and was as successful as his own hero in 'winning female favor under adverse circumstances. Burbadge arrived soon after, and sending word that Richard III. was at the door, received for answer, from a source as to which he could have had no doubt, that "William the Conqueror was before Richard III." But it was not by adventures of this kind that a soul like Shakespeare's could be satisfied; nor could it have been under the influence of women of this sort that with the advance of years the striking change above mentioned took place in the traits of his female characters. V. We are as ignorant, upon direct evidence, of the exact date at which Shakespeare at last withdrew from London to live at ease in Stratford, as we are of that at which he fled from Stratford to enter upon a life of irksome toil in London. But all circumstances which bear upon this question point to some time between 1610 and 1612. He retired from active life a wealthier man than he could reasonably have hoped to become when he entered it. He had achieved a fame and attained a social standing which must have been very far beyond his expectations; and he had won the favor and enjoyed the society of men of high rank and great public distinction. But yet even to William Shakespeare, with his surpassing genius, his worldly wisdom, his prudence and his thrift, all culminating in a success which made him the mark of envy at the end, as he had been at the beginning of his career, life was unsatisfying. He returned to Stratford a disappointed man. The following passage in a tract called Rat ei's Ghost, or the Second Part of his Mad Prankes and Robberies, of which only one copy is known to exist, The circumstances which limited his family to the children born at two births before he was of age were aggravated by the loss of the only boy his wife had brought him. He had no son to bear his name, to inherit his property, to glory in his fame, and to be the third gentleman of his family. His daughters, rustic born and rustic bred, were not fitted for circles in which they might otherwise have been sought as wives by men of the position to which their father had raised himself. He saw them married rather late in life to simple village folk, and he resigned himself to simple village society, — wisely, perhaps, but yet, we may be sure, not without a pang and that sense of wrong which afflicts so many of us at the unequal and incongruous distribution of means and opportunities. It must have been with bitterness of soul that he saw the disappearance of his hopes of being the head of a family ranking among the gentry of England. Rowe says that the latter part of his life was spent, plainly refers, first to Burbadge and next to Shakespeare. The book is without date, but is believed to have been printed before 1606. Gamaliel Ratsey, who speaks, is a highwayman who has paid some strollers 40 s. for playing be fore him, and afterward robbed them of their fee. The author was probably some inferior player or playwright to whom Shakespeare had been chary of his money and his companionship. "And for you, sirrah, (says he to the chiefest of them,) thou hast a good presence upon a stage, methinks thou darkenst thy merit by playing in the country get thee to London, for if one man were dead, they will have much need of such as thou art. There would be none, in iny opinion, fitter than thyself to play his parts: my conceit is such of thee, that I durst all the money in my purse on thy head to play Hamlet with him for a wager. There thou shalt learne to be frugal (for players were never so thrifty as they are now about London), and to feed upon all men; to let none feed upon thee; to make thy hand a stranger to thy pocket, thy heart slow to perform thy tongue's promise; and when thou feelest thy purse well lined, buy thee some place of lordship in the country; that, growing weary of playing, thy money may there bring thee to dignity and reputation: then thou needest care for no man; no, not for them that before made thee proud with speaking their [thy] words on the stage. Sir, I thank you (quoth the player) for this good council: I promise you I will make use of it, for I have heard, indeed, of some that have gone to London very meanly, and have come in time to be exceeding wealthy." as all men of good sense will wish theirs may be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation (i. e. the society, the intercourse) of his friends. He adds that "his pleasurable wit and good nature engaged him in the acquaintance and entitled him to the friendship of the gentlemen of the neighborhood." And Mr. Fullom tells us that the Lucys have lately discovered that his quarrel with their family was made up, and that he lived on pleasant terms with Sir Thomas, the son of his ancient enemy. But this story, though not very improbable, rests on vague and untrustworthy evidence. The very profession which had brought Shakespeare his wealth and his eminence, although it might have given him a certain success in London, would have operated against him as a retired gentleman in a rural community so tinged with Puritanism as that in and about Stratford. Again I remark that it is to this prejudice and to Shakespeare's desire to stand with the world as a gentleman of substance and character, and not as an actor and playwright, that we must attribute his neglect of his dramas after they had discharged their double function of filling his pockets and giving his brain employment and his soul expression. Indifference to the literary fate of their works was common among the playwrights of that day; but to this custom was added, in Shakespeare's case, a motive. The Reverend John Ward, who was made Vicar of Stratford in 1662, records a tradition that Shakespeare in his retirement supplied the stage with two plays every year, and lived at the rate of £1000. This is quite surely but a gross exaggeration of the facts, both as to the rate of his expenditure and the amount of his dramatic labor. We have seen that his income was about £400, though it was rather over than under that then handsome sum; and only three of his plays, The Tempest, The Winter's Tale, and Henry the Eighth, were produced after his retirement to Stratford. The last of these was brought out at the Globe Theatre, as a spectacle piece, on the 29th of June, 1613; and during its performance the theatre took fire from the discharge of the chambers during one of the pageants, and was burned to the ground. It is an interesting coincidence that the first performance of the last play that came from Shakespeare's pen was the occasion of the destruction of that "wooden O" in which he had won so many of his imperishable laurels. Shakespeare is said to have put his poetical powers to use during his later Stratford years in writing epitaphs for friends and neighbors. Such an employment of his pen would be natural. The following verses upon the tomb of Sir Thomas Stanley in Tonge Church are attributed to him by Dugdale in his History of Warwickshire. It is possible that he wrote epitaphs no better. 66 "Written upon the east end of the Tomb. 'Ask who lies here, but do not weep; He is not dead, he doth but sleep. This stony register is for his bones; His fame is more perpetual than these stones: "Written on the west end thereof. "Not monumental stone preserves our fame, When all to time's consumption shall be given, * See the Introduction to King Henry the Eighth, Vol. VIII. p. 319. Rowe tells us of a tradition that John a Combe, of whose residence and habits something has been said in the earlier part of these Memoirs, told Shakespeare laughingly at a sociable gathering that he fancied he meant to write his epitaph if he happened to outlive him, and begged the poet to perform his task immediately. Upon which Shakespeare gave him these now well-known verses: "Ten in the hundred lies here in-grav'd; "Tis a hundred to ten his soul is not sav'd: If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? Oh ho, quoth the Devil, 'tis my John a Combe." Much the same story had reached Aubrey's ears, and was of course duly recorded. But according to Aubrey the epitaph was written at a tavern on occasion of the funeral of its subject, and was in these words: — "Ten in the hundred the Devil allows, But Combe will have twelve, he swears and he vows. If any one ask, Who lies in this tomb? Ho! quoth the Devil, 'tis my John a Combe." Rowe says that the sharpness of the satire so stung the man that he never forgave it. This, at least, is untrue. Shakespeare and his wealthier neighbor of Stratford College were good friends to the end of the latter's life. John a Combe's will is extant, and in it Shakespeare is remembered by a bequest of five pounds, and Shakespeare himself left his sword to Thomas, John a Combe's nephew. It must be remembered that in those times all interest was called usury, i. e. money paid for the use of money, and John a Combe's will is that of a man of true benevolence and mindful friendship. He forgives debts, makes wide and generous provision for the poor, |