"Of course it's not," said Mary."Books are always being replied to and squashed.""Well, this book was by a Member of Parliament," said Horace.
This was very awkward for the defenders of Shakespeare.What were they to do?
Gregory, who had not seemed to be interested in the debate, settled it.He walked up to an old man who was standing near them, and asked him."It isn't true," he said, "is it, that Shakespeare's works were written by Bacon?""No," said the old man, "it's a wicked falsehood.""How do you know?" asked Horace.
"How do I know!" exclaimed the old man."Why, I've lived at Stratford, man and boy, seventy years, and of course I know.""Of course," said Janet.
"But a Member of Parliament says it was Bacon," Horace persisted.
"What's he Member for?" the old man asked."Eh? Not for Stratford-on-Avon, I'll be bound.""I don't know," said Horace, who had nothing else to say.
"Take my advice," the old man replied, "and don't believe anyone who says that Shakespeare wanted help.Look at that brow!""But he isn't like a swan, is he?" Gregory asked.
"Of course not," said the old man."That's poetry.If he had been like a swan, it wouldn't have been poetry to call him one."Gregory pondered for a little while.Then he asked: "Would it be poetry to call a swan a Shakespeare?""Oh, Gregory, come away," said Janet; "you're too clever this morning!"Hester, however, still had much to do, and she refused to go until she had laid some flowers also on Anne Hathaway's tomb and on that of Susanna, Shakespeare's daughter, who married Dr.Hall.She also copied the epitaph, which begins:
"Witty above her sexe, but that's not all, Wise to Salvation was good Mistress Hall."But I am going too fast, for this was Monday morning, and we have not yet accounted for all of Sunday.The only Shakespeare relic which they visited that day was the site of his house, New Place, close to the hotel.The house, of course, should be standing now, and would be, but for the behaviour of a deplorable clergyman, as you shall hear.Shakespeare, grown rich, and thinking of returning to Stratford from London, bought New Place for his home; he died there in 1616, and his wife and daughter, or his descendants, lived in it for many years after.And then it was bought by the Rev.Francis Gastrell, a Cheshire vicar, who began by cutting down Shakespeare's mulberry tree--under which not only the poet had sat, but also Garrick--because he was annoyed that visitors wished to see it; and then, a little later, in his rage at the demand for the poor rate (a tax to help support the workhouse, which, since he was living elsewhere, he considered he ought not to have to pay), he pulled down the building too.
That was in 1759, and now the site of the house is a public garden where you may walk and still see of this memorable habitation only the traces of some of the walls and Shakespeare's well.
They found the old gentleman from the hotel in the garden reading his guidebook, and it was he who told them the story."So far as I can understand," said he, "nothing was done to the man at all.Nobody horsewhipped him.It was lucky it did not happen in America."The old gentleman, whose name was Nicholas Imber, and who came from Philadelphia, then took them to see Harvard house, of which he, as an American, was very proud, and they drifted about with him, and looked at other of the old Stratford buildings.
All the time he kept on saying quietly to himself: "Vengeance on the Rev.
Francis Gastrell!"
"Perhaps," said Hester, "there is a mistake in the verses in the church.
Perhaps they ought to be:
"'Bleste be ye man yt spares these bones, And curst be he yt moves my stones.'
That would mean the Rev.Francis Gastrell.""I hope so," said Mr.Imber."It's a very good idea.But why do you like Shakespeare so?""He's so wonderful," said Hester.
"Yes, but so is Scott, say, and Dickens.""Oh, but Shakespeare's so beautiful, too," said Hester.
The children had gone alone to the church on the Monday morning.On returning to the hotel they found Mrs.Avory ready for them, and all started for the birthplace in Henley Street, where Shakespeare was born, probably on April 23, 1564.This is now a museum with all kinds of Shakespeare relics in it, profoundly interesting to Hester if not to the others.The desk at which he sat in the Grammar School is there; and his big chair from the Falcon Inn at Bidford; and many portraits; and on one of the windows, scratched with a diamond, is the name of Sir Walter Scott.The boys wanted to write their names, too, but it is no longer allowed;although I fancy that if Sir Walter Scott could visit Stratford again he would be permitted to break the rule.
