The San Francisco call., 1899-11-06
sHAKEsPEARE's CLIFF, DOVER.

OF impulse He is a Celt, a Celt antedat-
ing the Christian era by something like a
thousand years, Celt who swears his
pagan gods in an epoch when the stars
could still be supposed without too great
absurdity to determine the desttnies of
men. Warm-hearted himself, he Graves
the display Of affection from those who
are doubly bound to him as Prince and
father. His own emotions demand i'm
mediate and full expression, and graft
tude or love means nothing to him unless
it is demonstrative and eloquent in it's
turn. The significant deed does not con-
tent him; 1t must be accompanied or re-
placed by fiowery words. For this he
sets the pattern. When he divides his
kingdom it is with the swelling language
Of a pronuncamento; when his anger
grows into vehement rage it expends It
self in InvectiYe which might be called
Ciceronian, were it not Shakespearean.
His Judgment has always been weak and
his rule unsteady; like others Of Shake
speare's English monarchs, notably Rich
ard II, he was born to be an orator or a
poetaster rather than a King. He loves
the trappings and appurtenances of
royalty; his aim has not been to serve his
people, but to enjoy his state, the pro-
fessons Of loyalty rendered by his cour-
tiers, and the freedom to do and say
whatever comes into his head. SeniIlty
has but increased his impulsiveness, his
fondness for show, his impatience Of any
restraint; it has rendered Unsuitable his
desire for homage and for the display of
blind, unreasoning, overf1owing affection
What a disappointment he is preparing
for himself when he parts with his
power, the only thing which has recon
ciled his court to bear with his arbitrary
and changeful demeanor! He becomes es-
sentially private man, and from tat
moment begins to reap what he has sown.
Impatient of discipline himself, he has
never imposed it upon his daughters, and
there is no reference to their mother
whom we may therefore suppose to have
died too early to supply this deficiency OF
paterna1 training; he accordingly finds
himself confronted with sheer nature
in the case of Goneril and Regan with
headstrong, lustful, cruel women, strong
with the strength of the tigress, and
beautiful, If beautiful, with the CLEAN of
her eye and the htheness of her terrible
body; in the case of Cordelia, with
stern uprightness and dumb tenderness,
both of which he is incapable of compre-
hending. 1t is with these that, practically
alone and unfriended, he finds himself
face to face, for Albany, though SYM
pathetic, is under the dominion of his
wife's imperious nature; Gloucester,
though pitiful, is sufficiently occupied
with the retribution for his own sins;
Kent though loyal, wanders in disguise
as an outlaw; and the Fool ruthlessly
chastises his masters follies, only tenn
pering his sarcasm at times with the
tender refeXes of his alteration for Cor
della, toward whom his sentiments are
like those of the huntsman for his lady
in Browning's Flight of the Duchess"
In this unequal contest Lear is bound to
succumb. The kingdom of his soul, which
has long been the prey to blind whim or
ungoverned passion, has now become alb
solutely chaotic, and is accordingly no
match for the steady purposes and con-
slant wills to which 1t is opposed. He
is thrust out by calculating and insstent
selfshness, and eventually succored by
unwavering affection; his own impulsive
and tickle nature is but the football Of to-
and-fro contending forces, and the only
majesty which he retains to the end is
that of fitful passion and ruinous age, the
majesty of dismantled tower played
round by wild lightning.
Note-This Critical Study Of the Play
by DR.. Cook of Yale will be concluded on
Thursday.