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rHE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
THE AVON OF 
 SHAKESPEARE 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES THORNE 
 
 WITH A SERIES OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 REDRAWN FROM OLD PRINTS 
 
 
 London :■ 
 
 THE DE LA MORE PRESS 
 
 298 REGENT STREET W 
 
 MCMII 
 

 se 
 
 PRINTED AT THE 
 DE LA MORE PRESS 
 298 REGENT STREET 
 LONDON, W 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Introductory Note _ _ _ 
 
 Warwick Park to Stratford 
 Birth-place of Shakespeare 
 The Poet's Walks - - - - 
 The Home of the Poet and his Grave 
 
 ige 
 
 Vll 
 
 )' 
 
 I 
 
 >) 
 
 9 
 
 M 
 
 27 
 
 >> 
 
 41 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Holy Trinity Church, Stratford - 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 Barford Bridge _ _ _ 
 
 -facing page 4 
 
 Bidford Grange _ _ _ 
 
 8 
 
 Shakespeare's Birth-place - 
 
 - - „ 20 
 
 Ann Hathaway's Cottage - 
 
 24 
 
 Charlcote House - _ _ 
 
 28 
 
 Hampton Lucy from Alveston - 
 
 - - - „ 38 
 
 1 58542 
 
OFTH: 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 ^' ^ I ^HE quiet little town of Stratford-upon- 
 I Avon receives more pilgrims from all 
 lands than many a brilliant city rich in 
 palaces and temples. The neighbourhood of this 
 town has nothing very striking in its scenery ; 
 but many a wayfaring enthusiast, with knap- 
 sack on his back, may be found tracing the course 
 of the ' lucid Avon,' or climbing the wooded 
 hills which overlook the hamlets of this richly 
 cultivated district. The chief charm of this 
 smiling country lies in the memory of one 
 who was born and who died in this quiet little 
 town — whose parents and children here also dwelt 
 — who cultivated some of the fields which lie 
 around his birth-place — but whose name has gone 
 forth through all countries as the greatest name 
 amongst the sons of England. A little volume 
 referring to these pleasant and memorable places, 
 
viii INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 as well as to other interesting associations of ' the 
 Avon,' may offer a fitting companionship to the 
 wanderer by Avon's side, and be acceptable also 
 to many who may never have the opportunity of 
 looking upon the scenes where Shakespeare had 
 
 'his daily walks, and ancient neighbourhood.'" 
 
 The above paragraph forms the preface to the 
 little volume from which the following book is 
 taken, and which requires but little further intro- 
 duction. 
 
 The perennial interest which exists with 
 regard to all literature of Shakespeare and his times, 
 must be the plea for reprinting this little known 
 contribution from the hand of one so able and 
 competent to deal with the subject from its anti- 
 quarian and topographical point of view. The 
 pen of James Thorne (1815-1881) will be duly 
 recognised as a competent one to deal with the 
 fascinating and well nigh inexhaustible lore con- 
 cerning the early life of Shakespeare and his 
 surroundings. From 1843 until his death in 1881 
 he produced innumerable contributions to the 
 " Mirror," " Gentleman's Magazine," and " Penny 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE ix 
 
 Magazine," and for several years devoted his energies 
 to the compilation of the two volumes of his Hand- 
 book of the " Environs of London," '' the result" 
 as he himself states " of many years patient labour 
 and personal examination and inquiry." He 
 contributed to the '' Companion to the British 
 Almanack " for over twenty-five years and wrote 
 the admirable introduction which was added to 
 Charles Knight's " Passages of a Working Life " 
 in the edition of 1871. At the time of his 
 death in 1 8 8 1 he was engaged in preparing a new 
 edition of Cunningham's " Handbook of London." 
 The principal published work of James Thorne, 
 in book form, other than his contributions before 
 noted, were four volumes published under the 
 general title of " Rambles by Rivers," one volume 
 devoted to the Avon, two to the Thames, and the 
 remaining one including between its covers, the 
 Duddon, Mole, Adur, Arun, Wey, Dove and Lea. 
 Possibly no new or searching light is actually 
 thrown upon the personality and surroundings of 
 Shakespeare's daily life beyond that which attaches 
 to the gathering together of an eclectic series of 
 
X INTRODUCTORY NOTE 
 
 references and contemporary notes. On the other 
 hand, the period at which the author writes (1845) 
 is that when the first extensive adulation was being 
 bestowed upon this most famous of all literary 
 shrines. This has steadily advanced in quantity and 
 possibly quality as well if we judge from the sincere 
 and enthusiastic expressions brought forth with 
 each yearly Shakespeare festival. 
 
 Concerning the actual conditions of the sights 
 and scenes of Shakespeare's early life, they have 
 doubtless changed somewhat since the early forties. 
 Stratford, which should have been forbidden ground 
 to the builder and improver and to all people 
 generally with a passion for thrift, whitewash and 
 restoration, to-day strikes one as rather a smart 
 town, and the red brick edifice erected as a 
 memorial is hardly in keeping with the spirit of the 
 time it seeks to commemorate. All the more 
 reason then that this little book should seek to tell 
 its story after its own manner. 
 
 Certain references of the author, as for instance 
 that to visitors from " the States " and the colonies 
 will in the light of more recent developments, read 
 
INTRODUCTORY NOTE xi 
 
 somewhat strangely, but making all due allowance 
 for the time in which he writes, it will doubtless 
 be found that his point of view only adds an 
 additional charm and value to this contribution to 
 Shakespeare 7?iiscella7iea, 
 
 Everyone then may be expected to look with 
 kindly inclination towards any information regard- 
 ing that part of England which produced the genius 
 of the world's great dramatist. 
 
THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Chapter I 
 WARWICK PARK TO STRATFORD 
 
 THE whole course of the Avon through 
 Warwick Park, somewhat more than two 
 miles, is exceedingly beautiful. The park 
 is plentifully wooded, and broken into dell and 
 upland ; art has been called in to impart a more 
 cultivated air to the wild graces of nature, and her 
 aid has been judiciously afforded. Features lovely 
 in themselves have been adorned and embellished, 
 but not rendered formal, nor has their original 
 character been refined away. From near the end 
 of the park, just beyond the large lake that has 
 been formed on the left of the river, a fine view is 
 obtained of the grounds and distant castle. The 
 locality at once reminds us of Shakespeare, and, 
 indeed, is closely associated with his name and 
 fame. Here, a short way from the river bank, 
 between it and the road, and just by Copdock hill, 
 
2 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 the wanderer will see a little rude barn, covered 
 with thatch ; that is called the " Deer barn," and, 
 according to tradition, the place in which Shakes- 
 peare concealed the venison he stole from Fulbrooke 
 Park. This story of the deer-stealing is a singular 
 one, and may be true ; it was at any rate believed 
 at a comparatively early period. That which 
 gives to it a local habitation in Fulbrooke Park is 
 more recent ; while the connecting it with this 
 barn appears to have Mr. Samuel Ireland for its 
 original authority — and what that is worth, those 
 who have followed him in anything, best know. 
 It is pleasant to see how readily a firm-looking 
 fiction may break down. *' A word or two," says 
 Mr. Knight, " disposes of this part of the tradition : 
 Fulbrooke Park did not come into the possession 
 of the Lucy family till the grandson of Sir Thomas 
 purchased it in the reign of James I." Plainly 
 Shakespeare could not steal Sir Thomas Lucy's deer 
 from this park, wherever else he might have taken 
 it from. 
 
 From Fulbrooke, a short walk beside our 
 stream brings us to Hampton Lucy (or Bishop's 
 
WARWICK PARK TO STRATFORD 3 
 
 Hampton, as it used to be called), a village such 
 as it is a joy to light upon, so quiet, so old- 
 fashioned, so homely, yet so comfortable-looking 
 in its homeliness. The church is new, but of 
 superior attractions, and a neat school-house stands 
 beside it. Several large trees are about it, and on 
 the village green. The river here is wide, and 
 with the village has a cheerful look. But we 
 hardly quit Hampton when all is as still and lonely 
 as though all home of man were far removed. 
 The stream glides quietly along, scarcely a ripple 
 stirring its surface, but when a heavy carp rises at 
 some luckless fly, or a swallow dips his wing into 
 it ; and thick trees on every side close in the 
 prospect. 
 
 Charlcote is on the opposite side of the river 
 to Hampton Lucy, and it will be necessary for the 
 pedestrian to cross the bridge at the latter place : 
 a lane will lead him direct to the house. Charlcote 
 House stands close to the river, in a small but 
 richly-wooded park. A broad avenue of fine lime- 
 trees leads to the old-fashioned gateway of the 
 mansion. Sir Thomas Lucy built his mansion in 
 
4 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 15585 and it retains all the characteristics of that 
 period. It is a large, low, red brick edifice, full 
 of projections, which checker it with a bold play 
 of light and shadow, peaked gables, bays, and 
 square-headed windows, and stacks of chimneys of 
 twisted and other quaint shapes. So perfect is it, 
 that it hardly requires the remembrance of Shakes- 
 peare to carry the visitant at once back to the 
 golden days of good Queen Bess. It is a place 
 you linger about, half fearing to enter lest the 
 charm should be broken. If Shakespeare was not 
 here as a culprit, he must have been often here as 
 a visitor, have strolled about the park, and looked 
 with similar feelings of delight to those we now 
 feel, on it and on the river. To us the chief 
 charm arises from its connection with those days; 
 to us it is ancient, but he saw it when it was but 
 of a few years' date; and whatever were the wild 
 and glowing thoughts that passed through his 
 mind as he lay stretched — 
 
 " Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
 Upon the brook that brawls along this wood," 
 
 it could scarcely have entered into his imagination 
 
 N 
 

WARWICK PARK TO STRATFORD 5 
 
 that one day this place would be visited because 
 his name had become connected with it. 
 
 The interior of the mansion is preserved with 
 the same care and good taste as the exterior; the 
 alterations and additions that had become necessary 
 have been made with a strict regard to the original, 
 ^nd the result is all that could be desired by the 
 straitest archaeologist. The noble hall is pointed 
 out as the place in which Shakespeare was brought 
 before Sir Thomas Lucy to answer for his mis- 
 demeanors. Whatever may have been the cause, 
 it is certain that Shakespeare did have some grudge 
 against Sir Thomas, and point against him almost 
 the only personal satire that escaped from his pen; 
 but it is most probable it arose from other and 
 much later reasons. Another and very narrow 
 avenue leads from the great gateway to the parish 
 church, which stands just at the extremity of the 
 park by the road. And along this avenue the 
 stranger should be sure to walk. The little sober, 
 grey, old pile, is quite the ideal of a simple rural 
 village church. It is, too, quite untouched, and 
 thoroughly unsophisticated. As you look at it 
 
6 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 from the road, nestling so happily among the noble 
 trees whose fresh deep green shade and dense 
 foliage make it look greyer and older than it is, 
 and with the grave-stones scattered about the 
 churchyard, it seems the very emblem of peace. 
 Among all the beautiful and impressive sights that 
 our dear Old England can show us, none is more 
 beautiful, more soothing, more elevating than one 
 of her quiet village churches. The loveliest spot 
 is rendered lovelier by it, the grandest is sanctified. 
 The interior of Charlcote Church contains 
 the monuments of Sir Thomas Lucy and of his 
 wife; and if faith may be placed in epitaphs, he 
 was anything but what tradition would represent 
 him. But both are doubtful witnesses^ and were 
 they to coincide they would hardly be held 
 sufficient by a rigorous judge to save a suspected 
 person. The epitaph on Sir Thomas's wife is 
 really an excellent sketch of a good wife, ''set 
 down by him that best did know" whether she 
 were one — Thomas Lucy. There is a plain stone 
 in the churchyard with an inscription to another 
 couple (John Gibbs, aged 8i; and his wife, 55)^ 
 
WARWICK PARK TO STRATFORD 7 
 
 who seem to have been more content with each 
 other than with the world; it is set down in what 
 the clerk would call such uncommon metre, that 
 it is perhaps worth copying: — 
 
 '* Farewell, proud, vain, false, treacherous world, we have 
 
 seen enough of thee ; 
 We value not what thou canst say of we." 
 
 Perchance, if Sir Thomas could have known all 
 that the wicked world would say of him, he would 
 have jotted down the sentiment, if he had couched 
 it in other words — though they would have done 
 well enough to run in tether with "Shakespeare's 
 ballard." 
 
Chapter II 
 THE BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 AT Stratford we will abide awhile, and from 
 whence we can at our leisure follow the 
 poet's footsteps along his own Avon. The 
 distance from Charlcote to Stratford is about four 
 miles and a half by the road ; by the river-side, 
 some two miles farther. 
 
 Wherever he goes, unquestionably the first 
 place the traveller looks after is his Inn — 
 supposing, of course, that he be turned five-and- 
 twenty and have a wife ; for till then, travellers, 
 especially such as have a touch of the romantic, 
 do many strange things to their own discomfort, 
 the horror of their seniors in the craft, and the 
 amazement as well as amusement of all innkeeper's 
 men. But for the master traveller, till he is 
 satisfied in respect to his inn, faint and feeble are 
 the attractions of the loveliest scenes, dim the 
 brightest associations, unthought of the most 
 glorious recollections : — what to him are the lakes 
 and the mountains, — the birth-places of genius, — 
 the fields that have been moistened with the life- 
 
6 
 
 lo THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 blood of the patriot, or the glorious monuments of 
 man's god-like mind — if he have not had his 
 dinner, and knows not where he shall sleep ? 
 Johnson said a toothache would speedily bring to 
 the earth the loftiest flight of the philosopher — 
 and certainly the pain connected with the want of 
 an inn would prevent him attempting a flight. 
 There is no use in denying it — a good comfortable 
 inn /> the desideratum of every traveller towards 
 the end of the day. 
 
 Now Stratford is very well provided with 
 inns — better than most places of its size ; and 
 though they are of various standing and attractions, 
 so that the visitant may choose among them 
 according to his taste, or the depth of his pocket, 
 yet are they all — to speak in good plain guide- 
 book style — held in repute for the quality of their 
 accommodation and the moderation of their charges. 
 Each of them, however, boasts of something all its 
 own ; and on so important a matter it may be well 
 to add a word. There is first the White Lion, in 
 Henley Street, near Shakespeare's house, which was 
 the inn the Jubilee magnates made their head- 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE ii 
 
 quarters ; — here, you will be reminded, it was that 
 Dr. Greville and Mr. Wildgoose, in that not un- 
 clever, though now everywhere-but-at-Stratford- 
 forgotten novel, " The Spiritual Quixote," are made 
 to stop in their way from Gloucester to Warwick- 
 shire. The landlord there spoken of, Sam Welch- 
 man, was the son of Dr. Welchman, author of the 
 " Illustrations of the Thirty-nine Articles." Sam 
 was not himself overburdened with learning, but he 
 was conscious of the honour reflected on him by 
 that of his father, and he used to take care that his 
 guests should not be ignorant of it. " Gentlemen," 
 he used to say, as soon as he became ever so 
 slightly familiar with them, " I dare say you have 
 heard of my father, gentleman — a very great man — 
 he made the Thirty-nine Articles." Another inn, 
 not unknown to fame, is the Red Horse of Wash- 
 ington Irving, where they show his room, his 
 handwriting, and some other things of his — 
 whereof more hereafter. Then adjoining the town- 
 hall there is the Shakespeare, which, besides the 
 attraction of its name for all, has an excellent 
 kitchen for the man of taste, and for the ardent 
 
12 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Shakesperian a relic of the mulberry-tree, and, on 
 its lawn, the font in which the bard was baptized. 
 Opposite to the site of New-place is the Falcon, 
 which tradition assigns as originally the residence 
 of Shakespeare's friend Julius Shaw, but there is 
 better reason to believe that his house was a few 
 doors from New-place, on the same side of the 
 way, between it and the Shakespeare Hotel. The 
 Falcon is, however, a very old house, and may be 
 as old as Shakespeare's time : the present front is 
 quite recent. It too has its relics. The wains- 
 coting of the large room in which the Shakespeare 
 Club holds its meetings, was brought from New- 
 place when it was pulled down, and affixed where 
 it now remains. The present landlord has a branch 
 of the mulberry tree, and some other matters. 
 Having fixed on an inn, there can be no question 
 whither next the pilgrim will bend his footsteps. 
 
 
 THE 
 
 IMMORTAL 
 
 
 SHAKSPEARE 
 
 WAS 
 
 BORN 
 
 IN THIS HOUSE 
 
 is the inscription on a rudely painted sign-board, 
 fixed over what looks like a very miserable 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 13 
 
 butcher's shop in Henley-street. All the most 
 minute details connected with the life of Shakespeare 
 have been so canvassed within the last few years, 
 that it may perhaps be necessary to say that the 
 belief that he was born in this house remains 
 undisturbed. Tradition has constantly affirmed 
 this to be his birth-place, and in a matter of kind 
 tradition is much more trustworthy than when she 
 tattles of the actions or sayings of eminent men. 
 Nor is her testimony unsupported. Proper official 
 documents exist, which prove that the poet's 
 father, John Shakespeare, did, in 1555, nine years 
 before William Shakespeare's birth, purchase a house 
 and appurtenances situated in Henley-street ; and 
 it is equally well authenticated that the son owned 
 this very house till his death. John Shakespeare 
 had, at the same time, other property in Stratford, 
 and some a little way out of it, but we may fairly 
 receive the tradition which makes this his 
 dwelling-place in April, 1564. Whatever he may 
 have read about the house, or however familiar he 
 may be with the engravings of it, he who looks 
 upon it for the first time will experience a feeling 
 
14 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 of surprise and disappointment at its extreme 
 humbleness. Could a substantial yeoman, as John 
 Shakespeare appears to have been, have dwelt in 
 such a place ? He will ask himself, and it will 
 require an effort to believe in the affirmative. But 
 the dwellings of wealthy yeomen were very 
 different then to those of a similar class now; 
 besides which, this house has undergone strange 
 vicissitudes since he occupied it. Then, and long 
 afterwards, we know that it had extensive orchards 
 and gardens attached to it — now it is divided into 
 three tenements, and its grounds are severed from 
 it and built upon, or otherwise occupied. But its 
 history will best enable us to understand its 
 mutations, and that may be told in a very brief 
 space. From John Shakespeare it descended to his 
 eldest son, the poet, who bequeathed it, now 
 described as two houses, to his eldest daughter 
 Susannah, reserving to his sister Joan (who was 
 married to a William Hart) for her natural life the 
 house she then dwelt in. Her house was no doubt 
 that now known as Shakespeare's house, with the 
 adjoining tenement ; and here she probably resided 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 15 
 
 till her death, in 1646. The other portion was 
 known as the Maidenhead Inn in 1642. At the 
 death of Joanna Hart, the whole of the estate of 
 course reverted to Shakespeare's daughter Susannah 
 Hall, and when she died, not long afterwards, it 
 passed to her daughter Lady Barnard. She, at 
 her demise, left both houses to Thomas and 
 George Hart, the grandsons of Joan Hart. It 
 continued in the possession of their descendants 
 till the beginning of the present century. But they 
 had been gradually growing poorer ; the Maiden- 
 head Inn had become a low public-house, and was 
 called the Swan ; the other house had been divided 
 into two ; and the lower part of that now pointed 
 out as the poet's birth-place, was converted into a 
 butcher's shop ; the gardens and orchards were 
 sold; and finally, in 1806, the houses themselves 
 were disposed of to " Mr. Thomas Court, whose 
 widow now has the honour to open it to public 
 visitation," as the New Guide very appropriately 
 winds up the matter. 
 
 But we must follow its history a little further. 
 Mr. Thomas Court, himself the host of the little 
 
1 6 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 inn, which he restored in part to its original sign, 
 calHng it the ' Swan and Maidenhead/ was naturally 
 anxious to render that as attractive as possible ; 
 accordingly he gave to it a new very red brick 
 front, and thereby for ever destroyed everything 
 like the original appearance of the building. 
 When the lower part of the central tenement was 
 made to serve for a butcher's shop, its window was 
 taken away altogether, and has not been replaced. 
 The old window in the upper story was also 
 removed, and a larger and most ill favoured one 
 substituted for it. The butcher's trade continued 
 to be carried on till within a very few years, a son 
 of Mr. Court succeeding the Harts in that calling, 
 and though he and his trade are now gone, the 
 shop retains all the signs of its late employment. 
 Add to all that has been said of the place, that it 
 is a timber house, the parts between the large 
 frame-work being, as in all such houses, rough- 
 cast — that it has stood the wear of three centuries, 
 that now the rough-cast is covered with a coarsely 
 applied whitewash, while the beams are as coarsely 
 covered with black — and it will not be difficult to 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 17 
 
 understand that it must be seen to a great 
 disadvantage as compared with its original appear- 
 ance. Alterations of all kinds have been made in 
 it, and none without injuring it. And wretched 
 as is the look of the exterior, the interior is not 
 much better. The lower room still has the fittings 
 of a butcher's shop of the humblest order. Hooks 
 hang from the ceiling, and the stone floor shows 
 signs of rough treatment in its broken flags. The 
 kitchen is a little better. It has a large fire-place 
 with one of those old-fashioned corners, where we 
 may fancy the boy would listen to the fine old 
 ballads, of which his mother would have a goodly 
 store. 
 
 But it is the room above that is the room, and 
 thither we will ascend. This room — the room in 
 which tradition is constant that Shakespeare was 
 born — would now be thought rude even in a 
 cottage. It is long and narrow, with a low ceiling 
 supported by beams, but the original ceiling 
 appears to have been covered ; the walls are not as 
 they were originally — for the curious old window, 
 a wide but shallow one, and placed near the 
 
 c 
 
1 8 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 ceiling, is substituted one of the commonest and 
 ugliest form — the fire-place is altered, and a 
 modern grate inserted — and it is almost bare of 
 furniture. It is not therefore easy at first to 
 realize the feeling that this is indeed Shakespeare's 
 birth-place. The philosopher who has discoursed 
 with such truth and poetry on hero-worship, 
 might here have found a large illustration of it. 
 Into this little humble room how many of the 
 mighty of the earth have come as pilgrims ! Run 
 over their names on the walls and in the books, 
 and think of the force of his genius who could 
 thus attract the noble, the wise, and the beautiful. 
 The whitewashed walls are coated again and again 
 with names in pencil and in ink. Names fill 
 every portion of walls, ceiling, staircase, and 
 windows, from grand dukes to dustmen apparently. 
 It is curious and interesting to examine them, but 
 more so to turn over the leaves of the books. In 
 them are names from all climes, and kindreds, and 
 tongues ; Russians, Germans, Indians, even 
 Frenchmen — and that before the representation in 
 Paris of Hamlet with the part of the Ghost left out 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 19 
 
 by particular desire had enabled them to appreciate 
 him — natives of Van Diemen's Land and the Isle 
 of Skye. But undoubtedly (after the English) 
 Americans are beyond comparison the most 
 numerous. They come in shoals of all kinds and 
 from all the States. Slaveholders, emancipators, 
 repudiators ; from the South, North, Midland, and 
 far-Western. And they are by far the most 
 enthusiastic. But this is a subject will bear 
 opening a little. Every contribution to the natural 
 history of Enthusiasm, however slight, is of service, 
 and here are the results of Stratford experience. 
 
 When an American arrives at Stratford he is 
 in an agony till he has secured a bed at the Red 
 Horse. Washington Irving wrote a sentence which 
 wears a very innocent appearance, but which has 
 produced consequences — looking around him as he 
 stretches himself before the fire in the little parlour 
 of the Red Horse, he says : — " The arm-chair is 
 his throne, the poker his sceptre, and the little 
 parlour of some twelve feet square his undisputed 
 empire." Now, excepting one had noticed the anti- 
 republican train of thought, or rather phraseology, 
 
20 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 one would have let this pass by as a very 
 prettily expressed sentence should. But somehow 
 it has caught the fancy of his countrymen, and his 
 empire must be their empire, his throne their 
 throne, his sceptre their sceptre. And they are 
 preserved for them. Mine host knows his trade ; 
 this Essay has half made his fortune^ and he is 
 grateful for it. The poker is degraded to no com- 
 mon uses. The legend, " Washington Irving's 
 Sceptre," is engraved on it, and unless by special 
 request only his countrymen wield it. Proud man 
 is he who feels it in his grasp. He is, for the 
 nonce, every inch a king. His frame expands, his 
 eyes glitter, his cheek is flushed, and he thinks the 
 President would look more dignified if he swayed 
 a sceptre. He is convinced that Irving is a great 
 man, and exclaims, '' I am his countryman." He 
 loses none of the exaltation of spirit while he re- 
 mains at Stratford. Mrs. Court has great respect 
 for Americans. She thinks their homage to the 
 Bard very proper, and knows they are liberal to 
 her. I rather guess she took me for a Yankee. 
 She showed me all their names in the books (and 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 21 
 
 she turns to any American name with marvellous 
 facility), and readily told me everything about 
 them. '' Bless you, sir, many and many's the time 
 I have seen gentlemen from America kneel down 
 just where you are standing, and kiss the boards 
 over and over again, sir." Often they will not be 
 content with that, but must have a bed brought, 
 that they may sleep in the room in which Shakes- 
 peare was born. They are eager after all relics ; 
 one offered the good dame sixteen guineas for a 
 little wooden box made out of Shakespeare's mul- 
 berry-tree. Nay, one of them — " What <j^o you 
 think some American gentlemen wanted me to do, 
 sir ? Why, sir, to take and pull the house all to 
 pieces, and carry it over to New York, sir, and 
 there set it up again and make a show of it ; and 
 they warranted me I should make a world of money 
 by it too, sir ; and then if I chose to sell the pieces, 
 I might have almost anything I'd ask for them. 
 But no, ^Aat I'd never do. What do you think 
 of that, sir?" 
 
 The natives of other places are not so marked 
 in the expression of their feelings. The sons of 
 
22 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 the Green Isle rank next ; they spout the poet's 
 verses vehemently, are excited by his birth-place, 
 but far more by his grave ; if they can kiss the 
 monument their bliss is complete, and their feelings 
 not to be restrained. Scotchmen are quieter — they 
 don't kiss anything. " Nae, boot is this Shakes- 
 peare's room? and whare's Sir Walter Scott's name 
 on the wall and i' the buke?" These they eagerly 
 carry there fingers over, — so eagerly that his name 
 is nearly gone from the wall, rubbed out in excess 
 of zeal, — only the tail of one of the s's is discern- 
 ible. In the book it is a little plainer, for his warm- 
 hearted countrymen point it out with such energy, 
 while their enthusiasm, like Bob Acres' courage, 
 is oozing out of their fingers' ends, that it has 
 very much the appearance of having been steeped 
 in oil. 
 
 English visitors think it a very little room for 
 so great a poet to have been born in ; and then 
 they pace it, to determine how large it is. Some 
 who are infected with a taste, suggest the propriety 
 of "restoring" it; talk of oak timbering, propose 
 to take up the floor, and have it turned and planed 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 23 
 
 to make it smooth, and bring the joints together — 
 would aboHsh the stove, and have a wide hearth 
 and dogs, and put some furniture in the room of 
 the EHzabethan style. Others are very particular 
 about its being really the room, and one gentle- 
 man, to make assurance doubly sure, not content 
 with the sign-board outside the house, " brought 
 in his carriage the other day" another board, to be 
 hung up in the recess in the room, to inform all 
 who come to it, that " there Shakespeare first saw 
 the light," or something of the sort, with a little 
 additional flourish. 
 
 It will not be imagined, I hope, that I am 
 quizzing these folks, or doing anything that would 
 imply that I thought strong feeling out of place 
 here. That there is a goodly amount of affectation 
 brought into this house there is evidence enough ; 
 but we may hope that there is at least an equal 
 amount of honest feeling. After all, it matters 
 little to us what others do, say, or think, so long 
 as we are careful not to let ourselves affect what 
 we feel not ; we need not heed what form the 
 outward expression of what we do feel may take. 
 
24 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 simply aiming, if we aim at anything, to let there 
 be neither concealment nor display. There is 
 surely no need of either. The affectation of in- 
 difterence is as hurtful to our own hearts, and no 
 wiser than the aftectation of sensibility. Perhaps 
 it is the one we are now most in danger of sliding 
 into. But if there be any such symptom, we should 
 rid ourselves of it at once. We should so cherish 
 the feelings that lead us to visit places such as 
 these, that no scoffer should sneer them away. 
 They are worthy of our regard. They belong 
 not to our lower nature, but are a part of our 
 holiest. 
 
 With some of the same feelings that we regard 
 Shakespeare's birth-place may we approach the 
 dwelling of his early love, his wife, his children's 
 mother, at Shottery. A few words will describe 
 this humble place. The cottage is not beautiful 
 now — it has rather as poor an appearance as the 
 house of the poet's parents in Henley Street, and 
 the causes that have produced this change have 
 been the same in each, and which need not be 
 repeated. This house is also divided, and now 
 
BIRTH-PLACE OF SHAKESPEARE 25 
 
 forms two tenements. It is a long low building, 
 formed, like most of the old houses in this neigh- 
 bourhood, of a timber framework, witli a thatched 
 roof. There used to be some few matters shown 
 here that had Shakespeare's name appended to them ; 
 they had been considered as heir-looms, and had 
 been long in the possession of the family. Some of 
 them, however, Garrick induced the person who 
 then held them to dispose of to him ; and the last 
 relic, an old oak chair, known as " Shakespeare's 
 courting chair," Mr. Samuel Ireland purchased and 
 carried off; being moved thereto, he says, by 
 his veneration for the poet. Nothing is left now 
 but a bedstead, rudely, but rather curiously carved, 
 and which appears, probably enough, to be as old 
 as the reign of Elizabeth. The parents of Ann 
 Hathaway continued to reside here most likely as 
 long as they lived, and their descendants retained 
 possession of it till a recent period. The Hatha- 
 ways are extinct now. The last of them died in 
 this house several years ago ; her granddaughter 
 is the occupant of that half the building in 
 which is the bedstead. The person who purchased 
 
26 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 this property proposed a few years back to 
 pull the cottage down, but he was induced to 
 forego his purpose : it will probably not escape 
 another time. 
 
Chapter III 
 THE POET'S WALKS 
 
 AROUND Stratford there are several walks 
 that a stranger will feel to be pleasurable 
 in their character, but which to one used 
 to associate them with Shakespeare's daily life will 
 assume a beauty and a companionable nature which 
 no stranger can possibly perceive in them, or 
 appreciate if pointed out. We may be sure there 
 was many a spot which some slight circumstance 
 in his early life, some pleasant association, or mere 
 force of long acquaintance would render dear to 
 our great poet — beloved in opening life, and 
 cherished in maturity ; and when he had in his 
 later years withdrawn from the pleasure and strife 
 of the great world to the seclusion and studious 
 ease of his native place, would be prized with 
 fuller and deeper affection. He who loves a 
 country life, and knows with how strong attach- 
 ment such unsought and unpraised nooks are 
 remembered, and how often the recollection of 
 them "makes a sunshine in the shadiest place," 
 
2 8 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 may perhaps, when he comes upon some secluded 
 glade or quiet recess, be tempted to let his fancy 
 picture it as one of the poet's cherished objects. 
 But we may not now do that, we are to look at 
 those places we left unvisited between Charlcote 
 and Stratford ; and this part of our river is by far 
 the most beautiful in its whole course, except the 
 vale of Evesham. We will take a slight turn 
 round, but delay nowhere till we reach the point 
 where we quitted the Avon. 
 
 Let us proceed a little to the northward, and 
 then turning eastward wind round to Hampton. 
 The family mansion of the Cloptons, of whom Sir 
 Hugh, it will be remembered, was the great 
 benefactor to Stratford, lies somewhat more than a 
 mile to the north of the town. The Cloptons 
 have long been extinct, but Clopton House stands. 
 In Shakespeare's day it was a fine mansion, brick, 
 as most of these mansions were, with those 
 projecting gables that cause so rich and picturesque 
 a play of light and answering shadow ; its windows 
 were not straight slits, all alike and all unmeaning, 
 as modern taste requires, but various and all 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 29 
 
 beautiful ; bays and oriels there were pleasant to 
 look at, and suggesting pleasant fancies of seats 
 within them, and a book or fair maiden to converse 
 with. Quaint and fanciful were its carved and 
 twisted chimney-shafts, tall and manifold the 
 peaked points of its roof — a mansion-house of the 
 olden time. Shakespeare, perhaps, often spent 
 pleasant hours in it, often looked with delight on it 
 as he strolled across these grounds. — It still stands. 
 A few years ago it was entirely repaired and 
 renovated. Nothing that consummate skill could 
 devise has been neglected to disguise, disfigure, 
 and utterly destroy the original character of the 
 house. Were a dome to be placed over West- 
 minster Abbey, and a Corinthian portico in front, 
 and Ionic columns at the sides, and some Eliza- 
 bethan shafts where chimneys are not, the alteration 
 would not be more perfect than in this case, nor 
 more graceful. It is a masterly work. 
 
 There are some pleasant walks beyond 
 Clopton ; there are the villages of Clopton, Bishop- 
 ton, Ingon, and other places, but they must be left 
 for the visitant to discover. Leaving Clopton 
 
30 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 House on our left, we may make our way across 
 the very beautiful grounds of Welcombe. The 
 house is gone. The park is full of glens of most 
 romantic character, with hills equally fine in their 
 way ; altogether, it is a place for a poet richly to 
 enjoy. Some of these hills and dells are the remains 
 of an ancient encampment. Passing Hatton we 
 turn down to our river, which we may rejoin by 
 Hampton. 
 
 Rich beyond everything else to poetical minds 
 have been the running streams. Rivers, perhaps, 
 have made most poets. No genuine poet who has 
 had occasion to mention them has done so without 
 affection, without a social regard for them beyond 
 what he appears to express for any other object in 
 nature. I am not forgetting the field flowers, those 
 dearest of Nature's lesser gifts, when I say this — 
 there is a difference so great between them, that 
 they cannot interfere with each other. But a river 
 is the very inspirer of poetry itself, and ever has 
 been. We know that the grand old Greeks, who 
 never had any fable without a pregnant meaning, 
 so fabled. And one who was not a Greek, 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 31 
 
 but a manly northern self-dependent genius, has 
 said — 
 
 " The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, 
 Till by himsel' he learned to wander 
 Adown some trotting burn's meander, 
 And na' think lang." 
 
 Which is condensing a whole book into four short 
 lines. Now what Burns said is no doubt the very 
 plain prosaic truth, as well as a rich poetic one. 
 The quiet lonely character of the place, the 
 constant flow of the stream, the gentle succession 
 of glen and hill, of clear space and shady covert, 
 the '* na' think lang," are just what mildly stimulate 
 the open mind, and let in a full tide of teeming 
 thoughts and pregnant imagery. We can have no 
 doubt about Shakespeare having '' learned to 
 wander " by himself here in very early life. The 
 constant bits of river imagery and allusion that 
 occur throughout his poetry, prove that it was a 
 memory that had coiled itself around his inmost 
 being. When he said — 
 
 " I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
 Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows ; 
 Quite over-canopied with lush woodbine. 
 With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine ;" 
 
32 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 was it likely this was merely an imaginary bank ? 
 that this so exquisite picture was not a reality ? 
 Shakespeare was the true poet of Nature : a close 
 observer of her every aspect ; and not a minute 
 detailer of her various objects merely, but seeing far 
 into her inmost mysteries. Those '' thoughts that 
 do often lie too deep for tears," we may be sure he 
 often felt, for the Wonderful that lies beyond the 
 material elements seems often to have engaged his 
 attention, and been dwelt on in prolonged musings ; 
 but he found the corrective for whatever of 
 obscurity and mysticism might else have resulted 
 from this in the active employments of life, which 
 effectually prevented him " considering too 
 curiously " of such things, and therefore it is that 
 we find with all his subtle thought the sufficient 
 counterpoise of full practical activity. But leaving 
 these lofty matters, we will let this lovely spot 
 recall to our attention the poet's river from the 
 poet's self. And here a companion, who has 
 explored this part of our stream thoroughly, will 
 lend us his aid, and under his guidance we will 
 proceed onwards to Stratford. 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 33 
 
 A little below Hampton Lucy, where we 
 rejoined our stream, is the spot already mentioned ; 
 we go onwards, and soon come upon a place of 
 more than usual seclusion, shut in by the light trees 
 — a spot whose quiet may be felt. It is a " high 
 bank called Old Town, where, perhaps, men and 
 women, with their joys and sorrows, once abided. 
 It is colonized by rabbits. The alder-tree drops 
 its white blossom luxuriantly over their brown bur- 
 rows. The golden cups of the yellow water-lilies 
 lie brilliantly beneath on their green couches. The 
 reed-sparrow and the willow-wren sing their small 
 songs around us : a stately heron flaps his heavy 
 wing above. The tranquillity of the place is almost 
 solemn." Such are the feelings that ever flow, 
 as flows the current we wander beside ; nought 
 can so induce the intermingling of gay with serious 
 imaginings as a river. We pass from the small 
 beauties of the flowers at our feet to the '' almost 
 solemn " tranquillity of the shadowy landscape by 
 a pressing on of new thoughts that come we know 
 not whence, and go we know not how. 
 
 " But the silence is broken. The old fisherman 
 
 D 
 
34 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 of Alveston paddles up the stream to look for 
 his eel-pots. We drop down the current. Nothing 
 can be more interesting than the constant variety 
 which this beautiful river here exhibits. Now it 
 passes under a high bank clothed with wood ; now 
 a hill waving with corn gently rises from the 
 water's edge. Sometimes a flat meadow presents 
 its grassy margin to the current, which threatens to 
 inundate it upon the slightest rise ; sometimes long 
 lines of willow or alder shut out the land, and 
 throw their deep shadows over the placid stream. 
 Islands of sedge here and there render the channel 
 unnavigable, except to the smallest boat. A willow 
 thrusting its trunk over the stream reminds us of 
 Ophelia : — 
 
 ' There is a willow grows askaunt the brook 
 That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.' 
 
 A gust of wind raises the underside of the 
 leaves to view, and we then perceive the exquisite 
 correctness of the epithet ' hoar.' Hawthorns, here 
 and there, grow upon the water's edge ; and the 
 dog-rose spots the green bank with its faint red. 
 That deformity, the pollard-willow, is not so 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 35 
 
 frequent as in most rivers ; but the unlopped trees 
 wear their feathery branches graceful as ostrich 
 plumes." These were the scenes in which the boy- 
 would lay up unconsciously large stores of poetic 
 imagery. Here he would seek after the 
 '' Daffodils, 
 
 *' That come before the swallow dares, and take 
 The winds of March with beauty." 
 
 The thousand-fold evidences of it show that 
 it is " not only a more reasonable view, but one 
 which is supported by all existing evidence, external 
 and internal, when we regard his native fields as 
 Shakespeare's poetical school. Believing that in 
 the necessary leisure of a country life, encumbered, 
 as we think, with no cares of wool-stapling or 
 glove-making, neither educating youth at the 
 charge house like his own Holofernes, nor even 
 collecting his knowledge of legal terms at an 
 attorney's desk, but a free and happy agriculturist, 
 the young Shakespeare not exactly ' lisped in 
 numbers,' but cherished and cultivated the faculty 
 when ' the numbers came.' We yield ourselves up 
 to the poetical notion, because it is at the same 
 
36 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 time the more rational and consistent one, that the 
 genius of verse cherished her young favourite on 
 these ' willow'd banks.' 
 
 ' Here as with honey gathered from the rock, 
 She fed the little prattler, and with songs 
 Oft sooth'd his wond'ring ears ; with deep delight 
 On her soft lap he sat, and caught the sounds.' " 
 
 Joseph Warton. 
 
 And with what delight the man, grateful to his 
 Muse who had taught him how he might 
 
 " Some instruction draw 
 From the meanest thing he saw," 
 
 had filled his heart with such inexhaustible stores of 
 beautiful thoughts and richest poetry, and enabled 
 him to associate with the sights and sounds of 
 nature the moral and intellectual being of men — 
 with what delight would he return to the scenes of 
 his early youth, to which he owed so much of 
 exquisite enjoyment, now doubly dear, as bound up 
 with all the joys of his home and the dearest 
 objects of his affections ! 
 
 Beyond Alveston our beautiful river curves 
 widely, and for a little its course is again through 
 open meadows, losing for a brief space somewhat 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 37 
 
 of its loveliness. A little farther, however, more 
 than makes amends for this slight break. In this 
 part of our course — for miles, indeed, either way — 
 "the most romantic spot is Hatton Rock" — a 
 high and steep bank, rearing its brow against the 
 fleecy sky. Its side is covered with an intricate 
 variety of the lesser trees and underwood, hazel and 
 thorn, and the long trailing brambles. From the 
 base of the bank the tall high stem of the abele 
 rises above its fellows, the willows and alders that 
 fringe the edge of the stream. The river rolls over 
 a stony bed, filling the ear with a quiet melody. 
 As you make your way along the foot of the rock, 
 at every slightest bend a fresh and grateful change 
 is before you. Now the light feathery willow 
 glitters against the deep green of the alder beyond, 
 the silvery leaves of the white poplar tremble all 
 over with the slight breeze that moves not a leaf of 
 the oak beside it, a kingfisher darts from beneath 
 the overhanging bush, and is quickly followed by 
 his mate. A little farther you find yourself shut in 
 by a close barrier of trees ; the water seems to 
 have suddenly ceased to flow, and collected into a 
 
38 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 smooth dark pool, with a thick crowd of trees 
 rising up from it and reflected in it ; a closely 
 screened spot, a calm sylvan scene, the perfection 
 of quiet. A swallow flashes close by you, dips 
 suddenly into that pool, and the smoothness is gone 
 in a moment ; the trees, and herbage, and blue sky 
 painted upon it, are broken into wild distortion ; 
 long lines of ripple circle wider and wider ; the 
 surface of the dark pool is ruffled, but all else is 
 tranquil as ever. A few steps beyond, and you 
 have a rougher picture. The trees are fewer, and 
 throw out their branches, wider by the rock side ; 
 the rock itself comes boldly into view, its surface 
 broken, its summit irregular. A bold tongue of 
 land stretches half across the stream, bald and 
 rugged from the last flood-tide ; upon it the black 
 torn trunk of an old willow stands up headless, 
 leafless ; from its roots, bare and exposed, a water- 
 rat looks out stealthily. The water curls round 
 itj the wind chequering its surface with long streaks 
 of light like frosted silver, and giving an appear- 
 ance of life, and even of peacefulness, to the whole. 
 Proceeding onwards, we come upon the richly 
 
THE POET'S WALKS 39 
 
 wooded grounds of Welcombe, but its beautiful 
 dells are not seen from the river. On the other 
 side we see some of the roofs of Tiddington, but 
 nothing that requires or attracts notice. 
 
 From Ben Jonson to William Cowper every 
 poet has associated the name of Shakespeare with 
 that of his river. There is, however, little need to 
 quote them to convince any one that the Avon is 
 Shakespeare's Avon : his own verses tell it, and in 
 strolling along this part of its course, we cannot 
 but feel how entirely he had made it his own. We 
 are again approaching his town ; yonder is the 
 tower of the church wherein lie his bones, giving 
 a sober and solemn finish to this graceful landscape. 
 And as the sun is setting rapidly there, see how it 
 shapes out for us images such as perhaps here 
 formed themselves before his eyes : — 
 
 " Sometime we see a cloud that's dragonish : 
 A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, 
 A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
 A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
 With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world. 
 And mock our eyes with air : 
 They are black vesper's pageants 
 That, which is now a horse, even with a thought 
 The rack dislimns ; and makes it indistinct. 
 As water is in water." 
 
Chapter IV 
 THE HOME OF THE POET AND HIS GRAVE 
 
 STRATFORD is a clean, quiet town, pleasantly 
 situated on the right bank of the Avon : it 
 is a place of no large size, without any 
 manufactures, of little traffic ; its buildings are not 
 very remarkable : one who knew nothing about it 
 might ride carelessly through it without a wish to 
 stop his horse. Were he told that it was in Strat- 
 ford — the birth-place, the chosen retreat, and the 
 grave of Shakespeare, he would, however, look on 
 all about him with very different sentiments. He 
 would eagerly examine every spot connected with 
 our great bard, or that existed when he dwelt here; 
 especially would he desire to realize the Stratford 
 of Shakespeare, to divest the place of all that has 
 been added to it since he walked about its streets, 
 and to reconstruct whatever has been destroyed. 
 
 Dugdale gives the history of Stratford pretty 
 fully, and, to what he collected, a pains-taking 
 inhabitant added, some years back, such additional 
 information as the researches of himself and others 
 
42 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 had brought to light since Dugdale wrote. So that 
 the history of Stratford is pretty well known, and 
 by calling in all the comparative aids that are 
 available to the student of borough and parochial 
 antiquities, its condition at any particular period 
 can be guessed at without much fear of any great 
 error. The value of this is manifest with regard 
 to the vexed question of the position of the father 
 of Shakespeare in society, and its probable influence 
 upon the character and fortunes of the son, the 
 means he might possess of educating him, and 
 many other points of great interest bearing more 
 or less closely upon the early life of the poet. This 
 is treated at length in the Biography above referred 
 to, and there the reader will find the inferences 
 arising from the several facts, or suggested by them, 
 fully illustrated. 
 
 Stratford is the name of several towns in various 
 parts of the country, and the same derivation 
 applies to all of them, ^"^ 2, ford ox passage over the 
 water upon a great street or road," and belongs to 
 the time when bridges were few or none. The 
 addition, upo7i-tAvon^ explains itself. Though a 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 43 
 
 place of some importance long before the Conquest, 
 its early history is a blank. It was ecclesiastical 
 property, and nought of importance disturbed its 
 quiet life. The different monarchs granted to it 
 fairs and so forth at the request of its owners, the 
 Bishops of Worcester ; and the inhabitants gradu- 
 ally increased in numbers and in wealth, as numbers 
 and wealth were then counted. In 1542 the Bishop 
 of Worcester exchanged Stratford for some lands 
 in Worcestershire, belonging to the Duke of North- 
 umberland : a few years afterwards Edward VI. 
 bestowed upon it a charter of incorporation, and 
 when, about 1558, John Shakespeare commenced 
 housekeeping, it was apparently a flourishing 
 corporate town, with all the array of officers, from 
 high-bailiff and alderman, to third-boroughs and 
 ale-conner : and with somewhat more than a 
 thousand inhabitants. It had too, no doubt, its 
 market-place, with the town-hall just by. And 
 the approach was no longer by the ford, or the 
 rude wooden bridge that succeeded it, for a lord- 
 mayor of London had, in Henry the Seventh's time, 
 built for the inhabitants a substantial stone bridge. 
 
44 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Then, attached to the guild, there was a grammar- 
 school, which must have been in tolerable order, 
 for Edward VI. was careful to provide for that in 
 his charter, whence its name had been changed to 
 " the king's new school." '' But we are not to 
 infer that when John Shakespeare removed the 
 daughter and heiress of Arden from the old hall of 
 Wilmecote he placed her in some substantial 
 mansion in his corporate town, ornamental, as well 
 as solid in its architecture, spacious, convenient, 
 fitted up with taste, if not with splendour. Strat- 
 ford had, in all likelihood, no such houses to ofter ; 
 it was a town of wooden houses, a scattered town 
 — no doubt with gardens separating the low and 
 irregular tenements, sleeping ditches intersecting 
 the properties, and stagnant pools exhaling in the 
 road. Even in the reigns of Elizabeth and James 
 the town was nearly destroyed by fire ; and as late 
 as 1618 the privy council represented to the 
 corporation of Stratford that great and lamentable 
 loss had ' happened to that town by casualty of 
 fire, which, of late years, hath been very frequently 
 occasioned by means of thatched cottages, stacks 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 45 
 
 of straw, furzes, and such-like combustible stufF, 
 which are suffered to be erected and made con- 
 fusedly in most of the principal parts of the town 
 without constraint.' (Chahners tApoiogy^^. 618.) 
 If such were the case when the family of William 
 Shakespeare occupied the best house in Stratford — 
 a house in which Queen Henrietta Maria resided 
 for three weeks, when the Royalist army held that 
 part of the country in triumph — it is not unreason- 
 able to suppose that sixty years earlier the greater 
 number of houses in Stratford must have been 
 mean timber buildings, thatched cottages run up of 
 combustible stuff; and that the house in Henley 
 Street which John Shakespeare occupied and pur- 
 chased, and which his son inherited and bequeathed 
 to his sister for her life, must have been an 
 important house — a house fit for a man of substance, 
 a house of some space and comfort, compared with 
 those of the rest of the population." No one who 
 has examined the old houses that remain here and 
 in the villages around can doubt this. An old 
 inhabitant of Stratford assured me that fifty years 
 back such a house would have been deemed 
 
46 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 adequate to the need of a substantial family. 
 Houses were then occupied by those whose sons, 
 without being any wealthier or higher in rank than 
 their fathers, would not dream of living in them. 
 As for the labouring population theirs were 
 miserable clay huts, often of only one room — now 
 happily almost entirely swept away. The first 
 event that a local historian would note after this 
 time is one that suggests strange reflections. 
 William Shakespeare was born in April, 1564; in 
 the summer of the same year Stratford was ravaged 
 by the plague. '' From the 30th of June to the 
 31st of December, two hundred and thirty-eight 
 of the inhabitants, a sixth of the population, were 
 carried to the grave." None of the name of 
 Shakespeare appear in the dead-list. Malone 
 says — " A poetical enthusiast will find no difficulty 
 in believing that, like Horace, he reposed secure 
 and fearless in the midst of contagion and death, 
 protected by the Muses to whom his future life 
 was to be devoted." We who are not poetical 
 enthusiasts, but plain wayfarers, will believe that 
 another and stronger guardian kept the destroyer 
 
 -/ 
 / 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 47 
 
 from entcrinor that house. The fires to which 
 allusion has been made occurred in 1594 and 1595, 
 when two hundred houses were consumed. The 
 last great fire that happened was in the reign of 
 James I., when fifty-four of the wood-and-thatch 
 houses were destroyed in less than two hours. 
 
 In a long range of buildings, belonging to the 
 corporation^ which adjoins the chapel of the Holy 
 Cross, is a room appropriated to a grammar-school, 
 to which it is probable that William Shakespeare, 
 when the blue sky was thick patched with the 
 small broken clouds, and the cuckoo was calling in 
 the woods, and lords-and-ladies were plenty in the 
 dry dykes, might have gone 
 
 " With his satchell 
 And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
 Unwillingly to school." 
 
 That he did attend this school has been shown to 
 be most probable ; and it is folly to affect superior 
 wisdom by the constant exercise of incredulity. 
 This is a place that must be visited. Part of the 
 building is now used as an alms-house ; that portion 
 nearest to the chapel is the ancient guildhall. It 
 
48 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 is over this hall that the old school-room is placed. 
 Till towards the close of last year it was a plain 
 room, with a low plaster ceiling, supported by 
 thick beams, that projected from the sides of the 
 room. A few old forms and desks were in it ; and 
 one desk, that looked ruder and older than the 
 rest, was called Shakespeare's desk. This is altered 
 now. The room has been neatly repaired, and 
 restored to something like what may be supposed 
 to have been its original appearance, and it is fitted 
 up more conveniently for scholastic purposes ; but 
 it has lost its old look. The desk is gone. How 
 long it had been called Shakespeare's desk does not 
 appear. There was probably very little of the old 
 wood left ; for I was told by some who had many 
 years back been scholars here, that it was thought 
 a point of duty for every boy to carry away with 
 him a relic of it ; and most were expected to supply 
 their friends with fragments. That Shakespeare 
 really was educated here is most probable. It was 
 the fashion in the last century to consider him as 
 unlearned. The result of all the sifting that the 
 subject has had in our day appears to be much that 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 49 
 
 which a diHgcnt reader of his works would arrive 
 at from them, that he received a fair initiation into 
 the ordinary learning imparted in a public school 
 — he could probably read Latin without difficulty, 
 and through Latin he acquired the grammar of his 
 own tongue. The wonderful mental powers with 
 which he was endowed were not left by him 
 uncultivated, nor unfed. His reading must have 
 been extensive, although that is the smallest and 
 least prominent of his attainments. Shakespeare 
 will not stand among the Bentleys for his learning ; 
 nor among the Burtons for his reading ; but he may 
 stand alone for his knowledge, as distinct from 
 either. That is, he knew more of the wide world, 
 of man, and all that concerned him, than any one 
 who ever lived and wrote. And in point of variety, 
 and fulness of information, he was beyond most. 
 Johnson somewhere says, that '' he who has read 
 Shakespeare with attention will find little new in 
 the crowded world ;" and for such an eulogium a 
 man might even be content to forego the honour of 
 being a senior wrangler. We may fairly conclude 
 that his school education cleared the way for that 
 
 £ 
 
50 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 higher education which every man must give him- 
 self. Probably even Shakespeare's mighty intellect 
 might have derived advantage from higher scholar- 
 ship ; but it is perhaps more likely that his resolute 
 self-dependence would have been lessened, and his 
 originality somewhat impaired. Even he might 
 have been fettered by the golden chains of the 
 ancient giants, — and though he would in the end 
 have broken from the bondage, it might not have 
 happened till later, and a few years in his not long 
 life would have been a grievous loss to the whole 
 world. * 
 
 Before quitting this building the lower room 
 should be seen. As has been said, this was the 
 ancient guildhall, and in this, when players visited 
 the town, their performances used to take place. 
 Theirs were not regular, and skilfully constructed 
 plays, setting a grave or merry story in a fitting 
 vesture — a living portraiture of man in his wisdom 
 and in his folly — of the good and evil of existence. 
 That it was left for Shakespeare to accomplish. 
 These players had some instructive mystery, an 
 allegory perhaps, and a very proper, moral. 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 51 
 
 innocent one too. Dull enough to read now, 
 duller to listen to ; but one which then our 
 ancestors appear to have both heard and enjoyed. 
 These players were not vagrants. They were 
 teachers. Their play would be gone to as now-a- 
 days folk go to a lecture. Among the accounts of 
 the corporation of Stratford are many entries of 
 sums paid out of the corporation funds for theatrical 
 performances ; the use of the guild-room being of 
 course free : the players were always a travelling 
 company. Probably there was no charge to the 
 spectators, or a very small one, and there would be 
 a goodly audience. The boy, William Shake- 
 speare, might have heard his first play here, and 
 probably did. Perhaps his thoughts were first 
 turned to plays on one of these occasions. We 
 sometimes hear wonder expressed that Shakespeare 
 should have continued to write plays, and to retain 
 his connection with the theatre, in his maturer 
 years. The profession of a performer was not then 
 held in more esteem than it has been since ; but if 
 he had been disposed to break from it, there would 
 have been even more difficulty then than there 
 
52 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 would be now, and that even now it would be no 
 easy thing for a man moving in a line of life not 
 accounted a very high one, and who had not 
 received a regular education, to quit that and 
 establish himself in any other, a good many very 
 superior men have had bitter experience of. It 
 does seem, by passages in his '^ Sonnets," that he 
 was sometimes not at ease, but he did that which 
 all must learn to see is wisest, — he turned to the 
 best account his circumstances, and did not 
 peevishly fret after such as were unattainable. All 
 things considered, perhaps there was no form of 
 writing he could in that age have adopted that 
 would have produced so great influence as that he 
 used, it may be, because it was the necessary one. 
 Shakespeare did not write merely to amuse — there 
 was a purpose beyond that. He had no other way 
 so ready, none so sure, to impart his own views of 
 the deeper objects and mysteries of humanity, and 
 he does not appear to have been unconscious that 
 those views were of the largest significance. Clear 
 and subtle as was his insight into man, versant as 
 he was in all the less prominent disguises of society. 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 53 
 
 he saw that he could influence and instruct his 
 countrymen more quickly, more extensively, and 
 more thoroughly through the ear as well as the eye 
 than by the eye alone. Had he written an epic — 
 and it is not given to one man to write many epics 
 — we might have had the noblest the world has 
 seen, and, as a reward for many years of toil, some 
 few hundreds of his contemporaries might have 
 read it, and have studied it. As it was, he burnt-in 
 his thoughts into the hearts of thousands — aroused 
 to noble purpose many a startled and conscience- 
 stricken listener, — for the men of that day were 
 not a sceptical generation, — and breathed a full 
 stream of glorious and gladdening poetry into many 
 an opening mind. That he really did believe that 
 thus holding up a mirror to his fellow-men he 
 should best accomplish a noble purpose, a careful 
 perusal of his works will surely satisfy any one. 
 It is not undeserving of notice that what we gather 
 from his works was his intent, really formed the 
 starting-point of some of the noble German poets 
 of the last century. Many of these, men of the 
 highest culture, looking around them and earnestly 
 
54 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 considering how they might effect their end, did 
 just arrive at the same conclusion as Shakespeare 
 had arrived at in a state of society in many respects 
 similar. In our country, whatever other opinion 
 men may hold of the theatre, they will most agree 
 that it is no longer the powerful instrument for 
 moral and intellectual culture it then was. The 
 wide diffusion of books, and the equal desire to 
 read them, have so changed our customs ; the 
 whole state of society, indeed, is so changed, that 
 there can be little doubt that were Shakespeare alive 
 now he would not adopt the forms he found most 
 suitable then. 
 
 Adjoining the building we have been looking 
 over, and which was a part of the old Guild, is 
 the Guild Chapel, or Trinity Chapel, a plain 
 unassuming edifice, but not without beauty. The 
 original chapel was of the thirteenth century, but 
 towards the close of the reign of Henry VII. it 
 was taken down, all but the chancel, and rebuilt at 
 the cost of Sir Hugh Clopton. This Sir Hugh 
 was a munificent benefactor to Stratford, the place 
 of his nativity ; the fine bridge that yet crosses 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 55 
 
 the Avon here being another of his princely gifts. 
 Separated from this chapel by a narrow street, Sir 
 Hugh built himself a mansion, which at his death 
 he bequeathed, under the name of the Great House, 
 to a nephew; from him it passed to others, and 
 was at length purchased in 1597 by William 
 Shakespeare. At this time it was called New Vlace, 
 Shakespeare repaired it, and made it his home. He 
 was now only thirty-three, yet he had secured a 
 sum sufficient to purchase this the largest house in 
 his native town. He appears to have been in the 
 habit of spending a portion of each year in Strat- 
 ford, so long as he continued to practise his 
 profession in London ; the last years of his life he 
 lived there entirely. There is no certain record of 
 his manner of life during this period — unhappily 
 memoir-writers had not then sprung up, and it is 
 only by putting together many fragments, none of 
 which, however, were penned till long after his 
 death, that ever so slight a glimpse of the interior 
 of his home can be obtained. He bears a genial 
 fame here and elsewhere, and we may be sure he 
 was of a cheerful, hearty, open, manly spirit. 
 
56 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 Nothing more prominently marks his writings than 
 the cordial sympathy they display with all manner 
 of men. His homely life could not but have been 
 one of delightful enjoyment. To escape from the 
 turmoil and many unpleasantries of his London 
 life to his quiet country home, his wife and children, 
 the friends of his youth and of his manhood ; to 
 the sweet stream whose every nook was as the face 
 of a familiar friend, and to his books, never so 
 enjoyed as when away from the world's noise and 
 strife, must have been like a renewal of youth ; and 
 as his children climbed his knee, and she who had 
 been the gentle approver of all his early hopes and 
 plans, and the sharer of his sorrows, sat beside him, 
 humble and ferment gratitude would sweeten and 
 soften the joyousness with which he would recog- 
 nise his many blessings. He must have felt that 
 he was not as his neighbours, that few indeed of 
 the men whom he met with could enter even into 
 the glorious imaginings he had embodied, but never 
 lived the man who less gloried in himself or his 
 doings. Frank, sensible, gentle, ready with a 
 smile or a word of wisdom, as either might be 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 57 
 
 most serviceable, his would be a quiet peaceful life 
 here in his chosen retreat — ready to interchange all 
 courtesies with his neighbours or acquaintances — 
 and resting with calm enjoyment in the hourly 
 delights of his home. His manhood was a steady, 
 resolute embracing of the duties of his life ; without 
 complaint, without vapour. He knew his work, 
 and he did it. In his life a wise and good, a 
 sensible, manly man — in his works the mightiest 
 genius. 
 
 New Place was rendered by him a most 
 pleasant spot. His garden reached down to the 
 river, and was laid out in the somewhat formal but 
 rich style then prevalent. Here, in peace and 
 quiet happiness, surrounded by his family, and in 
 the enjoyment of a well-earned fame, the last years 
 of his life were passed, and '' hoping, and assuredly 
 believing, through the only merits of Jesus Christ 
 his Saviour, to be made partaker of life everlasting," 
 to use the solemn words of his will, written when 
 " in perfect health and memory," a month before 
 his death. The fate of the house is singular. He 
 left it to his eldest daughter; and in 1643, while 
 
 ^ 
 
58 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 she resided in it, Queen Henrietta Maria came to 
 Stratford with a large army, and made New Place 
 her home for about three weeks. From Mrs. Hall 
 it passed to her daughter. Lady Barnard, and at 
 her death was repurchased by the Clop ton family. 
 Sir Hugh Clopton, barrister and herald-at-arms, 
 dwelt in it in the earlier part of the last century. 
 He repaired the house and built a new front to it. 
 " This was the first stage of its desecration." The 
 other stages were quickly passed through. In 
 1753 the Reverend Francis Gastrell purchased the 
 house : his treatment of it is not a little remarkable. 
 In the garden was a goodly mulberry-tree, which 
 according to tradition was of Shakespeare's own 
 planting. This tree had acquired in consequence 
 considerable fame, and gentle Mr. Gastrell found 
 himself pestered with visitors to see it : he loved 
 his ease more than a wilderness of trees, though 
 every particular one had been a poet's planting; in 
 1756 he cut it down to rid himself of the annoy- 
 ance. The wood was purchased by a watchmaker 
 in Stratford, who converted it into a variety of little 
 carved boxes, and other like things, making a small 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 59 
 
 fortune thereby : it has been said that there are 
 articles enough purporting to be made from it to 
 have constructed a man-of-war ; but this is only a 
 repetition of an older joke. Mr. Sharpe, the 
 maker of these things, shortly before his death 
 made an affidavit that he had put his name to none 
 (and on all that he made he stamped his name) but 
 those he had made from the true tree, and there is 
 no reason to disbelieve him. These little relics are 
 now sold for considerable sums. 
 
 The people of Stratford were angry at the loss 
 of their famous tree, and broke the reverend 
 Vandal's windows. But they had a more serious 
 cause for anger soon. In 1759 he caused the house 
 itself to be razed to the ground. This was a 
 strange and apparently wanton act. The only 
 cause that has been assigned for it is that he claimed 
 to be released from the assessment of the poor's 
 rate, on the plea that he resided a large part of the 
 year at Lichfield ; but as his servants occupied the 
 house during his absence, this was refused, and he 
 declared it should not be assessed again. This 
 promise he fulfilled in the manner stated. 
 
6o THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 A plain house occupies the site of New Place 
 now. The garden is divided and built upon : the 
 Stratford theatre stands on a portion of it. Of 
 Shakespeare's house and grounds every trace has 
 vanished. Nearly opposite to the site of New 
 Place is an old house that stood in Shakespeare's 
 time ; it bears the date of 1596 on its front, having 
 been raised after the great fire of 1595. Better 
 than any description will it tell the look of a fine 
 old country town in Shakespeare's day. It is in 
 admirable preservation, — a delight to look upon. 
 A quaint, elaborate, half-timber structure, built as 
 houses then were with a goodly superfluity of 
 material, and no lack of labour. It is not a large 
 house, about the size of one of the smaller shops 
 in a leading London street, but with more fancy 
 about it than in hundreds of them. If the parti- 
 cular skill expended on every house erected in 
 Stratford for the last half-century were concentrated 
 in any one, it would not approach in any respect 
 to this old one, though it is only of an humble 
 order in comparison with some in other towns. 
 They did not make houses from pattern-books then. 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 6i 
 
 Not far from New Place, on the same side of 
 the way, is the Town-hall, so often named in 
 connexion with the Jubilee. It was built in 1768. 
 It is not remarkable as an architectural object. In 
 a niche outside is a statue of Shakespeare presented 
 by Garrick; who at the same time presented a 
 portrait of himself painted by Gainsborough, which 
 hangs in the large room. This large room is a 
 very handsome one, much more handsome than is 
 often met with in a country town. 
 
 The Jubilee in honour of Shakespeare, and for 
 the glorification of Garrick, took place in 1769. 
 It was sufficiently absurd in its details, but those 
 strangers who were present appear to have been 
 satisfied, and the townsmen were delighted ; it may, 
 therefore, now pass without further question. 
 Cowper inserted a passage respecting it in his 
 " Task," that has far more bitterness than the 
 occasion called for. There remains nought more 
 to require attention now but the church. The 
 stranger, however, must visit the fine old bridge, 
 if only out of respect for its generous builder : it is 
 a well built and handsome structure. Some time 
 
62 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 back an iron foot-bridge was affixed to one side of 
 it, the old way being only wide enough for 
 carriages. The appended part nowise disfigures 
 the original. It still bears the name of Clopton's 
 Bridge. 
 
 Proceed we now to the last spot of all : one 
 dear to the lovers of our bard, as the place in which 
 he lies after all his glorious achievements. Stratford 
 church is a structure of large size and unusual 
 beauty. The bold free hand of the old English 
 architect is seen to advantage here. It is placed 
 on the banks of the Avon, which is fringed by a 
 few willows, and from the river our church appears 
 of surpassing gracefulness. It has transepts, nave, 
 chancel, and aisles ; a fine tower and steeple. The 
 tower, transepts, and some other portions are of the 
 Early English style, and very perfect ; the remainder 
 belongs to a later period, and is not less graceful. 
 Its windows are some of them full of rich tracery. 
 The approach from the town is by a curious avenue 
 of lime-trees. The whole appearance of the pile 
 with the surrounding objects is extremely pleasing. 
 Beautiful as is the exterior, the interior is even more 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 63 
 
 so. It has very recently been fully restored, and 
 with very great skill — so great skill, indeed, is 
 displayed, that little is left to desire. All the 
 barbaric refinements and embellishments of the last 
 two centuries have been swept away — would they 
 were in every church in the country — and there is 
 really now a fair restoration of the whole to its 
 original state, with some little concessions, indeed, 
 to modern requirements, but all done in the spirit 
 of its original contrivers. And this is as it should 
 be. Let us have all that really belongs to the 
 primal state, but it is mere pedantry, or worse, to 
 insist on having such things brought back as are 
 now obsolete. Assuredly the original builders of 
 these noble piles would have been the last to devise 
 such things if there had not then been a use for 
 them. The old font that was here in Shakespeare's 
 time is here no longer, but the new one is modelled 
 from it. Two handsome stone pulpits have also 
 been placed here. The monuments in the church 
 are many, and, besides the monument, are interest- 
 ing. One chapel is entirely filled with those of the 
 Clopton family, and many of them are handsome. 
 
64 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 On the north of the east window is a marble tomb 
 to the memory of John Combe, the friend of 
 Shakespeare, and whom he has been charged with 
 libelHng in some rhyme that would have disgraced 
 a Thames waterman. The statue of Combe was 
 executed by Gerard Johnson, the sculptor of 
 Shakespeare's bust. 
 
 But all else sinks into insignificance before 
 the monument of Shakespeare, rendered, too, 
 so doubly interesting by the likeness of him it has 
 preserved. The monument was rather a showy 
 one originally, having been fully coloured. The 
 bust of the poet is in a recess between two 
 black marble pillars : his hands rest on a cushion ; 
 the right holds a pen, the left a sheet of paper. 
 The bust was executed by Gerard Johnson, a native 
 of Holland, and, it is said, was thought by the 
 friends of the poet to be a good likeness. It has 
 the appearance of being a likeness, but it was not 
 executed till some time after Shakespeare's death. 
 It is a careful work, but not a masterly one : what 
 would be the worth now of a real bust from the 
 life by some Chantrey of that day ? This 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 65 
 
 represents him in his full manhood, a comely, 
 pleasant man ; but it wants the living look of 
 genius. Originally it was coloured to represent 
 life ; early last century it was very carefully restored, 
 the original colours being exactly reproduced. 
 Towards the close of the century, Mr. Malone, the 
 editor of Shakespeare, obtained permission to bring 
 it more into accordance with the superior taste of 
 the day. Accordingly the colours were scraped off 
 (some say the bust a little scraped too), and the 
 whole was painted over with one uniform tint of 
 white. It is a bitter evil that our national 
 memorials are thus at the mercy of every ignorant 
 and perverse blunderer : this is no isolated case of 
 destruction or mutilation ; it has been going on 
 everywhere and on all kinds of ancient monuments 
 for centuries, and it is going on still, and probably 
 will continue so to do as long as there remain any 
 to deface or to destroy. The original character of 
 Shakespeare's monument is gone for ever. It may 
 be painted again, and a proposal was made to that 
 effect some short time back, but there will always 
 be extreme uncertainty about the correctness of the 
 
 F 
 
66 THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
 repainting, if, indeed, it be true that Malone had 
 the old paint scraped ofF — but it would be worth 
 while endeavouring to ascertain if any of the 
 original colour remains under the present coating. 
 The Shakespeare Society has a painted bust, but 
 there is no proof of its authenticity. Some gentle- 
 man, whose name I have forgotten, is said to have 
 one also coloured from the original, but it is 
 probably of no value. The original appearance of 
 the monument is thus described, and it will be 
 remembered that this bust was set up by those who 
 knew him best : — 
 
 " The eyes were of a light hazel, the 
 hair and beard auburn. The dress consisted of 
 a scarlet doublet, over which was a loose black 
 gown without sleeves. The lower part of the 
 cushion was of crimson colour, the upper part 
 green, with gilt tassels." The inscription is too 
 well known to need repetition. His remains rest 
 under a plain freestone a few feet from the wall. 
 The lines on this have been almost universally 
 misprinted, and distorted in appearance by the 
 admixture of large and small letters, it may 
 
HOME AND GRAVE OF THE POET 67 
 
 therefore be as well to give them exactly as they 
 occur : — 
 
 Good frend for Jesus sake forbeare, 
 to digg the dust encloased heare ; 
 
 BlESTE be y man I SPARES THES STONES, 
 
 And cvrst be he [ moves my bones. 
 
 This grim inscription, whoever placed it there, 
 has had its effect. Shakespeare's bones have been 
 spared. 
 
THE AVON OF SHAKESPEARE 
 
VD 03036 
 
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