In writing his “Outlines of the Life of Shakespeare,” Halliwell-Phillipps determined not to give the reins to his imagination, and to accept nothing that he did not think he could prove. At times, however, his treatment of probabilities seems to suggest that he had made up his mind that Shakespeare had grown up under conditions which make it hard to understand the possibility of the development of the poet in the man. Many of his statements have been pressed into the service of the peculiar people who deny Shakespeare to be a poet at all. One of these, given as a fact, is that Stratford was a “bookless neighbourhood.” It is always rash to use universal propositions when they are not built up from a thorough examination of all possible particulars, as it leaves them liable to be proved untrue by a very limited opposite. Very little would serve to prove Halliwell-Phillipps to be mistaken in his statement, and, with him, all the crowd of copyists who follow him in everything they please to select from his work and opinion. This may be done both generally and specially.

I. Generally.—We know that Becon, in dedicating “The Jewel of Joy” to the Princess Elizabeth in 1549, speaks of Warwickshire as the most intellectual of English counties. We know that Stratford, as a town, was intelligent enough to pay its schoolmaster far above the average. Indeed, the master of Stratford Grammar School received a salary double that of the master of Eton. It is therefore more than probable that Stratford had the best masters going at the time. And good masters imply good books. From several sources we know the curriculum of the grammar schools of the day, and the classical books that were used. A master who could teach from such books would be sure to have, like Chaucer’s clerk,

The vicar of Stratford Church and the curate of the chapel would most likely have a selection of volumes in their possession; the attorneys would have their law books, the doctors their medical books. We know from his will as well as from John Hall’s “cures” that Shakespeare’s son-in-law had a notable library, which people from a distance, even, came to see. Richard Field, the Stratford printer in London, had a very large and important list of publications, some of which were sure to have found their way down to his native town. Many Warwickshire men were London printers. There is every reason to believe that the first Sir Thomas Lucy had a library at Charlecote, which had become enriched in his son’s time, and is remembered in his will and on his tombstone. Sir Henry Rainsford, in the neighbourhood, the friend and patron of Drayton the poet, was little likely to be unprovided. Sir Fulke Greville, the Recorder of Stratford, was a reading man, and not only was a possessor, but also a creator, of books. Clement Throgmorton of Haseley, was a learned man; and his notable son Job was entangled in the Martin Marprelate controversy. Every recusant’s arrest and trial were based on his possessing “books” of a kind other than the Government approved. One can in this way almost indefinitely widen the sphere of the general existence of books. But generalities have not the convincing power of specialities, and as I have found, without much searching, the names of some of the books in Stratford and its immediate neighbourhood, there may yet be found many more existing to prove the rashness of Halliwell-Phillipps’s assumption.

II.—Specially.—Among the legal cases brought before the Town Council were some referring to special books. For instance, in 1604 “Valentine Palmer was attached to answer Philip Rogers, for unlawfully detaining a certain book called ‘Gailes Kyrirgery,’ valued at ten shillings and twopence.” This refers to “Certain Workes of Chirurgery,” by Gale, published in 1563, and reprinted in 1586 (see Miscellaneous Documents of Stratford-on-Avon, 2 James I, No. 23). No. 149 of the same series gives “the answer of Philip Rogers to Valentine Palmer about ‘Gailes Kyrirgery.’” The one book in itself is important enough to overthrow the sweeping assertion.

But in support of the natural opinion that the clergy would have books, we have at least one will, one inventory, and one list of prices of the books of a curate in the very parish of Stratford—that of Bishopton. There may have been more books, worn and valueless, but we are told the names of those in good enough condition to have some marketable price. The Rev. John Marshall, curate of Bishopton, died, not young, in the fourth year of James I (1607). He left by will to his kinsman Francis Jeccoxe “Babington upon Genesis”; to Richard his son “Martin Luther upon 1st and 2nd epistle of St. Peter”; to John Jeccoxe, “my godsonne, my boke called ‘The Image of God.’”

In the Inquisition of his goods taken 10th January 1606-7, by Abraham Sturley, Ralfe Lorde, Francis Ainge, William Ainge, and Thomas Cale, we find that some of these, or all of them, knew enough about books to affix a contemporary saleable value, which, though it seems small to us, must be reckoned according to the money rates of the time. As their inventory has not been printed, and as it gives a fair illustration of the class of libraries owned by the minor clergy, it seems worth giving in extenso. It will be seen that it contains various irregularities and contractions:

This list—fairly long in classics, divinity, and law for a country clergyman even of to-day—suggests that the Rev. John Marshall was a teacher as well as a preacher. It suggests also that he had long been a collector of books, and that he did not altogether despise the study of lighter literature. The duplicates suggest that he might be ready to lend his books. The list may help the bibliographer in regard to old editions. Vautrollier and Field had the monopoly of Calvin’s works. This library certainly helps the Shakespearean to realize the class of clergy among whom the poet lived, and of itself redeems his birthplace from the charge, so often brought against it, of being altogether “a bookless neighbourhood.”

Curiously enough, shortly after this the Chamberlain enters in his accounts, “For the carriage of books to London, 1s.” The town council were always very careful to have “a sufficient scholar from Oxford for the Usher’s place.” It may be well to add that one of Shakespeare’s sons-in-law was a great physician, the other a French scholar, and that the latter’s brother, George Quiney, usher and curate, was described as “of a good wit, expert in tongues, and very learned.” His fellow usher, Mr. John Trapp, afterwards head-master, “for his piety and learning second to none,” by overmuch study brought on a fit of melancholy, and he was rescued “from the jaws of death.” How could all these, and more, study without books?

“Athenæum,” 23rd February 1907.