CHARLECOTE HALL, NEAR STRATFORD-UPON-AVON
"One of the most delightful things in the world is going a journey." Now if there be one of our million of friends who, like the fop in the play, thinks all beyond Hyde Park a desert, let him forthwith proceed on a pilgrimage to Stratford-upon-Avon, the birthplace of SHAKSPEARE; and though he be the veriest Londoner that ever sung of the "sweet shady side of Pall Mall," we venture to predict his reform. If such be not the result, then we envy him not a jot of his terrestrial enjoyment. Let him but think of the countless hours of delight, the "full houses," the lighted dome and deeping circles, of the past season; when
Dread o'er the scene the ghost of Hamlet stalks;
Othello rages, &c.
and then will he not enjoy a visit to the place where—
——Sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child,
Warbled his native wood-notes wild.
Sterne, the prince of sentimental tourists, says, "Let me have a companion of my way, were it but to remark how the shadows lengthen as the sun declines;" but, for our part, we should prefer a visit to Stratford, alone, unless it were with some garrulous old guide to entertain us with his or her reminiscences.
This brings us to Charlecote Hall, one of the Shakspearean relics. It consists of a venerable mansion, situated on the banks of the Avon, about four miles from Stratford, and built in the first year of the reign of Elizabeth, by Sir Thomas Lucy;
"A parliamente member, and justice of peace.
At home a poor scare-crow, at London an asse,"
and so well known as the prosecutor of Shakspeare. 1
The principal front, here represented, assumes, in its ground plan, the form of the letter E—said to have been intended as a compliment to the queen, who, as appears from the Black Book of Warwick, visited this place in 1572.
The above is copied from one of a Series of Views illustrative of the Life of Shakspeare, drawn and etched by Mr. W. Rider, of Leamington. These engravings are five in number, but the artist explains that he has selected such subjects only, "as from tradition, or more certain record, might fairly be presumed to bear direct relation to the life of the poet. But while he regrets that the number of authenticated subjects are so few, he feels that from innovation or decay, they are almost hourly becoming fewer; and is, therefore, prompted to secure the few remnants left, while they are yet within his reach."
There is no doubt that the grounds around Charlecote Hall, were the early haunts of SHAKSPEARE; and that in the house itself sat the magisterial authority, before which he was doomed to meet the charges, to which his youthful indiscretions had rendered him liable; and, as it remains, to the present time, for the most part, unaltered, and presents to the spectator of the present day the same image that was often, and under such peculiar circumstances, impressed on the eye of our SHAKSPEARE, it cannot but be regarded with the most intense interest by all his admirers.
In conclusion, we would recommend the illustrators of Shakspeare to possess themselves of a set of Mr. Rider's "Views;" whilst the visiter of Stratford-upon-Avon would do well to lay a copy in his portmanteau—for they are in truth so many faithful memorials of the great poet of nature.
ON NATIONAL VARIETIES
There are few more familiar subjects than that of the varieties of national character, and the resemblances and differences that exist between ourselves and the inhabitants of other countries. Few conversations occur upon circumstances which may have happened abroad, in which some one has not an anecdote to relate to illustrate the known peculiarities of the nation in question; and the greater part of the travels and tours which now issue in such formidable numbers from the press, are naturally filled with stories and incidents, either to show the correctness of our ideas of the manners and opinions of our neighbours, or (perhaps more frequently) to prove that the public were in error in that respect, up to the time when the traveller in question had discovered the truth, or a clue to it. The daily accounts of the outrages perpetrated in Ireland, and the alarms that are sounded ever and anon, touching the state of that unhappy country, are continually exciting surprise, that the natives of the sister island should be so unaccountably deficient in that sense of order and sobriety which prevails in Great Britain. We associate with a Scotchman the ideas of shrewdness and prudence; with a Frenchman, gaiety and frivolity; with a Spaniard, gravity and pride; with an Italian, strong passions of love and revenge: with a German, plodding industry and habits of deep thinking; and with the northern nations, an honest sincerity and persevering courage. We sometimes judge with tolerable correctness; at others are wholly mistaken, and not unfrequently run into such extremes, that having established a principle, that a particular people are knavish, or cowardly, or stupid, we are unwilling to admit any exceptions, but include the whole race in our sweeping censure. We are prejudiced at first sight against a Portuguese or Italian, and are careful of our communications with him, even though we meet him on the high road, or by mere accident in a public place. There can, however, be no mistake in the common notion, that each nation has a peculiar collection of qualities and habits, distinguishing it in a greater or less degree from its neighbours, and the rest of the world; and it is, therefore, at all events, an interesting, if not an useful topic, to reflect a little how these differences arise. Not that we intend here to give even any particular description of the various races of mankind, or to enter into any inquiry upon the degrees of their mental and bodily capacities; such would be foreign to our purpose, and would exceed our limits. We shall merely hazard a few observations upon the several causes to which the diversities in men have been referred, not pretending to any decided opinion on so nice a point, as whether these causes are wholly of a physical or of a moral kind, or whether they are compounded of both. The question is, perhaps, one of the most difficult in the whole range of philosophical experience; we say experience, because it is obvious that all theory on the subject must be the result of observation and analysis; and that no general principles can be laid down in the first instance, as the ground work of any hypothesis we might be inclined to frame.
The scientific men to whom we are chiefly indebted for the facts accumulated on this subject, are Dr. Blumenbach, of Göttingen, Dr. Pritchard, of Edinburgh, and the eminent surgeon, Mr. Lawrence. It has been a favourite matter of speculation with Lord Monboddo, as well as with Voltaire, Rousseau, and the philosophers of the French school, who have endeavoured to show that men and other animals are endowed with reason or instinct of the same kind, but of different degrees. According to these fanciful writers, the monkey is but another species of the human race, and has been termed by them Homo Sylvestris. They made the most diligent researches into all accounts concerning men in a savage state, and were delighted beyond measure with the discovery alleged to have been made in the island of Sumatra, of men with tails regularly protruding from their hinder parts, who, according to Buffon, walked and talked in the woods like other gentlemen:—
And backwards and forwards they switched their long tails,
Like a gentleman switching his cane.
The appearance of Peter the Wild Boy, who was found in the woods of Hamela, in Hanover, living on the bark of trees, leaves, berries, &c. threw Voltaire into transports of joy. He declared the event to be the most wonderful and important that ages had recorded in the annals of science, as it demonstrated the fact of man living after the fashion of beasts, without the least spark of civilization, and without speech; thereby forming a species of a nature having more in common with monkeys than with men, and presenting the regular degree, or intermediate class, between the homo civilis and the homo sylvestris. The circumstance, however, which afterwards transpired, of Peter's having been found with the remains of a shirt-collar about his neck, threw considerable discredit on the whole story; and the young savage, on being brought to England by order of Queen Caroline, lived in Hertfordshire for many years, perfectly harmless and tractable, and behaving pretty much the same as other idiots. The idea, therefore, of a race of men, in a healthy, natural condition, having