Chapter Fourth.

THE LINDEN.

In the line-grove which weather-fends your cell.

Tempest, v., I.

HAKSPERE'S "line" is the beautiful tree which at present, though only since about 1700, is wrongfully called the "lime," which latter name belongs to an Indian Citrus, long celebrated for its fruit, and nearly related to the lemon. "Line" itself is not the original, being a shortened form of the Anglo-Saxon lind, which is connected in turn with lentus, pliant, and evidently refers to the usefulness of the inner bark as a material for string and cordage, very anciently recognized, and adverted to by Horace, who for some unknown reason prefers the Greek name of the tree to the Latin displicent nexæ

philyra corona, "chaplets woven with the rind of the line" (Carm. 1., 38). The Shaksperean spelling, which some have thought to amend by alteration to the modern corrupted one, is vindicated in all the old herbals, and more than once in early verse, where it rhymes to thine— Now tell me thy name, good fellow, said he, Under the leaves of lyne.

"Linden" is the adjectival form of the word, "tree," being understood, thus corresponding with "aspen."

Less robust than the forest monarch, inferior in dignity to the elm, the linden is still entitled to count with the most delightful of English trees. It is the vegetable analogue of that happy condition of body which the ancient Greeks denominated evσapkos, neither fat nor lean, but gracefully intermediate. It is one of the trees which go with the acacia and the birch in their representative character, conveying a certain elegant idea of feminine contour and attributes, as distinguished from the stalwart though less amiable masculine chestnut. Growing wild plentifully in woods in the form called by botanists Tilia parvifolia, in the improved one called Europea, it has been from time immemorial a chosen ornament of parks and pleasure-grounds, and being often planted in avenues, has given new enrichment even to The peculiarly good qualities consist, it is hardly necessary to add, in the symmetry of the outline, the lower branches often bending to the earth, so as to form a natural tent; in the remarkable ease and lightness of air and habit, this coming of the long stalks

nature.

of the thin broad leaves; and in the abundance, in high summer, of the honeyed and fragrant bloom.

What other tree should Shakspere select to give shelter to the home of Prospero and Miranda? "The cell of Prospero," it has been remarked, "with its adjoining grove, is one of the most distinct and pleasing conceptions of natural scenery to be found in his works." Nestling under the lindens which "weather-fend" it, in this quiet island home we have not only seclusion and repose, the boughs disturbed only at times by the "light pinions of Ariel;" but that which gives to the Tempest— one of the only two of the romantic comedies produced by Shakspere which owes its plot to no previous author— its very marked and specially attractive interest, namely, the disclosure it affords of the writer's own personality. Everywhere else, Shakspere though present, is veiled; in Prospero we have him, not only beside us, but as the real and living man. Prospero is acquainted with all the secrets of nature; he penetrates men's minds and discerns their purposes. He has all the wise prevision, the authority and the gentleness of genuine power. He calls up magnificent visions; at his bidding "the air is filled with sweet music," or with the sounds of hound and horn; he raises or quells the storm; he commands, and a splendid banquet is spread.* Add to this the immortal words,

My library

Was dukedom large enough,

*Rev. J. Hunter. New Illustrations of Shakspere, i., 180.

and his infinite capacity for pourtraying the purest and sweetest forms of human love-Miranda, gentle, affectionate, retiring, quite feminine Miranda, standing forth as one of his most exquisite creations, and Shakspere himself is veritably here-his powers, his temperament, his genius, in perfect portrait. How sweet, too, the idea of those beautiful trees in their supply of arbours and shady alcoves! How often were they sought as shelter from the noonday sunshine by the dear girl who, when most enamoured, still "remembered" her "father's precepts."

The honey of the flowers is not forgotten:

Where the bee sucks, there suck I,

for surely this is the intent of the passage, quite spoiled by the suggested change of the word to "lurk." Ariel, when he has finished his tasks, desires nothing more than to command it;—

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,

Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.-(v., I.) In benevolence to the bees no tree wild in Europe excels the linden. Were we not sure that Shakspere, standing beneath, had many a time listened to their drowsy murmur, we might think he had been lately reading the story of the good old man in Virgil who so loved his garden:-"Here planting among the shrubs, white lilies, vervain, and esculent poppies, he equalled in his contented mind, the wealth of kings. The first was he to pluck the rose of spring, and the first to gather the fruits of autumn; and even when sad winter split the

rocks with frost, and bridled the current of the streams with ice, yes, in that very season was he cropping the locks of the soft acanthus. Lindens had he, and pines, in great abundance; he, therefore, was the first to abound with prolific bees, and to strain the frothy honey from the well-pressed combs."-(Georgic iv., 131-141.)

But

One of the constituent trees of Prospero's grove appears to be spoken of in an earlier scene, when to be used for the display of the "glistening apparel” designed as a "stale" or bait for Caliban and his thievish companions. But the intent of the word is disputed, some of the best critics understanding it to denote a "clothes line," such as is used in washerwomen's dryingyards. Mr. Halliwell is of this opinion (vol. i., p. 39). It is supported also by Knight (Comedies ii., 440). Shakspere would hardly mix up with poetry so beautiful as the picture of Prospero's home an idea so prosaic. If we are to think at all of the purpose of laundresses' clothes lines, it is quite as satisfactory, and incomparably more agreeable, as well as congenial to the time and place, to remember country-folks' employment of the hedgerow and the grass-plat. Further on, in the same scene, this particular "line," whatever it may be, is referred to, upon two occasions, jocularly.

THE HAWTHORN.

The "milk-white thorn" that in early summer dapples the hedgerows with its fragrant bloom-the sweet "May" that literally "scents the evening gale"-is, like the