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 THE 8A1NT (il.ORClvS SOCIKTY, 
 
 J^t the (Tcmpcranit iuiU, 
 
 HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, 
 
 23l(l VI IlIL, 18<;4. 
 
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 'CITIZICN- I'lMNI'lNi; AM) ITIH-ISIIIXO Op^riOK. 
 
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 DELIVERED BY 
 
 THE HONORABLE JOSEPH HOWE, 
 
 AT THE EEQUEST OP 
 
 THE SAINT GEORGE'S SOCIETY, 
 
 g^t tlte Wm\mma gaU, 
 
 HALIFAX, NOVA SCOTIA, 
 
 23rd APRIL, 1864. 
 
 HALIFAX, N. S. 
 
 "CITIZEN" PRINTING AND PUBLISHING OFFICE}. 
 18G4. 
 
)! 
 
SHAKSPEAKE. 
 
 Not quite two thousand years ago, in a small villago of Judca, 
 a poor Carpenter's wife was Llesscd with a son, who grew to man- 
 hood beneath his reputed father's roof — who wrote nothing which 
 has been preserved, who died young, and who but for four or five 
 years appeared conspicuously on the stage of public life. 
 
 This divine man so lived, for that short space of time, that by the 
 dignity of his person — the grace and fascination of his manner — the 
 purity and simplicity of his life — the splendor of his eloquence — 
 the novelty of his doctrines — the miraculous power which he dis- 
 played, he so alarmed the hierarchs and bigots of his day, that 
 they put him to death, to extirpate what they conceived to bo a 
 pestilent heresy dangerous to existing institutions. 
 
 A few short discourses — one new commandment — some exqui- 
 site parables — a few noble bursts of righteous indignation — a 
 fervent prayer here and there — two or three touching lamenta- 
 tions — some simple reproofs — and a few beautiful illustrations of 
 his courtesy to women and children, and of his sympathetic 
 consideration for the wants and weaknesses of his feV •.'<'/ men, are 
 all that remain to us of the Biography and recorded speech of this 
 poor youth. 
 
 Yet every Sabbath, all over the Christian world, millions of 
 people assemble to do honor to this person — to repeat his words — 
 to ponder upon his life, and to endeavour to mould the growing 
 generations by his example. We, in view of the miracles he 
 wrought and of the wisdom of his teaching, acknowledge 
 his divine origin and attributes ; but millions, who regard 
 him only as a man, are yet won to daily and weekly recog- 
 
 J\ 
 
nition of the holiness of his life — the wisdom of his words, and 
 of the self-sacrificing spirit in which he died for the redemption 
 and security of his fellow-men. 
 
 How many Emi)orors, Kings, Conquerors, Tyrants, have lived 
 and died within these two thousand years, for whom no festivals 
 are kept — whose example no man quotes — whose wisdom no man 
 ponders. Their mailed figures, as they appear in history, seem to 
 shake the earth, their pride to Hout the skies — their policy to 
 cover the globe. Yet there they lie, the best of them with their 
 marble or bronze hands folded on their stone sarcophagi, looking 
 up to the Heaven they outraged, and challenging from the earth 
 which they devastated but scanty notice or recognition. From all 
 which we gather, shutting divinity out of the question, that 
 the world knows and will ever know its benefactors from its 
 oppressors — that the beauty of lioliness outlasts mere earthly 
 splendor — that the still small voice of wisdom will go echoing 
 through the hearts of successive generations, whom the hoarse 
 command oi" authority cannot stir. 
 
 A little more than a century ago a child was born in the cottage 
 of a poor Scotch peasant in Ayreshire, and but a few years have 
 passed since the Centennial Anniversary of that boy's birth was 
 kept throughout the civilized world. You kept it here. I was 
 not present, but I read the account of your celebration with 
 interest and pride. Throughout the British Empire — all over 
 this continent, wherever the British races mingle and British 
 literature is read, bonfires blazed and cities were illuminated — 
 Balls were given, and Dinners and Suppers were enlivened by the 
 songs of Burns or by sentiments uttered in his praise. I happen- 
 ed to be in Boston, the city that, next to Halifax and London, for 
 many reasons, I like the best, and where I feel the m.ost at home. 
 Two festivals were held, one at the Kevere House by the North 
 British Society, the other at the Parker House, by the leading 
 literati of New England. I was honored by invitations to both, 
 
6 
 
 and 
 
 '5 
 
 both, 
 
 aiul at Loth witnosHod Iho cuthuHiasm of the hour and the 
 intellectual allluencc of the eoiiiruunity. The Governor of the 
 State, the Mayor of the city, the leading Merchants and Bankers, 
 the Professors of Caniln-idge, Whittier and Einerson, Holmes and 
 Hilliard, Fields and Whipple, and a score more of men who give ani- 
 mation to the social, and fire to thei)ublic life of the old Bay State, 
 were there ; and we all lifted our voices to honour the memory of that 
 poor Scotch Peasant, and bowed our heads in reverential thankfulness 
 above his literary remains. What we wore doing in Boston, you 
 were doing here, and the intellectual and appreciative all over the 
 world were doing in the same spirit on the same occasion. 
 
 Now, how did it happen that the noble and the high-born, the 
 Scholar, the Novelist, the Historian, the Statesman, the Poet, all 
 mingling with the joyous acclamations of those wider classes that 
 come more nearly down to his own worldly station, gave point 
 and significance to festivals got up to honour the memory of a 
 poor Ploughman a century after ho had passed away? The 
 man was no saint — sharp of speech and loose of life, at 
 times he had tried the patience of many friends, and made many 
 enemies. He had lived and died in poverty; his errors, what- 
 ever they were, being veiled by no drapery of convention, 
 nor refined away by the ordinary accessories of elegant self- 
 indulgence. He left behind him no relatives who could defend 
 his memory-— no sect to battle for his opinions — no wealth to 
 purchase venal advocacy — no station or organized influence to 
 disarm independent criticism. How was it then, that all the 
 world, by a simultaneous impulse, moved as one man to do honor, 
 on the same day, to the memory of this poor Scotch Ploughman ? 
 
 It was because, long after he was dead, and his faults and 
 follies were forgotten, it was discovered (as it had been before by a 
 few keen sighted and appreciative friends who knew and loved him) 
 that in this man's soul there had been genuine inspiration — that 
 he was a patriot — an artist — that by his genius, and independent 
 
Bpirit, he had given dignity to the pursuits by wliirh the mas.n of 
 mankind live, and quickcnod our lovoof nature by cx([uisito delin- 
 eation. It was found that hypocrisy stood rebuked in presence 
 of his broad humor — that ho had put one lyric invocation into tho 
 mouth of a dead warrior that would be worth to his country, in 
 any emorgcncy, an army of ten thousand men — that he had painted 
 one picture of his country's rural life, so touching and so true, 
 that it challenged for her the respect of millions who knew her 
 not, and gave character and refinement to the thoughts of those 
 who knew her best. 
 
 What has become of tho wrangling race of bloody Chieftains, 
 whose mutual slaughter and mutual perfidy Tytlor so well 
 describes ? With the exception of Wallace and Bruce, we would 
 not give the Ayrshire Ploughman for a legion of them. What 
 has become of tho drowsy Holy Willies, whoso interminable 
 homilies made tho Sabljath wearisome, in Burns' time, and the 
 gospel past finding out ? They are dozing in the churchyards, aa 
 their congregations dozed in the churches ; and no one asks to 
 have them waked up by a festival ; yet the man they denounced, 
 and would have burnt if they could, shows his " Cottar's 
 
 Saturday Night " to the admiring world and. puts them all to 
 shame. 
 
 Three hundred years ago (1564) William Shakspeare, whoso 
 
 Birth Day we have met to celebrate, was born, of comparatively 
 
 obscure parentage, at Stratford-upon-Avon, a small English 
 
 village. His father, John Shakspeare, dealt in wool, and though 
 
 at one period of his life ho had been better off, was, before the 
 
 Poet's death, so poor as to be exempted from the payment of local 
 
 assessments. His mother, Mary Arden, was descended from a 
 
 family some members of which had served the office of Sheriff, 
 
 and brought to her husband, as dower, 65 acres of land and 
 
 £6 13 4 in money. Our Poet was the oldest of ten children. 
 
 Before he was three mouths old tho Plague ravaged his native 
 
vHlago, carrying off a Rovcntli part of its population, but soomfl 
 to liavo Hparod Iuh family. IIo was oducatod at the Free School 
 of Stratford, till withdrawn to a.sHist hi.s father, whoso circum- 
 stances wore becoming .straitened. At eighteen ho married Anno 
 Ilatheway, and commenced buisiness for himself, but, being arrest- 
 ed with some other youngsters for Door Stalking in Sir Thomas 
 Lucy's Park, to escape the law ho fled to London, and joined a 
 company of Players. IIo became an Actor, a Dramatist, a Poet, 
 a Theatrical Manager, won the favor of the Earl of Southampton, 
 and of Queen Elizabeth. He earned a competence, and after tho 
 death of tho virgin Queen retired to bis nati/o village, where ho 
 purchased a handsome house and enjoyed an income of .iJ300 a 
 year. IIo had three children. IIo died on his birth-day, tho 
 23rd of April, at tho early ago of 53, 
 
 This is nearly all that is known, with certainty, of tho 
 marvellous man whoso tri-Centenary wo havo met to celebrate. 
 The very acute Editor of one of the latest and finest collections of 
 his works, thus mourns over the paucity of material for any 
 authentic and enlarged Biography : — " That William Shakspeare 
 was born at Stratford-upon-Avon ; that he married and had three 
 children ; that he wrote a certain number of Dramas ; that ho 
 died before ho had attained to old age, and was buried in his 
 native town, are positively the only facts, in tho personal history 
 of this extraordinary man, of which we are certainly possessed ; 
 and if we should be solicitous to fill up this bare and most unsa- 
 tisfactory outline, we must have recourse to tho vague reports of 
 unsubstantial tradition, or to the still more shadowy inferences of 
 lawless and unsatisfactory conjecture." 
 
 Whether Shakspeare actually held gentlemen's horses at tho 
 door of the Theatre before he became an Actor — how much or 
 how little he knew of Latin or Greek, or of any foreign 
 language ; to what books he was indebted for his plots, his 
 conceits or his imagery, are questions which we linger not to-day 
 
8 
 
 to ask or to answer. Have not these, and other kindred themes 
 of speculation and conjecture, for more than a century furnished 
 employment for ingenious critics and commentators ? We must 
 brush them aside. If we stood by the grave of Eichard Coeur de 
 Leon, we should not pause to enquire who taught him tricks of 
 fence, or of what nutriment his muscle had been formed ; and, 
 standing beside the grave of this great Englishman, it is enough 
 for us to know that he lived, and died, and mado the universe his 
 heirs. 
 
 This man founded no sect, sat on no throne, conducted no 
 Government, led no army, upheaved no ancient dominion. How is 
 it, then, that three hundred years after he has been dead and 
 buried, in a Province of which he never heard — which was a wil- 
 derness for two hundred years after he was born — how happens it 
 that in a city not founded for a century and a half after he was in 
 his grave, we are assembled to hold high festival on this man's 
 natal day ? How does it occur that the highest in military rank 
 and civic station comes here at the head of all that is distinguished 
 by culture, and refinement, to do honor to the memory of 
 Shakspearc? that the Parliament adjourns — that the Courts are 
 closed — that business is suspended — that the place where " mer- 
 chants most do congregate" is deserted, and that all ranks and 
 classes, by a common impulse, have gathered here to do honor to 
 this man's memory ? As your procession moved through the 
 streets, the scene was most imposing, and now I can scarcely see 
 your heads for banners consecrated to every branch of our 
 nationality and to every form of christian benevolence — faces as 
 fresh as Rosalind's and eyes as bright as Juliet's smile approba- 
 tion or rain influence on this scene, until the heart dances at the 
 sight of an intellectual community doing homage to genius by 
 methods the most graceful and-with a unanimity that is marvellous. 
 
 On Saturday evening this Hall resounded with the music inter- 
 spersed through Shakspearc 's Plays. Mr. Passow will presently 
 
 1 
 
 
9 
 
 delight us with some readings. We shall plant an Oak on the 
 sunny side of our Provincial Building in commemoration of this 
 Tri-Centenary celebration, and close the day with the feast of reason 
 and the flow of soul. To-night we re-assemble here, to enjoy a 
 second time the delightful entertainment which the Officers and 
 Soldiers of the Gacrison have kindly consented to repeat. 
 
 But, after all, what is our poor Festival, rich in sincerity and 
 enthusiasm though it be, compared with what we know will else- 
 where make this day memorable. All over the British Islands, 
 all over the British Empire, it will be kept as a holiday, and enli- 
 vened with all that intellect of the highest order can contribute, 
 or art the most chastened yet elaborate combine. 
 
 In the great Metropolis of the World, whose financial pulsations 
 are marked by millions — where war or peace, for half the universe, 
 trembles in the hourly vibrations of human thought — where men 
 battle for wealth, and distinctions and worldly power, with an 
 intensity proportioned to the value of the prizes to be won, even 
 there on this day the great heart of the Empire will be stilled for 
 a time, that all the world may witness how profoand is the impres- 
 sion which the genius of Shakspeare has made in that Imperial 
 City, where for centuries his Dramas have nightly contributed to 
 the intellectual life of the population. 
 
 At Stratford, the Birth Place of the Poet, a Pavilion has been 
 erected which will hold 5000 people — 550 musicians have been 
 engaged, and Concerts, Oratories, Balls, and Theatrical perform- 
 ances, will gather together, for a week's unmixed enjoyment, an 
 assemblage not more distinguished by wealth and station, than 
 remarkable for intellectual culture and shrewd knowledge of books 
 and men. 
 
 But not only in England will this day be kept. In Ireland, 
 where the memories of her Poets, and Dramatists and Orators, are 
 treasured as the richest element of national life, the great Eng- 
 lishman, who was loved and honored by them all, will be this day 
 
10 
 
 crowned with the deepest verdure and hailed by universal accla- 
 mation. Scotland will put aside her thcolony and metaphysics, 
 and the fiery cross, with Shakspeare's name upon it, will be sped 
 from city to city and from mountain to mountain, rousing the 
 clans to rivalry with all the world. Bonfires will bla/e upon Ben 
 Nevis and Ben Venue, and the bones of her great Poets will stir 
 beneath the marble monuments that national gratitude has reared 
 above them in recognition of the merits of this great master of 
 our tongue. 
 
 All over the Empire — in the great Provinces of the East — in 
 tho Australian Colonies — at the Cape — in the AVest Indies — in the 
 neighboring Provinces of Canada and New Brunswick no less 
 than in the Summer Isles, where, if Prospero's wand no longer 
 waves, we have Moore's warrant and our own experience to assure 
 us that Miranda's fascinations may yet be found ; wherever British 
 communities have been formed and British civilization has been 
 fostered, will this day be honored, and the memory of this great 
 man be ''in their flowing cups freshly remembered." 
 
 If our American cousins. North and South, do not keep this 
 Festival as they kept that in honor ot' Burns, it will not be from 
 want of inclination, or from ignorance of the merits of the groat 
 Dramatist whose works they read, ap[)rcciate, act and quote, 
 with an admiration as intense and with a i'.imiliarity as 
 ready as our own. P]ngaged in those " great wars," which, from 
 their magnitude of proportion, ought " to make ambition virtue," 
 and which another Shakspearo, half a century hence, will be 
 required to illustrate, they may not have leisure for any l)ut mili- 
 tary celebrations ; but of this we may bo assured, that Shakspearo 
 has gone with the camp furniture of every Ilcgiment, into the 
 field, whether north or south of the Potomac ; and that his glorious 
 pages have cheered the bivouac and the hospital, whenever the tedious 
 hours of inaction were to be wiled away, or the " ills that flesh is heir 
 to," and which combats surely bring, have had to be endured. 
 
 The 
 
11 
 
 Nor will th(3so manifostatioiis be oonfiuod to tlio lands wliicli tlio 
 British races itiliabit. All over the coiitiiient, where Shakspeare 
 is known as wo know Goethe or Voltaire — where his works have 
 l)oen translated and illustrated l»y mow tlio most discriminating 
 and profound, this day will he honored, and his name, making the 
 circuit of " the great glolje itself," will not only awake the " drum 
 beat" which indicates the waving lines of British power and domi- 
 nioii, l)ut the echoes of warm hearts aiid sympathetic natures in 
 every (juartcr of the earth. 
 
 Shakspeare left behind liim, when he died, thirty-seven Dramas, 
 and a few Poems. Upon tliose his reputation rests: but it is 
 curious to retlcct how tardy the world, now so unanimous in its 
 verdict, was in recognizing its benefactor. That Queen Elizabeth, 
 and the brilliant men by whom she was always surrounded, ap- 
 plauded his plays in the old Globe Theatre which he managed, 
 and enjoyed his Poems in their studious hours, we have authentic 
 record. That the sturdy middle (dass of English society, for 
 whom his Plays were written, wept and laughed three centuries 
 ao'o exactlv as we weei"* and laugh no man can doubt. That the 
 critics in the pit wondered then, as now, at the fertility of his 
 invention, while the gods in the gallei-y roared at his inexhaustible 
 humour, are facts which v»'e may assume to lie upon the surface of 
 all safe speculation. But how did it happen that, for more than 
 a century, his works appear to have passed from the minds of men, 
 and that his reputation, like the aloe, took an hundred years to 
 bloom ? Who can safely answc^r this question ? For more than 
 two centuries, the European races trod the soil of Nova Scotia 
 without perceiving the gold that lay beneath their feet; the Tem- 
 ple Church was buried in rubbish for more than a century, till its 
 beautiful proportions and elegant ornamentation were redeemed 
 and restored, by a tender and loving process, akin to that 1 »y which the 
 dramatic works of Shakspeare have been redeemed and illustrated. 
 
 The Poet appears to have taken but little pains to ingratiate 
 
12 
 
 himself with posterity. Though he published his Poems, which 
 went through several editions, during his lifetime, but few of his 
 Dramatic Works were printed, while he lived. The whole were 
 collected and published by his fellow-comedians seven years after 
 his death. 
 
 But in 1623, the year in which they were published, the world 
 was beginning to be busy about other things than stage plays and 
 dead Poets. That great Historical Drama, in many Acts, of which 
 England was to become the Theatre, was in course of preparation. 
 James the First, with his pedantic learning, haughty favorites and 
 high prerogative notions, was passing away, amidst a storm of 
 Parliamentary eloquence more intensely exciting even than Dra- 
 matic Literature. Elliot and Pym, Hampden and Vane, were 
 unfolding the grievances of England as Mark Anthony bared the 
 wounds of CcTcsar in the forum. The first Act closed with the 
 death of James two years after the publication of Shakspeare's 
 Plays, and Charles the First ascended the Throne in 1C25. 
 
 By and bye money was wanted for foolish continental wars, and 
 the Commons of England were determined that the redress of 
 grievances and supplies should go together. The Star Chamber 
 was busy with arrests and thumbscrews, and Laud was dictating 
 to all earnest-minded Englishmen how they should worship God, 
 and what they should believe. The " times are out of joint," 
 and sweet Will Shakspeare must wait awhile for recognition 
 
 " Till the hurly burly 's done, 
 And the battle lost and won." 
 
 Then Ship Money is demanded and resisted, and Charles comes 
 down to seize the members in the Commons House of Parliament. 
 Then Prynne's ears are cut off in the Pillory, and the leaders of 
 the people are fined and imprisoned ; and now the action of the 
 great Drama becomes intensely exciting — the Counties begin to 
 arm, and Hampden lives in the saddle. The King's Standard is 
 set up, aud a rough looking soldierly man, with broad shoulders, a 
 
13 
 
 liugo head and some pimples on his face, begins to attract atten- 
 tion, as Washington did long after when a man of action was 
 required. By 1642, nineteen years after Shakspeare's Plays were 
 printed, the Cavaliers and Eoundheads are fairly at it. Then 
 come Edgehill, Marston Moor and Naseby. Hampden and 
 Falkland are dead, Laud and Wcntworth executed. People are too 
 busy making history to care much about representations of it, and 
 Shakspeare must sleep on. 
 
 The slovenly looking soldier with the broad chest has come to 
 the front, and, at the head of a marvellous regiment of cavalry, 
 has trampled down, on every battle field, everything opposed to 
 hira. People may bo excused for not thinking of Shakspeare, with 
 such a phenomenon as Cromwell, in living flesh and blood, 
 treading the stage before their eyes. 
 
 Then come the capture of the King and his execution — Irish 
 and Scotch wars, Droheda and Dunbar, more materials for History 
 rapidly accumulating. Then there are pestilent Dutchmen — Von 
 Tromp, De Wit and De Pvuyter, in the Channel with 120 ships, 
 prepare :1 to land and burn all the Theatres and other property of 
 the nation ; and Shakspeare must be quiet while Monk and Deane, 
 and other gallant Englishmen, sweep this nuisance out of the 
 narrow seas. And swept it was by the besom of destruction, and 
 no brooms have been hoisted in the channel since. 
 
 And by and bye there is peace at home and abroad, and the 
 Lord Protector, with John Milton for his Secretary and John 
 Howe for his Chaplain, is standing on the place where the Throne 
 of England stood, known of all men as a redoubtable soldier and 
 a most wary politician. But Oliver, though he loved a grim joke 
 at timeS; and could snatch off his son Richard's wig at a wedding, 
 or smear Dick Marten's face with ink after signing the Death 
 Warrant, was no favorer of stage plays, and it behoved Will 
 Shakspeare to be quiet until he had made his exit. 
 
 England was parcelled out into Districts, and a stern Major 
 
14 
 
 Si 
 
 I 
 
 General, of tlio true Croimvelliaii .staiiip, nili'il (jver oacli, ^vitll 
 orders to pull down iho !May-pole,s, ckwo up the Theatres and set 
 
 arausiuu' vau-abonds in the stool 
 
 \.S, 
 
 Tl 
 
 lerc were no mure cakes 
 
 am 
 
 1 all'," and if "gingin'" was ''hot" in anybody's "mouth' 
 
 the less he said about it tin; botter, 
 
 But Enu:land 
 
 )thi 
 
 he ho not 
 
 iut iiinu;lancl is nouiui'j; il sue no not "" merrie." She had 
 prayed and fought her way to freedom, as she thought, but hero 
 were new forms of restraint, and a tyranny more irksome than that 
 from which she had escapod. Better \y<iy Shiji ]\[oncy. and lose an 
 car once in a while, than have no more village sports and city 
 recreations. The Queen has been in mourning l)Ut for two short 
 years, yet John Bull gi'umblcs at the gloom. All places of public 
 amusement have been open, and everybody, outside of the Ptoyal 
 circle, has done just as he pleased; yet something w;is wanting 
 while the Queen was sad, and a cheerful Sovereign is as necessary 
 to England as a Free I'rc-s and a I'^ree Parliament. Cromwell, 
 with all his sao'acitv, and licwildered in the theological fogs of tho 
 period, did not understand this. Ho died, and " aprcs mois le 
 deluge." The reac.'tion of cheerfulness came with tho Picstoration 
 — the Theatres were re-opened and the May-})oles wont up again. 
 And now, one might fairly .assume, that Shakspeare's hour had 
 come. But it did not. 
 
 Charles, who had bc^cn twelve years an exile, if ho had not lost 
 his English cheerfulness had hecomo a foreigner in all his tastes. 
 The men who had shared his expatriation, had learned to speak 
 and write and think in French and other foreign lano-uases ; and 
 foreign literature — dramatic literature especially, which day by 
 day beguiled the tedious hours of banishment, had become a 
 necessary of life. Foreign tastes came back with the Court, and 
 were of course cultivated by the higher classes. 
 
 How was it with the great body of tliO people ? Tho wars of 
 the Pioses had ceased to interest them. They had had a civil war 
 of their own, brought home to their very doors with stern reality. 
 
 of Yc 
 
 two 11 
 
 Ano 
 ]nnvo 
 
 liber tv 
 
 -lohn 
 
 of Eng 
 
 Bunyail 
 
 sufHcic] 
 
 and for 
 
 Thoi 
 
 been bi 
 
 treasur 
 
15 
 
 , Avith 
 
 iic.l set 
 
 Ccikca 
 
 aoatli' 
 
 lio liad 
 it licro 
 an that 
 lose an 
 nd city 
 o sliort 
 puljlic 
 3 Eoyal 
 (.-anting 
 icessary 
 omwell, 
 ;s of tlio 
 mo is lo 
 toration 
 [) again, 
 our had 
 
 not lost 
 s tastes, 
 to speak 
 ;es ; and 
 day by 
 ecome a 
 )iirt, and 
 
 wars of 
 civil war 
 Q reality. 
 
 4 
 
 What were the fictitious sorrows of dethroned raonarchs, compared 
 with the real tragedy behind Wliitehall? Tlio ravings of Margaret 
 and the lamentations of Constance were forgotten in presence of 
 Henrietta Mai'ia, with her children in her hand, takino- leave of the 
 Ptoyal Husband she \vas to behold no mor<}. The men who had seen 
 a charge of the Ironsides wi-re not easily stirred by a llourish of 
 truni|)ets on the stage ; and those who had seen Hampden, 
 Ilupert, Essex, Ireton, and Desborough, in the saddle, 
 required no poet to show them what the men and horses were like 
 that liroke the French at Agincourt and Poictiers. And so sweet 
 Will Shakspearc slept on through the Kestoration as he had done 
 through the Protectorate, until the Court of England was composed 
 of men and women who had bctm bred at home — who could relish 
 English humour and English sentiment ; and a sturdy middle class 
 had grown up, who had wondered at Milton and laughed at 
 Hudibras till they were weary of both ; and had Ijcgun to long for 
 something less exaggerated, and more germane to the realities of 
 every day human life. The Puritan warriors and Cavaliers had 
 [lassed oft" the scene ; and, to the new gcnm-ation, who knew thein 
 not, both civil wars were alike historical: while the Feudal chivalry 
 of York and Lancaster, as drawn by Sh;d;spcarc, seemed, of the 
 two battalia, the most pii.'turesij^ue. 
 
 Another King had been driven out — the })eople had seized tho 
 purse strings — Piosponsiblo Government was established — " the 
 
 lil-)ertv of unlicensed Printino'" had been secured, and glorious 
 
 John Dryden, Prior and Ben Johnson, had taught the People 
 
 of England the flexibility and music of our mother tongue; and 
 
 Puny an, Locke, Do Foe and Addison, had shown how all- 
 
 sufHcient it was for the ex[)ression of arguments the most subtle, 
 
 and for the hiurhest flights of the most luxuriant imagination. 
 
 Then the discovery was made that a dead Englishman, who had 
 
 been buried a hundred years, had left to his countrymen a literary 
 
 treasure of inestimaljle value. AVliat was Caesar's legacy of seven- 
 
16 
 
 ty-fivG drachmas to each of the citizens of Rome ? — here was a 
 
 treasure inexhaiLstiblo, and capable of sub-division among the 
 
 British races to the end of time. What were Cajsar's 
 
 " wsdks, 
 His private arbors, and now phmted orchanls, 
 On tins side Tiber'/" 
 
 Here were the gardens of the Hesperides, richer in enchantment 
 than the bowers of Calypso and Arraida — orchards, wh^re apples 
 of gold in pictures of silver were hung within the reach of all — 
 arbors that a Mussulman warrior would die to inherit, with 
 Imogene and Thasia, Cressida and Titania, Portia and Jessica, 
 Helena, Cordelia, Olivia and Beatrice, flitting through the foliage, 
 with fascinations ever varying and smiles that could never fade. 
 
 With a spirit of deep reverence and unselfish love did the great 
 Poets and Critics of modern England address themselves to the 
 task of exhuminar this treasure, and makino; known to their coun- 
 trymen its extent and value. Foremost in this good work were 
 Eowe and Theobold, Pope, Warburton and Johnson ; and after 
 them have come critics and commentators by the score, till every 
 obsolete phrase has been explained, every eld word translated into 
 current English, every blemish detected, every beauty brought to 
 the surface. In this labor of love Goethe, and Schlegel and 
 Voltaire, and the finer minds of Continental Europe, have labored 
 with diligence and often with keen discrimination, until the sub- 
 ject has been exhausted, and now no wise man looks for a new fact 
 or for a plausible suggestion. 
 
 A brilliant series of great actors and actresses have devoted 
 their lives to the study of Shakspeare's Plays, and have won 
 fortune and high distinction by their illustration. Garrick, 
 Mrs. Siddons, the Keans and Kembles, Macready, and many other 
 brilliant Artists, have, for a hundred and fifty years, presented to 
 succeeding generations the master-pieces of this great Dramatist. 
 Yet " custom cannot stale his infinite variety," and still " excess 
 of apetite doth grow by what it feeds on." 
 
 I 
 
17 
 
 as a 
 • the 
 
 anent 
 
 ipples 
 all— 
 witli 
 
 essica, 
 
 ullage, 
 
 :ade. 
 
 ) great 
 to the 
 
 c coun- 
 
 k were 
 
 I after 
 
 1 every 
 ed into 
 .Q-lit to 
 el and 
 labored 
 lie sub- 
 GW fact 
 
 levoted 
 tve won 
 arrick, 
 y other 
 Bented to 
 amatist. 
 " excess 
 
 During these hundred and fifty years the .cjcnius of Shakspeare 
 has kept possession of the public mind, appealed to by rivals in 
 every walk of literature, and it may bo safely said that no book 
 except the Bible, has taken a hold of it so universal and so firm, 
 Tried by every test, read in the liglit of ancient and modern liter- 
 ature, Shakspeare has not only held his own, but has steadily 
 risen in general estimation. 
 
 Within the period which has passed since he lived and wrote, 
 the Classics, redeemed from the wrecks of ancient civilization, 
 have been edited with care and elegantly translated into every 
 modern language. iEschylus and Euripides, Plautus and Terence, 
 can now be read with as much facility as Shakspeare. The great 
 dramatists of France, appealing to a population to whom tlieatricals 
 and bread are the necessaries of life, have constructed Trao;edies 
 of stately severity, and lighter pieces in every vein of humour. 
 Alfieri, in Italy, and Calderon and Lope de Vega, in Spain, have 
 presented their master-pieces to the admiring world. Schiller's 
 great dramas, beautifully rendered into English by Joanna 
 Bailley, have enriched the literature of Germany ; while in our 
 own country Addison, Gongreve, Younge, Homo, and Otway ; 
 Byron, Shelley, Talfourd and Knowles, with all the 
 phases of modern civilization expanding before them, with 
 free access to all the treasures of ancient and modern literature, 
 and with the "moving accidents by Hood and field " which history 
 and biography have accumulated in those three hundred years, 
 have done their best; and each has won a place in the loving hearts 
 touched by their genius, and refined and elevated by the exquisite 
 harmony of their verse. But which of all these men would we 
 venture to put beside Shakspeare ? If they were all assembled 
 here to-day, they would confess their several obligations to tlie 
 great Poet, who "exhausted worlds and then imagined new," and 
 join with us in crowning him as the great master of their art. 
 
 Now what is the secret of this great success — of this universal 
 
18 
 
 homage? Who sliall f,nvo the answer? The ocean, with its 
 majestic waves, fathomless depths, and ever receding outlines, who 
 can measure or define ? The starry heavens are incomprehensible 
 to the astronomer, who can weigh the planets as to the peasant 
 who, in simple love and reverence, sees them shine above his head. 
 The incendiary, who destroyed the Temple of Diana, could not 
 comprehend the secret of that universal admiration which made 
 his act a sacrilege and a crime. We stand beside Niagara, or 
 beneath the dome of St. Peter's, or St. Paul's, and are overpowered 
 by a sense of sublimity and beauty, for which we thank God, but 
 which it is extremely difficult to analyse. We hang over a beau- 
 tiful statue, or gaze at a fine picture, but are lost and bewildered 
 when we come to describe why it touches our feelings, or excites 
 our involuntary admiration. 
 
 If the phenomena of nature, the sublimities of architecture, and 
 the miracles of high art, thus impress and confound us, we can rea- 
 dily understand how it is that we stand awe-struck and bewildered 
 in presence of a writer who is at once a creator and an artist ; 
 at whose command " cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces" 
 spring out of the earth — who sets the sublime " artillery of 
 Heaven" to music — who presents to our admiring gaze forms that 
 would defy the chisel of Canova or the pencil of Sir Peter Lely ; 
 who sketches scenery with the warmth of Claude and the dripping 
 softness of Gainsborough ; who reasons like a philosopher, speaks 
 like a statesman, and jests like a King's fool ; who infuses life into 
 the dead bones of History : clothes Warriors and Kings and Pre- 
 lates with living flesh and blood ; and makes them unfold their 
 policy as though he had been familiar with their counsels, and act 
 and speak as though a Photographer and Reporter had been pre- 
 sent all the time. We accept this man as a gift from the All- 
 bountiful Creator, but we cannot comprehend him, or fathom the 
 secret springs of his ascendancy and power. 
 
 The reason why Englishmen should love him, as the Scotch do 
 
 lil 
 
19 
 
 h its 
 , who 
 nsiblo 
 jasant 
 head. 
 kl not 
 . mado 
 a'a, or 
 )wered 
 )d, but 
 I beau- 
 ildered 
 excites 
 
 re, and 
 
 ;an rea- 
 
 ^rildered 
 artist ; 
 alaces" 
 
 illery of 
 ms that 
 r Lely ; 
 ripping 
 , speaks 
 life into 
 ind Pre- 
 old their 
 and act 
 )een pre- 
 the AU- 
 :hom the 
 
 Scotch do 
 
 Burns, and tho Irish Mooro, may not bo far to seek. He 
 has won the first phujo in universal literature for his country, 
 and ho has won it, so far as any body can discover, without ever 
 having been out of England Ho seems to have been beloved by 
 his cotemporaries, and those who knew him best. Though honored 
 with the favor of liis Sovereign and tho patronage and friendship 
 of Southampton, he was not spoilt. " I loved the man," said old 
 Ben Johnson who knew him well, '' and did honor his memory, on 
 this side of idolatry, as mnoh as any. IIo was indeed honest, of an 
 open and free nature, had an excellent fancy, brave notions and 
 gentle expressions." " Gentle Shakspearo," the " Swan of Avon," 
 "Sweet Will" — those were the endearing names given to him by 
 his cotemporaries, and they have come down to us as the best evi- 
 dence that can bo furnished of the personal qualities he displayed. 
 That he was a dear lover of his country who can doubt ? "With 
 what pride and exultation and entire confidence he speaks of her 
 fortunes and her future, at a time when her great career of con- 
 quest and of Empire had hardly begun : 
 
 '• This royal throne of kings, this soeptrcd Isle, 
 This earth of majesty, this scat of Mars, 
 This other Eden, dcmi-paradise; 
 This fortress, built hy Nature for iicrsolf 
 Against infection and tlie hand of war; 
 This luippy breed of men, this little world ; 
 This precious stone set in the silver sea, 
 Which serves it in the office of a wall, 
 Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
 Against the envy of less happy lands; 
 This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, 
 This nurse, this teeming Avomb of royal kings, 
 Fear'd by their breed and famous by their Inrth ; 
 Eenown'd for their deeds as far fn^m home, 
 (For christian service and true chivalry) 
 As is th3 sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, 
 Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son. 
 This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, 
 Dear for her reputation through the world." 
 
20 
 
 Again, ho calls lior "our aoa-wallod gartlon," which sho has 
 romaiiiod, thank God, to this liour. And again : 
 
 '• That wator-wnllod hulwurk, still sootiro 
 And fontidciit from foreign ptii-posi'S. 
 
 'I'liis Knghmd never did (nor never hIuUI) 
 Lie ui the proud foot of a conqueror." 
 
 Shak.'^pearo had .seen the proud Spani.-^h Armada, with its 130 
 ships of war, its 2G50 " groat guns," and 30,000 men, scattered by 
 the hand of Providence, and by the valor of Drake and Howard; 
 and he might well exult in the valor of his countrymen and in tho 
 impregnability of the " little island" that ho loved. Could he 
 see her now, with her 070 war ships, her well disciplined army 
 and her 150,000 volunteers, he would not be less confident in her 
 destiny. 
 
 How like the blast of a trumpet has that magnificent speech 
 which Shakspeare puts into the mouth of our Fifth Harry on the 
 eve of the Battle of Agincourt, rung through the hearts of 
 Englishmen in all parts of the world ! At Torres Vedras, at 
 Waterloo, at Inkermann, at Lucknow and Delhi, wherever our 
 countrymen have been far from home and hard bestead, Shaks- 
 pcare's glorious thoughts have been uppermost in their minds. 
 
 The time may como, in these British Provinces, when we may 
 be called upon to test the purity of our lineage and " the metal of 
 our pastures;" and, when it comes, let us hope that Shakspeare's 
 invocation may not be lost upon us. Our volunteers and militia- 
 men show well upon parade, in their ''gayness" and their "gilt," 
 but when the "working day" comes, and they 
 
 " are all bcsmirch'd 
 AVith rainy inarching in the painful field," 
 
 let us hope that they will emulate the valour of the Mother Isles, 
 
 without a Westmoreland wish to have " more men from England." 
 
 Shakspeare's National Dramas are a valuable addition to the 
 
 History of our country. An Admiral of some celebrity declared 
 
 Her 
 
 Paintc 
 recall 
 Shak.^ 
 The 
 seven 
 The r 
 
21 
 
 that ho rcaU nothing elso. I havo roa<l nearly all tho works of our 
 
 popular Historians, but how few of thcni j, ..nt tho scones they 
 
 describe with tho vividness of Shakspcaro ? and where is there one 
 
 that presents tho men of by-gone periods with the same dramatic 
 
 power? Hundreds of illustrations could be given. Take Hume's 
 
 account of Buckingham's intrigues to Hecuro the Throno for 
 
 Kichard, with that whicli the J)uko himself gives of tho 
 
 scene at the Guildhall; or contu^t his descfiptjon of the murder 
 
 of the young Princes with that in whicli Shakspearo show.^ us how 
 
 " tho murdorors, 
 
 Albeit they were flosh'd villains, bloody dogs, 
 
 Melting with tenderness and mild coni])aHsion 
 
 Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 
 
 " O thus," quoth Dighton, " lay the gentle babes, — 
 
 "Thus, thus," quolh Forest, "girdling one another 
 
 " Within their alabaster innocent arms : 
 
 " Their li])s were four red roses on a stalk 
 
 "Which in their summer beauty kissed each other 
 
 " A book of prayers on their pillow lay ; 
 
 " Which once," quoth Forrest, "almost cluinged my mind," 
 
 " But, O the devil" — there the villain stopped; 
 
 When Pigbton thus told on — " we smothered 
 
 " The most replenished, sweet work of nature, 
 
 " That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed." 
 
 Hence both are gone, with conscience and remorse 
 
 They could not speak ; and so I left them both 
 
 To bear these tidings to the bloody king." 
 
 Here we have the whole scene. This is the picture that all 
 Painters copy, and when we visit the Chamber in the Tower, or 
 recall this touching event in English History, it is with 
 Shakspeare's and not Hume's language in our thoughts. 
 
 The same may be said of the ten National Dramas, including 
 
 seven reigns, and spreading over a period of three hundred years. 
 
 The portions of History which Shakspeare has illustrated are 
 
 invariably those into which we have the clearest insight, and to 
 
 which we return again and again with interest deepening as we 
 read. 
 
22 
 
 Of Queen Elizabeth we have only the Christening benediction 
 and a fine foreshadowing at the close of Henry the 8th, but what 
 would we not give for a Drama by Shakspeare, in which the two 
 rival Queens, with Cecil and Walsingham, Ealeigh and Essex, 
 Bothwell and Rizzio, were sketched with the distinctness of the 
 Yorkists and Lancastrians of an earlier period ? and, coming down 
 to the later Civil Wars, how hard we find it, without Shakspeare's 
 guidance and portraiture, to gather from all the historians and bio- 
 graphers (and they are numerous enough) the same vivid realistic 
 notions of Cromwell and Monk, of Eupert, Ireton, Waller, Fleet- 
 wood, and other Cavaliers and Parliamentarians, that he has given 
 us of Hotspur, Falconbridgc, Warwicke, or John of Gaunt. 
 
 But we are not only indebted to Shakspeare for clearer views of 
 English History, but for some marvellous delineations of stirring 
 
 events and portraitures of remarkable men in times more remote. 
 Plutarch and Livy are highly dramatic and picturesque, and yet 
 we rise from the perusal of their charming volumes with a dreamy 
 and indistinct impression of the scenes they describe, and of the 
 characters they pourtray. There is a haze of remote antiquity 
 which we cannot completely penetrate ; and the stately language 
 they employ, while it fascinates, often elevates us above the range 
 of practical business, and the point of view from which a clear 
 insight can be had into the affairs of common life. 
 
 Shakspeare, in Julius Cresar and Coriolanus, takes us to Rome, 
 and gives us the very spirit of the scenes that he animates with 
 real bustling human beings. We hear the mob roaring in the streets 
 — the orators speaking in the forum — we almost touch their robes 
 and feel their warm breath upon our faces. The topics are difi^er- 
 ent, but the men are perfectly present to our senses, as an English 
 mob would be shouting in Charing Cross, or Lord Derby or John 
 :. ■ight speaking in Parliament. His Greeks are just as life-like. 
 When an Englishman reads Homer, though he is charmed by the 
 rapidity and variety of movement, and by the exquisite skill of 
 
23 
 
 iction 
 
 what 
 e two 
 Essex, 
 of the 
 ; down 
 ^eare's 
 id bio- 
 jalistic 
 
 Fleet- 
 B given 
 
 lews of 
 ;tirring 
 
 remote, 
 tnd yet 
 dreamy 
 
 of the 
 itiquity 
 mguage 
 e range 
 
 a clear 
 
 ) Rome, 
 ,es with 
 streets 
 ir robes 
 ■e differ- 
 English 
 or John 
 life-like, 
 i by the 
 skill of 
 
 the versification, the celestial machinery is a sad drawback. We 
 should take but little interest in a charge of cavalry at Balaclava, 
 or in a fight between King and Heenan, if Juno were to interpose 
 a cloud, or catch up a pugilist, when the Russians or the American 
 were getting the worst of it. In Troiless and Cresida there are 
 no Gods and Goddesses : but Greeks and Trojans, so life-like and 
 natural, that we hear them rail, and jest, mourn, and make 
 love, as though our own blood relations or familiar friends were 
 conducting the dialogues ; and when the combats begin, whether 
 single or general, it is stern, English hand to hand fighting by the 
 heady currents of which we are swept along, till we almost bet 
 the odds, and clap our hands with excitement, as the blows are 
 struck or the charges are delivered and sustained. By the aid of 
 Shakspeare I can see the burly form of Ajax, in action or repose as, 
 distinctly as I can see Shaw the Life Guardsman. Hector's plume 
 is as much a reality to me as General Doyle's, and Astyanax, intro- 
 duced by the Bard of Avon, is a genuine English Baby. 
 
 But wherever he wafts us it is the same. We revel in the warm 
 .iir of Cyprus and drink the Greek wine with Cassio — we float 
 down the Nile with Cleopatra — or stand upon the blasted heath 
 with Macbeth ; and our difficulty is not so much to realize the 
 scene as to get back to full possession of our identity, and to be 
 sure that we are not a part of it. 
 
 Of the Dramas which are not simply historical but " of imagi- 
 nation all compact," I have left myself no time to speak. But 
 what could I say if I had the whole afternoon ? Volumes have 
 been written about them, and the sul)ject is still fresh and new. 
 
 "To gild refined gold, to paint the lily or add a perfume to the 
 violet," we have warrant for believing " is wasteful and ridiculous 
 
 excess." All I will say is, that from boyhood upwards these great 
 masterpieces have been a study and a delight. They have own 
 
 me from the distraction of State cares when these were most per- 
 plexing — they have charmed the evil spirit out of me often when 
 
24 
 
 I 'j 
 
 I I 
 
 I would have hurled a javelin or launched a sarcasm. Their 
 harmonies have interlaced the wildest discords, and lent a silver 
 edging to the darkest clouds of a somewhat stormy life. 
 
 Shakspeare's minor poems would form a charming subject for a 
 separate paper. They are less known than his Dramas, but are 
 not less deserving of constant study by all who desire to compre- 
 hend the whole scope of the great Artist's power, or who desire to 
 enjoy the melifluous sweetness and flexibility of " our land's la^' 
 guage." 
 
 But it may be asked, of what use are these celebrations ? They 
 have many uses. Wherever God, for his own wise purposes, has 
 endowed a human being with great powers, and these have been 
 wisely used, it behoves us reverently to discern and to acknow- 
 ledge the Divine aflSatus. It is becoming and proper also that we 
 should offer up the tribute of grateful hearts to the mighty dead 
 whose works live after them. More people have seen Shakspeare's 
 Dramas acted than now inhabit the British Islands; and millions, 
 who have perhaps never entered a theatre, have yet read his 
 works with infinite instruction and delight. Is it too much, then, 
 to dedicate one day in three centuries to mutual felicitations for 
 this especial gift ? The bird, that hangs by our casement, charms 
 us twenty times a week by his sweet notes to involuntary grati- 
 tude to the Creator, who smoothed his plumage and made his voice 
 so clear ; and shall we not be thankful for that sweet Songster, 
 whose music has been throughout life a solace and an inspiration ? 
 Oh ! yes, ingratitude was the sin by which the angels fell ; and if, 
 as a people, we would prosper or aspire, let us not be ungrateful. 
 
 If it be permitted to the Bard of Avon to look down upon the 
 earth this day, he will see his " sea- walled garden" not only secure 
 
 from intrusion, but every foot of it embellished with all that wealth 
 
 can accumulate or art display. But he will see more — he will see 
 
 her "happy breed of men" covering the seas and planting the 
 
 universe ; rearing free communities in every quarter of the globe ; 
 
 I 
 
25 
 
 rheir 
 silver 
 
 for a 
 at are 
 mpre- 
 sire to 
 's \aJ^' 
 
 They 
 3s, has 
 e been 
 cknow- 
 ,hat we 
 iy dead 
 jpeare's 
 lillions, 
 ^ad his 
 then, 
 ons for 
 charms 
 y grati- 
 js voice 
 Dngater, 
 
 iration ? 
 and if, 
 tcrateful. 
 
 pon the 
 y secure 
 
 t wealth 
 
 will see 
 
 ting the 
 
 e globe ; 
 
 creating a literature which every year enriches ; and moulding her 
 
 institutions to the easy government of countless millions by the 
 light of large experience. He will see more. He will see the 
 three klnrrJoms, hostile or disjointed at hi.s death, united by 
 mutual interests, and forming together a great centre of power 
 and dominion ; bound in mutual harmony and dependence by net- 
 works of iron roads and telegraphic communications, and by linca 
 of floating palaces connecting thorn with every part of the world. 
 He will behold, wielding the sceptre of this wide dominion, a Lady 
 to whom his own pancgeric on his great Patroness, may, without 
 
 flattery, be applied — 
 
 Slu' sl.all l)c 
 A pattern to all priiu-es living- with her, 
 And all that sliall sueeeod. Slieba was never 
 More covetous of wisdom and fair virtue 
 Than this pure soul shull he. All ])rineel3' graces 
 That mould up such a rni«^iity ])ieco as this is, 
 Witii all the virtues that attend the good, 
 HhiiW still he doubled on her. Truth shall nurse her, 
 »She shall be loved and I'eared ; her own shall blesb her; 
 Her foes shall be like a field of l)eaten corn, 
 And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her : 
 In her days every man shall eat in safety. 
 Under his own vine what he ])lants. and sing 
 The merry songs of peace to all hi-* neighbors. 
 God shall l>e truly known ; and tl.ose about her 
 From her shall read the perfect ways of honor, 
 And b}' those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
 
 He will see no barren virgin on the Throne, but a Queen 
 whose children are to embellish the courts of Europe, and to 
 whose bright succession there is a princely Heir in whom all hia 
 mother's graces and his father's virtues are combined. 
 
 Seeing all this, and knowing that the races, by whom this 
 Throne is upheld, have lived upon his thoughts and more than 
 realized his patriotic prophecies, it is fitting also that Shakspearo 
 ehould know that his intellectual supremacy is acknowledged — 
 that, as civilization widens his fame extends; and that, committed 
 to the keeping of an enterprising and energetic people, his memory 
 will follow the course of Empire till time shall be no more!