SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. .:». MONUMENTAL BUST OF SHAKESPEARE. (From the Chancel of Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon.) LONDON: LONGMANS, GREEN & CO., AND NEW YORK : 15, EAST 16th STREET, 1890. (All rights reserved.) PRINTED BY ALLEN, SCOTT AND CO., 30, BOUVERIE STREET, E.C. COMPOSED BY THE " THORNE " MACHINE. WORDS OF PREFACE. T^ MERSON has said that all originality is relative, and every thinker is retrospective, ^ so also that Shakespeare " is the only biographer of Shakespeare, yet with Shake- speare for, biographer instead of Aubrey and Rowe, we have really the information which is material, that which describes character and fortune, that which, if we were about to meet the man, would most import us to know." The writer has of necessity availed himself largely of abler pens, which from the day-dawn recognition of Shakespeare's unapproachable greatness have striven to show, how he absorbed into his sphere all the light anywhere radiant, every intellectual jewel, every flower of sentiment. The crowds of writers and critics have become so merged into each other as almost to defy the power of determining to whom their varying statements belong, and, as referring to so transcendent a genius, it is immaterial to know. The results of their labours have become engrafted on the reading mind, and, in the case of a book like this designed and compiled for reference as a loving accompaniment to the grea^ master's works, to assign to each individual the facts or conclusions which have been imported into -its pages would be, except in very special instances, superfluous, the more ] especially where general mingling has rendered it difficult to do so with absolute accuracy. Furthermore, Emerson reminds us that " what is best written or done has been no man's work, but came by wide, social labour, where a thousand wrought like one, sharing the same impulse." Following up a suggestion of Cardinal Wiseman, a devoted and true Shake- spearean scholar, to make diligent search among the descendants of Roman Catholic families resident at the time in " the Shakespeare country," from whom he deemed it probable information might be derived, the writer is enabled as he believes to contribute largely to the hitherto scant material. Cavillers, of whom there has ever been an abundant stock, may pronounce the new matter as mainly " traditional," forgetting how largely this quality enters into the written lives of the greatest of the human race, as it does into the history of our country itself. Should his life be extended beyond its already ripe limit, the writer hopes for strength to push investiga- tion farther in these quarters, where his overtures have uniformly been received with extreme grace and courtesy. One main purpose of the writer has been to purge Shakespeare's biography from the unworthy and unfounded slanders hitherto associated with it, and of which the increasing multitudes of readers in present and future generations will rejoice to get rid. Mr. Haliwell Phillips truthfully characterized Aubrey's biographies as " disfigured by palpable and ascertained blunders, evidencing that he was in the habit of compiling from imperfect notes, as also that he was one of those foolish and detestable gossips who repeat everything they hear or misinterpret " ; and yet Phillips, instead of getting rid of the idle inventions, accepts and re-relates them, oblivious of Christopher North's magnificent sentence : " The animosities are mortal, but the humanities live for ever." M150520 Preface. While admitting the great debt of all lovers of Shakespeare to Phillips in the matter of Shakespearean research, we cannot but regret that his accumulative power should have vastly exceeded his discrimination. He tells us not to rely on statements where unsupported by corroborative evidence. In regard, however, to traditions current in villages around Stratford, he attaches great importance to such as include reference to facts or conditions which have been verified by modern inquiry, but which could only have been known to the narrators through hearsay. The same indefatigable writer admits that Shakespeare may have been secretly married to Anne Hathaway according to Roman Catholic form, yet failed to trace the fact of a religious ceremonial union such as the writer hopes he has satisfactorily shown to have been solemnized in the Shottery Manor House Chantry. The happy union of the descendant and living representative of the Thane of Fife with the fair daughter of Britain's Royal House standing next in succession to the throne, a family of which both parents, like our beneficent Sovereign herself, are bound up in the hearts of the nation with a respect and depth of affection to which history affords no parallel, seems a specially fitting occasion for an endeavour to place the greatest of all authors fairly before his readers, now denizens of the whole civilized world. Shakespeare has made the English-speaking race everywhere familiar with the facts in the regal lineage of Fife and Macduff. The mighty limner is the historian. Memory recalls the defeat of Macbeth at Dunsinane in the far-back year 1054, and of the after battle at Lumphanan, in Aberdeenshire, in 1056, in which Macbeth was taken and slain, and Macduff restored to his ancient earldom, with the privileges confirmed by the grateful Malcolm of the big heart as well as of the big head. The Macduffs continued to reign in Fifeshire till the beginning of the fifteenth century. For three centuries they have maintained a semi-regal position, formed alliances with the Royal Houses of England, Scotland, and Wales, and held a prominent place in the national life of the country. St. Margaret's, Twickenham 1890. J. W. TTo Sir Cfyeotoxt Utartw, |LCjl,, gmtjjor of "Gbe Xife of Ibie IRo^al Ibigbness tbe prince Consort" (§i granite fownbation on fobtcb (writers in future generations sjiall base tjieir narrations of tjje glories of % Victorian era), anb 10 Ptlen Jfattrit, £ abg glarim, brj0, iratlj ttpmi % stag* anb bir jxer pm, bas 00m so mucb to abb awe % true interpretation oi SIjakes|3*are, tjris bumbin attenteb Xife of tbe Mora's Greatest poet, 0n truthful lims, is, fcortir jxigjpst r^sm-d anb tztum, anb bir m-rmission, gUbkateb bn, % ^ntjror. TABLE OF CONTENTS. All the Initial Letters commencing Chapters are from Original Drawings of Gargoyles on the roof of the Chancel of the Church of Holy Trinity, Stratford-on-Avon. STRATFORD AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD. Stratford and its neighbourhood. The multitude of commentators and explainers of Shakespeare's writings and meanings. Germany earlier than England in appreciating the great author. Sir Theodore Martin's translations of Schiller, Goethe, etc. Unprincipled detractors and slanderers of the poet of the world. Impudent attempt to dethrone him by .substitution of Lord Bacon. The writer in company of the essayist Emerson at Stratford. Emerson's opinion of the Bacon-Donelly fraud delusion. Shakespeare's life largely traceable in the villages and country around Stratford. Changed aspect of Stratford and its near locality since Shakespeare's day. Ruskin, the truest and most powerful critic of Shakespeare. Situa- tion of Stratford. Its olden expiatory penal stocks, pillory, and ducking stool. Importance of Stratford in former days. Its existing centripetal attraction through one human memory. A coaching journey thither early in present century. Charles Flower's Memorial Theatre. Lord Ronald Gower's bronze group. Shakespeare's love of flowers. His strength in realizing the characters he painted. Pages i to 31. SNITTERFIELD— HIS FATHER'S BIRTHPLACE AND EARLY HOME. Contrast of to-day's Snitterfield with the period of the Shakespeare family. Its God's Acre. Lime trees and ancient yews in its graveyard. Venerable oaks and elms. Walnut tree in John Shakespeare's orchard. Church described. John Shakespeare and Mary Arden's visits to Snitterfield. Evidence of Sadler- Sergeant Bryan as to the Shakespeare family lands in the parish. Traditions regarding John and Mary's courting time. Neighbourhood of Snitterfield especially beautiful. Spring-time season. Early worldly circumstances of Shake- speare's father. Stratford's olden municipal life. The Guildhall used as playhouse. Shakespeare's property and municipal distinctions. Warwickshire dialect and pronunciations. John Shakespeare's troubled fortunes. His removal to Clifford. His application for a coat of arms. The assertions that neither he nor his wife could write. The Shakespeare lineage. Family resemblances traceable in existing generations. Ancient carved chancel stalls in Snitterfield Church. Shakespeare's free and social nature. His indifference to literary fame. Memorials and manuscripts destroyed by fire. His wife and daughters known Puritans. As with Homer, Dante, and Milton, incidents of life scantiest and mainly traditional. Lessing, the first to realize the conception and range of Shakespeare's genius. Pages 32 to 62 MARY ARDEN AND WILMCOTE. Birthplace of Mary Arden, Shakespeare's mother. Her home described. A pilgrimage to her home. Mary's family lineage. Her father's will. Shakespeares and Ardens of equal social position. Scantiness of household belongings in their time. Explanation of statements regarding handwriting. State of country parishes in regard to outward profession of religion shortly after the Reformation. Charles Knight on Stratford aldermen's caligraphy. Mary Arden's first acquaintance with John Shakespeare. Religious changes and Puritanism of the time. Difficulties in eradicating the old for the new form in country churches. Local traditions of Coventry, Kenilworth, and the old chronicles dominant in their influence generally. Birmingham then little more than a village. Its mechanic people always given to country naturalists' studies. Sam Timmins of Birmingham, true example of an earnest Shakespearean. Pages 63 to 79. ASTON CANTLOW. Traditions regarding Mary Arden as " a young lady of the great family of Arden." Mary's first acquaintance with John Shakespeare. Traditional stories as to his visits to her home at Aston Cantlow. Their wanderings in the adjoining Forest of Arden. Their marriage. The wedding breakfast. Dugdale's account of Aston Cantlow. It establishes the fact of the Arden home and village having undergone little change since then. Pages 80 to 92 THE HENLEY STREET BIRTHPLACE. Shakespeare's birth on St. George's Day, 1564. The birthplace described. Changes of structure to which subjected. Its purchase as an all-time possession for a Shakespearean museum. Its interior described. Richard Savage, the museum secretary. Museum contents ii CONTENTS. described. Antiquity and strength of the building. The Henley Street portrait of Shake- speare. His finger signet ring. Old deeds of properties and mementoes of Shakespeare. Pages 93 to ioo. SHOTTERY AND ANNE HATHAWAY. Anne's birthplace and home. The village old Shakespeare inn, no longer existent, described. A night at the inn. The Hathaway home described. Its immediate surround- ings. Its garden a delight to Anne and Shakespeare. His constant visits to Shottery. Strollings with her in the meadows and lanes. Their mutual study of birds, trees, and flowers. Anne's gentle life and knowledge of housewifery an example. Mrs. Baker, the present occupant of the Hathaway home, a descendant of the family. The American writer, William Winter's, description of the Hathaway home and a night spent in it. William Howitt and Ward Beecher on Shottery. Shakespeare's rural descriptions largely drawn from Shottery and its neighbourhood. His biography written in its rural scenes. Shakespeare opened the pathway of rural describing to Blackmore and Richard Jefferies. Spring and spring flowers of Shottery. His frequent allusions and descriptions of these. His visits to his love at break of morn. Song of the lark, nightingale, thrush, and blackcap described by him. Spring and spring flowers, his allusions to these. Shottery lanes, their special sweetness. The briars of the lanes. The goldfinches and their thistle food. Dugdale's account of Shottery. Old Chantry at Shottery, hitherto unknown, believed to be the place in which handfast first ceremony of marriage took place. This building and its surroundings described. Pages 101 to 140 WOOTTON WAWEN. Wootton Wawen's close identity with Shakespeare, Anne Hathaway, and Shottery. Its village a frequent resort to him and Anne. The officiating priest, Vicar Pascall, a friend of both families. The Harewell family, possesors of Shottery Manor, also owners of Wootton Wawen. The Smith-Carington family of St. Cloud, Worcester, shown by Dugdale to be the descendants of the Shakespeare time owners of Shottery and Wootton. The family monuments in Wootton Church. Their history and association with the present Smith-Carington family. Tombs of the Smiths and Harewells. Exquisite wood carving in the chancel screen and pulpit. Dugdale's reliable account of Wootton Wawen and its church. Pages 141 to 150. THE SHOTTERY OLD MANOR HOUSE. A REVELATION! Of highest interest as the place availed of for the " handfast " ceremony of marriage between Shakespeare and Anne. The Chantry described as a farm residence. The owl tenants of its farm buildings. Its bell turret and formerly old times bell announcing mass. Anne and Shakespeare intimate acquaintances with the priest of the Chantry. The custom of betrothal handfast believed to be the true solution of the hitherto difficulty in Shakespeare's youthful life. The Chantry marriage, until now never explained, none the less truthful. Dominie Hunt, apparently no objector, usedi his office to prevent any further adhesion to Romanism. Shakespeare a zealous Protestant of large-hearted charity. His probable earnings as a youth prior to marriage. Probably associated as clerk with Walter Roche, his first schoolmaster, who had become a lawyer in Stratford. His then contributions to players' repertoires also a source of income. His leaving Stratford per- manently for London not his first journey. Often there previously with Roche on the Lambert suits. John Shakespeare's legal struggles with the Lucys and Lamberts. His removal to Clifford. Communication and travel between London and Stratford, its difficulties. Ladies' pillion travel. Shakespeare's occupation as adaptor of plays, the likely inducing cause of his removal to London. The pure English of his writings. Pages 151 to 171. THE LUDDINGTON MARRIAGE. Discovery of Richard Hathaway's will. Its conditions. Parish registers afford no evidence of Shakespeare's marriage. The betrothal at Shottery Chantry and subsequent marriage in Luddington Church. William and Anne living at her mother's house at Shottery. Handfast betrothal described. Instances of similar betrothals. Warwickshire handfast betrothals of these days. The case of Claudio and Julietta in play of " Measure for Measure." Solemnizing of betrothals in " Twelfth Night " and " Winter's Tale." Pages 172 to 176. A HAPPY UNION. Ingenuity of Shakespeare's enemies in attributing to him unworthy qualities, and that his affection did not hold " the bent." Statement as to his withholding participation of London earnings from his wife. Aubrey a mere idle gossip. The Davenant scandal. Poets. CONTENTS. iii like other men in their marital union. Emerson's definition of love. Shakespeare's allusions to matrimonial troubles in "Twelfth Night," and in "As You Like It," and "Midsummer Night's Dream." Charles Knight on the marriage. The journey to Worcester for the marriage license. Copy of the license. Saunders's account of Luddington. Pages 177 to 186. CHAPEL OF THE GUILD AND JOLLIFFE'S GRAMMAR SCHOOL. Charter of King Edward VI. Dissolution of the old, and re-incorporation of the School. Jolliffe, 1482, foundation. The plague devastates Stratford. Shakespeare enters the school. Walter Roche, the Head Master. Guild Chapel and School described. Discovery of old frescoes in the chapel. Class of education. The Lucy Puritanism a source of antagonism with Shakespeare's parents. Young Will employed in legal and literary work. The Guild master's able scholars. Course of study at the school. Progress of Shakespeare's education. Books of his probable study. His early proneness for theatricals. Literature of the period. His leaving the Grammar School. Satisfactory present state of the school. England's public schools and the question of holidays. Shakespeare as an assistant to an attorney — most pro- bably Walter Roche. Lord Campbell on the subject. Libraries of the neighbouring clergy open to Shakespeare. His marvellous labours. Willis's (1669) description of a play he had seen at Gloucester. Similar plays performed at Stratford. Frequent visitations of players to Stratford. Transcript of entries from the Chamberlain's accounts for use of funeral pall and tolling of the big bell, its ancient curfew. Pages 187 to 230. HOLY TRINITY GOD'S ACRE. Its ancient Saxon name. Special charm of Holy Trinity Churchyard. Its season floral profusion. Old tombstone epitaphs. Sense of humility of families whose dead lie interred here. William Hunt and family of Hobbs' occupation of excessive portion of the graveyard. Gray's "Elegy" admirably impressed through Holy Trinity Churchyard. Shakespeare's bodyguard of rooks described. Their habits. The burial place of Shakespeare. Descendants in the churchyard. Rural deans and their duties. Pages 231 to 240. HOLY TRINITY CHURCH. The Church unique in character and surroundings. Its outside world of architecture. Its description. Divided governance of church and churchyard. Vicar Arbuthnot, an earnest worker. Shakespeare's sincerity and worship. The lime tree avenue. Peculiarities of the church architecture. Old baptismal font. The poet's monument. Its description. His monumental bust — competent opinions thereon. The Shakespeare graves in front of the altar, their several inscriptions. The maledictory lines on his gravestone. The old charnel house. The monumental bust his only authentic portrait. The author at Stratford with Emerson, the essayist. Attends with him a Sunday morning service at Holy Trinity. Musings during the sermon. The passing soul's] bell. The pulpit hour-glass. Mary Shakespeare's social status in Stratford. The Lucys, Cloptons, and Combe families. Good old vicar Byfield. The venerable parish register, a priceless treasure. The American preacher, Ward Beecher's, experiences of a service in Holy Trinity. Its line of vicars good and mindful of their charge of the poet's grave. Gentleness and toleration a feature of Trinity pulpit. Its present vica,r indifferent to any voice of praise. A pauper's funeral solemnity. The church bells. The Author's farewell to the Shrine. Pages 241 to 285. . THE LUCYS, CHARLECOTE HALL AND NEIGHBOURHOOD. The alleged deer-stealing. Its utter improbability. The pasquinade. Falstaff and Shallow. The Lucys, zealous Puritans. Their persecutions of Mary Shakespeare and her family. Sir Thomas Lucy and his wife's tomb in Charlecote Church. Both worthy, excellent people. Beauty of the River Avon in either direction from Charlecote. Its course and junction. Charlecote Hall and Park described. The poet's mother traceable mainly through her son's training for life. Various characters depicted by Shakespeare in his plays now traceable in Warwickshire people. Every Stratford association is of gentleness. Old editions of Shakespeare, the coveted treasures of the world. Ubiquity of Shakespeare's sympathies evidence of the boundless might of his genius. Warwick and Guy's Cliffe. Kenilworth and Coventry. Shakespeare's art as shown in his day. Actors since his time. Garrick, the great exponent. The great difficulties laboured formerly under through absence of female actors. Siddons, Rachel, and Helen E. Faucit (Lady Martin) Lady Martin's gifts as an authoress. Her Shakespeare female characters. "Queen Bess" presumed to iv CONTENTS. have possessed no special charms for Shakespeare. His indisposition to honour her memory. Pages 286 to 308. SHAKESPEARE IN LONDON. Multitudes passing over London Bridge. St. Mary Overies Church in Southwark. Its antiquity and great interest. Its founder. Mary's Ferry. Shakespeare's brother's funeral there. King James of Scotland married here. Wide distinction between Shakespeare and other dramatists. The poet Gower's monument described. Phillips' discovery of documents concerning the early London theatres. Van den Keere's Map cf London in 1593. Braun's Map of London in Shakespeare's time. Shakespeare's acquaintance with Ben Jonson. Shake- speare's deeply affectionate nature. His condition prior to leaving for London. His departure. Nature of occupation on first arrival in London. Theatres existing in London on his arrival. St. Helen's, Bishopsgate ; associations with Shakespeare. The London Taverns. The Devil at Temple Bar. The Mermaid, Boar's Head, Falcon. Other taverns. The early inns of Southwark. The Tabard and other resorts of the Pilgrims described. Haliwell Phillips' serious errors as to the actors of Shakespeare's day. No mere wanderers. His errors as to Stratford Grammar School : education given there was of highest class. Alleyn's Fortune Theatre. The Curtain, Blackfriars, and other theatres. Opening of the new Globe Theatre. Shakespeare and Bacon. Performances at the Inns of Court. London Cor- poration action with the theatres. The theatres discountenanced. Recent discovery in Germany of drawing of interior of the Swan Theatre by De Witt in 1596. Dr. Gadertz's account of the discovery and its value. Descriptive particulars of London theatres in Shakespeare's time. The Old Tabards. Shakespeare not a professional actor. His friend- ship and possible joint residence with the Burbages. The actors of chief note at the time. Portraits of Shakespeare's contemporaries. Fac-similes of Shakespeare's entries from parish registers. Pages 309 to 346. RICHMOND AND SHAKESPEARE. Richmond of old, through centuries the home of Kings and Sovereign Queens. Queen Elizabeth's Palace of " Nonsuch," a favourite fine art study of Shakespeare. Its gardens described. Lord Beaconsfield's love of quaint gardens. A German traveller on Richmond of the last century. The parish church of St. Mary's a favourite place of worship with Shakespeare. Many of his friends interred within its precincts. Roman Catholic cordon in Shakespeare's time extended from Warwickshire to Richmond. St. Mary Magdalene sacred to Shakespeare. The family of Bardolph buried there. Queen Elizabeth's accession. Richmond greatly benefited. Spenser and Raleigh at Richmond with Shakespeare. Bacon's estate at St. Margaret's. The Emperor Frederick of Germany and Shakespeare. The poet's frequent visits at Bacon's St. Margaret's home and at Richmond and Isleworth. Two aged cedar trees, favourite shade retreat of the poet and Bacon. Bacon's marriage with Alice Barnham. His residence described. Shakespeare's religious sympathies — fancied slight by Queen Elizabeth. Queen Elizabeth and the astrologers Dee and Foreman. King James's "amicable letter." The story of the Queen dropping her glove. Shakespeare said to have neglected her memory. Astrologers' visits to the Globe Theatre. The various Royal residents in the Palace. The neighbourhood of Richmond. Pages 347 to 366 NEW PLACE, ETC. Shakespeare's earliest purchase of property in Stratford. New Place itself. His neigh- bours. The Falcon Tavern. Guild Weathercock, its Latin rhymes. His return from London to his Stratford home. His blameless life in London. Condition of England in Shakespeare's time. Deaths in the family. Early influence of the printing press. Parson Gastrell's destruction of New Place. King James' frequent commands for Shakespeare's plays at Court. His retirement from the stage. The gardens and excavations of old founda- tions at New Place. Shakespeare's income from real estate. Death of his brother Richard. Effect of circulation of the Bible in "the vulgar tongue." Shakespeare's personality. Parson Gastrell's destruction of New Place house. Development of Shakespeare's genius and rapid progress to wealth. Uncovered remnants of New Place. His will. Ways of death as seen through his works. His death. The world's estimate during his own life. The Shakespeare family at home. Gradual increased strength of his fame. Its boundless future. His perfect sobriety. Fac-similes of Shakespeare's family entries in Stratford Register. Fac-similes of signatures and documents. Pages 367 to 395. STRATFORD AND NEIGHBOURHOOD. O apology should be needed for an en- deavour to provide for Shakespeare students, now included among every civilized people of the world, a truthful, loving biographical home and wayside companion, as an accompani- ment to his works. Such is only obtainable through the mirror of scenes familiar to him throughout his life, entering so largely as these did from childhood until life's close, in forming his boundless stores of nature, and endowing him with the ways and tones of thought of every sort and condition of humanity. Wearied of commentators, emendators, and the whole learned tribe who have well-nigh " improved " him out of all resemblance to the original, and of whom Coleridge has so forcibly observed, " The last labourer always adds more rubbish to the heaps than his predecessors have accumulated," the com- piler's aim has been to draw readers back to the simple and " unadorned," by home familiarity with the scenes whence his inspiration sprung. What would be said of improvers of our great masters, Turner, Gainsborough, Constable, or Leader ? and yet such should not be one whit less endurable than the army of writers who inflict on the world their " explainings " of Shakespeare's meanings, and what he ought to have writ instead of that he did. Germany was before England in appreciation of Shakespeare. Even now we do not approach the Germans, who have wisely and to the great advantage of their SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. youth, embodied a study of Shakespeare's works as an essential leading feature in their people's education. We will hope that the Head Masters of England's Public Schools will not leave to future generations to occupy ground we should have done long since. Professor Max Muller, as officially repre- senting his nation, in an address to the Stratford Tercentenary Celebration in 1864, candidly stated the mighty influence of England and the world's greatest writer. our literature. We think of the man with his large, warm heart, with his sympathy for all that is genuine, unselfish, beautiful, and good, with his contempt for all that is petty, mean, vulgar, and false. May the 3 r outh of England ever continue to be nursed, to be fed, to be reproved and judged by his spirit." Would that these expressed hopes, so far as the youth of England is concerned, were closer of realization ; but the flood of AS IN SHAKESPEARES TIME. The Address set out how that " Great nations make great poets, great poets make great nations. Happy the youth of England whose first ideas of this world in which they are to live are taken from his pages. That silent influence of Shakespearean poetry on millions of young hearts in England, Ger- many, and all the world, shows the almost superhuman power of human genius. There are many students in Germany who have learnt English solely in order to read Shake- speare in the original, and yet we possess a translation of Shakespeare with which few translators of any work can vie in any language. What we in Germany owe to Shakespeare must be read in the history of more than questionable literature on which our youth of both sexes revel, indefinitely postpones any general familiarity with our own great master's works. Looking, how- ever, on what has been accomplished by Sir Theodore Martin, our gifted English trans- lator of the German Schiller and Goethe, whose elegant and powerful renderings, known and appreciated in all lands, in directing English students to his loved authors, we will, with such an example, hopefully await the future. Meantime, let the Schools and Universities look to it. Shakespeare knowledge must be a test in all examinations. There exists generally a conviction that it is THE SHAKESPEARE COUNTRIE AS IN HIS TIME. SNSR>^^ W ^^MP V--:. e I. :&' *j|: : ft? . JF-tjj \\ G MAS rJfei \l$bt ! "^"#l ilV^T Mi 946 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. MODERN MAP OF COUNTRY AROUND STRATFORD. high time to get rid of the absurd stories hitherto passed along the line by the biographers of the greatest of mankind, " the master of the human heart," attributing to him habits of life utterly inconsistent with the accomplishment of labours greater, as of order, towering majestically over those of any other human being. These fables find no place in this volume, save for repudiation or exposure, as falsehoods disgraceful to their originators, and unworthy of the writers who have continued their repetition for accept- ance as facts in that one short existence, which gave to the world more about real men and women, politics and society, than is to be found in all the rest of literature. Colossal as was his genius, raising him far above all other men that ever lived, he is SHAKESPEARE'S PRETENDED SCEPTICS AND TRADUCERS. 5' nearer to us all, even the most insignificant, than any other of our fellow-creatures, living or dead. True, he was from early dawn of his mighty intellect titled " the gentle," for while he instructs, he does not lecture; though he reproves, he never jibes. When he discourses of human foibles, he seems to be almost speaking of himself, and to be drawing his illustrations from what he knew of his own infirmities. When he extols virtue or genius, he is praising others. The saying of Orlando in As you Like It y "I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults," is the epitome of Shakespeare's attitude towards us all. Such foul language recalls Norfolk's ad- vice to Buckingham when planning destruc- tion to Cardinal Wolsey in Henry VIII. , Act 1, scene i. : — " Be advised ; Heat not a furnace for your foes so hot, That you do singe yourself." It is scarcely conceivable that any writers would have the daring to insult the whole Christian world, by the application of such epithets to him of whom it has been well and truly said, that in storing his mind, he first went to the word and then to the works of God. In shaping the truths derived from these sources, he obeyed the instruction planted Towards this generous, noble and pure nature, hitherto biographers have shown a mean- ness as astonishing as it has been long- continued. In this our age, when doubt of anything has lost novelty, even the existence of him in whom the literary expression of English thought had as yet found its culmination, is impudently drawn within the province of scepticism, and a daring endeavour is made to instal a contemporary unprincipled lawyer on the pinnacle of him acknowledged by the universal world, as the one of all others whose name can never die, his en- perience being co-extensive with every field of human knowledge. Proportionate with the audacity of these pretended sceptics, have been their growing efforts to blacken the character of our immortal poet, as a means to advance their fantastic creed, that Shakespeare's plays were the work of Lord Bacon. One of the most zealous has in- formed the world that " Shakespeare was a fornicator, an adulterer, a usurer, an op- pressor of the poor, a liar, a forger of pedi- grees, in order to obtain a coat of arms to which he had no right, a poacher, a drunkard, an undutiful son, and a neglectful father." by Him who had formed him Shakespeare. Hence his power of inspiring us with sub- lime affection for all that is properly good, and of chilling us with horror by his fearful delineations of evil. He perpetually reminds us of the holy volume ; not by direct quota- tion, indirect allusion, borrowed idioms, or palpable imitation of phrase and style, but by an elevation of thought and simplicity of diction not to be found elsewhere. A pas- sage rises in our thoughts unaccompanied by a clear recollection of its origin. The first SHAKESPEARE '$ TRUE LIFE. impression is that it must belong either to the Bible or to Shakespeare. No other author excites the same feeling. In Shake- speare's plays religion is a vital and active principle, sustaining the good, tormenting the wicked, and influencing the hearts and lives of all. What uninspired writer ever made us feel the value of prayer as a privi- lege so affectingly as he has done in three words. It flashes across the brain of Othello the Moor, that possibly his friend may be practising upon him ; a conditional curse, therefore, bursts from his lips : " If thou tist. If Shakespeare was a mere stool pigeon, one would suppose that the true author of the " Tempest " or " Macbeth " would be sought for among the men who wrote great dramas ! But they who deny Shakespeare, carefully avoid giving the credit to Ben Jon- son, to Beaumont, Marlowe, or to Fletcher. They select as the true author a man whose dramatic literature was confined, so far as his own claims ever went, to certain worth- less masks and verses which only certain scholars know anything about. Because WHERE CLOPTON LIVED. dost slander her and torture me, never pray more." The delight that some men take in trying to upset history and tradition is but the envy of miserably small and discontented minds yearning for notoriety rather than desire for true knowledge. Of such is the wretched attempt to dethrone Shakespeare. A little knot of the smallest minds have of late years denied his existence, or rather, have put forward Bacon as the real Shake- speare. Because he is alleged to have held a menial office outside the theatre, to have married, as is falsely and maliciously stated, an illiterate woman, therefore, we are to infer that he did not write plays or poetry. But in this case of Shakespeare, we have the im- mortal works themselves ; who wrote them ? There were great dramatists in Shakespeare's day and generation, men of whose lives and work no question is raised. None of these were doubters, or dared to place the unprincipled lawyer on the throne of the immortal drama- Francis Bacon was one of the most omni- scient of men, they presume him to have written the plays attributed to Shakespeare. No true student of Shakespeare promulgates such nonsense. Shakespeare originated every thought in his works. Scarcely a play in the whole collection but has its familiar antece- dents. " Hamlet " and " The Merchant of Venice" were dramas before Shakespeare appropriated them. Where a play which prompted him has not been discovered, a story or a legend has, and it is only after centuries of exploration by thousands of scholars that these outlines have been discovered. The current literature of that day, which has vanished for ever, such as it was, may have left no other impress on the world of thought than the phrases which Bacon jotted in his commonplace book, and Shakespeare's marvellous brain rehabilitated in some immortal sentence. This eminent lawyer and philosopher, Bacon, who is pretended to have produced LORD BACON'S PRETENDED AUTHORSHIP. such pure and exalted ideas, is handed down to us in history as of a very base character. Having reached the Bench, he was even- tually convictod of selling his judicial decisions. He confessed his guilt, and suffered penalty and degradation. Would it not be nearer truth to say that it is an impossibility that such a man could have written what are called Bacon's u Works," and that Shakespeare was the real author of the philosophy in question. There is far more reason in this theory. If Bacon was the author of the dramas, why did he permit one of the number to be published under Shakespeare's name ? Why should he ascribe that one which appealed most strongly to British sympathies to a then obscure play-actor? Was he ashamed to be known as a dramatist, or was it due to kindness ? If so, it were an un- *+*•*&* m heard-of generosity. Men have often been convicted of stealing the productions of others, but where has ever been the man so liberal as to write a thrilling and tremendous tragedy, and then present the chaplet of fame to a mere attache of the theatre ? It is within the bounds of reason to inquire whether Shakespeare be not really the author of Bacon's Essays, and, indeed, all that scheme which the world is pleased to call Baconian, and there is strong proof to be advanced that Shakespeare was contemporary with Francis Bacon, and was a brilliant wit. This class, as we know, has its serious turns, and just as the humorist Sterne and the witty Sidney Smith both wrote sermons, so Shake- speare must have had his hours of study such as produced the Bacon theories and sayings. It is highly probable that Shakespeare was too timid and reserved to offer his work in his own name, especially seeing he was a popular writer of plays, and hence he as- sumed that of a friendly lawyer, preferring to appear by attorney. How improbable, then, that this lawyer, who falsely bears the palm, could have produced such pure and exalted ideas, seeing his base and degraded character. Let any one examine, in the British Museum or elsewhere, the title-page of any of the original issues as first made in his day and times. Compare the following title- page, and compare its testimony with the claims of the Baconian idiots : — u The Tragedie of King Richard the third, containing his treacherous plots against his brother Clarence and the pittifull murther of the innocent nephews, his tyrannical Vsurpa- tion with the whole account of his detested life and his deserved death, as it hath been lately acted by the King's majesties' servants, newly augmented by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. London : printed by Thomas Creade, and are to be sold by Mathew Lowe, in St. Paul's churchyard, 1612." Now, at the above date, when good Thomas Creade in honest truth announced to the world that he was printer of Richard III.'s treacherous plots, and that his friend, Matthew Lowe, over against St. Paul's Cathedral, was publisher thereof, Shake- speare was living in Stratford, where he died three years afterwards. Bacon at that time was living in London, and at little more than boy age was not only Attorney-General, but also member of the Privy Council. He had full power to punish any literary theft, and yet he allows Thomas Creade to publish one of his most splendid productions, as the work of a mere adventurer who had gone back to his country home, whence he never returned. Had Shakespeare conferred any important favour on Bacon, there might have been some shadow for the wonderful generosity, but no such idea is suggested. We are obliged there- fore rightly to conclude either that the SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. RESIDENCE OF SHAKESPEARE'S SON-IN-LAW, DR. HALL dramas were written by our Immortal of Stratford, or else that Bacon dis- owned them, generously exalting the latter to the highest literary rank in the temple of fame. Shakespeare's works were published in a collateral edition in 1623, three years before the death of Bacon, and yet he continued to make no objection. At this time Bacon was in disgrace, and needed all possible assistance. Why did he throw away these dramas, which would have done so much to redeem his reputation ? It fell to the lot of the compiler of this volume to accompany Ralph Waldo Emerson on a visit to the shrine at Stratford. The great essayist was then, together with his daughter, on a visit to the late Edward Ford- ham Flower at his seat near Stratford. Ford- ham Flower had in early life emigrated to America, and there greatly distinguished him- self as an eloquent advo- cate of slave emancipa- tion at a time when such aid as he rendered in- volved much personal risk. After an energetic career in the New World, he re- turned to England, and, settling in Stratford, founded the family now so prominent there. His eldest son, Charles Flower, of Avon Bank, has steadily devoted time and unsparingly his means to the advancement of every object in connection with Shakespeare calculated to beautify his native town ; this with an entire freedom from any ostentation. It was on a Sabbath morning we attended together the service in Holy Trinity Church. During a walk in God's Acre, — the subject being the Shakespeare-Bacon delusion and the tendency of the New World mind to- wards novelties, — Emerson, with archly shrewd sarcasm, remarked : " We are young, and youth likes to break new ground, hence some few Americans enter- tain the idea that Bacon was the author of the works ascribed to Shakespeare, and that the philosopher wrote the plays as recrea- tion from his greater mental occupations. You may, however, feel assured that our people one and all heartily wish that Bacon had recreated more even at the risk of philo- sophising less." It would be difficult to pro- duce a more pithy solution of the attempted dethronement than that so well dealt by " Bunch : M — OUR KNOWLEDGE OF SHAKESPEARE'S LIFE. Says Misther Donelly, Who writes so funnily, " Sure, Bacon's side I am on ; " " The side of Bacon," Says Punch, "you've taken Against our Will is gammon." Seemingly we are denied all but what have hitherto been regarded as trivial details of a life which bequeathed to the world the mightiest intellectual achievements. We cannot look upon him through the ordi- nary biographer or correspondence, or any of the channels through which other lives are illustrated. The world asks " What do we know of Shakespeare ? " Is there not force in the words of Socrates ap- plied to something scarcely less wonder- ful and mysterious, "All that we know papers of a similar description in London and elsewhere, form the principal source of knowledge, and it is remarkable how much we have been able to learn through these cold, formal, but most truthful and im- partial witnesses. Let us go, then, into the streets of Strat- ford-on-Avon, into the highways and by- ways dear to him, and in the meadows, fields, and villages of his home, and trace the out- lines of his own description, see the objects which must constantly have been before his eyes, and whose impress is reflected most vividly throughout his works. We shall there learn that he never lost touch of, or was divorced from, external Nature. For him, Nature and Man were not distinct, but one ; it was by the infinite variations of Nature THE TOWN AND DOWER RESIDENCE OF THE CLOPTONS. (BACK VIEW.) J$*Ui. ^^^ . N and carpings, he is companioned with at home in the dear Stratford-on-Avon he loved so well. How true is it that a man's book is the best interpreter of himself, and the best biography will come naturally, as it were, to those of Shakespeare who have most know- ledge and thorough appreciation of his works. It is unquestionably matter for sorrow that reliable facts concerning him were not noted STRATFORD'S VICINITY, TRUEST MEMORIAL. i\ STAIRCASE. OLD HOUSE IN SHEEP STREET. down while there was time. For in truth we may often gather more of a man's mind from so-called little things, from notes or passages in books, from letters to intimate friends, from literary memoranda, than from cold, formal, lifeless biographies. The former let us into the inner way to the penetralia of his affec- tions, to the holy of holies of his mind and heart. For most great men seem to have been reserved. True greatness does not seek to have its every deed blazoned abroad. Greatness leaves greetings in the market- place to fools of fashion, and in the case of Shakespeare, we forcibly inquire whether it cares to be remembered or not. Is it not too great to care to be remembered ? May not this, then, be the true explanation why Shakespeare has left so few traces of his individual life and character behind? It will be found how circumstances, in- significant in themselves, acquire value in connection with the history and pro- gress of Shakespeare's mind. Oh ! for the vainest of a vain world, who in the hope of perpetuating their own little names, have collected a few trifles concerning the immortal man. The age had not learnt the marketable value of such gossip, or we should have had plenty of it. Woe to Shakespeare, had he lived among us, */, when living, we had appre- ciated him ! Every action, every word, would have been related. So, perhaps, it should be matter of rejoicing that we have few records or memorials outside his im- perishable works. Still, there seems ever to have been a universal craving to know some- thing about him. What can we do? His house can whisper nothing; there are no lingering echoes of his laughter closeted in the corners of its rooms. And yet men come to that house as if it could tell them something ! They think some secret is contained within those walls — they centre the whole of their curiosity upon that little tenement, forgetful of Stratford and the country round. Whatever in the future may be discovered concerning Shakespeare, that house holds it not. The secret, if there be any, lies out in the open fields and woods around Stratford. The reeds of the Avon, more vigorous of growth than elsewhere, are more likely to whisper his life to us, for the stream flows through the midst of the land where he lived more often than within those walls to which such multitudes of eager travellers flock. The features of the landscape have not greatly changed, the hills are the same he climbed, the course of the Avon is the same. Shakespeare would recognise the country, but he would not know his native town, much less the parental home in which he drew his first breath, for in his time it stood out in the fields ; now it is in a street blocked and bricked round with houses. As to the home of his creation, it has been ordered of Provi- dence to exist only in imagination. Descend- ants, however, of the flowers that he plucked grow in the fields ; the offspring of the birds that he loved to hear, still chant to us in the woods, but the home of his retired life has faded from sight. There is no need to wan- der in the dreamland of fancy and conjecture ; the flowers "and the birds are real, and the country is real, and Shakespeare's writings are real, and whatever connexion we may find between them, all partake of their reality. Milton did not speak without deep meaning 12 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. when he sang of Shakespeare's " wood notes wild." It had a reference to other things than his supposed non-classical education. Stratford, Shottery and their surroundings tell truthfully and lovingly the study of Shakespeare's life, and what manner of man he was is writ large enough in his own plays. He was a man the most impressionable and the most self-controlled that ever walked the earth. He was " of blood and judgment so commingled " that the proportion between impulse and self-restraint, between passion and reflection, between meditation and action, was equal and perfect. It has been well said by one of his own noble county, that every nation has its holy place — some spot made sacred by its associa- tions with some great or pious soul, who has blessed the world by his life and labours. Even sober England boasts of, at least, one place, one Loretto shrine, to which thousands on thousands not only of the children of her exclusive possession ; few or none had dreamt of visiting it, and his fame was rising above all rivalry, if not yet established on its present pinnacle of supremacy, when the Pilgrim Fathers established a colony, from which plays, playwrights and play-actors were banished. Just below the diffluence, about a quarter of a century before England put forth the first rivulet from the river of her being and history, to fill the fountain of a new national existence in the Western world, Shakespeare was at his culmination as a poet. Americans meet him first, when they trace back their history to its origin. He, the greatest of the old masters, stands in the very doorway of their " Old Home," to welcome them with the radiant smile of his genius. The first of all goals for chil- dren of the New World visiting England is Stratford-upon-Avon, where he was born and cradled ; even Westminster Abbey, with all its associations, stands second in their estimation f t-.rr, <*-\ "'A own fair land, but of every country in Europe, and from the shores of the New World, her sons have built up and from which her children have wended their way, if not with " sandalled shoon and scallop shell," yet, in the spirit of love, of reverence and gratitude, they have journeyed to testify how perennial is the feeling which inspired the palmers and pilgrims of old ; and for ever, under every variety of worship, form, and fashion, men will pay homage where it is due. Our great dramatist is quite as much the heritage and boast of the English beyond the Atlantic and Pacific, who, in varying forms, have reproduced the strength and habits of the "old country" into their adopted lands, as of the English still resting in their puny sea-girt isle at home. When Shakespeare wrote, the fore- fathers of the present generation of Americans were still living in their ancient homes, many of them ignorant, save by vague rumours, of the character and extent of the newly-dis- covered continent, of which Spain claimed to the birth and burial place of the one man. They were Americans, and Milton was an Englishman before he began to write. As Englishmen we may almost be said to hold our right and title in him by courtesy; but in " Glorious Will," the American, by full and direct inheritance, are equal co-heirs of all the wealth of his memory. Already America has become numerically the largest constituency of his fame. He has more readers on the new con- tinent than on all the continents and islands of the world ; and from decade to decade, and from century to century this preponderance will probably increase by the ratio of more rapid progression. Republicanism is held in check through admiration of the race of kings, princes, knights and heroes created by him. More than half the homage the existing regal courts get from the spontaneous sentiment of the public heart, arises from the dignity with which he has hallowed the royal brows of his monarchs. Few of these knew how to talk, and walk, and act with the majesty RUSK IN ON SHAKESPEARE. 13 that befitted a king, until he taught them. The Great Terra Australia, New Zealand,with the multitude of isles now belting Britain into Oceana, had not dawned into existence. Of all our common inheritance of great traditions and glorious memories, nothing is now so familiar or so dear to our peoples, holding sway in the globe's widest distances, as Shakespeare's name; no monument of English antiquity so sacred in their eyes as his birthplace and his grave; and neither England nor Germany has furnished more eager inquirers into his meaning, and analysts of his genius, than dwellers in our own Colonial Kingdom and the great nation forming the United States. The people of America, in common with other regions of the wide world peopled of England's race, proud claimants of Shake- speare's heritage, realise thoroughly the words of Ruskin as to Shakespeare's plays : — u They are perfect because there is no care about centuries in them, but a life which all men recognise for the human life of all time ; and this is not because Shakespeare sought to give universal truth, but because, painting honestly and completely from the men about him, he painted that human nature which is constant enough : a rogue in the fifteenth cen- tury being, at heart, what a rogue is in the nineteenth, and was in the twelfth, and an honest or a knightly man being, in like manner, very similar to other such at any other time. And the work of this great idealist is, therefore, always universal ; not because it is not por- trait, but because it is complete portrait down to the heart, which is the same in all ages ; and the work of the mean idealists is not universal, not because it is portrait, but because it is half portrait, of the outside, the manners and the dress, not of the heart." Reader, believing as we do, that all the volumes yet written on Shakespeare do not furnish as much true, and therefore sound, criticism as these few words of Ruskin, we ask you to wander with us in the fields of his native Warwickshire, and linger about the spots hallowed as his familiar haunts and home, and there find the best guide to, and interpreter of, his mighty writings. Lord Bacon once remarked, that " large obstacles may be seen through narrow crevices," so we may obtain through small openings a view over large sections and im- portant influences in the poet's life. Charles Knight, eminently the best biographer of Shakespeare, admits that " every life of him must to a certain extent be conjectural." The German writer, Karl Elze, in his most valu- able recent addition to the store, reminds us that, a hundred years ago, the biographer of Shakespeare was much in the same predica- ment as the young theologian, who found that Frederick the Great, when about to select a preacher, had caused a blank sheet of paper to be placed in the pulpit as the text from which he was to preach his sermon. He adds, "Shakespeare's life is, indeed, anything but a blank leaf, but the writing has for the most part become illegible, and all the philosophical and critical tests that have been 14 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. applied have not, as yet, succeeded in accomplishing much more than in bringing to view a number of — for the most part — un- important, nay, thrilling facts and scattered fragments, and these can be formed into one structure only by means of various combi- nations and conjectures." Amid this scanti- ness regarding his physical life, his intellectual being, as existing in his works, increases from age to age, vastly gaining inward strength and outward vigour, and exercises its influence in every one of the different countries of the civilized world ; a fact that cannot be maintained of any other poet the world has ever seen. To no other human being that has ever existed can his own -words in Cymbeline (i., 6 [7]) and in "Henry VIII." (v. 5.) with absolute truth and justice bs applied. " Half of men's hearts are his .... He sits 'mongst men like a descended god ; He hath a kind of honour sets him off, More than a mortal seem- ing— Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine His honour and the great- ness of his name Shall be, and make new nations; he shall nourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him ; our children's children Shall see this, and bless heaven." What district, even in historic England, can vie with the county of Warwickshire in de- lightful associations of the past ? Within its borders is the quaint old town of Coventry, where in the olden time the Lady Godiva took, in costume of Nature, an airing on horseback ; Warwick, with its castle, where the King Maker and the Giant Killer lived— the castle of Caesarstower, erected before the Norman conqueror appeared in the land ; Beau- champ Chapel, where sleeps the red-faced lover of Queen Elizabeth and the Regent of France, Richard Beauchamp ; the remains of the regal palace of Kenilworth, with its ivy running rejoicingly and, under seeming protection, destructively over its decayed magnificence — the old work of De Montfort ; John of Gaunt and the Gipsy Earl ; the grand monastic remains of Evesham; Stone- leigh, the princely seat of the Leighs, where Charles I. was entertained when the Coven- try men shut their gates on his rueful and elongated countenance, and which was in " the long ago " a Cistercian abbey, and granted to Charles Brandon, the lover and husband of the beautiful Princess Mary; SITUATION OF STRATFORD. I 5 Guy's Cliff, where Guy of Warwick turned hermit, and where Mrs. Siddons was wont to go to breathe the fresh air after a London season ; the noble Elizabethan mansion of Charlecote; the tiny sequestered hamlet of Shottery, clothed with associations of love's passion, such as will live to the end of time ; and this very Stratford, which but for the one eventful circumstance of its uneventful history, had else been unknown and un- visited. The quiet, restful, native town of Shake- speare, now a household word wherever the English language has penetrated, is situated on a gentle rising ground on the right bank of the Avon, in the south-west corner of Warwickshire, at a point where it is a fairly broad, bright stream, sweeping silently along on its way to the Severn, through level meadows, where the grass grows green and deep. The higher ground on either side rolls gently down, descending sometimes to the margin of the stream, but elsewhere parted from it by broad stretches of level valley. It is eight miles from the county town of Warwick, and about a hundred miles from London. Stratford being a scattered town, it is enabled to afford space for numerous orchards and large gar- dens to many of its dwellings, and lofty trees thrive and yield um- brageous shades on its pathways. Its venerable Collegiate Church, so sacred to the heart of the whole literary world, was described in Henry VIII.'s time as lying half-a- mile from the town. Its eastern window is reflected in the peaceful river which flows beneath, its grey tower being embowered amid lofty elm trees. The great road from the Metropolis passing through Oxford to Stratford, and leading from thence to Shrewsbury, enters the town from the east, crossing the Avon by a noble bridge of fourteen arches, with a causeway whose wearisome but needful length tells of inundations in the low pastures that lie all around it. From this bridge also a beautiful view is ob- tained of Holy Trinity Church em- bosomed amid its trees, and forming a more than picturesque termina- tion of the river reach. Where the bridge now stands there was in ancient times a ford ; and from a combination of this word with the "Straete" or "Stret," signifying a street or road, the name of the town is derived. As in the Great Bard's day, so it is now, a quiet place free from all excite- ment and disturbance. Stratford is described by Camden as an " emporiolum non inelegans," and is a place of Saxon origin, existent over a thousand years ago, and originating from a monastery founded shortly after the conversion of the Anglo-Saxons. According to Camden, the place was made over to Ethelard, a Governor of Worcestershire, to the Bishopric of Wor- cester three hundred years before the Nor- Saxon i6 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. man Conquest. The seems to have become Earl of Warwick lord of the manor of Stratford in Shake- speare's time. An ancient road, former- ly the route to Ire- land, crossed the Avon here on a paved way through the stream, generally fordable, and gave it the name from Straete ford, as did Stoneyford acquire its title from its prox- imity to the Stour. It was at such ford localities that travel- lers could make their halts and rest, so also at such points they were obliged, when the streams were ex- cessively high and rapid, to bivouac, until the waters had subsided. How wel- come would hospi- tality be in such places of inevitable detention ! Hence the first thought of founding a monastery, from which bountiful charity should extend so as to afford the often much-needed assistance, and the hospitable recep- tion so welcome and necessary to the many wayfarers who in flood times would otherwise find them- selves reduced to privations on either of Avon's banks. The mind and eye will recur to those past days and associate the existent site of the Red Horse in Bridge Street with the scenes of river fording in ages prior to the existence of any bridge, although there doubtless was a bridge at this point, prior to the noble structure created by Stratford's citizen Knight Clopton. None can expatiate more learnedly on these interesting antiquarian features of the most typically English of the English shires, and how it alone has held its own free from the special conditions which gave a peculiar character to those of the shires which lay along the Scottish and the Welsh marshes, or those along the coast which were exposed to continental influences, than the cultured William Gardner Colbourne, host of THE STOCKS, PILLORY, AND DUCKING-STOOL. n the Red Horse, who, having been educated for the profession of an architect, is at home in all that attaches to the history and surround- ings of his native town. Mine host, who has passed the civic chair and now rests in alder- manic honours, if caught in the humour, will expatiate how amongst the English shires Warwick has rightly held the foremost rank, and has been connected with all the great movements in English history; that the tongue which its people spoke is that which became the literary language of England ; and when roused to boastful enthusiasm our scholarly friend Colbourne will tell you that the shire which produced Shakespeare rightly holds a commanding position in the history of the civilized world. Within measurable years, and almost under shadow of the Holy Shrine, formerly stood the parish stocks. This Public Expiatory Mention of the fact that the penal instrument held due prominence in Stratford is needed, or it may be assumed that the folks of Master .WD was placed in the roadway near the Church, so that folks could see offenders as they wended their way to the House of Prayer. Many a naughty varlet had the great limner seen expiating his offences therein, even to a whole night : — " He hath set in the stocks all night." — All's Well, Act iv., scene 3. Weighty though the delinquent may have been, " The stocks carry him !" — Ibid. Or did the remembrance of deer-killing sug- gest, in the "Merry Wives of Windsor" (Act iv., scene 5) — " The knave constable had like to have set me in the stocks." — Merry Wives, Act iv., scene 5. " Let's be no stoicks, nor no stocks, I pray !" — Taming of the Shrew, Act i., scene 1. Shallow's day were of more orderly and regular conduct than their neighbours. This was clearly not the fact, for in " Richard II." (Act v., scene 5) : — " Like silly beggars, who, sitting in the stocks, rejoice in their shame." One must confess almost to a feeling of regret at the absence of the penitential " refuge " from the spot under shadow of God's temple, and we are not ashamed to admit that we seldom see a pair of stocks without wishing to put someone in them ; as it is, we regret that the interesting and venerable relics of a past penal code became a dead letter, and fell into perfect disuse. So much for modern prison discipline, tread- mills, silent systems, and solitary confine- ments, and so forth ; these have done away with ducking-stools, the wholesome stocks, the pillory and other venerable instruments, honoured monuments at once of the wisdom •^r^ ^tiCoo^ 18 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. >i<4 and wickedness of our ancestors. Occasion- ally, when one comes across these round little holes, and which even, at this date of record, may be found in out-of-the-way villages, they seem to invite a pair of legs to occupy them, looking as they do so disconsolate at having nothing to do; one is almost tempted, like Lord Camden, to take a seat, if but for a few minutes, to keep them in practice. Near at hand, too, was the Beggar's Bush, the ancient whitethorn on the roadside, a shelter of the mendicant pilgrim from the trying noon-day sun. They whose minds delight to hark back to olden times, can picture to themselves the groups of sufferers — afflicted mortals waiting under the shelter of the whitethorn for the passing of the holy dignitary, the Superior of the Abbey, to secure a hoped-for blessing and probable alms. However some may rail against what they are pleased to term superstition, it is at least a pic- turesque quality of our ancestors of the ancient faith — the humble-minded poor of them especially had a devout and lowly deference to those whom they believed God's ministering ser- vants, which it would be no harm if we participated in a little more than we do in our generation. One of the ex- tremes to which our boasted enlighten- ment tends is irreverence. Probably this quality has been imported from the New World across the Atlantic, where, from the youth of both sexes, it has long since been banished altogether. The present age is far too prone to run to the opposite of what we call superstition, and divest both the clerical character and the sacred temple of those proper associations and prestige, which distinguish one from the ordinary man and the other from the ordinary building. The old ducking stool process was carried out by the river side, in the lane adjoining the site of Charles Flower, Avon Bank Garden. Let no man cross Clopton Bridge here at the foot of Bridge Street, venerable as it is, though showing few evidences of the progress of time, without pausing to contemplate the distant church in which the poet lies buried, exquisitely disclosed to view at this point, and exult in the malediction which has kept his ashes undisturbed in its quiet and hallowed vaults. What honour could his name have derived from being mingled in dusty com- panionship with the epitaphs and escutcheons and venal eulogiums of a titled multitude ? What would a crowded corner in West- minster Abbey have been compared with this reverend pile, which seems to stand in J-\ v •' » • «f «* f*\e THE GREAT AUTHOR AND HIS NATIVE TOWN. 19 beautiful loneliness as his sole mausoleum ? The solicitude about the grave may be but the offspring of an over-wrought sensibility; but human nature is made up of foibles and pre- judices ; and its best and tenderest affections are mingled with these factitious feelings. He who has sought renown about the world, and has reaped a full harvest of worldly favour, will find, after all, that there is no love, no admiration, no applause, so sweet to the soul as that which springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks to be gathered in peace and honour among his kindred and his early friends. And when the weary heart and failing head begin to warn him that the of these lovely villages will vie with the Great Shrine itself in attractiveness to the yearly increasing volume of pilgrims Hitherto, Colonial and American tourists out- number our own visitors, but this will all change with the progress of education and the greater familiarity of our people with his "works, greater and greater for all time." Judging through one's own feelings, Strat- ford is best seen by solitary pilgrims, or small groups of kindred spirits. There are few old towns which have undergone so little change in the period of lapsed time to which the mind delights to be called back. VIEW OF STRATFORD, SHOWING HOLY TRINITY WITH ITS FORMER WOODEN SPIRE. (FROM AN OLD PRINT.) evening of life is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the scene of his childhood. There is no district of Britain so fruitful of pleasure to the cultured mind as the Shakespeare country. Apart from its deep interest as the loved home of the world's greatest writer, the richness of the country — and especially its studding of magnificent timber trees— yields attractions exceeded in no other county. Englishmen unversed in Stratford surroundings should feel that no intimacy with continental Europe can atone to themselves for the shortcoming. Shottery, Snitterfield, Wilmcote, Aston Cantlow, Wootton Wawens, will yield a full harvest of thought, and to future generations each We may almost say that, saving the home in which he passed his last years, after retirement from London stage-life, all the old landmarks are there. The church, the school, the inns, the old homestead of John Shakespeare — the birthplace of Mary Arden, his mother — the garden and relics of New Place ; the hall of the Lucys', and the cottage of Anne Hathaway, his wife, carry the visitor back over more than three cen- turies ; in a word, it is the place in which Shakespeare first saw the light, where he breathed in those earliest impressions of nature and of life which form and colour the rest ; the place to which he retired in his maturity to brood over those treasures of observation and reflection which he had amassed in his intercourse with the world 20 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. and with his own soul, and is laden with associations on which the noise and bustle of the world jar. Here Shakespeare lived before he entered the great world. From this quiet shelter he looked out on it with the eagerness of youth. Hither he made his escape from the stage, turning afterwards to the spot which in childhood had been his cradle, as the fitting refuge and shelter of his meditative age. It has been said by some observers that the very faces of the people recall his image. This may be to consider too curiously, but the thing is by no means impossible. In out-of-the-way nooks and corners of England, where the population is stationary, from which there is some emigration, but into which there is no immigration, and in which a limited number of families marry and intermarry, a sort of local type of face and figure establishes itself. From some such causes as these the Shake- speare head and bearing are recognizable, physiognomists contend, with more than ordinary frequency, and with a good deal more than accidental resemblance, in the streets and country roads and lanes of Strat- ford and its neighbourhood. Stratford was a place of importance as early as the eighth century; and, according to Leland, a monastery was founded, shortly after the conversion of the Saxons to Chris- tianity, on the site now occupied by Trinity Church. Till the lapse of a considerable period from the Conquest, the town subsisted as an appanage of the diocese of Worcester, and owed much of its prosperity to the favour extended to it by successive bishops. These ecclesiastical dignitaries seemed to have possessed a park at Stratford ; for, in 1288, Gifford, Bishop of Worcester, com- plained of certain parties who had broken into this enclosure, and stolen his deer, and directed letters of excommunication to be issued against the delinquents. It would thus appear that deer-stealing was a failing of the people of Stratford at an era long anterior to the time of Shakespeare. It by no means follows, however, that Shake- speare was in his time as delinquent in this or any of the loose habits of conduct, and passed down through uninquired tradition in connection with his name, and as need- lessly accepted and adopted by his bio- graphers generally. To have acquired his vast stores of knowledge during the few years between birth and the early period at which his productions were gradually un- folded to the world, is utterly and entirely inconsistent with any but entire devotion to study and the observation of Nature in every and its minutest forms, and therefore at variance with any of the idle fables. At an early period the town seems to have been invested with the privileges of a borough, and we find that Richard Cceur-de-Lion gave permission in 119710 hold a weekly market; but a regular charter of incorporation was first granted by Edward VI. " to the bailiff and burgesses of Stratford-on-Avon," and this afterwards was amplified and extended by two subsequent Charters from James I. and Charles II. The most prominent historical incident connected with the town of Stratford is an 7?ort*> ROAD APPROACHES TO STRATFORD. 21 interruption to its peace and its occupation in 1 642-1 643, during the great Civil War, a generation after Shakespeare's time, by a party of Royalists, who were expelled by the Parliamentary forces under Lord Brooke, of Warwick ; but the latter were in their turn ejected shortly afterwards, and thereupon Queen Henrietta Maria, at the head of an army nearly five thousand strong, entered the town in triumph. She was joined by Prince Rupert with reinforcements, and took woodland district, and hard by the river Alne> is the village of Aston Cantlow. Another road indicated on this old map is that to Warwick. The wooded hills of Welcombe overhang it, and a little aside, some mile and a-half from Stratford, is the meadow of Ingon, which John Shakespeare rented in 1570. Very beautiful is this part of the neighbour- hood, with its rapid undulations, little dells which shut in the scattered sheep, and sudden hills opening upon a wide landscape. Hack ■ -^> Vy» K e a p e a f ? her abode at the mansion of New Place, probably as being the best in the town ; and there for three weeks, during the summer of 1643, she held her court. Quitting Stratford, she proceeded thereafter to the plain of Kineton, near Edgehill, where she met the King, and proceeded with him from thence to Oxford. This little episode in its history is almost the only event which connects the town with political and military annals. Dugdale's Map of Barichway Hundred, in which Stratford is situated, published in 1656, shows four roads issuing from the town. The one to Henley-in-Arden, which lies through the street in which Shakespeare passed his boyhood, continues over a valley of some breadth and extent, unenclosed fields undoubtedly in the sixteenth century, with the hamlets of Shottery and Bishopton amidst them. The road leads into the then woody district of Arden. At a short distance from it is the hamlet of Wilmcote, where his mother, Mary Arden, dwelt; and some two miles aside, more in the heart of the Ancient crab-trees and hawthorns tell of uncultivated downs which have rung to the call of the falconer or the horn of the huntsman. Having crossed the ridge, rich corn lands are entered, with farmhouses of no modern date scattered about ; and deep in the hollow, so as to be hidden till we are upon it, the old village of Snitterfield, with its ancient church and its yew-tree as ancient. Here the poet's maternal grandmother had her jointure ; and here his father also had possessions. On the opposite side of Strat- ford the third road runs in the direction of the Avon to the village of Bidford, with a nearer pathway along the river-bank. Crossing the ancient bridge by the fourth road (which also diverges to Shipston), and we are on our way to the celebrated house and estate of Charlecote, the ancient seat of the Lucys. A pleasant ramble indeed is this to Charlecote and Hampton Lucy, even with glimpses of the Avon from a turnpike-road. The road runs through meadows without hedgerows, with pathways following the 22 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. river's bank, now diverging when the mill is close upon the stream, now crossing a leafy elevation, and then suddenly dropping under a precipitous wooded rock. The walk is such as a poet might covet, and one Shake- speare would and did enjoy in his boy- rambles. A delightful walk of about two miles can be had upwards from the Church towards the Memorial Theatre along Avonside — first on the Stratford side to the stone bridge, and then on the side opposite, through quiet low-lying meadows bordered by fields. Up to the bridge the stream is navigable, and the oc- casional sail may be seen gleaming white amid the green trees as it glides past the resting-place of the poet. But on the upper side there are reaches through which even a light shallop would have difficulty in forcing its way. The bullrush attains in the soft oozy soil that forms the side and bottom of the river to a height from eight to ten feet, and in the flatter inflections, where the current stagnates, it almost chokes up the channel from side to side. Here, it is seen in tall hedge-like fringes that line and overtop the banks ; there, in island-like patches in the middle of the stream ; yonder, in diffused transverse thickets, that seem to connect the fringes on the one side with the fringes on the other. For the first mile or so the trees which line the banks are chiefly old willow pollards, with stiff rough stems and huge bunchy heads. Shrubs, chiefly the bramble and woody nightshade, have struck root at top into their decayed trunks, as if these formed so many tall flowerpots, and display in autumn the glitter of glossy black and crimson berries from amid the silvery leaves. The scenery im- proves as the stream is ascended. The willow pollards give place to forest trees, carelessly grouped, that preserve untopped and unmutilated their proper proportions. But the main features of the landscape remain what they were. A placid stream, broadly befringed with sedges, winds in tortuous reaches through side meadows ; and now it sparkles in open sunlight, for the trees recede ; and anon it steals away, scarce seen, amid the gloom of bosky thickets. Such is the Avon ! — Shakespeare's own river. Here must he have wandered in his boyhood, times unnumbered. That stream, with its sedges and its quick glancing fins — those dewy banks, with their cowslips and daffodils — trees, chance-grouped in his day, and to which these have succeeded — must all have stamped their deep impress on his mind, and when an adventurer in London, they must have risen before him in all their sun- shiny peacefulness, to inspire feelings of sadness and regret ; and when in after days he had found his true vocation, their loved forms and colours all became mingled with the tissue of his poetry. And here must he have walked in sober middle life, when fame and fortune had both been achieved, happily to feel amid the solitude that there is but little of solid good in either, and that even were it otherwise, the stream of life glides away to its silent bourne, from their gay light and their kindly shelter, to return no more forever. What would his thoughts have been, if, after spending in these quiet recesses his fiftieth birthday, he could have foreseen that the brief threescore and ten annual revolutions — few as certainly as evil — which have so long summed up the term of man's earthly existence, were to be mulcted, in his case, of full seventeen years ) A good general view of Stratford is that from the opposite side of the river, at a point known as Cross - on - the - Hill. The vener- able church, with its clear, sharp spire, VIEW OF STRATFORD FROM " CROSS-ON-THE-HILL." 23 which is a little retired from the town, discloses at this spot under different aspects the sacred resting-place of him whose memory shall be "fresh to all ages." It has ever been a favourite spot with artists from which to make a general sketch of the town, though by no means that from which the church is seen to greatest advan- tage. The scenery, though lacking bold- ness, is most picturesque. The travel- ler sees around him, if in spring time, the greenest of all green low-lying meadows, rising on both sides into gentle knolls and rich pasture lands, with the Avon passing through the broad valley be- resisting the charms of such associations. Doubtless he often sought out this very spot, now hallowed indeed, and viewed from it with loving eyes the village of his birth and the beautiful scenery that sur- rounds it. The whole region may be said to smile with wild flowers. The writer was assured by Washington Irving that it was on this spot he wrote in pencil on the back of a letter these words : " How would it have cheered the spirit of the youthful bard, when, wandering forth upon a doubtful world, he cast back a heavy look upon his paternal home, could he have foreseen that before many years, he should return to it neath ; and he may here in their several seasons observe, and if he will, in loving remembrance, pluck, all the flowers of Nature's Great Poet — the daffodil, the dim violet, the pale primrose and bold oxlip ; and may listen to the nightingale and lark, and his other song birds, pouring forth their melodies with vehemence, heraldic of the presence of him who recorded as man never before or ever since has done. There is tradition that it was here Shakespeare made appointments with sweet Anne to escort her homewards to Shottery, and that he held the spot as specially selected by the skylark, which, together with the blackbird and thrush, he represented to Anne as being continuous in song later here than in other neighbouring localities. These associations rendered the spot romantic in the poet's mind as a frequent trysting place for evening joyous return walks with his love. The recollection is pleasant, whatever foundation may exist for its truth. Certainly no one will be gainer through covered with renown : that his ashes should be religiously guarded as the most precious treasure ; and that its lessening spire, on which his eyes were fixed in tearful contem- plation, should one day become the beacon, towering amidst the gentle landscape, to guide the literary pilgrim of every nation to his tomb." Aye, indeed, what place in Christendom can vie with Stratford-upon- Avon for the centripetal attraction of one human memory ? London is the birth and burial-place of many distinguished poets, philosophers, statesmen and heroes. Their lives make for it a nebulous lustre. The orbits of their brilliant careers overlap upon each other, so that their individual paths of light, intersecting in their common illumina- tion, like pallid sunbeams, do not make any vivid or distinctive lines over the face or over the history of the great city. But the memory of Shakespeare covers with its disc the whole life and being and history, ancient and modern, of Stratford-upon-Avon. There 2 4 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. is nothing seen before or behind it but William Shakespeare. In no quarter of the globe since he was laid to his last sleep by the sunny side of the peaceful river, has the name of the town been mentioned without suggesting and meaning him. Many a popu- lous city is proud of the smallest segment of a great man's glory. " He was born here." It is a great thing to feel and say, and it is uttered with exultation when showing this heirloom of honour to strangers as the richest inheritance of the town. But being born in a particular place is more a matter of accident than of personal option. No one chooses his own birth-place, and the sheer fact that he there made his entree into the world is after all a negative distinction to those who boast of it. But quaint, quiet, Stratford can say far more than this. Shake- speare was not only born here, but he spent his last years and died here. Nor did he come back to his native town a broken-down old man, to be nursed in the last stages of de- crepitude and be buried with his fathers. He returned hither at the zenith of his intellectual manhood to spend the summer of his life in the midst of the sceneries and companionship of his boyhood. Thus no other human memory ever covered so completely with its speculum the name or history of a town, or filled it with such a vivid, vital image as Shakespeare's has done to Stratford-upon- Avon. Here, " Like footprints hidden by a brook, But seen on either side," he has left them marks on the sunny banks and across the soft, level meadows basking in the bosom of the river, The break is not wide between those he made in these favourite walks in his youth and the foot- prints of his ripe age as a permanent resident. We would urge all lovers of Shakespeare to visit Stratford from the Warwick approach, availing themselves of the old turnpike road, eschewing the railway. It is a delightful walk or drive. The charming undulations of the land, and the sylvan character of the whole journey, will repay the deviation. It is a thoroughly grand Warwickshire pano- rama of ever-changing scenes, disclosing the marked characteristics of the noble old county. Besides, it is very joyous to speculate on the appearance of the country in Shakespeare's time ; how often he must have rambled over the same ground, paused at the same places, admired the same views, treasured up some image of grace and loveliness, and carefully stored in the chambers of his rich and wonderful brain some picture of rural life, to be written down for the world's gratification and joy. He must have felt a just and worthy pride as he looked on the fair face of his own noble county. The mere " doer " of Stratford may enter it by " rail," but the true Shakespearean will foot it from Warwick. More than three hundred years have passed since the birth of that colos- sal genius, and many changes must have oc- curred in his native town within that period. The Stratford of Shakespeare's time was built principally of timber, and judging from the number of baptisms and deaths upon received principles of calculation, it contained about 1,400 inhabitants. Now it approaches as many thousands. In Shakespeare's day it was a small place of mean tenements, mostly timber buildings and thatched cottages. Many of these have yielded to the stroke of time ; others have been altered. Many new houses have sprung up, but in the main, even in the " restorations" there has been manifested good taste of adherence to old lines and styles. The two old churches, authentic and splendid memorials of a dis- tant and storied past, have been well cared for. During the reign of Queen Elizabeth and James the First, the place was nearly destroyed by fire, and as late as 16 18 the Privy Council represented to the corporation v\s, c r «fr: STRATFORD IN THE COACHING DAYS. 25 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 of straw, furzes, and such like combustible stuff, which are suffered to be erected and made confusedly in most of the principal parts of the town with- out restraint." In shape Stratford somewhat resembles a cross, which is formed by the High Street running nearly north and south, and Bridge Street run- ning nearly east and west. From these main avenues branch forth many and de- vious radiations. A few of the streets are broad and straight, many — particularly those on the water side— are narrow and circuitous. High and Bridge Streets inter- sect each other at the centre of the town, where stands the Market House, an ancient building with belfry tower and illu- minated clock, facing eastward toward the old stone bridge of fourteen arches, built across the Avon by Sir Hugh Clopton in Henry VII. 's reign. It is enough to know that it is the everlasting glory of Stratford- upon-Avon — that it was the birthplace of Shakespeare ! The writer's boyhood, though numbering George Stephenson among his personal friends, knew not the transit of iron. The iron way between Liverpool and Manchester was the only passenger railway then existing, and in days gone by, when the word trains applied only to inordinate lengths of feminine skirt, the pilgrimage from London to Stratford was only accomplished on horse- back or by post-chaise; or, as in times nearer our own, far better, and in truer humour of glory, in the expeditions by the stage coach in vogue so grandly in those days. These, yoked to goodly steeds, were wont to cover the distance in some twelve hours, including the afternoon stop- page at an inn half-way house for dinner. And a veritable dinner it was. Piping hot soup, with a noble piece of roast beef, and boiled leg of mutton at either end of the table, flanked with poultry, and a delicious ham slowly cooked to perfection. Such vegetables have never come forth from mother earth since then ; the cheese knew none of the modern tricks of cream abstrac- tion ; neither had oleomargarine taken the place of true " country butter." The ale was the pride of "mine host," and if the stomach felt chill, verily there were copper warmers at hand to render it comforting and restoring to the weakly and less enduring. The fastest of these stages, the " High Flyer," was a crack vehicle, and did the travel half-an-hour at least under any other stage on the same road. Nothing could be more glorious to a Shakespearean than such an expedition with a fine summer's morning for the start, and the expecta- tion of reaching Stratford-on- Avon before sunset. All that had to be done in the interval was to luxuriate over the beauties of the country through which our journey lay, and the anticipation of the delights in store for the pilgrim at his journey's end. On such a visit to the shrine, everything conspired to make the ideal of Shake- speare constantly present. The inn from which the " progress " was made, and others of like quaintness at which the coach made calls in its get- ting out of London, were one and all antique piles within the walls, with their low gateway in front, the courtyard occupy- ing three sides of a square ; being likewise rife of gables, lattice windows, and galleries on the first upper story; these hostelries suggested thoughts of the times when Prince Hal and fat Jack Falstaff were roysterers together. The varying landscapes, they also 26 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. spoke eloquently of the great bard, and with- out difficulty in passing along one could realise the preaching of the melancholy Jaques, the love wanderings of Orlando and Rosalind, and the slothful pace of the schoolboy with his " shining morning face." In strolling towards England's Mecca, we truly realize that " Fairer seems the ancient city, and the Sunshine seems more fair, That he once has trod its pavement, that He once has breathed its air." Among the adornments and benefits to Modern Stratford, the new Memorial Theatre, Lord Ronald Leve- son Gower's noble bronze group, and the fountain in the centre of the town, pre- sented by George W. Child of Philadelphia, stand fore- most. The theatre is end, Stratford's public spirited townsman had,from his own purse, to bear three-fourths of the cost, amounting, in this one gift alone, to close on thirty thousand pounds. As a Shakespearean scholar Charles Flower is second to few, in private theatricals he is understood to be facilis princeps, and in every matter honouring the great master, the proud inheritance of his native town, stands alone. As the years pass, this will naturally become the principal depository of Shake- speare relics. A Dramatic College will grow up in association with the Shake- speare Theatre. The spacious gardens which surround the memorial will augment their loveliness in added ex- panse of foliage and in greater wealth of floral luxuriance. The mellow age will soften the bright tints of the red brick which mainly composes the building. On its cone- shaped turrets ivy will clamber and moss will nestle. When a few gene- tinge a gift of princely munificence ; to refer it as an outcome of public subscription would be a mean and unworthy deal- ing with the gene- rosity of an indi- vidual benefactor to to the place of his birth previously under obligations for acts of un- bounded free-giving, in every case exercised to the utter exclusion of self-exalta- tion. It should be known that the erection of this theatre, one of the most perfect in the world, so far as public aid is concerned, is an utter myth. It started out on a presumed hope that the outside world would respond, Charles Flower heading the list with his accustomed noble liberality ; but the effort ended in but a meagre response, and in the rations have passed, the old town of Stratford will have adopted this now youth- ful stranger into the race of her venerated antiquities. The same air of poetic mystery which rests now upon his cottage and his grave will diffuse itself around his memorial ; and a remote posterity looking back to the men and the ideas of to-day, will remember with grateful pride that English-speaking THE RONALD LEVESON GOWER BRONZE GROUP. 27 people of the nineteenth century, though they could confer no honour upon the great name of Shakespeare, yet honoured themselves" in consecrating this temple to his memory. In front of the Memorial Theatre stands the magnificent Bronze Group of Shake- speare characters, the marvellous production Already numerous portraits of celebrated actors, and other paintings of marked inte- rest to Shakespearean students, have been presented to the trustees, and now adorn the halls and staircases of this noble building. As time advances, these good examples will find followers. Doubtless discretion will be <*E-/A°\ of Lord Ronald Leveson Gower, a very masterpiece of artistic power and skill, the votive free offering of this foremost gifted sculptor, an imperishable monument to Shakespeare and his own fame, as of its generous bestowal on the town, the birth and resting place of the immortal. This master- piece of art fronts the theatre, the central figure looking towards the shrine. exercised as to the works to be accepted, or in kind eagerness to help, the available space may be too rapidly filled with a class of works, possibly of questionable merit. No fear need be entertained but that time will give the trustees abundant oppor- tunities of securing works of high merit and of becoming celebrity as theatrical characters and subjects. 28 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. We may be sure that wherever Shake- speare wandered among the villages and country around his Stratford home he worked up all the material he saw. No colour in the sky but he painted it on his canvas ; no flower, no tree, but he grafted it on his verse. There was no old Relics of Property of the past the Corporation. snatch, " no trivial fond records, no saws of books, no forms," which he heard, without, like his own Hamlet, copying it " Within the book and volume of his brain." The pretended tradition that he was a miser must have been intended to apply to the riches of the mind, for, verily, he saved and hoarded up all that ever entered the storehouse of his brain. Listen to what he puts into the mouth of Pandarus (" Troilus and Cressida," Act iv., scene 4,) " Let us cast away nothing, for we may live to have need of such a verse." Who shall doubt his acting up to this principle ? The pleasure of associating neighbourhoods as subjects of special scenes and passages will ever continue. Into adjoining counties we wander as placing Justice Shallow's house in Gloucestershire, where Davy (2nd part of 44 King Henry IV.," Act v., scene 3,) serves the guests with " leather coats," a delicately flavoured apple, still well known and ap- proved in all the county. Christopher Sly runs into debt at an ale-house at Wincot, near to Stratford, and Davy beseeches Justice Shallow (2nd part of " King Henry IV.," Act v., scene 1) " to countenance William Viser of Wincot, against Clement Perkes, of the Hill " ; and it is interesting to know that to the present time, whoever held Cherry Orchard Farm here is generally called Mr. M. or Mr. N. of the Hill. The learned biographer trys to impress on us that all that can be said is that here in Stratford was Shakespeare born, and here he died ; here in the archives of the town the only information about him and his family exists; and here, still more impcrtant, is the country where he rambled wher a boy, and which he loved when a man ; and here people still come, day after day, on a pilgrimage to his house, showing that hero-worship is not dead, proving that even in these days the world pays homage to its great men. What more can be desired ? It is a most happy circumstance that he should have been born in That shire which we the Heart of England well may call, as his fellow-countryman Drayton smgs, and that his childhood should have fallen amidst such true rural English scenery ; for it is from the storehouse of childhood that in after-years we draw so much wealth. Hj ppy indeed was it that his home should have been amongst the orchards and wood, mds round Stratford, and the meadows oi the Avon. The perfection of quiet English scenery is it, such as he himself has drawn in the " Mid- summer Night's Dream," and the " Winter's Tale," and " As You Like It," and a hundred places. Who will not hold the theory of the effects of local causes on a poet's mind, remembering what the poets themselves have said ? Coleridge declared that the memories HOUSE BOUGHT BY SHAKESPEARE IN 1602. of his youth were so graven on his mind that when a man, and far away from the spot, he could still see the river Otter flow- FLOWERS OF THE STRATFORD COUNTRY. 2Q ing close to him, and hear its ripple as plainly as when in years long past he wandered by its side ; and Jean Paul Richter, when lamenting how greatly the absence of the sea had affected his writings, exclaimed, " I die without ever having seen the ocean ; but the ocean of eternity I shall not fail to see." And just as climate modifies the phy- sical condition of a nation, so scenery affects the mental condition of a poet. The saying of Thucydides, av5p2i> iirKpavdv iraaa yrj Ta"rjt SHAKESPEARE PROPERTY IN STRATFORD. 39 by the lord at an annual quit-rent ; and John Shakspere, who is present in court and does fealty, is admitted to the same." The same jurors "present that Ed- ward West has alienated to John Shak- spere one tenement and a garden adjacent in Henley Street, who is in the same way admitted upon fealty done to the lord." Here, then, is John Shakespeare, before his mar- riage, the purchaser of two copyholds in Strat- ford, one having a garden and enclosed field, the other situate in Henley Street, and which he made his home, also with a garden attached. In 1570, fourteen years after making these purchases, he is shown to have the high social condition of gentleman ; hence- forward in all registers and records he was styled Master John Shakespeare. What more can be needed in proof of his social position ? For many years afterwards, he was one of the leading, or in later diction, " most respectable " inhabitants of Strat- ford. It is probable that he did not con- tinue for any length of time to carry on the trade of a glover, but that he early devoted himself to agricultural pursuits, and to the various occupations which might enable him in a country town to turn his small landed property to the most profitable "Z^**- ^*T7 - ■**»■# ***** V ^~?< ! .£Z «-*>>- K' »i^ <-4 p*»fy A Rough Draft of Grant of Arms to John Shakespere by Sir William Dethick (Garter), 1596." THE ARDEN ARMS GRANT. 53 i o i a u s O Q be O ^V % 54 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. wife, it is made in the same form. This was, however, no unusual circumstance among people of their position in the days of Queen Elizabeth. Caligraphy even of a rude kind was then an accomplishment slow in its process of execu- tion, especially for thirteen aldermen, " all of a row." Out of nineteen aldermen and bur- gesses of Stratford who signed a deed in the year 1565, not less than thirteen — among whom were the bailiff, the chief alderman, and John Shake- speare — failed to attach their names to it in their own hand- writing. It was the rule for attorneys drawi ng deeds to write the names of intended signators, and for these to set their marks or seals against such. For one case to the contrary, ten bear only the signators' " mark." This practice of writing the names of signators and wit- nesses was perpetuated down to the last century. It was a rule rather than an exception, and even in our present time attorneys continue the habit by pencilling the names, and tracing the same over with pen and ink as due execution of the document. Are there none of the true Shakespeare lineage yet exist- ing ? In connection with this an anecdote by William Howitt should be mentioned. He says, "As I was walking through Stratford one morning, I saw the master of the village school mustering his scholars to their tasks. I stopped, being pleased with the old man, and said, ' You seem to have a consider- able number of boys here; shall you raise another Shake- speare from among them, think you ? ' ' Why,' replied the master, ' I have a Shakespeare now in the school ! ' I knew that Shakespeare had no de- scendants beyond the third generation, and I was not aware that there were any of his family remaining. But it seems that the posterity of his sister, Joan Hart, who is mentioned in his will, still exist SHAKESPEARE'S LINEAL DESCENDANTS. 55 under the name of Hart at Tewkesbury, and a family in Stratford of the name of Smith. ' I have a Shakespeare here/ said the master, with evident pride and pleasure. ' Here, boys, here.' He quickly mustered his laddish troop in a row and said to me, 1 There now, sir, can you tell which is a Shakespeare ? ' I glanced my eye along the line, and instantly fixing it on one boy, said 1 That is the Shakespeare ! ' ' You are right ! ' said the master, ' that is Shakespeare ; the Shakespeare cast of countenance is there. That is William Shakespeare Smith, a lineal descendant of the poet's sister." Howitt adds, " It sounded strangely enough as I passed along the street in the evening, to hear some of the boys say one to another, ' That's the gentleman who gave Bill Shakespeare a shilling.' " There have been discussions at various times, respecting any lineal descendants of Shakespeare, and without any very conclu- sive issue. It is known that the line of Shakespeare's own body terminated in his granddaughter, Lady Barnard, of Abingdon, near Northampton ; but Shakespeare had a sister, Joan, who married William Hart, of Stratford, and this branch, partly under the name of Hart and partly under that of Smith, may be regarded as the last remains of his family. In 1817, while passing through Tewkesbury, the editor of the Monthly Magazine was led by the reputed inscrip- tion on a tombstone of a John Harte, buried there in 1800, which described him as a sixth descendant of the poet Shakespeare, to inquire whether there lived in that town any survivors of the family. After much search, he discovered a son of this Harte, who had been christened by the name of William Shakespeare, who was a journeyman chairmaker. The contour of his countenance closely resembled the portrait in the first folio edition, a circumstance sufficient in itself to excite an interest in his favour. Harte's father asserted that he held the property in Shakespeare's two houses in Stratford, but they had long been under mortgage, and his mother sold them by auction, deriving a balance, after paying the mortgage and expenses, of only £30. The family pedigree he had preserved, but had no other relic of the great poet, save a long walking stick, which had been given to him by his father, as one which had belonged to Shakespeare. In answer to inquiries, he said his father and grandfather often talked on the subject and buoyed themselves up in the hopes that the family might some day be remembered ; but, for his part, the name had hitherto proved of no other use to him than as furnishing jokes among his com- panions, by whom he was often annoyed on this account. May we not reasonably look to the known and admitted general depression of trade, which then, as now, seemed to appear at cycles throughout the country, and which affected the town of Stratford, as having told on John Shakespeare's circumstances, 56 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. especially at the time of young Shakespeare starting out on the race of hoped-for in- dependence ? That depression did exist is OLD ORIGINAL CHANCEL STALL END— TIME, HENRY VIII. SNITTERFIELD. The other Stall Ends were executed from this by Robert Bridgeman, of Lichfield. established by the petition which the bailiffs and burgesses of Stratford addressed to the Lord Burghley in 1590. The town had fallen " into much decay for want of such trade as heretofore they had by clothing and making of yarn, employing and maintaining a number of poor people by the same, which now live in great penury and misery, by reason they are not set to work as before they have been." Special mention is also made of the decline of the wool trade, other- wise so flourishing here, and as John Shake- speare is admitted to have been a dealer in wools, there is an obvious connection between the decline in his personal worldly circum- stances and the state of trade in the town itself. All writers on Shakespeare quote Stevens's — one of the earlier editors (1773) — well- known sentence, " All that is known with any degree of certainty of Shakespeare is that he was born at Stratford-upon-Avon — married, and had children there — went to London, where he commenced acting, and wrote poems and plays, returned to Stratford, made his will, died, and was buried." This succinct enough biography, at the time it was penned, was all that he knew of his author, possibly all that he cared to know, as editor of his plays, and was no very great exaggera- tion. After a century and a half from his death, we seem to know less of his personal history, almost, than is now known of Homer, after the lapse of nearly thirty cen- turies. But the steadily growing fame of our great dramatist awakened at last the most intense curiosity to know something more of his life — to gather from the " ruins of time " some precious relics of that once noble edi- fice. The zeal and critical acumen displayed in this investigation have never been surpassed in any literary undertaking. Many important facts relative to Shakespeare's life have been ascertained since the time of Stevens; mingled with these are many utterly un- founded and ridiculous statements re- peated by writers who dishonour them- selves by giving them currency. The facts thus brought to light have been gathered from legal documents of various kinds, registers of births, deaths, and baptisms, wills, deeds, mortgages, and the like. From such sources, vague statements that before rested on mere tradition have been in some cases disproved, in others defined and established, while many facts entirely new have been rescued from oblivion. In this way a somewhat connected series of facts has been made out, constituting a pretty fair skeleton for a biography, but it is little more than a skeleton. The filling up — the flesh and fullness — has been in this wise. Where- SHAKESPEARE'S DISPOSITION AND CHARACTER. 57 ever, in the whole range of contemporaneous literature, a passage has been found describ- ing the private life and manners of any in- dividual similarly situated, it has been eagerly seized as showing at least one of the possible ways in which Shakespeare may have spent his time. The straggling rays of light thus thrown upon certain passages in his life are, furthermore, in some instances, brought to a focus by the dexterous juxta- position of some one of his sonnets that hap- pens to be of an autobiographical character, and that lets us into the very interior work- ings of the man's hidden life. Shakespeare's history has on the one hand ceased to be a A V„"„ as '■-- £ I **&#~ collection of contradictory and absurd tradi- tional inventions, and has, per contra, become something more than a mere tissue of dates and legal entries. He has become, to some con- siderable extent, personally known. The world is satisfied that, personally, Shake- speare was of a free, social nature. Accord- ing to the testimony of Ben Jonson — and who would not add rather than detract from it ? — he " had many ' wit-combats ' at the Mermaid Tavern ; he had an excellent phantasy, brave notions, and gentle expressions, wherein he flowed with that facility that sometimes it was necessary that he should be stopped." Blessings on these words, almost the only reliable biographical sentences bequeathed of the greatest of the world. The words reveal whole volumes respecting his peculiar literary character, which consisted in this: that no other man had such transcendent power of expressing what he saw and felt and thought. No other man has uttered as he has done on all subjects universally. From the "grey- coated gnat," and the jewelled ring on an alderman's finger, to the highest human thought and human deed, there is nothing which has not been transfigured and glorified by the vigour and wealth of his imagination and the unparalleled luxuriance of his diction. His was indeed a full healthy mind, a brain exhaling thoughts and images, and seeking vent in the club-room as well as in the drama. There was no taint of hypochondria in him. He kept his health by not too anxiously car- ing for it, and was the last man to undermine his constitution by persistently feeling his pulse and looking at his tongue in the mirror. It" matters naught whether the blood of beggars or of Kaisers ran in his veins ; for genius is not confined to any class, any more than virtue is to a sect or a party. Shake- speare himself has beautifully taught us this great truth in the speech which he has put into the mouth of the King of France, when Bertram, the young and vain Count of Rousillon, rejects the fair and virtuous Helena, on the trumpery plea that she is " a poor physician's daughter " : — The King's reply is probably the real utter- ance of the poet's heart — " Tis only title thou disdain'st in her, the which I can build up. Strange is it, that our bloods Of colour, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off In differences so mighty." It is admitted that the " Tempest " was one of Shakespeare's latest plays — and some think it was the very last. It was written at Stratford, under home influences, and its author was enriched by the affection of his daughters. There are incidents in the play which correspond with such a condition. Just as Shakespeare presents himself twenty years previously as Touchstone (the unwilling husband) so he reappears in Prospero, the kind and careful father. See the different estimate placed upon female virtue as com- pared with some of the earlier dramas. See how domestic he has become. He is a father protecting a daughter, not with windy speeches like Polonius, but with earnest and penetrating warnings to her lover. The sustaining powers of a daughter's affec- tion is also manifest, for when Miranda 58 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. (while referring to former misfortune) ex- claims, u Alack, what trouble was I then to you," the reply is : — " O a cherubim Thou wast, that did preserve me, Thou did'st smile With a fortitude from heaven." K Sr The author's contemplated farewell to his life's work is also suggested by Prospero's exclamation — - " This rough magic I here abjure. I'll break my staff, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I'll drown my book." Then, like one who had felt deeply the changes of life, he gives that oft-quoted picture of mutability : — " The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve, And like this insubstantial pageant faded Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made of, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep." The solemn consciousness of approaching death is also suggested by Prospero's purpose at the close of the play : — " And thence retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave." This allusion to the speedy end was real- ized, since Shakespeare did not long survive the " Tempest." The epilogue to the latter, it is urged, shows that his conscience was reproaching him for past sins (well for us all if we endure these qualms), and it closes with the great author's marvellous words declaratory of the power of Prayer : — " And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults." Some say that Shakespeare displayed extra- ordinary indifference to literary fame, by neglecting to supervise the publication of his dramas. But that opinion, taken literally, cannot be said to rest upon any sufficient foundation. Shakespeare, in this respect, only conformed to the almost universal practice ol his age. The works of popular dramatists were then written solely that they might be acted, and never, apparently, with a view to their being read. They were sold to theatrical companies, whose interest it was to keep them unpublished as long as they continued to attract large audiences. The authors themselves seemed to have readily acquiesced in this arrangement. They did not desire to obtain notoriety by committing their works to the press, either because they conceived that a sort of discredit attached to any professional connection with the stage, or because they felt that a drama would lose its main effect by being deprived of the accompaniments of theatrical representation. When they did publish their works, they appear to have published them for the pur- DIFFICULTIES SURROUNDING THE POETS PERSONALITY. 5 g pose of anticipating the issue of mutilated and piratical copies, or for the purpose of doing justice to their own reputations, after such copies had actually been printed. We should bear in mind that the great poet lived in a busy and uncritical age. Civil convulsions, and the ascendancy of the Puritanical spirit during the large portion of the two or three generations which immediately followed, left but little time or inclination to collect the right threads of literary biography, and above all, of the biography of a writer for the stage. The limitation of his family to the female line, and its early extinction, prevented the existence of any certain centre round which the traditions of his life might have gathered. Fire, the most destructive of natural agencies, too, contributed to throw sonal identity can only be ascribed to the fact that the merging twilight of his fame did not dawn upon the world until he had lain in the grave a full century. In this long interval all the letters he wrote and received doubt- less shared the fate of Caesar's clay. The world is accustomed to express great astonishment that no manuscripts of Shake- speare have come down to us. But of how many other great men may not the same be said ? The solemn dearth of the details so universally sighed for, in the case of such heaven-born stars as Shakespeare and Homer, possibly enhances the reputation accorded by the world, to such exceptional mortality. It may be well that he left no handwriting in familiar lines, no unravelled threads of his common human nature, which critics ^gfejgJl into deeper shadow this wonderful figure; and who shall say what memorials of Shakespeare may have been lost through the destruction of Ben Jonson's house some seven or eight years later than the burning of the Globe Theatre, and of a large portion of the City of London itself in 1666 ? We must remember there were no very marked incidents in the poet's career or unduly impos- ing personality in the poet himself. It was pre- ordained that his written works should stand alone. We have so many asserted petty details of his history that we should have heard something of its greater events, if there had been in it any great events to be made known. Not half as many footprints of his personality can be found as his father made at Stratford. This seeming mystery can have but one reasonable expla- nation. The obscurity enveloping his per- might follow up into the inner recesses of his daily life, and fleck the disc of his fair fame with the specks and motes they found in their search after moral delinquencies. It is a wonder that one of such genius could have died only some two and a half centuries since, and have left a character so completely barred in against the idly curious. A soft, still blue of a hundred years' deep, surrounds his personal being. Through this mild cerulean haze it shows itself fair and round. Well is it for him, perhaps, that we of to-day cannot get nearer to him than the gentle horizon of these intervening centuries. It is a seamless mantle that Providence has wrapt around the statue of his life, in which no envious Casca can ever make a rent to get at the frailties or small actions of a great master. Fire was the great destroyer in those times. Many, if not all, the manuscripts of iw*Wft,Wv^*< iv M "' MMUS 1 Uuw / 6o SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. his plays would most probably perish in the fire which consumed the Globe Theatre in 1 6 13, and he was thus lightened of carrying to his Stratford repose-seeking retreat, any heaps of writings, all of which had been cleanly licked up by the devouring element. His retirement to Stratford was the day of extreme Puritanism. Its spirit, intolerant of the playhouse and of all its works, must have been gaining strength at the time of his death. Therefore, the strange and seeming unaccountable disappearance of whatever playhouse papers he may have left behind him at Stratford should not be far to seek. May not some members of his own family have been aids in the destruction of that, which in mixing among neighbours and friends, they would hear designated as the instigations of the Evil One ? His daughter Judith, aged 32 at the time of his death, survived him forty-six years, and the whisper of tradition says she was more than a Puritan. Plays and play-actors were an abhorrence to her, and there exists tradition traceable through more than two cen- turies that the world is indebted to her for the clean sweep of letters and papers evi- denced to have been made at New Place at the time of her father's death. We know what intolerance religious fanaticism begets, and how little it hesitates at to further its ends. Without any wish to libel his loved daughter, the world may possibly be in- debted to her for destructive achievements mankind will for ever lament. Few realise that the Great Fire in London in 1666, which, in consuming St. Paul's Cathedral, burned up an immense quantity of books and manuscripts that had been brought from all the threatened parts of the city, and heaped beneath the arches of its crypts for safety, was probably the final and effectual holocaust of almost every piece of print or writing that might have served to illuminate the history of Shakespeare. It was a direly lamentable lessening of the even then scanty memorials of the great master's life work. A large portion of the third folio edition, which had appeared only shortly before, is known to have fallen a prey to the flames on this calamitous oc- casion, and thus caused this third edition to be even scarcer than the first. We must also remember that he lived before biography could be said to have been known, when men who were great in litera- ture were lost in the general melee of the warfare and action of their times, or who cultivated a majestic solitude, living " collaterally or aside" to the world and their own age. The four greatest of all poets — Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, and Milton — are those precisely of whom least can be told us, and the incidents of whose private history are in a peculiar degree at once scanty and uncertain. Homer is little more than a voice, lonely and melancholy, rhapsodizing on the Chian strand. Dante stands forth more clearly from the clouds of the past, but he, too, is surrounded by dark- ness, and his personality is that of a shade, munificent and modest. There should be no .— iijfnn.. H0? disappointment in reference to the little that centuries of inquiry have been able to collect about the life of the " myriad-minded" ; EMERSON ON SHAKESPEARE. 61 for what proportion could be expected between one short life and myriad minds ? The one, however interesting, could be no measure to, nor exponent of, the multiplicity of the other. Emerson has summed all up in his exclamation applied to the great author, " Genius draws up the ladder after him, when the creative age goes up to heaven, and gives way to a new creation, which sees the works, and asks in vain for a history." Sir Thomas Bodley, who began to form the great collection of books which still bears his name, towards the close of the sixteenth century, calls plays u riffe raffes," and declares " they shall never come into my library." It is a striking proof of the change of tastes and customs that some of the most costly volumes in the great name into dark or doubtful eclipse. For a period of one hundred years, his works were not much read ; and throughout a portion of that time, and even down to a much later date, several of his latest dramas only held posses- sion of the stage in the corrupted versions of feeble or irreverent hands. It was not until about the middle of the last century that the national admiration of the great poet, in any large sense of the word, began to arise. Enthusiasm was soon stimulated by the teachings and the example of the critics and scholars of Germany. It has continued steadily growing to an universal admission that the genius, the wisdom, the talents, and productions of Shakespeare have never been equalled by any man not divinely inspired. OLD BUILDINGS IN THE ROTHER STREET, TIME OF SHAKESPEARE. Bodleian Library of the present day are the very works, as published in his own time, which its founder treated with such special contempt. There is one division, at least, of Shake- sperean literature through which runs a broad track of light. The dramas themselves form a subject of study which admits of no other controversies than those to which the diversities of our own tastes and capacities may give rise. He who reads these arieht shall have vanquished the conqueror of kings. Shakespeare's fame, however, even in England, has not been by any means of a uni- form and steady growth. His genius was but partially recognised by his contemporaries, and among the two or three generations which followed, we find that the spread of the Puritanical spirit, the agitations of the great Civil War, and, finally, the ascendancy of frivolous foreign tastes in the days of the Stuart Restoration, continued to throw his They will live as long as great thoughts, the grandest language, and cardinal principles shall find a dwelling-place in the admiration of mankind. He opened the great gold and silver mines of ideas, and brought out their priceless treasures, and coined them into a literary currency for all coming ages. Shake- speare's banner waves on high above all his compeers, while around his standard he rallies all the champions in the field of intellect and mental progress. Lessing was, perhaps, the first man that formed and pro- claimed what the most competent judges would now regard as an adequate conception of the profound truth ■ and the astonishing range of Shakespeare's genius ; and almost all the most eminent literary men of his country have since zealously continued the work which he began. With that of Germany, a corresponding school of Shakespearean critics soon appeared in England ; but, as a nation, we have never fully shared the intoxication 62 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. less demonstrative form of our admira- tion arises mainly, no doubt, from our more sober and more reserved tem- perament ; but it is also, perhaps, in some measure to be traced to the specially practical and laborious nature of the task which we have had to perform. Shakespearean criticism among us fell almost exclusively into the hands of editors, commentators, and antiquaries. All the obscure literature of a whole age had to be ex- plored for the purpose of fixing the poet's text, explaining his allusions, and ascertaining the sources from which he derived his stories. The German mind, in its study of Shake- speare, had no such preliminary labour to encounter; and, freed from this restraining influence, it rushed, with its accustomed enthusiasm, into that region of boundless speculation to which it seemed to have been, from its very position, immediately invited. We are, however, becoming awakened to the greatness of our master spirit. For one devotee at the shrine existing fifty years since, there are now five hundred ! " Vires acquirit eundo ! " Who shall number them centuries hence ? of the German idolatry of our own great dra- matist. Our American kinsmen, to their honour be it said, have, with their naturally keener discernment, gone " ahead " of us in all that relates to the great poet of the world. They have favoured us with a Julia Bacon, who after propounding her insane theory that Lord Bacon was the writer of Shake- speare's plays, ended her career by departing out of life in a lunatic asylum. Romeo Don- nelly, not less fanatical, we will hope may be spared the fate of Juliet, his beloved one. The 5FV>Acei-> 63 MARY ARDEN AND WILMCOTE. S the birthplace and home of Mary Arden, Shake- speare's mother, Wilm- cote possesses a charm hardly second to that of Shottery, the home of his early love and wife Anne Hath- away. Wilmcote is one of those delightful War- wickshire villages, dignified in their simpli- city, of which the people of the noble old county with good reason pride themselves, as being " thoroughly English," and certainly its position in a finely timbered district, united to attractions through associateship with the mother of the best-loved poet of the English race, entitles it to rank second to none in charms, flowing from identity with him pos- sessed of the most varied knowledge of human life in all its tortuous windings. Hitherto Wilmcote has been passed by and neglected of the many of the class "doing the Shakespeare country," although there have not been wanting devoted students who have been led to seek out this, the home of his mother, and which may fairly be termed one of the most unique and poetic old home- steads possessed of Great Britain. Mary Arden's home is one of a class of old thatched-roef residences peculiar to Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Gloucester- shire, and Somersetshire, and which, through stress of time, is rapidy dwindling away, and must ere long become only of the past and remembered of memorials alone. On first examination, it is difficult to realize their great age, though the initiated find the fact beyond any question. In Worcestershire, 64 SHAKESPEARE'S -TRUE LIEE. old long-drawn-out tenements of the class identical with the "Anne Hathaway" at Shot- tery and " Mary Arden " home at Wilmcote, may be found, and in much better condition. It is undisputable that thatching in the highly perfected manner shown by the roofs of old rural houses of the period is a lost art, and not likely to be recovered. Men are to be found who can thatch a hay or wheat stack, but try any of these at the old fifteenth cen- tury style of work and they are nowhere. The quantity of straw consumed in the covering-in of such roofs was enormous, and of dimensions larger than could be included in the span of two trees joined at the apex. These cottages abound in the better-cared-for villages in the counties named ; the age of many is clearly of Henry VII. period, and their now existent comparatively sound con- dition is conclusive proof of the Arden and Hathaway homesteads being, so far as age is concerned, all they are represented. The thatch on this class of houses was estimated to serve its purpose for sixty years, this with- out much repair, owing to the great thickness of straw used ; after that, repairs would be now proves utterly preventive in these times, when straw has increased to a value equal to the grain it bears. Such residences as those of Mary Arden and Anne Hathaway, even in the period of their erection, were exceptional, and were built by the owners of the estates on which situate, as residences for families of acknowledged position as landowners. The smaller cottages of the period will be found to possess the distinct peculiarity, the result of legal enforcement of the time of Henry VII., when, without special permission, it was ordered that no house should be erected needed to prolong efficiency, and it is well known that one thatching followed by periods of repair has ofttimes sufficed for eighty and more years. Mary Arden, Shakespeare's mother, has hitherto received but little thought from bio- graphers ; although from the various scraps that have come down to us regarding her, it is quite clear that by her natural gifts and character, as well as by her business turn of mind, she eminently deserved and justified the confidence placed in her by a fond father, who laid upon her great re- sponsibilities. Her father's preference for her was very likely in some degree owing to her stated remarkable cheerfulness, and which brightened many a weary hour during a long illness, and dispelled many of the gloomy thoughts that affected him in the later part of his life. There were but few books available . in those days to relieve the tedium of long winter nights. He calls himself in his will " sick in body." The German biographer, Carl GREATEST MEN, SHORTEST BIOGRAPHIES. 65 Else, says that by the brightness of her spirit, as well as by the practical upright- ness of her character, which enabled her to transact business matters without discord and friction, she resembled Goethe's mother. May not her son have inherited his joyous nature and his delight in poetic creations from her, as Goethe inherited his from his mother. If, as experience teaches in very numerous cases, illustrious men inherit a large portion of their mental and moral qualities from the maternal side, it is more than reasonable to draw such inference in the case of Shakespeare's mother. If a truly great man or woman needs no ex- alted descent, how must it be with the greatest of the human race ? Yet to the proper and intelligent comprehen- sion of Shakespeare's authorship, it is neces- sary to know something of his original condition in life, whether he was of gentle blood, or base-born, as his libel- lers impudently and wickedly assert. Whether he was educated in the ordinary sense of that term, or merely self-taught, can never make his writings worse or better, or affect any sensible person's estimate of them. But the circumstances of his birth and educa- tion, his manner of living, and his means of knowledge, do affect materially the influ- ences which may be drawn from his writings. They are, therefore, important and essential conditions in the problem of his authorship. Shakespeare's immediate paternal ancestors were plain, honest yeomen or husbandmen, al- though early as the fourteenth century families bearing the martial name of Shakespeare were settled in Warwickshire, and were folk of consideration. Alec Nelson, in an excellent and unpre- tending little periodical, The Chimes, charm- ingly conducts a pilgrim to Mary's village home. "The home of Shakespeare's mother, in which her infancy and girlhood were passed, is attainable by vehicular or pedestrian set- ting out from Stratford, as the centre best suited for gaining correct knowledge of the Shakespeare country. There are more ways than one to Wilmcote. One is to make for the Birmingham Road, turn off to the left opposite Clopton Lane, and march by the side of the canal from the ugliest part of Stratford (if it be possible for anything ugly to exist in the spot so saturated of Shakespeare), to the prettiest part of Wilm- cote. This walk, however, has a drawback in the knowledge that the canal was not created in his day, and that he never could have gone that way. So instead of turning to the left, we keep straight on the same Bir- mingham Road through all the unsavoury gas-creating, and other anti-rural works, until the real country of orchards and charming meadows greets the view. If in leafy June, the hayfields soon disclose themselves, and the pilgrim enters on fields and pastures, with ditches of flowers such as England only knows, without any narrowing of the road, trees close in upon you from above and overarch the way, as a bird broods over her young. After a time, the path climbs up, and roses are growing between 1 66 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. you and the road below. To the east the red brown of the fields toils on and upwards against the sky. Here on the right is the turning to Snitterfield, where the Shake- speares lived, and a little later the wood that has been hanging yonder on the brow of a low hill draws something nearer the road. It is well to look backwards and forwards now; and, indeed, often along this way. We are in the midst of a vast one-sided amphitheatre. The tiers of seats are two ranges of hills in the west. The farther range is faint and melts into the sky, as clouds melt into the horizon. In the wood upon the eastern side there is a sudden break of green sward; the road slopes steadily down before us to the Dun Cow. Just beyond that humble hostelry is the mouth of the lane on the left leading to Wilmcote. Once more the path lifts itself from the road on to a green bank, whose fellow rises on the right, shutting out for a while fields, woods, and a section of the sky itself. At the foot of this hill, by the Dun Cow, the neces- sity of looking back becomes absolute ; then the road is seen to be a clean cut, whose crest is a sharply defined line against the faint blue of the hills far beyond. On a sudden, a solitary figure steps over the crest ; thrown up against the sk} 7 , in that clear air, the figure seems to be marching straight out of heaven. Perhaps it may be a princess in the dress of fairy tales, upon whose footsteps charms, for good or ill, attend. Perhaps — and when the figure grows out of the sk}'- line down the hill, to you waiting below, it is that of a careworn woman, with the marks of labour on her bronzed face and hands. Another road to Snitterfield and the larger Warwick to the right ; the passing of a farmer's cart, or gig or so, whose driver is, in some cases, so old that this might be his last outing ; then a tumbledown barn on the left, a delta of green beyond it, and between the lane swinging round towards Wilmcote. How sweet the lane is ! It goes curving away to the south-west between rose hedges, and has, at times, not so much as a sem- blance of path. Here and there is a house covered with ivy, and if the day has crept on from early dawn and draws near even- tide, the sunset light comes filtering to you through the hedges on your right with tinges of green from the leaves and of a new red from the roses. There is young life in plenty, as there should be, nearing his mother's home. White calves, with liquid eyes, stare stupidly at you through and over the hedgerows. A brown foal, all legs, scampers off like a translated rocking-horse towards a distant gap, fringed with hawk- weed as to its lower border. By the way- side a red haired boy is climbing a tree, with no earthly object. For the last time the road rises ; not in homage to Mary Arden and her home, but by reason of a railway bridge crossing the Great Western line, on the which Wilmcote is the penultima Thule for him whose ultima is Stratford. Dogged THE WAY TO MARY ARDEN'S HOUSE. 67 steadfast folk ascend the white path from the station. Almost to a man, woman, and child, they turn rightwards and, taking no notice of the railway bridge, over the which we have toiled, cross another, very beautiful, that in its turn crossed our old- young friend, the canal. The canal, here, has the path we might have taken to our left, and on the other side reflects a mill that seems as much older than it as the earth and the sky are. A few yards more and you are by Mary Arden's house. But there is a more excellent way from Stratford to Wilm- cote by the Evesham Road, half-way to Binton, which is half-way to Bidford, which is half-way to Evesham. All of which sounds like the genealogies in the Old Testament, but is only part of an itinerary. We must climb Borden Hill and drop down its western slope, then strike northwards across the fields towards Wilmcote until reaching two cottages standing by the road- side, with a large farmhouse lying somewhat farther inland. One of the cottages is that of the gamekeeper to the Marquis of Hertford, owner of the land hereabouts in Shake- speare's country. At the right time of the year the way is by corn and clover, passion- ately red, over the sweep of fields. The path grows faint, and has to be made out by aid of occasional cart-ruts and an instinc- tive passage from gate unto gate ; but there is no chance of losing it. The birds seem to guide one, though I daresay that is all wrong. Nevertheless, somehow the quiver- ring sweetness of the larks' songs are all roofing over the way we ought to take ; the thrushes are busy in the hedge along which we must pass ; the grey plover's lazy flap of wing points out the road. A little later the nightingales — there is a chorus of them in that slip of wood yonder — sing in the dark- ness, " This is the way to Mary Arden's." Titania's bank lies to our right in this early part of the journey, and the humbler flowers, not allowed to grow there, accom- pany us. The hay is lying in the fields ; the thistle-down puffs off in filmy gusts into the air; agrimony, convolvulus, the rest- harrow, are among the grass and in this green lane, not unmixed with mud ; to our left the sedges are growing. The grass lane leads to and through Dray- ton Farm, midway between the Bidford and Alcester roads. Alcester, in Midland nine- teenth century dialect, is pronounced as if there were no Ice in it, and the a was aw. At Drayton there is a pond and a walnut tree, and opinionated geese, and more opinionated turkeys, and a close-clipped red haystack, that seems never to be touched all the year round, and a dog that strives to strangle himself with his chain, and to choke himself with barking. And beyond Drayton are such elms — some, alas ! felled, and marked, R. 23 and so forth — and a lazy cart, carrying home the late hay, with a wooden rake hung up by its teeth behind. Parting company with the slow-moving, heavily shaking mass of hay, a man and woman, with their child, pass away to the left. The child's face is the most sunburnt. Through the open gap left by a vanished gate placid cows are seen, and a farm beyond. Now we have rye and the musical barley instead of wheat ; charlock, vetches, and forget-me- nots for bindweed and rest-harrow ; and the only birds are starlings, in hundreds. Be- yond the brown ploughed field, away on the uplands towards Redhill Wood, sheep, with dog attendant, are feeding. Here is a gate opening right on to the Alcester road, and on the other side of the road another and yet another " down right," as the stage folks say. By either of these you can go Wilmcotewards. The former is better, as it takes you farther from the farm- house, over-prim, and too much like an artisan's dwelling in a Midland town, where there are co-operative stores. You will miss a wonderful rick or so, but you will go through swishing grasses of every form and j» odour, over the bugloss and buttercups, and, may be, put up a covey of partridges, or send a brace of larks careering skywards in a burst of song. 68 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Across this field to a red path, into which trees thrust out bulging roots ; then west a little, and after, through a white gate, north again. One more field — rather heavy going, what with its upward slant and the fact that it is ploughed — and then out into a yellow and green lane. This is the lane leading to the fragment of heath upon whose farther side lies Wilmcote. Another gate, and a little climbing takes us to the low hedge that crosses it. Once on a time — not a year ago — there was a gap in this hedge, but now this is enviously barred, and another right of way is going the way of all rights of way. On the crest of the heath patch stands a lonely house, and if we turn our back upon this we out of a white, thatched cottage to the left, thronged round by fruit trees. Even the ugly Midland town of red-brick buildings facing it, and thrusting itself upon a pained view a few paces farther on, cannot quite kill the exquisite and homely poetry of this advanced sentinel to Wilmcote. The temptation is strong to pass the red brick ugliness, and go, by a lazily curving road, past a cottage whose thatch nearly reaches the ground, towards the farm nestling away to the right. If you would see Wilmcote, the temptation must be resisted. Thither, the way is west and to the left again, under an avenue of elms huge of bole. The avenue passes the house of the clergy- c^V« can see the sunlight resting on the Gloucester- shire hills. Tiny crane-bills and tinier milk- worts are struggling on the hard bosom of this more barren land, that stretches away to the south in a line broken by fields and meadows. Turning from it we pass by lane and through gate, under the shadow of oaks and cornel trees, towards the village. If nothing else told us that this was near, the print of horses-hoofs in the soil, and the meeting of the first human being encountered since we left the Bidford road, these would betray its presence. There is a farm sunk away to the right below the wheatfield and the hayfield. But the first of Wilmcote is this sudden flashing man, with the singularly appropriate name of Crucifix; passes the little church in the little churchyard, where a yew, a lime- tree, and a huge privet-tree — not hedge — are growing out of Wilmcote graves. In the churchyard this notice may be read of man, though it is, probably, meant the rather to be read of boy : — " This is God's Acre, sacred to Him and to the departed whose bodies sleep here. Do not bring dogs in, or indulge in loud talk, or smoke, or tread on the graves, or touch the flowers or shrubs, or walk on the grass, except when visiting a grave. Remember, O man, that dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return." THE ARDEN HOME SURROUNDINGS. 69 The blacksmith's lies a little back from the main lane of the village on the same side as the church, and two horses — sleepy, massive, long-tailed — are dozing in front of it. The bakers and post-office — they are one and the same — juts out upon the way, as becomes an establishment of such prominence. All the children of the village are looking in at its windows — at the ceiling where bacon and brushes hang side by side ; at the canisters, the sweets, the candles ; at the cakes and loaves, the skipping-ropes in the inner distance, the stockings dangling in symmetrical row from a primitive piece of cord ; at the baker and post-master's stick depending from a handle of one of the drawers behind the counter. Behind them, in the gardens of the four cottages, crossed by wooden beams, on the other side of the road, velvety mulleins are growing, and an old man wearing a top hat, with his corduroy trousers tied round at the knees with string, is plucking off their dead leaves. But a few paces onward, and the heart of Wilmcote is reached. That heart, as becomes a place so sweet and simple, is the most widely opened space in the village. Standing with your back to the Swan Inn for awhile, the way by which you have come lies to the right, and, passing you, goes curving off to the left. Across the open space in front, another road is seen. That is the very lane by which you would have entered Wilmcote on our former route. That lane leads to the canal bridge, the railway bridge, the Birmingham road, and Stratford. A little way along it on the left as we look with back to the Swan — is a substantial-looking low brown stone building. Now, it is two houses. Time was when it was only one. Let us go down slowly and quietly and leaning against the wall opposite take our fill of looking at this building — at the gate be- yond it leading into the yard, closed in by farm buildings and a great arch, under which a cart is uptilted — at the outhouse yet farther away from the village, with a huge crack seaming its tumble-down walls — at the flowers in the garden, the stonecrop on the garden wall. That is where Mary, the mother of Shakespeare, lived as a girl — that is where he came as a boy, to see his grand- dam and granddad ; and if you turn for a moment, from looking at the house, you will see, over the wall against which you have been leaning, some trees, standing singly or in groups of three or four. They are the remnants of the forest of Arden. The greatest men seem usually to have the shortest biographies. The fact is easily enough understood. Their work on earth was too heavy, and the time for its comple- tion too limited, to admit of their engaging in the trifles rendered attractive in too many biographies. Is it not enough that he, greater than the greatest, has be- queathed to the world thoughts only? Homer is wholly a myth, a pale shadow in the dim distance ; an heroic, disembodied voice. Of all the ancient philosophers, Plato's name is most familiar to us. It has become the nucleus of countless fables ; yet all that we really know of Plato personally could be written on a sheet of foolscap. His eighty-one years of common life are swallowed up in the vastness of his intel- lectual life. Why should it be otherwise with England's mighty penman ? Biography is only distilled and sublimated gossip, the =>V«"-\C2<<\r'J concentration of what this or that garrulous contemporary has said. Great men are apt to dwell apart from their peeping loquacious contemporaries, and thus cut off all possi- bility of successful eavesdropping, even though a Boswell should creep and crawl to get near them. Nevertheless, they have a tenacious hold on universal curiosity merely as men. Societies and clubs are formed for no other purpose than to ransack old garrets and search mouldy chests for some bio- graphical incident, some faint trace of their personality, and when the chronicles fail we try to read backwards their lives in their works. The tourist in foreign galleries of painting searches the faces of Raphael's Madonna in order to catch some glimpse of the Fornarina. The remotest allusions such 70 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. men make to themselves are seized upon, and their image fixed as the Lilliputians fastened Gulliver, pinning him to the earth by his own hair and beard. The well-authen- ticated facts of Shakespeare's outer life are few. They live on a little island on the bosom of a boundless sea, and each new adventurer must needs explore and know for himself how it is that a realm so small can be a source of such exhaustless wealth. Through his mother, Shakespeare's line- age, if not of highest aristocratic order, had warrantable claims to a place in the best ranks of the English country gentry. The was buried December 29th, 1580. She does not appear to have regarded her step- daughters with much affection, if we are to be guided in judgment by her subsequent total omission of them in her will. Mary Arden, whose very name breathes gentleness and poetry, however, seems to have been a favourite child of her father, in so far as we may judge from the circumstance that, along with her sister Alice, she was appointed sole executrix of his will, and received also the most valuable portion of the inheritance. The fortune which she thus brought to her husband con- Ardens were descended from an ancient family, connected, as appears from the identity of coat-armour, with John Arden, esquire of the body to Henry VII. ; and who, as appears from his will, dated in 1526, had been honoured with visits from his sovereign. Surely this settles the ques- tion of social position. Robert Arden, Shakespeare's maternal grandfather, was a "gentleman of worship," and the proprietor who lived in this very home, then the centre of the forest of Arden. He was twice married ; but we have no account of his first wife, by whom he had a family of seven daughters; Mary, the wife of John Shakespeare, being the youngest. His second partner was Agnes Hill, a widow with a family, whose maiden name was Webbe, who was without issue, and who sisted of the estate called Asbies, extending to fifty-four acres, together with the crops and certain pasture rights. The value of this portion would be not less than ^224 of that time, which, according to our present stand- ard, would value at nearly six times that amount. In addition there was a residence on the property,two tenants'houses,and gardens ; also an interest in lands at Wilmcote and in two tenements at Snitterfield, and a sum of £6 13s. 4d., i.e., 20 nobles, in money before the division of the property. Such a dower was, in the sixteenth century, no inconsider- able portion. Mary Arden's father's will is, in several features, of deep interest. It was executed on 24th November, 1556, andgivesmuch in- sight, not only into family affairs, but also into the life and circumstances of a class of ROBERT ARDEN'S WILL. 7i society of growing importance in those days* The introductory words to the will, where the testator commends his soul "to Almighty God and to the blessed Lady Saint Mary, and to all the holy company of heaven," al- though not warranting the drawing any positive conclusion as to the religion of the testator — for the will was drawn up in the reign of the Bloody Mary, when any such document must certainly have had a Catholic tone about it, even in the case of Protestants at that time — are almost precisely the same as the introductory words to the will of Henry VIII., who certainly did not die a Catholic. soffer my daughter Ales quyetlye to occupy halfe with her then I will that my wyfe shall have but iijli. vjs. viijd. and her gintur in Snyterfylde. " Item, I will that the resedowe of all my goodes, moveable and unmoveable, my ffuneralles and my dettes dischargyde, I gvve and bequethe to my other children to be equaleye devidede amongste them by the descreshyon of Adam Pilmer, Hugh Porter of Snytherfyld, and John Skerlett, whom I do order to make my overseeres of this my last will and testament, and they to have for ther peynes takyng in this behalf xxs. f$ e A r« o e >-oorr\ f**\tA i^y «^ •■* A * >"v ^ in many cases the name is found fully set out by the acting attorney and the assumed signator appends his mark. Shakespeare's father was continually engaged in auditing complicated accounts of the Corporation of Stratford, and received payment for this and similar labour frcm others. The assigning these men to the ranks of the utter ignorant on such grounds is as unjust as it doubtless was in the case of many of John Shake- speare's brother aldermen. Charles Knight thus humorously dis- courses on the caligraphic performance of John Shakespeare and his brother aldermen in the execution of the deed in question. George Whetely, bailiff, makes an elaborate mark like a trivet with one leg hidden ; and, with a dignity as great as that of a mailed king sealing with his thumb, he calls it his "sign manual" : he was a woollen-draper, and five-and-twenty years afterwards he con- tinues to make his sign manual, a little tremblingly perhaps, but still as emphatically as if his yard wand were a sceptre. u Roger Sadler, head alderman," baker, makes the good old cross, his own bun mark. " Wyllm Smyhe," mercer, delights in a serpentine sign, waving like the ribbons upon a may-pole. " Lewes ap w " (Lewis ap Williams), iron- monger, has a most mystical mark, sym- bolical, perhaps, of spikes and bolts, but otherwise unintelligible. " Ad- ryan Ouynee," grocer ; " Umfrey Plymley," mercer ; " Wyllm Bott," of whose pursuit history makes no mention ; " Rychrd Hylle," woollen-draper; and another " Wyllm Smythe," a shoemaker, delight not in these emblems ; they write their names according to the penmanship of their age, but with the variety which belongs to individual char- acter. " Rarff Cardre," we are sure, was a sleek humorist ! he has the gridiron for a sign manual, an emblem not of martyrdom, but of good cheer ; he was a butcher. " Wylliam Brace" belongs to the same fraternity as the clerk of Chat- ham, for that he hath " been so well brought up " ; and so does "John Shacksper." But we are called upon not to " hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck." It is held by Malone, and other grave antiquarians, that the pair of compasses standing opposite the name of " Thomas Dyxun "• — a most clever drawing of an open pair of compasses, such as car- penters use, having a quadrant upon which the leg moves — belongs not to " Thomas Dyxun," but to " John Shacksper " :— " It nearly resembles a capital A," says Malone, u and was, perhaps, chosen in honour of the STATE OF RELIGION DURING THE SHAKESPEARE PERIOD. 77 Ack lady whom he had married." Assuredly the lady was greatly honoured in so apt a scholar ; and when this Orlando took to carving A " on every tree," and writ it on every lawful occasion, it is surprising that the inspiration was not carried farther, and that the faculty thus developed by love did not terminate in real caligraphy. Be that as it may, one thing is certain, — the stock of literary acquirement amongst the magnates of Stratford was not very large. The six remaining are all marksmen. And why should that stock of literature have been large ? There were some who had been at grammar school, and they perhaps were as learned as the town-clerk; they kept him straight. But there had been enough turmoil about learn- ing in those days to make goodman Whetely, and goodman Cardre, and their fellows somewhat shy of writ- ing and Latin. They were not quite safe in reading. The period at which John Shake- speare was united to Mary Arden was one of marked religious change, especially in country parishes, and which continued for some time after- wards, as it preceded the event. The Reformation had been powerful in de- veloping individual character ; whilst men revelled in their new-found liberty, and cared not to determine when it degenerated into licentious- ness ; whilst Nature avenged herself on the dry logical studies of a preceding age by a reaction which sometimes trespassed into animalism — the material forms of the old world and the old religion still held their ground. In the parish church the service was in English, not in Latin ; but the ceremonies, the dresses, the fasts, and the festivals, though curtailed, remained essentially the same. Sermons were scarcely more frequent 78 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. ■JsT # and early predi- lections, and were winked at by their bishops, especially in d i s tant pro- vinces. How could it be otherwise.un- ■"•»JiVvr\e of no less than seven sons and daughters of her own to be tacked on to his already numerous tribe will crop up as a preventive cause of the perfect harmony presumed to exist in well-ordered homes. Mary Arden must have been a wonderful girl to keep these elements out of the play of discord. She achieved it, and her father loved her as he should in the triumph of such Herculean labour. We will believe her father's wife was of the bridal party, which it is safe to assume included the number of favourite young belles officiating: as bridesmaids to see the cere- I £-=* III aTO » 33i 1 ^ 1'J 1 *£ WHERE JOHN SHAKESPEARE AND MARYS WEDDING BREAKFAST WAS HELD. hay and corn were borne from the fields to rick and barn, and when threshed and bagged borne off to realize the occasionally fabulous prices of the nearest market. The happy group had to foot it all the way, the dis- tance was but short, and all hearts were light. The hush of centuries of silence has hidden from us the name of him who acted the parental part and gave the fair maiden away. We know " she was beautiful, and fair, and amiable." Such character is ascribed to her as indisputable, for has not Warwickshire resounded with these very words, coming down from the day of her youthful prime, and eagerly confirmed when her son William became the pride of the world ? We may be sure it was a faithful friend of Mary's deceased father to whom it was entrusted to lead her forth to another home. Robert Arden's second wife does not appear to have gained very strongly the affection of his mony carried through, free of let or hindrance. John Shakespeare would walk out from Stratford supported by his " best man." So long ago as Shakespeare's day it was deemed necessary there should be an official holding unlimited power over the will and body of every man perpetrating matrimony, but whether his duties were of the bottle- holder class or of constabulary power to pre- vent escape under the influence of repentant shadowy moments, is difficult of solution now as then. John Shakespeare, supported and stayed by his official, would arrive at the God's Acre gate in good time to meet the happy group from Wilmcote, with whom there would be much affectionate embrace ere entering the portal of Mother Church, where the holy bonds were welded with a right Christian, God-fearing strength which defied such unhallowed breaking as rules rampant in modern days, and makes induce- 8 4 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. meats for the violation of a law above all earthly laws. The wedding breakfast was held at the King's Head Inn at Aston Cantlow, opposite the Court Leete House — a sketch of the room itself is given with this. Tradition points to this as the room in which the happy pair assembled, and if ever tradition was worthy of acceptance, it is so in this instance. All the generations since have vouched for its truth ; far be it from the writer to discredit the loving record so sacredly attested. As the multitude of Shakespeare readers becomes swollen with time, there will be an increasing thirst to dwell on the per- sonal history and character of his mother. With Ward Beecher, all will wonder where in that coarse age, when Queen and ladies talked familiarly, as women would blush to the childish heart, and quicken into life the struggling, slumbering elements of a sensitive nature. Future generations will dwell on that beautiful scene where he represents Desdemona as amazed and struck dumb with the grossness and brutality of the charges which had been thrown upon her, yet so dignified in the consciousness of her own purity, so magnanimous in the power of dis- interested, forgiving love, and feel that he was portraying no ideal excellence, but only re- producing, under fictitious and suppositious circumstances, the patience, magnanimity, and enduring love which had shone upon him in the household words and ways of his mother. The folk of the "grand old county" have just pride in their historian Dugdale. No more faithful topographer than he. His was THE ROOM IN WHICH THE WEDDING BREAKFAST WAS GIVEN. talk now, and when the broad, coarse wit of the " Merry Wives of Windsor " was gotten up to suit the taste of a virgin Queen, when women were such and so, were found those models of lily-like purity, women so chaste in soul and pure in language. In such an age, his deep heart-knowledge of pure womanhood must only have come to him through the deep impress on the child's soul of a mother's purity. We summon up visions of one of those women whom the world knows not of — silent, deep-hearted, loving — whom the coarser and more practically efficient jostle aside and underrate for their lack of interest in the noisy chit-chat and commonplace of the day, but who yet have a sacred power, like that of the spirit of peace, to brood with dove-like wings over a most laborious task, and honestly and with all zeal he carried his purpose to the desired end. To say that matters and things are chronicled in Dugdale is to make assurance doubly sure. Even the courts of justice so respect his records as to receive them as reliable evidence. But his excellence does not end here ; his power of description is on a par with his truthfulness, and now, after the lapse of centuries, we fall back on his descriptions as delightful reading. As an example, let the reader take him as com- panion to Aston Cantlow — see how he makes us at home with the families of the Olden Time. We live and move among them, we compare their style and fashions with the modern, their moneys and our to-day coins and their yields. THE HISTORIAN DUGDALES RELIABILITY. 85 " Being now past that large parish of Wootton Wawen, I came next to Aston Cantlow, situated on the southern bank of the Alne. Before the Norman invasion, Algar Earl of Mercia was possessed hereof ; but upon that great distribution then made by King William unto his friends and followers, this place, with divers lands of a large extent, as well here as in other counties, was conferred (as I guess) upon one Richard, a noble Norman ; for it appears by the general survey begun about the fourteenth year of that king's reign, that Osbernus fil. Ricardi then enjoyed it with several other fair lordships lying in the shire ; as also in the counties of Worcester, Hereford, Bedford, Salop, and Nottingham, whose principal seat was (as I also conjec- ture) at Ricurd's castle in Herefordshire, which, being (doubtless) built by the same Richard for better awing of the vanquished English, did afterwards retain his name, and continueth it to this day. In that authentic Record, this place is written Estone, by reason of its eastern site from Alcester (I presume) which was of a more ancient plantation, and the value thereof then certified to be Vlli., being esteemed at V hides, having a church, as also one mill, with woods of a mile in length and as much in breadth, the descendants of which Osbernus, I have put in Farnborough, for unto them did it continue but a while, Tankervile, who was Camerarius Normannial, possessing it in 15 H. II.; yet no otherwise than as a Fermor to the King, as appears by same Records. " But in 6 Joh. Will, de Cantilupe obtained it with the corn and stock thereon, which the Sheriff was commanded to value, and according to the rate they should be priced at, to deliver them unto him : and from hence had it the addition of his name joined thereto, for distinc- tion from the other Astons in this county. Here hath been anciently a park, and by the tradition of the inhabitants, a castle also, situate southwards of the church ; but the moat and banks thereof are now so levelled that there is scarce any appearance of it : at which castle, forasmuch as the before specified William and his descendants had (without doubt) their principal residence, till by marriage with Eva, the daughter and heir of Will, de Braose, to Will., his grandson, the castle and honour of Bergavenny came to this family. I have here thought fit to say something historically of them. "This Will, de Cantelu or Cantelupe (for I find him both ways written) was a person of great eminence and power in his time. In 1 Joh. he had a discharge for the Scutage then due from him. In 3, 4, 5, and 6 Joh. he was Sheriff of this county and Leicestershire, and upon leaving that office, constituted Governor of the Castles of Hereford, Wilton, and Purrebach : nay, in those great differ- ences betwixt the said King and Pope Inno- cent III. in 13 Joh. he is taken notice of to have been one of that King's Chief Coun- cilors and Directors ; and from the 12th year to the end of his reign, had again the custody of the before-specified counties. In 15 Joh. he obtained the King's special pre- cept to the Barons of his Exchequer to respite their demand of CCCC marks debt, 86 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. due by him, viz., CCC marks for a fine, which he was to have paid for the wardship, and a custody of the land of Henry de Long- camp's heir; and C marks which the said king had lent him upon his voyage into Almaine. In 16 Joh. he had y Scutage of his Tenants, in satisfaction for those soldiers which were then maintained by him in Poicton for the King's service ; as also the same year was, amongst others, a witness to that notable Charter granted by the said King to the Archb. of Canterb. and other Bishops, in behalf of all the churches and monasteries of England; and in 17 Joh. got a pardon for a debt of CCLXII marks and XVId., which was by his own agreement to have been as a fine for obtaining the Coun- tess of Cureux in marriage for his son. And yet, notwithstanding all these favours, it appears that in that great defection of the Barons, the same year, he forsook the King and adhered to them ; but did not persist long in that error, as it seems, for shortly after 1 find that he had a grant of all the lands of Nich. de Verdon and so also of Thurstane de Mountfort, great actors in that Rebellion ; and was made Governor of the strong castle of Kenilworth in this county, being then Steward of the King's household. Having thus shewed in what esteem he was with K. John, let us now take a view of his favour with K. H. III., and of his eminency in those times. In 1 of that K. reign, he was in person with the Royal Army at the siege of Mountsorrel Castle in Leicestershire, and at raising the siege which the rebellious barons had made against the Castle of Lincoln. In 2 H. III. again made Sheriff of this county and Leicestersh., in which office he continued till the 8th year of that King's reign. In 5 H. III. he had the K. special letter authorizing him to receive of the several Kts. fees held of him Xs., in respect that he was in person with the K. at the siege of Bitham Castle in Lincolnshire. In 6 H. III. he had by the K.'s special command, all the castles that belonged to Reginald de Braose, deceased, committed to his charge, being the Steward to the K. as he had been to his father ; but it seems that his chief residence was then at Kenilw. Castle before specified, but no less doth the Record, appointing him timber for repair of the buildings, for his habitation there, import. Howbeit, the same year, being made Governor of Hereford Castle, he had in December 8 H. III., a discharge of his Sherrifalty here, and of the custody of Kenilworth Castle, which was thereupon delivered up to John Russell, unto whom also those counties were then committed. It should seem that about this time he adhered to the Earl of Chester and some other of the Barons, who began to swell against the King and give out big words on behalf of that Earl, whose castles the said King thought fit to seize ; but seeing themselves not strong enough to go through with their design, were glad to submit. For which offence I do not find that X the King's displeasure stuck long 1 vno DUGDALE'S ACCOUNT OF ASTON CANTLOW. 87 upon him in regard that within three years after by his Pat. bearing date 18 August, he confirmed unto him this manor of Eston, which formerly did belong to Raph. de Tankerville Chamberlain (of Normandy), with the Manor of Middleston, that pertained to Gilbert de Vilers, to hold till such time as the said King should please to restore them unto the right heirs of the said Ralph and Gilbert ; which manors he, the said Will, had first received by the grant of K. John's as the same record testifieth ; for confirmation whereof, as also for a mercate and faire here. He then gave the K. a fine of XV marks. And in 13 H. III. received further testimony of the King's favour by a pardon of XL marks due from him to have been paid into the Exchequer for certain amerciaments laid upon him by the Justices Itinerant ; and an acceptance of X marks per an. till the C marks lent unto him by the King John, were satisfied, which sum the said King delivered unto him when he went on his embassy into Almaine, as I have already intimated. In 15 H. III. he had another confirmation of this Lordship, ex- tending also to his heirs, with a special Proviso that if the said King or his heirs should afterwards restore it to the heirs of Tankervile, he the said William and his heirs should have other lands of as good value in recompense thereof, that Charter of Confirmation bearing date at Wenlox 26 Maii. Of which noble person I further find that he obtained the advouson and patronage of the Priory of Studley (near this place, as I have there shewed) from Peter de Corbu- con, heir to the Founder ; whereunto he gave a fair portion of lands lying in Shott- well : That he also built an Hospital at the gates of that Monastery : That he bore for his Armes Gules three flower de lices or, as by his seal appeareth, within the compass whereof Scil. Towards the lower part of the shield there is a star with a crescent, 88 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. <5hc which is a Badge (as hath been observed by judicious antiquaries) of his service in the Holy wars : and that he departed this life 7th Apr. 23 H. III., being then very aged, leaving issue several sons, viz., William his son and heir; Walter a priest, and "'^jutoA^^wMfai 1 *'/ ■m.-bi^;^**'**""** . SITUATE OPPOSITE KING'S HEAD INN. employed by King H. III. as his agent to the Court of Rome, afterwards elected Bishop of Worcester, whose story I refer to Godwyn ; John Lord of Snitterfield in this County; and Nicholas, of whom I find no more than the bare mention. Which Will., being a martial man as well as his father, and accompanying him at raising the siege of Lincolne Castle, in 1 H. III., had in 15 H. III., much of his Father's estate passed over to him, for which he then did his homage to the King, and in 24 H. III., obtained a special charter for exempting him from any suit to the county or Hundred Courts, Leet, aid to the Sherif and Hidage for all his lands in England. After which,' viz., in 26 H. III., he attended the King in that his French expedition, which was so unpros- perous, and having been in 28 H. III. sent with other of the great nobility, to solicit the prelates for an aid of money, according to the Pope's Letters on the King's behalf, was the next ensuing year one of those that went Ambassador to the General Council then held at Lions, there to complain of the grevious exactions used here in England by the Court of Rome, as well as from the Clergy as Laity, and to crave remedy for the same, which William, bearing a devout affection to the Canons of Studley before specified, gave to the Hospital of his Father's building there, lands to the value of Xli. per an. lying within this Lordship ; as also certain rent and pasturage for Cattell, in DUGDALE'S HISTORY OF NEIGHBOURING MANORS. 89 Old Church of Stretton-upon-Fosse, the Priest of which was in close friendship with the Arden and Shakespeare families. Southernkeston, with the Church of Hemes- ton, in Devonshire. And having besides all this, obtained a special charter for exempting their woods, situate within thi Forest of Fekenham, from any view of the King's Foresters and Verderers, and being Steward to the King, as his Father was, as also a most faithful Councellor left issue by Milisent the daughter of Hugh de Gornay, Will, his son and heir, Thomas Bishop of Hereford (who in 34 E. I. was canonized for a Saint), and Julian the wife of Sir Rob. de Tregez, and departed this life in 35 H. III., immediately whereupon William his eldest son, perform- ing his homage and giving security for pay- ment of his Relief, which was Cli., had livery of his lands. Which William in 37 H. III., obtained a pardon from the King for pulling down the Castle of Penros in Wales, belong- ing to John de Monmuth, as also for five marks, at which this his manour of Aston was amerced, for protecting one Rob. de Shelfkill, who had been indicted for certain misdemeanours : and in 38 H. III. was constituted Governor of Bovelt Castle, in Brecknockshire. To the before speci- fied Hospital built at the Gate of the Priory of Studley he gave the advouson of the Church here at Aston, and having wedded Eva, one of the daughters and co-heirs to Will, de Braose of Brecknock, with whom he had the territory of Upper Went, and other lands in England and Wales, departed this life in the flower of his youth, to the great grief of many, leaving issue by her the said Eva, George his son and heir, and two daughters. Of which George (being scarce three years old at that time), I have found very little that is memorable, his death happening before he arrived to years, whereby he could be qualified for any great action, viz., in 1 Edw. I, Therefore, whether the marriage betwixt him and Margaret, the daughter of Edmund de Lucy, was ever consum- mated, as their parents had designed when he was scarce two years old, I cannot tell ; but sure I am that he had no issue : for John the son of Henry de Hast- ings and Milicent then the wife of Eudo (or Yvo) la Zouche were found to be his sisters and heirs, which Henry, being in minority in 36 H. III. and in ward to Guy de Luzignian the King's half-brother, had the benefit of his marriage, then disposed of by the said Guy unto Will, de Cantilupe before specified, who gave his daughter Joane thus in wedlock to him. Whereupon by partition made betwixt those coheirs, the said Milicent had for her share the Castle of Totenesse in Com. Devon. The manours of Eyston in Com. Bedf. and Haringworth in Northamptonshire with other fair posses- sions in England and Wales, as also the advouson of the Priory of Studley in this county : and John de Hastings, the son of Joane beforementioned, had Bergavenny with the Castle and Honour (which were the inheritance of Eva de Breause his grand- mother) together with the Castle of Kilgaran in Com. Pembr. and amongst other large territories in England and Wales, this man- our of Aston, then valued at LIXli. iiiis. id. per an., all which were in the King's hands at the time of the said partition made, by reason of his minority. But touching the family of Hastings I shall speak histori- cally in Fillongley, and therefore purpose to make no other mention of them here than what particularly relates to this place. " In 13 E.I. this John de Hastings claimed a Court Leet with Assize of Bread and Beer, Weiss, Gallows and Free Warren within this manour by prescription ; all which were allowed. From which time this manour was for divers descents, enjoyed by the posterity of the said John, as I could sufficiently demon- strate if need were, except for so long as Will, de Clinton, Earl of Huntingdon held two parts of it, in right of Julian his wife, widow to John de Hastings Father of Laurence Earl of Pembroke : after the death of which Laurence it appears that it was held of the King in capite by the service of one Foot soldier in H 9 o SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the Warrs of Wales, with a bow without a string and a helmet for his head, by the space of XL days at his own proper costs as often as there should be any hostility in Wales. From which family of Hastings it descended not to the Lord Grey of Ruthin, through the heir female ; but by virtue of a special entail made by John de Hastings, E. of Pembroke, son and heir to the before- specified Laurence (whereof in Fillongley I shall speak), was settled together with the castle of Bergavenny and other large pos- sessions, upon Sir Will, de Beauchamp, Kt, second son of Thomas E. of Warwick and his heirs. Which William bearing the title of Lord Bergavenny died, seized thereof in 12 of Cantilupe repossessed it again, for in 24 E. I. it appears, that the said Canons granted to John de Hastings, then Lord of this manour, lands to the value of XHIli. per an., lying here, in exchange for the said advouson. Nay, I find that after this, the Family of Hastings, being potent, had it again from the said Canons; for in 19 E. III. did Laurence de Hastings Earl of Pembroke pass it away to Will, de Clinton Earl of Huntingdon and his heirs ; who immediately thereupon gave it to the Priory of Makstoke, then newly by him founded, whereupon the Canons of Mackstoke obtained License from the K. for appropriating it to their House, which appropriation was accordingly accom- 0LDEN PROCESSES OF INDUCTION INTO THE ORDER OF THE BATH. HISTORY OF WARWICKSHIRE. FROM ENGRAVINGS IN DUGDALE S H. IV., from whom it descended to Ric. Beau- champ Earl of Worcester his son and heir ; whose daughter and heir Elizabeth being wedded to Sir Edw. Nevill Knight (a younger son to Raph. Earl of Westmerland) thenceforth summoned to Pari, as Lord Ber- gavenny, brought it, with other lands of a large, extent to that noble family, wherein it hath ever since continued being enjoyed by the right honourable John Lord Bergavenny at this day. "The Church (dedicated to St. John Bapt.) being given to the Canons of Studley (as I have formerly intimated) by the last Will, de Cantilupe in H. III. time was in an. 1291 (19 E. I.) valued at XXXIII marks: which grant did not stand so firm but that the heirs plished in the same year, by Wolstan then Bishop of Worcester, as by his instrument dated at Blocklegh 4 Oct. appeareth ; and confirmed by his Chapter, by reason whereof, they had a yearly pension of XIIIs. IHId. payable on the Feast day of the Annunciation of Our Lady granted to them : In which year was likewise an ordination of the Vicaridge. But notwithstanding all this, it so fell out afterwards, that the Canons of Studley, by colour of their original title, go into the pos- session thereof again, whereupon great suits arose betwixt those of Mackstoke and them, yet in the end they of Makstoke prevailed ; who, to strengthen their title, had the King's confirmation in 5 H. IV. For which they gave a fine of LXXIli. XIs. that they might RURAL CHARACTER OF MARY'S WILMCOTE HOME. 91 enjoy it according to the tenor of the appro- priation thereof so made to them as afore- said. In 26 H. VIII. the Vicaridge was valued at Xli., at which time the Synodalls and Procurations issuing out of it were Xs. Vd. ob. " In this Church there was antiently a certain Fraternity or Gild, consisting of the Parishioners only, being founded by them to the honour of God and the blessed Virgin, but it had no lawful establishment till 9 E. IV., at which time, upon the humble petition of the inhabitants, License was granted to Sir Edw. Nevill, Knight, then Lord of the man- our, that he should so settle and order the same as that there might be a certain Priest yearning to make more frequent visits to their peaceful surroundings than the calls of our home nearer the Great Babel have ever permitted. Mary's old and most truly romantic home, in appearance as in all its surroundings, must ever possess charms second to no other of the sacred spots associated with the poet's memory. More- over, itis as it was in her day ; the improver or restorer have never displayed any handi- work here ; we feel instinctively that all is pretty much as Mary left it on the happy morn she went forth to be made John Shakespeare's wife. The very doors seem as though on the same hangings, and the window frames in many rooms cling to the • maintained there, to celebrate divine service daily at the Altar of the blessed Virgin in the said Church, for the good estate of the said K. Edw. IV. and Eliz. his Consort, as also for the Brethren and Sisters of that Fraternitie, during this life, and for the souls after their departure hence, and the souls of all the faithfull deceased : which accordingly was effected, and lands disposed thereunto for that purpose, valued at Villi. IXs. lid. ob. per an. in 37 H. VIII." In saying farewell to Aston Cantlow and Wilmcote villages, delightful in themselves, and specially sacred to Mary Arden, the wise and not less loving mother of the great master, how oft has been the writer's tiny leaded quaint bits of glass that Mary ofttimes polished in order that her favourite flowers blooming in the front garden might have their varying beauties better appreciated from within. The tottering old buildings, quaint in the extreme, converse only of the past. About everything there is a look back to a time and occupancy on which the mind delights to revert in order to conjure up, through their simplicity, their domestic en- dearments associated with the memory of his mother. What more delightful than a day or two in the quiet hostelries of either village, free to roam by day and rest at night surrounded by associations the product of such pilgrimages ? 9 2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. THE BIRTHPLACE, HENLEY STREET. LL pilgrims seek the house in Henley Street, Stratford, where John Shakespeare resided, out of which he tripped gaily to be a charmer for Mary Arden at Wilmcote, and where his world- renowned son William was born, and which must ever be a principal object of deepest interest. It is the birthplace of Shakespeare ; and in a deed recently discovered, and dated January, 1597, whereby John Shakespeare conveys to George Badger a strip of ground extending from Henley Street to the Guild-pits, the house now shown as the birthplace is alluded to as then in the tenure or occupation of the former. We thus possess a testimony in this question which, as Halliwell remarks, "viewed in connection with tradition and later au- thorities, may fairly be considered decisive." The world's William Shakespeare, the son of John Shakespeare and Mary Arden (a gentle name, indeed), was born April, 1564; the day of his birth, as averred by tradition, being the twenty-third of that month, or St. George's day, the anniversary of the patron saint of England. Closely on his birth the great plague broke out in Stratford ; all his family, however, providentially escaped the ravages. THE BAPTISMAL RECORD. 93 His baptism is recorded three days after- wards in the parish register of Holy Trinity, Stratford, traced from the original, thus : — an instructor of Shakespeare's early youth, and, like good Simon, a guide in the critical time of adolescence and an attached friend <0M»^ f^ri fj^^ ^frfyfafi As his baptism took place in Holy Trinity Church on the 26th, and as Joseph Green, pastor of the Holy Guild and master of its School at that time, in an extract which he made from the register of Shakespeare's baptism, wrote on the margin, " Born on the in after life, living at the time, an educated and precise dominie of leading position in Stratford, is an authority not to be gain- sayed, although some writers assume that -because Shakespeare's sole granddaughter was married on the 22nd of April, 1626, DRAWN BY EDGAR FLOWER, OF STRATFORD. 23rd," — in accordance with the important record, this has been accepted as the day on which he saw the light, the later date being that in which the infant forehead was signed with the sign of the cross as the banner seal of the holy faith in which he became an en- rolled member. Good Father Green, master of Jolliffe's School, and who, with Simon Hunt, his successor in the mastership, was ten years exactly from the poet's death, therefore the reason for choosing this day might have had a reference to her illustrious grandfather's birthday, which would be cele- brated as a festival in the family. In fixing on the 23rd of April, 1654, as the birthday of the poet, there may be inaccuracy, and that the real birthday is more a matter of inference than of knowledge, as birthdays 94 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. are in many other cases that the 25th of December must be several months wrong for Christmas Day. Pursuing, however, a curious and interesting process of reasoning, Shakespeare's biographers have, without exception, decided on this day as the date of his advent ; tradition counten- ances it, and in default of any evidence to the contrary, it is treated as what it professes to be. It is sufficient to know that the register of Stratford's shrine solemnly and unmistak- ably records the baptism of " Gulielmus Alius Johannes Shakespeare, on April 23rd." Eng- land was, as yet, scarcely set loose from Roman- ism ; the national church held fast to most of the ancient formulas, and was not likely to abandon them under the government of a woman like Elizabeth, and so, naturally enough, baptism, being the child's initiation into Christianity, was reckoned its true birth. Until baptised it was out of the pale of salvation, and pious parents lost no time in securing its spiritual safety. Seldom more than two or three days elapsed before it was borne to the font, and then its baptism was recorded as a matter of course. John Shakespeare was a respectable and God- fearing citizen, faithful to his lights, and no doubt followed the customs of the time. This interesting edifice, the resort of so many pilgrims, was the residence of John Shake- DRAWN BY EDGAR FLOWER, OF STRATFORD. Everybody knows speare from his first settlement in Stratford, first as tenant of the Ardens, and afterwards as proprietor, till his death in 1601. On the latter event taking place it passed to his son William, by whom it was devised in succes- sion to his daughters Susannah and Judith. Originally it seems to have formed one residence, but it was afterwards divided — the western part, containing the birth- room, being latterly tenanted by a butcher ; whilst the eastern portion formed an inn. It has been very carefully and successfully restored to what may be regarded as approxi- mating to its original condition in the time of Shakespeare. This old house in which John and Mary commenced their married life has passed through the usual vicissi- tudes and changes incident to long years of existence. By Shakespeare's will it was bequeathed to his sister Joan — Mrs. William Hart — to be held by her under the yearly rent of twelve pence, during her life, and at her death to revert to his daughter Susanna and her descendants. His sister Joan appears to have been living there at the time of his decease, in 1616. She is known to have been living there in 1639 — twenty- three years later — and doubtless she resided there till her death in 1646. The estate then passed to Susanna — Mrs. John Hall — from whom, in 1649, it descended to her grand- DESCRIPTION OF THE HENLEY STREET BIRTHPLACE. 95 child, Lady Barnard, who left it to her kinsmen, Thomas and George Hart, grand- sons of Joan. In this line of descent it continued, subject to many of those infringe- ments which are incidental to poverty, till 1806, when William Shakespeare Hart, the seventh in collateral kinship from the poet, sold it to Thomas Court, from whose family it was afterwards purchased for the town of Stratford, or, if preferred, for the nation. Meantime the property, which originally con- sisted of two tenements and a considerable piece of adjacent land, had, little by little, been curtailed of its fair proportions by the sale of its gardens and orchards. The two tenements — i.e., the two in one — had been subdivided. A part of the building became an inn — at first called M The Maidenhead," afterwards " The Swan," and finally " The Swan and Maidenhead." Another part be- came a butcher's shop. The aspect of the buildings in their social conditions will be seen by the engravings in this volume. The old dormer windows and the quaint old porch noticeable in the older sketch dis- appeared. A new brick casing was foisted on the tavern end of the structure. In front of the butcher's shop appeared a sign announcing "William Shakespeare was born in this house. N.B. — A Horse and Taxed Cart to Let." Still later another sign was hung out — "The immortal Shakespeare was born in this house." From 1793 to 1820, Thomas and Mary Hornby, the latter, who set up to be a poet and wrote tragedy and comedy and philosophy, took great delight in exhibiting the place to visitors, and as by that time the pilgrimage had swollen into an increasing volume, she must have eked out a fair living in her self-constituted capacity of custodian. It was in 1847 that this venerated and in- estimable relic became what may be termed a national possession. In 1856, John Shake- speare, of Workington Field, near Ashby de la Zouch, gave ^2,500 to preserve and re- store it, and in two years it was, under the superintendence of Edward Gibbs, an archi- tect of Stratford, isolated by the demolition of the cottages at its sides and in the rear, repaired wherever decay was visible, set in perfect order, and restored as nearly as pos- sible to its ancient self. The house, separated as it has been from the adjoining buildings, attracts at once the eye of the visitor. It is one of those old edifices which are still frequently to be seen throughout Warwickshire composed of a framework of timber, formed in squares, with the intervening com- partments filled up with mud and plaister, or as it is locally termed "wattle and dab " ; latticed windows and high pitched gable roofs. Behind is what may be termed a Shakespearean gar- den, planted with the flowers to which the poet has alluded in his works. The quaint house has been painted, engraved, photo- graphed, and described ad infinitum. Hundreds of pic- tures of it are scattered over Christendom where one of temple may be found. Un- doubtedly it ranked as a capacious and comfortable dwelling in its day. It is one of the skeleton type so common to the Elizabethan age, that is, the oaken bone- work of the frame is even with the brick- work of the outer walls ; thus showing the fleshless ribs of the house to the out- side world. The rooms are small and very low between joints ; still the one assigned by tradition as the birthplace of the great poet is large enough for the greatest of men to be born in. Its ceiling overhead and side walls afford not one hundredth of the needed tablet-space for the registry of the names of all who have thus sought to leave their cards in homage of the illus- trious memory. The whole surface, and even the small windows, have been written Solomon's 96 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. and re- written over by the pilgrims to this shrine from different countries. Here are names from the extremest end of the Anglo-Saxon world — from Newfound- land and New Zealand, and all the English- speaking countries between. The Ameri- cans have contributed a large contingent to these records of the pencil. There is something very interesting and touching even in the homage they bring to his name. He was the last great English poet who sang to the unbroken family of the English race. They were then all gathered around England's hearthstone, unconscious of the mighty ex- pansion which the near future was to develop. Much of the appearance of rural antiquity has been scraped and painted, and roofed and clapboarded out of this really venerable home of the poet. One feels that it would almost have been better not to have " restored it." This is easily said, but we must re- member that future generations had to be considered. A feel- ing of depression seizes the visitor on entering the " house," which at first sight conveys the impression of being poverty- stricken, squalid, and comfort- less in appearance. Is it possible that amidst these sordid sur- roundings Shakespeare passed his boyhood during the years of his father's prosperity, and that there he grew to early man- hood ? The thoughts wander to stately Charlecote, the home of the Lucys, who were but simple country gentlemen ; and it is here, in this lowly home, there is realization known and felt from how humblea condition of life the greatest writer of the world had arisen. But there is consolation in the fact of their not being reduced to it ; they had risen to it. This was John Shake- speare's house in the days of his brief prosperity. How Shakespeare must have felt what a sham was the pretension of gentry set up for his father when the coat of arms was asked and obtained by the actors' money from the Heralds College — that coat of arms which he prized because it made him a gentleman by birth. This it is, more than the squalid appearance of the place, which saddens the visitor, for one feels sure that the sting of those who complained that Clarenceux had made the man who lived in his house a gentleman of court armour was not without shadow of foundation. When on a visit in 1849 to Washington Irving at his charming villa, " Sunnyside," on the banks of the mighty Hudson, the author of the " Sketch Book " referred with rapture to the writer of this volume to his excitement when at Stratford. He fre- quently harked back to his pilgrimage to the shrine, and in resolute, emphatic language, endorse all the relics that had fallen under his vision there. Not the least impressed on his memory was the venerable chair in the Henley Street house, which he had thus described : — " The most favourite object of curiosity, however, is Shakespeare's chair. It stands in the chimney corner of a small gloomy chamber, just behind what was his father's shop. Here he may many a time have sat, when a boy, watching the slowly revolving <**/-\ « v^r t\e ryl * -^ St" ! «*A e>.it>Ucyt. lr St"! spit with all the longing of an urchin, or of an evening listened to the cronies and gossips of Stratford dealing forth churchyard tales and legendary anecdotes of the troublesome times of England. In this chair it is the custom of every one that visits the house to sit. Whether this be done with the hope of imbibing any of the inspiration of the bard, I am at a loss to say — I merely mention the fact ; and mine hostess privately assured me that though built of solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devotees that it had to be new bottomed at least once in three years. It is worthy of notice, also, in the history of this remarkable chair, that it partakes something of the volatile nature of the Santa Casa of Loretto, or the flying chair of the Arabian enchanter, for, though sold to a Russian Princess, yet, strange to say, it has found its way back to the old chimney corner," HENLEY STREET ROOMS FURTHER DESCRIBED. 97 The builders of this house must have done their work thoroughly well, for even after all these years of rough usage, and of slow but incessant de- cline, the great timbers remain solid, the plas- tered walls are firm, the huge chimney-stack is as permanent as a rock, and the ancient flooring only betrays by the scooped out aspect of its boards, and the high polish on the heads of the nails which fasten them down, that it belongs to a '■%-pr- period of remote JJ^ fEt antiquity. The tPPPPP-*!? cottage stands Old Cross at Henley-in-Arden. close Oil the street, according to the ancient customs of building throughout Stratford ; and, entering through a little porch, the pilgrim stands at once in that low-ceiled, flag-stoned room, with its wide fireplace, so familiar as the chimney- corner of Shakespeare's youthful days. Within the fireplace on either side are seats fashioned in the brickwork ; and here, as it is pleasant to imagine, the boy-poet often sat on winter nights, gazing dreamily into the flames, and building castles in that fairyland of fancy which was his celestial inheritance. From this room you pass, by a narrow, well-worn staircase to the chamber above, which has ever been known as the place of the poet's birth. An antiquated chair of the 16th cen- tury formerly stood in the right-hand corner. To the left is a small fireplace made in the rectangular form, which is still used. All around are visible the great beams which are the framework of the building — beams of seasoned British oak that will last for ever. Opposite to the door of entrance is a three- fold casement (the original window), one mass of names, scrawled by their owners on the glass. It is not of these offerings of fealty one thinks when sitting and musing in that mysterious chamber. It is pleasing when at home, even after long years have intervened between a visit, " to conjure up," as Winter, the American, has eloquently said, "remembrances of that strange and solemn scene, the sunshine resting its chequered squares upon the ancient floor, the motes swim in the sunbeams, the air is very cold, the place is hushed as death, and over it all there broods an atmosphere of grieved suspense and hopeless desolation — a sense of some tremendous energy stricken dumb and frozen into silence, and past and gone for ever." In the Henley Street old home are to be seen various objects of interest to the devotee at the shrine of Shakespeare, notably several rare editions of the poet's works, including the two first published in 1623 and 1632. A letter written by Richard Quiney, whose son afterwards was married to Shakespeare's youngest daughter, addressed to " my loving countryman, Mr. Wm. Shakespeare." The burden of the epistle is that the writer stands in need of the kind offices of his friend, and solicits the loan of thirty pounds. There is evidence that this letter was opened, read, and, more than all, had its request complied with, as a charge appears a few weeks later in Quiney's account book of " £2>° returned to Mr. Wm. Shakespeare." Shakespeare's signet ring is an object of great interest, and which would appear to be perhaps the only existing article that belonged to him save Quiney's epistle. It was found near the Stratford Churchyard, and is deemed an undoubted relic. It bears the initials W. S., connected by an ornamental string and tassels, the upper bow presenting a resemblance to the true lover's knot. Haydon, the painter, in a letter dated 1818, about the time of its discovery, said, " My dear Keats, I shall go mad ! In a field at Stratford-on-Avon, that belonged to Shake- speare, they have found a gold ring and seal, with the initials W. S. and a true lover's knot between. If this is not Shake- speare's whose is it ? A true lover's knot ! I saw an impression to-day, and am to have one as soon as possible ; as sure as you live and breathe, and that he was the first of beings, the sea! belonged to him. O Lord ! " N 9 8 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Hampton-in-Arden Church. Many of the poet's friends were interred here, but cannot now be traced. Little doubt can exist that it was Shake- speare's ring and worn by him, and that it is the ring he had lost before his death, and was not to be found when his will was executed, the word hand being substituted for seal in the original copy of that document. The true lover's knot indicates that it must have been a gift ; and may we not with good reason suppose that the "gentle Shake- speare " received it from Sweet Anne Hathaway, she " who had as much virtue as could die." At any rate, we will cherish the romantic conviction. " It has been said," wrote Douglas Jerrold, "that no legal proof exists of Shakespeare being born in this house ; but of what that many venerate is there legal proof ? It is indisputable that his father possessed this house in 1552, that William Shakespeare was born in 1564, and that in 1575 it was still in the possession of his father." "Let not our poetic sympa- thies be measured by the argument of legality. It suffices to know and to feel that the spot was trode by Shake- speare, that ' here he prattled poesy in his nurse's arms ' ; and more than this, that the associations remain and have not been destroyed. The worldly wise will tell us sympathies such as these are visionary, that our interest has arisen solely from our own imaginations, or they will cast the purest relic of the poet on one side, because, truly, it does not now appear as in his days. To descend to this destroys whatever that is good and noble it is in the power of association to bestow, for eyes will daily glisten at memorials far more changed from what they were, far less like the great originals. Breathe not a whisper to dissi- pate the solemn thoughts of such a power — tell us not how change- able are the records of men. If there be one spot in old, in historic England, sanctified by past associations, it is the cottage where the poet of the world passed his youth, where he wooed and won, and encountered the struggles of early life — the birthplace of William Shakespeare ! " Friend Richard Savage as secretary and librarian, is the genius locihere, a kind-hearted man, full of deed and parish register lore, as of all local knowledge bearing on subjects presumed as appertaining to his office. In matters of Parish Registers, he is facilis princeps, with amiability under questioning equal to any strain. To say that every year thousands of our American cousins of an inquiring turn of mind, " put him through his facings " with questions such as these only could divine, is to place Richard Savage on a high pinnacle for patience and endurance. Berkswell Church, Warwick. Traditioned as having special associations with the poet's youth. RELICS IN THE HENLEY STREET HOME. 99 In the Museum is displayed "the Strat- ford portrait " of the poet. The painting is supposed to have been owned by the Clop- ton family, and to have fallen into the hands of William Hunt, an old resident of Strat- ford, who bought their mansion of the Clop- tons in 1758. It is not pretended to have been painted in Shakespeare's time, and the very close resemblance which it bears, in attitude, dress, colours, and other peculiarities to the painted bust in Stratford Church, seems clearly to indicate that its parentage pro- ceeds therefrom. It is now pretty generally admitted that there are really only two authentic representations of Shakespeare in existence — the Droeshout portrait and the Gerard Johnson bust on the chancel wall of Holy Trinity. They may not be perfect works of art, they may not do justice to the originals, but they were seen and accepted by persons to whom Shakespeare had been a living companion. The bust was sanctioned by his children ; the portrait, fourteen times copied and engraved within fifty years of his death, was sanctioned by his friend Ben Jonson and by his brother-actors Hemminge and Condell, who prefixed it to the first folio of his works. Standing amongst the relics which have been gathered into the Henley Street museum, it is well to remember how often 11 the wish is father to the thought" that sanctifies the uncertain memorials of the distant past. Several of the most suggestive documents bearing upon the vague and sha- dowy record of Shakespeare's life are pre- served in this place. Here is a deed, made in 1596, which proves that this house was his father's residence ; also numerous deeds and documents relating to property acquired bj' the poet, and various writings having reference to himself and his family history. Here is his declaration in a suit in 1604, to recover the price of some malt sold to Philip Rogers. Here is a deed, dated 1609, on which is the autograph of his brother Gilbert, who represented him in Stratford in his business affairs while he was absent in London, and who, surviving, it is dubiously said, almost to the period of the Restoration, talked as a very old man, of the poet's impersonation of Adam in " As You Like It." On the northern wall of the lower room of this house there used to be, over the chimney, a quaint and curious ancient monument in relief in plaster, bearing date 1606, probably put up at that time, and "possibly," as Ireland says, "by the poet ioo SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. himself. In 1759 it was repaired and painted in a variety of colours by old Mr. Thomas Harte." Upon the scroll over the figures was inscribed, "Samuel xvii., a.d. 1606" ; and round the border, in a continnous line, was this stanza in black letter : — " ffioliif) romcs totth stoortt anto sprai 3nH SJabtci tottl) a sling; a (.though (Cioltth rage anti stnrarc Botsn Q.unti Goth him bring. The sketch of the birthplace, of date 1769, shows it as a large house, the timbers of oak, and the walls filled in with plaster, with dormer windows and gable, a deep porch, the projecting parlour, and bay window. In 1792 the dormer windows and gables had been removed, the bay windows had been transformed into a lattice window of four lights, the porch in front taken away. It was a butcher's shop in the one division and a "public" hostelry in the other. This latter was, in 1820, "improved" by having a new red-brick casing constructed in place of the timber-framed frontage. The former part ceasing to be used as a pork-butcher's, was set apart for exhibition, and falling into decay, was justly described by Washington Irving as "a small mean-looking edifice." Its walls were whitewashed, and its beams bedaubed with lamp-black. Modern squares of glass had superseded the old leaded diamond panes, while a sign-board, projecting from the front, told that "the immortal Shake- speare was born in this house " (as is seen in view dated 1847). It has since been com- pletely and carefully restored. The greatest nicety has been exercised in the preservation of the various details, and scrupulous care taken in the reconstruction to settle the accuracy of these details, by indications sup- plied in the original structure, and the restoration is regarded as " the most careful and successful work of the kind ever accom- plished." The timbers of the frame-work have been restored as in the early building, the mor- tises in the great beam, which extends along the frontage, having been taken as affording guidance, and even the original peg-holes have been used in the mortising. The cen- tral window is the genuine old one, and it has been made the model for the others. The pent-house and the dormer windows have been replaced ; and while the interior has been strictly preserved in its original state, the exterior has been judiciously brought into its old Elizabethan form. ' :,.Wilrr\«>V SHOTTERY.— SWEET ANNE HATHAWAY. 101 SHOTTERY. Sweet Anne Hathaway ! His earliest Muse thus addressed her : — " If my soul check thee, that I come so near, Swear to my blind soul that I was thy Will, And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there : Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil." HE birthplace and home of " Sweet Anne Hathaway," the poet's beauteous wife, is within an easy half-hour walk of Stratford, being separated from it only by a few luxurious meadows, in their season gaily be- dight with wild flowers, and through which a public pathway has existed for ages past. Within the last few years a large slice of these closest to Stratford has been apportioned as allotment gardens for working men, a bene- ficent change, we may rest assured, which would meet the poet's highest approval were he in the flesh. By the same path the visitor now pursues, did the youthful Shakespeare wend his steps to this spot to visit his passionately-loved village belle. At intervals, when on holiday absences from his literary and theatrical labours, how eagerly would he return to the home of his boyhood, and later on, after his London life, with his wife and children, many would be the delightful sunset strolls across the daisied fields to the cottage of her childhood and of their first Doubtless, she was for we have it on that " most veracious Oldys, who tells us tradition, she and tradition : love and troth. lovely to behold, the authority of of antiquarians," that, according to was " eminently beautiful," shall not, in her case, be permitted to err in the assurance. Until our railway days this walk to Shottery was a thoroughly rural ramble ; now modern Stratford presses outwards in this direction, and the shriek of the steam-horse, and the railway approaches, have greatly marred the 102 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. former quiet seclusion of the village ap- proach from Stratford. There is much, however, of the beautiful yet left. Pur- suing our way across the fields so familiar to Shakespeare in his youthful days, we are quickly in Shottery, among the ex- tremely picturesque and quaint cottages and farm-buildings now existent — just as in his day. It is a very quaint hamlet of old thatched half-timbered tenements, including the large farmhouse and series of buildings known as Richard Hathaway's cottage, built before Sir Philip Sydney was born, and which remained in his family until within the last half century. The cottages are dotted about in the most picturesque groups, some abutting on the roadside, others by the edge of the stream, with which liberties of diversion have been taken as probably suiting the exigencies of a neighbouring mill, while others are on the brow of the rising ground at the approach to " The Hall." How still and quiet and retired is the whole scene around and about these peculiarly quaint cottages and their surroundings ! It is a place for Shake- speare's lovers and none other. We en- deavour in our illustrations to portray, in all truthfulness and originality, such cot- tages as it may be presumed he well knew. Until within the last twenty years Shottery could boast of its village inn ; tiny to be sure it was, but with exultant pride it dated back to Shakespeare's time, and was in the highest degree quaint and as many cornered as gabled. It, of course, bore the name of the poet. Why it was " improved " off the village, not even the brawny- armed blacksmith living close at hand, who had thereby been deprived of his unadulterated brown draught, nobody could explain ; nevertheless our Shottery inn, which for centuries afforded rest and cheer to weary pilgrims, is no more, and sad is the re- flection. It was a most unpretending hostelry, and, if the story of its life as told by its latest Boniface be true, had, during the interval since Shakespeare tasted its good homebrew, gone through much vicissitude and even occasional subsiding into other uses than travellers' entertainment, the antiquated place ever remaining unaltered until the last fell swoop. A by no means badly-painted head of Shakespeare was suspended by creaking iron hinges from an oaken beam over the door ; no landlord's name, nor intimation of cheer of any kind. Was not the face of the genius loci ever enough ? Memory goes back to its one snuggery which served as parlour, bar, and general assembly room for all thirsty souls, a quaint, shapeless, many-sided apart- ment with the usual fireside oak settle, to- gether with high-back chairs, for any " quality folk " who may deign presence. There was much shelving for display of antique earthen- ware mugs and jugs having symbols of " Speed the Plough " and " Harvest Home," and no lack of blackened hams and sides of bacon arrayed temptingly around. Such was " The Shakespeare " of Shottery as existent twenty years since, and under whose roof we hugged the conviction that the love-sick swain had smoked many a pipe and emptied many a mug of the pure wholesome brew of mine host ANN HATHAWAY' S COTTAGE AT SHOTTERY. 103 The dwelling of his early love, his wife, his children's mother, and where he spent his courting days, still exists in all its primitive character. The dear antiquated Hathaway Cottage, situate in the midst of its quiet and luxurious landscape, is on the left-hand side of the road leading from Stratford, dropped, as it were, in a secluded nook, and sur- rounded by all that is suggestive of Arcadian times. One readily believes it is little changed from what it was in the days of Shakespeare. Proceeding down a pretty devious lane, you cross a murmuring brook; a few yards farther, you enter a thoroughly English rustic wild sort of garden, beyond which, on a gentle elevation, is an orchard, where delicious fruit ripened in the early is characteristic of Warwickshire cottages. It is exceedingly lovely to Shake - speareans in its oddness. This house, like Shakespeare's birthplace, has been divided into three tenements under the one roof, the central portion being that of the greatest interest. It contains the room which the Hathaways would make their family- room, and which served also the purposes of a kitchen and occasional sitting apartment in which the good folks of the time would take their meals. It has a stone floor, a low ceiling, and a very large fire- place. This is, for a cottage of its preten- sion, a rather spacious and cheerful apartment, rendered specially cosy by its wide chimney, by the side of which is a cup- No longer existent. «5* STL 1 1% «Lv- days of his romance. In front of the cottage, near the doorway, is the well, deep and moss-grown, where, by aid of the accustomed bucket, deliriously cool and refreshing draughts are ever ready on the hottest sum- mer day. How many thousands have here slaked thirst, and how increasingly great will the army of devotees yearly become, as time rolls onward, and his words of wisdom and profound knowledge of human life and action shall be more known and appreciated ! What a privilege to drink at the same fountain at which he drank from the hand of Sweet Anne ! Her home here is a long, low, thatched tenement of timber and plaster, substantially built upon a foundation of squared slabs of lias shale, which board for salt or bacon, having carved on it the initials I.H.E.H. In such old farmhouses a rude wooden stool was always placed inside the fireplace, which is very broad for burning wood, fagots and split pieces of timber. Who does not, when in this quaintest of homes, picture Sweet Anne here alone sitting on the hereditary fire bench, dreaming of him, her intellectual superior, so far beyond* her ken save in the utterances understood of all degrees. Bending over the grey ashes, she could see right up the great broad tunnel of the chimney to the blue sky above, which seemed the more deeply azure, as it does from the bottom of a well. In the evenings, when she looked up, she sometimes saw a star shining above. In the early 04 * y»4.I*^4 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. mornings of the spring, when her chief kitchen and household duties had been got through, the tiny yellow panes of the win- dow facing the garden and old well had be- come lit up, and bright with the rays of the risen sun. The walls were wainscotted, but a greater part of the panelling is now removed. Here is the antique carved chair, known as "the courting chair." Alas for its worth as a genuine relic ; its predecessor of like ilk passed into a curio collector's hands some eighty years ago, and the present venerable substitute received installation. Altogether, this primitive, picturesque cottage home seems to savour of comfort and homely enjoyment, and indicates that the Hath- aways were a well-to-do family in their time. As our American friends say, " Will Shake- in Anne's day must have been not less wonderful to all beholders. This princess of bedsteads has passed down from Shake- speare's day as associated with Anne, and without any stretch of imagination the visitor will believe that here she came into the world, and that perchance, reclining under the canopy supported by this carved grandeur, she sweetly slept and dreamt of Will. Who would desire to doubt it having been her bridal couch ? or how at eventide she sat by the open window to watch his longed-for coming through the pretty lane approach from Stratford. Question these thoughts as we may, they are uppermost in the heart and mind of every Shakespearean resting in this romantic home, so sacred to the memory of the world's greatest writer. Time and lack No longer existent. speare must have had a good time of it here with Anne." Passing out of the dwelling-room, we gain a staircase which conducts to the upper chambers, in the first of which is preserved an ancient four-post bedstead of the Elizabethan day, most elaborately carved, and which unquestionably was the grand bedstead of the reigning members of the Hathaway family, during their several gener- ations. All the rooms, and much of the surroundings of the place, retain their former character ; and if the visitor desire to adhere to local faiths, he may, without difficulty, regard as venerable relics many things among its contents. Foremost is this great state couch ; it is even in our age of pretension a very marvel of chiseldom, and of care have wrought their work here, as on the house of the poet's parents, and enhanced their intense interest to the cultivated mind. It is to be hoped that the cottage and orchard will ere long pass into the hands of the Shakespeare Trustees, to be preserved and cared for as the Henley Street Birth- place and New Place have already been. The Hathaway Cottage is seen to advantage from several points of view. It is charming as beheld when first approached from the road- side. There is another equally good view to be had from the old orchard above, which re- tains the undulating character of its ancient day. Looked at from behind, we get a thoroughly country aspect of the place ; and each of these points of view is placed before our readers in our illustrations. The THE HATHAWAY COTTAGE SURROUNDINGS garden entirely and in front view shows the general character of the cottage with the vine, and other creepers, clinging fondly to its walls; the shaped and kempt so according to rustic taste, its unskilfulness so pleasant to the eye, conjuring up all sorts of fancies of his saunterings here with his Sweet Anne. Who shall divine the chief subjects revolving in the mighty brain of the myriad-minded as at all seasons he tripped over the sweet meadows from Stratford to Shottery? The freshness of the country, and the pro- foundness of its quiet, were to him full of happiness. The still walk through the fields, the whole round of the seasons, must have been sources of endless pleasure. When the winter was over and gone, he saw with joy the increased light amongst the breaking clouds and dispersing fogs, the first bursting from the warm southern banks of green, luxuriant plants — the arum, the mercury, the crisp chervil, the wrinkled leaves of the primrose, the sweet violet, white as well as blue, the anemone and the blue-bell, beloved children of the early time, the blossomed branch of the apricot and peach on the sunny wall of the cottage, and the almond in the garden, like a tree of rosy sunshine ere a leaf is yet seen. There exists a tradition in the neigh- bourhood that Anne was fond of the No longer existent arum, and that when left much to herself she roamed among the hedgerows soon after the birds had paired, and saw the arrow- shaped, pointed leaves with black spots rising and unrolling at the sides of the ditches. He showed her how many of these seemed to die away presently without producing anything, but from some there pushed up a sharply conical sheath, from which emerged the spadix of the arum with its frill. Thrust- ing his stick into the loose earth of the bank, he showed her the root covered with its thick wrinkled skin. Some of her neigh- bours, who talked of " yarbs," told her this was poisonous and ought not to be touched — the very reason why in his absence she slipped into the ditch and dug it up. Later on, she found the arum stalks, left alone without leaves, surrounded with berries, some green, some ripening red. This noi- some fruit of clustering berries, they told her, was snakes' victuals, and to be avoided. Under his tuition, she knew well where to o io6 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. find the first " crazy berries," whose large yellow flowers do not wait for the sun, but shine when the March wind scatters kings' ransoms o'er the fields. There have descended from his day stories of calf-love for Anne while yet he was a Stratford school-boy, and that on holidays he scampered over to Shottery and led her up long lanes be- tween high mossy banks, where the little run- nels came rushing and chiming along between high overhanging hedges ; and through wide, still copses, and across fields deep with greenest grass, bright with sun- shine and all the glory of spring; where he would point out to her the nests of birds, the situations in the open fields and along the sunshiny hedges, in the hedges themselves, all clad in their young leaves, sprinkled with glittering morning dews, and perhaps waving with the utmost prodigality of hawthorn bloom, " sweet peculiar to each being well known to him. The robin and the yellowhammer on the bank; blackbirds and throstles in the hedges, or under the roots of some old tree overhanging a stream. He would delight in the depth of rich grass and flowery weeds him as man never be- fore had learned, and this even in s c h o o 1 b oy days. When roving with Anne in the fields around S ho 1 1 e r y they would hear the ringing notes of the blackbird and thrush, and watch the skylark soaring aloft into the clear heaven above, pouring forth its notes in uncontrollable joy, such as " We never can come near." As they returned homeward to the cottage, Anne's sweet home, what a paradise of delight was the quaint old garden, full of simple untrimmed beauty — warm, flowery, odorous — happy with the hum of bees in their diligence inspired of spring's first ANNE'S SKILL IN DOMESTIC DUTIES. 107 warmth, and the orchard, so feelingly since described by Coleridge in blank verse — On some delicious eve We in our sweet sequestered orchard plots, Sit on the tree crooked earthward ; whose old boughs That hang above us in an arborous roof, Stirred by the faint gale of departing May, Send their loose blossoms slanting o'er our heads ! The Hathaways were old residents of the hamlet. Anne's father was a substantial yeoman, quite on a par, in position, with the Shakespeare family. Will, at the time of his marriage with Anne, was only in his nine- teenth year; while she had reached the maturer age of twenty-six. In those days, it was deemed most becoming that the chief edu- cation of the gentler /, sex should be in the ^i 1 ' preparing baked meats, fj^ ^ ciency in ordinary food preparation, fallen upon the demon drink to afford a substitute. Let every girl look upon these domestic duties as necessitous to secure a happy home. Anne deemed it the duty of her life to pre- pare with her own hands the meals of her household, and was well versed in the cun- ning of divers savoury meats, and especially of pasties compounded of flesh and fowl, such as she knew would be best appreciated by her Will's palate after a day's hard brain work in the office of the Stratford lawyer, Pvi jn**- ■ pies and puddings for their households, the knitting of hose, and if, with these, they could be brought to unite the ac- complishment of unripping a coat, turning and remaking to spick and span resem- blance of new, they were of all others the most gifted. How many homes in these our days would be made comfortable and happy, had the young matron given heed to the homely duties so well understood and executed by Sweet Anne, instead of devoting so large a share of the few short years inter- vening between girl and womanhood, to the piano and novel-reading ? How many young husbands have, through a wife's utter ineffi- honoured and blessed by his service, or what is more probable, after toiling in the adapta- tion of plays to suit the needs of the several companies of actors, his friends and patrons. Anne did not aspire to any of the learning of her Will, but she made amends through stores of domestic arts, soothing to the toil-worn and weary, and therefore so becoming to her sex. Grammar schools existed only for boys of the bettermost families. No doubt there existed at Shottery a " Dame School," into which was gathered the maidens of below ten years from neighbouring ham- lets, and with whom were mixed up boys of tender age, brought to these humble bairns' io8 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. seminaries at early hours of morn as much to get them out of way as for any rudimen- tary instruction. Few girls above eleven years attended these schools. By that time they were presumed to have worked their sampler in capital and small letters, with Christian and surname at foot, and due record of date of execution. This was the finishing stroke in education, all else was superfluous, and, being the bond which kept the youthful fair under school room restraint, was the great goal of aspiration. The sampler once achieved, freedom and home duties and a " Gentle Will " in the distance became the all-in-all. As a handsome, well-made young fellow, hazel-eyed, and auburn-haired, with all his natural gifts, added to the wonted elasticity of spirits and frankness of youth, " Our Will " must have formed a cynosure of attraction to the fair maidens of the neighbourhood. Not the least interesting and gratifying feature in the present holding of Anne Hathaway's home, is the fact that Mrs. Baker, a nice good body, who lives in it as the cus- todian deity, an octogenarian, is herself a descendant of the Hathaways, and was born in the cottage. Her grandmother was a Hathaway, and the last occupant of the home who bore that name. The property has descended regularly from one generation to another, until Mrs. Baker's unsentimental ancestor broke the chain, and ruthlessly ex- changed it for coin. Happily this descendant yet remains in occupation, and we trust she may close up life a contented dweller there ; for she is a very pattern showwoman, with- out a particle of the usual belongings of persons in such office. She allows visitors patiently to indulge their own thoughts and reflections, and enjoy the Shottery nesting- place after their own fashion. We can thus, in visiting Anne Hathaway's Cottage, with its antique surroundings, contemplate it nearly in the same condition as when Shake- speare paid his love visits, whilst the fact of its being still tenanted by a descendant of his wife's father helps wonderfully to realize to visitors its many charming and romantic associations. The road from Trinity Church to Shottery has, since Shakespeare's time, been known only as Love Lane. We all know how he wandered through it, and found a wife at the end of it. Others have, since his time, done the same, notably genial Doctor Collis, formerly Vicar of Stratford, who went a wooing in the same direction, and found a wife in this quiet village. Anne Hathaway's Cottage may be said to divide with her husband's birthplace in Strat- ford the homage of Shakespearean pilgrims. There never has been any real doubting as to this cottage : its history has ever stood the test of rigid questioning, chiefly through a Hathaway having always been under its roof through all the generations from Sweet Anne downwards. It has been in the pos- session of the Hathaways for over three centuries, and as we have seen, even now a descendant in the female line is wife of the tenant, and acts as conductress through the romantic cot so dear to the literary world of numerous ages. It was repaired in 1697 by John Hathaway, and to keep it even in its exist- ing state there must have been many a tinker- ing since then. All intelligent visitors will, on careful examination, be convinced that what- ever changes may have come over it since Shakespeare, the lover of its fair inmate, crossed its threshold, there is much remaining as it was when he paid his wooing visits. Indeed, the whole village of Shottery would seem to be much the same as it must have been at that sunny time in the poet's life, when, after the exit of the schoolboy, he trod the stage of the world as the lover. And the fields through which the footpath leads, the . POETIC EFFUSION IDOLISTIC OF ANNE. 109 hedges, the stiles, and the every aspect of the place, are, perhaps, but little altered from what they were three centuries ago. An old rhythmical pun on the name of Anne Hathaway has for generations past excited much disputation. It is one of the best of this kind of composition, and is claimed as having been addressed by Shake- speare to his loved Anne of Shottery. The over-critical deny his hand in the composi- tion, but this by no means proves that it did not emanate from his love-sick brain. That he had a disposition to write such verses may be reasonably concluded from a passage in " Love's Labour Lost," in which he says : — " Never durst poet teach a pen to write, Until his ink were tempered with love's sighs." The lines, whether written by Shakespeare or not, exhibit a clever play upon words, and are inscribed : — To the Idol of my Eye and Delight of my Heart, Ann Hathaway. Would ye be taught, ye feathered throng, With love's sweet notes to grace your song, To pierce the heart with thrilling lay : Listen to mine Ann Hathaway. She hath a way to sing so clear, Phoebus 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. When envy's breath and rancorous tooth Do soil and bite fair worth and truth, And merit to distress betray : To soothe the heart, Ann hath a way. She hath a way to chase despair, To heal all grief, to cure all care, Turn foulest night to fairest day ; Thou know'st, fond heart, Ann hath a way. She hath a way, Ann Hathaway ; To make grief bliss, Ann hath a way. Talk not of gems, the orient list, The diamond, topaze, amethyst, The emerald mild, the ruby gay ; Talk of my gem, Ann Hathaway ! She hath a way, with her bright eye, Their various lustre to defy, — The jewels she, and the foil they, So sweet to look, Ann hath a way. She hath a way, Ann Hathaway ; To shame bright gems, Ann hath a way. But were it to my fancy given To rate her charms, I'd call them heaven ; For though a mortal made of clay, Angels must love Ann Hathaway. She hath a way so to control, To rapture the imprisoned soul, And sweetest heaven on earth display, That to be heaven Ann hath a way. She hath a way, Ann Hathaway ; To ba heaven's self, Ann hath a way ! What can equal the gifted American writer Winter's loving reference to Shottery, Shakespeare and Anne, in the early youth of "Harper's Magazine": — Over the mea- dows to Shottery where Anne Hathaway lived, within a mile of Stratford, and in sight of the slender spire that marks the sepulchre of him she loved. Hasten to the edge of the town towards the railway station, turn to the left and pass through one of those English country gates that swings in a loop of the fence, so that you have to make two decisive efforts before you are actually through it. There I touched grass and mellow soil, and heard a thrush sing in a hawthorn hedge, and was at once a-field and well on my way to Shottery. On either hand the meadows were moist and green, there were scattered clusters of tall trees that looked like wirework, for not a ves- tige of a leaf was left to them. Now and then a cottage came in view — a low rambling sort of cottage, with a thatched roof ; you might call it a cottage under a haystack, with the smallest possible window or two bursting through no SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the roof and making a kind of shaggy gable for itself and a pretty picture for any searching eye that might happen to discover its hiding-place — a most comfortable home- like cottage, that seemed to have spread its walls as a hen its wings, so as to accommodate the brood that seeks shelter there. Crossing the railroad in the midst of one of the meadows, I came to a land of peace, where sheep were munching young grass, up to their eyes in wool. They munched and munched, and stared with their blank, shallow, button-like eyes that seemed to be sewed into their ridiculous faces, all the while standing so still it seemed as if their stilt-like legs must have been driven a little way into the sod. There is a long path over the meadow — one cannot help follow- ing it with some cheerfulness, for un- numbered pilgrims have beaten it down with much passing to and fro, and, before many steps, Stratford is for- gotten, and there is nothing left in all the world so dear as the short sweet grass, the browsing sheep, the hedges, and the song-birds. Compassed about with limitless green sward, the trees, whose bark was black with rain, and more of those bland- faced sheep, I heard a voice that was as a new interpretation of Nature — a piping, reed-like voice, that seemed to be played upon by summer winds, a rushing rivulet of song fed from a ceaseless fountain of melodious joy. I looked for the singer whose contagious rhapsody was rapidly according all Nature to its theme ! It was not of the earth : those golden notes seemed to shower out of the sky like sunbeams ; yet I saw no bird in the blank blue above me. If bird it were, it was invisible, and that voice was the sole evidence of its corporeal life. Such fingering of delicate stops and vantages, such rippling passages as compassed the gamut of bird bal- lads — vague and variable as a symphony of river reeds breathed into by soft gales — such fine-spun threads of silken song ; and then a gush of wild, delirious music — why did not that bird heart break and the warm bundle of feathers drop back to earth, while the soul that had burst from its fleshly cage lived on for ever, a disembodied song ? " Hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings." Now until the break of day, Through this house each fairy stray. To the best bride bed will we, Which by us shall blessed be." — Midsummer Night's Dream, act v , sc. ii. Ah, how he sung ! tipsy with sunshine and sweet air, while the world was reeling below him, and the little worldlings were listening to his canticle with dumb wonderment. I found him at last, away up toward the planets, seeming the merest leaf afloat upon the invisible currents of the air. He was " WINTER'S " DESCRIPTION OF SHOTTERY. in never at rest. It was not enough that his madrigal had revealed a new joy in life to one listener at least; he must needs pant upon the waves of the air like a strong swim- mer, crying out in an ecstacy. He drifted for a moment, and graciously descended toward the earth ; but his rapture was not yet ended, for he again aspired, and grew smaller than any leaf, and I saw nothing but a mote panting upon the bosom of a cloud, and heard nothing but a still small voice coming down to me out of the high heaven of its triumph. Behind me lay fields that stretched back to Stratford ; before me lay other fields that reached forth and kissed the hem of the gar- ments of Shottery, albeit Shottery is a half nude place, a mere handful of houses mostly old, each looking so like the house in the very next garden that I was utterly unable to say which of the several was the home where Anne was courted of Will, when Will had grown weary of courting other maids, they say. It is not un- pleasant to stumble upon the shrine for love of which you have crossed the seas ; in truth this plan pleases me more than to have some gabbling guide seize me by the bridle and lead me to the climax without warning and without reserve. I had made the circuit of the solitary winding street that is the sum total of Shottery village, and though I had fixed upon half-a-dozen nest- like cottages, in either of which Anne might have felt at home, I was forced to ask at a s-mithy for the path to Anne's. The smith, grimy of face, but clean of spirit, if his voice was honest — the smith was beating a hot iron that spat fire at every blow. He left the re- vy^s*" - 9 The Great Bed of Ware. Sec " Twelfth Night," act 3, sc. ii. When Sir Toby Belch urges Aguecheek to pen a challenge to his supposed rival, he tells him to put as many lies in a sheet as will lie in it, " although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England." The bed was the wonder of Shakespeare's age, and still exists in Ware. It was carved in Elizabeth's reign. sounding anvil, and seeing one of the village belles with a great bundle of something a-top of her young head, said he, " Follow that maid, master, and you will pass Anne's gate." I followed, and passed it as directed. There was a brace of cottages with gardens athwart them, and the muddy road run- ning in front of the two ; of these I chose the one that seemed least inter- esting ; for why should a cot having an immortal history care to look well ? Is it not enough that its chamber is a shrine, and that so long as it hangs together it will be reverenced of men ? Therefore I chose the poorer of the two, and neither was much to boast of. A child answered my rap at the door. Was it Anne's cot- tage, to be sure ? No ; but Anne's cottage was adjoin- ing. Enough that I had at last brought the focus of my drives to bear upon truth ; so, a copper or two for the child, whose life-long re- gret it must be that she was born next door to Anne's and not on the veritable pre- mises. A wicket hung loosely under the shadow of a thorn ; a line of uneven flagstones led through the garden, and I had scarcely set foot upon them when a dame, whose face was a kind of welcome, and whose modest and antique attire was a warrant of her right to do the honours of the place, appeared at the cottage door, paused there a moment to drop a curtsey that was like a cue from the Elizabethan drama, and I was at once at home. There was a small well or spring to the left of the path, with smooth flat stones about it, and many a thriving shrub seeking to do justice to the garden even in mid Janu- ary. All this beguiled me. What more 112 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. could I do than be grateful and enter, since the dame had cordially bidden me ? Stone steps, a half-dozen of them, led to the door ; within was a small hall or entry, floored with flags and suggestive of nothing but winter apples and garden tools. Out of this entry a door admitted us to the main room of the cottage, also paved with well-washed, well-worn, and fragmentary flagstones. This was the best room in Anne's cottage, and here I put off the old wcrld and the new world, and went back into the past, like one who has been long seeking some mode of egress and is overcome with resignation when he finds himself at the very threshold of his desires, and a welcome guest withal. There was but one thought in my mind now. I like an ideal smoke-house, and sat in the corner where Will used to sit when Anne was young and he was younger. Somehow, it all seemed like a dream ; the dark walls of the chimney, the low beam that I ran against two or three times before I learned to duck under it as I passed from the chimney-place into the room and back to the chimney-place again, in a kind of aimless pilgrimage that was a source of deep and inexpressible gratifica- tion to me. I was taking in the spirit of the surroundings, and by degrees growing in grace. On the left of the fire hung a net of small, shiny onions ; two or three hams, shrouded in white, were strung up in the dark of the chimney almost out of reach ; the poker and tongs stood with their heads together in close Kt(c*\«--\ had found the golden key to the mystery of a life that has ever seemed to me more like a fable than a reality, and it was for me to lay hold on it at once and be satisfied, or ever after hold my peace. Could I stop all night ? for it was toward twilight when I entered — might I eat here and sleep here, and on the morrow go out into the world again, richer for my experience ? Yes, I could, if I would accept of the very humble fare of the dame and her master — such fare, she assured me, as I had not been used to, though I knew not what spirit had reveal sd to her the state of my case, and I cared not. I hung my cap on a peg in the hall, went into the great chimney that was confidence ; and back of them was a cupboard, within which the goodies in Anne's time were stored. On the opposite side of the fire was a stock of kindlings, crowned with a basket of knitting work; overhead was a flying bridge of towels and woollen socks, each article in a comfortable lukewarm condition. The smoke floated past these signals of domestic peace and coiled up the great chim- ney passage, growing bluer and bluer, and more and more spiritualized, until it blended with the blue sky itself, plainly visible through the uncovered mouth of the chimney. An atmosphere of unutterable calm brooded over the place. It began in the bed of coals under the sooty kettle that hung by a "WINTER'S" DESCRIPTION OF THE INTERIOR. "3 chain to the guy pole in the chimney; it filled that serene nook and swept into the low-roofed room. Sprigs of Christmas holly, with the red berries just beginning to shrivel, were thrust into the leaden casement of the small window panes ; a bird in a willow cage hopped from perch to perch, as patient and persistent as the long pendulum of a coffin-like clock that stood next the chamber door. In fact, it was difficult to say whether the bird was timing the pendulum or the pendulum magnetizing the bird, for both bird and pendulum swung to and fro with amaz- ing deliberation, and ticked harmoniously for hours together. I examined the blue china that was dis- played to the utmost extent on the dresser, and counted a row of small mugs, all of a pattern, that hung the length of a big beam overhead. I watched two copper-coloured pumpkins saved for seed in the midst of the When I had come thus far in my tour of inspection, I was quite in the mood to withdraw into my high-back chair, and dream over the coals that flushed and scurled when a shadow passed over them, but flushed again as the soft air fanned them in the hollow of the cavernous chimney. Suddenly there was a small roar of waters within the kettle; a cloud of steam gushed out of its crooked spout ; a few drops of rain leaped in at the open mouth of the chimney and spat on the coals with a short, sharp hiss ; the old dame hastened from some undiscovered corner where she had been very silent and very busy, and supper was speedily under way. I remember no meal more enjoyable than was this : rashers of bacon fried over the coals, thick slices of bread toasted and spread with lard spiced with rosemary and salt, and tea sipped from the blue cups that were so marked an ornament to the dresser. You see the dame's great-grandmother was a Hathaway, and the dame's master married her out of this cottage on nine shillings a-week. But congregation of mugs. There was a bunch of lavender on one wall, the only one, dating back to Waterloo ; — and, — well, just here a curtain was drawn across part of the room, to keep the strong draught from sweep- ing every member of the family up the chimney, and to make the chimney-corner seem rather more like a shrine, I fancy, or it surely had that effect. This dark curtain hung just back of the settle whereon Will and Anne made love. Jr^A^'-^ times are easier now, bless God ! and many a liberal sixpence is dropped into the hand of the good woman by pilgrims from the very ends of the earth. After supper two clay pipes added their aromatic fumes to the thin blue clouds that scaled the chimney, and meanwhile the P H4 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. motherly soul was tidying the room and making ominous movements with a 'AT% *»u :■■: wfeTsr -^•V warming pan, such as it privilege to read of, but had been never to my see until this hour. The bed I was to sleep in must needs be aired, as it is not slept in save when the wander- ing son comes home to Shottcry twice in the year. All the story was gradually revealed to me be- tween whiffs of tolerable tobacco and the renewal of the coals in the warming pan. I listened to the easy drone of the cottager, v. ho sat op- posite to me near the chimney, the very picture of contentment, and to the unsteady steps of the housewife, who was preparing my bed for the night. The bird had stopped vibrating between his perches, the old clock, with a face like a harvest moon, was ticking to itself as softly as possible, £3 though it felt we had lost interest in its affairs, and it was not expected to tick with much decision any more that night. To bed a'c last in the little chamber next Anne's room. I had already seen her stately couch, on which so many eyes have looked. I saw it by daylight, when the great head-board with its heavy carvings, and the tall posts, which are beginning to tell a little under the weight of the ponderous wooden canopy, seemed worthy of some reverence ; but at night, by the dim light of an exceedingly slender taper, it positively looked to me like some curious sarcophagus with mummies standing in a row over the pillow, and probably a handful of dust and ashes hidden away under the quilt. One glance was enough for me now. The dame said, " Good night, and sleep well," as she passed down the creaking stairs, and I closed the small door and shut Anne's room from mine. There was a low murmur of voices in the room under me. I heard it while I lay in bed. Then there was a sound of sliding bolts and retreating steps, and then an inner door closed after the kind creatures under whose roof I had found shelter, and all was stiil. I thought I heard the clock tick once or twice, but was not quite sure of it ; a bird started suddenly out of the thatch by my window, and gave me a little fright, for the cottage had grown ghostly in the darkness ; a mouse skipped across a corner of the room. I buried my face in the pillow, full of vague fancies, and presently slept the sleep that had compassed all Shottery with its profound and tranquil spell. It was far in the night when I woke. Some- one may have touched me, for I started out of a dream into wide wakefulness. Of course, I questioned the cause of my broken NIGHT-DREAM OF "WINTER" IN THE COTTAGE. "5 rest, and listened with suspicious ears for conclusive evidence. The cottage was very still, yet there was a sense of life and motion in it, and I heard, or thought I heard, someone moving uneasily about, and drawing, now and again, a long breath, not unlike a sigh. I listened attentively ! The floor of the next room creaked as though someone were opening it ; there was no audible sound of falling feet, but only the creaking of the boards under the weight of somebody moving softly about. I knew that the good people slept in the room below, and that the upper lighted by the moon, that also shone in at my window, tracing the outlines of nine panes of glass within a sash but eighteen inches square, on the edge of my bed. I saw Anne's window open and a print that was almost colourless in the faint light, and then a shadowy figure passed between me and it, and leaned on the window-sill. It was a woman's form, clad in white — a nun-like figure, that might not have done discredit to Beatrice in her prison cell. The figure turned from the casement and passed from view. I heard a sigh that was born of mid- chambers were untenanted, save by myself — unless the truant son had come home un- expectedly and quite out of season, since his return was not looked for under seven weeks. I do not take kindly to mysteries, even in so wholesome a village as Shottery, and I rose with as much caution as is commendable with a detective, to listen at the door between my room and Anne's. Surely someone was pacing the floor restlessly, and almost noise- lessly, for someone I surely heard, and, with that conviction, I looked to the worn hole through which the latch-string was passed. I saw a part of the chamber, dimly ** af/\- summer passion, and had nothing in common with the season, the leafless trees, and the crisp frozen ruts in the road over which I had come to Shottery. I looked from my win- dow. It was still winter — the English winter that seems ever ready to become spring, and is never very wintry even when it is put to its mettle. Anne's room was more like summer. At her lattice the wood- bine rustled its leaves, glossed with dew, the moonlight was warm and mellow, and a bird's shadow fluttered for a moment in the shadowy lattice set like a mosaic in her floor. There was a light step in the path, and some- II( SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. thing like a quail's whistle broke the silence ; a tuft of leaves hung for seed in the casement, fell upon the floor. " There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember." Instantly, the misty form I had first seen is borne in every breast and told in every heart-beat. I dared not listen. I dared not watch. The prodigal maid stood with her bosom half shrouded in woodbine, while the moon looked chastely down upon her un- masked beauty. He worshipped in the path sped toward the token, lifted it to her lips, and glanced chyly forth. Then followed the eternal rhapsody of youth — voices tempered with love and deepened with desire ; cooing dove-voices, scarcely audible, but easily understood, for the counterpart of that story below, and toyed with the clambering vine that had borne no blossom so fair as she who now smiled down upon him, like Flora in her native bower. She plucked a leaf and threw it to him laden with kisses. How much of this sweet folly gave joy to those hearts I know not ; I only know that, after many fond farewells, the light step was heard in the path again ; the pebbles crunched under a foot that was elastic and bounding; the echo of this retreat- ing step died away, followed by a silence that was profound, for even the ghost at the lattice gave no token of her presence. But those wayward feet returned speedily. They must have has- tened down the lonesome road a few paces, faltered, paused for a moment, and then "WINTER" AWAKING FROM DREAM IN THE COTTAGE. 117 sought the woodbine lattice with a new im- pulse that was fatal to peace of spirit, for it but added fuel to love's consuming fire. The second scene was like unto the first. They are ever the same ; and let us thank heaven for such a sameness ! It was, how- ever, interrupted by some feathered trouba- dour, but whether lark or nightingale they were unwilling to decide. All leave-takings involve lovers more and more : their adieu was ten thousand times repeated, and this it were the damning evidence of something, but what, I scarcely dared to question. The air was chill, a row of frost-white dew- drops hung upon clipped edges of the thatch above the window ; the bed itself was undis- was but the beginning of the end. " Parting is such sweet sorrow," you know, and I know, and no one knew it better than he who first said it. " Oh happy fair! Your eyes are lode-stars ; and your tongues sweet air, More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear, When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear." It was a vision of shadows, more real to me than any fleshly love, of whose shadowiness I am, perhaps, too conscious ; but " it faded on the crowing of the cock," a shrill cock that crew long and loud in the early grey of the morning, and was followed by an imme- diate dissolution of certain elements, and a sound as of some falling body that fetched a sigh such as heralds the departure of a dis- embodied spirit. I rushed into Anne's chamber. All the delicious summer warmth was gone; the moon had sailed over the roof; a bird had fluttered out of the window; and, by the dull light of the early morning, I saw that a garment that I feel sure was hanging over the arm of the chair the night previous had slipped to the floor and lay there as though turbed, yet it looked as though it might tell something if it only chose to. Even the quaint carved mummies that watched above the smooth pillow looked grim and ironical. I retreated to my own room, and again in- vited the spirit of forgetfulness. My eyes grew dry and peppery, my eyelids thickened, it was much easier to let them fall of their own weight than to try to watch the morning. At intervals I slid off into unconsciousness, often awakening with a new experience to find the daylight brighter and the bird voices more jubilant. These momentary snaps were most consoling, and at each lucid in- terval I rejoiced as definitely as a drowsy man is able to, and thanked heaven for the brief, swift morning dreams which are the beatitudes of sleep. After that a cracking of coals in the great chimney, a sound as of a small round table being pushed toward the fire, the clatter of dishes and all the welcome premonitions of breakfast — these summoned me below. I wonder what instinct it is that prompts a man who has known the best of travel to turn his back upon the prospect that delights him most, before it has grown in the least commonplace. I shouldered my valise n8 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. after the morning meal, was followed to the wicket by the dame and the master, and with a hand in the hand of each, said my farewell. There was a " morning lark " to " paint the meadows with delight " ; a black cloud of hoarse-throated rooks swept over a grove in the edge of the field. The sunshine seemed fairer than common, the air fresher and sweeter. It may be that the thought of tracking Will's footsteps through those de- licious meadows gave me a keener joy in Nature, and a closer communion with her ; but I think it more than likely that the good souls over in Anne's cottage, who had given me welcome and God-speed with the colour of truth brightening and dignifying their honest faces, had as much to do with my increased spirituality as anything, for I had come away with a firm belief in the identity beautiful appearance. The white clover turf under foot is soft as velvet, men are reap- ing in the fields past us with their sickles. Having walked about a mile, we come to a lane turning to the left, and a guide-post pointing to " Shottery." I see the village and the old cottage covered with roses and fragrant-flowering vines, which make the air delicious. By the gates is the largest Noisette rose I ever saw, its shoots reaching more than twelve feet, and terminated with clusters of buds and open roses, each cluster having over fifty buds. William Shake- speare when eighteen years old as he was, had no need to inquire his way hither. What were the thoughts of such a mind drawing near to the place which now peeps out from the trees across these fields ? What were the feelings of a soul which of the bard and his bride which a visit to his birthplace and sepulchre had failed to inspire me with ; and it was good to find such gentle souls holding ward over the Shottery shrine, where the flower of Will's glorious youth was perfected, and whither, let us trust, he oft repaired for reverie, and to contemplate in that summer garden the mellowing harvest of his later years. Who has discoursed with such loving enthusiasm on Shottery as Ward Beecher, the eloquent American author, with whom personally the writer has had much happy intercourse ? He says : — Emerging from the village, we take the level road, lined on either side with hedges ; the trees, trees not with naked stems, but ruffled from the hedge to their limbs with short-side brush, which gives them a very created such forms of love in after days ? I look upon the clouds every moment changing forms, upon the hedges or trees, along which, or such like, Shakespeare wandered, with his sweet Anne, and marvel what were the imaginations, the strifes of heart, the gushes of tenderness, the sanguine hopes and fore- paintings of this young poet's soul. For, even so early, he had begun to give form to that which God created in him. One cannot help thinking of Olivia, Juliet, Desdemona, Beatrice, Ophelia, Imogen, Isabella, Miranda ; and wondering whether any of his first dreams were afterwards borrowed to form these. It is not possible but that strokes of his pencil in these and other women of Shakespeare, reproduced some features of his own experience. Well, I imagine that Anne was a little below the medium height, WARD BEECHERS DESCRIPTION OF THE HATHAWAY HOME. 119 delicately formed and shaped, but not slen- der, with a clear, smooth forehead, not high, but wide and evenly filled out ; an eye that chose to look down mostly, but filled with sweet confusion every time she looked up, and that was used more than her tongue ; a face that smiled oftener than it laughed, but so smiled that one saw a world of brightness within, as of a lamp hidden behind an alabaster shade; a carriage that was deliberate, but graceful and elastic. This is my Anne Hatha- way. Whether it was Shake- speare's, I find nothing in this cottage and these trees and ver- dant hedges to tell me. The birds are singing something about it — descendants doubtless of the very birds that the lovers heard, stroll- ing together ; but I doubt their traditionary lore. I did not care to go in. There are two or three tenements in the long cottage as it now stands ; but the middle one is that to which pilgrims from all the world do come; and though it was but a common yeoman's home, and his daughter has left not a single record of herself, she and her home are immortal, because hither came the lad Shakespeare, and she became his wife. I leaned upon this hedge yesterday after- noon, it being the Sabbath, and looked long at the place, and with more feelings than thoughts, or rather with thoughts that dissolved at once into feelings. Here are the rudest cottages ; scenery, beau- tiful indeed, but not more so than thousands of other places ; but men of all nations and of every condition, the mingled multitude of refined men, are thronging hither, and dwell on every spot with enthusiasm unfeigned. Whatever Shakespeare saw, we long to see ; what he thought of, we wish to think of ; where he walked, thither we turn our steps. The Avon, the church, the meadows lying over beyond both ; the street and the room where he was born ; — all have a soul imbreathed upon them, all of them are sacred to us, and we pass as in a dream amid these things. The sun, the clouds, the trees, the birds, the morning and evening, moonlight or twilight or darkness, none of them here have a nature of their own; all of them are to us but memorials or suggestions of Shakespeare. God gave to man this power to breathe himself upon the world ; and God gave us that nature by which we feel the inspiration. Is this divine arrangement exhausted in OLD KITCHEN AT SHOTTERY. man's earthly history ? Are we not to see and to know a sublime development of it when we come to a knowledge of God him- self, face to face ? Then, not a hamlet alone, a few cottages, a stream or spire will be suggestive ; but throughout the universe every creature and every object will breathe of God. Not of His genius, as Stratford-on- Avon speaks of Shakespeare ; but of every trait of character, every shade of feeling, every attribute of power, of goodness, love, mercy and gentleness, magnanimity, ex- quisite purity, taste, imagination, truth, and justice. May we know this revelation, walk amid those scenes of glory, and know the rapture of feeling God effulges upon us from everything which His heart has conceived, or 120 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. His hand fashioned ! But chiefly may we see that noontide glory when we shall gaze unabashed upon His unobstructed face. The late William Howitt leaves us a charming account of a visit to Shottery : — The birth-place and the marriage-place of Anne Hathaway is just as it was ; and, excepting the tombs of Shakespeare and herself, the only authentic and unchanged traces of their existence here. I therefore hastened away to Shottery, the very first moment I could get out of the inn. It is but a short walk to it, across some pleasant meadows, and I pleased myself with thinking, as I strode along, with what delight Shakespeare, in his youth, trod the same path, on his way to see his fair Anne Hathaway; and how often in his latter years, when he had renounced public life, and she was his "all the world," they might led by the sweet recollections of the past, often stroll that way together, and, perhaps, visit some of their kindred under the same rustic roof. The village is a real rustic village indeed, consisting of a few farm-houses, and of half- timbered cottages of the most primitive construction, stand- ing apart one from the other, in their old gardens and orchards. Nothing can exceed the simplicity and quiet of this rustic hamlet. It is the beau ideal of Goldsmith's Auburn. .The village public-house is the " Shakespeare Tavern," a mere cottage, like the rest. No modern innovations, no im- provements, seem to have come hither to disturb the image of the past times. The cottages stand apart from each other, in their gardens and orchard -crofts, and are just what the poets delight to de- scribe. The country around is pleasant, though not very striking. Its great charm is its perfect rurality. Anne Hatha- way's cottage stands at the farther end of this scattered and secluded hamlet, at the feet of pleasant uplands, and from its rustic casements you catch glimpses of the fine breezy ranges of the Ilmington and Meon Hills, some miles southward ; and of Stratford church spire eastward, peep- ing over the trees. The cottage is a long tenement, of the most primitive character ; of timber framing, filled up with brick and plaster work. Its doors are grey with age, and have the old- fashioned wooden latches, with a bit of wood nailed on the outside of the door, to take hold of while you pull the string ; just such a latch as, no doubt, was on the door of Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother, when the wolf said to the little girl, " Pull the string, and you'll get in." The antiquity of the house is testified by the heads of the wooden pins, which fasten the framing, standing up some inches from the walls, according to the rude fashion of the age, never having been cut off. The end of «r^ BEECHER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE GARDEN. 121 the cottage comes to the village road ; and the side which looks into the orchard is covered with vines, and roses, and rosemary. The orchard is a spot all knolls and hollows, where you might imagine the poet, when he came there a-wooing, or in the afterdays of his renown, when he came hither to see his wife's friends, and to indulge in day-dreams of the past, as he represents the King of Denmark, " Sleeping within mine orchard, My custom always of the afternoon," lying on the mossy turf, and enjoying the pleasant sunshine and the flickering shadows of the old apple-tree. The orchard extends up the slope a good way, then you come to the cottage garden, and then to another or- chard. You walk up a little narrow path^ In the " Midsummer Night's Dream," Titania tells the fairies to be kind to Bottom : — " Be kind and courteous to this gentleman ; Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes ; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, "With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries ; The honey-bags steal from the humble bees," &c. These same dewberries have cost the ex- pounders of his text a world of trouble. As apricots, grapes, and figs are very good things, they could not bring their fancies to believe that the fairies would feed Bottom on aught less dainty, even though he yearned hungrily after good oats and a bundle of hay. All kinds of fruit were run over in the scale of delicacies, and not finding any of the fine sorts which ever bore the name of dewberry, they at last sagely concluded that it must No longer existent. between hedges of box, and amongst long grass. All the homely herbs and flowers which grow about the real old English cot- tage, and which Shakespeare delighted to introduce into his poetry — the rosemary, celandine, honeysuckle, marigold, mint, thyme, rue, sage, etc., meet your eye as you proceed. The commentators of Shakespeare have puzzled themselves wonderfully about some of the plainest matters of his text, and about none more than the identity of the dewberry. be a gooseberry, because the gooseberry is only once mentioned as a goose- berry in all his dramas. A wise conclu- sion ! What a pity that those laborioas and ingenious commentators would not step occasionally out of their studies, and go into Shakespeare's own neighbour- hood and hear the peasantry there talk. They would have not only long ago dis covered what a dewberry is, but have heard many a phrase and proverb, that would have thrown more light on the text of Shakespeare, 122 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. than will ever stream in through a library window in half a century. A dewberry is a species of blackberry, but of a larger grain, of a finer acid, and having upon it a purple bloom, like the violet plum. It is a fruit well known by that name to botanists (rubus coesius), and by that name it has always been well known by the common people in the midland counties. As I walked round the orchard of Anne Hathaway, I was quite amused to see it growing plentifully on the banks ; and taking up a sprig of it, with some berries on it, I asked almost every countryman and every countrywoman whom I met during the day, what they called that fruit. In every instance they at once replied " the dewberry." While I was in that neigh- bourhood, I repeatedly asked the peasantry if they knew such a thing as a dewberry. In every case they replied, " To be sure ; it is like a blackberry, only its grains are larger, and it is more like a mulberry." A very good description. " Yes," said others, " it grows low on the banks ; it grows plenti- fully all about this country." So much for all the critical nonsense about the dewberry. I could not avoid noticing many such little touches of natural imagery with which Shakespeare has enriched the poetical portion of his text, as I strolled about this garden and orchard. In the " Midsummer Night's Dream," act iv., Shakespeare says : — " The female ivy so Enrings the barky fingers of the elm." Why the barky fingers of the elm ? Be- cause the young shoots of the elm and those of the maple cover themselves with a singu- lar corky bark, which rises in longitudinal ridges, of frequently more than a quarter of an inch high, and presenting a very singular appearance. It is a curious fact that the elm is the great natural growth of the country about Stratford, and must have been particu- larly familiar to Shakespeare's eye, and in this very orchard he must have seen plenty of the very images he has used. I pleased myself with imagining the quiet happiness which he had enjoyed with his Anne Hath- away in this very spot, while these rural images and happy illustrations silently flowed into his mind from the things around him. There was an old arbour of box, the trees of which had grown high and wild, having a whole wilderness of periwinkle at their feet ; and upon the wooden end of a shed forming one side of this arbour grew a honeysuckle, which seemed as though it might have grown in the very days of Shake- speare, for it had all the character of a very old tree ; little of it showing any life, and its bark hanging from its stem in filaments of more than a foot long, like the tatters and beard of an ancient beggar. At the door looking into this orchard is a sort of raised platform, up three or four steps, with a seat upon it, so that the cottagers might sit and enjoy at once the breeze and the prospect of the orchard and fields beyond. There is a passage right through the house, with a very old high-backed bench of oak in it, said to have been there in Shakespeare's time, and old enough to have been there long before. The whole of the interior is equally simple and rustic. ' "N » K*- f\f 5(se«pi No longer existent. SHAKESPEARE AND ANNE HATHAWAY AND SHOTTERY. 123 SHAKESPEARE AND ANNE HATH- AWAY AND SHOTTERY. HAKESPEARE'S biography is handed down to us through the rural scenes around Stratford. The im- press on our great author's writings is that of one born to the country and living in it ; his works afford evi- dence in a remarkable degree of his intimate ac- quaintance with country life, and force a conviction that, in his early days, he dwelt mostly in the neighbourhood of Strat- ford-upon-Avon, in and among the scenes which were so deeply impressed upon his memory as to afford a constant and copious source of poetical imagery. His family con- nections were, at least in part, agricultural ; and whether, during his education in the Grammar School at Stratford, he lived partly in the town and partly with his relatives in the neighbourhood, his works show that he ANNE HATHAWAY'S COTTAGE (BACK VIEW). must have passed much of his time, as a boy, in the country itself. There are such abundant expressions, allusions, and similes so essentially rural, that they could hardly have been used by any writer not of country growth, and can be fully understood only by those who have been brought up in the country itself. The frequent introduction of passages peculiarly rural, shows such a deep insight into country customs and pursuits, such an intimate knowledge of horticultural processes and the business of the farm, as 124 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. could only have been acquired in gardens and farm-houses. Truly he loved the country at all times and at all seasons ; there was nothing beautiful in Nature that escaped his eye. The progress of flowers, their periods of appearing, their varying forms and qualities, the myriad insect tribes that hover around and within them ; the habits of birds, their departure and return ; the different customs of animals, the variety of trees, to him revealed new wonders, adding to his knowledge, daily gaining triumphs over Nature, constant progression in wisdom, with increasing admi- ration and understanding of the productions of the Omnipotent. Ask the student or the learned the most ordinary question regard- ing vegetable physiology ; the probability is that such a subject will be found to have been regarded as beneath a modern student's notion of science, or, at least, that its con- sideration has never engaged serious atten- tion. Inquire how the knowledge of mathe- matics gives new views of the sublime science of astronomy, and you will receive the information you demand. Request an exposition of some particular theory in metaphysics, and your desire may still be gratified. Ask him concerning an event in the ancient history of the world, or the con- nexion of classic fable and historic -truth, and your questions are answered. But ask this same literate to describe the function or uses of some common plant or insect — one which he sees every day, with which he has been familiar from childhood — and he will be unable to a answer, nay, most likely, unable to tell its name. Here is the radical error even in our so - styled " University education." Its votaries are conversant with books, not with Nature ; they view Nature through the spectacles of books. With the works which form the most lasting monu- ments of the talents of man they are familiar ; of those nobler works which bear - the visible impress of the Deity they are often pro- foundly ignorant. They forget that Solomon " spake of trees, from the cedar tree that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that springeth out of the wall ; he spake also of beasts, and of fowl, and of creeping things, and of fishes." Take courage, ye timid observers, continue to steal hours from the bustle of the world and devote them to the study of natural his- tory; thus shall ye harvest a tranquillizing, contented, and invigorating spirit, when mind and body are fatigued with the exertions of business. Try and follow, however humbly, in the foot-treads of Lubbock, the banker naturalist, who, in his minute insect observ- ings, affords the highest and noblest example of devoted study in its most difficult form. Know you that England's mighty bard also deemed anything and everything, however minute, which God had been pleased to create, worthy of man's closest study. He abundantly felt that "the beauties of the wilderness are His," and the lofty monarch of the forest, ©•*«. HIS FAMILIARITY WITH ALL NATURE. 125 the lowly and fragile flower, the Leviathan with his plated mail, and each tiny wing that flutters in the sunbeam, are only so many varied manifestations of the same Almighty power. Bear in mind that when he lavished on the world his images, no Doddridge Blackmore had lived to delight with the delicious de- scriptions of England's scenery, abounding in "Lorna Doone," "Alice Lorraine," and other of his writings ; neither had a Hugh Miller or Richard Jefferies laid open their caskets of jewels, so eloquent of rural life. The great master spirit had opened the pathways for these and other writers, to trace more fully on the lines mapped out for them, the truest observings of the daily round of animate nature. Now, after a lapse of three centuries, it needs a Harting to depict his familiarity with bird and animal life, and to show us that his intimacy with these, as with all else, was intuitive. " April greens the ground " all through the Shakespeare country. The primrose, darling of the spring, its fair pale yellow petals wear- ing that peculiar look of dewy freshness, is one of the earliest begotten of its children. Common as most of God's blessings, its chaste beauty and delicious faint odour seem scattered everywhere where clayey soil exists, and yet it too has its choice nooks and corners where it revels more willingly than elsewhere. " In the wood, where often you and I Upon faint primrose beds were wont to lie." — Midsummer Night's Dream. " Pale primroses That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength." — Winter's Tale. " Look pale as primroses with blood-drinking sighs." — 2 Henry VI. " Thoushalt not lack the flower that's like thy face, pale primrose." — Cymbeline. On Avon's banks in every moist direction, the golden marigold would put forth its pro- fusion of richly coloured blossoms, and everywhere around the delicate white flowers of the cardamine, known as lady's-smock, or, as Shakespeare has it, " lady-smocks all silver white," but, better perhaps than either, known to young and old as the " cuckoo flower " (the only one of the many which were once so-called that retains its old ap- pellation), are to be seen in all their profusion and simplicity, evidencing a joyful welcome of their namesake. Here in the first weeks of a genial spring they found many a sweet blossom filling up the beneficent order of Nature, and opening to the sunshine at its appointed time. They despised not the dandelion even with its in- different naughty character, while the red campion, the vetch, stitchwort, and others had each their charm. Then there was the brown lea beyond, enamelled with daisies powdered over, which Chaucer had before told of, whither he went at early morn to watch " the day's eye " open, and again at eve " to see 126 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. this flower, how it will go to rest. For fear of night, so hateth it the darkness." There now exist hedgerows at Shottery where, along with primroses, ox-lips and arums thrive in rare luxuriance, and many open banks where the purple sweet-violet flourishes in such profusion as to enamel the green sward with its delicate colour. In one of his earliest comedies Shakespeare gives the name Viola to one of his first female creations. There are some fifteen allusions to it in his plays. In " Measure for Measure " it furnishes him with a strik- ing illustration of angels' malignant influence. pied " as belonging to the happy spring- time of love. In the " Winter's Tale " they supply a delicious passage — though "dim" they are " sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes or Cytherea's breath." In " King John " we are warned that " to throw a perfume on the violet" — which is the essence of all sweetness — " is wasteful, and ridiculous ex- cess." A beautiful reference occurs in " King Richard II." :— J»k 01\ , "The tempter or the tempted, who sins most ? Not she ; nor doth she tempt ; but it is I That lying by the violet, in the sun, Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season." In "Midsummer Night's Dream" the violet blooms among the flora of Fairyland : — " 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 : There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight." *' It came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing, and giving odour." — Twelfth Night. In the sweet spring in " Love's Labour Lost," " violets blue" are named with "daisies " Who are the violets now That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ?" Cymbeline's princely boys are said to be gentle as zephyrs " blowing below the violet, not wagging his sweet head." Laertes com- pares young Hamlet's affection for Ophelia to " a violet in the youth of primy nature." Ophelia plaintively says — " I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died." And in the dirge over his dead sister Laertes breaks into the poetic effusion — " From her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring." Here he clearly refers to the rarer white variety, readily found in the hedges around Stratford, whose hiding-place is generally be- QUOTATIONS EVIDENCING HIS KNOWLEDGE OF PLANTS. 127 trayed by wafts of fragrance, and ofttimes deep in the grass hid by the bloom of the ivy-leaved veronica, while the bank beyond may have shone with the blue glints of the germander speedwell. In the " Winter's Tale " the violet has the finest compliment paid to it. In " Cym- beline," old Belarius compares the king's sons to zephyrs " blowing below the violet, not wagging his sweet head." The great master is so fond of the name that he christens one of his most beautiful hero- ines Viola, and he shows his love for flowers and the woods by calling many of his characters by their compounds. There is Rosalind, the archest, quickest of all his maids ; there is Silvia, " whom all our swains commend." There is also a Silvius : a prince Florizel, too ; and a Lord Escalus. Nay, he does not disdain to call his clowns after the same fashion, and we have Peter Turf and Henry Pimpernel as friends of Christopher Sly ; and good fellows they were, we warrant. Then, who but Shakespeare would have drawn names for fairies from the same source from whence he gets his clowns ? And so we have Fairy Peas Blossom and Fairy Mustard Seed : worthier names they have not in their own realms. In times when English wines were more used, every housewife in Warwickshire could produce her cowslip-wine. The cowslip is still sold in many markets for this purpose, and little cottage girls still ramble the meadows during April and May in search of it to carry home to their mothers for this wine-making. Sweet Anne, we may feel certain, was an adept in the art, and would often bring forth a glass for Will's grateful refreshment and acknowledgment of her house-wife skill, The present occupant of Mary Arden's birthplace and home at Wilm- cote, Mistress Neighbour, "one of the good old sort," maintains in highest excellence the Arden family cunning in the concoction and make of cowslip and other domestic wines. The poet's honoured mother held no higher skill in the craft than does her existing suc- cessor to the old homestead, Mistress Neigh- bour. On occasions of pilgrimages to this dear old farm-house, second in interest to none of England's time-worn relics — not even that of Anne of Shottery — as maid and wife, we have tasted gooseberry wine of her own make, far superior to most of the so-called cham- pagne put on pretentious tables on festive occasions. The Neighbour family cultivate about one hundred acres of land, which for- merly belonged to the Arden estate ; the present picturesque range of buildings, then as now, formed the homestead. The whole place and its surroundings have undergone little change beyond the decrepitude which even English heart of oak is incapable of re- sisting. So entirely true is this of the wonder- fully quaint old place that its age is difficult of realization in these days of " jerry building." Few " doers " of the Shake- speare country — not even our American cousins — look in to see dear Mistress Neigh- bour in her old Arden home, every stone and timber of which speaks faithfully of the truly good mother of Shakespeare. Here she was born, and from this, her home of early years, she became the wife of John Shakespeare, and gave to the world a son 128 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. possessing the most gigantic intellect for all time. The man or woman, wandering in track of the multitude scouring these more than interesting localities, who yet fails to see this "unrestored," though not less faithful relic — existing, as it does, in all its original truthfulness — is no Shakespearean, but a mere parrot wanderer for fashion sake. The meadows round Stratford are, as the country folk say, " smothered " with cowslips. Shakespeare would naturally notice them, and they seem to have been another special favourite with him. Ariel's home is " in a cowslip's bell, where owls do cry," when its doors are fast closed up for the night, and nothing can enter its golden and crimson canopied hall. The fairy in praise of her queen tells us — " The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; In their gold coat spots you see, Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours." Was ever a flower described so minutely, and yet so surpassing beautiful ? Then, again, when the. yellow Iachimo is cataloguing the beauties of the sleeping Imogen, he notes — ' ' On her left breast A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops I' the bottom of a cowslip." One would have thought that the former description had quite exhausted imagination, but Shakespeare's verse is ever fresh and sweet as the spring cowslip. This, then, is certain, that cowslips and violets are most abundant round Stratford, and that they bloom not less so in Sh-.kespeare's verses. In the hearts of the Shottery lovers the lark held fealty next the nightingale. In what language would the strayer from Strat- ford depict to his enchantress how, as the first ray of sunshine dispels the glistening dewdrop and gently falls to earth, the lark, warmed by its soft touch, mounts high in air, and joyfully proclaims to all the advent of a new day. So also, the glee expressed in the song of that small brown bird, which, as it soars towards heaven and sings, teaches us the first duty of the day — gratitude to our Creator. Tradition affirms that the youth of Strat- ford visited the home of his love " ere the sun had mounted high." Every villager of Shottery affirms it to have been so, and we will not be heretics in the matter. With them, we will in all truth have it that ofttimes at earliest morn he would, in boyish fervour, be bounding over those sweet meadows, love-bound, and with the labourer, whose avocation took him the same way, he would have the lark furnish some indication of the time of day : — " When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks." Song — Love's Labour Lost. When Juliet spoke disparagingly of the lark's song, it was because she wished the stffcii HIS DESCRIPTIONS OF THE SKYLARK. 129 night prolonged, and knew that his voice be- tokens the approach of day : — ■ " It is the lark that sings so out of tune, Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps. * * # * Some say, the lark and loathed toad change eyes ; O, now I would they had changed voices too ! Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray." — Romeo and Juliet, act iii., scene 5. The lark has ugly eyes, and the toad very fine eyes, hence arose Juliet's exclamation .that the lark and toad had changed eyes. Juliet wished they had changed voices too, for then the croak of the toad would not have indicated the day's approach, and con- sequently would not have been a signal for Romeo's departure. Was it a visit to Shottery that afterwards inspired the beauteous song in Cymbeline ? " Hark ! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies ; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes ; With everything that pretty bin : My lady, sweet, arise ; Arise, arise." The notion of " singing at heaven's gate " was again introduced in one of his sonnets — '■ Like to the lark, at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate." When wandering around the Shottery Tryst with the fair one on a clear winter day an occasion may well have offered for Anne to question the trill greeting the lovers' ears. and called forth from her a hushed excla- mation of, " Hark, what is that ? Not the skylark surely, dearest, so late in the year?" " Yes, Anne, what other throat could so make the very arch of heaven ring with its ecstacy ? " And yet no bird is seen though we search the listening air. Somewhere above us, we know those tiny wings are beating a rapturous rhythm to the measure of that matchless music. The flood of melody pours down upon us as from some world of unguessed happiness. But visible agent there is none, for his joyous notes are heard distinctly when the pained eye can trace his course no longer, and when the ear, well tuned to his song, can, even then, determine by his notes whether the bird is still ascend- ing, remaining stationary, or on the descent. " Stay," he says to Anne, " there is the cun- ning character after all, that tiny speck show- ing dark against the ball of the sun. See him drop in the thread of his song, as a spider on his self-spun web." ** Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle ! " Wordsworth knew him, he is a " drunken " bird. Or if this breathless maze of joy be not intoxication, it is some delirium akin to it. The very listener can scarcely be counted sane and sober, until the little brown witch has nestled back to earth and silence. 130 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. It seems singular that the thrush, a bird as much famed for song as either the nightin- gale or the lark, has been so seldom noticed by Shakespeare. There are but three passages in the entire work of the poet in which the thrush is mentioned. It is re- ferred to once in " A Winter's Tale " (act iv., scene 2) ; once in " Midsummer Night's Dream " (act Hi., scene 1), where Bottom the Weaver, in a doggerel rhyme, sings of " The throstle, with his note so true " ; and once again in " The Merchant of Venice (act i., scene 2), where Portia, speak- ing of the French Lord Le Bon, and alluding to his national propensity for a dance on every available opportunity, remarks that — " If a throstle sings, he falls straight a-capering." Many naturalists who have paid particular attention to the song of the thrush have in- sisted upon it taking equal rank as a songster with the more favoured nightingale. Certain it is, that the notes of the thrush, although not so varied, nor so liquid, so to say, as those of Philomel, are yet of a clearer, richer tone, and have something indescribably sweet about them ; to many ears it is the most cul- tivated, so to speak, of all our birds, the trills, the runs, the variations are so numerous and contrasted. It is a full-hearted, though soft, delicious, perfect melody, poured forth by the hour, seemingly without break — a wonderful piece of music. Listen, says Mac- gillivray, to the clear loud notes of that speckled warbler, that in the softened sunshine pours forth his wild melodies on the gladdened ear. Not even the nightingale can equal it when in its sweetest tune of love ; the nightingale has not such command ; the thrush seems to know no limit. What does it resemble ? " Dear, dear, dear, Is the rocky glen , Far away, far away, far away The haunts of men. Here shall we dwell in love With the lark and the dove, Cuckoo and cornrail ; Feast on the banded snail, Worm and gilded fly ; Drink of the crystal rill Winding adown the hill, Never to dry. With glee, with glee, with glee, Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, hear. Nothing to harm us, then sing merrily, Sing to the loved ones whose nest is near — Qui, qui, qui, kween quip, Tiurru, tiurru, chipiwi, Too-tee, too, tee, chiu, choo, Chirri, chirri, chooee, Quiu, qui, qui." Shakespeare and Sweet Ahne, with their knowledge of the song of the thrush, would have declared this a wonderful imitation, so far as words can express notes. The first four lines, the seventh, thirteenth, and fourteenth, and the last five lines in particular, approach remarkably close in sound, to the original ; rendered more apparent if the words are endeavoured to be pronounced by whistling. Was it not to Sweet Anne he may first, ere DESCRIPTIONS OF THE VOICE OF THE NIGHTINGALE. 131 'V writing the " Two Gentlemen of Verona," have drawn attention to the recorder, a kind of flute, by which birds were first taught to sing? The recording of young birds is always very different from their song, as is also the warble of old birds after moulting. It is a very striking circumstance, that birds which continue in song nearly the whole year, such as the redbreast, the siskin, and the goldfinch, are obliged, after their moulting is over, to record, as if they had forgotten their song. This exercise is less a study than an endeavour to bring the organs of the voice into proper flexibility, what they utter being properly only a sort of warble, the notes of which have scarcely any resem- blance to the perfect song, and by a little at- tention we may per- ceive how the throat is gradually brought to emit the notes of the usual song. This view leads us to ascribe the circumstance, not to defect of memory, but rather to a roughness in the vocal organs, arising from disuse. It is in this way that the chaffinch makes endeavours during suc- cessive weeks before attaining to its former perfection, and the nightingale tries for a long time to model the strophes of its superb song, before it can produce the full extent of compass and brilliancy. Hence the recording spoken of in the play named — act v., scene 4. " How use doth breed a habit in a man ! This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, I better brook than flourishing peopled towns : Here can I sit alone, unseen of any, And to the nightingale's complaining notes Tune my distresses, and record my woes." In the mind of Shakespeare, of all the singers in tho woodland choir the nightingale stood first. In those happy saunterings over to Shottery, its wondrous charms would im- press over all others, not even excepting the lark. For quality of voice, variety of notes, as for execution, it was unrivalled. Had Izaak Walton preceded him, how deeply he would have drank in his glorious description that * the nightingale breathes such sweet loud music out of her little instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think that miracles are not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as we often have, when musing amid these rural scenes hallowed of William and Anne, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above , aw ■v.are* $y/«i earth and say, ' Lord, what music hast Thou provided for the saints in heaven, when Thou aff ordest bad men such music on earth ? ' " Gardiner, in his " Music of Nature," gives this passage from the song of the nightingale : " It was the nightingale and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear ; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree; Believe me, love, it was the nightingale." — Romeo and Juliet, act iii., scene 5. Shakespeare, as all others, speaks errone- ously of the female bird, whereas it is the male bird only who is the singer. "She sings as sweetly as a nightingale." — Taming 0/ the Shrew, act ii., scene 1. The origin of this change of sex is to be found in the old fable which tells us of the transformation of Philomela, daughter of Pandion, King of Athens, into a nightingale, when Progne, her sister, was changed into a swallow (Ovid Metamorph., Book vi., Fable 6). Hence also the name Philomel. " Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby." Song — Midsummer Night's Dream, act ii., scene 2. 132 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. " By this, lamenting Philomel had ended The well-tuned warble of her nightly sorrow." — Lucrece. " His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day." — Tiius Andronicus, act ii., scene 3. In course of his bird song discoursings to Anne he would assert a belief that the mournful notes of the nightingale are caused by the bird leaning against a thorn to sing ! "Everything did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean d her breast up till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity. Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry, Teru, teru ! by-and-by ; That to hear her so complain, Scarce I could from tears refrain ; For her griefs, so lively shown, Made me think upon mine own." Again, Lucrece, in her distress, invoking Philomel, says : — " And whiles against a thorn thou bear'st thy part To keep thy sharp woes waking." — Lucrece. Shakespeare himself clearly believed and taught Sweet Anne that the nightingale leaned her breast against a thorn when she gave forth her mournful notes. We do not care to have loving faith in this disturbed by any learned Sir Thomas Browne, pointing to the fact that the nightingale frequents thorny copses and builds her nest in brambles on the ground, or that she knowingly places prickles on the outside of her nest to keep off snakes. We will adhere to the more senti- mental belief of the great bard, who knew more of the habits of birds than do any of the philosophers before or since. Clearly, there were night- walks in those lovely Shottery meadows : — " Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale." — Two Gentlemen of Verona, act iii., scene 1. Dwellers in the country know well that the nightingale is by no means the only bird which sings at night. The wood-lark, sky-lark, thrush, sedge-warbler, frequently sing after sunset. Shottery boys eagerly sought capture of the cock nightingales on their first arrival before the female birds had come, or at least before the billing and cooing had in earnest set in. Shakespeare, like all close observers of Nature, could tell almost to an hour their arrival, and how, wearied after long flight from distant homes, they might be heard to drop into the bushes of their English homes. He and Anne would discourage their capture to be hung in cages at cottage doors, and would give money ransom for prevention or release. In early boyhood days the great poet had an intuitive knowledge of Where the nest of every bird was to be found. Work she " never so wisely," not a feathered mother could escape his searching eye. The light-eluding cell of the tiny wren did -not elude him. Vainly for him might she sus- pend a curtain for concealment of her nursery. The magpie's chevaux defrise of thorns was no fortification against his deter- mined will and unshrinking fingers. Other enemies might the wily titmouse hiss away from the house in the wall where she hid THE VARIOUS BIRDS OF SONG. i33 her little ones, but vainly might she simu- late the serpent's voice for him who was endowed with the serpent's cunning. With the advance of more reflective years, he looked back with remorse on the time of boy- hood's cruelty, and tried to make atone, by enlisting his Anne's sympathy and aid in repressing like instincts in the existing generation of nest rob- bers. And how, after nesting-time, the lovers would observe the male's assiduity to his little wife, supply- ing her with food while sitting, and relieving her not infrequently by himself helping in the tedious duties of incubation. And how he serenades her ! — breaking the still- ness of the moonlit night with his enchanting love-song; for though he sings to her at all times of the day, it is at night, when all the rest of the woodland singers are hushed in sleep, that the full compass of his strain delights us most ; and sweeter then, than in the garish light of day, are those exquisite trills of his, and that " one low piping sound, more sweet than is perhaps that " one low piping plaintive but full of tenderness, that has made almost all the poets, from Homer down- ward, sing of this sweet bird as sad and grief-stricken, and made them weep " o'er Philomela's pity-pleading strains." But he would agree with Coleridge that in " Nature there is nothing melancholy," and that it is the " merry nightingale," and not the " sad bird of night," thai can carol forth his love- lay as joyously when the moon and stars are shining as in the warm daylight. Toward the end of the month his song almost ceases : for the young birds of May are then fledged, his gentle mate no longer requires his sym- pathetic minstrelsy to sustain her. Anne and Will were both mindful of the bird's constancy in returning year after year to the same spot, as also the seeming apparent absence of any charm in the imme- diate surroundings to commend the special selections. Our eyes are not theirs. The lovers would note that in a whole wide parish they may be heard only in one spot, and there they would abound. A hawthorn bush near its nesting-place is a sure resort from whence to pour forth the gushing anthem, and yet it alone will not bring all." It sound," nightingales. Just in one chosen spot they consent to be heard, and here, as it were, in groups, as though revelling in their endea- vours to outdo each other in wondrous melody. Next to the nightingale, the sweetest of our sylvan warblers is undoubtedly the black- cap. He has been called the contralto singer of the woodland choirs. His strain, while rich and deep in its intonation, has also much variety, and is charmingly modulated. Now it is soft and plaintive, as if the singer were far away, and now, gradually rising in power and compass, we catch a glimpse of him in the branches right above us, his wings slightly drooping and his little throat quivering, while he pours forth a roundelay, witching, wild, and loud. Well may Francis Knight, a sweet singer of the country, say of him, H He is, perhaps, after all, ' the chief of singers.' " Nowhere is the blackcap heard in better song than in the lanes around Shottery and Luddington. 134 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. HOTTERY lanes some- how seem sweeter than any other, although per- haps every English shire abounds in lanes that many would consider just as green and just as lovely, but the Shakespearean will see charms here not to be found elsewhere. There is a special sweetness and rural peace between the leafy walls of thorn and briar found along these Shottery lanes entirely and exclusively their own. We steadfastly affirm such can no- where be more enjoyed than here and in its sister village of Luddington. It is early June, no smoke from un- sightly chimney-stacks soils the blue sky, everything is fresh and green, no hum of human voices near, and fragrant the herbage on the lane- sides as is the smell from the hay in the fields beyond. Prior to the little Shakespeare Inn at Shottery yielding to the fell power of the " improver," the writer induced mine host to bed him for a night, in order to gratify a restless yearning to A NIGHT WITH NIGHTINGALES. 135 be sheltered, if only for so brief a span, under a roof which had frequently housed the Immortal, after prolonged strolls with sweet Anne until the witching hour when parting had become " such sweet sorrow that I shall say — good-night, till it be morrow." In the desire to pass a night in the quaint old inn which, under such benightings and intent on early morning rambles, had held him from his Stratford home, a treaty for a night's lodging was concluded with Boni- face, the attempted slumber to be in the very chamber sacred to the blissful reposes of the youthful poet, when a victim to furnace sighs. The power of the nightingales on that occasion can never be effaced from the writer's memory. We had been wandering from midday until late at eventide, searching out-of- rain ? An incense-breathing odour from Anne's own sweetbriar may be permitted to be spoken of in bated breath, but cannot be described. It was barely sunrise ; a meekly modest white convolvulus that had timidly crept through the hedge was thinking of opening its eyes. This was the only visible emblem of wakefulness. All else was in blessed solemnity of slumber, though uttering volumes to the heart. Was Anne within ? Had he sped over and returned to Stratford on the previous night, and was she in dreams ? There are what may be called lane-haunting birds in every rural village of England, but nowhere do they abound more than in the lanes around and about Shottery. Of all the tribe, perhaps none rejoices more in tangled the-way lanes and trying to decide as to the most captivating — a hopeless task. After enjoying the best fare afforded by mine host of u The Shakespeare," and, by the aid of Broseley clay-pipes, consuming more tobacco than in any one night of a long life, we sought reflection and slumber in the quaintest of all oak-raftered-roof rooms, and which, of course, was the identical chamber in which " He " had recourse when not in the humour to give up the sweeter air for that of Henley Street, Stratford. Sleep, however, was impossible. With break of day came the "getting up" and sallying forth for an early morning loving peep at the home of Sweet Anne. There had been showers of rain during the night, and there were sweetbriar bushes in that garden of gardens, in which every flower and leaf seemed heart treasures. What can approach the sweetbriar in sweetness after hedges than the tiny wren, and as the lanes hereabout have long been innocent of shears and pruning hooks, there are plenty of the small round things popping in and out of the hawthorn bushes in all directions. What a restless mite it is, our Jenny Wren ! now hopping or creeping, more like a mouse than a bird, through the innermost twigs ; now pausing, tail erect, to have a fleeting peep at us : now off again into cover ; now, with much fluttering of wing, crossing the lane, and again disappearing, its course only traceable by the trembling leaves ; now on a topmost twig, trilling forth its sweet simple lay, doubly dear in the heated summer months, when, in drowsy lethargy, the nightingale and blackcap and most of the lane's warblers have all but ceased their minstrelsy. The little wren, like dear robin red-breast, still sings on. The hedge-sparrow, too, known in Shakespeare's time as the " dunnock, ' I3<5 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. has a very tender song, and though the notes are loud and subdued, and but slightly varied, they are exquisitely mellow and plaintive. The so-called hedge-sparrow, or dunnock, is not really a sparrow at all, and is not gregarious like our obtrusive, self- asserting, plump town friend, whose chirp never ceases the live-long day. " His ditty," as Francis Knight says, " is a simple strain ; but we accept it thankfully, remembering the constancy of the singer." Near him, through the hedgerow, filters the hurried song of the white-throat, flickering a few feet into the air, singing all the while. Now he balances on a spray, swelling his little throat with music, until it seems positively to glow. Now he disappears in the hedge, and croons a quiet melody to himself so softly that you fancy him in the next field, until, disturbed by the approach of footsteps, he dashes from cover, with angry notes of alarm. Many of the finch tribe may be termed lane birds, — the chaffinch, greenfinch, and yellowhammer, in all their gayness of plumage, frequent them in spring and summer. There is scarcely a lane in which Jenny is not to be found, yet she is so ubiquitous as to belong alike to woodland, lake and field. The little wren's song sounds sweeter when given freely in advanced summer, when other fre- quenters of the lane, having emptied their souls of much of their music, or overcome, perhaps, by the heat of summer, are no longer in fullest concert. The brilliant little goldfinch hardly can forsake the lane ; it revels in its tangled, weed-choked hedgerows, especially where there is a plentiful sprink- ling of thistles and other large growths. The robin, too, the unquestionable favourite of us all, haunts the Shottery lanes at all seasons. Other birds may have richer voices, and be gayer of attire, but the red-breast, despite his fighting propensity, holds a first place in all our hearts. There is something irre- sistibly engaging in the way in which he lets us come so near him. When he looks at us askance with those bright wistful eyes of his, there is such trust in us, our hearts are touched at once, and we are ready to all the sweet tales that have been him. Strewing with leaves and the graves of the friendless, and with moss the dead's unclosed believe told of flowers covering eyes, may be sentiments now scarcely tenable, yet we will hug them, for Shake- speare did, and he loved to tell us " how the little red-breast teacheth charity." Moreover, and above all, he is privileged through the touching thought of having fluttered up to the cross, and drawing one of the thorns from the blessed Saviour's suffering brow, staining BRAMBLES AND CREEPERS OF SHOTTERY. i37 pHSES5wff"* w **' w thereby for ever after- wards his breast with blood. All through spring and summer these lanes abound with birds, but towards September they scat- ter themselves, only to return, after a short absence, as thickly as before. We have always thought the brambles, ever so lusty in Shot- tery lanes, must have been chosen favourites with Shakespeare and Anne. They were no beggarly briers, no pariahs of the woods to him, but very captains of copse and hedgerow, bold free outlaws — Macheaths of forest and highway. Generous, though, to the poor, for he offers freely of his fruits, and clothes the waste, else barren and bare, and mingles with what an un- thankful world deems his betters, dressed often in as gallant bravery as they of bud and blossom. What can equal his love embrace about the laughing May and blushing eglantine ? May not the bramble, in the time of blackberries, have presented to the Stratford young poet a picture of life in all its stages. In the compass of that bush may he not have seen at once the poet's seven ages ? Here in a group he would have budding in- fancy, blooming childhood, verdant youth, vigorous prime, fruitful matu- rity, fading decline, withered age. Who can wander in these lanes with- out the delight of knowing that it was here he lived and loved ; not in the humdrum, fashionable, conventional, or merely sentimental signification of the phrase, but in the very fulness of its meaning; and thus, living and loving, he had learned all, afterwards transfiguring what he had learnt, as occasion suited and required ? We may be sure Anne Hathaway was one of his instructors, for, though happily not of the " strong-minded " sort, her gentleness would delicately impart that which could be taught through no other medium. She shared in no small degree in maturing the heart and ^OvVV*. i 3 8 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. ripening the intellect of the great dramatist. It was he who has coupled the lover and the lunatic ; and no doubt he had, in his younger years, his fits of lunacy. Later on he loved just as well, though, per- haps, more wisely. His heart, like his head, went on ripening to the end, until they were as sensitive and as wise even as those of Prospero himself. We feel, when here, musing amid his haunts with Anne, that he had the most divine imagination, married to the most human and earthly of hearts, that he contemplated every sphere of life, all occupations, all delights, the classes and the masses, kings and yokels, humorists and Puritans, lovers and buffoons, young men and maidens, old men ,Msg sslSE--=d and children, with the '•' ■' I ' " same sympathetic eyes and the same philo- sophic smile. The goldfinch is a denizen of the world ; in his coat of many colours he is at home alike in the frowning steeps of the Hima- layan mountains as in the lanes of Warwick- shire ; a home-abiding bird, and, though rarely intruding his presence in the garden, or the door threshold, yet he is no bird of passage. Wherever the thistle, like a tyrant, bears its infertile sway, and the glory of this rigid potentate is on the wane, when thistle-down and gossamer rise light upon the breeze, there is the goldfinch's paradise. Spring bestows a harvest time on them in the first early seeding of the dandelion. Its round feathery seed heads, the " clocks " of our children, are by children and the winds blown to pieces for the gold- finches. He would explain to Anne how summer brings them largely of her bounties in the innumerable heads of the scaly knap or knob-weed, which, though it empurples the meadow to the spoiling the grass, has its mischief restrained within limits by the hungry goldfinches feeding upon its seeds. But, oh the thistle ! What a joy to see them dipping their slender bills into the prickly cover which protects from all but them the downy-crested, down-enveloped grain. These, with groundsel, sow-thistles, and a few others, make up the goldfinch bill of fare from spring to autumn wane. Even the wintry winds leave crumbs unswept for them in the burrs Sweet Anne would find so troublously adhesive to her ankles and garments when wandering with him in these bird haunts. She, in common with others, DUG DALES ACCOUNT OF SHOTTERY. 1 39 when trying to free her petticoats, would wonder what could be the earthly use of burrs. He would point to the goldfinch, who knows by the testimony of his bill that every burr is composed of large flat seeds, curved and set circularly, close together, pro- tected not only by the outwork of hooked but by hard tough skins. The sparrow with his strong thick beak can separate these seeds, but goldy abides patiently until rain and frost come in aid of his weakness and wants, separating the seeds and providing his feast. Dugdale's " Antiquities of Warwick- shire, published in 1615, says of Shottery : — "The earliest account we have relative to Shottery is extracted by Hemyng from an ancient register of the Diocese of Worcester deposited in the Cotton Library, which states that about the year DCCXCIV, during the episcopate of Heatherhead, that Offa King of Mercia, granted xxxiij cassats or houses in this village to that Prelate, for the Church of St. Mary, at Worcester. The Doomsday Book does not particularize Shottery, as it was the parcel of the parish of Stratford, and with it the property of the See of Worcester, whence, in the time of King Henry II., Adam de Scetriva held here one hide and a half of land. Nothing else of import occurs relative to this manor until the time of King Edward III., when Richard, son and heir of Richard de Bagindon, granted to Robert de Stratford (Parson of Stratford) his whole right and title to all his lands therein that descended to him from his father by inheritance, which grant bears date at Stratford-super- Avon, the Tuesday next after the feast of St. Matthew the Apostle, 6 Edward III. It is highly presumable that this was what afterwards passed by the name of the manor Shoteriche, as it is certain that the said Robert de Strat- ford, by his deed, bearing date on Saturday, the feast of All Saints, 28 Edward III. (he being then Bishop of Chichester) entailed this manor of Shoteriche upon John de Bishopton and Isabell, the daughter of John Stretch, and the heirs of their two bodies, and for lack of such issue, to return to him the said Bishop and his heirs. " In 41 Edward III., John, the son of Sir John Stretch, sold this manor of Shoteryth with ten messuages, six tofts, three carucates of land, fifty acres of meadow, forty acres of pasture, and ten marks rent in Bruggeton, Ruyne Clifford, Stratford- super-Avene (which Thomas de Stratford held for life, he being Archdeacon of Glou- cester) to William de Malshe, Dean of Great S. Martin's, London, and Thomas de Newen- ham, Clerk, for CCC marks of silver. "In 17 Richard II. the monks of Evesham having, without Royal licence, seized it into their hand, as part of the possessions of Thomas Newnham, Clerk, their bondman, it thereby became forfeied to the Crown, whereupon the King granted it to Sir William 140 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Arundell, Knight, to hold and enjoy so long as it should continue in the Crown for the cause before-mentioned. Several convey- ances of this manor occur about the same time, viz., In 17 Richard II., by the same Sir William Arundell, to John Pratt, Thomas Wells, clerk, John Pycard, and William Wenlock, Esq. ; and in 8th Henry IV. by the said party to John Olney, Esq., and his heirs ; as also in the same year, by the said John Olney, to Richard, Earl of Arundell, Sir Thomas Burdett, and Sir Allured Trussell, Knights, etc. But probably all these were only in trust for John Harewell, Esq., as he was in possession here in 4 Henry IV., and had, in that year, a licence granted to him from John Clifford, then Bishop of Worcester, to have divine service celebrated by a fitting priest in the oratory within his manor house at Shotrech ; which licence bears date 29 March, ano. MCCCCII. "The descendants of John Harewell con- tinued lords of this manor as long as their male line lasted, but by partition made between the sisters and co-heirs of Thomas Harewell, bearing date 4 February, 25 Henry VIII., it was allotted to Agnes, the wife of John Smith, one of the Barons of the Ex- chequer, in whose line it still continueth." Dugdale has ever been accepted as a faith- ful historian. It will be seen how minutely he refers to Shottery as holding within its tiny hamlet a building for the worship of the Most High, according to the forms of the Catholic faith. The Chantry he designates continued uninterrupted its ministration under a resident ecclesiastic until the Reformation, and when afterwards the little band of faithful ones were by law forbidden, yet for many years after they came without sound of bell to their matin and even song, this without exciting any animosity or even religious jealousy among the neighbours with whom they had in peace and perfect freedom from intolerance so long dwelt. This humble Chantry was destined, we believe, to take an active part in the early life of Shakespeare ; it became, as we hope to impress, a holy place for a betrothal cere- mony, doubtless resorted to under circum- stances we are not permitted at this distance of time and in ignorance of the facts, fully to understand. That a ceremony took place which his biographers generally have termed " handfasting," but which in their particular case was made to partake of such religious character as constituted in the eyes of Shakespeare, Anne, and the members of their respective families a valid union, we have no question of doubt whatever. Through some strange fatuity, his bio- graphers having generally been occupied in searching for what they have never been destined to find, and in hatching undesigned meanings for almost every passage and word in his writings, the Shottery Chantry has escaped their notice. Had Haliwell Phillips ever entered its portal, and ascended its stairs to the roof room chapel, it would have disclosed to him a mine of word wealth, if not of inspiration. On this important feature in the love life of the poet more anon. WOOTTON WAWEN. 141 L « i i 1 4 I 1 .Jf^if^^rj i >*$», Sh -v S/Sfc o*Xof\ WOOTTON WAWEN. jOOTTON WAWEN, apart from its Shakespearean associations, is one of the most venerable and remarkable churches of the whole Shakespeare country. They who know it not can, through description, gather but little of its charms. It is within a few hours' tramp for the healthful from other fascinating points ; and the shorn of leisure, as the ease- loving, can bring it and other Shakespearean churches — Henley-in-Arden, Beaudesert, and Lapworth — all within the compass of a drive from the White Horse at Snitterfield, where well-ordered vehicles are obtainable. The estate in Wootton formerly possessed by the Harewell family, ancestors of the present Smith Carington of St. Cloud, Worcester, is notably interesting through the same family having been bound up with the chantry of Shottery and its old Manor House, identified so closely, as the writer believes, with our great poet's betrothal union with Anne Hathaway. Apart from this, the Shakespeare associa- tions commend this venerable and charming edifice and its surroundings in a manner difficult of experience elsewhere. There is no more charming house oL prayer and praise. It is in no way an excess of enthusiasm to say that there is no sacred edifice of its size in England possessing greater attractions, both internal and external. Above all, it is well known to have been the frequent resort of our poet, and the pilgrim is at a glance inspired with confident reliance that this temple of God has undergone but very trifling change since his time. Tradition as to his frequent visits here defies all denial : every- thing connected with the sacred edifice and i6 ^£*t«% its surroundings, with the exception of the PORCH, WOOTTON WAWEN CHURCH. 142 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Hall, a more recent building, remains as in Shakespeare's day ; the voice of the water- weir and its delightful gleams of silver as it glides over the artificial barrier ; the stream sounds as of yore, although its course has been slightly diverted to admit of a greater spread of the weir, thereby adding to the beauty of the scene. The pilgrim should take rest at the roadside just beneath the weir ; everything unites in an enjoyment of revelry conjured up by flashings of thoughts from his writings, the old days, old ways, come into prominence, and there is delight in allowing such mental meande rings their fullest indulgence. Resident believers in apparitions relate that a death by foul means occurred within the walls of- the formerly existing hall, and that the ghost of the slain now at intervals wanders around the house and adjoining churchyard. Of course, as in all such instances, there are plenty of traditional witnesses of the ghostly presence of the murdered man and his com- panion. It is but a five-mile walk from Strat- ford to Wootton ; young William Shakespeare would often be seen searching out short cuts through fields at various points, and by which he would shorten the distance from his home by fully a mile. Weariness he never felt in these Sabbath journeyings, never silent to him, every step developing the creative power and goodness he was on his way to acknowledge and praise in the temple so specially glowing of inspiration. Tradition has it that he was on affectionate terms with the vicar, one John Mascall, who ministered here from 1580 to 164 1 — a worthy man of much scholastic attainment, united to a genial heart appreciative of the gifts and "gentle spirit" of the youth of Stratford. wat^ C/v^t \ With the buoyancy and freshness of youth, what would five miles of field and lane be to him ? He would bound over like a young deer, especially with Sweet Anne at his side, and generations of the past always insisted that she often accompanied him to morning service, her family, as well as the Shakespeares, being close friends of the Vicar. The spring or summer dew had at this early hour of morn not vanished through sun- ray power; Anne's feet would be wet enough ere entering Wootton's porchway, but her VICAR MASCALL OF WOOTTON WAWEN. H3 heart was light and joyous in the com- pany of her Strat- ford youth, and Vicar Mascall's housekeeper was always ready with a change of shoes and stockings. It is matter of tradition that Anne was of " great personal beauty " and had pride in her " pretty feet and ankbs," and the same recording angel has added a statement that her fair juniors were not a little envious of her charms, causing her petticoats to be of scantier length than the then rule. It is clear that the beauty of Shottery did not in her generation fail to ex- cite the jealousy which then, as now, reigned in instances where mere youthfulness did not bear the palm. He would, after morning service, par- take of the hospitality of the vicarage close at hand,and as eventide approached, take a short cut homeward through fields to Shottery, and make out the Sabbath evenings with Sweet Anne. The Harewells possessed the Wootton Wawen estate from the latter part of the four- teenth century to the reign of Henry VIII. By the death of Thomas Harewell (the last male heir) in the early part of that reign, this property devolved to his sister Agnes, fifth daughter, and one of the co-heiresses of John Harewell, whose monument yet stands in the chancel of Wootton Wawen Church. She married Sir John Smith, who became purchaser of the whole of the lordship. Charles Smith, great grandson to Francis, was, on 31st October, 19 Charles I., created Lord Carrington, whose son Francis erected the present mansion of Italian design at Wootton. The priory of Wootton shared the usual fates which attended the alien priories of the king- dom. Its possessions were twice seized and twice restored during the reign of Ed- ward III. In 22 Richard II. it was given to the house of Carthusians, near Coventry. The building occupying the site, and containing some remains of this religious establishment, is yet called the Charter House. It was restored to the family by Henry IV. when he took possession of the throne. In the general seizure of the alien priories by the Crown, 2 Henry V., it became the property of the king, and was granted by letters patent to Sir Rouland Lenthale. Henry VI., considering the religious origin of the founda- tion as thus frustrated, restored a prior to some part of the emoluments, and sub- sequently, on 1 2th December in 22nd of his reign, bestowed it on the noble collegiate establishment which he had recently founded at Cambridge. The provost and fellows of King's College obtained a full confirmation *jNb^ ""N 144 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. of their rights from his successor, Edward these religious houses paved the way for IV. in the first year of his reign, which they the general dissolution of monasteries within have continued to enjoy uninterruptedly a century afterwards by Henry VIII. from that time until the present. What are termed "alien priories" were religious establishments in this country belonging to foreign monasteries and originated thus When William the Conqueror and his Nor- man companions-in-arms had taken posses- sion of England and divided the spoil, they made considerable grants in lands and tithes to the monasteries of their own country. These bodies, with the view probably of extending their own order, as well as of securing the better management of their property here, soon built small convents subordinate to their respective houses. The estates of these alien priories came after- wards to be regarded with jealousy, and during the war between England and France their revenues were generally seized, on the grounds that they went to the advantage of the enemy, and afterwards restored to them on the return of peace. They were thus seized during the reigns of Edward I. and Edward III. They preserved uncertain existence till 2nd Henry V., when all were dissolved by Act of Parliament and their estates vested in the Crown. In the year 1440, such as then remained in the Crown were granted by Henry VI. to Archbishop Chichele, and they became part of his and of the royal foundations. The suppression of ^ "\ The writer has held, with the present Richard Smith Carington, that through the manuscripts of some of the old RomanCatholic fami- lies which were closely identified centuries ago with WoottonWawen and Shottery, and the priesthood connec- tions traceable back pretty closely to the period of Shake- speare's union with Anne Hathaway, many hoped-for traces might be unearthed. Smith Caring- ton, whose line- age is traced back direct to Alfred the Great, is no mere amateur Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries ; he has devoted years FATHER JOHN A. MORRELL. i45 to the endeavour, in seemingly likely quar- ters, to unearth traces of Shakespeare, is not sparing of expense in making re- searches, and as a devoted Shakespearean, deeply interested through unbroken family connexion with Shottery and Wootton Wawen Manors, will not cease from labour in the direction indicated. He has traced the priest- hood down closely to the period of Shake- speare's union, but so far has not succeeded in tracking the priest ministering then at either of the Chantries ; if indomitable per- severance can succeed, Smith Carington may the prosecution of researches among the families of the priesthood of the sixteenth century, has been succeeded in these efforts by the Very Reverend John A. Morrell, a learned antiquarian and devoted Shake- spearean scholar, a Catholic priest, until lately ministering at Wootton, but now Sub-Dean at Downside College, Bath, having access to a mine of papers relating to old Catholic families of the neighbourhood. Haliwell Phillips failed to directhis spirit of inquiry in this direc- tion, but afterwards regretted the neglect. It is a path beset with difficulties, because WOOTTON WAWEN CHURCH (east). yet discover highly valuable facts relative to this most interesting period of Shake- speare's life. Dugdale, with his reliable correctness, shows how closely the Harewell, Smith and Carington families have been bound up with these manors ; though even this testimony of our greatest of olden topographers is not needed to impress a fact which the grand old church of Wootton Wawen so indisputably proclaims, in the remarkable resemblance of the present Richard Smith Carington, of St. Cloud, Worcester, to the recumbent effigy on one of the grand old monuments in Wootton Wawen Church. Cardinal Wiseman, a true Shakespearean, who was helpful in enabling the priesthood were driven to carry on their religious functions, under fear of extreme penalties, even those of u hang, draw, and quarter." Letters and papers affording the smallest evidence as connecting their office, and more especially close private acquaintance with laymen, as indicative of adherence to or sympathy with the old faith, were de- stroyed. There is old wood-work of exceeding beauty of carving, well worth a journey from the kingdom's farthest end to see. One treasure in shape of what is called " The Church Chest," is worth a king's ransom if, as we believe, none other such is to be found. It is a wondrous achievement in 146 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. every respect ; the iron ornamentation would nave, and is shown in our drawing of the be worthy of Quintin Matsys in his best church interior. form. This venerable combination of oak The present Vicar eschews all use and iron belonged in days long ago to the of the ancient pulpit, probably for THE CHANCEL. WOOTTON WAWEN CHURCH, SHOWING MONUMENTS OF HAREWELL FAMILY. Harewell family ; doubtless its representa- tive, Smith Carington, would delight to spirit it to St. Cloud, Worcester. Other beautiful wood carving exists, notably the pulpit placed against one of the piers, on the south side of the nave. This ancient pulpit is very remarkable; it is a pre-Reformation, an old Catholic erection, of beautiful design and of a good English oak. There are but few of the class remaining in this country ; part of the stem had to be renewed in 1881, a portion of the carved work had been de- stroyed. There is no modern veneer work here. The framing of the upper part is cut out of two pieces of oak six inches thick. Historians have said a great deal about the luxury of the clergy before the Reformation. The priest, however, for whom this pulpit was made could not have waxen fat, he must have been tall and slim ; its internal height is three feet nine inches, and its width one foot ten inches. There are also considerable remains of ancient wooden screen work or parcloses, all of the early part of the fifteenth century, and in perfect preservation. This screen work, which now serves as seat place for the choir, is at the east end of the reasons of incapacity of space, or fear of precipitation down its few, though narrow stairs : he delivers his addresses to his congregation from the floor of the church. On the north side of the chancel, between the two windows and adjoining the wall, is a high tomb of the fifteenth century, the south side of which is relieved by four plain heater-shaped shields, and the east end by two similar shaped shields, the armorial ANCIENT OAK CHEST, WOOTTON WAWEN CHURCH. Believed to have belonged to the Harewell family. bearings on all of which are obliterated. On this tomb is the recumbent sculptured effigy, in alabaster, of a man in armour. He is represented as wearing a pointed basinet or salade on his head, encircled by an orle or THE FRANCISCO SMITH MONUMENT. 147 chaplet for the purpose of resisting the pressure of the jousting helme. The neck is protected by a gorget of plate, round which a chain is suspended ; to the breastplate is attached a skirt of tassetts, consisting of eight plates, and beneath the tassetts appear the extremities of the apron of mail, cut in Vandyke fashion ; circular plates or palettes appear in front of the armpits, instead of gussetts, to protect them ; the shoulders and arms are covered by espauplieres of over- lapping plates, rerebraces with ornamented seams, escalloped elbow-plates, and vam- braces seamed like the rerebraces; on the hands, which are joined on the breast as in prayer, are gauntlets. The lower limbs are incased in cuisses,genouilleres, jambs seamed down the sides, and sollerets ; the latter of 148 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE, overlapping laminae or narrow plates, and pointed at the toes. The necks and rowells of the spurs are gone, but the shanks and spur leathers over the insteps remain. A narrow sword-belt crosses diagonally from the right hip to the left thigh. Under the head is placed the jousting helme with mantling terminating in tassels, but the crest is gone. At the feet is a long-eared hare with a collar round the neck. The armour of this effigy is of the kind in fashion in the reign of Henry the Fifth, and though there is no inscription to denote the person for whom it was intended, it can hardly be doubted but that this is the monument of John Harewell, who died a.d. 1428, and (differing in shape and size), with the edges turned up so as to resemble pass guards, protect the shoulders ; and rerebraces, elbow- plates, and vambraces the arms. The hands are bare, but joined as in prayer. A narrow belt, buckled in front, crosses the body diagonally from the right hip to the left thigh ; the thighs (the lower parts only of which are visible) are incased in cuisses ; the knees are protected by semi-globular- shaped genouilleres with plates above and below, and the legs and feet by jambs and sollerets, the latter broad at the toes ; ro welled spurs appear affixed to the jambs, which descend to and cover the heels. The figures of the five sons, which bear no pro- V.J^K-jj.^.A: fc - " > i ■ i'" :i :'-:t' :ii i m : .m! ': :,.",", "jammammmmmiwmm mr — rn- -■,-■—; ■«■•»- -r—nrar'ii!;, ":g:;;:!r-. I'i^iTI. .yg. bequeathed his body to be buried in this church, dedicated in honour of St. Peter. On a high tomb on the north side of the chancel within the altar rails, and adjoining the wall, covered with a slab of dark- coloured marble, with an inscription on a brass plate running round the verge, are the inlaid brass effigies of John Harewell, Esquire, who died a.d. 1505, and of Dame Anna, his wife. Small figures of five sons appear beneath the effigy of the father and of five daughters beneath that of the mother. The effigy of John Harewell repre- sents him as bareheaded without any joust- ing helme or casque as a supporter, and his hair cropped in the peculiar fashion of the reign of Henry the Seventh. A collar of mail appears round his neck ; to the skirt of the breastplate small pendant and angular- shaped tuillettes are attached, and beneath these appears the apron of mail. Pauldrons portion in size to the principal effigies, represent them as standing, bareheaded, in long side-gowns, and with the hands raised in prayer. The effigy of the lady represents her attired in the pointed angular or pedi- mental head-dress, a fashion of the latter part of the fifteenth century, with ornamental lappets hanging down on each side of the face to the shoulders ; her neck is bare, she wears a gown : open and cut square at the breast, with large hanging sleeves, from beneath which the close-fitting and puckered sleeves of the kirtle or petti- coat appear; her hands are joined as in prayer. By a chain suspended from her waist is a scent box called a pomander ; her shoes are round-toed and appear from beneath the train of the gown ; no mantle is worn. The figures of the five daughters, of the same size as those of the sons, represent them as attired in pedimental head-dresses THE HAREWELL MONUMENTS. 149 and gowns similar to the dress of their mother. At the head of the slab are two brass escutcheons charged with armorial bearings, that over the head of the lady being both larger in size and with more quarterings than the other, and at the foot of now plastered and whitewashed, perhaps to conceal the mutilations beneath. On the north side of the chantry chapel near the east end is a high tomb, beneath a horizontal tester or canopy, supported by pilasters at the back, and in front by the slab the same are repeated. From a blank being left in the inscription for the date of the death of the lady, this monument appears to have been constructed during her lifetime, but after the death of her husband. The letters of the inscription are raised, the Ionic columns, and surmounted by a crest of scroll work and an escutcheon in the centre with helme and mantling within a circular compartment; the escutcheon is charged with the arms of Smith and Harewell quarterly. The extremities of the tomb pro- intermediate parts being hatched or abated, and the inscription is as follows : — $ric farct lohcs Haretacll armig' zt irtta Jlnna qonoam uxor nits ac imp' uxor (Btr- toartii V\o Wi r y f\cxr\o r ford on the oft-repeated occasions of pro- longation of his love visits. •■ It was the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman Which gives the stern'st good-night." — Macbeth, act ii., scene 2. Formerly there was a small, rude bell-turret in the roof of the Old Manor House, in which hung a bell used to summon the faithful to prayers. All sign of the bell has long since disappeared, though its turret can be traced. The white owl, a " high churchman," pro- verbially attached to old sacred edifices, would in it find a sanctuary, as others have done. A precedent is recorded that one of this species took possession of the interior of Charing Church, Kent, in the town of which its ancestors for many years dwelt, through the protection of the vicar. It is well known that an old bell, bearing inscribed date 1540 or 1607, was in the possession of Mr. William Pickering of Luddington, in 1806, and was suspended in a venerable elm-tree until within the last fifty years. Like many other valuable relics, it has disappeared. At the time it was missed, inquiry elicited that it had been bartered away for a set of house bells, hung in an adjoining farm- house. Although this bell was said to have been the bell of Luddington old church, there existed a belief that it was the identical mass bell of the Shottery Manor turret, a not improbable state- ment, as if Luddington could have proved ownership, it would hardly have been permitted thus quietly to find its way into the elm-tree. We are unable to arrive at any other conclusion than that the ceremonial, whatever it was, which made Shake- speare and Anne Hathaway man and wife, and conscientiously enabled them as such to take up their abode under the maternal roof at Shottery, which occurred at the time, was carried out either in the Roof Chapel or the Oratory of the Old Manor House. It was a place dedicated to God's worship and ordinances. Shakespeare had resolved on taking up his abode in London, and the Holy Father of the Chantry would, under solemn secrecy, lend himself to whatever ceremony took place, possibly with hope of eventually confirming them in the Roman Catholic faith. In this he evidently underrated the influence of Simon Hunt, Will's old master and devoted friend, who successfully strove his utmost to keep theyoung couple in the true fold, despite the Chantry ceremony. In connection with this more than interesting circumstance, how vividly Friar Lawrence's remonstrances with Romeo recur, giving utterance to words bearing, as they do, with such marked signifi- cance on the poet's evident position at the moment. It is only needed to substitute London for Mantua, and all is rendered clear. The Holy Father of the Shottery Chantry says : — " Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed, Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her ; But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set, For then thou canst not pass to Mantua ; Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back With twenty hundred thousand times more joy That thou went'st forth in lamentation." — Romeo and Juliet, act iii., scene 3. Our honestly expressed convictions as to the first marriage of Shakespeare having been privately celebrated in the Old Manor House of Shottery, and in being first thus to remove all matter of such ceremony out of the 154 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. worse than mystery of doubt and uncertainty bewildering it, may be met and to a degree contradicted by the reminder that all Chantries were abolished in 1545, the last year but two of Henry VIII. This is unquestionably true, so far as historical record asserts, but not so in practical reality; for although many of the priests officiating in these sanctuaries had been deprived of their incomes and had ceased the performance of mass in their former accus- tomed buildings, yet their altogether repres- known that around Birmingham and Coven- try there existed about the time of Shake- speare's union with Anne, numerous places in which the priesthood privately celebrated mass. The little Chantry at Shottery, which, at the time of the first great change, had been converted into a farmhouse and placed in the occupancy of a Catholic gentle- man cultivating the lands attached thereto, proved a quiet shelter for the holy man who had previously been known only for unob- sion was found impossible notwithstanding the severest penal enactments. History tells us that even the forced reading of homilies from the pulpit of the churches and the substitution of surplice for chasuble, so also the use of the Communion Office instead of the Mass Book, did not prevent private celebra- tions in secret places, so dear to the zealous adherents of the old faith. The compara- tive security of the Catholics from persecu- tion during the early part of Elizabeth's reign, arising in part from the sympathy and con- nivance of the justices of the peace, greatly aided these private ministrations of the Catholic priests, who, wherever possible, remained quietly at their posts, and it was not until an irruption of the large body of Jesuit priests from Douai that recourse to extreme severity was reverted to. It is well trusive devotion to the more sacred duties of his calling. The Manor House wore then, as now, no appearance [of being a resort for public worship ; the bell had been removed and entrusted to protective hands, thus dis- arming hostile zealots, if any existed in the neighbourhood, and the then Vicar of Strat- ford was given rather to toleration than any encouragement, much less promotion, of persecution. The Hathaways, regard being had to the more than limited number of per- sons dwelling in the little hamlet, must have been known to all. Anne would have grown up in close companionship with the family at the Manor, whose officiating ecclesiastic in all likelihood served as model for Shakespeare's more than sympathizing Friar Lawrence. The writer does not pretend to define what was the precise nature of the ceremonial THE RELIGIOUS CEREMONY IN THE CHANTRY. 155 service, to which, no doubt, the lovers heartily responded. Sufficient it is to know that it satisfied the conscience of a manly Christian youth of unblemished character, and instinc- tive honour, and that his envied bride realized it as in every way meeting her most delicate sensibilities as a well-born English maiden. " A good man ther was of religioun That was a poure persone of a toun ; But riche he was of holy thought and werk. He was also a lerned man, a clerk That Criste's gospel trewely wold preche. His parishens devoutly wolde he teche. Benigne he was, and wonder diligent, And in adversite ful patient ; This noble ensample to his shepe he yaf That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught. He dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold. So that the wolf he made it not miscarie, He was a shepherd, and no mercenarie, To drawen folk to Heven, with fairenesse, By good ensample, was his besinesse, He waited after no pompe ne reverence, He maked him no spiced conscience, But Criste's love, and his apostles twelve, He taught, but first he followed it himselve." Geoffrey Chaucer. We are now brought to a period of the young poet's life — his marriage — when it is asserted a great moral wrong was committed ; but for the accusation there exists as little foundation as for the other defamatory state- ments against him. Consequent on a double ceremonial, first by handfast, or whatever religious service took place in Shottery Chantry, by virtue of the office of the resident authorized priest, and afterwards by formal marriage — the latter in accordance with the rites of the Protestant Church — he has been most unjustly dealt with. He and Anne having subjected themselves to both ceremonies has never been questioned. We must remember that the ancient act of betrothing had not fallen into disuse at that time, any ceremony conducted in the Catholic Chantry would have the fullest weight in the mind of William and Anne's family and friends ; and of greater importance it is to bear in mind that his wife's family, as in the case of his own father and mother, may only somewhat then recently have broken away from the ancient faith, though deprived of the exercise of public worship according to its rites — they would not be indifferent to the efficacy of any ceremony conducted within its pale. It is matter of history, fully attested by the faith- ful historian Dugdale, that there existed at the time, in the little village of Shottery, a Roman Catholic Chantry ; in this volume we give sketches of an existing roof room of the building in which mass was then secretly celebrated. Mary Arden, the poet's mother, must have been brought up in that faith, for it was clearly the religion of her father when he made his will, only a very short time be- fore her marriage. Who shall say what was not the actual inward faith of the poet's father ? for, although he did take the usual Protestant oath in the year in which he was elected Alderman of Stratford, he took it tardily. Families were in a transition state between the two faiths, ashamed to abjure the old, and without apparent desire to em- brace the new. The legality and efficacy of " handfast " was no wise doubted by either, and, therefore, presented to the young couple an easy way out of the difficulty. It is impossible to say what the difficulty was. To embark in suggestion would be to follow the footsteps of the verbose commen- tators and word exponents, who, if continuing to pursue their avocation but one generation more, will have multiplied their learned ex- planations into about five hundred fold that of the great original text they may have laboured so zealously to muddle and mystify. So far as can be judged in the absence of any reliable testimony to guide to any generally acceptable conclusion on the point, there does not appear to have been any feud be- tween the families on either side, and yet we have the plot of Romeo and Juliet, written 156 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. in the early prime of the great master's man- hood, based mainly on family hatreds, and clearly suggestive of his own deepest devo- tion to one around whom all his most fervent love had been entwined. Here it would seem best to leave the question, with this reserva- tion : that none but a coward destitute of even one spark of manliness will dare to impeach the chastity of his affianced one or his own knightly honour. Whatever the diffi- culty may have been, the mysteries attaching to it at this great distance of time exist largely only in imagination and conjecture. There is no question whatever that in Shakespeare's time betrothal by " handfast " was not an obsolete rite. Previous to the Reformation, it was, in all probability, that civil rite derived from the Roman law, which was confirmed, indeed, by the sacrament of marriage, but which usually preceded it for a definite period, stated at forty days, having generally the effect of the marriage of the church as regarded the unrestrained intercourse of those so espoused. Shake- speare's handfast, combining as it did a religious ceremony by the reverend Father of Shottery Chantry, was altogether exceptional in its nature and entirely justificatory in the eyes of both parties in at once taking up the condition of man and wife in the Hathaway homestead. A work published in 1543, " The Christian State of Matrimony," says : " Yet in this thing also must I warn every reasonable and honest person to beware that in the contracting of marriages they dissemble not nor set forth any lie. Every man, likewise, must esteem the person to whom he is handfasted none otherwise than for his own spouse. After the hand- fasting and making of the contract, the church-going and wedding should not be deferred too long." Although from what we have said of Shakespeare and Anne's betrothal in Shottery Chantry, it may be inferred that it partook of ceremoniousness beyond that of the handfast of the time, yet in truth the holy father's presence may only have been availed of for purposes of u testimony," and as such attaching solemnity as beyond any possible gainsaying. In the form of espousal, so minutely recited by the priest in " Twelfth Night," he is there made to be present simply to seal the compact by his" testimony." In " Twelfth Night " we have a minute description of the ceremonial under which Shakespeare and Anne were first made man and wife. When Olivia is hastily espoused to Sebastian, she says : — "Now go with me, and with this holy man, Into the Chantry by : there before him, And underneath that consecrated roof, Plight me the full assurance of your faith ; That my most jealous and too doubtful soul May live at peace : He shall conceal it, Whiles you are willing it shall come to note, What time we will our celebration keep According to my birth." This powerfully written minute statement may be pronounced a circumstantially accu- rate account of his own union with Anne in the Manor House Chantry. None but a Julius Bacon or Ignatius Donnelly will have the daring effrontery to insult the memory of the conscientious God-fearing Shakespeare by asserting that he wickedly and designedly got possession of his wife's person by fraud, and worse. He was no libertine of the class daily exhibiting in the Divorce Court of these later times. Anne was a lady, the consciences of both were honestly and rightly satisfied by the Chantry espousal, coupled with an agree- ment of an early after celebration by his old tutor and loved friend, Simon Hunt, curate of Luddington — hence her exclamation : — " We will our celebration keep According to my birth " ; thus asserting her honour, and mindful of her own family position. The story of " handfast," in Shakespeare and Anne's case, we contend must be placed in the same category with the other un- founded stories regarding the Stratford bard. -S> *y» *V« /• v^ S^\o>r^Cf RELIGIOUS FAITH OF THE SHAKESPEARE FAMILY. i57 His own reading of the solemn binding of handfast cannot be more forcibly impressed than in the repeated and express warnings which Prospero urges upon Ferdinand in "The Tempest," act iv., scene 1, where we have it plainly set forth : — " If thou dost break her virgin knot before All sanctimonious ceremonies may With full and holy rite be minister'd, No sweet aspersion shall the heavens let fall To make this contract grow ; but barren hate, Sour-eyed disdain, and discord, shall beshrew The union of your bed with weeds so loathly That you shall hate it both : therefore, take heer 1 , As Hymen's lamps shall light you. Do not give dalliance Too much the rein : the strongest oaths are straw To the fire i' the blood ; be more abstemious, Or else, good-night your vow ! " The fact of so little having come down to us regarding the Hathaway family we may accept as an assurance that Anne was no " gadder," no ** busybody," save in the domestic duties attaching to her widowed mother, and her own husband's household management, and which from the day of the handfasting and after his setting out for London, there is good reason to believe was a joint one. Their chil- dren would remain with her in the old home at Shottery, doubly cared for, whilst she would be abiding amid the scenes and associations of her happiest days, with a mother's solace during an undefinable and more than anxious period — her husband's venture on the sea of London life. Anne may be said to have passed her life without venturing beyond the district now known as the Shakespeare country, and prob- ably her only dissipation would be at long interval visits,duly escorted by her lover, to wit- ness with him such theatrical representations as were then in great vogue at Coventry. The young poet's imagination was then more than awakened by these plays, in all probability he was the author or adapter of many of them. The occupants of the Manor House at Shottery would most likely be as close friends as they were neighbours of the Hathaways. Who can gainsay there being of the household one of her own sex and age ? Being of like status in the little society, for we must not lose sight of Anne being of gentle birth, the closest tie may have existed between them, and would serve as helpful in explain- ing what we believe to be the fact — that young William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway were privately married at this very Manor House at Shottery. It will very reasonably be inquired, How is it that this asserted secret marriage of Shakespeare with Anne has not been put forward earlier, and that the Chantry Chapel- room at Shottery is now for the first time asserted as the place of its celebration? i 5 8 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Haliwell Phillips, who devoted a life to hunt- ing up matters and things connected with the poet's history, was frequently enough in Stratford, and could hardly have overlooked so important and interesting a matter. "We acknowledge the extreme diligence of Phillips in his researches, as also his having piled up a huge mountain of material and commentary, assumed of high value in connection with the great bard's presumed life and history, with, however, the vital omission of the Old Manor House, the which he never entered, the place always having been in private occupation as a gentleman's residence, and therefore not open to inspection. It is within the bounds of truth that during all the years of the present tenant's occu- pancy of Shottery Manor hardly a living declared his adherence to the great principle of the Reformation — the acknowledgment of the civil sovereign as head of the Church. From that day forward there was no hesitation or drawback. Any speculative opinions he may previously have held were loyally abandoned, all would be made to shape to the creed which he must publicly have professed in his capacity of magistrate. Moreover, be it remembered, the distinctions between the Protestant and the Popish recusant were then not so numerous or speculative as they afterwards became. That the poet was firm in the opinions of the Reformation needs no stronger confirmation than his lines in " King John " against the " Italian priest " and those who " Purchase corrupted pardon of a man." soul had ever entered it on Shakespeare re- searches intent. Why should it have been otherwise ? Few have realized that it had in olden days served as a religious house, and externally it bears no sign of such, still less have there ever been notions that it was what is known as the house of the handfast. There, however, may be found the antiquated roof room in which the mass was solemnized long anterior to and during his lifetime. We shrink from possiby inflicting on its hospi- table present occupant any irruption of the curious, though to our own mind there exists no more interesting memorial of the great poet's life. Time will award it this position. We have no intention to convey any convictions that either Shakespeare's father or mother were other than honestly members of the reformed faith ; we believe with Knight, that both were, at the time of his birth, of the religion estab- lished by law. John Shakespeare may appear to have been slow in taking the oath requisite for the attainment of aldermanic honours, easily enough understood, as seem- ing to reflect on his own and his wife's parents. By holding this high office, after the accession of Queen Elizabeth, he had solemnly Neither can we lose sight of the words he introduces into the famous prophecy of the glory and happiness of the reign of Elizabeth : " God shall be truly known." He was without doubt, in the opinions which his father publicly professed in holding office, subject to his most solemn affirmation of those opinions. His mother, too, whatever may have been the faith of her parents, or of her own earlier youth, had become firmly and becomingly of one mind with her husband, and had taught her boy William his catechism in all sincerity, taking him regularly to the holy temple in which he and his brothers and sisters were baptized ; so also she earnestly and faithfully did her duty in preparing him for the discipline of the school in which religious instruction by a minister of the reformed church was regularly afforded as the end of that other knowledge there taught, and of which he had so won- drously and abundantly profited. That he became tolerant, is shown by the manifesta- tion of his after writings, through nature and the habits and friendships of his early life ; but such tolerance does not prove insin- cerity in himself or his family. SHAKESPEARE'S RELIGIOUS BELIEF. 159 3 koCCci-"^ melancholy set-off, an unrighteous squander- ing of money among hungry lawyers the food needed to win over to a knowledge of Gcd the hundreds of thousands among our midst who know Him not. Let us con- tinue in hope that out of evil good shall come, and that the examples of freedom from in- tolerance afforded by Shakespeare's writ- ings shall have its effect on future gene- rations. We see good Simon Hunt, his affectionate Dominie, the instructor of his school days, the men- tor and guide of his early manhood, dwell- ing and working har- moniously side by side with his clerical Looking back through the vista of time on the progress real Christianity has in the period made, compared with the world's general progress, there is much to dis- appoint. Now, at a distance of three hundred years, the world's creeds are seen vying with each other as zealous claimants of the great poet as especially their own. Who can wonder at the laud- able desire, seeing that not one word disre- spectful towards any holy function or subject ever came from his pen ? More than this — he speaks always with reverence of the teachers of the highest wisdom, by what- ever name denominated. The holy father of Shottery Priory was availed of as imparting efficacious solemnity to his happy union with the loved one who at the end of life expressed the " earnest desire to be laid in the same grave with her husband." Side by side, however, with any hopeful advance of peoples in religious charity, the deadly blots, as the fanatical hunting down of Richard King, the godly Bishop of Lincoln, are presented in our present time as a brother in the peaceful hamlet of Shottery, the love of their flocks being upper- most in both hearts. That Shakespeare was of full accord with the Reformed Church of England admits of no possible doubt. That he worshipped God in her holy temples, and according to her forms and ordinances, is of like certainty. His, of all others, was the mind to which her sublime liturgy would most commend itself. But he had no part with those who do not feel that the Almighty's grace to save is greater than sin. He would realize the right inter- pretation of the grandly charitable sentence of the Burial Service of the Church (alas ! so frequently contorted and perverted), heraldic of its full and certain hope of the resurrec- tion to eternal life, and this without daring to set limits on a salvation purchased at such a cost. The after condition of humanity, we believe, in Shakespeare's mind, rested on his firm convictions of the reasonableness of eternal hope. He believed in God and a merciful Saviour's redemption to immortality. He knew and felt that only a living faith in a conviction of the truth in these most momentous of all questions can alone create so great a love that all life is per- meated by that love and that belief. He saw a kinship between him and God his Saviour, i6o SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. and that being in Him we cannot be taken away from Him without His losing a part of Himself. His belief in immortality was stronger than any disbelief, begotten of dogmas, in the eternal of evil. His belief in God's merciful goodness may prove a merciful cause of His inspiring even the worst of us with some feeble grain of goodness, and that this merest atom of good seed existing in the heart of the weakest and least un- worthy of us all, may, under the divine mercy, so progress that in the end none but good seed shall prevail. Has he portrayed any fellow-creature without redeeming trait ? The worst of us startle each other again and again with touches of tenderness, sudden returns to the simplicity and purity of childhood. Let us hope that out of this capability for good eternal good shall grow. He paved the way for the Robertsons, Kingsleys, Farrars, and the legion of like men of Christian charity yet to follow, who shall announce to the world that goodness is eternal, all-powerful, in- exhaustible, and will in the end subdue. A Father Damien could never have dwelt among the outcast lepers, have tended and loved them as his own brothers and children, with his own hands have erected a temple in which, amid all their crushing visitation, they should glorify God and implore His mercy and submission to His will in their saddest lot, had his love and charity rested on any narrow basis unbegotten of God. More than all, after ten years of heart and soul devoted- ness to the poor outcasts, the fact that he himself had become a victim to the loath- some disease, and when the terrible truth had disclosed itself in its fullest horrors, yet even then to utter the exclamation that if he could be cured of his leprosy by quitting the island he would not go, is all but divine. Of this kind is the love and charity taught of Shakespeare, such we gather to have been his perfectitude of God's true priesthood here on earth, heavenly, indeed, in its founda- tion and practical application to suffering humanity in its saddest and most aggra- vated, hopeless form. An interesting question arises at this point, as to the worldly means of the young couple, at this their outset in life. Young Will could estimate at fair value the importance of worldly welfare, and what, until now, con- tinue to be termed, " prospects in life," as elements in the serious matter of marriage. He gives a very decided opinion on the subject in u The Winter's Tale," act iv., scene 3 : — " Prosperity's the very bond of love ; Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters." There is little doubt as to his having left the Grammar School at an age we in these days deem very early; but, looking more closely, and by the light of men now in their seventies, having regard to what was the usual habit of the time, down to within the last sixty years, such is hardly the fact. The age of fourteen was, no longer than sixty years since, the usual age at which boys of the middle class were generally removed from school for apprenticeship in their future trade calling. Seven years was the usual indenture term, and both parents and sons, as well as employer, were anxious that the period of apprenticeship should not be pro- longed beyond the age of twenty-one years. Now here we are afforded the strongest proof that Shakespeare underwent no apprentice- ship whatever, and that the story as to his apprenticeship to a butcher is as unfounded as the other absurd stories regarding him that have been handed down, and swallowed as matter of fact, without any real ground for credence. No indenture has ever been found, no employer ever named, although every tradesman of prominence at the time had been numbered among the town councillors, and a man in the position held by his father would hardly indenture his son to one of the second class, whatever the calling. Apart from this, we know as a fact that he had quitted Stratford for Lon- don several years before any apprenticeship under the observed term of the time could possibly have expired. In every feature of the matter, the balance of evidence favours his having acted as clerk- assistant in the office of Walter Roche, his earliest instructor in the Guild School. There are known to have been some half-dozen attorneys practising in the town at that time ; one in particular acted for his father and the Hathaway family. Six lawyers in a place of ASSOCIATESHIP WITH A STRATFORD ATTORNEY. 161 its size would have an active time in setting their fellow-townsmen by the ears suffi- ciently to yield a living for the whole six, and it is known to have been much given to litiga- tion in those days. Either of the number, commanding his services, would derive no small advantage from what then, as now, is termed " connexion." Apart from young Will's talent in the office, we may rest assured that whatever he undertook would speedily bear the impress of his thought and action, and it is but reasonable to infer that a lawyer of clerical antecedents would re- munerate him for services fairly, according to his ability and energy. The drudgery of a Stratford attorney's office, however, would hardly comport with the youthful poet's feel- ings ; he submitted to its duties only until other and more congenial pursuit was secured. With a young wife and family at Shottery, " on the road " would resort to him for their " taking " novelties, and from these he would " suck no small advantage." Whole volumes, harping on the discordant string of pretended necessitous fleeing from a Lucy prosecution for deer-stealing, have from time to time appeared as explanations of Shakespeare's quitting his native town for London. All omit the true and obvious reason — i.e., the hitherto home sphere being altogether too cramped for genius knowing no bounds. His abiding in his birthplace could continue only during the educational period, or at longest until the money-earning capacity had developed to an extent rendering the step obviously wise and imperative. The wisest legal men who have examined this question with minute care and thought, agree that as a youth he possessed more than " a turn for law." The probability is that his there would be no lack of exertion on his part. It is in no way stretching probability to say that at the time of his marriage Shakespeare was in receipt of no mean income from the production of original theatrical compositions suited to the then infant condition of the stage, or in working up into more acceptable form the rude subjects then presented to the new-created playgoers, who had already begun to evidence improving tastes. His income from these combined sources, even without any withdrawal of assistance to his parents, which, we may be assured was more than cheerfully rendered, would probably justify his union with Anne, more especialy under joint residence in the Shot- tery homestead. His power and capability would not be slow of discovery and appre- ciation. The several bands of players then \r\£\c*r\X first money earnings were acquired in copying legal documents for Stratford attor- neys. Walter Roche, just at the time, had doffed the cassock for the more profitable occupation of setting by the ears or by legal process healing the wounds of his neigh- bours. None so well as he knew young Shakespeare's powers, and although not of an age to become a full-fledged attorney, yet our youthful genius, to whom the " quips and quirks " were all as nothing, would easily render himself more than a match for the most gifted or subtle of the craft then practising in Stratford. He would probably be an indispensable necessity to Roche. It is enough to advance that Bacon lived at the time, and with such example, who or where is the lawyer that would limit his knowledge of the science or its practice if needed ? l62 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Both prior and subsequent to their union in Shottery Manor Chantry, Shakespeare and Anne would often be found in the Old Manor House, where possibly their scheme for his removal to London was conceived. There is no need to fall back on any unfounded deer- stealing story and its asserted consequent prosecution by Sir Thomas Lucy ; neither will we recur to the still more improbable statement as to his needing to hold horses in the public streets as a means of subsistence, inventions as weak and baseless as they are unjustifiable. He felt that, what was of utmost importance to a dramatic poet, London was the place of all others for the fullest love of features The annexed sketch of what is presumed to be weighing out the golden dot on the occasion of the marriage is from an old painting, believed to be of German or Dutch execution, presumably about the middle of the seventeenth century. In the left-hand corner of the picture are the words — Rare lymnige with us doth make appere, The marriage of Anne Hathaway and William Shakespere. development of every individual feeling. Everyone there could assert himself in his own way, and prove his full individuality. Life there resembled the stage, then as now, more than we are any of us apt to see to be the case. That he knew the fact better than anyone then or since living is clear enough, and was not slow to take advantage of the intuition. The various professions were not overstocked, the difficulties to contend with not so great as now. Healthy, energetic impulse, successful undertakings, conscious- ness of the power of self, and a sturdy adventure, were the characteristic of the time. As Hutton says, " it was a joy to live, and Shakespeare had his full share of this joy of life." London was then the centre of all the intellectual life of the kingdom. London, as " Pierce Pennilesse," in the very day graphically put it, " London is the fountaine whose rivers flowe round about Eng- land." All eminent per- sons, or person de- sirous of occupying an eminent position in literature or poetry, and who will question Shakespeare's resolve in this matter, flocked to London, which in those days was a city of good proportions for such a confluence of in- tellect. There existed no possibility of any literary activity or of obtaining literary suc- cess in the provinces, for there were as yet no daily newspapers, or any other means of literary intercourse, such as nowadays at once communicate every achievement to the whole country and makes it the common property of the nation. Literary work, accord- ingly, was able to over- come or lessen the dis- JOURNEYS TO LONDON ON LEGAL BUSINESS. 163 fr>prr\ . ^3 K» *** p ^ advantages of local limitation, only by con- necting itself with the capital city of the • kingdom. This is apparent also from the dramatic poetry and art, inasmuch as dramatic works were not printed forth- with, but belonged exclusively to the theatrical company which had acquired them by purchase. As Karle Elze expresses it, any- one desirous of advancing in his profession was obliged to go to London, and hence, towards the end of the sixteenth and at the beginning of the seventeenth century, we find there a brilliant assemblage of poets, actors, pamphleteers, and writers of all kinds such as has scarcely ever been equalled. National literature, in contradistinction to the classical literature of the Court, was in the ascendant ; no wonder that it attracted the freshest, most energetic and vigorous intellects from every quarter. It is now established with tolerable cer- tainty that Shakespeare's quitting Stratford for London in 1586 was not his first journey thither. His father had at various times suits at law with fellow-townsmen, and, possibly, if he was associated in any way with the attor- ney acting for his father and the Hathaway family, he may have visited London should any proceedings have needed the presence of the conducting attorney. It is remarkable HK3 that none of the biographers until now have more than slightly dwelt on John Shake- speare's suit with Lambert in relation to the Asbies estate, seeing how important a part it possibly played in the after fortunes of the family. Certain of these Lambert law suits bear in a most interesting manner on the Shakespeare-Lucy feud, out of which came the young poet's merciless holding up the gallant knight to the ridicule of all future generations. Never was there so dire a revenge ! Instead of a deer-stealing matter, so favoured of all hitherto biographers, we may more correctly read that John Shakespeare was laudably desirous to recover possession of his estate of Asbies, which, in his earlier straits for money, had been mortgaged to one Lambert, but which mortgage he was wil- ling to clear off by paying back the money advanced. This was refused on the ground that other moneys were owing, which latter state- 164 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. ment was a matter of contention. According to documentary evidence, Lambert somewhat illegally retained possession of Asbies, and refused to fulfil the conditions of the mort- gage. In refutation of the many unfounded stories as to John Shakespeare's impecuni- osity, it is clearly established beyond any possible doubt that he was promptly ready with the hard cash needed for the redemp- tion, and would naturally be indignant with Sir Thomas Lucy, who, on an appeal to the Stratford authorities to recover his rightful possession, had, in his capacity of Justice of the Peace and President, sided strongly with the Lamberts, and had, as they regarded it, played falsely against the Shakespeare family in the case. Kere we have a naturally true version of the quarrel. Instead of deer- stealing, we shall in future read " Opposition to restitution and an attempt to repress «i>\ck 2 c \ t*<*o i"*">,' JS\»*r«V ^ f^\t^ r\or a family rising through power of gifted intellect united to moderate means, labo- riously and honourably acquired, as against the paramount territorial Lucy lordship of the neighbourhood." John Shakespeare was not a man submissively to yield to the iron heel, or to be thus ridden over rough-shod ; he possessed much firmness of character, and would resent the manifest injustice, founded as it was on the meanest jealousy, and accordingly dealt with it in his own way. These and other presumed acts of an over- bearing nature such as we know were often perpetrated by the squirearchy of old, and are heard of occasionally even in these our own days, would not lose their bitterness in the mind of his son William, then an impressionable youth, resented soon after- wards by portrayal of his father's adversary with a withering power such as none but he possessed. So long as the world lasts, the Knight of Charlecote will be known as Shake- speare's Lucy, every generation of mankind will remember him ; he passes down as unique; Warwickshire claims him as an integral part of its history. In the charge brought against Lambert by the Shakespeares, it is stated that " the saide John Lambert denyed in all things, and did withstande them (viz., John and Mary Shake- speare) for entringe into the premises, and as yet doeth so contynewe still ; and that by reason of certaine deedes and other evydences concerninge the premises, and that of righte belonge to your saide oratours are coume to the hands and possession of the saide premises from your saide oratours, and will in no wise permytt and suffer them to have and enjoye the sayde premises according to their righte in and to the same." This is strong enough verbal indictment, and betrays an under- current of indignation against other than Lam- bert himself, especially if disregard be paid to further words of the docu- ment quoted, "Your saide oratours are of small wealthe and verey fewe frends and alyance in the said countie." Here we have a distinct hint at the Knight of Charlecote, and his associate county magnate Justices of the Peace and Rotulorum order, having with their long purses and in- fluence with the town's folk and others arrayed themselves against the Shakespeares, driving them into the High Court of Chancery for hope of redress through it as the highest court of appeal. Lucy was clearly a moving spirit in keeping the Shakespeares out of the Asbies estate, as through the all-powerful influence over aldermanic tradesmen at his beck and call, he was able successfully to bring about a combination of interests, and worry and harass them in divers ways. Reading these occurrences fairly, they cannot fail to throw much new light on hitherto seeming obscure and improbable circum- stances in the poet and his father's life. Lucy's success in drawing over his aldermen JOHN SHAKESPEARE'S RESIDENCE IN CLIFFORD. 165 to side against the Shakespeares was most probably the reason why John Shakespeare ceased to attend the meetings of the Corpora- tion, and in a spirit of hostility and retalia- tion refused to pay the taxes; he was disgusted with the whole body and their sycophancy to the lord of Charlecote, and so became indifferent to such civic associateship. The supposition that he retired to the country for some years will now be regarded as an undoubted fact, and as in all probability he would, on his re- moval out of the borough jurisdiction, carry all his household and other movables with him, there would be nothing left behind for his Stratford, and thus preventing Lucy and his alderman adherents carrying out their intents, yet the removal thither was not with any intention of permanence. The distringas or warrant of distress against him which the officers of the law were pre- vented from executing as " John Shakespeare has nothing to distrain upon," was followed up by other malignant proceedings. A writ of capias was issued against him three several times within as many months, and he was thereupon declared to have forfeited his office of alderman on the pleas that he had for some time failed to attend the meetings of that august body — the Corporation. No wonder that he withheld from such brethren the brother corporators to distrain upon and sell in liquidation of their rates claimed from him ; to say the least, he would, by this flitting and transference of household effects, gain time for following up his law suit, and his opponents would need new processes through which to reach him. Clifford, a prettily situated village within a mile and a half of Stratford, was the place selected for the family home at the most try- ing moment of the Lucys' warm espousal of the Lambert efforts to keep the Shakespeares from obtaining restitution of Asbies. It was close at hand, had the recommendation of healthfulness, utterly denied to Stratford, and, although for the moment availed of for a clearly temporary purpose, the prevention of seizure of goods under local jurisdiction of *»«"» o J>r\a.^ «. light of his countenance. Then it occurred to him to shake the dust off his feet as a testi- mony against them and retire into other and more genial presence of true friends, the Rainsfords at Clifford. A writ of habeas corpus was issued against him, as is stated in some document of security for his brother Henry, and one Nicholas Lane, believed to have been in the Lucy interest, is put for- ward in an action during 1587; but he appears to have got rid of all these side issues, which in all probability were creations for mere worry purposes. Amid all this din of law and seizures, we have the unques- tionable fact that John Shakespeare was never dethroned, but that he continued in undisputed possession of his houses in Strat- ford, and that none of these were either i66 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. seized or sold. His removal into Clifford baffled his enemies to the extent designed : he was no longer a resident in the borough of Stratford, and hence the penalties and charges against him were, to a certain extent, issued in contumacium, but he would, and doubtless did pay his taxes there, instead of to the borough. His interests and property were too closely identified with Stratford for him to have entertained any such resolve. Finding Clifford not only an agreeable home, but yielding all the advantages of carrying on the education of his children in the Stratford school, being almost one and the sameplace, only a short time before had disputes result- ing in law proceedings, in which latter the doughty knight, with his usual good fortune, had triumphed. The Rainsfords had a boy attending Stratford Grammar School with the boy Shakespeare, who would be Wil- liam's companion at morn and even, going to and returning from lessons. This same family of Rainsford were close friends of the poet Drayton — also a Warwick- shire man. We know from his Polyolbion, that he was in the habit of spending whole summers with them at Clifford : " Near of dear Clifford's seat, the place of health and sport, Which many a time have been the muse's quiet sport." He would in all surety have formed his acquaintance with the Shakespeare family he remained there for a period of four years, i.e., from 1579 until 1583. The poet would during the whole of this time be resident with his parents, having been seven years of age at the time of the removal to Clifford, and eleven years when, in 1583, they returned to Henley Street. The close proximity to Stratford and its school was, however, not the only matter which operated in its selection for what was at the moment deemed a tempo- rary home. John Shakespeare had sympa- thizing friends in the Rainsford family, then resident at Clifford, and who were distantly related to the Ardens (Mary's family), and who, in all probability, were suggestors and aiders in the step as discomfiting the Knight of Charlecote, with whom they likewise had on occasions of these sojourns in the same village, possessed of charms for both, and which must have commenced while the poet was yet a boy, increasing as the talent of his youthful acquaintance developed, and con- tinually increasing from year to year, for we know he later on became a frequent guest at New Place, after both writers had attained celebrity. That it was continuous, and had ripened into more than friendship, is abun- dantly evident in the fact of Dr. Hall, Shake- speare's son-in-law, having been Drayton's medical attendant. Charles Knight always expressed him- self satisfied that John Shakespeare, the poet's father, did make his home at Clifford, as here stated. Haliwell Phillips was ANXIETIES CONSEQUENT ON REMOVAL TO LONDON. 167 of contrary opinion, on the ground that the Shakespeares known as living there during the years named married in 1560, and, therefore, could not have been the poet's father. This objection does not hold good, inasmuch as the name of Shake- speare other than John's family had for years previous been known in that district just outside Stratford (coming originally from Alcester), and had proved source of con- fusion with the Shakespeare genealogists. A step of so great uncertainty as Shake- speare's embarkation in the enterprise of quitting his Stratford home for the unknown great world of London, however great his own confidence and convictions of success in the venture, could not fail to have been fraught with deep anxiety to all he would leave behind in his Shottery home. His reliance on his own mental powers and business capability would, doubtless, serve on the trying occasion ; the natural timidity of his young wife, unversed in the affairs of the outer world, would call for the exercise of all his persuasiveness and power of con- solation. A determined effort to achieve independence, however helpful in proving a stimulus to the resolve, could not mitigate the serious aspect of the venture, or lessen the deep thoughtfulness naturally attaching to the occasion. The good curate, Simon Hunt, who dwelt close by at Luddington, and who, in all trials and emergencies had ever been a faithful friend, would be constantly at hand to impart wise counsel and strength in the hour of Anne's trial ; more than he, she would have a fond mother ever at her side to impart comfort ; above all, her simple unfaltering trust in God would sustain her in the parting. The period of absence from his wife and little ones was impossible of definition. Letter communications were usually conveyed by private carriers travelling on foot. These unofficial messengers were so irregular and uncertain as to defy computation as to time of effecting interchange of communications. Such foot messengers had each their own circle of friends and customers in London and en route, and were expected upon every journey to call upon the whole round, delivering and receiving letters, and attending to the execution of commission purchases of such nature as were within the power of their personal bearing. A period of three to four days was usually occupied in making the journey each way, and a like time in the London collection and delivery, so that a reply to a communication could hardly under most favourable circumstances be received in less than a fortnight. In wet seasons it was much longer. Indeed, when floods pre- vailed, the roads, which for a large portion of the distance were nothing more than horse tracks entirely open on each side, were impassable for foot passengers, who formed the larger number of travellers, and fre- quently defied the power of the pack-horses, then the only means of transport of commo- dities exceeding the power of human back- bearing endurance. Seeing that the poet would need frequent interviews with the London theatrical managers, and possibly required to be in almost daily communication with printers, it would appear to have been matter of impossibility for him to have remained longer at such a highly incon- venient distance from the scene where his labours were brought into action, hence every cogent reason for the removal. It is most likely that his visits to his wife and children at the Shottery home were not infrequent. These journeys to and fro would be accomplished on horseback, means' for which were not so difficult as may seem. These journeys between Stratford and London occupied under favourable weather auspices three days, and were by no means unpleasant, especially in summer time, when the number of business and pleasure joint male and i68 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. female riders was considerable. The wardrobes were necessarily limited. Such damsels as re- quired more than one dress, and the merest change of under-gar- ments, had to send forward their super- fluity by pack-horse. Stratford men, who at the time seem to have been much given to law, were frequently called to London to attend the higher courts in con- nection with legal proceedings. An au- thority of the time says : M People must come to London for their law." According to an entry in the ac- counts of the Chamberlain of Stratford for the year 1599, twelve shillings were paid to Bailiff Sturly for a six days' journey to London, where he had to appear as witness in an action against Mr. Underhill. Post-horses were easy of hire throughout the route, the demand being considerable, those for the upward journey being quickly required for like return purpose to the limit points of defined distance travels, for the doing which the charges were moderate. Ladies desirous of accompanying their lords, as also young damsels wishful of seeing the wonders of London, had to mount these steeds behind their husbands or cavaliers, holding on, as was generally the fashion to a leather belt, known as riding " pillion," or frequently with young folks to a bright-coloured, elegantly tasselled silken circlet, girdled round the male waist for safety grip of his fair companion, and on which the frequency and force of tug would in no slight degree depend on special cir- cumstances of relationship affecting the mind and will of the varying equestrians ; a mode of joint equestrianship which continued down to about the year 1800. Whenever horse shifts had to be made, accommodation for the' ladies riding a pillion was provided by the erection of stone steps at the wayside inn doors, so that the feminine alight and remount could be comfortably effected in becoming grace and elegance. So bad, however, was the condition of the roads in places, that in wet weather, or when snow was on the ground, guides had to be em- ployed to lead the horses and pilot the way where the boughs of trees and warn poles usually stuck in the ground as land-marks to indicate the roadway, or as warnings against fathomless abysses, had disappeared. Some of the more noted critical causeways were at times fraught with much peril, none more so than the Avon at Stratford. In endeavours to ford this river, notoriously given to sudden heavings and swellings, many terrible calamities were continually occurring. On either bank, where now stands the noble Clopton Bridge, the instances of men and horses borne out of their depths and drowned were frequent ; so also at other points, where, after heavy rains, a sudden rush of water from the hills would gorge the river and cause peril, and ofttimes death, to venturesome youths of both sexes, boastful of their powers of crossing on horseback under these and such like hazardous con- ditions. There were points in the road sub- ject to the division of the track consequent on the pack horse traffic having worn, seem- ingly bottomless pits which rendered the usual, track unavailable. It was not uncommon for these deceptive chasms to be three or more feet deep, and this fearful ocean of mire from which there existed no visible means of extrication, ofttimes extended for more than a hundred yards. Woe to the horseman and worse to the pillion-loving damsel who allowed betrayal into any such veritable Slough of Despond ! The case was hopeless CONDITION OF ROADS BETWEEN STRATFORD AND LONDON. 169 so far as any pursuance of journey on the same overburdened steeds was concerned. Extrication from the mortifying and ofttimes dangerous position was matter of more than difficulty. First and foremost the lady had to be cared for, and, lacking other available help, her companion cavalier had to embed himself waist deep in the mire and bear his fair burden on his shoulders to some position of terra firma ; the poor animal, who had vainly struggled for advance, being secure of immobility through the depth and consistence of the mud, which had so effec- tually caused the journey halt. The animals on these occasions often had their legs so difficult of extrication as to need a machine of the lever kind kept for the purpose to raise their bodies out of the abyss, in which they would, but for its aid, inevitably have perished. Despite these and other such road-voyaging hazards and trials, there attached a fascination around all such romantic progresses from the various country towns as caused a develop- ment at times into what was known and cha- racterized as the u pillion complaint." Parties of friends and relatives would set out in com- panies, Canterbury pilgrim fashion, though shorn of its religious aspect, ofttimes so nu- merous as would exceed the capability of the roadside inns to provide horse power. The young folks looked forward to these romantic expeditions as the exciting event of their lives ; and many a love match grew out of these pillion horseback close contacts, so eminently suited to develop into tender friendships. The varying incidents of such cavalcades afforded gossip throughout the respective neighbourhood for many an other- wise dreary and monotonous winter night. The conditions of the public highway we have described are in no degree exaggerated, as is proved by the public statutes of the period, which show that the old roads had fre- quently to be " abandoned and new tracks~struck out." One of these says, " many of the wayes are so depe and noyous by wearyng and course of water and other occasions that people cannot have their passages by horses uppon or by the same, but to their great paynes, perill, and jeopar- die." Be it remembered that Queen Elizabeth, who at this period governed her realm with such marvellous ability under the difficulties of being kept apart, as it were, from her people, by reason of road inacces- sibility, was a noted horse pillionist, making most of her journeys after such fashion. Did not this re- doubtable sovereign of England ride into the City of London on a pillion, be- hind her Lord Chancellor, in the presence of multi- tudes of her loyal subjects ? True it is the realm after- wards gave her a coach, but Her Majesty never took kindly to the " un- 170 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. worthy machine," and in one of the first audiences given to the French ambassador in 1568, she feelingly de- scribed to his Excellency, " the aching pains she was suffering in consequence of being knocked about in that coach." How forcibly should these callings back to days of yore remind our own gene- ration of the inestimable blessings vouchsafed to the multitudes scattered far and wide over the globe surface, territorially as numerically tenfold those of her predecessor, under the benign sceptre of Our Sovereign Lady Queen and Empress Victoria, blessed of God in all the desirable attributes of governing possessed by England's Ruler of the sixteenth century, and moreover en- dowed with those womanly qualities and graces which have built her into the hearts of the humblest as well as the most exalted among her peoples. Upon Shakespeare's arrival in London in 1586, he took at once to the theatre, having entered on his change of life with the object of connecting himself with it as writer and adapter of plays, or as an actor, or in a capacity uniting these several occupations. There is every likelihood that, prior to his quit- ting his native town, and even before his marriage, he had, as already shown, been engaged in adapting writings of authors most familiar to him, into representations such as in his then light suited the assemblages gathering at the Grammar School. The managers of the respective companies recognised at once his great aptitude. In after life, it will be seen that everything he touched turned seemingly to gold, and the ruling lights of the troupe, finding that his pieces, whether original or adapted, " drew " more numerous and paying audiences than any other play- maker, preferred his role and repertoire, and were willing to pay him, as they doubtless did liberally, for whatever he worked out for their stage and scenic popularity perform- ance. What need is there to make out that he held horses outside the theatre doors, or any other such mean employment, or that when admitted within the walls it was as call-boy or " servitor " to some actor ? These miserable surmises are unworthy the writers who, in this our own time, continue to give them currency. We do not mean to assert that Shakespeare, on his first going to London, took a prominent position as an actor. No- ox*. - thing of the sort. He went up for a more extended, and, therefore, more money-making prosecution of the calling he had on a small scale wrought out and pursued at Stratford, Leicester, and Coventry, as adapter and pos- sibly stage manager to one or each of the several companies, known to him at these town exhibitions so close to his then home. Then, as now, highly-gifted men have held the posi- tion of stage manager, and through their pre- science wealth has rolled into the companies' coffers. Each and all these troupes took their turn of playing in London, the success of every thing bearing his handiwork would soon be- come known among them, and they would resort to him as the young fellow who, greatly above all others, knew what best suited the taste of the hour and drew coin into their cof- fers. Young Shakespeare was their man, and as he and Sweet Anne were likely to be blessed with a full quiver, it was best for him to be close to the region where there was most to be gained rather than continue in the humbler field of Shottery, communication with which THE LONDON STAGE ON SHAKESPEARE'S ARRIVAL. 171 was matter of infrequency, and involved at least a fortnight in achievement. There was a double call for removal to the wider sphere. Only a few years before he went to London, the players had been banished from the city by a despotic edict of the Lord Mayor and Corporation, yet out of that very act of intolerance, which had the direct sanction of the Government, grew up a great glory of Elizabeth's reign. By banishing the players, the Lord Mayor called into existence that cordon of theatres which shortly after- wards enclosed what was known as London proper ; the players being driven from within the walls, resolved to build playhouses with- in an old survey of. London which lasted eight days, the action beginning with the creation. The chief dramatic writers who preceded and were in possession of the stage when Shakespeare appeared in London were Lily, Peele, Green, and Marlowe, the last three of whom were called in the satires of the day " the University pens," from inter- larding their plays with Latin, and exhibiting their learning much at the cost of dramatic truthfulness. " They smelt too much of that writer Ovid," said a jester of the time, " and of that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpine and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare can put them all down — aye, and Ben Jonson, too." The jester was right. The youth- ful genius of Stratford, who had already become known as writer of more than one popular adaptation, needed no classic foundation for his pieces, plain English in its utmost vigour was at his finger- ends. Like a John Bright of our present day, he could discourse them in the tongue they knew so well, and would frame representations of scenes appeal- ing to their imaginations through direct associations rather than a second-hand classic hazy basis. Here we see true biography, and of the best : extreme diligence in his calling, proper zeal to earn the means of providing for his family, left behind in peaceful Shottery, not forgetting his honoured parents then living in the old Henley Street home. His proved discharge of these all-im- portant duties would yield but scant time for any pursuits out of which life- making, according to the ideas of com- plaining biographers, could be afterwards founded. No truer life can be desired. ^oWcry/AoV out. The Tabard, The White Hart, and other inn theatres, with their open courts, shared with the Globe and other theatres on the Southwark side in the prosperity accruing through the city inhabitants being, for the time, driven over London Bridge in pursuit of the kind of recreation then developing as suited to their needs and tastes. The condition of the stage, as Shakespeare found it, was peculiar. The mysteries and moralities had not yet altogether gone out ; theywer2 still acted by parish clerks, and, like the old drama of Brittany, and of China and Japan, since known to us in England, they would last several days. One is mentioned AN OLD BIT OF SHOTTERY. 1^2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. sent, is referred to with special favour, and inherits, as was too much the custom in those days, the principal part of the property ; he, in conjunction with his mother, is to attend to the produce of the land ; the two bonds- men, Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson, are both men- tioned, the first as a neighbour and " supervisor of this my last will and testament," the other as a witness ; one John Hemynge being also a wit- ness. The testator's property was considerable, more than amply sufficient to place his house on a par with the Shakespeare family so far as worldly means were con- THE LUDDINGTON MARRIAGE. HE story of the love and marriage of the young couple,shornof the innu- merableimaginingswith which the swarm of writers have surrounded it,issimpleenough. First of all, regard must be had to the circumstances of the brideand herfamily. Anne's father, " Richard Hathaway, alias Gardiner, de Shottery," had died at least three months before his daughter's marriage. Haliwell Phil- lips discovered Richard Hathaway's will in the Prerogative Court in London. It was drawn up on the ist of September, 1 581, and legally confirmed on the 9th July, 1582, so that the testator must have died towards the end of June. Seven out of nine children are mentioned, Bar- tholomew, Thomas, John, William, Agnes, Catherine, and Margaret, thus leaving Anne and Joan unmentioned. Bartholomew as the eldest, and with the mother's express con- '"iwitiiiimw" 1 ' cerned. The daughters, however, each received only a legacy of 20 nobles, i.e., £6 13s. 4d. ; this was to be paid to Agnes and Catherine at their marriage, whereas Margaret was to receive her portion on attaining her seventeenth year. Richard Hathaway's death is not entered in OBTAINING THE MARRIAGE LICENSE AT WORCESTER. 173 the church register, a by no means strange omission, inasmuch as many other equally substantial residents share such neglect. Bartholomew, according to a document in the Shakespeare Museum at Stratford, came into the possession of the estate at Shottery in 1610, and died in 1624, leaving the poet's son-in-law, Dr. Hall, one of his executors, thereby evidencing that the Hathaway and Shakespeare families continued living as neighbours and relatives on terms of closest family intimacy, and, we may say, affection. There is no sort of possible question of Anne's father being all that has been stated and more than " a substantial yeoman," as Rowe styled him, proved by his Shottery home and surrounding lands. The long resi- dence, now divided into three tenements, was then but one farm-house, and conformed to a superior or first-class homestead of the time. Some of the smaller cottages in close proximity would be the homes of labourers in Richard Hathaway's employ- ment, who, from the extent of his acres and style of residence was pro- bably the leading freeholder and farmer of the village. The old Luddington Parish Registers no longer exist to yield evidence of Shakespeare's union with Anne Hathaway. All we know as matter of certainty is that two friends accompanied the intended bride and bride- groom to Worcester, the seat of the diocese in which Stratford is situated, and there entered into a bond for the security of the bishop in licensing " William Shag- spere and Ann Hathaweay " to be married after only one- proclamation of banns. The bond is preserved in the Consistorial Registry at Worcester, and is dated November 28th, 1582. Notwithstanding the most diligent search of parish registers no entry of the marriage has yet been found. It did not take place at Stratford, or its register, so admirably kept and care- fully preserved, would record it. Luddington is the church most favoured by tradition as the village in whose holy place the marriage was solemnized ; but its early registers were burned in a drunken row at a harvest home, at a date prior to the interest and eagerness being manifested to ascertain facts in the life of the great author. The church Bible well-nigh shared the same fate, having been rescued from the flames : it is now in the vestry of the new church. The old church fell into ruins about a century ago. It was, in all probability, in this church that the poet's marriage with Anne was solemnized. There is a tradition to that effect existing in the neighbourhood ; indeed, it amounts to a general belief. The then Vicar of Ludding- ton had been Head Master of the Guild Grammar School when Shakespeare was educated there : this in itself should account for the selection. The Luddington Church of Shakespeare's day has long become only of the past. Until within a few years, however, a most unecclesiastical relic, a portion of the old fabric, though difficult of definition, re- mained. A sketch of the old, as also of the present new church, is subjoined. The new building is a gem, designed by John Cotton, of Birmingham, and much ornamented by John Baldwin, of Luddington, a most liberal benefactor. Consequent on the absence of all docu- mentary evidence to trace where the church ceremony of Shakespeare's marriage took place, the writers who have shown so great zeal in shadowing his character unwarrantably point to this as estab- lishing secrecy in the matter. Numerous places aspire to the honour of having had the wedding ceremony in their church, but the circumstances of the case point to Luddington as clearly the most probable. First, it was in the parish of both parties, secondly, they could walk over the fields without any parade through Stratford, and thus avoid scandal talk of over puritanical folk, questioners of the previous " handfast," and we may be sure Sweet Anne was not without envious female friends, probably her juniors, among the more scru- pulous members of her husband's family and her own female acquaintance. Young Will would be known as possessing great abilities, for even at that early age he must have been earning what in such a place would be 174 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. regarded as a large income, possibly beyond the capability of any other young fellow in the town. They had both been contented with the earlier formal betrothal as binding solemnly on their consciences, the more so as generally looked upon in the same light, yet would naturally prefer that no fuss or parade should be made over the church ratification, in order that this second ceremony should be shorn of everything that could by scandal whisperers be represented as detracting from the legal obligation of the previous " Chantry hand- fasting " ceremony. Luddington was close at hand ; good Simon Hunt, the respected minister, had been his schoolmaster at the Guild Grammar School, and knew all the circumstances of the earlier betrothal. He was curate of Luddington ; a good churchman was he, and would not fail in keeping alive the demands of conscience that the Shottery Chantry " handfasting" needed the rite of Mother Church to make it what it should be religiously, and would naturally appreciate the powers of his promising pupil as foreshadow- ing a great future as an author, knowing that he had already manifested high order of ability in the adaptation of theatrical pieces for the several companies of players by whom he had thus early in his career been employed. In all likelihood the young couple, immediately on the handfasting, took up their quarters in the Hathaway family home, which would afford ample accommodation, and probably con- tinued to abide there until after the birth of their twin children, notably until the way had been opened for his migration to the great field of London. It would be the natural desire of Anne's widowed mother that the young people should make the old home their quarters, more especially as he would shortly be venturing on the sea of Lon- don, leaving his wife and family behind until the curtain which obscured the future should be lifted and his plans become more matured. What home so fitting during such period of doubt and uncertainty ? We feel assured that William was living in the Hath- away homestead at Shottery with Anne, his wife, at the time of celebrating the mar- riage in church, possibly immediately on her Chantry handfasting, and they would thus be enabled to sally forth and return, without the more distant Stratford neighbours know- ing that Pastor Simon Hunt had that morn- ing bestowed upon them his blessing, and shielded their hoped-for offspring from the unmerited cruel remarking of a harsh-judg- ing, censorious world. Let us rather admire Will and Anne's courage and Christian course in renewing their vows in God's Holy Church. Luddington Church registers were destroyed, hence the marriage cannot be proved to have taken place in it ; looking, however, at all the circumstances, there is little or no doubt of Luddington bearing the palm. In Shakespeare's day it often occurred that, previous to any marriage rite in the church, there was a previous betrothal or espousal before witnesses, which in those times was regarded as a valid marriage, pro- vided the ratification of the union by the rites of the Church took place within a reasonable time afterwards. This undertaking of betrothal known in the time in which it existed as a common and frequent practice, especially in certain dis- tricts of England, notably in Warwickshire, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire, and other coun- ties, was a ceremony frequently enacted with much formality, generally with the immediate concurrence of the parents on both sides, although frequently conducted separately by the betrothing parties ; evi- dence of the fact, communicated by them to independent persons, having been held in Warwickshire to confer a sufficient legal validity on the transaction. A case in point is afforded, as occurring in 1585, in the very village of Snitterfield where Shakespeare's father was born. William Holder and Alice THE HAN DF AST BETROTHAL, *75 Shaw of that neighbourhood, having privately- made a contract, came voluntarily before two witnesses, one named Willis and the other John Maides of Snitterfield, on purpose to acknowledge that they were irrevocably pledged to wedlock. The lady evidently considered herself already as good as married, saying to Holder, " I do confess that I am your wife and have forsaken all my friends for your sake, and I hope you will use me well " ; and thereupon she " gave him her hand." Then, as Maides observes, " the said Holder, mutatis mutandis, used the like words unto her in effect and took her by the hand and kissed together in the presence of this deponent and the said Willis." These proceedings are afterwards referred to in the same deposi- tions as constituting a definite contract of marriage. On another occasion, in 1588, there is cited a pre-contract meet- ing at Alcester, also close to Shakespeare's locality, to which the young lady arrived unaccompanied by any of her friends. When asked to explain the reason of this omission, she answered " that her leasure would not lett her, and that she thought she could not obtaine her mother's goodwill, but, quoth she, neverthelesse, I am the same woman that I was before." The future bridegroom was perfectly satisfied with this assurance, merely asking her " ' Whether she was content to betake herself unto him,' and she answered, off'ring her hand, which he also tuke upon th' offer, that she was content by her trothe, ' and thereto,' said she, ' I geve thee my faith, and before these witnesses, that I am thy wief ' ; and then he likewise answered in theis words, vidz., ' and I geve thee my faith and troth, and become thy husband.' " There were some curious observances on occasions of these " handfast " ceremonials, especially in Warwickshire. The lady always accepted a bent or lucky sixpence with a hole drilled in it, which her spouse presented at the termination of the espousals. One lover at Aston Cantlow, close to Shakespeare's mother's home, and who was betrothed by " handfast " in the same year in which Shakespeare was thus married to Anne Hath- away, gave also a pair of gloves, two oranges, two handkerchiefs, and a girdle of broad red silk. A present of gloves on such an occasion was, indeed, nearly as universal as that of a crooked sixpence. Haliwell Phillips justly admits that, " In Shakespeare's matrimonial case, those who imagine that there was no pre-contract have to make another extravagant admission. They must ask us also to believe that the lady of his choice was as disreput- able as the flax wench, and gratuitously united with the poet in a moral wrong that could have been converted by the smallest expenditure of trouble into a moral right." " The whole theory," says Phillips, " is abso- lutely incredible," adding, " we may feel certain that in the summer 'of the year 1582, William Shakespeare and Anne Hathaway were betrothed either formally or informally, but, at all events, under conditions that could, if necessary, have been legally satisfied." In looking at the question of the poet and Anne's " handfast," and after-union in church, it must always be borne in mind that a pre-contract or troth-plight was, according to the custom of the day, considered morally equivalent to the actual marriage ceremony, and the betrothed parties might live together as husband and wife, without incurring the censure of public opinion. In so far, therefore, no fault can be found. This point we have sufficiently estab- lished by examples and proofs among his own and Anne's neighbours of equal social standing. In " Measure for Measure," act i., scene 3, the relation between Claudio and Julietta is described as a lawful one owing to their marriage contract : — " Upon a true contract I got possession of Julietta's bed ; You know the lady ; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack Of outward order : this we came not to." : 7 6 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Also in " Measure for Measure " (act iv., scene i) the Duke, disguised as a friar, induces Mariana to represent Isabella on the occasion of the latter's proposed nocturnal visit to Angelo, by referring to the pre-con- tract between them : — " He is your husband on a pre-contract : To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin ; Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit." In " Twelfth Night" (iv. 3 and v. 1) the solemnity of the betrothal is enhanced by the presence of a priest : — ■ Hath sometime loved : / take thy hand ; this hand, As soft as dove's down, and as white as it : Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er. Polixenes. What follows this ? — How prettily the young swain seems to wash, The hand was fair before ! — I have put you out : — But, to your protestation ; let me hear What you profess. Flo. Do, and be witness to't. Pol. And this my neighbour too ? Flo. And he, and more Than he, and men ; the earth, the heavens, and all : That, were I crown'd the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth That ever made eye swerve ; had force and knowledge More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love : for her, employ them all ; Commend them, and condemn them, to her service, Or to their own perdition. Pol. Fairly offer'd. Cam. This shows a sound affection. Shep. But my daughter, " A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Attested by the holy close of lips, Strengthen'd by interchangement of your rings : And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony." We may be sure that if his own betrothal to Sweet Anne in the very early days of his own manhood was after this manner, it was uppermost in his thoughts when pen- ning this beauteous passage in the " Winter's Tale " :— Florizel. O, hear me breathe my life Before this ancient sir, who, it would seem, Say you the like to him ? Per. I cannot speak So well, nothing so well ; no, nor mean better : By the pattern cf mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his. Shep. Take hands, a bargain ; And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness to't ; I give my daughter to him, and will make Her portion equal his. Flo. O, that must be I' the virtue of your daughter : one being dead, I shall have more than you can dream of yet ; Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, Contract us, 'fore these witnesses. Shep. Come, your hand : And, daughter, yours. A HAPPY UNION. 177 A HAPPY UNION. HEY whose ingenuity has been exercised mainly in attributing to the great author the meaner and worst qualities of poor human nature urge, as convincing proof, that Shakespeare's affection did not hold " the bent," that he settled in London and left his wife in Stratford, visiting her only once a year. One biographer wickedly states that he never sent her a penny of his earnings (a clear case of unrequited love), but spent them in the delights and dissipations of metropolitan life. In confirmation, his last will and testament is brought forward, in which he leaves no word ot love for his wife, and bequeaths to her only his " second-best bed." The sonnets, too, which seem to be true records and very issues of his life, are made to indicate that there was some cold- ness and estrangement between them, and are shown to speak also of the u disgraces " and u blots " that cling to him as the results of his " old offences of affections." Lacking anything truthful in shape of the fol- lies and weaknesses usually attaching to frail humanity chargeable to him, his earliest biographers, unable to appreciate the great gulf subsisting, and which ever must exist between him and any other author that had ever lived, or as would almost seem is ever likely to exist, were placed in the difficulty of utter silence, and for the best of all reasons — nothing was known — nothing could be known. It did not comport with their ideas of biography that he should pass thus vacantly down to time, and yet, even at his death, there were not wanting great men to realize that he was, and ever would remain, for all time. Hireling gossips of secondary worth, utterly unreliable, were therefore deputed to seek stories detractive from the high moral character, sweet disposition and goodness of nature known as Shakespeare's marked characteristics. In despair of finding such, invention was resorted to ; hence the butcher-boy apprenticeship, the pretended fleeing from Stratford consequent on deer- stealing, the horse-holding at theatre doors, Davenant scandal, the various drunken de- baucheries, ending in consequent premature death. All emanate from one and the self- same reckless and unfounded source; the only marvel is, that so many editions of his works as have appeared since their publicity should have been disgraced in the repetition of such inconsistent fables. u Garrulous Aubrey " was sent on the tramp of discovery, and among his inventions an anecdote told of him in this connexion is to the effect that Shakespeare, on his journeys to and from London, used to put up at the Crown Inn at Oxford. The innkeeper, John Davenant, and his wife were very fond of him, and he stood godfather to their son William. The wicked world intimated that there was something more than friendship between the poet and the witty Mrs. Davenant. One day, as William was running home in haste, some one asked him why he ran so. He replied that he wished to see his 178 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. godfather, who had just arrived. " You're a good boy," retorted his interrogator, " but you ought not to take the name of God in vain." Such a palpable slander carries its denial with it to every reflective mind. But, if there were errors and blem- ishes (and who of us are free of these?), we know with what sorrow and contrition he regarded them. It is strange that to so few poets fate grants the personal realiza- tion of the domestic bliss of which they are the inspired prophets and apostles. It may be true that persons of fine imaginations are apt to be deceived in this matter of love. The object is illuminated with beams borrowed from their own minds; it floats before them in a light " that never was the sea or land." To a spectator who is " fancy free," it would seem as if Puck had anointed their eyelids, that they discover so much beauty in that coarse mark. The enchant- ments are laid thickly on. There is a tendency, even in the most prosaic, to idealize the objects of its idolatry. The most homely face is transfigured by the warm atmosphere of friendship ; and there is absolutely no form or feature that does not appear beautiful when seen in " the purple light of love." Perhaps the deception arises from a wise co-working of the mental and emotional faculties ; a charitable illusion, framed by the intellect as a justification of the foolishness of the heart. Emerson defines love as one of the most M beneficent illusions of sentiment and of the intellect " ; an illusion " which attributes to the beloved person all which that person shares with his or her family, sex, age, or condition ; nay, with the human mind itself." All beautiful and divine quali- ties appear, to him entwined in that form,- and his beatitude depends upon continuing in the fascination. Possibly, with Shake- speare, the charms of metropolitan beauty and splendour may have tended to modify the spell, the bright rays of the city and of the Court may in a degree have dissolved the mirage that had filled the atmosphere of his youthful affection. He may have discovered that the loveliness of the landscape and the glories of the sky did not all hang like a translucent picture in his chamber window. But such a disenchantment may have come without doing any affright to the gentle and abiding spirit of love that nestled in the quiet recesses of his soul. Authors will in some way introduce themselves in their books, as Goldsmith does in "The Vicar of Wakefield." Even Milton's matrimonial troubles crop out in " Paradise Lost," as may be seen by the fol- lowing lines : — " This mischief had not then befall'n, And more that shall befall ; for either He shall never find outfit mate, but such As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain Through her perverseness, but shall see her gained By far worse : or his happiest choice too late, Shall meet already linked and wedlock bound." In the same manner the Shakespearean dramas contain occasional allusion to domestic troubles which are represented by some as verified in the history of the Strat- ford youth. In the " Two Gentlemen of Verona," Proteus thus discourses to Valen- tine — " As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all." To this sentimentalism Valentine replies — " As the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turned to folly ; blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes." if £$ £t^ <\ f\ It is urged that, as, when only eighteen, he married a mature maiden of twenty-seven, it is probable that he chafed under the dispro- portion between them. In " Twelfth Night," this point of disparity of years is pressed with an earnestness that springs, we are told, from bitter personal experience. In the AS TO RESULT OF HIS EARLY MARRIAGE. 179 beautiful scene where Viola, disguised as a page, enters into conversa- tion with the Duke, of whom she is en- amoured, and receives from him this gene- ral advice — " Let still the woman take An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart." Domestic troubles are set forth in a more apparent manner in u As You Like It," where Shakespeare is alleged as personated by Touchstone. The latter is the fool, and wears cap and bells, but he is really the wit of the entire piece, thus recalling the author's words in another play : — :i- .£i*c\fci»y %, " This fellow's wise enough to play the fool, And to do that well craves a kind of art. He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons and the time. This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art." Shakespeare's marriage, it is urged by many, was compulsive and unhappy, and that an allusion to this is found in the words spoken by Jaques to the different lovers at the close of the play :— " You (to Orlando) to a love that your true faith doth merit. You (to Oliver) to your land and love, and great allies. And you (to Touchstone) to wrangling ; for thy loving voyage Is but for two months victuall'd." If it be true, as Bacon says, that a man finds himself ten years older the day after his marriage, this sudden maturity would nearly equalize the matter and keep the balance true. The speech of Hermia's lover, Lysander, has often been quoted to prove the in- felicity of his wedded life ; because one of the reasons given why " the course i8o SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. of true love never did run smooth " is that it is " misgraffed in respect of years." M Midsummer Night's Dream" was written in the early part of Shakespeare's life. The time comes, however, to give up frequent journeys between London and Stratford. Prudent business habits had secured large competence, and he desired to rest in his loved Stratford home. No doubt he intended to revisit the metropolis, but his untimely death shattered all such plans. Coming back, and being no Puritan, he may conscientiously have felt that Anne had acquitted herself much better than he in every point of duty. His son (Hamnet) is dead, but the daughters are all grown up and in reputable condition. He builds a house for them, qualms of conscience prompting towards his wife some act of con- donement, and having ridiculed her in an early play, he makes the amende by embody- ing a portrait of her character in the unfortu- nate heroine of " Henry VIII." Such a view would lead to the words uttered by Queen Katharine, and however simple in the world's ways and knowledge, compared with him- self, Anne might have been, she may have expressed the same idea : — " Sir, I desire you do me right and justice ; And to bestow your pity on me : for I am a most poor woman. Heaven witness I have been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable ; . . . . Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife, in this obedience, Upward of twenty years. If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it, too, against mine honour aught, Turn me away, and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me." It is pleasant to see such a writer and true Shakespearean as Charles Knight on the right side in this matter. He says : — " There is no secret as to this union ; there is no affectation in concealing their attach- ment. He speaks of her as his wife ; she of him as her husband. He is tall and finely formed, with a face radiant with intellect, and capable of expressing the most cheerful and most tender emotions. She is in the full beauty of womanhood, glowing with health and conscious happiness. Some of the gossips whisper that she is too old for him, but his frank and manly bearing, and her beauty and buoyant spirits, would not sug- gest this if some tattle about age were not connected with the whisper. The influence which his marriage must have had upon his destinies was, no doubt, considerable, but it is too much to assume, as it has been assumed, that it was an unhappy influence. All that we really know of Shakespeare's family life warrants the contrary supposition. We be- lieve that the marriage of Shakespeare was one of affection ; that there was no disparity in the worldly condition of himself and the object of his choice; that it was with the consent of friends ; that there were no circumstances connected with it which indi- cate that it was either forced or clandestine, or urged on by an artful woman to cover her apprehended loss of character." It is needless further to refer to the idle sayings of the would-be wise as to Shake- speare's presumed estrangement from Anne. Happily he has himself left the most tri- umphant testimonies of his strong and • OLD WOOD CARVINGS OF ARMS ON MANTEL IN UPPER ROOM IN ABOVE COTTAGE. changeless affection to her, and that it was in the depth of domestic existence that he found his real happiness. To him every- thing was Anne Hathaway, but especially all wisdom, goodness, beauty, and delight took from her their existence, and gave to her their qualities. She was, in brief, the sun round which the rest of creation must needs take its course. If we doubt this, let us rest on the beautiful sonnet thus speak- ing :— Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds ; Or bends, with the remover to remove. 0, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests, and is never shaken ; QUOTATIONS PROVING DEVOTED AFFECTION. 161 It is the star of every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come ; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. Never have any lines been penned, more deeply and eternally expressive of the senti- ment of affection springing from the soul than these. Whoever has slandered Shake- speare must have done so in ignorance of their existence. As Howitt properly puts it : He, like other men, had fallen into errors the which he would gladly have avoided ; but where was the man who, after having won the fame that he had, and passed through the Circean enchantments of metro- politan beauty and splendour and wit as he had, ever gave so marvellous a proof that his heart of hearts was not in them, but that his only hope and idea of true happiness was in his native fields, and in the home of his wedded affection ? What accuser could venture to stand up against such a man, after reading the very next Sonnet, the continua- tion, in fact, of the former ? Accuse me thus ; that I have scanted all, Wherein I should your great deserts repay ; Forgot upon your dearest love to call, Whereto all bonds do tie me, day by day ; That I have frequent been with unknown minds, And given to them your own dear purchased right; That I have hoisted sail to all the winds Which should transport me farthest from your sight : Book both my wilfulness and errors down : And on just proof, surmise accumulate, Bring me within the level of your frown, But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate : Since my appeal says, I did strive to prove The constancy and virtue of your love. That his long absence (for there is nothing to show that his wife ever left Stratford to reside with him in London) had, say the seekers after evil, occasioned some misunder- standing and estrangement between them, would, they say, appear from several of his Sonnets, which are the only records left of his life and internal feelings ; but the sor- row and repentance he expresses, are more than enough to unbend the brow of the sternest ^udge, much more of a tender, loving wife. O, never say, that I was false of heart, Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. As easy might I from myself depart, As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie. That is my home of love : if I have ranged, Like him that travels, I return again ; Just to the time, not with the time exchanged ; So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe, though in my nature reign'd All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stain'd, To leave for nothing all thy sum of good ; For nothing this wide universe I call Save thou, my rose ; in it thou art my all. Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view ; Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new. Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth Askance and strangely ; but, by all above, These blenches gave my heart another youth, And worse essays proved thee my best of love. Now is all done, save what shall have no end : Mine appetite I never more will grind On newer proof, to try an older friend, A god in love, to whom I am confined. Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, Even to thy pure and most, most loving breast. I& SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. O, for my sake do you with fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means, which public manners breeds. Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, And almost thence my nature is subdued To what it works in, like the dyer's hand : Pity me then, and wish I were renew'd ; Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink Potions of eysell, 'gainst my strong infection, No bitterness that I will bitter think, Nor double penance, to correct correction ; Pity me, then, dear friend, and I assure ye, Even that your pity is enough to cure me. Very quickly after young William and Anne's betrothal, union, and taking up their joint residence with Anne's mother in the obtain this special license from the ecclesi- astical authorities there. It was closely on the end of November, 1582, that this journey was prosecuted. The month is not the most inviting for a journey on horseback of more than thirty miles, and yet William Shakespeare, with two youthful friends, must ride to Worcester. The families of Shakespeare and Hathaway are naturally desirous that the sanction of the church should be given within the customary period to the alliance which their children have formed. They are reverential observers of old customs ; and their recollec- tions of the practice of all who went before them show that the marriage commenced by Shottery home, conscience would be stirred to defer no longer a celebration of their marriage according to the rites of the English church, of which they were both sincere mem- bers. The prior betrothal ceremony seems, in their opinion, to have rendered necessary what we in our day term a "special license" ; at any rate, such was substituted in their case for the form of public banns, which in- volved a month's further waiting. Accord- ingly, Anne's brother Richard and two friends, Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson, accompanied by the betrothed young William, set out for the city of Worcester in order to the trothplight ought not to be postponed too long. Convenience ought to yield to pro- priety, and Christmas must see the young housekeepers well settled. A license must be procured from the Bishop's Court at Wor- cester. Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson, the companions of young Shakespeare, sub- stantial yeomen, are cheerfully his bonds- men. Though he is a minor, and cannot join in the bond, they know that he will faithfully perform what he undertakes, and that their bond money is in no peril. They all well know the condition of such a bond. There is no pre-contract ; no affinity between the PUBLICATION OF BANNS. 183 betrothed; William has the consent of Anne's friends. They desire to be married with once asking of the banns ; not an un- common case, or the court would not grant such a license. They desire not to avoid the publicity of banns ; but they seek a license for one publication, for their happiness has made them forget the lapse of time : the be- trothment was binding indeed for ever upon true hearts, but the marriage will bless the contract and make it irrevocable in its sanctity. And thus the three friends, after tender adieus, and many lingerings upon the threshold of the cottage at Shottery, mount their horses, and take the way to Worcester. Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson (as the marks to the marriage-bond testify) were not lettered persons. But, nevertheless, they might have been very welcome companions to William Shakespeare. The non-ability to write, even if it were so, did not necessarily imply that their minds had not received a certain amount of cultivation. To him, who drew his wondrous knowledge out of every source — books, conversation, observation of character — no society could be uninterest- ing. His genial nature would find objects of sympathy in the commonest mind. That he was a favourite among his own class it is im- possible to doubt. His mental superiority was too great to be displayed in any as- sumption ; his kindliness of nature would knit him to every heart that was capable of affection — and what heart is not ? Unintel- ligible would he be, no doubt, to many ; but, as far as it is possible to conceive of his character, he would be wholly remote from that waywardness which has been considered the attribute of genius — neither moping, nor shy, nor petulant, nor proud ; affecting no misanthropy, no indifference to the joys and sorrows of those around him ; and certainly despising the fashion through which " Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, Only for wantonness." — King John, act iv., scene 1. Assuredly the intellect of Shakespeare was the most healthful ever bestowed upon man ; and that was one cause of its unapproachable greatness. The soundest judgment was in combination with the highest fancy. With such friends, then, as Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson, would this young man be as free and as gladsome as if they were as equal in their minds as in their worldly cir- cumstances. He must of necessity have been the readiest in all discourse in his own circle — the unconscious instructor of his companions ; one that even age would listen to with reverence. To the young he would have been as a spirit of gladness lighted upon the earth, to make everything more bright and beautiful amidst which he walked. Haliwell Phillips says the bond sufficiently proves that the marriage must have taken place with the consent of the Hathaways, and the bride's father was most likely present when Sandells and Richardson executed the bond, for one of the seals has the initials R.H. upon it : — e There can be little doubt that the connec- tion met with the approval of Shakespeare's parents, for there was no disparity of means or station to occasion their dissent. Nothing can be more erroneous than the conclusions generally drawn from the marriage bond. Anne Hathaway is there described as of Strat- ford, but so are the two bondsmen, who, as the register shows, were respectable neigh- bours of the Hathaways of Shottery. It has been said that Sandells and Rychardson were rude, unlettered husbandmen, unfitted to attend a poet's bridal. They could not, it is averred, write their own names, but neither, according to these same authorities, could many of the principal inhabitants of Stratford. Rychardson was a substantial farmer, as ap- pears from the inventory of his goods made in 1594, his friend Sandells being engaged in its compilation. The epithet husbandman did not denote inferior condition. When Robert Myddylton, " pryste and chaunter in the College of Stratford," made his will in 1538, still preserved at Worcester, he named for his executors " William Wyllshay, pryste and vicare of the College of Warwicke, and Thomas Cole, husbandman, in Shottery." The husbandman of Shottery was, then, not necessarily a " heavy ploughman." If one husbandman could with propriety be a priest's executor, surely another might sign a bond without the circumstance creating mysterious argument. The seal used when the bond was executed (and this fact is of very important significance) has upon it the initials R. H., and, therefore, evidently the seal of Richard Hathaway, father of the bride, had been used on the occasion, not only by his consent, but as giving additional 184 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. It is dated the the 25th year of import to the document. In those days seal- ing was an act of solemnity, and the pos- session of a family seal placed the possessor in the rank of what was known as the " better class." The family had existed in Shottery long anterior to the middle of the 1 6th century, and clearly had been intimate for some years with the Shake- speare family, and their several heads had, it is proved, business with each other, John Shakespeare having been security for Richard Hathaway in 1566, and in the following year both are assessed " in bonis " at £4 apiece. The previous ceremony by the Roman Catholic priest in the Shottery Chantry had entirely satisfied the bride and her family, and there is nothing in proof of the poet's father or mother regarding it differently, seeing that a subsequent public ceremony of Protestant rites had from the first been designed and arranged for. The following is a copy of the Marriage License document in the Consistorial Court of Worcester, which was first published by Mr. Wheler in 1836, having been previously discovered by Haliwell Phillips. It consists of a bond to the officers of the Ecclesiastical Court, in which Fulk Sandells, of the county Warwick, farmer, and John Rychardson, of the same place, farmer, are bound in the ¥ sum of forty pounds, etc. 28th day of November in Elizabeth (1582) : — " Novint univsi p psentes nos Fulcone Sandells de Stratford in Comit Warwic agricolam et Johem Rychardson ibm agricola teneri et firmiter obligari Rico Cosin gnoso et Robto Warmstry notario puo in quadraginta libris bone et legalis monete Anglias solvend eisdem Rico et Robto hered execut vel assignat suis ad quam quidem soluconem bene et fidelr faciend obligam nos et utruq nrm p se pro toto et in solid haered executor et administrator nros firmiter p pntes sigillis nris sigillat. Dat 28 die Nove Anno Regni Dne nre Eliz Dei gratia Angliae Franc et Hibniae Regine Fidei Defensor &C.25 . " The condicon of this oblgacon ys suche, that if hereafter there shall not appere any lawfull lett or impediment by reason of any , p contract or affinitie, or by any other lawful meanes whatsoev, but that Willm Shagspere *l on thone ptie, and Anne Hathwey, of Strat- / * ford, in the Dioces of Worcester, maiden, J> may lawfully solemnize mriony, and in the J*\ same afterwards remaine and continew like ^' man and wife, according unto the laws in that case provided ; and moreov, if there be not at this psent time any action, quarrel, suit, or de- mand, moved or depending before any judge ecclesiastical or temporall for and concerning any such lawfull lett or impediment. And moreov, if the said Willm Shagspere do not pceed to solemnizacon of marriadg with the said Ann Hathwey without the consent of hir frinds. And also if the said Willm do upon his own pper cost and expences defend and save harmles the Right Revend Father in God Lord John Bushop of Wor- cester and his offycers, for licensing them, the said Willm and Anne, to be maried together wth once asking of the bannes of mriony betwene them and for all other causes wch may ensue by reason or occasion thereof, that then the said obligacon to be voyd and of none effect, or else to stand and abide in fulle force and vertue." The object of the marriage bond was to obtain such a dispensation from the Bishop of Worcester as would authorize a clergyman to unite the bride and bridegroom in any parish church within the Diocese after only a single publication of the banns, and looking at the circumstances of their marriage union having been one of betrothal only, although such was looked upon as in all respects bind- ing, yet Shakespeare, as a religiously con- scientious man, knowing his wife's condition HASTENING THE CEREMONY IN CHURCH. 185 and probable maternity within the next seven months, felt it his duty and pleasure that the religious and formal ceremony, with its accompaniments of registry and public notification, should be gone through without further delay according to the rites of Mother Church, of which they were both baptized members. Anne Hathaway, as appears from her monumental inscription in Stratford Church, was born in the year 1556, and was therefore eight years older than her husband. With this fact in view, and relying on very un certain allusions in his plays and sonnets, i has been unjustly conjectured that Shake- speare's marriage was not productive of domestic happiness. For this opinion not a fragment of direct evidence has been pro- duced ; and on such grounds it may as reasonably be said that he was in his own person the actual representative of all the passions he dcscibes in the persons of his characters. Eut " his wife and daughters did earnestly desire to be lay'd in the same grave with him," as the clerk informed Dow- dall in the year 1693. They who desire greater sympathy find it furnished by the pleasing memorial of filial affection in the chancel of Stratford Church ; a monument raised by her daughter, which tells us how ^id^M^B^/ ^- Formerly existing remains of Old Luddington Church. revered was Anne Shakespeare's memory, and plainly teaches us to infer she possessed u as much virtue as could die." Such a being must have lived happily with the " gentle Shakespeare," Ubera tu, mater, tu lac vitamque dedisti! Vse mihi ! pro tanto munere saxa dabo. Jh m OT&» v'-fa '* u ///...(£L J ., , Stwi^ %th«\ fn»>^* fl speare would have k«^« turned over its leaves with delight. "The Chronicle of England, with the Fruit of Times," — the edition of 1527, with cuts innumerable — how must it have taken that boy into the days of " fierce wars," and have shown him the mailed knights, the archers, and the bill-men that fought at Poictiers for a vain empery, and afterwards turned their swords and arrows against each other at Barnet and Tewkes- bury ! What dim thoughts of early muta- tions must the young dramatist have received, as he looked upon the pictures of " The Boke of John Bochas, describing the Fall of Princes, Princesses, and other Nobles," and especially as he beheld the portrait of John Lydgate, the translator, kneeling in a long black cloak, ad- miring the vicissitude of the wheel of fortune, the divinity being represented by a male figure, in a robe, with expanded wings ! Rude and incongruous works of art, ye were yet an intelligible language to the young and the uninstructed ; and the things ye taught through the visual sense were not readily to be forgotten ! But there were books in those days, simple and touching in their diction, and sounding alike the depths of the hearts of childhood and of age, which were the printed embodi- WYNKYN DE WORDE'S BOOKS. 205 ments of that traditionary lore that the shep- herd repeated in his loneliness when pastur- ing his flocks in the uplands, and the maiden recited to her companions at the wheel. Were there not in every house " Christmas Carols," — perhaps not the edition of Wynkyn de Worde in 1521, but reprints out of num- ber ? Did not the same great printer scatter about merry England — and especially dear were such legends to the people of the Mid- land and Northern Counties — " A lytell Geste of Robyn Hode" ? Whose ear amongst the yeomen of Warwickshire did not listen village dance to his magic pipe, even to the reverendicity of the frere leaping in profane guise as the little boy commanded, so that when he ceased piping, he could make the frere and the harsh stepmother obedient to his innocent will ! There was beautiful wis- dom in these old tales — something that seemed to grow instinctively out of the Showing in the foreground site and excavations of foundations of New Place. when some genial spirit would recite out of that " lytell Geste " ? Lythe and lysten, gentylmen, That be of fre borne blode, I shall you tell of a good yeoman, His name was Robyn Hode ; Robyn was a proud outlawe Whyles he walked on ground, So curteyse an outlawe as he was one Was never none yfounde. The good old printer, Wynkyn, knew that there were real, because spiritual, truths in these ancient songs and gestes ; and his press poured them out in company with many " A full devoute and gosteley Treatise." That charming, and yet withal irreverend, " mery geste of the frere and the boy," — what genial mirth was there in seeing the child, ill-used by his stepmother, making a whole bosom of nature, as the wild blossoms and the fruit of a rich intellectal soil, unculti- vated, but not sterile. Of the romances of chivalry might be read, in the fair types of Richard Pynson, " Sir Bevis of Southamp- ton " ; and in those of Robert Copland, "Arthur of lytell Brytayne"; and "Sir Degore, a Romance," printed by William Copland; also "Sir Isenbrace," and "The Knighte of the Swanne," a " miraculous his- tory," from the same press. Nor was the dramatic form of poetry altogether wanting in those days of William Shakespeare's childhood — verse, not essentially dramatic in the choice of subject, but dialogue, which may sometimes pass for dramatic even now. There was " A new Interlude and a mery of the nature of the iiii elements " ; and " Mag- 20t SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. nyfycence; a goodly interlude and mery " ; and an interlude u wherein is shewd and de- scribed as well the bewte of good propertes of women as theyr vyces and euyll condi- cions " ; and " An interlude entitled Jack Juggeler and Mistress Boundgrace " ; and, most attractive of all, " A newe playe for to be played in Maye games, very plesaunte and full of pastyme," on the subject of Robin Hood and the Friar. The merry interludes of the indefatigable John Heywood were preserved in print, in the middle of the six- teenth century, whilst many a noble play that was produced fifty years afterwards has perished with its actors. To repeat passages out of these homely dialogues, in which, however homely they were, much solid knowledge was in some sort conveyed, would be a sport for childhood. Out of books, too, and single printed sheets, might the songs that gladdened the hearts of the Eng- lish yeoman, and solaced the dreary winter hours of the esquire in the hall, be readily learnt. What countryman, at fair, or market, could resist the attractive titles of the " balletts " printed by the good Widow Toy, of London — a munificent widow, who pre- sented the Stationers' Company, in 1560, with a new table-cloth and a dozen of napkins — titles that have melody even to us who have lost the pleasant words they ushered in ? There are : — " Who lyve so mery and make suche sporte As they that be of the poorer sorte ? " and : — " God send me a wyfe that will do as I say ; " and, very charming in the rhythm of its one known line : — " The rose is from my garden gone." Songs of sailors were there also in those days — England's proper songs — such as 11 Hold the anchor fast." There were collec- tions of songs, too, as those of " Thomas Whithorne, gentleman, for three, four, or five voices," which found their way into every yeoman's house when we were a musical people and could sing in parts. It was the wise policy of the early Reformers, when chantries had for the most part been sup- pressed, to direct the musical taste of the laity to the performance of the church ser- vice ; and many were the books adapted to this end, such as " Bassus," consisting of portions of the service to be chanted, and "The whole Psalms, in four parts, which may be sung to all musical instruments" (1563). The metrical version of the Psalms, by Sternhold and Hopkins, first printed in 1562, was essentially for the people; and accustomed as we have been to smile at the occasional want of refinement in this trans- lation, its manly vigour, ay, and its bold harmony, may put to shame many of the THE BIBLE HIS SPECIAL DELIGHT. 207 feebler productions of our own feebler times. Sure we are that the child William Shake- speare had his memory stored with its vigorous and idiomatic English. But there was one book which it was the especial happiness of that contempla- tive boy to be familiar with. When, in the year 1537, the English was printed by authority, Richard Grafton, the printer, sent six copies to Cranmer, beseeching the archbishop to accept them as his simple gift, adding, " For your lordship, moving our most gracious prince to the allowance and licensing of such a work, hath wrought such an actworthyof praise asneverwas mentioned in any chronicle in this realm." From that time, with the exception of the short interval of the reign of Mary, the presses of London were for the most part employed in printing Bibles. That book, to whose wonderful heart-stirring narratives the child listens with awe and love, was now and ever after to be the solace of the English home. With "the Great Bible" open before her, the mother would read aloud to her little ones that beautiful story of Joseph sold into slavery, and then advanced to honour — and how his brethren knew him not when, suppressing his tears, he said, " Is your father well, the old man of whom ye spake ? " — or how, when the child Samuel was laid down to sleep, the Lord called to him three times, and he grew, and God was with him ; — or, how the three holy men who would not worship the golden image, walked about in the midst of the burning fiery fur- nace ; — or, how the prophet that was un- justly cast into the den of lions was found un- hurt, because the true God had sent his angels and shut the lions' mouths. These were the solemn and affect- ing naratives, wonder- fully preserved for our instruction from a long antiquity, that in the middle of the six- teenth century became disclosed to the people of England. But more especially was that other Testament opened which most imported them to know ; and thus, when the child repeated in lisping accents the Christian's prayer to his Father in Heaven, the mother could expound to him 208 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. that when the Divine Author of that prayer first gave it to us, He taught us that the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, were the happy and the beloved of God; and laid down that comprehensive law of justice, "All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." We believe that the home education of William Shakespeare was grounded upon this Book ; and that, if this Book had been sealed to his childhood, he might have been the poet of Nature, of passion — his humour might have been as rich as we find it, and his wit as pointed — but that he would not have been the poet of the most profound as well as the most tolerant philosophy ; his in- sight into the nature of man, his meanness and his grandeur, his weakness and his strength, would not have been what it is. As the boy advanced towards the age of seven, preparation for the Grammar School would be desirable. Charles Knight reminds us there would be choice of elementary books. The " Alphabetum Latino Anglicum," issued under the special authority of Henry VIII. , might attract by its most royal and con- siderate assurance that " we forget not the tender babes and the youth of our realm." Learning, however, was not slow then to put on its solemn aspects to the "tender babes" ; and so we have some grammars with a wooden cut of an awful man sitting on a high chair, pointing to a book with his right hand, but with a mighty rod in his left. However persevering writers have been as to the poet's parents being unread and incapable of writ- ing, earnestness for their son's education is at least their due, so also was the earliest dawn of mind seized for its development. The Grammar School resolved on, preparation was begun. Lord Campbell believes that such of the sons of the neighbouring gentry attended the school as were enabled to comply with the conditions of being able to read and write. How interesting would be any record of the relative progress and capabilities of the boys occupying the forms of that room with the one great mind destined to survive throughout all ages ! To the Grammar School, then, with some pre- paration, we hold that William Shakespeare goes, in the year 1571. His father is at this time chief alderman of his town ; he is a gentleman now of repute and authority ; he is Master John Shakespeare ; and assuredly the worthy curate of the neighbouring village of Luddington, Simon Hunt, who was also the schoolmaster, would have received his new scholar with some kindness. As his " shining morning face " first passed out of the main street into that old court through HIS LATIN GRAMMAR AND PARSING LESSONS. 209 •ys9 which the upper room of learning was to be reached, a new life would be opening upon him. Neither Walter Roche nor Simon Hunt would need to apply the spur to their boy pupil, who, as described by an Ameri- can writer, would easily get through the tenses of the verb " Love," or its Latin synonym "Amo." . Howitwent.andhe went! Tradition has it that ' Shakespeare received Holy i love, loved, have loved, Sa"h°aVe. fr ° m this "*d loved, shall or will love, shall have loved." He would dart through the cans, and the coulds, and the mights of the potential, and the mysterious contingencies of the subjunctive, till he rounded on to the trio of par- ticiples that brought up the rear of this marvellous cavalcade of deeds, probable and possible, present, past, and future, in the great art and action of loving. When he got to the prepositions, did they puzzle him as they have boydom ever before and since ? Did he grasp the definition that they were created to connect words and show the relation between them ? Then, what thought he of those queer contrivances termed " con- junctions, " that ought to connect, but didn't ? Was the " interjection," with its oh ! ah ! and alas ! a God-send to him in the midst of the fog? Was "parsing" a wonderful process to him ? Little could he have opined that couplets from his own English rhyme should in after ages be " transposed," or alias muti- lated, — paraphrased, or alias butchered, — by millions of school-boy grammar-aspirants. His mighty intellect — even then, long be- fore getting into the teens — would realize that we should never be done with the tenses until we have done with time ! That the world is full of them ! That the world is made of them ! That for the sturdy, iron present tense, full of facts and figures, knocks and knowledge, we must look among the men in middle life — the diggers and workers of the world ; the men who, of all others, have discovered, for the very first time, at forty or forty-five, that the present tense is now ; that in the home, shop, warehouse, the field, and on decks, the real, living present reigns supreme. That for the bright, golden, joyous future— full of the tones of silver bells of beat- ing hearts, merry tongues and merry feet, we must look in our swarming streets and schools, or beneath soft blankets at firesides. Further, did he not know that they who wear the silver livery of time, that linger tremblingly amid the din and jar of life — whose voices, like a failing fountain, are not musical as of old — that they are the melancholy past ! We know he preached to us that " cold obstruction claims all times for its own — glowing action the present ; hope, the future ; and memory, the past ! " Had he with us to unlearn " One Pluperfect,"—" One Future ? " Yea, he thanked God with us that, in this world of ours, there are a myriad ! What were his thoughts on " I shall be," and " I might have been," the former the music of youth, sweet as the sound of silver bells ; fresh as " The breezy call of incense-breathing morn ; " the latter the plaint of age, the dirge of hope, the inscription for a tomb. The one trembles upon thin pale lips, parched with " life's fitful fever"; the other swells from strong, young hearts, to lips rounded and dewy, with the sweetness of hope and the fullness of strength. The one is timed by a heart that flutters, intermits, flutters, and wears out; while that of the other beats right on, in the bold, stern march of life. " I shall be " and " I might have been ! " He would feel how great toil and trouble, time and tears, many human hearts record in these little words — the very stenography of life ; and how like a bugle-call is that " I shall be " from a young soul strong in prophecy. " I shall be — vic- torious yet " murmurs the man in the middle watch, who had been battling with foes till night fell, and in praying, like the Greek, for dawn again, that " he may see to fight." " I shall be," faintly breathes the languishing girl upon her couch of pain — " I shall be better to-morrow, or to-morrow " ; and she lives on, because she hopes on, and she grows strong with the u shall be " she has uttered. And DD 2IO SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the strong man armed, who has " fought the good fight," and has " kept the faith," when they that sustained his extended hands through the battle are departing, and no Joshua to bid the departing " sun stand still," as he looks beyond the rugged hills of the world, and sees a win- dow open in Heaven, and a wounded hand put forth in welcome, lays aside the armour he has worn so long and well, and, going down into the dark river, he utters, with a hope glorified to faith, u I shall be over the Jordan to- morrow." Among the heaps of rubbish bearing on the education of the great one who embodied in the most splendid forms all the foremost incidents in human annals, and all the strongest passions of the human heart, none deny his prodigious attainment even in boy- hood. We have it distinctly proved that he must have entered the Grammar School well grounded for a boy of seven years of age ; probably no lad had then or since sat on its benches so well prepared for the learning offered, " without money and without price," at Jollyffe's fountain. His mother had done her duty well, and her boy, panting for in- formation, was a ready recipient of all that her sound education, gentle in its every thought, enabled her to impart. He was her first son and only surviving child ; this alone would lead' her to bestow upon him more than an ordinary amount of education. Above all, we know that only a few weeks after William's birth, the plague broke out in Stratford. It was raging throughout the Con- tinent at the time, and only a year before had made fell ravages in London. Between July and December nearly one-sixth of the population of Stratford had fallen its victims ; the remainder were in stupefaction at its ravages and the sadness and alarm prevailing in its deserted streets. The houses held by its deadly hand had all a red cross marked on the door, with the inscrip- tion " Lord have mercy upon us ! " The horror of the hour left its impression on his early manhood, evidenced in " Love's Labour Lost," act v., scene 2 : — Write, " Lord have mercy on us," on those three; They are infected, in their hearts it lies ; They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes. His mother had already suffered the grief natural to the calling from earth two child- ren, and would, at staying of the plague, regard the one remaining child as given to her solicitous care, born to her anew. It was only human nature that she should bestow double care on the education of the one surviving son, the thoughts as to whose education would stir all her mind ; moreover, she could not have failed to per- ceive in her boy the germs of unusual mental gifts. The task of preparing him for the conditions of the Jollyffe school — i.e., that he should be able to read — was in no feature deputed, but fulfilled with a mother's earnest avidity by herself. Robert Ascham's " Schoolmaster " had just appeared ; women of Mary's education would, in face of her thoroughly realized responsibilities and duties, fall under its influence. Its perusal, though helpful in the science of imparting knowledge, would add to her labours, inas- much as Ascham had broached new-fangled ways of teaching, upsetting previous modes. Mary was anxious that his entry into the Grammar School should prove that he had not been neglected — that, in the phrase of the time, he was " well parented." The ac- quisition of reading was a more difficult task then than now, for a boy, in addition to learn- ing the Roman letters, had to master the black WILLIAM UNDER EXAMINATION. 211 letter alphabet. It was a rule of the school that the boys should reside in the town. Henley Street was only a short walk from the Guild, to and from which his mother would often find excuse to accompany him, and help him with encouraging words. There is unquestionable evidence of the immortalization of Simon Hunt, as Holo- fernes in " Love's Labour Lost," and Thomas Jenkins, as Sir Hugh Evans in the " Merry Wives," for, with the exception of Pinch in the " Comedy of Errors," and of Sir Nathaniel in " Love's Labour Lost," these are the only schoolmasters met with in his works, although Pinch is depicted less as a teacher than a wizard, and Sir Nathaniel is described as a curate. We accept as beyond all doubt that Hunt lived on terms of close intimacy with the Shakespeare family ; and whether there be any truth in the supposition that Holofernes was modelled from John Florio, there are traits in Florio and in Hunt which may have been woven together to form the portrait, and the invitation from a pupil's parents might apply to the one as well as to the other. The scene in the " Merry Wives," (act iv., scene i), where Sir Hugh examines the boy Page — he is not named William without reason — in the presence of his mother, must have had its prototype in the poet's own experience as a schoolboy. The examination pi-obably took place when Walter Roche had been invited to dinner by his parents, just as related by Holofernes in " Love's Labour Lost " (act iv., scene 2) : "I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of mine." We may therefore consider that Roche or Hunt stood for Sir Hugh, Mrs. Shakespeare for Mrs. Page, and some old woman in the neighbourhood for Mrs. Quickly, and we thus obtain a complete picture from the poet's own childhood. To have made the examina- tion take place before the mother, and not before the father, is a very natural feature ; the latter being so much occupied with busi- ness, and probably no Latin scholar, he would hardly pay much heed to his boy's Latin studies. The picture gains in striking truthfulness and charm when we bear in mind that Page was, and now is, a name not uncommon in Stratford. In the play, Evans concludes the examination by saying, " he is a good sprag memory," and the words sound as if they had come straight from the lips of the Guild Dominie, and who will gainsay the unbounded memory powers of the pupil ? Sufficient importance has not been given to the fact of the several masters of the Guild Schools in Shakespeare's time having been good scholars in the literature of the period as well as classical. It should also be remembered that a known attachment sub- sisted between master and pupil in the case of Walter Roche and Simon Hunt, which in- creased with the great intellectual powers of the more than apt youth, and continued in manhood, and left its impression on the whole after-life of the poet. Scarcely any mention occurs of the other two masters, Walter Roche and Thomas Jenkins, the former of whom does not appear to have been in holy orders at the time, as he practised as a lawyer in Stratford, though he must after- wards have taken upon him the ministerial office, having become Rector of Clifford, and had a daughter baptised there in 1575. Walter Roche, there is little doubt, was the attorney with whom young Will had busi- ness relations during the period intervening between quitting the Grammar School and setting out for London. Such evidence as exists points clearly to this fact. Great legal knowledge is evident throughout his writ- ings, so much so that Lord Chief Justice Campbell has said " he was a master of the legal profession." Stratford al- dermen were fond of law as was 212 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Sir Thomas Lucy and other Puritans of the neighbourhood given to persecuting such brethren as failed to join in anathematizing " the old faith." Here was a cause of abundant business, and it would need long heads successfully to join issues in the numerous suits known to have been under process. Young Shakespeare would glory in such suits ; most likely Walter Roche would be attorney for defendants. Will's ardour would be stimulated to the utmost stretch of any legal knowledge he may have acquired through the fact of the Lucy worryings of his father, and which he was of an age to remember and mark in any opportunity and for which he had been paid with the liberality generally marking all business transactions of the professional player, who has through all time shared gains with authors in no mean spirit. When sojourn- ing in London, attending on Walter Roche, he would most likely quarter with some one or other of the king's players ; at any rate, he would be sure to wander over London Bridge into Southwark, and hunt them up. After his legal business of the day was over, Southwark would be his resort ; his eye and heart dwelt on play-writing as his future career, and the very fact of meeting his old friends in their headquarters at London, and presented. No legal reports of these, or, indeed, of any other suits, have come to us, but we know there was at that time much contention of law among the citizens of Stratford, and frequent journeys to London during the sittings of the courts. May we not go further and say that their visit in con- junction with Walter Roche enabled young Shakespeare to learn from the mouths of the then leading actors, whose acquaintance he had made on occasions of their visits to Stratford and Coventry, all that was going on in the theatre world ? The theatre proprietors had experience of the Stratford youth's aptitude in adapting and dressing up pieces to the needed mark of popularity, and it is more than likely he may ere then have ventured on some successful production of his own, the opportunity it afforded of seeing for him- self the great money rewards they w-ere reaping, would suffice to settle his resolve and determine on an early removal to the mart where alone existed the demand for the high mental products he alone had to offer. When enjoying evenings with his Stratford- made theatrical friends, he would learn from proprietors themselves the great straits they were in for popular pieces, and the high pecuniary reward awaiting any writer who could hit the public taste and requirement of the hour. Young as he was, he united the gifts of wondrous genius with consummate business knowledge and tact. He saw at a glance the golden opportunity placed in his pathway, and unhesitatingly determined to quit the law and take revenge on the Puritan HIS EARLIEST ACQUAINTANCES AMONG LONDONERS. 213 contended, and very foolishly, that these Heminge's were merely occasional visitors, this on the ground of the name not occurring in the parish register, the fact being no register existed prior to 1558. It has been supposed that the eminent comedian, Thomas Greene, held family connection with Shake- speare ; doubtful as this may be, it is not improbable that the Thomas Greene who was buried at Stratford on the 6th of March, 1589, was the father of the actor and a relative of Shakespeare. Richard Field also, who was in no way connected with the stage, but a printer, removed from Stratford to London simultaneously with Shakespeare. Here, then, it is clearly established that he would at once find friends should he need them, but the great poet was a careful, prudent man, who realized that he had left a young family behind. He could not be other than reliant on his own great resources. Froude throws good light on the condition of England so far as concerns its literature at the period. The general awaking of national life, the increase of wealth, refinement, and leisure, was accompanied by a quickening of English intelligence, which found vent in an up* growth of Grammar Schools, in the new impulse given to classical learning at the Universities, in a passion for translations, which familiarized all England with the masterpieces of Italy and Greece, and above all in the crude but vigorous efforts of Sackville and Lyly after a nobler poetry and prose. The full glory of her new literature broke on England with Edmund Spenser, of whose life we know as little as of Shake- speare's. From Sidney's house at Penshurst came his earliest work, the u Shepherds' Calendar " ; in form like Sidney's own " Arcadia," a pastoral, where love and loyalty and Puritanism jostled oddly with the fancied shepherd life. The appearance of the " Faerie Queen " is the one critical event in the annals of English poetry ; it settled, in knight of Charlecote in a manner more in accordance with his taste than any the ablest defence of suits-at-law, a revenge which should attach to his father's enemy through all future ages. It is a well-known fact that Shakespeare had numerous friends in London, notably those made in Stratford under the cir- cumstances named. If he made frequent journeys there in connection with Walter Roche's law business, and there is good reason to believe such to be the case, the opportunities of profitable use of his literary power are manifest. We know he was on terms of friendship with both James and Richard Burbage,who are asserted by Malone, the most reasonable writer as to Shake- speare's early life in the Metropolis, to have been Warwickshire men. The name of Burbage is widely scattered over Warwick- shire and the neighbouring counties, and one or more families of the name had settled in Stratford towards the close of the sixteenth century; one John Burbage, in 1555, was a bailiff there, and on 12th of October, 1565, one Ursula Burbage was married to Robert Greene. Nothing can be more probable than that young Burbage had acted with the servants of the Earl of Leicester in Stratford, and that Shakespeare made his acquaintance there. His love of the theatre and firm conviction that he could turn his talents to good account, in some sort of connection with it, a belief possibly at the moment undefined though firmly believed and held, explains his desire to get to London. John Heminge also, the subsequent publisher of the first folio edition of his plays, appears to have sprung from Stratford or Shottery, where it is stated two families of the name resided. Elizabeth Heminge, daughter of one John Heminge of Shottery, was baptised at Stratford on March 12th, 1597, and Richard Heminge, also of Shottery, had a son baptised 7th March, 1570. It has been BIT OF OLD MANOR HOUSE, BISHOPTON. 214 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Tradition has it that fact, the question whether there was to be such a thing as English poetry or no. The new English drama was beginning to display its wonderful powers, and the work of Marlowe had already prepared the way for the work of Shakespeare. No great imaginative poem had broken the silence of Eng- lish literature for nearly two hundred years when Spenser landed at Bristol with the " Faerie Queen." From that moment the stream of English poetry flowed on without a break. There have been times, as in the years which im- Shakespeare and Anne mediately followed, when ™3Sro£&..££ England has -become a chalice, nest of singing birds " ; there have been times when song was scant and poor, but there never has been a time when England has been wholly without a singer. The " Faerie Queen " was received with a burst of general welcome. It became the delight of every accomplished gentleman, the model of every poet, the solace of every soldier. The poem expressed the very life of the time. The features of English drama that startled the moral temper of the time and won the deadly hatred of the Puritan, its grossness and profanity, its tendency to scenes of horror and crime, its profuse employment of cruelty and lust as grounds of dramatic action, were derived from the Italian stage. The real origin, however, of the English drama lay not in any influence from without, but in the influence of England itself. The temper of the nation was dramatic. Ever since the Reformation the Palace, the Inns of Court, and the Univer- sity had been vying with one another in the production of plays ; even under Henry VIII. it was found necessary to create a " Master of the Revels " to supervise them. Every progress of Elizabeth from shire to shire was a succession of shows and interludes. From the earlier years of her reign the new spirit of the Renaissance had been pouring itself into the rough mould of the mystery plays, where allegorical virtues and vices, or scrip- tural heroes and heroines had handed on the spirit of the drama through the middle ages. Adaptations from classical pieces soon began to alternate with the religious " Moralities ;" and an attempt at a livelier style of expres- sion and invention appeared in the popular comedy of "Gammer Gurton's Needle"; while Sackville, Lord Dorset, in his tragedy of " Gorboduc," introduced the use of blank verse as the vehicle of dramatic dialogue. But it was not to these tentative efforts of scholars that the English stage was indebted for the amazing outburst of genius, which dates from the moment when the Earl of Leicester's servants erected the first public theatre in Blackfriars. It has generally been assumed that Shake- speare left the Grammar School in 1578, and it has become a rule to note his age as excep- tionally young for the so-called completion of education ; so also the having " begun Latin," as schoolboys term it, at eight years old, is also named as something extraordi- nary. So far as completion of education went we very well know that his leaving school, in common with other great intellects, would be the entry on the threshold rather than the completion of education, and as to the beginning Latin in his eighth year, it was the usual course pursued in all the old grammar schools. The necessity of education was more than in the dawn, and parents were anxious for their children's more advanced progress commencing so soon as they had mastered the preliminary elements. We need not go back to Shakespeare's day for proof on this point, as within the last sixty years forward boys in the Foundation Grammar Schools read their Delectus at nine years of age. It is ungenerous towards the granite old classic dominies, as well as untrue, to disparage the education given in those days ; so also it is very questionable if the three centuries that have rolled by since Simon Hunt called on the boy Shakespeare to " come up and say his lessons," exhibit all the educational ad- vancement with which the genera- tions are credited. It was downright steady work in those times ; early in the morning was accounted more of than now; boys were made to be in the school- room at six, none later than seven, winter and summer mornings, and with plenty of cold water sousing as a means of dispel- ling morning somnolent tendencies. This 1%^\op&^ CKcJ,_ $v* W^ij^ ^i&yn $& (&itd><^\£. fib t&V tf /\>*rcA m» fi&«f of Warwick and Coventry with their historical associations, Evesham with its grand monastic remains, and the noble castle of Kenilworth, were all within accessible distance. The celebrated visit of Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Leicester there took place in the summer of 1575, when Shake- speare was eleven years old. That he wit- nessed those ' magnificent festivities and year, viz., from the Feast of St. Michael, 1578, to the Feast of St. Michael, 1579. The body of the transcript is a portion of a record of their receipts, and refers to the charges for ringing the bell at a funeral (which was fourpence) and for the use of the pall (which was fourpence), a total of eightpence, when the bell was tolled and the pall used also. Close examination of CHARGES ON THE GREAT CURFEW BELL. ??9 the grand old Register of Holy Trinity sup- plies the date of death of each individual named. Stratford Burgus. Ad aulam ibidem tent xx° die January Anno Regni domine Elizabethe Regine nostre nunc, etc., vicesimo secundo. Receiptes. Imprimis, at the buriall of Bramley, of Dray- ton, for ye bell iiijd. Item, at the buriall of Antony Wolston's wife, for the bell and the paull - - viijd. Iterr, at the buriall of David Jones' wif, for the bell iiijd. Item, at the buriall of John Bawdwine's wife, for ye bell iiijd. Item, at the buriall of Barthrope, of Lud- dington ------- iiijd. Item, for the bell at the buriall of John Fisher's child ------ iiijd. Item, for the bell and paull at the buriall of old Winmys ------ viijd. Item, for the bell for Spere-pointe's wif - iiijd. Item, for the bell and pall for Mr. Shaxper's daughter ------- viijd. Item, for the bell for Mr. Trusselle's child - iiijd. Item, for the bell for Yeate, of Luddington - iiijd. Item, for the bell and paull for Georg Bar- delle's wife viijd. Item, Thomas Robins' wife, the bell and paull ------- viijd. On comparing these civic charges for bell and pall use, we find each of the burials recorded in Stratford - on - Avon parish register : — 1578. January 12. John Bramley. ,, ,, 12. Elizabeth, wife to Anthoni Wolson. „ „ 25. Elizabeth, wife to David Jones, wh. her sonne John. (No record of burial.) ,, February 23. Thomas Bartrap. ,, ,, 23. Abram, sonne to John Fisher. „ „ 26. John Wilmons. ,, ,, 28. Jane, wife to Robert Sper- poynt. 1579. April 4. Anne, daughter to Mr. John Shak- spere. „ „ 8. John, sonne to Mr. Thomas Trus- sell. ,, June 24. William Yate, of Luddenton. ,, „ 20. Jeyes, wife to Georg Bardell. »» July 3. Anne, wife to Thomas Robins. Chamb. acct. of Edwarde Bushell, taken 14 Jany., 34 Eliz., 1591, for one year ended at Xmas : — Paid to Thomas Godwine for the bell claper vjs. viijd. Paid to the roper for two short ropes for the greate bell - - - - vjd. Paid to a workeman that holpe Toole about the bell - vjd. Paid for the bell which was borrowed of the maisters - vijli. Paid for the chardges of the bell - iiijli. xjs. xd. Paid to Mr. Wilson for two planckes which lye under the bell frame - xvjd. Acct. of Henry Wilson, taken 24 Jany., xxxv. Eliz., for one year ended at Xmas : — Receipts. Receaved of Mr. Parsons at a Court holden the 19 of January, of money gathered for the bell ... vs. vjd. Payments. Payd to Abell the joiner, the first day of Aprill, for mending the wheele of the little bell at they chappell - Payd to Clemson and another to help hym aboute the greate belle - Payd to goodman Godden for mak- inge the buckelle to the baldricke and trussinge up the belle - - ijs, Payd to John Knight for a bauldricke viijd. xijd. viijd. viijd. Edward Hunt, his accompt., made the 9th of January, anno 1606 : — Paimentes and Charges about the Bell. Imprimis, for the taking downeof the bell - iijs. Item, for drinke and victualls upon Daukes and his people that did helpe him that day that the bell was caste on - - - - - xviijd. Item, to Richard Greene and Harring- ton, for watchinge the night after the bell was caste - xijd Item, to Spenser and others, for help- inge us out of the pit with the bell, and for getting her into the chap- pell, in money and drinke - - ijs. viijd Item, for hempe that he did use about the bemould - - - - - ijs. viijd Item, for wax and rosen and tallow, when he did caste the bell - - ijs Item, to Richard Daukes, for mettall, and his charges goinge to Warwicke about the bell - vijs. iijd Item, to goodwife Tomlins for mettall iiijs. viijd Item, for five loades of clay that he did use about the mound and the furnace ------ iijs. iiijd Item, for two loades of stoun - - vs Item, to Mr. Waterman for ston - iiijs. vjd Item, for four score and seven poundes of morter mettall - - - - xlijs. vjd Item, for three hundred of mettall and the cariage of hit from London - ixli. xvs Item, to Daukes, for castinge of the bell viijli. Item, to Mrs. Smithe, for a pott - xxs. Item, for two bagges of coles to dry the mouldes ----- ijs. Item, for wood for to melt the bell withall ------ xs. Item, to Thomas Hornebee, for iron worke for the bell - - - - ixs Item, for iron that we bought - - vs. vjd. Item, to Watton, the smithe, for iron woorke about the hanginge of the bell -..-_. xs. Item, for nailes about the bell - - vjd. Item, to Spenser, for timber for the bell frame, and for plankes for the steple floore, and his woorke, and the bell stocke ... iijli. xvjs. vjd. 230 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Item, for nailes for the steple floore - xijd. Item, for cariage for the bell stocke and other timber to the chappell - vijd. Item, for a bell rope for the great bell iijs. Chamberls. acct., 16 16 (Shakespeare died, 23rd April, 16 16) : — Paid in yearnest for casting the great bell - ijs. Paid for wax and rasin that he yoused about the bell .... xviijd. Paid to Richard Cowell and his men for helping doune with the great bell ------ vjs. iiijd. Paid in charges when the great bell was a-casting xviijd. Paid for waching themettall when the bell was cast xviijd. Paid for diging the bell out of the groung ijs. vjd. Paid for having up the bell in the bellfree iiijs. Paid to Loch for his gabell, two days xijd. Paid for stoking the bell and hanging, and laying the floorse - vijs. xd. Paid for a bawdrig, and mending the roope vs. iiijd. Paid to the bellfownder for casting the bell vjli. xvjs. Paid to Thomas Jellfes for a horse, three days iijs. Paid for making too bandes for the bellfounder viijd. Paid for beare when the bell wase draud up vjd. Paid for mending Mr. Combes' gabell ijs. vjd Paid for trussing the bell last - - ijs. xd. One of the many charms of a visit to Strat- ford-on-Avon is the well-nigh sublime sound of the Curfew Bell of the Holy Guild, which Shakespeare, from his early infancy until the day of his spirit winging its flight to join the " heavenly throng," of which he sung so gloriously, heard " toll thelcnell of parting day." It has been erroneously .stated as a revival, whereas the line of curfew observance from the Guild tower is unbroken from the time of William the Conqueror. The custom was well-nigh universal in his time, and there is joy in realizing that many hundreds of Eng- land's villages and towns tenaciously cling to a practice which draws their folk away at the prayerful hour of its solemn utterance in these our busy, bustling days to the very infancy of the sleeping world. The modern world may boast of its " Big Ben," whose bellowings announce to Parliament men his mushroom growth of to-day ; but Stratford's curfew bell holds exalted lineage of long past ages, compassing the brightest periods of British story — and through the greater part of the life of the prince of literature daily sounding in his ear has made it a very diadem of its crown of literature. There are no items of the Chamberlain's accounts that place us closer, as it were, to the daily round of Shakespeare's life than the perusal of the quaint entries connected with the bauldricke, claper, buckelle, stocke gaball, trussinges, floores, and other belong- ings of this more than venerable freeholder of the Guild Tower. Century after century it has proclaimed each day's wane, and, although the solemn tones were primarily intended as a caution against the danger incidental to wooden houses with fire-inviting straw roofs, yet its every evening " good- night " is an integral part of the day's reckoning. Woe to him who should dare to propose to the peaceful citizens of Stratford any silencing the heavenly voice ! The ailments and through mendings, be- gotten for restoration to health, the intrud- ings of high bailiffs and aldermen, covetous If CtM"f«v>/ of immortalization by process of getting their names inscribed on his patiently-enduring chest and stomach, as the other items of his history, have been unearthed for us by that Argus-eyed ferret of old parish registers, Richard Savage, secretary and librarian to the Trustees of the Shakespeare possessions. hOLY TRINITY: GOD'S ACRE. 231 HOLY TRINITY: GOD'S ACRE. NCIENT hearty Saxon times and tongues called the burial ground "God's Acre"; and England's country churchyards, where old yew- trees wave above the ashes of a hundred generations of simple people, the grassy hillocks, and the moss- grown headstones, beneath which the rustic child and " rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep," endorse the figurative language which made as it were a solemn assignment to the Almighty of a plot of land where the dead " sown in corruption is raised in incorrup- tion." Stratford's God's Acre is a fittingly quiet resting-place of those who H sleep here in the Lord," and where also the living may profitably spend an hour in quiet contempla- tion. " Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells, Here grow no damned grudges; here are no storms, No noise, but silence and eternal sleep." — Titus Andronicus, act i., scene 2. //// / - / 23 2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. We know of no churchyard more beauti- fully kept than is Stratford. All around is indeed in holy repose, waiting till the morning of the great awakening. Blessings on all who have helped this consummation. A love of floral mementoes seems part and parcel of the good people's nature, and to have become synonymous with the great name they rightly boast of. Flowers are scattered hither and thither in profusion ; and no matter what the season, Trinity's God's Acre is sure to find plenty of choice blooms to keep alive, if needed, memories of the departed. The heart must be divested of all feelings of things at once sacred and beautiful that can approach this Church of the Holy Trinity, unmoved by thoughts too deep and too high for expression. Verily, it is " A place for the Lord," a habitation for the mighty "God of Jacob." Here, indeed, is a rare com- bination of objects and associations to charm, elevate, and solemnize the soul. The eye is first delighted by the picturesque. The north entrance is approached through an avenue under whose proud flagway lie that which no following spring revives, " the ashes of the urn" ; whilst overhead interlace, in the Gothic arch of beauty, the entwining branches and lovely green leaves of the graceful lime-trees. On either side " the forefathers of the ham- let sleep." Towards the river the sable-suited rooks and crows build in the tall old trees, and sweep, croaking about on heavy wing, fit tenants of the scene ; the nightingale's delight- ful note at eve is heard ; small birds formerly made in the " jutty, frieze," coign of van- tage, their pendant bed and procreant cradle. Trees sooth and comfort by their sympathy. We may stand in our sorrows, our yearn- ings or sadness, but they come to us with ten thousand airy voices or melodious whisperings; and mingling better thoughts and faith with our fretful experience, they sweeten the heart without washing away its thoughts with forgetfulness. But not the music of the grove, the beauty of the flowers, all the features of the landscape, or the solemn temple that stands in grey majesty before the visitor, can impress him with that sentiment of awe and reverence which must arise as he contemplates the fact that here verily lies the " awful dust " of the man whose genius outstripped time and "ex- hausted worlds." In the lovely churchyard of Stratford the visitor will find flowers decorating the graves at all seasons. Here indeed one feels it matter FLORAL MEMENTOES IN HOLY TRINITY'S GOD'S ACRE. 233 of gratitude that this finest gift of Providence is the most profusely given. Flowers cannot be monopolised. The poor have them with the rich. It does not require an education to love and appreciate them : and, as they are messengers of affection, tokens of remem- brance, and presents of beauty, of universal acceptance, it is pleasant to think that all men recognise a brief brotherhood in them. The poorest child can proffer them to the richest. A hundred persons turned together into a meadow full of flowers would be drawn together in a transient brotherhood. It is affecting to see how serviceable flowers often are to the necessities of the poor. If they bring their little floral gift to you, it cannot but touch the heart to think that their grateful affection longed to express itself as much as our own. The poor can give but little, and do but little. Were it not for flowers they would be shut out from those exquisite pleasures which spring from such gifts. Who can ever take one from a child, or from the poor, without thanking God in their behalf for flowers ? There remain but few tombstone records of men who trod Holy Trinity's God's Acre with our great poet, and worshipped with him in the glorious temple it surrounds. We give sketches of all to be found. One is led, however, to the belief that Strat- ford is a most poetical place, at least, so far as the tombstones are evidence of the public taste : the majority have a headstone, and generally with some half-dozen lines of hard- earned rhyme. Many of Pope's epitaphs are to be found, but clipped and chopped about a good deal, so as to suit person and purpose. The poorest seem to scorn resting in peace without some poetry above his head, on the principle, probably, of "Placantur carmina manes" ; the original import having been some time expended, many have copied, picked, and plagiarized from their death-re- posing neighbours. The good words in behalf of the fellow-parishioners of his very day and hour have mostly crumbled away, and we must be content with such as on many pil- grimages we have found of nearest approxi- mate date. Some of these latter have now become so ingrown with moss that it is almost impossible to decipher the inscrip- tions ; however, we succeeded in transcribing some of the quaint epitaphs which exist here as memorials of the dead of Stratford. Here is that of " Thomas Mills." Whac a good man he must have been to deserve such a testimonial ! Or are epitaphs as unreliable on the humble gravestones of Stratford Churchyard, as they are upon more pre- tentious sculptured monuments ? — GG 234 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Here Lyeth the body of Mr. Thomas Mills, who departed this life the fourth day of October, a.d. 1694, J n ^e 77th year of his age. To speake his praises every one Would require a spacious stone — Those can the best encomiums give Who best did know how he did live; And he that says ye least he can, Will say, Here lieth an honest man. Near this was the grave of Elizabeth Morris, on whose headstone is the fol- lowing : — Here lyeth the body of Elizabeth, the wife of John Morris, of Shottery, who departed this life June ye 8th, Anno Dom. 1700. Aged 57. Behold, All Yow that Pas me By, As You are now so once was I ; And as I Therefore Upon a flagstone lying on the walk was this : — Here lyeth the body of Anne, formerly the wife of Robert Wotten, Barber Chirurgion, but after- ward married to Christopher Dale, Yeoman, who erected this stone to her memory. She died May ye 22, 1726, in the 80th year of her age. Good Christopher Dale evidently intended it to be distinctly under stood that it was the " yeoman " and not the " barber chirurgeon " who was so mindful of the memory of Mistress Anne. The next quaint epitaph was upon an old headstone, crumbling rapidly to decay : — Heare Lieth the Body of Mary Hands, Widow, who Departd. this Life Aprill ye — th, Anno Domony l6 99> aged 87 years. Heare Lieth the Body of Abigaill, the wife of George Hands, Sener, who departed this Life May ye 30, Ann. Dom. 1699, a g e d 37 years. Death creeps Abought on hard, And Steals Abroad on seen ; Hur darts are Suding and her arous keen. Her Stroks are deadly, come they soon or late — When, being Strock Repentance is to late ; Death is a minute full of Suden sorrow, Then live to-day as thou mayest dy tomarruo. Nothing can be more natural to bereaved Christians than to feel a veneration for the ground in which, until the Great Day shall be, we " look on men as autumn leaves," and " scarce believe we still survive." This God's Acre of Stratford is truly one of those sequestered spots where " the silent shade, the calm retreat, " invite to the contemplation of death and eternity. There is conviction that all have sacred rights in such hallowed ground, and hopeful anticipations that our own bodies may be permitted to slumber in some such. It is here we joyfully realize that that which we have committed in its mortal part to the earth, God will guard with TF1 .. • ..'*• 11. * +*"*• SENSE OF HUMILITY AMONG THE OCCUPANTS 235 lloyhr, V-Jvqi'vrj^ !§ y sacred vigilance till the time comes. The trees rustling their leaves are prophesying to our ears of the trees of life, and all the birds and flowers are witnesses of God's guardianship. u Shall not He who cares for us care for you and yours which were and are His own ? " they say. " Yea, truly," the heart responds, M God hath them. No black wolf of death shall break into that fold. He shall keep them for his coming." A becoming sense of humility seems to have animated most of the families and friends of the generations who since the great author's time have quietly laid their loved ones here in humble company until the Great Awakening. It has evidently been felt as sufficient to lie in peace in the spot hal- lowed of Shakespeare, without any weak Oakes Hunt, for instance, who so worthily filled for over forty years the office of Town Clerk ; what offence was he ever guilty of to bring upon him the terrible sentence of being surrounded in death with an alarming iron railing stockade, keeping his brother Christians at such a distance ? There are no body-snatchers in Stratford covetous of his bones. William Hunt was a good, kindly, and well-loved man, and never desired to monopolize a space of two hundred feet to himself. He succeeded in regular sequence generations of his family, who held the office with high repute, and who, if permitted to take a peep at to-day's Stratford, would see pleasurably the dignity transmitted to one of their own ilk, a worthy occupant, and who will unquestionably cause an early removal G^oi.% t^cre (_ V ol> C "** '•""vJ 1^ erection of broken columns, Pompey pillars, or Cleopatra needles to record- the fact. Very few have ventured purgatorially to imprison departed relatives within iron-bar railings ; there are a few exceptions. These, however, will vanish with time and the judicious gentle handling of Vicar Arbuthnot. William of the iron fortification from its present huge share of God's Acre. Would not the spirit of the great poet resent such territorial annexa- tion ? We can imagine William very restless in his iron-bound enclosure ; with thousands of visitors now regretting Hunt's undeserved imprisonment, he cannot fail in prayerful 236 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. hope of restoration to freedom. The family of Hobbs, who, with friend Hunt, obstruct the exterior of the south end of the outer chancel, will follow a right example, and rejoice in the opportunity of him- self and defunct relatives being given stretch of limb and sunshine by removal of their unseemly iron obstructions. Stratford Churchyard impresses an idea that it is more up to the mark of inspiration of Gray's " Elegy " than even that of Stoke Pogis. Certain it is that every line of the suggestive serious thought and eminently elevating character of that perfect com- position is presented to the mind here on Avon's bank. How tenderly does it appeal alike to the boyish fancy and the maturer judgment ! As poetry, it is marked with no exuberance of fancy or richness of imagery. It is simple, like the every-day occurrences it describes ; but thes : simple words are most admirably adapted to the sense, and the measure to the subject. Sitting on the benches so thoughtfully provided in the churchyard beside the sweet flowing river, near the ehancel where rests England's poet, there spreads out a large expansive lea ; the curfew bell of the neighbouring Guild Church summoning to evening prayers. The grand opening lines repeat themselves : The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. What a perfect picture ! A few masterly touches in bold outline and imagination instinctively fill up the minor details. The time and scene are presented to us in the opening lines, followed by a few details of cottage life ; and with the mind impressed by the imaginary picture, we are wafted off to the regions of speculation, while we seem to follow the bent of our own thoughts. The stately elms of Holy Trinity afford home and shelter to a vast family of rooks, who date longer back into the past than any Warwickshire history records. The Holy Trinity rooks, we would feign believe, are of a good deal more aristocratic order and dignified bear- ing than the ordinary Corvus frugilegus. They carry themselves with more solemnity of manner, their plumage is blacker, and clearly more glossy than rooks elsewhere. Their duties of sentry charge are no imagined responsibilities, they know well the whole Shakespeare country, and every field in it, better than any man who may have hunted it during a long life, embracing the period of early youth to the greyest hairs possessed of pluck in the chase. Theirs has been faithful watch and ward duty from the solemn day of the great one's earthly re- mains being deposited in Trinity's honoured chancel. Save at very exceptional seasons, occasions of nidification, they refrain from the usual excessive babel clatter of their tribe, and rarely on Sabbath days during service time have been known to break into . .nseemly discourse. It has for generations past been a common remark, " quiet as a Trinity rook on Sundays." Verily the Holy Trinity rooks magnify their office ! Every dweller in these elms around the fane is an early riser, he toils hard for his daily food, he loves his home, he delights in order and o&rz* 7V< tory«S strangers to the fame of a renowned inhabitant, are dis- posed to resent any alteration in its en- vironments of their hero worship. To them, all are simply accidents which owe their being to him. The whole, according to their mood, ought to remain intact and stereotyped. This one wish is not to be distracted by modern transformations from VICAR ARBUTHNOT AND TRINITY CHURCH. 247 their serious business of realizing a single career and character. Naturally, the resi- dents regard matters from a different stand- point. The people of Stratford possess a double treasure in their inheritance of Shakespeare's birthplace and tomb, and in the more than loveliness of the church which contains his bones. They very properly seek to turn each to the best account, and each to them has an independent value. They trust to the poet's name as a means of gathering resources for the preser- vation and adornment of their church. Their aim is altogether legitimate. Stratford Church is indeed, over and above all other structures of praise, a stately edifice, and must never be allowed to suffer decay. The good people of Stratford can never, so long as the world exists, sue in forma patiperis. They blessedly grant leave to the Anglo-Saxon heirs of Shakespeare's celebrity of teaching all over the world, wherever they may chance to live, to testify pecuniarily to their share in the immortal's place of sepulture which they are conscious they possess and have the utmost pride in possessing. We will hope that the present and future genera- tions will contribute liberally towards the maintenance of a fabric and its surroundings in which the whole world may be said to have a common holding. Were the least hurt inflicted on the associations of Shake- speare with Stratford, the Anglo-Saxon world would ring with denunciations of the crime. In the existing divided control of the sacred building and its surroundings there is double safeguard for the town, the outside world, and the probable varying taste of advancing periods of time. As a rule in England, the Vicar holds undisputed sway over his church and churchyard. Stratford, though blessed above most old temples with a successive race of goodly vicars, who have done their wisest and best with the small funds at their disposal for the purpose of preservation of the hallowed fabric, has yet had a few not gifted with absolute wisdom in allow- ing churchwardens sway beyond their indi- vidual power of educated discrimination. It would be difficult to find a parish more thoroughly or more conscientiously worked than Stratford-on-Avon by its present Vicar, George Arbuthnot. Singleness of heart, earnest devotion to the care of the souls committed to his charge, fervid pulpit eloquence power, united to earnest desire that everything in the way of Trinity maintenance may be done with an eye to becoming sacredness of the building and the world-wide holding attaching to it, render all safe in his hands. Other trustees will recognise the grave responsibility involved, and acquit themselves with satisfaction to the world, whose eye will ever be on them. The church of Holy Trinity itself is in every feature stately and surpassingly beautiful ; for extent and grandeur of effect it is quite cathe- dral-like, especially when seen by night, the moon lighting up the yellow-grey tower, etch- ing its great black shadow on the churchyard, and breaking in soft silver lights upon the 248 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. clerestory windows. At such hour the the varying changes of which through a life of green graves and white and brown headstones centuries they have proved silent though not twinkle obscurely in the moonlight, the less eloquent witnesses. Exquisitely charming jhi-:-' tee" '■ - Church itself being almost intercepted by must that chancel have been where Shake- the branching head of old " Heavy Top," as speare lies, when the windows were glazed Warwickshire folk designate such trees as with the forms of saints and angels, and the have become partially pollard. Green and old oak roof hung down with its pendant cheerful even these veterans stand, despite all figures and carved statues, But all this SHAKESPEARE'S GREAT CATHOLICITY. 249 jmM sinks into utter insignificance when com- pared with the one fact that this is the House of God in which he devoutly knelt and prayed, and where he confessed the heavy burden and the mystery of the world. Here in this very temple he learned the two truths taught and enforced by his Saviour — love of God and love of man. Worshipping within these sacred walls, he recognised that there are countless folds for the flock of the Good Shepherd, but no gates, no fences, no bars, to shut out those who may have wan- dered from the path ; that out of the mystery of the One Great Death came the promise of infinite life ; and that life, permanent though changeful, is still more solemn than the seeming interruptions of its course we associate with the coffin and the tomb. Such is the simple theology pervading his writings. He troubled not his great brain with the miserable dogmas and intolerance of sects and parties. He dared not throw down the forgiveness of the merciful One, who put on our human form with every nerve and sinew, every sensibility, frailty and weakness, and wore it in poverty- stricken babyhood first cradled in a manger ; that for ever and ever when He went back to His high heaven, He might feel and know our least weaknesses, wants, pains, and joys, and remember our temptations and trials as children. He wore it through the ardent years of impulsive, eager, hopeful, ambitious boyhood, that He might know and remember the temptations and trials of youth. He wore it in the thickest cares, anxieties, sorrows, and afflictions of middle manhood, that He might know how to take hold of our nature. God with us suffering, our Healer and Saviour. No wonder that when standing on such hallowed spots the mind refuses to dwell on anything that is not connected with Shakespeare. The one idea pervades the place, the whole pile seems but his mausoleum. The feelings, no longer checked and thwarted by doubt, here indulge in the most perfect confidence, that, though other traces of him may seem dubious, here, at least, is palpable evidence and absolute certainty. Treading the sounding pavement, there is something intensely thrilling in the idea, that in very truth the remains of Shakespeare lie mouldering at our feet. Who will dare question the tradition of Shakespeare's deeply religious cast of thought towards the end of his life ? We I 1 250 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. may surely better accept this than the vile fabrications hitherto unhesitatingly swal- lowed. Good traditions ever contain some germ of truth ; the reason being that human nature is too prone to invent not good, but evil report. And through all Shakespeare's *t/""*^ ^ -*. plays shines forth a reve- rence not only for religion, but for the mysteries of life and the world. Reader, ponder over this, one of the most beautiful of Shakespeare's autobio- graphical poems : — Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, Fool'd by those rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay ? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend ? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge ? Is this thy body's end ? Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, And let that pine to aggravate thy store ; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross ; Within be fed, without be rich no more : So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men, And, death once dead, there's no more dying then. — Sonnet 146. What a love of God is enkindled in the soul by all around, attended with feelings of joy and admiration that stream up to the heavens above in grateful thanksgiving ! Here, indeed, one loses thought for all that may be going on in the many-coloured world outside. For the time at least it is felt that nowhere else, save here, can such hallowing influences fall upon the heart. There have been lov- ing and liberal hands protective of its imme- diate closing in. It is well that Avon Bank, the home of Charles Flower, a true Shake- spearean, always fore- most to promote im- provement having Shakespeare's memory as the object, should allow no owner of an inch between it and Trinity's God's Acre. He will tenderly keep protective ward and watch while living, and, in all probability, when summoned away, will cause yet unborn gene- rations affectionately to cherish his name as the guardian who protected and prevented desecra- tion by building on the lovely spot fallen to his lot so close to the hal- lowed dust. May Avon Bank long remain a beauteous garden adjoin- ing the sacred fane, adding, as now, to the loveliness of the scene ! Reader, you must go up to this house of God through the avenue of blossoming lime- trees leading to the northern entrance, traversing the churchyard thickly sown with graves. Peace to the ashes of him who planted these trees ! This avenue of lime-tree TRINITY LIMES, THE AVENUE ENTRANCE. 251 foliage is believed to be an exact reproduction of that flourishing there in Shakespeare's day, through which he must have walked to the Sabbath services, and under whose canopy- he was borne in a nurse's arms at baptism, and at last carried to the grave. Yes ! temple, and made public confession of his shortcomings, and offered up his prayers and intercessions to the Great Being whose beneficence and mercy were ever before him ! Yes, indeed, thou, venerable Trinity Church, art more than human fancy can Here, through this very portal, tenderly was the infant borne for the sacrament of baptism in swaddling clothes by his nurse, the envied mother and father, utterly uncon- scious that their offspring should thereafter move the world with power to no other mortal given, accompanying the precious babe, for the first time to be offered to his Maker. This same pathway, under the then canopy of lime-trees ! — how familiar to him, as on each Sabbath morn he attended the holy paint. Thy architectural beauty is great, whilst in thy enviable charge of the sacred dust, thou art the greatest of all religious shrines in the world. In poetic beauty, apart from its own peerless associations, to our eye there are few temples of God in our land more externally beauteous than this blessed Trinity of Stratford-on-Avon. Cer- tainly our Roman Catholic progenitors knew how to build places of worship, and we have good cause to be thankful for their industry. 252 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. It is well they built such churches for us, as we have never been disposed or are unequal to the erection for ourselves. It is to monkish taste, in grouping pier, and arch, and parapet, and pinnacle together in one harmonious whole, we are indebted for such-like noble parish churches as this of Stratford's Holy Trinity, the worthy sepulchre of the world's greatest dust. Such venerable piles are Modern Font In Holy Trinity. the result of no one architect's pet fancy, no design of any one generation. The lovely confusion of style and order of architecture, with its quaint conceits, with its delicate and exquisite sculptured lace-work, was the out- come of centuries of patient, loving thought on the part of kings and princes, of scholars and artists, of men of action and men of prayer. No wonder such buildings are in- imitable. Most of the peculiarities exhibited in the buildings of the several dates comprised in the periods covering the construction are markedly evident in Stratford Church. The better to understand these, it is fitting to remember that when Christianity began to erect churches for itself, they were built with special reference to its liturgy and to symbolise its faith. Hence our grand cathe- drals and abbey churches were built in the shape of a cross. The head of the cross was the chancel, so called from a screen (cancella) which separated it from the body of the church. Sometimes, as in the case of Holy Trinity, the chancel was not in line with the nave, but inclined to one side. Many visitors regard this as an accident, or, at least, that it had no personal signification. On the contrary, it had the deepest, and was purposely so out of line in order to remind the people that the head of our Saviour when he was dead on the cross leaned on one side. The body of the cross or nave was for the congregation, and if this was not sufficiently large, aisles or wings were added on either or both sides, and occasionally there were double aisles. The arms of the cross, known as the transept, gave room for small chapels for special services or for increased accom- modation. The out-of-line bearing of the chancel and nave of Holy Trinity is more than usually marked, as are also the modes of the construction. There are three kinds of building found in the church erections of these periods, the ordinary rubble, the herring bone, and the ashlar. In the ordinary rubble work the stones are left in their natural rough state in which they were got out of the quarry, and are embedded horizontally or flat in abundance of mortar. In the her- ring-bone work, the stones were also left in their rough state, but were embedded in the mortar diagonally, or in a sloping direction of an angle of about forty-five degrees. Some- times these layers of sloping stones were divided by a horizontal layer. Herring- bone work is found plentifully in the old Roman remains, and was practised by the Normans and occasionally by the Saxons. In ashlar work the stones are larger and are cut or squared, and in old writings are called " clene hewen." Little mortar was used in this kind of building, which was employed most in the later churches. The period of each portion of our older churches can be ascertained pretty correctly, skilled architects being thus able to determine the date of an old building to within a few years. At the west side of Holy Trinity north porch there is a small window with a very peculiar hood moulding over it. There is one of very much the same character on the south side of the tower of Beaudesert Church. One of the old pinnacles of Holy Trinity Chancel is still standing, and it is not placed square with the parapet from which it projects, but angularly. The same peculiarity exists in the church at Lapworth, where both kinds of pinnacle exist, and so close together that they can readily be compared with each other. The building itself is a fine structure dating from Saxon times, and much larger than the wonted dimensions of a parish church, and with its venerable grey walls presents a fine specimen of Perpendicular Gothic — the HOLY TRINITY CHURCH STRUCTURE. 253 architecture which prevailed in England in the latter half of the fourteenth and the early part of the fifteenth century, some portions very much earlier. Certainly it contains some fragments of Norman work. Different parts of the structure were doubt- less built at different times ; hence the mix- ture of architectural styles in which Saxon simplicity and Norman grace are beautifully mingled. The grave old central tower be- longs to the Norman period, and is the most ancient in date. In Shakespeare's time it was surmounted by a wooden spire forty-two feet in height, covered with lead, but this, being over the lime-trees that form the interlaced avenue to the church northern door, and from all the low-lying meadows around, in which Shakespeare wandered, it is a most conspicuous as well as beautiful object. Leland conjectures that it occupies the site of an ancient Monastery which existed here three centuries prior to the Norman invasion, and he states as a supposition, that it was re- built by Archbishop Stratford. Camden, in his " Britannia," explicitly affirms that it was erected by that prelate, but Dugdale says that the south aisle only was built by him. The avenue of lime-trees abutting on Avon THE EARLIEST KNOWN VIEW OF HOLY TRINITY, THE MILL AND STREAM, FROM AN ENGRAVING OF THE TIME. considered of inadequate importance, was taken down in 1763, and the present grace- ful six-sided spire of Warwickshire stone, with fretted battlements all around the roof, erected in the following year. The ancient tower is eighty feet high, and the spire eighty-three, altogether one hundred and sixty-three feet. The internal structure is fully commensurate in dignity with the exterior. It is cruciform, consisting of a nave and two side aisles, a transept or cross aisle, and a chancel or choir, the tower rising from the centre of the cross. The precise period of its erection is not recorded ; but if the object of its erection had been to insure that the situation of the sacred shrine that con- tains the tomb and ashes of the greatest poet of the world should be seen by all comers from as great a distance as possible, it has answered its purpose, for, from the windings of the river, flowing past the churchyard, Bank, leading to the church from the town, terminates the northern entrance into the nave, which consists of a beauteous porch, buttressed and embattled, and apparently of later date than the adjoining aisle. Above the doorway is a pointed window giving light to a room over the porch, the entrance to which is by ' a spiral staircase, footworn of ages, in the north aisle. This room was formerly the muniment or Record Chamber. The nave is a noble structure, supported on each side by six pointed arches, which rise from hexagonal columns; above these the sides are divided into twelve compartments forming twelve clerestory pointed windows. The principal entrance into this part of the church is at the west end, under a deeply recessed pointed arch, over which are three conjoined niches, crowned by elegant and lofty canopies. Above is the great western window, which is nearly equal in width to 254 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the nave itself, and is beautifully divided by mullions and tracery. The nave ter- minates at the western arch of the tower, and until now has been occupied by the organ, which was built by Thomas Swanbrick in 1728. Between the previously existing organ and south spaces there were formerly two altars, one on the north side, dedicated to the Holy Trinity, and the other on the south consecrated to the service of St. Peter and St. Paul. A third altar, dedicated to St. Andrew, formerly existed, but its situation is unknown. The roof of the nave was in its earlier state surrounded by ornamental battlements, enriched by pinnacles, which were taken down in 1764, and rebuilt in their existing very inferior style. At the eastern extremity of the north aisle is a chapel originally dedicated to the Virgin, but now occupied chiefly by the monuments of the Clopton family, whose manor and mansion- house of Clopton are situated about a mile to the north of Stratford, on the road to Henley- in-Arden. THE TRUE FONT. Remains of the Old Font from which Shakespeare was baptised. In the Vestry of Holy Trinity, we have the very Baptismal Font from which Shake- speare received the Holy Baptism of the Church. This battered sacred relic is price- less in the eyes of every lover of the Great Bard. It has passed through many trials and vicissitudes, even to banishment from the Holy Temple, and the ignominy of having had a spurious rival set up in its place. Possibly in the reign of some fox-hunting vicar, indifferent to his church chancel hold- ing the poet's bones, and who may never have troubled himself to decipher the inscription beneath his monument, the font was banished in exchange for one more to his taste. The parochial accounts of Strat- ford show that about the middle of the seventeenth century a new font was set up, and the true font from which Shakespeare had been baptized was banished. After many years it was found in the charnel- house, close to the poet's resting - place. When this was pulled down it was moved out into the open churchyard, and from thence taken by one of the parish clerks of the time and used as the trough of the pump at his cottage. Marvellous, therefore, is it that the holy vessel should have resisted, so well as it has done, the impious ravages and ill-treatment it has endured. Very fortun- ately the good town of Stratford has ever had some resident devotee to kindle and keep alive the memory of him who shall perpetuate it to the end of time. Captain Saunders, of the Warwickshire Militia, was the guardian angel who rescued Shake- speare's baptismal font. All honour to him, for he has done his native town and the world good service. One clerk, Edmund, is said to have been the sinner who desecrated the font to his own house-pump purposes. He was induced to part with it to a stone- mason in the town, who never concealed the treasure, or denied the means through which he acquired it. The gallant Militia officer is described by Phillips as " an enthusiastic admirer of everything relating to Shake- speare, and perhaps he possessed one of the most authentic articles connected with the Bard. In his garden was the fragment of the old font of the Church which Captain Saunders found in a stone-mason's yard at Stratford, and was acknowledged as having been removed from the Church." The late Mr. W. O. Hunt, Town Clerk of Stratford, who throughout his whole lifetime was untiring in his Shakespearean researches, and who especially devoted himself to get at truth in all local matters connected with the great author's home and residence at Strat- ford, has left papers showing clearly that he purchased the font of a Mr. Thomas Heritage, who had bought it of Captain Saunders's representatives. Mr. Hunt presented it to the then Vicar, Mr. Granville Granville, and thus earned the credit of a real benefactor, such as will ever honourably associate his name with this venerable and sacred relic. The genial-hearted Dr. Collis, a former Vicar of Stratford, an earnest helper in all that concerns the memory of the mighty dust lying under the Chancel of the temple, was firm in his conviction as to the identity of the Old Font He says it is beyond all SHAKESPEARE'S BAPTISMAL FONT. 255 doubt the Font in which Shakespeare was baptized. Dr. Collis writes : — " Stratford-on-Avon, " November 12, 1873. " Dear Major Walter, — You are quite correct in your views regarding the old broken and damaged Baptismal Font in the vestry of my church. It is the actual Font in which William Shakespeare was baptized on the 25th April, 1564, two days after his birth. Its architectural features show it to be of the date of the latter half of the fif- teenth century; I should say about 1480. Most probably it was put in by old Dean Balshall, my excellent predecessor, who re- built the Chancel out of his own revenues. A modern and not very good copy of it was put up in the church in 1840, on the false idea that then prevailed of ' restoration,' and the old one was taken away just as the then 'restorers' copied the canopies of Thomas a Becket's Sedilia, and threw away the old historic ones, with all their mediaeval history. To my predecessor, Mr. Granville Granville, is due the bringing back this Old Font into the church. He also set up the fragments of Becket's Sedilia in the church. About three years since, I removed them into the vestry, to preserve them from the corroding of the weather, and the depreda- tions and scribblings of the Smith, Jones, and Robinson caste, and hope some day to restore them to their original place. " Yours faithfully, J. D. Collis, D.D., H Vicar of Stratford-upon-Avon? u To Major James Walter." Time itself has fallen asleep in this ancient place. The low sob of the organ only deepens the awful sense of its silence and its dreamless repose. Beeches, yews, and elms grow in the churchyard, and many a low tomb and leaning stones are there in the shadow, grey with moss and mouldering with age. Birds have built their nests in many crevices in the time-worn tower, round which at sunset you may see them circle, with chirp of greeting or with call of anxious discontent. Near by flows the peaceful river, reflecting the grey spire in its dark, shining, silent waters. In the long and lonesome meadows beyond it the primroses in springtide stand in their golden banks among the clover, and the frilled and fluted bell of the cowslip, hiding its single drop of blood in its bosom, closes its petals as the night comes down. Personal vanity on the part of church- wardens or other dignitaries of the hour, doubtless deterred by the heart's warning that the mighty dead alone shall be whis- pered of within its holy precincts, is unknown here. In many of our old country churches is to be found an in- scription in the front of the organ gallery or other conspicuous place, informing the curious, who may also become if they like the incredulous, that the church was " repaired AVON MEADOW AT EVENING. and beautified " in some year of our Lord by a parishioner, an aspirant for immortality. Everybody nowadays prates of proportions, orders, outlines, etc., and every believed con- noisseur, who hardly knows a corbel from a capital, affects to criticise ancient Gothic as gnostically as though he were Sir Christopher Wren or Ruskin. It is a natural aspiration that such class may never be permitted to try their hands on the venerable fane holding the dust of Shakespeare. The question too often arises as to what our ancestors meant in many cases by " beautifying." Too generally, alas ! their ideas consisted in crowding sacred buildings with cumbrous woodwork, washing over corbels and carvings, and surrounding unsightly monuments with still more hideous iron railings. The Stratford temple is sin- gularly free from such enormities ; may the existing few vanish under the good taste of the ruling powers ! No illustration can do justice to this lovely scene. It is a sur- passingly beautiful approach, worthy in itself a pilgrimage to Stratford. As the branches meet and closely interlace each other, and with their impervious foliage exclude the rays of the sun, they seem, as it were, to encur- tain the bed of death. On many a bright morning has the nuptial train of a town's beauty been seen to wind from beneath this porch, while the bells rang merrily above, and the happy pair returned to a wedding feast in well-furnished rooms, that, long converted to other pmrposes, now cease to know such guests, 256 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. " For, oh ! how sweet to maiden's ear, While tears of joy she's shedding, When first she hears her own church bells Ring blithely for her wedding." We once walked up this lime avenue on a Sabbath morning, in company with Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American essayist, to join with him in worship in the chancel, close to the grave of the great seer ; and how did Emerson's burning, unsurpass- able words force themselves upon us ! " What king has he not taught state, as Talma taught Napoleon ? "What maiden has not found him finer than her delicacy ? " What lover has he not outloved ? " What sage has he not outseen ? " What gentleman has he not instructed in the rudeness of his behaviour ? " The American writer, Elihu Burritt, has written, " Blessings on the man who planted these trees — probably a humble labourer who, with rude pick and spade, placed these now noble elms, when tiny seedlings, each less than a finger's girth. Truly, he who plants trees for posterity ranks with him who, the Psalmist declares, ' passing through the valley of Baca, maketh it a well.' Put him under the same blessing of his kind, for he deserves it. He gives them the richest earthly gift that a man can give to a coming generation. He gives them time. He gives them a whole century as an extra. If they would give a gold sovereign for every solid inch of oak, they could not hire one built to the stature of one of these trees in less than two or three centuries' time, though they dug about it and nursed it as the man did the vine in Scripture. Blessed be the man, rich or poor, young or old, especially the old, who sets his heart and hand to this cheap but sublime and priceless architecture. Let those who have seen Memphis and Nineveh, or any or all the great cities of the East, ancient or modern, come and sit in Stratford Churchyard, and survey its tree Cathedral, and mark the order and graces of its architecture. What did the Ptolemies, their predecessors or successors in Egypt, or sovereigns of Chaldaic names in Assyria, or ambitious builders in the ages of Pericles or Augustus, in Greece or Rome ? Their structures were the wonder of .the world. Mighty men they were, whose will was law, whose subjects worked it out with- out a murmur or a reward. But in all prob- ability the humblest cottagers were the Michael Angelos of the lovely branch and leaf structure, to which we look up with h I u a jKksx> Sed nit votIA vaieTit .venfoTS crto Chri<& e reiur^e^, CtaufA facet tumulo mater et as^ta petet " Heere lyeth interred the body of Anne, wife cf William Shakespeare, who departed this life the 6th day of Av^v,. 1623. being of the age of 6y yeares. Vbera tu, mater, tu lac, vitamq. dedisti, Vae mihi pro tanto munere saxa dabo, Quam mallem, amoue at lapidem bonus angel' ore Exeat christi corpus, imago tua Sed nil vota valent, venias cito Christe resurget, Clausa licet tumulo mater et astra petet." They evidently embody the sense of two well-known verses of the New Testament. A long-ago accepted rendering runs thus : "Thou, O mother, gavest me the breast, thou gavest milk and life Alas ! for such great gifts, I, in return, give unto thee a sepulchre ! O, that some good angel would move away the stone from its mouth, That thy form might come iorth, even as did the body of Christ ! But wishes are of no avail ! Come quickly, O Christ ! My mother— though shut up in the tomb — shall rise again and seek the stars." Next is the grave of the Immortal, traditionally said to have been dug seventeen 262 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. feet deep at the time of his burial, on which lies a large slab of stone, quarried in the neighbourhood, and bearing the world-famed inscription conveying his benediction to the respecter and his malediction to the violator of the peace of his grave. It was on the 25th of April, 1 6 16, his body was consigned to its native resting-place under the north side of the chancel of this grand church. The graves of other members of his family are in close proximity. They are placed side by side and lie in a row upon the second step of the altar, their position affording un- mistakable evidence of the high esteem in which Shakespeare and his family were held- in their native town. One stone marks the resting-place of Susanna, the poet's eldest daughter, whose epitaph is singularly beauti- ful and suggestive : — Good frend for Ie-svs sake f orbeare , to-digg tie dvst encloased kare: Blest be y man y spares ties stones. and cvrstbehe y moves my bones- Who dares question the words being those of the great dramatist himself ? A pecu- liarity which it possesses over ordinary in- scriptions is the abbreviation Mat. and the grouping together of some of the letters after the fashion of a monogram. Let it be borne in mind there is authority, such as few can question, in the fact that it was there chiselled when the great one was laid in the grave. The maledictory curse inscribed on the gravestone ever has been and ever will be of absorbing interest to the world, despite Mr. Phillips' curt dismissal of it as " wretched doggrel." If this strong term was intended as an expression of his conviction that Shakespeare had no hand in its production, he has signally failed. Every visitor to the shrine dwells upon it, and the majority are awe-stricken when, standing at the doubly- hallowed spot, they decipher its affectionate entreating, M Good Frend, for Jesus' sake, forbeare," attended with blessing for com- pliance, followed by the denunciatory u Curst be he that moves my bones." Haliwell Phillips' disbelief goes for nothing more than an individual opinion. The world will decide for itself, and, after all, when it is known and felt that though his hand may not have traced the actual words, yet that they embodied the desire of his heart, doubt may comfortably be dis- missed, and cavil at his grave-edge may be withheld. Hitherto generations incline de- cidedly to a belief that the words proceeded from him at some time of his life, either written or orally. Judging from the immu- nity they secured, the world will ever ascribe the desire as his, and it is not needed to show that he bequeathed an instruction that the lines should be cut on his gravestone. "Witty above her sexe, bat that's not all, Wise to salvation was good Mistris Hall, Something of Shakspeare was in that, but this Wholly of him, with whom she's now in blisse. " Then, Passenger, hast ne'er a teare, To weep with her that wept with all ? That wept, yet set herself to chere Them up with comforts cordiall. Her love shall live, her mercy spread, When thou hast ne'er a teare to shed." The next is over the body of her hus- band, Dr. John Hall. The third is that of Thomas Nashe, the first husband of Shake- speare's only granddaughter. The fourth is over the remains of the poet, and the last, immediately beneath Shakespeare's monu- ment, marks the resting-place of Anne Shakespeare, his wife. Close underneath the monument on the north-west side of the chancel is a doorway into what was a formerly existing old chapel, known as the charnel house, from having been used as a depository for human bones dug up and exposed in the churcrryard, when Interior of Old Charnel House. new graves were required. Until the law prevented burial in English churchyards, public feeiing was shocked by coffins being THE SHAKESPEARE GRAVESTONES. 263 The gravestone of Anne, wife of William Shakespeare, immediately beneath the Poet's monument at the north end of the Chancel. is ° ^ rt 1 « rt to 2 o v c • £ -2-5 < w £ ^s o St— rt ^rt h -CU .— c CUD o 3'Sf.s m a • o w « a V S •• w o o > Q r < D (4 3 1 is u •55 a a & *-. « "& W W o X X < Ji3 o rt 2.? I « K w w H a Pi ■ IS co -a 2. r >< w w US en < X *^ ) C 'u ! £ B.2 1 s « § ; u o „ a> 1 -w d; to >_ : * E c o 3 W .SP : q rt •" 3 ° ■£ ja a w £ ° OS > '* a Q ! W ( w . - £ P -fa ~ ^- .> 1. "> * fe o o o 7? u i! O " rt !s co a3 2 O - cu o5 o cu c CO J5 # > 4J ■J -^ a rt >> > rt -C J ft* 3 !t B > ■*■■ ^ d o c ■y J3 "^ 0> P a^ «, ^ ^ s « SP Co . *'•» .5 8 ^ «3 co" o s r CO -^ CO ^ ^ S >x CO s 1 a ^ S3 5 «50 q ^ ^ ^ 264 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. cut into and their contents tipped out to make way for new-comers. Public cemeteries have prevented this. There is little doubt that the "Charnel House "' was a part of the old chancel, but which, proving serviceable as a receptacle for human remains, was per- mitted to remain when the later chancel was erected. There exist two sketches of this non-existent building, showing variation, though in the main corroborative of each other. This so-called charnel house was Saxon, and was pulled down in MDCCC. me this church is above eighty years old." All known interpretation of this inscription extending back into the past is conclusive on this subject. The words have ever been re- garded as an inspiration of the poet himself and none other, and have universally proved a terror to ghoul-like grave meddlers. It is difficult to determine whether Dow- dall's companion and cicerone on the occasion of his visit to Stratford Church was the officiat- ing minister or the " Amen " leader of the congregation, inasmuch as the term "Clerk" *jA } H No stronger evidence can be needed of Shakespeare's responsibility for the lines inscribed on his gravestone than the title of Charnel House, by which this portion of the sacred building was called. The purpose to which it was applied was sufficient to excite horror in any mind. There is a letter dated 1693, in which the writer, Dowdall, after describing the Shake- speare monument and giving the inscription, says : " Near the wall where the monument is erected lies the plain freestone, underneath which the body lies buried, with this epitaph, made by himself a little before his death." " Not one, for fear of the written curse, dare touch his gravestone, though his wife and daughter did earnestly desire to be laid in the same grave with him." Now Dowdall was an unquestionable authority in his own and after days, and the oldest and most interesting Shakespearean document in exist- ence is this very narrative of his obser- vations in Warwickshire and of his visit on April 10th, 1693, to Holy Trinity, Stratford. He teils us positively that the inscription of blessing and imprecation was prepared by none other than the grave occupant, shortly before his death. "The clerk who showed CHANEL- ftft* >-lO^^ applies to either or both. The probability, however,is that a visitor such as Dowdall would be honoured by the presence of the vicar him- self. The evidence as to the words being Shakespeare's and none other's is conclusive. His fellow-townsmen one and all realized them as being his and nobody else's. His wife and daughters, how greatly soever they desired to lie in the same grave with him, dared not lift the stone, but had to content themselves to repose alongside the awful barrier. The charming American writer William Winter, whose capacity for forming a fair opinion as to whether the lines are in any degree likely to have proceeded from Shake- speare himself ranks higher than Phillips', thus refers to the solemn grave anathema : " Writers in modern times have been pleased to disparage this inscription, and to conjecture that it was the work of a sexton and not of the poet, but no one denies that it has ac- complished its purpose in preserving the sanctity of Shakespeare's rest. Its rugged strength, its simple pathos, its fitness, and its sincerity make it felt as unquestionably the utterance of Shakespeare himself, when it is read upon the slab that covers him. There the musing traveller full well con- POSITIONS OF THE SHAKESPEARE GRAVES. 265 ceives how dearly the poet must have loved the beautiful scenes of his birthplace, and with what intense longing he must have de- sired to sleep undisturbed in the most sacred spot, in their bosom. He doubtless had some premonition of his approaching death. Three months before it came he drafted his will. A little later he attended to the marriage of his younger daughter. Within less than a month of his death he executed the will, and thus set his affairs in perfect order. His handwriting in the three signatures to that paper conspicuously exhibits the uncer- tainty and lassitude of shattered nerves. He was probably quite worn out. Within the space, at the utmost, of twenty-five years, he had written his thirty-seven plays, his 154 sonnets, and his two or more long poems ; had passed through much and painful toil and through many sorrows ; had made his for- tune as author, actor and manager ; and had superintended, to excellent advantage, his property in London and his large estates, for those days, in Stratford and its neighbour- hood." The world, with ourselves, will accept the American writer Winter's judgment in this matter, his range of literature is higher than Phillips', and in arriving at a conviction he brings more feeling to bear on the question. No man has discoursed more eloquently on the home of Shakespeare and the country around it than William Winter ; he holds the hearts of all visitors to Stratford, and he has pronounced as he should on this anathema subject. He tells us that the tradition is as old as 1693, and that nothing has ever since occurred to shake it. The known fact of her husband having penned the lines was the sole preventive cause of her interment in the grave with him. These assurances, taken together, confirm the statement as to the solemnly-recorded curse emanating from none other but himself. And in modern times the anathema has doubtless had its effect, and prevented the removal of his ashes to Westminster Abbey. Susanna bore but one child, Elizabeth, who be- came successively Mrs. Nash and Lady Barnard, who, dying in 1670, was buried at Abington. She left no child by either husband, and in her the race of Shakespeare be- came extinct. The line of graves beginning at the north wall of the chancel, and extending across to the south, is devoted entirely to the graves of Shakespeare and his family with but a single exception. The stones are reverently laid east and west, and all but one bear inscriptions ; that one is under the south wall, and possibly covers the dust of Judith (wife of Thomas Quiney), the youngest daughter of Shakespeare, who, surviving her three children, and thus leaving no descen- dants, died in 1662. Upon the gravestone of Susanna has been introduced an inscription commemorative of Richard Watts, who is not, however, known to have had any rela- tionships with either Shakespeare or his descendants. The vaults themselves may possibly in the first instance have been con- structed by the monks when the church was first built, with the object of their occupancy by great prelates of the church. Verily a great one indeed took possession, one whose occupancy shall be heralded throughout all ages ! Other persons may possibly be en- tombed in these vaults. Shakespeare's father, who died in 1601, and his mother, Mary Arden, who died in 1608, were buried some- where in the church of Holy Trinity. His LL 266 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. infant sisters Joan, Margaret and Anne, and his brother Richard, who died aged 39, in 1613, may also have been laid to rest in this place. Of the death and burial of his brother Gilbert there is no record. His sister Joan, — the second Mrs. Hart — would naturally have been placed with her relatives. His brother Edmund, dying in 1607, aged 27, was laid under the pavement of St. Saviour's, Southwark. The boy Hamnet, dying before his father had risen to much local eminence, rests probably in an undistinguished grave in the churchyard. Thus we see that the family of Shakespeare was short-lived and soon extinguished. The family of Anne Hathaway also has nearly disappeared, the last living descendant of the Hathaways being Mrs. Taylor, the present occupant of Anne's cottage at Shottery. Thus, one by one, from the pleasant gardened town of Stratford, they went to take up their long abode in that old church, which was ancient even in their infancy, and which, watching through the centuries in its monastic solitude on the shore of Avon, has seen their lands and houses devastated by flood and fire, the places that knew them changed by the tooth of time, and almost all the associations of their lives ob- literated by the improving hand of destruction. Leonard Digges, in a poem praising the works and worth of Shakespeare, and published within seven years after his death, thus speaks of the Stratford monument : — Shakespeare, at length thy pious fellows give The world thy works ; thy works, by which outlive Thy tomb, thy name must : when that stone is rent, And time dissolves thy Stratford monument, Here we alive shall view thee still. This book, When brass and marble fade, shall make thee look Fresh to all ages : when posterity Shall loath what's new, think all is prodigy That is not Shakespeare's, every line, each verse, Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy hearse. Nor fire, nor cank'ring age — as Naso said Of his — thy wit-fraught book shall once invade : Nor shall I e'er believe or think thee dead, Though miss'd, until our bankrupt stage be sped (Impossible) with some new strain to out-do Passions of Juliet and her Romeo ; Or till I hear a scene more nobly take, Than when thy half-sword parleying Roman spake : Till these, till any of thy volumes rest, Shall with more fire, more feeling be express'd, Be sure, our Shakespeare, thou canst never die, But crowned with laurel, live eternally. Now, whatever the poetical worth of Digges lines may be, certain it is that in these lines he has contributed no mean bio- graphy; he .looked prophetically into the future, in telling the good folk of his own day, that when Jansen's monument at Stratford shall be dissolved, yet then shall the writings of Shakespeare be fresh to all ages. Dugdale, in his "Antiquities of Warwickshire " 1656, gives a print of the monument, but drawn and engraved in a most tasteless and inaccurate style ; and he observes in the text, that the poet was famous, and thus entitled to such distinction. Lang- baine, in his account " of English Dramatic Poets," 169 1, pro- nounces the Stratford bust, Shake- speare's " true effigies." These not only confirm its history, but assure us of its being a faithful portraiture of the poet. In the ■s age this was executed, it was customary to portray the heads and figures of illustrious and eminent persons by monumental statues and busts. Many were cut in alabaster and in white marble, whilst others were formed of freestone. In the reigns of Henrys VI., VII., and VIII. some of the English monu- mental sculpture is remarkable for combin- ing the essentials of breadth, simplicity and nature. During Elizabeth's reign it gradually BUST, A CONTRIBUTION OF WRITERS AND PLAYERS. 267 degenerated ; and under that of James there was greater debasement. Some of the artists studiously endeavoured to perpetuate true portraits, or effigies, of the persons com- memorated. Indeed it is quite clear that they aimed rather to produce likeness, than tasteful composition. This is evinced in the statue of Queen Elizabeth, in Westminster Abbey Church ; in the bust of Camden, in the same edifice ; the statue of Lord Bacon at St. Albans ; the bust of Stow and numerous others in London and elsewhere. All show that the artists sought for prototypes in nature ; either by modelling the respective persons while living, or by taking casts after |*^ neglected or insulted bust in its original state. Jansen was the leading London "monu- ment maker " of Shakespeare's day, and at the period of his death was at his artistie best, proved by his handiwork now traceable in and around London. There is a marked Jansen characteristic in all. Dwelling in Southwark among the players, and near the theatre, he would be generally known to them. Actors and literary men being the parties furnishing the money for this tribute of affection to be erected to his memory is an assurance of their knowledge of capa- bility. Jansen is known to have been MISERERE SEATS IN CHANCEL OF HOLY TRINITY. death, and so in our belief was it in the case of the Holy Trinity Shakespeare head. Shakespeare's monumental bust is the size of life, formed out of a block of soft stone, and originally painted in imitation of the countenance and dress of the poet. The eyes were of a light hazel, and the hair and beard auburn ; the doublet or coat was scar- let, and covered with a loose black gown, or tabard, without sleeves ; the upper part of the cushion was green, the under half crim- son, and the tassels gilt. Such appear to have been the features of this immortal, but Shakespeare's personal friend, and would do his utmost that the counterpart he was engaged to chisel should be faithful in like- ness as in execution. Too much prominence cannot be accorded the fact of the monumental bust being the contribution of friends who cherished most highly his character, disposition and gifts. All the subscribers to its execution and erection may be said to have been profes- sional contemporaries whose main desire would be that the bust should be thoroughly commemorative, a distinc-t reproduction of 2 68 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the features of their much-loved "gentle" friend. There was no delay in its execution, all was done while the lineaments of face were fresh in their memories. Thankful indeed should we be that such unquestion- able representation exists. That the sculptors of Shakespeare's age did frequently, if not invariably, execute their figures from authentic casts, might be shown by reference to numerous instances of monumental effigies, corresponding in the minutest features with paintings and other artistic representations of the same indi- viduals; and the peculiar and remarkable characteristics of the bust of "Shakespeare and other eminent sculptors have expressed their belief that it was worked from a cast from life, or rather, perhaps, death. " There are," Chantrey says, " in the original, marks of individuality which are not to be observed in the usual cast from it ; for instance, the markings about the eyes, the wrinkles on the forehead, and the undercutting of the mous- tachios." Wordsworth wrote of it, " I agree in the authenticity of the bust ; I cannot but esteem this resemblance of the illustrious original as more to be relied upon than any other. As far as depends upon the intrinsic evidence of the features, the mighty genius of Shakespeare would have placed any h A —- -"fr*' . J I MISERERE SEATS IN CHANCEL OF HOLY TRINITY. preclude the supposition that it constituted an exception to a rule so general. Haliwell Phillips says, "The bust is beyond the reach of the doubt which attaches to the portraits, and is in no way assailable to hesitating criticism. It is at once the most interesting memorial of the dramatist that remains, and the only one that brings him before us in form and substance. There is a living and a mental likeness in this monu- ment ; one that grows upon us by contem- plation and makes us unwilling to accept any other resemblance." Sir Francis Chantrey record of his physiognomy under considerable disadvantages ; for who could shape out to himself features and a countenance that would appear worthy of such a mind ? What least pleases in the monumental por- trait is the cheek and jowl : the former wants sentiment, and there is too much of the latter." This invaluable relic, then, may be considered as a correct resemblance of the bard. The impress of that mighty mind which ranged at will through all the realms of nature and fancy, and which, though incessantly em- ployed in the personification of passion and DROESHOUT PORTRAIT CONFIRMS THE BUST. 269 of feeling, was at all times great without effort, and at peace within itself, is visible in the exquisite harmony and symmetry of the whole head and countenance. These, not only in each separate feature, in the swell and expansion of the forehead, in the commanding sweep of the eyebrow, in the undulating outline of the nose, and in the open sweetness of the lips, but in their com- bined and integral expression, breathe of him, of whom it may be said, in his own emphatic language, that : — " We ne'er shall look upon his like again." A most interesting circumstance in con- nexion with the Shakespeare bust, if the supposition on which proceeds can be relied on, is the discovery some years ago, in Germany, of a plaster-cast alleged to be the identical mask which was moulded from the features of the poet after death, and furnished the model to the sculptor of the monument. It is stated to have been origi- nally purchased by a German nobleman attached to an embassy to the Court of James I. of England, and brought home by him to his native country, as a memorial of the great Shakespeare. Preserved in his family as a valued relic, it descended from gene- ration to generation, until it came into the possession of the last of his race, Count Francis von Kesselstadt, one of the canons of Cologne Cathedral. On the tatter's death, :n 1843, his collection of curiosities was sold and dispersed ; but the cast in question was, a few years afterwards, recovered among the rubbish of a broker's shop, by Dr. Becker, who placed it in the hands of Professor Owen, in whose custody it now remains at the British Museum. It is a ghastly-looking object, though the features which it portrays are regular and handsome; and if we accept it as a genuine cast of Shakespeare, there can be no doubt that the sculptor of the bust must have deviated considerably from his model, which represents a longer and more oval face. On the back of the mask is the inscription, " Ao.Dm'., 1616." Haliwell Phillips strangely states that the portrait of Shakespeare, engraved by Droes- hout, and prefixed to the first folio edition of his plays, ranks next to the bust in point of authority ; and that a general resemblance is to be traced between them. The same opinion has been expressed by others ; but so far from perceiving the slightest similarity in these two works to each other, any experienced artist, or physiognomist, will recognise a very great difference between them, not only in general form and expres- sion, but in every separate feature. That Droeshout's print " ranks next to the bust in point of authority," we admit in so far as it was executed close on his day ; above all, we are bound to yield more than respect to the loving lines by Ben Jonson, who be- queaths us this record of its truthfulness. For grand old Ben's sake, if for no other reason, we will cling to the figure-head he endorsed : — "This figure, that thou here seest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut ; Wherein the Graver had a strife With Nature, to out-do the life. Oh, could he but have drawn his wit, As well in brass as he hath hit His face ; the print would then surpass All that was ever writ in brass. But since he cannot, Reader, look Not on his picture, but his book." The Caste now in British Museum. The wretched execution of the engraving proves that Droeshout was not only destitute of artistic talent, but, was a most " abomin- able imitator of humanity." He says, " The verses in praise of Droeshout's performance 270 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. were probably written as soon as they were bespoke, and before their author had oppor- tunity or inclination to compare the plate with its original. It is lucky indeed, for those to whom metrical recommendations are necessary, that custom does not require they should be delivered on oath. It is also probable that Ben Jonson had no acquaint- ance with the graphic art, and might not have been over-solicitous about the style in which Shakespeare's lineaments were trans- mitted to posterity. The portraits of Shake- speare painted in oils do not any of them in- crease in favour with lapse of time. Even the Chandos portrait is thought much less of now than it was half a century ago, and the others have receded in public estimation in even greater degree. We are inclined to regard the monumental bust as the only authentic representation of the poet. The "Monument-maker," who doubt- less was well acquainted with the features of the great author in life, and would most probably have before him a cast from the original, and also a portrait from the life to help in the work, would readily produce BEN JONSON ON SHAKESPEARE. 271 a representation, making all allowance for lack of refined skill, worthy of adoption through all time. None of the paintings which have passed for original portraits pos- sess claims to authenticity such as would be satisfactory to the discriminating critic. Here at his tomb we love to recall all these things about the man, and experience a deep joy in knowing that his heart was as loving and lovable as his brain was mighty and marvellous. We delight also in thinking, or in reading over, what the great poets have said, in honour of their greatest brother. We again hear dear Ben Jon- son telling the world that he " loved the man, and do honour his memory, on this side idolatry, as much as any." He was, indeed, honest, and of an open and free nature." We read once more, and never in a more appropriate place, his old friend's loving lines : — To the Memory of my beloved the Author, Mr. William Shake- speare, AND WHAT HE HATH LEFT US. To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name, Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither man, not Muse, can praise too much ; 'Tis true, and all V^2 • men's suffrage; 1-?v * but these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise ; For seemliest ignor- ance on these may light, Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right ; Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance ; Or crafty malice might pretend this praise, And think to ruin, where it seem'd to raise. These are, as some infamous bawd Should praise a matron; what could hurt her more? But thou art proof against them ; and, indeed, Above the ill fortune of them, or the need. I therefore will begin : — Soul of the age, The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage ; My Shakespeare, rise ! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser ; or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room ; Thou art a monument without a tomb ; . And art alive still, while thy book doth live, And we have wits to read and praise to give. 272 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Portion of the West Window. That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses ; I mean, with great but disproportioned muses ; For, if I thought my judgment were of years, I should commit thee wisely with thy peers ; And tell— how far thou didst our Lyly outshine, Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line. And though thou hadst small Latin, and less Greek, From thence to honour thee, I would not seek For names ; but call forth thundering ^Eschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles, to us, Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To life again, to hear thy buskin tread And shake a stage ; or when thy shocks come on, Leave thee alone ; for the comparison Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come. Triumph, my Britain ! thou hast one to show, To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe. He was not of an age, but for all time ; And all the muses still were in their prime, When, like Apollo, he came forth to warm Our ears ; or, like a Mercury, to charm. Nature herself was proud of his designs, And joy'd to wear the dressing of his lines; Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit, As, since, she will vouchsafe no other wit : The merry Greek, tart Aristophanes, Neat Terence, witty Plautus, now not please; But antiquated and deserted lie, As they were not of Nature's family. Yet must I not give Nature all ; thy art, My gentle Shakespeare, must enjoy a part. — For though the poet's matter nature be, His art doth give the fashion ; and that he Who casts to write a living line, must sweat, (Such as thine are) and strike a second heat Upon the Muse's anvil : turn the same (And himself with it), that he thinks to frame ; Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn, — For a good poet's made, as well as born ; And such wert thou. Look how the father's face Lives in his issue ; even so the race Of Shakespeare's mind and manners brightly shines In his well-turned and true-filed lines ; In each of which he seems to shake a lance, As brandished at the eyes of ignorance. Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were, To see thee in our waters yet appear; And make those flights upon the banks of Thames, That so did take Eliza and our James ! But stay ; I see thee in the hemisphere Advanced, and made a constellation there : — Shine forth, thou star of poets ; and with rage Or influence, chide, or cheer, the drooping stage ; Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourned like night, And despairs day, but for thy volume's light. Thus nobly England's second great dramatist wrote in memory of her first and greatest. Such golden testimony did " rare Ben Jonson " bear to the nature, character, and genius of his contemporary, his " beloved Mr. William Shakespeare." Standing at the grave in Stratford Church is a fitting place to read these glorious lines. There, indeed, we feel that he is " a monument without a tomb"; that "he is still alive, while his book doth live, and we have wits to read, and praise to give." There, also, more fully than in any other place, do we realize the truth of the prophetic line, " He was not of an age, but for all time ; " and bless the memory of the brave, sturdy, honest, and appreciative friend who has so poetically given voice to our best and highest admiration of England's chiefest child of song. Nor must we forget Milton's noble epitaph. The large-hearted Puritan found his Pantheon large enough to admit Chaucer, and Spenser, and the writers of " wicked " plays. He did not scruple to confess how much he had 1 earned from Spenser : he knew that " the lofty, grave tragedians, are the teachers best of moral pru- dence " ; and in memory of the greatest of these lofty, grave tra- gedians, the writer of England's if '^•^T'^' SPENSER'S REFERENCE TO SHAKESPEARE. 273 not the wrote : — world's most noble epic thus What need my Shakespeare for his hallow'd bones The labours of an age in sculptured stones ? Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid Beneath a starry -pointed pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument. For whilst, to the shame of slow-endeavouring art, Thy easy numbers flow ; and that each heart Hath, from the leaves of thy unvalued book, Those Delphic lines with deep impression took ; There thou, our fancy of itself bereaving, Does make us marvel with too much conceiving : And so sepulchred in such pomp does lie, That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die. And here also it is fitting to produce Edmund Spenser's reference, who, in his " Tears of the Muses," after lamenting the decline of poetry, thus writing : — And he, the man whom Nature self had made To mock herself, and truth to imitate, With kindly counter, under mimic shade, Our pleasant Willy, ah ! is dead of late : With whom all joy and jolly merriment Is also deaded, and in dolour drent. Instead thereof scoffing Scurrility, And scorning Folly, with Contempt, is crept, Rolling in rhymes of shameless ribaldry, Without regret or due decorum kept ; Each idle wit at will pre- sumes to make, And doth the Learned's task upon him take. But that same gentle spirit, from whose pen Large streams of honey and sweet nectar flow, Scorning the boldness of such base-born men, Which dare their follies forth so rashly throw, Doth rather choose to sit in idle cell, Than so himself to mockery to sell. as been the fashion of those who affect superior wisdom by the constant exercise of incredulity, to doubt Spenser's reference. The seeker after truth will recognise that, although the poem was written before Shakespeare's death, yet the allusion was figurative, and his temporary retirement from dra- matic authorship only was meant. The love of personal abuse had driven out real coir.cdy, and there was one who, for a brief season, had left the madness to take its course. On the Sabbath morn on which we were accompanied by Ralph Waldo Emerson and his interesting daughter to worship in Holy MM 274 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Trinity, we sat in the chancel stalls, on the south side, that our friends might get good view of the bust. Outside, gentle breezes blew, and the tall trees bowed all their foliage, bending and rustling like dames of fashion ; spots of sunlight and shade were thrown on to the windows ; and inside, the priest prayed, and the choir, ranged in front of the organ, sang. We were just op- posite the monu- ment. There were the two plump cherubs, the hide- ous skull, the coat armour, the spear on a bend ; for granting which ar- mour to the poet's father, Garter King- at-Arms is erro- neously said to have got into trouble. For our part, we fancied Shakespeare join- ing in the prayers, word for word, as we did. We fan- cied we saw that round bald head, with the curled \ " chestnut locks at «■ the side, bowed in one of the pews. We fancied that his observant eye noted every pecu- liarity of priest and people. And when the preacher mounted the pulpit the well-known words, " parson's saw " — u coughing drowns the parson's saw " — somehow ran in our minds. Summer vanished, and a vision of cold stones in the February afternoon, somewhere about the Year of Grace, 1610, of many in church anxious to hear of the New Place pew and the man in it, of that man's amusement at the saw and the coughing ; and, thought we, as we looked at the bust, — What impression did it make on you, you open-eyed one ? You were humorous, tender, and sympa- thetic. Did you have a general feeling for the poor parson, or for the poor people ? Or did your good condition and New Place and King James's complimentary letter fill your head ? And did you feel rather proud and self-content ? Did you feel the great man in Stratford — William Shakespeare? Did you recollect you were the rescuer and rebuilder of your family, or did you call to mind the time when your father sat in the rs/o ~ lij i-\t> • r» v (krf^zi^? THE AUTHOR AND EMERSON AT SERVICE IN CHANCEL. 275 Corporation pew as alderman ; or when he was turned out for poverty, and got into the back benches ? What a man you were, William Shakespeare, never to fill your writings, as our modern people do, with your own selfish aspirations, wishes, and dreams. You looked at others, and put down what you saw. But perhaps you never had any high aspirations for yourself ! Yet you must have had the harmony " of immortal souls " you speak of, which we cannot hear ; and found that, as you say, u the smallest orb in heaven sings like an angel ; though whilst his muddy vesture of decay doth grossly close us in, we cannot hear it." Oh, Shake- speare, we are constrained to hope, nay, to firmly believe, that sack did not kill you, and that you were not so much a man amongst men as to have lost the diviner, more un- popular, stern saintliness, which fits for heaven ! So our thoughts maundered along, and our eye fixed itself more firmly on the monument, till it seemed almost to acquire life beneath our gaze. There in the monument, we seemed to see a pulpit, cushion, and the manuscript sermon — even the pen. The great preacher's moustache was too wiry for a parson, but the stolid rigidity of the figure was by no means unlike many a worthy expounder we have seen. All the time from the real pulpit came the plashy stream of a discourse, but we thought it was the stone that spoke. Pardon our straying, silly mind, O great one, for the follies that it dreamed that thou didst utter ! u All people should be good," said the bust. u All should be gentle and kind, for the world is a wicked and queer place. I had a good surfeit of its follies, and the very motives of men were not hidden from me." 14 Great men and little men — all puppets, playing little plays — the king to the beggar all march off the stage when the curtain falls." u You people in your time are full of con- ceit with yourselves. You're just what people were in my day." 44 In my time 1 saw many sorts of men, and looked them through. They bred me amongst wool-dealers and thriving burgesses. Then we went downhill in life. I wandered to the big city ; knew actors and actresses and great lords too. Wearied and worn I came back to my dear native Stratford ; and my writings were liked and admired because I copied men and women as they were. Yes ! you admired what I wrote because I copied them. Time to end ? Yes. What is my moral ? " " Be real ! Follow me not ; I was no saint. But follow me in this — be real ! " 44 But," we remonstrated, " Will Shake- speare, speaking in church is not allowed, we know, but how you would have despised the upstarts, the purse-proud rascals of our time ! How you would have seen with 276 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. disdain the richest bankers and brewers and manufacturers turned into nobles for no other reason than that they had acquired so much of gain ! How you would have scorned the trash of money ! . Don't you know how you said, ' Who steals my purse, steals trash ' ? We want you to help our age. We want you to make us think more of eternity, and more of God's greatness and man's littleness. Oh, had we your wide deep knowledge of human nature — what would it do for us ? " We thought the face smiled and then seemed sad. The lips said, " Money, trash ! Yes, it was a noble sentiment ! but you pulpit and said, " Did he preach ? " ". Who ? Shakespeare ? " said we. " Yes !" There is a monument on the north side corner of the great east window of deep interest on account of its connection with Shakespeare, and executed by the same sculptor as his own, to the memory of his friend, John Combe. He is said to have been a money-lender, and the story runs that he asked Shakespeare to write his epitaph, the severity of which the miser is said never to have forgiven. But the same thought may be found in different shapes in literature long before Shakespeare's time, and there is probably but little truth in the know I did not conform my life to my best thoughts. I did see much to make me weep and smile in human folly, but to despise upstarts was not in my way. No ; I could have painted them for you." " God is great and man is little. Yes ; but my knowledge of human nature will not help me to force this on your age or on any age. I could not force it on myself ! Listen to that other preacher there ! " We awoke from a reverie with a start, and we heard — " What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? " What our companion in the adjoining chancel stall thought all this time we know not ; he had continued, as it were, in a trance ; but as he took our arm he looked at the tradition, as we find John Combe leaving by his will five pounds to Shakespeare. The common version of the epitaph is given by Aubrey : — " Ten in the hundred lies here in graved: 'Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not saved. If any man ask who lies in this tomb ? Oh ! oh ! quoth the devil, 'tis my John a Combe." This squib epigram is really nothing more than an adoption of one written upon some other money-lender before him, and as ap- plied to him is a distinct and palpable forgery. The point, however, is lost on many who do not see the desired pun, which is made possible by rustic pronuncia- tion. The devil is supposed to say — " 'Tis my John has come, ha' come — a Combe. ' THE DEATH KNELL AT STRATFORD. 277 The tolling of the bell at the passing away of any man, woman, or child, and which was practised in and long after Shakespeare's time, may, we trust, at no distant day be revived at Holy Trinity, Stratford being the place of all others to lend additional solemnity to the custom. Albeit of Romish origin, nothing can be more solemn than the passing' or souls' bell, called because it rings for someone then passing from life, and in- vites all who hear it, whether in the crowded street, or in the midst of their business, to pray for the soul then departing to another world. Talk of sermons ! what sermon more deeply or impressively eloquent was ever delivered, than by the iron tongue which tolls suddenly out, to all within its hearing, that the most awful event, the departure of an immortal soul into another world, is at that moment taking place, close by ? What more impressive preacher than the solemn bell, which from its tower, as from a lofty pulpit, proclaims to a busy, bustling, jostling crowd, in the midst of their toils and cares, the vanity of the pursuits in which they are absorbed. Plato says in the u Dialogues," that the soul, being an emanation from above, like a bird escaping from its cage, the moment it gets free from this body, mounts aloft to its native sphere or element. God only knows ; Plato, or even the almost Christian Socrates, are but poor guides in these matters, though the idea is a pure and elevated one for a Pagan. It is even now the custom amongst the peasants in certain primitive districts in Ireland to leave the window of the room in which a person is dying open ; that there be nothing for an instant to intercept the free egress of the soul in its flight to Heaven. Amongst the Romans, when persons were at the point of death, the nearest relation present attempted to catch the last breath with his or her mouth ; for they believed that the soul or living prin- ciple (animd) then went out at the mouth ; thus in the 4th iEneid, Anna exclaims over the expiring Dido — " Et, extremus si quis super halitus errat Ore legam." Of yore, not far distant from the time when the passing bell struck on Shakespeare's ear, there was likewise in Holy Trinity Church, the Sanctus, or Holy Bell, which de- rived its title from being rung when the priest came to the words, " Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanc- tus, Dominie, Deus Sabaoth ; " it was so placed that the rope hung close to the altar, convenient to the hand ; it was audible at a considerable instance, and those who heard it were expected to fall on their knees in rever- ence to the holy office then going on in the \2>.E Church. Reader ! should it ever fall to your lot for the Angel of Death, through Stratford- on-Avon Holy Trinity Passing Soul's Bell, to 278 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. sound on your ear the gathering a grain into the Everlasting Garner, you will on that spot probably realize a sense of immortality of the soul rarely extended to human imagination. Holy Trinity, like the old Greek and Roman orators, who were wise in their generation, had a tell-tale hour-glass set up in their midst, conspicuously placed aloft by the preacher's side, so that all might see as well as hear, and which served as a standard that neither minister nor congre- gation should disregard. It is said to have been a duplicate of one then existing in Coventry, as sketched. It was no paltry article, and we find it recorded in the Cham- berlains' accounts that a sum of money was paid for u setting up the hour-glass," but no trace of the instrument's cost is found. Its value and need were well recognised by Stratford burghers. It prevented the preacher from delivering less than his full tale of bricks, and also it enabled the congregation to know that when the sand had run out, their hour of penance was over, and they could go home to their dinners with an easy conscience. Of course, it would not neces- sarily follow that the whole hour should be used, any more than it was in the days of St. Augustine or Latimer, whose sermons often did not exceed ten minutes. The glass gave an outside limit, and was a curb on babbling tongues. Shaw, in his illustrations of the Middle Ages, gives an engraving of one richly set in jewels. These Church hour- glasses were in use in Cromwell's time. The preacher, on giving out the text, turned up the glass, and if the sermon did not hold out, it was said by the congregation, who then, as now, looked for money's full worth, that the preacher was lazy. If he exceeded his hour, they would yawn and stretch, and by other insulting signs give their pastor to understand that he was abusing his privi- lege. The pew occupied by Shakespeare was in full view of the pulpit, and as the representation of plays was then regulated by the hour-glass, we may be sure he was not a careless observer of the symbolic rapid glides of the sparse sands of life. Whether any hour-glass warned the preacher at the Guild Chapel there is no record, though it is beyond tradition that Shakespeare frequently attended service there, as is said, at the afternoon service ; its immediate proximity to New Place rendered it almost his domestic chapel. The ruling powers of Stratford in Shake- speare's time were the Lucys, the Cloptons, and the Combes. The vicar was the next leader of the then society of the place ; the bailiff came next, and then followed the aldermen and burgesses of the borough. The Cloptons could hardly be regarded as residents ; they went hither and thither, but were rarely absent, for any length of time, save on occasions when blocked by un- passable roads. The Lucys, save during sessions of Parliament, were always at Charlecote, though holding their noses above any of the Stratford people, except the Cloptons, whom they occasionally visited ; but it was only occasional. The Combes, too, scented the air with noses upturned, and so were pretty much left to themselves to take care of themselves. Neither of these three families mixed themselves up in the cor- porate affairs of the borough to the extent of taking office, though each indirectly held power through nominee aldermen and other officials. There was marked separateness between the three families, and a good deal THE SHAKESPEARE AND LUCY FAMILY FEUDS. 279 of jealousy between the Lucys and the Cloptons. John and Mary Shakespeare held a some- what anomalous position on her arrival in Stratford as his wife. Mary was of much better family than £.ny of the butcher or tailor aldermen, all of whom had wives from their own class, and could hardly be expected to embosom herself with these, though in common with gentle birth she would carry herself towards all as a lady. Prior to and several years after his marriage, all went well with John Shakespeare ; his acquisition of worldly means through Mary added to his influence, but it would appear that the Lucys set their foot on any further advance- ment, Mary's family being by the Charlecote Knight regarded as of Papist tendencies. The big man of the Hall was a noted bigot in religion, and insisted upon it that the Ardens were traitors and nothing else, and HILLFIELD HALL. must not be permitted to take rank, or hold influence possible of usage against the other side. There existed not the smallest truth for the Knight's prejudices; they were utterly devoid of fairness, and therefore more grievous to those who were made sufferers therefrom. Lucy was not to be gainsaid, and the result at the moment was the creation of two parties, the Cloptons and Combes usually siding with the Shakespeares against the Lucy faction in their combination to decry and injure them. It is easily under- stood how, in such a town as Stratford, a man could be what was then known as " kept down" by the prominent landowners and others sedulously acting to crush them. John Shakespeare was an energetic man, and held his own for many years against the common enemy ; but there came a limit to his endurance, and it looked as though Fortune's frowns could not be withstood. But a brighter day was at hand ; the young William was growing up, and was destined to render far more than the joyful aid God had vouchsafed to place within his power even in days of boyhood. Whether derived from usage of his brains by a Stratford attorney, or by the adaptation of plays to State usages, or through both, is unknown. It is enough to know that honestly-earned coin flowed into his purse when he could have been little more than a boy. This reward of his marvellously fertile creative power of literature at a moment when men's minds were awakening to its beauties, was joyfully devoted to prevent his father being crushed under the iron heel of fanatical puritans. These formed a strong aldermanic phalanx, headed by Sir Justice Shallow, and, as the Corporation accounts testify, they mellowed themselves with plenteous draughts of sack at public expense, on occasions of meeting to discuss their acts of oppression of those of higher charity than themselves. The Ardens had the blood of gentlefolk, and bore meekly the bitterness of the low-born, whose delight was in endeavours to bring them down to their own level. Certain it is tnat soon after their son William had established himself in London, a great change occurred in their position towards the Lord of Charlecote and his aiding and abetting aldermen. At the time of the poet's securing a considerable income in London, the position of the three reign- ing families of Stratford may fairly be thus described. Before William Shakespeare acquired any property in his native place, the heiress of the Cloptons married George Carew, a soldier of great eminence in Ireland, created in 1605 Baron Carew of Clopton, and in 1608 promoted by King James to the high and distinguished office of Master of the Ordnance to the King. Old John Combe, the usurer, as he is called, but who was anything but the blood- sucker represented, was the Esquire of Strat- ford during Shakespeare's time, and kept him- self out of the lines and inveiglement of the Lucys and Cloptons ; in fact, he was on the side of "Gentle Will," and being a man of straightforward word and action, did not shrink from avowing it. Class distinctions in Stratford were as marked then as ever. Holy Trinity settles this fact beyond all cavil through monu- mental illustrations of that day. The Clop- 28o SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. tons sleep alone and apart in a chapel of their own near the north transept, the Combes close to the altar, and the Shakespeares before the attar. These are the only monu- ments of what may be called aspiring families in the church. Old Sir Hugh Clopton, who built the bridge over the Avon, was buried in the Church of St. Margaret, Lothbury, in London. His grand-nephew, William Clop- ton, was buried in the Clopton Chapel, in 1 592, and William Clopton's wife, in the same chapel, in 1596. Their only surviving child, a daughter named Joyce, married Sir George after the great fire in Stratford, and, as is asserted, through sorrow and vexation of his property having been licked up of fire. Shakespeare has the credit of an epitaph thus upon him : — " Ten in the hundred the Devil allows ; But Combe will have twelve he swears and he vows. Many one asks, Who lies in this tomb ? Ho ! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John a Combe." It is remarkable that John Combe's monu- ment was executed by the same sculptor, Gerard Johnson, the sculptor who carved Traditioned as a favourite spot Carew, created Baron Carew of Clopton by King James I., and Earl of Totnes by King Charles I. He had no issue by his wife, so that his titles became extinct. He was the author of a well - known work, Pacata Hibernia. The Combes lie clinging as it were to the horns of the altar. Of Combe himself there is a recumbent figure on an altar tomb. He died on the 10th of July, 16 14, the very day of frequent visit by the Poet. the head of Shakespeare on his monument. The probability is that Shakespeare intro- duced him. The fact of Jansen having been employed in both cases is confirma- tory of his high estimate with the several families. Of the many goodly vicars who, since the great Poet's day, have held charge of Strat- ford's Hallowed Fane, one was permitted its custody for nearly half a century. " The VICARS BALSHALL, BIFIELD, AND OTHERS. 281 children of the mist " believed, in their wild romantic imaginations, that when one of their tribe died, his soul hovered about the place where he loved to dwell in life. It is not out of character to believe that this sacred pile should have attractions for a spirit which so long laboured there, or for the great spirit of him who sought within its holy precincts the rest and joy and peace he so greatly needed after his laborious professional toils in London. Homer represents Nestor as having survived several " generations of articulating men," whom he had seen pass before him ; but what generations must a minister who spent fifty years in this Holy Trinity of Stratford have outlived ? He saw the same men pass almost through Shake- speare's seven ages, and illustrate them all ; have looked upon the baby brow which he sprinkled at the baptismal font, until it be- came wrinkled with years and cares ; have joined many a smiling pair on a sunlight morning in marriage, while the merry peals rang above their heads, and read the glorious and comforting service over the same to the solemn sounds of the passing bell. The experience of such a pastor, his lines cast in such a spot, seeing and knowing so much of the interior of the same individual lives, and the workings of human nature, with all its vicissitudes; the death-bed of poverty, and apathy, and affluent prudence (when both prudence and affluence seem hollow possessions) would form a volume of prac- tical and often painful knowledge. One of the Holy Trinity windows formerly bore this inscription : — u Thomas Balshall, Doctor of Divinity, re-edified this quier, and died, Anno 1491." THE PARISH REGISTER Of Holy Trinity Church is one of the most precious volumes in existence ; happily none in the world has been better guarded and cared for. It is a book of considerable thickness, the leaves formed of very fine vellum, and which contains the entries of Baptisms, Marriages, and Burials. The Register commences with the record of a baptism, on the 25th of March, 1558. All the entries, whether of Baptisms, Marriages, or Burials, are without exception in the same handwriting, from the first entry, to Sep- tember 14, in the year 1600. But although the register is thus only a transcript for forty-two years, its authenticity and perfect correctness is beyond all realm of cavil : each page is signed by Richard Bifield, the vicar, and four churchwardens, in attesta- tion of its being a correct copy. Ah, Bifield, thou wert indeed a painstaking son of the Church, a worthy occupant of the vicarial office, and the world owes thee much for thy exactitude ! Had there been more of thy stamp of mind, the domestic history of Eng- land could be much more clearly written. Richard Bifield was vicar of Stratford from 1596 to 1610; and to him we are, in all ***%£ C"iryly probability, indebted for this transcript of the original registers, which were most likely on loose leaves of paper. Subse- quently, the Registers are not made at the time of the performance of the Church-office. They generally appear to be entered monthly; but sometimes the transcript seems to have been made at longer intervals. NN 2»2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. The signatures of the Churchwardens of the year is then affixed to each page as a testi- monial of its accuracy. There are then entries of Ursula, 1588; Humphrey, 1590; Philippus, 1591; — chil- dren of John Shakspere (not Mr.). It appears by the Register of Burials, that Dr. Hall, Shakespeare's son-in-law, was buried Choun CK\ : fy Formerly in Holy Trinity. on the 26th November, 1635. He is described in the entry as " Medicus peritissimus." The Register contains no entry of the burial of Thomas Quiney. Elizabeth, the daughter of John and Susanna Hall, was baptized on February 21, 1607 [1607-8]; and is men- tioned in her illustrious grandfather's will. The children of Judith, who was only married two months before the death of her father, appear to have been three sons, all of whom died before their mother. The Register is full of entries of baptisms and deaths in the Shakespeare family, the most important, of course, being — " Baptisms, 1564, April 26. Gulielmus Alius Johannis Shakespere." Blessed privilege, dear old Trinity, to hold in thy bosom such a priceless treasure ! What jewelled casket of the richest of the world's nobles can be compared in value with this venerable register ? which has been cared for to the very utmost by the loving hands that, through so many generations, have been en- trusted with its guardianship. It is in the most perfect preservation, the more extra- ordinary seeing that thousands of persons are every year permitted to handle it. Ay I and he was worthy of the motherly care given to this his baptismal record, for against Shakespeare the strictest orthodoxy has never brought a single charge. Yet if ever there was a man who questioned fate, who fought " the cruel battle within," and yet remained faithful, it was Shake- speare. Never in any of his plays is there the slightest symptom of that disbelief which ends in despair and mockery. Too large- minded for any one particular creed or system, he ever treats not only religion, but all things, with the purest spirit of reverence. Blessed be the memory of the Norman Conqueror, who commanded a register of the lands of England to be completed, with the names of their possessors, and the number of their free tenants, their villains, and their slaves. In the sixteenth century, Thomas Cromwell, as the Vice-Regent of Henry VIII. for ecclesiastical jurisdiction, issued injunc- tions to the clergy, ordaining, amongst other matters, that every officiating minister shall, for every church, keep a book, wherein he shall register every marriage, christening, or burial. Truly has Charles Knight expressed the effect in saying : " In the different character of these two registers we read what five centuries of civilization had effected for England. Instead of being recorded in the gross as cotarii or servii, the meanest labourer, his wife, and his children had become children of their country and their country's religion, as much as the highest lord and his family. Their names were to be inscribed in a book and carefully preserved. But the people doubted the intent of this wise and liberal injunction. A THE PARISH REGISTER IN HOLY TRINITY. 283 friend of Cromwell writes to him : u There is much secret and several communications between the King's subjects : and [some] of them, in sundry places within the shires of Cornwall and Devonshire, be in great fear and mistrust, what the King's Highness and Council should mean, to give in command- ment to the parsons and vicars of every parish that they should make a book, and surely to be kept, wherein to be specified the names of as many as be wedded, and the names of them that be buried, and of all those that be christened.' They dreaded new ' charges ' ; and well they might dread. But Thomas Cromwell had not regal exactions in his mind. The registers were at first imperfectly kept ; but the regulation of 1538 was strictly enforced in the first year of Elizabeth ; and then the register of the parish of Stratford-upon-Avon com- mences, that is, in 1558. u Venerable book ! Every such record of human life is a solemn document. Birth, marriage, death ! — this is the whole history of the sojourn upon earth of nearly every name inscribed in these mouldy, stained, blotted pages. And after a few years what is the interest, even to their own descend- ants, of these brief annals ? With the most of those for whom the last entry is still to be made, the question is, Did they leave property ? Is some legal verification of their possession of property necessary ? — ' No further seek their merits to disclose.' " But there are entries in this venerable register of Holy Trinity that are interesting to universal mankind. We have all re- ceived a precious legacy from one whose progress from the cradle to the grave is here recorded — a bequest large enough for all, and for all who will come after us." The old record, which solemnly declares to the world that Shakespeare was baptised on the 26th of April, 1564, is now marked with three crosses to call attention to it. The date of the year and the word April occur three lines above the entry, the baptism being the fourth registered in that month, and one of fifty-five which occurred in the same year. But this book is only a transcript, attested by the vicar and four churchwardens on every page of the registers from 1558 to 1600 ; the record is, therefore, only a copy of the original entry, made at a time (1600) when Shakespeare was a person of sufficient importance in Stratford to make it desirable to be accurate in the dating, if not in the Latin. It is not a little singular that a whole host of Welshmen were living in Stratford during Shakespeare's time. The Church register discloses sundry Ap Williams, Ap Edwards, Hugh Ap Shon, Ap Roberts, Ap Howell, Evans Meredith, Evans Rice and other un- doubted Cymric worthies as fellow-towns- men of the poet. He had, therefore, from infancy ample opportunities of becoming acquainted with the dialect as well as character of the Welsh people. The two Welshmen, Fluellen in " Henry V.," and Sir Hugh Evans in the " Merry Wives," prove his intimate acquaintance with the national peculiarities. Every loving pilgrim should, if possible, attend a service in the Holy Shrine. The eloquent American preacher, Ward Beecher, thus records his experience of a service in this more than hallowed temple : — u I am so ignorant of the church service that I can- not call the various parts by their right names ; but the portions which most affected 284 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. me were the prayers and responses which the choir sang. I had never heard any part of a supplication — a direct prayer— chanted by a choir ; and it seemed as though I heard not with my ear but with my soul. I was dissolved ; my whole being seemed to me like an incense wafted gratefully toward God. The Divine presence rose before me in won- drous majesty, but of ineffable gentleness and goodness, and I could not stay away from more familiar approach, but seemed irresistibly, yet gently drawn toward God. My soul, then thou didst magnify the Lord, and rejoice in the God of thy salvation ! I stood like a shrub in a spring morning — every leaf covered with dew, and every breeze shook down some drops. I trembled so much at times, that I was obliged to sit down. Oh, when in the prayers, breathed forth in strains of sweet, simple, solemn music, the love of Christ was recognised, how I longed then to give utterance to what that love seemed to me ! There was a moment in which the heavens seemed opened to me : and I saw the glory of God ! All the earth seemed to me a storehouse of images, made to set forth tne Redeemer, and I could scarcely be still from crying out. I never knew, I never dreamed before, of what heart there was in that word Amen. Every time it swelled forth and died away solemnly, not my lips, not my mind, but my whole being said — Saviour, so let it be." In saying farewell, so far as these pages are concerned, to Holy Trinity, the words of Thomas a Kempis, "qui multum pere- grinantur raro sanctificantur" with all due deference to the holy man who penned them, in an intended signification of " those who go much about get little good," are here reversed. Not the least happy association clinging to the venerable shrine is the knowledge that since the day on which the world's poet was laid in its chancel tomb, God has endowed it with un- broken sequence of goodly vicars, men who have felt the sacred charge specially falling to them as ministers in God's Church. One and all have realized that their responsibility does not end with this world, that their earthly Diocesan is not the only one they have to please ; that there is a bishop above and a visitation to come at which they shall be held answerable for the opportunities of reminding pilgrim visitors, to be hence- forward each year increasingly swollen by thousands, of the solemn truths enforced through his works. The whole world will vie in furnishing each its contingent to the gathering stream ; and as education makes Shakespearean readers of our own masses, these, too, will join the throng of devotees. Our well-to-do tourists will feel ashamed of foreign wanderings, whilst the Shakespeare country has failed to awaken their interest. Stratford will become a centre from which cultured pilgrims will radiate to Snitterfield, Wilmcote, Shottery, and the villages iden- tified with him, circling around it. The present occupant of Holy Trinity See, for the writer elevates it becomingly to this distinction, is not unmindful of this feature of duty, and is removed above adulatory incense. No homage paid to his eloquence can spoil the humility of his heart. Congratulate him not on the power or beauty of a discourse, or like Massillon, he may retort : " The devil has already told me so, with a tongue more eloquent than yours ! " Inquire not the source of support and maintenance of a school which gives education to the choir boys so eminently contributory to the beauty and holiness of the service, or you risk being regarded as an emissary of the evil one. There is gentleness and touchingly forcible admonition to Christian toleration from Holy Trinity's pulpit. The great preacher, whose dust lies in yon chancel, A PAUPER FUNERAL— TRINITY BELLS. 285 enforces the truth of Christian charity in language unapproachable : " Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet ; For every pelting, petty officer Would use his heaven for thunder : nothing but thunder." — Measure for Measure, act ii., scene 2. Pilgrims blessed in a trance of worship in Holy Trinity can get no harm in realizing that the spirit of the great Master hovers about its holy precincts, and is present with the worshippers in its services. From that pulpit is preached how beauti- fully superior, how beneficently beamed out the divine character in the rebuke of the Saviour : " Ye know not what manner of spirit ye are of, for the Son of Man is not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them." With the endeared sounds of thy sweet bells on our ear, we utter this farewell to dear old Trinity. We have heard their joyous wedding peals as their solemn voice in welcoming the dead to their rest from labour. Never can we forget being acciden- tally one of a tiny congregation composed of the minister and sexton, to welcome the cold clay of an aged brother who had, in the parish workhouse, yielded up his spirit, and whom the Church, through her surpassingly grand Liturgy, blessedly took to her arms with the same motherly love and tenderness, — whatever the allotted condition may have been whilst sojourning its little day of pro- bation on earth — as if he had passed away a kingmaker from Warwick's lordly castle. Lazarus was no longer " lying at the gate " ; his spirit had flown to its rest without having to render up account of responsibilities of the " trash money." The pauper's body had been wheeled to the gateway of God's Acre by fellow-inmates of the poorhouse. Two aged fellow-habiters, and the female nurse who had received his last breath, followed as mourners. The officiating minister on this chill afternoon received his charge bare- headed, grandly heading our little proces- sion from the outer gate of the churchyard through Holy Trinity Western Entrance, pro- claiming the Almighty as " the Resurrection and the Life, and that whosoever believeth in Him shall never die." The earthly clay, yet garbed of the world's humblest, was reverently laid on the tresselled bier, and the remainder of the sublime service conducted with a solemnity unsur- passed in Westminster's Royal Abbey on any of its most august occasions. The Guild Chapel bells have in the cur- few, as for death knells, served jointly with Holy Trinity. Its great and small bell are thus graven : — <£:*£ Careful examination of Holy Trinity Voices thus unfolds their historical record tales : — HOLY TRINITY BELLS. 1st. — Queen Victoria's Jubilee, 1887. 2nd. — God Save the Queen, 1887. 3rd. — H. Bagley made m 1742, William Dyde, Thomas Badger, churchwardens. 4th. — Mathew Bagley made mee, 1683. 5th.— Mikell Evitt, Sam Tombs, church wds. Rs., 1733. Recast, 1887. 6th. — Iohn Wakefield and Thomas Spiers, churchwardens, 1683. Recast, 1887. 7th. — Iohn Taylor and Iohn Hont, churchwar- dens, 1683. 8th. — Iohn Cooks, Richard Goode,* Avery Edwards, Richard Spires, 1717. In the chapter on the Guild Chapel, men- tion has been made of the Master, the Rev. R. S. De Courcey Laffan's important dis- covery of two frescoes, sketches of which are here given. We may feel assured that when studying lessons, the poet's eye of ttimes rested on these rude representations of the White and Red Rose, which had caused the shedding of so much of the best blood of England. Who shall say they were not the first cause of inspirations leading to the pro- duction of his glorious historical tragedies ? * " E " cut in the metal after casting. 2 86 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. THE LUCYS, CHARLECOTE HALL AND NEIGHBOURHOOD. HARLECOTE Park, the deer- stealing story and the name of Lucy, must ever be connected with the early life of Shakespeare, accord- ing to his gossip biographers, as the first overt act of his dawn- ing manhood. The most unrea- sonable tradition respecting the great poet is that of his having been brought before Sir Thomas Lucy for deer-stealing from Charlecote Park. The deer-stealing story runs thus : — Shake- speare having become connected with a company of wild young men, joined them in a poaching expedition, for the purpose of capturing the deer belonging to Sir Thomas Lucy. The poet, it is alleged, was caught in the very act, and it being then night, was conveyed to the keeper's lodge in the neighbourhood, whence, after being detained in durance vile till morning, he was conducted to the worshipful presence of Sir Thomas at Charlecote Hall. The punishment inflicted, if any, has never been told, so that at the very threshold the story breaks down. Shakespeare's choler being roused, he is said to have affixed to the park-gate a stinging pasquinade on Sir Thomas in the form of a ballad. As against the truth of the story, we should remember that Sir Thomas was the most important resident of Stratford vicinity, mixing freely among its citizens, and prior to Shakespeare leaving Stratford for London, some soothing of bitterness would appear to have been brought about between the Puritan knight and the Shakespeare family, as he was chosen arbitrator in a matter of dispute by Hamnet Sadler, the friend of Shakespeare ; and close on the period named, he was #*♦!* elected member for the county of Warwick. ABSURDITIES OF THE DEER-STEALING STORY. 287 Only recently has there been a disposition to take a sensible view of this pretended deer-stealing matter. The tradition was generally accepted for truth. Now, however, the judgment of recent times rejects it as utterly inconsistent with the poet's devotion to study, and as equally foreign to his quiet orderly habits. There is a version of the story which may be accepted by such as do not care to be bereft altogether of so long- accepted and romantic a slander, without dimming the glory of the poet, and without fixing the shadow of reproach on Sir Thomas Lucy, still less to attach the slightest stigma to any descendant of the family, who to their honour have, from Shakespeare's day, be- comingly maintained their dignity as posses- sors of this ancient estate, administering hospitality, and deservedly enjoying the respect of all the country round about Thomas, and that the scurrilous verses im- puted to him were written when deeply in- censed. Had he gone to his gravelike his fellow- townsmen, such an incident would have been forgotten, but when he rose to be the fore- most prince of literature, and when, after death, his greatness dawned upon the world, incidents of early life would be seized upon, and as generation after generation told the tales, proneness to exaggeration added something from time to time, and disguised the simple original facts. A parliemente member, a justice of peace, At home a poor scare-crowe, at London an asse ; If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscall it, Then Lucy is lowsie, whatever befall it : He thinks himself great, Yet an asse in his state We allowe by his ears but with asses to mate. If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscall it, Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it. t*H3B them. It is argued that in some hour of youthful excitement he may have trespassed either alone or with companions, beyond bounds, in pursuit of game, have been ap- prehended by the keepers, and brought before Sir Thomas. He may even have been arrested by mistake, and have stood before the judgment seat. Prominent throughout his works is evidence of his knowledge of all kinds of field sports, such as hunting, falconry, fishing, and even ferreting of rabbits. It is not unlikely that he himself was attached to these amusements before he entered seri- ously upon the grand object of his life; that on some occasion he stood charged before Sir These lines are more remarkable for acrimony than wit ; and may have been afterwards maimed and corrupted in the course of transmission. A more refined revenge, if, indeed, revenge it can be called, was taken by Shakespeare several years afterwards on the knight, whom he has introduced and immortalized as Justice Shallow in the " Merry Wives of Windsor," with an evident allusion to his name and coat of arms : — Shallow. Sir Hugh, persuade me not ; I will make a Star-chamber matter of it : if he were twenty Sir John Falstafifs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, Esquire. SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Slender. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace and coram. Shallow. Ay, Cousin Slender, and Cust-alorum. Slender. Ay, and ratolorum too ; and a gentleman born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero : in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armigero. ££&i Charlecote Old Church. Shallow. Ay, that we do ; and have done any time these three hundred years. Slender. All his successors, gone before him, have done't ; and all his ancestors, that come after him, may ; they may given the dozen white luces in their coat. Shallow. It is an old coat. Evans. The dozen white louses do become an old coat well ; it agrees well, passant ; it is a familiar beast to man, and signifies — love. Shallow. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish is an old coat. Luce is an old word for a full-grown pike, and from this the Lucys of Charlecote derives their name, bearing as arms on their shield three of these fishes. A further allusion to Charlecote and the poaching foray occurs in the same scene. Sir John Falstaff, against whom Shallow has been inveighing so loudly, enters : — Falstaff. Now, Master Shallow; you'll complain of me to the king. Shallow. Knight, you have beaten my men, killed my deer, and broke open my lodge. Falstaff. But not kissed your keeper's daughter. Shallow. Tut, a pin ! this shall be answered. Falstaff. I will answer it straight,— I have done all this : that is now answered. Shallow. The Council shall know this. Falstaff. 'Twere better for you if it were known in counsel : you'll be laughed at. Fable has hitherto been made too much the basis of his biography, and by way of contrast as many unworthy incidents as pos- sible have been recorded of him, to make his subsequent career more remarkable. Wild inventions mark the record until life's end. All these stories are now pretty well ex- ploded. The miracle is how in such a limited life - period any fc> k human being could accom- plish such mighty literary products as he achieved. Critics such as Coleridge and Schlegel, the latter certainly one of the most reflecting and philosophical of any age, pronounce him the most profound of all artists, and not a blind and wildly-luxuriant genius. The impression left on the minds of most will warrant the belief that the poet had been a lad of spirit, of no " vinegar aspect," popular — boy, youth, and man — among his contem- poraries, and taking life easy in all its stages, laugh- ing heartily at a jest, and perfectly willing to bear his part in one. So complete and perfect are the harmony and unity of his dramatic characters, thai; we cannot safely derive from them any hypothesis as to the poet's dislikes and predilections ; yet the humours of Eastcheap, the mad pranks of Prince Hal and his asso- ciates, the reckless adventures of hair- brained, hot-blooded youth, are painted by the poet with such a zest as can scarcely be held otherwise than an indication of his own temperament. THE LUCY AND SHAKESPEARE FEUD. 289 It is but reasonable that Shakespeare should entertain a personal dislike of the Lucys, consequent on Puritan aversion to his mother's family ; and the more so, as of all his signal and numerous opportunities to take poetical vengeance on his unfriends, that of the Lucys is the only prominent instance. That the Lucys were fond of litigation is implied by the opening lines of passant " (that being their heraldic character- istic, twelve luces passant). " It is a familiar beast to man and signifies — love." Exces- sively comical in the mouth of a Welshman ! But the feud between the Lucys and the natives of Stratford was of earlier date than this story of the deer-stealing, and crops out on various occasions. The Lucys were arrogant and imperious Puritans ; the good the " Merry Wives of Windsor," and justified by history. In the conversation between Shallow, Slender, and Evans, Slender says, u They may give the dozen white luces in their coat." To which Shallow replies, " It is an old coat," evidently referring to the family pride of the Lucys, as well as their antiquty. Evans : " The dozen white louses do become an old coat well ; it agrees well town of Stratford, with the Cloptons and the Catesbys, were zealous adherents of the ancient faith. In the reign of Henry VIII. William Lucy, the father of Shakespeare's Sir Thomas, the friend of Bishop Latimer, had more than once endeavoured to bring down the King's displeasure on the citizens of Stratford for religious differences ; and more than once a riot had ensued, in which the 290 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Grevilles and the Combes, in conjunction with the Lucys, would have ridden roughshod over the burgessses, of whom Shakespeare's father was afterwards high bailiff, if they had not been supported by the Cloptons and the Catesbys, as is shown by unpublished papers in the Record Office. The Lucys were powerful at the Court of the Tudors, for they had blood royal in their veins ; and as many of their opponents were Roman Catholics, or had relapsed from Protestantism to the old faith, one of their most effective instruments for satisfying personal pique, under the garb of patriotism, was to put in force the penal laws and the power of the Crown against their rivals. In a commission issued in 1592 for persecuting and pre- senting recusants, directed to the Lucys and the Grevilles, and obtained apparently by their means, it is curious to observe that they presented as a recusant Mrs. Clopton, u widow of William Clopton, esq." ; but in others : " It is said that the last nine come not to church for fear of process for debt." Now, though it is true that already some six years before the date of this commission, Shakespeare's father had fallen into diffi- culties, and was deprived of his alderman's gown, it is hardly probable, had he been notoriously affected towards the Protestant religion, that his name would have been inserted in the return of the commissioners ; for the object of the commission was not so much to learn who absented themselves from the parish church as to discover Jesuits, seminary priests and papal emissaries, now more than ever busily engaged in sowing disaffection among the people of Warwick- shire and those who harboured them. The \rVe\coi~rf5t. their second return, they proceed to rectify their convenient mistake by the naive admission : Mrs. Clopton, presented as a recusant, was " mistaken, and goeth now to church " ! In the same presentment, next to Henley-in-Arden, occurs the parish of Sombourne, with this notice : " Mrs. Mary Arden, widow, presented for a wilful recusant before our last certificate, continues still obstinate in her recusancy," and is accordingly indicted. By the same commis- sioners John Shakespeare, the poet's father, is returned as a recusant ; but this note is subjoined in this case and in that of eight Government of the day — as is clear from the cases cited by the commissioners — required attendance at church once a month ; that done, it did not trouble itself with inflicting further penalties, or requiring more distinct proofs of the recusant's loyalty. John Shakespeare was a recusant in this sense, and the note was appended to explain the reason why he had not complied with the requirements of the Government. If then he were a recusant in the ordinary use of the term, this might account for the pecuniary difficulties into which he fell some years LUCY MONUMENT IN CHARLECOTE CHURCH. 291 before, when the Government of Elizabeth exacted the fines for recusancy with un- sparing severity. In the Chancel end of Charlecote Church is the tomb of Sir Thomas Lucy and his Tomb of Sir Thomas Lucy in Charlecote Church. wife. He was the squire of Charlecote man- sion in Shakespeare's younger days, and has to bear all the odium tradition has heaped upon him by the story of his alleged driving the poet from Stratford. Sir Thomas, leaving out his puritanical persecutions of the Ardens, was a good- hearted man, as the epitaph on the tomb shows. With singular good taste his name is not mentioned ; but his wife's virtues are recorded in the following touching inscrip- tion : — Here entombed lyeth the Lady Joyce Lucy, wife of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Cherlecote, in the County of Warwick, Knight, daughter and heir of Sir Thomas Acton, of Sutton, in the County of Wor- cester, Esquier, who departed out of this wretched world to her heavenly kingdome the tenth day of February, in the year of our Lord God 1595, of her age LX. and three. All the time of her life a true and faithfull servant of her good God, never detected of any crime or vice ; in religion most sound ; in love to her husband most faithful and true ; in friendship most constant ; to what was in trust committed to her most secret ; in wisdome excelling ; in governing of her house, and bringing up of youth in the feare of God that did converse with her, most rare and singular. A great main- tainer of hospitality; greatly esteemed of her betters; misliked of none unless of the envious. When all is spoken that can be said, a woman so furnished and garnished with virtue, as not to be bettered, and hardly to be equalled by any. As she lived most virtuously, so she dyed most godly. Set down by him that best did know what hath been written to be true. Thomas Lucy. The effigies of the knight and his wife, in alabaster, lie in stately repose upon their tomb ; she is in the full dress of a lady of the Elizabethan period. Moreover, above the tomb, on a marble slab recessed into the wall, is something far more in- teresting than mere re- cumbent statues. It is the epitaph Sir Thomas wrote upon his wife, who died five years before him. It tells the story of their lives, and of his love, and reveals the charac- ters in simple, touching language. Such a tribute to such a woman came from no pompous shallow - pated country squire. The heart that prompted a man to write that last sentence was not one that would take delight in persecuting a lad of eighteen or twenty for trespassing, even at the cost of a few hares, or pheasants, or even a deer. There was a truly kind heart, we may almost say a noble soul. It does not follow that be- cause he wrote "Hamlet" and "King Lear" in his maturer years that he might not have been somewhat of a scapegrace in his youth, and we who have read these plays regard their author from a very different point of view from that taken by a country gentle- man who had suf- fered annoyance at his hands. True it Sir Thomas Lucy. is that in this our day, through lapse of ages, the descent from Sir Thomas Lucy to William Shakespeare is tremendous and precipitous ; from William Shakespeare to Sir Thomas 292 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Lucy the ascent then, doubtless, to the rural inhabitants of Stratford, seemed fully as great. As one roams through Charlecote Park and grounds on the one hand and the home in which boyhood and that wife, this thought lively impression. his his and Shakespeare passed from which he took reigns with a deep Some people are apt to think of Sir Thomas hardly, as a man who oppressed the great poet in his early years. No such theory is pre- tended to be set up. What- ever wrong had been done, it lay against the poet's parents, and was based on Puritanical no- tions regarding Mary Ar- den's family, who were unjustly presumed to favour the old faith, and, therefore, in the Justice's belief, an enemy to the cause of his zealously es- poused Protestantism. It is well to take a boat and navigate the Avon in either direction. Far over its clear waters the grace- ful willows bend, kissing the sparkling stream as it flows along. Large beds of fine and richly fragrant water-lilies spread their yellow blossoms, and the blue forget-me-nots, " the flowers for happy lovers," edge the banks with their fine adornment. Islands covered with withies and thick beds of rushes frequently break the stream into two currents, where gurgling waters make soft responses to the waving of the trees, which the mildest of breezes awakens into the sweeetst melodies. Long after leaving the town, while the windings of the river bring the fine spire of the church full in view, and, resting on the oars, another and another look is taken at the glorious symbol of aspiration, ever pointing skywards, with thoughts constantly recurring to him whose honoured bones repose under its sanctifying and hallowed roof, and wonderings if he who had written such solemn and fearful descriptions of death, now beheld the pilgrimages of men to his honoured birth-place and tomb. The sur- rounding country, from which Shakespeare derived so much of his inspiration, belongs to the Vale of the Red Horse, so called from the gigantic figure of a horse cut in the red marl of the Edgehills, about twelve miles from Stratford. The undulating, richly- wooded surface of this portion of Warwick- shire — its orchards and cornfields — its stately mansions and parks— its shady walks and rich meadows, with the silver Avon meandering through them, all present together an admirable type of English scenery. In many respects, it exhibits still the same features that it did in the days of Shakespeare, though there can be no doubt that, owing to the amelioration effected by draining, enclosing, and improved cultiva- tion generally, we view the bard's Father- land at the present day under much more favourable auspices than he did. Youthful as Shakespeare must have been when wandering amid these rural scenes, his thoughts were, on their usage, to fire the imaginations of future generations. His TEWKESBURY, EVESHAM AND BATTLE OF NASEBY. 293 expanding intellect was then looking at history to see how he could link events together, perhaps not in order of date, but in some natural usage, so as to render such in degree only imaginative, and at the same time effective, to stir the heart. It was his will to convert the epic of history into practical subservience to the dramatic. An event of but small importance in itself, had to be invested with a power and interest non-existent in the occurrence, but which subsequent mere attractive relation should yield command of universal admiration. the Crown and the nobility, and for a while, at least, gave the country peace under the rule of a despotism as iron as could be. It need not .be said how well he knew all the history preceding these times. No more thrilling epoch in Britain's history; the world can never know any mightier artist to paint the theme with colour and effect equal to its result on her destinies. Shakespeare had ofttimes traversed and knew well the places around Stratford ; one and all can be traced in his works, though under names varying from their originals. The Avon, which assuredly constitutes the leading "line of beauty and grace" of this charming district, takes its origin from a spring called Avon well, in the village of Naseby, in Northamptonshire, enters the county of Warwick, through which it flows imP^^j^M These features of his work should explain how rarely he names the places and spots from which he drew his inspirations. As mature thought and experience became his, he more and more concealed many of the local associations closely identified with his early life, and which, in most instances, would need entire transformation to give them enough novelty and action to suit his dramatic designs. He had studied the battle- field of Evesham, doubtless from an elevated point familiar to him, about two and a half miles, near Twyford. The Avon is distant about a mile, and immediately below Twy- ford is the hollow known as Battlefield, where there is ascent to a raised platform of green hill, the very scene of the battle which closed the fearful conflicts between in a south-west direction, and widening out into a broad stream as it approaches Strat- ford, continues its course through Worcester- shire, and finally joins the Severn at Tewkesbury. It divides Warwickshire into two irregularly-sized portions. The south or smaller division, called " Heldon," is a champaign country, of great fertility ; whilst the northern or larger portion, entitled " The Woodland," though generally highly cultivated, is interspersed likewise with wild moorland and heaths. It includes an extensive district bearing the name of the " Forest of Arden," which still contains much fine timber, principally oak. Much of this forest-land, extending north-by-west from Stratford, must have been familiar to Shakespeare, and furnished him with the 294 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. prototype of the charming descriptions of forest scenery which he has introduced in " As You Like It." Charlecote's charming park is full of rich woodland scenery. There are two noble avenues of trees, each leading to the Eliza- bethan Gateway. The lime-tree avenue may, perhaps, be of a later date than the age of Elizabeth ; and one elm has evidently suc- ceeded another from century to century. and doubt not that there which — was the place to " A poor sequester'd stag, That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt, Did come to languish." — " As You Like It, act ii., sc. i. There may we still see — "A careless herd, Full of the pasture," leaping gaily along, or crossing the river at their own will in search of fresh fields and low branches whereon to browse. Nothing can be more interesting than the constant variety which this beautiful river exhibits in the silent reach behind Charlecote. 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 ; scmetimes long lines of .1 w ^ m ^pm^ >r?cUt^ L .*«(k. STONELEIGH PARK AND ITS NOBLE TREES AND ANCIENT ABBEY, DOUBTLESS FAVOURITE RESORTS OF SHAKESPEARE. But there are old gnarled oaks and beeches dotted about the park. Its little knolls and valleys are the same as they were two cen- turies ago. The same Avon flows beneath the gentle elevation on which the house stands, sparkling in the sunshine as brightly as when that house was first built. There may we still lie — " Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out Upon the brook that brawls along this wood," 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 ascaunt 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 CHARLECOTE VILLAGE DESCRIBED. 295 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. The pollard willow is not so frequent as in other part of the district, but the unlopped trees wear their feathery branches with usual grace. The village of Charlecote is now one of the prettiest of objects. Whatever is new about it, and — most of the cottages are new, — looks like a restoration of what was old. The same character prevails in the neighbouring village of Hampton Lucy; and it may not be too much to assume that the memory of him who walked in these pleasant places in his younger days, long before the sound of his greatness had gone forth to the ends of the earth, has led to the desire to preserve here something of the architectural character of the age in which he lived. There are a few old houses still left in Charlecote ; but the more important have been swept away. Falstaff. You have here a goodly dwelling, and a rich. Shallow. Barren, barren, barren ; beggars all, beggars all, Sir John : — marry, good air. — King Henry IV., Part II., act v. sc. 3. Of the many interesting spots associated with the name of Shakespeare, few perhaps have preserved their original features more unchanged than this famous seat of the Lucys, the venerable hall of Charlecote. The village from which the mansion derives its name is situated on the eastern bank of the Avon, Shakespeare's native river, about four miles north-east from the town of Stratford, and six miles south of Warwick. The hall was erected in the time of Queen Elizabeth, by the alleged prosecutor of Shakespeare for stealing the deer, whom the immortal bard has figured. The mansion may be taken as a fair specimen of the residence of a wealthy country gentleman of the days of "good Queen Bess"; and although some alterations have from time to time been effected in the building, its principal front still preserves its antique grandeur ; and no one can stroll through the beautiful English scenery with which it is surrounded without recalling to mind its classic interest. The old manor-house stands in a park of considerable extent, luxuriously planted with trees of noble growth, amid which are the graceful windings of the silvery Avon ; whilst the gentle undulations of the ground, covered with a smooth velvet-like turf, are enlivened with herds of fallow deer. One s.ide of the house looks down upon the river and towards Stratford ; and the opposite front opens into the old court, now a garden. Immediately south of the house, and within the demesne, the river Hele, which rises at Edgehill, flows tranquilly on its way, beneath a beautiful Rialto bridge, to unite its waters with the neighbouring stream, as has been referred to by Jago, a local poet, in the following lines : — " Charlecote's fair domain, Where Avon's sportive stream delighted strays Through the gay, smiling meads, and to his bed Hele's gentle current woos, by Lucy's hand In every graceful ornament attired, And worthier such to share his liquid realms." The gateway is built in imitation of the ancient barbican. The mansion, which is constructed of brick, with stone dressings, consists of a spacious centre, with two pro- jecting wings, and the four principal angles of the house are flanked each by a lofty octagonal turret, with a cupola and gilt vane. The entrance porch is of stone, elaborately ornamented. Over the door appear the arms of Queen Elizabeth, and on the summit of the whole, at the angles, are 296 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the royal supporters,in a sitting posture, each supporting an upright banner in its claws. The great hall — always the principal feature in these fine old manor houses — retains W-t much of its original appearance : its oaken ceiling is arched and lofty, the chimney of ample dimensions, and the windows contain the armorial bearings of the Lucys and others, richly emblazoned in painted glass ; whilst around the walls are hung numerous por- traits, and other paintings, connected with the history of the family. On the spacious mantel-piece are the initials of Sir Thomas Lucy, f a L, in large old-fashioned letters, raised and gilt, together with the date of the building of the hall, 1558. There is also a cast said to be the bust of Sir Thomas, taken frem his monument in Charlecote Church — some say it is that of his son — and among the portraits above mentioned, one of him- self sitting at a table with his wife ; a large family piece containing a portrait of Sir Thomas — grandson of old Sir Thomas Lucy —his wife, and six children, painted by Cornelius Jansen, while on a visit here. The two youngest boys have also portraits in the hall, — Sir Fulke and Sir Richard Lucy. Besides those there are also various portraits of the Lucy family, all, however, of very secondary interest, — the rare old Knight, so honoured and immortalized in his wrath of poaching, being the hero of the house. The scene of the pretended deer-stealing exploit is stated to have been the old park of Fulbrook, now demolished, situate on the road leading to Warwick ; and it was in its hall that he is said to have been brought up for examination. The house has been much enlarged and embellished during the present century, two good rooms facing the river, a dining and drawing room, having been built. Besides the pictures in the hall, there are some good pictures scattered through the various rooms. Prior to the Norman invasion, the lordship of Charlecote, — or Cerlecote, as it appears from the Domesday Book the name was then written, — was then pos- sessed by one Saxi, and it was subsequently held by the Earl of Mellent. It would seem to have derived its appellation from some ancient Saxon possessor, Ceorle being a name not infrequently met with in very early times. From the Earl of Mellent, Charlecote, with the rest of his lands, passed to his brother, Henry de Newburg, Earl of Warwick, and were in- herited by Henry's son Roger, Earl of Warwick, a partisan of the Empress Maud, and a munificent benefactor to the church, who enfeoffed Thurstane de Montfort with large possessions in the county of Warwick, of which Charlecote formed a minor portion. The estate of Charlecote was subsequently given by Henry de Montfort to Walter, the son of Thurstane de Charlecote, and the grant was confirmed by Richard L, who " added divers immunities and privi- leges," all of which were ratified by King John in 1203. InDugdale's " Antiquities" we read, " It is not unlikely that the said Thurstane de Cherlecote was a younger son of the before- specified Thurstane de Montfort ; for, that he was paternally a Montfort, the MS. his- tory of Wroxall importeth, and that the same Thurstane was his father, not only the likeli- EARLY HISTORY OF THE LUCYS. 297 hood in time, but his Christian name doth very much argue." Walter de Charlecote left at his decease a son, William, who changed his name to Lucy, about the close of the twelfth century, — a change Sir William Dugdale accounts for by the supposition that his mother was an heiress of some branch of the Norman family which bore that designa- tion. This gallant knight took up arms with the barons against King John, when all his lands were seized by the Crown; but returning to his allegiance, he had a full restoration in the first year of the ensuing reign. From him descended in direct suc- cession a long line of worthy knights, each of whom was greatly distinguished in the mili- of Shakespeare has, however, gained for him more notoriety than any of the honours he enjoyed. The family bore for their arms three luces (pikefish) hauriant (T argent, in the person of William, who, as above stated, assumed the name of Lucy; so that Shake- speare is sufficiently warranted in satirically causing Justice Shallow to affirm that his is " an old coat." "All his ancestors that come after him," says Slender, another member of this ancient family, " may give the dozen white luces in their coat." — " Merry Wives of Windsor," act i., scene 1. It is said that in Shakespeare's day deer could not have been stolen from the pre- serves of Charlecote Park. However this tary proceedings of the period, whilst the family bore eminent sway in that part of the country through many generations. During the Wars of the Roses, the Lucys arrayed themselves under the banner of the House of York, and at the battle of Stoke, Edmund Lucy commanded a division of the Royal Army. His great-grandson, Sir Thomas Lucy, in the first year of Queen Elizabeth's reign, rebuilt the manor-house of Charlecote as it now stands. He was an active justice of the peace, was knighted in the seventh year of Queen Elizabeth, and sat for some time in Parliament as one of the representatives of his native county. His alleged persecution may have been, there are many hundreds now, both of the fallow and red kind, the latter dangerous to wayfarers. Judging from the herds fed on the land by the present head of the Lucy family, the deer thrive wonderfully, and although it has not fallen to the lot of the writer to taste a haunch of the real Charlecote article, they look very inviting. Through a long life-study of the materials afforded for a biography of Shakespeare, the writer's sole endeavour has been to deal truthfully and fairly with every feature, to dismiss the manifestly absurd and grossly inconsistent statements and conclusions hitherto prevalent, and grafted on to his PP 298 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. name as matter of course, through gene- rations without question. The religious feature of the time has had more to do with the creation of difficulties and hindrances than either party will admit, so also we may con- clude that the Puritan party, after the great master's passing away from the world, have most to answer for in the nakedness of material. Sir Thomas Lucy was a narrow and extreme, a persecuting and almost fanatical Protestant, and many events had happened to intensify his bitterness against presumed Romanists. In particular, Mary Shakespeare's family connexions — the Ardens upon Sir Thomas Lucy. His intensely vindictive feeling was exemplified a little later by his bringing forward a motion in Parliament in favour of devising some new and lingering tortures for the execution of a prisoner. As the historian Froude puts it : M Sir Thomas Lucy — Shakespeare's Lucy, of Parkhall — had been con- victed of conspiracy against the Queen's life. The son-in- law of Edward Arden, John Somerville, a rash and " hot- spirited young gentleman," instigated by Hall, the family priest, had formed the design of going to London and assas- sinating Queen Elizabeth with his own hand. He started on his journey in November, 1583, but talked so incau- tiously by the way, that he was arrested, conveyed to the Tower, and, under a threat of the rack, confessed everything, accusing his father-in-law as an accomplice, and the priest as the instigator of the crime. All three were tried and convicted. Somerville strangled himself in prison, and Edward Arden was hanged at Tyburn. These events produced a deep impression in Warwickshire, and especially ot iff. ^ / . the original, perhaps, of Justice Shallow — with an English fierceness at the bottom of his stupid nature, proposed in the House of Commons that some new law should be de- vised for an execution. John Shakespeare, there is no doubt,, had, from various circum- THE SYMPATHIES EVOKED BY GENIUS. 299 stances, become an irregular attendant at church, in fact,had altogether ceased to attend at all ; his wife's family, there is no doubt, had been strong Romanists, proved by the terrible calamity which had befallen the family, so that altogether the ban had been put upon them, and they had been for a long time sus- pects. Sir Thomas would resent John Shake- speare's known profuse hospitality as alder- man and bailiff, and especially his official all time after the grave had enfolded their remains in its unbroken silence ! There is a wide blank in our knowledge of John and Mary Shakespeare. He is known to us mainly by the partial brightness, or the occasional dark shadow, which his name casts over old passionless records. The mother of the poet must naturallv form for us an object of more eager interest. We should all be glad to know how far the intellect or the character Chapel patronage of the players and active manage- ment of their dramatic representations in the Guildhall. The Puritans had a rooted anti- pathy to the stage, and to the jaundiced eye of the local justice the reverses of the Shakespeares would probably appear as a judgment on their way of life. How wide are the sympathies evoked by genius, and how long is the trail of its glory ! We have all we want of the least important lives, and dead silence regarding others. How little these people could have dreamt in their lifetime of the restless curiosity which was to pursue their memories during of the young phenomenon was influenced by her fine sense of loving tenderness, but in the obscurity in which she has disappeared, it would be vain to indulge this curiosity. Not a word, or a look, or a gesture of hers pierces the night of ages to light up for a moment her image. How endless is the series of petty fatalities which conspired to remove the great author, as far as possible, beyond the reach of what is. regarded as direct and definite knowledge. 300 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Old House in Warwick. At various points we think we are about to touch him, and then some strange object intervenes, and, like a darkness flitting through the air, casts his image into remote and indistinct shadow. The impersonality of his dramatic genius seems to follow him in his life. Now we come across his name in the writings of some contemporary, and naturally expect that its introduction will lead to some notice of his character; but the account is withheld, as if it could only refer to some topic which was already universally known. It certainly is not from a want of biographers or of critics, that any mystery still hangs over Shakespeare's memory. No other writer, perhaps, that ever lived has been the object of half so much minute and patient and varied research. Englishmen, however, owed it to the fame of their wonderful poet that they should endeavour to shed every accessible light on his life and his labours ; and we have all some reason to feel grateful to the men who have with such toil devoted themselves to this undertaking. Now, after three centuries, the truth of Shakespeare's delineation of the men of the class chosen for characters in his plays is wondrously evident. Go into what may be called the general room of either of the old Inns at Stratford at an hour when peasant serving men and the maids are congregated, and we are pretty sure to get the experience of many phases of human life illustrated there by he living, at that moment, just as it had been by Shakespeare, three centuries since. Generally in such cases it is easy to iden- tify, at least in aspect, many with the Shakespearean character. Yonder, for in- stance, though in no parti-coloured suit, is a veritable Touchstone, whose sayings are always an odd admixture of quaintness and shrewd wisdom ; close by him was his Audrey, a buxom, wholesome-blooded young woman, who in her native simplicity of heart could exclaim, " The gods give us joy," with as much earnestness as her prototype of Arden was wont to do. There also was another old Adam, a grandsire of seventy winters, to whom winter itself had not been over-tyrannous, but who was lusty still. Nor is this all. Hitherto it may have been that the lighter muse of Shakespeare affords illustration in this famous room, just as it had been, many years since, in a place not very far distant. But there is a little of the more serious hue. Behold it in yon very aged man, sometimes almost senile in his speech, gracious and petulant by turns, and who, as it is getting near the midnight hour, lapses into a sort of semi-slumber, mumbling all the time fragments of broken sentences. Is not he the Lear of humble life ? Yes. Has he a Cordelia ? Yes to that as well. Where ? There, just entered the apartment ; the youngest of his children, who seeks him out tenderly, wraps him up well, and leads him from the old, harmless resort, to his home, carefully as mother ever tended her baby, Shakespeare ! type of the universal 1 Another proof of what thou art, even here. SHAKESPEARE ASSOCIATIONS ALL GENTLE. 30 1 To endeavour to touch upon the larger and more august aspect of Shakespeare's life — when, as his wonderful sonnets betray, his great heart had felt the devastating blast of cruel passions, and the deepest knowledge of the good and evil of the universe had been borne in upon his soul — would be impious presumption. Happily, to the stroller in Stratford, every association con- nected with him is gentle and tender. His image, as it rises there, is of smiling boyhood, or sedate and benignant maturity, always either joyous or serene, never passionate, or turbulent, or dark. The pilgrim thinks of him as a happy child at his father's fireside ; as a wondering schoolboy in the quiet, venerable close of the old Guild Chapel, where still the only sound that breaks the to the most rigid of all tests — the pecuniary standard. According to the old fable, when Mercury wanted to know in what account he stood in this lower world, he went to an image shop, and found to his disgust that the purchaser of any respectable deity might have him into the bargain. On these occa- sions it was the worshippers who mustered to compete for the relics of the divine poet — not his bones or his garments, but his first, second, third, and even fourth editions. The well-known gallery in Wellington Street, which is so dangerous to enter, unless you are prepared to bid against deputations from the whole human race, was crammed to excess throughout all the day. Mr. George Daniel's Shakespearean library, collected with so much care and cost, was to be scat- KENILWORTH, IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME '. FROM AN OLD ENGRAVING. silence is the chirp of birds or the creaking of the church vane, singing the wail of mutation ; as a handsome, dauntless youth, sporting by his beloved river, or roaming through field and forest many miles about ; as the bold, adventurous spirit, bent on frolic, and possibly a little mischief, and not averse to danger, leading, perhaps, the wild lads of his village in their poaching depreda- tions on the park of Charlecote. Who will deny the wondrously increasing interest in whatever pertains to England's poet of mankind ? The value of copies of original editions of plays published during his lifetime seems to defy all estimate. Tuesday, the 26th January, 1864, was a great day in Shakespearean annals, for it appealed tered to the wide world. First one inap- preciable treasure was offered to universal competition, then another; and the result justified the solemnity of the occasion. Thin little quartos, the mere librettos of per- formances at the Globe or at Blackfriars — for it is hallowed ground on which we ourselves stand — went for £300 apiece, some a good deal more. In the last generation biblio- mania was a mania, and the stupid outside world looked with amazement on a few gentlemen, with more money than wit, throwing away fortunes on mouldy, worm- eaten, unreadable little books, that had nothing to recommend them, it was sup- posed, but their rarity, sometimes the just measure of their use. But bibliomania is 3° 2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. no mania in these days, in any point of view. These findings from old chests and gather- ings from old bookstalls, that fortunate men picked up for nothing and sold for ^20 or ^30, are now worth ten or twenty times as much. No doubt the buyers have greatly multiplied, while the article is in its nature a fixed quantity. The unique and perfect first edition of a great work is a gem which cannot be reproduced or repeated. It is a Koh-i-noor which remains one and the same, while its admirers are continually more numerous and more wealthy. But this is not all. Mind is rising in the market. Soul is in the ascendant. The divine gifts are at a premium. It is time that spiritual things should have a turn ; nature has had a fear- fully long spell. The prices fetched would have astonished even the Dihdins of that period. Many of the with which we invest the merest trifle that once belonged to a great man. The British Museum did not neglect the opportunity, which, in the nature of things, is less likely to return year by year, as treasures of this sort are gradually, but finally, absorbed into great collections. They may pass from one private hand to another, but the national library is a bourne from which no such tra- veller ever returns. For a few more years, the ipsissima verba, the very leaves of our great poet, will fly from shelf to shelf, and have a career of adventure — perhaps, though we doubt it, their falls as well as their rises in the market ; but, once lodged in the great public receptacle, they find their rest — we hope not their grave — to the end of mortal time ; unless, indeed, we should relapse into barbarism or fanaticism. Close upon Shakespeare leaving the place WARWICK CASTLE, AS IN SHAKESPEARE S TIME '. FROM AN OLD PRINT. separate plays were knocked down at a good deal more than three hundred guineas, and, we will venture to say, are as good specu- lations as houses and lands ! Till we plunge into barbarism again, they must bear an increasing value. The world bids for them. One of two similar copies of an original edition of the Sonnets that Narcissus Lut- trell gave a shilling for was knocked down to an American for 215 guineas. Well done, Brother Jonathan ; we wish you were spend- ing a little more of your money in dividing with us the relics of the greatest of poets. He belongs to you as much as to us, and it is a bond of union when other bonds fail. But these are more than relics, and have more than the purely sentimental character of his birth and entering on a London career, his greatness dawned. At such a moment a stranger asks, Who is the man, and where was he born, and where does he live, that not only his acts and scenes are placed in any age or in any land, but that he can fill his stage with the very living men of the time and place represented ; make them move as easily as if he held them in strings ; and make them speak not only with general conformity to their common position, but with individual and distinctive propriety, so that each is different from the rest ? Did he live in ancient Rome, strolling the Forum or climbing the Capitol ; hear ancient matrons converse with modest dignity; listen to conspirators among the columns of its UBIQUITY OF SHAKESPEARE'S SYMPATHIES. 3°3 porticoes; mingle among Senators around Pompey's statue ; or with plebeians crowding to hear Brutus or Anthony harangue ? Was he accustomed to idle in the piazza of St. Mark, or shoot his gondola under the Rialto ? Or was he a knight or even archer in the fields of France or England during the period of the Plantagenets or Tudors, and witnessed and wrote down the great deeds of those times, and knew intimately and personally each puissant lord who dis- tinguished himself by his valour, by his wisdom, or even by his crimes ? Did he live in the courts of princes, perchance hold- ing some office which enabled him to listen to the grave utterances of kings and their councillors, or to the witty sayings of court jesters ? Did he consort with banished princes, and partake of their sports and their sufferings ? In fine, did he live in great however, in no way attached to the hostel- ries, which in Shakespeare's day were models of comfort, and frequently tempting to those possessed of means. " Mine host " is believed to have connived at road blockades as a means of prolonging guests' sojourn. Of horses pretendedly equal of transport, there was no lack, and a journey to London was of all other vanquishers of ennui the alternative most in favour. Shakespeare, there is no doubt, knew the road well, and was not indifferent to its wayside hilari- ments. He had often speeded it as Walter Roche's law-lieutenant, and, in the action of his father against John Lambert the personal attendance of the plaintiff is requested " before your good lordship in Her Majesty's highness Court of Chancery." The poet's cousin, Thomas Greene, and his friend Richard Quiney, and others of the neigh- DNT TO KING JOHN IN WORCESTER CATHEDRAL. cities, or in shepherds' cottages, or in fields and woods; and does he date from John and live on to the Eighth Henry — a thread connecting in himself the different epochs of mediaeval England? This ubiquity of Shakespeare's sympathies constitutes the un- limited extent and might of his dramatic genius. Where shall a boundary line be drawn, beyond which nothing original, new, and beautiful could be supposed to have come forth from his mind ? The world says his genius was inexhaustible. To Newton was given the sway over the science of the civilized world; to Shakespeare the sove- reignty over its literature. Allusion to the difficulties of travel conse- quent on the frequent impassable condition of the roads has already been made. Such, bourhood of Stratford, frequently went to London, and Shakespeare's granddaughter, Elizabeth Hall, at a later period, undertook the journey as a young girl, to pay a visit to friends. Falstaff, in " King Henry IV." (part ii., act 4) boasts of having " speeded hither with the very extremest inch of possibility ; I have foundered nine score and odd posts." Harrison tells us of the then inn comforts, that " each comer is sure to lie in clean sheets, wherein no man hath been lodged since they came from the laundress, or out of the water wherein they were last washed. If the traveller have a horse, his bed doth cost him nothing, but if he go on foot he is sure to pay a penny for the same. But whether he be horseman or footman, if his chamber be once appointed, he may carry 304 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. the key with him as of his own house, so long as he lodgeth there. If he lose aught whilst he abideth in the inn, the host is bound, by a general custom, to restore the damage, so that there is no greater security anywhere for travellers than in the greatest inns of England." Life was pleasant in these old hostelries, travellers being regaled with songs and music during their repasts. At the time of his departure there were two roads to London, the one went by Edge Hill, Drayton, Banbury, Buckingham, " Canterbury Tales." From Woodstock, he would proceed to Oxford, where he would visit and admire the colleges and halls, and thence on by way of High Wycombe and Uxbridge to London. There is much of temptation to wander among the wondrous castle of Warwick, the ruins of Kenilworth, the ancient towns of Worcester, Warwick and Coventry, for, in all of these he drank of instances the after sub- jects of his dramatic creations. Mention must be made as in the olden recital that "a great Aylesbury, Amersham, and Uxbridge ; the other, and in all probability the One by which Shakespeare travelled, passed by Shipston-on-Stour to Woodstock, where the castle and park, with its historical past, must in various ways have appealed to the young poet's imagination, for it was at Woodstock that Fair Rosamond was kept in concealment by Henry II. ; it was here that Edward III. had resided, and where Queen Elizabeth had been a prisoner before her accession to the throne ; above all, it was there also that Chaucer wrote his immortal cliff on the western bank of the Avon, was made choyce of by a pious man S. Dubritius (who, in the Britons' time had his episcopal seat at Warwick) for a place of devotion ; where he built an oratory dedicated toS. Mary Magd., unto which, long after, in the Saxon dayes, did a devout heremite repair; who, finding the natural rock so proper for his cell, and the pleasant grove, wherewith it isback'd, yielding entertainment fit for solitude, seated himself here, which advantages invited also the famous Guy (sometime E. of Warwick) after his notable achievements, having THE ORATORY ON GUY'S CLIFF. 3°5 weaned himself from the deceitful pleasures of this world, to retire hither : where, receiv- ing ghostly comfort from the heremite, he abode till his death. It continued in the same condition for a long time afterwards. In 8 E. 3. one Thomas de Lewes, being a heremite here, had the King's letters of protec- tion for himself and all his goods. Whether it was out of respect to the memory of the famous Guy, or to view the rareness of its situation, cannot be said, but certain it is, that K. Henry 5, being on a time at Warw., came to see it, and did determine to have the first priests for whose maintenance, and their successors, the said Earl, in 9 H. 6, had license to grant the Manour of Athorne in this county, with one mess., one carucate of land, and CXVIIs. Xd. ob. yearly rent lying in Whitnash and Wellsburne. And because he thought not that enough, by his last Will and Testament he ordained that in all hast after his decease, the remnant of what he had designed for his chantry priests there should by his executors be delivered, and made sure to them : and that the chapel there, with the other building, should be new GUYS CLIFF : FROM AN OLD PRINT. founded a chantry here for 2 priests, had he not been by death prevented. After which the before specified Rich. Beauchamp, E. of Warw., bearing a great devotion to the place, whereupon then stood nothing but a small chapel, and a cottage in which the heremite dwelt, in 1 H. 6, obtained license to do the like for 2 priests, which should sing mass in the chapel there daily, for the good estate of the said Earl and his wife, during their lives ; and afterwards for the health of their souls, and the souls of all their parents, friends, with all the faithful deceased. Of which chantry Will. Berkswell (after- wards Dean of the Collegiate-Church in Warw.) and one John Bevington, were built, as he, the said Earl, had devised, for the wholsom and convenient dwelling of those priests. The costs of all which, with the consecration of the two altars therein, as appeareth by the accounts of the said executors, from the 28 to the 37 H. 6, amounted unto CLXXXIIII/. W. ob. Then did Earl Richard, in memory of the warlike Guy, erect that large statue there yet to be seen on the south side within that chapel, and having raised a roof over the adjacent springs walled them with stone. "A place this is of so great delight, in respect of the river gliding below the rock, the dry and wholesome situation, and the fair grove of lofty elms overshadowing 99 306 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. it, that to one who desireth a retired life, either for his devotions or study, the like is hardly to be found, as Leland in his MS, Itinerary, made temp. H. 8., doth well observe. It is a house (saith he) of pleasure, a place meet for the Muses : There is silence, a pretty wood, Autra in vivo saxo, the river rouling over the stones with a pretty noyse. " Several caves are there hewen out of the firm rock, one of which, if we may believe tradition, was made b} 7 the renowned Guy, when he was an heremite here. " The chapel here was dedicated to S. Mary Magd., as the grant thereof by 2 Eliz. to John Colburne in 22 of her reign mani- festeth ; and is in the parish of S. Nich. in the suburbs of Warwick. This John wedded the said Kath., the daughter and sole heir of day had to contend in being shorn of all scenic and other, to us, essential helps with which any, or the least taking, performance is now decked. The great gulf now between actors did not then exist ; the ablest were content to take secondary parts, and instead of a strife for the opinion of the play-going world, the aim with all was to secure perfectitude of production as a whole. What sort of presentation would now be made of " Hamlet " or " Romeo and Juliet," devoid of existing stage adjuncts ? Could an audience in a Globe or Blackfriars, if dependent solely on the powers of the actors, be held for an hour ? Plays, as then rendered, hung altogether on the capability of the actors, first to awaken interest and then to sustain it. There must have been high finish in every man's work, a mastery of the art by each 7//E SOUTH PROSPECT OF THE CITY ~M V OF COVENTRY JN irARltrTCKSHIRL From ve\ old print. Will. Flammock before mentioned. And of him was it purchased by Will. Hudson of Warwick." TRUE SHAKESPEAREAN ART. It is well, when arriving at the point of Shakespeare setting out for London, we should understand the then position of players. They were by no means the class of men as generally understood in our day. As a rule they were the best educated of the community, and as students of a population quite equal to the best of our performers, allowance being made for the little aid given them in their art. Let an actor, who would honestly realize the real comparative difficulties of the situation, picture to himself the heavy odds against which his fellows of Shakespeare's member assuming a part. There was no escape from the all-round nakedness ; it was an Ovidian void, an utter absence of suggestiveness of any visible kind ; all rested on the actors' individual capability of im- pressing words and actions as the plot de- veloped, a very mastery, in fact, of Hamlet's instructions of what to do and how to do it. None but a fool propounds the question, Was Shakespeare a great actor ? He has condensed into a few words the whole theatrical art. The more voluminous becomes human criticism, the more, in contrast, stands out his marvellous epitome of everything needed. Amid the bare walls of the Globe, any imperfect rendering even of less important characters, would mar the whole, the understandings of the pit would have been thrown out of gear ; there existed ACTORS IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME. 3°7 no subsidiary to restore consciousness ; mani- festly, therefore, each man had to prove himself a hard worker of none but hard work. A Romeo with a male Juliet strug- gling against nature and the difficulties of sex, to yield any approach to adequate render- ing of the great author's meanings, seems, under such surroundings, beyond the power of human achievement. Let the overweening pride of our day humble itself in these remembrances. There exist no Garricks among us now, though we are not deficient of would-be faithful men desirous of avoiding clap-trap fireworks as substitutes for honest study work, and who realize that their great exemplar Garrick was a zealous student time, tells us, " the stage is so well reform'd in England, and grown to that height of language and gravity of style, dependency of parts, possibility of plot, compasse of time and fullnesse of wit, that it was not anywhere to be equall'd, nor are the contrivers ashamed to permit their playes (as they were acted) to the public censure, where they stand firme, and are read with as much satisfaction as when presented on the stage they were with applause and honour." Who can enhance the pleasures to playgoers of the fifteen hundred and ninetieth year of grace, had a Siddons or a Rachel been vouchsafed to them ? We, who have had brought home to us the never-to-be-forgotten guy's cliff : from an old print. of his art from first to last, and who, when having lived his sixty years, was as eager and earnest in endeavour to throw new light on a character as on the day of its first impersonation. No man ever mastered Shakespeare's golden rules as he ; it was study without any relaxation whatever, the close of an unrivalled career stamped with earnest yearning that every performer working in conjunction with him should be up to the mark of need. Let us, then, not underrate the excellence of the stage in Shakespeare's day of simplicity of " get-up," or, rather, the utter absence of all such. There need be no ignorance of what it really was. Gayton, a writer of the voice and perfect refinement of bearing and action of Helen Faucit (Lady Martin), can alone estimate the privation of those Shake- speare generations who knew not woman as the all-pervading light of representations, occasioning such trances of delight. A perfect artist in every sense of the wcrd, Lady Martin's gifts are not restricted to the stage ; her pen, through its exquisite delineations of the great master's female characters, has transmitted to the world forms of beauty and purity, by her alone unfolded, the which shall go down to future generations as necessitous accompaniments to the divine creation of the great teacher who must ever reign supreme. 3oS SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. It would seem that no endeavours of " Glorious Queen Bess " could win to her the heart of " the greatest writer of all mankind." Even when the spirit had passed away at Richmond, his powers rested unmoved, and he was upbraided by his contemporaries for lack of loyalty. He felt deeply this unmerited wound, but it failed to move his pen ; even the more than hints of obligations to his Sovereign for gracious favours could not be made to rouse him. At this distance of time, when the history of Elizabeth's reign becomes more truthfully regarded, the separation of her more than wisdom in her people and country's govern- ance, from her nature and character as a woman, is avoided, and Shakespeare, with his wondrous penetration, saw both sides of her character; his admiration of the one was so deeply shadowed by the other as to hold his hand from any expression of feeling and sorrow at her death unless it rose spontaneously from the heart. Moreover, he shrunk from being made the record of future history (and he knew well what the world's estimate of himself would be), as placing her on the highest pinnacle of historic fame ; probably he would have yielded if wisdom in rule and strength of will in maintenance of her country's supre- macy had stood alone before his judgment seat. There were other features all powerful over his deeply domestic affectioned nature dominating to hold the silence he could never afterwards be induced to break. Where lives the man who, with these thoughts passing through the mind, would resist the joy of a moment's glance at Britain's rare blessing in the union of the heart's every wish in the domestic lives of the Sovereign and her family ? This beauty of history shall some day be told in charms worthy as a beacon for all peoples and families. Sir Theodore Martin, through his life of Albert the Good, has laid the concrete foundation ; the structure thereon to be erected by future generations shall be worthy of the stone so well and truly laid. There will not be wanting an}' of the holiest features of family domestic life : not the least will shine forth a devoted daughter, who, through years of a mother's deepest sorrow, gave her entire life's hours and heart- devotion to alleviate her griefs as in caring through participating in the heavy daily duties of a nation's executive. These are far heavier than her people know or can realize. We can, however, all rejoice in the bestowal of a Beatrice to ease the burden and share its toils. PASSENGERS TO AND FROM SOUTHWARK. 3°9 SHAKESPEARE IN LONDON. F the myriads of human beings who on every day of the year pass over London Bridge, yield- ing it homage as one of the greatest thoroughfares of the world, a very infinitesimal few give heed to the thought that, within a few paces of the foot- fall of every individual travers- ing the bridge to or from the Surrey side, stands one of the only two antique examples of pure Gothic architecture extant within the boundaries of the Metropolis proper, the minster abbey of St. Peter's sharing the dignity under the name of Westminster Abbey. Here, right in the centre of busy, struggling Southwark, stands one of the stateliest monuments of ancient times, built in and above by bridge approaches, so that the occasional one who can spare a moment from the anxious thought for bread or gain has to look down over a parapet wall to gather even a glance at its sacred 3io SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. precincts. St. Mary Overie, its sweet name in Shakespeare's day, has given way to St. Saviour with the many; with the Shake- speareans, the old temple will never lose the name by which alone it was known of yore, and there are no buildings in England, save the Church of Holy Trinity and the Chapel of the Holy Guild at Stratford-on-Avon, so identified with Shakespeare's life as this. Here it stood when old "Dan" Chaucer and his pilgrims started from the " Tabard " hos- telrie, close by, on their pilgrimages to the shrine of Thomas a Becket at Canterbury. Westminster Abbey and St. Mary Overies exist to us through the great conflagration of London never having reached them. Prior to the great fire, although ancient London abounded in Gothic churches, including the CatViedral of St. Paul, occupying the site of the present Cathedral of the same name, yet few escaped the conflagration of 1666. In Shakespeare's day, the river laved the churchyard wall, and at soring-tides would exceed the bound of the ferry, which gave its ancient name, St. Mary Overie, and until the moon's mandate for retiring would, during several twelve hours, defyingly water the graves around the sanctuary. In the time of this holy temple-building very many churches were dedicated to the maiden mother of the " Light of the world," so numerous that England was called " Our Lady's Dower." The name " Overie " comes from the old Saxon name " rye," which means a ford across a river, whether crossed by a boat or on foot. Before and at the period of the first foundation of this ancient church, there was not any bridge across the Thames at the site of the existing or pre- vious bridge, or, indeed, at any of the points of present bridge structures. There was, however, a " rye " or ferry there, and a sort of religious romance attached to it through one of the general workers of the boat being the ferryman's daughter, named Mary. She has passed down as a woman given to piety and good works, and practi- cally testified the reality of her religion by the expenditure of her acquired worldly means in the honour and glory of the Bestower. Time has exaggerated into idle fable much of this good maiden's life and deeds. Her father had held the ferry through a long series of years, and the busi- ness, being one of large profit acquisition had acquired considerable wealth. At his death Mary became its sole possessor. This humble maiden was led to found and even endow a church at the southern end of the ferry, which she dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and which from its site bore the name of "St. Mary Over Rye," or across the ferry. At the time of Mary helping her father and plying her oar for the navigation of the river's wide expanse, there existed a small rude church and humble priory at the point. Doubtless she had realized their blessings, and made a resolve under the Almighty will to enlarge both to the extent of the means bestowed. The then existing priory and church are said to have been founded by William Pont de l'Arche and William Dauney, both being Norman knights. St. Mary Overies is identified with the history of English literature in the persons of several famous men ; and as the mauso- leum of the poet Gower, whose works would EDWARD INTERRED IN ST. MARY OVERIES. 3" be a loved study of Shakespeare, it is more than reasonable it would be one of the first sacred shrines he visited on his settling in London, possibly the temple in which he regularly worshipped. Afterwards it became doubly sacred to him, for it was to this hallowed shrine he brought the earthly remains of his dear brother and fellow-worker Edmond, who died in Southwark in his 28th year, and, as is believed, residing up to the day of his death with the immortal. Edmond rests in the centre aisle, the stone marking the spot being simply inscribed, " Edmond Shakespeare. Died December, 1607." Biographers assume that Edmond followed the pursuit of an actor, and was attached to his brother's company, but there is no evidence whatever in proof of this. His name does not appear in any of the associations of this time, nor is any mention made of him among the characters of any of the pla3's, notwithstanding that particulars of such are more detailed and pre- cise than anything connected with the great dramatist's pursuits in London. Alleyne's descendants held that Edmond Shakespeare was his brother's business executant in the management of his theatrical concerns, the most likely of all conclusions. What a world's inestimable treasure would ba a record of that funeral procession of brothers in literature and actors of the time, with whom the mighty one was associated as joint labourers, forming the solemn funeral procession winding through the even then ancient temple, headed by the world's greatest dramatist as chief mourner, to the centre aisle, to the open grave awaiting the occupant for whom, under a brother's truly affectionate personal presence and direction, it had been prepared. Can any such precious lineaments, subjects of admiration amounting almost to worship for mankind to the end of time, be imagined as those of the great master in this hour of deep sorrow, bad the transmis- sion been vouchsafed ? But it was not to be. The personality was not to come nearer the after generations of mankind ; the fact of his presence at his brother's grave is the nearest approach permitted. St. Mary Overies, hal- lowed of time, on that funeral day, testi- fied to the heart's bitterness of one whose grief was of no ordinary kind. Outward respect was not omitted, evidenced by the parish records mention of the tolling of the great bell and use of the funeral pall on the occasion. Around that grave would beranged most of the greatest writers of the time, for the rapidity with which the great author had poured forth his wonderful conceptions, the endless profusion of his genius, the consum- mate judgment and knowledge of his art and its requirements, had excited the wonder and envy of his rivals. Their products of necessity or the impulse of passion could not keep pace with his creations, in whom the deliberate energy, the studiousness, the conscious reti- cence of the artist were as conspicuous as the fertility of his imagination and the impetuosity of his genius. Though daily mingling among them in the business of the theatres, he stood apart on a higher platform, for the greatness of his genius as a dramatist had been recognised from the first. The church registers then re- corded the hideous ravages of the Great Plague ; under its walls then slept many a knight and crusader; in the floors of its gruesome dark vaults the carved stones spoke to him of great and noble houses gone to dust below. St. Mary Overies would be specially im- pressionable to the mind of Shakespeare through its connection with the memory of the Royal poet, King James I. of Scotland, who led his bride to the nuptial altar in this 312 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE, church a century later than the time of Gower. This gallant Scottish prince, the first of the family of Royal Stuarts who bore the name of " James," subsequently so popular in the family, was the son of King Robert III., who was himself the great grandson of King Robert Bruce by the " distaff line." What fane for worship so pleasurable to England's master mind, and, moreover, close to his Southwark home ? His mind would revert to James having accom- panied Henry V. in 1417 on his second mar- tial expedition to France, which resulted in the conquest of Normandy and the English JAMES I. MARRIED IN ST. MARY OVERIES. 3i3 king's marriage with the Princess Katherine, the daughter of Charles VI. of France. James was freed by Henry V. on giving bondage for the payment of ^40,000 as ransom, and, returning to his native land, ascended the throne. James's association with " St. Mary Overies " thus came about : — During the Prince's incarceration in Windsor Castle, he occupied a chamber, the window of which looked out upon a flower garden. Here one day the Prince saw a very beautiful young lady walking, whose charms at once made a deep impression on the susceptible heart of the young Prince. This was the Lady Joanna Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, son of John of Gaunt, Shakespeare's " time- honoured Lancaster." Prince James sang the lady's praise in poetic strains of great merit, and was united to her in nuptial bonds before the altar of the church of St. Mary Overie, just before his return to Scotland. Shakespeare would know full well his literary ability as that he proved a wise legis- lator and a good king, who had the prosperity of his people at heart. The earlier biographers of Shakespeare were not equal to the recognising of the wide distinctions between him and the other dramatists of his age, and so have disgraced themselves by attaching to his goodand gentle character other features than his great naturalness and the being opposed to their cumbrous pedantry. We must come down to the opinions of more modern times, when the poets and all great thinkers humbly acknowledge his superiority, in fact, a grand natural phenomena like the sun or ocean or the stars. Robert Greene, one of the " University Pens," had made in his youth what was known as the grand tour, and brought back with him the loosest habits and worst vices of the Continent. He em- barked at an early age in the full tide of London dissipation, wrote novels, or what was known as love-pamphlets — very ques- tionable publications — married a lady, and deserted her after spending her fortune; and then sank lower and lower in the profligate dens of the capital, till he fell to an abyss of demoralization from which he never recovered. In his last illness he wrote a tract called "The Repentance of Robert Greene," in which he confessed all his sins with a frankness more astonishing than that of Rousseau. His death was an appropriate close to such a career. Reduced to the lowest depths of distress and degradation, deserted by the gay companions who had banqueted with him in more prosperous hours, he was found lodging at the house of a struggling shoemaker in Dowgate, and indebted to the poor cobbler for the bare necessities of life. He was then not more than about 32 years of age. One night there was a debauch, at which Greene was present ; the entertainment consisted of pickled herrings and Rhenish wine; and Greene, probably from previous want, ate and drank to such excess, that the surfeit was followed by sickness, which terminated in his death. The strangest part of the tragedy was this: The poor shoemaker's /•*' u 3H SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. 0^ tH.Vi HF*fr wife, who had nursed him in his illness, and had all throughout tended him with such help as she could out of her miserable resources, now that his corpse lay in her house, gave a touching evidence of her respect for his genius by crowning his dead body with a garland of bays, to show that a tenth muse honoured him more, being dead, than all the nine had honoured him while he lived. No one has contributed so much by the discovery of documents solving mys- teries in Shakespeare's life as the late Haliwell Phil- lips. He had the good fortune to discover a re- markable and unique series of documents respecting the two theatres with which the poet was connected. They even include lists of the original proprietors and sharers. Shakespeare's name does not occur in those lists. Mr. Haliwell Phillips furnishes the texts of those passages in which the great dramatist is ex- pressly mentioned, notices by far the most interest- ing of anything yet brought to light. The sons of James Burbage are speaking in an affidavit. They tell us that, after re- linquishing their theatrical speculation in Shoreditch, they " built the Globe with summes of money taken up at interest, which lay heavy on us many yeires, and to ourselves we joyned those men, Shakspere, Crudall, Phil- lips, and others, partners in what they call the ••■\ House." As to the Black- friars, they say, " Our fathe* purchased it at extreame rates, and made it into a play-house with great charge and troble, which afterwards was leased out to one Evans, that first sett up the boyes commonly called the Queen's Majesti's Children of the Chappele. In processe of time, the boyes growing up to be men, it was considered thatt house would be as fitt for a play, and soe purchased the lease from Evans with our money, and placed men players, which were Hemings, Condell, Shakespeare, and Richard Burbage." These important evidences contradict all recent theories and opinions respecting Shake- speare's business connection with the theatres. The poet Gower's monument in the south transept is of Gothic style, covered with three arches, the roof within springing into many angles, under which lies the statue of the poet ^i ^it mrnewmmQimmint «i ■ ; ^e/^s' J*\r £r-)£\t*C^ coro- thus in a long purple gown ; on his head a net of roses, resting on three folios titled, Vox Clamantis, Speculum Meditantis, and Confessio Amantis. About his neck a collar of SS's, and his feet resting on a lion ; over which, on the side of the monument, are his arms, pendent by the dexter corner, from a very antique cap ; his crest, as borne by those who exercised on foot, in jousts and tourna- ments. At the back are three figures of women the poet goweks monument. 3*5 with ducal coronets on their heads, represent- ing Charity, Mercy, and Pity, adorned with scrolls of gold, on which is written the follow- ing lines : — Pour ta Pitie Jesu regarde Et tiens cestAme en saufve Garde. For thy pity, Jesu, have regard, And put this soul in safeguard. Oh, bon Jesu,faite Mercy AV Amedontle Corps gist icy. O good Jesu, show thy mercy to the soul whose body lies here. En toy quies Fitz de Dieu le Pere, Saufve oit qui gist sous cest Pierre. In thee who art the Son of God the Father, be he saved who lies under this stone. He was descended from Sir Robert Gower, Knight of Brabourne in Kent. By the collar about the neck of his statue, it appears he was created an esquire by patent, for all those thus made were invested with a silver collar of SS's, first instituted by Richard the Second, he also wore the coronet of robes as chief of poets ; but now more com- monly used of laurel. For the style of his writing, take the following verses (by way of essay) in his Vox Clamantis : — Principio Regis oritur transgressio legis Quo fortuna cadit et humus retrogada vadit, Quomood surrexit populus, quern non bene rexit, Tempus adhuc plangit, super hoc quod Chronica tangit. Formerly situate in the boundary of Southwark And below them this : Armigeri scutum nihil a modo fert tibi iutum, Reddidit immolutum, morti generali tributum, Spiritus exutum se gaudeat esse solutum, Est ubi virtutum, Regnum sine lobe statutum. Under the statue, the following inscrip- tion : — Hie facet Johannes Gower, Armiger, Anglorum Poeta celeberrimus, ac huic sacro Edificio Benefactor, insignis, temporibus Edw. III. et Rich. II. John Gower, being very gracious with Henry the Fourth, in his time carried the name of the only poet. His verses were full of good and grave morality. He only pub- lished these three books ; that entitled Vox Clamantis, treats of the unfortunate reign of Richard the Second. He died anno 1402 ; and is claimed as of the present Sutherland ducal family. T52.-ny>y\;bC£. Stultorunt vile cepit concilium juvenile y Et sectam senium decrevitesse rejectam, Tunc accusare quosdam presumptsit avare, Unde catallorum gazas spoliavit eorum. Englished thus in Shakespeare's time When this King first began to reigne The laws neglected were, Wherefore good fortune him forsooke And th' earth did quake for fear. The people also whom he poll'd Against him did rebell, The tyme doth yet bewayle the woes, That Chronicles doe of tell, To the foolysh councell of the lewde And younge, he did receyve; And grave advice of aged heads, He did reject and leave, And then for gready thirst of coyne, Some subjectes he accusde, To gayne theyr goodes into his hands, Thus he the realm abusde. 3 i6 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Thus inscribed in right-hand corner : — Now Troy my name, when first my fame begun, By Trajon Brute, who then we placed here On fruitful soil, where pleasant Thames did run ; Saith Lud my Lord, my King and Lover dear, Encreast my bounds : and London (for that ring Through Regions large) he called him my name. How famoss since (I stately seat of Kings) Have flourished aye ; let other maps proclaim, And let me joy thus happy still to =f>e This virtuous Peer my Sovereign King to be BRA UN'S MAP OF LONDON IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME. 317 3i* SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. The existing maps of London in Shake- speare's time enable us to understand the area comprised, although there is much divergence of statement as to its population, some assuming a total of 200,000 souls, others ranging at fully one-third more, in 16 10, of which no less than 12,000 are said to have been foreigners. Commerce, trade, and the industries, were in a very flourishing state, and it is computed that the River Thames afforded employment to no less than 40,000 men as boatmen, sailors, fishermen, and others. Amusements of all kinds found their ready votaries, and the founders of the new and improved drama ing money freely in these places of amuse- ment. Managers were at their wits' ends for novelties, and it is highly probable that earnest requests were made to Shakespeare to come up and help in the difficulty by supplying the material they most needed. Young as he was,he had already gauged public taste, and knew better than his friend Ben Jonson what was best suited to satisfy the public craving of the moment. It is strange that although Ben Jonson is allowed to have made a lengthened sojourn at Clifford, close to Stratford, during the time that Shake- speare's father resided there, yet his having done so is not used to show the families' -&2S, THEATRES SITUATE BEYOND THE CHURCH OF SHOREDITCH SHOWN IN THIS OLD PLAN. had established themselves on the Surrey side of the Thames, where, beyond the control of city authorities, they were free to pursue their callings. So great was the demand for theatrical talent, that the several companies of players hitherto touring to the provinces ceased their wanderings and became stationary in London, where the theatres were filled to overflowing. The waterside, or rather marine contingent, was a great support, as it has ever been, spend- intimacy. An early friendship would there have sprung up, continued, as we know, later in life, notwithstanding there must ever have existed a wide difference in the tastes and habits of the two as young men. Ben Jon- son had served in the Netherlands, and close upon Shakespeare's arrival in London the gallant Sir Philip Sydney received his mortal wound at Zutphen, and had a public funeral in St. Paul's Cathedral on the 16th February, 1587, the occasion having been HIS LIFE CAST IN GREAT HISTORICAL PERIOD. 3i9 held as one of national mourning. Shake- speare, we may be assured, was present to behold the spectacle ; indeed, it may be said that Shakespeare had the good fortune of having his life cast in one of the greatest historical periods, the gravitating point of which lay principally in London. The horrors of the Wars of the Roses, which had entrapped three generations, had come to an end, and men could now behold the footprints of that bloody season. Feudalism, with its limitations and restrictions, was set aside, and the nation was able to advance freely. Jonson, like many young men of the time, anxious to wrest the sword out of the hands of the Spaniards, had joined the Netherlands in their endeavours against their oppressors, but he does not appear to have advanced affection, endowed with a sound business mind, evidenced especially in his leaving his home at Stratford with the knowledge and consent of his family and not secretly, as is alleged, to escape the consequences of any deer-stealing from the demesne of Sir Thomas Lucy at Charlecote. His character, even at this, its early develop- ment, his domestic circumstances, and his position in life, lead to a conviction that the migration had been well thought out and determined on, and was in no way the vague action writers have hitherto ascribed to it. Everything points to his having literary and theatrical acquaintances in London among whom his advent would not be that of a mere adventurous stranger of the John Sadler class, with whom it has been the View of both sides of the Thames and Old London Bridge, showing St. Mary Overies Church and the Theatres as existent in Shakespeare's time. himself in the world's opinion by his course at this time. He does not appear to have been in London at the time of Shakespeare's first arrival as a resident, and therefore was not a party to any urging the act of migration, which, as already stated, would be caused by the demand for special mental capability which he could and did supply to the great satisfaction of the parties in need. Burbage, who began his career only a year or two before Shakespeare, would join in an urgent call to come to London, especially seeing that Leicester and his company of actors had gone to the Netherlands, and the field was open to him as a lucrative exercise of his aptitude in play adaptation. All the circumstances of Shakespeare's life prove him to have been of the deepest habit of all biographers to associate his name. Unlike this young man, he needed not to bind himself for a period of years as a tradesman's assistant, an idea as far- fetched and improbable as the gaining a living by holding the horses of gentlemen playgoers, entirely disproved, inasmuch as there were no horses to hold, the audience coming citywards by water; and if there were any equestrians among them, they would hardly consign their steeds to a two or three hours' street tramp in a horse- stealing neighbourhood. The octogenarian parish clerk of Stratford's story, " that Shakespeare was received into a playhouse as a serviture," if by this statement is meant that his occupation on arriving in London was of the menial capacity represented, is 3 2 ° SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. clearly an idle fable. Such a mind, even at a moment of breaking adrift from the occupations afforded to ordinary young men in his native town, could in no way be affected save to confirm the assurance that the migration was certain to benefit him materially. When affectionately embracing his wife and twins, and passing over Clopton Bridge with his eyes taking what would doubtless be an anxious farewell of Holy Trinity spire and the sternly grim tower of his old Grammar School, we may be sure the feelings uppermost were those inspired of firm resolve, and courageous regard of the future, rather than despair. As the objects of the town of his birth receded from view, and the more distant goal took a changed his office of pedagogue for that of legal redresser of citizen wrongs, and who, it is very probable, was entrusted with con- duct of the suit so seriously affecting his family, and which was then pending before the Courts in London. Walter Roche, with clerico-lawyer-like sagacity, had managed to secure the aid of one well versed in the affairs of the town, and the jealousies and bickerings acting to set law suits afoot and demand for their conduct before the courts in London men skilled as advisers in human weaknesses : " Who, in hot blood, Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth To those that, without heed, plunge into it." — Timon of Athens, act iii., scene 5. THE HIGH STREET, SOUTHWARK : FROM AN OLD PRINT. front place on the mind's tablet, the problem of providing for his family, increasing in double the ordinary ratio, was made plain for practical working out as seen in every after act of his life. His discerning eye foresaw the wide field of money (trash !) profit that lay before him; he had to some extent already experienced it in liberal earnings from labour of no brain trial beyond what would be little more than amusement to his boundless capacity, a mere preparation of wing pluming for the mighty soaring of which it was capable. There is every reason to believe with Lord Campbell that he had previously been in London with Walter Roche, his earliest instructor of the Grammar School, who for a while had It is of small moment whether considera- tions either of taste, or prudence, or of neces- sity — probably all — induced Shakespeare so early to seek a livelihood in the centre of English commercial and intellectual activity. Certain it is, he immediately became con- nected, in some capacity or another, with the stage. This was the profession to which the whole bent of his genius instinctively directed him ; it is the only one we find any trace of his having ever embraced in the Metropolis. Circumstances already referred to influenced him in making this choice of a career, even before he had left his native town. We have seen that theatrical companies frequently visited Stratford in the days of his youth, and that several different companies performed THE GLOBE AND BLACKFRIARS THEATRES. 321 there in the Corporation Hall, during his father's tenure of the office of bailiff in 1569. On his arrival in London, the Globe on the Bankside, and the Blackfriars Theatre, The Blocdy Tower— Old Tower of London. belonging to the same company, were the most in vogue. We know that in 1594 he was one of what was called the Lord Cham- berlain's servants, who usually performed at the Blackfriars Theatre. This building was raised in 1576, and stood in Play-house Yard, to the east of the present Apothecaries' Hall. The same company built the Globe. Burbage, as the representative of the com- pany, signed a bond for the construction of this theatre December 22nd, 1593. The company performed at the Globe in summer, and at the Blackfriars in winter, until early in the seventeenth century, when the latter house for several years passed out of their hands. Throughout this period they played frequently at Richmond, at the Halls of Gray's Inn and Middle Temple, and at Hatfield House. During the reign of Elizabeth they were open on Sundays, causing much trouble to Shakespeare, who is reputed to have used his best, though ineffectual, efforts with his partners to prevent this. There were no women in any of the companies, and the female characters were personated by boys, who wore vizards. Such fact is calculated to add to our astonishment at the enchantment which the poet has thrown over his Juliets, and his Rosalinds and his Mirandas. In March, 16 13, Shakespeare purchased a house in the Blackfriars, London, which is described as " abutting upon a street leading down to Puddle Wharf on the east part, right against the King's Ma- jesty's Wardrobe." The price was ^140, but of this sum he only paid ^80, and mortgaged the premises for the balance. On the mortgage being sub- sequently paid off, he leased the house for a term of years to John Robinson, whose de- scendants continued until re- cent times to inhabit at least the same locality. The coun- terpart of the indenture by which Shakespeare became possessed of the Blackfriars property leased to Robinson is still to be seen, with his signature attached to it, in the library of the Corporation of the City of London at the Guildhall. To it is attached the only other indisputable signature of Shakespeare at present known to be in exis- tence, with the exception of the three inserted in his will. The deed of mortgage signed by Shakespeare is also still preserved. In the deeds he is described as " William Shakespeare of Stratforde-upon-Avon, in the Countie of Warwick, gentleman," from which it would appear that by this time, Old London Stone in Cannon Street. at all events, he had ceased to reside in London. In the year 1596 he lived in Southwark, " near the Bear Garden," according to a statement Malone found in a paper which once belonged to Alleyn, the player, but of SS 1 322 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. which no trace can now be discovered. In a subsidy roll, dated October ist, 1598, he is assessed on property of the value of ^5 in the parish of St. Helen's, Bishopsgate ; but we cannot therefore conclude that he ever resided in that district ; and most probably he did not long retain the property itself, whatever it may have been, as his name does not appear in a similar document drawn up two years afterwards. It is quite certain that any establishment he maintained in London was always of an unpretending and most inexpensive description, and that throughout his life, but more especially from the period of his purchase of New Place in 1597, he did not consider the Metropolis as his settled place of abode, but wished to be known as William Shakespeare, gentleman, of Stratford-upon-Avon. Burbage, the first Hamlet, .was manager. At that time the drama was generally interpreted in inn yards, the most /famous of the five in the City being the /Bull in Bishopsgate Street. That Shakespeare's company played in the Bull, or that he was resident in Bishopsgate, in 1589; seems clear from the assessment roll for the levying of subsidies in that year ; for as there was a portion of the Bull situated in that parish, his name appears as subjected, on an assessment of ^5, to a rate of 13s. 4d. ; but whether, while he lived in this parish, until he removed to Southwark in 1612-13, tne P oet attended St. Helen's Church, is merely founded upon a conjecture of probability, for the records of the vestry from 1568 to 1676 have been lost. As, however, Crosby Hall, in the vicinity, figures twice or thrice [ tmntwft rt'T •s I fv* The neighbourhood of St. Helen's, Bishopsgate, is specially associated with Shakespeare, and recently a memorial window has been placed in St. Helen's Church by an anonymous donor. It is the custom of the Rev. Dr. Cox, the earnest vicar in charge of St. Helen's, should he find any stranger after the morning service on Sunday showing an interest in the many and interesting monuments in the old church, to accompany any such persons round the church and explain their associations. One Sunday morning he officiated in this way to an unknown gentleman, and narrated to him Shakespeare's connection with Bishopsgate. Of this not many memorials have come down, but its reality is beyond a doubt. As Dr. Cox has it, Shakespeare came to London in 1 586, when he was twenty-one years of age, and was probably in some way associated with the company of comedians, of which rh*K* '" "'lip- -j e^%L . i in " Richard III.," it is evident that Shake- speare was acquainted with the church and its surroundings. The poet's daily habits during his stay in the busy centre of English life, and the friendships which he there formed, are little known to us through any actual transmission of details, but we will believe he led a life consistent with his early training by a good mother. He had left his wife and children behind in Stratford, most likely at the time of setting out purposing to bring his family up to London so soon as he should get established there. Finding, however, that during the dull seasons he could get away from the Metropolis and join his family in Stratford, he availed himself of this course ; and, in all probability, whenever opportunity offered, he did so. His brother Edmond being with him in London, and making a home together, he was enabled to enjoy HIS HABITS AND ASSOCIATES IN LONDON. 323 domestic life to a degree he could not other- wise have done. Many biographers would lead us to believe that his life in town was such as some of his associate actors are known to have led ; but there is no tittle of evidence in proof of his ever indulging in the slightest dissipation, or to have been in the company of the more reckless of the class of actors outside of theatrical duties. On the contrary, Burbage, Alleyn, and men of this stamp, in every case well-conducted and married gentlemen, are proved to have been his unrestrained moments, under the familiar name of " Will," and that in their more serious moods he was for them the " gentle " Shakespeare. His stage performances, whenever per- sonated for purpose of illustration, were of the highest class of the time. In the list of the principal comedians who performed in 1598, in Ben Jonson's " Every Man in his Humour," our dramatist's name stands first. A close friendship must have subsisted between Ben Jonson and Shakespeare, and tradition speaks THE DEVIL TAVERN, AND TEMPLE BAR, AS A WOODEN STRUCTURE : FROM AN OLD PRINT. associates. For further proof of his good- ness of life during the intervals of his absences in London, we need only recur to the fertile products of his brain, unceasing as these were during the whole period, and we find the most distinct proof of labour and diligence to an extent entirely corroborative. Of his personal demeanour we learn little more than that he was a man of courteous and flowing address, and of an easy and sociable temper. It is strong verification of his companionable character that he was known among his associates, in their more of an important service rendered by the latter to the former in procuring a reception by the theatrical managers of Jonson's first play, which they had just superciliously rejected. THE TAVERNS. The Taverns of old London and Southwark existing at the time of Shakespeare's arrival in London, must, under any circumstances, form important features in the biographies of eminent literary characters, such as Shake- speare himself and Jonson, who there shone so luminously at the time. These taverns were the life of many of the noted men of the time ; in frequenting them they knew their 324 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. company, and felt as much at ease as in their own homes. It was in social contact here abounding that the great master found characters least within the bounds of human probability, as Falstaff, the ideal humourist, and which his contemporaries tried to draw but could not. Jonson was far more of a tavern man than Shakespeare. The Devil Tavern at old Temple Bar was a chief resort. ** Rare Ben," according to Sweet Robert Herrick, did not confine his patronage to the M Mermaid," his presence was well known at other such resorts of his time. Herrick thus names them : — " Ah, Ben, Say how, or when Shall we, thy guests, Meet at those lyric feasts, Made at the Sun, The Dog, the Triple Tun ? Where we such clusters had As made us nobly wild, not mad ; And yet each verse of thine Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine. My Ben, Or come again, Or send to us Thy wit's great overplus ; But teach us yet Wisely to husband it ; Lest we that talent spend, And having once brought to an end That precious stock, the store Of such a wit, the world should have no more." Reigning over all was the " Devil Tavern," at Temple Bar. In this " house of joy " was the noted Apollo room, in which Copper tokens issued at the Boar's Head Tavern. the club founded by him held their saturnalia. Ben drew up certain u Convivial Laws " for this, his favoured society of brethren, and which were cut in gilt letters on a block of black marble let into the wall over the chimney piece. It would puzzle the best Latin scholar to express more tersely the intentions of the club : — " Idiota, insulsus, tristis, turpis, abesto; Eruditi, urbani, hilares, honesti, adsciscuntor ; Nee lecte fceminae repudiantor. Convivae nee muti nee loquaces suuto. Fidicen, nisi accersitus, non benito. Insipida poemata nulla recitantor. Versus scribere nullus cogitor. Lapitharum more scyphis pugnare, vitrea collidere, Fenestras excudere, supellectilem dilacerare, nefas esto. Focus perennis esto. John Addington Symonds, in his "Life of Ben Jonson," has thus admirably rendered the inscription : — " Let the dullard, the ass, the sad-faced, the lewd fellow, keep away ; The learned, urbane, merry, good fellows, be wel- come: Nor let choice women be excluded. The guests should be neither dumb nor garrulous. No fiddler, except on invitation, shall attend. No tasteless poems shall be read, No one shall be forced to write verses. To throw cups, break glasses, smash windows, Tear the furniture to pieces, shall be accounted for a crime. The fire upon the hearth must always burn." It may be said of the old taverns dating of Shakespeare's day, that in an age when clubs did not exist, the tavern bore a higher reputation than its name now implies. It corresponded to the coffee-house of Dryden and Pope's epoch, and fulfilled a purpose to which no institution of the present day in England exactly answers. The tavern differed from the private club, inasmuch as its door stood open to all the world, and yet its holiest of holies, the sanctuary of such men as Shakespeare and Jonson, was only accessible by aspirants to literary society, upon invitation. It was at once exclusive of the common vulgar, and democratic for all who could contribute something to the intellectual fund. Lords, poets, men of learning, actors, fashionable fribblers, and wine drawers, met together on a common basis of intense life there. Regarded from this point of view, the Elizabethan London tavern, as a social institution of peculiar efficiency, drew its origin from wandering students of the Middle Ages. Their chief poet sang :— " Meum est propositum In taberna mori." " It is my intention," said the arch bard of those early humanists and rollicking Bohemians, " to die in a tavern, for there, as to the brightest spot on earth, the angels will descend, and cry in chorus, ' May God be gracious to this toper.' " The age was one allowed to wine rather than to chocolate and coffee — those later growths of our modern civilization. And the tavern had the defect of its quality. It encouraged an excess in liquors, from which, among many others, poor Ben suffered. THE OLD TAVERNS OF LONDON. 325 A great resort of the literary heroes of the day was the Mermaid Tavern, where a club had been founded by Sir Walter Raleigh ; and here Elizabeth's favourite knight, with Shakespeare, Jonson, Beau- ^-3*c _ «M»er»rncMc\ ' **"' cS Xt 326 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. of sanctity, and with comfort such as old Southwark alone seemed able to offer. These true hostelry homes had become famous over the whole world, and old Stow, in 1598, several centuries after their estab- lishment, speaks of them as " many fair inns for receipt of travellers." How would Chaucer's words rise to their memories as they rested to refresh, as they would, in a room, then well known as his resort : — Befel, that in that season, on a day In Southwark, at " The Tabard," as I lay, Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage To Canterbury with devout courage, At night was come into that hostelery Well, nine and twenty in a company Jeasts," compiled by Sir Nicholas Lestrange during the Civil Wars, and preserved in the Harleian MSS., is worthy of mention. The authority given for it is the poet Donne. The metal laden, on which the point of the joke turns, was an alloy resembling brass closely in appearance and composition. " Shakespeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after the christening, being in a deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up, and askt him why he was so melancholy. ' No, faith, Ben,' sayes he, 1 not I ; but I have beene considering a great while what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and I have One of the earliest-known taverns in Southwark : from an old print. Tb^7)T3i^e Of sundry folk, by adventure yfall In fellowship, and pilgrims were they all, That toward Canterbury woulden ride. The quaint and ingenious Fuller, who belonged to a succeeding generation, thus characterizes the two great dramatists as they appeared at these brilliant reunions : "Many were the wit-combats betwixt him (Shakespeare) and Ben Jonson, which two I behold like a Spanish great ga'leon and an English man-of-war. Master Jonson, like the former, was built far higher in learning, solid but slow in his performances ; Shakespeare, with the English man-of-war, lesser in bulk, but lighter in sailing, could turn with all tides, tack about and take advantage of all winds, by the quickness of his wit and invention." An anecdote from H Merry Passages and resolved at last.' ' I prithee what ? ' sayes he. T faith, Ben, I '11 e'en give him a douzen good Lattin spoones, and thou shalt translate them.' " Jonson, it is well known, was a good classical scholar, and even something of a pedant. Prior to the building of theatres, such as the Globe and Blackfriars, specially devoted to the early drama, theatrical performances in London and its neighbourhood were given in the yards of the old inns. The earliest and largest of these was " The Tabard " in High Street, Southwark, on the approach to the Bridge, and was so called from a jacket or sleeveless coat, whole before, open on both sides, with a square collar, winged at the shoulders. It was a stately garment of the olden time, commonly worn of noble- THE OLD INNS OF SOUTHWARK. 327 men and others, both at home and abroad, in the wars, with their arms embroidered thereon, that every man by his coat of arms might be known from others. Later on, these tabards were worn only by the heralds. The name of the dress was kept in remembrance by the Tabarders, as certain scholars are entered at Queen's College, Oxford. Since about 1750, the Tabard, or Talbot, of Chaucer's " Canterbury Pilgrims," became a chief inn for carriers and posting, and was greatly frequented by the farmers and others coming up to Lon- don from Kent and Surrey. Near to the "Tabard" stood another quaint old hostelry, called the "Bell"; pilgrims resorted hither when the more renowned house overflowed. Chaucer men- tions " the gentil hostelrie that heighte the 'Tabard' as being faste by the 'Bell.'" There was also the " Sun and Hare," " The Three Brushes," or, H Holy Water Sprinklers," and the M Three Widows." The "George," also, was close at hand. In Shakespeare's time it was called " The St. George." Stow mentions it as an inn from which tokens were issued in 1554. In 1670 it was mainly burnt down, and in the great fire of South- wark, whatever remained of the old inn was consumed. The " White Hart," another ancient inn on the same side of the High Street, is also referred to by Stow. This was also a resort of pilgrims, and, like others in the same immediate neighbourhood, suffered at various times from destruction by fire, each being re- built as much as possible to resemble the former existing structure. It is related in Fabyan's "Chronicles" that, "on July 1st, 1450, Jack Cade arrived in Southwark, where he lodged at the ' Hart,' for he might not be suffered to enter the city." Eastcheap boasted the most celebrated inn, the " Boar's Head," which formed a part of Sir John Fastaff's benefactions to Mag- dalen College, Oxford. Sir John was one of the bravest generals in the French wars under Henry IV. and his successors. This " Boar's Head " of Shakspeare's time was unquestionably a great resort of the better class of tavern-frequenters, and especially of persons attached to the theatres. Another hostelry of marked note of the time and same locality, was the " Catherine Wheel," situated opposite St. George's Church, and was a great resort of pilgrims. The sign was adopted, and this was the first and always the chief hotel of the bearers of the badge of the order of the F r One of the most celebrated inns hi ' Southwark. Knights of St. Catherine of Mount Sinai, formed in the year 1063, for the protection of pilgrims on their way to and from the Holy Sepulchre. Hence, it was a suggestive, if not an eloquent sign for an inn, intimating that the host was of the brotherhood, and would protect the traveller from robbery in his inn — in the shape of high charges and exactions — just as the knights protected them on the highroad from robbery. These knights wore a white habit embroidered with a Catherine wheel (i.e., a wheel armed with spikes), and traversed with a sword stained with blood. The Puritans afterwards changed it into the "Cat and Wheel," Bristol being the place exhibiting a sign under that new title. There are copper 328 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. tokens in good preservation of each of these inns, although the buildings themselves may now be said, with exception of here and there back outbuildings, to have all dis- appeared since the year 1800, prior to which each was represented by a building bearing the old name, and conformed more or less to what was known of the originals. There is no notice of the " Boar's Head " tavern in any edition of Shakespeare previous to Theobald's, in 1733, but that the locality is there accurately given from an old and genuine tradition is rendered certain by an allusion to "Sir John of the ' Boare's Head,' in Eastcheap," in Gayton's " Festivous Hed, in Eastcheap," Liber Famelicus of Sir James Whitelocke, sub anno 1588. In 1602 the lords of the Council gave permission for the servants of the Earls of Oxford and Worcester to play at his house. There were numerous other known taverns in London and the country, including five taverns in the City, known by the name of the " Boar's Head," but the one in Eastcheap was totally destroyed in the great fire of 1666, and no genuine representation of it is known to exist. Haliwell Phillips is admitted to have been an enthusiastic burrower among old archives likely to yield Shakespearean spoil of any Notes, 1654," page 277. Shakespeare never mentions the tavern at all, and the only possible allusion to it is in the second part of u Henry IV.," where the Prince asks, spsaking of Falstaff : — " Doth the old boar feed in the old frank ? " The " Boar's Head " was an inn as early as 1537, when it is expressly demised in a lease as all that tavern called the " Bore's Hedde," " cum cellariis sollariis et aliis, suis pistinentiis, in Estchepe, in parochia Sancti Michaelis predicti, in tenura Johanne Broke, vidue." About the year 1588 it was kept by one Thomas Wright, a native of Shrewsbury. " George Wrighte, sun of Thomas Wrighte, of London, vintner, that dwelt at the ' Bore's kind. He has left behind him facts we cannot over-appreciate. Time, however, will determine their ultimate value. It must, however, be admitted that in numerous instances he has arrived at conclusions and has put forward statements for which he utterly fails to give any reasonable ground. He tells us that the actors of the period of Shakespeare's first arrival in London " were, as a rule, individual wanderers, spending a large portion of their time at a distance from their families ; and there is every reason for believing that this was the case with Shakespeare from the period of his arrival in London until nearly the end of his life." The writer contends that nothing can be PHILLIPS UNJUST TOWARDS MANY EMINENT ACTORS. 329 wider of the truth than this unwarranted statement, which calls upon the world to believe that Shakespeare and the eminent artists whom we know to have worked with him were of a class inferior to the troupes who now wander in their caravans between the small towns in England, in which theatricals beyond those of most unfinished class are unknown. He further informs us that, after getting to London, " books of many kinds would have been accessible to him," and that he " would have been almost daily within hearing of the best dramatic poetry of the age." If Phillips' study of Shakespeare's know- ledge of men and books, and of an education TUE CLOBE THEATRE AT BANKS1DE, SOUTHWARK The second building, opened by Richard Burbage, A.r. 1615 carried on and completed in Stratford Grammar School on a basis than which none higher existed in England, led him to the belief that it compelled him to come to London to obtain a first access to books, and to hear for the first time of dramatic poetry, then, indeed, will the bio- graphical remarks which he has interspersed in his mountains of collected material, take the archaeological shape, to which such unap- preciative estimate of the great poet's educa- tion and mind will most assuredly relegate his efforts as a biographer. He further adds : — " Books in most parts of the country were of very rare occurrence Lilly's Grammar and a few classical works, chained to the desks of the Free School, were, probably, the only volumes of the kind to be found in Stratford-on-Avon, exclusive of Bibles, church services, psalters, and educational manuals. There were certainly not more than two or three dozen books, if so many, in the whole town." Such statements as these detract vastly from Phillips' researches. So far from earnest readers following so blind a lead, the very opposite is taken. Barbarism did not reign in the poet's native town save in the matter of uncleansed gutters, and in this failing they erred not more than did far larger and more important cities. The bright boy Will, insatiable for knowledge, drank not from a cup chained to his desk, neither reigned the utter desolation of literature, rendering his feet being of necessity set in Southwark's Borough to make " a first acquaintance with books, and to hear, for the first time, of dramatic poetry." This is giving the great magician of the world a very " back seat," such as none but an Ignatius Donelly will award him. The world has read of Burbage, Alleyn, Hemings, Condell, Lowin, Taylor, Field, and others, his friends and associates, all distinguished in their several roles, many of whom were educationally and professionally equal to the most eminent actors of the present or the centuries that have rolled by since their time, not one of whom, whether regarded as scho- lars or professional actors, should, in common justice, be graded lower. Shall we pass into oblivion the classic, finished powers of Alleyn, and the noble dealing with wealth acquired by professional labours, devoted so nobly to the cause of education, the blessings of which shall shine forth with increasing power and effectiveness until time shall be no more ; and who, in the opening of his college at Dulwich, in 16 19, had the satisfaction of recording in his diary, " this day was the foundation of the college finisht," and so, in the quaint words of old Fuller : — " He who out-acted others in his life, out-did himself before his death " ? His modest words, ** God's Gift College, founded and endowed by Edward Alleyn, to the honour and glory of Almighty God, and in a thankful remem- brance of His guiftes and blessings bestowed upon me," will for ever retain their hold in the hearts of an appreciative people. Alleyn was blest in worldly possessions, and in being the chosen instrument of their usage to the honour and glory of God. Since his time few actors have been permitted the gathering-up of much earthly store, but of TT 330 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. their substance, be what it may, all have been generous to a fault. Shakespeare, as is named several rimes in this volume, was not a professional actor ; he made it his duty as author of plays needing special capabilities in their actors, practically and in person to illustrate his marvellous instructions in Hamlet : hence the mixing up. It is interesting to trace the growth of stage theatricals in Shakespeare's day, the class of buildings used for the purpose, their in depth it was to extend over half the space of the internal area. Three tiers of galleries occupied three sides of the house, and there were four boxes, partitioned off from the lower gallery, which were frequented by company of rank, and to these the admission charge was higher. There were other divisions for company of an inferior order in the upper tiers. The number of theatres in London rapidly increased with the Black- friars. There was one in Whitefriars, in or The Fortune Theatre, formerly situate in Golden Lane, and then styled " Master Alleyn's Fortune Theatre.'' dimensions, and the manner of conducting the performances. Henslow and Alleyn's contract for the building of the Fortune Playhouse in 1599 gives us a pretty accurate idea of its dimensions ; and that document insists on the Fortune being built, though somewhat larger, yet like the Globe. The contract for the Fortune stipulated for the erection of a building of four equal external sides of eighty feet, reduced by necessary arrangements to an internal area of fifty-five feet square. The length of the stage from side to side was to be forty-three feet, and near Salisbury Court, and another called the Curtain in Shoreditch, the Red Bull at the upper end of St. John Street, the Cockpit or Phoenix in Urury Lane, and the Fortune was situated in Whitecross Street; there was also an ancient theatre at Newington. There were other theatres of minor import- ance — the Swan, the Rose, and the Hope. Each was distinguished by a sign indicative of its name ; that on the Globe was a figure of Hercules supporting the Globe, and underwritten was the motto, " Totus mundus agit histrionem," MIDDLESEX AND SURREY THEATRES. 33* " The Curtain Theatre," so called from having been the first house that used the green curtain, and another of the earliest, known as " The Theatre," both stood in what was called Curtain Road, near St. Leonard's Church, Shoreditch, celebrated for an annual sermon " On the wonderful works of God in the Creation," and for which money was bequeathed by a gardener named Fairchild. This theatre is mentioned as early as 1577, i.e., prior to Shakespeare's arrival in London. It is referred to in a sermon preached at Paul's Cross in 1578, and also by Stubbs in his "Anatomie of Abuses "in 1583. In 1662 it was occupied by Prince Charles's actors. Aubrey, in 1678, calls it the "Green Curtain," and terms it " a kind of nursery, or obscure playhouse." Gradually it sank situate to claim monastic privileges — i.e., they were outside the jurisdiction of the Lord Mayor and Aldermen. In 1575 players were entirely expelled from the city limit. The edict, however, only had the effect of increasing their numbers outside, and, as would seem, under appellations of more dignity. There are several candida- tures for the honour of Shakespeare's first appearance on " the boards." A letter to Lord Walsingham shows that in 1586 the different companies known as the Queen's, Lord Leicester's, Lord Oxford's, Lord Notting- ham's, and other noblemen, then performing in the Metropolis, amounted to two hundred. The Blackfriars, situate on the site now This old hostelry was situate at Islington, and much resorted to by literary men on occasions of complimentary dinners. into obscurity, and, like some others, degenerated into a place for boxing matches. Maitland, in his "London," (1772), mentions some remains of the " Curtain " as then standing. " The Theatre," situate close by the Cur- tain, the Blackfriars, Whitefriars, Salisbury Court, Rose, Hope, Swan, Newington, Red Bull, and Cockpit or Phoenix, and in addition to these, various inn-yards, were all on the Middlesex side of the Thames, and a large number of the actors of these theatres resided in Holywell Lane, Shoreditch. Most of these Middlesex-side theatres were known as Playhouse Yard, near Blackfriars Bridge, the spot where the Times newspaper is printed, on the Middlesex side of the Thames, and the Globe on the Surrey side, close to St. Mary Overie and London Bridge, were the two theatres in which Shakespeare was concerned in conjunction with Richard Burbage, the friend and partner with whom he became identified almost immediately on his arrival in London. Their friendship had com- menced in Stratford, and gradually ripened into business relations, which culminated in his migration to London. No doubt they had been concerned together for several years 332 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. prior to it being necessitous that Shake- speare's work in the enterprise should be given personally on the spot. At the time of their conducting the Blackfriars, there were two companies holding the right of playing in the one that Shakespeare's company belonged to, the Lord Chamberlain's and that of the Children of the Chapel, after- wards, on James's accession, known as the Children of her Majesty's Revels, who played regular pieces the same as their older rivals — such as Ben Jonson's " Case is Altered " in 1599, and his "Cynthia's Revels" in 1600. The proprietor of the Blackfriars in fee was Richard Burbage, who let the theatre to the Children of the Revels for the in our old plan of London, and close by the Bear Gardens, and in it many of Shake- speare's plays were first produced. The building existing previously having been destroyed by fire, we now know, from De Witt's drawing, which was recently dis- covered in Germany, precisely the character of the building. A stage was erected for the actors, but except arras curtains at the back and sides there were no scenes or other accessories. For the spectators there were tiers of boxes and a gallery for the ladies, and a pit for the men, in which all stood. The stage was strewn with rushes, and the assuming more aristocratic, as the critics, sat on stools by the side, taking their refresh- ST. MARY OVERY IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME : FROM AN OLD PRINT. summer months, he and his brother proprie- tors managing and playing at the Globe, on the Surrey side. The absurd idea that Shake- speare came to London a stranger, driven by the necessities of his family, and that to obtain a living had to submit to menial offices of the humblest class, will not hold in the minds of reasoning men. He came more effectually to conduct in person labour daily growing, and which nothing but personal presence could possibly supervise. Within a year of Shakespeare arriving in London, the new Globe Theatre, built from the " wood and timber " of the theatre at Finsbury Fielde, was opened by Richard Burbage and his brother Cuthbert at Bank- side, near St. Saviour's Church, as shown ments, and, as is stated, smoking ; but we are not informed as to whether the term " refreshments " permitted any drinking. Every one had good view of the actors, who could not have been more than ten to twelve yards from the most distant spectators. The women's parts were invariably played by boys. The charge for admission to the boxes was about eighteenpence, to the pit a penny, or, on special occasions, twopence. Ben Jonson's " Every Man in his Humour " was one of the first plays performed at the Globe. Shakespeare's comedy, " As You Like It," was brought out there soon after- wards with the greatest success. It is pretty certain that he borrowed the plot from a novel, " Rosalynde," by Thomas Lodge, SHAKESPEARE'S INTIMACY WITH BACON. m published in 1590, but the inimitable characters of the melancholy Jaques, the witty Touchstone and his Audrey, " a poor virgin, an ill-favoured thing, but mine own," are unquestionably Shakespeare's own creation. " Much Ado About Nothing " was entered by the Stationers' Company at the same time as " As You Like It." " Twelfth Night," the perfection of English comedy, and the most fascinating drama in the English language, was brought out in the same year. It is on record that this play was performed before the benchers in the hall of the Middle Temple, and conjecture points to earliest to discover and acknowledge his greatness, was brought into friendship with members of the Hall, the which, by its immediate vicinity to the Blackfriars and Globe Theatres, was most accessible, as were its hospitalities generous and ever open. Both Halls seemed specially desirous, even in this early time, to claim him as their guest, for, as great lawyers do not need u tuft-hunting associates," so they needed not any but u the man himself." In our present day, there are small mincfe who have enough of wisdom in gauging their own intellect as to know they can never !^ <^tfir\»r.cy. Lord Bacon is traditioned as assisting with Shakespeare In a performance in this hall. Shakespeare's intimacy with Bacon at the time, as both are reputed to have aided in its production, and that most likely Shake- speare took a part in its performance. Prior to the production of either of Shake- speare's plays at the Middle Temple, Old Gray's Inn Hall had made his acquaintance, and can boast of him as a frequent guest. One of his early plays was first produced there, but it is not known which. Lord Bacon is said to have joined him on the occasions of his visits to the Hall. The Middle Temple can claim closer friendship with the great poet, who, as a personal friend of the lord of Hatfield, a devoted admirer of Shakespeare's then developing genius, and who is traditioned as one of the become great lawyers, and so must acquire notoriety at any hazard. It is believed that a few of this class are to be found on the surface of Old Gray's Inn, and, who, in their devotion to the wisdom of the great philo- sopher, Lord Bacon, a member of their Inn, have been stirring the fire to see whether they can find renegadesof sufficiently limited brain capacity to hoist a Shakespeare dethronement flag within the precincts of the loyal old inn. Outsiders can judge as to any such prose- lytizing. We would not like to be preachers of such crusade. As one of England's greatest lawyers has said : " Porcine honour, such as it is, should not be despised, but who shall weigh it in the scale against an embodiment of the wisdom of the world ? " 334 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE, It is not intended to impute to the then civic powers any want of appreciation of Shakespeare or any desire to prevent the performance of his plays; their action resulted from a becoming desire to stay the assembling of loose women and their asso- ciates within their jurisdiction, which had become public scandal in the localities around the minor theatres : the stages devoted to Shakespearean performances appear free of the objectionable element. It was at the exhibition of retributive villainy, or the de- fence of injured innocence, he stops at the due moment, never overstepping the modesty of nature. The scene closes, the character is dropped the moment the actor requires it, and however just in tone, or exquisite the conception, it falls back into the void of the past from which it had been sum- moned, often to the greatest regret of the reader and spectator, but with no apparent regret on the part of the poet. Artists and painters in general have their likes as strong, but not always the same, as the admirers of their work, they can rarely work success- fully without such prejudices. It is natural for the artist to fall in love with his own crea- time recognised that all his plays were on the right side of morality, and that he never used the theatre to excite personal prejudice. No poet was ever less personal, or mixed up with his more admired creations less of his personal predilections. It would seem im- possible to select any one character from the whole range of his dramatis persona, of which it can be said, this was a favourite with the poet. In the full torrent of his art, or the excitement of his eloquence, in the peaceful tions, and natural that what he loves, and all admire, he should repeat in various shapes. But in Shakespeare this never happens. If the unfeeling, the cruel, and the vicious are not unmitigated monsters in his pages, it is because they are human, not because his sympathies would have concealed their defor- mities. It is because even the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in its head. No vice in this life is beyond redemp- tion : no virtue without its flaws. THE PRINCIPAL PLAYERS IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME. 335 His contemporaries, Edward Alleyn and Richard Burbage, were accustomed to appear very generally in the more elevated impersonations, while Kemp was the great comic favourite of theatrical audiences at the same epoch. Alleyn, the founder of Dulwich College, was the leading actor of the ^4 Jfif: J 4 One of the noted Southwark resorts of pilgrims : lrom an old drawing. company of which Henslowe seems to have been the principal manager or capitalist, or the Lord Admiral's Servants, as they were at one time called. Burbage was associated with Shakespeare as one of the servants of the Lord Chamberlain, and upon him de- volved the distinction of having been the first representative of the principal characters in all the poet's greatest dramas. From an " Elegy " on Burbage, which seems to have been written immediately after his death, we learn that he was the original Hamlet, Romeo, Prince Henry, and Henry V., Richard III., Macbeth, Brutus, Coriolanus, Shylock, Lear, Pericles, and Othello. It was no doubt in reference to his personal appear- ance that the Queen in the last act of u Hamlet " gives us this very unpoetical image of her son : " He's fat and scant o' breath." / Benjonson gives the names of | the principal actors in his plays, but his lists never state what was the particular part sustained by any individual performer. In 1598 Shakespeare represented one of the characters in Jonson's u Every Man in his Humour," and in 1603 he played in the same writer's " Sejanus." This is the last record we have of his appearance on the stage, and it is probable that he soon after- wards renounced the profession of an actor, if he ever could be so classed : we contend that he as- sumed parts in plays mainly as an instructor to others. Throughout the whole of this great productive era of the Eng- lish drama, players were discoun- tenanced by the gravest as by the most active and influential portion of the nation; but they found some compensation for this discredit in the countenance extended to them by the Court, and still more in the enthusiastic support and favour of the great mass of the people. Elizabeth and James I. were both patrons of the drama, and they both recognised in Shakespeare the foremost dra- matic writer of his age. Ben Jonson, in his verses prefixed to the Shakespeare Folio of 1623, bears a sort of general testimony to the de- light which these two Sovereigns took in the productions of the poet's genius : — " Sweet Swan of Avon, what a sight it were To see thee in our waters yet appear, And make those flights upon the banks of Thames That so did take Eliza and our James ! " 33^ SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Recently we have been brought as it were close to Shakespeare by the discovery of the first authentic representation of the interior of an old English theatre, dating from 1596. This most interesting drawing is contained in a quarto MS. preserved in the University library at Utrecht under the title : — " A. van Buchell. Aaanteekeningen van den mest verschillenden aard ; excerpten uit hand- schriften en boeken enz. enz. Op. pag. 132 geteekende Afbellding van het theater genaamd de Zwann te London (c. 1600)." Underneath the quaint delineation, of which we present a fac-simile, stand the words : " Ex obseruationibus Londi- nen sibus Johannis de Witt." Karl Blind has translated the subject in " The Academy." Of original drawings of London playhouses in Shakespeare's time very few have come down to us ; and those show only the less im- portant part — namely, the outside of the build- ings. The earliest inner view, which represents the Red Bull Theatre, dates from 1662 ; that is, more than half a century after Shake- speare's withdrawal and forty-six years after his death. Now, here we have — as Dr. Gadertz, the eminent German Shakespearean scholar, proves by a well-con- nected chain of argu- ments — a pen and ink drawing, somewhat faded through age, whose date must be fixed at 1596, when our greatest dramatist of all nations and all ages was still alive. Unfor- tunately, De Witt, a Dutch made it a point during his journe} T s to enter into relations with all prominent scholars and artists, had no opportunity of seeing Shakespeare himself, who had in that very year retired to Stratford. Here again, as usual, the immortal eludes actual personal touch. The interior of the Swan Theatre ("cujus intersignium est cygnus ; vulgo te theatre off te cijn ") — which could seat 3,000 persons under cover, not counting the pit (but this statement appears to err largely on the side of excess) or yard, where spectators stood in the open air — is likened in the MS. to a Roman amphitheatre. To judge from the representation, it was of oval form, in accordance with the allusion in " Henry V." to the Globe Theatre (" this 3/. ant\ 'his J aU u# MIRACLE-PLAY these painters perhaps come into possession of his property ? Or was it conveyed to Utrecht by the two last-mentioned, who were de Witt's compatriots ? Might not Arend van Buchell, knowing, as he did, of the labours of his friend and relation who died single and childless, have brought forward any claims ? With united forces all explorers of art must now follow these traces and make their re- searches in Holland and Italy." If the Codum Pidorium is exhumed from the dust in which it must have lain for nearly three hundred years, the other MSS. of Jo- hannes de Witt will in all likelihood be found in it. In that case it will be the merit of Dr. Gadertz, whose name is already favourably known by a history of the " Drama of Lower Germany " from the oldest times, to have pointed out the tracks leading to the recovery. The opinion of Dr. Gadertz is that the drawing was probably made by no other than Luis Cranach, who at that time lived at Wittenberg, and who drew many woodcuts and ornamental headpieces for Rhau, whose portrait he also painted. The Pyramus and Thisbe story was a favourite subject with German artists of the time, such as Hans Holbein and Cranach. Dr. Gadertz further concludes that the woodcut, being so well executed and having no reference whatever . to the political and religous theme of the pamphlet, which is mainly an exhortation addressed to all Christians to fight against the Turks, must originally have adorned the title-page of a German story of Pyramus and Thisbe, which possibly wa? the source of Shakespeare's interlude in "A Midsummer Night's Dream." Among the books published by Richard Tottelil in Shakespeare's time, there are two (" A Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulacion, made by Syr Thomas More," and the " The History of Qvintus Curcius ") which both have the same wood- cut on their title-pages as Sauromann's pamphlet. There are only a few slight de- viations in detail ; but the German dress is preserved in the figures. The hypothesis of Dr. Gadertz is that the London publisher used the Wittenberg original for a new block, and that he first brought out the woodcut with a translation of a German work on Pyramus and Thisbe, afterward making use of it for two other prints. Bold as the surmise may appear, Dr. Gadertz adduces arguments which cannot be lightly set aside. At all events, we have here some valuable suggestions which may lead to further discoveries. In the early days of theatricals, when- ever theatres are named, the Bankside pre- The Stage of ths Red Bull Theatie, Clerkenwell. dominates over all other localities. The Bank-side, and Holywell Lane, Shoreditch, were the headquarters of the players, largely ACCOUNT OF THE THEATRES. 339 pleasure gardens, orchards, and open but culti- vated spots, the land on the Surrey side belong- ing to the Crown, and on various parts of it stood the Globe Theatre, the Bear Garden, and other places of public show : here were also the Pike Gardens, sometimes called the Queen's Pike Gardens, with ponds for the preservation of fresh-water fish, which were said to be kept for the supply of the Royal table, under the inspection of an officer called the King's Purveyor of Pyke, who had here a house for his residence. called private houses, viz., a house in Black- friars,, the Cockpit or Phoenix in Drury Lane, the theatre in Whitefriars, and some public theatres, the Globe, the Swan, the Rose, and the Hope on the Bankside ; the Red Bull in the upper end of St. John's street, and the Fortune in White Cross-street. In addition to these there were performances in the Inn Courts, such as the Belle Sauvage in Ludgate Hill, the Swan in Fetter Lane, the Bull and others in Holborn. It does not appear at what time the Globe Theatre was originally built, r ; Pre-Reformation edifice. Henry VII. helped its construction. These are the only visible remains of the earliest building erected for public worship in Richmond. There was formerly a chapel in the Palace, during Edward III.'s time, for the household and retainers of the reigning monarch, but tra- dition says Shakespeare did not attend its service on any of his frequent visits to Rich- mond. The present columns in the body of the church stand on the foundation walls of the ancient church as at first erected, the north and south aisles were added, and, in after years, the galleries, as increased accom- modation became requisite. The Tower was repaired in 1624. There would appear no doubt as to Richmond Old Parish Church being the temple in which Shakespeare worshipped on occasions of attending the Queen at the Palace, as on other visits. The then vicar, we are told, was one of "tender action with all who had not embraced the new form with the eagerness of others." This is a mild way of putting it, and amounts to what in the present day a Low Churchman would term an assurance that he was at heart a thorough Roman Catholic. There has come down a certain tradition among old Roman Catholic families, who say that Shakespeare was known to pay " frequent visits to a friend residing on the river bank, and remained sometimes at the house of a family named Bardolph, in a side street leading off the Green, and some- times with the vicar, and that he came to enjoy ' Nonesuch.' " Shakespeare was not given to the society of courtiers, though he studied them through and through ; he had seen too much of the ways and habits of the butterflies of which the court was largely composed to desire any mingling among them more than the attendance in obedience to his sovereign's command necessitated, and which he obeyed with every loyal alacrity. This duty ful- filled, he would away to the vicarage or to the dwelling of his friend Bardolph, near the Green, or to the author of " Essays on Learning," and make himself at home among spirits congenial with his own. Starting from Wootton Wawen, near Strat- ford, there appears to have been a narrow belt of country running through from thence to the metropolis, from which the Catholics were never driven, and in which, through the time of Puritan dominance and persecution, they clung persistently, fervently, and with some measure of success, to the old forms. Now and again certain weak-kneed families fell away from their allegiance, in instances only to re-enter the fold with humiliated hearts, their own clergy being rarely induced to spare the smallest verging on apostacy. As already stated, it was a rule with the priests, strictly enforced by their superiors, to destroy all papers and letters : hence the hopelessness of endeavours to gather from written docu- mentst he coveted information, more precious to the whole of mankind than anything contained in the annals of literature. His visits among Richmond clergy of the old faiths and the acceptors of the new who had enough of real religion among them to trans- late the word u heretic " with Christian for- bearance were frequent. The truly Reverend Byfield, who baptised and buried all Stratford for more than half a century, and whose son became vicar of Isleworth, close to Richmond, was a Christian man, and when he uttered the words over the cold clay of his people, " Whosoever believeth in Him shall never die" did it in no mockery ; his life was one of un- broken love, and on both sides of the Catholic cordon from Stratford-on-Avon to Windsor and Richmond, he was as much respected as among his own people. He was the godly and faithful leader of the clergy of his dis- 352 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. trict, he knew Shakespeare as boy and man as he did Walter Roche and Simon Hunt, the guides, " preceptors of the thousand-souled." We may safely track Shakespeare through these channels to Richmond. Here he was and here he would ofttimes be. The chancel and tower of old Richmond church are the only remains of the temple in which he worshipped, on frequent visits to Richmond. The chancel is the better part, and should be maintained in its present original state. There are rumours of chancel enlarge- ment : we will hope that nothing will be done to take from us Shakespeare's chancel. No Ophir or gold of a Solomon's temple can be a substitute for it ; no money expenditure can render the main body of Richmond Parish Church beauteous, but its chancel is sacred to the whole world. The main body of which singular custom continued to be occasionally resorted to down to the com- mencement and middle of the seventeenth century, in some instances at the request or wish of the survivors, and more fre- quently having been ordered by the testa- mentary decree of the deceased. The meddling with Shakespeare's chancel raises a difficulty bearing on Elizabeth Rat- cliff, Her Majesty's maid of honour, and which would prove quite as troublesome as any dealing with the Bardolph army, who in such force are gathered around its vener- able walls, and who, on any exhumation, it will be difficult to save from general mixing up. Shall the digestive organs of the Queen's faithful maiden, so solemnly and almost grudgingly entrusted to St. Mary's keeping, be smuggled away at night time ™ P^HSWaffiS vtSS&forf?* &t^tirm^ W WINDSOR CASTLE AS IN QUEEN ELIZABETH'S TIME. Richmond Parish Church, as of the sister parish churches of Isleworth and Twicken- ham r are as unecclesiastical as they well can be. No enlargements can be made to change their character. A new chancel to Richmond Old Church would serve only to bring into enhanced prominence the un- sightliness of the existent main building. Build where needed a new church, but let no ruthless hands molest the chancel sacred to Shakespeare. There is an entry in 1599 of the death of one of the maids of honour, Elizabeth Ratcliff, with the information that u her bowells are buried in the Chancell at Rich- mont." This was but following a not in- frequent practice in the time of our Norman monarchs, for the heart and bowels of the deceased king to be interred many miles distant from the spot where the body rested, and laid in a dark bye-corner of the grave- yard, already more than too thickly sown with the dead of centuries ? The exhumation will include the whole Bardolph race of centuries. This indignity would be intolerable. It will need a strong-minded son of the trowel to unbuild and ransack these ancient vaults in pursuit of their presumed precious contents. Visions will be conjured of the maiden Queen herself hovering in the chancel to confront the disturbers of her favourite maid of honour, and do battle as Her Majesty in her day of prime and physical capability was so equal to. When in life, hers was a strong hand, so much so, that almost at the moment of yielding to the grim tyrant Death, she reminded her trusty counsellor Burleigh that had not the last moments of human strength been upon her, he would not have dared to address her as he did. Her guttural words, SHAKESPEARE'S BARDOLPH'S MONUMENT. 353 '■ Little man ! Little man ! " will pass down through history as her latest struggle of dignity and forbearance. She of the Armada defeat may be found verifying her Mortlake astrologer's prediction to re-appear on any great emergency in Richmond. May not this desecration prove an event calculated to bring her back in spirit to contend with Richmond grave-meddlers? We yield to none in respect for the reverend Canon whose ministry of forty years has been pro- ductive of so great good. No more devoted „. WMV the general suppression of monasteries by Henry VI1L, in 1539. Its revenues then, according to Dugdale, amounted to ^1,731 per annum. Bacon's connection with Richmond dated «arly in his life, prior to his accession to title or honours, and, therefore, before his degradation. He came into possession of the St. Margaret's, Twickenham, estate through Queen Elizabeth's favourite Earl, Robert Essex, who is said to have presented the property to him, although there appears to have been a lease of it in the Bacon family as early as 1574, when it was demised to Edward Bacon, third son of Sir Nicholas, the Lord Keeper, by his first wife. In 1581, a lease was granted for thirty years to the first portion of his great essays under the cedars of Twickenham Park ; others go further, and say, our information is that Shakespeare and Bacon had a special fond- ness for the two old cedars, and spent much time, on occasions of Shakespeare visiting and resting with his friend at Twickenham, in reading and converse under the shade of these wide-spreading venerable trees. At this time of these two mightiest of in- tellects communing together in the garden Bacon's consummate taste was perfecting, Shakespeare's dramas had evinced their vast superiority over all others in their ease and elaboration, as for the highest qualities of genius. Tears and laughter, the inseparable attendants of surpassing genius, burst forth. 358 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. The wit of Dogberry and the sailors in the " Tempest " ; the wit of Kings in " Henry IV." and " Love's Labour Lost " ; the wit of Falstaff, of which the Queen would discourse to Bacon, and of Hamlet ; native wit, philo- sophic wit, the wit of the fat and of the thin man, wit in the half shimmerings of dawn- ing reason, and of reason trenching upon madness ; the wit of temperaments like Mercutio's ; of topers like Sir Toby Belch ; of mischief like Maria and Cleopatra; of confident villainy like Richard III., all came forth forth from him with inexhaustible fer- tility, for he had already proved himself ** the thousand-souled " ; — none knew it so well as Bacon ! The St. Margaret's, Twickenham Park, pro- perty was very beautifully situate, and of con- siderable extent, and was a gift to him in this wise. Looked upon coldly by his rela- tives, the Cecils, he became a partisan of the Earl of Essex, who, having in vain en- deavoured to obtain for Bacon the office of Solicitor-General, bestowed on his friend the estate in Twickenham Park. The value of the gift was great, and, as is recorded, " here under the spreading cedars, the hard- worked lawyer, dried up for many a week in the hot and dusty courts, used gladly to enjoy his leisure by the gentle Thames." Peaceful and lovely must have been the spot ; it remains so even to the present day; OLD INN, FORMERLY AT THE TOP OF RICHMOND HILL, NEAR THE PARK ENTRANCE. The estate became his own property, afterwards became his in fee simple, in 1596, a year after residing on it. He always spoke of the great happiness en- joyed during the period of his residence here, as having afforded him joyous lei- sure and peaceful retirement. It was from St. Margaret's he wrote to his brother on October 16, 1594: — "One day draweth on another, and I am well pleased in my being here, for, methinks, solitariness col- lecteth the mind as shutting the eyes doth the sight." Clearly it must have been the scene of the happiest days spent by " the father of experimental philosophy," as Voltaire calls him. It is pleasant to think upon his coun- try life, amid the beauteous surroundings of St. Margaret's, a patient student of nature, indulging in what he calls " the purest of human pleasures," the pursuit of gardening. and, although now partially built over and the name changed, is one of the most charm- ing adjuncts of Richmond. The ornamental grounds of Bacon's home within the present century became the property of the Earl of Ailsa, a considerable portion of which was sold to the Conservative Land Society, who apportioned it in building lots, reserving some fourteen acres as ornamental grounds, reserved for ever as private to the free- holders. The trees now growing in the reserve are said to have been planted by Bacon's hands. We know how enthusiastic he was and therefore readily believe the statement. The grounds reach to the Thames with a large frontage commanding the river and the Old Deer Park, a situation, apart from its associations with these great men, unrivalled on this beauteous part of the river. In its rear, in the reserve ornamental THE VENERABLE CEDARS IN BACON'S GARDEN. 359 Ancient Cedars in reserved grounds at St. Margaret's— formerly Bacon's gardens. Bacon is stated to have written his essays beneath their shade, and Shakespeare is traditioned as being his frequent companion here. grounds, still exist two noble cedar trees, of age probably exceeding a thousand years, the very goodly growths under whose shade the philosopher found rest, and, as we are told, much happiness, when necessitous retirement from the world alone yielded him solace. These two noble trees, grand as they now are now in a mutilated condition with their lower limbs ruthlessly lopped, are noble specimens, and in his day must have been in their prime — in fact, they were said to be then the finest cedars existing in England. A stream of ornamental water is within a few yards, also a veteran oak tree now fast merging on decrepitude, so much so that its branches tell only of former grandeur, and the scarcity of foliage in summer time, utters its tale of want of strength to resist the efforts of Eolus 360 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. for its final overthrow. Reviving spring acts tardily in stirring the sap for any early flow through its surviving limbs ; death has laid its full hand on the upper branches, whose bareness even of bark tells of the centuries that have gone and past since its day of prime, rendering it now only a me- morial of the past. The fact of Shakespeare's sojourn in Bacon's beautiful home at St. Margaret's is as unquestionable as the removal of the great essayist from Gray's Inn Chambers through the plague scare. The mighty dramatist had before this time brought Bacon a worshipper at his feet. The clas- sical chef d'ceuvres of Elizabeth's Monarch, which had brought him so constantly to Richmond, had given a new direction to his powers. Every known region of the globe is laid under consideration. Greeks, Romans, Italians, French, Asiatics, Egyp- tians; ancient, modern, medieval times. Every rank, every profession, every age and condition of life passed before his eyes ; once stored in his memory as in a treasure-house, to be summoned forth, not as pale, colourless spectres, but with their full complement of humanity, action, honest feelings, words, in- finate shades of expressions and customs. The masterless passion is shadowed off by endless transitional modes of feeling. It is deposed from its seat by information and re- stored when the due time arrives. The brave are not always brave, the cruel not always unmerciful. Bacon was one of marvellous discernment, all these features were recog- nised and felt, every line of the great con- temporary's products would then be as familiar as their wondrous power, and he would experience the highest gratification in welcoming him a visitor to his rural retreat. We give minutely correct sketches of these monarchs of the woods. It is to be hoped they will be protected by the St. Margaret freeholders, as standing monuments of an ever-interesting period of England's history — classic ground, indeed — for it was on this very spot Bacon wrote the earlier portion of his celebrated u Essays," which form his chief English work, and entitle him to the fame of holding a first rank among the grand old masters of English prose. When first published in 1597, the "Essays" were ten in number ; others were added in 16 1 2, and after his fall he spent much time in expanding and retouching them. These years were also marked by disappointment in love, though it may be opinioned that his money necessities, consequent on debt through habitual extravagance, had some- what to do with his love-suit with a rich young widow, named Lady Hatton, the object of his hopes. His great rival at the bar proved also a too formidable rival in the court of love. Attorney-General Coke stepped in and bore away the golden prize. However, the wound soon healed, for in 1606, a bridegroom of forty- five, richly clad in purple Genoa velvet, stood at the altar beside a fairy young bride in cloth of silver. The lady was the daughter of a Cheapside merchant, Alice Barnham, who on that day Venerable Oak Tree in Bacon's Park. changed her name to Lady Bacon. Sir Francis had been lately knighted by King James. Was ever a more chequered life ? From the Solicitor-Generalship, bestowed in 1607, he stepped on, in *6i3, to the rank of Attorney-General; in 161 7, he received the Great Seal ; and in the following year he reached the summit of his profession, being made Lord High Chancellor of England, with the title of Baron Verulam. Thus, at last, had Bacon beaten Coke, his rival in love, in law, and in ambition. The Lord Chancellor is, however, forgotten when the author of " Novum Organum " rises in our view. This wondrous work appeared in 1620, BACON'S HOUSE DESCRIBED. 361 Bacon's St. Margaret's home is described as u built of red brick, and containing several handsome apartments, with a noble staircase painted in a similar manner to that at Windsor Castle." Ironside identified the house through special circumstances of parish boundary marking. He says " the house stands in the two parishes of Twicken- ham and Isleworth. In the hall fronting to the south-west, is laid in the mosaic pave- ment of black and white marble a small iron cross, which divides the two parishes, and in their perambulation of the bounds, the parishioners of Twickenham direct a man to enter a window at the north-west end of the house, who proceeds to the centre, comes down stairs, and joins the company in the i^^^^^^&^i- The Friary, founded by Henry VII. in 1499, as a convent of 60 servant Friars. hall, where they sing the hundredth psalm. He then goes upstairs and proceeds to a south-west window, and comes down a ladder on the outside, joins the company again, and thus the ceremony ends." The limit of Bacon's estate in St. Mar- garet's is readily traceable. Its river front included the present holding of the Budd family and the Kilmorley property, including the Royal Naval School and the sites of the residences of Arthur Crump and Thomas Young, also the land at the rear formerly owned by the Conservative Land Associa- tion, with the exception of the fourteen acres of reserve already built on. The estate of Henry Little of the Barons also was included. Bacon was a man of extravagant habits, ever in debt, and therefore exposed to unworthy shifts, the which ultimately brought about his ruin. He was compelled to part with this his happy home, and that, too, at a price said to have been less than a third its value. Numerous persons owned it after him, one of the earlier being Lucy, wife of Edward, Earl of Bedford, the countess whose memory has been preserved to posterity by the verses of Donne, Dean of St. Paul's, to whom she was a liberal patroness. Donne was a poet whose early efforts are distinguished by unbounded licentiousness, while his later partook largely of the priestly element. Isaac Walton said of him that he began life as Saul, and ended it as Paul. Ben Jonson also wrote for this celebrated woman more than one epigram. The property was held afterwards by the Countess of Home, then by Henry Mur- ray, whose wife, Anne, alienated it to Lord John Berkeley, whose family resided here until 1685, when they sold the estate to the Earl of Cardigan, who, in 1698, alienated it to the Earl of Albe- marle. In 1 702, it was conveyed to Thomas Vernon, secretary to the Duke of Monmouth, and purchased of his heirs in 1743 by Algernon, Earl of Mountrath. The subsequent particulars, as detailed by Lysons, afford a very curious instance of what he terms " fortuitous accuracy of calculation." The Earl's widow, Diana, daughter of the Earl of Brad- ford, by her will dated 1766, bequeathed it "to the Duchess of Montrose during the joint lives of the Duke and Duchess of Newcastle ; but if the Duchess of Newcastle should survive the Duke, the Duchess of Montrose to quit possession to her ; and if she should survive her, to enjoy it again during her life. After the death of the Duchess of Montrose to remain to Lord Frederick Cavendish and his issue, with remainder to Sir William Abdy, Baronet, and his heirs in fee." It is remarkable that, except in the instance of Lord John not sur- viving Lord Frederick Cavendish, everything happened which the Countess thus singularly provided for. The Duchess of Montrose took possession, quitted to the Duchess of New- castle, took possession again on her death, and 77. 362 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. was succeeded by Lord Frederick Cavendish, on whose death, in 1803, it devolved to Sir William Abdy in fee. Since then it has been in several hands, notably the Earl of Cassillis, afterwards Marquis of Ailsa, whose house was pulled down by Lord Kilmorey when he lived in the mansion now occupied by the Royal Naval School. Very near it lived Richard Brinsley Sheridan and his lovely first wife, in a charming house which had been tenanted by the Earl of Warwick. r In connection with Royal students of Shakespeare, it may here be named that the lamented Emperor Frederick of Germany, when informed of the discovery of De Witt's drawing of the interior of the Swan Theatre, in London, could give his mind to express hope that perseve 'ng search would result in further traces of the world's great bard being brought to light. Here we see this warrior Prince, a perfect type of the Latin poet's description, " thinking nothing foreign to him that was human " right gallant and skilful soldier as he was, to whom war was repugnant to his deepest feelings, living the ways and literature of peace. History fails in any other such instance of devotion to the duties of Sovereign, husband and father, as this foremost citizen of an empire, proud of combining the highest results of modern culture with the traditionary simplicity and solidity of fie antique German nationality. Here the nations beheld an illustrious monarch in the midst of bodily sufferings, proving himself in sympathy with the modern activity of his country in litera- ture, scholarship, historical inquiry, science, and the fine arts. As was well said at his death, honesty of purpose, uprightness of conduct, valour, gentleness, constancy, as all other noble qualities of soul, were in his blameless life combined. In his summons from the world, no heavier bereavement could have been inflicted on the nations ; it was, indeed, an historical catastrophe than which none other could more deeply stir the modern world. None but a Shakespeare could adequately express the depth to which every people was moved by the disappearance of the great, the heroic figure on whom Britain bestowed her most gifted daughter, a true woman, as the worthy wife of this chivalrous high-minded ruler, so noble and faithful a man. The greatest of Bacon's works was fresh from the press when dark clouds gathered around its author. Coke, his bitter foe, and others whom the poison of envy had also tainted, raised a well-founded charge against the Chancellor for taking bribes. Undoubtedly, Bacon was guilty of the crime ; his extravagance and love of show led to the temptation, against which he was unequal, although, it may be said, in extenuation of his fault, that other judges had received gifts under like circumstances. A case containing no less than two distinct charges of bribery and corruption presented by the House of Commons, and the Lords sat in judgment upon the highest lawyer of the realm. Humbled by the disgrace of his impeachment, he sent to the Lords a full confession of his guilt. " It is,'' said he, to some of his brother peers who came to ask him if this was his own voluntary act, " it is my act — my hand — my heart — O, my Lords, spare a broken reed ! " The evening of his troubled life was spent among his books and experiments in retirement at Gorhambur}*, he having sold his St. Margaret's estate. Heavy debts still clung upon him. He, nothing daunted, and with extreme assur- ance, applied for the Provostship of Eton, but was naturally unsuccessful. The story of his death is at least curious. Driving in his carriage one snowy day, the thought SHAKESPEARE AND SPENCER AT ST. MARGARETS. 363 occurred that flesh might be preserved as well by snow as by salt. He immediately stopped, went into a cottage by the road, bought a fowl, and stuffed it full of snow. Feeling chilly and too unwell to go home, he went to the house of the Earl of Arundel, which was near. There he is said to have been put into a damp bed ; fever ensued, and in a few days he was no more. His associations with the close vicinity of Rich- mond and the stately trees in the reserved grounds of St. Margaret's, hallowed of Shakespeare and Spenser, are worthy objects of admiration and delight, and must, so long as they endure, mark the home as of his ill-fated career. It may seem strange to many that Shake- speare should be found clinging, as it were, beyond the pale of its doctrinal convention- alism, and philosophers like Bacon poring over "the book of God's works " as a deroga- tion to the " book of God's word." Sympath- izing with Romanism and Protestantism so far as they were human, Shakespeare could not perhaps be wholly satisfied with either. There may, to his mind, have been some- thing deeper than either, common to both. And whilst the creeds of neither are distinctly enunciated in his writings, whilst neither can claim him as an especial advocate, both recognise a sincere and pro- found religious element through his writ- ings ; not thrust forward to catch applause or gild a popular sentiment, but a pure vestal light, equally free from fanaticism on one side and from infidelity on the other. Hatfield House, the ancient abode of the Salisburys, where Shakespeare visited, and where representation of one or more of his plays was made before Queen Elizabeth. to the older faith, and yet holding chiefly to ministers who had accepted the new, this without cutting himself adrift from the old ties. But who shall measure the religious tendencies of one who had carved out for himself a wholly untrodden path as that designated by Coleridge u the thousand souled"? It is not given to the ordinary mortal to judge of the marvellously gifted. He was living in a sceptical age, when the freshness of faith and that confidence in the glories of Protestantism which had inspired the poetry of Spenser was fast dying out. Many had relapsed into Romanism, many had fallen into Atheism ; the narrow creed of Puritanism could not accommodate itself to the larger sympathies and growing intelli- gence of the age. It viewed with consterna- tion divines like Hooker securely trespassing Shakespeare, according to tradition exist- ing among old Roman Catholic families, frequently visited Richmond at other times than occasions of arranging theatrical per- formances before Queen Elizabeth. He was a frequent visitor at Isleworth vicarage, close by, where his friend, the Reverend Thomas Brown, held the living from 1605 until 1625. Especially he is tracked there as remaining for several weeks the year before his death, resting quietly with the son of a dear friend of the Shakespeare family, the son of the half-century Vicar of Stratford-on-Avon, the venerable Byfield, to whom the world stands indebted for the institution of its grand old Register of never- dying fame. Nicholas Byfield was instituted Vicar in 161 5. He was the son of Richard Byfield. vicar of Stratford-on-Avon „ and was 364 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. born there about 1579. In 1596 he became a butler or servitor of Exeter College, Oxon, during Lent Term, and remained there upwards of seven years, but left it without taking a degree. Being admitted, however, into holy orders, he left the University; and on his way to Ireland, where he purposed settling, and passing through Chester, he was, upon the delivery of a noted sermon at that place, invited to be pastor of St. P-ter's Church, which he gladly accepted, and continued there for several years, much followed and admired, says Wood, u by the precise party, who esteemed his preaching profitable and his life pious." He was a strict observer of the Lord's day, on which subject he wrote, and involved himself in a controversy with Edward Brerewood, the mathematician, who, being a native of that city, was sometimes his auditor. From Chester he removed, in 1615, to the vicarage of Isleworth, where he died in 1622, leaving behind him an excellent character for learn- ing, success in his ministry, and a pious and peaceable disposition. Dr. Gouge, of Black- friars, who drew up an account of his death, and who wrote a preface to the posthumous works of Byfield, says that, on his body being opened, a stone was taken out of his bladder that exceeded thirty-three ounces in weight, measuring about the edge 1 5 -J inches, and was in length and breadth about 13 inches, and solid like a flint. Adineram, one of Byfield's sons, was one of the few persons who were by name stigmatized by Butler, in " Hudibras." Astrologer Gadbury. Shakespeare has no just cause to feel aggrieved at any imagined neglect on the part of his Sovereign, who proved herself most kind and appreciative. Catholic sources intimating indifference on his part must be received only for what they are worth. It was not without interest he is represented as cold towards his royal mis- tress. The most probable version is that certain courtiers on the occasion of a private visit to the Queen had received him as one of a company of players, a point on which he was most sensitive, and although Her Majesty explained to him the mistake, yet he never could be br ught to forget it. Not only was Elizabeth in every way condescend- ing to her great master of literature, but Astrologer Dee. more than kind and considerate in endea- vours to cause his over-looking the fancied slight. James I. seems to have been a still more ardent lover of the drama than his imme- diate predecessor; and of all the contem- porary writers for the stage, our great poet deservedly received the largest share of his admiration and patronage. On the 17th of May, 1603, close upon Shakespeare's arrival in London, a warrant was issued in his name, by which the Lord Chamberlain's company were taken into his own service, and under which they were thenceforward known as " the King's Players." In this document the first member of the company mentioned is " Lawrence Fletcher," and then follow " William Shakespeare, Richard Burbage," and six others. There can be no doubt that Fletcher was already known to King James, and that it was to that circumstance he owed this mark of Royal favour. King James's appreciation of Shakespeare was rendered in h_& capacity as a great writer, not as an actor, and which prompted him to write what was called an " amicable letter." In the advertisement to Lintot's edition of Shakespeare's Poems, publisne: in the year 1610, it is stated that this letter, " though now lost, remained long in the hands of Sir William Davenant, as a credible witness now living can testify " ; and Oldys alleges that the Duke of Buckingham told Lintot that he had seen it in the possession of Davenant. In connection with this subject an anecdote is preserved of Shakespeare's adroitness and courtly tact. He was personating 6n one occasion the character of a king in the pre- sence of Queen Elizabeth, at Richmond, who, SHAKESPEARE AND QUEEN ELIZABETH. 365 in walking across the stage, the honoured place in those days, as we have seen, for the higher portion of the audience, dropped her glove as she passed close to the poet. No notice was taken by him of the incident ; and the Queen, desirous of knowing whether this procedure was the result of mere inad- vertence, or a determination to preserve the consistency of his part, moved again towards him and again let her glove fall. Shake- speare stooped down to pick it up, saying, in the character of the monarch whom he was personating : — - " And though now bent on this high embassy, Yet stoop we to take up our cousin's glove." Cpic H>acerbos, ubi srit birmonis abbenium, Mllnc se objictot pro oreoe bibenium ! Stationed over the Church, the Cock without tail His head holds aloft in spite of the gale ! The parson does likewise and though Devils assail, When they see that he's game, they will tremble and quail. ©alius, rniercirteros allies co:lorum, ^u6:t super libera rantum JVmjelorum: ©nnc monei eicutere nos bcrba malorum, ©mstare et perripere arcana supentorum. The Cock, too, like other birds frequently hears, The music sublime of harmonious spheres ; Thus the parson he teacheth to lay aside cares, To attend to his sermons, and more to his prayers. (Quasi vex in rapite oallus eoronatur ; Sin laeise ralraribus, ut miles, armatur : (Quanto plus fit senior pennis beauratur : In nocte bunt conchtit lea conturbatur. As a king, on his head he is royally crowned ; As a knight, with his spurs he paradeth around ; As his years, so his feathers of gold do abound, When he crows in the night, Lions wake at the sound ! ©alius renit plnnntant furbam gallinarum, ©i soliritubines mannas babel Ijarum ; JsJic ^>acerbos, ronciptens euram animantm, goceat et faciat nuob geo sit earum. The cock has around him a feminine crowd, For whom with solicitude great he is bowed ; Thus the parson the sex, so giddy and proud, Tells them what, and what is not, divinely allowed. ©alius gramen reperit, roubocat usores, ©i illub bistribuit inter rariores : ©ales bisrant clertci pietatis mores, g attbo suis subbitis scripturarum flores. The cock findeth barley, andcalleth his train, And then what he findeth distributes again ; The parson from this has a lesson so plain, That to tell him at length, would be labour in vain. ©alius bobis prabicat, omnes bos anbite, J^acerboies, gomint serbi, et iEebtta;, Wit bobis ab ntlesiia bicatnr, Uenite : ^rmsta nobis rniabia, plater, etcrnit faiix. The cock preacheth to you ; then all of you hear, Bishops, parsons and people, let each one give ear ; He calletfi you up ! with his clarion clear, Up, to a world where 'tis better than here ! It was in 1597 that Shakespeare pur- chased this his home, and which was then known as The Great House at Stratford-upon- Avon, described as " one messuage, two barns, two gardens, and two orchards, with appurtenances." The same year he filed a An authentic coloured glass relic of the house, New Place The initials, William and Anne, may be seen in the Museum. bill in Chancery against the son of the mort- gagee who unjustly detained Asbies, the hereditary property of the poet's mother. The same year his father, formerly in de- clining circumstances, applied for a grant of arms, and passed from the condition of a yeoman to that of a gentleman. Here is proof that the income of the poet enabled him to reinstate the fortunes of his family. In the grant he is called " John Shakspeare, now of Stratford-upon-Avon, in the co. of Warwick, gent., whose parent, great-grand- father and late antecessor, for his faithful and approved service to the late most prudent prince Henry VII., of famous memory, was advanced and rewarded with lands and tene- ments given to him in those parts of War- wickshire, where they have continued by some descents in good reputation." Next year the poet is assessed for a tenement in the parish of St. Helen's, Bishopsgate. Legal contention with the Lamberts, in regard to their refusal to accept payment of this mortgage, occasioned great money cost to the Shakespeares at a moment when they were suffering from the effect of the Lucy persecution. It was ordained, how- ever, that the brilliant abilities of the young poet, even at this early stage of his career, should vouchsafe a deliverance. He would be familiar with all the points of the case, and his mind having been directed to law as the means through which right should triumph, he would probably pause in literary labour until the end was secured. SHAKESPEARE NO MERE DREAMER. 373 The exact time of Shakespeare's final return from London to his dear Stratford home cannot be fixed. Greene's memoran- dum shows that he was in London on the 17th November, 1614, and the probability is he left it close on that date. He yearned for his country employments, and to pass the remainder of his days in tranquil retirement, though we do not presume to intimate that such a mind could ever have contemplated idleness. " The latter part of his life," . says Rowe, " was spent, as all men of good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the society of his friends," and he adds what cannot be doubted, that " his pleasurable wit and good nature en- gaged him in the acquaintance, and entitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood." He is assumed to have been of a lively and companionable disposition ; and his long residence in London, amid the bustling and varied scenes connected with his public life, independently of his natural powers of conversation, could not fail to render his society most agreeable and desirable. The profession of actor, in however small a degree adopted by him, would bring directly home to his memory the incurable littleness of this our mortal destiny. The mimic representation of passion upon the stage must have a natural tendency to recall the hollowness of the hardly less unsub- stantial realities which it mocks. Talma said he never could look an audience in the face without the continually recurring thought — where will all these heads be in another hundred years ? A very startling question, most assuredly. We believe that some such idea must often have arisen in the teeming, meditative mind of Shakespeare. To his rapid apprehension we are all but a troop of poor players. His own life was, after all, but a hurried, perplexed show; and he, too, in spite of the miracles of his genius, had but a shadowy passage over this mysterious stage of time. But this skyey being had his own firm hold of the fixed, solid earth. How small may be the threads which bind the mightiest and the most discursive spirit to the shores of this mortality! Shakespeare was a most careful man of business, as we are perpetually reminded by nearly all the petty incidents in his career with which we have become acquainted. Here, alone, he is for us an actual, living, unmistakable man. The direct controlling influence in his daily life, the special incentive to all his labours, was the desire to accumulate money (trash !) as a means to secure those social advantages to which the possession of wealth, in the opinion of Englishmen, is the surest title. This was the counterpoise to the highly wrought emotional and meditative ten- dencies of his nature. It was by this practical instinct that he held on to the realities of human existence — that, in its agitations and its struggles he wa^ a steadfast actor, and not a mere amazed observer and a passionate dreamer — that he resisted the ceaseless pressure of a restless imagination — that he offered a determined front to the ever-rushing invasion of the wonder and the mystery of this changeful world of time and place. It was the familiar landmark that fixed for him his own little home in the infinite ocean of life. No wonder that he selected Stratford as the scene of the tranquil close of his days. It must have been inexpressibly endeared to him by the memories of boyhood. His wife and children remaining here during his 374 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. theatre life in the Metropolis would impress it with charms, heightened by his doubtless regular periodical visits to it as his rearl home, doubly dear to such an impressionable nature, and where his rural longings could be indulged. From the moment he purchased New Place it is manifest that he must have regarded his native town as his principal place of residence, and this purchase was made at a very early period in his dramatic career. Away, then, with the popular tradition which associates with his memory a jovial, riotous life in London. No careless frequenter of taverns could ever have exer- cised the vigilant prudence which enabled an occasional actor and a writer for the stage in the days of Queen Elizabeth to become, such a nature, he must have instinctively shrunk from habitual convivial excesses. We do not mean to say that he was not a man of social temper, but we believe that that temper was very considerably under the restraint of a cautious sagacity and an innate refinement of feeling. Shakespeare's determined renunciation of London society leads us to the adoption of another conclusion. The general character of his conversation is a subject on which we have received no decisive evidence of any kind, but on which we are all naturally led to speculate with a special interest. The best conjecture we can form is that it only very partially reflected the magnificence of his genius. He never took any deep root before he had yet passed the rich autumn of his years, the founder of a considerable fortune. All that we learn, too, of the poet's own tastes is opposed to such a supposition. He appears to have been by nature a careful observer of the external decorum of life. He had evidently a decided predilection for gentle blood and gentle manners. That he was no admirer of the mob is one of the few conclusions with respect to his personal feelings which we can draw with a reason- able certainty from his dramas ; and, with the unanimous concurrence of the commen- tators, we may infer, from the Sonnets, that he felt pained and humiliated by his con- nection with the stage, because it excluded him, as he believed, from familiar intercourse with a refined and congenial society. With in the great centre of English social life, — his were higher duties, higher aims than small talk and wretched gossip, the delight of too many. Higher aspirations ruled, grander conceptions of duty towards mankind. At the Mermaid Club, or at any other social gathering, he would have recalled the author of the poems, and of the early comedies, rather than the creator of any of his greater and more characteristic dramas. This is a conclusion which, as it seems to us, is also implied in the notice of Jonson. Of the two dramatists, Jonson himself would be the greater talker. Amazed as he must have felt at the manifestations of a mighty and an utterly unaccountable genius, he evidently thought he possessed some sort of personal advantage over Shakespeare, and this im- STATE OF ENGLAND IN SHAKESPEARE'S TIME. 375 pression very probably arose in some degree out of the general result of their more social and familiar intercourse, which would rate conversational power far higher than its worth. Social Condition of the Kingdom in Shakespeare's Time. Without entering into any lengthened description of the social condition of the people at the period when Shakespeare was born, we may be sure it could be no effeminate age to produce such a man. Commerce was crippled by monopolies, and of the arable land of the country not more Bristol were going out or coming in from the remotest corners of the globe. The fairest fields, the richest cities, the proudest strongholds lay in this region. The silk manufacture had been established in London upwards of two hundred years ; but as yet upwards of a century and a half must elapse before an adventurous John Lombe erects a silk-mill at Derby, and so begins the factory system in England. And that mighty cotton manufacture, upon whose prosperity the feeding of so many millions of people depends, at the birth of Shake- speare had no existence in the realm. Our Fac-similes. The signatures and marks of Stratford Aldermen referred to at page 76. <*ft* than one-fourth was in a state of cultivation ; but large flocks of sheep were kept on account of their wool. Manufactures were only in their infancy. Woollens had been spun and woven only on a small scale throughout the country; Taunton, in Somersetshire, being at that time the most famous for its fabrics of any town in Eng- land ; and the West of England was to the world's commerce of that day what the North is now. While Liverpool was still a swamr , and Manchester a straggling hamlet ; when Leeds was a cluster of mud huts, and the romantic valley of the Calder a desolate gorge; the streets of Taunton, Exeter and Dunster resounded with arts and industry ; and the merchant ships of Bridgwater and principal foreign trade transactions then lay with the Netherlands ; but already the merchant princes of our island were seeking to bind us in the peaceful links of commerce with all lands. Agriculture was then in the rudest condition ; the flower garden was but little cultivated, the parks of the nobility and gentry serving them for pleasure grounds ; some valuable esculent herbs and fruits had indeed been recently introduced into the country, amongst which were turnips, carrots, salads, apricots, melons, and currants ; but potatoes were not yet culti- vated in Britain, and even for a hundred years afterwards were scarcely known as an article of food ; and peas were in general brought from Holland; so that old Fuller 376 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. might well observe that they were ''fit dainties for ladies, they came so far, and cost so dear." The culivation of flax was not neglected ; that of hops had been introduced, but as yet our principal supply was from the Low Countries. The old dungeon-like castles of the nobility were giving way to the more commodious halls or mansions, but the houses of the people improved slowly. The art of manfuacturing the very coarsest sorts of glass had only been introduced into England seven years ; common window- glass and bottles being all that was attempted, the finer articles of glass-ware hibited it, with other disorderly games, by public proclamation, we yet find Queen Elizabeth's father, Henry VIII., " Defender of the Faith," building a cockpit at the palace of Whitehall, and James I., to whom our translation of the Bible is dedicated, amusing himself with cockfighting twice a week; and the learned author, Roger Ascham — the University Orator at Cam- bridge, and the tutor of Queen Elizabeth — was a passionate admirer of this disgraceful sport. Then at Shrovetide, what a torturing of poor poultry did cock-throwing and thrashing-the-hen occasion ! Both Catholic Signatures of Shakespeare to a Deed of Purchase. Originals in the Guildhall, London. being still imported from Venice. Few houses had glass for their windows, and even in towns of importance chimneys were an unknown luxury, the smoke being allowed to escape as best it could, from the lattice, the door, or from openings in the roof. On a humble pallet of straw would the poor husbandman repose his wearied limbs ; and wheaten bread was not used by more than one-half of the population. The amusements of the people, for the most part, were gross and debasing. Cock- fighting had the patronage of the learned and powerful of the land ; for, though Edward III., as early as 1366, had pro- Mary and Protestant Elizabeth derived plea- sure from the baiting of bulls and bears ; and many a fair lady of that day might say with Slender, in the " Merry Wives of Windsor," — " I have seen Sackerson loose, twenty times." Even the gentle but unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots, when rendered so weak by her unjust imprison- ment as not to be able to walk without support, according to the report of Sir Amias Powlet, her keeper (June 3rd, 1586), was sometimes " carried in a chair to one of the adjoining ponds, to see the diversion of duck-hunting " ; and, perchance, at times, compared the hard fate of the poor per- THE FAMILY AT NEW PLACE, 377 secuted fowls with the harder and more lingering one of her own. Such was Eng- land, and of such its people, great and simple, in the day of the great master of wisdom. Our loved friend, the late Charles Knight, thus refers to his last years : — The happy quiet of Shakespeare's retreat was not wholly undisturbed by calamity, domestic and public. His brother Richard, who was ten years his junior, was buried at Stratford on the 4th of February, 16 13. Of his father's family his sister Joan, who had married Mr. William Hart, of Stratford, actors " but u little satisfaction in their endeavours to learn something from him of his brother." The story of Oldys is clearly apocryphal, as far as regards any brother of Shakespeare's. They were a short-lived race. His sister, indeed, survived him thirty years. The family at New Place, at this period, would be composed, therefore, of his wife only, and his unmarried daughter Judith ; unless his elder daughter and his son- in-law formed a part of the same household, with their only child Elizabeth, who was born in 1608. That Shakespeare assisted st. paul's cathedral as in Shakespeare's days. was probably the only other left. There is no record of the death of his brother Gilbert ; but as he is not mentioned in the will of William, in all likelihood he died before him. Oldys, in his manuscript notes upon Langbaine, has a story of " One of Shake- speare's younger brothers, who lived to a good old age, even some years, as I compute, after the restoration of King Charles II." Gilbert was born in 1566 ; so that, if he had lived some years after the restoration of Charles II., it is not surprising that "his memory was weakened," as Oldys reports, and that he could give " the most noted with all the energy of his character in alleviating the miseries resulting from the great fire in 16 14, and in the restoration of his town, we cannot doubt. John Combe, the old companion of Shakespeare, died at the very hour that the great fire was raging at Stratford. According to the inscription on his monument, he died on the 10th of July, 1614. Upon his tomb is a fine re- cumbent figure executed by the same sculptor who, a few years later, set up in the same chancel a monument to one who, " when that stone is rent," shall still be " fresh to all ages." Shakespeare was at 37* SHAKESPEARES TRUE LIFE. this period fifty years old. He was in all probability healthful and vigorous. His life was a pure and simple one ; and its chances of endurance were the greater, that high intellectual occupation, not forced upon him by necessity, varied the even course of his tranquil existence. His retrospections of the past would, we believe, be eminently INTERIOR OF ST. PAUL S AS IN SHAKESPEARE S DAYS happy. Chaucer and Gower, who may be styled the parents of English poetry — had left the earth more than a century and a half when Shakespeare was born, a.d. 1564; and John Lydgate had rested in his grave about one hundred and thirty-four years. Skelton, Surrey, Wyatt, and others of lesser fame, after aiding in refining their native language by many polished poems, now slept the sleep of death. The Reformation in religion, for which Wickliffe had con- tended two hundred years before, had spread wider than his scattered ashes ; and the lion-hearted Luther — " The solitary monk who shook the world " — had died in peace only eighteen years before. The Protestant prelates, Hooper, Ridley, Lati- mer, and Cranmer, with numerous other mar- tyrs for conscience sake, had perished at the stake only nine years ago. One great object the people had already ac- complished, in obtain- ing possession of the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue ; and no one can calculate the benefits which civilization has derived in every way from that simple boon. The printing - press — even in its then rude construction, a mighty auxiliary of human en- lightenment — had only been introduced into England some eighty- seven years; and the venerable Caxton, our first English printer, had rested from his labours for half a cen- tury, in his grave at Westminster. And yet how great were the re- sults which that print- ing-press had already accomplished ! It had given the Bible and many of the Classics to the people, and even then was beginning to cause a demand for new contributions to literature; so that henceforth an author would not be altogether dependent on a single patron, as before. Even in the pro- vinces, as well as in the Metropolis, were printing-presses springing up ; for after the establishment of Caxton's press, in 1477, we find others at London and St. Albans, in 1480; at York, in 1509; at Beverley, in UNHEALTHINESS OF STRATFORD. 379 1 510; at Southwark, in 1514; at Cambridge, in 1521; at Tavistock, in 1525; at Win- chester, in 1545 ; at the castle of Bristol in 1546; at Ipswich and Worcester, in 1548; at Canterbury, in 1549; and at Greenwich. The personality of Shakespeare forms undoubtedly the most perplexing subject to which the Shakespearean student can direct his contemplation. The evidence is so various that we believe it must light us to a fair general knowledge of his life and of his character, if we will only look at it in a clear and unprejudiced spirit. In his own numerous writings we cannot fail to find manifestations not only of his genius, but of his tastes and his temper. The anti- quarian discoveries, too, will afford us an impor- tant aid in our attempt to realize and define this wonderful person- ality. Those discoveries are, no doubt, strangely limited and discon- nected, but they come to us from a great variety of quarters; and small as they are, when taken separately, if we should find, as we think we are sure to find on a careful inquiry, that they all point to the same gene- ral conclusions, we may place even greater con- fidence in their acci- dental testimony than in more detailed revela- tions proceeding from fewer sources and ar- ranged upon some more preconcerted plan. The indefatigable Phillips has brought together a very large amount of previously unpublished documentary evidence, illustra- tive, not only of New Place and its vicissi- tudes, but of the habits and manners of the people of Stratford; and the state of the town in and after the time of Shakespeare, and, in face of the darkness which surrounded the great object of his researches, still the Shakespeare historian toiled on with unceas- ing industry and unfailing hope. Among the most interesting materials are those which show the condition of Stratford in the time of Shakespeare; and the sound inferences he draws from them to account for his almost sudden death, regarding which Phillips, after patiently weighing all the statements and traditions, concludes that in all human probability he died of typhoid fever, arising from the bad drainage of the town and the sadly neglected state of Chapel Lane, which flanked New Place. The filthy condition of this lane for a long series of years is proved REAR OF LEICESTER HOSPITAL, WARWICK. Shakespeare is known to have frequently visited one bearing his own name living close on the site of this hospital. by the town archives, showing numerous startling revelations ; and this view is con- firmed by the cast taken after death, which shows the countenance unemaciated, as it would have been after a short illness. Strat- ford has only during the present century, and, indeed, of late years, put on the garb of modern cleanliness, in which she now appears at the sacrifice of much that was picturesque and Shakespearean. At the death of Mrs. Hall, the property of New Place descended to her only child Elizabeth, the wife of Thomas Nash, who 3& SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. afterwards became Lady Barnard, wife of Sir Thomas Barnard, and in whom the direct line of Shakespeare ended. She dying in 1649, aged 66, without issue, New Place was sold in 1675 to Sir Edward Walker, who ultimately left it to his daughter's husband, Sir John Clopton, and so it once more passed into the hands of the family of its founder. A second Sir Hugh Clopton owned it in the middle of the last century ; and under his direction it was repaired, freshly decorated, and furnished with a new front. This first stage of its desecration proved the beginning of the end of this old structure as a relic of Shakespeare, for this owner dying in 1751, bequeathed it to his son-in-law, Henry Talbot, who in 1753 sold it to the most uni- versally execrated iconoclast, the Reverend Francis Gastrell, vicar of Frodsham, in Cheshire. The total destruction of New Place in 1757, by its new possessor, is difficult to account for upon any ordinary principles of action. Malone thus relates the story : — " The Rev. Mr. Gastrell, a man of large for- tune, resided in it but a few years, in conse- quence of a disagreement with the inhabit- ants of Stratford. Every house in that town that is let or valued at more than 40s. a year is assessed by the overseers, accord- ing to its worth and the ability of the occupier, to pay a monthly rate towards the maintenance of the poor. As Mr. Gastrell resided part of the year atLichfield he thought he was assessed too highly ; but being very properly compelled by the magistrates of Stratford to pay the whole of what was levied on him, on the principle that his house was occupied by his servants in his absence, he peevishly declared that that house should never be assessed again ; and soon afterwards pulled it down, sold the materials, and left the town. Wishing, as it would seem, to be ' damned to everlasting fame,' he had some time before cut down Shakespeare's celebrated mulberry-tree, to save himself the trouble of showing it to those whose admiration of our great poet led them to visit the poetic ground on which it stood." The cutting down of the mulberry- tree seems to have been regarded as the chief offence in Mr. Gastrell's own gene- ration. His wife was a sister of Johnson's correspondent, Mrs. Aston. After the death of Mr. Gastrell, his widow resided at Lichfield; and in 1776, Boswell, in company with Johnson, dined with the sisters. Bos- well on this occasion says : — " I was not informed till afterwards that Mrs. Gastrell's husband was the clergyman who, while he lived at Stratford-upon-Avon, with Gothic barbarity cut down Shakespeare's mulberry- tree, and, as Dr. Johnson told me, did it to vex his neighbours. His lady, I have reason to believe on the same authority, participated in the guilt of what the enthusiasts of our immortal bard deem almost a species of sacrilege." The mulberry-tree was cut down in 1756, was sold for firewood, and the bulk of it was purchased by a Mr. Thomas Sharp, of Stratford-upon-Avon, clock and watch maker, who made a solemn affidavit some years afterwards that, out of a sincere venera- tion for the memory of its celebrated planter, he had the greater part of it conveyed to his own premises, and worked it into curious toys and useful articles. The destruction of the mulberry-tree, which the previous pos- sessor of New Place used to show with pride and veneration, enraged the people of Strat- ford ; and Mr. Wheler tells us that he remem- bers to have heard his father say that, when GASTRELVS DESTRUCTION OF NEW PLACE. 381 a boy, he assisted in the revenge of breaking the reverend destroyer's windows. The hostilities were put an end to by the Rev. Mr. Gastrell quitting Stratford in 1757 ; not without confirming the principle of doing what he liked with his own, pulling the house to the ground in which Shakespeare and his children had lived and died. There is no good end to be served in execrating the memory of the man who deprived the world of the pleasure of look- ing upon the rooms in which the author of some of the greatest productions of human intellect had lived, in the common round of humanity — of treading reverentially upon the spot hallowed by his presence and by his labours. He intended no insult to the memory of Shakespeare ; and, indeed, thought nothing of Shakespeare in the whole course of his proceedings. He bought a house and paid for it. He wished to enjoy it in quiet. People with whom he could not sympathise intruded upon him to see the gardens and the house. In the gar- dens was a noble mulberry-tree. Tradition said it was planted by Shakespeare ; and the professional enthusiasts of Shakespeare — ■ the Garricks and the Macklins — had sat under its shade during the occupation of one who felt that there was a real honour in the ownership of such a place. The Rev. Mr. F. Gastrell wanted the house and the gardens to himself. He had that strong notion of the exclusive rights of property which belongs to Englishmen, and especially to ignorant Englishmen. Mr. Gastrell was an ignorant man, though a clergyman. From 1597 until 1602, during which time the fertility of his invention poured forth some of the grandest of his productions, and popular judgment placed him far above all his contemporaries, his progress to wealth and fame was remarkably rapid. In 1602 he purchased 17 acres of arable land in Strat- ford for the sum of ^320, somewhat more than ;£i,ooo in modern computation ; five months after, in the same year, one Walter Getley surrendered a house to the poet in Dead Lane, Stratford ; at Michaelmas term, William Shakespeare, gentleman, as he is now generally styled, bought from Hercules Underhill, for £60, a property consisting of a messuage with two orchards, two gardens, two barns, and their appurtenances. In May, 1603, when James I. came to the Crown, a privy seal was granted by the King to his servants "Laurence Fletcher, William Shakespeare, Richard Burbage, Augustine Philippes, John Hemmings, Henry Condell," and the rest of their associates, u to use and exercise the art and faculty of playing comedies, tragedies, histories, interludes, morals, pastorals, stage-plays, and such other like as they have already studied, or here- after shall use or study," in their usual house, the Globe, or elsewhere within the King's dominions. And James, who was by no means the fool that posterity repre- sents him to have been, showed his discrimi- nation by frequently commanding Shake- speare's plays to be acted at Court. In the account of " The Revels at Court," notices are found of the following : — " Othello," fir. C~ox~r->T " Merry Wives of Windsor," " Measure for Measure," "Comedy of Errors," in 1604; " Love's Labour's Lost," " Henry V.," " Mer- chant of Venice," twice in 1605; at White- hall, " King Lear," which had already in 1608 passed through three editions ; in 1611, " The Tempest " and « The Winter's Night's Tale." In 16 13, on the marriage of James's daughter Elizabeth with the Prince-palatine, the representation of Shakespeare's plays furnished a great part of the entertainment ; among them are ** The Tempest," " The Twins' Tragedy" (supposed to be the " Comedy of Errors "), " Much Ado About Nothing," « The Winter's Tale," " Sir John 382 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. Falstaff," "Othello," and "Julius Caesar." In 1605 the poet added to his property at Strat- ford by purchasing the unexpired lease of the tithes of Stratford and the adjoining hamlets for the sum of ^440 sterling ; in modern computation ^1,400. It is not known at what period he retired from the stage and settled finally in Strat- ford. By the spring of 16 13 he had lost his father, his mother, and his only son. Two daughters remained : Susannah, married in 1 607 to Dr. Hall, a physician at Stratford ; and Judith, married to a vintner named Quiney, of the same place, in 16 16. During the last three years of his life, notices of his pur- chases and employments become more rare. In 1 6 13 the Globe Theatre was burnt, and it is reasonably assumed that many of the poet's manuscripts perished in the flames. 1 7 ')% In the year 1598 we find Abraham Sturley, a burgess of Stratford, writing thus to a friend in London : " It seemeth that our countryman, Mr. Shakespeare, is willing to disburse some money upon some odd yard land or other at Shottery " ; and nine months afterwards we see Richard Quiney, another Stratford man — whose son subsequently married Shakespeare's younger daughter — applying to him for a loan of ^30, under no apprehension, apparently, that he would be refused the money, although ^30 were then fully equivalent to ^120 at the present time. It is not a little curious that this letter of Quiney is the only one addressed to the poet now known to be in existence. It is carefully preserved in the Shakespearean Museum in the birthplace and runs thus : — ■ M Loveinge countreyman, I am bolde of you, as of a ffrende, cravinge your helpe with xxx. It. uppon Mr. Bushells and my securitee, or Mr. Myttens with me. Mr. Rosswell is nott come to London as yeate, and I have especiall cawse. You shall ffrende me muche in helpeinge me out of all the debttes I owe in London, I thanck God, and muche quiet my mynde, which wolde nott be indebted. I am nowe towardes the Cowrte, in hope of answer for the dispatche of my buyseness. You shall nether loose credclyt nor monney by me, the Lorde wyllinge; and nowe butt perswade your- selfe soe, as I hope, and you shall nott need to feare, butt, with all hartie thanckefull- ness, I wyll holde my tyme and content your ffrende, and yf we bargaine further you shal be the paie-master yourselfe. My tyme biddes me hastin to an ende, and soe I com- mitt thys (to) yowr care and hope of yowr helpe. I feare I shall not be backe thys night ffrom the Cowrte. Haste. The Lorde be with yow and with us all, Amen ! ffrom the Bell in Carter Lane, the 25 October, 1598. " Yowrs in all kyndenes, "Rych. Quyney." " To my lovinge good ffrend and contrey- man Mr. Wm. Shackespere deliver thees." This is the only known scrap of paper that Shakespeare ever read. It is a precious document — one short glimpse which we catch of the poet. There is not the slightest ground for the conjecture, founded upon it, that Shakespeare at one period of his life was a money-lender. " Loving good friend," and " loving countryman," is not quite the way in which a usurer would be addressed upon money-matters at any period of the world's history. Nor does the tone of the rest of the note countenance the supposition. Better, surely, is it for us to regard this letter as showing Shakespeare in the light of a friend helping a friend, possessed with that love, which is so marked in all his writings, and that sympathy which is the finest trait in our human nature. The site of New Place, together with some ground adjoining, which formed part of Shakespeare's garden, has now, like the birthplace in Henley Street, been purchased by public subscription, and become the property of trustees. The original founda- tions of the two mansions — the house POSITION OF NEW PLACE AND SURROUNDINGS. 383 occupied by Shakespeare, and that built at a later period by Sir John Clopton — have been excavated and disclosed to view. Various relics found here and in the adjoining garden are deposited in the museum in Henley Street. But it is at the top of the garden only that any remains can now be traced of the permanent abode of Shake- speare from 1609 to 1 6 16. It was demolished more than a hundred and fifty years ago, and another house built on the site, which, again, was taken down about the middle of last century. Since then the land has con- tinued to be nearly a waste and unregarded till the subscription enabled the excavations to be made in 1862. The uncovered remnants of the second house are of no interest, but any morsel disclosed, even of a lump of of the house indicates what would now be called a deep bay window on its southern front. There, undoubtedly, was Shake- speare's study, and through that casement many and many a time, in storm and in sunshine, by night and by day, he must have looked out upon that grim square tower and weathercock, the embattled stone wall, and the four tall Gothic windows of that dark mysterious temple of the Holy Guild, ever face to face with him. The ground plan of the residence is revealed by the buried walls : and there remains the well, yet flow- ing with pure and sparkling water. The stone quoin, six feet from the bottom, still testifies to the originality of this precious fountain whence Shakespeare quenched his thirst and cooled his brow. The Palace at Greenwich. Shakespeare came hither from Strattord by command of Queen Elizabeth, and was also at Isleworth with Vicar Byfield the year prior to his death. These facts prove conclusively his habit of returning to his home at Stratford every season. brick and mortar, which was once part and portion of Shakespeare's home, seem to the enthusiast worthy of notice and preservation. But there is much more. As one stands on the hallowed ground which was doubtless his garden, how enchanting is the know- ledge that he daily trod this space, and here looked off upon the strong square tower of the Guild Chapel on the close opposite corner, not with mortal mode of vision, but with his way of looking, and then from the air around the old grey tower comes down the dreamy charm of fanciful nearness to him. The configuration of the excavations Shakespeare's Welcombe property ad joined the lands of the Cloptons, and we may suppose he took great interest in any of the events in that family to which importance was attached by his friends and neighbours. About a mile from Stratford, in a fine upland, looking right down on Shot- tery, stands the stately old mansion in which this notable family dwelt; and there is a tradition in connection with it which appears to have had a considerable effect on the dramatist's mind. In the time of the plague which beset Stratford when Shakespeare was about two months old, Charlotte Clopton, a 3H SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. sweet-looking girl, with pale gold hair combed back from her forehead, and falling in wavy ringlets on her neck, and with eyes that u looked like violets filled with dew," had sickened, and to all appearance died. She was buried with fearful haste in the vaults of Clopton Chapel, attached to Strat- ford Church ; but the sickness was not stayed. In a few days another of the Cloptons died, and him they bore to the ancestral vault ; but as they descended the gloomy stairs, they saw by the torchlight Charlotte Clop- ton, in her grave clothes, leaning against the wall ; and when they looked nearer she was indeed dead, but not before, in the agonies of despair and hunger, she had bitten a piece from her white round shoulder ! It is remarkable that such a Capulet tomb should have actually been in the Holy Trinity Church, and it is not improbable that the catastrophe in u Romeo and Juliet " owed its suggestion to this story of the Clopton household. On what is called the u Ancient House," which stands on the west side of the street, not far from New Place, he must often have looked, as he strolled past to the Inns of the Boar and the Red Horse. This building, dated 1596, survives, notwithstanding some modern touches of rehabilitation, as a beau- tiful specimen of Tudor architecture in one, at least, of its charming features, the carved and timber-crossed gable. This is a genuine piece of antiquity, and vies with the Grammar School of the Guild, under whose pent-house the poet could not have failed to have passed whenever he went abroad from New Place. Julius Shaw, one of the witnesses to his will, lived in a house close by the Grammar School ; and here, it is reasonable to think, Shakespeare would often pause for a chat with his friend and neighbour. In Dead Lane (now called Chapel Lane) he owned a little low cottage, bought of Walter Getley in 1602, and only destroyed within the pre- sent century. These and hundreds of facts suggesting the poet as a living man, and connecting him with our human, every-day experience, are seized on with peculiar zest by the pilgrim in Stratford. Shakespeare, it is absolutely certain, spent in comfort the last few years of his life here in his home, New Place. A variety, and a perfect concurrence of testimony leave no room for doubt uopn that point. But the precise period of his complete removal from London, like many occurrences of his daily round of life, is unknown. The final depar- ture of the great dramatist from the principal scene of his wonderful achievements was, ap- parently, as unostentatious and as unnoticed as the arrival there of the obscure and needy young man who was to win by the labour of a few years the greatest name in literature. It is very likely that at some time before his death he ceased to have any personal interest in the fortunes of his former fellow-proprie- tors. It is probable that he suffered no great pecuniary loss by the burning of the Globe Theatre in the year 1613. His income at Stratford from land, houses and tithes is computed to have amounted to between ^200 and ^"300 a year, which would then have been nearly equivalent to between ^1,000 and ^1,500 of our money. If he still felt — which seems very doubtful — any strong interest in theatrical pursuits, he must Near New Place. have found himself, in his retreat, surrounded by a somewhat uncongenial society. In looking upon the ruins achieved by Parson Gastrell, it is impossible to resist the conclusion that it was ordained of God that man should not look on his abodes. Here, at but a short distance, the Charlecote Man- sion stands out bold and perfect as at the period of erection. The homes of the hum- blest cottagers whose hamlets are associated closely with his life and the memory of his parents and wife, are, in the numerous sketches running through this volume, brought clearly home to eye and mind, thus enabling us to read, as it were, the biography and the scenes of his youth and manhood under the truest of all aspects. SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. 385 DEATH. On the 25th of March, 16 16, Shakespeare signed his will. It was drawn up on the 25th of the January preceding, and the necessary change was afterwards made in the name of the month. It is very probable that it was framed with a special reference to the approaching marriage of his daughter, as it contains a number of provisions which appear to have been introduced in the expectation of that event. He is there described as in " perfect health and memory " ; and so he was, perhaps, at the time the document was actually written ; but the three signatures of his name seem to indicate that they must have been traced by an invalid. The end, at all events, was now at hand. On the 23rd of April, 16 16, just as he had completed the fifty-second year of his age, the great poet passed from the scene on which his genius had shed so astonishing a light. Dr. John Hall, who, we may feel assured, attended the death-bed of his father-in-law, has left manuscript notes of remarkable cases which came under his observation in the course of his professional practice ; but the curious in Shakespearean lore are here pursued by their usual ill-luck ; those notes do not begin until the year 16 17, the year immediately following the poet's death. On the 25th of April, 1616, two days after the poet's death, his remains were interred in the chancel of Stratford Church. Over them was placed a flat stone, bearing the maledictory lines already referred to. The public grief at his death, the belief in his happy end, and the veneration for his memory, are in this monumental couplet tersely expressed. His fame must have been great during life, when it could be written that in judgment he equalled Nestor, in genius Socrates, in art Virgil. Referring to the prudence and worth of Shakespeare's private character, there is one collateral proof that deserves notice. If we look around among his companions, fellow- actors, or writers, we observe an honourable contrast in his career. With few exceptions, we find them to have been wild livers, licentious brawlers, and coming to evil ends — a record of follies and crimes, from which it is a relief to turn to the quiet home of the retired dramatist at Stratford-on-Avon. Shakespeare seems to have passed unscathed through the miserable ordeal of stage-life in those days, the general records of which are an instructive warning, rendered the more notable by his exceptional escape from the perilous state. Ben Jonson slew a comrade, and was always in troubled waters; Mar- lowe, only two months older than speare, was killed in a miserai5let>rawl at the age of thirty-one ^T^yeboard " Peele was a sheer profligate; Robert Greene, Fprd, Lyly — we might give a sad list of con- temporary players and writers for the stage whose histories would curiously illustrate the habits of the times in which Shakespeare lived, not without moral instruction. The only near relatives of Shakespeare who survived him were his wife, his daughter Susanna, who was married to Dr. John Hall ; his granddaughter, Elizabeth Hall ; his daughter Judith, who was married to Thomas Quiney; and his sister Joan, who married a hatter in Stratford, named William Hart. Of Gilbert Shakespeare, no other record remains than the brief registry of his bap- tism. " I have no doubt," says Skottowe, " that Gilbert lived till after the Restoration of Charles II." " The register, indeed," says the same author, " mentions the burial of Gilbert Shakespeare, adolescens, in 161 1- 3 C 3 86 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. 12, who might or might not have been the son of the elder Gilbert. Truly is it said, there is something melancholy in the brief histories of a parish register ! What reveries they give rise to as one looks upon them in an idle hour! how imagination tries to depict the beings whose entrance or exit from the stage of life they chronicle ! and when one is in a contemplative mood — a state of mind they are indeed apt to beget — how touching, to a feeling heart, is the less than " tombstone information " they give. "Every line," as Ord truly observes, u chronicles a whole life, its fears, hopes, enjoyments, aspirations. What a record of humanity — what heart-histories — what won- drous biography ! " And such is all the history we now possess of Gil- bert, the brother of William Shakespeare ! We may guess him to have been a player like his eldest brother Wil- liam, and his youngest brother Edmund. The poet's wife died on the 6th of August, and was buried on the 8th of the same month, in the year 1623. The bequest which he makes to her in his will, of his " second - best bed,"- — doubtless that in which as husband and wife, they had slept together, the so-called " best " being reserved for visitors, — is intelligible enough, and needs none of the disquisitions of the would-be wise. We know that his wife was entitled, by law, to a jointure — the property being principally freehold, the widow, by the ordinary operation of the law of England, would be entitled to what is legally known as " dower " — and that it was not, therefore, necessary he should have made any express provision for her maintenance. Dr. Hall died on the 25th of November, 1635, and Mrs. Hall on the nth of July, 1649. Their only child, Elizabeth, was married, first, in 1626, to Thomas Nash, who died in 1647, without issue; and, secondly, in 1649, to J°hn (afterwards Sir John) Barnard, of Abington, in the county of Northampton, by whom also she had no family. She herself died in the year 1670, and with her was extinguished the lineal descent from Shakespeare. Judith Quiney, the poet's second daughter, had three sons, all of whom she lost in their infancy or their early youth, while her own life was prolonged until the commencement of the month of February, 166 1-2. She was buried on the 9th of that month. Joan Hart, the only child of John and Mary Shakespeare who appears to have survived their eldest son, William, died in the month of November, 1646. She had several children, and there were, not many years since, descendants of her's at Stratford, where they lived in very humble, and even indigent circumstances. Seal to the Deed Bond, containing John and Mary Shake- speare's mark, showing that Mary had reversion on the death of Agnes Arden, and which was parted with to .Robert Webb for £40. "•■* ■nfP&****fa§£* J {x^tut^i (pryH^ad K ^fttr*- <^j*»/a*ja./ Facsimile of the signatures of Burbage and Hemings, Shakespeare's friends. The above brief statement sums up all the fortunes of the family for which the great poet had once so earnestly laboured, and for whose continued worldly prosperity he had, by the last act of his life, most carefully provided. But " all flesh is grass," and glory is but an idle name. His freehold estates, which he devised in the first instance to his eldest daughter, were strictly entailed ; but the entail was afterwards barred, and the property passed into the hands of strangers. The pleasant task is completed, and wor- thier pens record how the great bard sleeps beside his native Avon, which glides placidly onwards to blend its waters with the Severn, and flows still with the same unruffled cur- rent past the grey walls of Trinity Church, as when the remains of the poet were borne HIS WORKS HIS ONLY TRUE RECORD. 3*7 thither to their last resting-place. Like the perennial course of its waters, the genius of Shakespeare maintains ever the same constant flow, and diffuses its ennobling influence over the varied fields of literature and intellect. Changed is the aspect of the land where he dwelt; many of the social and political institutions of his time, like most of its material edifices, have crum- bled to dust; and in the progress of in- dustry and knowledge, a wondrous change has taken place in the face of nature, in manners and customs, and in modes of thought. But the elements of which all these are composed have ever remained unaltered. Still does the spring bring forth its bud, the summer its flowers and foliage, the autumn its fruit and golden harvest, and the winter faj?*&«*£) Signature of Shakespeare to Deed of Conveyance of house in Blackfriars, ioth March, 1612-13. Sealed and delivered by the said William Shakespeare, William Johnson, and John Jackson, in the presence of Will Atkinson, Ed. Overy, Robert Andrews, Scr., and Henry Lawrence, servant to the same Scr. Original Deed in City cf London Guildhall. its rains, its snows, and its tempests. The human heart still throbs with joy or with sorrow ; its desires, aversions, and motives, whatever external form they may assume, have been in every age essentially the same. The plenitude of Shakespeare's genius reveals itself in this, that he discloses to all classes of men the secrets of their several conditions without identifying himself with any one of them. He did not need to pass through each of the lower stages in order that he might survey them all from the summit of his intellectual supremacy. When the pen dropped from Shakespeare's hand, when his last, mortal illness mastered the strength of even his genius, the world was left powerless to describe in writing his noble and unrivalled characteristics. Hence we turn back upon himself, and en- deavour to draw from his works the only true records of his genius and of his mind. Even in his lifetime this seems to have been foreseen. In 1664, in an epigram addressed to Master William Shakespeare, occurred the following lines : — " Besides in places thy wit windes like Maeander When [whence) needy new composers borrow more Thence {than) Terence doth from Plautus or Menander, But to praise thee aright I want thy store. Then let thine own words thine own worthe upraise And help t' adorne thee with deserved baies." His contemporaries appear as though they were scarcely conscious of the great and brilliant luminary of English literature which was shining still, or had but lately passed away ; and as though they could not anticipate the admission which was to succeed their dull perceptions of his un- approachable grandeur, or the eager desire which his would generate of knowing even the smallest details of its rise, its appearance and departure. Is it not amazing that dramas written for the Globe Theatre, wretchedly lighted, incapable of grandeur even from want of space, and without any of the more mechanical and artistic resources and accessories, which belong to a later age, should be capable of bearing all this additional weight of lustre and magnificence without its being necessary to alter a word or a passage from their original delivery ? In dealing with the simple record of his death, these pages shall not be desecrated by refutations of the slander-subject asserted as its immediate cause. There never has been any or the smallest justification for the fabricated story of a merry meeting between the poet and Ben Jonson, and over-indulgence on the occasion having brought on an illness resulting in death. His gentle loving spirit towards all men, his truthfulness of character and temperate habits from beginning to end of life, should at least have spared his memory this insult. The majority of the lives of leading literary men, like most others of the higher middle class of his day, were often stained by indul- gence, falsely termed " merriment." Coming to London so young a man, and mixing during these, his first days of Metropolitan life, largely among actors, he knew well, and had learned how it predominated among the class who then, as now, are specially open to the danger of over-sociability. He had seen its devastating effects on many homes. Then, as now, it was the demon haunting too frequently the lives of this class, most to be 3& SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. dreaded and avoided. The writer boldly asserts that he did avoid it, and triumphed through example even to the last. References to passages of his writings tell us so, though his memory shall not be insulted beyond mention of the fact. Stratford, like other places, was in his day impossible of drainage, fever continually ravaged it, polluted water engendered typhoid fever, the true cause of his death. Among our native writers, no one questions that Shake- speare is supremely pre-emi- nent, and but few will not assign him as lofty a position in the whole range of modern European literature. No other nation possesses among its writers any one name to which there is no rival claim, nor even an approximation of equality, to make a balance against it. He has established his claim to the noblest posi- tion in English literature as the great master of our language, as almost its re- generator, quite its refiner — as the author whose use of a word stamps it with the mark of purest English coinage — whose use of a phrase makes it household and proverbial — whose sententious sayings, flowing without effort from his mind, are quoted as axioms or maxims indispu- table. Shakespeare's laurels, after the lapse of three hundred years, are greener than ever ; his name and writings will maintain their exalted position till time itself shall be no more. With him virtue was ever victorious ; undaunted under every suffering, and triumphant even in death. His reverberate through the world — " From day to day, Until the last syllable of recorded time." — Macbeth, act v., scene 5. In days when political strife is all-absorb- ing, a lover of his fellows and a gifted master in ancient and modern lore such as a Rosebery, here meets on common ground with a Goschen or a Lord-Treasurer W. H. Smith, whose plain common sense and utter absence of pretentiousness in thought and language mark him as a profound Shake- spearean; so also the Octogenarian Glad- stone, whose wondrous stores of literature are inexhaustible as their torrent appplication soars above his contemporary generations, can speak with the wisely solid and patriotic Old Orchard at Wilmcote, formerly a portion of the Arden estate : traditioned as a favoured spot of Shakespeare's father and mother, as a.terwards of himself. will Gascoign Salisbury, with sympathies engen- dered of no other studies. They ever drink at this perennial stream of wisdom. True nobility, as a Southampton of Shakespeare's time, survives through associateship with the peers of literature, when, but for these, oblivion would ages earlier have overtaken them. SHAKESPEARE'S WILL, FROM THE ORIGINAL. 389 [SHAKESPEARE'S WILL.] Mtij Viccsimo Quinto Die January , Anno Regni Dni nri Jacob! unice Rx Anglie &c. Decimo quarto & Scotie xlix* Annoq, Dni 1616 T W"l Shackspeare In the name of god Amen I Willim Shackspeare of Stratford vpon Avon in the courjtie of warr gent in pfect health & memorie god be praysed doe make & Ordayne this my last will & testam' in rnann & forme followeing That ys to saye ffirst I Comend my Soule into the hands of god my Creator hoping & assuredlie bcleeving through th onelie meritts of Jesus Christe my Saviour to be made ptaker of lyfe eveflastinge And my bodye to the Earth whereof, yt ys made Itfii I Gyve & bequeath vnto my mrm & Daughter Judyth One hundred & ffyftie pounds of lawful English money to be paied vnto her in manfi & forme followeihg That ys to in discharge of her marriage porcoo saye One hundred pounds K w u in one yeare after my deceas w* consideracon after the Rate of twoe Shillings in the pound for soe long tyme as the same shalbe vnpaied vnto her after my Deceas & the ffyftie pounds Residewe thereof of vpon her Surrendring , or gyving of such sufficient securitie as the overseers of g"» this my \Vill shall like of to Surrender or grante All her estate and Right that that shee shall discend or come vnto her after my deceas or , nowe hath of in or to one Copiehold tente w lh thapf)tenncs lyeing and being in Stratford vpon Avon aforesaied in the saied countie of warr being pcell or holden of the manno' of Rowington vnto my Daughter Susanna Hall & her heires for ever Itm I Gyve & bequeath vnto my saied Daughter Judith One hundred & ffyftie pounds more if she or Anie issue of her bodie be Lyvinge att thend of three yeares next ensueing the Daie of the Date of this my Will during w" 1 tyme my executo™ to paie her consideracon from my deceas according to the Rate aforesaied And if she Dye w^in the saied terme w^ut issue of her bodye then my Will ys & I Doe gyve & bequeath One Hundred Pounds thereof to my neece Elizabeth Hall & the ffiftie Pounds to be sett fourth by my executo™ during the lief of my Sister Johane Harte & the vse & pffitt thereof cominge shalbe payed to my saied Sister lone & after her deceas the saied I" shall Remaine Amongst the children of my saied Sister Equallie to be Devided Amongst them But if my said Daughter Judith be lyving att thend of the saied three yeares or anye yssue of her bodye then my will ys & soe I Devise & bequeath the by my executors & overseers saied Hundred & ffiftie pounds to be sett out , for the best benefitt of her & her the Stock to be issue & , not , paied vnto her soe long as She shalbe inarryed & covert Baron fey my eweetHe" & ovcrooc M but my will ys that she shall have the consideracon yearelie paied vnto her during her lief & after her deceas the saied stock and consideracon to bee paied to her children if she have Anie & if not to her executo™ or assigns she lyving the saied terme after my deceas Provided that if such husbond as she shall att thend of the saied three yeares be marryed vnto or attaine after doe sufficientle Assure vnto her & thissue of her bodie lands Awnswereable to the porcon by this my will gyVert vnto her & to be adiudged soe by my executo-' 3 & overseers then my will ys that the saied C l u shalbe paied to such husbond as shall make such assurance to his owne vse Itm I gyve & bequeath vnto my saied sister lone xx" & all my wearing Apparrell to be paied & delivded w^in one year the house «. after my Deceas And I Doe will & devise vnto her A w" 1 thapptenncs in Stratford wherein she dwelleth for her naturall lief vnder the yearlie Rent of- xii* Itm I gyvs & bequeath 390 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. vnto her three sonns Williffi Harte ''Hart '& Michaell Harte ffyve pounds A peece to be payed w^in one ycare after my deccas te- be m44 eat f«w be* w^ba eee yeare after »*f deeeiw by my cxopu t o " w* th ud v i se & direoeofo ef siy ovcroeor * fe* fee* fee* pffitt wfctW fee* mnrnog e & tben *be sa»e w- ib tfee inurooc e thoit'of w be pme4 *«te the saied Elizabeth Hal) (except mybrod silver^; gilt bole) her _Itm I gj've & bequeath vnto her All my Plate A that I now have att the date of this my will Itni I gyve & bequeath vnto the Poore '. of Stratford aforesaied tenn pounds to Mr. , Thomas Combe » my " Sword to Thomas . Russell Esquier ffyvc pounds & to ffrauncis Collins of the Borough of warr in the countie of warr gent thirteene pounds "'Sixe shillings and Eight pence to be paied \v ,h in Hamlett Sadler one Yeare after my deceas Itm I gyve & bequeath to -M+. Richard to Willim Raynolds gent xjcvj' viij* to buy him A Ringe Tyle* theta* xxvi* viij" 1 to buy him A Ringe , to my godson Willfn Walker xx* in gold to Anthonye Nashe gent xwj« viii d & to Mr. & to my ftellowes John Hemyngs Richard Burbage & Henry Cundell xxvj' viij' Apeece to buy them Ringes John Nashe xxvj* viij d w ge44 , Itni I Gyve will bequeath & devise vnto for better enabling of her to pforme this my will & towards the pformans thereof my' Daughter Susanna Hall A All that Capital! messuage or teiite in Stratford aforesaid w* thapptenncs fl called the newe place wherein I nowe Dwell St twoe Messuags or tentes w* thapptenncs scitvat lyeing & being in Henley Streete w^in the borough of Stratford aforesaied And all my barnes stables Orchards gardens lands tents & hereditam" whatsoev scituat lyeing & being or to be had Receyved pceyved or taken v/Ha the towns Hamletts Villags ffields & grounds of Stratford vpon Avon Oldstratford . Bushopton & Welcombe or in anie of them jn the saied countie of warr And 'alsoe All that Messuage or tente w" thapptenncs wherein One John Robinson dwelleth scituat lyeing & being in the blackfriers in London nere the Wardrobe & all eth r . my lands tents & hereditarn u whatsoev To have & to hold All & singler the saied pmiffs w tb their App'tennt2s vnto the saied Susanna Hall for & during the terme of her naturail lief & after her deceas to the first sonne of her bodie lawfullie yssueing & to the heires Males of the bodie of the saied first Sonne lawfullie yssueinge & for defalt of such issue to the second Sonne of her bodie lawfullie issueinge & to the heires Males of the bodie of the saied Second Sonne lawfullie yfsuinge and for defalt of such hejres to the third Sonne of the bodie of the said Susanna Lawfullie yssueing & of the heires males of the bodie of the saied third Sonne lawfullie yssueing And for defalt of such yssue the same soe to be & Remaine to the rTcnrrth Sonne ffyfth Sixte & Seaventfi sonnes of her bodie lawfullie issueing one after Anoth' & to the heires The Diary of Thomos Greene, Town Clerk of Stratford, shows that expostulatory letters were addressed by the Con*****?? Of Stratford against the enclosure of land at Welcombe, favoured by Shakespeare ; one of these, dated 17th Wo vemDer, 1014* says, " My cousin Shakespeare comyng yesterday to London, I went to see him how he did." , The following also, dated 23rd December, 1614: "A Hall. Letter wrytten to Mr. Shakespeare, with almost all tne com- panies' hands to it. I also wrytte of myself to my cousin Shakspear, the coppyes of all our actes, and then alsc a note 01 uie mconveynences wold happen by the inclosure." SHAKESPEARE'S WILL, FROM THE ORIGINAL. 39* Males of the bodies of the saied- {fourth $h Sixte & Seaventb sonnes lawfullie yssueing in such manii as yt ys 68 Lymitted to be & Remaine to the first second & third Sonnes of her & to their hcires males- And for defalt of such issue the saied pmirfs to be & Remaine to my sayed Neece Hall & the , heires Males of her bodie Lawfullie yssueing & for defalt of such issue to my Daughter Judith & the heires males of her bodie lawfully issueinge And for defalt . of • such issue to the Right heires of me the saied Willm Itm I gyve vnto my wief my second best bed w" the furniture Shackspeare for ever , Itm I gyve & bequeath to* my saied Daughter Judith my broad silver gilt .bole All the Rest of my goods Chattels Leases plate Jewels & household stufTe whatsoev after my Detts and Legasies paied & my funerall expences discharged I gyve devise & bequeath to my Sonne in Lawe John Hall gent & my Daughter Susanna his wief whom I. ordaine & 4 make executo" of * this my the safed Last will & testam* And I doe intreat St Appoint , Thomas Russell Esquier & ffrauncis Collins gent to be overseers hereof And doe Revoke All forfn wills & publishe this to be my will & testam*. In Witness whereof I- have herevnto put hand Seale the Daie & Yeare first above written. last my Witness to the publishing hereof, Fra : Collyns Julyus Shawe John Robinson Hamnet Sadler Robert Whattcott 7#ZA^Jfrfc*~ £zf/c$r*^ Probatum cora Magri Willimi Byrdc legum. Dcore^Comiss 00 &c. xxij d * die menss Junij Anno Dni 1616 Juram* Johannis Hall vnius ex &c. Cui &c. De bene &c. Jurat. — Resvat ptate &c. Susanne Hall alt ex &c cu) veJiit &c. petitur. (Inv- ex«) Fac-simile of the Lord Chamberlain's manuscript in which the Burbages mention Shakespeare.— From the original transcript in the Public Record Office, 39 2 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. b- £^>s -&• £- ?^v^- u~juxx~>- Yfl-^-f-*- o«^9-iS C_>^ -A£s3t&. ^Z24*9 iatvV "^y^r «tA *^4k* _£- ^-^i ^.a-^C <^% 3# lyv^Avf^l**. g^cJfyf** v ^^^^-i«-^, J The mark of Mary Shakespeare. A mark used by John Shakespeare. FACSIMILE OF FIRST FOLIO. 393 "8 p o o 5 s s s o c» 2 * _£ s ♦-» o H CO C/3 c/5 3 uq "J 2 ~~ Q alOO u 3 d 394 SHAKESPEARE'S TRUE LIFE. * f — . —t W K co o I I ? I ft 55 ?0«l ^ «3 § 3 ^^ s <3 g v5-v*> "S ^ ft- w* i £ iS ^ .. S <5. <•• 7* ^ _: r> ^ ;S a ^tS «« n ft is a ft-sr tT3 S.^-.ft-* K, •* *» <4 $ ^ftv^ a.*v 3 *>* 9 S 5 > r 1 ^ <3 c? v. I ii !SJ ft ft ft ^ S .fcj 53 .** s o^ & ^ S S 5 i? ft 5 »>ft 3*^ ft- FAC-SIMILE OF FIRST EDITION OF "LOVES LABOUR LOST. FACSIMILE OF VENUS AND ADONIS AND HAMLET, 395 3 O Pi v> PQ HI 33 ■Sa » .0 w » c i «u g fj c: o taj .H1J13 0*3 .^ E 3 £ «S 9J *- 6 111 e o c o (-1 ** PRINTED BY ALLEN, SCOTT AND CO., 30, BOUVERlE STREET, E.C. COMPOSED BY THE " THORNE " MACHINE. St ft 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. ?3May'f>4VQ s - T " ; " ; O MAY 2 7'04 - 1P M LD 21A-40m-ll,'63 (E1602slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley _i^__ RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO— ► 202 Main Library 642-3403 LOAN PERIOD 1 2 3 4 5 6 LIBRARY USE This book is due before closing time on the last date stamped below DUE AS STAMPED BELOW LIBRARY USE AUG 61979 hlo. <;ik. auu 6 ]97' UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY FORM NO. DD6A, 20m, 1 1 778 BERKELEY CA 94720 aBM H^!i