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SHAKESPERE : 

HIS   BIRTHPLACE,   HOME,   AND    GRAVE. 


:N    THF    PARISH   CHURCH,  51  RM FORD-ON  A< 


SHAKESPERE: 

HIS     BIRTHPLACE,    HOME,    AND    GRAVE. 


pilgrimage  t0  Stratf0r!tr-0tr- 

IN  THE   AUTUMN  OF  1863. 


BY    THE 


REV.  J.  M.  JEPHSON,  B.A.,  F.S.A. 


WITH 

PHOTOGRAPHIC  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  ERNEST  ED  WARDS,  B.A. 


A  Contribution  to  the  Tercentenary  Commemoration  of 
the  Poet's  Birth. 


LONDON: 

LOVELL    REEVE  &  CO.,  5,  HENRIETTA  STREET, 
COVENT  GARDEN. 

1864. 


PRINTED  BY 

JOHN  EDWARD  TAYLOR,  LITTLE  QUEEN  STREET, 
LINCOLN'S  INN  FIELDS. 


PREFACE. 


— o — 


FOUR  years  ago  I  was  induced  to  give  a  very  plain, 
matter-of-fact  account  of  a  tour  which  I  took  in 
Brittany.  To  my  great  furprife  and  pleafure  it  was 
moil  indulgently  received  by  my  literary  friends,  the 
critics.  I  accomplifhed,  not  only  my  primary  object 
of  paffing  my  fummer  holiday  with  pleafure  and  profit, 
but  alfo  the  fecondary  one  of  obtaining  much  unex- 
pected praife.  I  have  been  ever  fince  projecting 
another  expedition,  but  fomething  always  prevented 
me,  till  laft  autumn,  when  my  friend,  Mr.  Lovell 
Reeve,  fuggefted  a  vilit  to  Stratford-upon-Avon,  and 
a  little  book  a  propos  of  the  Tercentenary  Feftival  in 
honour  of  Shakefpere's  birth.  A  love  for  the  drama, 
and  an  efpecial  veneration  for  the  Father  of  it  in  Eng- 
land, are,  I  may  fay,  hereditary  in  my  family.  In  the 
laft  century  my  grand-uncle,  Robert  Jephfon,  was  one 
of  thofe  who  endeavoured  to  revive  the  romantic 
drama  of  the  Elizabethan  era,  and  wrote  feveral  tra- 
gedies, amongft  which  was  "  The  Count  of  Nar- 

M188570 


vi  Preface. 

bonne/'  founded  on  Walpole's  "  Caftle  of  Otranto," 
and  "  Julia,  or  the  Italian  Lovers,"  which  long  held 
pofleffion  of  the  ftage.  From  my  childhood,  then,  I 
have  heard  Shakefpere  difcuffed,  extolled,  acted,  and 
quoted ;  and  I  was  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  vifiting 
the  place  which  is  eipecially  confecrated  to  his  memory, 
and  of  adding  my  tiny  grain  to  the  volume  of  incenfe 
which  will  rife  in  his  honour  on  his  three  hundredth 
birthday.  The  few  facts  of  his  life  already  known 
have  been  published  over  and  over  again  ;  but  I  thought 
that  they  might  be  fo  connected  with  the  fcene  of  his 
youth  and  the  chofen  retreat  of  his  mature  age,  as  to 
make  a  whole  which  might  be  fuggeftive  of  thought 
to  thofe  who  mall  viiit  Stratford  next  ipring.  I  am 
the  more  bold  to  offer  this  little  fketch  to  lovers  of 
England's  greateft  poet,  becaufe,  if,  like  Mofes,  my 
fpeech  be  weak  and  flammering,  I  am  affifled  by  a 
coadjutor  whofe  camera  is  almoft  as  great  a  worker  of 
wonders  as  was  Aaron's  rod. 


CONTENTS. 


— o — 


CHAPTER  I. 

Pilgrimages,  ancient  and  modern — Reafons  for  riding  on  horfeback — The 
companions  of  my  journey — Hints  for  the  road — Hertford — Its 
ftaple  manufacture — Panfhanger — The  River  Lea — Luton — Dun- 
flable — Early  Englifh  church — Winflow — Buckingham — Banbury — 
Edgehill Page  i 


CHAPTER  II. 

Arrival  at  Stratford — Firft  impreffions — Appearance  of  Stratford  in 
Shakefpere's  time — Ancient  bridge  built  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton — 
The  Shakefpere  Inn— The  Town  Hall— Chapel  of  Holy  Crofs— 
Grammar  School — Parifh  church — Old  houfes  in  Chapel  Street — 
Street  fronts — Priefts'  college 16 


CHAPTER  III. 

Shakefpere's  parentage— His  father's  flation  and  employments — His 
mother — The  houfe  in  which  he  was  born — Reftorations — Portrait 
prefented  by  Mr.  W.  O.  Hunt— Projea  of  planting  the  garden 
with  flowers  mentioned  by  Shakefpere — Viciffitudes  of  the  houfe — 
Its  final  prefervation  as  a  national  relic 26 


viii  Contents. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  fchool  where  he  was  brought  up — His  fchoolmafters — Prototype  of 
Sir  Hugh  Evans,  and  perhaps  of  Holofernes 44 

CHAPTER  V. 

Shottery — Anne  Hathaway's  home — His  marriage  and  married  life       51 

CHAPTER  VI. 

His  brothers  and  lifters — His  father's  embarraflments — Tradition  of  his 
poaching  adventure — External  evidence — Internal  evidence — Juftice 
Shallow — His  love  of  hunting — His  punimment  and  revenge — 
Vifit  to  Charlecote — Harveft  home — Shooting  a  buck — Charlecote 
Hall — Lord  Macaulay  on  Englifh  domeftic  architecture — Charlecote 
Church  and  monuments  58 

CHAPTER  VII. 

The  early  drama — Myfteries,  miracles,  moralities — The  Elizabethan 
Drama — Shakefpere's  Introduction  to  the  flage — Tradition  that  he 
held  gentlemen's  horfes — His  firft  employments  in  the  theatre — 
Greene's  envious  allufion  to  his  fuccefs — Chettle's  teftimony  to  his 
uprightnefs  and  courtefy — Meeres'  account  of  his  plays — His  induf- 
try — The  profits  of  actors  in  his  time 78 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

Elizabethan  theatres — Shakefpere's  ikill  as  an  actor — His  friendmip  with 
Southampton — He  is  noticed  by  King  James — His  plays  popular  at 
court — Venus  and  Adonis — Rape  of  Lucrece — His  obligations  to 
Chaucer — The  fonnets — Dedication — Mr.  F.  Victor  Hugo's  theory 
— his  knowledge  of  good  fociety 98 

CHAPTER  IX. 

His  annual  vifit  to  Stratford — His  careleflhefs  of  fame — Grant  of  arms  to 
his  father — Purchafe  of  New  Place — Remains  of  New  Place — Fate 
of  his  mulberry  tree 1 24 


Contents. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Social  effects  of  railroads — Shakefpere's  town  and  country  life — Sources 
from  whence  he  obtained  the  plots  of  his  plays — Wrote  for  immediate 
fuccefs  and  profit — His  friends  and  focial  life  in  London — Ben  Jonfon 
— His  converfation  and  Ion-mots — Life  in  the  country — Friends  at 
Stratford — Amufements — His  death — His  religion — His  defcendants 
— Firil  edition  of  his  works — Dedication 136 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Remaining  relics  at  Stratford-on-Avon — His  parifh  church — His  grave — 
His  monument — Monuments  of  his  family — Font  in  which  he  was 
probably  baptifed — My  return  home 183 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Ideal  of  the  man — His  influence  on  the  national  character — Structure 
of  his  plays — The  Tercentenary  Feftival — Propofed  Shakefperian 
Theatre 196 


LIST  OF  PHOTOGRAPHIC  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Monument   of    Shakefpere   in  the  Parifli  Church,    Stratford-on- 
Avon  .         .         .         .         .  *         Frontifpiece. 

Ancient  Houfe  at  Stratford-on-Avon  .  '      .         .         . ."       .       24 

Shakefpere's  Houfe,  Stratford-on-Avon  -,    from  Henley  Street         .       30 
Shakefpere's  Houfe,  Ihowing  the  Window  of  the  Room  in  which 

he  was  born          .          .         .          .         .          .         .  -35 

Living  Room  in  Shakefpere's  Houfe     .         .         .         .         .         •       37 

Interior  of  the  Room  in  which  Shakefpere  was  born      .         .         .38 
Shakefpere's  Houfe,  from  the  Garden.    The  Garden  Seat,  a  carved 

Hone  removed  from  New  Place     .         .         .  •      .  .      .•       .       40 
Grammar  School  and  Tower  of  the  Guild  Chapel,  Stratford-on- 
Avon  .         .         .  ...  .^      44 

Ann  Hathaway's  Cottage,  Shottery       .         .         .""       .         .-        ;       52 
Charlecote  Hall,  near  Stratford-on-Avon  :  the  Seat  of  Sir  Thomas 

Lucy  (Juflice  Shallow)          .         .         .         .         .  .76 

Ruins  of  New  Place,  Stratford-on-Avon  :    the   Houfe    in  which 

Shakefpere  died   .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .     134 

Porch  of  Parifh  Church,  Stratford-on-Avon    .         .'        .         ..       .     184 

Weft  end  of  the  Parim  Church,  Stratford-on-Avon         .         .         .     186 
Ancient  Font  in  the  Parim  Church  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  in  which 

it  is  believed  Shakefpere  was  baptifed    .      .   .         .         .         .     192 

Monument  of  Shakefpere,  in  Poets'  Corner,  Weftminfter  Abbey    .     ip^ 


SHAKESPERE. 

******#*#*******#*^ 

CHAPTER   I. 

MANY  are  the  changes  which  have  pafled  over  Eng- 
land fince  Edward  the  Third  was  king ;  and  amongft 
them  not  the  leaft  characteriftic  is  that  which  may  be 
obferved  in  the  objects,  the  manner,  and  the  feafons  of 
our  pilgrimages.  The  men  of  the  fourteenth  century 
fought  forgetfulnefs  of  the  evils  under  which  they 
groaned  by  adoring  at  the  fhrine  of  the  bold  prieft 
who,  by  paffive  refiftance,  withftood  the  will  of  the 
fierce  Norman  Conqueror ;  we  try  to  elevate  our  minds 
above  the  common  drudgery  of  life  by  feeking  Nature 
where  fhe  may  be  worshipped  in  her  grandeft  forms, 
or  by  treading  the  ground  which  has  been  confecrated 
by  Genius.  They  rode  from  every  {hire's  end  of 
England  to  kneel  at  the  fhrine  of  Beckett,  "  the  holy, 
blifsful  martyr,"  and  to  kifs  his  blood-ftained  veflments  ; 
we  take  the  exprefs  train  to  Warwick,  and  thence 


Shakefpere. 


proceed  by  omnibus  to  Stratford-upon-Avon,  that  we 
may  gaze  on  the  cottage  where  Shakefpere  was  born 
and  the  grave  where  his  bones  moulder  in  peace. 
Their  minds  were  prepared  to  adore  in  the  gorgeous 
temple  where  the  relics  of  the  faint  were  enfhrined  in 
gold  and  precious  ftones,  by  the  perufal  of  legends 
written  in  defiance  of  Nature  and  Tafte  ;  our  intereft 
in  the  homely  fcenes  we  vifit  is  infpired  by  poems  in 
which  Nature  is  prefented  to  our  minds  with  the 
fidelity  of  the  moft  confummate  art,  and  every  fenti- 
ment  and  word  dictated  by  the  moft  exquifite  tafte. 
Not  lefs  fignificant  is  the  change  in  the  feafon  at  which 
we  feek  our  annual  recreation.  In  days  when  men 
were  content  with  few  luxuries  and  had  leifure  to 
choofe  their  time  for  work  and  play,  the  verdure,  the 
flowers,  the  finging  of  the  birds,  and  the  genial  breezes 
of  April,  reminded  them  that  a  ride  in  pleafant  com- 
pany through  the  pretty  fields  and  woods  of  Kent 
would  be  beneficial  to  their  fouls ;  then  "  longen  folk 
to  gon  on  pilgrimages  ;"  now  we  can  only  fave  from 
labour  and  corroding  cares  a  few  weeks  at  the  fag 
end  of  fummer,  when  we  are  releafed  for  a  feafon  from 
the  confuming  toils  of  our  bury  life. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  our  nineteenth-century  pil- 
grimages, whether  their  objects  be  the  Matterhorn 
or  the  little  town  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  have  the 


The  Prologue. 


advantage  of  their  predeceflbrs  in  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury. But  in  one  reipecl:  mine  was  fadly  inferior  to  that 
which  ftarted  from  the  tabard  in  the  Borough  fome- 
where  about  the  year  1383.  I  had  no  "perfight  gentil 
knight,"  no  clerk  of  Oxenford,  no  jolly  friar,  no  gentle 
manciple,  no  gallant  fquire,  no  precife  priorefs,  no  boif- 
terous  hoft,  to  bear  me  company ;  nor,  I  fear,  if  I  had, 
mould  I  have  anfwered  to  the  defcription  of  the  "  pore 
perfoun  of  a  toun  "  in  any  quality  except  that  implied 
in  the  firft  epithet.  "  I  rode  all  unarmed  and  I  rode  all 
alone."  I  rode  becaufe  I  preferred  fpending  my  "  par- 
fon's  week"  loitering  among  the  green  lanes,  taking 
the  rough  and  fmooth,  the  funfhine  and  mower,  the 
bitter  and  fweet,  as  it  pleafed  God  to  fend  them,  to  being 
whifked  from  one  point  of  my  journey  to  the  other 
in  a  railway  carriage.  In  the  latter  plan  the  journey 
itfelf  is  quite  uninterefting,  and  is,  therefore,  hurried 
over  as  quickly  as  poffible ;  in  the  former  it  forms  part 
of  the  pleafure  of  the  trip.  "  The  prize  is  in  the  pur- 
fuit."  Some  of  my  neighbours,  indeed,  to  whom  I  im- 
parted my  defign,faid  very  plainly,  by  their  looks  at  leaft, 
that  they  thought  me  a  trifle  infane  for  fpending  three 
days  in  travelling  a  diftance  which  might  be  accom- 
plifhed  by  train  in  as  many  hours ;  but  the  imputation 
of  infanity  is  one  which  muft  be  fubmitted  to  by  any 
one  who  refolves  to  follow  his  own  inclinations  in  thefe 


Shakefpere. 


days  when  all  thought  and  action  are  civilifed  down 
to  a  dead  level  of  infipid  conventionalifm. 

A  friend  kindly  lent  me  a  Norwegian  pony  of  fmall 
fize  but  immenfe  power,  for  the  journey.  Thefe  ftrong, 
compact  little  animals  get  through  far  more  work  than 
a  large  horfe.  I  chriftened  my  temporary  fervant 
"  Stornoway,"  for  I  thought  that  had  a  fine  Scandina- 
vian found.  And  fo,  having  packed  the  feweft  poffible 
number  of  neceflaries  in  the  old  knapfack  which  had 
accompanied  me  round  Brittany  fome  fix  years  ago,  and 
ftrapped  it  on  little  Stornoway's  crupper,  I  mounted  for 
my  journey. 

At  that  moment,  my  black  retriever,  whom  his 
former  mafter  had  called  "Smoker,"  came  bounding 
up,  wriggling  from  fide  to  fide,  holding  up  "  his  honeft 
bawfoned  fonfie  face,"  laying  back  his  ears,  and  wag- 
ging his  tail,  as  much  as  to  fay,  "  What  a  pleafant  ride 
we  are  going  to  have  together."  I  did  not  like  to 
difappoint  him,  and  it  ftruck  me  that  he  might  make 
an  agreeable  addition  to  the  ttte-a-rtte  between  me  and 
Stornoway.  So  Smoker  was  permitted  to  join  the 
expedition. 

By  the  way,  I  never  could  make  out  the  propriety 
of  calling  a  dog  "  Smoker."  Johnfon  explains  the 
word,  "  One  who  dries  or  perfumes  by  fmoke."  And 
with  all  his  good  qualities,  Smoker  is  as  guiltlefs  as 


The  Prologue. 


Crab  was  of  having  anything  in  common  with  per- 
fume. Smoker  is  not  a  romantic  or  an  elegant  name ; 
but  my  Smoker  is  as  good-natured,  fagacious,  faithful, 
engaging,  and,  I  may  fay,  with  Launce,  "  gentleman- 
like "  a  dog,  as  if  he  had  taken  his  name  from  gods 
or  heroes.  Still,  I  muft  fay,  he  had  fome  of  Crab's 
qualities,  for  he  never  med  a  tear  at  leaving  his  friends, 
the  beagle  puppies. 

The  evening  was  delightful.  It  was  the  31  ft  of 
Auguft :  every  field  was  filled  with  labourers  gathering 
in  the  heavy  fheaves,  and  at  every  turn  I  met  the  laden 
waggons,  drawn  by  their  fturdy  teams,  and  entering 
the  homefteads. 

But,  at  the  very  outfet,  I  met  with  fome  troubles 
for  which  I  had  not  bargained.  Stornoway  was  a  very 
wife  little  fellow,  and  evidently  thought  that  though 
it  might  be  very  good  fun  for  me  to  ride  along  the 
pleafant  lanes  of  England  on  a  harveft  evening  on  his 
legs,  he  had  much  rather  be  in  his  comfortable  ftable, 
and  that  poffibly  a  little  well-timed  firmnefs  on  his  part 
might  intimidate  the  new  rider  whom  he  found  upon 
his  back.  Accordingly,  as  foon  as  he  came  to  the 
well-known  gate  of  his  home  he  objected  ftrongly  to 
go  any  farther.  The  fmalleft  intimation  of  mine  with 
hand  or  knee  that  I  wifhed  him  to  go  on,  was  met 
with  a  defiant  tofs  of  the  head.  When  I  became  im- 


Shakefpere. 


portunate  he  iidled  towards  the  gate.  But  he  imme- 
diately refented  an  application  of  the  whip  or  fpur  by 
{landing  up  ftraight  on  his  hind-legs.  If  I  had  not 
been  very  quick  in  leaning  well  forward  and  loofening 
the  reins,  he  muft  have  tumbled  back  on  the  hard  road. 
The  next  time  he  tried  it,  however,  I  was  prepared,  and 
leaning  over  his  fhoulder  with  a  rein  in  each  hand,  I 
pulled  him  down,  and  then  applied  the  fpurs  vigoroufly. 
After  fome  fighting  and  lofs  of  time  and  temper  on  both 
fides,  we  agreed  upon  a  truce.  The  fame  fcene  was 
repeated,  however,  with  gradually  diminifhed  intenfity 
at  every  farm-yard  we  came  to,  and  I  thought  to  my- 
felf,  "  Mafter  Stornoway,  either  you  muft  give  in,  or  we 
mall  not  reach  Stratford  this  month."  Stornoway  did 
give  in,  for  this  was  the  laft  time  he  fhowed  any  ferious 
difpofition  to  difpute  my  wifhes. 

Hertford  was  my  deftination  on  the  firft  night  of 
my  pilgrimage,  and  my  road  lay  through  the  pretty 
village  of  Blackmore,  and  to  the  left  of  Foreft  Hall, 
whence  many  a  gallant  fox  has  broken  covert,  and 
led  the  EfTex  hounds  for  miles  acrofs  the  celebrated 
Roding,  or  Roden,  country,  on  the  outskirts  of  which 
it  is  fituated.  Both  the  country  and  the  peer  take 
their  titles  from  the  little  ftream  called  the  Roden 
which  runs  through  it.  About  four  miles  on  this  fide 
of  Epping  I  turned  to  the  right  for  Harlow  Bum,  and 


The  Prologue. 


as  the  fhades  of  evening  were  defcending,  paffed  the 
fine  park  of  the  Rev.  Jofeph  Arkwright,  a  brother-in- 
law  of  the  Bifhop  of  Rochefter,  and  Mafter  of  the  EiTex 
Fox-hounds ;  and  what  is  more,  though  now  over 
fixty,  one  of  the  fineft  riders  in  England.  From  Har- 
low  Bufh  my  way  lay  through  Natfhall  Crofs,  Burnt 
Mills,  Eaflwich,  and  Stanftead — all  charming,  pic- 
turefque  villages  of  thatched  and  tiled  cottages,  fur- 
rounded  by  trees.  The  moon  had  rifen,  the  ftars  were 
mining,  and  the  clocks  were  going  nine  as  I  faw  the 
lights  of  Hertford  below  me  in  the  valley.  I  put  up 
at  the  Dimfdale  Arms,  and  having  feen  Stornoway  fed, 
retired  to  what  is  called  the  coffee-room,  having  ac- 
complifhed  twenty-fix  miles  on  this  the  firft  day  of 
my  pilgrimage. 

Perhaps  it  may  be  ufeful  to  obferve  that  horfes  on  a 
journey  derive  wonderful  benefit  from  being  fed  in  the 
prefence  of  their  mafters.  Why  it  is  I  never  could 
make  out ;  it  may  be  that  they  enjoy  their  corn  the 
more  for  company.  The  coachman  of  a  friend  of 
mine  always  makes  it  a  point  to  comb  his  horfes'  tails 
while  they  are  eating  their  oats  at  an  inn,  and  he  fays 
that  they  do  their  work  as  well  again  in  confequence 
of  this  practice.  The  oftlers  do  not  like  it. 

Having  feen  my  pony  fed,  the  next  thing  was   to 
look  after  my  own  creature  comforts.    And  here  I  was 


8  Shakefpere. 


foon  made  unpleafantly  aware  that  I  was  travelling  in 
a  country  where  people  live  at  home.  I  might  have 
faid,  it  is  true, 

"  The  chambres  and  the  ftables  were  wyde, 
And  wel  we  weren  efud  atte  befte," 

as  far  as  houfe-room  went ;  but  in  refped:  of  all  that 
minifters  to  real  material  comfort  and  cheerfulnefs,  an 
Englifh  inn  is  far  behind  a  Continental  one.  In  a 
French  town  fuch  as  Hertford,  there  would  have  been 
a  falle-a-manger  filled  with  guefls,  and  the  chef  would 
have  fent  in  a  refreshing  potage,  with  fome  delicate 
cutlets,  or  other  appetiflant  dim,  followed  by  a  poire 
cuite,  and  wafhed  down  with  a  bottle  of  Bordeaux. 
Here  I  was  fhown  into  a  room,  carpeted  and  curtained 
it  is  true,  with  well-fluffed  chairs  to  fit  on  or  to  go  to 
fleep  in,  but  with  an  air  as  if  it  was  never  occupied. 
And  then  when  I  afked  for  fupper  I  was  told  I  might 
have  cold  beef,  or  they  would  fend  out  for  a  chop — a 
thing  with  a  quantity  of  fat  and  griftle  on  it,  from 
which  one  has  to  pare  the  eatable  part  with  the 
greateft  care,  and  even  that  is  imbued  with  the  flavour 
of  the  tallow  which  one  has  to  banifh  to  the  farther 
corner  of  one's  plate.  And  this  is  to  be  wafhed  down 
with  heavy  brewer's  ale  or  brandied  fherry.  We 
Englifh  are  indeed  highly  favoured  in  our  meat,  but 
who  fent  us  our  cooks  ? 


'The  Prologue. 


While  waiting  for  my  animals  to  be  fed  next  morn- 
ing, I  ft  rolled  about  the  town.  The  ftaple  manufac- 
ture here  is  fchoolboys.  There  are  the  Blue  Coat 
School,  the  Green  Coat  School,  and  ever  fo  many  other 
fchools,  public  and  private,  and  upon  thefe  the  trades- 
people live.  The  town  is  furrounded  by  fine  woods, 
and  prettily  fituated  on  the  river  Lea,  where  the  quaint 
old  haberdafher,  Izaak  Walton,  ufed  to  catch  chubs 
with  toafted  cheefe,  and  liften  to  the  milk-maids  fing- 
ing  "  Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love." 

At  about  nine  I  ftarted,  intending  to  pafs  through 
Welwyn,  feven  miles  diftant ;  Wheathampftead,  five 
miles  from  Welwyn,  both  in  Hertfordshire;  Luton, 
eight  miles  from  Wheathampftead,  in  Bedfordfhire ; 
Dunftable,  five  miles  from  Luton ;  Leighton  Buzzard, 
nine  miles  from  Dunftable ;  and  perhaps  Winflow  in 
Bucks,  twelve  miles  from  Leighton :  thus  making 
forty-fix  miles  in  the  day.  This  would  have  been  too 
long  a  journey  for  a  continuance ;  but  I  thought  that  it 
would  be  beft  to  get  well  forward  towards  my  deftina- 
tion  at  firft,  and  then  to  take  my  time  afterwards ;  and 
little  Stornoway  did  not  feem  to  mind  my  weight  in 
the  leaft. 

On  leaving  Hertford,  I  took  the  wrong  turning  for 
Welwyn,  but  it  proved  a  fortunate  miftake ;  for  the 
road  led  me  round  Panfhanger,  the  beautiful  demefne 


i  o  Shakefpere. 


of  Lord  Cowper.  Happily  it  is  furrounded  by  park- 
palings,  not  a  wall,  and  I  had  an  advantageous  view  of 
the  green  glades,  dotted  here  and  there  with  noble 
oaks  and  elms,  and  lofing  themfelves  in  coppices  of 
beech.  Smoker  put  up  feveral  coveys  of  birds  which 
lay  funning  themfelves  and  bathing  in  the  duft  by  the 
road-fide ;  and  by  eleven  o'clock  I  heard  the  guns 
going  in  all  directions,  and  faw  the  {hooting  parties 
"  going  a-birding,"  and  tramping  through  the  Swedes. 
It  was  a  fplendid  firft  of  September,  if  not  for  the  par- 
tridges, at  leaft  for  the  fportfmen. 

After  paffing  Panfhanger,  I  defcended  into  the  valley 
of  the  Lea,  along  which  the  road  runs  for  feveral  miles. 
It  is  a  fluggim  river,  and  is  laid  out  at  this  part  of  its 
courfe  in  extenfive  beds  of  water-crefles,  which  men 
were  employed  in  gathering.  Unfortunately  it  had  no 
"  fhingly  bars,"  nor  did  it  "chatter"  as  it  went,  but 
only  "  loitered  "  continually  "  round  its  crefles."  To 
do  it  juftice,  however,  it  did  "ftir  its  fweet  Forget-me- 
nots  that  grow  for  happy  lovers,"  and  indeed  abounded 
with  the  richeft  vegetation. 

At  Welwyn,  a  fplendid  viaduft,  of  nearly  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  long,  fpans  this  valley,  and  carries  the  Great 
Northern  Railway  acrofs  it.  From  this  to  Luton, 
which  is  fituated  on  the  boundary  between  Herts  and 
Beds,  the  road  lies  along  the  fluggifh  flream,  and  paiTes 


'The  Prologue.  \  i 


to  Luton  Hoo,  formerly  belonging  to  the  Marquis  of 
Bute.  A  few  years  ago  it  was  burnt  down,  and  the 
ruins  and  eftate  were  purchafed  by  a  Liverpool  attor- 
ney, who  had  made  a  fortune  by  the  fale  of  land  at 
Birkenhead.  Luton  Hoo  is  furrounded  by  a  great, 
high,  ugly,  brick  wall,  and  threatening  placards  de- 
nounce the  fevereft  penalties  of  the  law  againft  thofe 
who  dare  to  tread  its  hallowed  precincts ;  fo  the  attor- 
ney has  his  fine  place  all  to  himfelf.  How  different 
from  the  ftately  Panihanger,  with  its  pidlurefque  park- 
pales,  the  fence  of  Engliih  demefnes  and  warrens  from 
time  immemorial. 

Luton  is  the  head-quarters  of  the  ftraw  bonnet  ma- 
nufacture, and  has  all  the  unpleafing  look  of  a  manu- 
facturing town. 

After  leaving  Luton,  I  found  that  the  country  loft 
its  rich  park-like  character.  The  foil  appears  to  be 
chalk,  and  the  landfcape  ftretches  away  in  fine  breezy 
downs  and  rolling  hills,  and  corn-fields  of  fifty  acres 
in  extent. 

The  entrance  to  Dunftable — the  place  where  the 
ftraw  bonnets  were  firft  manufactured,  and  from 
whence  they  take  their  name,  and  where  you  now 
fee  women  walking  about  platting,  as  they  knit  on 
the  Continent — is  very  ftriking.  The  church,  an  ex- 
quifite  example  of  Early  Englifh  architecture,  appear- 


1 2  Skakefpere. 


ing  all  the  more  beautiful  from  the  uglinefs  of  the 
furrounding  buildings,  ftands  to  the  left.  The  deep 
arcading  and  bold  mouldings  of  the  weft  end  are  per- 
fectly charming. 

It  is  the  fafhion,  I  believe,  to  fay  that  Gothic  archi- 
tecture culminated  in  the  Decorated  period,  but  to 
me,  judging  merely  by  the  light  of  nature  without 
any  pretenfion  to  deep  learning  on  the  fubjecl:,  there 
feems  a  poetry,  a  feeling  in  the  Early  En  glim  which 
the  ftyle  of  no  other  period  approaches. 

Here  I  was  ftruck  by  a  name  which  appeared  over 
the  door  of  a  wretched  public-houfe.  It  was  Norman 
Snoxell.  What  on  earth  could  have  brought  Norman 
Snoxell  to  Dunftable  to  retail  beer  and  tobacco  ?  Bal- 
zac ufed  to  perambulate  the  ftreets  of  Paris  for  days 
looking  over  the  doors  of  the  (hops  for  appropriate 
names  for  his  characters.  Here  would  have  been 
quite  a  godfend  for  any  novelift  who  wanted  to  name 
his  Norfe  fmuggler  or  pirate.  But,  indeed,  the  names 
of  the  Englifh  peafantry  are  fometimes  very  curious. 
I  remember,  in  Norfolk,  a  fervant-maid  named  Phebe 
Blanchflower.  You  would  never  expect  fuch  a  name 
out  of  a  novel ;  but  it  was  a  real  name  neverthelefs  ; 
for  her  father,  old  Blanchflower,  drove  the  Ipfwich 
mail  for  many  years. 

I    reached   Leighton    Buzzard,    on   the   borders    of 


The  Prologue.  1 3 


Bucks,  at  about  fix ;  but  I  was  determined,  if  poffible, 
to  fleep  at  Winflow  where  I  heard  there  was  a  very 
comfortable  country  inn,  and  fo  pufhed  on ;  but  both 
Stornoway  and  I  were  tired,  and  the  laft  five  miles 
feemed  interminable.  However,  at  Winflow  we  ar- 
rived at  about  ten  o'clock,  and  put  up  at  the  "  Bell," 
having  accomplifhed  a  journey  of  forty-fix  miles  fince 
breakfaft. 

Next  morning,  being  the  2nd  of  September,  I 
ftarted  from  Winflow  at  a  little  after  nine,  purpofing, 
if  poffible,  to  reach  Edgehill  the  fame  night.  Edgehill 
is  within  twelve  miles  of  Stratford,  and  I  thought  that 
by  fleeping  there,  I  might  ride  into  Stratford  next 
morning  at  my  leifure,  and  thus  have  the  advantage  of 
feeing  the  end  and  object  of  my  pilgrimage  by  day- 
light. 

The  firft  town  I  reached  was  Buckingham,  feven 
miles  from  Winflow.  It  is  a  nice,  pretty  country 
town,  in  the  valley  of  the  Stour.  Between  this  and 
Brackley  I  paffed  one  of  the  lodges  of  Stowe,  and 
then  the  fcenery  changed.  I  am  no  great  geologift, 
but  the  ftone  appeared  to  me  to  be  a  reddifh  green 
limeftone.  It  lies  in  regular  ftrata,  and  comes  out 
of  the  earth  in  nice  rectangular  pieces,  well  adapted 
for  building.  Accordingly  the  houfes  and  fences  are 
all  built  of  ftone,  the  latter  having  no  mortar;  but 


1 4  Shakefpere. 


great  art  is  apparently  employed  in  making  the  ftones 
fit  nicely  into  each  other,  and  fome  of  the  walls  have 
quite  a  Cyclopean  or  Etrufcan  character.  I  was  par- 
ticularly ftruck  with  the  village  of  Middleton- Cheney. 
Here  the  houfes  feem  very  old,  and  the  brown  and 
greenim  ftone  of  which  they  are  built  has  become 
covered  with  lichens,  which  add  much  to  the  beauty 
of  the  colouring.  Their  mingled  roofs,  of  high  pitch, 
are  very  picturefque.  Yet  here,  where  Nature  and  the 
practice  of  former  generations  would  feem  to  have 
plainly  indicated  the  right  forms  and  materials,  the 
people  are  actually  building  fome  new  almfhoufes  of 
flaming  red  brick  and  blue  flate.  Red  brick  may  be 
made  a  very  beautiful  material,  and  is  proper  for  Lon- 
don or  Eflex,  where  there  is  no  ftone  ;  but  to  import 
it  into  a  place  where  there  is  already  a  beautiful  ma- 
terial provided  by  Nature,  (hows  a  wonderful  amount 
of  bad  tafte  in  the  builders. 

Banbury  is  a  handfome  town,  and  the  principal  inn 
extremely  comfortable.  I  could  not  defcry  the  Crofs^ 
to  which,  when  I  was  a  baby,  I  was  invited  to  "  ride 
a  cock-horfe ; "  but  I  ate  a  Banbury  cake  out  of  curi- 
ofity.  It  is  a  villainous  invention,  being  a  "  roll-up," 
to  ufe  Mifs  Evans*  expreffion,  of  rich  paftry,  envelop- 
ing currants. 

From   Banbury  I  ftarted  at  a  little  after  fix,  and, 


'The  Prologue.  15 


after  paffing  fbme  gentlemen's  places- — Colonel  North's 
amongft  the  reft — got  upon  fome  high  table-land,  with 
wild  country,  as  far  as  I  could  fee  in  the  rapidly  clof- 
ing-in  evening,  on  either  fide.  Smoker  as  well  as  I 
feemed  to  feel  the  lonelinefs  of  the  road,  for  inftead  of 
foraging  about  as  ufual,  and  enjoying  the  pleafure  of 
finding  out  what  everything  he  pafled  fmelt  of,  he  kept 
clofe  to  Stornoway's  heels.  At  laft  I  faw  a  twinkling 
light,  which  I  afterwards  found  proceeded  from  the 
houfe  of  a  Mr.  Fitzgerald,  and  defcried  two  keepers 
under  the  trees.  This  was  quite  a  relief.  Prefently  I 
came  to  an  almoft  ruinous  toll-bar,  and  in  a  few  mi- 
nutes more  reached  the  lonely  road-fide  inn.  This 
was  Edgehill,  where  the  firft  blood  was  drawn  in  the 
Civil  War.  I  knocked  at  the  door  with  my  whip,  and 
was  anfwered  by  a  feared  maid,  who,  however,  foon 
made  me  comfortable  ;  and  I  went  to  bed  in  a  great, 
wild  chamber,  and  dreamt  of  battles  between  Cavaliers 
and  Roundheads,  the  latter  being  worfted  by  a  well- 
dire&ed  fire  of  Enfield  rifles,  in  which  I  took  part. 


16 


CHAPTER  II. 

NEXT  morning  I  found  that  the  inn  at  which  I  had 
flept  was  called  the  "  Sun  Rifing."  It  bears  on  its 
walls  the  old  proverb,  "  Good  wine  needs  no  bufh," 
yet  betrays  its  unbelief  in  the  adage  by  difplaying  over 
the  door  a  huge  bunch  of  grapes. 

It  is  built  on  the  very  edge  of  a  fteep  hill,  hence 
probably  called  Edgehill,  and  commands  a  fine  view  of 
at  leaft  thirty  miles  in  extent,  bounded  by  the  Malvern 
Hills.  To  the  right  is  the  village  of  Kyneton,  or 
Kington,  where  the  Parliamentary  army  was  pofted  on 
the  eve  of  the  battle  of  Edgehill ;  and  clofe  under  the 
hill  is  Battle  Farm,  where  the  firft  battle  was  fought  in 
the  quarrel  between  the  Sovereign  and  the  Parliament, 

"  When  hard  words,  jealoufies,  and  fears 
Set  folks  together  by  the  ears." 

But  what  was  more  to  my  prefent  purpofe,  mine  hoft 
pointed  out  to  me  a  little  riling  ground  in  the  middle 
of  the  vaft  plain  which  was  fpread  out  before  me, 


Fir  ft  Imprejfiom  of  Stratford.  17 

behind  which,  he  faid,  lay  Stratford-upon-Avon.  Here, 
then,  I  was  beginning  to  tread  the  ground  which  was 
familiar  to  him  whofe  words  are  houfehold  words  to 
all  Englim-fpeaking  people,  and  which  fuggefted  to 
him  thofe  fweet,  and  withal  accurate  and  life-like  pic- 
tures of  country  manners  with  which  his  great  poems 
abound. 

At  about  ten  o'clock  I  ftarted  on  my  final  ride  to 
Stratford,  and  after  defcending  the  almoft  precipitous 
hill  upon  which  the  inn  is  perched,  I  found  myfelf  on 
a  level  road,  bounded  on  either  fide  by  cornfields,  from 
which  the  harveft  was,  in  many  cafes,  not  yet  gathered 
in.  The  only  villages  of  note  I  pafled  were  Pillerton 
Priors  and  Eatington,  the  feat,  ever  fince  the  Con qu eft, 
of  the  ancient  family  of  Shirley. 

At  a  little  after  twelve  I  came  in  fight  of  the 
beautiful  old  bridge  built  over  the  Avon  at  the  en- 
trance to  Stratford,  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  in  the 
reign  of  Henry  VII.  It  confifts  of  fourteen  flightly- 
pointed  arches,  and  is  nearly,  if  not  quite,  level.  In 
fad:,  one  does  not  fee  how  modern  architects  excel  the 
older  ones,  even  in  this  thoroughly  utilitarian  branch 
of  the  art — at  leaft  fo  far  as  the  old  materials  of  lime 
and  ftone  are  employed.  The  feudal  trinoda  necejfltas 
laid  upon  the  vaflal  the  obligation  of  defending  the 
country,  building  bridges,  and  keeping  the  highways 


1 8  Shakefpere. 


in  order,  and  the  vaflal  appears  to  have  performed  the 
obligation  tolerably  well  in  mediaeval  England. 

And  now  I  was  all  expectation.  I  had  at  laft  reached 
the  ipot  where  Shakefpere  was  born,  where  he  imbibed 
his  earlieft  impreffions  from  outward  things,  and  where 
he  chofe  to  fpend  his  life,  in  preference  to  many  other 
places  which  would  feem  to  have  had  greater  claims 
upon  his  regard.  The  queftion  I  afked  myfelf  was, 
Is  it  poffible,  by  fixing  my  mind  upon  the  fcene  which 
infcribed  its  impreffions  upon  the  white  paper  of  the 
poet's  mind,  and  comparing  it  with  his  writings  and 
with  the  few  facts  known  of  his  life,  to  arrive  at  any- 
thing like  a  juft  conception  of  the  man  himfelf  ?  I 
have  often  obferved  that  by  perfeveringly  fixing  the 
attention  upon  a  difficult  paffage  in  a  foreign  language, 
the  meaning  after  a  time  feems  to  flafh  like  lightning 
upon  the  mind.  Can  I,  by  any  procefs  like  this,  read 
the  myfterious  book  of  Shakeipere's  nature  ? 

My  firft  impreffions  were  certainly  not  encouraging. 
The  bridge  was  fine,  and  to  the  right  was  a  pretty  old 
houfe,  approached  by  an  avenue  of  trees,  and  kept  with 
that  beautiful  neatnefs  and  elegance  of  greenfward  and 
flower-beds  which  is  feen  nowhere  but  in  England. 
The  Avon,  too,  was  flowing  majeftically  on,  as  it  did 
when  Shakefpere  played  upon  its  banks,  or  flew  his 
hawk  at  the  wild-fowl  which  harboured  in  its  fedges; 


Firfl  Impreffions  of  Stratford.  1 9 

and  a  pair  of  fwans,  accompanied  by  their  cygnets, 
were  thrufting  their  long  necks  to  the  bottom,  where 
they  probably  found  an  abundant  repaft  of  worms  and 
grubs,  warned  down  from  fome  new  cuts  and  embank- 
ments a  little  higher  up  the  ftream.  Thefe  were  all 
pleafing  objects,  upon  which  the  fancy  of  a  poet  might 
delight  to  dwell ;  but  as  I  rode  up  the  High  Street,  I 
was  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  Stratford  is  about  as 
uninterefting  to  the  outward  fenfes  as  any  country  town 
I  had  ever  feen  in  England.  There  is  no  appearance 
of  anything  like  antiquity,  except  perhaps  a  couple  of 
carriers'  inns,  and  they  are  modernifed.  There  is  no 
appearance  even  of  wealth,  nor  any  of  that  neatnels 
and  elegance  which  are  its  fruits.  Stratford  is  a  col- 
lection, generally  fpeaking,  of  mean  houfes,  and  the 
High  Street  is  not  its  befl  feature.  At  the  upper 
extremity  is  the  ugly  market- houfe,  where  the  old 
market-crofs  ufed  to  ftand,  but  this  difappeared  in  the 
laft  or  the  beginning  of  this  century. 

Having  called  at  the  "  Red  Horfe,"  a  good  inn  on 
the  right  of  the  High  Street,  in  hopes  of  finding  that 
Mr.  Edwards,  the  photographer,  had  arrived — a  hope 
in  which  I  was  difappointed — I  turned  to  the  left, 
down  Chapel  Street,  .to  the  "  Shakefpere,"  where  I 
took  up  my  quarters. 

The  "  Shakefpere  "  is  an  old-fafhioned,  comfortable 


2O  Shakefpere. 


inn,  and  the  hoft  {hows  a  laudable  intereft  in  the  Poet 
who  gives  a  name  to  his  hoftelry  and  brings  him  moft 
of  his  cuftomers.  Each  room  is  called  after  one  of 
the  plays,  the  title  of  which  is  placed  over  the  door. 
Thus  the  commercial  room  is  fuperfcribed  "  The 
Tempeft" — not  very  appropriately,  however,  at  leaft 
during  my  ftay,  for  the  houfe  was  remarkably  quiet. 
The  coffee-room  was  "  As  You  Like  It " — I  confefs  I 
did  not  much  like  it,  for  it  was  as  lonely  as  the  Foreft 
of  Arden  itfelf.  My  bed-chamber  was  named  "  A 
Midfummer  Night's  Dream ;"  another  on  the  fame 
landing,  "Much  Ado  about  Nothing;"  another, 
"  Love's  Labour  Loft,"  and  fo  on.  Bufts  of  the  Poet 
are  placed  on  every  lobby,  and  the  walls  are  hung 
with  portraits  of  himfelf  and  illuftrations  of  his  works. 
A  curious  old  clock,  faid  to  have  been  taken  from 
New  Place,  and  various  articles  of  ancient  furniture 
with  which  his  name  is  connected,  are  to  be  feen  in 
different  parts  of  the  houfe.  Indeed,  as  a  general  rule, 
I  believe  Stratford-upon-Avon  may  be  faid  to  live 
upon  the  memory  of  its  great  Poet,  as  Rome  does 
upon  the  relics  of  the  Apoftles. 

What  a  capital  plan  it  would  be,  by  the  way,  to  fet 
up  a  Shakefperian  high-prieft  at  Stratford,  whofe  func- 
tion it  mould  be  to  regulate  the  devotions  of  the  pil- 
grims and  employ  himfelf  in  the  culte  des  ruines,  and 


Firft  Imprefjlons  of  Stratford.  2 1 

whofhould  be  infpired  to  pronounce  an  infallible  judg- 
ment upon  Shakefperian  criticifm.  He  fhould  decide 
whether  "  The  Two  Noble  Kinfmen,"  "  Titus  Andro- 
nicus,"  "  Pericles,"  and  the  firft  and  fecond  parts  of 
"Henry  VI."  were  canonical  or  apocryphal;  what 
fhould  be  the  received  text — the  folio  of  1623  or  that 
of  1632 — and  what  the  authority  of  the  quartos;  he 
would  pronounce  upon  the  validity  of  the  claims  of 
various  readings,  and  winnow  the  whole  crop  of  com- 
mentators, from  Malone,  Farmer,  Theobald,  Steevens, 
and  Johnfon,  down  to  Collier,  Dyce,  and  the  Cambridge 
editors.  And  fo  at  length  the  republic  of  letters  might 
repofe  upon  infallible  authority,  and  not  be,  as  it  now 
is,  a  prey  to  unhappy  divifions,  and  diftra&ed  by  the 
uncertain  found  emitted  by  its  contending  teachers. 

But  to  return  from  my  digreffion. 

Having  feen  poor  little  Stornaway  made  comfortable 
in  a  loofe  box,  to  reft  after  his  long  journey,  and  left 
Smoker  to  keep  him  company,  I  walked  out  to  take  a 
general  furvey  of  the  town.  The  High  Street  I  have 
already  defcribed.  Henley  Street,  which  branches  off 
from  it  at  the  market-place,  is  built  of  mean  houfes, 
and  has  nothing  remarkable  about  it  but  Shakefpere's 
birthplace,  of  which  I  mall  fpeak  prefently.  Chapel 
Street,  where  New  Place  once  ftood,  has  much  more 
character.  But  everybody  feems  to  have  confpired  to 


22  Shakefpere. 


deface  this  town.  The  Town  Hall  is  an  ugly  modern 
building,  and  the  Guild  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Crofs  is  in 
the  debafed  ftyle  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIL,  when  Sir 
Hugh  Clopton  built  it  on  the  ruins  of  an  older  edifice, 
the  chancel  of  which  ftill  bears  evidence  to  its  fuperior 
beauty.  The  clumfy  tower  is  feen  to  the  left  in  the 
photograph  of  the  Grammar  School.  In  the  chapel 
is  the  tomb  of  Sir  Hugh,  on  which  is  the  following 
infcription  :  "  He  built  ye  ftone  bridge  over  Avon,  with 
ye  caufey  at  ye  Weft  End;  further  manifefting  his 
piety  to  God  and  love  to  this  place  of  his  nativity  (as 
ye  centurion  in  ye  Gofpel  did  to  ye  Jewim  Nation  and 
Religion  by  building  them  a  fynagogue),  for  at  his  fole 
charge  this  beautiful  chappell  of  ye  Holy  Trinity  was 
rebuilt,  temp.  H.  VIL,  and  ye  crofs  ifle  of  ye  Pari/h 
Church."  Inftead  of,  perhaps,  a  beautiful  Early  Eng- 
lifh  or  Decorated  building,  we  have  one  of  clumfy 
proportions  and  debafed  ornamentation.  Such  as  it  is, 
however,  it  has-been  further  debafed  by  the  church- 
wardens or  common -councillors  of  the  eighteenth 
century.  ProfefTor  Willis  has  well  obferved,  that  when- 
ever a  church  wanted  rebuilding  or  decoration  in  the 
middle  ages,  fome  Saint,  or  Saint's  relics,  were  fure 
providentially  to  turn  up  in  the  neighbourhood.  The 
clergy  immediately  enfhrined  them,  the  people  flocked 
to  pay  their  devotions,  and  the  church  was  renovated 


Fir/1  Impreffiom  of  Stratford.  23 

by  means  of  their  pious  offerings.     Surely  the  votaries 
of  Shakefpere  ought  to  offer  for  the  reftoration  of  a 
fhrine  whofe  fhadow  fell  upon  his  houfe,  upon  which 
he  muft  have  looked  from  his  windows,  and  where  he 
probably  ufed  often  to  kneel.     Little  befides  the  clearing 
away  of  a  quantity  of  ugly  cumbrous  church  furniture 
would  be   enough   to   reftore  it  to   nearly  the   fame 
appearance  as  it  bore  when  Shakefpere  knew  it.     It 
would  now  be  impoffible,  even  if  fuch   a  proceeding 
were  fandtioned  by  public  opinion,  to  reftore  the  beau- 
tiful frefcoes  difcovered  in  1804,  when  the  chapel  was 
repaired.     The   chief  fubjecl:  was  the  "  Invention   of 
the  Holy  Crofs,"  to  which  the  chapel  was  dedicated ; 
but  that  which   probably   brought  the  fwdfteft   ruin 
upon  the  whole  was  the  "  Martyrdom  of  Thomas-a- 
Beckett,"  to  whofe  memory  Henry  VIII.  bore  fpecial 
enmity,  becaufe  the  ground  of  the  "  blifsful  martyr's  " 
canonization  was  his   refiftance  to  the  power  of  the 
crown.     His  name  is  carefully  erafed  from  all  mifTals 
and  other  fervice-books  ufed  in  Henry's  reign.     The 
frefcoes  were  therefore  probably  defaced  by  the  Refor- 
mers even  before  they  were  finally  deftroyed  in  1804. 
They  were,  however,  copied,  and  have  been  published. 
Faffing  on  from  the  Guild    Chapel,   we  have   the 
whole   range   of  buildings    containing   the   Grammar 
School  and  Guildhall,  and,  near  the  parifh  church,  a 


24  Shakefpere. 


nice-looking  old  houfe,  built  on  the  fite  of  the  old 
college  for  priefts,  which  was  pulled  down  in  1799. 

The  parifh  church  is  a  very  fine  fpecimen  of  Perpen- 
dicular, built  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon,  and  furrounded 
by  trees.  I  fhall  fpeak  of  it  more  at  length  in  connection 
with  Shakefpere's  grave  and  monument.  The  bridge, 
the  chapel,  the  church,  the  Poet's  birthplace  in  Henley 
Street,  and  the  old  houfe  in  Chapel  Street,  of  which 
Mr.  Edwards  has  taken  an  excellent  photograph,  are 
the  only  vifible  remains  of  the  period  when  Shakefpere 
lived  here.  They  may  ferve  to  give  us  fome  idea  of 
how  Stratford  looked  in  his  time. 

In  the  firft  place,  then,  the  ftreets  were  not,  as  now, 
compofed  of  rows  of  uninterefting  brick  cottages. 
The  dwelling-houfes  were  probably  detached,  and  fur- 
rounded  by  yards  and  gardens,  like  John  Shakefpere's, 
in  Henley  Street.  Of  the  ftyle  of  the  fhop-fronts,  the 
mop  of  Mr.  Williams,  breeches-maker,  glover,  &c. 
(fee  photograph),  will  give  us  an  idea ;  and  a  ftreet  of 
fuch  fronts,  with  the  fhape,  and  height,  and  ornamen- 
tation of  each  varied  indefinitely,  muft  have  been  very 
beautiful.  There,  on  the  top  of  the  hill  upon  which 
the  town  ftands,  was  the  old  market  crofs,  a  pidiurefque 
Gothic  ftrufture,  round  which  the  chapmen  aflembled, 
and  mowed  their  merchandife,  and  perhaps  fome  Au- 
tolycus  fung : — 


I 


Firjl  Imprejfions  of  Stratford.  25 

"  Will  you  buy  any  tape, 

Or  lace  for  your  cape, 
My  dainty  duck,  my  dear-a  j 

Any  lilk,  any  thread, 

Any  toys  for  your  head, 
Of  the  new'ft  and  fin'ft,  fin'fl  wear-a  ; 

Come  to  the  pedlar, 

Money's  a  meddler 
That  doth  alter  all  men's  wear-a." 

Here,  near  the  church,  was  the  old  college  for  priefts, 
appropriated  by  Mafter  John  a  Combe  as  a  dwelling- 
houfe  on  the  diflblution  of  the  religious  houfes,  but 
ftill  retaining  its  {lately  ecclefiaftical  character.  The 
church  and  chapel  were  fhorn,  indeed,  of  their  former 
glories,  and  a  coat  of  whitewash  had  perhaps  been  laid 
on  the  walls  to  deface  any  traces  of  colour  or  painting ; 
but  the  carved  benches  or  chairs,  the  rood-fcreen,  and 
the  ftained  glafs  probably  yet  remained,  and  the  galleries 
and  pews  were  as  yet  in  the  womb  of  time.  Chapel 
Street  was  adorned  and  dignified  by  New  Place,  a  fine 
old  manfion  built  by  the  magnificent  Sir  Hugh  Clop- 
ton.  In  fuch  a  town,  built  on  a  rifing  ground  on  the 
banks  of  the  Avon,  clofe  to  the  parks  of  Fulbrooke 
and  Charlecote  and  the  Foreft  of  Arden,  the  Poet  of 
Nature  might  well  have  been  proud  to  have  been  born, 
and  glad  to  dwell  amongft  his  own  people. 


26  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER  III. 

I  HAD  now  got  fo  far  as  this  in  my  investigation : — 
The  place  of  Shakefpere's  birth — where  he  fpent  his 
youth,  and  to  which  he  retired  the  moment  he  had 
acquired  a  competence — was  in  his  time,  notwithftand- 
ing  its  prefent  dreary  appearance,  a  town  embellifhed 
by  many  ftately  and  beautiful  buildings,  the  refidence 
of  wealthy  burghers  and  of  a  large  body  of  clergy, 
at  that  time  the  moft  learned  and  cultivated  clafs  of 
fociety.  It  was  moreover  built  on  the  banks  of  a 
lovely  river,  furrounded  by  rural  villages,  parks,  and 
foreft  tracts — fuch  a  country,  in  fhort,  as  would  feize 
upon  the  fancy  of  a  poet,  and  mark  his  imagination 
with  the  imprels  of  its  own  character.  For  though 
the  poet's  fancy  be,  in  one  fenfe,  independent  of  out- 
ward things,  and 

"  Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  earth  to  heaven, 
And  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  fhapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation  and  a  name," 


His  Parentage.  27 


yet  if,  as  Locke  afferts,  the  mind  be  a  fheet  of  white 
paper  till  written  upon  by  the  fenfes,  the  original  fimple 
ideas  from  which  the  complex  images  of  poetry  are 
formed  muft  have  had  their  origin  in  outward  things, 
however  independent  of  them  they  may  afterwards 
become.  And  that  Shakefpere's  young  imagination 
fed  upon  the  fcenes  in  which  his  youth  was  Ipent  is 
plain,  both  from  the  facT;  that  he  never  loft  light  of 
the  grand  objecl:  of  returning  to  live  in  his  native  town, 
and  from  the  whole  character  of  his  writings.  None 
of  his  contemporaries  has  drawn  fb  direftly  and  Ib 
largely  from  Englim  rural  life  as  he,  and  the  ftyle  of 
fcenery  upon  which  he  delights  to  dwell,  as  defcribed, 
for  inftance,  in  the  words  of  Titania — 

"  And  never,  fince  the  middle  fummer's  fpring, 
Met  we  on  hill,  in  dale,  foreft,  or  mead, 
By  paved  fountain,  or  by  rufhy  brook" — 

is  juft  that  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Stratford.  Greene 
and  Peele  have  fome  pretty  country  fcenes,  but  they 
want  the  touches  of  nature,  the  elegance,  the  lightnefs 
of  the  mafter.  In  thefe  relpects  no  one  approaches 
him  but  Chaucer,  whole  merits  are  unhappily  buried 
for  the  generality  in  his  obfolete  language,  and  whofe 
occalional  gro Uriels  condemns  his  poems  to  clofe  prifon. 
To  quote  inftances  of  Shakefpere's  power  of  depicting 
Englilh  country  fcenes  and  people  would  be  to  tranfcribe 


28  Shakefpere. 


a  great  part  of  his  plays.  But  to  take  an  inftance :  "  As 
You  Like  It"  is  faid  to  be  more  generally  read  than 
any  other  of  his  works ;  and  this  is  owing,  I  think,  to 
the  hold  which  the  idea  of  life  in  the  Foreft  of  Arden 
has  on  the  reader,  who  finds  in  the  fhepherds  and 
fhepherdeffes,  not  the  Arcadian  article,  but  the  real 
Englifli  one.  And  where  did  Shakefpere  get  his  Foreft 
of  Arden  ?  Not,  we  may  be  fure,  in  Flanders,  but  in 
the  foreft  tract  of  Warwickfhire.  Of  Englifh  middle 
clals  fociety  in  a  country  town,  where  (hall  we  find  a 
more  life-like  or  genial  picture  than  in  "  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windfor?"  Page,  Ford,  and  their  wives, 
Sir  Hugh  Evans,  and  the  hoft  of  the  "  Garter  "  were 
doubtlefs  drawn  from  the  fubftantial  glovers  and  wool- 
ftaplers,  innkeepers  and  parfons,  of  Stratford  and  the 
neighbourhood.  Of  the  home  of  a  wealthy  juftice 
of  the  peace  in  a  remote  county  Shallow's  houfe  and 
furroundings  is  the  trueft  and  moft  humorous  concep- 
tion that  ever  was  penned. 

But  to  gather  from  the  place  all  the  infight  which 
it  can  yield,  we  muft  take  into  account  eipecially  the 
pofition  which  the  Poet  held  there  in  his  youth.  The 
imprefiion  made  upon  the  mind,  of  the  young  eipecially, 
by  outward  objects,  depends  much  upon  the  ftanding- 
point  from  which  it  views  them.  A  peer  and  a 
coftermonger  fhall  both  inhabit  London,  but  yet  their 


His  Parentage.  29 


feveral  conceptions  of  the  place  fhall  differ  as  widely 
as  if  one  lived  in  Timbuctoo  and  the  other  in  Siberia. 

The  family  of  Shakeipere,  which  had  been  long 
fettled  in  Warwickshire,  appears  never  to  have  rifen 
above  the  rank  of  the  yeomanry.  The  Poet's  father, 
John  Shakefpere,  was  the  fon  of  Richard  Shakefpere, 
a  farmer  of  Snitterfield,  not  far  from  Stratford,  and 
refided  in  the  houfe  in  Henley  Street  which  tradition 
afligns  as  the  place  of  the  Poet's  birth.  In  an  entry 
in  the  regifter  of  the  Bailiff's  Court  of  that  town, 
dated  1556,  ftating  that  he  was  fued  by  Thomas  Siche 
of  Arfcotte  in  Wiltshire  for  £8,  he  is  defcribed  as 
"Johannes  Shakefpere  de  Stretford  in  Comitatu  Warici, 
Glover"  It  appears  that  he  alfo  farmed  land,  or  at 
leaft  fold  corn  and  timber,  for  in  the  fame  year  he 
fued  Henry  Fyld  for  eighteen  quarters  of  barley,  which 
the  latter  unjuftly  detained.  In  1564  the  corporation 
of  Stratford  paid  him  4^.  for  a  piece  of  timber.  In 
the  fame  year — the  year  of  his  celebrated  fon's  birth 
— he  contributed  towards  the  relief  of  the  poor  when 
the  plague  was  raging  in  the  town.  He  occupied  a 
farm  of  fourteen  acres  at  Ington  Meadow,  or  Ingon 
— Ing  means  "  meadow,"  as  in  Ingateftone,  called  in 
Latin,  Pratum  apud petram — and  in  1575  he  purchafed 
two  freehold  houfes  in  Henley  Street.  One  of  thefe  he 
had  before  occupied  as  tenant — that,  namely,  in  which 


30  Shakefpere. 


William  Shakefpere  was  in  all  probability  born.  In  a 
deed  dated  1579  he  is  defcribed  as  a  yeoman,  and  his 
name  is  found  in  a  roll  of  the  gentlemen  and  freeholders 
of  Barlim  hundred,  in  which  Stratford  is  Situated,  bear- 
ing date  1580.  In  a  deed  dated  1596  he  is  again 
defcribed  as  a  yeoman.  In  1586  the  copyhold  of  a 
houfe  in  Henley  Street  was  affigned  to  him. 

We  have  feen  that  in  one  document  he  is  ftyled 
"glover,"  and  that  from  others  it  appears  that  he 
farmed  land.  Aubrey  fays  he  was  a  butcher,  and 
Rowe,  that  he  was  a  confiderable  dealer  in  wool.  But 
all  thefe  are  callings  which  might  very  poffibly  be  exer- 
cifed  by  one  and  the  fame  perfon.  Even  at  the  prefent 
day,  when  the  principle  of  the  divifion  of  labour  is 
much  more  rigidly  carried  out  than  formerly,  we  often 
fee  farmers  combining  with  their  principal  callings  thofe 
of  butchers,  general  dealers,  timber-merchants,  charcoal- 
burners,  horfe-dealers,  corn-factors,  auctioneers,  valuers, 
or  fuch  like  country  trades.  In  thofe  times  it  was  ftill 
more  likely  that  a  man  of  active  mind  and  of  fome 
claim  to  gentility  mould  be  impatient  of  the  fmall 
profits  of  farming,  and  mould  try  fome  fhort  cut  to 
wealth  by  Speculating  in  any  bufinefs  with  which  cir- 
cumftances  might  have  made  him  acquainted. 

At  any  rate  he  mult  have  been  a  man  of  fome 
Standing  and  influence  in  his  native  town,  for  in  1557 


His  Parentage.  31 


he  was  appointed  an  ale-tafter  and  a  burgefs;  in  1558 
and  1559  he  ferved  as  conftable — an  office  generally 
held  by  refpeftable  farmers  or  tradefmen;  in  1561  he 
was  appointed  afferor — an  officer  defined  by  Cowel, 
"  Such  as  are  appointed  in  court-leets,  &c.,  upon  oath, 
to  mul<fl  fuch  as  have  committed  faults  arbitrarily 
punifhable,  and  have  no  exprefs  penalty  fet  down  by 
ftatute."  He  was  elected  one  of  the  chamberlains  in 
1561  ;  an  alderman  in  1565  ;  high  bailiff  in  1568  ;  and 
on  September  5,  1571,  he  was  again  elefted  alderman 
for  the  enfuing  yean  From  fome  of  the  documents 
from  which  thefe  fa£ts  are  recorded,  it  has  been  argued 
that  John  Shakefpere  could  not  write  his  name,  for  he 
has  made  his  mark  at  the  foot  of  feveral  of  them.  At 
that  time  the  inability  to  write  was  not  confidered  fo 
difgraceful  as  it  would  now  be.  But  that  John  Shake- 
Ipere  figned  his  mark  and  not  his  name  is  by  no 
means  decifive  of  the  fad:  that  he  could  not  write.  I 
think  it  is  Dr.  Maitland  who  obferves,  in  his  book 
on  the  middle  ages,  that  it  was  then  confidered  a 
mark  of  dignity  to  have  your  name  written  by  a  clerk, 
and  merely  to  acknowledge  the  a6t  by  making  a  crofs 
or  other  mark  oppofite  it. 

It  has  often  been  obferved  that  men  of  genius  favour 
— to  ufe  a  provincial,  but,  I  think,  alfo  a  Shakefperian 
word — their  mother,  rather  than  their  father ;  a  prin- 


32  Shakefpere. 


ciple  afted  upon  by  the  Arabs,  who  are  faid  to  count 
the  pedigrees  of  their  horfes  through  the  dams,  and 
not  the  fires.  It  may  be  fo  in  the  cafe  of  men,  but  the 
fact,  if  it  be  one,  may  alfo  be  due  to  the  early  educa- 
tion imparted  by  mothers  to  their  children.  Educa- 
tion begins,  in  fact,  at  the  mother's  knee ;  and  the 
bent  given  to  the  youthful  mind  from  infancy  to  eight 
or  nine  years  old,  during  the  long  hours  fpent  at  home 
while  the  father  is  at  his  work,  is  probably  difcernible 
for  ever  after.  Was  it  fo  in  the  cafe  of  Shakefpere  ? 
We  cannot  tell,  indeed,  for  certain ;  but  ftill  the  mind, 
in  dealing  with  the  myfterious  problem  of  his  genius, 
clings  to  anything  in  the  fhape  of  even  a  probability. 
When  we  read  "  Hamlet,"  "  The  Moor  of  Venice," 
"The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "As  You  Like  It,"  "Much- 
Ado  About  Nothing,"  "Lear,"  "  Cymbeline,"  or  "  Ro- 
meo and  Juliet,"  we  are  amazed  at  the  variety  of  cha- 
racter difplayed  in  Ophelia,  Defdemona,  Portia,  Rofalind, 
Celia,  Hermione,  Beatrice,  Cordelia,  Imogen,  and  Juliet ; 
but  in  each  we  recognife  fundamental  truth  to  the 
higheft  type  of  woman's  nature.  How  did  he  obtain 
the  moral  infight  and  elevation  neceffary  as  a  founda- 
tion on  which  to  raife  thefe  various  fuperftructures  ? 
Where  did  he,  a  wild  young  man,  {pending  his  youth 
among  the  young  farmers  and  tradefmen  of  Stratford, 
and  his  manhood  about  the  London  theatres,  acquire 


His  Mother.  33 


that  reverence  for  women  which  enabled  him  to  com- 
bine in  his  female  characters  the  wildeft  paflion  with 
the  moft  exquiiite  purity  ?  Clever  fons  have  often  had 
foolifh  mothers ;  but  if  any  man  has  a  tender  refpect  for 
women  and  a  deep  appreciation  of  female  excellence, 
I  think  it  will  be  found  that  he  has  acquired  thefe 
qualities  from  the  early  leflbns  of  maternal  love.  I 
am  willing,  therefore,  to  fancy  that  Shakefpere  ob- 
tained his  faculty  of  forming  his  high  ideal  of  female 
character  from  the  early  impreffions  left  upon  his 
mind  by  his  mother. 

Her  very  name,  Mary  Arden,  is  fuggeftive.  The 
painters  have  taken  care  that  the  firft  bearer  of  the 
name  of  Mary  mall  prefent  to  our  minds  all  that  is 
pureft,  nobleft,  moft  graceful,  and  womanly  in  maid, 
wife,  and  mother.  The  fimple  country  folk  give  her 
name  to  the  moft  wholefome,  the  fweeteft,  and  the 
prettieft  herbs  and  flowers  that  grow  in  their  gardens 
and  hedges — the  rofemary,  the  marygold,  the  lady's 
flipper,  the  maiden-hair,  the  lady's  fingers,  and  other 
fuch  like.  Arden  means  a  foreft,  and  is  applied,  by  way 
of  excellence,  to  the  foreft  country  in  Warwickfhire, 
and  that  on  the  borders  of  France  and  Flanders,  the 
fcene  of  "  As  You  Like  It "  and  "  Quentin  Durward." 

Of  Mary  Arden,  indeed,  no  perfonal  record  remains, 
but  we  know  this  at  leaft,  that  me  was  of  an  old  and 


34  Shakefpere, 


wealthy  Warwickshire  family,  fome  members  of  which 
had  done  good  fervice  to  Henry  VII.  Her  father  was 
Robert  Arden,  a  gentleman  of  Wilmecote,  in  the  pa- 
riflies  of  Stratford-upon-Avon  and  Afton,  from  whom 
me  inherited  the  eftate  of  Afhbies,  confifting  of  about 
fifty-four  acres,  two  tenements  in  Snitterfield,  a  mare 
in  other  lands  at  Wilmecote,  befides  a  fmall  fum  of 
money.  The  family  derived  its  name  from  the  foreft 
diftrict  of  Arden,  whence  the  Poet,  no  doubt,  took  his 
ideal  of  the  Arden  whofe  trees  Orlando  "  marred  with 
writing  love-fongs  in  their  barks."  That  the  heirefs 
of  Wilmecote  inherited  fome  gentle  qualities  from  her 
gentle  anceflry  is  poffible ;  and  its  probability  will  not 
be  gainfayed  by  thofe  who  know  what  a  difference  the 
fact  of  a  pointer  being  fhot  over  or  left  untrained, 
makes  in  the  fteadinefs  of  its  offspring.  The  fagacity 
acquired  by  affociation  with  man's  fuperior  intelligence 
is  tranfmitted  from  generation  to  generation  in  the 
lower  animals  ;  and  that  in  man  the  qualities  of  mind 
foftered  by  the  habitual  felf-refpect,  intellectual  activity, 
and  purfuit  of  noble  aims,  which,  as  a  general  rule, 
are  found  only  amongft  thofe  who  are  exempt  from 
a  dependence  upon  bodily  toil,  mould  alfo  defcend  with 
the  blood,  is  not  improbable  ;  but  that  her  father's 
eafy  circumftances  fecured  to  Mary  Arden  the  un- 
queftionable  benefits  of  a  good  education,  there  can 


SHOWING     THE     WINDOW    OF  THL    ROOM     IN    WHICH    H  t    WAS    BORN 


His  Birthplace. 


be  no  reafonable  doubt.  And  fo  Shakefpere,  perhaps, 
might  add  one  more  inftance  to  confirm. the  fuppofed 
rule  that  the  genius  of  great  men  defcends  to  them 
from  their  mothers'  qualities  or  training.  He  was 
born,  in  fad:,  upon  the  outfkirts  of  gentility,  and  was 
excluded  from  the  tempting  inner  circle  by  poverty 
rather  than  by  birth. 

I  had  now  to  vifit  the  aftual  houfe — nay,  the  very 
room — in  which  he  probably  firft  faw  the  light. 

In  this  houfe  refided  his  father,  John  Shakefpere, 
probably  as  a  tenant,  in  1552.  In  1556  he  purchafed 
the  freehold,  and  was  refident  there  in  1590.  The 
baptifm  of  his  third  child,  William,  is  regiftered  in  the 
parifh  church,  under  the  date  of  April  26,  1564  ;  and 
therefore  it  feems  almoft  certain  that  the  Poet  was 
born  in  this  houfe,  his  parents'  ufual  refidence,  in 
accordance  with  the  uninterrupted  tradition  of  the 
place. 

Mr.  Edwards,  with  camera  more  potent  than  the 
perfpective  glafs  of  Friar  Bacon,  or  the  wand  with 
which  Profpero  commanded  the  fervices  of  his 
"  trickfy  Ariel"  has  compelled  the  bleffed  Sun  him- 
felf  to  paint  us  four  pictures  of  this  interefting  relic. 
It  is  built  of  timber,  with  the  interftices  filled  in  with 
what  is  called  "  wattle  and  dab,"  and  probably  refem- 
bled  mod  other  houfes  of  its  clafs  in  the  old  town  of 


36  Shakefpere. 


Stratford ;  but  I  was  not  prepared  to  fee  it  look  fo 
fmug  and  new.  Many  of  the  old  timbers  remain, 
and  the  houfe  is,  indeed,  fubftantially  the  fame  houfe 
as  it  was ;  but  new  timbers  have  been  inferted  where 
the  old  were  decayed,  everything  has  been  fcraped  and 
polimed  up,  and  the  place  looks  as  if  it  had  been 
"  reftored,"  a  word  to  ftrike  terror  to  the  heart  of 
an  antiquary,  not  to  fpeak  of  a  man  of  tafte.  The 
propenfity  to  ftain,  and  polifh,  and  varnifh,  and  fub- 
ftitute  new  work  for  old  unneceffarily,  is  much  to  be 
deprecated.  Perhaps  the  committee,  who  hold  the 
property  in  truft  for  the  nation,  could  not  avoid  giving 
to  Shakefpere's  birthplace  its  prefent  holiday  appear- 
ance ;  but  how  often  is  the  artiftic  eye  offended  by 
feeing  a  fine  old  building  vulgarifed  by  refhorers!  There 
is  an  ancient  log-church  at  Grinftead,  near  Chipping 
Ongar,  in  this  county,  which  is  enough  to  make  one 
tear  one's  hair.  The  trunks  of  the  trees  of  which  it 
is  built,  and  which  were  all  riven  and  white  with  age, 
have  been  fcraped,  and  ftained,  and  varnimed ;  old 
ftone-work  has  been  replaced  by  the  moft  neatly- 
pointed  brick ;  windows  filled  with  the  weather-ftained 
green  glafs  of  centuries  ago,  have  been  re-glazed  in 
the  neweft  fafhion  ;  an  enormous  and  very  conceited- 
looking  eagle  ftands  in  the  middle  of  the  nave,  and 
the  whole  place  is  encumbered  with  berlin-wool  im- 


His  Birthplace.  37 


pertinences.  The  worft  of  it  is,  that  the  perpetrators 
of  fuch  enormities  are  generally  fuch  worthy,  well- 
meaning  people,  that  one  is  afraid  to  fuggeft  a  doubt 
as  to  their  difcretion,  for  fear  of  damping  their  zeal. 
Perhaps  a  few  years'  expofure  to  the  weather  may 
tone  down  the  "  neat "  look  of  the  houfe  in  Henley 
Street. 

The  firft  room  I  entered  was  in  that  part  of  the 
building  which  had  been  a  butcher's  mop,  and  which, 
I  believe,  was  the  refidence  of  John  Shakefpere.  It 
feemed  to  be  a  fort  of  hall,  or  outer  kitchen,  paved 
with  unfhapely  flags.  The  great  old  fire-place  is  fup- 
ported  by  immenfe  ftone  jambs,  and  the  ceiling  by 
a  ponderous  beam.  Opening  out  of  this  is  a  better 
room,  probably  the  keeping-room,  or,  as  it  is  called 
in  Yorkshire,  the  "  houfe-place."  This,  too,  is  paved 
with  flags,  and  fupported  by  beams.  The  fire-place 
is  maflive,  and  under  its  projecting  jambs  are  cofy 
chimney-corners,  where,  doubtlefs,  young  Shakefpere, 
feated  on  a  fettle,  many  a  time  conned  his  leflbns  of  a 
winter's  evening,  or  read  in  Holinfhed,  or  roafted 
crabs  for  the  lambs'-wool,  or,  perhaps,  dried  himfelf 
after  one  of  his  raids  upon  a  neighbouring  park  or 
warren.  Beyond  this  are  two  fmaller  rooms,  which 
were  probably  bed-chambers ;  and  beyond  them,  again, 
fome  more  rooms,  which,  there  feems  every  reafon  to 


38  Shakefpere. 


believe,  formed  part  of  the  other  adjoining  houfe,  and 
which  are  not  (hown.  Upftairs  is  the  bed-chamber  in 
which  tradition  afferts  the  great  Poet  to  have  been 
born ;  and  tradition  is  probably  right,  for  it  is  the  beft 
chamber  in  the  houfe,  and  therefore  probably  appro- 
priated to  the  miftrefs  on  fuch  an  occafion,  The  large 
window  in  the  firft  photograph  belongs  to  it,  and  the 
fecond  places  the  interior  before  the  reader's  eyes  as  it 
exifts ;  and  if  he  cannot  actually  be  prefent  at  Stratford 
on  the  23rd  of  April  next,  he  can  fee  all  that  the  veri- 
table pilgrims  will  fee  without  ftirring  out  of  his  arm- 
chair. Every  fquare  inch  of  the  walls  is  covered  with 
the  names  of  vifitors,  attefting  the  univerfal  homage 
paid  to  the  mighty  genius  who  reflects  his  fame  upon 
the  unconfcious  ftone  and  mafonry.  The  jambs  of  the 
chimney  have  been  appropriated  by  the  modern  actors 
and  actrefles,  and  amongft  their  names  may  ftill  be  read 
that  of  Edmund  Kean.  Sir  Walter  Scott  has  in'fcribed 
his  in  indelible  characters  with  a  diamond  on  a  pane  of 
glafs  in  the  large  window. 

In  another  room  on  the  fame  floor  is  mown  a 
portrait,  much  refembling  the  buft  in  the  church,  and 
faid  to  have  been  preferved  for  many  years  in  the 
family  of  Mr.  William  Oakes  Hunt,  town-clerk  of 
Stratford,  by  whom  it  has  been  prefented  to  the  public. 
It  is  very  like  the  monument  in  the  church. 


His  Birthplace.  39 


After  looking  at  thefe  things  for  a  while,  and  linger- 
ing over  them  with  a  fort  of  vague  feeling  that  they 
ought  to  tell  fomething  of  him  to  whom  they  were 
once  familiar — the  feeling,  I  fuppofe  which  made  men 
brave  every  danger  to  vifit  Jerufalem,  and  which  ftill 
impek  them  to  traverfe  the  defert  that  they  may  tread 
the  ftreets  of  Mecca — I  patted  out  by  a  back-door 
into  the  garden,  which  is  nicely  laid  out  with  gravel- 
walks,  and  in  the  middle  of  which  may  be  feen  fome 
carved  ftones  taken  from  the  ruins  of  New  Place. 
This  fupplied  Mr.  Edwards  with  another  view  of  the 
houfe. 

There  was  a  fcheme,  I  think,  fuggefted  of  planting 
this  garden  exclulively  with  plants  mentioned  in  Shake- 
fpere's  works,  but  it  was  abandoned.  Perhaps  it  would 
be  impoffible  to  carry  the  idea  out  thoroughly  ;  but 
I  would  certainly  plead  for  a  place  for  poor  Ophelia  s 
"  rofemary,  that's  for  remembrance,"  and  "  panfies, 
that's  for  thought ;"  her  fennel  and  her  columbines, 
and  "  herb-o'»grace  o'  Sundays."  I  would  have  here — 

"  Dailies  pied,  and  violets  blue, 
And  lady's  fmocks  all  filver  white, 
And  cuckoo-buds  of  yellow  hue  ;" 

and   Titanic? s  "  mulk-rofes "  mould  be    there  too — 
not    forgetting    the    "little    weftern    flower,"    which 


40  Shakefpere. 


maidens  call  "  Love  in  Idlenefs ;"  and  fweet  Perditas 

" Daffodils, 


That  come  before  the  fwallow  dares,  and  take 
The  winds  of  March  with  beauty  5  violets,  dim, 
But  fweeter  than  the  lids  of  Juno's  eyes, 
Or  Cytherea's  breath  j  pale  primrofes, 
That  die  unmarried,  ere  they  can  behold 
Bright  Phcebus  in  his  flrength  :  a  malady 
Moft  incident  to  maids  ;  bold  oxlips,  and 
The  crown-imperial ;  lilies  of  all  kinds, 
The  flower-de-luce  being  one." 

Thefe  gardens  are  intended  for  the  delegation  of 
the  public,  and  it  would  certainly  contribute  to  the 
intereft  and  amufement  of  vifitors  if,  as  they  walked, 
they  could  read  on  labels  the  many  charming  paffages 
in  which  the  great  Poet,  like  One  ftill  greater,  mowed 
his  love  of  nature  by  taking  fimilitudes  and  pointing 
morals  from  "  the  lilies  of  the  field." 

In  this  houfe,  then,  which  is  that  of  a  refpe&able 
yeoman,  was  William  Shakeipere  born,  fome  few  days 
before  the  26th  of  April,  1564,  the  date  of  his  bap- 
tifm.  The  period  allowed  to  elapfe  between  his  birth 
and  baptifm  was,  probably,  not  more  than  eight  days ; 
becaufe  the  analogy  between  the  Jewiih  rite  and  the 
Chriftian  facrament  was  then  maintained ;  and  a  fuper- 
ftition  prevailed,  that  if  the  time  were  deferred  longer, 
the  infant  might  be  carried  off  by  the  fairies,  and  an 
ouf  fubftituted  in  its  place.  Here,  at  any  rate,  his 


(THE  GARDEN    SEAT    A  CARVED  STONE   REMOVED  FROM  NEW  PLACE) 


., 


His  Birthplace.  41 


boyhood  and  youth  were  fpent,  and  he  pafled  through 
the  ages  defcribed  by  himfelf :  — 

"  At  firft  the  infant, 

Mewling  and  puking  in  the  nurfe's  arms  j 
Then  the  whining  fchoolboy,  with  his  fatchel, 
With  fhining  morning  face,  creeping  like  mail, 
Unwillingly  to  fchool ;  and  then  the  lover, 
Sighing  like  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad 
Made  to  his  miftrefs'  eyebrow." 

Before  difmiffing  the  fubjecT:  of  the  houfe  in  Henley 
Street,  it  may  be  well  to  record  the  viciffitudes  through 
which  it  has  pafled.  John  Shakefpere,  the  Poet's 
father,  appears  to  have  lived  in  a  freehold  houfe  in 
Henley  Street,  as  tenant,  in  the  year  1552.  In  1574, 
he  purchafed  from  Edmund  Hall,  and  Emma  his  wife, 
for  forty  pounds,  the  houfes,  defcribed  as  "  two  mef- 
fuages,  two  gardens,  and  two  orchards,  with  their  ap- 
purtenances ;"  and  one  of  thefe  was,  probably,  that 
which  he  already  occupied  as  tenant.  On  the  death 
of  John  Shakefpere,  thefe  houfes  defcended  to  his  eldeft 
fon,  William ;  and  here,  probably,  the  Poet's  wife  and 
family  lived  while  he  was  working  for  them  in 
London.  The  houfes  continued  to  belong  to  him  after 
he  had  purchafed  New  Place,  and  he  bequeathed  "  the 
two  mefluages,  or  tenements,  with  the  appurtenance, 
fituate,  &c.,  in  Henley  Street,  within  the  borough  of 
Stratford,"  to  his  daughter,  Sufanna  Hall,  from  whom 


42  Shake fpere. 


they  defcended  to  her  daughter,  Elizabeth,  married,  firft, 
to  Thomas  Na(b,  and,  fecondly,  to  Sir  William  Barnard. 
Lady  Barnard  bequeathed  the  property,  defcribed  in 
her  will  as  "  the  inn,  called  the  '  Maidenhead,'  and 
the  adjoining  houfe  and  barn,"  to  Thomas  and  George 
Hart,  the  grandchildren  of  Shakefpere's  fifter  Joan,  in 
the  pofleflion  of  whofe  defcendants  they  remained  till 
the  beginning  of  this  century.  The  name  of  the  inn 
was,  however,  changed  from  the  "  Maidenhead,"  to 
the  "  White  Lion/'  and  the  adjoining  houfe  was  ufed 
as  a  butcher's  mop.  In  this  ftate  they  continued,  the 
property  of  private  perfons ;  and,  at  one  time,  there 
was  a  rumour  that  fome  American — Barnum,  perhaps 
— was  about  to  buy  them,  and  traniport  them  bodily, 
like  the  Holy  Houfe  of  Loretto,  to  Bofton.  This 
aft  of  facrilege  was  prevented  by  the  appointment 
of  a  committee  of  gentlemen,  amongft  the  reft,  Lord 
Carlifle,  who  collected  fubfcriptions,  and  bought  them 
for  the  nation.  Rightly  deeming  that  the  prefervation 
of  the  houfe  was  the  firft  object,  they  pulled  down  the 
adjoining  tenements  to  prevent  the  danger  of  fire, 
repaired  the  houfe  where  it  was  decayed,  and  laid  out 
the  wafte  ground  in  gardens.  In  1854,  Mr.  John 
Shakefpere,  of  Afhby-de-la-Zouche,  left  by  will  a  fum 
of  £2,000,  to  be  employed  in  reftoring  the  houfe,  efta- 
blifhing  a  mufeum  of  Shakefperian  relics,  and  paying 


His  Birthplace.  43 


a  curator ;  but  the  bequeft  was  held  by  the  Court  of 
Chancery  to  be  bad  for  its  indefmitenefs,  and  con- 
trary to  the  provifions  of  the  Statute  of  Mortmain. 
Sufficient  funds  were,  however,  obtained,  by  fublcrip- 
tion,  to  put  the  premifes  into  their  prefent  very  credit- 
able ftate  of  repair ;  and  the  Shakeiperian  pilgrims 
who  vifit  the  place  next  fpring  will,  no  doubt,  make 
up  any  deficiency. 


44  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  next  object  of  intereft  was  the  Grammar  School, 
founded  in  the  reign  of  Edward  VI.,  by  Thomas 
Jolepe.  The  prefent  buildings,  which  comprife  the 
guildhall  and  the  fchoolroom,  are  in  Chapel  Street, 
and  form  part  of  a  long  row,  the  upper  ftory  of  which 
projects  over  the  lower,  after  the  manner  of  ancient 
dwellings.  The  reader  may  fee  it  in  Mr.  Edwards's 
photograph,  with  the  tower  of  the  Guild  Chapel  in 
the  background.  It  was  during  the  play-hour  that  I 
vifited  it,  and  the  head-mafter  very  kindly  mowed  me 
over  the  place.  You  afcend  a  flight  of  ftairs  to  reach 
the  fchoolroom,  which  has  much  the  fame  appearance 
as  other  rooms  devoted  to  a  like  purpofe.  The  ceiling 
has  lately  been  removed  and  the  oak  roof  revealed, 
which,  with  the  aid  of  the  latticed  windows,  gives  the 
room  an  ancient  and  venerable  appearance,  fuch  as  it 
bore  when  Shakefpere  learned  his  accidence  here. 
Much  ftrefs  has  been  laid  upon  a  fuppoiition  that 


I            :£^~ 

-—  . 

\ 

J-"1  — 

I! 

Iff. 


ST  RATFORD-ON -AVON 


'The  School  where  he  was  brought  up.  45 

Shakefpere  was  taught  in  "  a  fchool  i'  the  church ; " 
and  indeed  there  is  evidence  that  at  one  time  the  fchool 
was  held  in  the  Guild  Chapel.  But  the  mode  of  edu- 
cation was  the  fame  whether  it  were  given  in  the 
church  or  in  a  feparate  building.  A  chantry  prieft,  or 
the  parim  prieft  himfelf,  was  often  the  fchoolmafter, 
and  held  the  fchool  in  the  foler  over  the  church  porch, 
and  the  foundation  of  the  education  he  gave  was  gram- 
mar— the  grammar  of  the  Latin  language  as  being  the 
moft  fcientific  and  accurate.  At  that  time  fchoolmaf- 
ters  were  not  fo  foolim  as  to  teach  Latin  grammar  and 
Englifh  grammar  feparately,  as  if  they  were  two  diftincl: 
branches  of  knowledge.  Latin  was  the  medium  for 
teaching  grammar  in  general,  and,  therefore,  we  may 
be  fure  that  through  it  Shakefpere  learned  the  elements 
of  the  fcience  of  language,  in  which  he  proved  fo  great 
a  mafter. 

In  the  fixteenth  century  Greek  was  only  beginning 
to  be  generally  ftudied.  Erafmus,  Rabelais,  Sir  Thomas 
More,  and  Dean  Collet  had  up-hill  work  in  recom- 
mending the  ftudy,  and  were  vehemently  oppofed  by  the 
confervatives  in  the  old  feats  of  learning.  In  fome  of  the 
great  grammar  fchools  it  was  introduced  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  VI.,  as,  for  inftance,  at  Chrift's  Hofpital,  where 
the  moft  advanced  ftudents  are  ftill  called  Grecians. 
Chapman,  who  was  fenior  to  Shakefpere,  tranflated 


46  Shakefpere. 


Homer,  though  his  fcholarfhip  was  certainly  not  great, 
as  may  be  feen  by  his  notes ;  and  Marlowe,  Greene,  and 
Peele,  the  "  Univeriity  pens,"  as  they  were  called,  knew 
enough  of  it  perhaps  to  fwear  by.  But  even  this  fmall 
amount  of  Greek,  Shakefpere  had  no  means  of  acquir- 
ing. He  could  not  have  remained  at  the  Stratford 
grammar  fchool  long  enough  to  become  anything  like 
a  fcholar ;  but  without  becoming  fo  familiar  even  with 
Latin  as  to  read  it  for  pleafure,  or  acquiring  a  critical 
knowledge  of  Latin  authors,  he  certainly  learned  the 
fcience  of  language  to  fuch  good  purpofe  that  his 
power  of  wielding  words  is  unrivalled.  And  this  is, 
after  all,  the  beft  fruit  of  fcholarfhip. 

It  is  related  fomewhere  that  Wilkie,  feeing  a  gro- 
tefque  face,  and  not  having  the  materials  of  his  art  by 
him,  drew  it  on  his  thumb-nail,  and  introduced  it  in 
one  of  his  pictures  ;  and  Shakefpere,  no  doubt,  like  a 
true  artift,  loft  no  opportunity  of  obferving  any  old 
character  he  came  acrofs  and  embodying  it  in  his  plays. 
Now  amongft  the  names  of  the  fchoolmafters  who 
wielded  the  ferule  at  Stratford,  I  think  we  may  find 
the  probable  prototype  of  a  very  amufing  perfonage  in 
the  "Merry  Wives  of  Windfor."  In  1570,  when 
Shakefpere  was  fix  years  old,  the  fchoolmafter  was 
Walter  Roche.  In  1572,  when  he  was  eight  years 
old,  Thomas  Hunt,  curate  of  Shottery,  came  into 


'The  School  where  he  was  brought  up.  47 

power;  and  in  1580  Thomas  Jenkins  was  inftalled. 
Shakefpere  was  then  fixteen,  an  age  at  which  boys  are 
very  keen  to  detect  the  weaknefles  of  their  mafters. 
In  the  "Merry  Wives  of  Windfor"  he  pays  off  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy ;  may  he  not  alfo  have  drawn  his  quon- 
dam pedagogue  in  the  admirable  fcene  where  Sir 
Hugh  Evans  puts  William  Page  through  his  parts  of 
fpeech  ?  Thomas  Jenkins  is  obvioufly  the  name  of  a 
Welfhman,  for  which  the  Poet  probably  fubftituted 
the  equally  Welfh  combination  of  names,  Hugh  Evans. 
At  fixteen,  Shakefpere  had  either  left,  or  was  about 
to  leave,  fchool,  and  therefore  we  can  hardly  fuppofe 
"William"  to  have  been  himfelf;  but  he  may  have 
remained  for  a  time  after  he  had  finimed  his  own 
ftudies  to  affift  Jenkins — and  this,  by  the  way,  would 
account  for  the  tradition  that  he  was  at  one  time  a 
fchoolmafter — when  he  would  have  had  abundant 
opportunities  of  obferving  fuch  fcenes  as  the  follow- 
ing. We  might,  therefore,  perhaps,  read  "Thomas 
Jenkins  "  for  "  Hugh  Evans  "  in  this  paflage  : — 

Mrs.  Page.  How  now,  Sir  Hugh?  no  fchool  to-day? 

Evans.  No  j  Mailer  Slender  is  let  the  boys  leave  to  play. 

Quickly.  Bleflings  of  his  heart ! 

Mrs.  Page.  Sir  Hugh,  my  hulband  fays  my  fon  profits  nothing  in  the 
world  at  his  book ;  I  pray  you,  alk  him  fome  queftions  in  his  accidence. 

Evans.  Come  hither,  William  ;  hold  up  your  head,  come. 

Mrs.  Page.  Come  on,  firrah  :  hold  up  your  head ;  anfwer  your  matter, 
be  not  afraid. 


48  Shakefpere. 


Evcuis.  William,  how  many  numbers  is  in  nouns  ? 

William.  Two. 

Quickly.  Truly,  I  thought  there  had  been  one  number  more ;  becaufe 
they  fay  od's  nouns. 

Evans.  Peace  your  tattlings.     What  is  fair,  William? 

William.  Pulcher. 

Quickly.  Polecats !  there  are  fairer  things  than  polecats,  fure. 

Evans.  You  are  a  very  fimplicity  'oman  j  I  pray  you,  peace.  What  is 
lapis,  William  ? 

William.  A  flone. 

Evans.  And  what  is  a  (tone,  William  ? 

William.  A  pebble. 

Evans.  No,  it  is  lapis ;  I  pray  you  remember  in  your  prain. 

William.  Lapis. 

Evans.  That  is  a  good  William.  What  is  he,  William,  that  doth  lend 
articles  ? 

William.  Articles  are  borrowed  of  the  pronoun  ;  and  be  thus  declined, 
Singulariter,  nominativo,  hie,  hcec,  hoc. 

Evans.  Nominativo,  hig,  hag,  hog; — I  pray  you  mark:  genitivo,  hujus. 
Well,  what  is  your  accusative  case? 

William.  Accusativo,  hunc. 

Evans.  I  pray  you,  have  your  remembrance,  child}  Accusativo,  hung, 
hang,  hog. 

Quickly.  Hang  hog  is  Latin  for  bacon,  I  warrant  you. 

Evans.  Leave  your  prabbles,  'oman.  What  is  the  focative  case, 
William  ? 

William.   0 — vocativo  O. 

Evans.  Remember,  William,  focative  is,  caret r 

Quickly.  And  that's  a  good  roqt. 

If  poor  William  Shakefpere  learned  his  accidence  in 
this  ftyle,  it  is  no  wonder  that  he  had  "fmall  Latin;" 
and  Farmer  has  clearly  mown  that  the  tradition  of 
his  lack  of  fcholarmip,  embodied  even  in  the  enco- 
miums of  his  contemporaries,  is  probably  true.  But 


His  Schoolmafters.  49 


perhaps  Thomas  Hunt,  the  curate  of  Shottery,  was  a 
better  fcholar  than  Thomas  Jenkins. 

The  grammar  fchool  is  alfo  probably  the  parent  of 
the  comical  fcene  in  "  Love's  Labour  Loft/'  where  Sir 
Nathaniel—  called  "  Sir  "  becaufe  a  Mafter  of  Arts— and 
Holofernes,  the  fchoolmafter  or  pedant,  mow  off  their 
learning  before  Goodman  Dull ;  but  whether  Ho/of  "ernes 
were  intended  to  reprefent  either  William  Roche  or 
Thomas  Hunt  we  have  no  means  even  to  form  a 
conjecture. 

Nathaniel.  Very  reverend  fport,  truly ;  and  done  in  the  teftimony  of  a 
good  conference. 

Holof ernes.  The  deer  was,  as  you  know,  fanguls, — in  blood;  ripe  as  a 
pomewater,  who  how  hangeth  like  a  jewel  in  the  ear  of  coelo — the  iky, 
the  welkin,  the  heaven ;  and  anon  falleth  like  a  crab,  on  the  face  of 
terra — the  foil,  the  land,  the  earth. 

Nathaniel.  Truly,  Mafter  Holofernes,  the  epithets  are  fweetly  varied, 
like  a  fcholar  at  the  leaft ;  but,  fir,  I  aflhre  you,  it  was  a  buck  of  the  firlt 
head. 

Holofernes.   Sir  Nathaniel,  haud  credo. 

Dull.  'Twas  not  a  haud  credo;  'twas  a  pricket. 

Holofernes.  Moft  barbarous  intimation!  yet  a  kind  of  inlinuation  as  it 
were,  in  via,  in  way,  of  explication ;  facere,  as  it  were,  replication  j  or, 
rather,  oftentare,  to  ihow,  as  it  were,  his  inclination,  after  his  undrefled, 
unpolifhed,  uneducated,  unpruned,  untrained,  or  rather  unlettered,  or, 
rathereft,  unconformed  fafhion — to  infert  again  my  haud  credo  for  a  deer. 

Dull.  I  faid  the  deer  was  not  a  haud  credo ;  'twas  a  pricket. 

Holofernes.  Twice  fod  fimplicity,  bis  coc~tus ! — O  thou  monfter  igno- 
rance, how  deformed  doft  thou  look  ! 

Nathaniel.  Sir,  he  hath  never  fed  of  the  dainties  that  are  bred  in  a 
book  :  he  doth  not  eat  paper,  as  it  were ;  he  hath  not  drunk  ink  :  his 


50  Shakefpere. 


intelle6t  is  not  replenished  5  he  is  only  an  animal,  only  fenfible  in  the 
duller  parts. 

It  is  not  unlikely  that  Shakefpere,  in  this  excellent 
caricature  of  a  fcholar,  may  have  intended  to  retaliate 
upon  Ben  Jonfon  and  his  other  more  learned  friends 
for  their  reflections  upon  his  "fmall  Latin."  The 
whole  fcene  is  an  example  of  the  euphuifm  brought 
into  fafhion  by  Lilly — the  far-fetched  and  fantaftic 
ftyle  which  has  defcended  to  the  fecond-rate  writers  in 
newfpapers.  A  man  who,  like  Shakefpere,  has  fed 
upon  the  banquet  that  Nature  provided  for  him,  is  apt 
to  be  a  little  impatient  of  thofe  who  have, "  as  it  were, 
eaten  paper  and  drunk  ink,"  juft  as  Lord  Bacon  told 
his  friend,  Sir  Thomas  Bodley,  that  he  •  was  going  to 
write  a  treatife  againft  great  libraries. 


Shottery. 


CHAPTER  V. 

FROM  the  grammar  fchool  in  Chapel  Street  I  returned  to 
Henley  Street,  and  from  thence,  by  a  footpath  acrofs  the 
fields  and  over  ftiles,  to  the  little  village  of  Shottery. 
Many  a  time  had  Shakefpere  trodden  this  very  path 
when  he  had  attained  the  lover  ftage  of  life,  "  fighing 
like  a  furnace,  with  a  woful  ballad  made  to  his 
miftrefs'  eyebrow."  Here,  perhaps,  when  the  fighs 
became  too  deep,  he  may  have  cheered  himfelf  with — 

"  Jog  on,  jog  on,  the  footpath  way, 
And  merrily  hent  the  ftile-a ; 
Your  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day, 
Your  fad  one  tires  in  a  mile-a." 

The  village  is  a  ftraggling  one,  and  the  cottages  are 
pi&urefque  though  poor.  At  the  bottom  of  the  village 
to  the  left  of  a  pretty  country  lane,  ftands  the  cottage 
to  which  tradition  points  as  having  been  the  refidence 
of  Anne  Hathaway,  who  afterwards  became  the  Poet's 


5  2  Shakefpere. 


wife.     The  reader  will  at  once  fee  its  character  from 
Mr.  Edwards's  charming  little  photograph. 

It  was  once  obvioufly  a  fubftantial  farm-houfe,  much 
fuperior  to  that  of  John  Shakefpere  in  Henley  Street, 
though,  like  it,  built  of  wooden  frames  rilled  in  with 
wattle  and  dab  on  foundations  of  ftone.  In  modern 
times  brick  has  been  in  fome  places  fubftituted  where 
the  ftone  has  become  decayed.  The  roof  is  thatched, 
I  think  with  reed.  It  is  now  divided  into  two  cottages, 
and  Mrs.  Baker,  a  pleafing  refpedtable-looking  woman, 
who  believes  herfelf  to  be  related  to  the  Hathaways, 
lives  in  a  portion  of  it.  She  is  proud  of  her  connection 
with  the  Poet — an  honour  which  me  appreciates  the 
more,  perhaps,  as  it  brings  her  in  many  a  milling  from 
the  pilgrims  who  flock  to  fee  the  houfe.  She  willingly 
mows  the  infide  of  her  dwelling,  and  feveral  pieces  of 
old  furniture  which,  as  me  avers,  have  defcended  to  her 
from  her  anceftors.  If  fo,  and  there  is  no  reafon  to 
doubt  the  fadl,  they  may  very  poffibly  have  been  ufed 
by  young  Shakefpere  when  he  was  courting  his  future 
wife. 

A  flight  of  fteps  leads  into  a  large  keeping  room  or 
hall,  where  under  the  great  old  chimney  may  have  fat 
Shakefpere  and  his  love,  in  the  days  of  his  extreme 
youth  when  Love  is  ftone  blind.  In  a  family  Bible 
Mrs.  Baker  mows  the  following  pedigree,  in  which  me 


13* 


Anne  Hathaway"  s  Home.  53 


traces  her  defcent  from  the  Hathaways,  who  have 
continued  to  relide  in  the  houfe  ever  fince  the  iixteenth 
century. 

Sufan  Hathaway.  _  William  Taylor. 

I 

John  Hathaway  Taylor.  Mary  Harrifs. 


William  Taylor.  Elizabeth  Dobbin. 


Mary  Taylor.  Baker. 

The  prefent  tenant. 

Upftairs  is  a  bed-chamber,  where  Mrs.  Baker  fhows 
an  old  oak  bed  and  a  pair  of  very  beautifully  worked 
meets  and  pillow-cafes.  She  fays  (he  inherited  them 
from  her  father,  and  that  they  have  been  in  the  family 
from  time  immemorial,  and  ufed  on  ftate  occafions, 
fuch  as  marriages,  births,  and  deaths.  They  are  marked 
"  Elizabeth  Hathaway/'  but  whether  the  character  of 
the  work  be  ancient  or  modern  I  am  not  fuch  an  adept 
in  needlework  as  to  determine.  About  the  houfe  are 
feveral  old  oak  chefts,  chairs,  and  fettles,  but  none,  I 
fhould  imagine,  older  than  the  feventeenth  century. 

Much  has  been  written  refpefting  Shakefpere's  mar- 
riage, and  perhaps  a  good  deal  of  it  raflily.  The  circum- 
ftances  are  not,  affuredly,  very  fatisfa&ory.  In  the  firft 
place  he  was  under  nineteen  when  he  married,  and 


54  Shakefpere. 


Anne  Hathaway  was  fix  and  twenty.  And  though  he 
was  not  a  man  to  make  literary  capital  out  of  his 
domeftic  relations,  or  to  whine  in  public  over  his  re- 
grets and  forrows,  like  the  fnivelling  hypocrite  Greene, 
yet  I  cannot  perfuade  myfelf  that  his  own  cafe  was  not 
prefent  to  his  mind  when  he  wrote  the  well-known 
lines  in  "  Twelfth  Night :  "- 

"  Let  the  woman  take 

An  elder  than  herielf ;  fo  wears  fhe  to  him ; 
So  fways  Ihe  level  in  her  hufband's  heart ; 
For,  boy,  however  we  do  praife  ourfelves, 
Our  fancies  are  more  giddy  and  infirm, 
More  longing,  wavering,  fooner  loft  and  worn 
Than  women's  are. 

Then  let  thy  love  be  younger  than  thyfelf, 
Or  thy  affection  cannot  hold  the  bent." 

< 

Anne  Hathaway  was  the  daughter  of  one  Richard 
Hathaway,  a  fmall  farmer.  The  marriage  bond  and 
licenfe  were  difcovered  in  the  Confiftorial  Court  at 
Worcefter  in  the  year  1836,  by  Sir  Robert  Phillipps. 
They  are  dated  November  28,  1582,  and  are  marked 
with  crofles.  One  of  the  feals  has  the  initials  "  R.  H.," 
fuppofed  to  be  thofe  of  the  bride's  father,  Richard 
Hathaway.  There  is  no  record  of  the  marriage  in 
Stratford  church ;  it  therefore  muft  have  been  folem- 
nifed  in  the  church  of  fome  neighbouring  village,  where 
the  regifters  have  not  been  preferved,  or  perhaps  in  a 


His  Marriage.  55 


private  houfe.  The  regifter  of  Stratford  bears  witnefs, 
however,  to  the  birth  of  the  firft-born  of  William 
Shakefpere  and  Anne  Hathaway,  in  May,  1583. 

From  thefe  ugly  fafts,  Mr.  de  Quincy,  in  his  article 
on  Shakefpere,  in  the  "  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,"  has 
perhaps  drawn  unwarrantable  conclufions.  The  agree- 
ment to  live  as  man  and  wife  is  held,  I  believe,  by 
the  canon  law  to  conftitute  marriage.  Manzoni's  "  I 
Promeffi  Spoil "  is  founded  upon  this  principle,  which 
ftill  prevails  even  in  Proteftant  Scotland,  while  the  law  of 
the  country  follows  that  of  Rome  in  many  of  its  prin- 
ciples and  forms.  The  religious  ceremony  was  held  to 
be  merely  a  folemn  ratification  of  a  contract  already 
complete,  and  to  be  in  no  wife  eflential  to  its  perfection . 
Hence,  the  marriage  of  heathens  has  always  been  held 
good,  and  not  to  be  repeated  on  the  parties  becoming 
Chriftians.  Every  nation  has,  of  courfe,  a  right  to  re- 
quire certain  forms  to  be  gone  through  in  order  to 
prevent  clandeftine  marriages,  and  to  make  the  crime 
of  bigamy  more  difficult  to  commit ;  and  thofe  who 
choofe  to  dilpenfe  with  fuch  legal  forms  in  their  own 
cafe,  thereby  (how,  or  may  be  prefumed  to  mow,  that 
they  have  not  really  confented  to  be  bound  by  the  laws 
of  marriage.  But  the  queftion  is,  Was  the  cuftom  of 
holding  troth-plight  to  be  equivalent  to  marriage  preva- 
lent in  England  in  Shakefpere's  time?  There  may,  of 


56  Shakefpere. 


courfe,  have  been  great  laxity  in  this  refpecT:  among  the 
lower  orders,  as  there  is  now ;  but  Shakefpere's  family 
was  rather  above  the  lower- orders.  The  Englifh  have 
always  been  particularly  impatient  of  any  attempt  to 
introduce  the  canon  law  of  marriage,  and  the  famous 
"  Nolumus  leges  Anglias  mutari  "  was  uttered  in  oppo- 
fition  to  the  attempt  of  the  Pope  to  make  the  law  of 
England  conformable  to  the  principle  of  the  canon  law, 
that  a  fubfequent  marriage  renders  children  born  be- 
fore wedlock  legitimate.  This  was  never  admitted  by 
Englifh  lawyers.  But  Shakeipere  himfelf  has  recorded 
his  own  judgment,  and  therein  the  judgment  of  his 
day,  upon  fuch  an  ante-dating  of  the  public  ceremony 
of  matrimony.  In  "  The  Tempeft,"  Profpero  charges 
Ferdinand  and  Miranda — 

"  Then,  as  my  gift,  and  thine  own  acquisition 
Worthily  purchaf'd,  take  my  daughter  :  But 
If  thou  doft  break  her  virgin  knot  before 
All  fanctimonious  ceremonies  may 
With  full  and  holy  rite  be  minifter'd, 
No  fweet  afperlion  mall  the  heavens  let  fall 
To  make  this  contract  grow ;  but  barren  hate, 
Sour-ey'd  difdain,  and  difcord,  mall  beftrew 
The  union  of  your  bed  with  weeds  fo  loathly, 
That  you  {ball  hate  it  both  :  therefore,  take  heed, 
As  Hymen's  lamps  mall  light  you." 

Whether  Shakefpere's  married  life  were  a  happy  one 
or  not,  we  have  no  means  of  knowing;  but  certainly 


His  Marriage.  57 


the  circumflances  under  which  it  commenced  were 
not  promiiing. 

It  has  been  fuppofed  that  his  bequeathing  to  his  wife 
only  his  fecond-beft  bed  is  indicative  of  no  very  ftrong 
affection  for  her  ;  but  it  has  been  well  obferved  by  Mr. 
Knight,  that  this  circumftance  does  not  prove  much 
with  refpecl:  to  the  terms  on  which  they  lived,  becaufe 
a  considerable  part  of  the  property  of  which  he  died 
pofTeffed  was  freehold,  and  out  of  this  me  was  entitled 
to  her  dower  and  thirds  at  common  law.  Still,  I  can- 
not help  thinking,  that  had  his  love  for  his  wife  been 
very  ardent  or  very  tender,  he  would  have  mentioned 
her  in  his  will  in  more  endearing  terms,  and  left  her 
fome  more  fignificant  token  of  affection  than  his  fecond* 
beft  bed. 

Anne  Hathaway  died  in  1623,  furviving  herhufband 
feven  years,  and  is  buried  clofe  to  him  in  the  chancel 
of  the  parifh  church  at  Stratford.  On  her  graveftone 
is  this  infcription,  "  Here  lyeth  interred  the  body  of 
Anne,  wife  of  William  Shakefpeare,  who  departed  this 
life  the  6th  day  of  Auguft,  1623,  being  of  the  age  of 
67  years." 


58  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

MARY  ARDEN  had  borne  to  John  Shakefpere  two 
daughters — Joan,  born  in  1558,  the  year  of  Queen 
Elizabeth's  acceffion ;  fhe  probably  died  young,  as  a 
fubfequent  daughter  was  chriftened  by  the  fame  name. 
Margaret,  the  fecond  child,  we  know,  from  the  regifter, 
to  have  died  foon  after  her  birth.  William,  therefore, 
was  the  eldeft  furviving  child.  He  was  fucceeded  by 
Gilbert,  born  in  1566;  Joan,  in  1569;  Anne,  in  1571  ; 
and  Edmund,  in  1580. 

But  before  the  birth  of  Edmund,  John  Shakefpere 
was  beginning  to  experience  the  ufual  lot  of  thofe  who 
have  many  irons  in  the  fire.  In  1578,  Afhbies,  his 
wife's  patrimony,  was  mortgaged.  In  the  next  year, 
the  intereft  and  reverfion  to  the  eftate  at  Snitterfield 
was  fold.  When  his  brother  aldermen  were  required 
to  contribute  fix  and  eight  pence  for  the  equipping  of 
three  pikemen,  two  billmen,  and  one  archer,  John 
Shakefpere  was  indulgently  let  off  for  one  half,  and 


His  Father  s  Embarraffments.  59 

was  altogether  excufed  from  contributing  fourpence  a 
week,  which  the  others  paid,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor, 
then  firft  becoming  chargeable  upon  the  general  public 
in  confequence  of  the  diflblution  of  the  monafteries. 
When,  in  1578-9,  a  rate  was  levied  on  the  inhabitants 
for  the  purchafe  of  armour,  he  was  unable  to  pay;  and 
becaufe  he  had  no  goods  to  diftrain  upon,  a  capias 
iffued  againft  him  on  the  igth  of  January.  And  then, 
of  courfe,  his  embarraffments  came  thicker  and  thicker 
upon  him,  till,  at  a  court  held  on  the  6th  September, 
1586,  a  more  profperous  citizen  was  chofen  to  fill  his 
place  as  alderman. 

At  this  time  the  Poet  was  twenty- two  years  of  age, 
and  the  gall  of  this  indignity  probably  entered  into  his 
foul,  and  dictated  thofe  bitter  taunting  reflections  of 
Jaques,  when  he  faw  the  ftricken  deer  deferted  by  the 
herd:— 

" '  'Tis  right,'  quoth  he,  *  thus  mifery  doth  part 
The  flux  of  company.'  Anon  a  carelefs  herd, 
Full  of  the  pafture,  jumps  along  by  him, 
And  never  flays  to  greet  him  :  '  Ay/  quoth  Jaques, 
*  Sweep  on,  you  fat  and  greafy  citizens ; 
'Tis  juft  the  fafhion  5  wherefore  do  you  look 
Upon  that  poor  and  broken  bankrupt  there  ? '  ' 

The  oftenfible  reafon  of  John  Shakefpere's  degra- 
dation from  the  poft  of  alderman  was,  that  he  "  dothe 
not  come  to  the  halles  when  they  be  warned,  nor 


60  S ha  kef  per  e. 


hathe  not  done  of  longe  time."  But,  probably,  his 
abfence  was  caufed  by  his  being  in  prifon,  or  in 
hiding  for  fear  of  arreft  ;  for,  in  the  next  year,  he  fued 
out  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus  in  the  Stratford  Court  of 
Record. 

From  thefe  pecuniary  embarraffments,  and  the  legal 
proceedings  which  fprang  out  of  them,  William  Shake- 
ipere  probably  derived  that  knowledge  of  legal  terms 
and  practice  which,  appearing  in  his  plays,  led  Malone 
to  believe  that  he  was  bound  apprentice  to  an  attorney ; 
and  it  is  but  too  likely  that  he  then  learnt  to  count 
the  time  by  the  duration  of  a  law-fuit.  "  I  will  devife 
matter  enough,"  fays  Falftajf,  "out  of  this  Shallow 
to  keep  Prince  Harry  in  continual  laughter  the  wear- 
ing out  of  fix  fafhions  (which  is  four  terms,  or  two 
aftions),  and  he  mall  laugh  without  inter vallums" 

In  thefe  misfortunes  it  is  to  be  feared  that  William 
Shakefpere  was  not  a  comfort  or  afliftance  to  his  father. 
Both  from  the  external  evidence  of  tradition,  and  the 
internal  teftimony  of  his  plays,  there  is  good  reafon  to 
fuppofe  that  his  youth  was,  as  the  French  fay,  ftormy. 
In  the  archives  of  Corpus  Chrifti  College,  Oxford,  is 
a  collection  of  antiquarian  papers  compiled  by  the  Rev. 
William  Fulman,  who  died  in  1688,  and  who  may 
therefore  have  been  born  fome  time  before  Shake- 
fpere's  death.  Thefe  papers  were  bequeathed  by  Mr. 


His  Poaching  Adventure.  61 


Fulman  to  his  friend,  the  Rev.  Richard  Davies,  who 
died  in  1708,  and  who  has  added  the  following  remark 
on  Shakefpere,  derived,  probably,  from  information 
fupplied  to  him  by  his  friend.  Under  the  head 
"  Shakefpere"  we  read,  "  Much  given  to  all  unlucki- 
nefle  in  ftealing  venifon  and  rabbits,  particularly  from 

Sir Lucy,  who  had  him   oft  whipt,  and  fome- 

times  imprifoned,  and  at  laft  made  him  fly  his  native 
country,  to  his  great  advancement ;  but  his  reveng  was 
fo  great,  that  he  is  his  Jujlice  Clodpate  (i.e.  foolifh 
juftice),  and  calls  him  a  great  man ;  and  that,  in  allu- 
lion  to  his  name,  bore  three  lowfes  rampant  for  his 
arms."  The  fame  ftory  is  told  by  Oldys,  Norroy  king- 
at-arms,  and  the  compiler  of  the  "  Biographia  Bri- 
tannica."  There  was  a  very  aged  gentleman  living 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Stratford  (where  he  died  fifty 
years  fince),  who  had  not  only  heard  from  feveral  old 
people  in  that  town  of  Shakefpere's  tranfgreffion,  but 
could  remember  the  firft  ftanza  of  that  bitter  ballad, 
which,  repeating  to  one  of  his  acquaintance,  he  pre- 
ferved  it  in  writing,  and  here  it  is,  neither  better  nor 
worfe,  but  faithfully  tranfcribed  from  the  copy  which 
his  relation  very  courteoufly  communicated  to  me : — 

"  A  parlemente  member,  a  juftice  of  peace, 
At  home  a  poor  fcare-crowe,  at  London  an  affe  j 
If  lowfie  is  Lucy,  as  ibme  volk  mifcalle  it, 
Then  Lucy  is  lowfie,  whatever  befall  it. 


6a  Shakefpere. 


He  thinks  himfelf  greate, 

Yet  an  afle  in  his  flate 

We  allowe  by  his  ears  but  with  afles  to  mate. 
If  Lucy  is  lowfie,  as  fome  volk  mifcalle  it, 
Sing  lowfie  Lucy  whatever  befall  it." 

Rowe,  who  wrote  the  firft  life  of  Shakefpere,  and 
derived  his  information  from  Betterton,  the  adtor, 
gives  the  following  account  of  the  tranfadion  : — "  An 
extravagance  that  he  was  guilty  of  forced  him  both 
out  of  the  country,  and  that  way  of  living  which  he 
had  taken  up  ;  and  though  it  feemed  at  firft  to  be  a 
blemifh  upon  his  good  manners,  and  a  misfortune  to 
him,  yet  it  afterwards  happily  proved  the  occafion  of 
exerting  one  of  the  greateft  geniufes  that  ever  was 
known  in  dramatic  poetry.  He  had,  by  a  misfortune 
common  enough  to  young  fellows,  fallen  into  ill  com- 
pany, and  amongft  them  fome,  that  made  a  frequent 
practice  of  deer-ftealing,  engaged  him  more  than  once 
in  robbing  a  park  that  belonged  to  Sir  Thomas  Lucy, 
of  Charlecote,  near  Stratford.  For  this  he  was  pro- 
fecuted  by  that  gentleman,  as  he  thought,  fomewhat 
too  feverely,  and,  in  order  to  revenge  that  ill-ufage, 
he  made  a  ballad  upon  him.  And  though  this,  pro- 
bably the  firft  effay  of  his  poetry,  be  loft,  yet  it  is  faid 
to  have  been  fo  very  bitter,  that  it  redoubled  the  pro- 
fecutions  againft  him  to  that  degree,  that  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  his  bufmefs  and  family  in  Warwick- 


His  Poaching  Adventure.  63 


fhire,  and  {belter  himfelf  in  London."  A  Mr.  Thomas 
Jones,  who  lived  at  Tarbich,  a  village  in  Worcefter- 
fbire  about  eight  miles  from  Stratford,  and  died  in 
1703,  aged  ninety,  had  often  heard  the  fame  ftory 
from  old  people  at  Stratford.  So  far  the  external 
evidence  is  as  ftrong  as  any  which  is  ufually  relied 
upon  under  fuch  circumftances. 

The  play  of  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windfor"  fup- 
plies  internal  evidence,  not  only  of  a  quarrel  with  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  but  that  the  quarrel  had  its  origin  in 
a  poaching  affray.  The  play  opens  before  Page's 
houfe,  at  Windfor,  where  enter  Juftice  Shallow,  Slen- 
der, and  Sir  Hugh  Evans  : — 

Shallow.  Sir  Hugh,  perfuade  me  not;  I  will  make  a  Star  Chamber  matter 
of  it  :  if  he  were  twenty  Sir  John  FalftafFs,  he  fhall  not  abufe  Robert 
Shallow,  efquire, 

Slender.  In  the  county  of  Glo'fter,  juftice  of  peace  and  coram. 

Shallow.  Ay,  coufin  Slender,  and  Cuft-alorum. 

Slender.  Ay,  and  ratolorum  too  j  and  a  gentleman  born,  matter  parfon  ; 
who  writes  himfelf  armigero !  in  any  bill,  warrant,  quittance,  or  obliga- 
tion, armigero. 

Shallow.  Ay,  that  I  do ;  and  have  done  any  time  thefe  three  hundred 
years. 

Slender.  All  his  fucceflbrs  gone  before  him  have  done  't ;  and  all  his  an- 
ceftors  that  come  after  him  may  :  they  may  give  the  dozen  white  luces 
in  their  coat. 

Shallow.  It  is  an  old  coat. 

Evans.  The  dozen  white  loufes  do  become  an  old  coat  well  j  it  agrees 
well,  paflant  j  it  is  a  familiar  beaft  to  man,  and  fignifies  love. 

Shallow.  The  luce  is  a  frefh  fiflij  the  fait  fim  is  an  old  coat. 


64  Shakefpere. 


Though  the  name  of  the  foolifh  juftice  be  Shallow, 
the  allufion  here  to  the  name  and  arms  of  Lucy — arms 
which  the  family  at  Charlecote  now  bear — is  unmif- 
takable ;  and,  moreover,  the  very  fame  ludicrous  play 
upon  the  words  is  ufed  as  in  the  ftanza  of  the  ballad, 
which  has  been  preferved.  Now  for  the  corpus  delicti 
— the  matter  of  the  fault. 

Falftaff  comes  in  with  Bardolpb,  Nym,  and  Piftol9 
and  thus  addreffes  the  juftice  : — 

Falftaff.  Now,  mafter  Shallow,  you'll  complain  of  me  to  the  king  ? 
Shallow.  Knight,  you  have  beaten  my  men,  killed  my  deer,  and  broke 
open  my  lodge. 

Falftaff.  But  not  kifl  'd  your  keeper's  daughter. 
Shallow.  Tut,  a  pin  !     This  mail  be  anfwer'd. 

Malone,  and  others,  feem  unwilling  to  admit  this 
ftory  of  Shakefpere's  youth,  and  feem  to  think  that  it 
was  beneath  Shakefpere  to  be  a  "  deer-ftealer."  The 
word  certainly  founds  bad,  but  I  cannot  conceive  how 
anyone  could  fuppofe  that,  for  a  youth  to  ferret  rabbits 
and  kill  the  fquire's  game  could  imprint  a  lafting 
ftigma  upon  his  character.  Probably  many  noblemen 
who  now  fit  in  the  Houfe  of  Lords  and  pafs  game- 
laws,  have  robbed  hen-roofts  and  orchards,  and  fnared 
hares,  when  they  were  at  Harrow  or  Winchefter,  and 
nobody  thinks  the  worfe  of  them  for  it.  In  the  reigns 
of  Elizabeth  and  James,  to  break  into  a  park,  kill  the 


His  Poaching  Adventure.  65 


deer,  beat  the  keeper,  and  kifs  his  pretty  daughter, 
would  have  been  confidered  only  in  the  light  of  a 
youthful  frolic,  and  nothing  more.  Falftaff,  who,  in 
his  boyhood,  was  page  to  Thomas  Mowbray,  Duke 
of  Norfolk,  and,  at  the  period  of  "  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windfor"  at  leaft  was  received  at  Court,  is  not  the 
leaft  afhamed  of  his  exploit. 

The  truth  is,  that  the  guilt  of  any  crime  is  not  mea- 
fured  by  the  crime  itfelf,  but  by  the  motive  and  inten- 
tion of  him  who  commits  it.  Malice  prepenfe  is  an 
effential  element  of  the  crime  of  murder ;  the  animus 
furandi  of  that  of  larceny.  A  political  affaffination  is 
a  great  crime  ;  but  the  political  afTaffin  may  be  a  high- 
minded,  though  miftaken  man;  whereas  the  fervant 
who  cuts  his  mafter's  throat  that  he  may  rob  the  till,  or 
the  garrotter  who  ftrangles  a  man  for  his  watch,  is  a 
bafe  flave,  for  whom  the  moft  ignominious  death  that 
can  be  devifed  is  too  good.  A  peafant  who  fteals 
poultry  and  kills  deer  and  other  game  to  fell,  that  he 
may  live  in  idlenefs  and  luxury,  is  a  thief,  and  defer ves 
fome  infamous  punifhment;  but  a  fchoolboy  or  youth 
who,  for  the  fake  of  the  excitement  and  adventure, 
robs  a  hen-rooft,  or  breaks  into  a  deer-park  and 
carries  off  a  buck,  is  not  really  a  thief.  The  animus 
furandi,  the  intention  of  ftealing,  is  not  really  prefent  in 
his  mind.  It  is  rather  the  love  of  fport  and  the  excite- 


66  Shakefpere. 


ment  of  incurring  danger  that  impels  him  to  do  the 
unlawful  ad:. 

We  may  even  go  further  than  this,  and  affert  that 
the  fame  ad:  varies  in  guilt  according  to  the  general 
eftimate  of  its  lawfulnefs  or  unlawfulnefs  at  different 
times ;  for  this  reafon,  that  a  man  who  committed  an 
ad:  univerfally  held  to  be  infamous,  would  be  outraging 
his  own  confcience,  and  deftroying  his  felf-refped.  In 
Shakefpere's  time  and  long  after,  the  diftindion  be- 
tween the  foldier  who  robbed  by  wholefale  and  the 
poor  gentleman  who  took  purfes  by  retail  upon  the 
road,  was  fcarcely  acknowledged;  ftill  lefs  would  any 
note  of  infamy  be  attached  to  a  young  fellow  who 
fhould  turn  Robin  Hood  for  the  nonce,  and  infringe 
the  odious  foreft-laws. 

But,  indeed,  there  is  an  antecedent  probability  that 
young  Shakefpere,  circumftanced  as  he  was,  would  be 
"  much  given  to  all  unluckinefs ; "  apt  to  do  wild  and 
daring  things  which  would  get  him  into  fcrapes,  and 
live  in  enmity  with  the  more  ftaid  and  orderly  portion 
of  the  community.  Lord  Clive  was  juft  fuch  a  youth. 
Lord  Byron  had  the  fame  aptitude.  I  do  not,  of 
courfe,  mean  to  fay  that  every  man  of  genius  muft 
neceffarily  have  been  a  fcamp  when  he  was  young; 
but  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  the  fame  adive  imagi- 
nation and  force  of  will  which,  when  direded  to 


His  Love  of  Hunting.  67 


worthy  ends,  make  a  man  great,  will  in  his  hot  youth, 
if  he  be  not  reftrained  by  fome  wholefome  external 
influences,  hurry  him  into  acts  which  his  mature  rea- 
fon  will  condemn.  It  is  when  thefe  youthful  indif- 
cretions  are  not  counterbalanced  by  nobler  counter- 
acting qualities,  and  therefore  form  habits  which  are 
only  ftrengthened  by  the  lapfe  of  years  and  become 
part  of  the  character,  that  they  degrade  and  corrupt 
the  man.  I  cannot  believe  that  young  Shakefpere 
can  have  found  an  adequate  fcope  for  his  energies  and 
afpirations  in  the  farming,  butchering,  wool-dealing,  or 
gloving,  in  the  profecution  of  which  his  father  managed 
to  become  a  bankrupt. 

And  what  more  likely  form  could  his  wildnefs  have 
aflumed  than  that  of  unlawful  fporting  ?  All  Englifh- 
men  are  fond  of  manly  out-of-door  fports,  and  no 
Engliih  poet,  Chaucer  perhaps  excepted,  has  mown  in 
his  works  a  greater  appreciation  of  the  pleafures  of  the 
chafe  than  Shakefpere.  It  is  worth  while  to  cite  a 
few  of  the  many  paflages  which  atteft  his  practical 
knowledge  and  enjoyment  of  field  fports.  Here  is  a 
defcription  of  the  fhifts  of  the  hare,  from  one  of  his 
earlieft  poems,  the  "  Venus  and  Adonis :  " — 

"And  when  thou  haft  on  foot  the  purblind  hare, 
Mark  the  poor  wretch,  to  overlhoot  his  troubles, 
How  he  outruns  the  wind,  and  with  what  care 
He  cranks  and  crofles  with  a  thoufand  doubles : 


68  Shakefpere. 


The  many  mufits  through  the  which  he  goes 
Are  like  a  labyrinth  to  amaze  his  foes. 

Sometimes  he  runs  among  a  flock  of  flieep, 

To  make  the  cunning  hounds  miflake  their  fmell ; 

And  fometimes  where  earth-delving  conies  keep, 

To  flop  the  loud  purfuers  in  their  yell ; 

And  fometimes  forteth  with  a  herd  of  deer : 
Danger  devifeth  fhifts ;  wit  waits  on  fear  j 

For  there  his  fmell  with  others  being  mingled, 
The  hot  fcent-muffing  hounds  are  driven  to  doubt, 
Ceafing  their  clamorous  cry  till  they  have  tingled 
With  much  ado  the  cold  fault  clearly  out ; 

Then  do  they  fpend  their  mouths  :  Echo  replies, 

As  if  another  chafe  were  in  the  ikies. 

By  this,  Poor  Wat,  far  off  upon  an  hill 

Stands  on  his  hinder  legs  with  liftening  ear, 

To  hearken  if  his  foes  purfue  him  flill : 

Anon  their  loud  alarums  he  doth  hear : 
And  now  his  grief  may  be  compared  well 
To  one  fore  lick  that  hears  the  paffing-bell. 

Then  fhalt  thou  fee  the  dew-bedabbled  wretch 
Turn  and  return,  indenting  with  the  way  j 
Each  envious  briar  his  weary  legs  doth  fcratch, 
Each  fhadow  makes  him  flop,  each  murmur  flay ; 

For  mifery  is  trodden  on  by  many, 

And  being  low,  never  relieved  by  any." 

There  is  a  familiarity  fhown,  too,  with  the  names 
of  hounds  and  the  terms  of  hunting  in  the  paffage 
where  Profpero  and  Ariel  fet  the  fpirits  on  to  hunt 
Caliban,  Stephano,  and  Trinculo,  in  "  The  Tempeft," 


His  Love  of  Hunting.  69 


Profpero.  Hey,  Mountain,  hey  ! 

Ariel.  Silver,  there  it  goes,  Silver  ! 

Profpero.  Fury,  Fury  !  there,  Tyrant,  there  !  hark  !  hark  ! 

Again,  in  the  introduction  to  "The  Taming  of  a 
Shrew,"  the  nobleman  who  comes  in  from  hunting 
fays — 

Huntfman,  I  charge  thee,  tender  well  my  hounds  : 
Leach  Merriman, — the  poor  cur  is  embofled ; 
And  couple  Clowder  with  the  deep-mouthed  brach. 
Saw'ft  thou  not,  boy,  how  Silver  made  it  good 
At  the  hedge-corner,  in  the  coldeft  fault  ? 
I  would  not  lofe  the  dog  for  twenty  pound. 

Firfl  Huntfman.  Why,  Belman  is  as  good  as  he,  my  lord  ! 
He  cried  upon  it  at  the  mereft  lofs, 
And  twice  to-day  picked  out  the  coldeft  fcent : 
Truft  me,  I  take  him  for  the  better  dog. 

Lord.  Thou  art  a  fool :  if  Echo  were  as  fleet, 
I  would  efleem  him  worth  a  dozen  fuch. 

Here  in  two  diftincT:  pafTages  we  have  "  Silver " 
ufed  as  the  name  of  a  hound ;  probably  a  favourite 
one  of  Shakefpere's. 

In  "  A  Midfummer  Night's  Dream  "  is  a  charming 
dialogue  on  hunting  between  Thefeus  and  Hippolyta : — 

Ttiefeus.   Go,  one  of  you,  find  out  the  forefler  ; 
For  now  our  obfervation  is  performed ; 
And  fince  we  have  the  vaward  of  the  day, 
My  love  mall  hear  the  mufic  of  my  hounds, 
Uncouple  in  the  weftern  valley  j  let  them  go  : 
Defpatch,  I  fay,  and  find  the  forefter. 
We  will,  fair  queen,  up  to  the  mountain's  top, 
And  mark  the  mufical  confufjon 
Of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction. 


70  Shakefpere. 


Hippolyla.  I  was  with  Hercules  and  Cadmus  once, 
When  in  a  wood  of  Crete  they  bayed  the  bear 
With  hounds  of  Sparta  :  never  did  I  hear 
Such  gallant  chiding;  for,  belides  the  groves, 
The  ikies,  the  fountains,  every  region  near, 
Seemed  all  one  mutual  cry  :  I  never  heard 
So  mufical  a  difcord,  fuch  fweet  thunder. 

<T/iefeus9  who  poffibly  does  not  like  to  hear  Hippolyta 
fpeak  of  the  pleafant  hours  fhe  fpent  with  Hercules 
and  Cadmus,  and  extol  their  hounds,  immediately  fays 
that  his  hounds,  too,  are  of  Sparta,  and  ftands  up  for 
their  excellence : — 

"  My  hounds  are  bred  out  of  the  Spartan  kind, 
So  flewed,  fo  fanded ;  and  their  heads  are  hung 
With  ears  that  fweep  away  the  morning  dew. 
Crook-kneed  and  dew-lapped  like  Theilalian  bulls  ; 
Slow  in  purfuit,  but  matched  in  mouth  like  bells, 
Each  under  each.     Aery  more  tuneable 
Was  never  holla'd  to,  nor  cheered  with  horn, 
In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  nor  in  ThefTaly  : 
Judge,  when  you  hear." 

It  is  true,  thefe  crooked-kneed,  dew-lapped,  long- 
eared,  "  tow-rowing "  hounds,  fo  flow  in  purfuit, 
would  not  fuit  the  ideas  of  modern  fportfmen,  who 
like  to  come  home  and  talk  of,  "  by  Jove,  fir,  the  fafteft 
thing  of  fifty  minutes  you  ever  faw !"  but  there  is 
in  this  paflage  an  appreciation  of  the  qualities  then 
prized  in  hounds,  which  (hows  that  Shakefpere  was 
a  fportfman  himfelf,  and  drew  from  the  life. 


His  Revenge  on  Sir  T.  Lucy.  71 

For  thefe  reafons  I  conclude  that  Oldys's  affertion, 
that  Shakefpere  was  "  much  given  to  all  unluckineis 
in  dealing  venifon  and  rabbits,"  is  in  itfelf  probable ; 
and  if  he  did  poach  upon  his  neighbours'  manors,  thofe 
who  know  anything  of  Englifh  country  gentlemen  will 
not  be  difpofed  to  doubt  that  he  was  an  object  of  efpe- 
cial  diflike  to  the  largeft  preferver  of  game  in  the 
neighbourhood — that  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  who  actually 
brought  a  bill  into  Parliament  to  increafe  the  ftrin- 
gency  of  the  game-laws.  When  it  is  recollefted  how 
young  Shakefpere  was  when  he  married,  and  that  his 
unlawful  fporting  adventures  had  probably  begun  when 
he  was  ftill  at  fchool,  or  foon  after,  it  is  not  unlikely 
that  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  had  had  him  "  whipt ;"  the 
imprifonment  came  afterwards,  no  doubt. 

His  mode  of  revenge  was  characteristic,  and  one 
which  was  not  unfamiliar  to  his  mind ;  for  he  makes 
Faljiaff  threaten  the  Prince  and  Pointz  in  "  Henry IV." 
"  An  I  have  not  ballads  made  on  you  all  and  fung  to 
filthy  tunes,  let  this  cup  of  fack  be  my  poifon." 
Though  the  ftanza  which  has  been  handed  down  as 
the  inftrument  of  his  revenge  be  not  of  the  choice!!, 
it  was  enough  to  anfwer  his  purpofe.  It  is  founded 
upon  the  fame  play  of  words  that  occurs  in  "  The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windfor,"  as  already  quoted,  and  is  of  that 
rough-and-ready  fort  that  would  tickle  the  ears  of  an 


Shakefpere. 


audience  of  Warwickshire  clowns,  for  whom  it  was 
intended.  It  was  alfo  likely  to  be  very  mortifying  to 
Sir  Thomas  Lucy.  A  county  magistrate  like  him 
would  feel  infinitely  indignant  at  the  bare  idea  of  a 
youth  like  Shakefpere  having  fo  little  refpect  for  him 
as  to  hold  up  his  perfon  and  name  to  ridicule ;  for  if 
there  be  one  thing  more  than  another  which  angers 
a  man  to  the  foul,  it  is  to  play  upon  his  name.  To 
have  his  "  luces,"  too,  of  which  he  was  fo  proud, 
turned  into  that  "beaft"  which,  however  familiar  to 
man,  is  "  abhorred  alike  by  faint  and  finner ! "  It  was 
more  than  any  county  magiftrate  could  bear.  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy  might  whip  or  imprifon  young  Shake- 
fpere, but  young  Shakefpere  could  make  Sir  Thomas 
Lucy  a  nay-word  through  the  whole  country's  fide, 
fo  that  wherever  his  name  was  mentioned,  at  fair  or 
market,  men  would  think  of  "  loufy  Lucy ;"  fuch  is 
the  power  of  what  Falftaff  calls  the  "  damnable  itera- 
tion" of  the  initial  letter.  But  it  is  curious  to  fee  the 
caprice  of  Fame.  A  worthy  Warwickshire  juftice  pro- 
fecutes  a  young  farmer  for  poaching  and  libelling  him 
in  the  grofleft  manner.  The  young  farmer  incon- 
tinently goes  to  London,  and  becomes  the  greateft 
poet  of  one  of  the  greateft  nations  in  the  world,  and 
the  worthy  country  gentleman  is  handed  down  to  all 
pofterity  as  the  perfonification  of  all  that  is  moft 


Charlecote. 


73 


ridiculous  and  contemptible  in  magifterial  folly  and 
pretenfion. 

There  is  fome  difpute  as  to  the  real  fcene  of  Shake- 
fpere's  exploits,  but  it  is  probable  that  he  was  not 
particular  as  to  where  he  fhot  his  deer  or  fnared  his 
rabbits.  Mr.  Bracebridge  maintains,  in  a  pamphlet  on 
the  fubjeft,  that  Fulbrooke,  and  not  Charlecote,  was 
the  fcene  of  the  affray  which  led  to  Shakelpere's  dif- 
grace ;  but  Charlecote  was  probably  only  one  demefne 
among  many  that  were  laid  under  contributions.  At 
any  rate,  it  was  the  feat  of  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  Mafter 
Robert  Shallow,  Efquire,  of  the  play,  and  I  therefore 
refolved  to  pay  it  a  vifit. 

The  road  lies  over  the  fine  old  bridge,  built  by  Sir 
Hugh  Clopton,  and  along  the  margin  of  the  Avon, 
to  the  left  as  you  leave  the  town.  As  I  was  walking 
through  a  pretty  village,  I  overtook  a  waggon,  and  fee- 
ing that  the  waggoner  looked  very  much  pleafed  about 
fomething,  and  was  evidently  anxious  to  enter  into 
converfation,  I  determined  to  indulge  him,  and  "  gave 
him  the  time  of  day,"  as  they  fay  in  Effex.  Then  it  all 
came  out.  There  had  been  a  grand  harveft-home  the 
day  before ;  and  firft,  he  told  me,  the  Vicar  "  prached  a 
farmon  for  the  good  of  our  fowls ;"  and  there  was  a  great 
tent  pitched,  and  all  the  people  fat  at  long  tables,  and 
there  was  plenty  of  beef  and  plum-pudding  ;  and  "  Sir 


74  Shakefpere. 


.  Robert  H was  runnin'  about  till  he"  (how  {hall  I 

tranflate  the  vigorous  but  not  elegant  Anglo-Saxon  of 
my  churl  ?)  "  perfpired  again,  afkin'  us  all,  'Well,  have 
you  got  anything  to  ate  ?J  I  fuppofe  he  have  been  in 
many  a  fcrimmage,  for  he  have  got  a  lot  o'  medals. 
Then  there  was  all  forts  of  amufement,  a  band  o' 
mufic  and  dancin',  and  throwin'  the  wheat-fheaf." 
He  added,  "  Sir  Robert  is  a  big  man,  and  a  Parlia- 
ment member."  Here  we  have  the  very  phrafe  in 
the  fong.  This  honeft  waggoner  and  his  harveft- 
home  put  me  in  mind  of  the  meep-fhearing  in  the 
"  Winter's  Tale,"  when  the  Clown  comes  in,  counting 
what  he  has  to  buy  for  the  feaft  : — 

"  Let  me  fee,  what  am  I  to  bay  for  our  fheep-lhearing  feaft  ?  Three 
pound  of  fugarj  five  pound  of  currants;  rice — what  will  this  fifter  of 
mine  do  with  rice  ?  But  my  father  hath  made  her  miftrefs  of  the  feaft, 
and  me  lays  it  on.  She  hath  made  me  four-and-twenty  nofegays  for  the 
ihearers ;  three-man-fong  men  all,  and  very  good  ones  ;  but  they  are 
moft  of  them  means  and  bafes,  but  one  Puritan  amongft  them,  and  he 
fings  pfalms  to  hornpipes.  I  muft  have  faftron,  to  colour  the  warden 
pies  $  mace,  dates — none  j  that's  out  of  my  note ;  nutmegs,  feven  -}  a  race 
or  two  of  ginger ;  but  that  I  may  beg  j— four  pounds  of  prunes,  and  as 
many  of  raifins  o'  the  fun." 

But  ftill  more  appofite  was  the  churl's  defcription 

of  Sir  Robert  H Js  exertions   to  pleafe  the  ruftic 

guefts    to  the  Shepherds    reminifcences  of  his   wife's 
hofpitable  cares : — 


Harveft-Home. 


"  When  my  old  wife  lived,  upon 
This  day  me  was  both  pantler,  butler,  cook  j 
Both  dame  and  fervant ;  welcomed  all ;  ferved  all ; 
Would  fing  her  fong,  and  dance  her  turn  ;  now  here 
At  upper  end  o'  the  table,  now  i'  the  middle  ; 
On  his  Ihoulder,  and  on  his ;  her  face  o'  fire 
With  labour,  and  the  thing  fhe  took  to  quench  it." 

The  ruftic  feafts,  with  decorations  of  flowers  and 
corn,  which  the  gentry  are  now  introducing,  are, 
indeed,  only  revivals  of  the  old  cuftoms ;  and  Shake- 
fpere,  had  he  revifited  Stratford  in  September  laft, 
would  have  found  himfelf  at  home  among  thofe 
country  merry-makings. 

After  walking  for  about  three  miles,  with  the  Avon 
on  my  left,  I  turned  into  Charlecote  Park,  by  a  clap- 
gate  in  the  maffive  park  pales  faftened  with  trenails 
with  which  it  is  enclofed.  It  is  a  noble  park,  inter- 
fperfed  with  fine  oaks  and  elms,  and  interfected  by  the 
broad,  clear  Avon,  which  flows  quietly,  but  not  flug- 
gifhly  along.  Prefcntly  I  heard  the  fmart  crack  of  a 
rifle,  and  then  a  herd  of  deer  made  a  rufh  paft  me, 
followed  by  the  boy  on  an  old  pony  who  was  driving 
them  to  their  fate.  The  keeper  was  mooting  a  buck. 
How  different  was  the  mode  in  which  the  Poet  per- 
formed the  fame  feat !  It  was  a  cloth-yard  fhaft  that 
brought  his  quarry  to  the  ground. 

Among  the  glades  of  this  fine  old  park,  under  the 


Shakefpere. 


fhade  of  oaks  which  were  acorns,  perhaps,  when  young 
Shakefpere  was  a  boy,  I  felt  more  fenfibly  the  prefent 
divinity  than  in  any  other  of  the  fcenes  confecrated 
to  his  memory.  Here  Nature's  High  Prieft  was  in 
her  temple  among  the  objects  of  his  worfhip,  and  I 
was  treading  the  very  path  which  he  trod ;  admiring 
the  very  views  which  he  had  admired,  and  looking 
at  the  fine  old  manfion  which  elicited  from  him,  in 
the  perfon  of  Falftaff,  the  exclamation,  partly  of  admi- 
ration and  partly  of  envy,  "  'Fore  God,  you  have  a 
goodly  dwelling,  and  a  rich !  " 

And,  indeed,  Charlecote  is  a  noble  example  of  the 
dwelling  of  an  Englifh  country  gentleman  in  the  fix- 
teenth  and  feventeenth  centuries.  It  was  built  by  Sir 
Thomas  Lucy,  in  1558,  the  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 
acceffion.  My  reader  can  judge  of  it  from  Mr.  Ed- 
wards's  fun-picture,  which  mows  the  front  entrance 
and  the  pleached  garden,  where  Mafter  Robert  Shallow, 
Efquire,  and  his  man  Davy  entertained  Fa/ftaffznd  his 
men  of  war,  under  the  fhrewd  convidlion  that  "a  friend 
at  court  is  better  than  a  penny  in  purfe." 

In  looking  at  this  fine  old  manfion — fo  light,  fo 
cheerful,  fo  fuited  to  the  rich  Englifh  fcenery  in  which 
it  is  planted — I  could  not  help  wondering  what  Lord 
Macaulay  could  have  meant  when  he  faid  that  the 
country  gentleman  of  the  feventeenth  century  "  troubled 


1 1 


Houfe  of  Englijh  Gentry.  77 


himfelf  little  about  decorating  his  abode,  and,  if  he 
attempted  decoration,  feldom  produced  anything  but 
deformity."  This  is  the  hiftorian's  eftimate  of  fuch 
houfes  as  Charlecote,  and  Helmingham  in  Suffolk,  and 
Blickling  in  Norfolk,  and  their  clafs,  the  deformity  of 
which  he  contrails  with  the  elegance  of  thofe  cold, 
melancholy,  barrack-like  ftructures,  with  a  Grecian 
portico  ftuck  on  to  them,  which,  till  within  the  laft 
few  years,  was  confidered  the  right  fort  of  abode  for  an 
Englifh  gentleman  when  he  went  to  spend  the  dull 
feafon  in  the  country.  But  then  it  muft  be  remembered 
that  the  Englifh  country  gentleman  of  the  fixteenth 
and  feventeenth  century  was  a  Tory. 

The  church  is,  unfortunately,  quite  new,  having 
been  rebuilt  a  few  years  ago  by  the  mother  of  the 
prefent  pofleffor  of  the  eftate.  It  contains,  however, 
the  old  monuments,  amongft  which  is  that  creeled  to 
commemorate  Sir  Thomas  Lucy,  who  died  in  1595. 
His  recumbent  figure  in  armour,  befide  his  wife,  gives 
one  the  idea  that  he  was  a  fine-looking  man,  and  not 
the  ftarveling  defcribed  by  Shakefpere — but  marble  is 
deceptive.  The  "  three  white  Luces "  appear  every- 
where. 

A  walk  acrofs  the  park  and  fields  by  the  margin  of 
Avon  brought  me  to  my  inn  at  about  fix  o'clock,  and 
fo  ended  one  of  the  pleafanteft  days  of  my  pilgrimage. 


78  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

AND  now,  in  order  the  better  to  underftand  the  procefs 
by  which  Shakefpere,  having  left  his  beloved  Stratford 
under  a  cloud,  returned  to  it  in  a  few  years,  gilded 
with  the  funfhine  of  profperity,  we  muft  accompany 
him  in  his  expedition  to  feek  his  fortunes  in  London. 

In  1583,  a  few  months  after  his  marriage,  his  eldeft 
child,  Sufanna,  was  born,  and  was  followed  in  the  fuc- 
ceeding  year  by  the  twins,  Judith  and  Hamnet.  A 
family  increafing  at  this  rate,  combined  with  his  father's 
embarraflments,  was  enough  to  warn  him  that  he  muft 
beftir  himfelf  if  he  would  not  fink  into  utter  poverty. 
But  perhaps  thefe  ftrong  inducements  were  quickened 
by  the  fear  of  a  profecution  by  the  game-preferving 
fquire  of  Charlecote.  However  this  may  be,  we  find 
him  in  London  in  the  year  1586  at  lateft. 

Good  fortune,  or  his  inclination,  led  him,  on  his 
arrival,  to  the  theatre.  It  feems  to  me  extremely 
probable  that  he  had  dabbled  in  theatrical  affairs 


The  early  Drama.  79 


even  before  his  departure  from  Stratford.  Stage-plays 
were,  before  the  general  diffufion  of  knowledge,  a 
favourite  amufement  with  the  common  people,  and 
formed  a  part  of  every  great  feftivity,  juft  as,  before  the 
multiplication  of  books,  ftory-telling  was  a  favourite 
mode  of  fpending  a  winter's  evening  or  a  fultry  fum- 
mer's  afternoon.  He  was  probably  only  depi&ing  the 
immemorial  ufage  when,  in  "A  Midfummer  Night's 
Dream,"  he  reprefented  the  "bafe  mechanicals"  of 
Athens  as  welcoming  Thefeus  and  Hippolyta  with  a 
play.  In  "Love's  Labour's  Loft,"  too,  a  ftage-play 
is  the  obvious  mode  which  prefents  itfelf  to  the 
pedant  and  the  parfon  of  entertaining  the  court  and 
(howing  their  own  wit  and  learning;  and  when  Falftaff 
wants  to  be  extremly  merry,  he  propofes  to  the  Prince 
to  extemporife  a  play.  I,  for  one,  cannot  believe  that 
the  Englifh  people  awoke  fuddenly,  about  the  middle 
of  the  fixteenth  century,  to  a  knowledge  and  a  love  of 
the  drama.  In  one  form  or  other,  the  people  had 
always  had  ftage-plays,  or  ftories  in  action,  at  their 
feftivities ;  and  there  can  be  little  doubt  that  a  young 
fellow  like  Shakefpere,  with  the  natural  proclivity  to 
the  drama,  which  every  one  muft  acknowledge  he  had, 
took  a  part  in  fuch  entertainments  of  the  kind  as  were 
performed  in  his  native  village.  The  fame  love  of 
amufement  which  led  him  into  all  unluckinefs  in 


80  Shake fpere. 


ftealing  venifon  and  rabbits,  would  alfo  lead  him  to 
make  one  in  any  project:  for  private  theatricals  that 
might  be  on  foot. 

The  tafte  for  the  ftage  had  been  for  centuries 
foftered  among  all  claffes  of  the  Englifh  people  by  the 
religious  plays,  which  formed  part  of  the  celebration 
of  the  great  feafts  of  the  Church.  At  Chriftmas, 
Eafter,  and  Whitfuntide  worldly  bufinefs  was  laid  afide 
for  feveral  days,  and  even  weeks.  The  fovereign  and 
principal  nobility  kept  their  courts  with  great  magni- 
ficence at  fome  favourite  palace,  and  fometimes  at  a  rich 
monaftery  of  which  they  had  been  the  benefactors; 
and  mafques,  plays,  and  interludes  were  performed  in 
their  halls  by  players  and  muficians,  whom  they  fpecially 
retained,  and  who  were  therefore  called  their  "fer- 
vants."  For  the  general  public  the  Church  provided 
its  Myfteries,  Miracles,  and  Moralities,  and  thefe  were 
played  in  the  fpacious  naves  of  cathedrals  and  minfters, 
in  inn  yards,  where  the  audience  might  fee  them  from 
the  galleries  and  the  chambers,  or  upon  fcaffolds  in 
market-places. 

Antiquaries,  of  courfe,  need  not  be  told  what  is 
meant  by  Myfteries,  Miracles,  and  Moralities  ;  but  as 
this  little  book  is  intended  for  the  general  reader,  I 
think  I  had  better  fay  that  Myfteries  were  dramatic 
verfions  of  the  great  events  upon  which  the  Chriftian 


Early  Rnglifh  Drama.  8  I 


religion  is  founded,  fuch  as  the  Nativity,  the  Paffion, 
the  Refurredion,  Afcenfion,  and  Defcent  of  the  Holy 
Ghoft  at  Whitfuntide.  Thefe  were  reduced  to  the 
form  of  a  dialogue  carried  on  by  the  feveral  characters, 
almoft  in  the  very  words  of  Scripture.  They  are  ftill 
performed  in  the  Tyrol,  and  laft  year  feveral  letters 
from  tourifts,  defcribing  them,  appeared  in  the  papers. 
The  Miracles  were  dramatic  reprefentations  of  fome 
miraculous  exertion  of  Divine  power  through  the  inter- 
vention of  a  faint ;  and  the  Moralities  were  allegorical 
dramas,  reprefenting  the  adtion  of  certain  virtues  and 
vices  perfonified.  Several  of  thefe  ancient  dramatic 
works  have  been  collected  and  publifhed  by  the  Shake- 
fpere  Society.  Many  of  them  poffefs  confiderable 
humour  and  dramatic  power,  and  are,  indeed,  plays  to 
all  intents  and  purpofes,  though  they  are  not  'divided 
into  a£ts  and  fcenes.  They  bear  quite  as  much  refem- 
blance  to  a  modern  drama  as  the  dialogues  recited  by 
the  peafants  and  fhepherds,  and  faid  by  Horace  to  have 
been  invented  by  Thefpis,  did  to  the  Prometheus,  the 
CEdipus,  the  Medea,  and  the  Nephelas.  Chaucer 
alludes  to  the  Myfteries  when,  defcribing  Abfolon,  in 
the  "  Milleres  Tale,"  he  fays  : — 

"  Some  time,  to  fhew  his  lightnefs  and  maiftrye, 
He  playeth  Herod  on  a  fcafFold  high." 

Herod,  of  courfe,  was  a  character  of  great  prominence 


M 


82  Shakefpere. 


in  the  Myftery  of  the  Paffion,  and  fitted  to  (how  off 
Abfolons  powers.  Hamlet,  too,  refers  to  the  fame 
character  in  the  Myftery  when  he  fays  to  the  players, 
"  O,  it  offends  me  to  the  foul,  to  hear  a  robuftious 
perriwig-pated  fellow  tear  a  paffion  to  tatters,  to  very 
rags,  to  iplit  the  ears  of  the  groundlings ;  who,  for  the 
moft  part,  are  capable  of  nothing  but  inexplicable 
dumb  fhow,  and  noife :  I  would  have  fuch  a  fellow 
whipped  for  o'erdoing  Termagant " — one  of  the  fup- 
pofed  falfe  gods  of  Mahometanifm ;  "it  out-herods 
Herod,"  that  is,  it  overdoes  even  the  overdone  character 
of  the  perfecuting  king  of  Jews. 

When  the  cuftom  of  entertaining  great  people  during 
their  vifits  to  the  Univerfities,  with  an  interlude  or 
play,  began,  I  cannot  fay,  but  it  probably  dates  far  back 
beyond  the  time  of  Shakefpere.  In  France,  at  any 
rate,  not  only  Myfteries  and  Miracles  were  known, 
but  paftoral  comedies,  fo  early  as  the  eleventh  century. 
M.  Francifque  Michel  has  publifhed  feveral  in  that 
moft  curious  book,  his  "  Theatre  Frangais  du  Moyen 
Age;"  and  it  can  hardly  be  fuppofed  that,  at  a  time 
when  the  dukes  of  Normandy,  Touraine,  Anjou,  and 
Maine  were  alfo  kings  of  England,  and  the  nobility 
and  high  clergy,  of  both  fides  of  the  Channel,  were  of 
the  fame  race  and  fpoke  the  fame  language,  dramatic 
amufements  mould  be  fa(hionab!e  in  one  country  and 


Elizabethan  Drama.  83 


unknown  in  the  other.  When  people,  therefore, 
fpeak  as  if  they  thought  that  Engli(hmen  had  never 
heard  a  tragedy  till  Sackville  and  Norton  wrote  "  Gor- 
boduc,"  or  a  comedy  till  Udall  wrote  "  Ralph  Roifter 
Doifter,"  or  Still  "Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,"  they 
feem  to  me  to  be  talking  at  random.  Thefe  may  be 
the  firft  inftances  of  dramatic  works  reduced  to  the 
form  of  a  modern  play,  but  dramas  had  been  known 
and  loved  by  the  people  from  time  immemorial. 
Indeed,  fome  of  the  plays  of  the  eleventh  century  pub- 
liflhed  by  M.  Francifque  Michel  are  in  the  original 
manufcripts  fet  to  mufic,  and  anfwer  to  what  we  call 
operas. 

The  circumstances  which  produced  what  may  be 
called  the  Elizabethan  drama  are  obvious  enough.  In 
the  middle  ages,  it  need  hardly  be  obferved,  learning 
was  left  almoft  entirely  to  the  clergy.  Every  one  who 
followed  learning  thought  it  incumbent  on  him  to 
take  orders,  becaufe  that  profeffion,  which  included,  be 
it  remembered,  the  practice  of  the  law,  alone  afforded 
leifure,  opportunity,  and  remuneration  for  ftudy.  The 
confequence  was,  that  almoft  all  literature  was  tinctured 
with  the  ecclefiaftical  ipirit,  even  though  it  was  in 
many  cafes  directed  againft  the  doctrines  of  the  Church 
and  the  privileges  of  the  clergy.  The  drama  was  not 
exempt  from  this  general  law.  It  was  the  monk  or  the 


84  Shake fp  ere. 


friar  who  alone  had  the  leifure  or  fkill  to  cater  for 
the  dramatic  taftes  of  the  people,  and  he  dramatifed  the 
Bible,  juft  as  Mr.  Terry  might  dramatife  "  Rob  Roy," 
or  Mr.  Dion  Boucicault  "  The  Collegians."  At  the 
revival,  or  rather,  the  diffufion  of  learning,  and  elpe- 
cially  in  the  countries  where  the  Reformation  was 
eftablifhed,  the  clergy  ceafed  to  be  an  excluiively 
learned  clafs.  The  diffolution  of  the  monafteries  and 
chauntries  deprived  the  Church  of  the  means  of  pro- 
viding unambitious  graduates  of  the  Univerfities  with 
a  comfortable  maintenance  immediately  on  their  en- 
trance upon  the  world,  for  the  parochial  cures  were 
then  even  lefs  appropriately  termed  "  livings "  than 
now ;  and  the  confequence  was,  that  young  men 
brought  the  learning  they  had  acquired  in  the  fchools 
into  general  fociety.  They  did  not,  as  theretofore, 
take  orders :  there  was  the  fame  complaint  as  now, 
that  young  men  of  promife  preferred  the  chance  of 
material  wealth  in  worldly  profeffions  to  the  ghoftly 
riches  of  the  priefthood ;  and  thofe  who  did  affume 
the  facred  office  were  fo  low  in  the  focial  fcale  that  it 
was  found  neceflary  to  forbid  them  by  a  canon  to  eke 
out  their  living  by  becoming  tapfters.  Univerfity 
men,  like  Udall,  Still,  Greene,  Chapman,  Peele,  and 
Marlow,  who  adopted  literature  as  a  profeffion,  brought 
with  them  reminifcences  of  Plautus  and  Terence,  and 


His  Introduction  to  the  Stage.  85 

perhaps  even  of  Sophocles,  Euripides,  and  Ariftophanes, 
and  no  longer  derived  the  perfons  of  their  dramas  from 
fupernatural  or  faintly  beings,  Scriptural  characters,  or 
abftract  virtue  and  vice,  but  from  profane  hiftory  and 
common  life.  In  mort,  the  drama  did  not  fpring  up 
all  at  once  in  the  Englifh  nation,  but  merely,  like  every 
other  art,  received  a  new  development  from  the  great 
intellectual  and  focial  revolution  of  the  fixteenth 
century. 

With  the  ftage,  therefore,  Shakefpere  was  probably 
familiar  from  his  youth.  We  know,  indeed,  that  in 
1569,  when  his  father  was  bailiff,  plays  were  performed 
in  the  Town  Hall,  and  it  is  highly  probable  that  a 
wild  young  man  of  his  taftes  would  feek  aflbciates 
among  "  thofe  harlotry  players/'  as  Quickly  calls  them — 
the  fervants  of  the  earls  of  Worcefter,  Leicefter,  or 
Warwick,  for  whom  the  Town  Hall  was  turned  into  a 
temporary  theatre.  And  when  he  found  himfelf  in 
London,  flenderly  provided  as  we  may  prefume,  he 
would  naturally  feek  for  friends  among  his  old  aflb- 
ciates,  who  were  making  money  lightly  at  the  Globe, 
Blackfriars,  or  the  Swan,  and  Spending  it  as  lightly  in 
the  "  Mermaid/'  the  "  Blue  Boar,"  and  the  "  Falcon." 

In  what  capacity  he  firft  obtained  employment  is 
uncertain,  but  it  cannot  have  been  a  very  exalted  one. 
The  parifh  clerk  of  Stratford  told  Dowdall,  in  1693, 


86  Shakefpere. 


that  he  was  received  into  the  playhoufe  as  a  ferviture, 
which  I  fuppofe  means  a  fervitor,  or,  in  plain  Englifh, 
a  fervant.  This  is  not  inconfiftent  with  the  ftory  told 
by  Sir  William  Davenant  to  Betterton,  by  Betterton  to 
Rowe,  by  Rowe  to  Pope,  by  Pope  to  Newton,  the 
editor  of  Milton,  and  by  Newton  to  Johnfon,  who 
incorporated  it  in  the  prolegomena  to  his  edition  of 
Shakefpere's  plays  : — "  In  the  time  of  Elizabeth,  coaches 
being  yet  uncommon,  and  hired  coaches  not  at  all  in 
ufe,  thofe  who  were  too  proud,  too  tender,  or  too  idle 
to  walk,  went  on  horfeback  to  any  diftant  bufinefs  or 
diverfion.  Many  came  on  horfeback  to  the  play ;  and 
when  Shakefpere  fled  to  London  from  the  terror  of  a 
criminal  profecution,  his  firft  expedient  was  to  wait  at 
the  door  of  the  playhoufe  and  hold  the  horfes  of  thofe 
that  had  no  fervants,  that  they  might  be  ready  again 
after  the  performance.  In  this  office  he  became  fo 
conspicuous  for  his  care  and  readinefs,  that  in  a  fhort 
time  every  man  as  he  alighted  called  for  '  Will  Shake- 
fpere/ and  fcarcely  any  other  waiter  was  trufted  with  a 
horfe  to  hold  while  Will  Shakefpere  could  be  had. 
This  was  the  firft  dawn  of  better  fortune.  Shakefpere 
finding  more  horfes  put  into  his  hand  than  he  could 
hold,  hired  boys  to  wait  under  his  infpeftion,  who, 
when  Will  Shakefpere  was  fummoned,  were  imme- 
diately to  prefent  themfelves — '  /  am  Will  Shakefpere's 


His  Introduction  to  the  Stage.  87 

boy,  Jir*  In  time  Shakefpere  found  higher  employ- 
ment; but. as  long  as  the  practice  of  riding  to  the 
playhoufe  continued,  the  waiters  that  held  the  horfes 
retained  the  appellation  of  Shakefpere' s  boys" 

Whether  this  ftory  be  true  or  not,  it  certainly  is  not 
improbable.  To  take  the  firft  employment  that  offered 
any  remuneration,  and  to  diftinguifh  himfelf  even  in 
the  humble  office  of  holding  horfes,  is  eminently  charac- 
teriftic  of  the  practical  good  fenfe  of  the  man  who, 
while  competing  works  requiring  the  exercife  of  the 
higheft  and  moft  cultivated  imagination  and  tafte,  was 
bringing  actions  for  his  rents,  buying  up  impropriate 
tithes,  and  making  money  of  his  wheat,  fheep,  and 
beeves.  Money  was  his  preffing  need  at  the  time,  not 
only  for  himfelf,  but  for  the  wife  and  young  family 
whom  he  had  left  at  Stratford ;  money  was  to  be  got 
honeftly  by  holding  gentlemen's  horles — and  he  held 
them. 

A  man  "whofe  blood  and  judgment  were"  not  "fb 
well  commingled,"  would  have  been  deprefled  by  the 
meannefs  of  his  employment;  but  Shakelpere  knew 
that  in  order  to  climb  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  you 
muft  begin  at  the  bottom,  and  went  on  mounting 
fteadily  and  furely  till  he  had  arrived  at  the  height  to 
which  he  intended  to  attain.  With  that  tafte  which, 
in  one  of  his  education  is  even  more  wonderful  than  his 


88  Shakefpere. 


creative  genius,  he  perceived  the  deficiencies  of  the 
plays  which  then  held  the  ftage.  His  predeceffors 
were  Udall,  Heywood,  Still,  Redford,  Ingelend,  Mun- 
day,  the  two  Wagers,  Lyly,  the  euphuift  ;  but  Peele, 
Greene,  Lodge,  Nafh,  Marlowe,  Kyd,  Daniel,  Belchier, 
Clarke,  and  Wilfon  were  alfo  his  contemporaries,  and 
though  many  of  their  plays  mow  conliderable  merit, 
befide  the  great  Mafter — him  who  held  the  horfes  of 
the  gallants  who  came  to  hear  their  plays — they  muft 
pale  their  ineffectual  fires.  Greene's  "  Looking  Glafs 
for  London  and  England "  is  more  admirable  in  its 
comic  than  its  tragic  parts ;  but  it  is  a  fine  play,  full  of 
fierce  invective,  which  was  his  forte.  "  Friar  Bacon 
and  Friar  Bungay"  has  fome  pretty  and  fome  effective 
fcenes  ;  but  one  feels  painfully  throughout  that,  after 
one  has  been  led  up  with  great  care  and  preparation  to 
a  point,  the  point  is  feebly  made,  or  not  at  all.  Peele's 
"  David  and  Bethfabe  "  is  perhaps  better  than  "  Titus 
Andronicus ;"  but  "  Edward  I."  is  not  to  be  compared 
with  the  worfl  of  Shakefpere's  hiftorical  plays.  The 
"  Old  Wives'  Tale  "  is  really  a  pretty  piece  of  faerie,  and 
there  is  fomething  myfterious  and  grand  in  the  unin- 
telligible incantations  at  the  well ;  but  how  infinitely  is 
it  left  behind  by  Qberon,  Puck,  and  Titania,  by  the  weird 
fitters  in  "  Macbeth,"  and  by  Ariel  and  Caliban  !  "  The 
Devil  and  Dr.  Fauftus,"  by  Marlowe,  is  much  admired, 


Hisjlrji  Employment  in  the  Theatre.  89 

but  it  always  feems  to  me  as  if  the  Doffior  was  too 
palpably  cheated.  He  really  gets  nothing  in  exchange 
for  his  foul.  Goethe's  Fauft  does  enjoy  himfelf  for 
the  time,  but  Marlowe's  Dr.  Faujlus  wearies  the 
reader  by  his  continual  anticipation  of  the  day  of 
reckoning.  The  whole  intereft  and  tragic  effect  of 
the  play  is  produced  by  his  repentance  of  the  bargain 
he  has  made  from  the  very  moment  when  it  has  been 
ratified. 

Shakelpere's  firft  employment  in  the  higher  buiinefs 
of  the  theatre  is  fuppofed  to  have  been  the  correcting 
and  adapting  for  the  ftage  the  imperfect  plays  of  his 
contemporaries.  In  1592  Robert  Greene  ended  his 
wretched  life  in  mifery,  and,  as  his  laft  act,  bequeathed 
his  "  Groat's  worth  of  Wit  bought  with  a  Million  of 
Repentance  " — a  malignant  libel  under  the  hypocritical 
mafk  of  a  charitable  warning — to  his  fellows  in  talent 
and  profligacy,  Marlowe,  Lodge,  and  Peele.  This 
ftrange  effuiion — of  which  I  fcarcely  know  whether 
to  admire  the  power  of  the  language,  or  wonder  at  the 
ghaflly  fpectacle  it  prefents  of  a  profligate  pouring  curfes 
with  his  failing  breath  upon  the  companions  of  his  vices 
— contains  the  following  addrefs  to  Peele,  in  which  there 
is  an  obvious  allufion  to  Shakefpere,  as  the  publifher 
afterwards  acknowledged  : — "  And  thou,  no  lefs  deferv- 
ing  than  the  other  two  (Marlowe  and  Lodge),  in  fome 


go  Shakefpere. 


things  rarer,  in  nothing  inferior,  driven,  as  myfelf,  to 
extraordinary  {hilts,  a  little  have  I  to  fay  to  thee ;  and 
were  it  not  an  idolatrous  oath,  I  would  fwear  by  fweet 
St.  George  thou  art  unworthy  better  hap,  fith  thou 
dependeft  on  fo  mean  a  ftay.  Bare-minded  men  all 
three  of  you,  if  by  my  mifery  ye  be  not  warned ;  for 
unto  none  of  you  like  me  fought  thofe  burs  to  cleaVe ; 
thofe  puppets  I  mean  that  fpeak  from  our  mouths, 
thofe  an  ticks  garnifhed  in  our  colours.  Is  it  not 
ftrange  that  I,  to  whom  they  all  have  been  beholding ; 
is  it  not  like  that  you,  to  whom  they  all  have  been 
beholding,  (hall,  were  you  in  that  cafe  that  I  am  now, 
be  both  of  you  at  once  forfaken  ?  Yes,  truft  them  not, 
for  there  is  an  upftart  now  beautified  with  our  feathers, 
that,  with  his  tiger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  player's  hide, 
fuppofes  he  is  as  well  able  to  bombaft  out  a  blank  verfe 
as  the  beft  of  you ;  and  being  an  abfolute  Johannes  Fac- 
totum, is,  in  his  own  conceit,  the  only  Shake-fcene  in  a 
country." 

The  expreffion,  "  Tiger's  heart  wrapt  in  a  player's 
hide,"  is  a  parody  of  a  line  in  the  third  part  of  "  King 
Henry  the  Sixth,"  Aft  I.,  Sc.  4— 

"  Oh,  tiger's  heart  wrapp'd  in  a  woman'sjiide  S" 

And  there  is  no  poffibility  of  doubting  that  Shake-fcene 
is  an  allufion  to  the  name  of  Shakefpere.  From  this  it 


C kettle's  Teftimony  to  his  Uprightnefs.  91 

may  be  concluded  that  in  fix  years  after  coming  to 
London,  Shakefpere  had  eftablifhed  fuch  a  reputation 
as  an  adlor  that  he  had  become  the  objeft  of  Greene's 
impotent  jealoufy  ;  that  he  had  made  himfelf  fo  ufeful 
to  the  theatre  as  to  be  confidered  a  Johannes  Factotum: 
an  author  as  well  as  an  aftor,  able  to  make  the  houfe, 
and  to  rival  "  Marlowe's  mighty  line."  But  whether 
the  exprefiion,  "  a  crow  beautified  with  our  feathers," 
means  only  that  he  obtained  profit  and  applaufe  by 
a&ing  the  plays  which  they  had  written,  or  that  he 
retouched  them,  or  borrowed  from  them,  is  doubtful. 
Certain  it  is  that  he  was  an  object  of  diilike  to  the 
profligate  fet  of  whom  Greene  was  one — partly,  no 
doubt,  becaufe  he  exhibited  a  felf-refpe6t  and  fore- 
thought which  were  a  tacit  reproach  to  their  debauchery 
and  improvidence. 

This  malignant  outburft  of  envy  on  the  part  of 
Greene  was  the  means  of  eliciting  the  teftimony  of 
Chettle,  the  publifher,  to  the  high  character  that 
Shakefpere  bore  amongft  his  contemporaries  ;  and  this , 
is  the  more  valuable  as  Marlowe  is  excepted  from  the 
like  praife.  Chettle  appears  to  have  really  meant  what 
he  faid  of  Shakefpere.  The  two  aggrieved  authors, 
as  it  feems,  remonftrated  with  Chettle  for  publishing 
this  attack  upon  them,  and  this  is  his  reply: — "With 
neither  of  them  that  take  offence  (Shakefpere  and 


92  Shakefpere. 


Marlowe)  was  I  acquainted,  and  with  one  of  them  I 
care  not  if  I  never  be :  the  other,  whom  at  that  time  I 
did  not  fo  much  fpare  as  fmce  I  wifh  I  had — for  that, 
as  I  have  moderated  the  heat  of  living  writers,  and 
might  have  ufed  my  own  difcretion,  efpecially  in  fuch 
a  cafe,  the  author  being  dead— that  I  did  not  I  am  as 
forry  as  if  the  original  fault  had  been  my  fault,  becaufe 
myfelf  have  feen  his  demeanour  no  lefs  civil  than 
he  excellent  in  the  quality  he  profeffes.  Befides 
divers  of  worfhip  have  reported  his  uprightnefs  of 
dealing,  which  argues  his  honefty,  and  his  facetious 
grace  in  writing,  which  approves  his  art."  As  to 
Shakelpere's  excellence  in  his  art  we  need  not  Chettle's 
teftimony,  but  it  is  plealant  to  find  that  the  moral 
qualities  for  which  he  was  refpefted  by  his  contempo- 
raries were  uprightnefs  and  courtefy ;  nor  is  it  fmall 
praife  to  fay  that  he  knew  how  to  pleafe  men  of  ftation 
and  good  breeding. 

It  luckily  happens  that  in  a  pedantic  and  euphuiftic 
treatife  on  the  poets  of  England,  called  "  Palladis 
Tamia,  Wit's  Treafury,  being  the  Second  Part  of  Wit's 
Commonwealth,"  written  by  Francis  Meeres,  and  pub- 
lifhed  in  1598,  we  find  an  authentic  record  of  the 
plays  and  poems  which  had  been  produced  by  Shake- 
fpere up  to  that  period.  Here  is  the  pafiage  : — "  As  the 
foule  of  Euphorbus  was  thought  to  live  in  Pythagoras, 


His  Indujiry.  93 


fo  the  fweete  wittie  foule  of  Ovid  lives  in  melli- 
fluous and  hony-tongued  Shakefpeare ;  witnefs  his 
'  Venus  and  Adonis/  his  *  Lucrece/  his  fugred  Sonnets 

among  his  private  friends As  Plautus  and  Seneca 

are  accounted  the  beft  for  comedy  and  tragedy  among 
the  Latines,  fo  Shakefpeare  among  the  Englifh  is  the 
moft  excellent  in  both  kinds  for  the  flage ;  for  comedy, 
his  '  Gentlemen  of  Verona/  his  '  Errors'  ["  Comedy  of 
Errors"],  his  *  Love  Labors  Loft/  his  'Love  Labors 
Won'  [«  All's  Well  that  Ends  Well"],  his  •  Midfummer 
Night  Dreame/  and  his  '  Merchant  of  Venice  ;'  for 
tragedy,  his  '  Richard  the  Second/  *  Richard  the  Third/ 
'  Henry  the  Fourth/  <  King  John/  '  Titus  Andronicus/ 
and  his  '  Romeo  and  Juliet.' '  To  thefe  original,  or 
nearly  original,  plays,  may  be  added  his  re-cafts  of 
"  Pericles,"  "  Henry  the  Sixth,"  firft  part ;  "  Henry  the 
Sixth,"  fecond  part;  "Henry  the  Sixth,"  third  part. 
The  three  parts  of  "Henry  the  Sixth"  were  all  originally 
written  by  the  unfortunate  Kit  Marlowe,  whofe  pretty 
fong,  "  Come  live  with  me  and  be  my  love,"  is  fung  by 
Sir  Hugh  Evans  in  "  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windfor," 
to  keep  up  his  courage  when  he  is  going  to  fight  with 
Dr.  Caius,  and  by  the  Milkmaid  in  Ifaac  Walton's 
"  Complete  Angler."  They  were  merely  touched  up 
and  adapted  for  the  ftage  by  the  "  Johannes  Fadtotum  " 
at  the  theatre  at  Blackfriars. 


94  Shakefpere. 


From  this,  then,  we  learn  that  Shakefpere,  at  the 
age  of  thirty-four,  had  written  "Venus  and  Adonis," 
"The  Rape  of  Lucrece,"  his  Sonnets,  amounting  to 
one  hundred  and  fifty-four,  befides  twelve  original  plays, 
and  that  he  had  altered  and  adapted  four  or  five  more. 
All  this  time  he  was  alfo  gaining  money  by  acting. 

In  thofe  times  the  profits  of  literary  labour  were  not 
fo  great  as  now.  We  all  remember  the  price  for  which 
Milton  fold  the  copyright  of  the  "  Paradife  Loft  "  in 
the  next  century.  But  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
was  the  tranfition  period  between  a  liftening  and  a 
reading  age ;  the  theatre  was  ftill  the  great  vehicle 
through  which  the  poet  reached  the  public  ear,  and 
play-writing  was  probably  the  beft  paid  of  any  literary 
labour.  Of  this  a  curious  example  is  to  be  found  in 
a  novel  called  "  Never  too  Late,"  written  by  Greene, 
the  dramatift,  and  believed  by  Mr.  Dyce  to  be  the 
hiftory  of  his  wretched  life.  The  hero,  Roberto,  is 
reduced  to  great  fhifts,  and  is  bewailing  his  wretched 
fate  behind  a  hedge : — 

"  On  the  other  fide  of  the  hedge  fat  one  that  heard 
his  forrow,  who,  getting  over,  came  towards  him  and 
brake  off  his  paffion.  When  he  approached,  he  faluted 
Roberto  in  this  fort,  '  Gentleman/  quoth  he,  '  for  fo 
you  feem,  I  have  by  chance  heard  you  difcourfe  fome 
part  of  your  grief,  which  appeareth  to  me  more  than 


The  Profits  of  Aft  or  s.  95 


you  will  difcover  or  I  can  conceit.  But  if  you  vouch- 
fafe  fuch  fimple  comfort  as  my  ability  will  yield,  affure 
yourfelf  that  I  will  endeavour  to  do  the  beft  that  either 
may  procure  your  profit  or  bring  you  pleafure;  the 
rather  for  that  I  fuppofe  you  are  a  fcholar,  and  pity 
it  is  men  of  learning  fhould  live  in  lack.'  Roberto, 
wondering  to  hear  fuch  good  words,  for  that  this 
iron  age  affords  few  that  efteem  of  virtue,  returned 
him  thankful  gratulations,  and,  urged  by  neceffity, 
uttered  his  prefent  grief,  befeeching  his  advice  how 
he  might  be  employed.  (  Why,  eafily,'  quoth  he,  '  and 
greatly  to  your  benefit ;  for  men  of  my  profeffion  get 
by  fcholars  their  whole  living/  'What  is  your  pro- 
feffion ? '  faid  Roberto.  '  Truly,  fir/  faid  he,  *  I  jam  a 
player.'  *  A  player! '  quoth  Roberto ;  '  I  took  you  rather 
for  a  gentleman  of  great  living ;  for  if  by  outward 
habit  men  fhould  be  cenfured  [judged],  I  tell  you,  you 
would  be  taken  for  a  fubftantial  man.'  *  So  am  I, 
where  I  dwell,'  quoth  the  player,  *  reputed  able  at 
my  proper  coft  to  build  a  windmill.  What  though 
the  world  once  went  hard  with  me,  when  I  was  fain 
to  carry  my  playing  fardel  afoot-back  ?  [to  carry  my 
properties  on  my  back  as  I  walked.]  Tempora  mutantur: 
—I  know  you  know  the  meaning  of  it  better  than  I — but 
I  thus  confter  it,  It  is  other  wife  now ;  for  my  very  fhare 
in  playing  apparel  will  not  be  fold  for  two  hundred 


96  Shake f per  e. 


pounds/  '  Truly/  faid  Roberto,  '  it  is  ftrange  that  you 
fhould  fo  profper  in  that  vain  practice,  for  that  it  feems 
to  me  your  voice  is  nothing  gracious/  '  Nay  then/ 
faid  the  player,  'I  miflike  your  judgment ;  why,  I  am 
as  famous  for  Delphrygus  and  the  King  of  Fairies  as 
ever  was  any  of  my  time ;  "  The  Twelve  Labours  of 
Hercules"  have  I  terribly  thundered  on  the  ftage,  and 
played  three  fcenes  of  "The  Devil  on  the  Highway 
to  Heaven."  '  Have  you  fo?'  faid  Roberto,  'then  I 
pray  you  pardon  me/  <  Nay,  more/  quoth  the  player, 
'I  can  ferve  to  make  a  pretty  fpeech,  for  I  was  a. 
country  author,  paffing  at  a  Moral  [a  Morality] ;  for 
it  was  I  that  penned  "The  Moral  of  Man's  Wit," 
"  The  Dialogue  of  Doves,"  and  for  feven  years'  fpace 
was  abfolute  interpreter  of  the  puppets.  But  now  my 
almanack  is  out  of  date — 

"  The  people  make  no  eftimation 
Of  Morals,  teaching  education." 

Was  not  this  pretty  for  a  plain  rhyme  extempore  ?  If 
ye  will,  you  mall  have  more/  'Nay,  it  is  enough/ 
faid  Roberto;  <  but  how  mean  you  to  ufe  me?'  '  Why, 
fir,  in  making  plays/  faid  the  other;  'for  which  you 
{hall  be  well  paid,  if  you  will  take  the  pains/  Roberto, 
perceiving  no  remedy,  thought  it  beft  to  refpedl  [have 
regard  to]  his  prefent  neceffity,  and,  to  try  his  wit,  went 
with  him  willingly ;  who  lodged  him  at  the  town's 


His  Profpenty.  97 


end,  &c.  &c.  ...  But  Roberto,  now  famoufed  for  an 
arch  play-making  poet,  his  purfe,  like  the  fea,  fometimes 
fwelled — anon,  like  the  fame  fea,  fell  to  a  low  ebb ;  yet 
feldom  he  wanted,  his  labours  were  fo  well  efteemed." 
If  Greene,  with  vaftly  inferior  powers  and  induftry, 
were  able,  by  writing  plays  only,  to  fet  want  at  defiance, 
notwithftanding  his  extravagant  and  thriftlefs  mode  of 
life,  it  is  no  wonder  that  Shakefpere,  with  his  extraor- 
dinary induftry,  his  prudence,  and  the  combined  profits 
of  writing  for  the  ftage  and  acting,  mould  have  foon 
raifed  himfelf  to  a  good  pofition,  fo  that  he  was 
reputed  where  he  dwelt,  and  indeed  was,  "  able  at  his 
proper  coft  to  build  a  windmill,"  or  to  buy  the  beft 
houfe  in  his  native  town. 


98  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

WE  have  followed  Shakefpere  from  Stratford  to  the 
playhoule,  where  he  is  enjoying  not  only  the  light 
froth  of  popular  applaufe,  but  the  folid  pudding  of 
fubftantial  profit.  We  have  feen  him  begin  by  hold- 
ing the  horfes  of  gentlemen  who  rode  to  the  play,  and 
rifmg  gradually  from  amending  and  adapting  the  works 
of  others  to  be  himfelf  a  great  dramatic  writer  and 
adlor,  and,  in  facl,  the  founder  of  the  modern  drama. 
We  naturally  inquire  what  fort  of  playhoufes  were  thofe 
in  which  his  mafterpieces  firft  appeared  ?  With  what 
fcenery  and  other  means  and  appliances  were  thofe 
dramas,  which  now  require  all  the  art  of  the  machinift, 
the  fcene  painter,  and  the  upholfterer,  to  make  them 
tolerable  to  our  faftidious  age,  firft  prefented  to  the  wits 
and  courtiers  of  the  days  of  Elizabeth  and  James  ? 

The  playhoufes  in  which  the  pageantry  of  "  Henry 
the  Eighth "  and  "  Macbeth,"  and  the  fairy  fcenes 
of  "The  Tempeft"  and  "A  Midfummer  Night's 


Elizabethan  theatres.  99 


Dream,"  were  firft  reprefented,  were  little  better  than 
wooden  fheds.  I  do  not  believe  that  they  were  def- 
titute  of  a  certain  architectural  beauty  of  their  own, 
for  in  that  time  the  old  art-traditions  of  the  middle 
ages  had  not  yet  been  utterly  loft;  and  they  were 
probably  much  better  adapted  to  their  purpofe  than 
our  great,  fuffocating,  uncomfortable  theatres,  where, 
what  with  the  lize  of  the  houfe  and  the  mumbling  and 
ranting  of  the  actors,  it  is  impoffible  to  hear  one  word 
in  ten  ;  but  they  were  totally  deftitute  of  fcenery. 
Curtains,  or,  as  they  were  called,  "  traverfes,"  fupplied 
the  place  of  fcenes  ;  the  ftage  was  ftrewed  with  rufhes ; 
at  the  back  of  the  ftage  was  a  balcony,  raifed  eight 
or  nine  feet  from  the  ground,  which  ferved  as  an  upper 
chamber  or  window,  from  whence,  as  in  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  a  part  of  the  dialogue  might  be  ipoken  ;  and 
the  ceiling,  called  the  "  heavens,"  was  painted  blue,  as 
in  the  churches  of  the  time.  The  ftage  was  hung  with 
black  when  a  tragedy  was  performed.  A  bed  placed 
upon  it  indicated  that  the  fcene  was  a  bed-chamber ;  a 
table  with  pen  and  ink  denoted  a  counting-houfe.  Trap- 
doors and  pulleys  were  fometimes  ufed,  but  were  not 
effential.  The  place  of  action  was  written  on  a  board 
for  the  information  of  the  audience.  Inftead  of  the 
prompter's  bell,  a  flourifh  of  trumpets  announced  that 
the  curtain  which  feparated  the  ftage  from  the  audience 


i  oo  Shakefpere. 


was  about  to  be  drawn,  and  at  the  third  founding  the 
play  began. 

The  audience  were  not  perhaps  fo  well  accommo- 
dated as  at  prefent.  In  the  public  theatres  the  area, 
called  the  "  yard,"  was  open  to  the  fky,  and  no  part  of 
the  houfe  was  roofed  but  the  ftage  and  boxes  ;  in  the 
private  houfes  the  whole  was  covered  in.  The  ftage 
was  feparated  from  the  pit  or  yard  by  pales,  within 
which  young  men  of  famion  ufed  to  fit  on  ftools,  and 
criticife  the  performance.  The  orcheftra  was  fituated 
in  the  place  now  occupied  by  the  ftage-boxes.  The 
remainder  of  the  audience  was  accommodated,  as  with 
us,  in  private  boxes  and  galleries,  or  fcafTblds. 

In  Shakefpere's  time  there  were  no  lefs  than  eleven 
theatres  in  London.  There  was  The  Theatre,  fo  called 
by  way  of  diftin&ion,  Paris  Garden,  the  Globe,  the 
Rofe,  the  Hope,  the  Swan,  in  Southwark,  the  Black- 
friars,  the  Whitefriars,  the  Fortune,  in  Golden  Lane, 
and  the  Red  Bull. 

The  drefles  of  the  players  were  fome times  very  rich. 
We  have  feen  that  the  player's  wardrobe,  in  Greene's 
"  Never  too  Late,"  was  worth  two  hundred  pounds. 
Women  never  acted  till  after  the  Reftoration,  and 
female  parts  were  played  by  boys,  generally  the 
chorifters  from  the  church  or  royal  chapel,  as  they  are 
now  at  the  Weftminfter  plays.  This  muft  have  been 


Play-houfe  Cufloms.  101 


the  moft  ferious  defect  in  the  Elizabethan  acted  drama. 
And  yet,  when  one  obferves  the  continual  effort  of  all 
but  the  beft  actreffes  to  attract  perfonal  admiration,  one 
cannot  but  acknowledge  that  both  plans  have  their 
difadvantages. 

Ham  let's  directions  to  the  players,  the  play  within 
the  play,  and  fome  of  Jonfon's  comedies,  afford  the  beft 
idea  of  the  cuftoms  of  the  players  and  audience.  From 
Hamlet's  directions  to  the  players  we  learn  that  the 
clowns  fometimes,  as  indeed  they  do  now,  extemporifed 
a  joke  to  bring  down  a  laugh — 

"Arid  let  thofe  that  play  your  clown  fpeak  no  more  than  is  fet  down  for 
them  j  for  there  be  of  them  that  will  themfelves  laugh,  to  fet  on  fome 
quantity  of  barren  fpe6tators  to  laughter ;  though,  in  the  meantime,  fome 
neceffary  queftion  of  the  play  be  then  to  be  confidered  " — 

and  that  the  principal  actors  wore  periwigs — 

"  O,  it  offends  me  to  the  foul  to  hear  a  robuftious  periwig-pated  fellow 
tear  a  pallion  to  tatters." 

From  the  play,  we  mould  conclude  that  young  men  of 
famion  criticifed  the  performance  aloud  in  a  very  rude 
and  unceremonious  manner,  as  where  Hamlet  fays  to 
the  actor  on  the  ftage — • 

"  Begin,  murderer — leave  thy  damnable  faces,  and  begin  !  " 

From  Jonfon's  comedies  we  learn  that  the  audience 
took  tobacco,  that  is,  fmoked  without  remorfe;  that, 


IO2  Shakefpere. 


indeed,  did  not  fignify  fo  much  when  the  pit 
Jove  frigtdo. 

The  prices  of  admiffion  to  the  boxes  were  a  fhilling, 
and  to  the  yard  or  pit  and  galleries,  fixpence,  fourpence, 
twopence,  and  even  a  penny.  The  play  began  after 
dinner,  or  at  "  undern  of  the  day,"  or  "  under  meles," 
that  is,  about  three  o'clock ;  and  people,  therefore,  got 
home,  or  to  the  tavern,  as  the  cafe  might  be,  at  about 
feven  to  fupper. 

Thefe  arrangements  would  be  confidered  rather  rude 
and  uncomfortable  by  modern  play-goers  ;  but  then  it 
muft  be  remembered  that  plays  were  continually  acted 
at  Court,  to  which  everybody  of  note  at  that  time  re- 
forted,  and  in  the  houfes  of  the  high  nobility ;  and,  in 
the  independence  in  which  the  drama  flood  of  fcenical 
decorations,  the  great  dining-hall  or  prefence  chamber 
could  be  converted  into  a  theatre  in  a  very  fhort  time, 
by  merely  hanging  a  few  pieces  of  tapeftry  acrofs  the 
apartment. 

And  now  the  further  queftion  arifes,  was  juftice  done 
to  Shakefpere's  plays  in  fuch  theatres,  and  with  fuch 
lack  of  fcenery  ?  I  mould  anfwer,  without  hefitation, 
yes.  For  myfelf,  I  am  of  Charles  Lamb's  opinion, 
that  Shakefpere's  plays  are  more  enjoyed  in  the  reading 
than  in  the  beholding.  I  have  often  feen  "  Hamlet " 
and  "  King  Richard  the  Third,"  and  to  my  mind  Hamlet 


Stage  Decorations.  103 


and  Richard  have  become  identified  with  Mr.  Charles 
Kean.  Thank  goodnefs  !  I  have  never  feen  "  Lear."  I 
fhould  be  forry  indeed  to  have  my  ideal  of  the  hale, 
impulfive,  fomewhat  boifterous  and  paffionate  old  king, 
firft  driven  mad,  then  foftened  and  refined  by  his  great 
ibrrow  and  tender  love,  deftroyed  by  fome  periwig-pated 
fellow.  But  if  afted  at  all,  let  the  words  of  the  Poet, 
and  not  the  drefs  and  fcenery,  be  relied  upon  to  produce 
their  effect.  As  between  tawdry,  vulgar,  inappropriate 
fcenery  and  drefles,  and  the  correct  and  tafteful  decora- 
tions of  the  Princefs's  during  Mr.  Kean's  management, 
there  can  be  no  comparifon.  But,  in  my  opinion,  fimple 
traverfes,  or  curtains,  and  the  quiet,  rich,  unpedantic 
drefles  of  the  Elizabethan  drama,  would  be  better  than 
either.  If  managers  would  fpend  lefs  money  upon 
fcenery,  and  more  upon  fecuring  the  higheft  dramatic 
attainment  in  the  performers  ;  and  if  acftors  would  think 
more  of  ftudying  their  parts  and  declaiming  them 
corredlly,  and  lefs  of  their  flafhed  doublets  and  flefh- 
coloured  tights,  Shakeipere  would  be  more  worthily 
reprefented  on  the  ftage. 

Homer  makes  his  model  orator  mean  in  his  appear- 
ance, awkward  in  his  geftures,  and  totally  deftitute  of 
action,  fo  that  people  thought  he  was  a  fool  until  he 
opened  his  mouth ;  and  then  every  eye  was  turned 
upon  him,  and  every  mind  was  bowed  by  the  perfuafion 


1 04  Shakefpere. 


of  his  voice.  I  have  always  thought  this  a  high  ftroke 
of  criticifm — an  ideal  which  would  never  have  occurred 
to  any  but  a  mailer.  If  the  orator  cannot  make  an 
impreffion  by  his  words  and  the  intonation  of  his  voice, 
he  will  never  do  it  by  "fawing  the  air."  Juft  fo, 
what  one  deiiderates  on  the  ftage  is  to  have  Shake- 
fpere's  fpeeches  fpoken  as  they  are  fet  down,  with  all 
the  advantages  of  emphafis  and  intonation  which  the 
natural  aptitude,  the  ftudy,  and  the  practice  of  the  actor 
can  give  them ;  but  who  cares,  or  ought  to  care,  what 
drefs  the  player  wears,  or  whether  the  painted  caftle  on 
the  fcene  have  the  appropriate  dog-toothed  moulding  of 
the  reign  of  King  John  or  not  ?  I  think,  therefore,  that 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  King  James  and  their  courtiers,  and 
the  audiences  which  crowded  the  playhoufe  at  Black- 
friars  and  the  Globe,  probably  faw  Shakefpere's  plays 
to  as  great  advantage  as  we  are  ever  likely  to  do,  and 
perhaps  to  greater.  At  any  rate,  they  did  not  fee  Shake- 
fpere infulted  by  Gibber's  and  Garrick's  interpolations. 
They  were  never  treated  to — "  Off  with  his  head  !  So 
much  for  Buck-ing-ham  !  " 

Shakefpere  had  got  him  "  a  fellowfhip  in  a  cry  of 
players,"  known  as  "  the  Lord  Chamberlain's  fervants." 
They  poffeffed  two  theatres,  one  at  Blackfriars,  oppo- 
fite  the  place  where  Apothecaries'  Hall  now  ftands ; 
here  they  played  in  winter,  becaufe  it  was  effectually 


His  Skill  as  an  A 51  or.  105 


protected  from  the  weather.  At  the  Globe,  on  the 
Bankfide,  they  played  in  fummer.  A  petition,  ftill 
extant,  dated  1596,  and  addreffed  by  the  proprietors  to 
the  Privy  Council,  praying  to  be  allowed  to  repair  the 
houfe  and  continue  their  entertainments  at  the  theatre 
in  Blackfriars,  proves  that  Shakefpere  was  a  fhareholder 
in  the  concern,  in  conjunction  with  Thomas  Pope, 
Richard  Burbage,  John  Hemings,  Auguftine  Phillips, 
Wm.  Kempe,Wm.  Slye,  and  Nicholas  Tooley.  As  to  his 
attainments  as  an  actor,  the  traditions  are  various  and 
conflicting.  Chettle  fays,  as  we  have  feen,  that  he  was 
"  excellent  in  the  quality  he  proferTeth  ;"  Aubrey,  that 
he  "  did  act  exceedingly  well ;"  Wright,  that  "  he  was  a 
much  better  poet  than  player."  There  can  be  little  doubt 
of  that,  unlefs  he  was  the  greateft  player  that  ever  trod 
the  ftage.  He  adds,  however,  and  this  is  obvioufly  an 
error,  "  I  could  never  meet  with  any  further  account 
of  him  this  way  than  that  the  top  of  his  performance 
was  the  Ghoft,  in  his  own  '  Hamlet.' '  Oldys  fays  that 
a  younger  brother  of  the  Poet's,  who  lived  at  Stratford 
to  a  good  old  age,  ufed  to  tell  how  he  faw  Shakefpere 
play  the  part  of  "  an  old  man,  who  was  carried  by 
another  perfon  to  a  table,  at  which  he  was  feated 
among  fome  company  who  were  eating,  and  that  one 
of  them  fang  a  fong."  This  obvioufly  points  to  Adam, 
in  "  As  You  Like  It." 


106  Shake f per  e. 


There  is  a  tradition  that  King  James,  flattered  by 
the  lines  fo  complimentary  to  himfelf  in  "  Henry  the 
Eighth  "— 

"  Nor  ihall  this  peace  ileep  with  her ;  bat  as  when 
The  bird  of  wonder  dies,  the  maiden  phoenix, 
Her  afhes  new  create  another  heir, 
As  great  in  admiration  as  herfelf, 
So  mall  me  leave  her  blefTednefs  to  one 
(When  heaven  (hall  call  her  from  this  cloud  of  darknefs) 
Who,  from  the  facred  alhes  of  her  honour 
Shall,  ftar-like,  rife  as  great  in  fame  as  me  was, 
And  fo  Hand  fixed :  peace,  plenty,  love,  truth,  terror, 
That  were  the  fervants  to  this  chofen  infant, 
Shall  then  be  his,  and  like  a  vine  grow  to  him. 
Wherever  the  bright  fun  of  heaven  mail  mine, 
His  honour  and  the  greatnefs  of  his  name 
Shall  be,  and  make  new  nations:  he  fhall  flourifh, 
And,  like  a  mountain  cedar,  reach  his  branches 
To  all  the  plains  about  him.    Our  children's  children 
Shall  fee  this,  and  blefs  heaven" — 

"  was  pleafed  with  his  own  hand  to  write  an  amicable 
letter  to  Mr.  Shakefpere ;"  which  letter,  though  now 
loft,  remained  long  in  the  hands  of  Sir  William  Dave- 
nant,  "  as  a  creditable  perfon,  now  living,  can  teftify." 
This  is  Lintot's  ftatement,  and  Oldys,  in  a  note  on 
Fuller's  Worthies,  fays  that  Lintot's  authority  for  this 
was  Sheffield,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  who  faw  the  letter 
in  Davenant's  poffeffion.  This  is  certain,  from  the 
"  Accounts  of  the  Revels  at  St.  James's,"  in  the  reign 
of  James,  that  Shakefpere's  plays  were  frequently 
performed  at  Court. 


His  Friendfhip  with  Southampton.  107 

Amongft  the  nobility  of  that  time  the  theatre  was  a 
very  popular  amufement.  Of  this  we  have  a  curious 
proof  in  the  Sydney  Papers.  Rowland  Whyte,  in  a 
letter  to  Sir  Robert  Sydney,  fays  : — "  My  Lord  South- 
ampton and  Lord  Rutland  came  not  to  the  Court ;  the 
one  doth  but  very  feldom ;  they  pafs  away  the  time  in 
London  merely  in  going  to  plays  every  day." 

Southampton's  reafon  for  not  going  to  Court  was 
that  his  friend  Effex  was  then  in  prifon  and  difgrace ; 
but  the  way  in  which  he  folaced  himfelf  indicates  his 
tafte.  This  is  the  Southampton  to  whom  Shakefpere 
dedicated  his  earlier!  poems,  "  Venus  and  Adonis  "  and 
"  The  Rape  of  Lucrece ; "  and  the  dedications  are  fo 
charadteriftic,  that  I  think  they  will  help  much  in 
forming  an  eftimate  of  Shakefpere.  The  Dedication 
of  the  "  Venus  and  Adonis  "  is  addrefled  to  the  Right 
Honourable  Henry  Wriothefly,  Earl  of  Southampton 
and  Baron  of  Tichfield,  and  is  as  follows: — 

"  Right  Honourable, — I  know  not  how  I  mall  offend  in  dedicating  my 
unpoliihed  lines  to  your  lordfhip,  nor  how  the  world  will  cenfure  me  for 
choofing  fo  ftrong  a  prop  to  fupport  fo  weak  a  burden  ;  only,  if  your 
honour  feem  but  pleafed,  I  account  myfelf  highly  praifed,  and  vow  to 
take  advantage  of  all  idle  hours  till  I  have  honoured  you  with  fome 
graver  labours.  But  if  the  firft  heir  of  my  invention  prove  deformed, 
I  mall  be  forry  it  had  fo  noble  a  godfather,  and  never  after  ear  [plough] 
fo  barren  a  land,  for  fear  it  yield  me  Hill  fo  bad  a  harveft.  I  leave  it  to 
your  honourable  furvey,  and  your  honour  to  your  heart's  content,  which 
I  wiili  may  always  anfwer  your  own  willi  and  the  world's  hopeful  expec- 
tation.— Your  honour's  in  all  duty,  "  WILLIAM  SHAKESPERE." 


io8  S /lake/per  e. 


The  dedication  of  "  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  "  is  ad- 
drefled  to  the  fame  accomplifhed  nobleman  : — 

"The  love  I  dedicate  to  your  lordihip  is  without  end ;  whereof  this 
pamphlet,  without  beginning,  is  but  a  fuperfluous  moiety.  The  warrant 
I  have  of  your  honourable  difpofition,  not  the  worth  of  my  untutored 
lines,  makes  it  affured  of  acceptance.  What  I  have  done  is  yours  5  what 
I  have  to  do  is  yours ;  being  part  in  all  I  have,  devoted  yours.  Were 
my  worth  greater,  my  duty  would  mow  greater ;  meantime,  as  it  is,  it  is 
bound  to  your  lordfhip,  to  whom  I  wim  long  life,  flill  lengthened  with 
all  happinefs." 

There  appears  to  me  to  be  in  thefe  complimentary 
addrefies  a  more  manly  and  independent  fpirit,  lefs 
deformed  by  extravagant  conceits,  than  is  to  be  found 
in  moft  dedications  of  the  period.  In  the  firft,  Shake- 
fpere  does  not  hefitate  to  fay,  that  he  hopes  to  honour 
his  patron  by  fome  graver  work.  This  hope  was  not 
fulfilled,  perhaps,  as  he  intended  it ;  but  the  memory 
of  Southampton  is  certainly  moft  honoured  in  the 
record 'of  his  friendfhip  for  the  Poet. 

The  fecond  feems  to  indicate  a  growing  intimacy 
and  affection.  This  affeclion  is  faid  to  have  been  fo 
great  on  Southampton's  fide,  that  he  once  prefented 
Shakefpere  with  a  thoufand  pounds  to  carry  through  a 
purchafe  in  which  he  was  then  engaged,  poflibly  a 
mare  in  the  Blackfriars  or  the  Globe.  Now  a  thou- 
fand pounds  in  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  was  worth 
fully  as  much  as  five  thoufand  now.  This  would  have 
been  a  very  large  gift  to  one  in  Shakefpere's  circum- 


Venus  and  Adonis.  109 


fiances  ;  but  that  the  tradition  exifted  in  the  time  of 
Sir  William  Davenant  is  fufficient  ground  for  believing 
that  Southampton  did  make  Shakefpere  a  handfome 
prefent,  though  we  may  allow  fomething  for  exaggera- 
tion as  to  the  amount. 

The  fubjefts  of  both  thefe  poems  are  fuch,  that  an 
edition  of  Shakefpere  which  contains  them  cannot  be 
left  upon  a  drawing-room  table.  I  think  my  readers 
will  therefore  be  obliged  to  me  if  I  extract  a  few  of 
the  moft  ftriking  paflages  from  both.  They  are 
Shakefpere's  earlieft  productions :  the  "  Venus  and 
Adonis  "  he  calls  the  "firft  heir  of  my  invention." 

The  defcription  of  Adonis's  hounds  returning  after 
having  loft  their  mafter  and  brought  the  boar  to  bay 
is  extremely  graphic,  and  further  illuftrates  the  Poet's 
intimate  knowledge  of  hunting : — 

"  By  this  me  hears  the  hounds  are  at  a  bay, 
Whereat  ihe  ftarts,  like  one  that  fpies  an  adder, 
Wreathed  up  in  fatal  folds  juil  in  his  way, 
The  fear  whereof  doth  make  him  {hake  and  fhudder ; 
Even  fo  the  timorous  yelping  of  the  hounds 
Appals  her  fenfes,  and  her  fpirit  confounds. 

"  For  now  flie  knows  it  is  no  gentle  chafe, 
But  the  blunt  boar,  rough  bear,  or  lion  proud, 
Becaufe  the  cry  remaineth  in  one  place, 
Where  fearfully  the  dogs  exclaim  aloud : 
Finding  their  enemy  to  be  fo  curft, 
They  all  ftrain  courtefy  who  mall  cope  him  firll. 


1 1  o  Shakefpere. 


"  Here  kennelled  in  a  brake  me  finds  a  hound, 
And  aiks  the  weary  caitiff  for  his  matter ; 
And  then  another  licking  of  his  wound, 
'Gainft  venomed  fores  the  only  fovereign  plafter ; 
And  here  me  meets  another  fadly  fcowling, 
To  whom  ihe  fpeaks,  and  he  replies  with  howling. 

"  When  he  hath  ceafed  his  ill-refounding  noife, 
Another  flap-mouthed  mourner,  black  and  grim, 
Againft  the  welkin  vollies  out  his  voice  ; 
Another  and  another  anfwer  him, 

Clapping  their  proud  tails  to  the  ground  below, 
Shaking  their  fcratched  ears,  bleeding  as  they  go-." 

No  one  who  had  not  clofely  obferved  hounds  could 
have  written  this.  The  conclufion  almoft  rifes  to  fub- 
limity  in  the  picture  it  draws  of  the  dire  evils  which 
attend  upon  earthly  paffion  :— 

"  Since  thou  art  dead,  lo,  here  I  prophefy, 

Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  mall  attend  : 

It  mall  be  waited  on  with  jealoufy, 

Find  fweet  beginning,  but  unfavoury  end ; 
Ne'er  fettled  equally,  but  high  or  low, 
That  all  love's  pleafure  mall  not  match  his  woe. 

"  It  mail  be  fickle,  falfe,  and  full  of  fraud  ; 
Bud  and  be  blafted  in  a  breathing  while; 
The  bottom  poifon,  and  the  top  o'erftrewed 
With  fweets  that  fhall  the  trueft  fight  beguile  j 
The  ftrongeft  body  mall  it  make  moft  weak, 
Strike  the  wife  dumb,  and  teach  the  fool  to  fpeak. 

"  It  mall  be  fparing  and  too  full  of  riot, 
Teaching  decrepit  age  to  tread  the  meafures ; 


His  Obligations  to  Chaucer.  i  1 1 

The  flaring  ruffian  fhall  it  keep  in  quiet, 
Pluck  down  the  rich,  enrich  the  poor  with  treafures  -, 
It  mall  be  raging  mad  and  lilly  mild, 
Make  the  young  old,  the  old  become  a  child. 

"  It  mail  fufpect  where  is  no  caufe  of  fear ; 
It  mall  not  fear  where  it  mould  mofl  miflrufl  ; 
It  mall  be  merciful,  and  too  fevere, 
And  mofl  deceiving  when  it  feems  moil  jufl ; 
Perverfe  it  fhall  be  where  it  mows  mofl  toward, 
Put  fear  to  valour,  courage  to  the  coward." 

This  is  quite  in  the  manner  of  the  old  Engliih  poets, 
and  reminds  one  of  the  moral  to  the  beautifully  told 
but  licentious  ftory  of  "January  and  May,"  in  Chaucer's 
"  Canterbury  Tales."  Pluto  threatens  to  make  known 
the  guilt  of  May,  when  Proferpine  thus  addreffes  him, 
and,  in  her  fpeech,  points  the  moral  of  the  tale  : — 

"  '  Ye  mall,'  quoth  Proferpine,  '  and  will  ye  fo  ? 
Now,  by  my  mother  Ceres'  foul  I  fwear 
That  I  fhall  give  her  fuffiiant  anfwer, 
And  alle  women  after,  for  her  fake ; 
That  though  they  be  in  any  guilt  itake, 
With  face  bold  they  fhall  themfelves  excufe, 
And  bear  them  down  that  woulden  them  accufe ; 
For  lack  of  anfwer  none  of  them  mall  dien. 
All  had  you  feen  a  thing  with  both  your  eyen, 
Yet  fhall  we  women  vifage  it  hardily, 
And  weep,  and  fwear,  and  chide  fubtilly, 
That  ye  mall  be  as  lewed  [foolifh]  as  be  geefe.'  " 

Both  the  fentiments,  the  idea  of  indicating  the 
moral  of  the  tale,  and  the  vigour  of  the  language,  are 
alike  in  both.  But  there  is  a  ftill  more  ftriking  refem- 


1 1  2  Shakefpere. 


blance,  perhaps,  in  one  of  the  expreffions  in  the  paflage 
quoted,  to  a  bitter  ftanza  in  another  of  Chaucer's  poems, 
"  The  Court  of  Love  :"— 

"  For  it  peradventure  may  fo  befall 
That  they  [women]  be  bound  by  nature  to  deceive, 
And  fpin  and  weep,  and  Jitgar  Jlrew  on  gall, 
The  heart  of  man  to  ravilh  and  to  reave." 

Compare  with  this  : — 

"  The  bottom  poifon,  and  the  top  o'erftrewed 
With  fweets  that  ihall  the  truell  fight  beguile." 

"  The  Rape  of  Lucrece  "  is  a  far  nobler  and  more 
varied  poem.  There  can  be  little  doubt  that  Shake- 
fpere was  indebted  to  the  Legenda  Lucrecle  Rome, 
Martyris9  in  Chaucer's  "  Legende  of  Code  Women," 
for  its  general  idea,  and  for  many  of  the  thoughts.  It 
abounds  with  fine  paffages ;  but  I  will  choofe  the 
defcription  of  the  picture  in  the  houfe  of  Collatinus, 
becaufe  it  mows  that  even  thus  early  in  his  career  the 
Poet  loved  and  appreciated  the  kindred  art  of  painting  : 

"  At  laft  fhe  calls  to  mind  where  hangs  a  piece 

Of  ikilful  painting  m,ade  for  Priam's  Troy. 
*  *  *  * 

A  thoufand  lamentable  objects  there, 
In  fcorn  of  Nature,  art  gave  lifelefs  life  ; 
Many  a  dry  drop  feemed  a  weeping  tear, 
Shed  for  the  flaughtered  hufband  by  the  wife  5 
The  red  blood  reeked  to  mow  the  painter's  ftrife  ; 
And  dying  eyes  gleamed  forth  their  afhy  lights, 
Like  dying  coals  burnt  out  in  tedious  nights. 


Rape  of  Lucrece.  1 1  3 


"There  might  you  lee  the  labouring  pioneer 
Begrimed  with  fweat  and  fmeared  all  with  duft  j 
And  from  the  towers  of  Troy  there  would  appear 
The  very  eyes  of  men  through  loopholes  thruft, 
Gazing  upon  the  Greeks  with  little  luft  : 

Such  fweet  obfervance  in  this  work  was  had, 
That  one  might  fee  thofe  far-off  eyes  look  fad. 

"  In  great  commanders  grace  and  majefty 
You  might  behold  triumphing  in  their  faces  j 
In  youth  quick  bearing  and  dexterity  j 
And  here  and  there  the  painter  interlaces 
Pale  cowards,  marching  on  with  trembling  paces; 
Which  heartlefs  peafants  did  fo  well  relemble, 
That  one  would  fwear  he  law  them  quake  and  tremble. 

"  In  Ajax  and  Ulyffes,  oh !  what  art 

Of  phynognomy  might  one  behold ! 

The  face  of  either  ciphered  cither's  heart ; 

Their  face  their  manners  molt  expreflly  told  : 

In  Ajax'  eyes  blunt  rage  and  rigour  rolled ; 
But  the  mild  glance,  that  fly  Ulyfles  lent 
Showed  deep  regard  and  fmiling  government." 

How  admirable  is  the  contraft  between  the  mere 
foldier  and  the  ftatefman  !  How  expreffive  the  phrafe, 
"  blunt  rage !  "  and  how  exactly  does  it  defcribe  the 
character  of  Ajax,  as  drawn  by  Homer!  The  "mild 
glance  "  of  "  fly  Ulyffes  "  reminds  one  of  the  "  Mitis 
fapientia  Laeli ;"  but  the  "deep  regard  and  fmiling 
government "  are  Shakefpere's  own,  and  fhow  that  he 
had  feen  and  marked  the  deportment  of  thofe  great 
ftatefmen  who  fleered  the  bark  of  the  commonwealth 


1 1 4  Shakefpere. 


through  the  troubled  feas  of  the  beginning  of  the 
queen's  reign.  No  words  could  better  exprefs  the 
habitual  though tfulnefs,  and  quiet  and  dignified  cour- 
tefy  acquired  by  thofe  who  are  converfant  with  great 
affairs  and  fubtle  policy.  It  is  fomewhat  remarkable 
that  both  thefe  poems  depift  unrequited  love,  the  one 
on  the  part  of  the  woman,  the  other  on  that  of  the 
man.  If  one  were  dilpofed  to  find  autobiographical 
hints  in  Shakeipere's  poems,  one  might  argue  from 
hence  that  he  had  not  found  woman's  love  a  folace 
and  a  comfort. 

The  fonnets  have  always  prefented  a  puzzle  to  thofe 
who  have  endeavoured  to  draw  from  them  hints  with 
refped:  to  the  Poet's  life  and  fentiments.  Some  of 
them,  perhaps,  may  contain  allufions  to  his  own  cir- 
cumftances.  The  following,  for  inftance,  may  refer  to 
his  profeffion  of  an  ad:or,  then  fcarcely  freed  from  the 
infamy  attached  to  it  by  the  Roman  law : — 

"  Oh  !  for  my  fake  do  you  with  fortune  chide, 
The  guilty  goddefs  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  almoft  thence  my  nature  is  fubdued 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand  : 
Pity  me,  then,  and  wifh  I  were  renewed, 
Whilft,  like  a  willing  patient  I  will  drink 
Potions  of  eyiell  'gainft  my  ftrong  infection ; 


The  Sonnets.  \  1 5 


No  bitternefs  that  I  will  bitter  think, 

Nor  double  penance  to  correct  corre6tion. 
Pity  me,  then,  dear  friends,  and  I  allure  ye 
Even  that  your  pity  is  enough  to  cure  me." 

One  of  the  moft  beautiful  of  thefe  exquilite  little 
poems  is  that  in  which  the  Poet  laments  his  friend's 
abfence,  or  alienation  : — 

"  Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  feeii 
Flatter  the  mountain-tops  with  fovereign  eye, 
Killing  with  golden  face  the  meadows  green, 
Gilding  pale  ftreams  with  heavenly  alchemy, 
Anon  permit  the  bafeft  clouds  to  ride 
With  ugly  rack  on  his  celeflial  face, 
And  from  the  forlorn  world  his  vifage  hide, 
Stealing  unfeen  to  weft  with  this  difgrace  : 
Even  fo  my  fun  one  early  morn  did  fhiiie, 
With  all  triumphant  fplendour  on  my  brow, 
But,  out  alack !  he  was  but  one  hour  mine, 
The  region  cloud  hath  maiked  him  from  me  now. 
Yet  him  for  this  my  love  no  whit  difdaineth  ; 
Suns  of  the  world  may  ftain  when  heaven's  fun  ftaineth." 

"  Stain,"  in  the  laft  line,  is  a  neuter  verb.  "  Heavenly 
alchemy" — heaven's  own  art  of  tranfmuting  bafer  things 
to  gold — is  one  of  thofe  happy  metaphors  which  denote 
a  true  poet. 

The  dedication  prefixed  to  thefe  fonnets  has  long 
been  a  puzzle  to  Shakefperian  biographers.  In  the 
original  edition  it  is  not  pointed,  but  in  modern 
editions  it  has  always  been  printed  thus : — 


Shake fpere. 


DEDICATION. 

TO    THE     ONLY     BEGETTER 
OF    THESE    ENSUING    SONNETS, 

MR.  W.  H., 

ALL   HAPPINESS 

AND    THAT    ETERNITY    PROMISED 
BY   OUR  EVERLASTING   POET, 

WISHETH    THE 

WELL-WISHING    ADVENTURER 
IN    SETTING    FORTH, 

T.  T. 


"  Mr.  W.  H.,"  then,  was  fuppofed  to  be  "  the  only 
begetter"  of  the  fonnets,  and  no  one  could  make  out 
who  "Mr.  W.  H.,"  to  ,whom  fo  high  an  honour  is 
attributed,  was.  Another  reading  has  been  fuggefted 
lately.  A  full  flop  is  placed  at  "wifheth,"  to  which 
verb  "  Mr.  W.  H."  then  becomes  the  nominative  cafe, 
and  "  T.  T.,"  Thomas  Thorpe,  the  bookfeller,  is  made 
merely  to  defcribe  himfelf  as  "  the  well-wifhing  adven- 
turer in  fetting  forth."  Point  it  as  we  will,  however, 
the  dedication,  like  the  fonnets  themfelves,  remains  an 
enigma  which  no  CEdipus  has  yet  been  found  to  folve. 

The  lateft  attempt  which  I  have  feen  to  trace  in 
the  fonnets  the  Poet's  autobiography,  is  that  of  Mr. 
Francis  Victor  Hugo.  By  reading  them  over  fre- 
quently, he  thinks  he  has  diicovered  the  real  fequence 
in  which  they  mould  be  placed,  and  arranges  them 
accordingly,  introducing  fome  pieces  from  "  The  Paf- 
fionate  Pilgrim ;"  and  in  an  "  Introduction "  explains 


'The  Sonnets.  1 1 7 


the  purport  of  the  ftory  which  he  thus  makes  them 
tell.  In  the  firft  three  fonnets,  according  to  his  ar- 
rangement, Shakefpere  appears  in  love,  and  addrefles 
his  miftrefs  in  the  ufual  language  of  lovers ;  but  me 
favours  another,  and  in  the  eighth  fonnet  the  Poet 
changes  his  tone  and  threatens  to  go  mad  and  {peak  ill 
of  her.  In  the  fucceeding  fonnets,  he  accordingly 
tells  her  that  he  has  overrated  her  beauty,  and  over- 
whelms her  with  farcafm.  She  retaliates  by  re- 
minding him  that  he  is  married,  and  therefore,  in 
loving  her,  perjured.  He  retorts,  in  the  twenty-firft 
fonnet,  that  me  is  as  much  to  blame  as  he ;  and  me  at 
length  yields,  and  the  twenty-fifth  fonnet  is  his  fong  of 
triumph.  But  me  revenges  herfelf,  not  only  by  being 
unfaithful,  but  by  making  his  bofom  friend,  who  is 
none  other  than  Southampton,  his  rival.  The  friend 
confeffes  his  fault,  and  the  Poet  "  generoufly,"  as 
Mr.  Hugo  fays,  forgives  him.  The  warmth  of  the 
language  of  the  fucceeding  fonnets,  addrefled  to  this 
faithlefs  friend,  is  explained  thus  :  "  Deceived  in  love 
Shakefpere  throws  himfelf  unrefervedly  into  friendship. 
From  friendship  he  afks  that  impoffible  happinefs 
which  he  has  fought  elfewhere  in  vain.  From  thence- 
forth he  renounces  material  affection  which  is  change- 
able like  the  inftin&s  of  animals ;  what  he  feeks 
is  a  love  which  fhall  be  immovable,  inexhauftible, 


1 1 8  Shakefpere. 


ideal.  By  one  of  thofe  fudden  reactions  fo  frequent 
in  impetuous  natures,  he  paffes  at  once  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other,  and  from  having  been  enfnared 
by  a  courtezan,  he  attaches  himfelf  to  a  foul ;  in  de- 
fpair  at  having  been  feduced  by  earthly  paffion,  he 
determines  now  to  love  by  the  intellect  alone." 

But  in  reply  to  this  theory  it  may  be  afked,  Why, 
then,  were  the  fonnets  difplaced  from  their  natural 
order  and  thereby  rendered  unintelligible  ?  They  were 
published  in  1609,  during  the  writer's  life,  and  not, 
like  the  plays,  after  his  death ;  he  could,  therefore, 
have  placed  them  in  their  proper  order. 

The  myftery  is  thus  explained.  Queen  Elizabeth, 
like  Ferdinand  in  "  Love's  Labour's  Loft,"  had  not 
only  determined  herfelf  to  lead  a  iingle  life,  but  had 
forbidden  all  her  courtiers  to  marry,  and  Southampton 
among  the  reft.  He,  however,  yielding  to  the  charms 
of  "la  belle  Miftrefs  Varnon,"  and  to  the  eloquent 
pleadings  of  his  friend,  married,  and  the  confequence 
was  that  he  was  fent,  not  for  his  fuppofed  participation 
in  the  attempt  of  Effex,  but  for  his  difobedience  to  the 
Queen's  command,  to  "contemplate  the  honeymoon 
in  the  Tower  of  London."  The  publifhers  were,  of 
courfe,  afraid  to  publifh  the  fonnets  which  had  been 
the  caufe  of  fuch  dire  evils,  during  the  Queen's  life- 
time ;  and  when  at  laft  they  were  given  to  the  world 


The  Sonnets.  119 


in  the  reign  of  her  fucceffor,  it  was  thought  convenient 
to  difguife  the  name  of  Southampton  under  the 
initials  "  W.  H.,"  and  the  true  purport  of  the  fonnets 
by  deftroying  their  natural  fequence. 

The  ingenuity  of  this  theory  is  undeniable,  and 
Mr.  Francis  Victor  Hugo's  little  book  is  well  worth 
reading ;  but  it  muft,  of  courfe,  remain  a  theory  only ; 
and  the  latter  part,  at  leaft,  relating  to  Elizabeth  and 
her  decree  againft  marriage,  is  fanciful  and  utterly 
without  foundation. 

Amongft  Shakefpere's  early  productions  may  be 
claffed  the  fhort  poems  called  "A  Lover's  Com- 
plaint," and  "  The  Paffionate  Pilgrim."  They  con- 
tain many  pretty  paffages,  and,  in  common  with  his 
other  poems,  are  only  not  fo  much  thought  of  and 
read  becaufe  of  the  overwhelming  fplendour  of  his 
dramatic  works. 

Thefe  feveral  poems  were  but  the  firft  eflays  of 
Shakefpere's  genius,  yet  upon  them  his  fame  refted 
amongft  his  contemporaries  long  after  fome  of  his 
beft  plays  had  been  acted.  In  the  firft  ten  years 
the  "Venus  and  Adonis"  parTed  through  thirteen 
editions,  while  "  Romeo  and  Juliet"  was  only  once 
printed. 

The  fonnet  had  been  introduced  from  Italy,  by  Lord 
Surrey  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt,  in  the  reign  of  Henry 


]  2O  Shakefpere. 


the  Eighth.  In  Italy,  Petrarch  had  invented,  or,  at 
leaft,  brought  it  to  the  higheft  perfection  of  which  it 
is  capable ;  but,  like  caviar  and  olives,  it  is  rather  a 
fort  of  intellectual  relifli  for  thofe  whofe  palates  require 
a  ftimulant,  than  food  fuch  as  ordinary  minds  can  con- 
fume  in  any  quantity.  Sonnets  muft  be  read  and 
mufed  upon  one  at  a  time.  A  fonnet  is  founded  upon 
one  thought  which  permeates  the  complicated  metre, 
and  is  turned  inlide  out  by  the  metaphyiical  ingenuity 
of  the  poet.  So  artificial  a  flructure  can  hardly  exprefs 
ftrong  paffion,  nor  does  it  convey  pleafure  to  any  but 
thofe  who  can  regard  it  as  a  work  of  art,  and  follow 
and  appreciate  the  poet's  ingenuity.  Its  condenfed 
form  always  makes  it  difficult  to  underftand,  and  it 
is  only  educated  minds  which  take  pleafure  in  the 
intellectual  effort  neceffary  for  the  tafk.  The  age  of 
Elizabeth  was  a  metaphyfical  age.  The  old  philo- 
fophy  and  theology  ftill  influenced  men's  minds,  and 
prepared  them  to  look  for  metaphyfics  even  in  poetry. 
And  the  concluiion  that  moft  people  come  to  after 
reading  Shakefpere's  fonnets  is,  that  they  are  poetical 
and  intellectual  exercifes,  not  intended  to  exprefs  the 
Poet's  real  fentiments,  but  merely  to  mow  his  fkill 
in  finding  poetical  thoughts,  and  dreffing  them  up 
in  poetical  language.  They  entitle  him  to  a  place 
among  the  metaphyfical  poets,  Surrey,  Wyatt,  Ben 


The  Sonnets  a  Preparation  for  the  Plays.        121 

Jonfon,  Donne,  and  Cowley,  and,  I  think,  they  place 
him  at  the  head  of  them. 

A  better  preparation  for  the  great  dramatic  works 
which  were  ftill  lying  unhewn  in  Shakefpere's  brain 
could  hardly  have  been  found  than  thefe  hundred  and 
fifty-four  fonnets.  In  maftering  fo  thoroughly  the 
difficulties  of  the  metre  and  of  the  condenfation  of 
thought  and  language  neceffary  in  the  fonnet,  he  muft 
have  acquired  a  facility  of  writing  and  power  over 
words  which  would  make  them  ever  afterwards  his 
flaves,  and  not,  as  is  the  cafe  with  inferior  writers  and 
thinkers,  his  mafters.  And  this  explains  the  fa<ft,  other- 
wife  not  the  leaft  wonderful  of  the  many  wonders  of 
his  genius,  that  he  never  blotted  out  a  word  or  a  line ; 
that  the  "  Hamlet/'  the  "  Macbeth/'  the  "  Lear/' 
which  have  exercifed  the  wits  of  critics  any  time  this 
hundred  years  to  fathom  the  depths  of  their  meaning, 
flowed  fpontaneoufly  from  his  pen,  without  effort  and 
without  hefitation. 

A  paffage  from  Mr.  Francis  Victor  Hugo's  book, 
which  I  have  feen  fince  writing  the  above,  exactly 
expreffes  my  idea: — "  Englifli,  that  obftinate  jargon 
[no  more  a  'jargon  '  than  French,  Mr.  Hugo !],  fo 
unamenable  to  rhyme,  fo  briftling  with  confonants, 
Shakefpere  undertakes  to  throw  into  the  crucible  of 
the  fonnet,  and  to  draw  from  thence  a  language 


i  2  2  Shakefpere. 


warm,  fparkling,  harmonious,  all  chifeled  with  anti- 
thefes  and  conceits,  which  mall  be  the  language  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  of  Othello  and  Defdemona" 

But  the  popularity  of  his  early  poems  was  of  in- 
finite advantage  to  him,  in  giving  him  opportunities  of 
obferving  a  phafe  of  manners  with  which  he  could 
otherwife  fcarcely  have  become  acquainted.  It  is  fome- 
thing  little  fhort  of  miraculous  how  Shakefpere,  the  fon 
of  a  Warwickfhire  yeoman,  who  had  never  even  been  at 
the  Univerlity,  fhould  have  known  how  to  portray  men 
and  women  of  rank,  not  only  in  their  graver  hours,  but 
in  the  eafe  and  abandonment  of  focial  intercourfe.  The 
former  he  might  have  learnt  from  books,  or  from  being 
prefent  at  great  ftate  folemnities,  but  the  latter  he  could 
have  known  only  from  taking  part  in  it.  The  dialogues 
between  Prince  Henry  and  Poyns  and  Faljlaff,  between 
Romeo,  Mercutio,  and  Benvolio,  between  Rofalind,  Celia, 
and  Orlando,  and  between  Beatrice  and  Benedict,  are 
of  the  very  beft  ftyle  of  wellbred  converfation.  It  is 
fufficiently  wonderful  how,  under  any  circumftances, 
he  could  have  fo  accurately  caught  the  tone  of  good 
fociety.  We  fee  daily  how  very  indifferently  even 
clever  novelifts,  who  have  lived  amongft  fafhionable 
people  all  their  lives,  depict  their  manners.  Shake- 
fpere, of  courfe,  could  not  have  attained  this  excellence 
by  fimple  intuition.  He  muft  have  fomewhere  feen  the 


His  Knowledge  of  Good  Society.  123 

original  from  which  he  drew.  I  think  it  is  probable, 
therefore,  that  his  early  poems  were  the  means  of 
introducing  him  to  the  fociety  of  people  of  refinement 
and  high  breeding,  whofe  manners  his  extraordinary 
powers  of  perception  enabled  him  fo  accurately  to 
obferve  and  reproduce.  And  thus,  I  think,  the  poems, 
and  the  fame  they  brought  him,  may  have  combined 
to  prepare  Shakefpere  for  the  great  dramatic  career 
which  his  father's  misfortunes  and  his  own  were  the 
means  of  opening  to  him  in  London. 


1 24  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

SHAKESPERE  was  one  of  thofe  men  who  have  got  a 
great  deal  into  a  fhort  life.  Before  he  had  attained 
the  age  of  thirty  he  had  fown  fome  very  wild  oats 
at  Stratford,  and  got  into  confiderable  trouble ;  he 
had  managed  his  love-making  and  matrimonial  affairs 
in  fuch  a  way  as  not  by  any  means  to  fmooth  his  way 
out  of  his  difficulties ;  he  had  gone  to  London  a  ruined 
man,  with  a  very  flender  education,  and  had  adopted 
the  firft  menial  office  which  promifed  him  bread;  but 
by  the  time  that  he  was  thirty,  he  found  himfelf 
eftablifhed  amongft  the  foremoft  poets  of  a  poetic 
age,  gaining  a  handfome  competence  as  author,  adtor, 
and  fhareholder  in  the  Globe  and  Blackfriars  theatres, 
the  envy  of  his  profligate  and  unhappy  fellow-dra- 
matifts,  like  Green,  and  the  friend  of  men  of  rank  and 
refinement,  like  Southampton. 

But  while  all  thefe  honours  and  emoluments  were 
flowing  in  upon   him   in   London,  he  ftill  confidered 


His  annual  Vifit  to  Stratford.  125 

the  little  village  in  Warwickshire  where  he  was  born 
as  his  real  home.  Aubrey  fays  that  he  "  was  wont  to 
goe  to  his  native  countreye  once  a  yeare ; "  and  there  is 
a  tradition  that  on  thefe  occafions  he  ufed  to  take  up 
his  quarters  at  the  Crown  inn,  near  Carfax,  at  Oxford. 
The  houfe  is  now  divided  into  fhops,  but  retains  much 
of  its  ancient  character.  It  was  kept  by  one  Davenant, 
father  of  Sir  William  Davenant,  the  dramatift,  in  con- 
nection with  whom  a  fcandalous  ftory  was  in  circula- 
tion, after  the  Reftoration,  refpedting  the  Poet ;  but  as 
it  is  grounded  upon  no  tangible  evidence  I  do  not  care 
to  record  it.  At  Stratford  it  is  probable  he  left  his 
wife  and  family  during  his  early  ftruggles,  and  we  may 
fancy  how  refreshing  it  muft  have  been  to  the  country- 
loving  Poet  to  revifit  every  year  the  fcenes  of  his  early 
adventures,  and  to  fee  his  young  family  growing  up, 
while  he  felt  that  he  was  every  year  increaling  his 
means  of  providing  for  them.  A  family  merrymaking, 
at  which  the  Combes,  Hathaways,  Halls,  Ardens,  would 
meet  over  a  bowl  of  lambfwool,  was  in  his  eyes  better 
than  the  wit-combats  at  the  "  Mermaid."  With  what 
delight  muft  he  have  feen  the  Avon  flowing  majefti- 
cally  at  the  foot  of  the  town  by  the  fine  old  church ! 
How  pleafant  muft  have  appeared  to  him  the  glades 
and  groves  of  Charlecote  and  Fulbrooke  after  the 
"  melancholy  of  Houndfditch  ! "  And  how  fweet  muft 


26  Shakefpere. 


have  founded  to  him  the  cry  of  the  hounds  in  the 
woodlands  of  Arden.  Probably  quite  as  fweet  as  the 
plaudits  of  the  theatre. 

Indeed,  one  of  the  moft  curious  traits  of  his  cha- 
racter was  his  love  for  an  unambitious  country  life  in 
his  native  town.  Like  another  of  the  world's  great 
poets,  he  really  might  fay — 

"  Flumina  amem  fylvafque  inglorius." 

He  feems  to  have  looked  upon  his  literary  fame  only 
as  a  means  to  enable  him  to  retire  honourably  to  Strat- 
ford; and  he  was  content  that  to  be  the  author  of 
"  Hamlet/'  "  Lear,"  "  The  Tempeft,"  «  As  You  Like 
It,"  and  the  reft  of  thofe  great  works  which  will  laft 
out  the  Englifh  language,  mould  bring  him  no  higher 
reward  than  might  have  been  gained  by  a  career  of 
fuccefsful  farming  or  trade. 

This  is  a  very  Englifh  feeling.  Horace  Walpole 
was  rather  amamed  of  being  a  literary  man ;  Walter 
Scott  was  much  prouder  of  being  the  Laird  of  Abbots- 
ford  than  the  author  of  "  Waverley ;"  and  I  fancy  that 
Mr.  Anthony  Trollope,  when  got  up  in  his  "  pink " 
and  "  tops,"  and  {landing  by  a  covert  in  the  Rodings 
waiting  for  a  fox  to  be  found,  would  conlider  it  very 
bad  tafte  for  any  one  to  allude  to  "  The  Small  Houfe 
at  Allington."  A  foreigner  cannot  understand  this 


His  Carelejjnefs  of  Fame.  \  27 


feeling.  If,  by  writing  a  clever  feullleton  in  a  paper  he 
has  obtained  the  crofs  of  the  Legion  of  Honour,  he 
will  wear  the  ribbon  in  the  button-hole  of  his  fhooting- 
jacket;  indeed  it  is  not  clear  to  me  that  he  does  not 
wear  it  in  his  night-fhirt.  We,  on  the  contrary,  think 
literature  a  fort  of  occupation  which  rather  unfits  a  man 
for  the  bufinefs  of  the  world,  and  look  upon  a  literary 
man  with  fome  degree  of  fufpicion  and  diftruft ;  and 
moft  Englifhmen  would  rather  derive  an  hereditary 
fortune  from  a  county  magiftrate,  who  had  juft  brains 
enough  to  adjudicate  on  a  poaching  cafe  with  the 
affiftance  of  a  clerk,  than  from  having  written  "  Wa- 
verley,"  or  "  Pickwick." 

In  his  careleffnefs  of  literary  fame,  Shakefpere  was 
true  to  the  national  character.  He  reminds  one  of  thofe 
people  in  Chaucer's  "  Houfe  of  Fame,"  who  cared  not 
for  renown : — 


With  that,  about  I  clewed  mine  head, 

And  faw  anon  the  fifth  rout, 

That  to  this  lady  [Fame]  gan  to  lout, 

And  down  on  knees  anon  to  fall; 

And  to  her  then  befoughten  all 

To  hiden  their  good  workes  eke, 

And  faid  they  would  not  give  a  leek 

For  no  fame,  nor  for  fuch  renown. 

*  *  *  *  ..•» 

'  What  ?'  quoth  me,  '  and  be  ye  wood  ?  [mad] 

And  ween  ye  for  to  doen  good, 


ia8  Shakefpere. 


And  for  to  have  of  that  no  fame  I 
Have  ye  defpite  to  have  my  name  ? 
Nay,  ye  (hall  lyen  every  one  1 
Blow  up  thy  trump,  and  that  anon/ 
Quoth  Hie,  '  thou  Eolus  yhote, 

[Thou  who  art  called  Eolus] 
And  ring  thefe  folkes  works  by  note. 
That  all  the  world  may  of  it  hear.'  " 

We  fhould    have    expected  that  Shakefpere  would 
have  fettled  in  London,  to  be  near  his  great  friends,  to 
mix  with  the  wits,  and  take  his  accuftomed  chair  in 
the  evening  at  fome  club  of  chofen  ipirits,  like  Dryden, 
Addifon,  and    Johnfon,    and   pronounce,  ex  cathedra, 
upon  the  merits   of  the  lateft  play.     But  inftead  of 
this,   the  firftfruits   of  his   prosperity  are  feen  in   his 
endeavour  to  eftablim  himfelf  in  a  good  pofition  in  his 
native    town.     In  1597  his  parents,  John  and  Mary 
Shakefpere,  filed  a  bill  in  Chancery  for  the  recovery  of 
the  eftate  of  Afhbies,  which  they  had  mortgaged,  and 
of  which  the  mortgage  was  alleged  to  have  been  fore- 
clofed.     Now,  a  Chancery  fuit  is  not  a  cheap  luxury, 
and   it   is  not  likely  that  John  Shakefpere,   the  poor 
bankrupt  of  a  few  years  back,  mould  fo  foon  have 
retrieved   his   affairs  as  to   be  able   to  indulge   in   it. 
There  was   then   no   Commiflioner  of  Bankrupts   to 
wipe  out  an  unlucky  tradefman's  liabilities,  and  enable 
him  to  ftart  afrefh  and  make  a  fortune  as  if  nothing 
had    happened.     The    renowned    cafe    of    "  Bardwell 


Grant  of  Arms  to  his  Father.  129 

againft  Pickwick"  had  not  yet  been  publiflied  to  the 
world,  and  debtors,  once  in  prifon,  were  there  till  death 
releafed  them.  To  Shakefpere  himfelf,  then,  we  muft 
attribute  this  attempt  to  refcue  his  mother's  patrimony 
from  the  mortgageor.  It  was  the  proceeds  of  the  fale 
of  the  poems,  and  fuch  plays  as  he  had  then  written, 
and  the  profits  of  the  Globe  and  Blackfriars,  that  went 
to  fee  the  Chancery  lawyers  for  their  unfuccefsful 
attempt  to  keep  Ambies  in  the  family. 

To  the  fame  defire  to  affume  a  pofition  among  the 
gentlemen  of  his  county  may  be  affigned  his  father's 
application  to  the  Heralds'  Office  about  the  fame  time 
for  a  grant  of  arms ;  this,  however,  was  not  iffued  till 
1599.  It  recites  that  John  Shakefpere's  "parent, 
great-grandfather,  and  late  anteceflbr,  for  his  faithful 
and  approved  fervice  to  the  late  moft  prudent  prince, 
King  Henry  the  Seventh,  of  famous  memorie,  was 
advaunced  and  rewarded  with  lands  and  tenements, 
given  to  him  in  thofe  parts  of  Warwickshire  where 
they  have  continewed  by  fome  defcents  in  good  repu- 
tation and  credit ;  and  for  that  the  faid  John  Shak- 
ipeare  having  marryed  the  daughter  and  one  of  the 
heyrs  of  Robert  Arden,  of  Wellingcote,  in  the  faid 
countie,  and  alfo  produced  this  his  auncient  cote-of- 
arms,  heretobefore  affigned  to  him  whileft  he  was  her 
Majeftie's  officer  and  baylefe  of  that  towne :  in  con- 


130  Shakefpere. 


lideration  of  the  premifles  and  for  the  encouragement 
of  his  pofteritie,  unto  whome  fuch  blazon  of  arms  and 
achievements  of  inheritance  from  theyre  faid  mother 
by  the  auncyent  cuftom  and  laws  of  arms  maye  law- 
fully defend :  we  the  faid  Garter  and  Clarencieulx  have 
afligned,  graunted,  and  by  thefe  prefents  exemplefied 
unto  the  faid  John  Shakfpeare,  and  to  his  pofteritie, 
that  fhield  and  cote-of-arms,  viz.,  In  a  field  of  gould 
upon  a  bend,  fables,  a  fpeare  of  the  firft,  the  poynt 
upward,  hedded  argent ;  and  for  his  creft  or  cognizance, 
A  falcon  with  his  wings  defplayed,  ftanding  on  a  wrethe 
of  his  coullers,  fupporting  a  fpeare  armed,  hedded,  or 
fteeled,  filver,  fixed  upon  a  helmet  with  mantell  and 
taffels,  &c." 

In  the  original  draft  of  the  grant  by  De thick,  and 
in  feveral  other  documents,  I  find  the  name  fpelt 
"  Shakefpere,"  which  fpelling  I  follow  for  the  following 
reafons — the  College  of  Arms  is  the  beft  authority 
in  the  matter  of  names ;  the  name  is  an  old  one  in 
Warwickfhire,  and  the  correct  fpelling  of  the  two 
words  of  which  it  is  compofed  is  "make"  and  "fpere." 
In  the  reign  of  Elizabeth  an  "  a  "  was  introduced  into 
fuch  words  as  were  originally  fpelt  with  an  "  e  "  alone 
— as  fpear,  head,  ftead,  mead,  fear;  for  fpere,  hede, 
ftede,  mede,  fere — to  the  great  detriment  of  the  lan- 
guage ;  and  in  the  name  Shakefpere  I  fee  no  reafon  to 


Pur  chafe  of  New  Place.  131 


adopt  it.  The  name  is  fpelt  in  numerous  different 
ways  even  by  Shakefpere  himfelf,  and  I  adopt  that 
which  was  the  mode  of  fpelling  it  when  it  was  firft 
adopted  by  his  anceftors. 

In  1597  tne  wifhed-for  opportunity  of  fecuring  a 
place  of  retirement  in  his  native  town  occurred.  New 
Place,  the  beft  houfe  in  Stratford,  was  for  fale,  and 
Shakefpere  bought  it  for  the  fum  of  fixty  pounds.  It 
had  been  built  in  the  reign  of  Henry  the  Seventh  by 
the  magnificent  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  the  builder  of  the 
bridge  and  reflorer  of  the  chapel,  dire&ly  oppofite  to 
which  it  flood.  It  is  thus  defcribed  by  Dugdale : — 
"  On  the  north  fide  of  this  chapel  was  a  fair  houfe, 
built  of  brick  and  timber  by  the  faid  Sir  Hugh, 
wherein  he  lived  in  his  latter  days  and  died."  Sir 
Hugh  bequeathed  it  to  William  Clopton,  of  Clopton, 
from  whom  it  pafTed  to  William  Bott.  Its  next  pof- 
feffor  was  William  Underbill,  of  Eatington  and  Idli- 
cote,  from  whom-  Shakefpere  bought  it  in  Eafter 
term,  1597.  In  the  conveyance  it  is  defcribed  in  the 
comical  dog-Latin  of  the  law,  to  confift  "  de  uno 
mefuagio,  duobus  horreis,  duobus  gardinis  cum  per- 
tinentiis  "  (of  one  meffuage,  two  barns,  and  two  gar- 
dens, with  their  appurtenances).  There  is  no  draw- 
ing of  it  extant,  for  the  pretended  one  publifhed  by 
Malone  is  a  palpable  forgery.  That  it  was  a  com- 


132  Shakefpere. 


fortable,  and  even  ftately  refidence,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  faft  that  it  was  built  by  Sir  Hugh  Clopton, 
that  it  was  the  beft  houfe  in  the  town,  and  that  when 
Queen  Henrietta  Maria  afterwards  fojourned  for  a 
while  at  Stratford,  me  took  up  her  abode  there.  On 
Shakefpere's  death,  in  default  of  heirs  male  of  his 
daughters,  Sufanna  and  Judith,  it  defcended  to  his 
right  heirs,  that  is  to  fay,  to  the  daughter  of  Sufanna 
Hall,  married  to  Thomas  Nam,  and  afterwards  to 
Sir  John  Barnard.  She  died  without  iflue,  and  New 
Place  was  fold  to  Sir  Hugh  Clopton,  a  defcendant  of 
the  original  builder,  who  almoft  entirely  pulled  it  down 
and  rebuilt  it.  After  Sir  Hugh's  death  his  houfe  was 
fold  to  the  Rev.  Francis  Gaftrell.  This  gentleman, 
who  was  married  to  a  friend  and  correfpondent  of 
Dr.  Johnfon,  confidering  that  it  was  rated  too  highly 
to  the  relief  of  the  poor,  pulled  down  the  houfe  in  1 757, 
having  firft  cut  down  a  fine  mulberry-tree  which  was 
faid  to  have  been  planted  by  Shakefpere's  own  hands 
in  the  gardens.  The  caufe  alleged  for  this  felfim  act 
was,  that  the  reverend  gentleman,  who  appears  to  have 
been  an  epicure,  and  fond  of  his  eafe,  was  annoyed  by 
the  flux  of  company  who  came  to  vifit  the  interefting 
relic.  Upon  the  old  foundations  was  built  a  modern 
houfe,  which,  having  been  purchafed  for  the  public 
within  the  laft  few  years,  was  pulled  down,  in  the 


Remains  of  New  Place.  133 


hope  that  fome  remains  of  that  in  which  Shakefpere 
lived  might  be  difcovered. 

When  I  vifited  it,  it  prefented  a  moft  forlorn  and 
miferable  appearance.  Nothing  was  to  be  feen  but  a 
newly-made  garden,  and  the  rubbifh  and  foundations 
of  a  houfe.  The  only  parts  remaining  of  the  original 
building  in  which  Shakefpere  lived  are  the  ftone  foun- 
dations of  the  main  wall,  abutting  on  Chapel  Lane, 
a  portion  of  the  porch  wall,  and  a  well,  from  which 
were  taken  a  candleflick,  knife,  tobacco-pipes,  tiles, 
glafs,  and  fome  pieces  of  iron.  The  further  fide  of  the 
plot  of  ground  is  bounded  by  a  fhed,  which  is  digni- 
fied by  the  name  of  "  The  Theatre."  Had  the  old 
houfe,  where  Shakefpere  ipent  the  laft  years  of  his  life 
in  eafe  and  opulence,  furrounded  by  his  family,  and 
where  fome  of  his  greateft  works  were  written,  re- 
mained, it  would  really  have  been  a  relic  of  intereft  ; 
but  the  place  has  been  thoroughly  and  effectually 
denuded  of  everything  upon  which  it  is  poffible  to  fix 
any  affociation  with  Shakefpere.  The  little  piece  of 
ftone  wall  which  formed  the  foundation  of  the  houfe 
tells  no  intelligible  tale  of  the  illuftrious  inhabitant. 
Still  there  at  leaft  is  the  ground  upon  which  he  walked, 
and  the  garden  which  he  probably  took  pleafure  in 
cultivating,  and  it  is  well  to  keep  up  our  veneration 
for  genius  by  refpect  for  the  place  confecrated  by  being 


134  Shakefpere. 


the  fcene  offome  of  its  happieft  creations.  "  Far  from 
me  and  from  my  friends,"  fays  Dr.  Johnfon,  "  be  fuch 
frigid  philofophy  as  may  conducl:  us  indifFerent  and 
unmoved  over  any  ground  which  has  been  dignified 
by  wifdom,  bravery,  or  virtue.  That  man  is  little  to 
be  envied  whofe  patriotifm  would  not  gain  force  upon 
the  plain  of  Marathon,  or  whofe  piety  would  not 
grow  warmer  among  the  ruins  of  lona;"  or,  we  may 
add,  whofe  veneration  for  genius  would  not  grow 
deeper  among  the  remains  of  Shakefpere's  home. 

Mr.  Edwards'  photograph  gives  the  little  bit  of  the 
foundation  of  the  porch  and  the  boundary  wall, 
with  the  theatre  in  the  background.  The  reader 
will  fee  that  it  is  a  fcene  of  moft  admired  dif- 
order,  and  what  fhape  it  will  ultimately  aflume  I 
know  not. 

The  mulberry- tree,  cut  down  by  Mr.  Gaftrell  and 
his  wife,  was  fold  for  fire-wood,  and  bought  by  a 
Mr.  Thomas  Sharp,  a  watch-maker  in  the  town,  who 
cut  it  up  and  made  it  into  various  little  knick-knacks, 
which  were  greedily  purchafed  by  admirers  .of  the 
Poet.  Mifs  Burdett  Coutts  pofferTes  a  chair  made  of 
it,  with  a  medallion  in  the  back,  carved  by  Hogarth  ; 
and  the  cup  from  which  Garrick  drank  when  he  fang 
the  foolifh  fong  compofed  for  the  Shakefpere  jubilee, 
was  alfo  made  of  it.  Mr.  W.  O.  Hunt,  the  donor  of 


/V07V 


(THE  HOUSE  IN  WHICH  SHAKESPERL   DIED.) 


Fate  of  his  Mulberry-tree.  135 


the  portrait  now  to  be  feen  in  the  houfe  in  Henley 
Street,  has  a  table  made  of  the  fame  wood. 

The  veneration  paid  to  thefe  trifling  remains  (hows 
how  naturally  we  afibciate  the  work  of  art  with  the 
artift.  The  plays  would  have  the  fame  excellence  by 
whomfoever  they  might  have  been  written.  There  is 
no  intrinfic  connection  between  them  and  the  man 
William  Shakefpere.  He  has  been  long  dead,  and 
they  remain  a  poffeffion  for  ever.  But  the  mind 
refufes  to  view  things  from  this  abftract  and  cold  point 
of  view.  It  infifts  upon  tracing  the  work  to  the 
workman,  and  connefts  by  fome  wayward  and  irra- 
tional, but  ftill  natural  procefs,  "  Lear,"  "  Hamlet/' 
and  the  reft  of  thofe  wondrous  poems,  with  a  cup  or 
a  fnuff-box  made  of  a  piece  of  mulberry-tree  ! 


136  Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER   X. 

COCKNEYISM  is  one  of  the  old  inftitutions  of  the 
country  which  railroads  have  done  much  to  modify. 
There  was  a  time  when  barrifters  and  attorneys  ufed 
to  live  all  the  year  round,  to  eat,  drink,  fleep,  and  keep 
their  carriages,  in  the  gloomy  ftreets  near  the  Old 
Bailey  and  Weftminfter  Hall.  Indeed,  perfons  now 
alive  can  recollect  an  eminent  civilian  who  had  a  hand- 
fome  houfe  and  eftablifhment  in  Doctors'  Commons, 
and  never  thought  of  leaving  it.  Publifhers  not  only 
had  their  warehoufes,  but  lived  in  Paternofter  Row ; 
tradefmen  in  Cheapfide,  winter  and  fummer.  Grub 
Street  was  the  chofen  abode  of  authors.  Johnfon  lived 
in  Bolt  Court,  and  thought  the  view  down  Fleet  Street 
the  fineft  profpect  in  England.  The  country  was  con- 
fidered  a  fort  of  wildernefs,  and  a  chance  vifit  to  fome 
remote  county  was  fufficient  occafion  for  writing  a 
book  about  fhepherds  and  mepherdefles.  London  was 
the  centre  of  intelligence,  and  he  who  was  not  up  to 


Social  Effeffis  of  Railroads.  i  37 

all  its  ways — who  did  not  know  the  fafhionable  taverns, 
and  could  not  call  the  waiters  at  them  by  their  Chrif- 
tian  names — was  called  a  gull  and  a  ninny. 

Railroads  have  changed  all  this.  Lawyers,  bankers, 
tradefmen,  and  innkeepers,  and  even  publifhers  and  au- 
thors, now  live  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  miles  from  town, 
in  a  country  houfe  with  a  demefne  arid  farm  attached 
to  it,  where  they  fpend,  upon  growing  grapes  and  pines, 
turnips  and  mangold  wurtzel,  prize  beef  and  mutton, 
pheafants  and  partridges,  the  money  which  has  been 
fpun  from  their  brains,  or  abftracted  from  their  clients' 
or  cuftomers'  pockets  in  a  gloomy  den  in  the  City.  A 
friend  and  neighbour  of  mine,  an  eminent  lawyer,  who 
is  no  lefs  remarkable  for  his  legal  acumen  than  for  his 
fkill  as  a  fportfman,  and  who  in  the  very  whirlwind 
of  his  practice  has  always  given  two  days  a-week  to 
(hooting  or  fiihing,  was  complaining  one  day  to  the 
farmer  who  fupplied  him  with  corn  for  his  pheafants, 
of  the  quantity  of  barley  which  appeared  againft  him 
in  his  bill.  "  Ah  ! "  fays  Hodge,  "  you  don't  mind  a 
quarter  or  two  o'  barley  more  or  lefs  in  a  half-year ! 
Tou'll  make  it  all  right  when  you  git  a  robbin'  on  'em 
up  in  Lonon  ! "  And  Hodge  was  right.  You  pafs  an 
exquiiitely  kept  place  which  puts  the  old  fquire's  quite 
to  the  blufh,  and  you  are  told  that  it  belongs  to  the 
grocer  in  Piccadilly  where  you  got  a  jar  of  ginger  the 


138  Shakefpere. 


day  before.  You  fee  a  man  perfectly  got  up  in  pink  and 
leathers  and  tops,  fplendidly  mounted  and  followed  by 
a  groom  on  his  fecond  horfe,  and  what  is  more,  riding 
well  to  hounds ;  all  this  is  derived  from  the  calico  ware- 
houfe  in  Cheapiide,  or  from  the  magazine  of  "  leading 
articles  "  in  Printing  Houfe  Square.  A  pack  of  harriers 
dafh  acrofs  the  road  followed  by  a  gentleman  in  green ; 
this  gallant  iportfman  is  the  eminent  publifher  who 
thus  learns  whether  to  accept  or  refufe  the  MS.  of 
Mr.  St.  Hubert's  fporting  novel.  And  to  go  a  ftep 
lower  in  the  focial  fcale — whofe  is  this  neat  little  villa 
with  its  fmall  coach-houfe  and  ftable,  and  little  paddock 
in  which  grazes  a  pretty  Alderney  cow?  That  is 
Mr.  Whiff's,  the  tobacconift,  in  the  Strand.  All  this 
is  the  falutary  effect  of  railroads,  which  enable  men  of 
bufmefs  to  fleep  in  the  pure  air  of  the  country,  and  be 
at  their  mops  or  offices  by  bufinefs  hours  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  which  gives  them  healthful  and  civilifing  amufe- 
ments  for  their  leifure  hours,  and  infures  health  and 
vigour  to  their  children.  I  don't  mean  to  fay  that  this 
double  life  wholly  eradicates  the  inftincts,  language, 
and  manners,  which  ufed  to  mark  the  dwellers  within 
the  found  of  Bow-bells,  or  that  the  profufe  magnifi- 
cence of  a  Londoner's  eftablifhment  in  the  country  is 
as  pleaiing  as  the  fimpler  ftyle  of  the  old  fquire's — 
that  would  be  too  much  to  expecT: ;  but  ftill  the  more 


His  Town  and  Country  Life.  139 

falient  angles  of  Cockneyifm  have  been  rubbed  off; 
and  what  is  more,  thofe  whofe  taftes  and  habits  lead 
them  to  prefer  a  country  life  can  now,  by  means  of  the 
railroad,  participate  in  fome  degree  in  the  pecuniary 
advantages  of  the  great  market,  where  a  purchafer  may 
be  found  for  any  article,  whether  manufactured  by  the 
hands  or  created  by  the  brain. 

Shakefpere  lived  before  Watt  had  invented  the  fteam- 
engine,  or  Stephenfon  had  applied  it  to  locomotion  ; 
but  he  anticipated  in  fome  degree  the  dual  life  which 
it  enables  us  now  to  lead.  London  was  never  his  real 
home — Stratford  was  the  home  of  his  mind.  In  the 
very  hey-day  of  his  fame  and  profperity  the  little  vil- 
lage on  the  Avon,  with  its  fimple  fociety  of  country 
fquires  and  yeomen,  its  farming  and  field  fports,  was 
the  object  towards  which  his  life  pointed ;  and  to  this, 
I  think,  we  owe  the  healthy  tone  of  his  great  dramatic 
poems  and  their  variety  of  intereft.  Compare  them 
with  the  plays  of  Jonfon,  Greene,  Peek,  and  Marlowe, 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Dryden,  Wycherley,  and  Con- 
greve,  and  one  of  the  marks  by  which  they  are  diftin- 
guifhed,  and  their  chiefeft  charm,  will  be  found  to  be 
the  fuperior  reality  of  the  pictures  of  country  life  and 
character  which  they  prefent.  The  town  fupplies 
but  few  phafes  of  chara&er ;  but  Shakefpere  had  the 
whole  range  at  his  command.  While  mixing  in  all 


1 40  Shakefpere. 


the  humours  of  the  court  and  city,  his  yearly  vifits  to 
his  native  village  kept  his  mind  frem  and  fweet,  and 
enabled  it  to  work  amidft  the  reek  of  the  theatres  and 
taverns  of  the  city  without  being  tainted  or  enfeebled. 

As  a  pilgrim  to  Stratford,  I  ought,  perhaps,  to  con- 
fine myfelf  entirely  to  his  doings  in  his  country  home  ; 
but,  I  think,  we  can  hardly  judge  what  manner  of  man 
he  was  without  a  glance  at  the  other  life  he  led  in 
London. 

In  the  firft  place  it  was  a  life  of  labour.  We  have 
feen  that  before  1598  he  had  written  his  poems,  and 
either  retouched  or  written  fifteen  or  fixteen  plays, 
amongft  which  are  fome  of  his  beft,  fuch  as  "  The 
Merchant  of  Venice,"  "A  Midfummer  Night's  Dream," 
"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  and  "  Henry  the  Fourth," 
Part  I.  It  is  impoffible,  after  this,  to  determine 
exadtly  the  year  in  which  each  play  was  produced, 
but  from  internal  and  external  evidence,  Malone,  Mr. 
Halliwell,  Mr.  Dyce,  and  others,  have  arrived  at  an 
approximation  to  it.  They  all  agree  generally  to  attri- 
bute to  the  year  1599,  "Much  Ado  about  Nothing" 
and  "Henry  the  Fifth  ;"  to  1600,  "As  You  Like  It  " 
and  "The  Moor  of  Venice;"  to  1601,  "The  Merry 
Wives  of  Windfor  "  and  "  King  Henry  the  Eighth ;" 
to  1602,  "  Twelfth  Night "  and  "  Hamlet ;"  to  1603, 
"  Meafure  for  Meafure  "  and  "Julius  Casfar  ;"  to  1605, 


Sources  from  which  he  obtained  his  Plots.       141 

"Lear"  and  "Macbeth;"  to  1607  and  1608,  "An- 
thony and  Cleopatra "  and  "  Troilus  and  Creffida ;" 
to  1609,  "  Cymbeline ;"  to  1 6 1  o,  "  Coriolanus  "  and 
"Timon  of  Athens ;"  to  1611,  "  A  Winter's  Tale  " 
and  "  The  Tempeft,"  the  moft  perfect  as  a  work  of  art 
of  all  his  dramatic  poems.  Like  Profpero,  he  is  fup- 
pofed,  with  this  crowning  exercife  of  his  magic  power,  to 
have  laid  by  his  conjuring  robe  and  wand.  Within  the 
fpace  of  nineteen  years,  therefore,  he  muft  have  written 
thirty-one  plays  at  leaft,  befides  retouching  others,  fuch 
as  "  Pericles,"  "  Titus  Andronicus,"  and  the  three  parts 
of  "  Henry  the  Sixth,"  and  taking  part  in  the  general 
theatrical  bufinefs  of  the  Globe  and  the  theatre  at  the 
Blackfriars. 

It  is  curious  to  obferve  what  a  deep  abyfs  of  igno- 
rance lies  beneath  the  knowledge  which  is  now-a-days 
ipread  over  fo  large  a  furface.  It  reminds  one  of  thofe 
beautifully  green  Ipots  of  herbage  which  appear  to 
offer  fafe  footing  on  the  banks  of  a  fluggifh  ftream,  but 
as  foon  as  your  horfe  treads  upon  them  the  upper  cruft 
of  verdure  gives  way,  and  you  find  yourfelf  plunging 
helpleffly  up  to  the  girths  in  black  mud.  Of  the  many 
people  who  talk  of  Shakefpere,  how  many  have  read 
all  his  plays  ?  Of  the  feleft  few  who  have  read  his 
plays,  how  many  have  tried  to  form  a  conception  of 
the  mode  of  their  conftrudlion  ?  And  yet  what  a  lazy, 


142  Shake f per  e. 


incurious  mind  inuft  that  be  which  can  go  on  contem- 
plating a  phenomenon  which  is  almoft  miraculous, 
and  never  feeking  to  penetrate  the  myftery !  It  is  as 
if  a  man  were  daily  to  fee  the  bones  and  tufks  of  the 
maftodon  and  the  ichthyofaurus,  the  ftems  of  giant 
ferns,  and  the  fhells  of  unknown  mollufcs,  thrown  up 
by  the  pick  of  the  quarryman,  and  mould  never  inquire 
how  the  earth  was  made.  I  muft  confefs,  with  fhame, 
that  long  after  I  had  learned  to  read  Shakefpere  with 
fome  degree  of  difcrimination,  and  to,  appreciate  his 
fuperiority  to  any  other  dramatic  poet  I  had  read,  I 
was  content  to  accept  the  fad:  that  the  plays  had  been 
written  by  an  uneducated  man  in  the  reign  of  Queen 
Elizabeth,  without  further  inquiry.  As  far  as  I  thought 
about  the  matter,  I  believed  that  he  had  produced  the 
whole  thing,  plots  and  all,  by  a  fort  of  plenary  inipira- 
tion,  or  by  the  help  of  a  meflenger  from  above,  like 
Numa's  Egeria,  or  Mahomet's  pigeon.  And  I  fuppofe 
a  great  many  of  thofe  who  really  more  or  lefs  enjoy 
fuch  plays  as  "  The  Temper!,' '  and  "  A  Midfummer 
Night's  Dream,"  and  "As  You  Like  It,"  are  in  the 
fame  ftate  of  happy  ignorance.  Shakefpere's  genius 
can  hardly  be  overrated,  but  yet  it  was  not  equal  to  fuch 
a  ftupendous  effort  as  this. 

There  is  fcarcely  one  of  the  plays  of  which  the  plot 
may  not  be  traced  to  fome  previous  writer.     But  is 


Sources  from  'which  he  obtained  his  Plots.      -143 

Shakefpere  to  be  accufed  of  plagiarifm  or  want  of 
invention  for  this?  Certainly  not.  The  objeft  of 
a  play  is  not  to  tell  a  ftory,  but  to  fhow  men  and 
women  adKng  under  the  influence  of  ftrong  paffion. 
And,  therefore,  Horace,  in  the  Epiftle  to  the  Pifos, 
de  arte  poetica,  properly  advifes  authors  to  choofe 
fome  fable  well  known  to  the  audience,  fo  that 
he  may  take  them  with  him  at  once  into  the  very 
midft  of  the  adlion.  It  detracts  nothing  from  the 
merits  of  the  hiftorical  plays  that  the  incidents  are 
taken  bodily  from  North's  "  Plutarch,"  Holinfhed, 
or  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth;  becaufe  it  is  not  the 
proper  buiinefs  of  the  dramatift  to  invent  plots,  but 
rather  to  reprefent  character  in  action.  Geoffrey  may 
tell  us  that  Lear  went  mad,  but  who  but  Shakefpere 
could  have  imagined  the  fcene  in  the  hut  where  the 
old  king  arraigns  Goneril  and  Regan,  while  the  Fool 
heightens  the  reality  and  the  pathos  of  the  circum- 
ftance  by  his  comments,  and  Edgar  enhances  the  difmal 
horror  of  it  by  his  fnatches  of  "  Tom  o'  Bedlam  " 
fongs?  Holinfhed  may  tell  how  Harry,  Prince  of 
Wales,  forgot  his  ftation  for  a  time  to  haunt  taverns 
with  loofe  companions ;  but  it  was  referved  for  Shake- 
fpere to  imagine  the  wit  and  fun  which  tempted  him 
to  leave  his  fphere.  Nor  even  in  the  romantic  plays 
was  the  dramatift  bound  to  invent  his  own  plots,  when 


1 44  Shakefpere. 


he  could  find  them  ready  made  in  Boccaccio's  "  Deca- 
meron." The  Italian  novelift  relates  the  incidents  fo 
terfely  that  they  have  almoft  the  air  of  being  the 
arguments  of  a  poem.  They  are  the  very  fkeletons 
which  Shakefpere,  and  before  him  Chaucer,  clothed 
with  flefh  and  blood.  Sir  Edward  Bulwer  Lytton's 
"  Eugene  Aram  "  is  not  the  lefs  an  original  novel  for 
being  founded  on  fact,  nor  is  Mr.  Dickens's  "  Oliver 
Twift,"  becaufe  he  had  probably  learned  many  of  the 
incidents  at  the  police  courts. 

Such  has  been  the  induftry  of  Shakefperian  critics 
that  the  plots  of  almoft  all  the  plays  have  been  traced 
to  their  fources.  To  take  them  in  the  approximate 
order  of  their  compofition  rather  than  in  that  in  which 
they  were  printed  in  the  firft  complete  edition,  which 
is  the  folio  of  1623,  and  which  is  followed  in  modern 
editions — the  three  parts  of  "  Henry  the  Sixth  "  can 
fcarcely  be  called  Shakefpere's.  They  are,  in  fact,  Mar- 
lowe's plays,  retouched  by  him.  The  "  Comedy  of 
Errors  "  was  probably  taken  from  a  play  founded  on  the 
"Menaschmi"  of  Plautus,  afted  before  Queen  Eliza- 
beth, at  Hampton  Court,  on  New  Year's  Day,  at  night, 
"  by  the  children  of  Pawles,"  that  is,  the  choir  boys. 
The  ftory  of  "  Love's  Labour  's  Loft  "  has  been  traced 
by  Mr.  Dyce  to  an  incident  related  in  Monftrelet's 
"  Chronicle."  The  incident  of  the  cafkets  in  "  The 


Sources  from  which  he  obtained  his  Plots.       145 

Merchant  of  Venice  "  is  found  in  Gower's  "  Confeffio 
Amantis,"  and  that  relating  to  the  Jew  in  the  "  Gefta 
Romanorum,"  as  alfo  in  a  ballad  publifhed  by  Percy. 
For  the  incidents  of  "  Richard  the  Second,"  Shakefpere 
was  indebted  to  an  older  play  or  to  the  Chronicles. 
The  "  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  "  is  founded  on  an 
older  play  called  "  The  Hiftory  of  Felix  and  Philif- 
mena,"  played  before  Queen  Elizabeth  in  1584.  "A 
Midfummer  Night's  Dream  "  appears  to  be  one  of  the 
moft  original  of  the  plays.  The  plot  is  found  in  no 
previous  work  as  yet  difcovered,  but  the  materials  for 
the  feparate  parts  may  have  been  derived  by  Shake- 
fpere from  North's  "  Plutarch"  and  Ovid's  "  Metamor- 
phofes."  Oberon,  Titania,  Puck,  and  the  other  ouphes, 
are  the  genuine  growth  of  the  popular  Englim  ima- 
gination, and  Shakefpere  probably  drew  his  conception 
of  them  from  the  tales  he  had  heard  by  the  firefide 
on  winter  evenings  in  the  farmhoufes  of  Warwick- 
mire.  "  The  Taming  of  a  Shrew  "  is  a  recaft  of  a 
play  "  at  fundry  times  a£led  by  the  Right  Honorable 
the  Earle  of  Pembrook  his  fervants."  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet "  is  "  The  Tragicall  Hiftorye  of  Romeus  and 
Juliet,  written  firft  in  Italian  by  Bandell,  and  now  in 
Englifh  by  ArthurBrooke"  ( J562),dramatifed.  "Henry 
the  Fourth,"  Parts  I  and  II.,  and  "  Henry  the  Fifth," 
are  founded  upon  older  plays.  Sir  Jo/in  Falftaff,  in 


1 46  Shake fpere. 


Shakefpere's  firft  draught  called  Sir  John  Oldcaftle,  is, 
of  courfe,  the  undivided  property  of  the  great  mafter. 
He  was  no  doubt  as  great  a  favourite  of  Shakefpere's 
as  Sir  Roger  de  Coverley  was  of  Addifon's.  Shakefpere 
cannot  part  with  him.  He  takes  him  through  the 
two  parts  of  "  Henry  the  Fourth,"  "  Henry  the  Fifth," 
and  "The  Merry  Wives  of  Windfor,"  and  is  careful 
to  make  his  death  as  unexpedledy  tragical  as  the  nature 
of  the  cafe  would  admit.  He  knew  that  the  foil 
which  could  throw  up  fuch  a  luxuriant  crop  of  wit 
muft  have  been  deep  and  rich  by  nature.  The  tattle 
of  Quickly  and  the  Page,  as  they  tell  the  ghaftly  ftory 
of  his  deathbed,  gives  us  a  glimpfe  of  the  ftruggle 
between  Falftaff's  better  nature  and  early  recollections, 
and  his  long  habits  of  debauchery.  This  was  a  touch 
of  nature  which  none  but  the  mafter  could  throw  in. 
"  Richard  the  Third  "  is  founded  upon  hiftory  alone, 
though  there  was  a  former  play  on  the  fame  fubjecl:. 
"All's  Well  that  Ends  Well"  is  from  the  "Deca- 
meron "  of  Boccaccio,  and  is,  indeed,  thoroughly  Italian 
in  its  plot.  "  King  John  "  is  founded  upon  an  earlier 
anonymous  play.  "  Much  Ado  about  Nothing  "  is 
founded  remotely  on  a  ftory  in  Bandello.  The  general 
plot  of  "As  You  Like  It"  is  to  be  found  in  "  The  Cokes 
Tale  of  Gamelyn,"  generally  included  in  Chaucer's 
Canterbury  Tales,  but  not,  I  think,  written  by  Chaucer. 


Sources  from  which  he  obtained  his  Plots.       \  47 

"  The  Moor  of  Venice  "  is  from  a  ftory  in  Cinthio's 
"  Heccatommithi."  The  ftories  of  "  Hamlet,"  "  Lear/' 
and  "  Macbeth,"  were  popular  in  chronicles  and  hif- 
tories  in  Shakefpere's  time.  "Julius  Casfar,"  "An- 
thony and  Cleopatra,"  and  "  Coriolanus,"  are  taken 
from  North's  "  Plutarch."  The  original  of  "  Timon 
of  Athens "  is  in  Lucian,  but  the  ftory  of  the  Mifan- 
thrope  was  current  in  the  iixteenth  century.  Shake- 
fpere  might  have  got  all  the  incidents  of  "  Troilus  and 
Creffida"  from  Chaucer's  exquifite  love-ftory,  itfelf  a 
recaft  of  Boccaccio's  "  Filoftrato,"  but  he  has  given  a 
totally  different  reading  of  the  characters.  I  fuppofe  I 
mall  be  accufed  of  rank  herefy,  but  I  muft  acknow- 
ledge that  I  prefer  Chaucer's  poem  to  Shakefpere's 
play.  The  play  is  to  me  the  only  unpleafing  one  of 
Shakefpere's ;  the  poem  is  one  of  the  moft  elaborately 
beautiful  in  the  Englifh,  or  indeed  in  any,  language, 
and  far  fuperior  to  Boccaccio's.  The  remote  original 
of  "  Cymbeline  "  is  a  very  ancient  romance,  publifhed 
by  M.  Francifque  Michel  in  his  "  Theatre  FranQais  du 
Moyen-Age,"  from  which  is  taken  the  "Roman  de 
Violette ;"  but  whether  Shakefpere  borrowed  his  plot 
from  either  of  thefe,  or  from  fome  Englifh  tranflation, 
I  cannot  tell.  The  ftory  was  extant,  at  any  rate,  long 
before  his  time.  "  A  Winter's  Tale "  is  dramatifed 
from  Greene's  novel,  called  "  Pandofto ;"  but  as  yet  no 


148  Shakefpere. 


original  has  been  found  for  Shakefpere's  moft  perfect 
and  fmifhed  work,  "  The  Tempeft."  Defert  iflands, 
magicians,  fpirits  of  air  and  water,  damfejs  who  had 
never  feen  a  man,  abound  in  the  literature  of  romance ; 
but  I  am  glad  to  believe  that  Shakefpere  is  indebted 
to  no  one  for  the  exquilite  combination  of  all  thefe 
incidents  which  forms  "  The  Tempeft." 

From  this  furvey  it  would  appear  that  Shakefpere  fet 
himfelf,  in  a  buiinefs-like  way,  to  provide  plays  for  the 
theatre  in  which  he  had  a  mare,  without  much  regard 
to  anything  but  pleafing  the  public  for  the  moment. 
For  this  purpofe  he  ranfacked  the  works  of  his  prede- 
ceffors  and  contemporaries,  he  read  the  old  chronicles 
and  romances,  he  feized  upon  every  Englifh  verfion  of 
an  Italian  novel  as  it  came  out,  and  for  claffical  ftories 
had  recourfe  to  North's  "  Plutarch,"  a  tranflation  of  a 
French  tranflation.  In  "  The  Tempeft  "  is  a  whole 
paffage  taken  from  Florio's  then  recently  publifhed  tranf- 
lation of  "  Montaigne's  Eflays."  A  copy,  with  Shake- 
fpere's autograph,  or  alleged  autograph  in  it,  is  now 
preferved  in  the  Britifh  Mufeum.  That  he  was  greedy 
of  all  knowledge  there  can  be  no  doubt.  His  mind 
muft  have  been  ftored  with  philofophy,  divinity,  law, 
art;  and  this  varied  knowledge,  which  was  quite  a 
different  thing  from  claffical  fcholarfhip,  flowed  into 
his  dialogue,  and  gives  it  that  richnefs  which  we 


His  Plays  written  to  be  Affied.  149 

! 

fcarcely  find  in  any  other  writer.  This  was  the  effed 
of  his  genius ;  but  everything  concurs  to  (how  that 
his  immediate  objed  was  gained  when  his  plays  filled 
the  houfe.  He  never  blotted  or  erafed  his  manufcript. 
He  took  no  care  to  colled:  his  works  and  publim  them 
during  his  life-time,  and  they  were  not  in  fad:  collected 
till  nearly  ten  years  after  his  death. 

Now  it  appears  to  me,  though  the  propofition 
feem  paradoxical,  that  this  writing  for  an  immediate 
and  tangible  objed  was  one  caufe  of  Shakefpere's  ex- 
cellence. He  knew  that  he  had  the  fecret  of  pleafing 
the  public,  and  he  had  no  crotchets  about  writing  for 
posterity  to  mar  the  fimplicity  of  his  aim.  He  was  not 
oppreffed  by  the  greatnefs  of  his  tafk,  and  his  thoughts, 
therefore,  flowed  the  more  freely  and  effedively.  I 
think  it  will  be  found  that  works  of  art  produced  to 
anfwer  fome  obvious  end — paintings  painted  expreffly 
to  decorate  fome  particular  building,  like  thofe  of 
Giotto ;  hiftories,  compiled  to  ferve  fome  political  or 
religious  purpofe,  like  Gibbon's  Decline  and  Fall  and 
Macaulay's  England;  pamphlets  to  overwhelm  fome 
perfonal  enemy,  like  the  Letters  of  Junius  or  Drapier, 
or  the  poem  of  "  Hudibras  " — -facit  indignatio  verfus — 
and  plays  written  with  the  fole  purpofe  of  filling  the 
houfe,  like  Shakefpere's,  are  the  very  works  that  pof- 
terity  will  not  fuffer  to  perifh.  The  great  fault  of  the 


150  Shakefpere. 


later  poets,  thofe  of  the  lakes  in  particular,  was  that  they 
had  forne  dream  of  perfection  in  their  head  which  was 
too  high  for  common  men  of  their  own  generation — 
fome  ideal  of  beauty  which  ordinary  men  could  not 
tafle,  and  they  have  fo  far  endangered  their  permanent 
fame.  Shakefpere,  apparently,  cared  only  to  pleafe  the 
audience  at  the  Globe  and  Blackfriars,  and  he  has 
"  built  himfelf  an  everlafting  name." 

Of  his  focial  life — where  he  lived,  and  with  whom, 
when  he  was  in  London — little  is  known,  except  that 
he  was,  as  we  have  feen,  noted  for  the  Straightforward 
honefty  of  his  dealings  and  his  pleafing  manners,  and 
that  he  was  deemed  worthy  of  the  fpecial  regard  of 
Queen  Elizabeth  and  King  James,  and  of  the  friend- 
fhip  of  Southampton. 

His  humbler  friends  were  the  other  poets  of  his 
time,  among  whom  Ben  Jonfon  Stands  pre-eminent  for 
his  affedtionate  and  judicious  praife.  The  foundation 
of  their  friendship  was  laid  in  an  act  of  kindnefs  on 
Shakefpere's  part  which  a  literary  man  would  be  likely 
never  to  forget.  Jonfon,  though  the  fon  of  a  me- 
chanic, had  been  brought  up  at  the  renowned  college 
of  St.  Peter's,  Weftminfter ;  for,  indeed,  the  ancient 
foundations  of  our  great  public  fchools  were  intended 
for  the  education  of  poor  fcholars.  After  this  he  be- 
came a  bricklayer,  following  the  trade  of  his  Stepfather, 


His  Companions  in  London.  151 

and  Fuller  fays  that  he  "helped  in  the  ftru&ure  of 
Lincoln's  Inn,  when,  having  a  trowel  in  his  hand,  he 
had  a  book  in  his  pocket."  Scorning  fo  mechanical 
an  employment,  he  went  as  a  foldier  to  the  wars  in  the 
Low  Countries,  and,  returned  from  thence,  took  to 
literature  as  a  means  of  living,  and  while  yet  quite 
unknown,  offered  his  celebrated  "  Every  Man  in  his 
Humour"  to  the  company  at  the  Blackfriars.  The 
manager  failed  to  tafte  the  humour  of  Bofradi/zndBram- 
worm,  and  was  about  to  return  the  play  with  one  of 
thofe  difagreeable  anfwers  with  which  fome  managers 
and  publishers  are  faid  to  damp  the  hopes  of  unknown 
authors,  when  Shakefpere  afked  to  fee  it,  and  was  fo 
pleafed  with  it  as  to  procure  its  acceptance.  The  ac- 
quaintance thus  begun  was  ripened  into  friendfhip  by 
frequent  focial  meetings  at  the  "  Mermaid  Tavern,"  in 
Bread  Street,  where  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  had  founded  a 
club,  the  earlieft  probably  known  in  England.  It  is 
alluded  to  by  Jonfon  in  his  lines  "Inviting  a  Friend 
to  Supper  " — 

"  To-night,  grave  fir,  both  my  poor  houfe  and  I 
Do  equally  defire  your  company  -, 
Not  that  we  think  us  worthy  fuch  a  gueft, 
But  that  your  worth  will  dignify  our  feaft 
With  thofe  that  come  j  whole  grace  may  make  that  feem 
Something,  which  elfe  could  hope  for  no  efleem. 
It  is  the  fair  acceptance,  fir,  creates 
The  entertainment  perfect,  not  the  cates. 


1 5  2  Shakefpere. 


Yet  fhall  you  have,  to  re6tify  your  palate, 

An  olive,  capers,  or  fome  bitter  sallat, 

inhering  the  mutton,  with  a  fliort-legged  hen, 

If  we  caught  her  full  of  eggs,  and  then 

Lemons  and  wine  for  fauce  j  to  thefe  a  coney, 

Is  not  to  be  defpaired  of  for  our  money ; 

And  though  fowl  now  be  fcarce,  yet  there  are  clerks, 

The  fky  not  falling,  think  we  may  have  larks. 

I'll  tell  of  more,  and  lie,  fo  you  will  come, 

Of  partridge,  pheafant,  woodcock,  of  which  fome 

May  yet  be  there,  and  godwit,  if  we  can, 

Knot,  rail,  and  ruff,  too.     Howfoe'er,  my  man 

Shall  read  a  piece  of  Virgil,  Tacitus, 

Livy,  or  of  fome  better  book  to  us, 

Of  which  we'll  fpeak  our  minds  amidft  our  meat, 

And  I'll  profefs  no  verfes  to  repeat. 

To  this,  if  aught  appear  which  I  not  know  of, 

That  will  the  paftry,  not  my  paper  fhow  of  j 

Digeflive  cheefe  and  fruit  there  fure  will  be. 

But  that  which  moft  doth  take  my  mule  and  me, 

Is  a  pure  cup  of  rich  Canary  wine, 

Which  is  the  Mermaid's  now,  but  fhall  be  mine; 

Of  which  had  Horace  or  Anacreon  tafted, 

Their  lives,  as  do  their  lines,  till  now  had  lafted." 

Allufion  is  again  made  to  this  celebrated  tavern  in 
The  Voyage :"— 

"  It  was  the  day,  what  time  the  powerful  moon 
Makes  the  poor  Bankfide  creature  wet  its  moon 
In  its  own  hall ;  when  thefe  (in  worthy  fcorn 
Of  thofe  that  put  out  monies  on  return 
From  Venice,  Paris,  or  fome  inland  paflage 
Of  fix  times  to  and  fro,  without  embaflage, 
Or  him  that  backwards  went  to  Berwick,  or  which 
Did  dance  the  famous  Morris  into  Norwich) 
At  Bread  Street's  Mermaid  having  dined,  and  merry, 
Propofed  to  go  to  Holborn  in  a  wherry." 


Meetings  at  the  "Mermaid"  153 

I  have  quoted  the  former  of  thefe  paflages  becaufe  it 
gives  a  curious  infight  into  the  focial  cuftoms  of  Shake- 
fpere's  time.  From  it  we  learn  that  it  was  not  unufual 
for  one  to  read  out  fome  entertaining  book  during 
dinner,  as  they  read  out  paflages  from  Scripture,  or  the 
"Lives  of  the  Saints,"  in  monafteries.  It  alfo  gives 
one  forne  idea  of  the  luxury  in  which  literary  men 
lived,  befides  fome  curious  gaftronomical  fads,  fuch  as 
that  olives  were  eaten  before,  not  after  dinner. 

At  the  "  Mermaid,"  then,  ufed  to  meet  the  wits  of 
the  town — Shakefpere,  Jonfon,  Beaumont,  Fletcher, 
Selden,  Donne.  And  here,  as  quaint  old  Fuller  in  his 
"  Worthies "  relates,  "  Many  were  the  wit  combats 
between  him  [Shakefpere]  and  Ben  Jonfon,  which  two 
I  behold  like  a  Spaniih  great  galleon  and  an  Engliih 
man-of-war :  Mafter  Jonfon,  like  the  former,  was 
built  higher  in  learning,  folid  but  flow  in  his  perform- 
ances ;  Shakefpere,  with  the  Englifh  man-of-war,  lefler 
in  bulk,  but  lighter  in  failing,  could  turn  with  all  tides, 
tack  about  and  take  advantage  of  all  winds,  by  the 
quicknefs  of  his  wit  and  invention." 

Of  this  wit  the  fpecimens  which  have  been  preferved 
do  not  give  a  very  exalted  notion ;  but  it  is  a  curious 
fact  that  converfation  which  has  delighted  the  hearers 
by  its  wit,  when  repeated,  often  feems  infipid.  A  joke 
which  the  reports  of  the  debates  in  Parliament  declare 


154  Shake f per  e. 


to  have  been  received  with  roars  of  "  laughter,"  often 
feems  fo  poor  and  trivial  that  we  think  our  legiflators 
rnuft  be  wonderfully  eafily  amufed.  Yet  they  are  the 
moft  faftidious  audience  in  the  world.  The  joke  was  not 
a  bad  joke  in  reality,  but  wit  read  is  not  like  wit  fpoken. 
The  time,  place,  and  manner  have  much  to  do  with  it. 
So  Falftajf,  a  great  authority  furely  on  this  fubject,  fays, 
"  Oh,  it  is  much  that  a  jeft  with  a  grave  face  and  a 
flight  oath  will  do  with  a  fellow  that  hath  never  had 
the  ache  in  his  moulders!"  Beiides,  wit  is  of  fo  flight 
and  evanefcent  a  character  that  it  is  not  the  beft  jokes 
that  are  remembered,  but  rather  the  heavieft  and  dulleft. 
Barrow  defines  wit  thus :  "  Sometimes  it  lieth  in  a  pat 
allufion  to  a  known  ftory,  or  in  a  feafonable  application 
of  a  trivial  faying,  or  in  forging  an  appofite  tale ;  fome- 
times  it  playeth  in  words  and  phrafes,  taking  advantage 
from  the  ambiguity  of  their  fenfe,  or  the  affinity  of 
their  found;  fometimes  it  is  wrapped  in  a  drefs  of 
humorous  expreffion ;  fometimes  it  lurketh  under  an 
odd  fimilitude ;  fometimes  it  is  lodged  in  a  fly  queftion, 
in  a  fmart  anfwer,  in  a  quirkiih  reafon,  in  a  fhrewd 
intimation,  in  cunningly  averting  or  cleverly  retorting 
an  objection ;  fometimes  it  is  couched  in  a  bold  fcheme 
of  fpeech,  in  a  tart  irony,  in  a  lufty  hyperbole,  in  a 
ftartling  metaphor,  in  a  plaufible  reconciling  of  contra- 
dictions, or  in  acute  nonfenfe;  fometimes  a  fcenical 


Barrow's  Definition  of  Wit.  155 

reprefentation  of  perfons  or  things,  a  counterfeit  fpeech, 
a  mimical  look  or  gefture,  paffeth  for  it ;  fometimes  an 
affe&ed  fimplicity,  fometimes  a  prefumptuous  blunt- 
nefs  giveth  it  being ;  fometimes  it  rifeth  only  from  a 
lucky  hitting  upon  what  is  ftrange ;  fometimes  from  a 
crafty  wrefting  obvious  matter  to  the  purpofe ;  often  it 
confifteth  in  one  knows  not  what,  and  fpringeth  up  one 
can  hardly  tell  how.  Its  ways  are  unaccountable  and 
inexplicable,  being  anfwerable  to  the  numberlefs  rovings 
of  fancy  and  windings  of  language.  It  is,  in  fhort,  a 
manner  of  fpeaking  out  of  the  fimple  and  plain  way 
(fuch  as  reafon  teacheth  and  proveth  things  by),  which 
by  a  pretty  furprifing  uncouthnefs  in  conceit  or  expref- 
fion,  doth  affect  and  amufe  the  fancy,  ftirring  in  it  fome 
wonder,  and  breeding  fome  delight  thereto." 

It  would  not  be  difficult,  and  it  would  be  an  amufing 
paftime,  to  cull  paffages  from  Shakefpere's  plays  which 
would  anfwer  to  each  of  the  various  forms  of  wit  here 
enumerated.  F^^z^wouldfupply  moft  of  them.  That 
he  who  fo  nimbly  followed  the  turnings  of  this  Proteus 
in  his  writings,  was  equally  aftive  in  his  converfation, 
Fuller,  no  mean  judge,  affures  us  ;  and  we  mufl  blame 
the  reporters,  or  the  nature  of  wit  itfelf,  if  the  jokes 
which  have  actually  come  down  to  us  be  difappoint- 
ing.  I  do  not,  however,  feel  at  liberty  to  omit  them. 

From  a  collection  of  "  Merry  Paffages  and  Jefts," 


156  Shakefpere. 


collected  by  Sir  Nicholas  1'Eftrange,  we  learn  that  on 
one  occafion  "  Shakefpere  was  god-father  to  one  of  Ben 
Jonfon's  children,  and  after  the  chriftening,  being  in  a 
deep  ftudy,  Jonfon  came  to  cheer  him  up,  and  afked 
him  why  he  was  fo  melancholy.  'No,  faith,  Ben/ 
fays  he,  *  not  I ;  but  I  have  been  confidering  a  great 
while  what  mould  be  the  fitteft  gift  for  me  to  beftow 
upon  my  god-child,  and  I  have  refolved  at  laft.'  <  I 
prithee  what?'  fays  he.  *F  faith,  Ben,  I'll  e'en  give 
him  a  dozen  latten  (Latin)  fpoons,  and  thou  malt  tranf- 
late  them.' " 

Now  we  muft  recoiled  that  Jonfon  was  a  learned 
man,  and  probably  was  in  the  habit  of  poking  fun  at 
Shakefpere  for  his  lack  of  Latin.  Shakefpere  retaliates 
by  faying  he  will  give  the  child  fome  latten,  or  brafs, 
fpoons,  a  ufual  prefent  from  a  fponfor,  and  that 
Jonfon  fhall  tranflate  them,  playing  upon  the  am- 
biguity of  the  word  latten,  and  hinting  that  Jonfon 
could  do  little  but  tranflate  from  the  ancients.  The 
joke  is  a  good  joke  if  we  confider  the  circumftances, 
which,  I  think,  muft  have  been  pretty  much  what 
I  have  fuppofed.  It  is  what  Aulus  Gellius  calls  a 
/comma,  and  probably  turned  the  laugh  againft  honeft 
Ben. 

The  next  is  not  fo  fuccefsful.  We  read  in  an  Afh- 
molean  MS.  that  "  Mr.  Ben  Jonfon  and  Mr.  William 


His  Friend/hip  with  Jonfon.  157 

Shakefpere  being  merry  at  a  tavern,  Mr.  Jonfon  having 
begun  this  for  his  epitaph — 

'  Here  lies  Ben  Jonfon, 
That  was  once  one,' 

he  gives  it  to  Mr.  Shakefpere  to  make  up,  who  pre- 
fently  writes — 

'Who,  while  he  lived,  was  a  flow  thing, 
And  now,  being  dead,  is  no-thing.'  " 

No  doubt  Shakefpere  was  a  little  out  of  patience 
with  Jonfon's  "  flownefs  in  his  performance ;  "  his  end- 
ing is  certainly  more  pointed  than  Jonfon's  beginning. 

The  two  men  feem  to  have  been  formed  by  nature, 
both  from  their  refemblance  and  the  difference  of  their 
feveral  characters,  to  be  foils  one  to  the  other ;  they  went 
about  together  obferving  odd  humours,  and  the  fact  that 
they  were  always  engaging  in  wit  combats  is  one  of 
the  greateft  proofs  of  the  fincerity  of  their  friendfhip. 
It  is  only  a  very  fincere  affedlion  that  will  bear  the 
wear  and  tear  of  mutual  jefts,  and  none  but  men  of  a 
high  order  of  intellect  and  fine  tafte  can  joke  or  take  a 
joke  without  giving  or  taking  offence. 

Jonfon  in  his  "  Difcoveries,"  in  the  ninth  volume  of 
Gifford's  edition,  fays — "  I  remember  the  players  have 
often  mentioned  it  as  an  honour  to  Shakefpere,  that  in 
his  writing,  whatfoever  he  penned  he  never  blotted  out 


158  Shake f per  e. 


a  line.  My  anfwer  hath  been,  '  Would  he  had  blotted 
a  thoufand  ! '  which  they  thought  a  malevolent  fpeech. 
I  had  not  told  pofterity  this  but  for  their  ignorance, 
who  chofe  that  circumftance  to  commend  their  friend 
by  wherein  he  moft  faulted,  and  to  juftify  mine  own 
candour;  for  I  loved  the  man  and  do  honour  his 
memory,  on  this  fide  idolatry,  as  much  as  any.  He 
was,  indeed,  honeft,  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature ; 
had  an  excellent  phantafy,  brave  notions,  and  gentle 
expreffions ;  wherein  he  flowed  with  that  facility  that 
fometimes  it  was  neceiTary  he  mould  be  flopped : 
Sujflaminandus  erat,  as  Auguftus  faid  of  Haterius.  His 
wit  was  in  his  own  power ;  would  the  rule  of  it  had 
been  fo  too !  Many  times  he  fell  into  thofe  things 
could  not  efcape  laughter :  as  when  he  faid  in  the 
perfon  of  Ccefar,  one  fpeaking  to  him,  *  Casfar,  thou 
doft  me  wrong,'  he  replied,  *  Caefar  did  never  wrong 
but  with  jufl  caufe,5  and  fuch  like,  which  were  ridicu- 
lous. But  he  redeemed  his  vices  with  his  virtues. 
There  was  ever  more  in  him  to  be  praifed  than 
pardoned." 

This  is  a  piece  of  criticifm  characteriftic  of  a  correct 
fcholar  like  Jonfon.  That  Shakefpere,  writing  with 
running  pen,  fhould  have  made  fuch  miftakes,  was 
natural.  It  was  as  natural  that  Jonfon  fhould  be  fcan- 
dalifed  by  them  ;  but  I,  for  one,  am  glad  that  Shake- 


Jonfons  Lines  to  his  Memory.  159 

fpere  did  not  blot  a  line.  We  can  well  forgive  fuch  an 
Irifh  bull  as  Casfar's  reply,  or  fuch  a  blunder  as  repre- 
fenting  a  feaport  in  Bohemia — if  it  be  a  blunder,  which 
is  doubtful,  for  I  have  feen  it  ftated  in  fome  periodical 
that  ieveral  feaports  on  the  Mediterranean  formed  part 
of  Bohemia  in  the  lixteenth  century — in  confideration 
of  poffeffing  the  fpontaneous  flow  of  Shakefpere's  fine 
genius.  Sheridan  ufed  to  fay  that  your  eafy  writing 

was  d d  hard  reading,  and  this  is  generally  true ; 

but  Shakefpere  is  really  an  entirely  exceptional  cafe. 
Spontaneity  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  his  genius. 
But  it  is  abfurd  to  accufe  Jonfon — honeft  Ben — of 
malignity  for  having  his  own  view  of  his  friend's 
excellencies  and  defects.  If  we  wanted  a  contradiction 
to  any  fuch  accufation  it  is  to  be  found  in  his  addrefs 
to  his  departed  friend.  Jonfon's  poems  are  fo  little 
known  to  ordinary  readers,  and  there  is  fuch  a  charm 
in  his  fine  nervous  Englifh,  that  I  make  no  excufe 
for  giving  the  paffage  at  length.  How  delightful  is 
ftrength !  There  is  no  unpardonable  fin  in  art  but 
weaknefs,  and  for  this  there  is  no  place  of  repentance. 

"  To  draw  no  envy,  Shakefpere,  on  thy  name, 
Rile  I  thus  ample  to  thy  book  and  fame; 
While  I  confefs  thy  writings  to  be  fuch 
As  neither  man  nor  mufe  can  praife  too  much. 
"Tis  true,  and  all  men's  fuffrage.     But  thefe  ways 
Were  not  the  paths  I  meant  unto  thy  praife. 


1 60  Shake/pert. 


For  fillieft  ignorance  on  thefe  may  light, 
Which,  when  it  founds  at  beft,  but  echoes  right ; 
Or  blind  arFe6tion,  which  doth  ne'er  advance 
The  truth,  but  gropes  and  urgeth  all  by  chance j 
Or  crafty  malice  might  pretend  this  praife, 
And  think  to  ruin  where  it  feemed  to  raife. 

•#  *  *  •*  *  •* 

But  thou  art  proof  againft  them,  and,  indeed, 
Above  the  ill-fortune  of  them  or  their  need. 
I,  therefore,  will  begin  :   Soul  of  the  age  ! 
The  applaufe,  delight,  and  wonder  of  the  ftage  ! 
My  Shakefpere,  rife !     I  will  not  lodge  thee  by 
Chaucer  or  Spenfer,  or  bid  Beaumont  lie 
A  little  farther  off  to  make  thee  room  : 
Thou  art  a  monument  without  a  tomb, 
And  art  alive  ftill,  while  thy  book  doth  live, 
And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praife  to  give. 

•*  •*  *  •*  •*  * 

Yet  muft  I  not  give  Nature  all :  thy  art, 
My  gentle  Shakefpere,  mufl  enjoy  a  part ; 
For  though  the  poet's  matter  Nature  be, 
His  art  doth  give  the  fafliion ;  and  that  he 
Who  cafts  to  write  a  living  line  muft  fvveat, 
Such  as  thine  are,  and  ftrike  the  fecond  heat 
Upon  the  Mufe's  anvil ;  turn  the  fame 
And  himfelf  with  it,  that  he  thinks  to  frame  ; 
Or  for  the  laurel  he  may  gain  a  fcorn, 
For  a  good  poet  's  made  as  well  as  born, 
And  fuch  wert  thou !  '  Look  how  the  father's  face 
Lives  in  his  iflue ;  even  fo  the  race 
Of  Shakefpere's  mind  and  manners  brightly  {nines 
In  his  well-turned  and  true-filed  lines  j 
In  each  of  which  he  feems  to  make  a  lance, 
As  brandimed  at  the  eyes  of  ignorance. 
Sweet  Swan  of  Avon !  what  a  fight  it  were 
To  fee  thee  in  our  water  yet  appear, 


His  Friends  in  London.     -  161 


And  make  thofe  flights  upon  the  banks  of  Thames 

Which  fo  did  take  Eliza  and  our  James  ! 

But  flay,  I  fee  thee  in  the  hemifphere 

Advanced,  and  made  a  conftellation  there  ! 

Shine  forth,  thou  ilar  of  poets!  and  with  rage 

Or  influence  chide  or  cheer  the  drooping  ftage, 

Which  fince  thy  flight  from  hence  hath  mourned  like  night, 

Arid  defpairs  day,  but  for  thy  volume's  light." 

The  other  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  friend  was 
fubfcribed  by  Jonfon  to  Droefhout's  engraving  of 
Shakefpere,  prefixed  to  the  firft  folio  edition  of  his 
works  published  in  1623,  and  attefts  both  Jonfon's 
affection  and  the  fidelity  of  the  likenefs  : — 

"  This  figure  that  thou  here  feefl  put, 
It  was  for  gentle  Shakefpere  cut, 
Wherein  the  graver  had  a  flrife 
With  Nature,  to  outdo  the  life. 
O,  could  he  but  have  fhown  his  wit 
As  well  in  brafs  as  he  has  hit 
His  face,  the  print  would  then  furpafs 
All  that  was  ever  writ  in  brafs ! 
But  fince  he  cannot,  reader,  look 
Not  on  his  picture,  but  his  book." 

There  is  a  paffage  in  Spenfer's  "Teares  of  the 
Mufes  "  lamenting  the  death  of  "  Willy."  This  has 
been  referred  to  Shakefpere ;  but  Mr.  Dyce  thinks  it 
is  inapplicable  to  Shakefpere,  and  that  it  was  intended 
rather  for  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  for  Willy  is  a  common 
name  for  all  fhepherds,  or,  in  paftoral  language,  poets ; 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt,  from  the  allufion  to  the 


1 62  Shakefpere. 


name  in  the  laft  lines  of  the  following  quotation  from 
"  Colin  Clout's  come  home  again,"  that  by  JEtion  is 
meant  Shakefpere.  Why  he  is  called  ^Etion  ( 
"one  who  afks  ")  it  is  difficult  to  underftand:  — 


"  And  there,  though  laft  not  leaft,  is 

A  gentler  Ihepherd  may  nowhere  be  found  j 
Whofe  Mufe,  full  of  high  thoughts'  invention, 
Doth,  like  himfelf,  heroically  found." 

Heaps  of  commendatory  verfes  from  other  meaner 
poets  might  be  quoted,  but  they  would  be  rather  dull 
reading,  and,  after  Ben  Jonfon's  fine  and  difcriminating 
lines,  would  feem  very  tame.  The  fad:  that  Shake- 
fpere was  commended  and  patronifed  by  Elizabeth  and 
James  implies,  of  courfe,  that  he  was  noticed  and 
carefled  by  the  courtiers. 

Among  such  friends  and  companions  was  pafled 
Shakefpere's  town  life  ;  but  running  parallel  with  it,  as 
it  were,  was  another  totally  different  life  in  the  coun- 
try. In  London  he  was  the  favourite  of  princes 
and  great  noblemen,  the  friend  of  the  poets  and  men 
of  letters,  and,  as  he  laments  in  his  fonnet  air  dy 
quoted,  dependent  on  the  popular  applaufe  in  a  pro- 
feffion  to  which  prejudice  ftill  attached  a  note  of 
infamy.  In  his  native  Stratford  we  find  him  taking 
his  place  among  the  gentry  and  fubftantial  burgeiTes,  a 
farmer  and  a  keen  man  of  bufinefs,  a  man  able  to  lend 


His  Life  in  the  Country.  163 


a  good  round  fum  of  money  to  a  friend,  one  whofe 
influence  was  worth  canvaffing  for.  His  occupations 
in  the  country  probably  weaned  him  gradually  from 
London,  and  about  1612  or  1613  he  finally  took  up 
his  abode  at  New  Place  with  his  family.  Ward,  the 
Vicar  of  Stratford,  fays  that  "  in  his  elder  days  he  lived 
at  Stratford,  and  fupplied  the  ftage  with  two  plays 
every  year,  and  for  it  had  an  allowance  fo  large  that  he 
fpent  at  the  rate  of  one  thoufand  pounds  a  year,"  a 
fum  equal  to  five  times  the  amount  at  the  prefent  time. 

From  old  deeds  and  records,  hunted  out  with  in- 
credible zeal  and  labour  by  Shakefperian  critics,  and 
printed  by  Mr.  Halliwell  in  his  comprehenfive  bio- 
graphy of  the  Poet,  it  appears  that  in  1 6 1 2  he  bought 
one  hundred  and  feven  acres  of  arable  land  at  Stratford, 
of  William  Combe ;  alfo  a  cottage  in  Walker  Street ; 
in  1604  he  brings  an  action  againft  Philip  Rogers  for 
£i  i$s.  iod.,  owing  to  him  for  malt  fupplied  at 
different  times  ;  in  1605  he  purchales  a  moiety  of  the 
leafe  of  the  tithes  of  Stratford  and  fome  neighbouring 
parishes ;  in  1 6 1 2  he  fues  the  other  leflees  of  the  tithes ; 
in  1613  he  defends  his  right  to  certain  common  lands; 
and  all  this  time  he  is  producing  two  plays  a  year. 

In  the  meantime  various  changes  take  place  in  his 
family.  In  1601  his  father  dies;  in  1607  his  eldeft 
daughter,  Sufanna,  marries  Dr.  Hall,  a  phyfician  at 


164  Shakefpere. 


Stratford;  in  1607  his  firft  grandchild,  Elizabeth 
Hall,  is  born,  and  in  the  fame  year  his  mother,  Mary 
Arden,  dies;  in  1615  his  fecond  daughter,  Judith, 
whofe  twin  brother,  Hamnet,  had  died  fome  confider- 
able  time  before,  marries  Thomas  Quiney,  vintner. 

Rowe,  his  earlieft  biographer,  fays  that  his  agreeable 
manners  and  pleafant  difpofition  procured  him  the 
friendfhip  of  the  neighbouring  gentry,  and  amongft  the 
reft,  of  a  Mr.  John  Combe,  who  lived  at  the  old 
college  from  which  the  priefts  had  been  expelled  at  the 
Reformation.  It  feems  to  have  been  a  favourite 
amufement  in  thofe  times  for  friends  to  write  imaginary 
epitaphs  on  each  other  over  their  wine.  We  have 
feen  already  that  Shakefpere  and  Ben  Jonfon  thus 
diverted  themfelves.  A  iimilar  ftory  is  told  of  Charles 
the  Second  and  Buckingham,  when  the  latter  made 
the  celebrated  epitaph  on  the  "  mutton-eating  king." 
Even  Garrick,  Reynolds,  Burke,  and  Goldfmith  played 
at  this  fomewhat  ghaftly  game.  A  ftory  then  was 
current  that  Mr.  Combe,  who  was  noted  for  his 
ufurious  practices,  afked  Shakefpere,  when  they  were 
making  merry  together,  to  write  his  epitaph,  and  that 
Shakefpere  produced  the  following  : — 

"Ten  in  the  hundred  lies  here  engraved  -, 
'Tis  a  hundred  to  ten  his  foul  is  not  faved ; 
If  any  man  alks  who  lies  in  this  tomb, 
Oh,  oh  !  quoth  the  devil,  'tis  my  John-a-Combe." 


His  Life  in  the  Country.  165 


Mr.  Halliwell  fays  that  this  was  a  common  joke  in 
the  j eft-books  of  the  period,  but  perhaps  Shakefpere 
thought  it  good  enough  for  the  occafion.     Others  hold 
that  the  ftory  is  difproved,  becaufe  the  two  men  were 
friends,  Combe  leaving  Shakefpere  five  pounds  in  his 
will,  and  Shakefpere  in  his  bequeathing  his  fword  to 
Combe's  nephew,  William.     But,  indeed,  that  friend- 
fhip  muft  be  a  frail  commodity  which  could  be  broken 
by  a  joke  like  this.    Mr.  Combe  was  probably  a  faving 
man,   and  was  certainly  a  rich  one;  and  I  have   re- 
marked that  rich  and  thrifty  men  are  the  laft  people  to 
be  offended  by  a  joke  upon  their  clevernefs  in  amaffing 
money.     As  to  prognoftications  on  the  company  they 
are  likely  to  keep  in  the  next  world,  that  is  too  unprac- 
tical a  queftion  to  trouble  them  much.   The  joke  was  a 
poor  one  enough,  and  perhaps  a  ftale  one  too ;  but  the 
ftory  illuftrates  the  difficulty  of  catching  that  Proteus, 
wit,  and  binding  him  in  the  fetters  of  writing. 

Another  ftory,  related  to  Malone  by  a  native  of 
Stratford,  fays  that  Shakefpere  being  invited  to  a 
party  by  the  topers  of  Bidford,  a  neighbouring  village, 
made  the  following  epigram  on  them  and  their  neigh- 
bours : — 

"  Piping  Pebworth,  dancing  Marfton, 
Haunted  Hillborough,  and  hungry  Grafton, 
With  dodging  Exhall,  papilt  Wixford, 
Beggarly  Broom,  and  drunken  Bidford." 


1 66  Shakefpere. 


Such  tales  as  this  are  the  only  famples  which  tradi- 
tion could  feize  upon  to  give  pofterity  an  idea  of  the 
focial  powers  of  the  wittieft  writer  perhaps  that  ever 
exifted,  and  one  whofe  converfation  is  ftated  by  Fuller 
to  have  been  remarkable  for  its  verfatility  and  humour. 

As  I  rode  and  walked  about  Stratford  and  the  fur- 
rounding  green  lanes,  and  by  the  banks  of  the  Avon,  I 
could  not  help  wondering  whether  the  country  people 
whom  I  met  were  aware  that  they  were  treading  the 
ground  which  Shakefpere  had  trod  while  he  was  medi- 
tating "  Cymbeline,"  "  Coriolanus,"  the  "  Winter's 
Tale,"  and  "  The  Tempeft."  The  thought  of  courfe 
was  abfurd ;  the  country  people  knew  nothing  about 
him,  except  that  they  fometimes  got  a  fhilling  from 
people  who  came  to  viiit  his  tomb  ;  but  my  mind 
being  wholly  occupied  with  the  memory  of  the  mighty 
dead,  it  feemed  to  me  as  if  they  too  muft  be  thinking 
of  him.  But  very  likely  even  his  contemporaries,  the 
burgeffes  and  country  gentlemen  with  whom  he  af- 
fociated,  admitted  him  to  their  fociety,  not  becaufe  he 
was  a  great  poet,  but  becaufe  he  was  a  wealthy  man 
and  a  pleafant  companion,  who  could  tell  them  ftories 
of  the  great  world  in  London.  His  plays  were  not 
published  collectively  till  feven  years  after  his  death, 
and  very  likely  few  of  the  feparate  editions  made  their 
way  down  to  Stratford.  The  burgefles,  Shakefpere's 


His  Life  in  the  Country.  1 67 


fellow-citizens,  had  actually  forbidden  the  reprefentation 
of  ftage  plays  in  the  town,  and  we  may,  therefore,  con- 
clude that  they  would  regard  the  arch-playwright  as 
"little  better  than  one  of  the  wicked."  Sir  Walter 
Scott  complained  that  fome  vifitors  at  Abbotsford  were 
too  poetical  for  him;  and  I  fancy  that  Shakefpere 
would  have  had  the  fame  fort  of  feeling  with  regard 
to  his  art,  and  that  any  unobfervant  perfon  feeing 
him  at  home  would  have  fcarcely  believed  that  he 
was  the  author  of  the  plays.  There  would  have 
been  very  little  of  what  we  mould  call  "  the  mop  " 
about  him. 

His  farms,  his  malting  afforded  him  active  occupa- 
tion; but  for  exercifing  his  great  intellectual  powers  in 
works  which  kept  his  name  alive  amongft  the  great 
ones  of  the  earth,  he  found  time ;  and  it  is  not  a  little 
remarkable  that  fome  of  the  fineft  of  his  plays  were 
written  after  his  retirement  to  the  country,  as  if  his 
genius  were  there  moft  free  and  vigorous.  His 
amufements  were  probably  thofe  fo  quaintly  defcribed 
by  his  contemporary,  Burton  : — "  The  ordinary  iports 
which  are  ufed  abroad  [out  of  doors]  are  hawking, 
hunting :  hilares  venandi  labores,  one  calls  them,  becaufe 
they  recreate  body  and  mind ;  another  the  beft  exercife 
that  is,  by  which  alone  many  have  been  freed  from  all 
feral  difeafes.  Hegefippus  (lib.  i.,  cap.  37)  relates  of 


1 68  Shakefpere. 


Herod  that  he  was  eafed  of  a  grievous  melancholy  by 
that  means.  Plato  (7  de  leg.}  highly  magnifies  it, 
dividing  it  into  three  parts — by  land,  water,  air. 
Xenophon  (in  Cyropted.)  graces  it  with  a  great  name, 
Deorum  munus,  the  gift  of  the  gods,  a  princely  fport, 
which  they  have  ever  ufed,  faith  Langius  (Epift.  59, 
lib.  ii.),  fole  almoft  and  ordinary  fport  of  our  noblemen 
in  Europe,  and  elfewhere  all  over  the  world.  Bohemus 
(De  Mor.  Gent.,  lib.  iii.,  cap.  12)  ftiles  it  therefore 
ftudium  nobilium ;  'tis  all  their  ftudy,  their  exercife, 
ordinary  bufinefs,  all  their  talk ;  and  indeed  fome 
dote  too  much  after  it;  they  can  do  nothing  elfe, 
difcourfe  of  naught  elfe.  Paulus  Jovius  (Defer.  Brit.} 
doth  in  fome  fort  tax  our  Englim  nobility  for  it,  for 
living  in  the  country  fo  much,  and  too  frequent  ufe  of 
it,  as  if  they  had  no  other  means  but  hawking  and 
hunting  to  approve  themfelves  gentlemen  with. 

"  Hawking  comes  near  to  hunting,  the  one  in  the 
air  as  the  other  on  the  earth,  a  fport  as  much  affected 
as  the  other,  by  fome  preferred.  It  was  never  heard  of 
amongft  the  Romans,  invented  fome  1,200  years  fince, 
and  firft  mentioned  by  Firmicus  (lib.  v.,  cap.  8).  The 
Greek  emperors  began  it,  and  now  nothing  fo  frequent; 
he  is  nobody  that  in  the  feafon  hath  not  a  hawk  on  his 
fift :  a  great  art,  and  many  books  written  on  it.  *  *  * 
The  Mufcovian  emperors  reclaim  eagles  to  fly  at  hinds, 


His  Amufements  in  the  Country.  169 

foxes,  &c.,  and  fuch  a  one  was  fent  for  a  prefent  to 
Queen  Elizabeth :  fome  reclaim  ravens,  caftrels,  pies, 
&c.,  and  train  them  for  their  pleafures. 

"  Fowling  is  more  troublefome,  but  all  out  as  delight- 
fome  to  fome  forts  of  men,  be  it  with  guns,  lime,  nets, 
glades,  ginnes,  firings,  baits,  pitfalls,  pipes,  calls, 
ftalking-horfes,  fetting-dogs,  coy-ducks,  or  otherwife. 
Some  much  delight  to  take  larks  with  day  nets,  fmall 
birds  with  draff-nets,  plovers,  partrich,  herons,  fnite, 
&c.  *  *  *  Tycho  Brahe,  that  great  aftronomer,  in 
the  chorography  of  his  Ifle  of  Huena  and  Caflle  of 
Uraneburge,  puts  down  his  nets  and  manner  of  catching 
fmall  birds  as  an  ornament  and  a  recreation,  wherein 
he  himfelf  was  fometimes  employed."  *  *  * 

After  enumerating  fifhing,  which  he  terms  "  a  kind 
of  hunting  by  water,"  ringing,  bowling,  mooting, 
"  keelpins,  tronks,  coits,  pitching  bars,  hurling, 
wreftling,  leaping,  running,  fencing,  muftring,  fwim- 
ming,  wallers,  foils,  foot-balls,  balowns,  quintans,  &c., 
and  many  fuch,  which  are  the  common  recreations  of 
the  country  folks ;  riding  of  great  horfes,  running  at 
rings,  tilts  and  turnaments,  horfe  races,  wild-goofe 
chafes,  which  are  the  difports  of  greater  men,  and  good 
in  themfelves,  though  many  gentlemen  by  that  means 
gallop  quite  out  of  their  fortunes  ;"  he  comes  to  "  deam- 
bulatio  per  amcena  /oca,  to  make  a  petty  progress,  a 


1 70  Shakefpere. 


merry  journey  now  and  then  with  fome  good  com- 
pany, to  vifit  a  friend,  fee  cities,  caftles,  towns, 

'  Vifere  faepe  amnes  nitidos,  peramoenaque  Tempe, 
Et  placidas  fummis  fectari  in  montibus  auras ' 

(To  fee  the  pleafant  fields,  the  cryilal  fountains, 
And  take  the  gentle  air  among  the  mountains) ; 

to  walk  amongft  orchards,  gardens,  bowers,  mounts, 
and  arbours,  artificial  wilderneffes,  green  thickets, 
arches,  groves,  lawns,  and  fuch  like  pleafant  places, 
like  that  Antiochian  Daphne,  brooks,  pools,  fifh-ponds, 
betwixt  wood  and  water,  in  a  fair  meadow,  by  a  river 
fide,  ubi  varice  avium  cantationes,  florum  co/ores,  pra- 
torum  frutices,  &c.,  to  difport  in  fome  pleafant  plain, 
park,  run  up  a  fteep  hill  fometimes,  or  fit  in  a  fhady 
feat,  muft  needs  be  a  deleclable  recreation." 

His  enumeration  of  games  for  winter  evenings  is  ftill 
fuller  and  more  various.  uThe  ordinary  recreations 
which  we  have  in  winter,  and  in  moft  folitary  times 
bufy  our  minds  with,  are  cards,  tables,  and  dice, 
{hovel-board,  chefs  play,  the  philofopher's  game,  fmall 
trunks,  fhut tie-cock,  billiards,  mufic,  mafks,  finging, 
dancing,  ulegames,  frolicks,  jefts,  riddles,  catches, 
purpofes,  queftions  and  commands,  merry  tales  of 
errant  knights,  queens,  lovers,  lords,  ladies,  giants, 
dwarfs,  thieves,  cheaters,  witches,  fairies,  goblins,  friars, 
&c.,  such  as  the  old  women  told  Pfyche  in  Apuleius, 


His  Amufements  in  the  Country.  171 

Boccace  novels,  and  the  reft,  quorum  audit  lone  pueri 
dele&antur,  fenes  narratione,  which  forne  delight  to 
hear,  fome  to  tell." 

Such  were  probably  the  amufements  and  employ- 
ments in  which  Shakefpere  palled  his  latter  days ;  for 
he,  no  doubt,  lived  and  amufed  himfelf  like  his  neigh- 
bours in  Stratford  and  its  vicinity.  He  did  not  quit 
the  Court  and  the  fociety  of  London  that  he  might 
fpend  his  time  in  poring  over  books  in  the  country. 

But,  as  Cowley,  another  poet,  who  fought  for  quiet 
in  rural  retirement,  and  healthful  employment  in 
the  cultivation  of  a  farm,  complains : — "  God  laughs 
at  man  who  fays  to  his  foul,  Take  thy  eafe :  I  met 
prefently  not  only  with  many  little  incumbrances  and 
impediments,  but  with  fo  much  ficknefs  (a  new  mif- 
fortune  to  me)  as  would  have  fpoiled  the  happinefs  of 
an  emperor  as  well  as  mine  :  yet  I  do  neither  repent 
nor  alter  my  courfe.  Non  ego  perfidum  Dixi  facr amen- 
tum ;  nothing  shall  feparate  me  from  a  miftrefs  [retire- 
ment] which  I  have  loved  fo  long  and  have  now  at 
laft  married,  though  me  neither  has  brought  me  a  rich 
portion,  nor  lived  yet  fo  quietly  with  me  as  I  hoped 
from  her. 

'  Nee  vos  dulciflima  mundi 
Nomina,  vos  Mufae,  liber tas,  otia,  libri, 
Hortique,  fylvaeque  anima  remanente  relinquam.' 


172  Shakefpere. 


(Nor  by  me  e'er  lliall  you, 
You  of  all  names  the  tweeted  and  the  heft, 
You,  mules,  books,  and  liberty,  and  reft, 
You,  gardens,  fields,  and  woods,  forfaken  be, 
As  long  as  life  itfelf  forfakes  not  me.)" 

And  fo  difeafe  and  death  overtook  Shakefpere  as 
they  did  Cowley,  in  that  retreat  where  they  both  had 
hoped  to  find  the  reft  which  fate  had  hitherto  denied 
them. 

New  Place  had  probably  been  a  fcene  of  much 
feftivity  on  February  10,  1615.  Judith,  Shakelpere's 
younger  daughter,  had  been  married  to  Thomas 
Quiney,  his  fellow  townfman,  and  no  doubt  there  was 
a  gathering  of  all  the  family,  and  the  wedding  party 
walked  up  to  the  beautiful  church,  and  paffed  in 
through  the  porch  and  under  the  folar,  of  which 
Mr.  Erneft  Edwards  has  given  us  fuch  a  charming 
little  picture,  and  there  was  a  banquet,  and  the  "  brod 
filver  and  gilt  bole  "  was  filled  with  "  canaris  fack,"  and 
there  was  a  dance,  and  probably  a  play  or  interlude  was 
acted  in  the  hall.  And  this  was,  perhaps,  the  occafion 
of  Jonfon's  and  Drayton's  vifit  to  their  old  friend, 
when,  according  to  Ward,  these  three  "  had  a  merrie 
meeting,  and  it  feems  drank  too  hard,  for  Shakefpere 
died  of  a  fever  there  contracted."  Whatever  may  have 
been  the  caufe  of  his  death,  it  is  certain  that  he  died 
on  the  23rd  of  April,  1616,  a  little  more  than  two 


His  Death.  173 


months  after  his  daughter's  marriage,  and  that  the 
fignatures  in  his  will  mow  that  his  hand  was  unfteady 
when  he  figned  it.  It  was  executed  on  the  5th  of 
March,  1616. 

Whether  Ward's  teftimony  be  worth  much,  feeing 
that  it  dates  fifty  years  at  leaft  after  the  event,  is  a 
queflion.  Indeed  it  seems  to  have  been  thought  the 
corred:  thing  to  reprefent  a  poet,  and  efpecially  a 
dramatic  poet,  to  have  died  of  hard  living,  as  Anacreon 
is  faid  to  have  been  choked  by  a  grape- ftone.  Puri- 
tanifm,  which  was  then  coming  into  vogue,  and  which 
always  fuppofes  itfelf  to  be  in  the  fecrets  of  Providence, 
thought  perhaps  to  mow  by  this  means  that  Heaven 
was  bound  to  punifh,  not  only  in  the  next  world,  but 
even  in  this,  the  heinous  fin  of  having  written  good 
poetry.  Shakeipere  was  proiperous  ;  their  theory  there- 
fore would  not  hold  if  it  appeared  that  he  who  had 
held  up  the  godly  to  ridicule  by  reprefenting  a  Puritan 
as  "  finging  pfalms  to  hornpipes  "  had  died  like  other 
men.  Shakefpere  very  likely  rejoiced  to  fhow  his 
country  holpitality  and  warm  houfekeeping  to  Jonfon 
and  Drayton,  his  countryman,  and  he  may  have 
fickened  with  fever  foon  after.  It  was  eafy  to  fay  poft 
hoc,  ergo,  propter  hoc,  though  it  was  probably  not  hock 
but  merry  that  they  drank.  And  that  there  were 
plenty  of  perfons  at  Stratford  who  would  be  glad  to  tell 


1 74  Shakefpere. 


Ward,  the  vicar,  a  ftory  to  the  difadvantage  of  the 
wild  youth  who  had  broken  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  park, 
and  afterwards  become  richer  than  they  by  writing  and 
acting  plays,  human  nature  and  the  nature  of  Puritanifm 
forbid  us  to  doubt.  With  Puritans  Stratford  mult  have 
abounded,  inafmuch  as  we  find  that  ftage-plays,  as  was 
before  obferved,  had  been  forbidden  there  by  the 
municipal  authorities.  We  need  not,  therefore,  believe 
that  gentle  Shakelpere  met  his  death  in  this  untoward 
fafhion.  The  tradition .  may  have  originated  in  a  pious 
defire  to  blacken  the  name  of  a  writer  of  plays. 

Perhaps  to  the  fame  caufe  may  be  traced  the  report 
of  Davies,  that  "  he  dyed  a  Papift."  His  father  was 
included  in  a  lift  of  perfons  who  abfented  themfelves 
from  the  reformed  fervice  at  church,  and  of  whom 
cognizance  was  taken  for  that  offence  by  the  penal 
laws  of  the  time ;  but  it  is  ftated  that  the  reafon  was 
not  recufancy,  but  the  fear  of  arreft.  I  am  not  aware 
of  the  date  of  the  law  which  allows  the  debtor  immu- 
nity from  arreft  on  Sunday,  but  an  eminent  lawyer 
has  informed  me  that  it  is  part  of  that  common  law 
which  derives  its  authority  from  the  fact  of  its  having 
been  a  cuftom  "  whereof  the  memory  of  man  run- 
neth not  to  the  contrary/'  that  is  to  fay,  traceable 
to  the  reign  of  Richard  the  Second.  The  allega- 
tion may,  therefore,  have  been  an  excufe.  The  tefti- 


His  Religion.  175 


mony  of  Davies  and  of  the  corporation  archives  at 
Stratford  is,  however,  confirmed  in  fome  degree  by 
a  document  faid  to  have  been  difcovered  in  the  houfe 
in  Henley  Street  in  1770.  Thomas  Hart,  a  defcendant 
of  John  Shakefpere,  employed  a  mafon  named  Mofeley 
to-repair  the  roof  of  one  of  the  houfes  there.  Mofeley 
alleged  that  in  the  courfe  of  his  work  he  found  a  manu- 
fcript  hidden  beneath  the  tiling,  and  this  manufcript 
purported  to  be  written  by  John  Shakefpere,  and  to  be 
a  profeffion  of  his  faith  as  a  Roman  Catholic.  It  has 
been  published,  and  is  indeed  thoroughly  anti-proteftant. 
It  was  accepted  at  firft  as  genuine  by  Malone,  but  he 
afterwards  rejected  it.  Chalmers  maintains  its  genuine- 
nefs.  Againft  this  it  is  argued  that  John  Shakefpere 
muft  have  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance  on  becoming 
a  bailiff  and  alderman;  but  on  the  other  hand  he 
was  depofed  from  thefe  offices ;  and  it  by  no  means 
follows  that  becaufe  he  once  conformed,  he  may  not 
afterwards  have  changed  his  mind.  It  is  an  hiftorical 
fad:  that  a  great  many  perfons  who,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  queen's  reign,  attended  the  reformed  worihip, 
withdrew  themfelves  when  the  bull  of  Pope  Pius  V., 
iffued  in  1563,  drew  an  impaflable  line  of  demarcation 
between  Roman  Catholics  and  Anglicans. 

But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  becaufe  John  Shake- 
fpere was  a  recufant,  his  fon  was  one  too.     There  are 


176  Shake f per  e. 


fome  paffages  in  the  plays  which  fhow  no  good-will  to 
the  caufe  of  the  Pope  ;  as  in  "  King  John  " — 

"  King  John.  What  earthly  name  to  interrogatories 
Can  talk  the  free  breath  of  a  facred  king  ? 
Thou  canft  not,  cardinal,  devife  a  name 
So  flight,  unworthy,  and  ridiculous, 
To  charge  me  to  an  anfwer,  as  the  pope. 
Tell  him  this  tale  ;  and  from  the  mouth  of  England, 
Add  this  much  more, — that  no  Italian  priefl 
Shall  tithe  or  toll  in  our  dominions  ; 
But  as  we  under  heaven  are  fupreme  head, 
So,  under  him,  that  great  fupremacy, 
Where  we  do  reign,  we  will  alone  uphold 
Without  the  afliftance  of  a  mortal  hand. 
So  tell  the  pope  j  all  reverence  fet  apart, 
To  him,  and  his  ufurped  authority." 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  anti-papal  in 
"  Henry  the  Eighth,"  where  we  might  have  expedled 
to  find  it ;  and  even  in  the  paflage  above  quoted  the 
proteft  of  King  John  is  political,  not  dodrinal,  and 
fuch  as  a  Gallican  might  have  ufed  in  the  reign  of 
Louis  the  Fourteenth. 

It  would  be  endlefs  to  quote  paffages  to  fhow  how 
deeply  imbued  Shakeipere  was  with  the  old  theology. 
In  "Hamlet"  the  ghoft  of  the  king  declares  that  he 
has  been  releafed  for  a  term  from  purgatory,  and  com- 
plains that  he  did  not  receive  the  Viaticum  and  the 
facrament  of  Extreme  Unclion  : — 


His  Religion.  177 


"  Thus  was  I,  fleeping,  by  a  brother's  hand 
Of  life,  of  crown,  of  queen,  at  once  defpatch'd  : 
Cut  off  even  in  the  bloflbms  of  my  fin, 
Unhoufel'd,  difappointed,  unanel'd.' 

I  think,  too,  we  may  trace  an  allufion  to  the  religious 
changes,  backwards  and  forwards,  which  diftra&ed  the 
nation  in  the  reigns  of  Henry  the  Eighth,  Edward  the 
Sixth,  Mary  and  Elizabeth,  in  the  faying  in  "  Lear," 
"  It  is  and  it  is  not,  is  no  good  divinity  ;  "  or  perhaps 
the  paffage  may  allude  to  the  ambiguity  of  the  Angli- 
can formularies,  which  were  framed  to  include  both 
Catholics  and  Proteftants.  But  certainly  monks  and 
friars  are  generally  treated  with  refpeft  in  the  plays, 
while  the  parochial  clergy,  who  were  generally 
favourers  of  the  new  dodrine,  are  held  up  to  ridicule 
in  fuch  characters  as  Sir  Hugh  Evans  and  Sir  Nathaniel. 

A  very  curious  entry  in  the  Chamberlain's  accounts 
at  Stratford  under  the  year  1614,  is  ftill  extant: — 
"  Item,  for  on  quart  of  fack,  and  on  quart  of  clarrett 
winne,  given  to  a  preacher  at  the  New  Place,  XXd." 
Now,  whether  this  preacher  were  fent  to  try  and 
convert  Shakefpere,  or  whether  he  came  by  the  Poet's 
wifh  is  uncertain ;  but  if  the  latter,  the  corporation 
would  not  have  paid  for  his  reverence's  liberal  pota- 
tions. Indeed  it  was  quite  in  the  fpirit  of  the  age  to 
fend  a  preacher  to  a  man's  houfe  for  the  exprefs  pur- 
pofe  of  refuting  his  religious  belief. 


A  A 


178  Shakefpere. 


From  his  writings  I  fhould  rather  imagine  that 
Shakefpere,  as  far  as  religion  was  concerned,  refembled 
the  great  ftatefmen  of  Henry  and  Elizabeth — politically 
they  were  Proteftants,  doclrinally  Catholics,  and  were 
willing  to  fubmit  outwardly  to  the  powers  in  being, 
while  they  held  themfelves  free  to  have  their  own 
private  opinions,  which  were  not  thofe  of  the  vulgar, 
and  far  from  fanatical. 

The  Poet's  illnefs  muft  have  lafted  a  confiderable 
time,  for  his  will  is  dated  the  5th  of  March,  and  the 
iignatures  to  it,  by  their  tremulous  lines,  {how  that  he 
muft  have  been  very  weak  when  he  wrote  them.  The 
houfe  of  rejoicing  had  foon  been  turned  into  the 
houfe  of  mourning ;  in  February  New  Place  rang 
with  the  merriment  of  a  bridal ;  in  April  the  matter 
lay  dead  in  one  of  its  chambers.  Shakeipere's  laft 
teftament  fhows  the  fame  kindly  difpofition  as  was 
diiplayed  in  his  whole  life.  After,  in  the  ufual  form, 
commending  his  foul  to  God,  he  leaves  the  bulk  of 
his  perfonal  property  to  his  elder  daughter,  Mrs.  Hall ; 
and  to  his  fecond  daughter,  Mrs.  Quiney,  and  his 
nephews  and  nieces,  fons  of  Mrs.  Joan  Hart,  his  lifter, 
certain  fums  of  money;  to  Mrs.  Hall  all  his  plate? 
except  his  "  brod  filver-gilt  bole  ; "  to  the  poor  of  the 
parifh  ten  pounds ;  to  Mr.  Thomas  Combe  his  fword ; 
to  Thomas  Ruflell  and  Francis  Collins  fmall  fums ;  and 


His  Defcendants.  179 


to  Hamlet  Sadleir,  William  Raynolds,  William  Walker, 
his  godfon,  Anthonye  Nafhe,  and  to  "  my  fellows,  John 
Hemynges,  Richard  Burbage,  and  Henry  Cundell," 
fmall  fums  of  money  "to  buy  themfelves  rings."  His 
fecond  beft  bed  he  leaves  to  his  wife ;  but  at  any 
rate,  as  has  been  already  obferved,  me  had  her  dower 
and  thirds  at  common  law  out  of  all  his  freehold 
property,  and  was  therefore  amply  provided  for.  The 
moft  noticeable  point,  however,  is  his  kind  remem- 
brances of  his  fellow  a&ors  and  partners  in  the 
theatre. 

In  the  next  century  Shakefpere's  family  became 
extinct.  His  daughter  Sufanna,  married  to  John 
Hall,  died  in  1649,  leaving  °ne  daughter,  married  firft 
to  Thomas  Nam,  and  fecondly  to  John  (afterwards 
Sir  John)  Barnard  of  Abington  in  Northamptonfhire, 
but  me  died  without  iffue,  and  was  buried  at  Abington 
in  1669. 

Judith,  married  to  Thomas  Quiney,  had  three 
children:  Shakefpere,  baptifed  November  23,  1616, 
and  buried  May  8,  1617;  Richard,  baptifed  February 
9,  1617-18,  and  buried  February  26,  1638-9;  and 
Thomas,  baptifed  January  23,  1619-20,  and  buried 
January  28,  1638-9.  She  herfelf  was  buried  in 
Stratford  Church  on  February  9,  1661-2. 

A  Mrs.  Hornby,  a  defcendant  of  the  Poet's  lifter, 


180  Shake f per  e. 


Joan  Hart,  was  living  till  lately  at  Stratford,  and  ufed 
to  gain  her  livelihood  by  fhowing  the  houfe  in  Henley 
Street  to  ftrangers.  She  was  quite  illiterate,  and  was 
much  vexed  when  the  houfe  was  purchafed  to  be 
reftored. 

,  Like  Milton  and  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Shakefpere  has  left 
no  lineal  defcendant  to  inherit  his  name  or  his  genius. 
By  the  Poet's  untimely  death,  when  he  was  only 
fifty-two,  and  therefore  ftill  in  the  zenith  of  his  powers, 
pofterity  loft  the  chance  of  obtaining  a  full  and  correct 
collection  of  his  works.  Whether  he  ever  would  have 
collected  and  edited  them  is,  however,  doubtful.  Even 
his  fonnets,  which  were  published  in  his  lifetime,  appear 
to  have  been  given  to  the  public  without  his  con- 
currence. He  feems,  indeed,  to  have  been  like  the 
oftrich  in  the  Pfalms,  which  the  Lord  is  faid  to  have 
deprived  of  underftanding,  fo  that  me  leaves  her  eggs 
in  the  fand  to  be  hatched  by  the  heat  of  the  fun,  or  to 
be  trodden  down  by  the  foot  of  the  wayfarer,  as  chance 
may  order  it.  Yet  for  the  fake  of  the  money  at  leaft, 
which  might  have  purchafed  another  farm  or  two  at 
Stratford,  it  may  be  fuppofed  that  he  would  have 
entered  into  a  fpeculation  which  might  have  proved 
profitable.  Then  we  ihould  have  had  no  emendators ; 
no  Bentleys,  no  Irelands,  no  Colliers,  and  one  great 
branch  of  literary  induftry  would  never  have  exifted. 


Firjl  Edition  of  his  Works.  1 8 1 

Neverthelefs,  the  certainty  that  we  were  reading  what 
Shakeipere  really  did  mean  to  fay  might  have  confoled 
us  even  for  this  lofs. 

The  tafk  of  collecting  his  plays,  was  referved  for 
his  "  fellows/'  John  Heminge  and  Henry  Condell, 
whom  he  had  named  in  his  will ;  and  under  their 
fuperintendence  was  publiftied,  feven  years  after  his 
death,  the  firft  folio  edition  of  his  dramatic  works. 
It  is  dedicated  to  William,  Earl  of  Pembroke,  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  and  to  Philip,  Earl  of  Mont- 
gomery. 

The  addrefs,  "  To  the  great  variety  of  readers,"  pre- 
fixed to  this  edition  is  interefting : — 

"  From  the  moft  able  to  him  that  can  but  fpell :  there  you  are 
numbered.  We  had  rather  you  were  weighed  :  efpecially  when  the  fate 
of  all  books  depends  upon  your  capacities ;  and  not  of  your  heads  alone 
but  of  your  purfes.  Well,  it  is  now  public,  arid  you  will  ftand  for  your 
privileges  we  know, — to  read  and  cenfure.  Do  fo,  but  buy  it  firflj  that 
doth  beft  commend  a  book,  the  ftationer  fays.  Then  how  odd  foever 
your  brains  be  or  your  wifdoms,  make  your  licenfe  the  fame  and  fpare 
not.  Judge  your  fix  penn'orth,  your  milling's  worth,  or  your  five  Ihillings' 
worth  at  a  time,  or  higher,  fo  you  rife  to  the  proof  rates,  and  welcome. 
But,  whatever  you  do,  buy.  Cenfure  will  not  drive  a  trade  or  make  the 
Jack  go.  And  though  you  be  a  magiftrate  of  wit,  and  fit  on  the  flage  at 
Blackfriars  or  the  Cock-pit,  to  arraign  plays  daily,  know  thefe  plays  have 
had  their  trial  already,  and  flood  out  all  appeals,  and  do  now  come  forth 
quitted  rather  by  a  decree  of  court  than  any  purchafed  letters  of 
commendation. 

"  It  had  been  a  thing,  we  confefs,  worthy  to  be  wifhed,  that  the  author 
himfelf  had  lived  to  have  fet  forth  and  overfeen  his  own  writings.  But 


1 82  Shakefpere. 


lince  it  hath  been  ordained  otherwife,  and  he  by  death  departed  from 
that  right,  we  pray  you  do  not  envy  his  friends  the  office  of  their  care 
and  pain,  to  have  collected  and  publifhed  them  ;  and  fo  to  have  publifhed 
them,  as  where  (before)  you  were  abufed  with  divers  ftolen  and  iurrep- 
titious  copies,  maimed  and  deformed  by  the  frauds  and  ftealths  of  injurious 
impoftors,  that  expofed  them,  even  thofe  are  now  offered  to  your  view 
cured  and  perfect  of  their  limbs,  and  all  the  reft  abfolute  in  their  numbers 
as  he  conceived  them;  who,  as  he  was  a  happy  imitator  of  nature,  was  a 
moft  gentle  expreffer  of  it :  his  mind  and  hands  went  together ;  and 
what  he  thought  he  uttered  with  that  eafinefs  that  we  have  fcarce 
received  from  him  a  blot  on  his  paper.  But  it  is  not  our  province,  who 
only  gather  his  works  and  give  them  you,  to  praife  him.  It  is  yours  that 
read  him;  and  then  we  hope,  to  your  divers  capacities,  you  will  find 
enough  both  to  draw  and  hold  you,  for  his  wit  can  no  more  lie  hid  than 
it  can  be  loft.  Read  him  therefore;  and  again  and  again  ;  and  if  then 
you  do  not  like  him,  furely  you  hunger  not  to  underftand  him.  And  fo 
we  leave  you  to  other  of  his  friends,  whom,  if  you  need,  can  be  your 
guides  :  if  you  need  them  not,  you  can  lead  yourfelves  and  others.  And 
fuch  readers  we  wiih  him. 

"JoHN  HEMINGE. 

"  HENRY  CONDELL." 

It  is  needlefs  perhaps  to  fay  that  in  this  edition  the 
plays  are  very  far  indeed  from  being  "  cured  and  perfect 
of  their  limbs,  and  all  the  reft  abfolute  of  their 
numbers.5'  If  fo  we  fhould  not  have  our  attention 
drawn  off  from  fome  neceffary  action  of  the  play 
by  having  to  look  at  a  note  to  explain  an  unintel- 
ligible paffage.  But  this  firft  folio,  as  it  is  called, 
has  been  generally  taken  as  the  foundation  of  fubfe- 
quent  texts,  and  has  been  adopted  as  fuch  by  the 
editors  of  the  fcholarlike  Cambridge  edition,  now  in 
courfe  of  publication. 


Memorials  of  the  Poet  at  Stratford.  183 


CHAPTER  XL 

IT  now  remains  to  notice  the  few  memorials  of  the 
Poet  which  are  preferved  in  different  places  throughout 
the  town.  Firft  there  is  Mr.  James's  mufeum  of 
Shakefperian  relics,  confiding  of  various  pieces  of 
furniture  faid  to  have  been  taken  from  New  Place. 
Then  there  is  the  Town  Hall,  where  may  be  feen  a 
picture  of  the  Poet  by  Wilfon,  idealifed  from  the  buft ; 
but  I  confefs  the  original  is  more  interefting  to  me. 
How  could  Wilfon  tell  that  Shakefpere  looked  more 
poetical  than  the  buft  reprefents  him  to  have  looked  ? 
Then  there  is  an  affected  picture  of  Garrick  leaning  on 
Shakefpere's  buft,  and  looking  as  if  he  actually  believed 
the  nonfenfe  which  people  talked,  about  his  rivalling 
the  genius  of  the  Poet  himfelf.  Fancy  Davy  patron- 
ifing  Shakefpere,  and  thinking  that  he  knew  better  than 
the  author  of  "  The  Tempeft  "  what  was  fuited  to  the 
ftage  !  Though  Burke  and  the  other  members  of  the 
club  combined  to  flatter  him,  fturdy  old  Samuel  Johnfon 
was  much  nearer  a  true  eftimation  of  his  merits.  The 


184  Shakefpere. 


very  fact  that  he  prefumed  to  alter  and  adapt  Shake- 
fpere's  plays,  is,  to  my  mind,  proof  pofitive  that,  what- 
ever his  powers  of  declamation,  he  muft  have  been  a 
very  little  man  indeed.  Romney's  portrait  of  the  Duke 
of  Dorfet  is  alfo  to  be  feen  here,  and  is  well  worth  look- 
ing at.  On  a  fcreen  may  be  obferved  ridiculous  pictures 
of  the  mummery  which  was  acted  in  the  ftreets  of 
Stratford  under  Garrick's  aufpices  at  the  Jubilee  in  the 
laft  century.  It  is  devoutly  to  be  hoped  that  the  Poet's 
memory  may  not  be  defecrated  by  a  repetition  of  fuch 
folly  next  Spring.  The  worft  of  it  is,  that  on  all  fuch 
occafions  that  refpectable  body  called,  in  the  language 
of  the  gods,  "  licenfed  victuallers,"  and  in  that  of  men, 
"publicans,"  has  generally  as  influential  a  voice  as  it 
has  in  the  election  of  members  for  Marylebone  and 
the  Tower  Hamlets.  Any  vulgar  mow,  therefore, 
which  will  fill  the  public-houfes,  will  be  fure  to  have 
many  advocates  at  Stratford. 

But  the  moft  interefting  relic  of  all,  which,  as  it 
comes  laft  in  the  order  of  the  Poet's  life,  I  kept  for  the 
laft  ftation  of  my  pilgrimage,  is  the  church  where  his 
bones  repofe.  It  is,  in  itfelf,  a  noble  ftructure,  fur- 
rounded  by  fine  trees,  and  built  on  the  bank  of  the 
beautiful  Avon,  which  on  one  fide  bounds  the  church- 
yard. As  I  approached  it  under  an  avenue  of  lime 
trees  I  thought  how  often  the  Poet  had  trodden  the 


His  Parijh  Church.  185 


fame  path.  Here  he  had  probably  learned  his  firft 
leflbns  in  divinity,  upon  which  his  works  fhow  that  he 
had  thought  deeply  and  accurately.  Hither  he  had 
accompanied  the  chriftening  party,  when  his  children, 
Sufanna,  Hamnet,  and  Judith  had  been  baptifed. 
Here  he  had  joined  the  crowd  of  his  fellow-citizens  in 
after  days  when  they  were  "knolled  to  parim  church," 
and  endured  the  profing  of  fome  worthy  preacher,  who 
endeavoured  to  foothe  the  fidgettinels  of  his  congregation 
with,  "  Have  patience,  good  people ;  have  patience ; " 
or  fat  amufed  upon  his  bench  while  "coughing 
drowned  the  parfon's  faw."  Here  he  followed  the 
bier  of  his  only  fon  with  forrow  to  the  grave,  and 
hither  he  himfelf  was  borne  at  laft,  when  all  too  foon 
he  left  the  world  of  which  he  was  the  benefadtor,  and 
will  be  till  the  crack  of  doom ;  for  divines  may  preach 
and  philofophers  may  theorife,  but  what  philofopher 
or  divine  will  ever  convey  fuch  leflbns  of  practical 
wifdom,  or  fpeak  fo  inwardly  to  the  confcience  as  the 
writer  of  "  Hamlet,"  "  Lear,"  and  "  Othello  ?" 

But  I  was  recalled  from  thefe  thoughts  by  a  woman 
with  a  broom  in  her  hand,  who,  like  the  vulture  of  the 
defert,  feemed  to  nofe  from  afar  the  prey  which  had 
come  within  her  reach.  However,  I  felt  a  fort  of  dif- 
inclination  to  enter  too  fuddenly  upon  the  intima 
penetralia  of  the  temple,  and  made  my  approaches 


B    B 


1 86  Shakefpere. 


with  deliberation ;  juft  as  one  fometimes  anxioufly  fcans 
the  poftmark  on  the  outfide  of  a  letter  and  the  hand- 
writing of  the  direction,  when  by  fimply  breaking  the 
feal  all  myftery  might  at  once  be  diffipated. 

I  therefore  began  by  walking  round  the  church,  and 
found  that  it  was  built  of  grey  ftone,  in  the  form  of  a 
crofs,  with  large  chancel  and  tower  at  its  junction  with 
the  nave;  tranfepts,  aifles,  and  north  porch.  There 
are  fome  Romanefque  remains  and  early  Englifh  work  in 
the  ftrufture;  but  the  chief  part  is  perpendicular,  of  the 
fourteenth  century.  The  guide-book  informed  me 
that  the  fouth  aifle  was  rebuilt  by  John  de  Stratford, 
Archbimop  of  Canterbury,  in  the  reign  of  Edward  the 
Third.  The  chancel  appears  to  be  the  lateft  part  of 
the  building,  and  was  probably  rebuilt  or  largely  altered 
in  the  fifteenth  century.  The  college  for  priefts, 
where  John-a-Combe  once  refided,  and  which  muft 
have  been  one  of  the  greateft  ornaments  of  the  town, 
was  actually  pulled  down  in  1799  by  its  then  owner,  a 
Mr.  Edward  Butteribee. 

On  entering  by  the  beautiful  porch,  furmounted  by 
its  folar,  where  a  prieft  probably  once  kept  fchool,  the 
view  is  very  impofing ;  you  can  fee  from  the  weft  to 
the  eaft  window,  and  can  appreciate  fully  the  extra- 
ordinary inclination  of  the  chancel  towards  the  fouth, 
for  there  are  no  high  pews  to  intercept  the  viiion. 


STRATFORD-ON-AVON 


His  Grave.-  187 


The  church  has  been,  what  is  called,  "  reftored,"  and 
the  people  fit  on  low  benches.  This  procefs  has  not 
been  done  in  the  beft  of  tafte  indeed,  and  the  aides  are 
ftill  encumbered  with  galleries;  but  I  do  not  think  the 
ftrucliure  of  the  church  itfelf  has  been  materially  in- 
jured. As  I  advanced  up  towards  the  eaft  end,  I 
obferved  a  chapel  in  the  north  aifle  filled  with  fine 
monuments  of  the  Clopton  family,  amongft  which  the 
alabafter  figures  of  George  Carew,  Earl  of  Totnefs  and 
Baron  Clopton,  with  his  countefs,  coloured  to  refemble 
life,  are  the  moft  curious. 

And  now  I  approached  the  very  fpot  in  which  re- 
pofes  all  that  was  mortal  of  Shakefpere.  The  chancel 
is,  on  the  whole,  a  worthy  mrine  for  fuch  a  relic.  The 
old  mifereres  or  feats  for  the  choir  remain,  and  are 
curious  examples  of  the  grotefque  tafte  of  the  latter 
part  of  the  middle  ages ;  for  each  feat,  on  being  turned 
up,  difclofes  fome  quaint  and  hideous  figures,  which 
are  not  certainly  conducive  to  religious  ideas,  nor 
indeed  quite  decent.  But  of  courfe,  the  objecl:  of  all 
objects  is  the  grave  itfelf  of  Shakefpere.  It  is  beneath 
the  dais  on  which  ftands  tjie  altar,  and  is  covered  by  a 
flag-ftone,  which  bears  the  infcription — 

"  Good  frend,  for  Jefvs  fake  forbeare 
To  digg  the  dvfl  encloofed  heare  j 
Bleile  be  ye  man  y*  fpares  thes  ftones, 
And  cvrfl  be  he  y*  moves  my  bones." 


88  Shakefpere. 


This  piece  of  foolifh  doggrel,  which  is  common 
enough  on  tomb-ftones,  has  been,  I  believe,  by  fome, 
fuppofed  to  have  been  written  by  the  Poet  himfelf.  I 
cannot  believe  that  he  could  have  been  fo  fuperftitious 
and  egotiftical — he  who  cared  fo  little  what  became  of 
the  creations  of  his  mind  would  furely  be  ftill  lefs 
felicitous  about  the  duft  which  formed  his  body.  He 
who  had  fo  meditated  on  life  and  death  as  to  write  the 
fcene  at  Ophelias  grave,  could  not  have  cared  much 
what  became  of  his  bones  : — 

"  Hamlet.  To  what  bafe  ufes  may  we  return,  Horatio  I  Why  may  not 
imagination  trace  the  noble  duft  of  Alexander  till  he  find  it  flopping  a 
bung-hole  ? 

Horatio.  'Twere  to  confider  too  curioufly  to  confider  fo. 

Hamlet.  No,  faith,  not  a  jot  ;  but  to  follow  him  thither  with  modefly 
enough,  and  likelihood  to  lead  it :  as  thus ;  Alexander  died ;  Alexander 
was  buried ;  Alexander  returned  unto  duft  j  the  duft  is  earth ;  of  earth 
we  make  loam  j  and  why  of  that  loam,  whereto  he  was  converted,  might 
they  not  flop  a  beer-barrel?" 

It  is  not  to  be  fuppofed  that  Shakefpere  could 
vehemently  deiire  for  his  remains  an  immunity  from 
the  chances  which  might  befall  thofe  of  Alexander. 

Within  a  few  yards  of  the  grave,  againft  the  north 
wall  of  the  chancel,  is  the  celebrated  monument. 
Mr.  Edwards  gives  the  reader  a  photographic  fac- 
fimile  of  it.  It  is  in  itfelf  not  in  bad  tafte,  except 
for  the  naked  little  boys  at  the  top,  and  the  effigy  is 
probably  the  beft  likenefs  of  the  Poet  extant.  Digges, 


His  Monument. 


in  his  verfes  prefixed  to  the  firft  folio  edition  of  the 
plays,  published  in  1623,  mentions  it,  and  therefore  it 
muft  have  been  eredted  foon  after  the  poet's  death. 
The  tradition  is  that  it  was  done  by  Gerard  Johnfon 
from  a  caft  taken  after  death;  and  curioufly  enough 
fuch  a  caft  was  lately  in  the  pofleffion  of  a  German 
phyfician,  and  is  now,  I  believe,  in  Profeflbr  Owen's 
hands.  It  was  originally  coloured  to  reprefent  life,  for 
the  artifts  of  thofe  days  had  no  idea  but  to  "  hold  the 
mirror  up  to  nature;"  nor  did  they  fee  any  propriety 
in  reprefenting  the  human  form  of  a  dead  white  colour. 
Shakefpere,  fpeaking  of  the  fuppofed  ftatue  of  Her- 
mione,  calls  it  "  a  piece  many  years  in  doing,  and  now 
newly  performed  by  that  rare  Italian  mafter,  Julio 
Romano."  Now  this  muft  have  been  fuppofed  to  have 
been  painted  to  refemble  life,  becaufe  when  Perdita  is 
about  to  kifs  its  hand,  Paulina  fays. 

"  O,  patience ! 

The  ilatue  is  but  newly  fixed,  the  colours 
Not  dry." 

And  again,  when  Leontes  is  going  to  kifs  the  lips 
Paulina  interrupts  him : — 

"  Good,  my  lord,  forbear  j 
The  ruddinefs  upon  her  lip  is  wet  j 
You'll  mar  it  if  you  kifs  it ;  flain  your  own 
With  oily  painting." 

It  {hewed,  therefore,  great  ignorance  in  Malone  to 


190  Shakefpere. 


have  the  buft  painted  ftone  colour,  as  if  that  were  more 
claffical,  when  in  reality  we  know  that  the  Greeks  and 
Romans  painted  the  pureft  Parian  marble ;  but  Malone, 
in  this,  was  only  following  the  falfe  tafte  of  his  age, 
and  therefore  I  think  he  is  rather  harfhly  treated  in 
the  following  epigram,  infcribed  by  a  vifitor  in  the 
book  appropriated  to  fignatures  and  obfervations : — 

"  Stranger,  to  whom  this  monument  is  mown, 
Invoke  the  Poet's  curfe  upon  Malone  5 
Whofe  meddling  zeal  his  barbarous  tafte  betrays, 
And  daubs  his  tombftone  as  he  mars  his  plays.'1 

Malone's  annotations  and  fuggeftions  certainly  did  not 
mar  the  poet's  plays,  though  it  is  true  that  the  ftone- 
coloured  paint  betrayed  a  barbarous  tafte  in  art. 

A  few  years  ago  the  ftone-coloured  paint  was  re- 
moved, and  the  old  colours  renewed.  The  hair,  mouf- 
tachios,  and  beard  are  now  reprefented  as  chefnut,  the 
eyes,  I  think,  brown,  and  the  complexion  ruddy.  The 
Poet  is  reprefented  drefled  in  "  his  habit  as  he  lived." 
It  will  be  feen  that  he  appears  in  the  aft  of  compofition, 
and  from  the  expreffion  of  his  face  it  is  to  be  prefumed 
that  the  work  upon  which  he  is  engaged  is  a  comedy ; 
there  is  indeed  a  certain  fmirk  upon  the  features,  but 
this  is  owing  in  great  meafure  to  the  curl  of  the  mouf- 
tachios  and  the  fhadow  they  caft  upon  the  mouth. 
But  the  whole  face  expreffes  high  intelligence  and 


Monuments  of  his  Family.  191 


genial  good  humour,  and  in  this  is  much  fuperior  to 
the  other  portraits  of  him,  and  efpecially  to  the 
Chandos,  and  the  engraving  in  the  folio  edition  of  his 
works,  publifhed  in  1623. 

On  the  flab  beneath  the  buft  is  the  following  infcrip- 
tion,  which  I  will  give  for  the  benefit  of  my  more 
elderly  readers ;  the  younger,  with  the  help  of  a  mag- 
nifying glafs,  may  decipher  it  themfelves,  from  Mr. 
Edwards's  photograph  : — 

JUDICIO  PYLIVM,  GENIO   SOCRATEM,  ARTE   MARONEM 
TERRA  TEG1T,  POPVLVS   MGERET,   OLYMPVS   HABET. 

"  STAY,  PASSENGER,  WHY  GOEST  THOV  BY  so  FAST, 
READ,  IF  THOV  CANST,  WHOM  ENVIOVS  DEATH  HATH  PLAST 
WITHIN  THIS  MONVMENT,  SHAKESPERE,  WITH  WHOME 
QVICK  NATVRE  DIDE  j  WHOSE  NAME  DOTH  DECK  YB  TOMBE 
FAR  MORE  THAN  COST,  SITH  ALL  Y*  HE  HATH  WRITT 
LEAVES  LIVING  ART  BVT  PAGE  TO  SERVE  HIS  WITT." 
"  Obiit  Ano  Doi  1616,  Starts  53,  die  23  Ap." 

Befide  Shakefpere's  grave,  to  the  fouth,  is  that  of 
Anne  Hathaway,  his  wife  (see  ante,  p.  57).  On  the 
fouth  fide  lies  Mrs.  Sufanna  Hall,  his  eldeft  daughter, 
who  died  in  1649.  On  her  tombftone  the  original 
verfes  have  been  renewed,  for  they  had  been  obliterated, 
and  run  as  follows  : — 

"  Witty  above  her  fexe,  but  that  's  not  all, 
Wise  to  falvation  was  good  Miftrefs  Hall : 
Something  of  Shakefpere  was  in  that,  but  this 
Wholly  of  Him  of  whom  Ihe's  now  in  blifle. 


192  Shakefpere. 


Then  paflenger,  haft  ne'ere  a  teare 

To  weep  with  her  that  wept  with  all  ? 

That  wept,  yet  fet  herfelf  to  chere 
Them  up  with  comfort's  cordiall, 

Her  love  mail  live,  her  mercy  fpread, 

When  thou  haft  ne'er  a  tear  to  fhed." 

Some  have  thought  that  the  fourth  line  is  a  reflec- 
tion upon  her  father,  as  if  fhe  inherited  none  of  her 
good  difpofitions  from  him ;  but  in  reality  it  only 
mows  that  the  writer  not  only  liked  to  make  an  epi- 
grammatic antithefis,  but  was  an  orthodox  anti- 
pelagian,  and  held  the  utter  corruption  of  human 
nature.  On  the  fame  line,  below  the  altar,  are  the 
tombs  of  Mrs.  Judith  Quiney,  Shakelpere's  younger 
daughter,  and  Elizabeth,  his  grand-daughter,  married 
firft  to  Thomas  Nam,  and  afterwards  to  Sir  John 
Barnard,  and  befide  them,  that  of  Dr.  Hall.  To  the 
north  of  the  altar,  againft  the  eaft  wall,  is  a  handfome 
tomb  erefted  to  the  memory  of  John-a-Combe,  the 
Poet's  friend. 

Thofe  who  defire  to  fee  the  very  entries  themfelves 
of  the  births,  deaths,  and  marriages  in  the  Shakefpere 
family,  will  find  them  in  the  regifter.  Malone  has 
printed  them  in  his  edition  of  the  Poet's  works. 

All  that  now  remains  to  be  noticed  is  the  broken 
font  in  the  veftry,  in  which  Shakefpere  himfelf  and  his 
children  were  probably  baptifed.  It  is  placed  on  the 


"  Knotted  to  Parijh  Church:'  193 

parifti    cheft,    and    has    been    photographed    by    Mr. 
Erneft  Edwards. 

The  old  buildings  and  other  remains  of  the  England 
of  Shakefpere's  day  are  faft  paffing  away.  The  true 
"  Herne's  Oak,"  was  felled,  I  believe,  in  the  laft  century, 
and  a  very  old  tree  in  Windfor  Park,  which  local  tradi- 
tion had  fubftituted  for  it,  was  blown  down  fhortly 
before  I  undertook  my  pilgrimage.  The  "  Boar's 
Head  "  in  Eaftcheap  has  long  fince  difappeared  with  its 
"  fly-bitten  tapeftries,"  and  the  inn  at  Rochefter,  of 
which  the  carrier  declared  that  "  this  be  the  moft 
villainous  houfe  in  all  London  Road  for  fleas,"  has  juft 
been  pulled  down  to  make  way  for  a  railroad.  Of 
the  ftatue  which  graces  "  Poets'  Corner "  in  Weft- 
minfter  Abbey,  and  was  eredted  in  the  lail  century, 
Mr.  Edwards  gives  us  a  photograph.  The  attitude  and 
drapery  are  graceful,  but  neither  the  face  nor  figure 
bear  the  fmalleft  refemblance  to  thofe  of  the  Poet  as 
he  is  feen  in  the  Stratford  monument,  from  which  we 
learn  that  his  outward  as  well  as  his  inward  man 
reprefented  the  honeft,  manly,  unfentimental  Engliih- 
man — the  typical  John  Bull. 

Next  day,  being  Sunday,  I  joined  the  groups  who 
hurried  along  the,  till  then,  deferted  ftreets  of  Stratford 
to  morning  prayers,  and  found  that  the  fervice  was 
conducted  in  a  manner  worthy  of  the  fine  church 


c  c 


1 94  Shakefpere. 


and  its  great  aflbciations.  Almoft  the  whole  was 
fung  by  a  well-trained  choir,  and  very  fine  and  im- 
preflive  it  was.  But  when  the  clergyman  mounted  the 
pulpit  to  preach,  I  foon  found  that  the  fermon  was 
fadly  out  of  tune  with  the  time,  the  place,  and  the  reft 
of  the  proceedings.  It  was,  in  fact,  a  fcolding  to  the 
parishioners  for  not  coming  to  the  Sacrament.  Now  I 
hate  all  fcolding,  and  do  not  believe  in  it ;  and,  more- 
over, this  particular  fcolding  did  not  apply  to  me  ;  while 
it  lafted,  therefore,  I  had  leifure  to  let  my  mind  roam 
over  the  paft  and  revel  in  the  aflbciations  of  the  place. 
And  when  the  final  blefling  was  given  I  could  hardly 
prevail  on  myfelf  to  leave  the  laft  fcene — the  conclud- 
ing ftation  of  my  pilgrimage. 

With  my  vifit  to  the  church  on  Sunday,  and  long 
lingering  look  at  the  marble  beneath  which  repofe  the 
bones  of  Shakefpere,  my  pilgrimage  to  Stratford  came 
to  an  end.  Thinking  that  I  mould  fpend  the  Sunday 
afternoon  quite  as  well  in  riding  along  the  pretty  roads 
of  Warwickshire  as  in  falling  afleep  in  my  inn  over 
fuch  volume  of  old  fermons  as  I  might  borrow  from 
my  landlady,  I  mounted  little  Stornoway,  and,  accom- 
panied by  Smoker,  turned  my  face  towards  home. 
On  my  road  the  horfe-boys  feemed  much  furprifed  to 
fee  me  returning  fo  foon,  for  they  had  foretold  that  I 
Should  never  reach  my  deftination  ;  but  they  did  not 


WESTMINSTER     ABBEY. 


Return  Home. 


'95 


know  Stornoway's  capabilities.  I,  who  do  know 
them,  am  happy  to  fay  that  he  has  now  taken  up  his 
permanent  abode  in  my  ftable.  Some  few  weeks  after 
my  return  I  happened  to  pay  the  friend  who  had  lent 
him  to  me  a  vifit,  and  as  we  walked  through  the  fields 
attached  to  the  houfe,  Stornoway  came  trotting  up  and 
thruft  his  pretty  nofe  into  the  breaft  of  my  coat,  thus 
mowing  his  remembrance  of  my  care  of  him  during 
our  joint  pilgrimage.  The  refult  was,  that  he  tranf- 
ferred  his  allegiance  to  me  next  morning,  and  now 
carries  me  about  to  vifit  in  my  parim,  where  he  is  the 
admiration  and  pet  of  everybody. 

Smoker's  travels  have  not,  I  think,  improved  him. 
He  has  grown  too  much  a  citizen  of  the  world.  His 
frequent  vifits  to  inns  have  given  him  a  tafte  for  fuch 
haunts ;  and  now,  when  I  take  him  to  Chelmsford,  he 
makes  himfelf  fo  comfortable  among  the  horfes  and 
horfe-boys,  that  he  fcarcely  cares  to  return  home. 
But  his  friendfhip  for  Stornoway  is  unabated,  and  they 
occupy  the  fame  bed  at  night. 

I  myfelf  am  more  than  ever  convinced  of  the 
benefit  conferred  on  mind  and  body  by  fuch  a  trip  as  I 
have  defcribed;  but  the  next  time  I  ride  abroad,  it 
mall  be  with  a  companion,  especially  if  England  be  the 
fcene  of  my  pilgrimage. 


196  .        Shakefpere. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

MY  experiment  has  now  been  made,  and  as  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  it  has  proved  fuccefsful.  My  pilgrim- 
age to  Shakefpere's  birth-place,  home,  and  grave, 
combined  with  the  few  facts  and  traditions  refpedting 
him  which  have  come  down  to  us,  and  with  the 
iplendid  legacy  which  in  his  works  he  has  bequeathed 
to  mankind,  have  enabled  me  to  form  a  certain  ideal  of 
the  man.  Whether  that  ideal  be  true  or  fantaftical  ; 
whether  it  will  recommend  itfelf  to  others  or  not,  I 
cannot  tell ;  but,  at  any  rate,  I  am  fatisfied  with  it. 

In  the  firft  place,  then,  Shakelpere  was  a  manly  man, 
fond  of  the  fports  which  make  Englishmen  quick  of 
eye,  fertile  in  expedients,  ftrong  of  hand,  active  of  foot, 
and  fearlefs  in  execution.  His  fturdy,  well-built  figure, 
ruddy  complexion,  and  frank  open  countenance,  as 
feen  upon  his  tomb,  are  at  once  an  evidence  and  an 
effect  of  this  trait,  which  is  further  attefted  by  tradition 
and  his  writings.  He  was  fond  of  fociety,  anxious  to 
have  a  ftately,  well-appointed  houfe  and  eflablifhment, 


Ideal  of  his  Character.  1 97 


a  little  proud  of  his  gentle  blood,  and  ready  with  the 
firft  joke  that  came  uppermoft  to  tickle  Southampton, 
retaliate  upon  Ben  Jonfon,  or  make  John-a-Combe 
chuckle. 

Next,  he  was  totally  free  from  the  pedantry  of  an 
author.  He  looks  neither  mad,  nor  fentimental,  nor 
melancholy,  nor  infpired.  While  fmaller  men  are  apt 
to  magnify  the  value  of  works  which  have  coft  them 
immenfe  labour  and  effort  to  produce,  he  cared  fo  little 
for  the  fpontaneous  produ&ions  of  his  genius  that  he 
took  no  care  about  them  once  they  had  anfwered  their 
immediate  purpofe.  The  ordinary  companions  of  his 
later  days  were  the  honeft  fquires  and  burghers  of  War- 
wickfhire,  nor  do  the  few  jokes  recorded  of  him  at  all 
fmell  of  the  lamp,  but  rather  refer  to  the  purfuits  of 
ordinary  men.  All  his  aims  were  pra&ical.  His  objed: 
in  life  was  to  fecure  to  himfelf  an  independence,  and  to 
enjoy  the  amufements  and  the  occupations  to  which 
his  fimple  taftes  impelled  him.  For  this  purpofe  he 
was  not  too  proud  to  turn  his  hand  to  any  honeft  em- 
ployment, to  hold  gentlemen's  horfes,  adt,  adapt  other 
men's  works  to  the  ftage,  write  the  fineft  plays  that 
ever  were  conceived  by  mortal  man,  buy  and  fell  malt, 
and  farm  impropriate  tithes. 

As  might  have  been  expe&ed  from  a  man  of  this 
mould,  he  was  free  from  the  petty  jealoufies  of  litera- 


198  Shakefpere. 


ture.  The  irritable  race  of  his  fellow  poets  ufe  refpedt- 
ing  him  fome  turn  of  phrafe  or  epithet  which  denotes 
perfonal  affedtion,  fuch  as  "  gentle."  Spenfer,  Drayton, 
Chettle,  all  have  a  kind  word  for  him.  And  this  is 
the  more  fignificant,  inafmuch  that  they  muft  have  felt 
that  he  had  beaten  them.  The  only  exception  to  this 
rule  is  Greene,  who  feems  to  me  to  have  been  the  very 
type  of  all  that  is  moft  bafe  and  degraded  in  literary 
men.  The  irritable,  overbearing,  and  impulfive  Jonfon 
declares  that  he  loved  him  almoft  to  idolatry. 

Behind  thefe  moral  qualities  rifes  the  ftupendous 
edifice  of  his  genius ;  but  indeed  they  add  much  to  its 
beauty  and  effedt.  His  manly,  generous,  unarFedted, 
and  nature-loving  mind  is  apparent  in  every  ftone  of 
the  ftrudture — a  proof,  if  any  were  wanting,  that  every 
work  of  the  artift  is  the  produdt  of  his  whole  nature, 
by  which  the  height,  depth,  length,  breadth,  and 
colour  of  his  foul  and  ipirit  are  meafured  and  gauged. 

And  happy  it  was  for  England  that  our  greateft  Poet 
was  of  this  temperament.  Who  can  fay  what  efFedt 
the  widely-fpread  ftudy  of  his  works  may  have  on  the 
national  character  ?  His  tranfcendent  genius,  had  it 
been  combined  with  fome  morbid  fentimentalifm  or 
effeminate  affedlation,  muft  have  more  or  lefs  injured 
the  moral  fenfe  of  the  thoufands  of  his  countrymen 
to  whom  his  writings  are  as  familiar  as  houfehold 


His  Influence  on  the  National  Character.        199 

words.  Lord  Byron,  with  very  inferior  powers,  was 
able  actually  to  make  it  fashionable  for  a  time  to  ape 
the  maudlin  egotifm  and  weak  mifanthropy  of  a  worn- 
out  voluptuary.  But  there  was  no  perverfe  quality 
in  Shakefpere's  mind  to  throw  a  jaundiced  tinge  over 
his  pi&ures  of  God's  fair  creation.  He  has  Shown 
that  robuft  good  fenfe  is  an  element  of  the  higheft 
poetry,  and  that  to  be  a  great  poet  it  is  not  neceffary 
to  be  either  mad  or  bad.  Again,  with  refpect  to  lan- 
guage, had  he  been  a  bookifh  man  and  a  fcholar,  as 
fcholarmip  was  in  thofe  days,  he  would  probably  have 
fallen  in  with  the  affectations  of  Sir  Philip  Sydney, 
and  written  in  the  half  French,  half  Latin  jargon  of 
the  Euphuifls,  or  tied  himfelf  to  the  tail  of  Terence 
and  Seneca,  like  Jonfon.  Or,  rebelling  againft  the 
pfeudo-claffical  mania,  he  might  have  affected  archa- 
ifms,  like  Spenfer.  But  inftead  of  this,  he  wrote  in 
the  ftrong  homely  language  of  the  Englifh  people  of 
his  own  time ;  and  his  writings,  combined  perhaps  with 
the  Englifh  tranflation  of  the  Bible,  have  fixed  our 
language  for  ever.  There  is  in  them  always  a  model, 
ready  to  our  hand  and  familiar  to  everybody,  of  the 
very  beft  colloquial  Englim. 

He  has  conferred  another  great  boon  upon  Englifh 
literature.  He  has  created  a  fchool  of  dramatic  criticifm 
founded  upon  nature  and  the  national  character,  and  not 


2oo  Shakefpere. 


upon  arbitrary  laws  of  precedents.  Ariftotle  laid  down, 
and  the  dramatifts  of  Greece  and  Rome  followed,  cer- 
tain canons  called  the  Unities,  which  required  that  the 
action  of  a  play  fhould  not  occupy  more  than  one  day 
at  moft;  that  the  fcene  mould  not  change  to  any  place 
fo  diftant  that  the  actors  might  not  have  reached  it  in 
the  time  occupied  by  the  events  reprefented  ;  and  that  in 
4*agedy,  none  but  tragic  and  dignified  perfonages  mould 
be  introduced.  In  one  of  his  plays,  "  The  Tempeft," 
Shakefpere  has  actually,  whether  intentionally  or  by 
accident,  obferved  the  firft  two  of  the  Unities.  The 
whole  bufinefs  of  the  play  is  tranfacted  in  Profperos  little 
ifland  within  the  fpace  of  a  few  hours.  It  is  impoffible 
to  deny  that  the  refult  upon  a  reader's  mind — at  leaft 
upon  a  critical  reader's  mind — is  a  certain  feeling  of 
artiftic  completenefs.  But  this  advantage  is  not  enough 
in  general  to  compenfate  for  the  bondage  under  which 
the  poet  who  writes  under  thefe  conditions  labours.  In 
none  of  Shakefpere's  plays  is  the  third  Unity  obferved. 
Whether  the  Greek  mind,  in  which  thefe  rules  origi- 
nated, were  fo  fenfitive  as  not  to  admit  the  mixture  of 
tragic  and  comic  emotions,  or  whether  the  religious 
character  of  the  Greek  feftivals  excluded  it,  or  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  canon,  it  certainly 
deprives  the  artift  of  one  great  inftrument  of  artiftic 
effect — contraft.  The  grave  fcene  in  "  Hamlet,"  the 


'The  Tercentenary  FeftivaL  201 

fcenes  on  the  heath  in  «  Lear,"  and  at  the  caflle-gate 
in  "  Macbeth,"  would  fuffer  confiderably  if  any  claffical 
enthufiaft  were  to  omit  the  parts  of  the  gravedigger, 
the  fool,  and  the  porter.  At  any  rate,  tragedy,  comedy, 
and  farce,  are  ftrangely  blended  in  real  life,  to  which 
Shakefpere  held  the  mirror,  and  our  fluggifti  northern 
imaginations  require  the  ftimulus  of  the  contraft. 
The  builders  of  our  cathedrals  muft  carve  a  fow  play- 
ing on  the  bagpipes,  or  a  friar  putting  a  goofe  into  his 
fleeve,  on  the  moulding  of  a  ftrudlure  which  awes  the 
lighteft  imagination  by  its  folemn  and  myfterious 
beauty.  If  Shakefpere  had  been  .a  fcholar,  we  mould 
probably .  have  known  no  tragedy  but  fuch  as  the 
ftilted  productions  of  Corneille  and  Racine,  or  dramatic 
criticifm  but  fuch  as  Voltaire's. 

And  now  one  word  upon  the  Tercentenary  Feftival. 
As  long  as  human  nature  remains  what  it  is,  the  mind 
will  attach  a  certain  fentimental  importance  to  anni- 
verfaries  and  other  epochs  which  recall  the  memory  of 
great  events,  of  which  the  birth  of  Shakefpere  is  moft 
afluredly  one  of  the  greateft.  It  is  a  principle  inter- 
woven in  our  religion,  our  laws,  and  our  cuftoms. 
The  delire  to  mow  refpect  to  the  memory  of  a  great 
man  by  creeling  a  monument  to  his  honour  is.  alfo  a 
natural  feeling  which  we  inherit  from  our  Celtic, 
Teutonic,  or  Scandinavian  anceftors,  whofe  cairns  and 


D  D 


2O2  Shake/fere. 


barrows  fupply  food  for  the  {peculations  of  our  anti- 
quarian focieties.  But  in  all  our  attempts  as  a  nation  to 
keep  anniverfaries  or  erect  monuments,  we  are  iingu- 
larly  unhappy.  We  fet  about  fuch  matters  moult 
trlftement.  Something  of  courfe  will  be  done  at  the 
coming  Tercentenary  Feftival,  and  the  beft  way  not  to 
be  difappointed  is  not  to  expert  much.  A  ftatue  or  an 
obelifk  more  or  lefs  will  make  little  difference  in  the 
beauty  or  uglinefs  of  our  public  places.  Fortunately  he 
whom  we  delight  to  honour  may  fay,  Exegi  monumen- 
tum  cere  perennius.  His  plays,  unlike  the  victories  of 
warriors,  are  his  real  monument,  and  it  feems  to  me 
that  through  them  we  can  beft  evince  our  gratitude  to 
their  author.  To  found  a  theatre  in  which  the  Shake- 
iperian  drama  could  be  acted  and  a  fchool  of  acting 
maintained,  would  be  a  work  really  worthy  of  the 
occalion.  The  difficulties  in  the  way,  though  great, 
are  not  infurmountable.  There  is  the  Academy  of 
Mufic  in  Paris  endowed  by  the  State;  and  in  every 
principal  town  in  Italy,  till  lately,  fome  fuch  home  was 
provided  for  the  lyric  drama.  Why,  then,  mould  not 
perfons  co-operate  to  found  a  fchool  of  national  dra- 
matic poetry  in  this  country  ?  There  can  be  no  doubt 
that  a  public  which  can  be  drawn  together  to  hear 
ftupid  lectures  and  orations  about  things  in  general  by 
popular  preachers,  would  flock  to  hear  Shakeipere's 


A  Shakefperian  ^Theatre.  203 

plays  declaimed  exacflly  as  they  were  written,  and  that 
without  any  of  the  factitious  attractions  of  elaborate 
fcenery  and  drefles.  People  do  not  from  choice  feed 
upon  garbage  when  they  can  get  wholefome  food. 
To  hope  that  fuch  an  idea  will  be  actually  carried  out 
amidft  the  jarring  elements  of  the  literary  and  artiftic 
world  may  perhaps  be  Utopian ;  but  I  cannot  help 
thinking  that  to  provide  for  the  adequate  reprefentation 
of  Shakefpere's  plays,  and  to  enlarge  the  circle  of  thofe 
who  receive  from  them  benefit  and  delight,  would  be 
the  moft  rational  and  noblefl  homage  we  could  pay  to 
his  greatnefs. 


FINIS. 


J.    E.    TAYLOR,    PRINTER,    IO,    LITTLE    QUEEN    STREET, 


14  DAY  USE 

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