ThetasteoftheEnglishinthecultivationofland，andinwhat
iscalledlandscapegardening，isunrivalled。Theyhavestudiednature
intently，anddiscoveranexquisitesenseofherbeautifulformsand
harmoniouscombinations。Thosecharms，whichinothercountriesshe
lavishesinwildsolitudes，arehereassembledroundthehauntsof
domesticlife。Theyseemtohavecaughthercoyandfurtivegraces，
andspreadthem，likewitchery，abouttheirruralabodes。
NothingcanbemoreimposingthanthemagnificenceofEnglishpark
scenery。Vastlawnsthatextendlikesheetsofvividgreen，with
hereandthereclumpsofgigantictrees，heapinguprichpilesof
foliage：thesolemnpompofgrovesandwoodlandglades，withthe
deertroopinginsilentherdsacrossthem；thehare，boundingaway
tothecovert；orthepheasant，suddenlyburstinguponthewing；the
brook，taughttowindinnaturalmeanderingsorexpandintoaglassy
lake；thesequesteredpool，reflectingthequiveringtrees，withthe
yellowleafsleepingonitsbosom，andthetroutroamingfearlessly
aboutitslimpidwaters；whilesomerustictempleorsylvanstatue，
growngreenanddankwithage，givesanairofclassicsanctitytothe
seclusion。
Thesearebutafewofthefeaturesofparkscenery；butwhatmost
delightsme，isthecreativetalentwithwhichtheEnglishdecorate
theunostentatiousabodesofmiddlelife。Therudesthabitation，the
mostunpromisingandscantyportionofland，inthehandsofan
Englishmanoftaste，becomesalittleparadise。Withanicely
discriminatingeye，heseizesatonceuponitscapabilities，and
picturesinhismindthefuturelandscape。Thesterilespotgrowsinto
lovelinessunderhishand；andyettheoperationsofartwhichproduce
theeffectarescarcelytobeperceived。Thecherishingandtraining
ofsometrees；thecautiouspruningofothers；thenicedistribution
offlowersandplantsoftenderandgracefulfoliage；theintroduction
ofagreenslopeofvelvetturf；thepartialopeningtoapeepofblue
distance，orsilvergleamofwater：allthesearemanagedwitha
delicatetact，apervadingyetquietassiduity，likethemagic
touchingswithwhichapainterfinishesupafavoritepicture。
Theresidenceofpeopleoffortuneandrefinementinthecountryhas
diffusedadegreeoftasteandeleganceinruraleconomy，that
descendstothelowestclass。Theverylaborer，withhisthatched
cottageandnarrowslipofground，attendstotheirembellishment。The
trimhedge，thegrassplotbeforethedoor，thelittleflower—bed
borderedwithsnugbox，thewoodbinetrainedupagainstthewall，
andhangingitsblossomsaboutthelattice，thepotofflowersin
thewindow，theholly，providentlyplantedaboutthehouse，tocheat
winterofitsdreariness，andtothrowinasemblanceofgreen
summertocheerthefireside：allthesebespeaktheinfluenceof
taste，flowingdownfromhighsources，andpervadingthelowestlevels
ofthepublicmind。IfeverLove，aspoetssing，delightstovisita
cottage，itmustbethecottageofanEnglishpeasant。
Thefondnessforrurallifeamongthehigherclassesofthe
Englishhashadagreatandsalutaryeffectuponthenational
character。IdonotknowafinerraceofmenthantheEnglish
gentlemen。Insteadofthesoftnessandeffeminacywhichcharacterize
themenofrankinmostcountries，theyexhibitaunionofelegance
andstrength，arobustnessofframeandfreshnessofcomplexion，which
Iaminclinedtoattributetotheirlivingsomuchintheopenair，
andpursuingsoeagerlytheinvigoratingrecreationsofthecountry。
Thesehardyexercisesproducealsoahealthfultoneofmindand
spirits，andamanlinessandsimplicityofmanners，whicheventhe
folliesanddissipationsofthetowncannoteasilypervert，andcan
neverentirelydestroy。Inthecountry，too，thedifferentordersof
societyseemtoapproachmorefreely，tobemoredisposedtoblendand
operatefavorablyuponeachother。Thedistinctionsbetweenthemdo
notappeartobesomarkedandimpassableasinthecities。Themanner
inwhichpropertyhasbeendistributedintosmallestatesandfarms
hasestablishedaregulargradationfromthenobleman，throughthe
classesofgentry，smalllandedproprietors，andsubstantial
farmers，downtothelaboringpeasantry；andwhileithasthus
bandedtheextremesofsocietytogether，hasinfusedintoeach
intermediaterankaspiritofindependence。This，itmustbe
confessed，isnotsouniversallythecaseatpresentasitwas
formerly；thelargerestateshaving，inlateyearsofdistress，
absorbedthesmaller，and，insomepartsofthecountry，almost
annihilatedthesturdyraceofsmallfarmers。These，however，I
believe，arebutcasualbreaksinthegeneralsystemIhavementioned。
Inruraloccupationthereisnothingmeananddebasing。Itleadsa
manforthamongscenesofnaturalgrandeurandbeauty；itleaveshim
totheworkingsofhisownmind，operateduponbythepurestand
mostelevatingofexternalinfluences。Suchamanmaybesimpleand
rough，buthecannotbevulgar。Themanofrefinement，therefore，
findsnothingrevoltinginanintercoursewiththelowerordersin
rurallife，ashedoeswhenhecasuallymingleswiththelower
ordersofcities。Helaysasidehisdistanceandreserve，andis
gladtowaivethedistinctionsofrank，andtoenterintothe
honest，heartfeltenjoymentsofcommonlife。Indeedthevery
amusementsofthecountrybringmenmoreandmoretogether；andthe
soundofhoundandhornblendallfeelingsintoharmony。Ibelieve
thisisonegreatreasonwhythenobilityandgentryaremore
popularamongtheinferiorordersinEnglandthantheyareinany
othercountry；andwhythelatterhaveenduredsomanyexcessive
pressuresandextremities，withoutrepiningmoregenerallyatthe
unequaldistributionoffortuneandprivilege。
Tothisminglingofcultivatedandrusticsocietymayalsobe
attributedtheruralfeelingthatrunsthroughBritishliterature；the
frequentuseofillustrationsfromrurallife；thoseincomparable
descriptionsofnaturethataboundintheBritishpoets，thathave
continueddownfrom"theFlowerandtheLeaf"ofChaucer，andhave
broughtintoourclosetsallthefreshnessandfragranceofthedewy
landscape。Thepastoralwritersofothercountriesappearasifthey
hadpaidnatureanoccasionalvisit，andbecomeacquaintedwithher
generalcharms；buttheBritishpoetshavelivedandrevelledwith
her—theyhavewooedherinhermostsecrethaunts—theyhave
watchedherminutestcaprices。Aspraycouldnottrembleinthe
breeze—aleafcouldnotrustletotheground—adiamonddropcould
notpatterinthestream—afragrancecouldnotexhalefromthehumble
violet，noradaisyunfolditscrimsontintstothemorning，butit
hasbeennoticedbytheseimpassionedanddelicateobservers，and
wroughtupintosomebeautifulmorality。
Theeffectofthisdevotionofelegantmindstoruraloccupations
hasbeenwonderfulonthefaceofthecountry。Agreatpartofthe
islandisratherlevel，andwouldbemonotonous，wereitnotforthe
charmsofculture：butitisstuddedandgemmed，asitwere，with
castlesandpalaces，andembroideredwithparksandgardens。Itdoes
notaboundingrandandsublimeprospects，butratherinlittlehome
scenesofruralreposeandshelteredquiet。Everyantiquefarm—house
andmoss—growncottageisapicture：andastheroadsare
continuallywinding，andtheviewisshutinbygrovesandhedges，the
eyeisdelightedbyacontinualsuccessionofsmalllandscapesof
captivatingloveliness。
Thegreatcharm，however，ofEnglishsceneryisthemoralfeeling
thatseemstopervadeit。Itisassociatedinthemindwithideasof
order，ofquiet，ofsoberwell—establishedprinciples，ofhoary
usageandreverendcustom。Everythingseemstobethegrowthof
agesofregularandpeacefulexistence。Theoldchurchofremote
architecture，withitslowmassiveportal；itsgothictower；its
windowsrichwithtraceryandpaintedglass，inscrupulous
preservation；itsstatelymonumentsofwarriorsandworthiesofthe
oldentime，ancestorsofthepresentlordsofthesoilitstombstones，
recordingsuccessivegenerationsofsturdyyeomanry，whoseprogeny
stillploughthesamefields，andkneelatthesamealtar—the
parsonage，aquaintirregularpile，partlyantiquated，butrepaired
andalteredinthetastesofvariousagesandoccupants—thestileand
footpathleadingfromthechurch—yard，acrosspleasantfields，and
alongshadyhedge—rows，accordingtoanimmemorialrightofway—the
neighboringvillage，withitsvenerablecottages，itspublicgreen
shelteredbytrees，underwhichtheforefathersofthepresentrace
havesported—theantiquefamilymansion，standingapartinsome
littleruraldomain，butlookingdownwithaprotectingaironthe
surroundingscene：allthesecommonfeaturesofEnglishlandscape
evinceacalmandsettledsecurity，andhereditarytransmissionof
homebredvirtuesandlocalattachments，thatspeakdeeplyand
touchinglyforthemoralcharacterofthenation。
ItisapleasingsightofaSundaymorning，whenthebellissending
itssobermelodyacrossthequietfields，tobeholdthepeasantryin
theirbestfinery，withruddyfacesandmodestcheerfulness，thronging
tranquillyalongthegreenlanestochurch；butitisstillmore
pleasingtoseethemintheevenings，gatheringabouttheircottage
doors，andappearingtoexultinthehumblecomfortsand
embellishmentswhichtheirownhandshavespreadaroundthem。
Itisthissweethome—feeling，thissettledreposeofaffectionin
thedomesticscene，thatis，afterall，theparentofthesteadiest
virtuesandpurestenjoyments；andIcannotclosethesedesultory
remarksbetter，thanbyquotingthewordsofamodernEnglishpoet，
whohasdepicteditwithremarkablefelicity：
Througheachgradation，fromthecastledhall，
Thecitydome，thevillacrown’dwithshade，
Butchieffrommodestmansionsnumberless，
Intownorhamlet，shelt’ringmiddlelife，
Downtothecottagedvale，andstrawroof’dshed；
Thiswesternislehathlongbeenfamedforscenes
Whereblissdomesticfindsadwelling—place；
Domesticbliss，that，likeaharmlessdove，
（Honorandsweetendearmentkeepingguard，）
Cancentreinalittlequietnest
Allthatdesirewouldflyforthroughtheearth；
Thatcan，theworldeluding，beitself
Aworldenjoy’d；thatwantsnowitnesses
Butitsownsharers，andapprovingheaven；
That，likeaflowerdeephidinrockycleft，
Smiles，though’tislookingonlyatthesky。*
*FromaPoemonthedeathofthePrincessCharlotte，bythe
ReverendRannKennedy，A。M。
THEEND。
1819—20
THESKETCHBOOK
STRATFORD—ON—AVON
byWashingtonIrving
Thousoft—flowingAvon，bythysilverstream
OfthingsmorethanmortalsweetShakspearewoulddream；
Thefairiesbymoonlightdanceroundhisgreenbed，
Forhallow’dtheturfiswhichpillow’dhishead。
GARRICK。
TOahomelessman，whohasnospotonthiswideworldwhichhecan
trulycallhisown，thereisamomentaryfeelingofsomethinglike
independenceandterritorialconsequence，when，afterawearyday’s
travel，hekicksoffhisboots，thrustshisfeetintoslippers，and
stretcheshimselfbeforeaninnfire。Lettheworldwithoutgoasit
may；letkingdomsriseorfall，solongashehasthewherewithalto
payhisbill，heis，forthetimebeing，theverymonarchofallhe
surveys。Thearm—chairishisthrone，thepokerhissceptre，andthe
littleparlor，sometwelvefeetsquare，hisundisputedempire。Itisa
morselofcertainty，snatchedfromthemidstoftheuncertaintiesof
life；itisasunnymomentgleamingoutkindlyonacloudyday：andhe
whohasadvancedsomewayonthepilgrimageofexistence，knowsthe
importanceofhusbandingevenmorselsandmomentsofenjoyment。"Shall
Inottakemineeaseinmineinn？"thoughtI，asIgavethefirea
stir，lolledbackinmyelbow—chair，andcastacomplacentlook
aboutthelittleparloroftheRedHorse，atStratford—on—Avon。
ThewordsofsweetShakspearewerejustpassingthroughmymindas
theclockstruckmidnightfromthetowerofthechurchinwhichhe
liesburied。Therewasagentletapatthedoor，andapretty
chambermaid，puttinginhersmilingface，inquired，witha
hesitatingair，whetherIhadrung。Iunderstooditasamodesthint
thatitwastimetoretire。Mydreamofabsolutedominionwasatan
end；soabdicatingmythrone，likeaprudentpotentate，toavoidbeing
deposed，andputtingtheStratfordGuide—Bookundermyarm，asa
pillowcompanion，Iwenttobed，anddreamtallnightofShakspeare，
thejubilee，andDavidGarrick。
Thenextmorningwasoneofthosequickeningmorningswhichwe
sometimeshaveinearlyspring；foritwasaboutthemiddleof
March。Thechillsofalongwinterhadsuddenlygivenway；thenorth
windhadspentitslastgasp；andamildaircamestealingfromthe
west，breathingthebreathoflifeintonature，andwooingeverybud
andflowertoburstforthintofragranceandbeauty。
IhadcometoStratfordonapoeticalpilgrimage。Myfirstvisitwas
tothehousewhereShakspearewasborn，andwhere，accordingto
tradition，hewasbroughtuptohisfather’scraftofwool—combing。It
isasmall，mean—lookingedificeofwoodandplaster，atrue
nestling—placeofgenius，whichseemstodelightinhatchingits
offspringinby—corners。Thewallsofitssqualidchambersarecovered
withnamesandinscriptionsineverylanguage，bypilgrimsofall
nations，ranks，andconditions，fromtheprincetothepeasant；and
presentasimple，butstrikinginstanceofthespontaneousand
universalhomageofmankindtothegreatpoetofnature。
Thehouseisshownbyagarrulousoldlady，inafrostyredface，
lightedupbyacoldblueanxiouseye，andgarnishedwithartificial
locksofflaxenhair，curlingfromunderanexceedinglydirtycap。She
waspeculiarlyassiduousinexhibitingtherelicswithwhichthis，
likeallothercelebratedshrines，abounds。Therewastheshattered
stockoftheverymatchlockwithwhichShakspeareshotthedeer，on
hispoachingexploits。There，too，washistobacco—box；whichproves
thathewasarivalsmokerofSirWalterRaleigh：theswordalso
withwhichheplayedHamlet；andtheidenticallanternwithwhich
FriarLaurencediscoveredRomeoandJulietatthetomb！Therewasan
amplesupplyalsoofShakspeare’smulberry—tree，whichseemstohave
asextraordinarypowersofself—multiplicationasthewoodofthetrue
cross；ofwhichthereisenoughextanttobuildashipoftheline。
Themostfavoriteobjectofcuriosity，however，isShakspeare’s
chair。Itstandsinthechimneynookofasmallgloomychamber，just
behindwhatwashisfather’sshop。Herehemaymanyatimehavesat
whenaboy，watchingtheslowlyrevolvingspitwithallthelongingof
anurchin；orofanevening，listeningtothecroniesandgossipsof
Stratford，dealingforthchurch—yardtalesandlegendaryanecdotes
ofthetroublesometimesofEngland。Inthischairitisthecustomof
everyonethatvisitsthehousetosit：whetherthisbedonewith
thehopeofimbibinganyoftheinspirationofthebardIamataloss
tosay，Imerelymentionthefact；andminehostessprivately
assuredme，that，thoughbuiltofsolidoak，suchwastheferventzeal
ofdevotees，thatthechairhadtobenew—bottomedatleastoncein
threeyears。Itisworthyofnoticealso，inthehistoryofthis
extraordinarychair，thatitpartakessomethingofthevolatilenature
oftheSantaCasaofLoretto，ortheflyingchairoftheArabian
enchanter；forthoughsoldsomefewyearssincetoanorthern
princess，yet，strangetotell，ithasfounditswaybackagaintothe
oldchimneycorner。
Iamalwaysofeasyfaithinsuchmatters，andameverwillingtobe
deceived，wherethedeceitispleasantandcostsnothing。Iam
thereforeareadybelieverinrelics，legends，andlocalanecdotes
ofgoblinsandgreatmen；andwouldadvisealltravellerswhotravel
fortheirgratificationtobethesame。Whatisittous，whether
thesestoriesbetrueorfalse，solongaswecanpersuadeourselves
intothebeliefofthem，andenjoyallthecharmofthereality？There
isnothinglikeresolutegood—humoredcredulityinthesematters；
andonthisoccasionIwentevensofaraswillinglytobelievethe
claimsofminehostesstoalinealdescentfromthepoet，when，
luckily，formyfaith，sheputintomyhandsaplayofherown
composition，whichsetallbeliefinherconsanguinityatdefiance。
Fromthebirth—placeofShakspeareafewpacesbroughtmetohis
grave。Heliesburiedinthechanceloftheparishchurch，alargeand
venerablepile，moulderingwithage，butrichlyornamented。It
standsonthebanksoftheAvon，onanemboweredpoint，and
separatedbyadjoininggardensfromthesuburbsofthetown。Its
situationisquietandretired：theriverrunsmurmuringatthefoot
ofthechurchyard，andtheelmswhichgrowuponitsbanksdroop
theirbranchesintoitsclearbosom。Anavenueoflimes，theboughsof
whicharecuriouslyinterlaced，soastoforminsummeranarched
wayoffoliage，leadsupfromthegateoftheyardtothechurch
porch。Thegravesareovergrownwithgrass；thegraytombstones，
someofthemnearlysunkintotheearth，arehalfcoveredwithmoss，
whichhaslikewisetintedthereverendoldbuilding。Smallbirds
havebuilttheirnestsamongthecornicesandfissuresofthewalls，
andkeepupacontinualflutterandchirping；androoksaresailing
andcawingaboutitsloftygrayspire。
InthecourseofmyramblesImetwiththegray—headedsexton，
Edmonds，andaccompaniedhimhometogetthekeyofthechurch。Hehad
livedinStratford，manandboy，foreightyyears，andseemedstillto
considerhimselfavigorousman，withthetrivialexceptionthathe
hadnearlylosttheuseofhislegsforafewyearspast。Hisdwelling
wasacottage，lookingoutupontheAvonanditsborderingmeadows；
andwasapictureofthatneatness，order，andcomfort，which
pervadethehumblestdwellingsinthiscountry。Alowwhitewashed
room，withastonefloorcarefullyscrubbed，servedforparlor，
kitchen，andhall。Rowsofpewterandearthendishesglitteredalong
thedresser。Onanoldoakentable，wellrubbedandpolished，lay
thefamilyBibleandprayer—book，andthedrawercontainedthe
familylibrary，composedofabouthalfascoreofwell—thumbed
volumes。Anancientclock，thatimportantarticleofcottage
furniture，tickedontheoppositesideoftheroom；withabright
warming—panhangingononesideofit，andtheoldman’s
horn—handledSundaycaneontheother。Thefireplace，asusual，was
wideanddeepenoughtoadmitagossipknotwithinitsjambs。Inone
cornersattheoldman’sgranddaughtersewing，aprettyblue—eyed
girl，—andintheoppositecornerwasasuperannuatedcrony，whomhe
addressedbythenameofJohnAnge，andwho，Ifound，hadbeenhis
companionfromchildhood。Theyhadplayedtogetherininfancy；they
hadworkedtogetherinmanhood；theywerenowtotteringaboutand
gossipingawaytheeveningoflife；andinashorttimetheywill
probablybeburiedtogetherintheneighboringchurch—yard。Itis
notoftenthatweseetwostreamsofexistencerunningthusevenlyand
tranquillysidebyside；itisonlyinsuchquiet"bosomscenes"of
lifethattheyaretobemetwith。
Ihadhopedtogathersometraditionaryanecdotesofthebardfrom
theseancientchroniclers；buttheyhadnothingnewtoimpart。The
longintervalduringwhichShakspeare’swritingslayincomparative
neglecthasspreaditsshadowoverhishistory；anditishisgood
orevillotthatscarcelyanythingremainstohisbiographersbuta
scantyhandfulofconjectures。
Thesextonandhiscompanionhadbeenemployedascarpenterson
thepreparationsforthecelebratedStratfordjubilee，andthey
rememberedGarrick，theprimemoverofthefete，whosuperintendedthe
arrangements，and，who，accordingtothesexton，was"ashortpunch
man，verylivelyandbustling。"JohnAngehadassistedalsoincutting
downShakspeare’smulberrytree，ofwhichhehadamorselinhis
pocketforsale；nodoubtasovereignquickenerofliterary
conception。
Iwasgrievedtohearthesetwoworthywightsspeakverydubiously
oftheeloquentdamewhoshowstheShakspearehouse。JohnAngeshook
hisheadwhenImentionedhervaluablecollectionofrelics，
particularlyherremainsofthemulberrytree；andtheoldsextoneven
expressedadoubtastoShakspearehavingbeenborninherhouse。I
soondiscoveredthathelookeduponhermansionwithanevileye，asa
rivaltothepoet’stomb；thelatterhavingcomparativelybutfew
visitors。Thusitisthathistoriansdifferattheveryoutset，and
merepebblesmakethestreamoftruthdivergeintodifferent
channelsevenatthefountainhead。
Weapproachedthechurchthroughtheavenueoflimes，andenteredby
aGothicporch，highlyornamented，withcarveddoorsofmassiveoak。
Theinteriorisspacious，andthearchitectureandembellishments
superiortothoseofmostcountrychurches。Thereareseveral
ancientmonumentsofnobilityandgentry，oversomeofwhichhang
funeralescutcheons，andbannersdroppingpiecemealfromthewalls。
ThetombofShakspeareisinthechancel。Theplaceissolemnand
sepulchral。Tallelmswavebeforethepointedwindows，andtheAvon，
whichrunsatashortdistancefromthewalls，keepsupalow
perpetualmurmur。Aflatstonemarksthespotwherethebardis
buried。Therearefourlinesinscribedonit，saidtohavebeen
writtenbyhimself，andwhichhaveinthemsomethingextremely
awful。Iftheyareindeedhisown，theyshowthatsolicitudeaboutthe
quietofthegrave，whichseemsnaturaltofinesensibilitiesand
thoughtfulminds。
Goodfriend，forJesus’sakeforbeare
Todigthedustenclosedhere。
Blessedbehethatsparesthesestones，
Andcurstbehethatmovesmybones。
Justoverthegrave，inanicheofthewall，isabustof
Shakspeare，putupshortlyafterhisdeath，andconsideredasa
resemblance。Theaspectispleasantandserene，withafinely—arched
forehead；andIthoughtIcouldreadinitclearindicationsofthat
cheerful，socialdisposition，bywhichhewasasmuchcharacterized
amonghiscontemporariesasbythevastnessofhisgenius。The
inscriptionmentionshisageatthetimeofhisdecease—fifty—three
years；anuntimelydeathfortheworld：forwhatfruitmightnot
havebeenexpectedfromthegoldenautumnofsuchamind，shelteredas
itwasfromthestormyvicissitudesoflife，andflourishinginthe
sunshineofpopularandroyalfavor。
Theinscriptiononthetombstonehasnotbeenwithoutitseffect。It
haspreventedtheremovalofhisremainsfromthebosomofhis
nativeplacetoWestminsterAbbey，whichwasatonetimecontemplated。
Afewyearssincealso，assomelaborerswerediggingtomakean
adjoiningvault，theearthcavedin，soastoleaveavacantspace
almostlikeanarch，throughwhichonemighthavereachedintohis
grave。Noone，however，presumedtomeddlewithhisremainssoawfully
guardedbyamalediction；andlestanyoftheidleorthecurious，
oranycollectorofrelics，shouldbetemptedtocommit
depredations，theoldsextonkeptwatchovertheplacefortwodays，
untilthevaultwasfinishedandtheapertureclosedagain。Hetoldme
thathehadmadeboldtolookinatthehole，butcouldseeneither
coffinnorbones；nothingbutdust。Itwassomething，Ithought，to
haveseenthedustofShakspeare。
Nexttothisgravearethoseofhiswife，hisfavoritedaughter，
Mrs。Hall，andothersofhisfamily。Onatombcloseby，also，isa
full—lengtheffigyofhisoldfriendJohnCombeofusuriousmemory；on
whomheissaidtohavewrittenaludicrousepitaph。Thereareother
monumentsaround，butthemindrefusestodwellonanythingthatis
notconnectedwithShakspeare。Hisideapervadestheplace；the
wholepileseemsbutashismausoleum。Thefeelings，nolongerchecked
andthwartedbydoubt，hereindulgeinperfectconfidence：other
tracesofhimmaybefalseordubious，buthereispalpableevidence
andabsolutecertainty。AsItrodthesoundingpavement，therewas
somethingintenseandthrillingintheidea，that，inverytruth，
theremainsofShakspeareweremoulderingbeneathmyfeet。Itwasa
longtimebeforeIcouldprevailuponmyselftoleavetheplace；and
asIpassedthroughthechurch—yard，Ipluckedabranchfromoneof
theyewtrees，theonlyrelicthatIhavebroughtfromStratford。
Ihadnowvisitedtheusualobjectsofapilgrim’sdevotion，butI
hadadesiretoseetheoldfamilyseatoftheLucys，atCharlecot，
andtoramblethroughtheparkwhereShakspeare，incompanywith
someoftheroysterersofStratford，committedhisyouthfuloffenceof
deer—stealing。Inthisharebrainedexploitwearetoldthathewas
takenprisoner，andcarriedtothekeeper’slodge，whereheremained
allnightindolefulcaptivity。Whenbroughtintothepresenceof
SirThomasLucy，histreatmentmusthavebeengallingandhumiliating；
foritsowroughtuponhisspiritastoproducearoughpasquinade，
whichwasaffixedtotheparkgateatCharlecot。**Thefollowingistheonlystanzaextantofthislampoon：—
Aparliamentmember，ajusticeofpeace，
Athomeapoorscarecrow，atLondonanasse，
IflowsieisLucy，assomevolkemiscalleit，
ThenLucyislowsie，whateverbefallit。