female riders was considerable. The wardrobes were necessarily limited. Such damsels as required more than one dress, and the merest change of under-garments, had to send forward their superfluity by pack-horse. Stratford men, who at the time seem to have been much given to law, were frequently called to London to attend the higher courts in connection with legal proceedings. An authority of the time says: "People must come to London for their law." According to an entry in the accounts of the Chamberlain of Stratford for the year 1599, twelve shillings were paid to Bailiff Sturly for a six days' journey to London, where he had to appear as witness in an action against Mr. Underhill. Post-horses were easy of hire throughout the route, the demand being considerable, those for the upward journey being quickly required for like return purpose to the limit points of defined distance travels, for the doing which the charges were moderate. Ladies desirous of accompanying their lords, as also young damsels wishful of seeing the wonders of London, had to mount these steeds behind their husbands or cavaliers, holding on, as was generally the fashion to a leather belt, known as riding "pillion," or frequently with young folks to a bright-coloured, elegantly tasselled silken circlet, girdled round the male waist for safety grip of his fair companion, and on which the frequency and force of tug would in no slight degree depend on special circumstances of relationship affecting the mind and will of the varying equestrians; a mode of joint equestrianship which continued down to about the year 1800. Whenever horse shifts had to be made, accommodation for the ladies riding a pillion was provided by the erection of stone steps at the wayside inn doors, so that the feminine alight and remount could be comfortably effected in becoming grace and elegance. So bad, however, was the condition of the roads in places, that in wet weather, or when snow was on the ground, guides had to be employed to lead the horses and pilot the way where the boughs of trees and warn poles usually stuck in the ground as land-marks to indicate the roadway, or as warnings against fathomless abysses, had disappeared. Some of the more noted critical causeways were at times fraught with much peril, none more so than the Avon at Stratford. In endeavours to ford this river, notoriously given to sudden heavings and swellings, many terrible calamities were continually occurring. On either bank, where now stands the noble Clopton Bridge, the instances of men and horses borne out of their depths and drowned were frequent; so also at other points, where, after heavy rains, a sudden rush of water from the hills would gorge the river and cause peril, and ofttimes death, to venturesome youths of both sexes, boastful of their powers of crossing on horseback under these and such like hazardous conditions. There were points in the road subject to the division of the track consequent on the pack horse traffic having worn, seemingly bottomless pits which rendered the usual, track unavailable. It was not uncommon for these deceptive chasms to be three or more feet deep, and this fearful ocean of mire from which there existed no visible means of extrication, ofttimes extended for more than a hundred yards. Woe to the horseman and worse to the pillion-loving damsel who allowed betrayal into any such veritable Slough of Despond! The case was hopeless CONDITION OF ROADS BETWEEN STRATFORD AND LONDON. 169 so far as any pursuance of journey on the same overburdened steeds was concerned. Extrication from the mortifying and ofttimes dangerous position was matter of more than difficulty. First and foremost the lady had to be cared for, and, lacking other available help, her companion cavalier had to embed himself waist deep in the mire and bear his fair burden on his shoulders to some position of terra firma; the poor animal, who had vainly struggled for advance, being secure of immobility through the depth and consistence of the mud, which had so effectually caused the journey halt. The animals on these occasions often had their legs so difficult of extrication as to need a machine of the lever kind kept for the purpose to raise their bodies out of the abyss, in which they would, but for its aid, inevitably have perished. Despite these and other such road-voyaging hazards and trials, there attached a fascination around all such romantic progresses from the various country towns as caused a development at times into what was known and characterized as the "pillion complaint." Parties of friends and relatives would set out in companies, Canterbury pilgrim fashion, though shorn of its religious aspect, ofttimes so numerous as would exceed the capability of the roadside inns to provide horse power. The young folks looked forward to these romantic expeditions as the exciting event of their lives; and many a love match grew out of these pillion horseback close contacts, so eminently suited to develop into tender friendships. The varying incidents of such cavalcades afforded gossip throughout the respective neighbourhood for many an otherwise dreary and monotonous winter night. The conditions of the public highway we have described are in no degree exaggerated, as is proved by the public statutes of the period, which show that the old roads had frequently to be "abandoned and new tracks struck out." One of these says, "many of the wayes are so depe and noyous by wearyng and course of water and other occasions that people cannot have their passages by horses uppon or by the same, but to their great paynes, perill, and jeopardie." Be it remembered that Queen Elizabeth, who at this period governed her realm with such marvellous ability under the difficulties of being kept apart, as it were, from her people, by reason of road inaccessibility, was a noted horse pillionist, making most of her journeys after such fashion. Did not this redoubtable sovereign of England ride into the City of London on a pillion, behind her Lord Chancellor, in the presence of multitudes of her loyal subjects? True it is the realm afterwards gave her a coach, but Her Majesty never took kindly to the "un worthy machine," and in one of the first audiences given to the French ambassador in 1568, she feelingly described to his Excellency, "the aching pains she was suffering in consequence of being knocked about in that coach." How forcibly should these callings back to days of yore remind our own generation of the inestimable blessings vouchsafed to the multitudes scattered far and wide over the globe surface, territorially as numerically tenfold those of her predecessor, under the benign sceptre of Our Sovereign Lady Queen and Empress Victoria, blessed of God in all the desirable attributes of governing possessed by England's Ruler of the sixteenth century, and moreover endowed with those womanly qualities and graces which have built her into the hearts of the humblest as well as the most exalted among her peoples. Upon Shakespeare's arrival in London in 1586, he took at once to the theatre, having entered on his change of life with the object of connecting himself with it as writer and adapter of plays, or as an actor, or in a capacity uniting these several occupations. There is every likelihood that, prior to his quitting his native town, and even before his marriage, he had, as already shown, been engaged in adapting writings of authors most familiar to him, into representations such as in his then light suited the assemblages gathering at the Grammar School. The managers of the respective companies recognised at once his great aptitude. In after life, it will be seen that everything he touched turned seemingly to gold, and the ruling lights of the troupe, finding that his pieces, whether original or adapted, "drew" more numerous and paying audiences than any other playmaker, preferred his role and repertoire, and were willing to pay him, as they doubtless did liberally, for whatever he worked out for their stage and scenic popularity performance. What need is there to make out that he held horses outside the theatre doors, or any other such mean employment, or that when admitted within the walls it was as call-boy or "servitor" to some actor? These miserable surmises are unworthy the writers who, in this our own time, continue to give them currency. We do not mean to assert that Shakespeare, on his first going to London, took a prominent position as an actor. No Dove colt Shottery Manor GEM thing of the sort. He went up for a more extended, and, therefore, more money-making prosecution of the calling he had on a small scale wrought out and pursued at Stratford, Leicester, and Coventry, as adapter and possibly stage manager to one or each of the several companies, known to him at these town exhibitions so close to his then home. Then, as now, highly-gifted men have held the position of stage manager, and through their prescience wealth has rolled into the companies' coffers. Each and all these troupes took their turn of playing in London, the success of every thing bearing his handiwork would soon become known among them, and they would resort to him as the young fellow who, greatly above all others, knew what best suited the taste of the hour and drew coin into their coffers. Young Shakespeare was their man, and as he and Sweet Anne were likely to be blessed with a full quiver, it was best for him to be close to the region where there was most to be gained rather than continue in the humbler field of Shottery, communication with which THE LONDON STAGE ON SHAKESPEARE'S ARRIVAL. was matter of infrequency, and involved at least a fortnight in achievement. There was a double call for removal to the wider sphere. Only a few years before he went to London, the players had been banished from the city by a despotic edict of the Lord Mayor and Corporation, yet out of that very act of intolerance, which had the direct sanction of the Government, grew up a great glory of Elizabeth's reign. By banishing the players, the Lord Mayor called into existence that cordon of theatres which shortly afterwards enclosed what was known as London proper; the players being driven from within the walls, resolved to build playhouses with To Roof Room out. The Tabard, The White Hart, and other The condition of the stage, as Shakespeare found it, was peculiar. The mysteries and moralities had not yet altogether gone out; they were still acted by parish clerks, and, like the old drama of Brittany, and of China and Japan, since known to us in England, they would last several days. One is mentioned I7I in an old survey of London which lasted eight days, the action beginning with the creation. The chief dramatic writers who preceded and were in possession of the stage when Shakespeare appeared in London were Lily, Peele, Green, and Marlowe, the last three of whom were called in the satires of the day "the University pens," from interlarding their plays with Latin, and exhibiting their learning much at the cost of dramatic truthfulness. "They smelt too much of that writer Ovid," said a jester of the time, "and of that writer Metamorphosis, and talk too much of Proserpine and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare can put them all down--aye, and Ben Jonson, too." The jester was right. The youthful genius of Stratford, who had already become known as writer of more than one popular adaptation, needed no classic foundation for his pieces, plain English in its utmost vigour was at his fingerends. Like a John Bright of our present day, he could discourse them in the tongue they knew so well, and would frame representations of scenes appealing to their imaginations through direct associations rather than a second-hand classic hazy basis. Here we see true biography, and of the best: extreme diligence in his calling, proper zeal to earn the means of providing for his family, left behind in peaceful Shottery, not forgetting his honoured parents then living in the old Henley Street home. His proved discharge of these all-important duties would yield but scant time for any pursuits out of which lifemaking, according to the ideas of complaining biographers, could be afterwards. founded. No truer life can be desired. sent, is referred to with special favour, and inherits, as was too much the custom in those days, the principal part of the property; he, in conjunction with his mother, is to attend to the produce of the land; the two bondsmen, Fulk Sandells and John Rychardson, are both mentioned, the first as a neighbour and "supervisor of this my last will and testament," the other as a witness; one John Hemynge being also a witness. The testator's property was considerable, more than amply sufficient to place his house on a par with the Shakespeare family so far as worldly means were con HE story of the love and marriage of the young couple, shorn of the innumerable imaginings with which the swarm of writers have surrounded it,is simple enough. First of all, regard must be had to the circumstances of the bride and her family. Anne's father, "Richard Hathaway, alias Gardiner, de Shottery, had died at least three months before his daughter's marriage. Haliwell Phillips discovered Richard Hathaway's will in the Prerogative Court in London. It was drawn up on the 1st of September, 1581, and legally confirmed on the 9th July, 1582, so that the testator must have died towards the end of June. Seven out of nine children are mentioned, Bartholomew, Thomas, John, William, Agnes, Catherine, and Margaret, thus leaving Anne and Joan unmentioned. Bartholomew as the eldest, and with the mother's express con cerned. The daughters, however, each received only a legacy of 20 nobles, i.e., £6 13s. 4d.; this was to be paid to Agnes and Catherine Agnes and Catherine at their marriage, whereas Margaret was to receive her portion on attaining her seventeenth year. Richard Hathaway's death is not entered in |