In later years the poet bought another twenty acres of arable land to add to his already considerable holding. All these purchases were made while he was a very busy man—actor, playwright, and manager. Doubtless he had other investments and interests, of which we may some day know a little more than we do now. Fresh documents relating to his investments in the theatrical world were published as recently as the closing months of 1909, and the records of the reign of Elizabeth and James I. are by no means fully examined. One truth stands out clearly through the interesting story of Shakespeare's investments, and that is his love for the town in which he was born. With so large a share of the world to choose from, with countless associations that might well have kept him in the neighbourhood of the metropolis, with friends in Court circles and acting circles who would scarcely be accessible in a town three, four, or even five days' journey from London, he seems to have had the fixed intent of spending his years of ease at home. There is too much reason to believe that with him marriage was a failure. Reference has been made already to the birth of his daughter Susanna, who became Mrs. Hall, and we know that in 1585 his wife bore twins, boy and girl, Hamnet and Judith, named after Hamnet and Judith Sadler, friends of John Shakespeare. But the poet saw little of his family or of the three children of his union, and at the time of his public return to Stratford little Hamnet Shakespeare died, in his twelfth year. Susanna married, in 1607, the Puritan physician John Hall. Judith the twin married Mr. Thomas Quiney in the year of her father's death. The poet seems to have lived on excellent terms with his daughters, but there must be some justification for the generally accepted story of unhappy married life. Had he been devoted to his wife, Shakespeare could have sent for her when he had been a very few years in London; the fact that he did not go back to her for eleven years has a significance that takes a great deal of explaining away, nor are the laboured explanations of the people who assume that the life of genius is perfect, worth the ink and paper devoted to them. The estrangement might have been the fault of the man, or his wife, or both; it is a matter that ceased to be important when one or both had died. We make our conjectures and pass on; others come to do the same; but the first is likely to be as far from the truth as the last. We do not find any reliable information that can clear the darkness enshrouding the poet's life; even Aubrey's "Lives of Eminent Men," in which the poet is described as "handsome and well shaped," was written more than fifty years after his death, and was founded upon the gossip of an old actor.

There is hardly more than one portrait that may be supposed to show the poet as he was. This was discovered by Mr. Edgar Flower in 1892; it is painted on an elm panel, with "Wm. Shakespeare, 1609," in the left-hand corner. Several leading authorities have agreed that it may be the original from which Martin Droeshout engraved his half-length portrait for the folio of 1623, a likeness that was accepted as satisfactory by Ben Jonson, though it was clearly a second-hand work, because the engraver was no more than fifteen when Shakespeare died. The portrait is now in the Memorial Gallery at Stratford. Dr. Sidney Lee, in his fascinating "Life of William Shakespeare," a work that has run into many editions, tells us that upwards of sixty portraits of Shakespeare have been offered to the National Gallery since 1856, and that not one of these has been shown to be authentic. How fortunate, then, that the deeds and signatures quite beyond suspicion have told the world so much about the business side of the poet's life. Just as the forgery of portraits has been of common occurrence, so the forgery of deeds has been a source of amusement, if not of profit, to many; but happily there is always a strong critical faculty waiting to deal with startling discoveries, and those that survive the sifting of the keen intellects that examine them may be accepted in perfect good faith.

We have the safe material upon which to base the conclusion that the poet left Stratford penniless, or well-nigh penniless, in 1585; that after eleven years of hard work in London, in the course of which he probably paid brief visits to his home, travelling by way of Oxford and stopping at the Crown Inn, he returned to restore the family fortunes and build up his own estate. We know that he bought the best house in the town, that he planted an orchard, developed his gardens, and made extensive purchase of farm-lands, some years before he could hope to settle down in comfort to their enjoyment. It may be that the knowledge that the new home was ready for him helped to put a period to the London labours. He did not give any sign of appreciating the full significance of his own work, or appear to know that he had made a position that placed him side by side with Geoffrey Chaucer in merit, and still higher in world renown. He never pushed the advantages that a connection at Court and the favour of King James might have given him—he was only too pleased to retire, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," while he was yet on the sunny side of fifty. Man of affairs sufficiently to seek the law-courts on the smallest provocation, idealist to the extent of preferring a simple country life to all the glamour of London, a man seemingly endowed with all the ambitions of the most sober and unimaginative middle class—truly he presents strange and baffling contrasts.

In the absence of direct evidence to the contrary, we may presume that Shakespeare retired from the actor's profession in 1611, on or before the completion of "The Tempest," into the closing act of which he would seem to have put a reflection of his own inmost thought. Of all the rich and varied emotions to which such a mind must have responded, there could have been none more stirring than the thought that his life-work had brought the reward he most desired. To the town from which he had fled as an outcast he was returning a man of substance and repute; to the failing fortunes of those he had left behind he had become a sure support. Father, mother, one brother, Edmund, and the little son Hamnet had gone before him "to that bourn from which no traveller returns," but there were two loving daughters and a granddaughter waiting to welcome him home, one sister, Joan, and two brothers, Gilbert and Richard. There was Michael Drayton, author of the "Shepherd's Garland," the man after his own heart, to whose charming sonnets he was indebted for some of the beauty of his own, and it may be that some of his old companions of the stage could be lured to New Place in the intervals of their touring. For one who knew as well as Shakespeare the changes and uncertainties of life, there must have been a keen consciousness that balance of fortune was in his favour when he rode out from London on to the Oxford-Stratford road, only to return to look after his vested interests as occasion should demand.

The poet would appear to have taken an active part in developing the prosperity of his native town, and to have found in that work sufficient consolation, if any was needed, for his absence from the scenes of greater activity. In 1611, the year of his retirement, he supported with his purse and influence a Bill before Parliament for the better repair of the highways. He had suffered first-hand acquaintance with their wretched state. Doubtless he took part in much unrecorded work for the betterment of his own estate, and he was frequently found indulging in his undeniable passion for litigation. The purchase of a house in Blackfriars is recorded in 1613, and it led to the seemingly inevitable lawsuit some two years later. Nicholas Rowe, poet-laureate to King George I., wrote a life of Shakespeare in the early years of the eighteenth century, and we owe to him a statement, founded upon such information as a lapse of a century could validate, that Shakespeare spent the last years of his life enjoying "ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends." We know that Michael Drayton and Ben Jonson visited him at New Place, and it is a tradition that their visits were celebrated in convivial fashion. At the same time there would have been certain restraints upon a very free life, even had the poet been disposed to lead one. Society in small country towns is notoriously inclined to be intolerant, and Shakespeare's son-in-law, Dr. Hall, was one of the great and growing body of Puritans that looked askance at sensual indulgence in any form. Moreover, there was a strong feeling against the stage in Stratford; it found expression only a year after Shakespeare's return, when the Town Council passed a resolution that stage plays were unlawful, and increased the penalties to which players might be subjected. It would be a matter of great interest to know how Shakespeare regarded a resolution that so wantonly decried the profession by which he had lived and thriven. There is no evidence to show that the action of the city fathers was symptomatic of any ill-will towards him, or that he resented it openly. Yet he was a man who could and would stand up for his rights in and out of season. Perhaps in the most of his moods he was gentle and affectionate, for more than once in his career we find his friends leaving him small legacies or gifts or tokens of their affection. These came alike from actors who had shared with him the traffic of the stage, and from fellow-townsmen of Stratford. Even if the recorded references are scanty enough, there is none that may be held unflattering if we except the attack by Greene, for which his publisher went out of his way to apologise. It is hard, if not impossible, to estimate the value of any form of art-work in the lifetime of the worker, and it may well be that of the thousands who applauded Shakespeare's plays there were very few who saw them as we do to-day. The mere fact that they were for the most part new versions of works that were then quite familiar to playgoers would have told against them. Theme rather than treatment was best calculated to "tickle the groundlings."

CHAPTER XIII

STRATFORD AS IT WAS

Stratford in Shakespeare's time administered its own affairs in very complete fashion through the medium of a Guild, which was turned into a Municipal Corporation by Edward VI. It boasted bailiff, aldermen, burgesses and chamberlains, and the council met every month in the Guild Hall. Those who accepted office were liable to be heavily mulcted for non-attendance, for attending in mufti, for declining promotion to a more responsible office, or for telling the secrets of the council chamber to those who had no place in it. The Chapel of the Guild, the Guild Hall, and the Grammar School, in which boys were taught and disciplined in fashion that would shock our humanitarian instincts to-day, still exist. The bailiff or warden of Stratford was at one time John Shakespeare himself, and at another a subordinate colleague, who would have sat in judgment upon him in the days when the old man's liabilities were beginning to get the better of his assets, and he himself was no longer a man of importance. The rule of the City Guild or Corporation was paternal in an Elizabethan sense. Just as the schoolmaster did not spare the rod lest he should spoil the child, so the magnates of the corporation regarded their fellow-citizens as men and women to be admonished or encouraged, punished or praised, according to their behaviour. Food prices were fixed by the corporation; the adulteration of the people's supplies was made exceedingly difficult and dangerous. Men who lived ill were fined or expelled from Stratford's boundaries; scolding wives were sentenced to have their tempers sweetened by immersion from the ducking-stool in the clear, cold waters of Avon. Publicans were forced to conform to the local laws carefully framed to abolish public drunkenness. The stocks were waiting for the feet of drunkards, brawlers, and offenders against municipal regulations, and the whipping-post was always in evidence where the Market House now stands. Apprentices might not be out after nine o'clock at night. Attendance at church was obligatory, and he who blasphemed or used foul language found ample reason to regret his indiscretion. In short, the conduct of Stratford was of a kind more in keeping with the Puritan tradition than anything we can find in England to-day, but it was associated with real brotherly love, and a feeling of common citizenship, that held the town together. Those who have studied the early records of the Spanish and Portuguese Jewish community in England in the years following the successful intercession of Manasseh ben Israel with Oliver Cromwell, will hardly fail to note the striking similarity between the rules that governed Elizabethan corporations and those that governed those Jews who returned to England and lived their prosperous but dignified lives in the east end of London when the eighteenth century was as young as our own.