Tribute to Shakespeare—April 23

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 40, 20 April 1928, Unnumbered Page

Tribute to Shakespeare—April 23

‘Special Programmes Prepared by Main Stations

ost likely when John Shakespeare attested the entry, "Gulielmus Filius Johannis Shakespeare" in the baptismal register of Stratford-on-Avon, with the marl that, "he had to, himself like an honest plain-dealing man," it was not for want of pride in his heroically-soundimg name, but rather that he had not been "so well brought up that he could write his name," and so came not within fear of the penalty of "hang him up with his pen and ink-horn about his neck," which the mild laws of Jack Cade imposed upon so superfluous and dangerous a degree of knowledge.

The father could not then know that that son should make his name resound more widely through the world by means of that same art of writin than ever it would have done had all his ancestors matched that first one whose acts no doubt first gained the rname.. Nor could he have imagined that through the same son his native town (of whose good fame he, as an alderman, was no doubt equally proud) should become for generations after he was gone a gathering place of men from countries of which he had never heard. This, has, however, ome about, and the name of Shakespeare is as dear to the heart of tue Arizlo-Saxons as that of the protector saint on whose feast-day the great poet was born. To the British, Shakespeare is as much the great Englishman as the great poet, an embodiment of the national characteristics, and the feeling we have for him forms part of our patriotism. He holds a place im our respect akin to that of a rational hero, and disloyalty to the King would be as light an offence as disrespect for Shakespeare. Great knowledge can only intensify such a feeling so truly national is Shakespeare, so well does he agree with our character,

HE 28rd of April is Shakespeare’s birthday, the greatest day in all the history of the world. We who speak Shakespeare’s tongue little Know what we owe to him. So accustomed have we become to the language he created, that we wot not how often we speak his thought. We even quote him without knowing it, and nothing that we can say is without its debt to him, Here we are in a British community, the farthest outpost in the British Empire, and on Shakespeare’s birthday we are preparing a night with the great bard, to be put over the air. Over the air where men will listen thousands of miles away, and we wonder did Shakespeare know anything about wireless. He whose glowing words wiil be flying through the air, what did he know about wireless? His prophetic soul knew many wonderful things and he has told us about them. In the first part of Henry IV, Act III, Scene I, Glendower says to Mortimer, NII ISI INI "And those musicians that shall play to you Hang in the air a thousand leagues from hence, And straight they shall be here; sit and attend." And so we say to the people in Australia on the night of Shakespeare’s birthday, "Sit and attend." TS it merely a coincidence that Shakespeare was born on St. George’s day? What matters it? St. George was the more honoured. That Shakespeare died on St. George’s day 52 years after, is perhaps merely another coincidence. Again St. George was the more honoured. St. George was a foreign adoption, but belonged to England as her patron saint; Shakespeare was born in England, but belongs to the world as its greatest seer. q Ae Nothing that this world ever produced was as great as Shakespeare. He left us a heritage that cannot be overstated; the radiant gems of the most beautiful soul that ever lived and loved, and moulded into a language, the imaery of action and thought. Remove from the world all that we owe to Shakespeare, and the blanks they would leave jn our minds would form ten thousand empty spaces. The collected thoughts of the bard, with the thoughts they have produced, would make up the sum total of nearly all the books in the world. He found our language expressed in three thousand words, and left it enriched by seven times that number, Into every one of these old and new words, Shakespeare breathed the breath of life, and words became living souls. He created

great characters to express them, and every character walked the stage of life, in love, in hate, in desire, in ambition, in action. Nothing is dragged in by the heels to fill up, but every word expresses @ purpose in its proper place. Shakespeare created pictures, statues, monuments, thrones, courts, kings, landscapes, countries, oceans, and last but not least, yea, greatest of all-men and women. His wisdom is not so much set forth in a book, but is spoken out of the mouths of living, pulsing, breathing men and women, who convey his wisdom to the ear, rather than the eye. Ii St. George was a saint, Shakegpeare was a patriot-the greatest English-

man-the world’s greatest poet. No king or prelate, be they ever so great, could have done him honour. ’Iwas he who honoured them. Unknown to us, he is deep in our souls; every day we speak the language he created; every day we unknowingly speak his thoughts. He it is who is always with us in the heights and depths of human thought and action. He gave to us the dainty Ariel, the womanly charm of Rosalind, the self-sacrificing friendship of Celia, the loving loyalty of Antonio, the barbaric jealousy of Othello, the duplicity of Macbeth. He set up for our admiration the generosity of Antonio, the profundity of Hamlet, the

patriotism of Henry V, and Falconbridge, the self effacement and loyalty of Kent, the purity of Isabella, the cleverness of Portia, the devotion of Jessica, and the dutiful faithfulness of Cordelia. ’Twas Shakespeare who drew for our imagination the ambition of Wolsey, the foul treachery of Edmund, the unnaturalness of Goneril and Regan, the malice of Iago, the self-will and vanity of Lear, the pompus ignorance of Pistol, the dire revengefulness of Shylock, and the boastful cowardice of his greatest comedian, Falstaff. We get all these from Shakespeare, yes, and infinitely more than these, and he will never fail us. He is the voice of our Empire that will never die, and will be a ringing call that shall be answered by every British heart, wherever British hearts beat true. 0, England, model to thy inward greatness, Like little body with a mighty heart." 4 "This England never did nor never shall, 4 Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself." When Kings and thrones have passed from the earth, he will sit enthroned in the hearts of men, as the greatest, truest patriot that the world has ever listened to. SAMPLES of all this, on St. George’s day will 2YA give to you. Just scattered gems, here and there, from the hoarded treasury of Shakespeare’s mine of wealth untold. Of his one hundred songs will be sung some of the gems. The music that has been written to illustrate tragedy and comedy ‘will be played. Mark Antony will grieve over Caesar again; the fair Portia, in all her delightful merriment will describe her suitors; the charming bantering Rosalind will poke fun at her mooning Orlando; the calm and es dignified Brutus will tell the lean and hungry Cassius a few home _ truths; the first gravedigger from Hamlet will indulge his humour. That she-wolf, Queen Margaret, will once again mock the Duke of York, and set a paper crown upon his head, Queen Catherine will plead her cause and duty before her bluff King Hal, with the subtle Wolsey looking on. All for Shakespeare’s birthday. The wireless he dreamed of will carry his winged words to the uttermost parts of the earth, and so we Britishers in this far distant outpost will listen-in to this fellow Shakespeare of whom it was said:"Shakespeare is too great a theme. I feel as though endeavouring to grasp a globe so large that the hand obtains no hold. We who would worthily speak of the great dramatist should be inspired by ‘a muse of fire that should ascend the brightest heaven of invention’-he should have ‘a kingdom for a stage, and monarchs to behold the swelling scene.’ "

Byron

Brown

Shakespeare

The folk who lived in Shakespeare’s day, ° And saw that gentle figure pass By London Bridge-his frequent wayThey little knew what man he was. The pointed beard, the courteous mien, The equal port to high and lowAll this they saw, or might have seen, But not the light behind the brow. The doublet’s modest grey or brown, The slender sword-hilt’s plain deviceWhat sign had these for prince or clown? Few turned, or none, to scan him twice. Yet, ’twas the King of England’s Kings: The rest, with all their pomps and trains, Are mouldered, half-remembered things: *Tis he alone who lives and reigns!

Thomas Baily

Aldrich