extreme distance is the far-famed Wrekin; and turning to the north-west are the noble hills of Malvern, with their well-defined outlines. The Cotswolds lock-in the landscape on another side; while in the middle distance the bold Bredon-hill looks down upon the vale of Evesham. All around is a country of unrivalled fertility, with now and then a plain of considerable extent; but more commonly a succession of undulating hills, some wood-crowned, but all cultivated. At the northern extremity of this high land, which principally belongs to the estate of Clopton, and which was doubtless a park in early times, we have a panoramic view of the valley in which Stratford lies, with its hamlets of Bishopton, Little Wilmecote, Shottery, and Drayton. As the marvellous boy of the Stratford grammar-school then looked upon that plain, how little could. he have foreseen the course of his future life! For twenty years of his manhood he was to have no constant dwelling-place in that his native town; but it was to be the home of his affections. He would be gathering fame and opulence in an almost untrodden path, of which his young ambition could shape no definite image; but in the prime of his life he was to bring his wealth to his own Stratford, and become the proprietor and the contented cultivator of some of the loved fields that he now saw mapped out at his feet. Then, a little while, and an early tomb under that grey tower-a tomb so to be honoured in all ages to come, "That kings for such a tomb would wish to die." For some six miles the boundary runs from north to south, partly through land which was formerly barren, and still known as Drayton Bushes and Drayton Wild Moor. Here, "Far from her nest the lapwing cries away." The green bank of the Avon is again reached at the western extremity of the boundary, and the pretty hamlet of Luddington, with its cottages and old trees standing high above the river sedges, is included. The Avon is crossed where the Stour unites with it; and the boundary extends considerably to the southeast, returning to the town over Clopton's Bridge. pastures there is now the Stratford Railway for the corn-a thing undreamt of by the perambulators. marvel of modern science associated with the name of Shakspere. The cliff at Dover, whose base was inaccessible except to "The fishermen that walk upon the beach," Where once were quiet conveyance of coal and But there is a greater is now pierced through by the tunnel of a railway. A few centuries, a thousand years, and the arches of the tunnel may be fallen in, its mouth choked with shingle and sea-weed, and some solitary antiquarian poking with his small lantern amongst its rubbish. But the rock itself will be unchanged; and so will be the memorable description of "its high and bending head." And he who wrote that description, and painted the awful turmoil of human passion and misery associated with that rock, is at the time of which we speak a happy Comedy of Errors. 99 66 schoolboy at Stratford; perambulating his parish with his honest father; made joyful, perhaps, with a kind word or two from the great esquire; and smiling to himself at the recollection of "some loving and facetious observations" of the good vicar. All the rest of that group, where are their honours now? It is something to know that when William Shakspere was twelve years old, Henry Heycroft was vicar of Stratford, and William Clopton the great man of the parish. If they bestowed kindness upon that boy, as upon other boys; if they cherished the poor; if they reconciled differences; if they walked humbly in their generation,-they have their reward, though the world has forgotten them. Shottery, the prettiest of hamlets, is scarcely a mile from Stratford. Here, in all probability, dwelt one who in a few years was to have an important influence upon the destiny of the boy-poet. A Court Roll of the 34th Henry VIII. (1543) shows us that John Hathaway then resided at Shottery; and the substantial house which the Hathaways possessed, now divided into several cottages, remained with their descendants till the very recent period of 1838. There were Hathaways, also, living in the town of Stratford, contemporaries of John Shakspere. We cannot say, absolutely, that Anne Hathaway, the future wife of William Shakspere, was of Shottery; but the prettiest of maidens (for the veracious antiquarian Oldys says there is a tradition that she was eminently beautiful) would have fitly dwelt in the pleasantest of hamlets. Tieck has written an agreeable novelet, 'The Festival at Kenilworth,' on the subject of Shakspere-introductory to another on the same subject, Poet-Life.' He makes, somewhat unnecessarily we think, John Shakspere morose and harsh to his boy; and he brings in Anne Hathaway to obtain his consent that William shall go to Kenilworth: "Anne took the graceful youth in her arms, and said, laughingly, Father Shakspere, you know William is my sweetheart, and belongs as much to me as to you; we have promised one another long ago, and if I go to Kenilworth he must go with me.' William withdrew himself, halfashamed, from the arms of the mischievous girl, and said, with great feeling, Cease, Anne; you know I cannot bear this: I am too young for you.'' There is verisimilitude in this scene, if not truth; and it is easy to comprehend how the playful friendship of a handsome maiden for an interesting boy, some seven years younger, might grow into a dangerous affection. Assuredly, with neighbourly intercourse between their families, William Shakspere would be at Shottery, "To do observance to a mora of May;,"* and indeed, to be just to the youths anu maidens of Stratford and Shottery, it was "impossible" "To make them sleep On May-day morning." † Pass the back of the cottage in which the Hathaways dwelt (of which we shall hereafter have to speak) and enter that beautiful meadow which rises into a gentle eminence conmanding the hamlet at several points. Throw down the hcdges, and is there not here the fittest of localities for the May-games? An impatient group is gathered under the shade of the old elms, for the morning sun casts his slanting beams dazzlingly across that green. There is the distant sound of tabor and bagpipe : "Hark, hark! I hear the dancing, And a nimble morris prancing; That they are not far hence us tells.". From out of the leafy Arden are they bringing in the May-pole. The oxen move slowly with the ponderous wain: they are garlanded, but not for the sacrifice. Around the spoil of the forest are the pipers and the dancersmaidens in blue kirtles, and foresters in green tunics. Amidst the shouts of young and old, childhood leaping and clapping its hands, is the May-pole raised. But there are great personages forthcoming-not so great, however, as in more ancient times. There are Robin Hood and Little John, in their grassgreen tunics; but their bows and their sheaves of arrows are more for show than use. Maid Marian is there; but she is a mockery-a smooth-faced youth in a watchet-coloured tunic, with flowers and coronets, and a mincing gait, but not the shepherdess who "With garlands gay Was made the lady of the May." + There is farce amidst the pastoral. The age of unrealities has already in part arrived. Even amongst country-folks there is burlesque. There is personation, with a laugh at the things that are represented. The Hobby-horse and the Dragon, however, produce their shouts of merriment. But the hearty Morrisdancers soon spread a spirit of genial mirth amidst all the spectators. The clownish Maid Marian will now Friar Tuck sneaks away from his ancient companions to join hands with some undisguised maiden; the Hobby-horse gets rid of pasteboard and his footcloth; and the Dragon quietly deposits his neck and tail for another season. Something like the genial chorus of Summer's Last Will and Testament' is rung out: 66 'Trip and go, heave and ho, Up and down, to and fro, A Maying, a playing; The early-rising moon still sees the villagers on that green of Shottery. The Piper leans against the May-pole; the featliest of dancers still swim to his music: : "So have I seen Tom Piper stand upon our village green, Back'd with the May-pole, whilst a jocund crew In gentle motion circularly threw Themselves around him." The same beautiful writer-one of the last of our golden age of poetry--has described the parting gifts bestowed upon the "merry youngsters" by "The lady of the May Set in an arbour, (on a holy-day,) Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swains It is easy to believe that Anne Hathaway might have been the Lady of the May of Shottery; and that the enthusiastic boy upon whom she bestowed "a garland interwove with roses" might have cherished that gift with a gratitude that was not for his peace. Eight villages in the neighbourhood of Stratford have been characterized in well-known lines by some old resident who had the talent of rhyme. It is remarkable how familiar all the country-people are to this day with these lines, and how invariably they ascribe them to Shakspere : It is maintained that these epithets have a real historical truth about them; and so we must place the scene of a Whitsun-Ale at Bidford. Aubrey has given a sensible account of such a festivity:-" There were no rates for the poor in my grandfather's days; but for Kingston St. Michael (no small parish) the Church-Ale of Whitsuntide did the business. In every parish is, or was, a church-house, to which belonged spits, crocks, &c., utensils for dressing provision. Here the housekeepers met and were merry, and gave their charity. The young people were there, too, and had dancing, bowling, shooting at butts, &c., the ancients sitting gravely by, and looking on. All things were civil, and without scandal." † The puritan Stubbes took a more severe view of the matter than Aubrey's grandfather:-"In certain towns where drunken Bacchus bears sway, against Christmas and Easter, Whitsuntide, or some other time, the churchwardens of every parish, with the consent of the whole parish, provide half a score or twenty quarters of malt, whereof some they buy of the churchstock, and some is given them of the parishioners themselves, every one conferring somewhat, according to his ability; which malt, being made into very strong ale or beer, is set to sale, either in the church or some other place assigned to that purpose, Then, when this is set abroach, well is he that can get the soonest to it, and spend the most at it." Carew, the historian of Cornwall (1602), says, "The neighbour parishes at those times lovingly visit one another, and this way frankly spend their money together." Thus lovingly might John Shakspere and his friends on a Whit-Monday morning have ridden by the pleasant road to Bidford-now from some little eminence beholding their Avon flowing amidst a low meadow on one side and a wood-crowned steep on the other, turning a mill-wheel, rushing over a dam-now carefully wending their way through the rough road under the hill, or galloping over the free downs, glad to escape from rut and quagmire. And then the Icknield Street § is crossed, and they look down upon the little town with its gabled roofs; and they pass the old church, whose tower gives forth a lusty peal; and the hostel at the bridge receives them; and there is the cordial welcome, the outstretched hand, and the full cup. But nearer home Whitsuntide has its sports also; and these will be more attractive for William Shakspere. Had not Stratford its Lord of Whitsun " |