The common school is a machine of incalculable value.  It is not, however, automatic.  If it is a mere machine, it will do little more to lift the nation than the mere ability to read will lift it.  It can easily be made to inculcate a taste for good literature; it can be a powerful influence in teaching the American people what to read; and upon a broadened, elevated, discriminating public taste depends the fate of American art, of American fiction.

It is not an inappropriate corollary to be drawn from this that an elevated public taste will bring about a truer estimate of the value of a genuine literary product.  An invention which increases or cheapens the conveniences or comforts of life may be a fortune to its originator.  A book which amuses, or consoles, or inspires; which contributes to the highest intellectual enjoyment of hundreds of thousands of people; which furnishes substance for thought or for conversation; which dispels the cares and lightens the burdens of life; which is a friend when friends fail, a companion when other intercourse wearies or is impossible, for a year, for a decade, for a generation perhaps, in a world which has a proper sense of values, will bring a like competence to its author. (1890.)

THE PEOPLE FOR WHOM SHAKESPEARE WROTE

By Charles Dudley Warner

Queen Elizabeth being dead about ten o’clock in the morning, March 24, 1603, Sir Robert Cary posted away, unsent, to King James of Scotland to inform him of the “accident,” and got made a baron of the realm for his ride.  On his way down to take possession of his new kingdom the king distributed the honor of knighthood right and left liberally; at Theobald’s he created eight-and-twenty knights, of whom Sir Richard Baker, afterwards the author of “A Chronicle of the Kings of England,” was one.  “God knows how many hundreds he made the first year,” says the chronicler, “but it was indeed fit to give vent to the passage of Honour, which during Queen Elizabeth’s reign had been so stopped that scarce any county of England had knights enow to make a jury.”

Sir Richard Baker was born in 1568, and died in 1645; his “Chronicle” appeared in 1641.  It was brought down to the death of James in 1625, when, he having written the introduction to the life of Charles I, the storm of the season caused him to “break off in amazement,” for he had thought the race of “Stewards” likely to continue to the “world’s end”; and he never resumed his pen.  In the reign of James two things lost their lustre—­the exercise of tilting, which Elizabeth made a special solemnity, and the band of Yeomen of the Guard, choicest persons both for stature and other good parts, who graced the court of Elizabeth; James “was so intentive to Realities that he little regarded shows,” and in his time these came utterly to be neglected.  The virgin queen was the last ruler who seriously regarded the pomps and splendors of feudalism.