to weeping as they remember they have now no lies to teach their
children; democrats who are frightened at the rough voice of the
people, and aristocrats flirting with democracy. Logic, if it cannot
cure, might at least silence these gentry.




FALSTAFF.


There is more material for a life of Falstaff than for a life of
Shakespeare, though for both there is a lamentable dearth. The
difficulties of the biographer are, however, different in the two
cases. There is nothing, or next to nothing, in Shakespeare's works
which throws light on his own story; and such evidence as we have is
of the kind called circumstantial. But Falstaff constantly gives us
reminiscences or allusions to his earlier life, and his companions
also tell us stories which ought to help us in a biography. The
evidence, such as it is, is direct; and the only inference we have to
draw is that from the statement to the truth of the statement.

It has been justly remarked by Sir James Stephen, that this very
inference is perhaps the most difficult one of all to draw correctly.
The inference from so-called circumstantial evidence, if you have
enough of it, is much surer; for whilst facts cannot lie, witnesses
can, and frequently do. The witnesses on whom we have to rely for the
facts are Falstaff and his companions--especially Falstaff.

When an old man tries to tell you the story of his youth, he sees the