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Sidelights from 
 Shakespeare 
 
 ON THE 
 
 Alcohol Problem 
 
 Christine I. Tinling 
 
 price Fifteen cents 
 
 National Woman's Christian Temperance Union 
 evanston, illinois 
 
 e^Hfe»249 
 
V4* 
 
 Copyright 1917 
 National Woman's Christian Temperance Union 
 
 A3 
 
 NOV 26 1917 
 )CI.A478664 
 
FOREWORD 
 
 "My Shakespeare! 
 Thou art alive still, while thy book doth live, 
 And we have wits to read and praise to give." 
 
 — Ben Jon son. 
 
 Alcohol is on its trial. It has been arraigned before the bar 
 of public opinion on at least a dozen counts. It stands accused 
 of murder in the first degree and of every other crime. Many 
 are the witnesses who bear testimony every day to its evil deeds ; 
 on the other hand there are those who argue in its defense. 
 
 Let us hear from a few of these as they speak to us from the 
 pages of the immortal Shakespeare, giving faithful testimony 
 to their innermost thoughts and feelings on this important sub- 
 ject. They are as much alive as they ever were. We pass them 
 on the street, and we live with them in the home, for human 
 nature remains ever the same, and as for Shakespeare it has 
 well been said of him, "He was not for an age but for all time." 
 
 It is true we cannot call these witnesses into any court of 
 law. Did we attempt to detain them they would "vanish into air, 
 into thin air," and "like the baseless fabric of a vision leave not 
 a rack behind." They are such stuff as dreams are made of, but 
 they are none the less real for that. Nothing is more real than 
 thought; it remains as strong and vital as ever when the brain 
 that gave it birth has been moldering for centuries in the dust. 
 
 In order to secure the testimony of these people we must 
 catch them unawares. We must wait our opportunity and listen 
 to their speech as they talk among themselves of their joys and 
 sorrows, the "mingled yarn" that forms the warp and woof of life. 
 
 Let us take five witnesses for the defense and five for the 
 prosecution and listen to them with an open mind, considering 
 carefully, not only each individual testimony but also the charac- 
 ter of the witness. If we have learned the priceless lesson "to 
 delight no less in truth than life," let us weigh the evidence pro 
 and con as fairly and dispassionately as we may. Then in our 
 own minds let "even-handed justice" prevail, as we pray that it 
 may ever prevail in the greater court of our national government. 
 
 Christine I. Tinling. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 1. Caliban and His God 5 
 
 2. Stephana Practises Medicine 10 
 
 3. Falstaff in Praise of Sack 14 
 
 4. Falstaff and the Price of Sack 20 
 
 5. Lady Macbeth and Her Motives 26 
 
 6. Sir Toby and His Critics 33 
 
 7. Cassio and the One Cup 39 
 
 8. Cassio the Soldier 44 
 
 9. Old Adam's Retrospect 49 
 
 10. Old Adam's Reward 55 
 
 11. Portia on the Power of Habit 60 
 
 12. Hamlet on the National Issue 65 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM 
 SHAKESPEARE 
 
 CALIBAN AND HIS GOD 
 "That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor; I will kneel to him." 
 
 Caliban has been sent by his good master Prospero to fetch 
 some wood. As usual he goes slowly and unwillingly for he 
 hates the duke for having dispossessed him many years ago. 
 Formerly he lived here alone with his mother, a foul witch who 
 for mischiefs manifold and sorceries terrible was exiled from 
 Argier and took' refuge on this desert island. 
 
 He is a strange looking object as he waddles along; dwarfed 
 in stature, "legged like a man" but with fin-like arms, and with 
 long claws for nails. When Prospero and his little daughter 
 Miranda, cast adrift by their enemies, were stranded here, the 
 duke pitied Caliban and took him to live in his own cell. The 
 creature could not even speak in those days, but only gabbled 
 like a thing most brutish. Prospero, however, did not let an hour 
 go by without teaching him one thing or another, so he gained 
 after a while such simple knowledge as how to "name the 
 greater light and how the less." Prospero allowed him to share 
 such scanty comforts as he himself enjoyed. He trained him 
 on the other hand to build the fire, bring in the wood and make 
 himself useful in various ways. 
 
 The kind man's efforts, however, have been in vain. Caliban 
 is incorrigible; he cannot take any print of goodness, being 
 capable of all ill. He is one on whose nature nurture will never 
 stick, and as with age his body uglier grows, his mind cankers in 
 like manner. 
 
 As he loiters along bearing his load of wood he suddenly 
 sees a man in an odd, variegated costume advancing towards him. 
 But as no one lives on the island except himself, Prospero and 
 
6 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Miranda, and as he has never seen any human shape except these 
 and his witch mother, he thinks this must be a spirit sent to tor- 
 ment him. He falls flat on the ground hoping thereby to escape 
 notice. 
 
 This is no spirit, however, but the jester of King Alonzo's 
 company. They have all been wrecked and cast upon the island 
 and are scattered here and there. A thunder storm is brewing 
 and a huge black cloud is ready to burst, so this fellow Trinculo 
 looks around for a shelter. 
 
 There is not a tree in sight, no, not so much as a shrub, and he 
 knows not where to hide his head. Suddenly turning he espies 
 Caliban. "What have we here?" he cries, "a man or a fish? 
 Dead or alive?" Though the form is suggestive of a fish, the 
 dress makes him conclude this must be an islander recently killed 
 by a thunderbolt. The "monster" is a curiosity surely, and if 
 Trinculo can only take him to England he will make his fortune. 
 But his immediate concern is to shelter from the storm, so he 
 creeps under the creature's rough cloak or gaberdine and hides 
 there. There they lie, presenting the appearance of a four- 
 legged animal and looking between them even more monster-like 
 than Caliban did before. 
 
 Soon there comes along the drunken butler of the ship's com- 
 pany, Stephano by name, bottle in hand as usual. He pours some 
 of his liquor into the mouth of the strange animal, with what 
 object we shall consider later. 
 
 Let us see what impression it makes upon him. This is of 
 interest to us because Caliban is no mere ugly oddity ; he stands 
 as a type of man at his lowest, only slightly raised above the 
 brute. He is of the earth, earthy, and represents the animal 
 nature, just as Ariel stands for thought and rejoices in the free 
 air as his natural element. 
 
 Caliban is delighted with the draught. Hear what he says: 
 "That's a brave god and bears celestial liquor; I will kneel to 
 him. I'll swear upon that bottle to be thy true subject, for the 
 liquor is not earthly. Hast thou not dropped from heaven?" 
 he cries. "Out of the moon, I do assure thee," says Stephano. 
 "I was the man in the moon when time was." "I have seen 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 7 
 
 thee in her," replies the credulous Caliban, "and I adore thee; 
 my mistress showed me thee and thy dog and thy bush." 
 
 Caliban cannot do enough for this lord of liquor; he prom- 
 ises to show him every fertile inch of the island, pluck berries 
 for him,, catch fish, dig for pig-nuts, in fact, do everything in 
 his power for the "wondrous man" who has brought him this 
 celestial boon, this more than earthly beverage, tasted and enjoyed 
 now for the first time in his existence. 
 
 No wonder that a poor monster, more like a tortoise than a 
 man, is amazed when he first makes acquaintance with alcohol. 
 It mystified the alchemists in the Middle Ages, who at first 
 thought they had discovered the elixir that would give perpetual 
 youth. They called it "aqua vitae" or water of life. The name 
 "alcohol" was given to it because of its volatile nature. It is 
 from two Arabic words signifying "most subtle." A few drops 
 poured out would almost immediately disappear. Surely it was 
 a strange substance! It gave peculiar sensations, too, a feeling 
 of exuberance that was very pleasing. So, like Caliban, they 
 considered it a celestial liquor, a beverage fit for gods, 
 days with the process of distillation; they extracted what they 
 called the "spirits of wine" from a fermented liquid. It is prob- 
 things the art was for a long time forgotten. Albucassis, a 
 Moorish physician, rediscovered it in the eleventh century and it 
 was improved somewhat later by a certain Raimundus Lullus, 
 a theologian of distinction. He lived in the island of Majorca 
 and learned to love a girl who, alas, was suffering from an in- 
 curable disease. He threw himself into the study of physic and 
 chemistry in order to save his. sweetheart. This was impossible 
 but he became a famous alchemist and specially busied himself 
 with the improvement of distillation. 
 
 Though the alchemists learned by means of heat to separate 
 this volatile substance, this al kohl, they had no idea of its origin. 
 This was shrouded in mystery. Mankind had, of course, known 
 since Noah's time that when grapes were crushed and exposed 
 to the air something was formed that would produce intoxication. 
 But aeons were to roll by before men could read "in Nature's 
 infinite book of secrecy" the story of how this came to pass. 
 
8 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 At last Louis Pasteur in the nineteenth century announced 
 to the world that fermentation is due to a minute plant, the 
 yeast cell, which lives and grows in solutions of sugar, and gives 
 off alcohol as a waste product. Another scientist, Buchner, a 
 few years later, submitted the yeast plant to great pressure and 
 extracted from it a ferment which he called zymase. He showed 
 that this is the agent that does the work of breaking up the 
 molecule of sugar into two molecules of carbon dioxide and two 
 molecules of alcohol. So now it is clear that alcohol is a waste 
 product formed in connection with the splitting up of sugar. 
 In other words it is a result of decomposition. The work of the 
 yeast plant is thus the exact opposite of that of the green plant 
 cell. The green plant takes carbon dioxide and water and builds 
 them up into a useful food, sugar, whereas the yeast plant uses 
 sugar and breaks it down into carbon dioxide and alcohol. 
 
 This excretion, like others, is injurious to the cell that pro- 
 duces it and to all higher forms of life. It is well known that 
 the bodies of all plants and animals, including man, are com- 
 posed of the minute masses that we call cells. Cells have a few 
 essential needs. One is water; another is oxygen. Alcohol has 
 an affinity for both of these substances; it readily combines 
 with them and thus deprives the cell of part of its supply. 
 
 Cells consist largely of protoplasm. It resembles the white 
 of an egg, but is a very complex material consisting chiefly of 
 the class of compounds known as proteins. Alcohol is hurtful 
 to protein and causes it to coagulate or clot. These three simple 
 facts are sufficient to explain in large measure the injurious 
 effects which follow its use. 
 
 As regards its character this toxin is narcotic, that is, if taken 
 in sufficient doses it causes narcosis or stupor. In the days 
 before chloroform was known it was often used in operations 
 to deaden the sense of pain. It belongs indeed to the same group 
 of substances as chloroform, ether and chloral, and is classed as 
 an anesthetic. Therefore, by reason of its very nature it can- 
 not be suitable for beverage use. 
 
 Because, however, it gives a temporary feeling of elation 
 those who are ruled by impulse rather than by reason will nat- 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 9 
 
 turally be in favor of it. Caliban stands as a representative of 
 that great host who live for the satisfaction of the lower nature, 
 the animal appetites. All these must be counted among the Pros ; 
 if they say anything they will bear witness for the defense. 
 
 We shall soon hear from others of a very different type, some 
 of them persons of intelligence and influence. All the sup- 
 porters of alcohol are not Calibans by any means, but prac- 
 tically all the Calibans are supporters of alcohol, and this is to 
 be expected. 
 
 Their cry is "Liberty," and here again our poor monster 
 perfectly represents them. Having tasted the joys of alcohol 
 he determines to break loose from his master, Prospero, the 
 benefactor to whom he owes so much. Hear him sing: 
 
 "No more dams I'll make for fish 
 
 Nor fetch in firing 
 
 At requiring, 
 Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish. 
 Ban, Ban, Caliban, 
 Has a new master ; get a new man." 
 
 He will not serve Wisdom as it is personified in Prospero; 
 he prefers to serve Appetite. 
 
 "Heyday, Freedom !" he shouts, "Freedom, Freedom," and 
 all the time he is a miserable slave, ready to resign every advan- 
 tage of civilization for the new-found joys of the bottle. Nay, 
 this "thing of darkness" will kill if possible the man to whom 
 he owes everything, even the very gift of language, and will cast 
 himself down in abject submission before the one who can sup- 
 ply him with strong drink, crying, "I prithee be my god," and 
 protesting that he will be for aye his foot-licker. 
 
 What a picture of humanity reduced to its lowest terms! 
 Such is our first witness for the defense of alcohol, Caliban, the 
 deserter of Wisdom, the willing slave of Appetite. 
 
10 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 II 
 
 STEPHANO PRACTICES MEDICINE 
 
 "He shall taste of my bottle; it will go near to remove his fit." 
 
 Let us now look a little more carefully at Stephano and in- 
 quire why he is so ready to share his precious liquor with the 
 strange creature he has found upon the shore. 
 
 The ship's butler prides himself on not being easily frightened ; 
 no man can make him give ground. But he is considerably 
 startled when he sees prone on the earth this four-legged ani- 
 mal in a man's clothing. "What's the matter?" he exclaims. 
 "Have we devils here?" Caliban has been quite scared at the 
 sight of Trinculo, taking him, as we have seen, for one of his 
 master's spirits come to punish him. Now, as the jester has 
 crept under his gaberdine, his fears increase and he cries out in 
 dread, "Do not torment me, O !" Poor creature, he is trembling 
 in every limb, and no wonder. He knows from experience how 
 effectually Prospero can punish and how his invisible ministers 
 can fill his skin with pinches. 
 
 Stephano concludes he is no devil but a monster of the isle 
 with four legs. He can talk, too, and he speaks Italian. Won- 
 der of wonders, that wrecked on a desert island Stephano should 
 find someone who uses his own mother tongue. "I will give 
 him relief," he says, "if it be but for that." But not for this 
 reason alone does he apply the precious bottle to the monster's" 
 mouth. He begins to think as Trinculo had done a few mo- 
 ments before what a curiosity this creature would be in his own 
 land. But the poor thing is evidently very sick ; he is still shak- 
 ing violently. He has a fit of some kind, probably the ague. 
 "If I can recover him and keep him tame," soliloquizes the 
 butler, "and get to Naples with him, he's a present for any 
 emperor that ever trod on neat's leather." 
 
 Caliban's terror does not diminish. He knows not what this 
 being who has wormed himself into his gabardine is going to 
 do next. "Do not torment me," he begs, "I'll bring my wood 
 home faster." 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 11 
 
 "He's in his fit now," thinks Stephano, "and does not talk 
 after the wisest. He shall taste of my bottle; if he have never 
 drunk wine afore it will go near to remove his fit. Open your 
 mouth," he says, with rough good nature, "here is that which 
 will give language to you. Open your mouth; this will shake 
 your shaking, I can tell you, and that soundly. You cannot tell 
 who's your friend"; and as Caliban responds to the invitation 
 he continues to encourage him, "Open your chaps again." 
 
 But now Trinculo recognizes the voice of his old chum and 
 cries out in fear and wonder. "Four legs and two voices," 
 exclaims Stephano, "a most delicate monster. If all the wine in 
 my bottle will recover him I will help his ague. Come, I will 
 pour some in thy other mouth." 
 
 In short, Stephano is a firm believer in the efficacy of alco- 
 hol as a medicine. It will cure a fit be it ague or what not, and 
 by this panacea for the ills that flesh is heir to he will restore 
 the monster and make his fortune. 
 
 It was inevitable that through the centuries mankind should 
 look on alcohol as a help in sickness. It removes pain, lessens 
 fatigue, and gives a sense of well-being. These effects, as we 
 now understand, are delusive; they are simply due to the fact 
 that it is an anesthetic. It is because alcohol narcotizes the 
 nerves that the sense of pain is diminished; the trouble remains 
 the same, if indeed it is not increased. 
 
 Until shortly before Shakespeare's time the science of medi- 
 cine was in its age-long infancy. We obtain a faint idea of how 
 great was the lack of scientific knowledge if we examine one of 
 the statutes passed a few years before the poet's birth : 
 
 "In the parliament holden at Westminster in the thirde year 
 of the King's most gracious reigne for the advoyding of sorce- 
 ryes, witchecraft and other inconveniences it was enacted that 
 no persone within the Citie of London should take upon him to 
 exercyse and occupie as Phisician and Surgeon except he be 
 first examyned, approved and admytted by the Bishopp of 
 London." 
 
 That a cleric was the chief authority in matters of medicine 
 and that sorcery and withcraft were means used by many who 
 
12 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 called themselves doctors, are two facts sufficient in themselves to 
 give us a picture of the ignorance of the time. 
 
 In the Dark Ages the monks were the dispensers of physic. 
 They had a few recipes which they prescribed for the most com- 
 mon diseases and if people did not recover on account of taking 
 them, they often did so in spite of taking them and gave the 
 monks the credit. Doubtless, too, they sometimes deserved it. 
 
 With the sixteenth century came the revival of learning in 
 all the European countries, and among the many studies which 
 received new impetus medicine was one of the most prominent. 
 Men began to read the works of the ancient physicians in the 
 original instead of trusting as heretofore to translations from 
 the Latin and the Arabic. Better still, they began to explore 
 nature's secrets for themselves. The brave Vesalius in spite of 
 derision and obloquy dissected the human body and laid the 
 foundation of the science of anatomy. Harvey, whose name 
 marks an epoch in the history of medicine, was a contemporary 
 of Shakespeare. He may be said to have instituted a scientific 
 method in physiology but his great discovery was not given to 
 the world until after the poet's -death. 
 
 * This, then, was essentially a transition period. The light of 
 science was indeed breaking, but the mists and vapors of igno- 
 rance had not been entirely dissipated. Great discoveries were 
 being made and at the same moment men in high esteem in the 
 medical world were writing the most utter rubbish. 
 
 The doctors were still to a large extent alchemists and would 
 sell charms and philtres that were supposed to possess mysterious 
 power. They long believed in the medicinal value of gold ; when 
 it was acted upon by lemon juice, honey, salt and alcohol, and 
 repeatedly distilled, it was said to "heal every disease that is 
 thought incurable in the space of seven daies at the furthest." 
 We find "mummy" mentioned in Shakespeare. That was a 
 magical mixture, whose name is suggestive of its source, and 
 both long before and long after the poet's time it was used as a 
 medicine. The charming and chatty writer, Sir Thomas Browne, 
 says that Francis the First always carried mummy about with 
 him and relied upon it as a standby in all disorders. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 13 
 
 Shakespeare's medical knowledge was remarkable. His mar- 
 velous mind would appear to have assimilated practically all the 
 learning of his age on this subject. We are even tempted now 
 and then to wonder if he saw beyond his time, so scientifically 
 true are some of his statements regarding matters which were 
 then only partially understood. 
 
 Compared with the follies above mentioned, the use of alco- 
 hol as a medicine seems almost sensible and certainly it was 
 entirely natural. Theoricus, a German writer of the sixteenth 
 century, says : "It sloweth age, it strengtheneth youth, it helpeth 
 digestion, it cureth the hydropsia, it keepeth the head from 
 whirling, the teeth from chattering, the throat from rattling, the 
 heart from swelling, the hands from shivering, the sinews from 
 shrinking, the veins from crumbling and the bones from 
 aching." 
 
 Long has alcohol held its place, but our own day has wit- 
 nessed a remarkable change in medical opinion. Modern con- 
 viction is expressed in a nutshell in the words of Dr. Norman 
 Kerr: "Alcohol is the pathological fraud of frauds." Sir 
 Victor Horsley says : "It is of no more use in disease than it is 
 in health." No one pretends in these days that it will go near to 
 remove a fit. 
 
 One of the things of prime importance in sickness is the 
 elimination of poisons, and the presence of alcohol retards this 
 process because it reduces the amount of oxygen in the system. 
 Add to this the fact that it is a depressant, interfering with all 
 the vital functions, and it will hardly seem necessary to mention 
 in further detail the ways in which alcohol acts as an ally to 
 disease. 
 
 A canvass was recently made among American physicians in 
 order to determine their present attitude towards alcohol and to 
 compare the medical opinion of today with that of a few years 
 ago. A number of hospital authorities stated that practically no 
 alcohol is now used as a medicine in their institution. Several 
 said there had been a decrease of seventy-five per cent in the last 
 five years and others put it as high as ninety per cent. 
 
14 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 One somewhat amusing reply was to this effect: "Alcohol 
 is sometimes valuable in fractional doses to allay the anxiety of 
 patients and friends." That is, though the doctor knows it is 
 worse than useless he may feel obliged to prescribe it because the 
 patient in his ignorance so desires. 
 
 The weighty words of Dr. Howard A. Kelly of Johns Hop- 
 kins University are a warning to all who in the medical faculty 
 or out of it are inclined to tamper with this insidious poison: 
 "It is clear, in the light of experience and of recent research 
 work, that alcohol should be classed in the list of dangerous 
 drugs, along with morphine, cocaine and chloral. On the basis 
 of experience I appeal to my colleagues everywhere to abjure 
 its use." 
 
 Alcohol will ere long be relegated to the same limbo as 
 mummy, and remembered only as illustrating the follies of a 
 bygone age. 
 
 Ill 
 
 FALSTAFF IN PRAISE OF SACK 
 
 "If I had a thousand sons I would teach them to addict 
 themselves to sack." 
 
 London in Shakespeare's time was a very different city from 
 what it is today. Could we be carried back three hundred years 
 and set down in the midst of it we should hardly know it for the 
 same place. The Tower would, indeed, be there, and away in 
 the distance, separated from the city by miles of meadows, we 
 might recognize the Houses of Parliament. But even St. Paul's 
 would not be the same cathedral that we are acquainted with 
 today. Old London Bridge would attract our attention with its 
 high gate-tower at each end and perhaps some traitor's head 
 looking grimly down from the wall. 
 
 The streets of those days were narrow and very dirty. It was 
 only in the reign of Henry the Eighth that the work of paving 
 them was begun. Round stones were used and were placed in the 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 15 
 
 most irregular fashion so that walking and riding alike were 
 more of a penance than a pleasure. This was especially true 
 after dark as there were as yet no street lights. The sidewalks 
 were narrow and crowded and a gutter ran down the middle of 
 the road into which refuse of all kinds was flung. 
 
 There were few vehicles to be seen. The rich went on horse- 
 back, followed by footmen; pack animals carried the merchants' 
 wares, and porters hurried to and fro laden with sacks of coal 
 and vegetables. 
 
 We may still see a street named Eastcheap but the original 
 one of that name was done away with, together with many other 
 courts and alleys, when the neighborhood of London Bridge was 
 renovated years ago. Long before that time the Boar's Head, 
 dear to FalstafT, had disappeared. It was destroyed in the 
 Great Fire of 1666 after having been famous as a hostelry since 
 the days of the Plantagenets, if not before. There are records 
 telling of a riot there two hundred years before Shakespeare's 
 time. After the fire the inn was rebuilt on the old site and when 
 at last it was pulled down one stone from between the front win- 
 dows was preserved as a relic. It bears the carving of a boar's 
 head and is still to be seen in the. Guild Hall Museum. 
 
 The Elizabethan age was characterized by a spirit of socia- 
 bility and the taverns were the general rendezvous of all classes. 
 There the courtiers were wont to wile away the time, and there 
 the poets, artists and wits discussed all subjects under the sun. 
 In these social gatherings they disposed of vast quantities of 
 liquor of various sorts, both home-made and imported. 
 
 Among the English beverages, besides the immemorial ale 
 and beer, were mead made from honey, strawberry drink, cider 
 and cherry wine. Some of them were concocted with exceeding 
 care ; for instance, a drink named white meath contained no less 
 than twenty-three different herbs. 
 
 Many wines were imported from Spain, Italy and France, 
 fifty-six varieties from the last named country alone. The favor- 
 ite of them all was sherris sack, made forever famous by its con- 
 nection with FalstafT. It obtained the first part of its name from 
 
16 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Xeres in Spain, and the second from the French word "sec" 
 which means "dry." 
 
 Falstaff is never happy unless he is drinking sack. He is 
 always calling for a cup of sack or a quart of sack or a bottle 
 of sack. The word seems to be oftener than any other on his 
 lips. He puts sugar into it and sometimes also toast. He gets 
 very cross when he finds lime therein, which the makers occa- 
 sionally used as a preservative. In short he and his sack are 
 inseparable, so that "if sack and sugar be a fault," he feels he is 
 certainly in need of ftiercy. 
 
 Falstaff has been characterized as "the wine god of merry 
 England." He is a sort of Bacchus, knowing none of the con- 
 siderations of propriety that act as a restraint on society in gen- 
 eral. He is utterly without conscience and utterly without shame, 
 and lives simply to gratify his lower nature in every possible 
 way. But he is so irresistibly witty that we are captivated in 
 spite of ourselves, and his fun is doubly funny emerging from 
 this absurd looking ton of flesh. So in spite of his evil deeds and 
 his worthless character, he remains the prime favorite of the 
 comic stage. Of all those who testify in favor of liquor he is the 
 most weighty witness. Let us hear what he says : 
 
 "A good sherris sack hath a two-fold operation in it. It 
 ascends me into the brain ; dries me there all the foolish, dull and 
 crudy vapors which environ it; makes it apprehensive, quick, 
 full of nimble, fiery and delectable shapes; which delivered o'er 
 to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit. 
 
 "The second property of your excellent sherris is the warm- 
 ing of the blood; which, before cold and settled, left the liver 
 white and pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity and coward- 
 ice; but the sherris warms it and makes it course from the in- 
 wards to the parts extreme. It illumineth the face which, as a 
 beacon, gives warning to all the rest of this little kingdom, man, 
 to arm; and then the vital commoners and inland petty spirits 
 muster me all to their captain, the heart, who, great and puffed 
 up with this retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this valor 
 comes of sherris. So that skill in the weapon is nothing with- 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 17 
 
 out sack, for that sets it a-work; and learning a mere hoard of 
 gold kept by a devil till sack commences it and sets it in act and 
 use." 
 
 A very clear testimony this, naturally divided into two parts. 
 Sack gives wit ; sack gives warmth. As warm blood means cour- 
 age and cool blood cowardice, it follows that sack gives valor. 
 If this can be proved true, it must surely be a precious boon to 
 humankind, and for want of it the total abstainer is suffering 
 grievous detriment to both body and mind. Let us examine more 
 carefully this claim of the fat knight. 
 
 Strong drink goes to the brain, he says, and dries up the 
 fogs that dull it, so that it becomes nimble and alert and the 
 imagination is quickened. Then, when the tongue gives birth 
 to the bright ideas thus engendered, we have wit. He seems to 
 have a pretty good conception of the physiology of his age. It 
 was taught by Hippocrates, the father of medicine, and still be- 
 lieved in Shakespeare's time, that the brain, being of a spongy 
 texture, sucked up the superfluous humore of the body. 'The 
 head," we read, "being hollow and round, draws incessantly, 
 like a sort of cupping glass, the moisture from the rest of the 
 body, which rises in a vapor." Such was the old idea. 
 
 Modern science tells us that alcohol does indeed readily com- 
 bine with water, for which it has an affinity. So far Falstaff" 
 is right. But the dull, crudy vapors of which he speaks of course 
 do not exist. Alcohol combines with the water in the tissues. 
 Every tissue consists largely of water and the delicate soft sub- 
 stance of the brain is no exception. Alcohol withdraws water 
 from it and thus has a hardening effect, more or less apparent 
 according to the quantity used. For this reason the great anato- 
 mist, Hyrti, said that he could distinguish in the dark, by one 
 touch of his scalpel, the brain of a drunkard from that of a 
 sober man. 
 
 The idea that liquor stimulates the thinking powers and 
 makes the user more brilliant and more witty than he would 
 otherwise be, is one of the many misconceptions that have long 
 persisted but are now dying out. It may be explained very 
 simply. Alcohol narcotizes those higher centres of the brain 
 
18 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 that are concerned with judgment, and so a man is more easily 
 satisfied with himself while under its influence. He thinks him- 
 self witty and indeed wonderful because the power of criticism 
 is temporarily dormant. Naturally, when all the members of a 
 group partake of the same illusive draught they are apt to be 
 a highly self-satisfied company. It has been well said that "drink 
 creates the conditions in which any sort of conversation seems 
 good conversation, any sort of wit seems good wit, any sort of 
 company seems good company, and it may be added any sort of 
 drink seems good drink." 
 
 To return to Falstaff's oration in praise of sack. He says the 
 second thing this excellent sherris does is to warm the blood; 
 it causes the spirits to muster to their captain, the heart, and 
 hence results courage. This may be explained by reference to 
 another belief that was held in Shakespeare's time. It was 
 thought that the arteries contained no blood but only vital spirits. 
 This notion obtained because they were found empty after death. 
 The very name artery is from two Greek words meaning to "keep 
 air" and it was taught that if they did hold any blood at all it 
 was but a small amount mixed with the vital spirits. The veins 
 were considered to be the chief blood vessels and in them the 
 current was supposed to move to and fro. The blood was said 
 to be propelled from the heart by the act of inspiration and 
 brought back again by each expiration. Thus the medical men 
 of the sixteenth century taught that the blood flowed, but it 
 remained for Harvey to announce later that it moved in a 
 circle. The old idea was that of the ebb and flow of a tide. 
 
 FalstafF holds that alcohol helps this movement and increases 
 the heat of the body. It was quite natural to suppose that liquor 
 warms the blood, for it does indeed give a sensation of warmth, 
 and in those days people had little besides sensation to go by. 
 As a matter of fact it reduces the temperature, sometimes only 
 a little, sometimes as much as five or six degrees. This explains 
 the fact that men who have been drinking and stay out all night 
 frequently die of exposure. 
 
 The blood vessels, as we now know, are regulated by nerves. 
 In cold weather these nerves cause the vessels in the skin to 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 19 
 
 diminish in size and thus reduce their capacity for holding blood. 
 There is therefore less blood in the skin and more in the internal 
 regions and heat is in this way conserved. Alcohol paralyzes 
 these vaso-motor nerves and they cease to control the blood ves- 
 sels. The latter are thus not lessened in caliber as they ought 
 to be, and so blood flows freely through them. As blood is warm 
 this gives the comfortable feeling the drinker desires. He does 
 not understand that, far from gaining heat, he has only brought 
 it to the surface where it is largely abstracted by the cold air 
 without. Alcohol causes the user to lose heat to so great an 
 extent that the modern Arctic explorer does not dare to include 
 it in his kit. 
 
 So it seems that after all sack does not give wit but only 
 makes a man think he is witty ; it does not give warmth, but only 
 makes a man think he is warm. How about the claim that it 
 imparts courage? Multitudes would back up Falstaff in this 
 assertion and not without reason. Take, for instance, Trinculo 
 who says : "Was there ever a man a coward that hath drunk so 
 much sack as I today?" Liquor does indeed infuse into its 
 patron what is known as "Dutch courage," a bravado that renders 
 him ready to fight, often on no pretence whatever. He feels 
 "very hot and valiant" even though he be by nature far from 
 pugnacious. It is for the same oft-repeated reason that the 
 higher centers of the brain are benumbed and he cannot judge 
 of the matter in hand, neither does he realize the risk that he runs 
 in fighting. He thinks he is brave whereas he is only stupid. 
 
 Sir Jack, however, has no right to be talking about courage. 
 Indeed it is an instance of his consummate impudence that he can 
 take the word upon his lips at all. He is laughing in his sleeve 
 as he does so, for he knows very well that he is as arrant a 
 coward as ever was born. One time only does he gain a reputa- 
 tion for valor and that is when he stumbles into camp bearing 
 the body of the redoubtable Percy whom he says he has slain. 
 It was the Prince, however, who did that deed, and Falstaff 
 steals the honor from his chum because he is utterly incapable of 
 winning renown by any exploits of his own. Sack's claim to be 
 
20 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 a courage-giver would win scant credence, indeed, if Falstaff 
 were its only exponent. 
 
 One thing, however, that this witness says is incontrovertible, 
 namely, that sack illumineth the face, making it resemble a bea- 
 con or fire. This is an illustration of the effect on the blood 
 vessels just mentioned. When the nerves controlling the minute 
 vessels in the skin are deadened by the narcotic poison these 
 latter become distended and the result is the well-known appear- 
 ance of the drinker's face. But this is hardly to be reckoned as 
 a point in favor of the excellent sherris sack. 
 
 One thing, however, is clear. Falstaff enjoys his drink. If 
 his physiology will not stand the test of modern science that is 
 not of the smallest consequence. We are almost ashamed to 
 take him seriously even for* an instant. He does not drink his 
 glass because the doctor says it is good for the heart and liver 
 and brain. He drinks it because he likes it and likes the good 
 times that are associated with it and the jovial company. He 
 stands before us as the representative of a great host who are 
 bent on enjoying themselves. Pleasure they seek and pleasure 
 they obtain. But before we let Falstaff go we will ask him how 
 much they pay for it. 
 
 IV 
 FALSTAFF AND THE PRICE OF SACK 
 
 "This gout plays the rogue with my great toe." 
 
 "Pleasure will be paid." In these four words Shakespeare 
 reminds us of a truth that is too apt to be forgotten. It holds 
 good of all sorts of pleasure without exception. Intellectual 
 enjoyment can be obtained only through hard work; the 
 rewards of the spiritual life are won through sacrifice; and 
 this is equally true of the physical pleasures that mean so 
 much to a Falstaff. They have their price. 
 
 He is an extreme example of the devotee of enjoyment. 
 He lives to have a good time, eating and drinking and making 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 21 
 
 merry. He has nothing in the world to do but minister to 
 himself, and he attempts nothing else, for we certainly can- 
 not take his soldiering seriously. Moreover he is not in any 
 way hindered in the pursuit of selfish enjoyment. Most peo- 
 ple have a conscience which every now and then makes its 
 voice heard, and a conscience is apt to be a source of great 
 discomfort. But FalstafT does not feel this deity in his bosom 
 and is not bothered by it except very slightly and very seldom. 
 Whatever pleasure, therefore, is to be found in ministering 
 to the bodily appetites he may indulge in without let or hindrance. 
 
 Since, however, "pleasure will be paid," it is worth while 
 to enquire "What does Falstaff give for it, and is it worth 
 the price?" 
 
 First of all, then, it costs him a good deal of money, and 
 also of inconvenience when money runs short. He tells the 
 little page to look in his purse and see how much is there, 
 and the answer is "seven groats and twopence" or about 
 sixty cents. "I can get no remedy against this consumption 
 of the purse," says he, "borrowing only lingers and lingers 
 it out, but the disease is incurable." No wonder. Everyone 
 who has an expensive taste, such as the appetite for alcohol 
 or tobacco, finds to his regret that his purse is afflicted with 
 consumption. Take for instance the cost of a single dinner 
 which any sensible man, then as now, could get for a modest 
 sum. Here is FalstafFs bill : 
 
 "Item A capon 2s 2d 
 
 " Sauce 4d 
 
 " Sack, two gallons 5s 8d 
 
 " Anchovies and sack after 
 
 supper 2s 6d 
 
 " Bread >4d" 
 
 "O monstrous," cries Prince Hal when he finds the account, 
 "but one-half pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal 
 of sack." There is many a true word spoken in jest ! 
 
 Such madcaps as Sir John never keep accounts, but if they 
 did they would get a surprise. George Washington once 
 
22 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 wrote a letter to a certain Mr. Thomas Green in which he 
 said: "Were you to look back and had the means either 
 from recollection or accounts to ascertain the cost of the 
 liquor you have expended it would astonish you. In the 
 manner this expense is generally incurred, that is, by getting 
 a little now and a little then, the impropriety of it is not 
 seen, inasmuch as it passes away without much thought. But 
 view it in the aggregate and you will be convinced at once." 
 And later in the same letter he goes on to say, "But the 
 expense is not the worst consequence that attends it." 
 
 Only a small portion of the price of pleasure is paid in 
 money. The satisfaction of these bodily appetites is followed 
 by the suffering from bodily ills. Falstaff's unwieldy mass of 
 flesh may be a source of amusement to others but it is surely 
 a source of discomfort to himself. It is evidently the result 
 of his self-indulgent habits. Once he was so slim that he 
 "could have crept into any alderman's thumb ring," and now 
 his waist is two yards round, he is "blown up like a bladder," 
 and he cannot see his own knee. Of course he appreciates 
 the funny side of it, and can enjoy a joke at his own expense. 
 When he gets the ducking in the Thames that he so richly 
 deserves he says : "The rogues slighted me into the river 
 with as little remorse as they would have drowned puppies, 
 and you may know by my size that I have a kind of alacrity 
 in sinking. I had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy 
 and shallow; a death that I abhor, for the water swells a 
 man, and what a thing I should have been had I been swelled. 
 • I should have been a mountain of mummy." 
 
 But with all his joking about it his huge bulk makes him 
 very uncomfortable and averse from action. Pathetically he 
 complains : "I were better to be eaten to death with rust 
 than to be scoured to nothing by perpetual motion." But 
 worse than inertia, he suffers with the gout, one of the pen- 
 alties that the good liver so often has to pay. It plays the 
 rogue with his great toe, and the pain doubtless neutralizes 
 the delight of many a bottle of that excellent sherris sack. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 23 
 
 Nor is this all. Those who live for appetite may have 
 what they consider a good time, but one of the blessings they 
 forfeit is the respect of their neighbors. Falstaff is no excep- 
 tion, and he knows it. When he is impersonating the king 
 and lecturing the young prince on his follies he says : "There 
 is a thing, Harry, which thou hast often heard of, and it is 
 known to many in our land by the name of pitch ; this pitch, 
 as ancient writers do report, doth defile, so doth the company 
 thou keepest." 
 
 Again, what a pitiful picture the Chief Justice draws of 
 the degenerate old man, characterized by a yellow cheek, a 
 white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing paunch, with voice 
 broken, wind short, chin double, wit single, like a candle, the 
 better part burned out. This is how Falstaff appears to 
 others. The eminent critic, Gervinus, points out that before 
 the end Shakespeare degrades him even in his wit so that he 
 is by no means a match for simple honest people. 
 
 Even the prince, after all the fun and frolic they had had 
 together on his accession to the throne, rejects the old fel- 
 low. We feel sorry for Falstaff when he says : 
 
 "I know thee not, old man, fall to thy prayers ; 
 How ill white hairs become a fool and jester. 
 I have long dreamed of such a kind of man, 
 So surfeit-swelled, so old and so profane ; 
 But being awaked, I do despise my dream. 
 Make less thy body hence and more thy grace; 
 Leave gourmandizing; know the grave doth gape 
 For thee thrice wider than for other men." 
 
 Simple, literal truth, which may be verified in the reports 
 of the various insurance societies today. The grave, how- 
 ever, is a subject that Falstaff would fain forget ; he does not 
 thank anyone for reminding him of his end. 
 
 When it comes it is pitiful to see him going back to his 
 innocent childhood and calling on the God he has so long 
 neglected. Mistress Quickly, hostess of the Boar's Head, tells 
 the story of his passing in her garrulous way: "A' parted 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the 
 tide; for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with 
 flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was 
 but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen and a' bab- 
 bled of green fields. So a' cried out 'God, God, God' three or 
 four times. Now I to comfort him, bid him a' should not 
 think of God. I hoped there was no need to trouble himself 
 with any such thoughts yet." But even then he was dying 
 as she soon realized. 
 
 Sitting once in the Boar's Head Inn and feeling old age 
 coming on apace, he had said to Bardolph : "My skin hangs 
 about me like an old lady's loose gown ; I am withered like 
 an old applejohn. Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while 
 I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart presently and then 
 I shall have no strength to repent." 
 
 It is not by any means a satisfactory task to analyze a 
 comic character. It is not intended to be analyzed but only 
 to be enjoyed. Falstaff is perhaps the most amusing figure 
 in all comedy and we are indebted to him for a great deal 
 of fun. But Shakespeare is not the man to allow wit and 
 humor entirely to obscure the show of evil. He will not 
 leave us with the impression that after all fair is foul and foul 
 is fair. He makes Falstaff himself acknowledge that his life 
 is all wrong and resolve occasionally to leave sack and live 
 cleanly as a gentleman should do. As we have seen he 
 makes him pay dearly for his pleasures. To sum up the price : 
 impecuniosity annoys him ; his heavy form makes action dis- 
 tasteful ; gout tortures him; he loses the respect of decent 
 people, and he leaves the world having had, so far as we are 
 able to judge, "no strength to repent." 
 
 There are various sorts of pleasures and some are incom- 
 patible with others. They won't mix, so it is necessary to 
 choose between them. One group may be broadly classed as 
 "the pleasures of sin"; these only last "for a season." There 
 is another variety, described on unimpeachable authority as 
 "pleasures for evermore." Every human soul has the privilege 
 of choosing between the two kinds. Myriads of men for want 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 25 
 
 of a little thought are carried away by the desire for sensual 
 gratification and "sell eternity to get a toy." 
 
 We may feel reasonably sure that Shakespeare himself was 
 a sincere Christian. It would be hard to imagine anyone but 
 a true believer writing as he does of "our dear Redeemer" 
 and speaking of God as "our hope, our stay, our guide and 
 lantern to our feet." How clearly he sets forth the gospel 
 in the lines : — 
 
 "All the souls that were, were forfeit once, 
 And He that might the vantage best have took 
 Found out the remedy." 
 
 Not only does he refer to the Atonement as the one way 
 of salvation in such words as these : 
 
 "I charge you, as you hope to have redemption 
 By Christ's dear blood, shed for our grievous sin," 
 
 but one feels there is a personal appreciation of the sacrifice 
 of the Son of God when he writes of 
 
 "Those blessed feet 
 Which fourteen hundred years ago were nailed 
 For our advantage on the bitter cross." 
 
 We are not left, however, to gather from Shakespeare's 
 characters what he himself thought and felt upon the theme 
 of themes. We have his own solemn statement in his last 
 will and testament. Only three of his signatures have been 
 preserved and one of them is beneath these words : "I com- 
 mend my soul into the hands of God my Creator, hoping and 
 assuredly believing through the only merits of Jesus Christ 
 my Saviour to be made partaker of life everlasting." 
 
 But though such is his faith he does not preach to us, for 
 that is not his calling. He shows us life as it is, good and ill 
 inextricably mixed together, and he leaves us to think things 
 out for ourselves. All the world's a stage and Falstaft has 
 his place upon it like everybody else. He reveals himself; he 
 does not need a cap and bells. Poor old fellow, we enjoy his 
 
26 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 merriment and are amused by his wit, but we do not know a 
 single individual who would wish to be like him. He has his 
 pleasure like many another man of the world, but is it worth 
 the price? 
 
 LADY MACBETH AND HER MOTIVES 
 
 "That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold." 
 
 The feast is spread. Macbeth, by the murder of Duncan, has 
 realized his ambition and become king of Scotland. At a state 
 banquet he and his queen entertain the chief lords of the realm. 
 Lady Macbeth pronounces a cordial welcome, while her husband 
 mingles with the guests and takes a seat at the table. "Be large 
 in mirth," he says, "anon, we'll drink a measure the table round." 
 "Now good digestion wait on appetite and health on both." Then, 
 as in some quarters now, it was supposed that wine is a valuable 
 addition to the social meal because it helps digestion. That idea 
 has, however, been completely exploded and we are told on high 
 authority that if we wish good digestion to wait on appetite and 
 health on both we must leave strong drink alone. However, it 
 is not for any such practical purpose that wine is served at any 
 banquet, but only for the pleasure it imparts and the atmosphere 
 of good fellowship that accompanies it. Macbeth, a few moments 
 later, speaks again : "Give me some wine, fill full ; I drink to the 
 general joy of the whole table." 
 
 But though the word "joy" is on his lips there is no joy for 
 him tonight. Instead there is horror in his heart as he encounters 
 the accusing ghost of Banquo, whom he has just murdered. 
 Though from first to last he never realizes it, this same sparkling 
 wine, associated in his mind with the thought of joy, is one of 
 the prime factors in the tragedy that even now has begun to 
 overwhelm his life. 
 
 Shakespeare took the material for this play from Holinshed's 
 Chronicle. The name of the actual murderer, as there given, 
 was Donwald, and the story runs thus: 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 w 
 
 "At length, having talked with them a long time, he got him 
 into his privie chamber, onelie with two of his chamberlains, 
 who having brought him to bed came forth againe, and then fell 
 to banketting with Donwald and his wife, who had prepared 
 diverse delicate dishes and sundrie sorts of drinks for their sup- 
 per, whereat they sate up so long, till they had charged their 
 stomachs with such full gorges, that their heads were no sooner 
 got to the pillow but asleepe they were so fast that a man might 
 have remooved the chamber over them sooner than to have 
 awaked them out of their droonken sleepe." 
 
 The poet brings out very clearly that the use of drink was an 
 integral part of the plot to murder the king. 
 
 Macbeth has almost resolved to abandon his purpose. He 
 reflects that even in this world retribution may overtake him. 
 He has not the faintest shadow of excuse for this murder, for 
 Duncan has borne his faculties so meek and been so clear in his 
 great office, and his virtues will testify like angels, trumpet- 
 tongued against the crime. 
 
 Besides being his kinsman and his king, Duncan is bound to 
 Macbeth by the sacred ties of hospitality and is for the time 
 being under his protection. Influenced by these weighty considera- 
 tions, the thane, notwithstanding his ambition, says to his lady: 
 "We will proceed no further in this business." 
 
 But she holds him to the purpose, for she is resolved that 
 cost what it may he shall sit upon the throne of Scotland. With 
 calm determination she plans the murder as being the only pos- 
 sible means to this end, and she lashes her husband with her 
 tongue for his hesitation. He weakens. His next objection is 
 based merely on the fear that they may fail in the attempt, so 
 she lays her plan before him in detail. 
 
 "When Duncan is asleep, 
 Whereto the rather shall his hard day's journey 
 Soundly invite him, his two chamberlains 
 Will I with wine and wassail so convince 
 That memory, the warder of the brain, 
 Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 
 
28 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 A limbeck only; when in swinish sleep 
 Their drenched natures lie, as in a death, 
 What cannot you and I perform upon 
 The unguarded Duncan? What not put upon 
 His spongy officers, who shall bear the guilt 
 Of our great quell?" 
 
 The old anatomists thought that the brain consisted of three 
 ventricles or chambers; and that the mind had three principal 
 faculties, understanding, imagination and memory. The imagina- 
 tion lodged in the front cell, the understanding or reason in the 
 middle, and the memory in the hindermost. Memory was sup- 
 posed to act as a guard or warder to protect the other faculties. 
 Lady Macbeth says that strong drink will convert memory into 
 a mere fume or vapor. It will then rise into the next cell and 
 confuse the reason. The latter will be like an alchemist's limbeck 
 or alembic, which is the part of a still into which the fumes 
 ascend. The description may seem to us far fetched, but 
 alchemy was very popular in those days, and though the terms be 
 unfamiliar we can get the main idea, that the mind, including 
 memory and reason, is rendered utterly useless by alcohol. The 
 word "quell" in the last line is essentially the same as "kill," and 
 Lady Macbeth means that the attendants, saturated with liquor, 
 shall bear the responsibility of the murder. 
 
 When Macbeth considers this plan and is convinced that he 
 can do the deed with impunity, he declares that his mind is made 
 up to it, and he will "bend up each corporal agent to this terrible 
 feat." She drugs the possets; she places the daggers; he strikes 
 the blow ; the deed is done. 
 
 Some are inclined to look on Lady Macbeth as a fiend incar- 
 nate, her husband's evil genius, utterly devoid of any natural 
 feelings. But she says herself that they must screw their courage 
 to the sticking place, and this implies an effort made in resistance 
 to an opposite feeling. She is afraid she may weaken and so 
 she invokes evil spirits to unsex her, and stop up the passage to 
 remorse, that no natural compunctions may shake her fell purpose. 
 That there are stirrings of human feeling in her breast we see 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 29 
 
 from this reference to the old man : "Had he not resembled my 
 father as he slept, I had done it." Because she is not a fiend, 
 but a woman, there is, she knows, some danger lest her ambitious 
 purpose should fail of accomplishment, hindered by thoughts of 
 pity or considerations of right and wrong. It is because she is 
 afraid of her own better nature that she calls these spirits to 
 her aid. 
 
 Neither to these alone does she appeal ; she seeks assistance 
 from spirits of another kind. She takes a draught of that same 
 drink she gave the grooms, to strengthen herself for her part in 
 the crime that is to make her husband king and herself queen 
 of Scotland. "That which hath made them drunk hath made me 
 bold," she says, "that which hath quenched them hath given me 
 fire." 
 
 This is a very suggestive statement, and leads one to inquire 
 why the same drug should quench, as it were, one person and 
 give fire to another. Apparently it acts in small doses as a stimu- 
 lant and in large ones as a narcotic, but a little thought will con- 
 vince us that the effect is essentially the same in both cases. 
 
 The brain, as we now understand, consists of the cerebrum, 
 which is the seat of conscious action, including all the higher 
 functions ; the cerebellum, which is concerned with the co-ordina- 
 tion of the muscles ; and the medulla or bulb, wherein are found 
 nervous centers governing heart and lungs. The effect of poison- 
 ing by alcohol is first seen in the cerebrum, where it is manifested 
 by loss of self-control and confusion of thought. The cerebellum 
 is next affected and the subject cannot regulate his movements. 
 Lastly, when the medulla is narcotized the heart and lung centers 
 stop functioning and death results. In the case of the grooms, 
 when death and nature do contend about them whether they 
 live or die, it is because the narcotic effect has been deep enough 
 to involve the medulla. 
 
 Lady Macbeth takes no such draught. A small quantity suf- 
 fices to deaden the higher centers of her brain and paralyze the 
 feelings of compunction that might have hindered her. She 
 takes it for that very purpose. 
 
30 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 The reason why alcohol makes a person bold to do what other- 
 wise he would never do is thus expressed by one of our American 
 medical authorities : "The effect is to attack the protoplasm of 
 the most highly specialized cells. The sense of shame, the sense 
 of decency, the sense of right and wrong, the equipoise, that part 
 of our complex organism which has differentiated civilized man 
 from the savage and savages from animals, these disappear under 
 its influence." 
 
 An amateur climbing in the Alps took a drink of whisky 
 before he attempted a very dangerous crevasse and boasted that 
 after so doing, he jumped it like a bird. "Like a fool rather," 
 was his friend's comment. The effect of the whisky was simply 
 to make him regardless of consequences because the higher 
 centers concerned with judgment were paralyzed. The same 
 thing holds good in regard to crime. Lady Macbeth is bold 
 because she has for the moment laid to sleep her reason and 
 judgment and the better feelings that otherwise might give her 
 pause. 
 
 Macbeth wanted the throne, but was probably too full of the 
 milk of human kindness to catch the nearest way. He was not 
 without strong ambition but would hardly have murdered to 
 attain his desire. He would have drawn back, as we have seen, 
 but for his wife's influence and her contempt for him when he 
 hesitated. And as he would not have done the deed without 
 her so perhaps she would not have done it without the wine. 
 Since she felt the need of it to make her bold it would seem that 
 she was not quite bold enough without it. So this crime might 
 never have been committed but for alcohol. 
 
 Be that as it may, we may safely assume that though attempted 
 it would have failed. Like every other royal personage Duncan 
 had his bodyguard whose duty it was to defend him with their 
 very lives. Instead of so doing, at the moment of danger they 
 are in a deep sleep and mock their charge with snores. And why ? 
 Because they have partaken of the lethal cup. Thus twice over 
 we find alcohol an important factor in the plot. 
 
 God only knows in how many tragedies the wide world over 
 it has been a factor. The Scottish heath of a bygone age, the 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 31 
 
 American home of the twentieth century, together with a vast 
 variety of human habitations unnumbered and unknown, have 
 been the scenes of plots essentially similar. There is some fault 
 that holds the possibilities of tragedy, ambition in one case, weak- 
 ness in another, jealousy in a third. These may lead to nothing 
 worse than an ordinary degree of unhappiness. But alcohol is 
 added and becomes a determining factor. Then ambition plus 
 alcohol, or weakness plus alcohol, or jealousy plus alcohol, spells 
 murder. 
 
 The connection between strong drink and crime was fully 
 recognized in Shakespeare's time, though of course it was not 
 understood as it is today. An act was passed in 1607 for 
 repressing drunkenness which contains these words: 
 
 "The loathsome and odyous Synne of Drunkennes is of late 
 growen into comon use within this Realme being the root and 
 foundacion of many other enormious Synnes, as Bloodshed, Stab- 
 binge, Murder, Swearinge, Fornicacion, Adulterye and such like, 
 to the great dishonour of God and of our Nacion, the overthrowe 
 of many good Artes and Manuell Trades the disablinge of dyvers 
 Workmen and the genrell ympovrishing of many good Subjects." 
 
 Since the nature of alcohol has not changed in the three hun- 
 dred years since these words were written and since it has not yet 
 been prohibited by national law in the old country or the new, 
 its effects remain today just the same as ever. 
 
 As, however, we understand these effects so much better 
 than did our forefathers, and as scientific investigation has 
 demonstrated to us the close connection between alcohol and 
 crime and the reasons for the same, we are far more to blame 
 for allowing it to exist in our midst than were those who lived 
 in the seventeenth century. 
 
 Physiologists, psychologists, alienists and criminologists speak 
 with the authority of expert knowledge against the use of alcohol. 
 Their testimony is supported by a vast amount of practical experi- 
 ence. Colonel Maus, recently retired as surgeon-general of the 
 Eastern Department of the United States Army, after forty-one 
 years of service, says: "Practically all the crime committed in 
 
32 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 the army directly or indirectly can be traced to the effects of 
 alcohol." 
 
 Here is a letter from an English captain written from the 
 front: "We sincerely hope the English and French govern- 
 ments will unite to enforce a complete prohibition. On looking 
 over my orderly room cases for the last few months, I note 
 that with few exceptions all the offences are attributable 
 to drink, and the exceptions are trifling affairs. The only 
 cure, and the one sincerely hoped for by those of us who 
 view with apprehension our steadily increasing use of alco- 
 hol, is its total effective prohibition, both in England and 
 France." 
 
 Very different from these offences and not to be men- 
 tioned in the same breath with them, are the unspeakable 
 crimes of the Huns in Belgium. Testimony given in the 
 Bryce report and gathered from the letters of Teuton sol- 
 diers, shows that in many cases these atrocities which have 
 shocked the civilized world were committed under the in- 
 fluence of liquor. Even Germans would hardly have treated 
 helpless little children as they have done had they not been 
 more or less drugged. 
 
 We have in Macbeth weird suggestions of supernatural 
 powers affecting human destiny — witches, with their charm 
 wound up, withered and wild in appearance, making their 
 baneful influence felt from the outset, their cauldron a com- 
 pote of all gruesome things suggestive of horror. The fillet 
 of a fenny snake, eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat, 
 tongue of dog, and the other ingredients of the enchanted pot 
 may sound sufficiently repulsive, but for a "charm of power- 
 ful trouble" there is nothing to compare with that apparently 
 harmless wine cup whose contents will just stupefy the 
 moral nature enough to enable the user, though a woman of 
 refinement, to become a criminal. 
 
 As, after the deed, Lady Macbeth goes to replace the dag- 
 gers beside the grooms, a loud knocking is heard without. 
 It continues some time as the porter is slow in responding. 
 "Knock, knock, knock," he says, "who's there, in the name 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 33 
 
 of Beelzebub?" and he pictures himself as the keeper of hell- 
 gate, letting the sinners in. 
 
 His soliloquy is not the mere chatter of a loquacious old 
 servitor. It suggests that this is indeed the gate of hell in 
 a very real sense. This beautiful home, where "heaven's 
 breath smells wooingly" and where amid the music of the 
 birds and the perfume of the flowers loyal hearts might live 
 happily and entertain for a season a good and gracious friend, 
 this place is transformed into a hell on earth. It becomes the 
 scene of murder and its inmates have brought upon them- 
 selves a punishment which will ever increase in the intensity 
 of its horror, and compared with which any corporal suffer- 
 ing seems unworthy to be mentioned. Remorse is hell. This 
 is what Lady Macbeth has brought upon herself and her hus- 
 band, and the means by which she has compassed that deed, 
 fatal to Duncan's life, but far more awfully fatal to their 
 own two souls is — drink. 
 
 When the human spirit maintains its ascendancy over 
 the lower nature and is itself illumined and indwelt by the 
 Divine, how happy and harmonious life becomes ! But when, 
 through alcohol's delusive influence, the higher nature is 
 deadened and dethroned, then the storms of passion sweep 
 unhindered, destroying both character and happiness, and 
 life may be described in Macbeth's own words as "a tale 
 told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing." 
 
 From such rueful wreck and ruin, good Lord, deliver us ! 
 
 VI 
 
 SIR TOBY AND HIS CRITICS 
 
 "Dost thou think, because thou art zrirtuous, there shall 
 
 be no more cakes and ale?" 
 
 It is past midnight but Sir Toby and his friend Sir Andrew 
 Aguecheek are having a rollicking time regardless of the 
 other inmates of the house. It is not in Sir Toby's nature to 
 consider anybody's comfort but his own. He takes advantage 
 
34 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 of his niece's kindness and hospitality and cajoles his friend 
 out of his money and entirely disregards the claims of law 
 and order. However, as he is jolly and witty and constantly 
 bubbles over with mirth and music his selfishness is more or 
 less concealed. 
 
 Sir Andrew is a tall lank-haired and very weak-minded 
 individual. He has unbounded admiration for Sir Toby and 
 imitates him on all occasions. He thinks life consists of eat- 
 ing and drinking, and when it dawns on him that he presents 
 a somewhat foolish appearance he suggests that much beef 
 has done harm to his wit. It seems probable that drinking 
 has had more to do with his stupidity than eating, for the two 
 knights are intoxicated every evening. Sir Toby excuses this 
 by saying it is with drinking healths to his niece and adds, 
 "I'll drink to her as long as there is a passage in my throat 
 and drink in Illyria. He's a coward that will not drink to my 
 niece till his brains turn o' the toe like a parish top." How 
 many irregularities is this old custom of health-drinking re- 
 sponsible for, and how many physical ills! It has been pithily 
 said that "we drink each other's health and spoil our own." 
 
 The Countess Olivia, Sir Toby's niece, is a young and 
 beautiful woman, who on account of the deep sorrow of a 
 double bereavement has retired from society and is resolved 
 to live in seclusion for seven years. She tolerates Sir Toby 
 because of their relationship though his manner of life is by 
 no means to her taste. Quiet and austere by nature she loves 
 simplicity and reality. Her household affairs are administered 
 by a steward, one Malvolio, who is a strict puritan. 
 
 The two revelers sit up well into the night and are joined 
 by the clown who contributes a song. But a solo is not good 
 enough for Sir Toby and he proposes that they all three sing. 
 "Shall we make the welkin dance indeed?" says he. "Shall 
 we rouse the night owl in a catch that will draw three souls 
 out of one weaver? Shall we do that?" "Let's do it," echoes 
 Sir Andrew, and the trio are soon bawling at the top of their 
 voices. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 35 
 
 This brings Maria, the Countess' waiting-maid, to the 
 scene, and she sharply reproves the noisy gentlemen, saying, 
 "What a caterwauling do you keep here! If my lady have 
 not called up her steward Malvolio and bid him turn you out 
 of doors, never trust me." 
 
 It is indeed disgraceful to disturb the whole household at 
 this time of night. An old book has come down to us from 
 Shakespeare's century which says, "No man shall after the 
 hour of nine at night keep any rule (i. e., behaviour) whereby 
 a sudden outcry be made in the still of night, as beating his 
 wife or servant, or singing or revelling in his house." Good 
 manners at that time required that such things be done before 
 the clock struck nine ! 
 
 Maria's efforts are in vain. Sir Toby starts up another 
 song and yet another after that. Then, just as she had pre- 
 dicted, the steward walks in and indignantly remonstrates 
 with the three men. 
 
 "My masters," he cries, "are you mad? Or what are you? 
 Have you no wit, manners nor honesty, but to gabble like 
 tinkers at this time of night? Do you make an ale-house of 
 my lady's house that you squeak out your cozier's catches 
 without any mitigation or remorse of voice? Is there no 
 respect of place, persons nor time in you?" And when the 
 irrepressible Sir Toby retorts that they did keep time in their 
 catches, he goes on to say, "Sir Toby, I must be round with 
 you. My lady bade me tell you that though she harbors you 
 as her kinsman, she is nothing allied to your disorders. If 
 you can separate yourself and your misdemeanours, you are 
 welcome to the house ; if not, and it would please you to take 
 leave of her, she is very willing to bid you farewell." 
 
 Sir Toby gets angry. "Sir," he cries, "ye lie. Art any 
 more than a steward? Dost thou think, because thou art 
 virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?" 
 
 The old fellow evidently believes in personal liberty. The 
 puritan shall not interfere with him ; he will eat what he 
 likes and drink what he likes, shout when he likes and sing 
 when he likes, and it is nobody's business but his own. 
 
36 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 This notion of personal liberty is being constantly aired 
 by those who indulge in the liquor habit and support the 
 liquor traffic. It would be well if they would study the defi- 
 nition of liberty given by the Supreme Court of the United 
 States : "Even liberty, the greatest of all rights, is not unre- 
 stricted license to act according to one's own will. It is only 
 freedom from restraint under conditions essential to the equal 
 enjoyment of the same rights by others." 
 
 Because Sir Toby insists on his supposed right to drink 
 and shout, other people are deprived of their undoubted right 
 to a good night's rest. But no one really has any right, in 
 pursuit of his own pleasure, to make himself a nuisance to 
 his neighbors. 
 
 The liquor traffic has always been a public nuisance. It 
 was eminently so in the days when this play was written. If 
 we delve into those Statutes of the Realm that date from the 
 reigns of the Tudor sovereigns we may easily read between 
 the lines how great an annoyance liquor drinking had become 
 in English society. A law passed shortly before Shakespeare's 
 time says, "Intollerable hurt and trobles to the Comon Wealthe 
 of this realm do the daylie grow and increase throughe such 
 abuses and disorders as are had and used in comen Alehouses 
 and other houses called Tiplinge houses." 
 
 Another law, enacted within about two years of the date 
 of this play, contains these words : "The ancient true and 
 principal use of Innes, Alehouses and Victuallinge Houses 
 was for the Receipte Reliefe and Lodginge of wayfaring peo- 
 ple travellinge from place to place and not meant for enter- 
 tainment and harboringe of idle people to spende and consume 
 theire money and theire tyme in lewde and drunken manner." 
 
 It was quickly followed by another in which we read of 
 "Alehouses whereof the Multitudes and Abuses have been and 
 are found intollerable and still doe and are like to increase." 
 
 We also notice that the liquor men of that period would 
 not confine themselves within the limits of the law any more 
 than they do today. The traffic was essentially corrupt. We 
 find men "taking upon them the Arte and Mysterie of Malt- 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 37 
 
 makinge and tenderinge more their owne private lucre and 
 gayne and profitt than the holsome vytalinge of the King's 
 majestie and his Grace subjects." We read that "by gready 
 myndes" they "made myche malte unpure and unseasonable" 
 so that it became "mustie and full of Wevells, wherby noe 
 holsome drincke for man's bodye can by any means be therof 
 made." As the spelling indicates, this is from an earlier 
 statute; it dates from the reign of Henry the Eighth. 
 
 Thus for not much less than four hundred years our Anglo- 
 Saxon race has had proof that this is a thoroughly lawless 
 trade. It has been set down in those tomes where words are 
 never lightly written as "intolerable," and yet in our easy- 
 going way we have tolerated it to the present time in the old 
 country and in the new. 
 
 Even now, though we are gradually trying to get rid of 
 it, many men are desperately afraid that their town or city 
 will go to ruin without it, and that under prohibition the grass 
 will soon be. growing in the streets. Experience, however, is 
 a good teacher, and we see some who formerly favored license 
 changing their minds after a year or two under the prohibitory 
 regime. The editor of a certain newspaper in Spokane, Wash- 
 ington, may be taken as the type of a large and increasing 
 class. He says : "Spokane has honestly tried prohibition and 
 it has prohibited. Not perfectly, but better than speed laws 
 prohibit fast driving or larceny laws prohibit theft. Hotel 
 men who at that time were near panic over the coming of 
 the new law are wearing smiles as they turn surplus guests 
 away." After all, what else was to be expected? Does it 
 not stand to reason that a decent law-abiding city is more 
 attractive to the decent law-abiding majority of the people 
 than one that is honeycombed with saloons, every one of 
 which is a centre of disorder and rowdyism? 
 
 Slowly but surely our citizens are learning that prohibition 
 is a public boon. It is a boon even to the Toby tribe did 
 they but know it. Toby gets into trouble before the end of 
 the play and has a broken head. By the way, this would not 
 have happened but for drink, which has always been known 
 
38 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 as a fruitful cause of accidents. He wants the surgeon and 
 wants him at once. But unfortunately that gentleman is 
 drunk, and the knight must go without attention or at least 
 must wait for it. This is very exasperating, and Sir Toby 
 does not hesitate to call him a rogue. "I hate a drunken 
 rogue," he exclaims. It is all right for himself and his chums 
 to carouse the live-long night and make the welkin ring, but 
 when the doctor has a mind to amuse himself in the same 
 way that is an entirely different matter. He ought to be 
 always on hand, ready to patch up the broken heads of bibu- 
 lous knights. Point of view makes a great difference. 
 
 Malvolio affords us a great deal of fun in this play on 
 account of his ridiculous conceit and self-love, but after all 
 he does stand as a representative of law and order, and it is 
 on this account that Sir Toby is at odds with him. He hates 
 to be restrained. One sentence of his, quoted above, gives 
 us the key to his position on the liquor question. "Dost thou 
 think, because thou art virtuous," he says, sneering at the 
 steward's puritanism, "there shall be no more cakes and ale?" 
 He entirely forgets that the official would never have inter- 
 fered with him at all if he had been behaving himself decently. 
 It is as a disturber of the peace that he finds his liberty 
 questioned. 
 
 We have the same situation today on a public scale. The 
 temperance people are accused of forcing their own narrow 
 views on others and obliging their neighbors to live by their 
 own teetotal rule. Cakes and ale and all the conviviality and 
 jollity represented thereby must be banished because the drys 
 are determined to inflict their severe code on the whole of 
 society. Not at all. Either ignorantly or wilfully the wets 
 entirely misconstrue the matter. If the liquor traffic had not 
 made itself a public nuisance it might still continue unmo- 
 lested. If the saloon had not been the centre of disorder, if 
 it had not made our cities a disgrace to civilization, if it had 
 not tampered with our courts of justice, if it had not bribed 
 the police, if it had not corrupted politicians, if it had not 
 fostered anarchy, it would still be allowed to remain. It is 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 39 
 
 not going out of existence because a certain number of "dry" 
 individuals want to make everybody else dry. It is going 
 because the majority have the right to abate a nuisance and 
 intend to use that right. To quote the Supreme Court once 
 again : "There is no inherent right in a citizen to sell intoxi- 
 cating liquor by retail; it is not a privilege of a citizen of a 
 state or of a citizen of the United States. As it is a business 
 attended with great danger to the community it may be 
 entirely prohibited." 
 God speed the day ! 
 
 VII 
 CASSIO AND THE ONE CUP 
 
 "0 thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name 
 to be known by, let us call thee devil!" 
 
 Iago's heart is filled with hatred and malice. He had 
 counted on being made Othello's lieutenant. He had seen 
 service under him in Rhodes, Cyprus and elsewhere and felt 
 that he had acquitted himself creditably. Moreover no less 
 than three influential men interceded in his behalf. But the 
 suit was denied; Othello had already chosen his officer. 
 
 The lucky man is Michael Cassio, a Florentine. He has 
 given considerable attention to the theory of war, but has not 
 had by any means as much experience in the field as the 
 other. Iago heartily despises him and says that all his know- 
 ledge is mere prattle without practice. He harbors a bitter 
 grudge in his heart against Cassio for having won the coveted 
 position and a yet bitterer one against the general who pro- 
 moted him. He only remains in the army that he may seek 
 an opportunity of wreaking his vengeance on both. He sets 
 his wits to work and counts on "all the tribe of hell" to help 
 him, and gradually the plan develops in his mind. 
 
 Othello is a happy man; he has just married a beautiful 
 wife. If Iago can at one and the same time get Cassio's place 
 and shatter Othello's bliss, this double knavery will deliciously 
 gratify his passion for revenge. 
 
40 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 But how is he to do it? There's the rub. Suppose he 
 contrives to get Cassio into trouble so that he is disgraced 
 and dismissed; then Desdemona, gentle and kind-hearted as 
 she is, will easily be persuaded to plead for him. By a hint 
 here and a hint there he can make it appear that she cares 
 unduly for the lieutenant, for "trifles light as air are to the 
 jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ." But 
 the difficulty is to get him into disfavor in the first place. 
 Othello has the highest opinion of him as a soldier and he 
 loves him as a friend. Indeed they are so intimate that Cassio 
 acted as mediator when the Moor was courting the beautiful 
 Venetian. It does not seem an easy thing to compass the 
 downfall of this young man. 
 
 However he will manage it somehow; the plot is already 
 assuming a more or less definite shape. "'Tis here but yet con- 
 fused ; knavery's plain face is never seen till used." He waits 
 his opportunity, which is not long in coming. 
 
 Othello proclaims a festival to celebrate the destruction 
 of the Turkish fleet and his own recent marriage. There is to 
 be full liberty of feasting, with bonfires, sports, dancing and 
 general revelry. Iago will persuade the lieutenant to drink. 
 "If I can fasten but one cup on him," he schemes, "with that 
 which he hath drunk tonight already, he'll be as full of quarrel 
 and offense as my young mistress' dog." The rest will be 
 easy; he can arrange for other young gallants to be present 
 who will from the same cause be equally cantankerous. A 
 brawl will inevitably follow and will result in Cassio's dis- 
 grace. 
 
 Meanwhile Othello's friend pursues his way without the 
 smallest idea that he has an enemy. He looks on Iago as a 
 very good fellow, thoroughly honest and kindly. He knows 
 the general, too, has a high opinion of his ensign, and it never 
 occurs to him to doubt the latter's good faith. 
 
 The fateful evening draws in. Says Iago, "Come, lieu- 
 tenant, I have a stoup of wine and here without are a brace 
 of Cyprus gallants that would fain have a measure to the 
 health of black Othello." But even though it is an invitation 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 41 
 
 to drink to his friend and leader Cassio declines saying, "Not 
 tonight, good Iago ; I have very poor and unhappy brains for 
 drinking; I could well wish courtesy would invent some other 
 custom of entertainment." 
 
 kl O, but one cup," urges the tempter, and still Cassio refuses. 
 He has had one cup tonight and though that was considerably 
 diluted he dares not take another. 
 
 Iago presses the claims of hospitality. These fellows just 
 outside desire it; let Cassio call them in, for this is a festive 
 occasion. So at last the young man yields, but against his 
 will and protesting as he does so. All turns out as the villain 
 plans. The quarrel is soon started and while it is in progress 
 Iago has the big bell rung, the town is roused by a rumor of 
 mutiny and everything is in an uproar. Othello arrives on 
 the scene righteously indignant, and when he has asked a 
 few questions and noted Cassio's condition he gives his ver- 
 dict : "Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of mine." 
 
 Swiftly events move on. Cassio having lost his position 
 Desdemona pleads his cause and out of her own goodness 
 the inhuman wretch Iago makes the net that does enmesh 
 them all. Thus the whole plot of this tragedy, one of the 
 most tremendous in all literature, hangs on one cup of wine. 
 
 But it is Cassio alone that we are concerned with at pres- 
 ent. We want to get his viewpoint, to see what alcohol 
 means to him, how it affects his life and what he has to say 
 concerning it. 
 
 Poor fellow, he had everything in his favor to begin with. 
 Youth, good looks, social position, all were his. In society 
 he was known as a ready conversationalist and was deservedly 
 popular. He filled his place in the army with great ability. 
 In private he must have been a lovable character, for even 
 his bitter enemy says of him : "He hath a daily beauty in 
 his life that makes me ugly." And now he loses position, 
 friendship, reputation, everything, for one cup of wine. Oh, 
 the pity of it! 
 
 Coming down to our own time, and disregarding for the 
 present the greater forfeitures that are involved, let us con- 
 
42 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE, 
 
 sider just this one thing, the loss of employment through the 
 use of liquor. How many thousands of young Americans are 
 today in Cassio's case! In spite of natural ability, in spite 
 of "pull," in spite of friendship, they find themselves minus a 
 position on account of drink, and they wish too late that they 
 had confined themselves to "honest water which never left 
 man in the mire." 
 
 Big business is discriminating more and more severely 
 against the men who use alcohol even moderately. Inquiry 
 was recently made among the great iron and steel works in 
 the middle west and in Pennsylvania and West Virginia. Out 
 of a hundred and thirteen firms which replied to the questions 
 asked, no less than a hundred and seven stated that they abso- 
 lutely prohibit the use of alcohol in their works. Almost all 
 of them added that they were doing "everything possible to 
 prevent drinking by employees out of working hours." The 
 reasons for this attitude on the part of the corporations are 
 not far to seek. Men who drink "distempering draughts" 
 even in small quantities are not capable of doing as much 
 work as abstainers. It has been estimated that on an average 
 fourteen men who are total abstainers can do as much as 
 fifteen who use one glass of beer a day. Employers see no 
 reason why they should pay for that extra man. 
 
 Again, work is much more likely to be damaged when 
 liquor is used. It is said that in certain large steel mills when 
 saloons were open it was not an uncommon thing after payday 
 for twenty to forty tons of steel to be spoiled in the rolling. 
 
 In the third place, accidents are immensely increased when 
 drink is accessible to the workers. Liability laws impose a 
 great burden on employers. The damages assessed in court 
 for loss of life or limb are so heavy as to make it necessary 
 to take safety measures of the most thorough kind. Indus- 
 trial prohibition is simply a safety measure in the interest 
 alike of employer and employee. 
 
 It is the risk of accidents among other considerations that 
 has caused the railroads to take so strong a stand in this 
 matter. Ninety-six per cent of the great roads require total 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 43 
 
 abstinence of their men. Along virtually all lines we see the 
 same thing. Dr. Edwin F. Bowers, a well-known writer, 
 recently sent out five hundred letters to business men, rail- 
 roads, corporations and experts asking for their opinion as to 
 the attitude of industry toward alcohol. He says that prac- 
 tically the only letter that did not condemn liquor came from 
 a manufacturer of beer pumps. 
 
 In short, the verdict of business would seem to be pretty 
 well summed up in the words of Andrew Carnegie: "There 
 is no use wasting time on any young man who drinks liquor, 
 no matter how exceptional his talents." Such a one, how- 
 ever great his ability and however excellent in other respects 
 his character, is more than likely to hear from his employer 
 the equivalent of what the young Florentine hears from 
 Othello, "Cassio, I love thee, but never more be officer of 
 mine. ,, 
 
 That is bad enough, but let us not forget that loss of the 
 position may after all be one of the least of the misfortunes 
 brought on by that "one cup." In countless cases the ulti- 
 mate result is ruin and tragedy. 
 
 Iago would do very well to sit for a portrait of the devil. 
 True, he has human motives and these keep for him a place 
 among human beings. But rarely is a man to be found who 
 so closely resembles a fiend. One can well imagine the great 
 enemy of souls laying just such a trap as Iago lays. Satan 
 is none the less real for being invisible ; he wields tremendous 
 power as "the world-ruler of this darkness." It is certain that 
 he goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Here is a 
 young American, trained in a godly home, intelligent, edu- 
 cated, refined, interested in the highest things, almost per- 
 suaded to be a Christian. The enemy seems likely to lose 
 his prey. Is it not natural, nay, all but inevitable, to suppose, 
 that the thought of the arch-fiend or his representatives is 
 often identical with Iago's — "If I can fasten but one cup upon 
 him"? He does not approach him in any horrid shape; he 
 speaks through his closest friend, his college chum, maybe, 
 
44 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 and says in the most innocent way imaginable, "But one cup, 
 for sociability's sake." 
 
 If the youth could only see the invisible beings who seek 
 his ruin, if he could only realize what spirit forces are arrayed 
 against him, would he under any circumstances play into the 
 devil's hands by taking just one cup? 
 
 VIII 
 CASSIO THE SOLDIER 
 
 "O that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal 
 
 away their brains." 
 
 Having pronounced sentence upon his hitherto trusted 
 officer, Othello abruptly leaves the room. Cassio sinks down 
 in despair; his loyal affection for his chief, his fine sense of 
 honor, and his native dignity all contribute to make the blow 
 a crushing one. 
 
 As he pours out his shame and sorrow in bitter self-accus- 
 ing words the hypocritical Iago asks him how it all happened. 
 As a matter of fact he had carefully planned the whole thing 
 and had told Roderigo to "find some occasion to anger Cassio," 
 assuring him that the latter's fall would further the attain- 
 ment of Roderigo's own ambitions. 
 
 "What was he that you followed with your sword? What 
 had he done to you?" asks Iago innocently. "I know not," 
 says poor Cassio. "I remember a mass of things, but nothing 
 distinctly; a quarrel, but nothing wherefore. O God, that 
 men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their 
 brains ; that we should with joy, pleasance, revel and applause 
 transform ourselves into beasts!" 
 
 Here is one of the places in which Shakespeare gives us 
 a physiological statement which is strictly in harmony with 
 the findings of modern science. The whole intricate structure 
 that we call the nervous system consists of neurons. A neuron 
 is a nerve cell with the parts that appertain to it. Nerve cells 
 are of various forms, the most common being star-shaped. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 45 
 
 From the points of the star, as it were, delicate threads run 
 out. The cell has several short threads or processes and one 
 long one. The short ones are called dendrites from a Greek 
 word meaning "tree" because they resemble branches and 
 have still smaller excrescences which look like twigs. These 
 dendrites carry messages to the cell. The one long process, 
 known as the axon, conveys impulses in the opposite direc- 
 tion, away from the cell. 
 
 Thousands of axons bound together in bundles make a 
 nerve. Commonly these fibres have a fatty sheath which 
 seems to act as an insulating jacket to prevent the dissipa- 
 tion of the nervous impulses. The fatty material is white, 
 so where the axons abound, that is, on the inside of the brain 
 and the outside of the cord, we have what is called white 
 matter. 
 
 The nerve cells themselves are grey and so are the little 
 dendrites, for they have no jackets, and therefore they are 
 described in bulk as grey matter. The more delicate and 
 finely organized is any cell or tissue, the more readily is it 
 damaged by alcohol. The cells in the brain and the nervous 
 system generally are the most highly specialized in the whole 
 body, the most marvellous in operation and the most suscepti- 
 ble to injury by this protoplasmic poison. 
 
 When large quantities are taken, the brain cells, many of 
 them, become thoroughly disorganized. First the dendrites 
 shrivel up, and as it is by their means that the neurons are 
 kept in communication with each other this is exceedingly 
 disastrous. Later the body of the cell is injured and if the 
 habit is persisted in it may entirely disappear. Physiologists 
 believe that when this happens the cell is never replaced. 
 
 When only small quantities are used the results are not so 
 apparent, but careful experiment shows that the harm is 
 always there. Professor Kraepelin of Munich, a pioneer in 
 this line of investigation, has proved that so little as two 
 tablespoonfuls will reduce mental efficiency. 
 
46 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 It acts in two ways, diminishing speed on the one hand 
 and accuracy on the other. There are certain very simple 
 processes, such as responding to a signal, which may be 
 hastened for a short time after the use of alcohol, but they 
 are hardly worth considering, and even in these cases mis- 
 takes are more frequent and the quickening is soon followed 
 by reaction. Whenever involved processes are concerned the 
 working of the brain is invariably slowed down by alcohol. 
 This is shown by such tests as adding columns of figures and 
 memorizing poetry and numbers. 
 
 There is a peculiar kind of stuffing material in the nervous 
 system. It is called neuroglia and it keeps the delicate cells 
 snugly packed and protects them from injury. Strange to 
 say, while alcohol destroys the brain cells it has quite an 
 opposite effect on this supporting tissue ; it is merely irritated 
 and in consequence increases and fills up the space that is 
 left when the brain cells are killed. Sir Victor Horsley puts 
 the result as follows : "In the first place there is degenera- 
 tion and ultimate destruction of the nerve cells and their 
 processes. In the second place there is an increase in the 
 supporting tissue which replaces the nerve cells and which is 
 entirely useless from the point of view of nerve action." So 
 Shakespeare w T as scientifically exact when he described strong 
 drink as an enemy that steals away the brains. 
 
 Nor was he less accurate in those other words that he put 
 into Cassio's lips, "To be now a sensible man, by and by a 
 fool and presently a beast." The Creator has endowed man 
 with intellect and reasoning power while the brute has only 
 instinct. Man's greatest glory is his moral nature, his ability 
 to choose the good and refuse the evil. The injurious effect 
 of alcohol is first seen on the highest centres of the brain ; the 
 activities that are last acquired by the individual or the race 
 are the first to be lost under the influence of this poison. If 
 the moral nature is dulled and the intellect deadened, man's 
 peculiar and distinguishing features are temporarily obliter- 
 ated, and he is then to all intents and purposes on a level with 
 the beast. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 47 
 
 Cassio feels this very keenly; he speaks of it no less than 
 three times. Two of these references have already been 
 quoted. The third is on this wise : "I have lost the immortal 
 part of myself and what remains is bestial." The bitterest 
 thought of all is that he has forfeited his reputation, for 
 doubtless he feels, as Iago says on another occasion, that 
 "Good name in man and woman is the immediate jewel of 
 their souls," and few things can be compared to it in value. 
 It is this that makes him say he is hurt past all surgery. 
 Othello had given him so particular a charge when he left 
 the hall and had moreover sounded a word of warning: 
 
 "Good Michael, look you to the watch tonight; 
 Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop 
 Not to outsport discretion." 
 
 Yes, he had called him Michael and left him in that respon- 
 sible position because he trusted him. And he could not 
 even control himself, much less the garrison and the town. 
 His honor as a soldier has been dragged in the dust. He 
 feels such contempt for himself that he cannot at first think 
 of asking for forgiveness. He would "rather sue to be despised 
 than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so 
 drunken, and so indiscreet an officer." 
 
 In truth strong drink is the soldier's worst enemy. We 
 are beginning to realize it in these days, and Iago's song will 
 not do for the army of the twentieth century: 
 
 "And let me the canakin clink, clink, 
 And let me the canakin clink; 
 
 A soldier's a man; 
 
 A life's but a span; 
 Why then let a soldier drink." 
 
 Neither will it do for the navy. Not only is physical effi- 
 ciency required of all, but mathematical precision is essential 
 in officers who have charge of the guns. Rapid and exact 
 calculations must be made, and safety and success depend on 
 
48 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 speed and accuracy of the mental processes. Since both these 
 are reduced by alcohol it is a dangerous thing for a naval 
 officer to use even the smallest amount. The ruling of Sec- 
 retary Daniels, so much criticized at the time as paternal 
 legislation and an interference with personal liberty, is simply 
 a safety measure of the most essential kind. Should an officer 
 drink "but one cup" of wine, take a few seconds longer to 
 make a calculation and in consequence miss the submarine, 
 who can estimate the result? A ship lost to the American 
 navy, hundreds of heroes sacrificed, hundreds of homes deso- 
 lated, would likely enough be the sequel to that little self- 
 indulgence. 
 
 Whoever else may do it, the soldier cannot afford to drink. 
 He has too much against him. Modern warfare staggers the 
 imagination. The scenes in Dante's Inferno are the merest 
 child's play compared with what our boys have to face in 
 these awful days. No wonder that many a brave fellow is 
 transferred from the trenches to the insane asylum. The 
 marvel is that so many live through it all and retain their 
 reason. 
 
 Surely it is unnecessary to suggest that every man of 
 them needs all the brain power and nerve force with which 
 he has been endowed by nature. To reduce it in the smallest 
 degree is sheer madness. The soldier who takes a glass of 
 wine or beer is literally putting an enemy in his mouth to 
 steal away his brains. Are the foes he has to face not formid- 
 able enough, are the horrors around him not horrible enough, 
 is the death that whizzes by him not deadly enough, that he 
 must of his own free choice fraternize with this other foe that 
 threatens not only thisi life but also that which is to come? 
 America does well to protect in some measure Ijer soldier 
 sons. May God give them sense enough, when far from home 
 on a foreign shore, also to protect themselves. 
 
 There is for them moreover a higher consideration than 
 personal well-being. The men in the service represent their 
 country in a special manner and degree ; they are the cus- 
 todians of her honor. Any stain on their reputation is a 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 49 1/ 
 
 stain upon their flag. The soldier's is a high calling in these 
 days, though a terrible one. 
 
 "The peace of heaven is theirs who lift their swords 
 In such a just and charitable war" 
 
 as the present one, which aims to "make the world safe for 
 democracy." The more reason why every man who goes 
 forth under the Stars and Stripes, the Union Jack, or any 
 other flag of the Allies, should not only be "without fear" but 
 also "without reproach." 
 
 IX 
 OLD ADAM'S RETROSPECT 
 
 "In my youth I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors 
 in my blood." 
 
 Greatly to the chagrin of his wicked brother Oliver, Or- 
 lando has won the wrestling match. The elder hates the 
 younger out of sheer jealousy, because he is "of all sorts 
 enchantingly beloved." It is not surprising that the boy 
 should be popular, for while full of ambition he is yet of 
 gentle mien, though defrauded of an education he has suc- 
 ceeded in gathering considerable knowledge, his manners are 
 perfect and he is utterly devoid of fear. By his victory over 
 the champion wrestler and probably by his modest behavior 
 as much as by his remarkable skill he has overthrown more 
 than his enemies. Rosalind takes the chain from her neck 
 and gives it to him for a token, and he is so overcome by the 
 sight of her and by this unexpected sign of her favor that he 
 cannot find a word to say. 
 
 He returns to the house after this double conquest with 
 the one thought in his heart — "heavenly Rosalind." At the 
 very threshold, however, a rude shock awaits him. His faith- 
 ful old servant Adam is on the watch for him and begs him 
 not to come inside the door. Adam is devoted to his young 
 master for he is the very image of his father, the old Sir 
 
v/ 
 
 50 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Rowland. That father was a nobleman in deed and in truth ; 
 the good duke (now an exile through his brother's usurpation) 
 loved him as his own soul, and all the world agreed in admir- 
 ing Sir Rowland's sterling worth. 
 
 As to the three sons he has left behind, Orlando is like 
 him in character as well as appearance ; Jaques, too, is a prom- 
 ising boy doing well in school, but Oliver is heartless and 
 cruel and has just been plotting the death of his too popular 
 brother. He told the wrestler he would as soon have him 
 break his neck as his finger, and thought the deed was as 
 good as done, but that scheme has failed. Now Adam has 
 overheard another plot — to set fire this very night to the 
 place where the boy sleeps and so once for all be rid of him. 
 
 The old man begs him to flee for his life and craves per- 
 mission to accompany him and remain his servant still, saying: 
 
 "I'll do the service of a younger man 
 In all your business and necessities." 
 
 He is nearly fourscore years of age and has worked on 
 the land of the de Boys family since a lad of seventeen. As 
 he says to the cruel Oliver, who calls him an old dog, "Most 
 true I have lost my teeth in your service." However, but 
 for this and his white hairs he is very well preserved for his 
 age. He is eager to attend his young master and he disposes 
 beforehand of the objections that are sure to arise in his mind 
 by saying: 
 
 "Though I look old yet I am strong and lusty ; 
 For in my youth I never did apply 
 Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood, 
 Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
 The means of weakness and debility; 
 Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
 Frosty, but kindly." 
 
 Thus he expressly attributes his hale and hearty old age 
 to good habits formed in youth, and more particularly to the 
 fact of his having been a total abstainer from intoxicating 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 51 
 
 drinks, Shakespeare, be it noted, does not make him say- 
 that he has always been strictly moderate in the use of liquor 
 or that he has only taken it on rare occasions. He says it 
 is because he "never" took it that he is what he is today. 
 
 One might multiply instances from real life of men like 
 this stalwart octogenarian and might mention some who, 
 thanks to plain living, moderate work and out-door air have 
 passed the limit of a hundred years. 
 
 Old Parr who lived during eleven reigns is a case in point. 
 He died in 1635 ; he was married when one hundred and 
 twenty, continued working until after his one hundred and 
 thirtieth birthday and is said to have been a man of very 
 abstemious habits. 
 
 The records of longevity tell of an old woman in Ireland 
 who lived to be a hundred and sixteen and whose diet con- 
 sisted chiefly of potatoes and milk and oatmeal porridge. The 
 winter before she died she was seen perched on a ladder 
 mending the roof of her thatched cottage. History tells of 
 one Bowman in the north of England who worked very hard 
 from early youth and lived to the age of one hundred and 
 eighteen. Bread and potatoes formed his staple foods to- 
 gether with hasty pudding and sometimes broth. His bev- 
 erages were water and milk. 
 
 But these cases prove nothing and are only interesting as 
 curiosities. If we wish to know whether the use of alcohol 
 has any effect on the length of life we must consult the tables 
 of insurance societies. In early days this could not be done, 
 partly because abstainers were few and far between, and 
 partly because they were not considered good risks and there- 
 fore insurance companies did not care to take them. 
 
 In 1840 a certain man sought to purchase an insurance 
 policy and on acknowledging that he was a total abstainer 
 was told that he must pay an extra premium. He did not 
 care to be taxed for his principles in that way and he there- 
 fore started an insurance company on his own account. At 
 first it took only abstainers but later moderate users of alcohol 
 
52 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 were accepted and the society became known as the United 
 Kingdom Temperance and General Provident Institution. 
 
 The users and non-users of intoxicating beverages were 
 kept in two separate classes. The records of the institution 
 during the period from 1866 to 1910 show that the moderate 
 drinkers had a mortality 37 per cent in excess of that of the 
 abstainers. This allowed the society to give bonuses to mem- 
 bers of the latter class. Other companies gradually began to 
 realize that the abstainer was after all a better risk than his 
 moderate drinking neighbor and they charged him lower rates 
 instead of taxing him as aforetime. 
 
 Several old-established British concerns followed the 
 example of the Temperance and General Provident Institution 
 and kept separate records of abstainers and non-abstainers. 
 All reached the same conclusion, namely, that total abstinence 
 lengthens life. 
 
 American experience along this line is of much more recent 
 date but is equally conclusive. Forty-three of the leading 
 insurance companies of the United States and Canada recently 
 undertook a thorough investigation into the mortality of cer- 
 tain classes known as "border line risks." This term includes 
 people with a history of disease in the family, overweights, 
 me* in dangerous trades, and users of alcohol. The latter 
 were classified according to the average amount taken. The 
 committee consisted of men chosen by the different companies 
 for their special knowledge and business ability. The chair- 
 man was Mr. Arthur Hunter. The investigation covered two 
 million policies, and the period studied was from 1885 to 1908. 
 
 When an inquiry concerns itself with a comparatively 
 small number of people in some one section of the country 
 there may be local conditions which will influence results and 
 therefore these may sometimes be misleading. But where the 
 material is gathered over so large an area and the best experts 
 are engaged in interpreting it, we may safely rely on their 
 conclusions. Mr. Arthur Hunter says : "It is certainly proved 
 that total abstainers are longer lived than non-abstainers." 
 
£ 
 
 
 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 53 
 
 Taking the normal death rate as one hundred, the men 
 who drink two glasses of beer or one of whisky a day have a 
 death rate of a hundred and eighteen ; those who take from 
 four to six glasses of beer daily or two of whisky have a death 
 rate of one hundred and eighty-six. It should be remembered 
 that this comparison is between these drinkers and the general 
 class of insured individuals, which includes both abstainers 
 and non-abstainers. If it had been between the drinkers and 
 the total abstainers the results would doubtless have been 
 more striking still. As Dr. Eugene Lyman Fisk says: "Old 
 Mortality and John Barleycorn are exceedingly good cronies. 
 Wherever you find alcohol you find the following formula at 
 work: more alcohol equals higher death rate." 
 
 All the businesses connected with liquor are considered 
 hazardous and to be a liberal free user like those referred to 
 above is to take a greater risk than men in the most dangerous 
 occupations. 
 
 The work of a lineman is very perilous, necessitating as 
 it does the handling of live wires. One wonders at anybody 
 deliberately choosing to earn his living in that way. The 
 ratio of actual to expected deaths among these men is a hun- 
 dred and forty-two per cent, but while this is bad enough, it 
 does not, as we have just seen, nearly equal the mortality of 
 those who drink their two whiskies a day. 
 
 Firemen have not nearly so high a death rate as hotel- 
 keepers. The work of grinders, engravers and cutlers is 
 dangerous because small particles of metal injure the lungs 
 and render the men liable to tuberculosis. But though their 
 death rate is even higher than that of the linemen it is below 
 that of the men who are engaged in breweries. 
 
 Looked at from every standpoint it is clear that alcohol 
 shortens life. But perhaps after all percentages such as the 
 above do not make the matter quite as clear as another method 
 of presentation might do. If a man's daily glass of liquor 
 shortens his term of existence, by how much, on the average, 
 does it do so? We have seen that the moderate drinker runs 
 a greater risk of dying. Let us now look at the question from 
 
54 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 a slightly different angle and ask what does a glass of spirits 
 cost measured in minutes instead of money. 
 
 The government of Denmark has recently worked on this 
 problem, basing its calculations on the experience of all Danish 
 physicians for one year. The result shows that on an average 
 each pint of brandy used by a steady drinker reduces his 
 prospect of life by eleven hours and as there are about twenty- 
 six drinks to the pint this is equivalent to saying that the average 
 drink costs twenty-five minutes. 
 
 We sometimes say that time is money, but as a matter of 
 fact time is much more than money, and when the sands are 
 numbered that make up his life the drinker would gladly give 
 a good many dollars for a few more days. Yet how carelessly 
 he pays out his twenty-five minutes for his drink; indeed, he 
 probably does not realize that this is included in the bill. 
 Total abstinence is such a life saver that Mr. Hunter ventures 
 to assert, "If the government of Russia carry out their present 
 intention to abolish permanently all forms of alcoholic bev- 
 erages, the saving in human life will be enormous. It is not 
 too much to say that the loss of five hundred thousand men 
 as the result of the present warfare could be made good in 
 less than ten years through complete abstinence from alcoholic 
 beverages by all the inhabitants of Russia." 
 
 So old Adam stands as a true type of the life abstainer who 
 attains to a good age because he has had sense enough to 
 refrain from evil habits. There is much more, however, to 
 admire in the old man's character than this somewhat negative 
 virtue. He offers his five hundred crowns, the savings of a 
 lifetime, to his young master in distress. Orlando says in 
 deep appreciation: 
 
 "O good old man, how well in thee appears 
 The constant service of the antique world, 
 Where service sweat for duty, not for meed." 
 
 They go forth together, and when at last, after trying 
 vicissitudes, Orlando finds friends in the forest of Arden and 
 tells them his story, he says of Adam : 
 

 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 55 
 
 "There is an old, poor man 
 Who after me hath many a weary step 
 Limped in pure love." 
 
 Two words thus characterize the simple life of this old 
 laborer — love and duty. To these might be added "faith," for 
 when he sacrifices his little all it is because he can trust in 
 God who feeds the ravens and providently caters for the 
 sparrow, and who, he is sure, will be the comfort of his age. 
 
 Adam is a bright example of heroism in humble life, and 
 a reminder that it is souls and not circumstances that count 
 and that the supreme wealth is character. 
 
 X 
 
 OLD ADAM'S REWARD 
 
 "Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly." 
 
 Every season of the year has its own peculiar beauty and 
 its characteristic pleasures. It would be idle to compare spring 
 with fall or summer with winter, for they are so entirely 
 different. No one would attempt to prove that the tender 
 green of the opening leaves is more beautiful than the glory 
 of the maples after the first October frost. No one would 
 suggest that a wood in all the splendor of its summer array 
 is any more entrancing than when it is a fairy land of dazzling 
 crystal, glittering with a glory no man-made palace ever saw, 
 while every twig is coated with ice and all the colors of the 
 rainbow are reflected from a million radiant prisms. 
 
 So it is with life. Childhood and youth hold very different 
 experiences from those of manhood and old age, but it is 
 blessed and beautiful all the way through when lived in true 
 simplicity, and when, as with old Adam, faith and love and 
 duty are its watchwords. Such as he can truthfully say, 
 "Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly." 
 
 The dear old man is one of several examples in "As You 
 Like It," of the satisfaction of the simple life. Indeed this 
 

 56 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 thought is one of the golden threads that run throughout the 
 play. Corin, the shepherd, brings it out when he says: "Sir, 
 I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no 
 man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, 
 content with my harm, and the greatest of my pride is to see 
 my ewes graze and my lambs suck." 
 
 The good duke contrasts the peace of the forest with the 
 painted pomp of the court and expresses his present happiness 
 in those oft-quoted words: 
 
 "And this our life exempt from public haunt 
 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
 Sermons in stones and good in everything." 
 
 We meet with the same thought in Henry VI where the 
 king says : 
 
 "The shepherd's homely curds, 
 His cold, thin drink out of a leather bottle, 
 His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
 Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 
 His viands sparkling in a golden cup." 
 
 But to return to Adam. It is interesting to note the way 
 in which he expresses himself when referring to his youthful 
 days and his habits of self-restraint. He says, as we have 
 already seen, "I never did apply hot and rebellious liquors 
 in my blood." His Bible doubtless has taught him that "the 
 blood is the life" and that therefore health depends on its 
 being kept in good condition. 
 
 Shakespeare refers several times to the life-sustaining 
 qualities of the blood, as when he makes a prince tell his lady 
 he loves her even as his life or blood that fosters it. But little 
 was known of the blood in the sixteenth century. It was clear 
 that if people lost too much of it they died, but its composition 
 was a mystery and the fact of its circulation as already men- 
 tioned was not announced to the world until after Shakes- 
 peare's death. 
 

 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 57 
 
 Even Harvey, though he found that the blood is pumped 
 by the heart into the arteries and returns thence by way of 
 the veins, could not completely explain this phenomenon. He 
 knew not how it passed from the smallest arteriole across to 
 the smallest venule. There was a gap over which it was 
 beyond his power to follow its movement. 
 
 Just after Harvey had published the news of his discovery 
 there was born into a Dutch home a baby who in due time 
 grew to manhood and earned his living by making lenses. 
 Being of a scientific spirit Leeuvenhoeck loved to search into 
 the secrets of nature with the instruments he had made and 
 he discovered in this way the red corpuscles in the blood. He 
 also found animalculae in water and so made a start in bac- 
 teriology. Then, towards the close of the century, he was 
 able by his improved instruments to see what Harvey would 
 have given so much to see, the course of the blood through the 
 minute capillaries which unite the arteries and the veins. 
 
 These tiny blood vessels take their name from the Latin 
 word for a hair, because of their exceeding fineness. They 
 consist of one delicate layer of cells, and through this mem- 
 brane the food must pass out of the blood to the hungry 
 tissues, and much of the waste must find its way back from 
 the tissues to the blood stream. Thus, the chief function of 
 blood, as it is now understood, is to be a carrier. It carries 
 food to every part, and waste in the opposite direction ; it also 
 conveys what is even a greater necessity than food, the oxygen, 
 without which life cannot be sustained at all. 
 
 Alcohol has a chemical affinity for oxygen and thus robs 
 the tissues of part of their supply. It also has an affinity 
 for water and by withdrawing a little of it from the mem- 
 branes it tends to thicken them. When the delicate capillary 
 walls are even in the smallest degree thickened or hardened 
 it is more difficult for food to reach the tissues and for waste 
 products to be removed. So by interfering with these chemical 
 processes alcohol slowly but surely reduces vitality even when 
 no actual disease is present and no appreciable harm is done. 
 
58 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 This does not represent, however, the full extent of the 
 damage. Alcohol not only robs the blood of some of its oxy- 
 gen but it makes it incapable of taking up as much as it nor- 
 mally should. It is the red corpuscles that carry this life 
 sustaining element. They are circular disks, of a very minute 
 size, and because of their shape and their vast number they 
 present an immense absorbing surface to the air in the lungs. 
 Each red corpuscle is a little package of a substance named 
 hemoglobin, which has the peculiar property of combining 
 readily with oxygen where that gas is plentiful and giving it 
 off again where it is less abundant. In the lungs there is, of 
 course, plenty of oxygen and the hemoglobin of the corpuscles 
 picks it up. The little disks carry it to all parts of the body 
 and deposit it, taking in exchange the carbon dioxide that 
 needs to be eliminated. The presence of alcohol in the blood 
 is injurious to the red corpuscles. It causes them to become 
 shriveled for the reason mentioned above, the abstraction of 
 water from their substance. Thus double harm is done, on 
 the one hand the corpuscles are reduced in size and efficiency 
 and on the other hand the oxygen they carry is diminished 
 in quantity. 
 
 Even more interesting than the red corpuscles are the white 
 ones, or leucocytes, some of which destroy germs and are 
 known as phagocytes or "eating cells." They are larger than 
 the red corpuscles and vary greatly in shape. They possess 
 the power of independent movement and work their way 
 through the walls of the blood vessels to the place where their 
 presence is required. Alcohol has a paralyzing effect upon 
 them and may cause their movements entirely to cease. When 
 but small quantities are taken these phagocytes may still per- 
 form their function but the rapidity with which they work 
 is so much reduced that the germs multiply more quickly than 
 they can be destroyed. 
 
 There are other ways in which alcohol is injurious to the 
 blood. For instance, it reduces the amount of the complement, 
 a chemical substance found in its liquid part, or plasma, which 
 renders it more easy for the phagocytes to devour germs. 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 59 
 
 Shakespeare knew the bare fact that liquor drinking is 
 harmful to the blood. Today we understand just how and 
 why it is so, why it increases the liability to contract disease 
 and decreases the chances of recovery from it, and why the 
 average drink of whisky or brandy may be said to cost about 
 twenty-five minutes of life. 
 
 The rewards for right living are thus seen to be to a great 
 extent payable immediately. They are not all by any means 
 postponed until arrival in the undiscovered country beyond 
 the grave. Far from having to wait until we have shuffled off 
 this mortal coil, it is in the mortal coil itself that we receive in 
 large measure our due reward or punishment. "We still have 
 judgment here," and health and longevity are among the 
 prizes most commonly bestowed on those who obey God's 
 laws as written in the books of nature and revelation. 
 
 Nor do these stand alone. It is evident that circumstantial 
 comfort results from the habits of self-restraint and that these 
 things are as closely related as cause and effect. While a Fal- 
 staff, in spite of his title and his friendship with royalty, has 
 not the wherewithal to pay his hotel bill, a humble old day 
 laborer of abstemious habits has money to give away and 
 rejoices in "the luxury of doing good." 
 
 The lesson of thrift is one that Americans have yet to learn, 
 and the war will do at least one good thing if it is the means 
 of teaching this lesson to the people generally. In Switzerland 
 fifty-five per cent of the inhabitants have savings bank 
 accounts; in the United States less than ten per cent have 
 made this preparation for a rainy day. The savings per capita 
 in Switzerland amount to $47.03 and in America to $4.84. 
 England, France and Germany all save more per capita than 
 America, or were doing so before the war, and yet it is in the 
 United States that labor commands the highest wage. 
 
 The most compelling proof of the effect of total abstinence 
 in increasing material comforts comes from Russia. The 
 people there have saved more in a month under prohibition 
 in time of war than they could save in a year of peace when 
 the vodka shops were open. A questionnaire was sent out 
 

 60 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 by one of the Zemstvos or County Councils which covered 
 many subjects, including- prohibition. The correspondents 
 were from among the masses of the people and they wrote 
 simply of what they saw around them. Here are a few extracts 
 from their replies : "As a little river retains the water by the 
 help of a dam, so by the stoppage of the sale of wine money 
 is kept in the hands of its owners." "Owing to this temperance 
 movement we do not feel the effects of a bad harvest." 
 Another describes the results thus :' "Wonderfully good ! 
 Joy everywhere! Quite habitual drunkards are well-dressed 
 now and have repaired their houses." 
 
 Tens of thousands of Russian peasants are today learning 
 to emulate good old Adam and are finding that his reward is 
 also theirs. Health is conserved, material comfort increased, 
 and there comes into a man's heart a new feeling of self-respect 
 when he is not only able to provide for his own necessities but 
 sometimes to be of use to others. 
 
 In short, true temperance, in the broad sense of self-control, 
 is recompensed even in this life by a "ten times double gain 
 of happiness." 
 
 XI 
 PORTIA ON THE POWER OF HABIT 
 
 "I will do anything, Nerissa, ere I zvill be married to a sponge." 
 
 Portia, the heiress of Belmont, is besieged by suitors. 
 From Naples and the Palatinate, from France and England, 
 from Germany and Morocco, they come to pay her homage 
 and to seek her hand. Not alone on account of her wealth is 
 she desirable; she has all the qualities that go to make up a 
 perfect woman, nobly planned. The eager suitors know how 
 fair she is and in what a beautiful palace she dwells, sur- 
 rounded by all the refinements and elegancies of life, but none 
 of them knows as yet how rare is the jewel of her heart, 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 61 
 
 She is not free to follow her own inclination in the choice 
 of a husband, for her father's will has imposed upon her a 
 strange obligation in regard to marriage. The suitors, one 
 by one, are required to choose among three caskets, respec- 
 tively of gold, silver and lead. Whoever selects the one that 
 contains her picture will win the incomparable Portia herself. 
 
 "Is it not hard, Nerissa," she says to her waiting maid, 
 "that I cannot choose one nor refuse none?" This damsel, 
 in spite of her inferior position, is excellent company for Por- 
 tia, lively and quick-witted and withal not a bad judge of men. 
 Although it seems that fate must decide who her husband 
 is to be, Portia takes pleasure in discussing the various suit- 
 ors 'with Nerissa and characterizing them in her own incisive 
 and witty way in a few brief sentences. 
 
 There is the Neapolitan who does nothing but talk of his 
 horse, and the County Palatine who cannot smile at a merry 
 tale and is as bad as a death's head with a bone in his mouth. 
 The young baron of England cannot speak her language nor 
 she his, so he is no better than a dumb show, and the French- 
 man is so excitable that he will fence with his own shadow. 
 
 "How like you the young German," asks Nerissa, "the duke 
 of Saxony's nephew?" "Very vilely in the morning when he 
 is sober," replies the young lady, "and most vilely in the after- 
 noon when he is drunk. When he is best he is a little worse 
 than a man and when he is worst he is little better than a 
 beast. An the worst fall that ever fell I hope I shall make 
 shift to go without him." 
 
 The maid reminds her that if he offers to choose and 
 chooses the right casket she will be obliged to accept him or 
 break the condition of the will. "Therefore," says Portia, "for 
 fear of the worst I pray thee set a deep glass of Rhenish wine 
 on the contrary casket, for, if the devil be within and that 
 temptation without, I know he will choose it. I will do any- 
 thing, Nerissa, ere I will be married to a sponge." 
 
 There is a great deal about liquor in Shakespeare. The 
 alcohol habit had become very prominent in hrs time and no 
 picture of life would have been complete without it. He allows 
 
62 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 us to look into the taverns and hear the talk there, often 
 coarse enough, though seasoned with plenty of wit. He makes 
 us acquainted with a Falstaff to whom sack is as the very- 
 breath of life, and renders him so amusing that we find our- 
 selves glozing over his offences. But anon he gives us in 
 some pithy, trenchant sentence such as Portia's, a clear view 
 of alcohol's baneful influence. Its victim is at his best a little 
 worse than a man and at his worst but little better than a 
 beast. 
 
 This shameful description suits thousands of young men 
 today, many of them from the "best" homes, like the nephew 
 of the duke. Born into "good society" they are not fit to 
 mingle with it but belong more properly with the brutes. And 
 why? Because they have allowed one evil habit to grow on 
 them. Henry James, the psychologist, says : "Could the young 
 but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles 
 of habits they would give more heed to their conduct while 
 in the plastic state. The drunken Rip Van Winkle in Jefferson's 
 play excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by saying, 
 I'll not count this time.' Well, he may not count it, and a 
 kind Heaven may not count it, but it is being counted 
 none the less. Down among the nerve cells and fibres the 
 molecules are counting it, registering and storing it up to be 
 used against him when the next temptation comes. Nothing 
 we ever do is in strict literalness wiped out." 
 
 Since, then, he is destined to be a creature of habit, why 
 does not the young man definitely choose and cultivate good 
 habits at the start of his career, instead of so often thought- 
 lessly falling under the dominion of bad ones? 
 
 Portia expresses in very strong language the fatal power 
 of alcohol but there is no exaggeration in what she says. If 
 the devil himself were within the casket and in choosing it this 
 man would receive one glass of wine, he would take the fiend to 
 get the fire-water. A drunkard of our own day, presumably 
 ignorant that Shakespeare had already described his case, was 
 heard to say virtually the same thing. He asserted that if the 
 bottomless pit yawned before him and there were a glass of 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 63 
 
 whisky at his elbow, and he knew that on taking the one he 
 would be hurled into the other, he would nevertheless most 
 assuredly drink. Such is the awful passion that alcohol 
 awakes, the fearful bondage which it imposes on its victims. 
 Such a man Portia would never dream of marrying and therein 
 she shows her strong common sense. 
 
 Many a girl, however, does not take Portia's view. She 
 will give herself to a man who is known to have this fatal 
 fault in the hope of reforming him. She is sure that her 
 influence will be able to keep him straight. If she understood 
 ever so little of the psychology of alcoholism she would see 
 she is running a desperate risk. The alcoholic is diseased, 
 and more than that, his disease is a mental one. 
 
 There cannot be any right living except as a result of right 
 thinking, for "as a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." One 
 effect of alcohol is so to blunt the intellectual and moral nature 
 that a man cannot think truly, cannot discriminate clearly 
 between right and wrong, does not see his failing as normal 
 people do, but looks upon it as excusable weakness. 
 
 The girl says he has made her the most solemn promises 
 to reform, and she believes "his words are bonds, his oaths are 
 oracles." But he will probably forget his promises, for alcohol 
 affects memory and indeed sometimes destroys it. The vic- 
 tim of liquor forgets everything except the fact that he wants 
 a drink. 
 
 She says he loves her and this will be sufficient to enable 
 him to leave "the primrose path of dalliance" and walk "the 
 steep and thorny way to heaven." But alcohol also affects the 
 emotions and it is a psychological fact that those which are 
 the last acquired are the first to be lost. The altruistic feelings 
 such as love and the sense of obligation towards others are 
 impaired sooner than any and the man is then ruled by the 
 primitive animal impulses. 
 
 There is not a single function of the brain with which 
 alcohol does not interfere. Take for instance, that of percep- 
 tion. The alcoholic cannot judge aright of his simplest acts 
 
64 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 because his brain is out of order. He does not mean, perhaps, 
 to give that cruel blow; he cannot gauge its force. He does 
 not mean to tell that untruth ; he does it because his impressions 
 are incorrect. He is a man with a mental disease, more 
 dangerous than many a lunatic. 
 
 The effect of alcohol on the will is known to everyone. The 
 confirmed alcoholic simply has no will. Will power involves 
 attention and he cannot attend. He is even liable to drop 
 what he holds in his hand for lack of being able to give atten- 
 tion to what he is doing. Again — will presupposes memory, for 
 the course one wills to pursue must be kept before the mind. 
 The drunkard's memory, as we have just seen, cannot be depended 
 on, so for this further reason his will is inoperative. 
 
 Indeed, impairment of will power is one of the very first 
 effects of this poison alcohol which, as has well been said, 
 "subdues the physical citadel of the higher life." The brain 
 centers connected with volitional effort simply have not the 
 power of doing sustained work. The cells are injured and are 
 also suffering from lack of nourishment ; in other words, they 
 are starved and poisoned at the same time. How dare any 
 girl entrust her happiness to a man who has a brain in this 
 condition and whose mind and character must inevitably be 
 affected thereby? 
 
 Of course it is hard, cruelly hard, to cast out of one's life 
 an affection that has become a part and parcel of it. As Portia 
 herself says : "If to do were as easy as to know what were 
 good to do, poor men's cottages had been prince's palaces. I 
 can easier teach twenty what were good to be done than be 
 one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching." But, after 
 all, which is harder, to make this sacrifice at the dictates of 
 common sense, or to live the life of a drunkard's wife with its 
 hopeless misery and shame? 
 
 The sentimentalism that talks about marrying a man to 
 reform him is a miserable mistake ; it is "the guiled shore to 
 a most dangerous sea." Girls might do a vast amount of good, 
 however, if they would deny their society to the men who 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 65 
 
 refuse to come up to their standard. They might deter many 
 from starting- on the downward road. As everybody knows, 
 prevention is better than cure, as well as a great deal easier. 
 
 No one who has grown "wise with the knowledge of his 
 own frail heart" will be likely to think harshly of the drunkard. 
 We must "forbear to judge, for we are sinners all." As Por- 
 tia says : 
 
 "In the course of justice none of us 
 Should see salvation ; we do pray for mercy, 
 And that same prayer doth teach us all to render 
 The deeds of mercy." 
 
 It is blessed to tell the helpless one of the Divine mercy 
 and grace ; of Him who is able to save to the uttermost, and 
 who "to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in 
 despair." The Christian woman will welcome any opportunity 
 of helping the one who has been overtaken in this sad fault; 
 she will pity him and pray for him, but if she values her own 
 happiness and realizes her responsibility to future generations, 
 she will marry him — never. 
 
 XII 
 HAMLET ON THE NATIONAL ISSUE 
 
 "It takes from our achievements." 
 
 Hamlet and his friends are waiting for the ghost. It has 
 already appeared twice to those who were keeping guard on 
 previous nights, and now the prince eagerly awaits the hour 
 when the spirit held his wont to walk. However, he is quiet 
 and self-controlled and can calmly talk of other things mean- 
 while. 
 
 As they pace the platform of the Castle of Elsinore, the 
 Danish fortress, a flourish of trumpets is heard and guns are 
 fired. Horatio, Hamlet's college friend, is a visitor. He has 
 
66 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 come from Wittenberg to attend the funeral of the late king. 
 He asks the meaning of this demonstration and the prince 
 replies : 
 
 "The king doth wake tonight and takes his rouse, 
 Keeps wassail, and the swaggering up-spring reels; 
 And, as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, 
 The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out 
 The triumph of his pledge." 
 
 To "wake" in those days meant to hold a late revel, and a 
 "rouse" was a large glass from which healths were drunk. 
 When all together emptied the rouse there was then said to 
 be a ca-rouse. Unless the deep glasses were completely 
 emptied the health was not properly drunk, so a carouse involved 
 the idea of disposing of a large quantity. 
 
 An old book describes a wassail thus : "A merry cup (rit- 
 ually composed, deckt and filled with country liquor) passing 
 about among neighbours, meeting or entertaining each other, 
 and commonly called the wassail-bol." 
 
 The up-spring was a German dance with which it was 
 customary to conclude the ancient merrymakings. As by the 
 time it was reached people had had a good deal to drink, it 
 became the wildest of the dances and thus Shakespeare 
 describes it as "swaggering." 
 
 Altogether, these few lines give an impression of decidedly 
 undignified proceedings for a royal court. Neither was the 
 poet exaggerating in the least when he penned it. There have 
 come down to us some letters from this very time, telling 
 about the king who was reigning in Denmark during Shakes- 
 peare's life. The writer says that this Christian IV "feasted 
 my lord once, and it lasted from eleven of the clock till 
 towards evening; during which time the king began thirty- 
 five healths. The king was taken away at last in his chair." 
 
 Again we read in another book of the period about the 
 Dane in London who was so fond of liquor that "he would 
 carowse out of .his Boote." Such was the reputation of Den- 
 mark in the sixteenth century. Hamlet is a man of extreme 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 67 
 
 refinement and he heartily despises such self-indulgence and 
 coarseness. He sees they are not only harmful to the indi- 
 vidual who thus gives the rein to appetite, but also a discredit 
 to the country. He does not hesitate to say so: 
 
 "To my mind, though I am native here 
 And to the manner born, — it is a custom 
 More honor'd in the breach than the observance." 
 
 In other words it is a custom that would be better broken 
 than perpetuated. Hamlet does not claim to be a rigid 
 abstainer himself, and he will offer wine to his guests in a 
 social way as a matter of course, for he is "to the manner 
 born," but the impression is forced on him that the liquor 
 habit is inimical to his country's welfare, and he expresses 
 it in these terms to his friend Horatio : 
 
 "This heavy-headed revel, east and west, 
 Makes us traduced and taxed of other nations ; 
 They clepe us drunkards, and with swinish phrase 
 Soil our addition ; and indeed it takes 
 From our achievements, though performed at height, 
 The pith and marrow of our attribute." 
 
 Translated into common parlance Hamlet's statement is 
 virtually this : Our liquor drinking gives Denmark a bad rep- 
 utation on every hand. The people of other nations .call us 
 drunkards; they fasten on us the title of swine, which soils 
 our good name. However high our achievements this drink 
 habit detracts from the glory of them and robs us of the most 
 essential attribute of national character. 
 
 Hamlet is beyond everything else a philosopher and his 
 friend's question has started a train of thought which is well 
 worthy of consideration by all patriots. He goes on to com- 
 pare the character of a nation with that of an individual. He 
 says that a man may be adorned with virtues as pure as grace, 
 and yet "the stamp of one defect" may spoil everything. It 
 is like alloy which throws suspicion on the sterling worth of 
 the metal. 
 
68 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Though he wrote thus about Denmark, one cannot doubt 
 that Shakespeare's thought was in reality for his own beloved 
 land. England had only recently acquired the unenviable 
 reputation of being a drinking nation. "The Compleat Gentle- 
 man," published in 1622, has this statement: "Within these 
 fifty or threescore years it was a rare thing with us to see a 
 drunken man, our nation carrying the name of the most sober 
 and temperate of any other in the world. But since we had 
 to do in the quarrel of the Netherlands the custom of drinking 
 and pledging healthes was brought over into England, wherein 
 let the Dutch be their owne judges, if we equall them not, 
 yea, I think rather excelf them." 
 
 Then as now, this "dear, dear land, dear for her reputation 
 throughout the world," had spoilt her gold with this alloy. 
 
 Shakespeare could not have put what he wanted to say 
 about this vice into the mouth of a more weighty witness than 
 Hamlet. He is a scholar saturated with the learning of the 
 University. He is versed in law and history and is well 
 acquainted with the principles of art, but most of all he is 
 interested in philosophy. He is incomparably the deepest 
 thinker in all the galaxy of Shakespearian characters. It is 
 fitting that he should be our final witness and should have 
 the last word, and it is his conviction that this custom of drink- 
 ing would be better broken than observed. How can it ever 
 be broken, seeing the hold it has upon our race, except by 
 National Constitutional Prohibition? 
 
 Alas, alas, that England did not long ago pay heed to the 
 warning of her greatest poet! How much more brightly 
 would her glory shine today were she free from "the stamp 
 of one defect." It does indeed shine brightly in spite of all. 
 She has been in most respects more than worthy of her mag- 
 nificent past. They said her civilization was decadent, they 
 said her empire was ready to crumble into dust, but they will 
 never say it again. The world knows England today and 
 honors with a deeper respect than ever that "little body with 
 a mighty heart." Never in all her history has she risen to 
 such a height ; never has heroism been so general ; never have 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 69 
 
 all classes been so welded together in a noble purpose ; never 
 has woman taken her place as fellow-worker with man and his 
 equal in courage and capacity as is the case today. 
 
 But England might have been even greater still. She might 
 have led the whole world in a crusade against a more deadly 
 foe than Germany; she might have ushered in an age of 
 "sweeter manners, purer laws." How different it has been! 
 The terrible, trenchant indictments of such men as Arthur 
 Mee show what that one defect has meant for Great Britain 
 during the war. Bitter it is to transcribe it but let the truth 
 be told. He says : 
 
 "The drink trade in these fifty years has deprived this 
 country of man power equivalent to the whole British army 
 under arms. 
 
 "The services rendered to Germany by our drink trade 
 equal the destruction of our total energies for a hundred days. 
 
 "We have a trade that robs us of men and hinders us in 
 all we do, and we have let this trade use up, since the war 
 began, the labor of lifting sixty million tons. It took a hun- 
 dred thousand men a generation to set up the Great Pyramid, 
 but if we had pulled it down and set it up again three times 
 since the war began, that would have taken less labor than 
 the shifting of this drink stuff that ships pour everlastingly 
 into our docks. Think of the London docks, the greatest 
 gathering place of goods in the world ; the whole earth pours 
 its treasures into them. Well, every year this drink trade 
 wastes more tons of precious stuff than the port of London 
 handles." 
 
 Of a surety there is no enemy so deadly as the one within 
 her borders. 
 
 "Nought to us shall rue 
 If England to itself do rest but true." 
 
 And what of America? She, too, has risen to a splendid 
 height of sacrifice in order that liberty may be preserved for 
 the nations of the earth, small as well as great, that "govern- 
 ment of the people, by the people and for the people may not 
 
70 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 perish from the earth." Her sons are going and still will go 
 to fight democracy's battle on a distant shore. And yet, while 
 fathers and mothers are surrendering their dearest at their 
 country's call and doing it without a murmur, while noble 
 American boys are gladly making the supreme sacrifice, while 
 thousands of hearts that have cherished love's young dream 
 must perforce be crushed by the news that will come across 
 the sea, while the whole nation bows in one sacrament of sor- 
 row, the brewer, forsooth, is to be exempt from prohibitory 
 legislation, the saloonkeeper is to continue selling and the 
 drinker may still drain his glass and smack his lips in insolent 
 defiance of the American people in their hour of agony. Verily 
 that the country can tolerate the existence of such a traffic 
 at such a time does "take from our achievements, though per- 
 formed at height, the pith and marrow of our attribute." 
 
 Thank God there are clear signs that it will not long be 
 thus. The conviction of Hamlet is being shared by multitudes 
 in the United States today. Men of light and leading are. 
 emphasizing the necessity of complete national prohibition. 
 Many who have not hitherto taken any great share in the 
 work of the temperance reform have been led by the exigencies 
 of the situation to speak out with no uncertain sound. A 
 thousand men prominent in intellectual circles, including uni- 
 versity presidents, well-known editors, economists, and special- 
 ists along various lines, have signed a memorial in favor of 
 war prohibition. They are determined that the stamp of one 
 defect shall be removed and that this alloy shall no longer 
 depreciate the splendid metal of American national character. 
 
 Side by side there float today the Stars and Stripes and the 
 Union Jack. Side by side march the sons of America and 
 Britain in the common struggle for world liberty. "Backed 
 with God and with the seas, which He hath given for 'fence 
 impregnable," they go forward with high hope and holy cour- 
 age. But the hope will be more quickly realized, and the day 
 of victory when it dawns will be a brighter day, if these great 
 nations speedily determine to entwine with the two flags they 
 
SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 71 
 
 love, the white banner of prohibition. Then will they be able 
 to say to each other with a stronger assurance than ever 
 before : 
 
 "In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, 
 To reap the harvest of perpetual peace." 
 
 FINALE 
 
 It was Shakespeare's object to "hold, as it were, the mirror 
 up to nature, to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own 
 image, and the very age and body of the time his form and 
 pressure." We have gazed awhile into his mirror, and perhaps 
 next to our marvel at his magic, the chief impression that 
 remains with us is that, after all, human nature does not 
 change with the centuries. 
 
 Every one of the persons to whom we have listened is the 
 type of a class commonly known to us today. Let us take one 
 last look at them. There they stand, the five witnesses for 
 alcohol's defense — Caliban, liquor's confessed slave; Stephano, 
 brandishing his bottle that he thinks the king of cure-alls; 
 Falstarr", the pleasure-lover; Sir Toby, the advocate of per- 
 sonal liberty ; Lady Macbeth, the criminal whose haggard face 
 speaks eloquently of the gnawings of the "worm of conscience." 
 
 On the other side we see Malvolio, the official representa- 
 tive of law and order; Cassio, testifying out of the bitterness 
 of a blighted career how great an enemy is alcohol to mind 
 and character ; Adam, whose well-spent life gives special force 
 to his words ; Portia, revealing the instinct of a well-poised 
 woman ; and Hamlet, the philosopher, expressing in calm and 
 measured language the conviction born of careful thought. 
 
 It is not contended for a moment that these latter are 
 exemplary specimens of humanity. They have their faults, 
 some of them very serious ones. Neither are those on the 
 opposite side in all cases devoid of admirable traits. Still, the 
 contrast between the two groups is sufficiently suggestive, and 
 
72 SIDELIGHTS FROM SHAKESPEARE 
 
 if their modern counterparts could be collected and the Pros 
 here in America could be confronted with the Cons, comment 
 would be unnecessary. 
 
 It is the duty of every man and woman to form an opinion 
 on the vital questions of the age. All prejudices should be 
 rigidly excluded. The first thing is to listen to the evidence ; 
 the next is to weigh it impartially. In thus considering the 
 case of Alcohol let us seek to obey the injunction of our friend 
 and counsellor, William Shakespeare: 
 
 "Be just and fear not ; 
 
 Let all the ends thou aim'st at be THY COUNTRY'S, 
 THY GOD'S, AND TRUTH'S." 
 
 PD- 3.9. 
 

 ^ Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. I 
 ^ Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
 Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 
 
 u Treatment Date: Feb. zuuy 
 
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