The Sun.
London, England, 1864-04-25 00:00:00

Fitratford-on-Avon Tercentenary Festival,

LONDON.
On Saturday a very feeble and, under almost all
its aspects, a most ridiculous attempt was made to
celebrate the birthday of our great poet, by what
was called in the handbills a " Working Men's

Shakspere Jubilee and Great National festival."
To say that it was not a "jubilee" nor a " great
national festival," would only be to tell the public
exactly what they expect, for their recent experi-
ences of Shakspere Committees has led to a most
judicious distrust of their plans ever turning out
anything but the reverse of what their concoctors
originally wished or intended. It was not a Work-
ing Men's Jubilee, for the procession, all told, did

not include 500 members, who were of the usual
idle stock of banner-bearers, or the harmless idiots

who, in green velvet and feathers and point, will
insist—as on the occasion of Garibaldi's entry—on
exhibiting their lunacy before the gaze of hundreds.
So far from being a National Festival, it was not
even a local one, and the pathetic entreaties of the

handbills inviting the co-operation of " benefit and
trade societies, brass bands, corporate bodies, foreign
workmen, and the poet's admirers," fell on relnc-

taut and unsympathetic ears as far as compliance
with these adjurations was concerned. So also did
the request " that householders along the line of
route would give effect to the scene by the display
of flags and by the ringing of the bells in the various
parish churches, in order that the day might be made
as it ought," &c. Not a flag was shown except the
time-worn and now rather illegible banners brought
by the few processionists themselves ; not a bell was
rung, and the procession was constantly reminded
that it was not a national holiday by having to open
its thin ranks for the passage of prosaic carts and
'busses. In fact, it was a dull and tame glair
throughout, and nothing so much redeemed its dul-

...
ness as its general tone of absurdity. The demon-
stration " fell through," as our American cousins
says, for want of some living principle, some motive
power, greater than the mere accident of a tercen-
tenary. Notwithstanding this 300th anniversary,
Shakspere is not a whit more admired this year
than he was last year, or will be next year, and
though nations may go to war for an idea, and do
so, if the truth were known, much more often than
is generally admitted, yet a jubilee for an idea, or
a procession for an idea, seems after Saturday's ex.

perience to be out of the question.
The procession was ordered to assemble in Rus-
sell-square at 1 o'clock, and at that hour disjointed
and very fragmentary elements of processional
grandeur did in fact begin to draw together. But
the process of assembling was exceeding intermit-
tent, and it was only semi-occasionally that the
nucleus was reinforced by a stray banner or by
some " extra grand," whose panoply of orders would
have formed a respectable stock-in-trade for any
whitesmith beginning business. Every addition,
however, seemed welcome, and, to do them justice,
the members of the procession appeared to enter as
heartily into the fun of the display as even the
little boys of the neighbourhood, only, of course,
not in so candid and demonstrative a manner as to
their expression of opinion. It was 2 o'clock, how-
ever, before preparations were made for starting,
those entrusted with the ceremonial waiting to the
last minute apparently in the hope that some
accession to their numbers would drop in. Such
an addition was, in truth, sadly needed. We are
sure we are well within the limit in saying that the
procession was short of 500 persons, and certainly
short of 300 yards long, though in its ranks
two charity schools" ware thinly scattered to make
up a show." As a demonstration it was very weak ;
as a pageant it was weaker still, some 20 banners
comprising almost all its claims upon the notice of
the passer-by. Altogether it formed an assemblage
which might be fairly classed as among those with
which Falstaff would have avoided Coventry.
" Save me from my friends" is an old and very for-
cible truism, bat after the experience of Garibaldi's
entry and Saturday's jubilee, " Save me from a pro-
cession" is likely to become a proverb more forcible
still. This esiemblage, or procession, or whatever
it may like to be called, was marshalled some six

abreast, and headed by the band of the Havelock

Volunteer Corps, marched leisurely through Bed,
ford-square, Tottenhanrcourt-road, Hampstead,
road, and High-street, Cmthn-town, to Primrose.

hill.

At Primrose-hill, which it is stated upon autho-
rity is to be henceforward known as Shakspere's-
hill, anything to the contrary notwithstanding,
arrangements had been made for planting a
" People's Oak" in honour of the people's poet.
This tree was given by her Majesty for the pur-
pose, and was a fine young tree of some 15 or 20
years' growth, taken, we believe, from Windsor
Forest, with. the earth around its root undisturbed.
The ceremony of planting took place at the' foot of
the hill, the tong slope end summit of which were
pretty densely thronged with spectators. The ar-
rangements for the planting were as simple as
could well be conceived, and bore a whimsical
resemblance to the primitive rules and regulations
which obtain at prize fights. There was the tradi-
tional bottle of water (brought from the Avon to
christen the tree), there was an outer and an inner
ring, the occupants of which latter were made to

sit on the ground, so that the outer might see, and
when Mr. Phelps was brought for with cheers,
supported under each arm by a friend, it only re-
quired the appearance of Mr. Fechter from an op-
posite corner to make the fistic illusion complete.
Instead, however, of proceeding leisurely to un-
drees, or at least to toss for corners, Mr. Phelps
only looked at his watch, and explained the neces-
sity which would compel him to depart at four
o'clock, an hour then near at hand. Whereupon it
was proposed that the ceremony of theoretically
planting the tree should be gone through at once,
for practically it had been planted long before, To
this course, however, others took a mild objection,
observing that the day was due to the Foresters' pro-
cession; that they had brought it all about, that they
had made it a success, &e., remarks which appeared
to have the weight that facts, if they were cor-
rect, certainly deserved, and it was at once decided
to wait till the procession came. This it did at last,
though not till after many false alarms had been
caused by the itinerant bands of music being heard
in the distance, and not till after serious doubts
had been expressed as to the probability of,' getting
at the contents of the bottle of Avon water, caused
by the fact of its being firmly corked, and the
usual repugnance of the spectators on such occa-
sions to admit that any one carried a corkscrew
about him. Eventually, however, these difficulties
were got over, end the procession began to pour
into the enclosure just as the obdurate cork was
extracted, and the contents of the bottle safely de-
canted into a large watering pot.
When the processionists had all gained the hill,
and when Colonel George Cruikshank,- who headed
the guard of honour of the Havelock Volunteers,
had with his officers taken their places in the inner
ring, the
proceedings commenced by Mr. Moore
addressing Mr. Phelps in behalf of the Working
Men's %hakspere Committee, and asking him to
plant the tree in honour of England's poet. The
committee felt, acting for their countrymen at large,
that to no utter hands than those of Mr. Phelps
could be consigned the work of that day, and
when the next century came round he doubted not
their descendants would admire the example their
forefathers had set them, and that they would plant
another tree, or do something more to enshrine the
memory of the immortal dramatist.
To this Mr. Phelps, who v?„ greeted with the
utmost enthusiasm, both on his arrival and when
he spoke, replied simply as follows
"Mr. Moore, I beg to accept most gratefully and humbly
the task which the Working Men's Shakspere Committee
have assigned to me this day. I think the sight around me
is one of the noblest and one of the grandest spectacles that
ever met the human eye. In the name of the workmen of
England I plant this oak, and trust that it may live and
flourish and reach maturity. May it, in the words of our
groat and glorious poet, become
" An oak, whose boughs are mossed with age,
" kiad high-topped, bald, with dry antiquity.'
A letter was then read from Miss Eliza Cook,
pleading indisposition as the cause of her absence,
and deputing a lady named Bankes to christen the
tree and speak on her behalf. This Mrs. Bankes
did, in a short and exceedingly well-worded speech,
the only defect of which was that, as might have