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Updated: June 22, 2025
Slop caricature of living persons disappears also; while, after the famous description of Yorick's death-bed, we meet with no more attempts at self-vindication.
Bridges, strutting along unconscious of Yorick's presence a few yards behind, had half-traversed the deserted block of tall brown stone residences, when he saw a cab standing at the corner ahead of him. He quickened his pace in such a way as to warn the old man that the eventful moment was at hand. The cab stood under an electric light before an ivy-grown church.
However consolatory it may have been to Yorick's Ghost, to hear the feet upon the pavement overhead, and, twenty times a day, the repetition of his name, it is better for Juliet to lie out of the track of tourists, and to have no visitors but such as come to graves in spring-rain, and sweet air, and sunshine. Pleasant Verona!
The Judge was indeed approaching, walking smartly up the street to the National Bank Building. He was one of those old men who somehow recall a cavalry sword, slightly bent, of exceedingly good metal. He retained, you might say, merely the skin and bones of a splendid countenance. The skin was brown as parchment, and wrinkled, but the bones were elegant Hamlet's skull, not Yorick's.
"The Star'll have skulls and bones enough to make up for his want of talent now-I reckon," interposes the property-man. "But! I say, mister, this skull couldn't a bin old Yorick's, you know " "Yorick's! why not?" interrupts the old man. "Because Yorick-Yorick was the King's jester, you see-no nigger; and no one would think of importing anything but a nigger's skull into Charleston "
He plays with death as Hamlet plays with Yorick's skull, and he reads the morals strangely stern, often, for such fragrant lodging which are folded up in the bosoms of roses. He has no pride, and is deficient in a sense of the congruity and fitness of things.
This is all that ever staggered my faith in regard to Yorick's extraction, who, by what I can remember of him, and by all the accounts I could ever get of him, seemed not to have had one single drop of Danish blood in his whole crasis; in nine hundred years, it might possibly have all run out: I will not philosophize one moment with you about it; for happen how it would, the fact was this: That instead of that cold phlegm and exact regularity of sense and humours, you would have looked for, in one so extracted; he was, on the contrary, as mercurial and sublimated a composition, as heteroclite a creature in all his declensions; with as much life and whim, and gaite de coeur about him, as the kindliest climate could have engendered and put together.
And as his comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated either in a bon mot, or to be enlivened throughout with some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings to Yorick's indiscretion.
At length he draws forth the dust-tenanted skull, coated on the outer surface with greasy mould. "There!" he says, with an unrestrained exclamation of joy, holding up the wasting bone, "this was in its time poor Yorick's skull. It was such a skull, when Yorick lived! And the old man shakes his head, mutters inarticulately, and weeps with the simplicity of a child.
To make the tomb of this helpless Innocence the young man braved the curiosity of his comrades despised the rumor, the obloquy, and, hardest of all, the jests. Well has the wise dramatist decided that Ophelia must needs be laid in Yorick's bed!
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