of boys upon the stage, and among the christenings chronicled in the registers of St. Giles’, Cripplegate, occurs the following strange and suggestive entry: “Comedia, base-born, daughter of Alice Bowker and William Johnson, one of the Queen’s plaiers, 10 Feb. 1589.” But the child upon whom such high hopes had been built died at six years of age, and when, later on, some French actresses came over and played at Blackfriars, we learn that they were “hissed, hooted, and pippin-pelted from the stage.” I think that, from what I have said above, we need not regret this in any way. The essentially male culture of the English Renaissance found its fullest and most perfect expression by its own method, and in its own manner.
I remember I used to wonder, at this time, what had been the social position and early life of Willie Hughes before Shakespeare had met with him. My investigations into the history of the boy-actors had made me curious of every detail about him. Had he stood in the carved stall of some gilded choir, reading out of a great book painted with square scarlet notes and long black key-lines? We know from the
