Shakespeare I had read from childhood, in a fragmentary way.
"The Tempest," and "Midsummer Night's Dream," and "King Lear," I
had swallowed among my fairy tales. Now I discovered that the
historical plays, notably, "Julius Caesar" and "Coriolanus," had
no less attraction for me, though of a different kind. But it was
easy for me to forget that I was trying to be a literary student,
and slip off from Belmont to Venice with Portia to witness the
discomfiture of Shylock; although I did pity the miserable Jew,
and thought he might at least have been allowed the comfort of
his paltry ducats. I do not think that any of my studying at this
time was very severe; it was pleasure rather than toil, for I
undertook only the tasks I liked. But what I learned remained
with me, nevertheless.
With Milton I was more familiar than with any other poet, and
from thirteen years of age to eighteen he was my preference. My
friend Angeline and I (another of my cloth-room associates) made
the "Paradise Lost" a language-study in an evening class, under
one of the grammar school masters, and I never open to the
majestic lines,--
"High on a throne of royal state, which far
Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind,
Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand
Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold,"--
Without seeing Angeline's kindly, homely face out-lined through
that magnificence, instead of the lineaments of the evil angel
"by merit raised
To that bad eminence.
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