweep we lay +under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> a purple awning, sheltered from the midday sun, gazing out on the +works of Dame Nature with entranced amazement.</p> + +<p>William, in one of his periodical bursts of impromptu poetry, uttered these +lines on</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">CREATION.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The smallest grain of ocean sand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or continent of mountain land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the stars and suns we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are emblems of eternity.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God reigns in everything he made—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In man, in beast, in hill and glade;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In sum and substance of all birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Component parts of Heaven and Earth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moving, ceaseless vital air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is managed by Almighty care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the center to the rim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All creatures live and die in Him.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We know not why we come and go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into this world of joy and woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this we know that every hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is clipping off our pride and power.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The links of life that make our chain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of golden joy and passing pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are broken rudely day by day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like the mists we melt away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The voice of Nature never lies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presents to all her varied skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wraps within her vernal breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dust of man in pulseless rest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A billion years of life and death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but a moment or a breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To one unknown Immortal Force<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who guides the planets in their course!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As the stars began to peep through the gathering curtains of night, and the +young moon like a broken circle of silver split the evening sky, we came in +sight of the busy town of Rouen, with its embattled walls and iron gates +still bidding defiance to British invasion.</p> + +<p>After a night's slumber and a speedy passage our galley drew up against the +side of our stout ship Albion, when gallant Captain Jack O'Neil greeted us +on board, and refreshed our manhood with a fine breakfast, interspersed +with brandy and champagne.</p> + +<p>The next morning, with all sails filled, we wafted away into the open +waters of the rolling Atlantic Ocean, touching at the town of Brest, land's +end port of France, and then away to Corunna in Spain, and on to Lisbon, +Portugal, where we remained three days viewing the architectural and +natural sights of the great commercial and shipping city of the Tagus.</p> + +<p>About the middle of May we swung out again into the breakers of old ocean, +and held our course to the wonderful "Strait of Gibraltar," separating +Europe from Africa, whose inland, classic shores<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> are bathed by the emerald +waters of the romantic Mediterranean Sea.</p> + +<p>We remained for a day at the rocky, stormy town of Gibraltar, meeting +variegated men of all lands, who spoke all dialects, and preached and +practiced all religions.</p> + +<p>The pagan, the Moslem, the Buddhist, the Jew and the Christian dressed in +the garb of their respective nationalities, were wrangling, trading, +praying and swearing in all languages, every one grasping for the "almighty +dollar."</p> + +<p>As the sun went down over the shining shoulders of the Western Atlantic, +flashing its golden rays over the moving, liquid floor of the heaving ocean +and Mediterranean Sea, William and myself stood on the topmost crag of +giant Gibraltar, and the Bard sent forth this impulsive sigh from his +romantic soul:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How I long to roam o'er the bounding sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the waters and winds are fierce and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wild bird sails in his tireless flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the sunrise scatters the shades of night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the porpoise and dolphin sport at play<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their liquid realm of green and gray.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah, me! It is there I would love to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engulfed in the tomb of eternity!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the midnight hour when the moon hangs low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars beam forth with a mystic glow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the mermaids float on the rolling tide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Neptune entangles his beaming bride,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is there in that phosphorescent wave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would gladly sink in an ocean grave<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rise and fall with the songs of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And live in the chant of its memory.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Around the world my form should sweep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part of the glorious, limitless deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enmeshed by fate in some coral cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rising again to the topmost wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That curls in beauty its snowy spray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kisses the light of the garish day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! there let me drift when this life is o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be tossed and tumbled from shore to shore!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I clapped my hands intensely at the rendition of the poem, and echo from +her rocky caves sent back the applause, while the sea gulls in their +circling flight, screamed in chorus to the voice of echo and the eternal +roar of old ocean.</p> + +<p>At sunrise we sailed away into the land-locked waters of the Mediterranean +Sea, where man for a million years has loved, lived, fought and died among +beautiful, blooming islands that nestle on its bosom like emeralds in the +crown of immortality.</p> + +<p>We passed along the coast of Spain to Cape Nao, in sight of the Balearic +Islands, on to Barcelona, to the mouth of the river Rhone, and up to the +ancient city of Avignon.</p> + +<p>In and around this city popes, princes and international warriors lived in +royal style; but they are virtually forgotten, while Petrarch, the poetic +saint and laureate of Italy, is as fresh in the memory of man as the day he +died—July 18th, 1374, at the age of seventy.</p> + +<p>William and myself remained all night in the Lodge House of the Gardens of +"Vacluse," the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> hermit home of the sighing, soaring poet, who pined his +life away in platonic love for "Laura," who married Hugh de Sade, when she +was only seventeen years of age, and presented the nobleman ten children as +pledges of her homespun affection.</p> + +<p>And this is the married lady who Petrarch, the poet, wasted his sonnets +upon, and was treated in fact as we were told by the "oldest inhabitant" of +Avignon, with supercilious contempt.</p> + +<p>Boccaccio and Petrarch were intimate friends, and both of these passionate +poets lavished their love on "married flirts," who give promise to the ear +and disappointment to the heart.</p> + +<p>I could see that while Shakspere reveled deep in the mental philosophy of +Petrarch, and even plucked a flower from his rustic bower, he had no +sympathy with lovesick swains, and as we signed our names in the Lodge +House book, he wrote this:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Petrarch, grand, immortal in thy sonnets;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sugared by the eloquence of philosophy—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destined to shine through the rolling ages;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emulating, competing with the stars.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy love for Laura, pure, unreciprocated;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, thou, foolish man, passion dazed and sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like many of the greatest of mankind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie dashed in the vale of disappointment;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers of hope, given by woman,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have crowned thy brows with nettles of despair!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Next day the Albion sailed into the Mediterranean, passed by the island of +Corsica (cradle of one of the greatest soldiers of the world), through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> the +Strait of Bonifacio, and in due course kept on to the flourishing city of +Naples.</p> + +<p>It was dark twilight when we came to peer into the surrounding hills and +mountains of classic Italy.</p> + +<p>To the wonder and amazement of every passenger on board, Mount Vesuvius was +in brilliant action, and the flash of sparks and blazing lights from this +huge chimney top of Nature dazzled the beholder, and produced a fearful +sensation in the soul.</p> + +<p>As the great jaws of the mountain opened its fiery lips and belched forth +molten streams of lava, shooting a million red hot meteors into the caves +of night, the earth and ocean seemed to tremble with the sound and birds +and beasts of prey rushed screaming and howling to their nightly homes.</p> + +<p>Shakspere entranced stood on the bow of the ship and soliloquized:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great God! Almighty in thy templed realm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mysterious in thy matchless might;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suns, moons, planets, stars, ocean, earth and air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Move in harmony at thy supreme will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yonder torch light of eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blazing into heaven, candle of omnipotence—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lights thy poor, wandering human midgets—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hundred miles at sea, with lofty hope—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That nothing exists or dies in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But changed into another form lives on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through countless, boundless, blazing, brilliant worlds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond this transient, seething, suffering sod!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>At this moment the vessel struck the dock and lurched William out of his +reverie, coming "within an ace" of pitching the poet into the harbor of +Naples.</p> + +<p>Captain O'Neil informed us that he would be engaged unloading and loading +his ship for a week or ten days at Naples, before he started for Sicily, +Greece and Egypt.</p> + +<p>William and myself concluded to hire a guide and ride and tramp by land to +Rome, and view the ancient capital and test the hospitality of the +Italians.</p> + +<p>Early the next morning we set out for the Imperial City, perched on her +seven hills, and enlightening the world with the radiance of her classic +memorials.</p> + +<p>Our guide, Petro, was a villainous looking fellow, yet the landlord of the +Hotel Columbo told us he was well acquainted with the mountain bypaths and +open roads, and could, in the event of meeting robbers, be of great service +to us.</p> + +<p>Petro wanted ten "florins" in advance, and wine and bread on the road; and +as we could not do any better, the bargain was made, and off we tramped +through the great city of Milan, scaling the surrounding hills and pulling +up as the sun went down at the town of Terracino.</p> + +<p>After a good night's rest and hot breakfast, we started on horseback +through a mountain trail for the banks of the Tiber, but when within three +miles of the Capitoline hills Petro seemed to lose his way and rode off +into the underbrush to find it.</p> + +<p>We stopped in the trail, and in less than five minutes after the +disappearance of our faithful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> guide we were captured by a gang of bandits, +whose garb and countenance convinced us that robbery or murder or both +would be our fate.</p> + +<p>We were dragged off our horses, hustled into the forest gloom, through +briars, over streams and rocks, until finally pitched into the tiptop +mountain lair of Roderick, the Terrible.</p> + +<p>The evening camp fire was lit, and Tamora, the queen of the robbers, with a +couple of robber cooks, was preparing supper for the whole band when they +returned from their daily avocations.</p> + +<p>They seemed to be a jolly set, and with joke, laughter and song, these +chivalric sons of sunny Italy were relating their various exploits, and +laughing at the trepidation and futile resistance of their former victims.</p> + +<p>Just before the band sat around on the ferny, pine clad rocks for supper, +Roderick addressed William, and asked him if he had anything to say why he +should not be robbed and murdered.</p> + +<p>William said he was perfectly indifferent; for, being only a writer of +plays and an actor, working for the amusement of mankind, he led a kind of +dog's life anyhow, and didn't give a damn what they did with him.</p> + +<p>The Robber Chief gave a yell and a roar that could be heard for three miles +among the columned pines and oaks of the Apennines, and yelled, "Bully for +you! Shake!"</p> + +<p>Roderick then turned to me and said, "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>I replied at once, "I am a fool and a poet."</p> + +<p>He grasped my hand intensely and yelled, "I'm another." That sealed our +friendship.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then these gay and festive robbers invited us to partake of the best in the +mountain wilds, with the request that after the evening feast was over we +should give samples of our trade.</p> + +<p>With the blazing light of a mountain fire, hemmed in by inaccessible rocks +and gulches, from a tablerock overhanging a roaring, dashing stream, five +thousand feet below, William stood and was requested to give a sample of +his dramatic poetry for the edification of the beautiful cut-throat +audience! And this, as I well remember, was his encomium in Latin to the +"Gentlemen" and "Queen" of independent, gold-getting, robbing, murdering, +fantastic Italian "society."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first I beheld your noble band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pounce from rock and lairs vernal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul and hair were lifted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With admiration and amazement.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Free as air, ye sons of immortal sires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold these crags, defiant still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As eagles in their onward sweep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Citizens of destiny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entertainment awaits your advent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even beneath yon columned capitol!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The emperors, pampered in power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were subject to some human laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But you, great, wonderful chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roderick, the Terrible, and fierce<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soar superior over all, bloody villain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Force with gold and silver alone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dictating thy generous onslaughts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar, Pompey and Scipio<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not compete with thy valor;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only Nero, paragon of infamy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could match the renown of Roderick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fame, great chief, boundless as the globe!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Italy, Spain, France and England<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pay constant tribute to thy purse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Travelers and pilgrims, seeking glory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By kissing the pope's big toe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drop their golden coin and jewels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into thy pockets capacious,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear me, ye sprites of Apennine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the ghouls of murdered travelers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the circumambient air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ring with universal cheers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Roderick, the glory of Robbers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the terror of mankind.<br /></span> +<span class="i10" style="font-style: normal">(Whirlwind of cheers.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the conclusion of William's apostrophe to the prince of robbers, Tamora, +the fair queen, jabbed me with a poniard and ordered me to sing.</p> + +<p>I mounted the platform rock, overlooking the horrible vale below, and sang +in my sweetest strain "Black Eyed Susan," gesticulating at the conclusion +of each verse in the direction of the queen, who seemed to be charmed with +my voice and audacity.</p> + +<p>An encore was demanded with a yell of delight, and I forthwith sang the new +song "America," which was cheered to the echo—and as they still insisted +that I "go on," "go on," I rendered in my best voice the recent composition +of "Hiawatha."</p> + +<p>The robber band yelled like wild Indians, and the fair queen took me to her +pine bower and fondled me into the realm of dreams, although I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> could see +that Roderick was disposed to throw me on the rocks below—but, the "madam" +was "boss" of that mountain ranch and gave orders with her poniard.</p> + +<p>As the earliest beams of morning lit up the crests of the Apennines we fed +on a roast of roe buck and quail, and barley bread washed down by goblets +of Falernian wine that had been captured the day before from a pleasure +party from Brindisi.</p> + +<p>The goblets we drank from were skulls of former citizens of the world, who +attempted to dally with the dictates of Roderick.</p> + +<p>The noble chief Roderick and his imperial queen, Tamora, who seemed to rule +her terrible husband, with one hundred of the most villainous cut-throats +it had ever been my misfortune to behold, gave us a "great send off" from +their inaccessible mountain lair.</p> + +<p>Roderick gave William a talismanic ring that shown to any of his brother +robbers on the globe would at once secure safety and hospitality.</p> + +<p>Tamora in her sweetest mountain manner gave me a diamond hilted poniard, +and then with a Fra Diavolo chorus, we were waved off down the precipitous +crags with a special guide on the main road leading to imperial Rome.</p> + +<p>William and myself drew long breaths after we had passed the Horatio +Bridge, and planted our feet firmly on the Appian Way, leading direct to +the precincts of Saint Peter's, with its lofty dome shining in the morning +sun.</p> + +<p>Gentle reader, if you have never been in battle or captured by robbers, you +needn't "hanker" for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> the experience, but take it as you would your +clothing, "second hand."</p> + +<p>At the "Hotel Cæsar" we brushed the dust from our anatomy, and ordered +dinner, which was served in fine style by a lineal descendant of the great +Julius, who wore a spreading mustache, a purple smile and an abbreviated +white apron.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon we called on Pope Clement, who had heard of our experience +with the robbers, and seemed very much interested in our narration of the +details of our capture and entertainment.</p> + +<p>Clement seemed to be a nice, smooth man, setting on a purple chair with a +purple skull cap on his head, and a purple robe on his fat form.</p> + +<p>His big toe was presented to us for adoration, but as we did not seem to +"ad," he withdrew his pedal attachment and talked about the "relics" and +the "weather."</p> + +<p>We did not purchase any "relics," and as to the Roman "weather," no mortal +who tries it in summer desires a second dose.</p> + +<p>There seemed to be a continuous smell of something dead in the atmosphere +of Rome, while the droves of virgins, monks, priests, bishops and cardinals +seemed to be pressing through the streets, night and day, begging, singing, +riding, and like ants, coming and going out of the churches continually.</p> + +<p>Selling "relics," psalm singing and preaching was about all the business we +could see in the Imperial City.</p> + +<p>It is very funny how a fool habit will cling to the century pismires of +humanity, and actually<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> blind the elements of common sense and patent +truth.</p> + +<p>We were offered a job lot of "relics" for five florins, which included a +piece of the true cross, a bit of the rope that hung Judas, a couple of +hairs from the head of the Virgin Mary, a peeling from the apple of Mother +Eve, a part of the toe nail of Saint Thomas, a finger of Saint John, a +thigh bone of Saint Paul, a tooth of Saint Antony, and a feather of the +cock of Saint Peter, but we persistently declined the proffered honors and +true "relics of antiquity," spending the five florins for a "night liner" +to wheel us about the grand architectural sights of the city of the Cæsars.</p> + +<p>The night before leaving Rome William and myself climbed upon the topmost +rim of the crumbling Coliseum and gazed down upon the sleeping moonlit +capital with entranced admiration.</p> + +<p>The night was almost as bright as day, and the mystic rays from the realm +of Luna, shining on gate, arch, column, spire, tower, temple and dome, +revealed to us the ghosts of vanished centuries, and from the depths of the +Coliseum there seemed to rise the shouts of a hundred thousand voices, +cheering the gladiator from Gaul, who had just slain a Numidian lion in the +arena, when, with "thumbs up," he was proclaimed the victor, decorated with +a crown of laurel and given his freedom forever.</p> + +<p>Shakspere could not resist his natural gift of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'exurberant'">exuberant</ins> poetry to sound +these chunks of eloquence to the midnight air, while I listened with +enraptured enthusiasm to the elocution of the Bard:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! Saint Peter, with his brazen tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Voices the hour of twelve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wizard tones of tireless Time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrills the silvery air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The multitudinous world sleeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pope and beggar alike—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the land of lingering dreams—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oblivious of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poverty, or war, destructive;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep, the daily death of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws her mesmeric mantle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over prince and pauper;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And care, vulture of fleeting life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Folds her bedraggled wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rest a space, 'till first cock crow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hails the glimmering dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With piercing tones triumphant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Father Tiber, roaring, moves along<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under rude stony arches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And chafes the wrinkled, rocky shores<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when Romulus and Remus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Suckled wolf of Apennines!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain are all the triumphs of man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These temples and palaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reaching up to the brilliant stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In soaring grandeur, vast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall pass away like morning mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaving a wilderness of ruins.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where now sits pride, wealth and fraud<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pampered in purpled power—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lizard, the bat and the wolf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall hold their habitation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the vine and the rag-weed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swaying in the whistling winds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall sing their mournful requiem.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silence of dark Babylon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall brood where millions struggled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And naught shall be heard in cruel Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the wail of the midnight storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echoing among the broken columns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its lofty, vanished glory—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where vain, presumptive, midget man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Promised himself Immortality!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After five days of sightseeing we took the public stage for Milan, guarded +by soldiers, and arrived safely on board the Albion, which sailed away, +through the Strait of Messina, around classic Greece to Negropont and on to +Alexandria, Egypt, where we anchored for a load of dates, figs and Persian +spices.</p> + +<p>William and myself took a boat up the Nile to Cairo, and hired a guide to +steer us over the desert to the far-famed Pyramids.</p> + +<p>There in the wild waste of desert sands these monuments to forgotten kings +and queens lift their giant peaks, appealing to the centuries for +recognition, but although the great granite stone memorials still remain as +a wonder to mankind, the dark, silent mummies that sleep within and around +these funereal emblems give back no sure voice as to when and where they +lived, rose and fell in the long night of Egyptian darkness.</p> + +<p>Remains of vast buried cities are occasionally exposed by the shifting, +searching storm winds of the desert, and many a modern Arab has cooked his +frugal breakfast by splinters picked up from the bones of his ancestors.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was night when we got to the Pyramids, and we concluded to camp with an +Arab and his family at the base of the great Cheops until next morning, and +then before sunrise scale its steep steps and lofty crest.</p> + +<p>A few silver coins insured us a warm greeting from the "Arab family," who +seemed to vie with each other in preparing a hot supper and clean couches.</p> + +<p>They sang their desert songs until nearly midnight, the daughter Cleo +playing on the harp with dextrous fingers, and throwing a soft soprano +voice upon the air, like the tones of an angel, echoing over a bank of wild +flowers.</p> + +<p>Standing on the pinnacle of the Pyramid William again struck one of his +theatrical attitudes, and with outstretched hands exclaimed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Immortal Sol! Image of Omnipotence!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To thee lift I my soul in pure devotion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of desert wilds, in golden splendor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise and flash thy crimson face, eternal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the wastes of shifting, century sands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again is mirrored in my sighing soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lofty temples and bastioned walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Memphis, Balback, Nineveh, Babylon—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gone from the earth like vapor from old Nile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thy noonday beams lick up its waters!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hark! I hear again the vanished voices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lofty Memnon, where proud pagan priests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Syllable the matin hour, uttering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prophecies from Jupiter and Apollo—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To devotees deluded, then as now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By astronomical, selfish fakirs,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who pretend claim to heavenly agency<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And power over human souls divine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor bamboozled man; know God never yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Empowered any one of his truant tribe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ride with a creed rod, image of Himself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou, oh Sol, giver of light and heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speed the hour when man, out of superstition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall leap into the light of pure reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only believing in everlasting Truth!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In a short time we crossed the sands of the desert and interviewed the +Sphynx, but with that battered, solemn countenance, wrinkled by the winds +and sands of ages, those granite lips still refused to give up the secrets +of its stony heart, or tell us the mysteries of buried antiquity.</p> + +<p>We were soon again in the cabin of the Albion, sailing away to Athens, +where we anchored for two days.</p> + +<p>William and myself ran hourly risk of breaking our legs and necks among the +classic ruins of Athenian genius, where Plato, Socrates, Aristotle, +Sophocles, Euripides, Pericles, Alcibiades, Demosthenes, Zeno, Solon, +Themestocles, Leonidas, Philip and Alexander had lived and loved in their +glorious, imperishable careers.</p> + +<p>We went on top of Mars Hill, and climbed to the top of the ruined +Acropolis, disturbing a few lizards, spiders, bats, rooks and pigeons that +made their homes where the eloquence of Greece once ruled the world.</p> + +<p>William made a move to strike one of his accustomed dramatic attitudes, but +I "pulled him off," remarking that he could not, in an impromptu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> way, do +justice to the occasion, and intimated that when he arrived at the Red Lion +in London, he could write up Cleopatra and Antony, and the ten-years' siege +of Troy, with Helen, Agamemnon, Ulysses, Achilles, Pandarus, Paris, +Troilus, Cressida and Hector as star performers in the plays.</p> + +<p>It was not very often that I interfered with William in his personal +movements and aspirations, but as he had given so much of his poetry in +illustration of our recent travels, and knowing that I was in honor bound +to report to posterity all he said and did as his mental stenographer, I +begged him to "give us a rest," and "let it go at that."</p> + +<p>The next day the Albion bore away for the Strait of Gibraltar, rounding +Portugal, Spain and France, sailing into the Strait of Dover, passed +Gravesend, until we anchored in safety under the shadow of the Blackfriars +Theatre, where a jolly crowd of bohemians greeted our rapid and successful +tour of continental and classic lands.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This accident and flood of Fortune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So far exceed all instance, all discourse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am ready to distrust mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wrangle with my reason that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Persuades me to any other trust."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>WINDSOR PARK. "MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM."</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This is the fairy land; O spite of spites<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We talk with goblins, owls, and elfish sprites.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis still a dream, or else such stuff as<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Madmen tongue and brain!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If music be the food of love, play on;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me excess of it."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Shakspere had blocked out the play of "Midsummer Night's Dream" in the year +1593, and completed it in the summer of 1599.</p> + +<p>The story of Palamon and Arcite by Chaucer, and the love of Athenian +Theseus for the Amazonian Queen Hippolyta, as told by Plutarch, gave +William his first idea of composing a play where the acts of fairies and +human beings would assimilate in their loves and jealousies.</p> + +<p>One evening while seated at the Falcon Tavern, in company with the Earl of +Southampton, Essex, Florio, Bacon, Cecil, Warwick, Burbage, Drayton and +Jonson, William read the main points of the play, which was lauded to the +skies by all present.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>Burbage, the manager of the Globe, suggested to Essex and Southampton that +it would be a grand idea to have the "Dream" enacted in the park and woods +of Windsor!</p> + +<p>It was a novel idea, and one sure to catch the romantic sentiments of Queen +Elizabeth, as old Duke Theseus, the cross-purposed lovers, Bottom and his +rude theatrical troop, and the fairies, led by Oberon, Titania and Puck +could have full swing in the forest, sporting in their natural elements.</p> + +<p>In reading or viewing the play, the mind wanders in a mystic grove by +moonlight and breathes at every step odors of sweet flowers, while +listening to the musical murmurings of fantastic fairies and echoing hounds +in forest glens.</p> + +<p>Theseus was the first and greatest Grecian in strength of body, second only +to his cousin Hercules, each reveling in the god-like antics of seduction, +incest, rape, robbery and murder!</p> + +<p>The Persian, Egyptian, Grecian and Roman gods commingled with the heroes +and heroines of mankind and committed unheard of crimes with impunity, the +most outrageous villain seeming to be honored as the greatest god!</p> + +<p>The amphitheater grove in front of Windsor Castle, overlooking the Thames, +was the place selected for the exhibition of the "Dream." Natural circular +terraces for the spectators.</p> + +<p>The Virgin Queen had sent out five thousand invitations to her wealthy and +intellectual subjects to attend the new and romantic play of Shakspere, +"Midsummer Night's Dream," on the 4th of July, 1599.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>Everything had been prepared in the way of natural and artificial scenery +by the direction of William, while the Queen sat on a sylvan throne, +embowered in vines and roses, surrounded by all her courtiers, ladies and +lords, in grand, golden array.</p> + +<p>The night was calm, bright and warm, while the young moon and twinkling +stars, shining over Windsor, lent a celestial radiance to the scene, where +lovers and fairies mingled in the meshes of affection. Candles, torches, +chimes, lanterns and stationary fire balloons were interspersed through the +royal domain in brilliant profusion.</p> + +<p>Essex and Southampton were, unfortunately, absent in Ireland putting down a +rebellion.</p> + +<p>William took the part of Theseus, Field played Hippolyta, Burbage played +Puck, Heminge represented Lysander, and Condell Demetrius, while Phillips +and Cooke played respectively Hermia and Helen, Jo Taylor played Oberon and +Robert Benfield acted Titania, the fairy queen.</p> + +<p>The characters Pyramus and Thisbe were played by Peele and Crosse.</p> + +<p>The play opens with a grand scene in the palace of Theseus, who thus +addresses the Amazonian Queen Hippolyta:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now, fair Hippolyta, our mutual hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Draws on apace, four happy days bring in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another moon; but, O, methinks, how slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This old moon wanes! She lingers my desires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like to a step-dame, or a dowager,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long withering out a young man's revenue!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Hippolyta:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, the moon shall behold the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our solemnities."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Egeus, a wealthy Athenian complains to Duke Theseus that his daughter +Hermia will not consent to marry Demetrius, but disobedient, insists on +wedding with Lysander.</p> + +<p>Theseus decides that she must obey her father or suffer death, or enter a +convent, excluded from the world forever.</p> + +<p>Theseus reasons with Hermia thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If you yield not to your father's choice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether you can endure the livery of a nun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For aye to be in shady cloister mewed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To live a barren sister all your life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chanting fair hymns to the cold, fruitless moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice blessed they that master so their blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But earthlier happy is the rose distilled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than that, which withering on the virgin thorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This sentiment was cheered heartily by the great forest audience, and +"Queen Bess" led the applause!</p> + +<p>Lysander pleaded his own case for the heart of Hermia, and sighing, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ah, me! for aught that I could ever read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could ever hear by tale or history,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The course of true love never did run smooth!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Hermia and Helena compare notes and wonder at the perversity of their +respective lovers.</p> + +<p>Hermia says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The more I hate Demetrius, the more he follows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">me;"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Helena says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The more I love him, the more he <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'hatheth'">hateth</ins> me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hermia still sighing for Lysander says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Before the time I did Lysander see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed Athens as a paradise to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O then, what graces in my love do dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he hath turned a heaven unto hell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Helena soliloquizes regarding the inconsistency of Demetrius since he saw +Hermia:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, therefore, is winged cupid painted blind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then to the wood, will he, to-morrow night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pursue her; and for this intelligence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I have thanks, it is a dear expense;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But herein mean I to enrich my pain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have his sight thither and back again."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A number of rude workingmen of Athens propose to give an impromptu play in +the Duke's palace in honor of his wedding.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<p>It is a burlesque on all plays, and being so very crude and bad, is good by +contrast!</p> + +<p>Pyramus and Thisby are the prince and princess, who die for love.</p> + +<p>Bottom is to play the big blower in the improvised drama and the Jackass +among the fairies. He says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I could play a part to tear a cat in, to make all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">split"—<br /></span> +<span class="i3">"Tho raging rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">With shivering shocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall break the locks<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Of prison gates;<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And Phœbus' car<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Shall shine from far<br /></span> +<span class="i3">And make and mar<br /></span> +<span class="i3">The foolish fates!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Puck, the mischievous Robin Goodfellow, who is ever playing pranks among +his fairy tribe and human lovers, enters the forest scene and addresses one +of the fairies thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How now, spirit, whither wander you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Fairy says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Over hill, over dale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through bush, through brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over park, over pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through flood, through fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farewell, thou wit of spirits, I'll be gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our queen and all her elves come here anon."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Puck, the funny tattler, tells of the jealousy of King Oberon, because +Titania has adopted a lovely boy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For Oberon is passing fell and wrath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Because that she as her attendant hath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A lovely boy stolen from an Indian king,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never had so sweet a changeling!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This sly cut at Queen Elizabeth, who had recently adopted a young American +Indian as her parlor page, elicited applause among the courtiers, yet +"Lizzie" did not seem to join in the cheers!</p> + +<p>Oberon and Titania meet and quarrel, just as natural as if they belonged to +earthly passion people.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What, jealous Oberon? Fairy, skip hence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have forsworn his bed and company."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Oberon:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tarry, rash woman; am I not thy lord?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Titania:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Then I must be thy lady?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Oberon accuses Titania with being in love with Theseus and assisting him in +the ravishment of antique beauties.</p> + +<p>She replies:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"These are the forgeries of jealousy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never met we on hill, dale, forest or mead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or on the beached margent of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After the departure of Queen Titania and her fairy train, King Oberon calls +in Puck to aid in punishing her imagined infidelity.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My gentle Puck, come hither; thou remember'st<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since once I sat upon a promontory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rude sea grew civil at her song;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And certain stars shot madly from their spheres<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the sea maid's <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: inserted a missing closing quote after 'music'">music?"</ins><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Puck replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I remember."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Oberon continues:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That very time I saw, but thou could'st not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flying between the cold moon and the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cupid all armed; a certain aim he took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At a fair Vestal, throned by the West;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And loosed his shaft smartly from his bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quenched in the chaste beams of the watery moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the Imperial Voteress passed on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In maiden meditation, fancy free!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet marked I where the bolt of Cupid fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It fell upon a little Western flower—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before milk white; now purple with love's wound—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And maidens call it 'love in idleness.'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch me that flower; the herb I showed thee once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will make, or man or woman madly dote<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the next live creature that it sees.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fetch me this herb; and be thou here again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere the Leviathan can swim a league."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Puck replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I'll put a girdle round about the earth in forty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">minutes!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The audience saw by this time that the "Vestal" and "Imperial Voteress" in +"maiden meditation, fancy free" was none other than Queen Elizabeth, and +therefore three cheers and a roaring lion were given for the delicate and +eloquent compliment of Shakspere to her Virgin Majesty!</p> + +<p>Tributes to the powerful, though undeserved, are received with spontaneous +applause, while just praise for the poor receive no echo from the jealous +throng. Poor, toadying humanity!</p> + +<p>The infatuated Helena follows Demetrius into the dark forest, and though he +tells her that he does not and cannot love her, she says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And even for that, do I love you the more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am your spaniel; and Demetrius<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The more you beat me, I will fawn on you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to be used, as you use your dog!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I have seen fool women and fool men act just that way, and the more they +were spurned, the more they clung to their infatuation.</p> + +<p>Puck returns with the flower containing the juice that will make wanton +women and licentious men return to their just lovers.</p> + +<p>Oberon grasping the herb says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite over-canopied with blooming woodbine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There sleeps Titania, sometime of the night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with this juice I'll streak her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make her full of hateful fantasies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take thou some of it, and seek through this grove;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweet Athenian lady is in love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a disdainful youth; anoint his eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do it, when the next thing he espies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May be the lady."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Titania enters with her fairy train and orders them to sing her to sleep, +and be gone.</p> + +<p>Oberon finds his queen sleeping and squeezes some of the love juice on her +eyelids, saying:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What thou see'st when thou dost awake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it for thy true love take;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love and languish for his sake;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou makest, it is thy dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wake when some vile thing is near."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lysander and Hermia wander in the woods, lost and tired, and sink down to +rest. He says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One turf shall serve as pillow for us both,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Puck finds the lovers asleep, and says to Lysander:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Churl, upon thy eyes I throw,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the power that this charm doth owe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou wakest, let love forbid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep his seat on thy eyelid."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Puck finds Bottom in the woods, rehearsing the play for the marriage of +Theseus, and translates the weaver into an ass, with a desire for love. He +wanders near the flowery bed where Queen Titania sleeps.</p> + +<p>She hears him sing, and opening her eyes, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bottom says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Methinks, mistress, you should have little reason for that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reason and love keep little company now-a-days!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Oberon relents and releases his Fairy Queen from her dream of infatuation +with Bottom disguised as an ass, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But first, I will release the fairy queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be as thou wast wont to be;<br /></span> +<span class="i2" style="font-style: normal">(Touching her eyes with the herb.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See as thou wast wont to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath such force and blessed power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, my Titania; wake you, my sweet queen."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Titania awakes and exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My Oberon, what visions have I seen!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methought I was enamored of an ass!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Titania is not the only woman who is enamored by an Ass; in fact the +mismatched, cross-purposed, twisted, infatuated affections of the sordid, +deceitful earth are as thick as blackberries in July, while pretense and +pampered power greatly prevail around the globe.</p> + +<p>Theseus and his train wander through the woods in preparation for the grand +hunt and find Lysander, Demetrius, Hermia and Helena still asleep under the +magic influence of Puck.</p> + +<p>Theseus wonders how the lovers came to the wood, and says to the father of +Hermia:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But speak, Egeus; is not this the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Helena should give answer of her choice?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Egeus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is, my lord."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Theseus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go bid the huntsmen wake them with their horns.<br /></span> +<span class="i2" style="font-style: normal">(Expresses surprise at their situation.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How comes this gentle concord in the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hatred is so far from jealousy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The lovers are reconciled to their natural choice, and Theseus decides +against the father:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Egeus, I will overbear your will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in the temple by and by, with us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These couples shall eternally be knit."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bottom wakes and tells his theatrical partners:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say<br /></span> +<span class="i2">what dream it was.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Man is but an ass, a patched fool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his<br /></span> +<span class="i2">tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">what my dream was!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The vast audience laughed heartily at the befuddled language of Bottom, the +weaver, and imagined themselves under the like spell of fantastic fairies.</p> + +<p>The fifth and last act opens up with Theseus and his Amazonian Queen in the +palace, prepared for the nuptial rites, and also the marriage of Lysander +and Demetrius to their choice.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/facs170.png"><img src="images/facs170_th.png" +alt="Facsimile page 170" title="Facsimile page 170" /></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Theseus speaking of the strange conduct of lovers, delivers this great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> bit +of philosophy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"More strange than true, I never may believe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These antique fables, nor these fairy toys.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovers and madmen have such seething brains—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than cool reason ever comprehends.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lunatic, the lover and the poet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are of imagination all compact;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sees more devils than vast hell can hold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is the madman; the lover all as frantic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as imagination bodies forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A local habitation and a name!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The play of Pyramus and Thisby is then introduced to the palace audience, +when Bottom and his Athenian mechanics amuse Theseus and Hippolyta with +their crude, rustic conception of love-making.</p> + +<p>As the play proceeds Hippolyta remarks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This is the silliest stuff that I ever heard."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Theseus says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The best in this kind are but shadows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the worst are no worse, if imagination amend them!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Pyramus appeals to the moon thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I trust to taste of truest Thisby's sight!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Pyramus and Thisby commit suicide, for disappointment in love, in the +climax scene, and waking again Bottom wishes to know if the Duke wants any +more of the burlesque play.</p> + +<p>Theseus replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Your play needs no excuse; for when the players are all dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There need none to be blamed!<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lovers to bed; 'tis almost fairy time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As much as we this night have overwatched.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This palpable, gross play hath well beguiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heavy gait of night—sweet friends, to bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fortnight hold we this solemnity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nightly revels and new jollity!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The forest scene is filled with fairies, led by Puck, Oberon and Titania, +all fantastically dressed, rehearsing and singing in their mystic revels.</p> + +<p>Puck leading, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now the hungry lion roars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wolf beholds the moon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst the heavy ploughman snores<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All with weary task foredone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we fairies, that do run<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the triple of Hecate's team,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the presence of the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following darkness like a dream."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Oberon orders:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Through this house give glimmering light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the dead and drowsy fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every elf and fairy sprite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hop as light as bird from brier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his ditty, after me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing and dance it trippingly."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Titania speaks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"First rehearse this song by rote;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To each word a warbling note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand in hand with fairy grace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will we sing and bless this place."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then all the fairies, joining hands at the command of Oberon, dance and +sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Every fairy take his gait,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each several chamber bless;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through this palace with sweet peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All shall here in safety rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the owner of it blest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trip away, make no stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meet me all by break of day!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Then mischievous little Puck flies to the front, makes his final bow and +speech, concluding the play of "Midsummer Night's Dream":</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If we shadows have offended,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think but this, and all is mended—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you have but slumbered here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While these visions did appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this weak and idle theme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more yielding but a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gentles, do not reprehend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you pardon we will mend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, as I am honest Puck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If we have unearned luck,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How to escape the serpent's tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will make amends ere long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else the Puck a liar call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So good night unto you all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give me your hands if we be friends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Robin shall restore amends!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Unanimous cheers rang through Windsor forest at the conclusion of this +mystic play, and Queen Elizabeth called up Theseus (William), Hippolyta, +Oberon, Titania and Puck, presenting to each a five-carat solitaire +diamond—a slight token of Her Majesty's appreciation of dramatic genius.</p> + +<p>It was after two o'clock in the morning when a thousand sky rockets filled +the heavens with variegated colors, indicating for fifty miles around, that +"Midsummer Night's Dream" had been successfully launched on the ocean of +dramatic imagination!</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>THE JEW. SHYLOCK. "MERCHANT OF VENICE."</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, it is excellent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have a giant's strength, but it is tyrannous<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To use it like a giant."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Had I power, I should<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uproar the universal peace, confound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All Unity on earth."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>In my peregrinations and bohemian investigations I have met on several +occasions, and in strange lands, Mr. Ahasuerus, the Jerusalem shoemaker, +who is reported to have jeered and scoffed at Christ as he passed his shop, +bearing the heavy cross up the rugged heights of Calvary.</p> + +<p>That was a terrible day for Jesus of Nazareth (dying for the sins of +others), but worse for his foolish brother, the Jew shoemaker; for as +punishment to the scoffing and heartless Ishmaelite, the "Son of God," +bending under the weight of the cross, exclaimed to the "Son of Saint +Crispin": "Tarry thou 'till I come! Move on!"</p> + +<p>And from that hour to this the "Wandering Jew" has been traveling and +seeking for peace and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> death, but has never found surcease from everlasting +sorrow and misery.</p> + +<p>I have often met his business partners, Solomon Isaacs and David Levy; and +while these gentlemen are compelled by nations to "move on," they have the +great gift of loading up their pack with the rarest jewels—silver, gold +and diamonds being their great specialty—with ready made clothing, +pawnshops and banks as convenient adjuncts.</p> + +<p>Their three golden balls, worn in front of their establishments, they say, +represent energy, economy and wealth; while their victims insist that they +represent passion, poverty and suicide.</p> + +<p>And yet these wandering Jews of all lands and climes, having no home or +country anywhere, have the best of homes, churches, banks and temples +everywhere.</p> + +<p>War and peace they often hold in their financial power, and therefore +become the arbitrators and umpires of national fate.</p> + +<p>When my friend William was working on the rough sketch of the "Merchant of +Venice," in the years 1598 and 1599, there was a great hate manifested +against the London Jews, Dr. Lopez, the physician of Queen Elizabeth, +having been recently tried and hung for the design of poisoning Her +Majesty.</p> + +<p>The Jews were accused of clipping the coins of the realm, demanding one +hundred per cent. usury, bewitching the people, sacrificing Christian boys +on the altar of religious fanaticism and setting fire to the warehouses and +shipping along the Thames.</p> + +<p>These outrageous stories were believed by many people, and Shakspere, being +infected by the hate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> of the multitude (for the first time in his +intellectual career), fashioned the repulsive character of Shylock, who +walks the world as a synonym of greed, hate and vengeance.</p> + +<p>Several Jew plays had been put on the London boards, like the "Venetian +Comedy" and the "Jew of Malta," but none had the lofty pitch of +Shakspere's, who derived his main idea of the play from the Italian story +of "Pecorone," by Florentina, and Silvayn's "Orator."</p> + +<p>Yet, with William's imagination, a hint was sufficient, the rose and acorn +giving him scope enough to create flower gardens and forest ranges.</p> + +<p>The Jew has always been a great subject for the world's contention and +condemnation, particularly since the crucifixion of Jesus of Nazareth. If +Christ, the Jew, suffered for others, his own race for nearly two thousand +years have been "scapegoats" for private and public villains.</p> + +<p>From the days of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, Louis the Fourteenth of +France, Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth of England, Emperor William of +Germany and the Czars Nicholas and Alexander of Russia, the Jews have been +robbed, exiled and murdered by Christian rulers, presumptively for their +rebellion against the State, but really as an excuse to rob them of their +jewels and gold. The Caucasian Christian has never hesitated to rob and +murder anybody anywhere for cash and country!</p> + +<p>Look over the world to-day, and you behold nothing but diplomatic cheating, +domestic and foreign robbery and international murder for individual +ambition and national territorial expan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>sion! The official hypocrite is the +greatest liar of the century!</p> + +<p>England, Germany, France, Russia and the United States are this very day +competing with each other in the race for universal empire! Considering +that "Uncle Sam" has had only one hundred and twenty-six years of national +life, he has forged to the front amazingly, and has become the grandest +"General" on the globe! He does things!</p> + +<p>The "gentle reader" (confidentially speaking) may think this a slight +digression from the "Merchant of Venice," which was enacted at the Globe +Theatre, London, on the first Saturday in December, 1599. The "gentle +reader" may also have found out by this time that the "subscriber" pays +little attention to the "unities of time and place," as a thousand years +are but short milestones in the life of the "Strulbug" family!</p> + +<p>What the "gentle reader" needs more than anything else is <i>knowledge and +truth</i>; and he observes, if he observes at all, that I give bits of the +most eloquent and philosophic speeches in all the plays of Shakspere, +besides the true personal transactions and escapades of the Bard of Avon!</p> + +<p>The enactment of the various scenes of the "Merchant of Venice" takes place +in the great water city—Venice, "Queen of the Adriatic," that ruled the +commercial world two thousand years ago.</p> + +<p>Antonio, the Christian merchant, and Shylock, the usurious Jew, are the +principal characters of the play, while Portia, the wealthy heiress, and +Jessica, the daughter of Shylock, with Bassanio<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> and Lorenzo carry the +thread of Shakspere's argument trying to prove that it is Christian justice +to steal an old man's money and daughter, and punish him for demanding his +legal rights!</p> + +<p>In speaking privately to William I tried to have him change the logic and +morals of the play, but his curt answer was:</p> + +<p>"Jack, the dramatic demand and tyrant public must be satisfied."</p> + +<p>Burbage took the part of Antonio, Jo Taylor played Shylock, William played +Portia, Condell acted Bassanio, Heming represented Lorenzo and Field played +Jessica, Poole played Gratiano, Slye played the Duke.</p> + +<p>The Globe Theatre was packed from pit to loft by the greatest variety +audience I had ever seen; lords, ladies, lawyers, doctors, merchants, +mechanics, soldiers, sailors, and street riff-raff—all assembled to see +and hear how the Jew, Shylock, was to be roasted by the greatest dramatist +of the ages.</p> + +<p>Antonio in a street scene in Venice opens up the play thus:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In sooth, I know not why I am so sad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I am much ado to know myself."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Salarino replies to the ship merchant:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Your mind is tossing on the ocean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where your argosies, with portly sail—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like signiors and rich burghers of the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, as it were, the pageants of the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As they fly to traffickers with their woven wings."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Antonio says to his friend Gratiano:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A stage where every man must play a part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mine a sad one."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But the light and airy Gratiano utters this philosophic speech, which the +"gentle reader" should cut out and paste in his hat:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me play the Fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let my liver rather heat with wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than my heart cool with mortifying groans.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why should a man whose blood is warm within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By being peevish? I tell thee what, Antonio,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love thee, and it is my love that speaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There are a sort of men, whose visages<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do a wilful stillness entertain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With purpose to be dressed in an opinion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As who should say, I am Sir Oracle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, my Antonio, I do know of these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That therefore only are reputed wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For saying nothing; who I am very sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If they should speak, would almost damn those ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, hearing them, would call their brothers fools!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Bassanio, in love with the rich heiress, Portia, tries to borrow three +thousand ducats from Shylock, and Antonio, his friend, is willing to give +bond for the loan.</p> + +<p>The Jew and the Christian hate each other; and Shylock vents his opinion:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How like a fawning publican he looks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hate him, for he is a Christian;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antonio lends out money gratis and brings down—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rate of usury here with us in Venice.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I can catch him once upon the hip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He hates our sacred nation; and he rails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even there where merchants most do congregate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On me, my bargains, and my well worn thrift,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which he calls interest; cursed be my tribe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I forgive him!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Antonio finally asks for the three thousand ducats, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden to you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then in a speech of brave defiance, Shylock humiliates the Gentile merchant +in this manner:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Signior Antonio, many a time and oft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the Rialto you have rated me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About my monies, and my usury;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still have I borne it with a patient shrug;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You call me misbeliever, cut-throat, dog,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all for use of that which is mine own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well, then, it now appears you need my help;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to, then; you come to me and you say:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shylock, we would have monies; you say so;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You, that did void your rheum upon my beard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And foot me as you spurn a stranger cur—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over your threshold; monies is your suit.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What should I say to you? Should I not say;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath a dog money? Is it possible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cur can lend three thousand ducats? Or<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I bend low, and in a bondsman's key,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bated breath and whispering humbleness say this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You spurned me such a day; another time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You called me—dog, and for these courtesies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll lend you thus much monies!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Antonio, not any way abashed at the scolding of the money lender, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I am as like to call thee dog again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spit on thee again, to spurn thee, too!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock then agrees to lend the three thousand ducats if Antonio will give +bond and penalty to pay the money back with interest in three months.</p> + +<p>Shylock says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let the forfeit of the bond<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be nominated for an equal pound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your fair flesh, to be cut off, and taken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In what part of your body pleaseth me!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The second act opens with Portia in her grand home at "Belmont," awaiting +suitors for her wealth, beauty and brains.</p> + +<p>Her father dying, left three locked chests, gold, silver, and lead, one of +them containing the picture of Portia; and the fortunate suitor who picked +out that rich casket, was to be the husband of the brilliant Portia.</p> + +<p>The Prince of Morocco and Prince of Arragon, with Bassanio, were the +suitors.</p> + +<p>Portia says to Morocco:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In terms of choice I am not solely led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By nice direction of a maiden's eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Besides, the lottery of my destiny<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bars me the right of voluntary choosing."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Launcelot, the foolish serving man for Shylock, says to old Gobbo, his +blind father:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do you not know me, father?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Gobbo replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alack, sir. I am sand-blind. I know you not."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Launcelot makes this wise statement:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nay, indeed, if you had your eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You might fail of the knowing of me:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a wise father that knows his own child!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock discharges Launcelot, and Jessica, the beautiful daughter of the +money lender, parts with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> him regretfully—she gives him a secret letter to +deliver to her Christian lover, Lorenzo, and then says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Farewell, good Launcelot—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alack, what heinous sin it is in me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be ashamed to be my father's child!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But though I am a daughter to his blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am not to his manners; O Lorenzo,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become a Christian, and thy loving wife!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This beautiful Jewess forswears her birth and religion for infatuated love, +and throws to the winds all duty and honor as a daughter; a renegade of +matchless quality, stealing her father's money and jewels to elope with the +fascinating Christian Lorenzo.</p> + +<p>The Hebrew race has not produced many Jessicas; and the morality taught by +Shakspere of a daughter "fooling her father" is base and rotten in +principle.</p> + +<p>Shylock says to his daughter:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Well, Jessica, go in to the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I will return immediately;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do as I bid you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut doors after you; fast bind, fast find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A proverb never stale in thrifty mind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then at the turn of his back the beautiful fraud Jessica says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Farewell, and if my fortune be not crost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have a father, you a daughter, lost!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Lorenzo with his friends appear under the window of Shylock's house to +steal away Jessica, and she appears above in boy's clothes, and asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who are you? Tell me for more certainty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Albeit, I'll swear that I do know your tongue."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>He responds:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lorenzo and thy love."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jessica before leaving her home spouts the following stuff to her lover:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here, catch this casket, it is worth the pains;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I am much ashamed of my exchange;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But love is blind, and lovers cannot see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pretty follies that themselves commit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For if they could, Cupid himself would blush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see me thus transformed to a boy.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will make fast the doors, and gild myself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With some more ducats, and be with you straight!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Nice specimen of a dutiful daughter.</p> + +<p>Contrast the conduct of the Christian Portia with the Hebrew Jessica, and +the latter's action is thoroughly reprehensible.</p> + +<p>Portia obeys the injunction and will of a dead father, while Jessica +violates criminally the duty she owes a live father, who is in the toils of +personal and official swindlers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<p>Portia in her palace awaits foreign and domestic suitors for her hand, +heart and wealth.</p> + +<p>The Prince of Morocco and his train first appear.</p> + +<p>Portia in her splendid drawing room receives the Prince, and says to her +waiting maid:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go draw aside the curtains, and discover<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The several caskets to this noble prince;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now make your choice!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Prince reads the inscriptions on the three caskets, gold, silver and +lead:</p> + +<p>"Who chooseth me, shall gain what many men desire."</p> + +<p>"Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he deserves."</p> + +<p>"Who chooseth me, must give and hazard all he hath."</p> + +<p>The Prince asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How shall I know if I do choose the right?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The one of them contains my picture, Prince;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you choose that then I am yours withal."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Prince of Morocco makes a long speech on the beauty and glory of +Portia, and then decides to open the golden casket. Portia hands him the +key, and when the contents come to view he exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O hell! what have we here!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A carrion death, within whose empty eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a written scroll? I'll read the writing.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'All that glitters is not gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often have you heard that told;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many a man his life hath sold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But my outside to behold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gilded tombs do worms infold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had you been as wise as bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young in limbs, in judgment old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your answer had not been enscrolled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare you well, your suit is cold.'"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The disappointed black prince says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Portia, adieu! I have too grieved a heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To take a tedious leave; thus lovers part."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia exclaims after his exit:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A gentle riddance; draw the curtains, go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all of his complexion choose me so!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>When Shylock returned home, found his house deserted and robbed, he rushed +into the street, and cried:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fled with a Christian? O my Christian ducats!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Justice! the law! my ducats and my daughter!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of double ducats, stolen from me by my daughter!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And jewels, two stones, two rich and precious stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stolen by my daughter! Justice! Find the girl!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hath the stones upon her and the ducats!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The frantic raging of the old broken down, soul lacerated Jew, only brought +from that Christian audience, laughter, yells, and howling jeers. The mob +spirit was there, and the appeal for justice by Shylock fell upon deaf ears +and stony hearts.</p> + +<p>Portia still holds court for her hand and heart at beautiful "Belmont," +setting like an Egyptian Queen in the circling, blooming hills of the blue +Adriatic.</p> + +<p>The Prince of Arragon comes to the choice of caskets, and with lofty words +in praise of virtue, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let none presume to wear an undeserved dignity.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, that estates, degrees, and offices,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were not obtained corruptly! and that clear honor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many then should cover, that stand bare!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many be commanded that command!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How much low corruption would then be gleaned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the true seed of honor! and how much honor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picked from the chaff and ruin of the times!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Globe Theatre shook with applause at this fine political speech of the +Prince, and may be well contemplated in the State transactions of to-day.</p> + +<p>The Prince unlocks the silver casket, and finds a portrait of a blinking +idiot; and departing exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Some there be that shadows kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such have but a shadow's bliss;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">There be fools alive I wis—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silvered o'er, and so was this!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia soliloquizes:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thus hath the candle singed the moth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of these deliberate fools, when they do choose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They bare their wisdom by their wit to lose."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Nerissa, the bright waiting maid, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The ancient saying is no heresy;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hanging and wiving go by destiny!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The third act opens with a street in Venice, and friends of Antonio bemoan +the reported loss of several of his ships at sea, which will cause his +default and ruin, by the demands of Shylock.</p> + +<p>Salarino says to the Jew:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why, I am sure if he forfeit, thou wilt not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take his flesh; what's that good for?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock now begins to gloat over his prospect of a dire vengeance upon the +Christian Antonio, and replies to Salarino:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It will feed my revenge!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Antonio hates me because I'm a Jew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warmed and cooled by the same summer and winter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a Christian is? If you <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'pick'">prick</ins> us, do we not bleed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you tickle us do we not laugh? if you poison us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do we not die? and if you wrong us shall we not revenge?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The villainy you teach me, I will execute!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Tubal, the Hebrew friend of Shylock, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But Antonio is certainly undone."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock delighted says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That's true, that's very true.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tubal, fee me an officer; bespeak him a fortnight before.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will have the heart of Antonio if he forfeit the bond.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, Tubal, meet me at our synagogue."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia again appears for the third time to undergo matrimonial choice.</p> + +<p>Bassanio, the particular friend of Antonio, is the real love suitor for the +hand and heart of the beautiful Portia, and appears at her palace, attended +by his faithful Venetian friends. He is a high-toned, but impecunious +Italian gentleman, whose heart and soul are ninety per cent. larger than +his pockets.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Portia seems to be fascinated with Bassanio, and wishes him to remain at +her home and take time in choosing the right casket, but he wants to act +instanter, confessing his love.</p> + +<p>Portia says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let music sound while he doth make his choice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now he goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With no less dignity, but with much more love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than young Alcides, when he did redeem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sea monster!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bassanio, standing before the leaden casket, utters this high sounding, +moral, truthful speech:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The world is still deceived with ornament.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, being seasoned with a gracious voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obscures the show of evil? In religion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What damned error, but some sober brow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will bless it, and approve it with a text,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no vice so simple, but assumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some mark of virtue on his outward parts!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many cowards whose hearts are all as false<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beard of Hercules, and frowning Mars;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, inward searched, have livers white as milk?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these assume but valor's excrement,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To render them redoubted. Look on beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which therein works a miracle in nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making them lightest that wear most of it;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">So are those curled, snaky golden locks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which make such wanton gambols with the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon supposed fairness, often known<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be the dowers of a second head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The scull that bred them in the sepulchre.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus ornament is but the treacherous shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a most dangerous sea!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou meagre lead casket,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which rather rebuffs than dost promise aught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy plainness moves me more than eloquence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here choose I; joy the consequence!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Opening the leaden casket, Bassanio exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What find I here?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair Portia's counterfeit. What demigod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath come so near creation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's the scroll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The continent and summary of my fortune—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you be well pleased with this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hold your fortune for your bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn you where your lady is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And claim her with a loving kiss!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bassanio kisses Portia, and she makes this womanly speech:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You see me, Lord Bassanio, where I stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as I am; though for myself alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would not be ambitious in my wish<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wish myself much better; yet, for you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I would be trebled twenty times myself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times more rich.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Happiest of all is that my fond spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commits itself to yours to be directed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As from her Lord, her Governor, her King!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Myself and what is mine, to you and yours<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is now converted; but now I was the Lord<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this fair mansion, master of my servants,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This house, these servants, and this same myself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are yours, my Lord, I give them with this ring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which when you part from, lose, or give away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it presage the ruin of your love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be my vantage to exclaim to you!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Bassanio tells Portia that he is not a freeman, that Antonio borrowed three +thousand ducats for him from Shylock, and that now he is miserable because +Antonio may lose his life by the Jew claiming a pound of flesh in forfeit +of the bonded debt.</p> + +<p>Portia proposes to pay six thousand ducats rather than Antonio suffer, and +says to Bassanio:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"First go with me to church and call me wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then away to Venice to your friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You shall have gold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To pay the petty debt twenty times over!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock swears out a writ and puts Antonio in jail, and demands trial +before the Grand Duke of Venice.</p> + +<p>The Duke in open court, with all the witnesses and lawyers and people +present, implores Shylock not to insist to cut a pound of flesh from the +body of Antonio, and argues for mercy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>But, Shylock, impenetrable to the cries of mercy, says to the judge:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I have told your grace of what I purpose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by our holy Sabbath have I sworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have the due and forfeit of my bond.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pound of flesh which I demand of him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dearly bought, is mine, and I will have it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you deny me, fye upon your law!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand for judgment; shall I have it?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A learned doctor of laws, Bellario, is expected to appear as the advocate +for Antonio, and the Duke awaits him; but receives a letter saying that a +young lawyer named Balthazar will represent him, as sickness prevents his +presence.</p> + +<p>Portia disguised like a doctor of laws appears in court.</p> + +<p>The Duke asks: "Come you from old Bellario?"</p> + +<p>Portia replies: "I did, my lord."</p> + +<p>Antonio and Shylock stand up in court, and Portia, after surveying each, +inquires:</p> + +<p>"Is your name Shylock?"</p> + +<p>He replies: "Shylock is my name."</p> + +<p>She says to Antonio: "You stand within Shylock's control, do you not?"</p> + +<p>He responds: "Ay, so he says."</p> + +<p>Portia asks: "Do you confess the bond?"</p> + +<p>Antonio replies: "I do."</p> + +<p>Portia: "Then must the Jew be merciful?"</p> + +<p>Shylock asks: "On what compulsion must I? Tell me that?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Portia rises in court and makes this lofty, never to be forgotten +speech:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The quality of mercy is not strained;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The throned monarch better than his crown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The attribute to awe and majesty:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mercy is above his sceptred sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is an attribute to God himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earthly power doth then show likest God's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though justice be thy plea, consider this,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That in the course of justice, none of us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that same prayer doth teach us all to render<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deeds of mercy, I have spoke this much<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To mitigate the justice of thy plea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, if thou follow, this strict court of Venice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must needs give sentence against the merchant there."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock, with unforgiving spirit, replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My deeds upon my head! I crave the law,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The penalty and forfeit of my bond!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is not Antonio able to discharge the money?"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Bassanio replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yes; here I tender it for him in the court;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, twice the sum,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and still appealing to the Duke, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To do a great right, do a little wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curb this cruel devil of his will!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is no power in Venice can altar a decree established."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Shylock, lighting up with joy, replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Preparation is made to cut the pound of flesh from the breast of Antonio; +and this brave old Christian merchant says to his dearest friend, Bassanio:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fare you well!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grieve not that I am fallen to this for you;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For herein fortune shows herself more kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than is her custom; it is still her use<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To let the wretched man outlive his wealth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view with hollow eye and wrinkled brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An age of poverty."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia, speaking to Shylock, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Take thou thy pound of flesh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, in the cutting, if thou dost shed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and goods<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the State of Venice!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Jew finding himself absolutely blocked consents to take the money +offered.</p> + +<p>Yet, Portia tells him that his property and life are now at the mercy of +the Duke because he has conspired against the life of a citizen of Venice, +and bids him:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the Duke!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the great Duke, judge of the court, speaks to Shylock:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That thou shalt see the difference of our spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other half comes to the general state!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Shylock bravely replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Take my life and all, pardon not that;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You take my house, when you do take the prop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That doth sustain my house; you take my life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When you do take the means whereby I live!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Antonio says if the Jew will give up all his property to Lorenzo and +his daughter Jessica, and become a Christian, he the "Merchant of Venice," +will be content.</p> + +<p>Portia then triumphantly asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Art thou content, Jew, what dost thou say?"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>And poor old Shylock gasps:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I am content."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Thus ends one of the most barefaced swindles of the ages; and my friend +William is responsible for the nefarious and systematic machinery of +roguery and persecution injected into the play to satisfy Christian hate +against the wandering Jew.</p> + +<p>In looking around the world even to-day, we might truthfully exclaim:</p> + +<p>"O, Christianity! Christianity! how many crimes are committed in thy name!"</p> + +<p>The fifth act of the "Merchant of Venice" winds up with harmonious love and +prosperity for all concerned.</p> + +<p>At the beautiful home of "Belmont," Bassanio, Portia, Lorenzo and Jessica, +as well as Gratiano and Nerissa are married and living in blissful +association.</p> + +<p>In the moonlit, lovelit conversation between Lorenzo and his Jewish wife, +Jessica, Shakspere wings in some of his finest classical allusions, a word +banquet for all passion struck lovers.</p> + +<p>Lorenzo seated amid waving trees, trailing vines and perfumed flowers +illuminated by the mystic rays of Luna, says to Jessica:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The moon shines bright; in such a night as this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they did make no noise; in such a night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighed his soul towards the Grecian tents<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Cressid lay that night."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Jessica replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ran dismayed away."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Lorenzo talks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood Dido with a willow in her hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the wild sea banks, and waved her love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To come again to Carthage."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And Jessica:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Medea gathered the enchanted herbs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That did renew old Aeson."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lorenzo then triumphant speaks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with an unthrifty love did run from Venice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As far as Belmont."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jessica satirically replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did young Lorenzo swear he loved her well;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stealing her soul with many vows of faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ne'er a true one."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Lorenzo fires back this answer:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And in such a night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slander her love, and he forgave it her."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jessica gets in the last word, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I would outnight you, did nobody come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hark, I hear the footing of a man."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Lorenzo declines to enter the house for rest or sleep, but still discourses +of love and music:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here will we sit and let the sounds of music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become the touches of sweet harmony.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit, Jessica; look, how the floor of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's not the smallest orb, which thou beholdest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But in his motion like an angel sings.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such harmony is in immortal souls;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, whil'st this muddy vesture of decay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth grossly close it in, we cannot have it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the sweet power of music; therefore, the poet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since naught so stockish, hard and full of rage<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But music for the time doth change his nature,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man that hath no music in himself<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The motions of his spirit are dull as night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his affections dark as Erebus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let no such man be trusted."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Portia, Bassanio and friends arrive from the trial of Antonio at Venice, +and at the brilliant home of Belmont all is peace and love.</p> + +<p>Bassanio discovers that the young lawyer in disguise was Portia, and she +twits him for giving away his ring to the young advocate, as a recompense +for clearing Antonio from the toils of Shylock; and then she discourses to +her friends about music by night:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Methinks it sounds much sweeter than by day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When neither is attuned; and I think<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nightingale, if she should sing by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When every goose is cackling, would be thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No better a musician than the wren.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How many things by season, seasoned are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To their right praise and true perfection!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace, there, the moon sleeps with Endymion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And would not be awaked."<br /></span> +<span class="i6" style="font-style: normal">(Music ceases and all retire.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Music murmurs through the soul<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Hopes of a sweat heavenly goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And enchants from pole to pole<br /></span> +<span class="i4">While the planets round us roll!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>THE SUPERNATURAL. "HAMLET."</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The time is out of joint; O cursed spite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever I was born to set it right."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had stomach for them all."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Shakspere, in January, 1600, was at the height of his dramatic renown, and +at the age of thirty-six was the ripest philosopher in the world, knowing +more about the secret impulses of the human heart than any other man.</p> + +<p>I could see a great change in his life and thought; for a shade of settled +melancholy characterized his action, since the death and burial of Spenser, +and the downfall of Essex and Southampton, through the vengeance of Cecil +and Bacon, jealous courtiers, who poisoned Queen Elizabeth against the most +noted Lords of her court.</p> + +<p>Shakspere's theatrical company became involved in the conspiracy of Essex, +and an edict was issued against the Blackfriars and Globe playhouses +performing their dramatic satires. Children players took their places.</p> + +<p>Through the particular vengeance of Lord<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> Bacon, charges of treason were +trumped up against Essex, the former benefactor of Bacon, and in due course +the head of Essex went to the block in February, 1601.</p> + +<p>Thus perished one of the brightest, bravest and loftiest peers of England, +a victim to the spleen, hate and tyranny of the ugly Elizabeth, a woman +without conscience or morality, when her personal interest was involved. +She shines out as one of the greatest and most infamous queens of history, +and so long as lofty crime is remembered she will remain on the top +pedestal of royal iniquity.</p> + +<p>In the course of our classical and historical readings, William had become +very much interested in the tragic story of Amleth or Hamlet as told by the +Danish writer, <i>Saxo</i>—and <i>Seneca</i>, the great Roman, in his story of +<i>Cornelia</i> gives the same tragic tale, while Garnier, the French dramatist, +as well as Kyd, the friend of Shakspere, made plays out of the tragic +history of the Prince of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: inserted a missing period after 'Denmark'">Denmark.</ins></p> + +<p>But it was left for my friend William to gather up the historical bones of +the ancient story, and articulate them into a breathing, living, +passionate, divine being, whose lofty words and phrases should go sounding +down the centuries, thrilling and reverberating in the soul-lit memory of +mankind.</p> + +<p>The supernatural or spiritual part of creation had ever a fascinating +influence upon the Bard of Avon, and all the outward manifestations of +nature were infallible hints to him of the inward sources of the Divine, +and an absolute belief in the immortality of the soul! His own mind was the +best evidence of divinity!</p> + +<p>Night after night in the winter of 1600, William<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> would read over, and +ponder upon "scraps of thought," that he had at various times put into the +mouth of Hamlet, and in our new quarters, near Temple Bar, I assisted him +in composing the dramatic story of the melancholy Dane.</p> + +<p>That is, I blew the bellows, and when his thought was heated to a red rose +hue he hammered out the play on the anvil of his genius, and made the +sparks fly in a shower of pristine glory.</p> + +<p>His literary blacksmith shop was richly furnished with all the rough iron +bars and crude ingots of vanished centuries; and all the best dramatic +writers of London filled his thought factory with contributions of their +inventions. He worked many of their rough pieces of thought into his +dramatic plots; but when the phrase, scene and act were finished and placed +before the footlights for rendition, it sailed away, a full rigged ship of +dramatic grandeur, showing nothing but the royal workmanship of a master +builder, the Homer, Phidias and Angelo of artistic perfection.</p> + +<p>Mankind cares but little for the various kinds of wheat that compose the +loaf, the wool or cotton that's in the garment, the timber or stone in the +house, or the kind of steel in the battleship or guns; all they look for is +the perfect structure, as they may see to-day in Shakspere's greatest +play—"Hamlet."</p> + +<p>While Hamlet is the central figure of the play, old Polonius, the +diplomatic double dealer, Laertes, his son, and Ophelia, his daughter, act +prominently, while Horatio and the ghost of Hamlet's father express words +of lasting remembrance.</p> + +<p>Cruel Claudius, the king who murdered Hamlet's father, stole his throne and +seduced his wife, is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> shown up as a first-class criminal villain, while +Gertrude, the mother of the young prince, is one of the most sneaking, +mild, incestuous queens in history. Such she devils, with heaven in their +eyes and face, honeyed words on their lips, and gall and hell in their +hearts, are the real seducers of infatuated, willing, ambitious man; and +each should dangle at the end of the same rope or hemlock together!</p> + +<p>Contrast Gertrude with Ophelia, and you have a fiend of chicanery and +crime, with a sweet angel of innocence: "Too good, too fair to be cast +among the briers of this working day world and fall and bleed upon the +thorns of life. Like a strain of sad, sweet music which comes floating by +us on the wings of night and silence, like the exhalation of the violet +dying even upon the sense it charms, like the snowflake dissolved in air +before it has caught a stain of earth; like the light surf, severed from +the billow, which a breath disperses, such is the character of the delicate +and sanctified Ophelia."</p> + +<p>In December, 1601, the ban of disgrace was taken from the Globe Theatre, +and Burbage and William were permitted to continue their dramatic +exhibitions.</p> + +<p>"Hamlet" was played the night before Christmas. The house was packed closer +than grass on an English lawn, and the applause was almost continuous, like +the moan or roar of a distant sea.</p> + +<p>Shakspere played the Ghost, Burbage acted Hamlet, Jo Taylor played Horatio, +Heminge played Ophelia, Peele played Polonius, Condell acted Claudius, +Kempt played Gertrude, Cooke acted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> Laertes, and the other parts were taken +by the best stock actors.</p> + +<p>The play opens up on a platform before the castle at "Elsinore," +Copenhagen, Denmark.</p> + +<p>Bernardo and Francisco are soldiers on night duty. Bernardo says: "Who's +there?" Francisco says: "Nay, answer me; stand and unfold yourself."</p> + +<p>The ghost of Hamlet's father appears to the night officers, and also to +Horatio and Marcellus, but will not speak. They reveal the wonderful story +to Hamlet, who makes ready to see and talk to the Ghost the next night at +twelve o'clock.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, the king, queen and courtiers gather at the grand throne +of the castle and talk of the late king.</p> + +<p>Hamlet is moody and sad, and will not be comforted, although persuaded by +King Claudius and his mother.</p> + +<p>Claudius addressing Hamlet, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But, now my nephew Hamlet, and my son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How is it that the clouds still hang on you?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet says (aside):</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A little more than kin and less than kind.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not so, my lord; I am too much in the sun."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet's mother rebukes him about grieving for his father, and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Do not forever with thy veiled lids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seek for thy noble father in the dust;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou knowest 'tis common, all that live must die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing through nature to eternity!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ay, madam, it is common."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Queen says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why seems it so particular with thee?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then surcharged with suspicion of her secret villainy Hamlet exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Seems, madam! Nay it is; I know not 'seems;'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor customary suits of solemn black,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor windy suspiration of forced breath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, nor the fruitful river in the eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That can denote me truly; these indeed seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For they are actions that a man might play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I have that within which passeth show,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These but the trappings and the suits of woe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then, after the exit of the old murder-king and his <i>particeps criminis</i> +queen—Hamlet ponders to himself on life and death in these lofty lines:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, that this too, too solid flesh would melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thaw and resolve itself into a dew!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that the Everlasting had not fixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His canon against self slaughter! O God! O God!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem to me all the uses of this world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fye on't! O Fye! 'tis an unweeded garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Possess it merely. That it should come to this!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But two months dead! nay, not so much, not two;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So excellent a King, that was, to this<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That he might not beteem the wind of heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if increase of appetite had grown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By what it fed on; and yet, within a month—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not think on it—frailty, thy name is woman!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A little month, or ere those shoes were old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With which she followed my poor father's body,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like Niobe all tears; why, she, even she—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would have mourned longer,—married with my uncle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My father's brother, but no more like my father<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I to Hercules; within a month;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had left the flushing of her galled eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She married. O, most wicked speed to post<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is not, nor can it come to good;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Laertes before his departure for France gives his sister Ophelia some +advice and warns her against the blandishments of Hamlet. He says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And keep you in the rear of your affection,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the shot and danger of desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be wary then; best safety lies in fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Youth to itself rebels, though none else near."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This innocent, beautiful girl gave this wise reply to her brother:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I shall the effect of this good lesson keep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As watchman to my heart. But, good my brother<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not as some ungracious pastors do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst, like a puffed and wreckless libertine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And recks not his own read!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Polonius, the wise old father, comes in to hasten Laertes off to +France, with this great advice:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There, my blessing with thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And these few precepts in thy memory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor any unproportioned thought his act.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thou familiar, but <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'my'">by</ins> no means vulgar.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But do not dull thy palm with entertainment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of each new hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bear it that the opposed may beware of thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the apparel oft proclaims the man.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And they in France of the best rank and station<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are of a most select and generous chief in that.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neither a borrower nor a lender be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For loan oft loses both itself and friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This above all; to thine own self be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it must follow, as the night the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not then be false to any man!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Good advice is very fine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">From those who think and make it;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Only one in ninety-nine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Will ever stop to take it!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet and his friends, Horatio and Marcellus, go to the passing place of +the Ghost at midnight, and there, to the amazement of Hamlet, he sees the +apparition of his father, and exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Angels and ministers of grace defend us!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thy intents wicked or charitable,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou comest in such a questionable shape<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I will speak to thee. I'll call thee Hamlet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King, father, royal Dane; O, answer me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let me not burst in ignorance; but tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have burst their cerements; why thy sepulchre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein we saw thee quietly inurned<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath opened his ponderous and marble jaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cast thee up again. What may this mean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revisit thus the glimpses of the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making night hideous; and we fools of nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So horridly to shake our disposition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, why is this? Wherefore? What should we do?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Ghost passes across the stage and beckons Hamlet to follow, who +frantically rushes after the apparition and says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whither wilt thou lead me? Speak, I'll go no farther."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ghost utters in sepulchral voice:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Mark me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am thy father's spirit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doomed for a certain term to walk the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for the day confined to fast in fires<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell the secrets of my prison house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I could a tale unfold whose lightest words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy knotted and confined locks to part<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And each particular hair to stand on end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like quills upon the fretful porcupine.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But this eternal blazon must not be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ears of flesh and blood. List! list, O list!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou did'st ever thy dear father love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis given out that sleeping in my orchard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A serpent stung me. So the whole ear of Denmark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is by a forged process of my death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rankly abused; but know thou, noble youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The serpent that did sting thy father's life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now wears his crown!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O my prophetic soul! My uncle!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Ghost then makes this remarkable speech:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous gifts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O wicked wit and gifts, that have the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So to seduce! won to his shameful lust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The will of my most seeming-virtuous queen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, Hamlet, what a falling off was there!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From me, whose love was of that dignity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it went hand in hand even with the vow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I made to her in marriage; and to decline<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those of mine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But virtue, as it never will be moved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So lust, though to a radiant angel linked<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will sate itself in a celestial bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prey on garbage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brief let me be. Sleeping within my orchard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My custom always of the afternoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With juice of cursed hebenon in a vial,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the porches on my ears did pour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The leperous distilment; whose effect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Holds such an enmity with blood of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That quick as quicksilver it courses through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The natural gates and alleys of the body;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a sudden vigour, it doth posset<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And curd, like eager droppings into milk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thin and wholesome blood: So did it mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a most instant tetter barked about,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Most lazar-like, with vile and loathsome crust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All my smooth body.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus was I sleeping, by a brother's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life, of crown, of queen, at once dispatched;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cut off even in the blossoms of my sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unhoused, disappointed, unaneled;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No reckoning made, but sent to my account<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all my imperfections on my head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, horrible! most horrible!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let not the royal bed of Denmark be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A couch for luxury and damned incest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, howsoever, thou pursuest this act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glow-worm shows the matin to be near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And begins to pale his ineffectual fire!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! adieu! remember me!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>As the Ghost ceased and passed off the stage a peculiar shivering cheer +passed over the great audience, and revealed for the first time in London +dramatic art, a supernatural being seemingly clothed in the habiliments of +flesh, blood and bones, resurrected from the tomb.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do spirits revisit this world again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When they're released from this body of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do they inhabit a realm afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the bright sun and sparkling star?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Claudius, his queen and Polonius were anxious to get at the real cause +of Hamlet's lunacy, and send him away from the castle to prevent future +trouble. The guilty conscience of the king daily feared detection.</p> + +<p>Hamlet brooded so intently upon the cruel murder of his father that he was +constantly on the verge of insanity, devising plans to either slaughter +himself or wreak a terrible vengeance upon his uncle and mother.</p> + +<p>Treading the halls of his ancestral palace he uttered this transcendent +soliloquy that has puzzled the ages:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To be or not to be; that is the question;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more; and by a sleep to say we end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart-ache, and the thousand natural shocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sleep, perchance to dream; ay, there's the rub;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must give us pause; there's the respect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes calamity of so long life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The insolence of office, and the spurns—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That patient merit of the unworthy takes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he himself might his quietus make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grunt and sweat under a weary life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the dread of something after death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The undiscovered country from whose bourn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No traveler returns, puzzles the will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes us rather bear those ills we have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than fly to others that we know not of?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the native hue of resolution<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And enterprises of great pitch and moment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this regard their currents turns awry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lose the name of action!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ophelia at the suggestion of her father and the other conspirators, comes +in at this juncture and sounds Hamlet as to plighted love and gives back +the gifts he gave her.</p> + +<p>Hamlet pretending to madness still talks double and asks Ophelia if she be +honest, fair and beautiful.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> + +<p>She says: "Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'beauty'">honesty</ins>?"</p> + +<p>Hamlet replies: "Ay, truly, for the power of beauty will sooner transform +honesty from what it is to a bawd, than the force of honesty can translate +beauty into his likeness; this was sometime a paradox, but now the time +gives it proof. I did love you once."</p> + +<p>Ophelia says: "Indeed, my lord, you made me believe so."</p> + +<p>And then the fickle Hamlet says: "I loved you not," and with supercilious +advice, exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Get thee to a nunnery!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why would'st thou be a breeder of sinners?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am myself indifferent honest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet I could accuse me of such things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it were better my mother had not borne me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With more offenses at my back<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than I have thoughts to put them in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imagination to give them shape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or time to act them in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What should such fellows as I do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crawling between heaven and earth?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We are arrant knaves all, believe none of us—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go thy ways to a nunnery!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shall not escape calumny!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For wise men know well enough what monsters women make of them!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go! get thee to a nunnery!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Hamlet thus plays the madman to the eye and mind of Ophelia, that she may +report his lunacy; and believing her former lover deranged, after his exit +utters this wail of grief:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The expectancy and rose of the fair state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glass of fashion and the mould of form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The observed of all observers, quite, quite down!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sucked the honey of his music vows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That unmatched form and feature of blown youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blasted with ecstacy: O, woe is me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have seen what I have seen, see what I see."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The instruction of Hamlet to the players is the most conclusive evidence +that William Shakspere was not only the greatest dramatic author, but an +actor and orator of matchless mould.</p> + +<p>There was no character that his soul conceived in any of his plays, fool or +philosopher, that he could not act better than any man in his company.</p> + +<p>In the first rehearsal of his plays he usually read the lines to his men +and gave them the cue and philosophy of the character to be enacted.</p> + +<p>A few days before the play of Hamlet I heard him deliver this speech for +the edification of the whole troupe, that they might know how to render +their lines in an effective and oratorical manner:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It to you, trippingly on the tongue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But if you mouth it, as many of your<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Players do, I had as lief the town-crier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoke my lines. Now do not saw the air too<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much with your hand, thus; but use all gently;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For in the very torrent, tempest, and,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I may say, whirlwind of your passion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You must acquire and beget a temperance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That may give it smoothness. O, it offends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me to the soul to hear a robustious<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Periwig-pated fellow, tear a passion<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tatters, to very rags, to split the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ears of the groundlings, who for the most part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are capable of nothing, but inexplicable<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Dump'">Dumb-shows</ins> and noise, I would have such a fellow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whipped for overdoing Termagant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It out-herods Herod; pray you avoid it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be not too tame neither, but let your own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Discretion be your tutor: suit the action<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the word, the word to the action;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With this special observance, that you o'erstep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not the modesty of nature; for anything<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So overdone is from the purpose of playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose end, both at the first and now, was and is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To show virtue her own feature, scorn her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Own image, and the very age and body<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the time his form and pressure.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now this, overdone, or come tardy off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though it make the unskilled laugh, cannot but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make the judicious grieve; the censure of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which one must in your allowance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Overweigh a whole theatre of others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, there be players that I have seen play,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heard others praise, and that highly,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to speak it profanely, that neither<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Having the accent of Christians nor the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gait of Christian, pagan, nor man, have so<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strutted and bellowed, that I have thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some of nature's journeymen had made men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not made them well, they imitated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Humanity so abominably!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In all the troubles and vicissitudes of Hamlet's life, young Lord Horatio +remained his unfaltering friend; and this tribute to friendship is one of +the best in Shakspere. Hamlet says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Horatio, thou art even as just a man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As e'er my conversation coped withal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nay, do not think I flatter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what advancement may I hope from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no revenue hast but thy good spirits,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since my dear soul was mistress of its choice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And could of men distinguish, her election<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A man that fortune's buffets and rewards<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast taken with equal composure; and blest are those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To sound what stop she pleases. Give me that man<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do thee!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the dumb show murder play, before the King and Queen Shakspere puts +these phrases in the mouths of the players and Hamlet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The great man down, you mark his favorite flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The poor advanced makes friends of enemies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hitherto doth love on fortune tend;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For who not needs, shall never lack a friend."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But what's that, your Majesty;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we that have free souls, it touches us not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the galled jade wince, our withers are unwrung!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Claudius frightened at the mock play runs away, and Hamlet says to +Horatio:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Why let the stricken deer go weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hart ungalled play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some must watch, while some must sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus runs the world away."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Tis now the very witching time of night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contagion to this world; now could I drink hot blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And do such bitter business as the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would quake to look on. Soft, now to my mother;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will speak daggers to her, but use none!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Claudius the night before his death, after conspiring with Polonius +for the exile of Hamlet utters this self-accusing, remorseful soliloquy:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It hath the primal, eldest curse upon it—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A brother's murder. Pray can I not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though inclination be as sharp as will;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And like a man to double business bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stand in pause where I shall first begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And both neglect. What if this cursed hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were thicker than itself with brother's blood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to confront the visage of offense?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what's in prayer but this twofold force,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be forestalled ere we come to fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or pardoned being down? Then I'll look up;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My fault is past. But O, what form of prayer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cannot be, since I am still possessed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those effects for which I did the murder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My crown, mine own ambition and my queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May one be pardoned and retain the offense?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the corrupted currents of this world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offense's gilded hand may shove by justice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft 'tis seen the wicked prize itself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Buys out the law; but 'tis not so above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, is no shuffling, there, the action lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his true nature, and we ourselves compelled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give in evidence!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the midnight interview of Hamlet with his mother, Polonius hides behind +a curtain to spy upon the words of the "melancholy Dane," and is killed by +a sword thrust of Hamlet, who exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How now! a rat, dead for a ducat."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Hamlet holds his mother to the talk and pours these lines of liquid +gall into her trembling ear and frightened heart:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Look here, upon this picture, and on this,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See what a grace was seated on this brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An eye like Mars, to threaten and command;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A station like the herald Mercury<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A combination and a form indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where every god did seem to set his seal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give the world assurance of a man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This was your husband. Look you now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What follows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here is your husband: like a mildewed ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And batten on this foul moor?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your husband; a murderer and a villain;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your precedent lord; a vice of kings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That from a shelf the precious diadem stole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And put it in his pocket!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A king of shreds and patches!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Claudius, alarmed at the death of Polonius and his own guilty state, +conspires with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to take Hamlet to England and +get rid of him, saying:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Follow him at foot; tempt him with speed abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Delay it not; I'll have him hence to-night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Away! for everything is sealed and done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That else leans on the affair; pray you, make haste!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet before retiring thus bemoans his slowness in wreaking a just +vengeance upon his murderer uncle:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How all occasions do inform against me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spur my dull revenge! What is a man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If his chief good and market of his time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sure, he that made us with such large discourse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking before and after, gave us not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That capability and god-like reason<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To rot in us unused.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rightly to be great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is not to stir without great argument;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But greatly to find quarrel in a straw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When honor's at the stake. How stand I then,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">That have a father killed, a mother stained,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excitements of my reason and my blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And let all sleep, while to my shame I see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The imminent death of twenty thousand men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That for a fantasy and trick of fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to their graves like beds, fight for a plot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which is not tomb enough and continent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hide the slain? O, from this time forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My thoughts be bloody or nothing worth!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The beautiful Ophelia becomes insane after her father's death, and wanders +about the castle singing disjointed love songs and uttering musings.</p> + +<p>Queen <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Margaret'">Gertrude</ins> says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How now, Ophelia?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She sings:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How should I your true love know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From another one?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By his cockle hat and staff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his sandal shoon."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The king asks:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How do you do, pretty lady?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They say the owl was a banker's daughter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Laertes returns from France and finds his sister insane from grief over the +loss of her father, and viewing this innocent wreck parading palace halls, +exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O heavens! is it possible a young maid's wits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be as mortal as an old man's life?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Ophelia unconsciously sings:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They bore him barefaced on the bier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his grave rained many a tear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fare you well, my dove!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Holding a spray of flowers in her hands she fitfully plucks them and +murmurs:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray you, love, remember;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there is pansies, that's for thoughts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's fennel for you, and columbines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's rue for you, and here's some for me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We may call it herb of grace on Sunday;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, you must wear your rue with a difference.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a daisy; I would give you some violets—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But they withered all when my father died!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet and his party in sailing for England encounter a war-like pirate +ship, and in the fight and grapple Hamlet alone is taken prisoner and his +keepers go to destruction.</p> + +<p>He suddenly appears at Elsinore, and goes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> the churchyard, where a grave +is being prepared for Ophelia, who was drowned in a garden stream in her +mad ramblings.</p> + +<p>Hamlet converses philosophically with the grave diggers about the bones, +skulls and greatness of a politician, courtier, lady, lawyer, tanner; and +when the skull of the old king's jester is thrown out of the grave after a +sleep of twenty-three years, Hamlet, speaking to Horatio, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fellow of infinite jest, of most<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Excellent fancy, he hath borne me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On his back a thousand times, and now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How abhorred in my imagination<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is! my gorge rises at it. Here hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those lips that I have kissed, I know not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How oft. Where be your gibes now, your gambols?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your songs? Your flashes of merriment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were wont to set the table in a roar?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not one now, to mock your own grinning!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quite chop-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell her, let her paint an inch thick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To this favor she must come;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make her laugh at that!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The funeral procession with the corpse of Ophelia now appears, Laertes, +King, Queen, train, and priests attending.</p> + +<p>The priests tell Laertes that were it not for "great command" his sister's +body "should in ground unsanctified have lodged till the last trumpet," +because of alleged suicide.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span></p> + +<p>Laertes peremptorily says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Lay her in the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her fair and unpolluted flesh<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ministering angel shall my sister be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When thou liest howling in perdition."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Laertes and Hamlet, both overpowered with frantic grief, leap into the +new-made grave and struggle for precedence of affection, the former +exclaiming:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till of this flat a mountain you have made<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To o'ertop old Pelion or the skyish head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of blue Olympus!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet, replying to the King, Queen and Laertes, says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I loved Ophelia; forty thousand brothers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could not, with all their quantity of love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make up my sum:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions of acres on us, till our ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singeing his pate against the burning zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make Ossa like a wart!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet tells his friend, Horatio, how on his voyage to England he +discovered that King Claudius gave commission to his enemies to send his +head to the block. Hamlet says:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When our deep plots do pall; and that should teach us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a Divinity that shapes our ends,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough-hew them how we will."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Claudius seeing no other way to get rid of Hamlet, consults his secret +courtiers and brews up the passion existing between Laertes and himself, +proposing that they fence with rapiers for a great prize, the King betting +that in twelve passes of swords Laertes makes not three hits on Hamlet.</p> + +<p>The grand contest for excellence in sword-play comes off in the main hall +of the palace, while the King, Queen, lords and courtiers await the +entrance of Hamlet.</p> + +<p>The rapier point handed by the King to Laertes, was dipped in deadly +poison, so that it but touch the flesh of Hamlet certain death prevailed, +and even of the wine cups set on the table to quench the thirst of the +artistic fencers, one was poisoned and intended for Hamlet's dissolution.</p> + +<p>Laertes was in the poison plot, and Hamlet felt in his soul that foul play +was intended, but in the general scramble and conclusion he hoped to wipe +off the score of his vengeance from the slate of royal iniquity and +slaughter.</p> + +<p>Trumpet and cannon sound for beginning the sword contest.</p> + +<p>First passes favored Hamlet, and the King, grasping the poison wine cup, +says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hamlet, this pearl is thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's to thy health!" <span style="font-style: normal">(Offering him the cup.)</span><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Hamlet replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Give Laertes the cup,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll play this bout first; set it by a while."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Hamlet makes another pass and touches Laertes, and the Queen grasps the +poison cup in her excitement and drinks to her son.</p> + +<p>The King impulsively says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Gertrude, do not drink!" <span style="font-style: normal">(Aside)</span> "It is the<br /></span> +<span class="i0">poisoned cup!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The Queen, as God and Fate would have it, says stubbornly:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I will, my lord, I pray you pardon me!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the third round Laertes wounds Hamlet with the poisoned-pointed rapier, +and in the struggle Hamlet grasps Laertes' rapier and in turn wounds his +antagonist.</p> + +<p>At this moment the Queen falls off her throne, and dying, says to Hamlet:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, my dear Hamlet; the drink, the drink; I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">am poisoned!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Laertes then falls, and Hamlet, seeing through the plot, exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, villainy! Ho! let the door be locked;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Treachery! seek it out!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Laertes makes the dying confession of his treachery:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is here, Hamlet; Hamlet, thou art slain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No medicine in the world can do thee good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thee there is not half an hour of life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The treacherous instrument is in thy hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbated and envenomed; the foul practice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath turned itself on me, lo, here I lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to rise again; thy mother's poisoned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I can no more; the King, the King is to blame!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Hamlet, as a lion rushing on his prey, exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The point envenomed too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, venom, to thy work."<br /></span> +<span class="i4" style="font-style: normal">(Stabs the King.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The King falls and says: "I am but hurt"; while Hamlet grasps the poisoned +cup of wine and dashes it down the throat of the guilty monster, +exclaiming:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink off this potion: is thy union here?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Follow my mother!" <span style="font-style: normal">(King dies.)</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Laertes' last words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The King is justly served;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet."<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Hamlet replies:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Heaven make thee free of it! I follow thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You that look pale and tremble at this chance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That are but mutes or audience to this act,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I but time,—as this fell sergeant—Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is strict in his arrest—O, I could tell you—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let it be. Horatio, I am dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou livest; report me and my cause aright<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the unsatisfied.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, I die, Horatio;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I cannot live to hear the news from England;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I do prophesy the election lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Fortinbras; he has my dying voice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which have solicited. The rest is silence!" <span style="font-style: normal">(Dies.)</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then to close the scene of slaughter, the noble and faithful Horatio, +bending over the body of his princely friend, exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Now cracks a noble heart; Good night, sweet prince,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Such tumultuous applause I never heard in a theatre, and shouts for "The +Ghost" and "Hamlet" prevailed until William and Burbage came from behind +the curtain and made a triple bow to the audience as the clock in the tower +of Saint Paul struck the midnight hour.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lesson in great Hamlet taught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that a throne is dearly bought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By lawless love and bloody deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which fester like corrupted <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'deeds'">weeds</ins>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smell to heaven with poison breath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Involving all in certain death.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For fraud and murder can't be hid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since Eve and Cain did what they did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left us naked through the world,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like meteors in midnight hurled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darkle in this trackless sphere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not knowing what we're doing here!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>DEATH OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. CORONATION OF KING JAMES.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All that lives must die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passing through nature to eternity."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"What have kings that privates have not too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save ceremony?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>The New Year of sixteen hundred and three brought no consolation or +happiness to Queen Elizabeth. Her reign of forty-four years had been +bloody, but patriotic; and while she had long since passed the noonday of +her glory, her sunset of life hastened to its setting with a fevered brain +and tortured heart, to think that she had not one real friend living, but +surrounded by cunning courtiers, who were already manipulating for the +favor and patronage of King James.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a blasted pine on a mountain peak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She moaned and sighed every day and week;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Awaiting the deadly, stormy gust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That laid her low in the crumbling dust.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>To amuse her lingering hours of grief Lord Cecil desired the Shakspere +Company to give its new version of "Love's Labor's Lost" before the Queen +in the grand reception hall at Richmond.</p> + +<p>Burbage went to the castle and made all the preliminary preparations for +the play, and on the night of the second of February, 1603, the fantastic +love play was given for the amusement of the Virgin Queen. She sat in regal +solitude, and with mock laughter tried to enjoy the mimic show.</p> + +<p>The royal audience was great in rank, beauty, wealth and intellect, yet +through the various scenes of the light-hearted drama, Elizabeth only swung +her head, muttered and sighed, while her courtiers evinced great amusement +at the predicament of the various lovers in the play. Nothing can minister +to a mind diseased.</p> + +<p>The Queen professed great disappointment at the absence of Shakspere from +the performance—"on account of sickness," as Burbage told her Royal +Highness. But William and myself remained at our rooms at Temple Bar that +evening working on the first draughts of "Macbeth" to catch the praise and +patronage of King James, the Scotch-Englishman.</p> + +<p>Since the execution of Essex and imprisonment of Southampton Shakspere +never said a word in praise of Elizabeth, and when he heard of her death on +the 26th of March, 1603, he betrayed no feeling of grief, but on the +contrary, expressed delight that the way was now clear for the release of +Southampton and other victims of Elizabeth from the Tower.</p> + +<p>Several weeks before her death Elizabeth was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> afflicted with a choking +sensation, and the ghosts of her murdered sister—Mary, Queen of Scots, and +her former lover, the beheaded Earl of Essex, appeared nightly.</p> + +<p>Cecil asked her a few days before she died how she felt, when she muttered, +"My lord, I am tied with a chain of iron about my neck."</p> + +<p>Thus a cruel, bloody conscience sat like a fiend over her dying sighs and +groans, and though surrounded with the wealth and glory of the world, the +Virgin Queen stepped into eternity with only the memory of a successful +tyrant to light her to the Pluto realms of her father, King Henry the +Eighth!</p> + +<p>Her funeral procession and burial in Westminster Abbey was the grandest +exhibition of royal pomp and magnificence. The whole population seemed to +fill all the alleys, streets and parks of the great city, with the army and +navy leading the funeral cortege, while the great bells from steeple, tower +and temple rang out their periodical wail of sonorous sounds for +twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>The body of Elizabeth had been scarcely cold in death when Lord Cecil and +the Royal Council proclaimed James of Scotland, King of England, Ireland, +Scotland and France, tumbling over each other in a mad race to throw +themselves prostrate before the rising sun, forgetting in a day the honors +and benefactions showered upon them for forty years by their late mistress.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus we see from age to age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The greed of man on every page;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter whether young or old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His strife in life is search for gold!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>King James left Edinburgh on the 5th of April with a royal escort for +London, and by easy stage from town to town and castle to castle, made a +triumphal march to London, where he arrived on the 7th of May, 1603, +putting up at the Whitehall Palace. The lords of the realm and millions of +faithful subjects gave James their loyal adhesion and support, lauding him +to the skies as monarch of the realm and defender of the Faith. Hope had no +thorns in her crown.</p> + +<p>Protestants and Catholics alike, on their first rush of spontaneous +patriotism, made a bid for the patronage of the new king, who, although +reared a Protestant, was known to have sympathy for certain Catholic lords, +who tried to save his mother—Mary, Queen of Scots, from the fatal block. +James never forgave Elizabeth for the murder of his mother, and in his +inmost heart despised his predecessor.</p> + +<p>King James after his coronation and triumphal entry into London on the 15th +of March, 1604, ordered a partial jail delivery, releasing hundreds of +prisoners in Scotland, Ireland and England, exempting only highway and +house robbers, murderers, and those who had committed overt acts of treason +against the crown.</p> + +<p>Many political prisoners had been immured in the Tower and other state +prisons on trivial or trumped up charges, preferred by jealous courtiers on +personal or religious grounds.</p> + +<p>James was very friendly to the dramatic profession, and granted a charter +to the Shakspere Company to play at the Blackfriars, Globe, Prince, Fortune +and Curtain theatres.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span></p> + +<p>In the coronation procession nine of the "Kings Company" appeared dressed +out in fantastic array, wearing four yards and a half each of silk-scarlet +cloth.</p> + +<p>The nine chief actors thus honored by the King were William Shakspere, +Augustine Phillips, Laurence Fletcher, John Hemmings, William Sley, Robert +<ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'Armyn'">Armin</ins>, Henry Condell, Richard Cowley and Richard Burbage.</p> + +<p>King James sent for Shakspere and Burbage and told them to be ever in +readiness as the King's servants to perform at any of the palaces that he +might entertain domestic or foreign guests, and assured them that the +puritanical policy that had hounded them in the past should not prevail +during his reign, believing that the stage, properly managed, was as great +an educator for the people as the church.</p> + +<p>When William told me of this interview with the King I expressed great +delight, with the other literary bohemians that now there sat on the throne +of old Albion, a patron of poetry, painting, music and sculpture.</p> + +<p>The Church of Rome and the Church of England had been battling for nearly a +hundred years in Britain for the mastery; and although the devotees of +Luther's Reformation had cracked the creed of popes and princes, there was +a general demand for a new version and translation of the Bible, cutting +out the Catholicism of the old book and expurgating the vulgarity and +superstition engrafted on the "Word of God" by the apostles and bishops of +the first, second and third centuries, after Christ had been crucified for +the sins of all mankind.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span></p> + +<p>Curious kind of celestial justice, to kill any man for my sins and crimes? +I prefer to suffer for my own sins and not fall back on a "scapegoat" to +carry them off into the wilderness.</p> + +<p>On the first of September, 1604, a great religious conclave was held at +Hampton Court by the established church and the Puritans, and there it was +determined to make a new, revised and complete edition of the Bible, by the +royal authority of King James.</p> + +<p>On the first of May, 1607, forty-seven of the most learned men of the +British realm assembled in three parties at Oxford, Cambridge and +Westminster to make a new Bible for the guidance of mankind. Hebrew, Greek +and Latin scholars made up the great conclave; and after four years of +detailed labor the King James edition of the Bible was published to the +world, cutting loose forever from the power of Rome.</p> + +<p>Although the "Word of God" has been revised several times since by man +there are yet a large number of sentences and verses in the Old and New +Testament that might be expurgated in the interest of decency, reason and +science.</p> + +<p>This electric age is too rapid and wise to gulp down the obsolete doctrine +of ancient fanaticism, and the preachers of to-day are painfully alarmed at +the decreasing number of pewholders and patrons, who once listened to their +rigmarole platitudes or eloquent dissertations on the power and locution of +an unknown God.</p> + +<p>On Christmas Eve, 1607, the "King's Players," with Shakspere and Burbage in +the respective rôles of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, produced that great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +historical play at the grand reception room of Whitehall, in the presence +of King James and the nobles of his court, surrounded by the ministers and +diplomats from all the civilized nations of the world.</p> + +<p>I never saw a grander audience, interspersed with the most beautiful ladies +of the world, who shone in their jewels and diamonds like a field of +variegated wild flowers, besprinkled with the morning dew.</p> + +<p>The witches in the play seemed to startle the King, and more than ever +convince him that these inhabitants of earth and air were all of a reality, +and should be destroyed wherever found, believing that they held the +destiny of man in the caldron of their incantations.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Come, come, you spirits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fill me from the crown to the toe, top full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of direst cruelty! Make thick my blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stop up the access and passage to remorse;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That no compunctious visitings of nature<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The effect and it! Come to my woman's breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take my milk for gall, you murdering ministers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherever in your sightless substances<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You wait on nature's mischief; come, thick night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my keen knife see not the wound it makes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This speech of the devilish Lady Macbeth made<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> a deep impression on the +audience, and caused the King to squirm in his throne chair at the +contemplation of the murder of Duncan, but when William entered as Macbeth +and rendered the following speech James wished himself a million miles +away, and yet applauded to the echo the murdering thoughts of the Scottish +chieftain:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were done quickly. If the assassination<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could trammel up the consequence, and catch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his surcease, success; that but this blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might be the be-all and the end-all here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'd jump the life to come; but, in these cases<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We still have judgment here; that we but teach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloody instructions, which being taught, return<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To plague the inventor. This evenhanded justice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To our own lips. He's here in double trust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">First as I am his kinsman and his subject,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong both against the deed; then, as his host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who should against his murderer shut the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not bear the knife himself. Besides, this Duncan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath born his faculties so meek, hath been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So clear in his great office, that his virtues<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deep damnation of his taking off;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pity, like a naked new-born babe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the sightless coursers of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tears shall drown the wind; I have no spur<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To prick the sides of my intent, but only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And falls on the other!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Still brooding on the murder of Duncan, Macbeth says:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is this a dagger which I see before me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The handle towards my hand? Come, let me clutch thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have thee not, and yet I see thee still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To feeling as to sight? Or art thou but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dagger of the mind; a false creation,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proceeding from the heat oppressed brain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I see thee yet in form as palpable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As this which now I draw.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou marshal'st me the way that I was going;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And such an instrument I was to use.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mine eyes are made the fools of the other senses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on thy blade and handle, gouts of blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which was not so before, there's no such thing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is the bloody business, which informs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to mine eyes, now o'er the one-half world<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The curtained sleeper; now witchcraft celebrates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale Hecate's offerings, and withered murder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alarmed by his sentinel, the wolf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very stones prate of my whereabout,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And take the present horror from the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which now suits with it. While I threat, he lives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go and it is done; the bell invites me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That summons thee to heaven or to hell!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After the murder of Duncan, Lady Macbeth is constantly haunted with the +ghost of her victim, and in midnight hours, sick at soul, walks in her +sleep, talking of her bloody deed:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Out damned spot! out I say!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's the smell of the blood still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the perfumes of Arabia<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will not sweeten this little hand!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then retiring to her purple couch, amidst the cries of her waiting +woman, she dies with insane groans echoing through her castle halls.</p> + +<p>Macbeth, the pliant, cowardly, ambitious tool of his wicked wife, is at +last surrounded by Macduff and his soldiers, and informed that his lady is +dead.</p> + +<p>And then soliloquizing on time and life, he utters these philosophic +phrases:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She should have died hereafter;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There would have been a time for such a word;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To-morrow; and to-morrow, and to-morrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the last syllable of recorded time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all our yesterdays have lighted fools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then is heard no more. It is a tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Signifying nothing!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then, in the forest in front of the castle Macbeth is at last brought +to bay and killed by Macduff; but the murderer of Duncan, brave to the +last, exclaims:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet I will try the last; before my body<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I throw my warlike shield; lay on Macduff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And damned be him that first cries, Hold, enough!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A whirlwind of applause echoed through the royal halls at the conclusion of +the great Scotch historical drama, and Shakspere was loudly called before +the footlights, making a general bow to the audience, and paying deep, low +courtesy to the King, who beckoned him to the throne chair, and placed +about his neck a heavy golden chain with a miniature of His Majesty +attached. William was glorified.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With most miraculous organ!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>SHAKSPERE AS MONOLOGIST. KING JAMES.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The king-becoming graces<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are justice, verity, temperance, stableness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>Shakspere became a prime favorite of King James, and occasionally he +entertained the Bard at Whitehall Palace, introducing him to the bishops, +cardinals and lords, who were interested in the revision of the Bible. They +were astonished at the detailed knowledge of Shakspere, touching the "Word +of God;" and when he entered into a dissertation of the Hebrew, Greek and +Latin philosophers and "divines" who concocted the history of the ancients, +they marveled at his native erudition.</p> + +<p>These modern preachers had been educated and empurpled in the classical +ruts of ancient superstitious divinity, while William communed with +immediate nature, and taught lessons of virtue and vice on the dramatic +stage that impresses the rushing world, far more than dictatorial dogmas or +pulpit platitudes.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shakspere was a constant searcher of all religious bibles, and particularly +pondered on the Christian story of the creation, prophecies, crucifixion +and revelation. Paganism was the advanced guard of Christianity!</p> + +<p>Monks, priests, preachers, bishops, cardinals, popes, princes, kings, +emperors and czars had exercised their minds and hands as commentators on +the old philosophy of an unknown God; and William saw no reason why he +should not extract from or paraphrase the best logical phrases and +sentences of the Bible.</p> + +<p>His sonnets and plays are filled with the hidden meaning of the scriptures, +and those who read closely and delve deeply into the works of the Bard of +Avon will need no better moral teacher. His axioms and epigrams are used +to-day as the proverbial philosophy of practical life, and the whole world +is indebted to the sons of a carpenter and a butcher for the greatest +pleasure and philosophy that has ever been enunciated on the globe!</p> + +<p>The years 1611, 1612 and 1613 found William at the pinnacle of his dramatic +glory, and like a ripe philosopher he finished his most thoughtful plays, +"Timon of Athens," "A Winter's Tale," "Antony and Cleopatra," "Pericles," +"Cymbeline," "Henry the Eighth," and his cap sheaf in the grain field of +thought, "The Tempest."</p> + +<p>The constant intellectual labor of Shakspere began to tell on his body, but +his mind like a slumbering volcano, emitted flashes of heat and light, +irradiating the midnight of literary mediocrity and gilding his declining +days with golden flashes of fame and fortune.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span></p> + +<p>He sold his interest in the Blackfriars and Globe theatres, and purchased +property in London and Stratford, making every preparation as a wise and +thrifty man for himself and his children and family. William ever kept an +eye on the glint and glory of gold, and while his bohemian theatrical +companions were squandering their shillings at midnight taverns with +"belles and beaux" he "put money in his purse," and kept it there.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Gold is power everywhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Best of friends in toil and care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And it surely will outwear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Royal purple here or there!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King James, in searching for an alliance to strengthen his throne by a +marriage with his beautiful and brainy daughter, Elizabeth, finally hit +upon the Elector Frederick, Count Palatine of Germany, and in the spring of +1613 all the loyal nobility of England were delighted that a matrimonial +alliance had been made with a Protestant prince.</p> + +<p>While King James lent his official power to the Protestant religion and +aided the Reformation in its rapid encroachments upon the papal power of +Rome, he socially and clandestinely gave ear to the priests, bishops and +cardinals of the Catholic church.</p> + +<p>The ceremonials incident to the marriage of Frederick and Elizabeth were +splendid in the songs, dances, masques, parades, fireworks, and dramatic +entertainments at Whitehall.</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/facs248.png"><img src="images/facs248_th.png" +alt="Facsimile page 248" title="Facsimile page 248" /></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span></p> + + +<p>A dozen of the most appropriate plays of Shakspere<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> were enacted before +the nobility of the realm; and the diplomatic corps from foreign lands were +greatly charmed by the magnificence of the theatrical displays.</p> + +<p>The King spent one hundred thousand dollars in the palace and London +festivities of the marriage of his beautiful daughter, and he secretly +pawned his word and jewels to secure the ready cash.</p> + +<p>As an intellectual climax to the splendid, royal nuptials, King James +invited to the wedding banquet three thousand of the most noted men and +women of the world and informed his guests that at the conclusion of the +feast the most wonderful dramatic artist of the age—William Shakspere, +would recite in monologue from his own plays rare bits of philosophic +eloquence.</p> + +<p>The benevolent reader will be glad to know and see that I have carefully +preserved the following autographic note of His Majesty King James, +inviting William to the wedding banquet:</p> + +<div class="blockquote" style="margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%"> +<p class="right" style="margin-bottom: 0em">"<span class="smcap">Whitehall</span>, Feb. 14th, 1613.</p> + +<p style="margin-top: 0em">"To <span class="smcap">William Shakspere</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em">"Our Royal Dramatic Poet.</span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Great Sir</span>: You will appear this evening at seven o'clock, at +Whitehall, to entertain by monologue, at nuptial banquet, three +thousand guests.</p> + +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">James</span>, Rex." +</p></div> + +<p>The Archbishop of Canterbury tied the nuptial knot. The bride and groom, +arrayed in white satin and German purple, respectively, looked magnificent +as they knelt at the palace altar to receive the final blessing of the +Episcopal Church amid the glorious greetings of wealth and power.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span></p> + +<p>Fourteen salutes from the royal artillery in honor of Frederick and +Elizabeth and St. Valentine's Day, echoed from the heights of Whitehall, +and carrier pigeons with love notes were sent flying over the temples, +churches and towers of London to notify all loyal subjects that the throne +of old Albion had been strengthened by an infusion of Germanic blood.</p> + +<p>Promptly at seven o'clock St. Valentine's evening, Richard Burbage, Ben +Jonson, Shakspere and myself drove up in our festooned carriage to the +palace portals of Whitehall, and were ushered into the presence of the +great assembly doing honor to the royal bride and groom, Frederick and +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>The King sat on a throne chair at the head of the banquet board, with his +daughter and son-in-law on his left, while the Queen sat on his right.</p> + +<p>The other royal guests were seated according to their ancestral rank, while +our dramatic quartette occupied a special table, William at the head on the +right of the King and Queen, elevated as an improvised stage, with +Shakspere, the most intellectual man of the world, "the observed of all +observers!"</p> + +<p>The play of knife and fork, laugh and jest, toast and talk lasted for two +hours, and then as the foam on the brim of the beakers began to sparkle, +the King, in his royal robes arose, and said:</p> + +<p>"My loyal subjects, health and prosperity to Great Britain and Germany, and +love and truth for Frederick and Elizabeth."</p> + +<p>The three thousand guests standing responded with a storm of cheers, and +then the King remarked:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We are honored to-night by the presence of William Shakspere, our most +loyal and intellectual subject, who will now address you in logic and +philosophy from his own matchless plays."</p> + +<p>(Lord Bacon looked as if he wanted to crawl under the table at the King's +compliment to the Bard of Avon.)</p> + +<p>Shakspere arose, dressed in a dark purple suit, knee breeches and short +sword by his side, bowed majestically, and for two hours entranced the +royal assembly with these eloquent pen pictures of humanity:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My good friends;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll skip across the fields of thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pluck for you the sweetest flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have from Dame Nature caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cheer the lingering, leaden hours.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While vice and virtue side by side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go hand in hand adown the years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Virtue alone, remains the bride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To banish all our falling tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And here to-night like stars above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These flowers of beauty blush and bloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Commanding honest human love,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immortal o'er the voiceless tomb!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Othello thus defends himself against the charge of bewitching Desdemona:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Most potent, grave and reverend signiors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My very noble and approved good masters,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have taken away this old man's daughter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is most true; true, I have married her;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very head and front of my offending<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little blessed with the set phrase of <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'speech'">peace</ins>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till now some nine moons wasted, they have used<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their dearest action in the tented field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And little of this great world can I speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than pertains to feats of broil and battle;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And therefore, little shall I grace my cause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In speaking for myself; yet, by your gracious patience<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I will a round unvarnished tale deliver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what charms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What conjuration, and what mighty magic,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(For such proceeding I am charged withal)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I won his daughter with!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Her father loved me, oft invited me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still questioned me the story of my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I have passed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ran it through, even from my boyish days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the very moment that he bade me tell it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of moving accidents, by food and field;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hair-breadth 'scapes, the imminent deadly breach;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of being taken by the insolent foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And demeanor in my travel's history;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein of caverns vast and deserts idle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rough quarries, rocks and hills whose heads touch heaven,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was my hint to speak, such was the process<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of the cannibals that each other eat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The anthropophagi, and men whose heads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do grow beneath their shoulders. These things to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would Desdemona seriously incline;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But still the house affairs would draw her thence;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which ever as she could with haste despatch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She'd come again, and with a greedy ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Devour up my discourse; which I observing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took once a pliant hour; and found good means<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I would all my pilgrimage dilate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereof by parcels she had something heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But not intentively; I did consent;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And often did beguile her of her tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I did speak of some distressful stroke<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That my youth suffered. My story being done<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She gave me for my pains a world of sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She swore—in faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas pitiful; 'twas wondrous pitiful;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She wished she had not heard it; yet she wished,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That heaven had made her such a man, she thanked me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should but teach him how to tell my story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I spake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She loved me for the dangers I had passed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I loved her that she did pity them.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This only is the witchcraft I have used,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here comes the lady, let her witness <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: changed a single closing quote into double">it!"</ins><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Timon of Athens, a wealthy, spendthrift lord, becomes bankrupt by his +generous entertainment of friends, but maddened by their ingratitude, +retires to a forest cave by the sea, giving this parting curse to the +people of Athens, and later scattering gold among a band of thieves. Hear +the self-ruined epicure:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fence not Athens! Matrons turn incontinent!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obedience fail in children! Slaves and fools,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck the grave, wrinkled senate from the bench<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And minister in their steads! To general filths<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Convert of the instant, green virginity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do it in your <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'parent's yes'">parents' eyes</ins>! Bankrupts, hold fast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rather than render back, out with your knives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants steal!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Large-handed robbers your grave masters are;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kill by law! maid, to thy master's bed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mistress is of the brothel! son of sixteen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck the lined crutch from the old, limping sire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Religion to the Gods, peace, justice, truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighborhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Instruction, manners, mysteries, and <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: inserted a missing comma after 'trades'">trades,</ins><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decrees, observances, customs and laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Decline to your confounding contraries,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet confusion live! Plagues incident to men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your potent and infectious fevers heap<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Creep in the minds and marrows of your youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sow all the Athenian blossoms; and their crop<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be general leprosy! Breath infect breath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That their society, as their friendship, may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But nakedness, thou detestable town!<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you are thieves professed; that you work not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In legal professions. Rascal thieves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here's gold; go, suck the subtle blood of the grape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so 'scape hanging; trust not the physician;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His antidotes are poison, and he slays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More than you rob; take wealth and lives together;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do villainy, do, since you profess to do it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robs the vast sea; the moon's an arrant thief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sea's a thief, whose liquid surges resolves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon into salt tears; the earth's a thief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From general excrement; each thing's a thief;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have unchecked theft! Love not yourselves; away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rob one another! There's more gold; cut-throats;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that you meet are thieves! To Athens, go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Break open shops! Nothing can you steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But thieves do lose it!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Jaques, in the forest of Arden, discourses to the exiled Duke of the fools +of fortune, and the nature of man.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A fool, a fool!—I met a fool in the forest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A motley fool;—a miserable world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I do live by food, I met a fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In good set terms,—and yet a motley fool.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good morrow, fool, <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: inserted a missing period after 'quoth I'">quoth I.</ins> No, sir, quoth he,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then he drew a dial from his poke;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And looking on it with lack-luster eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Says very wisely: It is ten o'clock;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus may we see, quoth he, how the world wags;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then from hour to hour, we rot and rot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thereby hangs a tale! When I did hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The motley fool thus moral on the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fools should be so deep contemplative;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I did laugh sans intermission,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">An hour by his dial. O noble fool!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A worthy fool! Motley is the only wear!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"All the world's a stage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the men and women merely players;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They have their exits, and their entrances;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one man in his time plays many parts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mewling and pewking in the nurse's arms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then the whining school boy, with his satchel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shining, morning face, creeping like a snail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unwilling to school; and then the lover,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made to his mistress' eyebrow; then a soldier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeking the bubble reputation<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even in the cannon's mouth; and then the justice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In fair, round belly, with good capon lined,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of wise saws and modern instances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so, he plays his part. The sixth age shifts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the lean and slippered pantaloon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For his shrunk shank; and his big, manly voice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turning again toward childish treble, pipes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whistles in his sound; Last scene of all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ends this strange, eventful history<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In second childishness, and mere oblivion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything!"<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>In "Measure for Measure" the brave Duke, the pure Isabella and cowardly +Claudio discourse thus on death:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be absolute for death; either death or life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall thereby be sweeter. Reason thus with life,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But none but fools would keep; a breath thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Servile to all the skiey influences)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dost this habitation, where thou keepest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hourly afflict; merely, thou art death's fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For him thou laborest by thy flight to shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And yet run'st toward him still; Thou art not noble;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For all the accommodations that thou bear'st<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are nursed by baseness: Thou art by no means valiant:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a poor worm! Thy best of rest is sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou exist'st on many thousand grains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what thou hast forgett'st; Thou art not certain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After the moon. If thou art rich, thou art poor;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death unloads thee! Friend hast thou none;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mere effusion of thy proper loins,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do curse the gout, leprosy, and the rheum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ending thee no sooner; Thou hast nor youth, nor age,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming on both; For all thy blessed youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of palsied eld; and when thou art old and rich<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make thy riches pleasant!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O, I do fear thy courage, Claudio; and I quake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And six or seven winters more respect<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than a perpetual honor. Dar'st thou die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sense of death is most in apprehension;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the poor beetle that we tread upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As when a giant dies!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ay, Isabella, but to die, and go we know not where;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lie in cold obstruction and to rot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This sensible, warm motion to become<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blown with restless violence round about<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pendant world; or to be worse than worst<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imagine howling! 'Tis too horrible!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weariest and most loathed worldly life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That age, ache, penury and imprisonment<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can lay on nature, is a paradise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To what we fear of death!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Henry the Fourth, on his deathbed thus bitterly rebukes Prince Hal for +his heartless haste in taking the crown before the last breath leaves his +father:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honors<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before thy hour be ripe? O, foolish youth!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stay but a little; for my cloud of dignity<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is held from falling with so weak a mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it will quickly drop; my day is dim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast stolen that, which after some few hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were thine without offense; and at my death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hast sealed up my expectation;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou life did manifest, thou lov'st me not,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou wilt have me die assured of it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which thou hast whetted on thy stony heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stab at half an hour of my life.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What! can'st thou not forbear me half an hour?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyself;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thou art crowned, not that I am dead,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only compound me with begotten dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give that which gave thee life, unto the worms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pluck down my officers, break my decrees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For now a time is come to mock at form.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Harry the Fifth is crowned; up, vanity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the English Court assemble now,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From every region, apes of idleness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Revel the night; rob, murder and commit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The oldest sins, the newest kind of ways!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Be happy, he will trouble you no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">England shall double gild his treble guilt;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the Fifth Harry from curbed license plucks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall flesh his tooth in every innocent.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, poor Kingdom, sick with civil blows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When that my care could not withhold thy riots<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O, thou wilt be a wilderness again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>King Lear, the generous old monarch of Britain, in a spasm of parental +love, bequeathes his dominion to his two daughters, Goneril and Regan, and +gave nothing to the beautiful Cordelia. Hear the old man rave at his +ungrateful daughters and the corrupt world:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More hideous, when thou show'st in a child,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the sea monster!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear, nature, hear!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou did'st intend to make this creature fruitful!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into her womb convey sterility!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dry up in her the organs of increase;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from her degraded body never spring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A babe to honor her! If she must teem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Create her a child of spleen; that it may live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And be a thwart disnatured torment to her!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let it stamp wrinkles on her brow of youth;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With falling tears fret channels in her cheeks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn all her mother's pains and benefits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To laughter and contempt; that she may feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To have a thankless child!"<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You cataracts, and hurricanes, spout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike flat the thick rotundity of the world!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crack nature's molds, all germens spill at once,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That make ingrateful men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble thy belly full! Spit fire! Spout rain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I never gave you kingdom, called you children,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You owe me no obedience; why then let fall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your horrible pleasure; here I stand your slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A poor, infirm, weak and despised old man;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But yet I call you servile ministers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That have with two pernicious daughters joined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your high-engendered battles 'gainst a head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So old as this! I am a man more sinned against<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than sinning,...<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Ay, every inch a King!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I pardon that man's life; what was thy cause?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Adultery;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt not die; die for adultery! No!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wren goes to it; and the small gilded fly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Does lecher in my sight.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let copulation thrive, for Gloster's bastard son<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was kinder to his father than my daughters<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Got between the lawful sheets;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To it luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold yon simpering dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose face between her forks presageth snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That minceth virtue, and does shake the head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear of pleasure's name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fitchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With more riotous appetite.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down from the waist they are centaurs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though women all above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But to the girdle do the gods inherit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath is all the fiends.<br /></span> +</div> +<div class="stanza"><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through tattered clothes small vices do appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the strong lance of justice breaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Prospero, the Duke philosopher and magician of the "Tempest," is my +greatest conception, where I command invisible spirits to work out the fate +of man, and show that love and forgiveness are the greatest attributes. +Prospero is blessed with a pure and faithful daughter—Miranda, and an +honorable son-in-law—Ferdinand.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"If I have too austerely punished you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your compensation makes amends; for I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have given you here a thread of mine own life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or that for which I live; whom once again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tender to thy hand; all thy vexations<br /></span> +<span class="i0">were but my trials of thy love, and thou<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hast strangely stood the test; here afore heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I ratify this my rich gift. O, Ferdinand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do not smile at me, that I boost her off,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thou shall find she will outstrip all praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And make it halt behind her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, as my gift, and thine own acquisition,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Worthily purchased, take my daughter; But<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If thou dost break her virgin knot before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All sanctimonious ceremonies may<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With full and holy rites be ministered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sweet sprinkling shall the heavens let fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make this contract grow; but barren hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sour-eyed disdain, and discord, shall beshrew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The union of your bed with weeds so loathly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That you shall hate it both; therefore, take heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Hymen's lamps shall light you!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span><span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You do look, my son, in a moved sort<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if you were dismayed; be cheerful, Sir;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our revels now are ended; these our actors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As I foretold you, were all spirits, and are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melted into air, into thin air;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like the baseless fabrick of this vision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clod-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The solemn temples, the great globe itself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leave not a rock behind; We are such stuff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As dreams are made of, and our little life<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is rounded with a sleep!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ye, that on the sands with fruitless feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Weak masters though you be), I have bedimmed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The noontide sun, called forth the mutinous winds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set roaring war; to the dread rattling thunder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his own bolt; the strong based promontory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I made shake; and by the spurs plucked up<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pine and cedar; graves, at my command,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have waked their sleepers; gaped, and let them forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By my so potent art; But this rough magic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I here abjure; and when I have required<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some heavenly music (which even now I do)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To work mine end upon their senses, that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This airy charm is for—I'll break my staff,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And deeper than did ever plummet sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll drown my books!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The fall of Cardinal Wolsey from the pinnacle of earthly power was the work +of his own duplicity, greed and fraud, and all ministers of state may take +warning from this great wreck of unholy ambition! King Henry the Eighth +sacrificed everything for his physical and religious ambition. Listen and +profit by the last words of the old, ruined Cardinal:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"O, Father Abbot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old man, broken with the storms of state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is come to lay his weary bones among ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Give him a little earth for charity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have touched the highest point of all my greatness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, from that full meridian of my glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I haste now to my setting; I shall fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a bright exhalation in the evening,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And no man see me more!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when he thinks, good, easy man, full surely<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His greatness is a ripening—nips his root,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then he falls as I do. I have ventured<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This many summers in a sea of glory;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But far beyond my depth; my high blown pride<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At length broke under me; and now has left me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weary, and old with service, to the mercy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a rude stream that must forever hide me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel my heart new opened; O, how wretched<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More pangs and fears than wars or women have;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when he falls he falls like Lucifer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never to hope again!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The King has gone beyond me, all my glories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In that one woman (Anne) I have lost forever;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sun shall ever usher forth mine honors,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gild again the noble troops that waited<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be thy lord and master; seek the King;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What and how true thou art; he will advance thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some little memory of me will stir him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(I know his noble nature) not to let<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Neglect him not, make use now, and provide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For thine own future safety.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of thy honest truth to play the woman.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I am forgotten, as I shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found thee a way out of his wreck to rise in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cromwell, I charge thee fling away ambition,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By that sin fell the angels; how can man then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image of his own maker hope to win by it?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love thyself least; cherish those hearts that hate thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Corruption wins not more than honesty!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still in thy right hand carry gentle place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let all the aims thou aim'st at be thy country's;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy God's and Truth's; then if thou fall'st, O, Cromwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou fall'st a blessed martyr; serve the King;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, pray thee, lead me in;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There take an enventory of all I have<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the last penny; 'tis the King's; my robe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my integrity to heaven, is all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dare now call my own. O, Cromwell, Cromwell,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I but served my God with half the zeal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I served my King, he would not in mine age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have left me naked to mine enemies!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>At the conclusion of this greatest of monologues King James arose at the +head of the royal banquet board, and lifting a glass of sparkling +champagne, proposed three cheers for Shakspere, which were given with +intense feeling, echoed and re-echoed through those royal halls like +thunder music from the realms of Jupiter.</p> + +<p>The King beckoned William to approach the throne chair, and there, in the +presence of the nobility of the realm, placed upon his lofty brow a wreath +of oak leaves, with a monogram crown ring to decorate the digit finger of +the brilliant Bard.</p> + +<p>It was worth the gold and glory of all the ages to have heard the "Divine" +William scatter his nuggets of eloquence; and until my pilgrimage of a +thousand years reincarnates me again into the "Island of Immortality," I +shall cherish that banquet night as the greatest milestone in the memory of +my ruminating rambles.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glory, like the sun on rushing river,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shines down the years, forever, and forever!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></h2> + +<h4>STRATFORD. SHAKSPERE'S DEATH. PATRIOTISM DOWN THE AGES.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The sands are numbered that make up my life;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here must I stay, and here my life must end."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Time is the King of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For he is their parent, and he is their grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gives them what he will, not what they crave."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>During the years 1614, 1615 and 1616 Shakspere sauntered about for pleasure +and business among the bohemians and nobility of London, Oxford and +Stratford, piecing and renewing his personal and real estate for the +benefit of his two daughters, Susannah and Judith, and thus making every +preparation for that eternal sleep that never fails to shut down the pale +and bloodless eyelids of meandering, melancholy man.</p> + +<p>The spectacular play of "King Henry the Eighth" was given at the Globe +Theatre on the evening of the 29th of June, 1613.</p> + +<p>It had been largely advertised as a royal historical dramatic treat, and +the nobility were there in great force.</p> + +<p>William and myself before leaving London occu<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>pied a private box as +spectators on the left of the great stage. The audience numbered nearly two +thousand, pit, gallery and cockloft being filled to overflowing.</p> + +<p>During the third act of the play a cannon was fired, giving a grand salute +to the mimic King Henry and his royal train as they appeared before the +assembled multitude.</p> + +<p>Part of the gun wadding fired by the mock cannon was thrown on the open +roof of the Globe, and immediately ignited the thatch, spreading flames +around the top rim of the great octagonal playhouse.</p> + +<p>Shakspere saw at once the danger of stampeding the audience through the two +great, high doors, and with his natural calmness and imperial courage +rushed in front of the footlights and said:</p> + +<p>"Ladies and gentlemen, there is no danger if you be calm and brave, and +file out of the building in good order."</p> + +<p>"Those near the right and left doors will please go out slowly, and all the +actors will remain on the stage until the people disappear." At this +juncture, at the suggestion of William, the actors were ordered to sing +"God Save the King," and every mortal escaped unhurt from the building. Yet +two hours after it was a mass of blazing cinders and ashes.</p> + +<p>Burbage, Jonson, Fletcher, Drayton, Condell, Heming and Peele continued to +furnish rare sports and masks for theatrical and court edification, but the +brilliant star that had shone with undimmed luster for thirty years on the +dramatic stage of London was only glowing with a lambent light, throw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>ing +its last rays over the world as it went down in crimson glory over the +western hills of Warwickshire.</p> + +<p>Yet, while the great poet and dramatist himself would never again tread the +play platform, or throw his sonorous, magic voice over a London audience, +the great children and characters of his matchless brain would hold the +dramatic boards and thrill the heart and soul of mankind as long as human +nature laughed and suffered on the globe.</p> + +<p>Shakspere had more self-control than any man I ever met, and his reason was +ever holding court in his conscience.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, who reigns within himself, and rules<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His passions, desires and fears, is ever King!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After thirty years of a wandering battle with Dame Fortune, testing her +griefs and glories, it was a sweet consolation for William and myself to +drift back to the scenes of childhood and tread again the streets, roads, +fields and hills that blessed our boyhood hours.</p> + +<p>In the spring of 1614 William and myself wandered over the fields and +ridges to Coventry, and visited Warwick Castle. The young Earl of Leicester +gave us a hearty welcome; for the praise that William had received at court +and the light that dazzled from his lamp of literary fame made him an +honored guest in cot or palace, strewing about his pathway the flowers of +faith and affection.</p> + +<p>Returning to Stratford one evening in May we stood on the same old hill top +beyond the Clopton Bridge, looking at the sparkling spires and steeples<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> of +the town; and all seemed as natural as when we left them in the morning of +life.</p> + +<p>The hills and fields were blooming as of old, the Avon wound its serpentine +course to the sea, the song of the ploughman and shepherd swelled from the +vale, the lowing of cattle, strolling homeward for the night echoed among +the hills, the blackbird, thrush and vagrant crow sang and croaked as they +hastened with their mates to their feathered families, and the daisies, +wild roses, hedge rows, hawthorn bushes, and grand old elms and oaks +bloomed in their everlasting garments of variegated beauty.</p> + +<p>As the cardinal colors of the dying day threw their last rays over the +placid bosom of the Avon, and the murmur of laughing voices floated up from +the town to mingle, as it were, with the curling smoke from glistening +chimney tops, William and I scampered down the hill, over the bridge, on by +the old mill, and entered the open gate of "New Place," as Judith, his +intellectual daughter, welcomed her famous father with exuberant affection.</p> + +<p>Here was rest indeed. For like weather-beaten mariners or soldiers of +fortune, each of us had been buffeted by the billows of Fate; and yet with +all the scars she gave, we never knew a day, though cloudy and stormy, that +we could not see rifts of sunshine breaking through the entanglements of +adversity.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our mind, a kingdom was, in every clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With souls triumphant over tide and time;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though the world might frown upon our way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We believed in God and sunshine every day!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>The strolling players, literary guild and traveling nobles never failed in +passing through Stratford to visit Shakspere at his beautiful and +comfortable home at "New Place." It was Liberty Hall to every guest that +passed the threshold of the retired Bard, where like a full-rigged ship on +a summer sea, he moved down in peace, through the sunset beams of a +brilliant life, accompanied by his friends and affectionate daughters into +the harbor of rest beneath the walls of old Trinity Church.</p> + +<p>Susannah, the oldest daughter, had married Dr. John Hall several years +before the poet's death, and occupied the old Shakspere house on Henley +street, and her mother lived with the family, a solace to her daughter and +beautiful granddaughter, Elizabeth Hall.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shakspere, the buxom Anne Hathaway of vanished years, was entirely +subdued and found consolation in her devoted daughters and religious +duties. She could be found at every prayer meeting and Sunday sermon in the +Shakspere pew of Trinity Church.</p> + +<p>William seldom attended Puritan meetings, Episcopal conclaves, or Papist +masses. He paid formal respect, at long range, to all sacerdotal +ceremonies, not bothering himself about dogmas, creeds and bulls, put forth +by little, cunning man for earthly power and financial benefit.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He believed in God and in himself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ignoring those who lived for pelf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through his age and verdant youth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He ever worshiped naked Truth!<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Judith, the beautiful and intellectual daughter, kept house for her +illustrious father, and entered heartily into all his social and business +schemes for the improvement of the town of Stratford.</p> + +<p>Thus days, weeks, months and years were passed in pleasant conclave with +literary and neighboring friends, until the winter of 1615 and 1616, when a +severe throat trouble afflicted the Bard, in conjunction with acute pains +in the head, that prevented the solace of sleep, and which turned into +chronic insomnia.</p> + +<p>In January, Shakspere, in anticipation of his temporary exit from this +world, determined to make his will and bequeath his property in detail to +his daughter, relatives and friends. He called in Francis Collins, a +solicitor of Warwick, who drew the important document, but it was not +finally signed and witnessed until the 25th of March, 1616.</p> + +<p>William, knowing that his wife would inherit legal dower, one-third of his +real property, and being cared for by her daughter Susannah, only +bequeathed to the "former Anne Hathaway," the personal gift of his "second +best bed."</p> + +<p>I asked Shakspere one evening about a month before his death if he intended +the piece of bed furniture for his wife as a rebuke or a compliment.</p> + +<p>He replied: "Jack, if you were not so inquisitive you would not have so +much knowledge!"</p> + +<p>I thanked him for his lucid explanation, and let the incident go at that +remark.</p> + +<p>As he was in a good-natured, facetious mood, I asked him why it was that in +all his dramatic plays of forty years composition he had never placed on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +the boards a great Irish character, although he had created Egyptian, +Grecian, Italian, French, German, Danish, Scotch and English +representatives that would go down the ages in eloquent glory.</p> + +<p>I said, "William, you only formulated in Henry the Fifth Captain MacMorris, +a Scotch-Irish bastard-renegade character, who bears about as much relation +to a true Irish gentleman as does a shark to a whale, a hawk to an eagle, +or a lynx to a lion."</p> + +<p>"Well, Jack, you know as well as I do that the 'eloquent,' 'brave,' 'Irish +rebel,' against monarchy and tyrannical power has been the sharpest thorn +in the sides of English royalty, and that with the enmity of Henry the +Eighth, Queen Elizabeth, King James, and the London Protestants, a great, +lofty Irish Catholic character would not have been popular, and ministered +to our daily desire for pence, shillings and pounds!</p> + +<p>"Yet posterity will notice the brave wit and greatness of the Irish race by +their absence from my business plays."</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While writing for the sake of Truth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From my wild, daring, earliest youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You knew I never acted rash<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or failed to fill my purse with cash;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For, after all is past and told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the foolish, wise and old—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The plot of life is to enfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within your grasp, Imperial Gold!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the 10th of January, 1616, Judith impulsively married Thomas Quincy, +without the publi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>cation of the church banns, to the scandal of the +community, but love cared naught for rules or creeds when Nature stood as +monitor.</p> + +<p>Seated one April morning in his private apartment, looking over his +beautiful garden of vegetables, fruit, flowers, vines and waving elms, +margined by the murmuring waters of the silver Avon, I asked him if he had +any special message before leaving life to communicate to the ages.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear Jack, you, by nature's law must, like the Wandering Jew, +fulfill your destiny, and 'tramp' out your thousand years ere you join me +on the 'Island of Immortality.' These precepts I enjoin:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Love and Truth that in my plays abide<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall teach the lesson of equal justice;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing that's wrong can prosper on this earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And though your crime-secret be hid in mounts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of adamant, kissing, loftiest sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The worm of detection and exposure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall gnaw its way through rugged, granite ribs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And blow your foul wickedness around the world.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Men, states and empires, rise and flash like bubbles<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the rolling ocean of existence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then like the false, shimmering vision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a dream, pass into nameless oblivion.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hours, days, years and ages, lost and gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are only a moment from the ticking clock<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of eternity. And all future time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Incalculable as drops of ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or leaves of grass, come and go incessant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the balmy airs; or whistling winds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blow o'er tropic or arctic lands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know and feel that myriad spirits<br /></span> +<span class="i0">People the vast, circumambient air,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And as my soul within knocks at heart and lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For exit from this crumbling house of corruption,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Methinks I see and hear a chorus of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angel spirits beckoning my tired soul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Onward and upward to omnipotence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every blade of grass and flower beautiful;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every star that twinkles in the moonlit sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every white-crested billow of the sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every child that dreams, laughs and sings in glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every thought, pinioned with eternal Hope—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guarantees assurance of Immortality!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the 13th of April, 1616, ten days before the death of Shakspere, +Burbage, Jonson, Drayton, Florio, Field, Condell, Heming and Jo Taylor came +down from London by special invitation to enjoy the hospitality of the +Bard.</p> + +<p>Judith made every preparation for their social entertainment, and the "New +Place" was ablaze with hospitality and dramatic glory for a week.</p> + +<p>I shall not enter into the pleasant and eccentric details of these authors +and actors, but leave it to the imagination of the intelligent reader to +know what a crowd of brilliant bohemians might do in the evening of life +talking, laughing and drinking to the memory of friends and days that are +no more!</p> + +<p class="figcenter"><a href="images/facs280.png"><img src="images/facs280_th.png" +alt="Facsimile page 280" title="Facsimile page 280" /></a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span></p> + +<p>Three days before the death of the great luminary of dramatic and poetic +letters, he called me into his bedroom. He was resting in a reclining chair +by an oaken desk, looking out on his garden, while the birds of spring were +chirping, singing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> and courting among the blooming bushes and trees of his +beautiful home.</p> + +<p>Addressing me in the old familiar way, he said: "Jack, my throat and head +give me great pain. I long to rest beneath the walls of Old Trinity Church, +never again to gaze upon its glinting spire through sunrise or sunset +beams.</p> + +<p>"You know I feel a horror at the thought of having my poor old bones +tumbled out of their grave in future years by vulgar sextons, and to +prevent disturbance I scribbled off a few weeks ago these poetic lines, +that I wish you would place above my remains. Promise me this last request, +and I'll die in the hope of Immortality!"</p> + +<p>Gazing intently on the melancholy, dying man, my eyes filled with tears, I +made the sacred promise, and more than that, I here give the manuscript +imprint of the original epitaph:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">STRATFORD, APRIL 1st, 1616.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For Jesus' sake, good friends, pass by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While here in peace I lowly lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Disturb not these cold, tongueless stones<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shield my bleaching, crumbling bones,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life I took Dame Nature's part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Exemplifying soul and heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all my plays were heaven sent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To be my lasting monument!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On the morning of the 23d of April, at six o'clock, Judith came rushing +into my room, and said that her father was dying. I jumped into my clothes +and quickly knelt by his bedside, where I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> found Dr. Hall, Susannah, Mr. +Quincy, Mrs. Hart, Ben Jonson, and Michael Drayton.</p> + +<p>I grasped his hand as he made dying lurches, and asked him how he felt, and +then opening his great bluish gray eyes for the last time on earth, I could +hear only his death gurgle expression: "God, Truth and Country!"</p> + +<p>Thus passed away the noblest and greatest man that ever graced this earthly +globe.</p> + +<p>The news of his death spread like a prairie fire among the people of +Stratford and the surrounding villages, and on to Oxford and London, where +the melancholy wail of his obsequies resounded in the halls of the highest +court circles, and found the deepest sorrow and regret in the heart of King +James.</p> + +<p>At twelve o'clock on the 25th of April the remains of the Bard were +followed to Trinity Church by an immense concourse of mourning humanity; +and there, under the north wall of the old cathedral he was buried, +seventeen feet below the surface, and left forever with his earthly glory +and his God.</p> + +<p>That very night, as the sun went down, Drayton, Jonson, Burbage and myself +bade farewell to the daughters and personal friends of the Bard, going by +fast mail car to Oxford and London.</p> + +<p>It was one of the saddest nights I had ever experienced, for my dearest +friend and lofty teacher would no more humor my lunatic impulses, or guide +me in the even, broad road of universal truth. With his voice and form +forever gone, there was nothing left to me but to wander over the +cheerless, mighty world as a literary pioneer and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> soldier of fortune, +using my pen and sword wherever Love and Liberty displayed their banners.</p> + +<p>In the great literary whirlpool of London life I drowned for a season my +soul-felt sorrow in the enchanting fumes of the wine cup, and its +consequent allurements of variegated, fantastic society.</p> + +<p>My destiny of a thousand years of life from birth, looked alternately, +bleak and glorious, yet Fate being my master, and being endowed with an +irrepressible, forgiving, laughing and progressive disposition, I called up +the spirits of the air one midnight hour at the Boar's Head Tavern, and +exacted from them a promise that wherever I wandered over the earth to +witness the rise and fall of men and nations, like bubbles on a stormy sea, +they would strictly obey my command.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ariel, Puck and Oberon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lent me their wings to sail upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over the land and stormy sea<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To aid the cause of Liberty.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand years from date of birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Destined to wander over the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'll roll with the ages brave and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till I round the capes of eternity!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I have witnessed the greatest events of the centuries in Europe, Asia and +Africa, and on the spiritual wings of Truth, rapid as the lightning flash, +I have sailed; and fought the battles of the people in every land and +clime, being the compeer and critic of the most illustrious poets, +philosophers, statesmen and warriors for the past three<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> hundred years. I +move forward for the liberty of man!</p> + +<p>Before leaving old Albion for my investigating flight of centuries, I was a +painful witness to the decapitation of my great friend, Sir Walter Raleigh, +whose heroic conduct at the block melted the spectators into tears, and +brought down loud maledictions on the corrupt head of Lord Bacon, who was +the principal villain in the final destruction of the great navigator, +warrior and philosopher.</p> + +<p>I listened to the great Raleigh on the 29th of October, 1618, standing by +the block, addressing the executioner and the multitude, when handling the +shining axe: "This is a sharp medicine, but a sound cure for all diseases!" +Lying down and fitting himself to the block, the executioner asked him to +alter the position of his head, when he replied: "It is no matter which way +the head lies, so the heart be right! Why dost thou not strike? Strike, +man!" And, then, quick as a flash the glittering axe split the head from +the shoulders of one of the noblest men of England.</p> + +<p>I turned away from the gloomy precincts of the terrible Tower, and cursed +the falsehood and iniquity of Elizabeth, James and Lord Bacon, jealous +plotters against growing, illustrious men.</p> + +<p>Raleigh in his poem "The Soul's Errand," pictures thus this lying world:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, soul, the body's guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a thankless arrant;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fear not to touch the best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truth shall be thy warrant;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go, since I needs must die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And give the world the lie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Go, tell the court it glows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shines like rotten wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go tell the church it shows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What's good, and doth no good.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If church and court reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then give them both the lie!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tell men of high condition<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That manage home and state,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their purpose is ambition,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their practice only hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And if they once reply<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then give them all the lie!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Disgusted with the growing cruelties of monarchy and state "reformers," I +joined a band of Puritans who proposed to leave old Albion, and find in +North America a home and country where they could worship God in their own +way, and secure freedom for themselves and children for a thousand years to +come.</p> + +<p>I stood on the prow of the Mayflower as the sun rose over the harbor of +Plymouth on the 17th of September, 1620, as the good ship sailed away from +England to the west, with one hundred and one passengers, filled with the +great spirit of religious and material liberty.</p> + +<p>After a very stormy passage of sixty-three days, touching at Cape Cod, we +made final anchor at Plymouth Rock, on the evening of the 16th of December, +1620.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span></p> + +<p>That rock-bound, stormy, snowy, forest coast, filled with fierce animals +and fiercer red men, gave the lonely emigrants a cold and terrible winter +reception.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The breaking waves dashed high<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a stern and rock bound coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the woods against a stormy sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their giant branches tossed.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the heavy night hung dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hills and waters o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When a band of exiles moored their bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the wild New England shore.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amidst the storm they sang,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the stars heard, and the sea;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the anthem of the free!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I stood behind the screens of the royal palace on the 30th of January, +1649, in the presence of the cruel Cromwell, Ireton, Bradshaw, and the +fanatical Milton, and saw their glee when the axe of the executioner +severed the head of King Charles the First, for the delectation of the +beastly and vulgar multitude that howled approbation of the bloody scene; +and yet, only twelve years after, I saw the crumbling, dead, naked bodies +of Oliver Cromwell, his son, Ireton and Bradshaw, trundled along the +streets of London, grappled by Parliamentary order from their graves, and +hung on the gallows of Tyburn, their broken bones buried at the foot of the +scaffold, while their withered, rotten heads were placed on the southern +coping of Westminster Hall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thus, the compensating balances of life and death, right and wrong, forever +tip the beam of justice.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The prince and the pauper,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The serf and the slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are equal at last—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dust of the grave!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I saw the wonderful Muscovite monarch,</p> + +<p class="persons">PETER THE GREAT,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">as he rose out of the huge, brutal giant of Russian force, flash on the +world like a zigzag meteor, lighting up his imperial dominions with +barbaric splendor.</p> + +<p>At the age of twenty-six, 1698, I saw him working with hammer, chisel, saw +and axe as a common ship carpenter at Amsterdam and Deptford, entertaining +ambassadors and kings, while he sat on the crosstrees of a new built ship. +I met him again on the barren swamps of the Neva and icy shores of the +Baltic, giving orders for the building of his new capital, St. Petersburg, +in May, 1703, and in June, 1708, watched the compact columns of the great +Czar rush down upon Charles the Twelfth of Sweden, and on the plains of +Pultowa, scatter forever the hitherto unconquerable hosts of Scandinavia; +and then after a great reign he crowned the peasant girl, Catherine of +Livonia, Empress of all the Russias, the most energetic and remarkable +female ruler since the days of Semiramis, Isabella and Elizabeth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<p>I watched the star of</p> + +<p class="persons">NAPOLEON</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">as it first flickered over the rock-rimmed island of Corsica, foam fringed +by the green waters of the Mediterranean. I saw it glitter over the +mathematical charity scholar of France, the "puss in boots" at royal +receptions, the artillery officer at the Bridge of Lodi, the general of the +French-Italian army, scaling the cloud-kissing Alps in mid winter, bearing +the eagles of liberty over the plains of Lombardy, on to Milan and Rome, +until the tramp of the unconquerable Frank echoed through the streets and +halls of the Cæsars, and re-echoed in the lofty aisles and arches of the +Vatican!</p> + +<p>I beheld again the star of this "man of destiny" shine in glorious splendor +at Maringo, Wagram, Austerlitz, Jena, Leipsic and Ulm, and then as First +Consul and Emperor, sweeping with his unconquerable columns over the sands +of Egypt and snows of Russia, until at last the fires and smoke of Moscow +bedimmed the horizon of his glory, and lit up the funeral pyre of five +hundred thousand of the best soldiers of France, led to their doom by the +crazy ambition of a selfish tyrant!</p> + +<p>Again I saw him escape from Elba, bare his breast to the guns of his former +legions and rout royalty from its palace portals, and sweeping for a +hundred days over the vineclad hills of France, he finally on the 18th of +June, 1815, marshaled his magnificent army around the plains and hills of +Waterloo, defying the Austrian, Prussian, Rus<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>sian and British allied +armies to the death grapple of the century, and went down to irretrievable +defeat.</p> + +<p>And then after five long years of an exile imprisonment on the barren isle +of St. Helena, I heard his last gasp, "Head of the Army!"</p> + +<p>"With no friend but his sword and no fortune but his talents, he rushed in +the lists, where rank and wealth and genius had arrayed themselves; and +competition fled from him as from the glance of destiny.</p> + +<p>"A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope; a pretended patriot, he +impoverished the country; and in the name of Brutus, he grasped without +remorse and wore without shame the diadem of the Cæsars!</p> + +<p>"Such a medley of contradictions, and at the same time such an individual +consistency were never united in the same character; a Royalist, a +Republican and an Emperor; a Mahometan, a Catholic, and a patron of the +synagogue, a subaltern and a sovereign, a traitor and a tyrant, a Christian +and infidel, he was through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, +impatient, inflexible original, the same mysterious, incomprehensible +self—the man without a model and without a shadow!"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wreck of ambition, deserted, alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rode o'er the bones of mankind to a throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star of his destiny sunk out of view,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eclipsed in the blood of the famed Waterloo.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A marvelous meteor that flashed o'er the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To darkle at last in the gloom of the grave.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vain, vain all the pomp of Napoleon's pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broken-hearted, alone, disappointed he died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left to the world but the sound of his name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fool of ambition, the football of fame!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>I sat at the second story corner window of a wine house in Paris on the +14th of July, 1789, and gazed on the infuriated, surging mob of a hundred +thousand Frenchmen, as they stormed the</p> + +<p class="persons">BASTILE,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">and struck a grand and lasting blow against the cruel minions of monarchy, +raising the banner of equal right, and God-given liberty for all mankind.</p> + +<p>Five hundred years of royal wrong and imperial lordly wickedness were +avenged in an hour, and the liberty cap of the people thrown high in the +air of freedom to bid defiance to government by tyranny.</p> + +<p>Then for four bloody years the surging sea of wealth and power against the +common people, muscle and manhood, defying royalty, I saw thousands of +heads go to the block, the executioner of to-day being the executed of +to-morrow, until a river of blood drenched the gutters of Paris, with the +people at last on top and triumphant as they shall ever be adown the +circling ages!</p> + +<p>I stood near the guillotine of</p> + +<p class="persons">LOUIS THE SIXTEENTH</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">as his head went off on the 31st of January, 1793, and then alternately, +royalist and commoner were imprisoned and killed by the "committee of +safety!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<p>Marie Antoinette, Charlotte Corday, Marat, Madame Roland, Danton, +Robespierre and one hundred thousand other mortals, rich and poor, went +down in the insane, frantic effort for equal rights and eternal justice.</p> + +<p>The French Revolution following so soon upon the great American Revolution, +shouldered the people's cause ahead more than a thousand years, and was +worth every drop of blood spilled in the triumphal march of freedom!</p> + +<p>The blood of the martyr has always watered the roots of the tree of +Liberty; and in a few more years the devilish hoards of "Divine Right" +robbers and murderers will be swept into the rubbish heaps of oblivion. God +grant their speedy destruction! Wolves devouring the provender of the +people!</p> + +<p>On the 22d of February, 1732, I saw rise out of the rolling hills of +Virginia, a glowing light that sparkled and spread, as it shone in the +heaven of Colonial advancement.</p> + +<p class="persons">WASHINGTON,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">"first in war, first in peace and in the hearts of his countrymen," was the +God-given vidette of American freedom; and from the time he took command of +the Continental Army at Boston on the 3d of July, 1775, until he laid down +his commission, after nine years of trial and blood, with Cornwallis and +King George defeated forever, he was the same great and good man and +President, without a stain on his sword or character.</p> + +<p>Standing by his bedside at Mount Vernon, on the 31st of December, 1799, I +watched his great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> soul as it took flight for heaven, and heard his last +words on earth, "'Tis well!"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like some grand mountain shining from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or like the radiance of the morning star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spreading its silver light throughout the gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gilds the glory of his classic tomb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mount Vernon keeps his loved and sacred dust—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An urn of grief that holds a nation's trust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pilgrims bend along the waning years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gaze upon his grave through pearly tears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His monument in coming years shall stand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Mecca for the brave of every land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while Potomac waters flash and flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fame of Washington shall gain and grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Adown the ages through the aisles of time—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A patriot forever in his prime!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age after age will sweep its course away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The work of man will crumble and decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet, on the tide of time from sun to sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall shine the glory of our Washington;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the stars that in their orbit roll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around the world from pole to pole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall keep his name and fame as true and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As yonder sparkling jewels of the night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The greatest pioneer of Colonial patriotism and independence, the +Demosthenes of the American Continent, was the eloquent orator,</p> + +<p class="persons">PATRICK HENRY,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">whose meteors of thought dazzled the nations and made tyrants tremble on +their thrones.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + +<p>How well I remember that March morning in 1775, as he rose in the +legislative halls of Virginia, and uttered that impassioned oration against +tyranny and the minions of King George.</p> + +<p>Even now those eloquent phrases sound in mine ears, and waft me back to the +scenes and men that made the Republic:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp +of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the +past, and judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in +the conduct of the brutal British ministry for the past ten years to +justify the hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace +themselves and the house.</p> + +<p>"Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced +violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded, and we +have been spurned with contempt from the foot of the throne.</p> + +<p>"The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone, it is to the vigilant, +the active, the brave. Our chains are forged; their clanking may be +heard on the plains of Boston. The war is inevitable; and let it come. +I repeat it, let it come.</p> + +<p>"Our brethren are already in the field; why stand we here idle? What +is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or +peace so sweet, as to be purchased by the price of chains and slavery?</p> + +<p>"Forbid it, Almighty God!</p> + +<p>"I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me +Liberty or give me Death!"</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> + +<p>The patriotism of the cavaliers of Virginia was fermenting to overflowing, +while that of the Puritans of Massachusetts was boiling with intense heat +as the stamp-stampers and tea-tossers of Boston prepared for a deadly +reception to the robbers and murders of King George on the plains of +Lexington and Concord on the 19th of April, 1775.</p> + +<p>Never can I forget the midnight ride I took with</p> + +<p class="persons">PAUL REVERE,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">on beholding the two lanterns displayed on the belfry of the "Old North +Church"; I told the tale to Mr. Longfellow, and he forthwith immortalized +the heroic Paul:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A hurry of hoofs in a village street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fate of a nation was riding that night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kindled the land into flame with its heat.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You know the rest, in the books you have read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the British regulars fired and fled—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How the farmers gave them ball for ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From behind each fence and farm yard wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chasing the 'Red Coats' down the lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then crossing the fields to emerge again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the trees at the turn of the road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And only pausing to fire and load.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So through the night rode Paul Revere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so through the night went his cry of alarm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To every Middlesex village and farm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cry of defiance, and not of fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a word that shall echo forevermore!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For born on the night wind of the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all our history to the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hour of darkness and peril and need,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The people will waken and listen to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hurrying hoof beats of that steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the midnight message of Paul Revere."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>How my soul thrills with recollection when I think where I stood in +Carpenters Hall, Philadelphia, on the 4th of July, 1776, among the signers +of the Declaration of Independence, and heard that grandest of human +productions proclaimed to the world.</p> + +<p>Each of the fifty-six signers was a modern Moses in himself, and to-day +their heroic statues, in imperishable bronze, should stand aloft on the +shining marble copings of the National Capitol.</p> + +<p>The glowing features and earnest, eloquent tones of</p> + +<p class="persons">HANCOCK, JEFFERSON, FRANKLIN, AND ADAMS</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">come back to me now, in the sunlight and zenith of republican glory; and as +the old bell in the tower rang out Liberty to all the people of the land, +the city of Brotherly Love took up the acclaim, while on the wings of the +wind it echoed and reached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> from the St. Lawrence to the Mississippi, and +from the Lakes to the Gulf of Mexico, sounding across the seas, and +reverberating among the sparkling halls of royalty, shivering the idols of +"Divine Right," and forcing the plain, common people of the world into +their long-neglected heritage of Freedom!</p> + +<p>And there, side by side with Franklin and Jefferson, sat one of the +Secretaries of the Continental Congress,</p> + +<p class="persons">TOM PAINE,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">the great deist, patriot and philosopher; whose elementary proclamations, +"The Crisis," "Rights of Man," "Common Sense," and "Age of Reason," did +more for the promulgation of freedom during and after the American and +French revolutions than any other utterance of man.</p> + +<p>The logic and philosophy of the great deist and agnostic was worth more to +the Colonies, and did more injury to King George and his murdering minions, +than all the purblind, bigoted, saphead pulpit thumpers who ever preached +for ready cash.</p> + +<p>The seventeenth and eighteenth centuries produced no nobler or better man +than the brave Tom Paine, the personal and political compeer and friend of +Washington, Jefferson, Franklin and Adams.</p> + +<p>The</p> + +<p class="persons">DECLARATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">was the greatest event in the history of mankind since the creation of Adam +and the birth of Christ.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a lofty and true indictment against the crimes of monarchy, and was +the entering wedge in splitting the rotten log of robber royalty.</p> + +<p>These words and phrases keep ever sounding in my soaring soul:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"We hold these truths to be self-evident; that all men are created +equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable +rights; that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of +happiness!"</p> + +<p>"The history of the King of Great Britain is a history of repeated +injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the +establishment of an absolute tyranny over these States."</p> + +<p>"The King has plundered our seas, ravaged our coasts, burned our towns +and destroyed the lives of our people."</p> + +<p>"The road to happiness and glory is open to us; we will climb it apart +from the British Government, and acquiesce our eternal separation, and +hold them as we hold the rest of mankind, enemies in war, in peace +friends."</p> + +<p>"And for the support of this Declaration, with reliance in Divine +Providence, we <ins class="correction" +title="Transcriber's note: original reads 'mutally'">mutually</ins> pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes +and our sacred honor!"</p></div> + +<p>Moving along with the martyrs who have died for progress and liberty:</p> + +<p>I stood in the English Court September 20th, 1803, beside the heroic</p> + +<p class="persons">ROBERT EMMET,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">and heard him hurl these javelins of defiant patri<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>otic eloquence against +the brazen brutality of British judicial tyranny:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"When my spirit shall be wafted to a more friendly port; when my shade +shall have joined the bands of those martyred heroes who have shed +their blood on the scaffold and in the field, in defense of their +country and virtue, this is my hope: I wish that my memory and name +may animate those who survive me, while I look down with complacency +on the destruction of this perfidious Government, which upholds its +dominion by blasphemy of the Most High.</p> + +<p>"The blood which you seek is not congealed by the artificial terrors +which surround your victim; it circulates warmly and unruffled through +the channels which God created for noble purposes, but which you are +bent to destroy for purposes so grievous that they cry to Heaven!</p> + +<p>"Let no man write my epitaph; for, as no one who knows my motives +dares now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. +Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain +uninscribed until other times and other men can do justice to my +character and memory. When my country shall take her place among the +nations of the earth, then, and not till then, let my epitaph be +written."</p></div> + +<p>Again, in my peripatetic tour of nations, seeking and aiding the hosts of +Liberty, I stood with</p> + +<p class="persons">GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">the greatest Irish-American citizen, soldier and President, behind the +cotton bales and swamps of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> New Orleans, and on the 8th of January, 1815, I +saw him hurl more than two thousand "Red Coats" into eternity, with only a +loss of seven men, three killed and four wounded.</p> + +<p>Kentucky and Tennessee "Bushwhackers," with a lot of New Orleans +shopkeepers, armed with squirrel rifles, killed and defeated General +Pakenham, and the veteran troops of John Bull, in their raids over the +globe for land, loot and human blood.</p> + +<p>And still moving across the Gulf of Mexico, to Vera Cruz; and by land to +Buena Vista, with</p> + +<p class="persons">SCOTT AND TAYLOR,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">I heard the scream of the American eagle as it swooped down on the tyrant +troops of Santa Ana, and with the Stars and Stripes waving in the breeze, +beheld the United States soldiers charge the castellated heights of +Chapultepec, and the next day, the 14th of September, 1847, saw General +Scott plant his colors over the "National Palace," with his conquering army +marching in glory through the city and halls of the Montezumas.</p> + +<p>Yet, with all the woes of Mexico, I saw it in after years, rise out of the +toils of foreign monarchy, when General Juarez, the native liberator, +captured and killed the Archduke Maximilian, the representative of the +Little Napoleon of France.</p> + +<p>The "Monroe Doctrine" triumphed in the death gurgle of Maximilian.</p> + +<p><i>Sic semper tyrannis!</i></p> + +<p>Treason to tyrants is truth to the people!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span></p> + +<p>Off with the heads of Charles the First, Louis the Sixteenth and +Robespierre!</p> + +<p>I stood by the side of</p> + +<p class="persons">GENERAL BEAUREGARD</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">on the 12th of April, 1861, at the city of Charleston, South Carolina, and +heard him give the order to "fire" on the flag at Fort Sumter.</p> + +<p>Slavery and "State Rights" threw down the gauntlet to Freedom and "National +Rights!" A million of men were destroyed in the great American Rebellion, +and after four years of the bloodiest civil war in history, the Stars and +Stripes arose in all its glory at Appomattox, and fluttered again over the +fort in Charleston Harbor, so nobly defended by the illustrious Major +Anderson.</p> + +<p>Alternate success and defeat came to the Union army and the Confederate +forces. Bull Run, Donelson, Shiloh, Antietam, Stone River, Vicksburg, +Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, Spottsylvania, Fredericksburg, the +Wilderness, and Gettysburg, are battle milestones of the Republic that +shall never be forgotten so long as valor and manhood find a lodgment in +the human heart.</p> + +<p>Gettysburg is the mausoleum of the American Marathon and the Thermopylæ of +Liberty. The grandest heroes of the world died here.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They fell, devoted, but undying;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The very gales their names seem sighing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The waters murmur of their name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woods are peopled with their fame;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The silent pillars, lone and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Claim kindred with their silent clay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their spirits wrap the dusky mountain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their memory sparkles o'er the fountain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The meanest rill, the mightiest river<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolls mingling with their fame forever!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What soldier at Gettysburg will ever forget the terrible battles of the +1st, 2d and 3d of July, 1863, when</p> + +<p class="persons">GENERAL MEAD AND GENERAL LEE,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">with two hundred thousand Americans met in deadly conflict for the +salvation or destruction of the Great Republic?</p> + +<p>The vales and rills and rocks and hills for twenty miles around trembled +with the onslaught of the contending hosts, and from Culp's Hill to +Cemetery Heights and Round Top the smoke and blaze of the rifle and the +cannon lit up the bloody scene with the concussion of an earthquake and +volcano, and the climax charge of Pickett's Division punctured the bravest +and most unavailing assault ever made by heroic soldiers; and although +these warriors in "gray" were doomed to defeat by the defenders of the +Union, they deserve a crown of unfading glory for imperishable American +valor.</p> + +<p>Standing by the side of</p> + +<p class="persons">PRESIDENT ABRAHAM LINCOLN</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">on the heights of Gettysburg, on the 19th of November, 1863, I heard him +deliver before a multitude<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> of people the following eloquent and +philosophic address in dedicating the great National Cemetery:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this +continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the +proposition that all men are created equal.</p> + +<p>"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, +or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are +met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a +portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave +their lives that the nation might live. It is altogether fitting and +proper that we should do this.</p> + +<p>"But, in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we +cannot hallow this ground. The brave men living and dead, who +struggled here have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or +detract.</p> + +<p>"The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it +can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, +to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here +have so far nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be dedicated to the +great task remaining before us that from these honored dead we take +increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full +measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall +not have died in vain: and that this nation under God shall have a new +birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people and +for the people shall not perish from the earth."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw</p> + +<p class="persons">GENERAL GRANT</p> + +<p>at Appomattox on the 9th of April, 1865, I hear again these phrases of the +silent soldier to General Lee:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I am equally anxious for peace with yourself and the whole North +entertains the same feeling. The terms upon which peace can be had are +well understood. By the South laying down their arms they will hasten +that most desirable event, save thousands of human lives, and hundreds +of millions of property not yet destroyed."</p> + +<p style="padding-top: 1em">"The officers to give their individual paroles not to take up arms +against the Government of the United States until properly exchanged, +and each company or regimental commander sign a like parole for the +men of their commands.</p> + +<p>"The surrender of all munitions of war will not embrace the side arms +of the officers, nor their private horses or baggage. Each officer and +man will be allowed to return to their homes, not to be disturbed by +the United States authorities so long as they observe their paroles +and the laws in force where they may reside."</p></div> + +<p>Still marching onward in my mission of my love for freedom and keeping +close and quick step to the music of the Great Republic, I rose again in +soul, heart and pride, as I stood on the deck of the Olympia, fronting +Manila and the Spanish navy, and heard the great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> + +<p class="persons">ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">say: "When you are ready, fire, Gridley!"</p> + +<p>In an hour the royal navy of Spain was at the bottom of the sea, and over +the citadel of Manila waved the Stars and Stripes, a hope and a blessing to +the Philippine Islands.</p> + +<p>I stood on the turrets of Morro Castle, Havana, as the devilish Weyler +sailed away from the beautiful "Queen of the Antilles," and wondered that +the cruel, infernal, tyrannical wretch was not ignominiously slaughtered by +some of the victims of his starvation reign. A rattlesnake-cobra-tarantula +human deformity!</p> + +<p>It is not the plutocracy of wealth, or the aristocracy of learning, but the +democracy of the heart that makes the world better and greater.</p> + +<p>Selfishness, cupidity and greed lead to tyranny, and tyranny finally +destroys itself.</p> + +<p>Down with the villains who would enslave the people!</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dose them, quick, with leaden pills—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only cure for tyrant ills!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And on the heights of San Juan I beheld the American troops, white and +black, shoot the cruel Spaniard into defeat, and last, but not least, I +stood on the prow of the Oregon and beheld the most destructive naval +engagement of the century.</p> + +<p>"Santiago was a captains' fight," and, as Admiral Schley said: "There is +glory enough for all."</p> + +<p>Schley, Sampson, Cook, Clarke, Evans, Taylor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> and Wainwright shall be +remembered down the ages with Paul Jones, Decatur, Porter and Farragut; and +with them the great Arctic hero, Admiral George W. Melville.</p> + +<p>The monarchy of Spain that once ruled the western world has been swept off +the seas, and does not own an inch of land on the American Continent.</p> + +<p>I personally participated, with my soldier comrades, in the inauguration +ceremonies of the lofty Lincoln, the glorious Garfield and the magnanimous +McKinley, and heard their burning words of patriotism delivered from the +east front of the National Capitol.</p> + +<p>And again it was my melancholy duty to march with the Grand Army of the +Republic in the funeral train that took their assassinated remains to lie +in state under the dome of the Capitol for the last view of the people upon +the calm countenance of these illustrious Americans.</p> + +<p>The greatest characters of earth vanish away and are forgotten like the +mists of the morning.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Await alike the inevitable hour—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The paths of glory lead but to the grave."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And now bestriding the Isthmus beneath the Stars and Stripes, with my right +foot at Colon and left foot at Panama, I watch the digging of the +interocean canal, with the High Priest Roosevelt joining the Atlantic and +Pacific oceans in eternal wedlock, where the commerce of the globe shall +float equal and free forever!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span></p> + +<p>Congregated at the World's Fair at St. Louis, the grandest exposition of +the globe, I see passing in review the men and women of all nations, where +art, science, letters, manufacture, commerce and government power reveal +the wonders of man's handiwork.</p> + +<p>And now, navigating the circumambient air in an electric ship, I'll sail +away to the "Island of Immortality," and dream a season from my +multifarious labors.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll go swinging round the circle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through six hundred future years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the roses and the myrtle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growing in celestial spheres;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sweet Freedom, heaven slated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round my footsteps, night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I am incarnated—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall still hold its deathless sway!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And great Shakspere then shall meet me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To renew our former youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And exclaim with honest fervor—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Jack, you always told the truth!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="center" style="padding-top: 2em">THE END.</p> + +<div class="note"> + +<h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h3> + +<p>Please hover your mouse over the words with a thin dotted grey line +underneath them for seeing <ins class="correction" +title="like this">what the original reads.</ins></p> + +<p>The original varied spelling has been retained.</p> + +<h4>Fixed issues</h4> + +<ul><li>p. <a href="#Page_xvi">xvi</a>—typo fixed, changed "Blackfraiars" into "Blackfriars"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_62">062</a>—inserted missing closing quote after "Henry the Fourth"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_67">067</a>—typo fixed, changed "Southhampton" to "Southampton"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_77">077</a>—typo fixed, changed period after Ovid into comma</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_78">078</a>—removed extra comma after "action, shall"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_82">082</a>—typo fixed, changed "O'Neill" to "O'Neil"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_99">099</a>—typo fixed, changed "fued" into "feud"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_114">114</a>—typo fixed, changed "Arnum" to "Arnim"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_122">122</a>—inserted missing closing quote after "the dogs of war"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_150">150</a>—typo fixed, changed "exurberant" to "exuberant"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_160">160</a>—typo fixed, changed "hatheth" to "hateth"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_163">163</a>—inserted missing closing quote after "the sea maid's music?"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_190">190</a>—typo fixed, changed "pick" into "prick"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_196">196</a>—typo fixed, removed an extra word "PAGE"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_203">203</a>—inserted a missing period after "the Prince of Denmark"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_209">209</a>—typo fixed, changed "my" into "by"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_216">216</a>—typo fixed, changed "beauty" into "honesty"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_218">218</a>—typo fixed, changed "Dump" into "Dumb"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_224">224</a>—typo fixed, changed "Margaret" into "Gertrude"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_232">232</a>—typo fixed, changed "deeds" to "weeds"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_237">237</a>—typo fixed, changed "Armyn" to "Armin"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_252">252</a>—typo fixed, changed "speech" to "peace"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_253">253</a>—typo fixed, changed a closing single qoute to a double quote</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_254">254</a>—typo fixed, changed "parent's yes" to "parents' eyes"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_254">254</a>—inserted a missing comma after "and trades"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_256">256</a>—inserted a missing period after "quoth I"</li> +<li>p. <a href="#Page_297">297</a>—typo fixed, changed "mutally" into "mutually"</li></ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Shakspere, Personal Recollections, by John A. 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