New-York tribune., 1872-05-24
TILE SHAKESPKARE FESTTVAL.

Neither q sky uncl0uded, Wltn SOlden sun,
nor a true May day with nipping and an
eager air such as of late have made sore
tbroats the fashion, would have been fit weather
to set ND q statue of Shakespeare in. He was
born in April, if my gossip Report be an honest
woman of her word, in the month when under
bluest skies crossed with sunshine and shower
the trees are bursting into leaf, the birds are
nest building the freed waters are rushing,
when the wind-hower and the violet. and, best
of all, the dandelion, are blooming, " when lifes
"aliye in every thing.' The month of the
breaking up of the dull old winter of our dis
content, the month of change, the month of
resurrections-this was the time O. year when
was born the brightest, sweetest human
flower born to gladden. us, born to sadden us,
born to lift us up and strengthen us; to put
new life into shrunken veins, and better hope
into hearts just Opening-the poet of youth
and the poet of age.
So, because he was born in April, Nature,
who loves him as her youngest child, made an
April day in May for us to do him honor in.
She played street contractor by moonlight over
night and washed the streets in such noble,
generous, thorough fashion-fOr nothing! as
must have astonished Brown, to say nothing
of the streets themselves! Then, with little
thunder and lightning, she gave the leaves
and the grass flip, and made them ashamed
of the way they have Jagged of late, and all
night long she spread over the earth her vail
of softest, moonlighted rain, and encouraged
all growing things to grow their liveliest. But
in the morning her intentions were doubtful.
Persons with small bumps of faith feared that
4 s.-IX l..
been forgotten. Unbelievers in the Weather
Reports scoffed openly, and declared that they
are no better than the ancient Oracles. But
weatherwise people said, 1t is sure to be fine
"by one o'clock and fine, of the finest, by
one o'clock. it was.
A few weeks ago the Park was a sorry sight.
The Winter-killed evergreens, the drouth-
killed shrubs, the wilted flowers the burnt-up
grass, presaged sickly Summer But the late
rains and the tempered suns, with the intelli-
gent hands that care for the Park, have
painted all things fresh. The soft thick grass
under foot, the tender trees, the Towering
shrubbery, the exquisite neatness, the order
not "kept," but spontaneous and Free made
the old poets line keep singing itself in the
heads of happy loiterers, GLOW comes it all
lulHSS 80 dDOut lucc tut, Nouu IL
have seemed so gay and cheerful, but for the
occasion9 And what rare man is he who could
bring so great crowd into harmonious
consenting in doing him honorf Only the
poet could do it, and of all the poets no other
than Shakespeare And, beside the occasion
itself, there were the thoughts of all the steps
that had led TO it. 1t was no ungenerous
patriotism that made one rejoice there in the
sunshine and the greenness, that it is in our
own America the first worthy statue - is
il not the only statuef-tO Shakespeare should
have been set up. Nor, perhaps, should we
have had it so sOOD, if we had not first had
this beautiful pleasure-place to put it in. And
these were the thoughts of the men to whom
we owe the Park itself, its first suggestion,
its wise, and thoughtful, far-seeing plan its
ornamenting, and though last not least, its
administration. There was Downing, the
alert, the graceful, who taught us to make
gardens and adorn our homes, and who talked
and wrote Park" until people heard him and