ing to diffuse knowledge. All other gains, all selfish and extravagant systems of acquisition,―tend to over-do themselves, and to topple down by their own undiffused magnitude. The world, as it learns other things, may learn not to confound the means with the end, or at least, (to speak more philosophically,) a really poor means with a really richer. The veriest cricket-player on a green has as sufficient a quantity of excitement as a fundholder or a partizan; and health, and spirits, and manliness to boot. Knowledge may go on; must do so, from necessity; and should do so, for the ends we speak of: but knowledge, so far from being incompatible with simplicity of pleasures, is the quickest to perceive its wealth. Chaucer would lie for hours, looking at the daisies. Scipio and Lælius could amuse themselves with making ducks and drakes on the water. Epaminondas, the greatest of all the active spirits of Greece, was a flute-player and dancer. Alfred the Great could act the whole part of a ministrel. Epicurus taught the riches of temperance and intellectual pleasure in a garden. The other philosophers of his country walked between. heaven and earth in the colloquial bowers of Academus; and "the wisest heart of Solomon," who found every thing vain because he was a king, has left us panegyrics on the Spring and." the voice of the turtle," because he was a poet, a lover, and a wise man. Orders received by the Newsmen, by the Booksellers, and by the Publisher, Joseph Appleyard, Printed by Joseph Appleyard, No. 19, Catherine-street, Strand, -Price 2d, THE INDICATOR. There he arriving round about doth flie, SPENSER. No, XXX.-WEDNESDAY, MAY 3d, 1820. SHAKSPEARE'S BIRTH-DAY. NEXT Friday, making the proper allowance of twelve days from the 23d of April, according to the change of the Style, is the birth-day of Shakspeare. Pleasant thoughts must be associated with him in every thing. If he is not to be born in April, he must be born in May. Nature will have her with him on her blithest holidays, like her favourite loyer. Onthou divine human creature,-greater name than even divine poet or divine philosopher, and yet thou wast all three, a very spring and vernal abundance of all fair and noble things is to be found in thy productions! They are truly a second nature. We walk in them, with whatever society we please; either with men, or fair women, or circling spirits, or with none but the whispering airs and leaves. Thou makest worlds of green trees and gentle natures for us, in thy forests of Arden, and thy courtly retirements of Navarre. Thou bringest us among the holiday lasses on the green sward; layest us to sleep among fairies in the bowers of midsummer; wakest us with the song of the lark and the silver-sweet voices of lovers ; bringest more music to our ears, both from earth and from the planets; anon settest us upon enchanted islands, where it welcomes us again, from the touching of invisible instruments; and after all, restorest us to our still desired haven, the arms of humanity. Whether grieving us or making us glad, thou makest us kinder and happier. The tears which thou fetchest down are like the rains of April, softening the times that come after them. Thy smiles are those of the month of love, the more blessed and universal for the tears. The birth-days of such men as Shakspeare ought to be kept, in common gratitude and affection, like those of relations whom we love. He has said, in a line full of him, that One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. How near does he become to us with his thousand touches! The lustre and utility of intellectual power is so increasing in the eyes of the world, that we do not despair of seeing the time when his birthday will be a subject of public rejoicing; when the regular feast will be served up in tavern and dwelling-house, the bust crowned with laurel, and the theatres sparkle with illuminations. The town is lucky enough once more to have a manager who is an enthusiast. If Mr. Elliston would light up the front of his theatre next Friday with the name of Shakspeare, we would warrant him a call from the pit, and whole shouts of acknowledgment. ་་ We had mecha In the mean time, it is in the power of every admirer of Shakspeare to honour the day privately. Rich or poor, busy or at leisure, all may do it. The busiest finds time to eat his dinner, and may pitch one considerate glass of wine down his throat. The poorest may call him to mind, and drink his memory in honest water. nically written health, as if he were alive. So he is in spirit ;-and the spirit of such a writer is so constantly with us, that it would be a good thing, a judicious extravagance, a contemplative piece of jollity, to drink his health instead of his memory. But this, we fear, should be an impulse. We must content ourselves with having felt it here, and drinking it in imagination. To act upon it, as a proposal of the day before yesterday, might be too much like getting up an extempore gesture, or practising an unspeakable satisfaction. An outline however may be drawn of the manner, in which such a birth-day might be spent. The tone and colouring would be filled up, of course, according to the taste of the parties. If any of our readers then have leisure as well as inclination to devote a day to the memory of Shakspeare, we would advise them, in the first place, to walk out, whether alone or in company, and enjoy during the morning as much as possible of those beauties of nature, of which he has left us such exquisite pictures. They would take a volume of him in their hands, the most suitable to the occasion; not to hold themselves bound to sit down and read it, nor even to refer to it, if the original work of nature should occupy them too much; but to read it, if they read any thing; and to feel that Shakspeare was with them substantially as well as spi ritually; that they had him with them under their arm. There is another thought connected with his presence, which may render the Londoner's walk the more interesting. Shakspeare had neither the vanity, which induces a man to be disgusted with what every body can enjoy; nor on the other hand the involuntary self-degradation, which renders us incapable of enjoying what is abased by our own familiarity of acquaintanceship. About the metropolis therefore, there is perhaps not a single rural spot, any more than about Stratford-uponAvon, which he has not himself enjoyed. The south side of London was the one nearest his theatre. Hyde Park was then, as it is now, one of the fashionable promenades. Richmond also was in high pride of estimation. At Greenwich Elizabeth held her court, and walked abroad amid the gallant service of the Sydneys and Raleighs. And Hampstead and Highgate, with the country about them, were as they " have been ever since, the favourite resort of the lovers of natural pró-, ductions. Nay, without repeating what we said in a former number about the Mermaid in Cornhill, the Devil Tavern in Fleet-street, the Boar's Head in Eastcheap, and other town associations with Shakspeare, the reader who cannot get out of London on his birth-day, and who has the luck to be hard at work in Chancery-lane or the Borough, may be pretty certain that Shakspeare has admired the fields and the May flowers there; for the fields were close to the latter, perhaps came up to the very walls of the theatre; and the suburban-mansion and gardens of his friend Lord Southampton occupied the spot now called Southampton-buildings. It was really a country neighbourhood. The Old Bourne (Holborn) ran by, with a bridge over it: and Gray's Inn was an Academic bower in the fields. The dinner does not much signify. The sparest or the most abündant will equally suit the various fortunes of the great poet; only it will be as well for those who can afford wine, to pledge Falstaff in a cup of ❝ sherris sack," which seems to have been a sort of sherry negus. After dinner Shakspeare's volumes will come well on the table; lying among the desert like laurels, where there is one, and supplying it where there is not. Instead of songs, the persons present may be called upon for scenes. But no stress need be laid on this proposition, if they do not like to read out loud. The pleasure of the day should be as much at liberty as possible and if the company prefer conversation, it will not be very easy for them to touch upon any subjects which Shakspeare shall not have touched upon also. If the enthusiasm is in high taste, the ladies should be crowned with violets, which (next to the roses of their lips) seem to have been his favourite flower. After tea should come singing and music, esspecially the songs which Arne set from his plays, and the ballad of "Thou softflowing Avon." If an engraving or bust of him could occupy the principal place in the room, it would look like the "present deity" of the occasion; and we have known a very pleasant effect produced by every body's bringing some quotation applicable to him from his works, and laying it before his image, to be read in the course of the evening. 2 The Editor would have dilated on these matters, not so much to recommend what the enthusiasm of the moment will suggest, as to enjoy them with the reader, and have his company, as it were, at an imaginary meeting. But he is too unwell just now to write much, and should have taken the liberty of compiling almost the whole of his present number, could he have denied himself the pleasure of, saying a few words on so happy an occasion. J For the reason mentioned in the preceding article, we copy the fol lowing account, instead of re-writing it. We can do so with the less scruple, inasmuch as the work from which it is taken, Sewell's History of the Quakers, is little known to readers in general; and indeed the anecdote may well speak for itself. The reader will smile, when we profess to be no Quakers ourselves. There is certainly nothing drab coloured in our religion, especially during the month of May; but wherever sincerity and kindness come together, there we bow our heads, and take part in the worship. Thomas Lurting, the hero (truly so called) of this story, was a Quaker, at a time when the sect was a positive, enthusiastic thing, referring to the first and best principles of Christianity; not a negation and a dress, satisfied with having all the "good things" of this world, not indeed under the rose, but under the beaver. And yet good negative points are something too, as sects go. It is not unrefreshing to meet with a religion, which has a respect for peace and quietness, and declines knocking us on the head. Thomas Lurting was mate aboard a Quaker vessel, returning from Venice, in the time of Charles the Second. The vessel had been taken by pirates, and retaken by Lurting. But we retire to a distance, with our hats respectfully kept on, while the worthy Mr. Sewell speaks : "The second night after, the captain of the Turks, and one of his company, being gone to sleep in the cabin with the master, the mate persuaded one to lie in his cabin, and about an hour after another in another cabin; and at last it raining very much, he persuaded them all to lie down and sleep: and when they were all asleep, he comin g to them, fairly got their arms into his possession. This being done, he told his men, "Now we have the Turks at our command, no man shall hurt any of them, for if ye do, I will be against you; but this we will do, now they are under deck, we will keep them so, and go for Majorca." Now, having ordered some to keep the doors, they steered their course to Majorca, and they had such a strong gale, that in the morning they were near it. Then he ordered his men, if any offered to come out, not to let above one or two at a time; and when one came out, expecting to have seen his own country, he was not a little astonished instead thereof to see Majorca. Then the mate said to his men, "Be careful of the door, for when he goes in we shall see what they will do; but have a care not to spill blood." The Turk being goue down, and telling his comrades what he had seen, and how they were going to Majorca, they, instead of rising, all fell a crying, for their courage was quite sunk; and they begged "that they might not be sold." This, the mate promised them, and said, "They should not." And when he had appeased them, he went into the cabin to the master, who knew nothing of what was done, and gave him an account of the sudden change, and how they had overcome the Turks. Which, when he understood, he told their captain, "That the vessel was now no more in their possession, but in his again; and that they were going for Majorca." At this unexpected news the captain wept, and desired the master not to sell him; which he promised he would not. Then they told him also, they would make a place to hide them in, that the Spaniards coming aboard should not find them. And so they did accordingly, at which the Turks were very glad. Being |