I need not tell you what
our feelings were, on thus setting our feet on classic ground.
It was here that perhaps the greatest genius nature ever produced
was born. Here he first lisped his native tongue; here first
conceived the embryos of those compositions which were afterwards to
charm a listening world; and on these plains the young Hercules
first played. And here, too, in this lowly hut, with a few friends,
he happily spent the decline of his life, after having retired from
the great theatre of that busy world whose manners he had so
faithfully portrayed.
The river Avon is here pretty broad, and a row of neat though humble
cottages, only one storey high, with shingled roofs, are ranged all
along its banks. These houses impressed me strongly with the idea
of patriarchal simplicity and content.
We went to see Shakespeare's own house, which, of all the houses at
Stratford I think is now the worst, and one that made the least
appearance. Yet, who would not be proud to be the owner of it?
There now however lived in it only two old people, who show it to
strangers for a trifle, and what little they earn thus is their
chief income.
Shakespeare's chair, in which he used to sit before the door, was so
cut to pieces that it hardly looked like a chair; for every one that
travels through Stratford cuts off a chip as a remembrance, which he
carefully preserves, and deems a precious relic, I also cut myself a
piece of it, but reverencing Shakespeare as I do, I am almost
ashamed to own to you it was so small that I have lost it, and
therefore you will not see it on my return.
As we travelled, I observed every spot with attention, fancying to
myself that such or such a spot might be the place where such a
genius as Shakespeare's first dawned, and received those first
impressions from surrounding nature which are so strongly marked in
all his works. The first impressions of childhood, I knew, were
strong and permanent; of course I made sure of seeing here some
images at least of the wonderful conceptions of this wonderful man.
But my imagination misled me, and I was disappointed; for I saw
nothing in the country thereabouts at all striking, or in any
respect particularly beautiful. It was not at all wild and
romantic; but rather distinguished for an air of neatness and
simplicity.
We arrived at Birmingham about three o'clock in the afternoon. I
had already paid sixteen shillings at Stratford for my place in the
coach from Oxford to Birmingham. At Oxford they had not asked
anything of me, and indeed you are not obliged in general in
England, as you are in Germany, to pay your passage beforehand.
My companion and myself alighted at the inn where the coach stopped.
We parted with some reluctance, and I was obliged to promise him
that, on my return to London, I would certainly call on him, for
which purpose he gave me his address. His father was Dr. Wilson, a
celebrated author in his particular style of writing.
I now inquired for the house of Mr. Fothergill, to whom I was
recommended, and I was readily directed to it, but had the
misfortune to learn, at the same time, that this very Mr. Fothergill
had died about eight days before. As, therefore, under these
circumstances, my recommendation to him was likely to be but of
little use, I had the less desire to tarry long at Birmingham, and
so, without staying a minute longer, I immediately inquired the road
to Derby, and left Birmingham. Of this famous manufacturing town,
therefore, I can give you no account.
The road from Birmingham onwards is not very agreeable, being in
general uncommonly sandy. Yet the same evening I reached a little
place called Sutton, where everything, however, appeared to be too
grand for me to hope to obtain lodgings in it, till quite at the end
of it I came to a small inn with the sign of the Swan, under which
was written Aulton, brickmaker.
This seemed to have something in it that suited me, and therefore I
boldly went into it; and when in I did not immediately, as
heretofore, inquire if I could stay all night there, but asked for a
pint of ale. I own I felt myself disheartened by their calling me
nothing but master, and by their showing me into the kitchen, where
the landlady was sitting at a table and complaining much of the
toothache. The compassion I expressed for her on this account, as a
stranger, seemed soon to recommend me to her favour, and she herself
asked me if I would not stay the night there? To this I most
readily assented; and thus I was again happy in a lodging for
another night.
The company I here met with consisted of a female chimney-sweeper
and her children, who, on my sitting down in the kitchen, soon drank
to my health, and began a conversation with me and the landlady.
She related to us her history, which I am not ashamed to own I
thought not uninteresting. She had married early, but had the hard
luck to be soon deprived of her husband, by his being pressed as a
soldier. She neither saw nor heard of him for many years, so
concluded he was dead. Thus destitute, she lived seven years as a
servant in Ireland, without any one's knowing that she was married.
During this time her husband, who was a chimney-sweeper, came back
to England and settled at Lichfield, resumed his old trade, and did
well in it.
