APRIL, 1864.]

The Gleaners' Literary Club.

RESUMING that "THE GLEANER" may possibly find its way into the hands of some persons who are unacquainted with the circumstances under which the following Essays were written, it has been thought desirable to offer a few explanatory observations.

Among the many thousands of busy men of this great metropolis who love to spare a few hours of their leisure for friendly greeting and literary companionship, some three score or so have formed themselves into an association, (now in the fifth year of its enrolment), under the title of "THE GLEANERS' LITERARY CLUB."

Humble in their ambition, as illustrated by the name of the Club-very unostentatious and unassuming in their transactions-comparatively few in number-there is one thing in which, above all others, they pride themselves— namely, their warm and compact friendship. The weekly meetings are looked forward to with pleasant anticipation, and a loss is felt to have been sustained if one has been unavoidably omitted. Each member is allowed to propose any literary subject, and to deal with it in the manner he thinks best-either by discussion, conversation, essay, or lecture-assured of a courteous reception and an attentive audience. The greatest freedom is combined with the most perfect order. Bethnal Green and Belgravia shake hands with cordiality; and Law lifts his hat to Letters with positive admiration. In fact, the famous motto-"liberty, equality, fraternity," so comprehensive and so significant, is an essential and an especial characteristic of the Club.

At the commencement of the present year, as well known to our numerous friends, a most extraordinary excitement pervaded the length and breadth of our land-influencing alike the grave and the gay, the gentle and the rude, the educated and the illiterate—an excitement emanating from the anticipation of a memorable anniversary, which earth's "immortal band"-the ever-glorious literary phalanx-were most anxious should be worthily honoured-the tercentenary of England's illustrious Bard, WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE.

A partiality for hero-worship has ever been a predominent passion of the human mind, and if such refined idolatry be not deemed derogatory to the dignity of a lofty intelligence, its exuberance and its earnestness on this particular occasion may well be considered permissible, if not laudable -as an evidence of the reverence and estimation in which this master-spirit of our literature is held after a lapse of three hundred years.

When the various Shaksperian Committees, in the excess of their zeal, were jealously wrangling on precedence and prerogative: when parsons and players were at loggerheads with each other:-when leaders in the Times and essays in the Saturday Review were fiercely erudite in their antagonism: -when Punch, Chambers's Journal, the Leisure Hour, the Illustrated News, and a host of minor and other periodicals issued special or double numbers to an excited and adoring public, learnedly compiled and splendidly embellished, as though a second Christmas had come in April :—when the divine afflatus tickled the itching palms of our "leviathan clothiers," and induced them to rummage forth from their stores the musty and moth-eaten three-century old garments worn by the characters of Shakspeare, and re-issue their

semblance, silently eloquent, like an "insubstantial pageant faded:"-when "Ho! for a Shakspeare!" seemed a cry so potent and universal, that an enthusiastic manufacturer of steel skirts actually invested one hundred guineas in the purchase of "three prize poems," as a graceful offering to his fair devotees, and to forward in exchange for a "stamp," to any address-when that small portion of the public who had read Shakspeare, wondered at the noisy excitement of that larger portion of the public who had not read-and never would read-Shakspeare; and that larger portion of the public, franticly zealous in endeavouring to honour what to them was a soulless name, became vehemently indignant with that smaller portion of the public who would not help in setting-up an effigy of the outward man," in his habit as he lived," as an idol for their worship. When these, and a hundred other ideas were rife, each duly tinctured with adulation or adoration, real or assumed-when poets, and essayists, and orators were pluming themselves on their anticipated triumphs-it is not very surprising that the members of the Gleaners' Literary Club should consider themselves called upon to contribute their quota in aid of the national celebration of the Shakspeare tercentenary: accordingly they commenced their labours, ardently and zealously, determined on doing something to evince their sympathy as men of kindred minds, and in the hope of being enabled to lay an acceptable offering on the shrine of the glorious chief of Dramatic Poetry-and they trust that their humble gleanings, however insignificant they may appear to the great men of letters, may not be deemed an unworthy memorial of him who is ever with us-our matchless Bard, our sweet "Swan of Avon," our gentle Shakspeare.

The committee of the Club having duly considered the importance of the occasion, issued a special programme for the month-select, but not exclusive in its appointments, and sufficiently comprehensive to afford an ample field for investigation. Anxious to maintain the position already so happily achieved, and to enhance the well-known reputation of the Club, the Gleaners commenced their very pleasurable task with an amount of zeal which augured well for the result. That a complete success was attained, will be best proved by the following pages, which contain the several papers read during the celebration. In those cases where illustrative reading was the chief object (such, for instance, as the subjects of "Tragedy," "Comedy,” &c.) the introductory, intersecting, and concluding remarks were made vivá voce, and consequently, we regret to say, they cannot now be given. But these extemporary essays were most interesting and instructive, and contributed much to the literary enjoyment of the respective evenings.

The proceedings of the Tercentenary month were opened by the PRESIDENT in person with a learned and elaborate Oration on the Genius of Shakspeare. Contrasting the great Poet of England with those of other countries-from Homer to Goethe-the PRESIDENT brought out most admirably their chief points of difference-showing the immeasurable superiority of our national Bard. Lest his audience in their enthusiasm should forget the existence of other giant minds, which, in all ages, had illuminated the civilized world, the PRESIDENT read with fine elocution many beautiful passages from early and contemporary authors-from the Poets of Greece and Rome, of Italy and Germany, of France and

Spain: from Homer and Virgil-from Plautus and Eschylus -from Sophocles and Euripides-from Dante and Petrarch -from Tasso and Ariosto-from Camoens and Lopez de Vega-from Corneille, Racine, and Molière-from Goëthe and Schiller-from Chaucer, Milton, Spenser, Dryden, &c., and winding-up with a splendid peroration of comparison, imaging Shakspeare to a mighty river running on to eternity, absorbing all the smaller streams of genius, both of the past and the present, and from which all future poets must draw their waters of inspiration.

Few who were present will ever forget this inauguration night, for the well-known and ever-ready eloquence of the PRESIDENT expanded into brilliant oratory, and accustomed as the members were, to his flowing pictures and beautiful similies, they were both surprised and delighted with the rich intellectual treat he had provided for them: his simple yet thorough development of the broad and expansive mind of Shakspeare proved highly instructive, and enhanced, if it be possible, the estimation in which he is deservedly held. Conspicuous amongst the many beautiful readings of the PRESIDENT, were the thrilling passages from that noble Spanish Poem, "The Cid,”—that beau-ideal of a Knight— that "chevalier sans peur et sans reproche," that unconquered "hero of a hundred fights," who is to the chivalrous heart of Spain, as Arthur to Britain and Charlemagne to Francethat

Mighty victor, never vanquish'd,
Bulwark of our native land,
Shield of Spain, her boast and glory,
Knight of the far dreaded brand,
Venging scourge of Moors and traitors,
Mighty thunderbolt of war,
Mirror bright of chivalry,
Ruy, my Cid Campeador!

In conclusion, the PRESIDENT read with much taste and feeling, Mr. W. READER'S new Shaksperian poem, entitled "He's Welcome Home Again!"

The second evening of the month was very appropriately devoted to the illustration of "Tragedy" and "Comedy" in the works of Shakspeare.

After a few introductory remarks, Mr. BULLEN gave a series of readings illustrative of " Tragedy," from those truly magnificent dramas, "Macbeth" and "Othello," which showed great care in selection and much skill in delivery. Admirably suited for dramatic declamation, this gentleman kept his critical audience in pleasurable excitement for nearly an hour, and was enthusiastically applauded as he resumed his seat. We give an extract from "Macbeth:"Macbeth.-I have done the deed! Didst thou not hear a noise?

Lady Macbeth.-I heard the owl scream, and the crickets cry.

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Macbeth. This is a sorry sight. [Looking on his hands.
Lady Macbeth.-A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight.
Macbeth.-There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried
"Murder!"

That they did wake each other. I stood and heard them :
But they did say their prayers, and addressed them
Again to sleep.

Lady Macbeth.

There are two lodged together. Macbeth.-One cried "God bless us!" and "Amen," the other;

As they had seen me with these hangman's hands,
Listening their fear. I could not say, “ Amen,”
When they did say, "God bless us."

Lady Macbeth.-Consider it not so deeply.

Macbeth.-But wherefore could not I pronounce "Amen ?" I had most need of blessing, and “Amen” Stuck in my throat.

Lady Macbeth.-These deeds must not be thought After these ways; so, it will make us mad.

Macbeth.-Methought I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep; the innocent sleep; Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleave of care; The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast;

Lady Macbeth.-What do you mean?

Macbeth.-Still it cried, "Sleep no more!" to all the house: "Glamis hath murdered sleep; and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more!"

Macbeth, Act II. Scene 2.

Also a short passage from "Othello," Act III. Scene 3 :-
Iago. Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse, steals trash: 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands :
But he that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.

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Othello.-Ha! Iago.

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O beware, my lord, of jealousy: It is the green-eyed monster which doth make The meat it feeds on.

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Othello. O misery!

Iago. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough: But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter,

To him that ever fears he shall be poor.

The next subject was an illustration of "Comedy," by Mr. FUNSTON. Selecting the "Merry Wives of Windsor," he prefaced his reading by some excellent observations.

Comedy," said Mr. FUNSTON, "what do we understand by Comedy-a dramatic piece? No, not that alone: but a dramatic piece that is pleasant, comic, and merry!

How shall I best convey Shakspeare's idea of Comedy? By pointing out particular sentences and pouring forth my adulations on these particular bricks of his great structures? By quoting one or other of the learned writers who have proved, to their own entire satisfaction, that, great as was the ability of Shakspeare, their consciousness of his errors and defects, proved to them that they knew better of what a Comedy should consist, than he did?

"By comparisons with other and lesser stars of the same bright firmament, to show off the greater brilliancy of the keen power, thought, intellect, and knowledge of human nature in all its phases, from the king to the peasant clown, the man of subtle intellect to the maniac, the queen of truly regal dignity and virtue, to woman simplest and weakest?

"Neither of these courses appear to be that most likely to lead to a proper estimation of the ability of Shakspeare to write pleasantly, comically, and merrily, as the course I now propose to adopt: namely, to read portions of the most perfect specimen of our great author's Comedy, in which each of the dramatis persona is a character, the language pleasant, the action comic, and the story merry."

And then, introducing our old friends Sir John Falstaff, Mistress Ford and Mistress Page, Justice Shallow, Dame Quickly, Master Slender, and "sweet Anne Page," he went through the play in a style that elicited frequent bursts of laughter and applause: receiving, as his well-merited meed of praise, the warm greetings and congratulations of his delighted and appreciating audience. We give an extract: