Of Germans Shakespeare had but little occasion to speak. In "The Merchant of Venice" and in " Othello "he alludes to their love of drink, but has finally to admit that the English were their masters in the art; and, as is well known, the Danes and Dutch are referred to as their equals in this. Drunkenness and immoderate eating were a general custom in those days, throughout northern and central Europe, and accordingly the Germans need not be specially found fault with in this respect; indeed they may be the more readily reconciled to the accusation as, in the opposite scales, we have the noble testimony (uttered by the landlord of the Garter Inn, in "The Merry Wives," iv. 5), that "Germans are honest men!"

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And now to summarize. In making objectivity the basis of our inquiry into Shakespeare's character-and in his case objec tivity, as is universally admitted, reaches its climax-we obtain a foundation upon which an incomparably safer estimate of the poet's character can be based than upon an examination of a number of quotations from his works, and, as a logical se quence, we also obtain a view of his relation to positive religion as well as to the State. Shakespeare stood above the dogmatic and confessional idea of religion, as well as above all political theories; the very fact that the clergy have arrived at such different, nay, opposite conclusions regarding Shakespeare's religious sentiments from an examination of his works, may be considered a proof of their inadequacy and inaccuracy. It is scarcely likely that there will ever be unanimity on this point among Shakespearean commentators, for nothing is more obstinate than religious belief. All the more pleasant i it is to know that, with but few exceptions, there is more unanimity among critics with regard to the sublime and unchanging ethical principles which so largely pervade Shakespeare's works that no other poet can surpass him in this. Hence the praise which has, for this reason, been lavished upon the poet from the most varied quarters may unhesi tatingly be acknowledged as perfectly justified. Short-sighted commentators have, it is true, been affrighted at the ribaldries and obscenities which—in accordance with the custom, or rather the bad custom of the day-occupy a conspicuous part in the dialogues of the poet's dramatic characters, and frequently

1 See p. 146.

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serve the poet with an opportunity for a display of his brilliant wit. But, objectionable as these may be to the feelings of propriety in our age, two things we must bear in mind: in the first place, they are a characteristic peculiarity of his day, and not a feature peculiar to Shakespeare; in the second place, for this very reason they are in him the mere shell, not the kernel. Those who are unable to see through this shell, had therefore better not take up Shakespeare's works, or use some family edition of the poet's works. We are here reminded of a simile which Alcibiades makes use of, in Plato's Symposium, of his teacher Socrates, viz., that he resembled one of the Sileni, whose outward forms conceal the divine image. This divine image in Shakespeare's poetry is altogether independent of every form of ecclesiastical belief, of every political party, of every kind of nationality, and of every period of time; in imperishable brilliancy it throws its light upon all future ages. That the aesthetic and ethical greatness of Shakespeare, charms and captivates the followers of every religious creed, and of every political body, without exception, seems, in fact, an important corroboration of our conception of his character. But Shakespeare not only proclaims that virtue is beauty;' from all we know of his life, and can infer, he honestly and conscientiously endeavoured to live up to his own ideal, and, to the best of his powers, to realize his own ideal of humanity in himself-unlike those ungracious pastors of whom Ophelia says that they show a steep and thorny path to heaven, while they themselves wander on the flowery path of pleasure. Of this we have testimony in his extraordinary love of truth, which certainly cannot have been less conspicuous in his life than in his poetry. Shakespeare was assuredly one of the truest and most genuine of human beings; truthfulness, in its deepest and most ideal significance, was a fundamental trait in his nature, and if there is any one virtue to which he gives unmistakable precedence, it is to truthfulness. His resemblance to Walter Scott in this point also must not pass unnoticed. Nothing arouses Shakespeare's wrath like hypocrisy, untruthfulness, want of sincerity, affectation, falsehood and deception, and crooked ways. How his spirit is aroused, for instance, at women wearing false hair and using paint; these things are an abomination to him. And while he almost loses sight 1 In Twelfth Night, iii. 4.

2 Hamlet, i. 3; King John, conclusion.

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of his objectivity in describing false characters-who fall victims to their own deceitfulness and hypocrisy, as in the case of Osric-so conversely, notwithstanding all his objectivity, he shows unmistakable signs of delight in sterling, genuine cha. racters who discountenance a false semblance, as, for instance, in the case of his Henry V., and of Portia, a girl thoroughly after his own heart. To be true to oneself the poet considers the highest ideal, the best safeguard against aberration of mind, and as the surest path towards moral progress. Polonius says: "To thine own self be true and it must follow, the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.' Nay, this being true to oneself is even made a duty of the country itself; and, according to Sonnet 123, fidelity and truth act as a safeguard against the scythe of time. Hence we may all the more unhesitatingly regard sincerity and natural truthfulness to be the main feature in Shakespeare's poetry, at least in his dramatic poetry, for he has himself unequivocally termed these the aim and final goal of art. Accordingly, if it is everywhere Shakespeare's endeavour in poetry and art to develop and to represent the truest and noblest form of humanity, can we believe that his life belied his art? We have not the smallest internal or external evidence for any such supposition; in fact, all the existing indications point to the reverse, viz., that the poet's life was in perfect harmony with the fundamental principles and the character of his poetry. And yet, assuredly, Shakespeare was no more entirely faultless in his life and work than any other human being, more especially in the storm and stress period of his youth; unquestionably the passions which he has described in such an unapproachable and masterly way must have rankled in his own breast; yet he has never endeavoured to appear better than he was, and everything points to the fact that he succeeded in freeing himself from the fetters of his passions, and by an ennobling system of purification rose above the temptations of sensuality. We can therefore fully and cordially agree with Gervinus when he praises Shakespeare as one of the most admirable and most trustworthy guides through life; assuredly he who follows Shakespeare with a correct appreciation will neither stumble nor go astray. But it is not to the individual only to whom Shakespeare may be a guide through life, he is also the guiding star to humanity. And if man is to be judged by the fruit of his work, then

scarcely any other writer can be put by the side of Shakespeare; for he has now, for more than 300 years, scattered golden seeds over the widest field that ever poet has commanded, nay, it may be said, over the whole realm of humanity, and the harvest of this work keeps coming in, in fuller quantities, from decade to decade. There is scarcely any other poet whose works, in so great a measure, have passed over into the intellectual as well as the ethical life of humanity, or exercised so enduring an influence upon it, as Shakespeare's. Just as the waters of a mighty stream are perceptible far off in their course after joining the mighty ocean, so the spirit of Shakespeare-to a greater extent than that of any other man-still shows a distinct existence in the mighty ocean of human life.

IN

CHAPTER VIII.

RETIREMENT TO STRATFORD, AND DEATH.

N speaking of Shakespeare's retirement to Stratford, we must guard against the error of regarding it as a complete withdrawal from public life; his retirement was merely a comparative one-merely, as it were, an alteration of the central point of gravity. For even though we did not possess any undoubted proofs of the fact, it would surely be no unwarrantable supposition to assume that Shakespeare made repeated journeys from Stratford to London, and that he resided there from time to time, in the same way that, as a younger man, he had travelled from London to Stratford for a longer or shorter stay. The object of Shakespeare's removal to Stratford was clearly the result of his wish to withdraw entirely from the stage and to lead the life of a gentleman; this it would have been impossible for him to do in London. Not only was the low social position of an actor's life objectionable to him, but, like Sir Walter Scott, Shakespeare may very possibly have had his doubts whether a literary life was compatible with the life of a gentleman; Scott, at all events, did his best to conceal the fact that he was an author, and withdrew to Abbotsford as often as he could, to lead the life of a country gentleman. The date of Shakespeare's retirement to Stratford is as little certain, nay, even less certain than the date upon which he quitted his native town as a young man, and the combinations and conjectures made with regard to it are scarcely able to bridge over this gap in our knowledge. After the beginning of the seventeenth century, if not earlier, Shakespeare, although still residing in London at the time, regarded Stratford as his home and as the place in which he ultimately intended to reside. This is obvious, not only from his continued acquisition of property in Stratford, but more evident still from the deeds of conveyance of May, 1602, July, 1605, and March, 1612-13, in which he is called "Wil