t!g!iiiilii!t!;i!!!iB;iiiHii)in:;i;i!;a;iHiiii!iiiiliii;ib;.:!'ii SHAKESPEARE'S -^^^ TOWN AND TIMES .'■'%:- -)/Jf '-/');-■''■■' ! ^ m "• - ^y ' ' '■ ,. I'l' ' '• THE DAVENANT BUST. * 'Gainst death and all oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth, your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom." Shakespeare's Sonnets. C0^)carc'iei Z(Mn an^txmcB. By H. SNOWDEN WARD and CATHARINE WEED WARD, Fellows of the Royal Photographic Society, and Editors of The Photogram. NEW YORK: TRUSLOVE & COMBA, 65 FIFTH AVENUE. LONDON : DAWBARN & WARD, LIMITED. : : : : A 27045 CONTENTS. Introduction and Acknowledgment ------ 7 Chapter I. — The Town and District - - - - - 9 II. — Some Historical Notes ------ 27 III. — Shakespeare's Ancestors - 47 IV. — Shakespeare's Childhood ------ 65 V. — Shakespeare's Boyhood - 79 VI. — Shakespeare's Youth and Courtship - - - 93 VII. — Seeking a Fortune ------- 107 VIII. — Manhood and the Close of Life . . - - 121 IX. — A Great Man's Memory ------ 137 Appendix A. — Information for Visitors ------ 166 Map of the District --------- 169 Appendix B. — Shakespeare's Will ------- 170 C. — New Light on Shakespeare's Lineage - - - 172 Index ------------- 174 Plan of Stratford-on-Avon ------ Eiui of Book. ^ 1899 INTRODUCTION . . AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT ^^UR task has been a simple one ; — to write in plain words VjO the tale of Shakespeare's life, to picture what remain to I us of the scenes that Shakespeare saw. There are "lives'' more learned than anything we can attempt, and illustrations of Shakespeare's Town more picturesque than anything we can make. But the pictitres are too often fancies, the "■lives" too seldom distinguish beticcen fact and theory. We have tried to be simply true ; and, while giving our own deductions from some of the facts, to keep the facts themselves distinct. It is to be regretted that ih> photographic record could have been made a century or more ago, for the vandal and the "improver" have made sad havoc of the Shakespeare haunts. But as the changes are still in progress, our photograms may be useful in years to come, in reconciling the contradictions of more beautiful but less accurate representations. Something of Shakespeare's gentle, kindly spirit seems still to linger in Stratford-on-the-Avon, and it is a pleasure to acknowledge the generous assistance we have received from all sides. Our especial thanks are due to the Earl of Warwick, Sir Arthur Hodgson, Mr. H. R. Fairfax-Lucy, Mrs. Charles E. Floiccr, Mr. J. W. Ryland, Mrs. R. S. dc Coiircy Laffan, Mr. Richard Savage, Mr. W . G. Colbouriie, the Misses Hancock, Mr. Douglas McNeillc, Mr. W. Salt Brassiugton, and Mr. A. H. Wall, the late Librarian of the Shakespeare Memorial, and noic Editor of The Shakespearean. Hawthornden, WooDsiDE Park, N., yiily, 1896. ■ the New Place ^u THE HARVARD HOUSE, Quinej', vintner. Behind the vintner's cellar is a dark and vaulted chamber, a veritable " black hole," that was probably the cell for incorrigible offenders, at the time when this house was the Town's Cage, or prison. The upper part of the walls and the vaulted roof are probably of more recent date ; but the foundation walls, and the raised bench running along two sides and round one end of the cell, are undoubtedly very ancient. If this raised bench were the prisoners' couch, and this their dungeon cell, we may be sure that anything more than a very brief imprisonment would be equivalent to a sentence of death. Opposite this house, close to the other side of the High Street, stood the old Market Cross, and its site is marked by a stone in the roadway, the mean- ing of which is probably unknown to most of the younger inhabitants. Under the Cross was a well, which remained in good order below the street level until about 1 880, when it was filled up, in order to facilitate the carrying across it of drain-pipes, etc. Further along High Street is the Harvard House, built in 1596, and the home of Katharine Rogers, afterwards Harvard. Her son, John, emigrated to America in 1634, ^^^ founded Harvard University. Opposite, is the Corn Exchange, and a few yards further is Sheep Street, turning to the left. It is worth while wandering down this street, and turning into the side courts and alleys. Some of them are masked at the ends by great barn doors, but no one will object to the curious visitor passing through. Within, these courts are as picturesque as anything to be seen in Italy, and the little maidens and bright-faced boys who wonderingly gaze at the visitors are tj'pical Shakespeare- country children. At the top of the street, again, is the Town Hall, no longer so interesting as when the lower part was open to the pathway, and contained the stocks and other town property. These stocks, alas! have disappeared; probably made into firewood. Over the door is a statue of Shakespeare, presented by Garrick at the time of the Shakespeare Jubilee, and in the Council Chamber, which visitors may see, are several interesting paintings, with some of the old Town Charters. Chapel Street is a continuation of High Street. On the left is the Shakes- peare hotel and house of the Five Gables, the most picturesque old building in Stratford. Here was the head-quarters of the Garrick Jubilee, many relics of which are still preserved ; and here, too, are held the principal race-dinners and market-dinners of the town. Further, on the same side, is Thomas Hathaway's house ; next to it, Julius Shaw's house, and next again, the house of Thomas Nash, who married the poet's grand-daughter, Elizabeth Hall. Our interest in Julius Shaw arises from the fact that he was one of the witnesses of Shakespeare's will. Thomas Nash's house, next to the garden and site of New Place, where Shakespeare lived and died after his retirement from London, and also during the intervals and holidays of his London life, 14 OLD COURT, OFF SHEEP STREET. is now used as a museum, under the Birthplace Trust. Though a charge is made for admission to the museum, the gardens are open free. Opposite the site is the Falcon tavern, in which, according to a none-too-old tradition, Shakespeare drank, and played the game of shovel-board. Unfortunately' for this story, the house was not a tavern in Shakespeare's time, but no doubt he was friendly with the occupier, and often spent an evening" under its roof. It is just possible, too, that the shovel-"board still preserved in the New Place museum may have been in the possession of Shakespeare's neighbour across the way. Let us have faith in the relics when connected with a tradition so pleasant and harmless. HALL S CROFT The Guild Chapel and Grammar School are worth a careful inspection, and those who can stay over Sunday should attend one of the chapel services. The row of alms-houses, the ancient dwellings of the poorer brethren of the Guild, are full of interest, and if you can obtain an invitation to step inside one of them and chat with its occupant, you gain a glimpse into a very interesting phase of English life, — the declining days of an old pensioner who has drifted into this quiet back-water to rest until the longer rest shall come. At the end of Church Street we find Trmity College School on the right, and the Old Town turns off to the left. Here is Hall's Croft, the home of i6 X THE MIDDLE ROW (NO LONGER EXISTING) From a Negative by Mr. H. P. KohiiKon. to the intrusion of courteous strangers. A little further up the street, on the left, is the back view of the Birth-house, across its lawn and garden ; and we would advise all who can sufficiently curb their impatience, to make this their first view of the house. It is much more satisfying than the front view, and it is well that the ineffaceable first impression of the Birth-house should be as pleasant as possible. Returning to the bridge foot, we find in Bridge Street a fitting ending to the tour of the town itself. There are several houses of entertainment, where the weary traveller may be rested and refreshed, — the Golden Lion, and the Old Red Lion, typical old English hostelries; and the Red Horse, with its memories of' Washington Irving. Wherever one may choose to rest for the night, Irving's room must not be overlooked, and we must trespass on the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Colbourne sufficiently to secure, at least, a glimpse of the room, and a chance of recording our signatures in the visitors' book. The chair that Irving occupied, the poker which he described as his sceptre, even the clock that he mentioned as ticking in the old sexton's cottage, are preserved with religious care, and the walls of the room are hung with mementoes of many a Shakespeare pilgrim since Irving's time. William Winter, the gentle critic and author, has brought rnany a contribution, but none more notable than the lines which he inscribed in the front of the present visitors' book: — "While evening waits and barkens While yet the song-bird calls. Before the last light darkens, Before the last leaf falls, Once more with reverent feeling His haunted shrine I seek — • By silent awe revealing The thought I cannot speak." Truly much depends upon the spirit in which we visit Shakespeare's home. It is unnecessary to say much about the surroundings of Stratford. There are varied pilgrimages for a day, a week, or a month, and the arrangement thereof may well be left to the pilgrim, acting under the advice of mine host of the hotel. Of course, the first visit must be to Ann Hathaway's cottage, across the fields melodious with the feathered crowd that sing the same song as their kindred sang when Shakespeare went a-courting. And as we wander where he wandered, we may recall the love-song in which his lady's name is pleasantly enshrined. The lines were written by Charles Dibdin, though some have called them an ancient piece of work, and suggested that they may have been by Shakespeare. ., "Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng, With love's sweet notes to grace your song, To pierce the heart with thrilling la)', Listen to mine Ann Hathaway. "24 " ■ She hath a way to sing so clear, Phcebus might wondering stop to hear. To melt the sad, make blithe the gay, And Nature charm, Ann hath a way. She hath a way, Ann Hathaway; To breathe delight, Ann hath a way." Then there is the walk along the river to Luddington, the walk so loved b}' Judith Shakespeare, as William Black relates in his pleasant chronicle-novel of Stratford life in Shakespeare's day. There is VVilmcote, the home of Shakespeare's mother; Snitterfield, where his father first saw the light; Aston Cantlow, where thej' were probabl)' married; and Charlecote, with its deer- stealing legend, and the tombs of the three Sir Thomas Lucys in the church; Billesley and Temple Grafton, rivals with Luddington for the honor of having been the scene of Shakespeare's marriage; Clopton House, if the permission of Sir Arthur Hodgson can be obtained; and, further afield, the family mansion, — Shakespeare Hall, Rowington; the glorious old Castle of "Warwick; and the ruin of Kenilworth. Even in Stratford itself there are one or two items of interest that have not come into our tour of the town. In Back Lane, behind the vicarage grounds, is a spot often visited by the curious, a little grave-yard set apart by the vicar and his wife for the burial of their pets. The little plot gives ample evidence that even the dumb animals are not forgotten, for in addition to the tomb- stones, with their polyglot inscriptions to the memories of Adam, Noah, Moses, Bijou, and Oko Jumbo, the graves are neatly kept and trimmed with flowers. In the Birmingham Road, only a couple of hundred yards from the birth-house, is an elm tree within a railing, marking the site of the old gnarled boundary elm, amongst the roots of which young Willie Shakespeare played. A walk to the top of the Welcombe Hills, with their traces of our old savage flint-age ancestors, is not too great an exertion even for the ladies, and it is calculated to give an excellent appetite for breakfast. Or the same stroll in the evening, when, perchance, the mists lie along the river side, and the grass is wet in the valley, will give a chance of hearing the nightingale singing when other birds have gone to rest. Then, if a day can be given to it, a drive of twelve or fourteen miles along the Banbury Road — along the way that Shakespeare must have ridden — will make an ever-memorable trip. Leaving Stratford by the Clopton Bridge, the road gradualh' climbs from the valley until close under the foot of Edge Hill, and then by a steep grassy ascent through a hanging wood to the top of the hill itself, just above the field of the first battle of the Parliamentary war. Emerging from the wood, a new and beautiful vale comes in sight, a scene as fair as the Avon valley itself; but that which charms us most is the view looking westward from Edge Hill, across the broad lowlands to where Stratford nestles bj' the river. Can we not imagine tlie jo}ous heart-leap of the poet, returning from his London triumphs, when he thus caught the first sight of the home-place he held so dear. From all these wanderings we can contentedly return to Stratford, and feel as Washington Irving felt when he wrote in his Note Book the words so well fitted to close a tourist's day; — " To a homeless man, who has no spot on this wide world which he can truly call his own, there is a feeling of something like independence and territorial consequence, when, after a weary day's travel, he kicks off his boots, thrusts his feet into slippers, and stretches himself before an inn fire. Let the world without go as it may ; let kingdoms rise or fall, so long as he has the wherewithal to pay his bill, he is, for the time being, the very monarch of all he surveys. The arm-chair is his throne, the poker is his sceptre, and the little parlor, some twelve feet square, his undisputed empire. It is a morsel of certainty, snatched from the midst of the uncertainties of life; it is a sunny moment gleaming out kindly on a cloudy day ; and he who has advanced some way on the pilgrimage of existence knows the importance of husbanding even morsels and moments of enjoyment." THE MEMORIAL, FROM CEOPTON BRinOE. 26 "# .§^A ■^"^ ■- '^