Ferocious Friendship

1895

A Peculiar Incident in the Life of the Tragedian Macready.

Between Macready and my brother Charles existed a kind of ferocious friendship. Macready, whatever he may have been in private life, had at the theater a simply horrible temper, and he was in the habit of using at rehearsals and even in an undertone when acting the most abusive language — language which my brother sometimes passed by with a smile, but which he occasionally hotly resented. He did not mind Macready constantly addressing him as "beast," but he objected to having his eyes, his limbs and his internal organs coupled with invective terms. Yet, oddly enough, the great tragedian, with whom he was constantly quarreling, had a grim respect and liking for him. He knew him to be a gentleman and a scholar and one who was a competent judge of picturesque effect and an acute dramatic critic.

On one occasion Macready having to play "Othello," and my brother not being included in the cast, the tragedian thus addressed him: "Beast, I want you to go in front tonight and give me afterward a full and candid opinion as to the merits of my acting. Omit nothing. Tell me how I played and how I looked. I have an idea that I shall surpass myself this evening." Now, the great actor used to go through a tremendous amount of realistic effort in the part of Othello, and toward the close of the tragedy would get into such a disorganized physical condition that he was all perspiration and foaming at the mouth and presented a somewhat shocking spectacle.

My brother duly occupied a seat in the front row of the dress circle and narrowly watched the performance from beginning to end. Then he went behind the scenes and repaired to Macready's dressing room. The artist was being disrobed by his dresser and was panting with excitement in an armchair.

"Well, beast, what was it like?"

My brother told him that he had derived the highest gratification from the performance and he had never seen him play Othello more superbly. He was magnificent in his speech to the Venetian senate, the jealousy scenes with Iago were splendid, the murder of Desdemona was superb, and he died inimitably. Macready's face lighted up more and more as my brother answered his many queries.

"'Tis well, beast," he observed at last; "'tis well — very well, and, now, what was my appearance — how did I look, beast?"

My brother cogitated for a moment and then, with perfect candor, replied, "Like a sweep, sir!" — G. A. Sala's "Recollections."

Note: "Sweep," someone who cleans soot from chimneys.

Vocabularies

1895

Shakespeare's vocabulary is said to have been the largest used by any English writer, and he had not 25,000, but 15,000, and of these 500 were used only once. Milton's vocabulary comprised about 8,000 words. That of the average educated writer is said to include about 3,000 words, while the average business man uses only about 1,000 words. The average English laborer has about 400 words at his command. These estimates are of British origin and are not recent. We're inclined to think that the business man and the mechanic in this country have rather more extensive vocabularies than these estimates suggest. — New York Sun.


A Concert

Jobson — Hello, Dobson. See the piano factory fire last night?
Dobson — Yes. Firemen worked like beavers.
Jobson — No, they didn't. They had a regular concert.
Dobson —I don't see how you make that out.
Jobson — Weren't they playing on the pianos? — London Tit-Bits.

Penguin, Blubber, Their Daily Diet

1916

ONCE THEY DINE ON FISH FROM SEAL'S STOMACH.

Lacking Tobacco, Shackleton's Marooned Men Smoke Grass Taken From Boot Padding.

LONDON, England, Sept. 14. — Life on Elephant Island, in the Antarctic, as it was experienced by the marooned men of Lieutenant Sir Ernest Shackleton's south polar expedition, who were rescued recently and taken to Chili, is described in a message received from Punta Arenas and published in the Daily Chronicle.

"The day began," says the description, "with breakfast, which consisted merely of penguin, fried in blubber, with a drink of water. The morning's duties consisted in clearing away snowdrifts and catching penguin.

"Lunch was served at 1 o'clock, consisting of a biscuit with raw blubber. The afternoon was occupied with regular exercise over a track 100 yards in length.

Smoke Grass From Boots.

"At 5 o'clock, when darkness fell, came dinner, consisting of penguin breast and beef tea. Lacking tobacco, the men smoked grass from the padding in their boots, while the pipes were carved from birds' bones and wood.

"The members of the party took turns in reading aloud from the only available books, namely, the Bible, an encyclopedia, Browning, Bacon's Essays and Carlyle's French Revolution. Saturday evening was always marked by a concert, the feature of which was banjo playing. A banjo was the only musical instrument in camp.

Fish as Change of Diet.

"On one occasion there was a welcome addition to the diet when several undigested fish were found in the stomach of a seal, and greatly enjoyed. These were the only fish obtained during our stay. In August there was a change in the diet when limpets were gathered and seaweed was available as a vegetable.

"We were in the midst of one of these limpet and seaweed lunches when the rescue boat was sighted.

"'When was the war over?' was the first question we asked."

—The Saturday Blade, Chicago, Sept. 16, 1916, p. 5.

Took a Mean Advantage

1901

A supernumerary in Richard Mansfield's company who had been, to use a Scotch phrase, continuously and continually "heckled" by the manager at rehearsals and between the acts for alleged displays of stupidity on the stage, was informed that a near relative of his had departed this life and had left him a competence, so he decided to leave the dramatic profession and, to quote him, become respectable. Before leaving he determined to take his revenge on Mansfield for the attacks on his amour propre that gentleman had made.

The play was "Richard III," and the super was one of the soldiers who led away the Duke of Buckingham when the king orders his demise.

In due time Richard remarked, "Off with his head!" and this was the super's opportunity. Advancing, he touched his helmet in the style of a footman and replied loudly and genially:

"That'll be attended to, old chap. We'll take care of old Buck. It'll be all right!" and retired gracefully. When the infuriated Mansfield came off to commit murder, he found the super had fled. — Chicago Chronicle.

Billiards An Old Game

1905

The game of billiards may lay claim to great antiquity, for in "Anthony and Cleopatra" Shakespeare makes Cleopatra say: "Let us to billiards;" and so, unless we accuse the great poet of error in chronology, we have traced the game back to a period before the Christian era. In early times a similar game was played on the grass or turf with stones, and later with balls of lignum vitae and other substances.

How to apply the right "twist" or "English" to the cue ball is one of the most interesting and important elements in the art of good playing. In early times only two balls were used, and each player sought simply to pocket the ball of his opponent. The red ball was introduced as a novelty to keep the game from dying out.

As time has gone on the game has had varied development in different countries. In Spain they play with three balls and five wooden pins are set up in the middle of the table. In Russia they play with five balls, two white and a red, blue and yellow one.

The English game is played quite differently from the American and French games. It is a combination of the American games of both pool and billiards, being played on a table having pockets, as in an ordinary pool table, and the points as scored in both the American games being counted.

The French and American games are played with three balls upon a table without pockets and only "canons" or "caroms" are counted. In America the game of billiards has undergone a rapid development on account of the great skill acquired by American players. Early in the last century the game was commonly played with four balls upon a pool table, more or less like the present English game, for both pocketing the balls and making caroms were counted, but in time this style of playing proved so simple that a table was adopted without any pockets in it — and caroms only were counted. — Outing.

Playhouses of the Past

1905

An interesting picture of the stage of our forefathers was drawn by Sir Henry Irving during an address delivered in Bath, England, at the unveiling of a memorial tablet to James Quin. After his retirement in 1751, Quin lived in Bath for fifteen years. He had been an actor for more than thirty-five years. For more than half that period he had held his own against all competitors until the advent of David Garrick, who reformed the stilted style of declamation then in vogue.

"Theatrical audiences in those days," said Mr. Irving, "must have been rather 'fearful wildfowl,' and often exacting more when they were pleased than when they were angry. There was always a danger that they would tear up the benches, or that some of them would rush upon the stage and deliver a general assault and battery. On one occasion, when Rich was attacked by a drunken nobleman, Quin saved his life by some vigorous swordplay.

"The actor's vocation then was full of stirring variety. Quin was a man of the readiest wit, and he is said to have employed it successfully in telling stories to an audience to keep them from rioting when the play was waiting for some royal personage, who had forgotten the time. Horace Walpole tells us that Quin, when pressed to play the part of the Ghost in 'Hamlet' — a part he considered beneath him — would make no answer but, 'I won't catch cold behind.' 'The Ghost,' says Walpole, 'is always ridiculously dressed, with a morsel of armor before and only a "block" waistcoat and breech behind.'

"The story how Quin befriended James Thomson, whom he found in prison for a debt of £70, is a worthy illustration of the actor's character. He ordered supper and claret — a good deal of claret — and when the bottle was going round he said with grim humor, 'It is time we should balance accounts.'

"The unfortunate poet, who was already alarmed at this burly visitor, took him for another creditor.

"'Mr. Thomson,' said Quin, 'the pleasure — I have had — in reading your — works — I cannot estimate — at less than £100 — and I insist on now — acquitting the debt.' And then he put down the money and walked out without another word."

History of the War

1915

"When the history of this war comes to be written," is a constantly recurring journalistic phrase, as if the story of this great conflict could ever be written.

You may be fairly certain that no one under the rank of an archangel, in close touch with omniscience, will ever write the full history of the world war. Down below there isn't the knowledge, and there isn't the time. There will come sectional accounts. But if in the fullness of time a world syndicate succeeds in getting some million tons of print within covers, the public will (one hopes) be thinking of something else. Yet the literature of the war as a personal drama is the domain of the private soldier, and the best letters from the front have been written by the private soldier.

On that side of the literature of war the editor of the Book Monthly has his eye. He is a specialist on the "Epistles of Atkins," and already he has been gloating and gleaning with some thousands of soldiers' letters before him. — London Chronicle.


Magnificent Volume

The most sumptuous copy of Shakespeare's "Romeo and Juliet" in existence was recently sent from England to a purchaser abroad. The value of the book is between $5,000 and $7,500. It has been reproduced as an illuminated manuscript on vellum, and the volume is notable as being the entire work of one artist, Alberto Sangorski, who was engaged upon it for 18 months. The title is in pearls set in gold, and the cover is embellished with 214 rubies and 36 amethysts.

Travesty on Real Falstaff

1915

Yarmouth has a claim upon all Englishmen quite independently of its associations with the breakfast bloater, remarks a writer in St Nicholas. For it was the home of Shakespeare's Falstaff, who appears to have been a man of exemplary piety. The Falstaffs were an old Yarmouth family.

"A Falstolfe or Falstaff," writes John Richard Green, "was bailiff of Yarmouth in 1281. Another is among the first of its representatives in parliament, and from that the members of that family filled the highest municipal offices. John Falstolfe, a man of considerable account in the town, purchased lands at the close of the fourteenth century in Caistor, and became the father of Sir John Falstolfe, who, after a distinguished military career, was luckless enough to give his name to Shakespeare's famous character. In Yarmouth, however, he was better known as a benefactor to the great church of St. Nicholas.


Failures as Stepping Stones

John Wanamaker, in a recent address in Philadelphia, urged his audience to persevere.

"Every successful man," he said, "has probably had more failures, far more failures, than the nonentity has had.

"Success, after all, is nothing more than failure with a new coat of paint."

Commas and Inflection Make a Difference

1895

Commas and Inflection

A Good Deal Depends on Them Sometimes

We published recently an account of a suit for heavy damages arising from lack of punctuation in a telegram. A man sent the message: "Don't come. Too late." But the doctor received it, "Don't come too late," and immediately engaged a special train to convey him a long distance.

Mr. Story, the sculptor, who began life as a lawyer, tells a good anecdote which illustrates the fact that the emphasis which punctuates has as much to do with determining the sense of a sentence as the meaning of the words. Once, when he was called upon to defend a woman accused of murdering her husband, he adduced as one of the proofs of her innocence the fact of her having attended him on his deathbed, and saying to him, when he was dying, "Goodbye, George!" The counsel for the prosecution declared that that ought rather to be taken as a proof of her guilt, and that the words she had used were "Good! by George!"

A well known clergyman of New York used to make a strong point by reading the verse, "God said, Let there be light, and there was light," with the emphasis on the word light, not on was, as usually rendered.

An elocutionist of considerable note has questioned the method of the great Mrs. Siddons, who in answer to Macbeth's suggestion of possible failure was wont to reply, "Fail!" with a emphatic drop of the voice that implied, "Well, then, fail, that's all there is to it." "Lady Macbeth would never have got him in the world," said this critic, "had she addressed him in that manner. She undoubtedly said, 'Fail,' in a tone of utter contempt for a man who could imagine such an outcome to his villainy. The word should be given in a deep tone, with a falling inflection and then an upward tendency." — Brooklyn Eagle.

Trap 200 Cats in A Market

1910

Vicious Animals Fight Captors, But Are Put Into Baskets for Annihilation

New York — Yowling, spitting, scratching and biting, 200 cats were cornered, one by one, the other night in the old Washington market and dumped into baskets, to be disposed of by the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.

Agents of the society, policemen, watchmen, butchers, fishmongers, green grocers and all the little world of the market joined in a midnight hunt that, for activity and noise, outdid anything ever chronicled from Africa.

For years the cats, at first encouraged to keep down the rats, had run wild and increased in garrets and sub-cellars until they became an intolerable pest. The market is now in process of renovation.


Another Tradition Exploded

Two Englishmen were resting at the "Red Horse Inn" at Stratford-on-Avon. One of them discovered a print picturing a low tumbling building underneath which was printed: "The House in Which Shakespeare Was Born." Turning to his friend in mild surprise he pointed to the print. His friend exhibited equal surprise, and called a waiter who assured them of the accuracy of the inscription. "'Pon my word," said the observing Englishman, shaking his head dubiously, "I thought he was born in a manger!" — Success Magazine.

Seen and Heard — Y.M.C.A. Lecture on "Self Control"

Council Bluffs, Iowa, 1908

March at Y.M.C.A. — An address by H. C. Raymond, the veteran fruit grower, on "Self Control," and a resume by F. J. Day, president of the Young Men's Christian Association, of the work so far accomplished by the organization, formed leading features of the Y.M.C.A. literary meeting last evening. The program was in general appropriate to the month of March, Mr. Day's remarks being peculiarly fitting because of the fact that the Y.M.C.A. enterprise in this city was begun in March. Mr. Raymond made a forceful talk on the conservation of both physical and mental powers. Historic events that took place in March, the life and work of St. Patrick and other subjects bearing on the month under consideration were discussed by the younger members of the association. For some unexplained reason, the March hare was left shivering on the doorstep and did not come in for any discussion. Attractive music varied the otherwise literary character of the program.

"Shakespearian Lecture on Hamlet" is the subject of Rev. S. R. Elson's lecture Thursday night at St. John's Lutheran church. Course ticket holder will be admitted with friend. Single admittance 25c. The lecture will be a great treat.

Takes Brother Home — Lewis Bixby of Joy, Ill., was here yesterday and took home with him his brother, Aaron Bixby, who had been in St. Bernard's hospital in the custody of the commissioners of insanity.

—The Daily Nonpareil, Council Bluffs, Iowa, March 11, 1908, p. 3.

The Stratford Bust of Shakespeare

1874

J. Parker Norris writes of the Stratford bust of Shakespeare as follows: "It is colored in imitation of nature. This appears very odd to us in these days, who are accustomed to seeing statues generally cut from pure white marble; but in olden times it was quite common. In 1748, the colors being then indistinct, it was faithfully restored by a Stratford artist. The expense was covered by the proceeds of a performance given by John Ward, who was the grandfather to the great Mrs. Siddons. "Othello" was performed for this purpose on September 9, 1746, at the Town Hall, at Stratford. This was a judicious restoration, and quite different from its next fate. In 1793, Edmund Malone, the celebrated Shakespearian editor, caused the bust to be daubed all over with white paint, to suit his classic ideas. What was a very valuable and interesting relic of old times — portraying as the colors did the probable appearance of Shakespeare — was thus temporarily destroyed by Malone. It was reserved for the more correct taste of later times to remove Mr. Malone's white paint. This was skillfully done, and it is now said by many to exactly resemble the state in which it was left by John Hall, the artist who restored the monument in 1748. Such is the eventful history of this famous bust. We sincerely trust that it will be left alone for the future, to remain for all time the most authentic representation of him

"——whose remembrance yet
Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and tongues
Be theme and hearing ever...

"Much has been written about the fat, stolid, and sensual appearance of the bust, and it has been said to resemble an English farmer more than what one would suppose the great poet looked like. It has been abused by some and praised too much by others. With all this we have nothing to do. It is undoubtedly the only correct likeness of Shakespeare, and as such will always command the attention and have the respect of those who prefer authentic to ideal likenesses. To us there is something very noble about the upper part of the head. It is only the lower part that one could wish had been different. Still great men will grow fat as well as others, and there is nothing that we can see to prevent the supposition that Shakespeare was only a man — although he was undoubtedly one of the greatest, if not the greatest, that ever lived."

An Odd Genius: Mortimer

1874

An Odd Genius

An Irishman died, a few weeks ago, in London, whose career and attainments entitle him to a niche in the annals of literature. The deceased was about fifty years of age, and was as odd a figure as one could meet in a day's ride. He was small, but firmly knit, generally wore a white hat and a dress coat, and always had an old volume under his arm. He was a confirmed book-worm. Mezzofanti was hardly a more accomplished linguist. Mortimer was a graduate of the University of Dublin, and deeply versed in classic lore, but he added a polish to his erudition by his intimacy with at least a dozen modern tongues. He spoke French, German, Russian, Polish, Spanish, Italian, Modern Greek, Turkish, Arabic, Irish, and Danish with fluency. In his youth he had been cabin-boy in an American bark, and subsequently became a medical student in Paris, but had to leave it on account of his connection with the June insurrection of '48.

He was a very strong man, and utilized his strength by taking an engagement as a Hercules in a circus in Australia. By turns he gave lectures on Shakespeare through Germany, was a Greek professor at Hamburg, had a troupe of Spanish ballet-dancers in Holland, and was a companion of Sir William Don, the baronet actor, in his wildest continental frolics. In his time he had been tutor to Charles Lever's children at Florence. He came to the surface one day in the employment of Tom Thumb; another in the company of Murphy the Irish giant, who was a distant cousin. He had been in London since the Franco-Prussian war, which ruined him in fortune. His learning was of little profit to him, for he died very poor in a ward of a hospital, and is buried in a nameless grave.

Shakespeare and Slang — "Fie! Beat it hence!"

1916

Later Day Phrases That Were Used by the Immortal Bard.

"Good night," a terse ejaculation that has taken ranking position among the slang of the day, had its source in no less authority than Will Shakespeare. It took a Hamilton college student to discover that the magic words were frequently used in Shakespeare's plays and with as much variety of meaning as we have been giving to them.

"The idea that 'good night' has the mark of modernity," declares this student, "is a sad mistake. In act 1, scene 3, of the first part of 'King Henry IV,' Worcester says he will disclose a matter of Hotspur which is as full of peril 'as to o'erwalk a current roaring loud on the unsteadfast footing of a spear.' To which Hotspur replies, 'If he fall in, good night.' "

Many other bits of modern vernacular are from Shakespeare, the student says, among them "Go to it!" "You cheese!" "I am for you," "Dead drunk" and plenty of others.

And regarding that once very favorite phrase "Beat it" the student says this: "Every one from a former president to a newsboy has made use of these two words. Yet in act 2, scene 1, of 'The Comedy of Errors' Luciana exclaims: 'Fie! Beat it hence!' " — Hartford Courant.

Smallpox Doesn't Postpone Wedding

News Items Condensed For Hasty Perusal

1899

At Seymour, Ind., Frank Robinson, a merchant of North Vernon, and Miss Caroline Musser, also of that city, had sent out wedding invitations to be married in North Vernon. The smallpox having broken out in North Vernon, and the bride's father having exposed himself, the young couple had to change their plans. Robinson stole her from the house and they stood in a buggy and were married by a minister who stood some distance away.

When George E. Sterry, druggist, opened a package received by mail, an asp crawled upon his hand. Prompt action in shaking it off saved his life. Police are investigating.

Maz Haala, a bride of a week, committed suicide, at Bucyrus, 0., after cooking her husband's dinner. She said married life was not what she thought it was.

In London yesterday an American millionaire paid $2,500 for one of the only two copies of "The Troublesome Raigne of John," dated 1591, supposed to be the work of Shakespeare.

Mary Anderson, whose beauty, talent and fame to this day are the hope and despair of uncounted American women, the admiration of as many men, is in New York again. She has come to pay a long promised visit to her mother and stepfather and to the relatives of her husband. She is accompanied by her husband, Antonio de Navarro. They arrived by the White Star liner Majestic yesterday afternoon. Mr. and Mrs. Navarro traveled incognito, as "Mr. and Mrs. A. I. Hope." But their effort to conceal their identity from fellow-voyagers was unsuccessful.

—Trenton Evening Times, Trenton, NJ, April 27, 1899, page 3.

Shakespeare Edited, Various Editions Published

1916

Nicholas Rowe, Poet Laureate, Was the First to Attempt It

The first folio was printed partly from the earlier quartos and partly from manuscript copies in the hands of players. It did not have the careful editing that so important a work should have had, but it preserved from destruction a number of the plays that had not appeared in quarto form.

Nicholas Rowe, poet laureate and dramatist in his edition of 1709 made the first attempt to edit Shakespeare in the modem sense. He modernized spelling, punctuation and grammar, added lists of dramatis personae and divided the acts and scenes properly. Since his time editors have been busily engaged in corrections and emendations.

Alexander Pope, the second editor, issued his Shakespeare in 1723, and this was followed in 1733 by Lewis Theobald's edition, whose bitter attack upon Pope in "Shakespeare Restored" led to the latter's making Theobald the dull and pedantic hero of his "Dunciad." The handsome edition by Sir. Thomas Hanmer appeared in 1744 and William Warburton's in 1747. Dr. Samuel Johnson's edition was published in 1765. Then came Edward Capell's in 1767-68. George Steevens' in 1773, Joseph Rann's in 1780-94 and Edward Malone's in 1790.

Ten Benefits of Literature Named by Brown in Talk

1922

"Literature — Why Study It," is Subject of English Lecture

"Literature is the textbook on human nature," said H. G. Brown, instructor in English, Tuesday afternoon at the Law building in his lecture on "Literature — Why Study It." Ten benefits which can be derived from reading literature were given. "Knowledge of human nature is acquired better through familiarity with the masterpieces than even real life," Brown declared. Brown, who explained that one can associate with a man for month without knowing him as well as you could know Macbeth or Hamlet in four hours. "Literature gives all the significant details of a man's life in complete sequence, while real life gives only glimpses."

"Literature is a cure for provincialism. With this as the medium we may travel and know the world from the Moab of Ruth to the Mississippi Valley of Tom Sawyer," said Mr. Brown. "We may travel back over great periods of time and know the common people of the fourteenth century through Chaucer's Prologue. We may travel up and down through unfamiliar society."

—The Capital Times, Madison, Wisconsin, July 27, 1922, page 8.

Shakespeare Excels All the Others

1920

Wonderful Shakespeare

Among the English authors, Shakespeare has incomparably excelled all others. That noble extravagance of fancy, which he had in so great perfection, thoroughly qualified him to touch the weak, superstitious part of his readers' imagination and made him capable of succeeding where he had nothing to support him besides the strength of his own genius.—Addison.


Be All Right There

When Billy saw a picture of a family of 17 children he said: "Gee, that's too many for one house, but it would be fine to have a party with."


All Wrong!

Some people's idea of sympathy is to back a poor invalid into a corner and tell him how miserable he is looking.—Boston Transcript.

—Bedford Gazette, Bedford, Pennsylvania, January 9, 1920, page 4.

The Evil Eye

1912

It is probably that the "evil eye," for which many hapless old women were harried to their death on the suspicion of witchcraft in "the good old days," was no more than a common squint, a "cast" in the eye, or "bossing," as it is called in many parts of the country to this day, writes Dr. N. Bishop Harman in the British Journal of Children's Diseases. Not only was the squint though to be of evil significance, but the defect itself was considered to be the work of evil spirits. In "King Lear" we find the following in the scene on the heath at night:

"This is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet. He begins at curfew and walks till the first cock; he gives the web and the pin, squints the eye and makes the harelip, mildews the white meat and hurts the poor creature of earth."


Knew His Man

George Bubb, better known as Bubb Doddington, one of the wits of the eighteenth century, always dined well and always liked to doze after the repast. Falling asleep one day after dinner with Sir Richard Temple and Lord Cobham, the latter reproached Doddington with his drowsiness. Doddington denied having been asleep and to prove he had not offered to repeat all Lord Cobham had been saying. Cobham challenged him to do so. Doddington repeated a story, and Lord Cobham owned he had been telling it. "Well," said Doddington, "and yet I did not hear a word of it, but I went to sleep because I knew that about this time of the day you would tell that story."

—The Kingston Daily Freeman, Kingston, New York, June 30, 1916, page 5.

The Romans Liked Red Hair, Nobody Else

1912

RED HAIR ALWAYS DISLIKED

With the Exception of the Romans, Ancient Peoples Had Strong Aversion to It

Red is the fashionable color of woman's hair just now, but in many periods and countries to have red hair meant to test the depths of misfortune, even of death.

Prejudice against red hair runs back even to Egyptian times, for in that land of decided opinions and strong prejudices it was the custom to burn alive some unfortunate individual cursed with red hair, so it was decidedly uncomfortable to have red hair in Egypt, as no one knew whose turn would come next.

That the Chinese shared this prejudice against red hair is proved by their epithet for the English, whom they called "red-haired barbarians" or "red-haired devils."

The great exception to this rule among ancient nations is the Romans, for since the time of Nero they have praised red hair in the highest terms. They preferred a dark red, almost brown, such as we term auburn, and modern Romans share this liking. It is said that among the patrician families of Rome and Florence there is an abnormally large number of red-haired women. Modern Greeks share this predilection with the Romans and they heighten the reddish effect of the hair by wearing dull gold ornaments.

One of the most frequent causes of the prejudice against red hair in Christian countries undoubtedly goes back to the tradition that Judas, the betrayer of Jesus, had red hair, and most of the artists paint him thus. Shakespeare refers to this in "As You Like It," when Rosalind says of Orlando, "His very hair is of the dissembling color," and Celia answers: "Something browner than Judas."

The Brahmins were forbidden to marry red-haired women and as has been said: "The populace of most countries, confounding moral with aesthetic impressions, accuse red-haired people of various shortcomings."

Besides the old tradition of Judas having been red-haired aiding to create the prejudice existing in many lands the fact of the feeling against red hair in England is set down to the red-haired Danes, who could not be regarded save as invaders and barbarians.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 3.