LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1929, 30 April 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

A CASE OF MISPLACED JEALOUSY [Abridged from the "Eonnd Table. "J Oak Lodge—Alick'a country quarters—and the smoking room thereof. They -i lick's friends—are sitting or rather lolling, in High Tobacco Parliament assembled, this being Saturday evening, and 11.30 p.m. He —Alick—ia standing on the hearthrug, his broad back against the high mantelpiece, puffing at a protentous meerschaum, and combining the offices of fire scree a and Speaker of the House. A happy man—Alick—to enjoy a large acquaintance and a r income, good looks and better health, many flirtations and more immunity from their logical sequence. And a man—Alick—to want to make his friends as happy as he. So he gets a freßh batch of them down every Saturday to his little retreat here, and sends them back every Monday all the better for the sight and hearing of him, and the fresh air that, both literally and metaphorically, has surrounded them.

For he is no fcol—this Alick—and somehow or other his friends, be they of their nature fosla or otherwise, soar during their stay With him into flights of imagination and realms of fancy to which they nev<r attain in clubland ladies' bower. Tonight, from desnltory gossip anent theatrical matters in general, the tide of conversation has swollen into a somewhat turbulent exchange of opinion as to the claims of Shahspeare's work upon the respect of posterity. As in most debates, there are extreme partisans on both sides; there is, in this case, an extreme partisan, A pretty flaxen-haired guardsman has just called forth a howl of indignation by languidly informing the Honße that for his part he looks upon the divine William as the worst dramatist and the most consummate bore of the lot. Order being restored, an artistically-minded stockbroker, holds, amid expressions of dissent, that to understand Hhakppeare aright yon must study him in the privacy of the closet, and that to present him upon the stage is to vulgarise, if not to desecrate, his genius. Between such extreme points of view there is, of course, plenty of room for the expression of various shades of appreciation. Alick himself holds a middle course, inclining, perhaps, rather to the Conservative than the Radical standpoint. An aesthetic friend reveres the author, admires his characters, rejoices in hi? poetry, butdeprecates the wordquibbling in hia dialogue and the exaggeration of his low comedy. Here a loud ring and a sharp 'rat-tat' at the hall door interrupt the conversation, and give rise to a good deal of speculation as to the personality of the late comer. At last, the door opens, and, holding a little black bag in his hand, he appears, portly, greywhiskered, respectable. But there is a merry twinkle in his eye that accounts for the hearty reception he enjoys 'What, Fred Lay land!' shouts Alick, shaking his hand till it is in danger of coming off ; ' welcome, my son, a thousand times!' It is not long before Mr Layland has renewed acquaintance with the company, and finds himself ensconced in a comfortable arm-chair, and a foaming dose of b-andy and soda at his elbow.

' I couldn't get down in time for dinner, Alick,' he says, after a pull at hisfglass; 'we have a heavy case in the Exchequer on Monday, and I had to stop at the office working up fresh evidence till half past eight. -And, by the same token, nearly missed my train.' He is the junior partner in the great firm of Layland, Peck, and Layland, Bedford row; and as his work brings him in from three to four thousand a year, he does not treat himself to much in the way jot holiday beyond occasional trips such as this. 'But don't let me stop the conversation,* he continues ; ' what were you talking about, men and brethren, when I disturbed you ?' 'We were taking the liberty,' says Alick, 'of discussing Shakspere ; and Monsieur le Marquis was in possession of the House.' ' I wis contending, my good Frederic,' remarked an attache, ' that your great William is too much of a butcher in his tragedy. He strews his scene with dead. He kil's you his personages in batches. His curtain lowers itself into a Golgotha. He is grandiose, but—singuinolenfc.' ' Not more bo, my good friend,' observes the lawyer, ' than the columns of our daily papers.' 'Perfectly,' with a shrug of his shoulders ; ' but of our days, crime is of bad tone ; here in England above all.' ' It is true,' says Lay?and, gravely, 'and, to my mind, 'lucky 'tis 'tis true,' that duelling ia here a thing of the past, and that among our higher classes crime is practically so much of an improbability that I might almost call it an impossibility; but curiously enough ' He stops to reach for his black bag. His audience prick up their ears and lean forward as he unlocks it, as if they suspected it of containing some ghastly evidence of aristocratic bloodthirstiness.

* Curiously enough,' he resumes, picking out a document from the many he has brought down with him for perusal, 'curiously enough, I have here a very sad, and, I may say, a very terrible account of a tragedy, in which the principal actor was a client, and a highly connected client of mine.' ' Head I read!' clamours the audience, now thoroughly aroused. ' With pleasure.' after a long pull at his B. and S. 'But first, I must premise that my story rivals, for horror and misery, the most bloodstained pages of Shakspeare —' 'Go on ! go on 1' they insist. * And next, that I must prelude my reading by explaining to you, as shortly as possible, the way in which I became connected with the author of this tragedy.' When the bustle occasioned by the replenishing of glasses and the ignition of fresh pipes, cigars and cigarettes has subsided, the lawyer clears his throat and takes up his parable. *lt is now some four years since a lady and her husband, introduced by a mutual acquaintance, called upon me at the office to consult me professionally as to the investment of her property. She, it seems, was a wealthy widow before she married the gentleman who accompanied her ; and as he, with a disinterestedness which did him honor, but to me savoured of the Quixotic, had absolutely refused to touch a penny of her money, and she herself wa? not averse to exchanging life in a palace for love in a cottage, I was requested to invest the whole of her fortune in approved securities, wherein it might lie safe, periodically augmented by the interest, until they should decide as to its ultimate bestowal. My Don Quixote was a handsome, fair-haired, boyifhlooking fellow, rising twenty-four, I should thick, and possessed of about a thousr.nd a year, and the biggest bine eyes I over saw. She was a splendid woman. Yoa know what that means ; and it describes her accurately. Not stout, but shapely. Not a daughter of Anak, but tall. And, as for hsr face. I can't do batter than quote Shakupeave, as you seem to know him so well:—

' A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes.' , Not that I wiah to convey the idea that there was anything my friend here would call fat in her appearance. On the contrary, she impressed me as being a woman who, for love of her husband, would, if anything, play propriety to an extent which, in so beautiful a creature, would verge upon affectation For her eyes dwelt upon him lovingly, almost greedily; and she seemed to grudge the few glances she had neoessanly

I to bestow on me. From that date I heard nothing more of my new clients until yesterday' .morning. And yesterday morning I received this.' Here MrLaylsnd stopped for refreshments and breath. 'I was not aware.' interposes the artistic stockbroker, «that it was the habit of lawyers to read their clients' communications even before so select a circle as this ;' and, with a laugh of rome acerbity, ' I shall have to write to my legal adviser with more eircumspec—' 'Considering, Interrupts the man of law severely, ' that this doonment is to be made public on Monday, at the peremptory desire of the w-iter, 1 think my friend opposite may spara me the torture of a rebuke from him, however unmerited it may be.' And then he unfolds the paper, and begins to read,— Fo oe. continues.')