Evening star., 1925-05-21
One al a series Of the
Years best short
stories.


SO &hs dow -sn1ooched, so vivid end
sparkiess- Eht the combinations Of alf
this with her mouth-Surely no
woman had even owned n mouth like,
Anne.s--So; wide-centered and deep
cornered. So cool and so warm. SO
lusciously crimson that. fiaring out
of the pallor of her face il was like
bIoodhot signal to the senses South
ampton and Anne--The image Of
his friend-snd rival--suddenly hung
clear In his mind; the 1.-THE, long
whlte-skinned youth with his chestnut
curls and his brilliant color, his brown
eyes shot with red lights: his dashin-
aspect and his dreaming looki his
profundities of thought: his eleganc
of expression. Well. at least now he
could put the two names together in
his mind without a sense of utter
spiritual annihila ton. And even as his
pain dulled, their images vanished
from his mental vision. His real prob
lem lifted its eaunt face there.
Should he ever write again? Had
il gone for Good-that rushing food
ing impulse which. on command, had
turned his youth to creative orgy.
had sometimes evolved and finished
play in week? Was this PARALYSIS
but Il temporary mental dreadness or
was II old age the fickering out
Of the creative faculty? He had ac-
eommodated himself to many things
in lifetime of work Once he had
created the dramatic mode. had led.
Now he followed. aped other mems
effort and at. ii seemed. a slower and
slower pace. Those younger blades Of
the drama-Besu umont Fletcher
How they poured it forth and in what
variety and with what felicity, Well
he must follow where, their star led
Aye. he was content TO follow. IL he
could only produce n big thing in the
new mode. But he could produce
nothing. What had happened to him
or what was the fault in him? Always
he had wondered-and now he con
,sidered the problem 2 afresh-ff = mans
work were SO closely engaged with 4
mans life that he must live life
especially constructed for that work
For himself. try as hard as he could
10 disengaEe himself from mortal
taneles. he had had 10 live long seq
ments Of his life as though his work
had not even existed Southampton
had. Of course. dominated such a seq
ment: Anne Davenant another. And
whatever the cost of his work. he
would not part with even the memory
OF that magic, madness. Long living
il had heen with, him at first and
short working: then longer and harder
working. shorter and shorter living:
until now life was all working Per
haps that was the flaw. in him-that
very concentration may have marred
his quality
Yet there was Benz No man had
worked harder than Ben. and Ben had
for decades lived life that was hut
pendant to his work. OF course Ben's
youth had sown VIGOROUS wild oats
that interval in the Low Coun-
- h. Ian
his man and gone to prison. 80. But
he had chosen London for the scene
Of the major portion Of his work and
in tilthN. greasy stipking London he
had stayed. domina ting the literary
life of the town. as indeed-there had
never been an atom Of jealousy in
Shakspere $ admiration for Ben-he
deserved to dominate il. On the other
hand-MarIowe, At his Youths peak
Kit had thrown himself into the fam
ing abyss at the very center Of life.
had let its fires eat his vitals. had
died Of his love NJ life. had died A the
hands Of life itself Did Marlowe
have the right of it" And Kyd and
Greene-those wasters Of lleydey?
Was this the face that launched 2
thousand ships and burnt the topless
towers OF Illium2" God, il was worth
going out in one hell-hot stab al JOY
to have written those lines. They.
too-the whole trio-had STAYED in the
city. had drunk deep of its poison.
Was. after all. the swift stab at
life the wiser way" However. il was
| useless now 10 regret that he had not
followed other mems paths. led they
to sanity or madness: for he could not
stay in the city try as hard as he
would. Just a London had held him
in hot enchantment in the beginning.
I:she had released him frost-cold
in the end. And then the country had
begun TO pull on him. He had deaf
ened his ears to the Turing plea as
long as he could. But in the end il
/ had hailed him back TO Stratford-
that low. wifd-do call. Another mo
tive came in herein honesty he. had
to admit il. He wanted to write the
| Sha kspere name strong on Stratford
life again. IL was a sacred duty; his
/ father had laid ii on him.. That was
one of the things A man must do, he
had no choice there. And vet again
! doubt. Should a poet engage in com
merCe with sacred obligations? What
had he TO do with that pale-blooded
/ wench. Duty? Was not the poet his
| own law? Well, like the oaf he was,
docilely. without question. he had fol
lowed the Indictment of the Shakspere
blood. He had returned to Stratford.
He had made the Shakspere strain a
power, New Place was pointed out,
gaped at And Anne had riser
in importanc as his position in
crea sed.' OF course. there had been the
old wound of his years of absence in
London, but that wound had healed.
Anne was a placid woman whose heart
held its own tenderness. rejected its
| own bitterness. And fate had brought
her fair social fortune in her two
daughters Sukey had made a notable
match; Judy had been bridesmaid at
the Harvard weddinE