happily, you are living, and I flatter my-pause at the sacramental syllables and thus give the public to understand This adroit manœuvre of Voltaire, who was more anxious about his own laurels than about those of Corneille and Racine, needs no qualification. It is obvious from the above quotations, and from his correspondence on this subject in general, that he attached all the importance to the faults and coarsenesses of Shakespeare, and never pretended to remark his beau ties. Some of the passages of these letters appear to have been too violent, for on August 4, D'Alembert replied, advising Voltaire to moderate himself both in his citations and in his attacks against the At last the great day came. In a sigtranslator. Voltaire himself was too ill to nificant letter written a day or two before come and read his factum, and so that the event, D'Alembert wrote to Voltaire duty fell upon his friend D'Alembert, to as follows: "At last, my dear master, the whom he wrote on August 10: "With re- battle has begun, the signal has been gard to the turpitudes that it is necessary given. Either Shakespeare or Racine to make known to the public, and to the must remain on the field. . . . I shall coarse words of the English mob which cry on Sunday as I mount to the charge, ought not to be heard at the Louvre,Vive Saint Denis Voltaire, et meure would it be a bad idea to skip the word in George Shakespeare!"' reading, and thus make the public wish that it had been pronounced, in order that the divine Shakespeare might have been seen in all his horror and incredible lowness? If it happens to be you who deign to read, you will manage to get out of the difficulty, which after all is piquant enough.' A few days later he announces to M. de Vaines the forthcoming séance of the Academy: "On the 25th of this month, monsieur, I fight en champ clos under the standard of M. d'Alembert against Pierrot Letourneur, squire of Gilles Shakespeare. I repeat my prayer that you will be present at this fine feat of arms." The next day the indefatigable Voltaire again takes up the pen to excite La Harpe: 66 Courage! courage! my dear colleague. M. d'Alembert and your other friends are, methinks, doing patriotic and meritorious work in daring to defend, in full Academy, Sophocles, Corneille, Euripides, and Racine against Gilles Shakespeare and Pierrot Letourneur. My principal intention and the true aim of my work is to instruct the public thoroughly as to all the excess of infamous baseness which people dare to oppose to the majesty of our stage. It is clear that this infamy can only be made known by literally translating the rough words of the delicate Shakespeare. M. d'Alembert will not stop to utter these words before the ladies. but he can In the first of these famous letters Voltaire characterizes Shakespeare's pieces as monstrous farces; he expresses his indignation at the fact that such productions should have been translated and their author styled "divine." He goes on to state his task, which is to destroy the influence of Shakespeare; he employs all his efforts to demonstrate that this "god of tragedy," as he derisively names him, is full of vulgarity, abounding in coarseness, swarming with quolibets, Punch and Judy jokes, and porter's slang. These are Voltaire's own expressions. As for proofs, he picks out certain phrases and expressions and avoids passing any general judgment on Shakespeare's works. He takes Macbeth," "Othello," and "Henry V.," and quotes only those passages in which the populace, servants, or soldiers appear; and as Shakespeare was realist enough not to make all his characters speak the polished language of the court, Voltaire has no difficulty in finding ground for his flippant sarcasm. What! Shakespeare a model? Shakespeare the perfecter of the dramatic art and the creator of the theatre in England? As for the old question of the unities, that had already been discussed between Voltaire and Lamotte; Saint Denis Voltaire can only give as a reason for maintaining them the fact that the Greeks and Italians observed them. In conclusion, he cries, proud and triumphant, triumphant," Judge now, ous master, was to have left for Ferney courts of Europe, academicians of all early yesterday morning: he intended to countries, well-educated men, and men of run a few post-horses to death in order to taste in all countries! I will go even be the first to bring you the news of your further and dare to ask justice of the success. It was all that you could desire. queen of France, of our princesses, of Your reflections gave much pleasure, and the daughter of so many heroes who know were very much applauded. . . . I need how heroes ought to speak." Such is the not tell you that the English who were substance of the first letter. The second there left very dissatisfied, and even a opens with these audacious words: "Mes- few Frenchmen who, not content with sieurs, I have faithfully laid before your being beaten by land and by sea, wished tribunal the subject of the quarrel between that we should also be beaten on the France and England. No one certainly stage. . . . I read your discourses with respects more than I do the great men all the zeal and interest that the good that that island has produced, and I have cause inspires and, I may add, with all given enough proofs of my sentiments. the interest of my vanity; for I was deThe truth, which cannot be disguised termined not to let this cannon miss fire from you, orders me to avow that this when I undertook to put the fuse to it. I Shakespeare, wild and absurd as he was, regret very much the slight omissions had sparks of genius." Lope de Vega, that had to be made in order to avoid who lived at the same epoch in Spain, was, scandalizing devout people and the ladies; he continues, like Shakespeare, a mixture but what I was able to preserve raised of grandeur and extravagance. Voltaire much, laughter and contributed largely, then traces in language of studied mod- as I had hoped, to win the battle." eration a sketch of the history of the Shakespeare, however, did not lack destage in France and England, but soon the note of depreciation again predominates, and Shakespeare is placed on a level with Thespis. Still, fearing to go too far, Voltaire adds that "such was the genius of Shakespeare that this Thespis was sometimes a Sophocles." He ends by declaring that it lies with the Academy to decide whether the French nation is to abandon the old classical path in order to see the stage polluted with the presence of murderers, porters, witches, buffoons, and drunken priests; whether the court, that had been so long renowned for its politeness and taste, is to be changed to Garrick, Madame Necker adds that into a beer-shop. This systematically prejudiced and depreciatory discourse ends with the following witty but inconclusive 66 scene: 'Imagine, messieurs, Louis XIV. in his gallery at Versailles, surrounded by his brilliant court; a Gilles. covered with rags, penetrates the crowd of heroes, great men, and beauties who compose that court; he proposes to them to abandon Corneille, Racine, and Molière for a mountebank who has happy sallies and who excels in contortions. How do you think that this offer would be received?" The success of Voltaire's factum was of no slight importance. As D'Alembert had said, either Shakespeare or Racine must remain on the field. Voltaire's anxiety to know the result was accordingly very great. D'Alembert writes as follows in a letter dated August 27: "M. le Marquis de Villevieille, my dear and illustri fenders, and the battle went on with more or less violence until Voltaire's death. Madame Necker wrote to Garrick in October, 1776, informing him that Voltaire and some other French wits had taken advantage of his momentary retirement from the stage to endeavor to dethrone Shakespeare. "As for myself," she writes, "it is in vain that people try to show me errors of taste or even of judgment in this author. I always reply, You have only seen his corpse; I have seen him when the soul animated his body." After this elegant compliment Mrs. Montagu had been kind enough to carry two pots of almond paste and a little bag of sweetmeats, which she took the liberty to present to Madame Garrick. Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu was, in all prob ability, present at the séance of the Academy when Voltaire's discourses were read, and she appears to have at once set to work to write her "Apology for Shakespeare," which was translated into French and published at Paris in 1777. Mrs. Montagu's "Essay on the Genius of Shakespeare " (published in 1769) had in some way been the occasion of Voltaire's letters to the Academy. The English writers have naturally many allusions to the controversy, and Fréron, the most obstinate and sarcastic critic of Voltaire, translates in his "Année Littéraire" (1769) a long article from the London Evening Post, entitled "Parallèle de Shakespeare et des poètes dramatiques grecs et français, avec quelques remarques sur les jugements faux portés par M. de Voltaire." This article itself might very well have come from the pen of Mrs. Montagu. The Chevalier Rutlidge, an Irish officer in Fitzjames' regi. ment, author of the "Bureau d'Esprit," a lively skit on Madame Geoffrin and her coterie, also took up the cudgels in the cause of Shakespeare, and wrote a pamphlet, entitled "Observations à Messieurs de l'Académie Française au sujet d'une lettre de M. de Voltaire" (Paris, 1776), which is not remarkable for its moderate and courteous tone, however good its reasoning may be. Another defender of Shakespeare was Joseph Baretti, who wrote a violent and badly expressed "Discours sur Shakespeare et sur M. de Voltaire" (London: Nourse, 1777). This Baretti was a friend and correspondent of Garrick, Burke, and Johnson, who carried their friendship so far as to bear evidence as to his good character when he was tried and acquitted on a capital charge in consequence of a street brawl in which he had been involuntarily involved. He was secretary for the foreign correspondence of the Royal Academy and the author of an English-Italian dictionary which is still used. La Harpe, who was of course a classicist and a fair representative of the unreformed taste of that period, and at the same time a friend of Voltaire, calls Baretti a sort of madman (une espèce de fou). In one passage Baretti says that he would give one of his fingers to have written the single rôle of Caliban in "The Tempest." "Ces sophismes," writes La Harpe, "de trois ou quatre énergumènes qui s'efforcent de mettre leur Shakespeare au-dessus des Sophocles et des Euripides, des Corneille et des Racine, sont au nombre des extravagances de l'esprit humain." Fréron sums up the merits of the case of Voltaire v. Shakespeare in his report of the séance of the Academy at which Voltaire's letter was read.* "Mais, en vérité, à quoi pense donc Monsieur d'Alembert? Auroit-il sérieusement pris à tâche de couvrir de ridicule mon pauvre ami de Ferney et de le faire siffler dans ses vieux jours?" Such," writes Fréwas the reflection of a grave military man as he came out of the Academy after hearing this famous letter read. Indeed, sir, the gall, the indecency, and the scurrility of this diatribe against Shakespeare are hardly to be pardoned to the ron, 66 * Année Littéraire, 1776, vol. vi. old age of M. de Voltaire." Fréron attributes very justly Voltaire's bitterness to his wounded amour propre. The Comte de Catuélan, Letourneur, and FontaineMalherbe had dared to translate the works of Shakespeare and to write a preface of one hundred and thirty pages without saying a single word in praise of Voltaire. The copy of the work destined for Ferney arrived without the usual literary passport. It was badly received; the master of the château flew into a rage, rang violently for one of his secretaries, and dictated his diatribe on the spot. Grimm was more charitable, but perhaps not so near the truth, when he said that Voltaire had spoken evil of Shakespeare, after having been his admirer, in order to prevent others from attempting what they could not have done with such adroitness as he, and therefore he says, "C'est peutêtre encore une très-bonne œuvre." Whatever may have been Voltaire's motives, he remained firm in his new opinions about Shakespeare to his dying day. The English tourists and pilgrims who visited him at Ferney wasted their pains in trying to make the patriarch of letters modify his sentence on their national poet. "One night at Ferney," wrote Moore, "when the conversation turned upon the genius of Shakespeare, Voltaire declaimed against the impropriety and absurdity of introducing into tragedy vulgar characters and a low and crawling dialogue; he cited several instances where our poet had offended against this rule, even in his most touching pieces. A gentleman of the company, a zealous admirer of Shakespeare, observed, while seeking to excuse our celebrated compatriot, that although his characters were taken from amongst the people, they were none the less taken from nature." Voltaire's reply might perhaps be thought coarse by modern ears. It suffices to say that it gave a reason for wearing breeches, and that it may be found in Moore's "View of Society and Manners in France, Switzerland, and Germany." * The eccentric Martin Sherlock, chaplain to the Bishop of Derry, paid a visit to Voltaire in April, 1776, just before the curious incident that we have just been considering. He was not yet lashed into a state of fury by Letourneur's translation, and contented himself, as Sherlock puts it, "with saying many horrible things against Moses and Shakespeare." On another occasion, as they were visiting * London, 1779, vol. i., p. 275. the library at Ferney, Sherlock, who was | Shakespeare ni à l'Apollon du Belvédère a bit of a tuft-hunter, flattered the patri- ni au Gladiateur, ni à Antinoüs, ni à l'Herarch by speaking to him of his aristo- cule de Glycon, mais au Saint-Christophe cratic English acquaintances. Sherlock de Notre-Dame, colosse informe, grossiremarked casually that Lord Bolingbroke èrement sculpté, mais dans les jambes and Voltaire were at one on this point duquel nous passerions tous sans que that the English had not a single good notre front touchât ses parties hontragedy. "That is true," Voltaire re- teuses." plied; "Cato' is excellently written; Addison had much taste, but the abyss between taste and genius is immense. Shakespeare had astonishing genius, but no taste; he spoilt the taste of the nation; he has been their taste for two hundred years; and that which has been the taste of a nation for two hundred years will be their taste for two thousand: that taste becomes a religion, and there are in that country many fanatical worshippers of that author." In the same conversation Voltaire put, as clearly as it could be put, the real state of the question of the comparative merits of the English and French dramatic authors. Sherlock observed that the English preferred Corneille to Racine. "That," replied Voltaire, "is because the English do not know enough of the French tongue to feel the beauties of the language of Racine and the harmony of his versification: Corneille pleases them more because he is more striking; but Racine pleases the French because he has more sweetness and tenderness." One day, in 1778, Voltaire and Diderot were discussing things in general at the Hôtel de Villette, the very house in which Voltaire died. Shortly afterwards the conversation turned upon Shakespeare. "Ah! monsieur," exclaimed Voltaire violently, "can you prefer a monster devoid of taste to Virgil, to Racine? I would as lief that we should abandon the Apollo Belvedere for the Saint-Christophe of Notre Dame." Diderot remained discountenanced and embarrassed for a moment, then "But what would you say, monsieur, if you saw that immense SaintChristophe walking and coming forward in the streets with his limbs and colossal stature?" This Saint-Christophe was a gigantic statue, a kind of colussus, that had been placed in the nave of NotreDame by Antoine des Essarts, chamberlain of Charles VII. It disappeared in 1784 before the Revolution broke out. We quote the words of Voltaire to show that he cherished his animosity against Shakespeare up to the very last, for he died on May 30, 1778. As for the comparison that Voltaire employed, it was afterwards admirably worked up by Diderot, who said: "Moi, je ne comparerai DON JOHN thus announced his sister's and his own safe arrival at Edinburgh :"DEAREST NAOMI, "We reached our destination last night just as it was getting dusk. Grandmother is not at all grown. "I am much impressed with the magnificence of this city. The streets are fine, the populace polite, and the various methods of locomotion, omnibuses, cabs, tram-cars, etc., are admirably arranged, and convey the traveller cheaply and expeditiously in every direction. The view from Arthur's Seat is remarkably fine, as is also that from Salisbury Crags. I will not expatiate on the prospect from the ancient castle, its reputation is European. "I am writing before breakfast, and have not yet quitted the house since my arrival. Immediately after breakfast, I propose to do so, in order to view the various objects which I have so graphically described. I trust, my dear girl, that they may be found to justify the terms in which I have spoken of them. With this ramble I shall combine a visit to the railway terminus in search of Marjorie's luggage, which I left behind at King's Cross. Grandmother appeared to think this strange, but I reminded her that we are all subject to the laws of averages, and as, on an average, half a box per thousand of all that this railway carries is left behind, lost, or delayed, and somebody must be owner of that half-box, she ought not to be surprised if that somebody proved to be her granddaughter. She said that as Marjorie had three boxes, and had lost them all, her average was rather high. A truly feminine answer, which shows that she did not understand the question. Ah! I see a railway van coming up with those three boxes in it. Yes, the luggage is come. "Best love to father and mother and all that he could enjoy in his native country. of you. "Your affectionate brother, That night Leslie thought a good deal of Estelle's eldest son; he was much disappointed to find him away; his letter the next morning presented him in a rather unexpected light. "Is that your boy's usual style of writJohnstone?" he inquired. Yes, I think it is; he is a dear, good fellow, but quite a character, and he always had naturally a whimsical way of looking at things.' When Naomi read this letter aloud at the breakfast-table, one more person listened to it than Don John had counted on. Captain Leslie was present, a sun-ing, burned, stooping man, very hoarse, very grave, and very thin. He had called on Mr. Johnstone the day before in London, and when he found that he was not recognized, it appeared to hurt his feelings very much. But he was so much changed by climate and illness, that when he had been invited "to come down and see Estelle," Mr. Johnstone carefully telegraphed to his wife of the expected arrival, lest she also should meet him as a stranger. He was a distant cousin of Mrs. Johnstone's, hence the use of the Christian name. When he had seen his first and only love with her children about her, in a happy English, home, and looking, to his mind, more beautiful than ever, when he had heard the cordial sweetness of her greeting, such a glow of tender admiration comforted him for long absence, such a sense of being for at least the fortnight they had named to him delightfully at home, that his old self woke up in him; isolation on staff duties, irritating heat, uncongenial companions, exile, illness, all appeared to recede. He had thought of his life excepting his religious life-as an irretrievable failure; but for that first evening he felt strangely young. He was very stiff, and when he reared himself up, his own iron-gray head, seen in the glass, confronted him, and appeared for the moment to be the only evidence about him of the time that had passed. Estelle was a little different, but it was an advantageous difference, motherhood was so infinitely becoming to her; and as for Donald, he took the honors of his place so quietly that the old bachelor and unsuccessful lover did not grudge them to him as he had done at first. He spoke but little to his wife, being even then aware that the old love in Leslie's heart was as intense as ever. With a keen perception of everything said and done in the presence of Estelle, Leslie felt that her husband scarcely looked at her; but he could not know the deep pity with which his successful rival regarded him, what a short lease of life he appeared to him to have; how little, as he supposed, there was yet left "I am glad the luggage has arrived," observed Mrs. Johnstone; "but is it quite fair, Donald, to speak of our boy as an oddity?" "My dear," exclaimed her husband, "I wish him to be what pleases you; but I have thought of him as an oddity ever since he was six years old, when he said of the cook on his birthday, 'She put my cake in the oven, and it rose ambrosial as Venus rose from the sea."" "It was clever of him,” said little Mary, "for he had not been to a cooking-class as I have." Leslie smiled. "And Don John invented Fetch, you know, mother," observed Naomi, “and Fanny Fetch and the minutes." Mrs. Johnstone made no reply, but Leslie had a real motive for wanting to investigate Don John's nature and the character he bore at home; so after breakfast, when left alone with the girls, he easily got them to talk of him, and at the end of less than a week he was quite intimate with them, made welcome to a place at the playroom tea, treated to Charlotte's opinions on things in general, consulted by her as to her poetry, and even allowed to read selected portions of the minutes. These abundantly bore out his father's opinion that he was a character; but Leslie made one mistake about Don John at once, for finding how many of the papers consisted of criticisms on Charlotte's opinions, remarks on her behavior, or counsels to her on her literary productions, he jumped to the conclusion that Don John must needs be half in love already with the beautiful little cousin ; he wondered whether Estelle knew it, and he forthwith began to take a keener interest in Charlotte also for his sake. The girls liked him; little Mary loved him, "though he almost always talked," she said, "as if it was Sunday." He had not been in the house ten days before he was in the confidence of all the |