Shakespeare, as you know, wrote plays. Here is the story of one of these plays: Prospero, an old man, and his daughter, Miranda, a very beautiful girl, lived alone on an island in the sea far from any known land. Their only dwelling was a cell made in a rock; probably the cell was really a cave in the rock. Now Prospero was a duke in exile, the Duke of Milan in Italy, and Miranda was a princess, his only child.
Prospero was a very clever man and a great student. He had had in Milan a younger brother, Antonio, to whom he trusted all his affairs so that he might give his time wholly to study. Prospero's special study was magic. Shakespeare wrote this play very early in the seventeenth century: The Tempest, therefore, is more than three hundred years old.
Antonio conspired against his brother Prospero, and in this conspiracy he was aided by the King of Naples. Prospero and Miranda, then a baby, were kidnapped, carried on board a ship and later cast adrift in a small boat. Finally, the sea carried them to this island. A kind nobleman, Gonzalo, had concealed on the little boat, water, food, clothing and some books, which were Prospero's books of magic.
Prospero and Miranda lived for years on the island. During this time her father took care of Miranda and educated her. Now the island was an enchanted island which had been placed under a spell by a witch called Sycorax, who had died shortly before Prospero and Miranda came to the island, leaving a son who was a misshapen dwarf called Caliban. Prospero found this dwarf, and tried to teach him how to speak and how to do useful work, but Caliban was not able to learn much. Perhaps he was not very willing to learn.
The witch Sycorax, before she died, had imprisoned in trees on the island many good spirits, because they would not obey her commands; since they were gentle spirits and Sycorax had tried to get them to do cruel and wicked deeds. Prospero found these good spirits and released them from their prisons. The chief of these spirits was Ariel. You will love Ariel very much when you read about him in the play.
Now we have the island, Prospero and Miranda, Ariel and a host of other gentle spirits, and Caliban, whose only idea of God was that there was something more powerful than he was himself. But Caliban thought his god must be cruel, hard and unkind as well as strong, since he did not know any better. This idea he had of a god he called Setebos.
Prospero was able to work magic. Three hundred years ago some people believed in magic. Prospero, since he was a good man, never wanted to work anything but good with his magic; and he used Ariel and the other gentle spirits whom he had released from prison to carry out his commands. The Tempest, you will understand by this time, is a good deal like what we call a fairy tale. But fairy tales are lovely things.
The King of Naples, his son Ferdinand, Antonio, who had usurped his brother's place as Duke of Milan, and a number of noblemen, including kind Gonzalo, when the play begins had been on a voyage on a ship. Prospero by his magic raised a great storm, and commanded Ariel to bring the ship to the island where it was to be shipwrecked, but everyone on board was to be brought to shore safe and unharmed.
Prospero's plan was that Ferdinand, who was an admirable young prince, and his dear and beautiful daughter Miranda, should fall in love with one another. Further, he planned by this shipwreck that Antonio should be punished and he himself restored to the Dukedom of Milan. In the play, we see and hear all these things happening. Prospero's plans are carried out exactly as he directed. Ferdinand and Miranda find each other so beautiful and attractive that at first sight they fall in love. Antonio is confronted with his wrong doing. Gonzalo finds reward and praise. Prospero is again Duke of Milan, buries his books and magic garment and gives up magic forever. The king of Naples repents his misdoing, and is only too happy for his son Ferdinand to marry Miranda. And most joyous of all these happenings, the gentle Ariel and his companions, having served Prospero well, regain full liberty, and fly away to wander free in islands where beautiful trees and flowers grow, there to live happy all the long day.
We cannot help wondering how Shakespeare came to write this play about a far away, unknown, enchanted island. It is almost certain that people have been able to make a very good guess at the origin of the story. The Tempest was written in 1610 or 1611. In 1609, a British fleet, commanded by Sir George Somers, which had sailed for the new plantation of Jamestown in Virginia, met a great storm in the West Indies. The Admiral's ship, the Sea-Venture, was driven on the coast of one of the unknown Bermuda Isles. The sailors had to stay there for ten months. Finally, they escaped in two boats which they made out of cedar logs, and in these boats they managed to reach Virginia. When these sailors returned to London in 1610, there was great excitement; one person would report to another their marvellous stories. The island had been over-run with wild pigs, and the sailors said they had heard odd noises. Therefore, they concluded that the island was enchanted. Shakespeare, who was writing his wonderful plays at the time, is likely to have heard these stories; and he made use of the sailors' tales of enchantment in a strange, beautiful, fairy-like play.
Shakespeare's plays are printed, so that we can read them in books. They are also, of course, acted in theatres. Some of you may have seen one of Shakespeare's plays, or more than one, acted on a stage. As you grow older, you will have opportunities, let us hope, to see great actors in Shakespeare's plays. For, since the plays are so great themselves, they can only be acted properly by great actors. You can always read these plays in books, however; and some of Shakespeare's plays seem almost better when they are read than when they are acted. The reason for this is that we can imagine scenes more vividly sometimes than we can see them when other people try to show them to us.
One of the best ways to read Shakespeare is to take a scene from one of his plays, such as the Casket scene in The Merchant of Venice, assign the characters to different people, boys and girls, or men and women, and then read the scene aloud, each character speaking in his turn. You will enjoy the reading better if someone first tells the complete story of the play.
The whole world highly regards, and very many people dearly love, Shakespeare's plays. There are many of them. Some of the plays to choose first for reading are, The Merchant of Venice, Julius Caesar, scenes from A Midsummer Night's Dream, from As You Like It, Romeo and Juliet and Twelfth Night. How delightful you will find the fairy scenes in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and the scenes in the forest from As You Like It.
Julius Caesar is a political play. Politics, as you know, is one of the great pursuits of men; and more recently, political questions are becoming of importance to women. Politics is not a way to earn one's living, like farming, or being a doctor, or an engineer; but it offers one of the chief avenues by which one may serve one's country. Julius Caesar, besides being a very interesting story, is a splendidly wise and clear picture of how men and women are influenced by political questions and actions.
Shakespeare wrote and put into his plays numbers of very beautiful songs. They are so beautiful and natural that to read them is almost like listening to the song of a bird. In The Tempest you will find Ariel's songs, "Come unto these yellow sands", "Full fathom five thy father lies", and "Where the bee sucks, there suck I". There are songs in A Midsummer Night's Dream. Amiens in As You Like It, sings "Under the greenwood tree", and "Blow, blow, thou winter wind". "It was a lover and his lass" comes near the end of the play. Twelfth Night, too, is rich in songs, "O mistress mine, where are you roaming?", "Come away, come away, death"; the play ends with the inimitable, "When that I was and a little tiny boy".
Shakespeare is as great in the poetry of his plays as he is in their dramatic action. He had the power so to suit his thoughts with words that our minds are filled and enriched with life and beauty. Read Prospero's great speech which you will find in The Tempest, act iv, scene i.
These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
Shakespeare lived at a time when people, as a rule, did not write and print the details of famous men's lives while they were living or soon after their deaths. We know much of the daily lives of such people as Scott and Dickens, and many others like Queen Victoria, Napoleon, Lincoln, Disraeli, Gladstone. But we know comparatively little about Shakespeare, partly because many people during his lifetime thought of him only as a play actor and writer of plays, and partly because there were at that time few books and there was little reading. Incidents of history and in the lives of men and women were told by older people to their children. These stories were remembered and repeated and served instead of printed books. Such traditional knowledge is sometimes inaccurate, but it is generally interesting, and frequently true.
We know that Shakespeare was born April 22nd or 23rd, 1564, in Stratford-on-Avon, Warwickshire, England. He was baptised on April 26th of that year; his baptism is on record. He died on his birthday, April 23rd, 1616, fifty-two years later.
His father was John Shakespeare, who sold farm produce in Stratford, and his mother was Mary Arden, who came of what are called gentlefolk. He was married in 1582 to Anne Hathaway. They had three children, Susanna, Hamnet and Judith. Susanna later married John Hall, a doctor of medicine; and Judith married Thomas Quiney, a vintner, in the same year that her father died. But Hamnet died in 1596; his death was a heavy grief to Shakespeare.
Shakespeare went to London probably in 1586. The story told by tradition is that he had been poaching on a neighbouring estate belonging to a Sir Thomas Lucy. In any case, he left Stratford and journeyed to London, a small London, very different from the great city of to-day; nevertheless, it must have been an interesting place. Shakespeare acted, and wrote plays. By 1593, he had achieved a noted success. Four years later, 1597, he bought New Place, the finest house in Stratford. At first, he paid a visit there only once a year. Then he left London, and spent his later years in Stratford at New Place. His custom was to write two of his plays each year.
We know something of Shakespeare's character from what his contemporaries said of him. We know what interested him most, and probably what he cared about most, from his plays. He was most frequently called by other people the gentle Shakespeare. For a man of great genius who was busy making wonderful plays, and who could have met few people, if any, who were his intellectual equals, to be called gentle by everyone who knew him is a great tribute to the lovableness of his disposition and the sweetness of his temper. It shows that he must have been courteous, patient and considerate. We know from his writings that he was a well-balanced man. He was genial, and he had a great zest for life.
He seems to have been fond of many different kinds of characters. Men of action, that is, men who do things, and men of thought, whose philosophy and understanding take hold of the facts of life and look deep into their meaning, were equally understood and loved by Shakespeare. How do we know this? We know because he created such thinkers as Hamlet, and his King Richard II, and Macbeth, and such men of action as are in his great historical plays and especially Othello. But we cannot help thinking that Shakespeare loved men of action better and was more devoted to them than he was to those who were thinkers chiefly. A critic named Hazlitt wrote of Shakespeare, "His talent consisted in sympathy with human nature in all its shapes, degrees, depressions and elevations." Sympathy of this kind is not only a great gift, but it is also a very rare one. His universal sympathy is one reason why we admire Shakespeare so much.
There are other facts about Shakespeare's life that we learn from his plays. His youth was brilliant, full of happy exuberance and exaltation, confident and swift. At this time, he wrote such plays as Romeo and Juliet, 1592, the great historical plays, 1592-1594, and again in 1597-1598, A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1594-5, As You Like It, 1599, Twelfth Night, 1600, Julius Caesar, 1600. You do not need to remember these dates, but notice how rapidly one great play follows another.
Shakespeare's full maturity, following youth, begins about 1599. Later than 1600, he wrote such plays as Hamlet, 1602, Othello, 1604, Macbeth, 1606, King Lear, 1607, Anthony and Cleopatra, 1608. These are generally regarded as his greatest plays.
In the last years of his life we can think of him as living at New Place in Stratford, with peace, happiness and tranquility. His young daughter Judith must have been his special, much-loved companion. We imagine that possibly Miranda in The Tempest is like Judith; Shakespeare may have been thinking of himself a little when he wrote some of Prospero's speeches. To this period belong three calm, wise and beautiful plays which were the last that he wrote, Cymbeline, 1610, The Winter's Tale, 1611, and The Tempest, 1611.
Where did Shakespeare obtain his marvelous knowledge of life and people? The answer evidently is, from life itself and from people themselves. He studied people and understood them. His own heart and nature taught him wonderful knowledge. From older people, he heard stories of the Wars of the Roses. These stories undoubtedly gave him his knowledge of warfare, soldiers, battles and politics. He read such books as Holinshed's Chronicles, North's translation of Plutarch's Lives and translations of the choicest Italian novels of the time. He probably had read Chaucer. He was familiar with all the writings, plays, poems, and pamphlets of his contemporaries. The time when Shakespeare lived was one of the greatest ages in the history of the world. He himself makes any age in which he lived a great age; but there were living at that time many other great writers, although not as great as Shakespeare. He therefore must have read much. He almost certainly was one of the people who, as we say, can take the whole heart out of a book at a single reading.
It would be foolish to say that it is easy to read all Shakespeare's plays. Comparatively few people, old or young, can understand them altogether. But to read those plays that one can understand is a very great adventure. We find in them, even if we do not comprehend everything, so much that is worth while, great life, beauty, sweetness, courtesy, benignity, generosity and honour.
There were customs in Shakespeare's day, points of view, judgments and prejudices, which the world has outgrown. We have much to learn still, but the world to-day is a better place than it was in the sixteenth century. We find some things in Shakespeare's plays that grate on us harshly, such as the feeling towards Shylock, the Jew, in The Merchant of Venice.
Shakespeare's greatest gift to us is that he makes us feel and know how wonderful life is. He puts before us in his plays the whole world, and we can look at it and see how beautiful it is. He shows us men and women, and although he wrote long ago people who read his plays to-day find his men and women so interesting that we think ourselves very fortunate if we can see a great actor play Hamlet or a great actress show us the way in which charming Rosalind may have walked and spoken in the forest of Arden. No other writer has ever been able to create such women characters as Shakespeare.
The best and soundest knowledge of Shakespeare comes slowly. It is good to read such speeches in his plays as Brutus' speech in Julius Caesar, Act iv, scene iii, beginning at the words, "There is a tide in the affairs of men". When we have learned that speech, we may turn to other words, such as these in King Henry V:
There is some soul of goodness in things evil,
Would men observingly distil it out.
Remember King Henry's saying; it contains truth which is serviceable to us all.
Such words as these, and hundreds of other lines, are what make Shakespeare, Shakespeare, someone wonderful and lovable who belongs to you and to everyone else.
Here is another of his songs, a sad one this time, but very beautiful, from Cymbeline.
Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou are past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak;
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee and come to dust.
Suppose someone who had never heard of the Bible wanted to know what it was, how could we explain, or describe, its nature and character, most clearly and truly? The meaning of the word Bible is simply the book: the greatest and most important book in the world.
In the first place, the Bible is made up of a number of other books; there are thirty-nine of these books in the Old Testament, and twenty-seven in the New Testament; that is, there are sixty-six books in the Bible altogether.
These parts, or books, are of many different kinds. They contain traditions, histories, genealogies, biographies, songs of victory or love, hymns, psalms, wise sayings, censures and encouragements by the prophets of God, dramas, stories, and essays. In the New Testament, we find the gospel story of Christ; annals, which are a simple form of history; and letters from one person to another or from one person to a church.
Many years ago, some writers used to call the Bible the Divine Library, Bibliotheca Divina; at that time, writing generally was in the Latin language.
The first book in the Bible, Genesis, as you know begins by telling about the creation of the world. The story of the development of mankind spiritually,—-this means in learning to know about God—is pictured for us in all the books of the Bible. Man's knowledge of God grows, from the creation, slowly but steadily, higher and deeper and wider; and we read about this growth in the Bible. Slowly the people of the world lose some of their ignorance of God, and as they learn of God they begin to give up, or as the Bible says, they forsake, their evil practices. For instance, the practice of keeping slaves was once followed in all parts of the known world. Then, presently, men began to see that they could not keep other men as slaves, because a better knowledge of God taught them that all men are brothers. But, even yet, in some parts of the world there are slaves waiting to be freed. Mankind's progress towards God and what is good, told about in the Bible, is still going on.
The revelation of God reaches its consummation in Christ. Now, the Old Testament, from the beginning to the end, is the story of the world being prepared for the coming of Christ; the New Testament tells the story of His coming. We learn from Christ what God truly is.
The Bible tells us of Christ. This is perhaps the clearest and simplest answer to the question as to what the Bible is. The Bible, because it tells us of Christ, is intended for every one. It is printed in many different languages, and read all over the world.
There are many stories in the Bible, both in the Old and New Testaments, which we can find and read for ourselves, interesting and beautiful stories. Probably you have read most of them already, or have heard them read aloud. But, as you know, we like to hear or read a true story many times, and these are true stories. A list of a number of these stories from the Bible is printed at the end of this chapter, with the names of the different books in which we find them, and chapters and verses for each story.
Many of the stories, perhaps most of them, are about boys and girls. But the first on the list is the story of how the world was made. Notice how splendidly the man who wrote the story makes clear that it was God who made the world. Notice too, in the story of the Little Maid, II Kings chap. v, 1-19, what fine people Naaman, the Syrian, and his wife, must have been; the happy relations between them and the people who worked for them are very evident in the story, and indeed are used to help in Naaman's cure.
The list ends with the history of Paul's voyage and shipwreck, a wonderful, true story of the sea.
FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT
THE NEW TESTAMENT
About ten million copies of the Bible are circulated in a year; this means so many copies either are bought, or given to people without payment, yearly. The reason for such a great and constant demand for the Bible by all kinds of people is because they find in it something they need. What they find is spiritual life, life for the soul.
It is interesting to know something about the authorized English translation of the Bible. The books of the Bible, as you know, were not first written in English. Those who wrote the books of the Bible, except possibly in one or two instances, were Jews. Copies of the books of the Bible, before the fifteenth century, had to be written by hand. Following the invention of printing in the first part of the fifteenth century, the Bible was one of the first books to be printed. But still, there were few books and there was little reading. Books of any kind were expensive and many people did not know how to read.
In the sixteenth century, there were in existence several translations or versions of some of the books of the Bible; and there was a great desire on the part of English people to be able to read the whole Bible in English so that everyone might understand it. Comparatively few people could read Latin, and the translations in English were of some of the books only.
The authorized English translation of the Bible was first published in 1611. It was the work of some forty-seven scholars who had taken all the different versions then in use and had translated and compiled the various readings into one book. You will recognize that 1611 is a date belonging to the time when English literature was in one of its most glorious periods. The authorized English translation of the Bible is written in very perfect English. It is what we call a masterpiece. The beautiful diction of the authorized version helps us to remember the stories of the Bible, and the great passages in which we find our highest spiritual life.
A list of some of the wonderful passages in the Bible, especially such passages as were written to tell of the life of Christ and to record His sayings, is given at the end of this chapter. You will find the Ten Commandments, which many of you know by heart, in Exodus, chap. xix, 1-24, chap. xx, 1-2. Solomon's great prayer at the dedication of the Temple is in I Kings, chap. viii, 22-58. The Book of Psalms is read by countless numbers of people all through their lives. Some of the Psalms you will specially want to read are i, xv, xix, xxiii, xxiv, xxvii, xlvi, lxvii, c, ciii, cvii, cxxi, cxxvi, cxxvii, cxxxiv, cxlv, cxlviii, and cl. Many great passages are to be found in the books of the Prophets, and in Job. Read Isaiah, chapters xxxv, xl and lv which belong to the greatest writings in the world.
But the most important parts of the Bible for us to read, the easiest to read, the most simple and beautiful, are these which tell of the life of Christ.
PASSAGES TELLING OF THE LIFE OF CHRIST FROM THE
NEW TESTAMENT
A story can scarcely open better than by showing us a young man setting out to find his fortune. One of the most eminent of romantic writers, Alexandre Dumas, begins The Three Musketeers after this fashion. We have a choice of reading the story either in French or English. Dumas, a Frenchman, wrote Les Trois Mousquetaires in French, and, therefore, naturally, this thrilling story is more wonderful in French even than it is in English. But an English translation, one can promise every boy and girl, is very well worth reading.
On an April morning of the year 1626, in the market town of Meung, in the country of France, a young man, eighteen years of age, came to the door of an inn. He was riding an orange-coloured pony, none too good a specimen of a steed. His name was d'Artagnan. He came from Gascony, and in a story it is always taken for granted that Gascons are very proud and hot-tempered. He was poor and somewhat shabby in appearance. A man at one of the windows of the inn appeared to be laughing at him and at the queer colour of his pony; indeed the man had called the pony a buttercup. D'Artagnan, who was wearing a sword, at once challenged the man, Rochefort, to fight with him. There was a fight which was rather a scuffle than a combat. Still d'Artagnan acquitted himself with credit, although later he was beaten into insensibility by Rochefort's servants. He lost, however, the precious letter his father had given him to M. de Treville, Captain of the King's Musketeers. Nevertheless, that same day he rode to the St. Antoine Gate of Paris, sold his horse, and on the day following presented himself in the antechamber of M. de Treville.
There he meets the three famous musketeers, Athos, Aramis and Porthos. Louis XIII is King of France, Anne of Austria is Queen, and Cardinal Richelieu is as powerful a leader as either of them. So begins the thrilling series of romances in which d'Artagnan appears, the whole series being the masterpiece of Alexandre Dumas.
The Three Musketeers is the first story about d'Artagnan. The second is called Twenty Years After; the third, Vicomte de Bragelonne. In the second story, Louis XIII has died and Anne of Austria is regent. Her chief minister is Mazarin. We see in his youth the young king who is to be the famous Louis XIV. But the really important characters are d'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis and Porthos; the Vicomte de Bragelonne, who is dearly loved by these four heroes, is Athos' son.
French history is shown by Dumas to have a curious relation to English history. But the connection is more or less imaginary. When we read these stories, it is possible that we may obtain some idea of French history, even of English history. We see brilliant scenes of colour, romance and intrigue. We read of triumphs, catastrophes and great occasions. But what really matters are d'Artagnan's splendid wit and audacity, the silent dignity of Athos, the subtlety of Aramis, and the marvellous strength of Porthos.
These four form a heroic comradeship. They help, support, rescue and defend each other. Danger follows danger. Intrigue leads to intrigue. D'Artagnan never fails in strategy, nor Athos in nobility. When any one of the four is sorely pressed, the others are certain to appear before the danger becomes overwhelming. There are many famous episodes in these stories, the recovery by d'Artagnan and his man Planchet of the Queen's diamond studs, the release from prison of the Duc de Beaufort by means of a colossal pie in which are concealed ropes and daggers, the kidnapping of General Monk by d'Artagnan and his followers disguised as fishermen, the epic of the death of Porthos, who is one of the strongest heroes to be found in any romance.
When we read such stories as these written by Dumas we are made to feel light-hearted. He is gay and witty, while under wit and gayety he hides a tender heart. The man who wrote the stories is himself frank, kind and generous, and we discover the same frankness, kindness and generosity in the pages of his romances. His writing is characterized by speed, directness and clearness. It has been said, and no doubt truly, that sometimes a person suffering from homesickness has been so invigorated mentally by reading one of Dumas' stories that the fit of homesickness has been cured.
Dumas was something of a giant physically, like Porthos. Indeed, it is thought that he may have made Porthos a partial portrait of himself and of his father, who also was a large man and very powerful. Dumas' grandfather, a Frenchman, had left France for St. Domingo and there had married a native of the island, a coloured woman. Dumas inherited the physical characteristics of his father who was like his St. Domingan mother. The vivacity and gaiety we find in the works of Dumas may have come in part at least from his grandmother. His mother was left a widow early and she and her children lived in great poverty. Dumas' immense vitality and high spirits conquered many obstacles. We enjoy reading about d'Artagnan, Athos, Aramis and Porthos all the more for knowing that the writer who invented them and wrote of them so gayly, was a brave man.
Romance carries us easily from one country to another. Yet a second noted writer of romance, in some ways more gifted than Dumas, is also a Frenchman, Victor Hugo, generally considered greater as a poet than as a writer of prose. Two of his books, Notre Dame de Paris, and Les Misérables, belong to the famous books of the world and may be read in the French original, preferably of course, or in an English translation.
Hugo's romances, as well as the romantic stories of Dumas, were inspired to a certain extent by the novels of Sir Walter Scott. But in Scott we find ourselves in the sunlight of a reasonable and happy world. The atmosphere of Hugo's stories one might compare to that of stormy days, illuminated by flashes of lightning. The romance of Notre Dame de Paris is dominated by a vision of the cathedral in Paris which seems in the story far greater and larger than it is actually. Some day you may see the cathedral for yourselves, but before doing so, read Hugo's story. It imparts to the famous cathedral an air of wonder and mystery which proves to us Hugo's remarkable powers as a writer. Round Notre Dame he gathers as strange a multitude of people as can be found in any story, the beautiful gypsy dancer Esmeralda, her goat Djali, the terrible dwarf Quasimodo, the swarm of beggars, with their beggar king, Claude Frollo, Captain Phoebus, Pierre Gringoire, and the unhappy recluse Gudule.
An even more remarkable romance by Victor Hugo is named Les Misérables. The book is more than a story. Hugo brings in so many affairs outside the story itself that when we have finished the book we feel as if we had read part of the history of the world. You remember the strong impulse to heal and relieve the distresses of humanity which we found in the novels of Charles Dickens. The same powerful motive is seen in action in these romances by Victor Hugo. Perhaps there are few books in which we can find explained so clearly the problems, distresses and poverty of the older and more crowded countries of the continent of Europe as they existed at the time of the story. Hugo means to awaken our pity and he does so. Jean Valjean, the escaped convict of Les Misérables, is condemned by harsh and wicked laws, yet he becomes the soul of tenderness and goodness. For his sake, and for the sake of the good Bishop Myriel who first showed Jean Valjean what love and forgiveness mean, we should read some part at least of Les Misérables; or we may be able to find someone who has read Hugo's immensely long novel and is willing to tell us the story of Jean Valjean.
It is difficult to imagine a sharper contrast to the writings of Victor Hugo than the gay, youthful, carefree stories which Robert Louis Stevenson wrote for young people. Yet Stevenson admired Hugo greatly, and was as well one of the most loyal adherents of Dumas. Stevenson wrote Treasure Island to help his step-son, Lloyd Osbourne, then a boy of twelve years old, through rather a dull and lonely holiday spent near Braemar in the north of Scotland. Stevenson's father, an old man with a boy's heart, used to listen to the story when it was read aloud in the afternoons as soon as each chapter was written, one chapter a day. It was Thomas Stevenson, the father, who wrote out the list of the contents of Billy Bones' sea chest.
Robert Louis Stevenson loved adventure, and this is one of the reasons why Treasure Island is such a delightful story. First, he and Lloyd Osbourne drew the map that you will find at the beginning of Treasure Island. Then the story begins, told by Jim Hawkins, whose mother kept an inn, the Admiral Benbow. To the inn comes Billy Bones, bringing his sea chest. Later one old sailor after another arrives, the most terrifying of all being the blind man Pew, who felt his way tapping with a stick. Soon it appears there is hidden treasure to be found. Jim Hawkins, Dr. Livesay and Squire Trelawney sail away on the Hispaniola, but many of the crew on board, led by John Silver, mean to take the treasure for themselves.
Treasure Island is one of the best stories of adventure ever written for young people. What happens on board the Hispaniola and at the island is waiting hidden in the pages of the story for you to read.
Robert Louis Stevenson was born in the city of Edinburgh, which was also Sir Walter Scott's native city. He was a brave, very lovable person. All his life, he was more or less of an invalid. But he did not allow ill-health to make much difference to his way of living. He kept on working, and as you know, his work was writing. There is nothing about his books which would make any one think he was an invalid. Finally, he and his wife went to live at Samoa in the South Seas, where the climate suited him, and he was able to lead a more active life than had been possible for some time. He was engaged in writing what is judged to be his best work, a novel called Weir of Hermiston, when he died. Of the many books that Stevenson wrote, two others besides Treasure Island are especially interesting to boys and girls, Kidnapped, and its continuation Catriona. Together, the two stories make one volume, called David Balfour after the hero.
Swiftly moving, gay, gallant, easy to read, sweet and sound at heart as the kernel of a nut, Robert Louis Stevenson's romantic adventurous stories belong more completely than most books of fiction to the world of youth. He wrote A Child's Garden of Verse, Underwoods, and Ballads, as well as other novels, Prince Otto, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and The Master of Ballantrae. Stevenson's essays are much thought of; and he was an individual and delightful letter-writer.
Let us stop for a little while to consider why we enjoy ourselves so much when we read stories of romance and adventure. Indeed, books of this character are fascinating to almost everyone.
You have read of the magic carpet which belongs to the world of fairy tales. One had only to stand on the carpet and wish one's self in any part of the world, to travel where one wanted to be in a flash. Many of us would like to travel to strange countries, learn foreign customs, see uncommon sights and listen to marvels of which we have not known before. Stories of romance and adventure enable us to visit, as it were, all parts of the known world; we can even imagine ourselves in unknown worlds by means of their assistance. So, in a real sense it is true that the magic of a good book of adventure is like that of the carpet in the story; it can carry us anywhere.
But perhaps the most enjoyable quality we find in such books is the power they have to give us a sense of holiday. We turn to the first page of whatever book of adventure we may happen to choose, and then in a moment we are away with the hero, travelling swiftly by sea or land, wandering on foot, fighting battles, in peril from robbers, helping the distressed, finding treasure, climbing mountains, or lost in the desert. We are exactly the kind of people we want to be and we have a share in all kinds of wonderful happenings.
The adventures in these books may not always seem probable, or, as people say, true to life. But this makes very little difference fortunately in romantic and adventurous stories which have a splendid truth of their own. The truth belonging to these stories is that the bravery, strength, resourcefulness, generosity, honour and chivalry of which we read are among the finest qualities in the world; these qualities, with patience and persistence added, can actually sometimes achieve the seemingly impossible happenings related to us.
A moment ago, we spoke of being lost in the desert. You very probably know that a book called Robinson Crusoe is the most famous story ever written about being cast away on an uninhabited island. Indeed, ever since Daniel Defoe wrote the story everyone who likes speculating what he would do if this or that happened, has tried to imagine what it would be like to live alone by oneself. We can make a game of writing down what we think we really could not do without under such circumstances. But Daniel Defoe, basing his story partly on the actual experiences of a man called Alexander Selkirk, has played this game better than anyone else is ever likely to play it. Robinson Crusoe is a wonderful story, so vivid, convincing and reasonable, that it might be the actual journal of a man, a very practical and clever man cast wholly on his own resources, with the never failing bounties of nature on which he may draw.
Robinson Crusoe had been many years on the island before he found one day, marked on the sand, the print of a naked foot. Imagine how he must have looked at it! Of course he knew that it had been made by a savage, and so it was. Eventually, he is visited by these savages. He rescues one of them; and because Friday was the day of the week on which the man was rescued, Robinson Crusoe called him Friday. He was a gentle, kind, good fellow who served Robinson Crusoe faithfully all the rest of his life. It was thirty-five years before Robinson Crusoe was able to return to England; eventually a ship came to the island. There is a second part of the story which relates further adventures. One of the best parts of the narrative is its peaceful ending which tells us that at last the hero found happiness and contentment after all his wanderings.
It is interesting to know some of the facts concerning the people who have written the books we are reading. Daniel Defoe wrote this great story of adventure when he was fifty-eight or fifty-nine years old. He had had a stirring and difficult life, had taken part in Monmouth's rebellion, had been in prison, and had been put in the pillory, which was an old form of punishment now properly abolished. He was a journalist and novelist, and wrote a great deal, especially in the form of pamphlets. His story, Robinson Crusoe, was first published as long ago as 1719. Its popularity has never failed since then.
Now let us suppose that we are looking at a shelf which holds ten books, counting Robinson Crusoe as the first; all the ten are exceptionally good stories of adventure. What are the other nine books about and who wrote them?
Following Robinson Crusoe comes a tale of robbers, called Lorna Doone, which is a story of a boy named Jan, or John, Ridd, and of a famous outlaw family, the Doones, who lived in a beautiful, wild glen of Exmoor, part of the romantic English county of Devon. Richard Doddridge Blackmore, the author, knew Exmoor and Devon well. He had been a schoolmaster and had studied law before he became a novelist. The date of the story belongs to the time of James II. Blackmore draws a wonderful picture of the English country at that time, remote, strong, romantic and stout-hearted. Lorna Doone is one of the most lovable romances ever written.
Jan's father was killed by the Doones when Jan was a lad. He had to leave school and come home to take care of his mother and sister, and learn how to be the master of a farm. Blackmore was skilled in all country knowledge, and he writes truly and attractively of farm life. When Jan was a small boy he saw Lorna, an orphan and a lovely child, who was of the same kindred as the Doones but not like them in heart or disposition. Jan Ridd grows up a giant. He is a great fighter, and brave, clean and generous, a hero of the people. We love to read of Dunkery Beacon, of the great snow storm, of Jan's long contest with the wicked Doones, of Tom Faggis, the highwayman, and his mare Winnie, of Jan's mother and sister, of the lovely Lorna who is brought by Jan at last home to the farm, and finally of Jan's great fight with Carver Doone.
Next are two fine historical romances by Charles Kingsley, who was rector of Eversley in Hampshire, England, for many years. Kingsley, a vigorous, wholehearted man whose writing is of the same character, was the author of a number of well-known books. He was specially interested in history and was professor of modern history at Cambridge in his later years. Hereward the Wake is a story of the Old English. Wake means watchful. What happy, thrilling hours boys and girls and other people have spent with Hereward. No one who reads this story can forget it. Westward Ho! is a story of the sea. The name of its hero is Amyas Leigh. He sails away with adventuring ships to the Western world, but returns to command a ship in the Armada.
Jules Verne was a Frenchman who wrote stories of scientific imagination. His Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea was written long before the days of submarines, but in it you will find an exciting account of what it is like to live in the depths of the sea. Jules Verne's stories have helped to inspire many inventors; this in itself is a proud achievement. We may think that Round the World in Eighty Days is slow travelling compared with the speed of to-day. But when we read the story, we will find ourselves living in an atmosphere of haste, despatch and adventure in travel which no writer has yet been able to surpass. Many a lad afterwards famous has spent long hours with Jules Verne.
The famous Captain Marryat has taught us more, probably, about the sea, the navy and fighting ships than any other writer of stories of adventure. Frederick Marryat was born in England of Huguenot ancestry in the year 1792. He belonged to a family of fifteen children and seems always to have been of a stirring, restless disposition. More than once, he ran away from home or school to go to sea, giving as an excuse that he had to wear his elder brother's old clothes. He was not a particularly attentive student, although a story is told that he was once discovered standing on his head, in order, he explained, to see if he could learn one of his lessons better in that position. He had tried, so he said, for three hours to learn the lesson in the more usual attitude. This of course was one of young Frederick Marryat's little jokes. He entered the King's Navy in 1806 as a midshipman when he was fourteen years old. It was his good fortune to be under a very fine type of Captain, Lord Cochrane, the Earl of Dundonald, an able, fearless and upright person. In many of Marryat's stories, we find that his captains are like the Earl of Dundonald. Marryat's promotion in the Navy was rapid. These were the years of the great Napoleonic Wars. He had reached the rank of Commander by the end of the war in 1815 when he was only twenty-three, having seen much smart service. Later, he was given the responsible task of mounting guard over Napoleon.
Two of Marryat's best known and most interesting stories are Midshipman Easy and Peter Simple. These give interesting, authentic, and exciting accounts of life at sea from the point of view first of a midshipman, and then of a young officer in command. Farce, fun, reality and strange adventure are so blended that we can almost imagine we hear the splash of waves, smell the salt tang of the sea, and experience the nerve-racking excitement of going into action. There is occasionally a quality of coarseness in Marryat's stories, but they are honest, straightforward and brave. We learn from them with unmistakable clearness that the world is not a place where people are pampered and made much of, but a scene of discipline and hard work, as well as of fun and adventure.
Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Henry Dana, is a narrative of the American merchant service, as well known in its way as Captain Marryat's stories of the Navy. Young Dana was at Harvard University when, on account of his eyesight, he became unable to study. He had had a wish to be a sailor previously, but his father had not approved. Young Dana felt now that a long voyage would re-establish his health. He shipped as a sailor before the mast, and sailed from the port of Boston in the year 1834 on the brig Pilgrim. He returned two years later in the Alert, having kept a full and careful log of his voyages. Re-entering Harvard University he found time during his studies to prepare the manuscript of his book which was published in New York, 1840. The year following, an English edition appeared, and was bought up by the naval authorities for distribution on the Queen's ships. Before the Mast is a plain, simple narrative of the daily life of a sailor on a merchant ship. It tells of many hardships, some of which have been remedied since the publication of the book. It has been called "A voice from the forecastle". Dana's accounts of rounding Cape Horn are wonderfully vivid, and all the descriptions of California in its early days are enthralling. Before the Mast is a remarkably interesting and realistic narrative; it is, however, a book of travel rather than a story of adventure. The incidents are plainly in no case imaginary.
A book about Canada of a wholly different character is a well-known historical romance, The Golden Dog, written by William Kirby. This is a tale of early days in the beautiful, romantic city of Quebec when some of the colour and glory of the French court was reproduced on western soil. The Golden Dog has not a little romantic charm. Many readers have been puzzled and attracted by the rhyme which in all likelihood first gave Kirby the idea for his story.
I am a dog that gnaws his bone,
I couch and gnaw it all alone—
A time will come, which is not yet,
When I'll bite him by whom I'm bit.
The lines have been translated from the French. Here are the words of the original.
Je suis un chien qui ronge l'os,
En le rongeant je prends mon repos.
Un temps viendra qui n'est pas venu
Que je mordrai qui m' aura mordu.
A rude carving of the dog and his bone, with the lines cut above and underneath, is to be seen still on a building in Quebec City.
We occasionally meet an odd person, someone out of the common, who is not like other people. Books can be odd too, not like other books, but strikingly individual, and interesting for the very reason that they are odd. Lavengro, written by a man with out-of-the-way knowledge of many things, whose name was George Borrow, is a book of this description.
Possibly not everyone who tries to read Lavengro will care for it very much. As people say, it is not a book that belongs to everybody. Yet Lavengro is a great book, or at least a remarkable one, and numbers of people find much enjoyment in it. What those who read Lavengro value in it most is a sense which it possesses of life under the open sky. In Lavengro we have as our companions the winds and the stars. Its characters have no fixed place of abode, but are always ready to travel on the high road which winds away into the distance inviting us to follow it. There is something in almost all of us which answers to the call of the open sky and the winding road. Even if we have no intention of living that kind of life, a gypsy's life, we like to read about it.
Lavengro is a book about the gypsies. The word Lavengro is romany, or gypsy, and it means word-master. George Borrow had the gift of learning languages easily and knew many different languages. The gypsies therefore called him Lavengro.
There is a famous passage in the book, which you will find at the very end of chapter twenty-five, that gathers up the charm of the narrative, or story, in a few words. Here it is:
"Life is sweet, brother."
"Do you think so?"
"Think so!—There's night and day, brother, both sweet things; sun, moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a wind on the heath. Life is very sweet, brother; who would wish to die?"
"I would wish to die—"
"You talk like a gorgio—which is the same as talking like a fool—were you a Romany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish to die, indeed!—A Romany Chal would wish to live for ever!"
"In sickness, Jasper?"
"There's the sun and the stars, brother."
"In blindness, Jasper?"
"There's the wind on the heath, brother; if I could only feel that, I would gladly live forever. Dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves; and I'll try to make you feel what a sweet thing it is to be alive, brother!"
Jasper Petulengro, the chief of the Smith tribe of gypsies, and Lavengro, who are the two men speaking, were skilled boxers and liked to box with each other.
Notice how sharply we can distinguish the difference between the points of view of the two men. Lavengro, or Borrow, wants in the future something better and more perfect than he has in his present life, but Jasper loves everything as it is, and wants to live the same kind of life always. There is truth in both points of view. We all long for perfection. But, certainly, Jasper is right when he sees and feels the deep, intense beauty and ecstasy which live in nature and which we feel in the wind on the heath, the sky, the stars, the sun and the moon.
This brief quotation will give you an idea of Borrow's story at its best. Even if you have read no more than the ending of chapter twenty-five, you will know something of Lavengro, which is a book of adventure, and yet has a very distinct character of its own.
The Last of the Mohicans, by James Fenimore Cooper, is judged to be one of the most successful and enjoyable stories ever written about North American Indians. You know how we can form in our minds a picture of the great skill of the Indian as a hunter. We can imagine an Indian hunter stealing through the woods, treading so lightly and carefully that he makes no noise, bending his head to listen, able to hear sounds that to the rest of us are inaudible, his quick eyes noting tiny signs of broken twigs or crushed grass which are to us invisible. This picture, which, if we could look into other people's minds, we would find hidden away in the thoughts of almost everyone, the world owes largely to the author of The Last of the Mohicans.
Cooper was born in the State of New Jersey in 1789, but, while he was still an infant, he was taken to the State of New York. His father had bought a large tract of land there, and in the wild forest and on the shores of Otsego Lake, young James Cooper learned to watch and know the Indians. He was sent to college, but was not very successful as a student, and before long shipped as a sailor before the mast. For a number of years, he had many experiences on the Great Lakes and at sea. Finally, he gave up being a sailor, and lived near Cooperstown. The Last of the Mohicans is one of a series of five stories known as the Leatherstocking Tales. Cooper wrote many stories, but this series is the most interesting. Leatherstocking himself is the white man who has gained Indian skill and cunning as a hunter. He is known by many names, Leatherstocking, Natty Bumppo, Hawk-eye, and La Longue Carabine. Part of the enjoyment we have in reading Cooper's stories arises from the circumstance that these stirring and exciting days of which he writes have already almost completely vanished and his books contain a record which is of value historically. Read the following description of the scout Leatherstocking.
"His person, though muscular, was rather attenuated than full; but every nerve and muscle appeared strong and indurated by unremitting exposure and toil. He wore a hunting-shirt of forest-green, fringed with faded yellow, and a summer cap of skins, which had been shorn of their fur. He also bore a knife in a girdle of wampum, like that which confined the scanty garments of the Indian, but no tomahawk. His moccasins were ornamented after the gay fashion of the natives, while the only part of his under dress which appeared below the hunting-frock, was a pair of buckskin leggings, that laced at the sides, and were gartered above the knees with the sinews of a deer. A pouch and horn completed his personal accoutrements, though a rifle of a great length, which the theory of the more ingenious whites had taught them was the most dangerous of all fire-arms, leaned against a neighbouring sapling."
There is something honest, strong and dependable about Hawk-eye, besides his bravery and skill, which makes us like and respect him greatly. But the most heroic and romantic figure in the book is young Uncas, who is the last of the Mohicans. This story of danger, attack, slaughter and peril, centering round Hawk-eye, Uncas, his father Chingachgook, and two beautiful English girls attempting to escape through the woods with a young English officer, Heyward, is almost the perfection of a story of adventure in its own class. As an example of how thrilling the story can be, read the account of the shooting contest in chapter twenty-nine.
Several generations of boys and girls have already enjoyed Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn. Perhaps no other writer has ever succeeded as well as Mark Twain in putting a real boy between the covers of a book in a story. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn are not fanciful portraits. They are exactly such boys as anyone to-day can watch playing in a vacant lot, or down by a river on a raft, or up in a hay-mow, or playing at being robbers in an old deserted shed or house, or reading books, or telling stories, or teasing but loving mothers and aunties, and learning about grown-up men and life in general. Tom Sawyer is the first of Mark Twain's famous books about boys, and Huckleberry Finn is a continuation of the same story.
Tom lived with his Aunt Polly in the village of St. Petersburg on the Mississippi. He was the leading spirit among the boys of the place, largely because he had an active imagination and could devise many exciting games which often led to real adventures. Huckleberry Finn was a boy without a home; he had a father who was a source of danger rather than a loving protector. In Huckleberry Finn, there is the splendid story of Jim who was a slave and ran away with Huckleberry. As we read of their adventures, while they floated down the Mississippi on a raft, we learn to know and love Jim for his devotion, loyalty and child-like nature. Huck, too, plays as fine a part as many a hero who may appear more romantic than this runaway boy. But you must read Huckleberry Finn yourself, and find out what happened. The great Mississippi river, mysterious, picturesque, flowing always past their village into the unknown south, exercised a powerful fascination on the minds of the boys. Many of their adventures had to do with the river, and some of the happenings were terrifying as well as exciting. But Tom and Huck actually did find hidden treasure and each boy's share was put in the bank, so that the boys had a small yearly income at the end of the first story. These two books, when we read them, give us a curious, lasting feeling of real life and actual happenings, probably in part because Mark Twain, whose everyday name was Samuel Clemens, must have been writing about his own boyhood. When he was a boy, nothing would satisfy him but learning to be a pilot on a Mississippi steamboat; he was on the river for four years.
There are many other romantic and adventurous stories for us to read. Make sure that the author knows and understands what he is writing about, otherwise it is seldom worth while to spend much time in reading his book. Stories of romance and adventure ought always to be brave and fearless, kind and generous, pure and light-hearted. They ought to make us feel that it is worth while to go on an adventure. When these things are true of a book, we can spend many happy hours with its hero, no matter where he rides, or sails, or flies.
There are three books, the work of authors who belong to our own time, that we should not miss reading. First comes Rudyard Kipling's glorious story of a boy in India called Kim; then the poet Masefield's story of Sard Harker and of the sea and South America; and, last of the three, a fine story of the woods and rivers of the far north, called The Living Forest, written by a Canadian artist, Arthur Heming.