All this I set down as it was related to me by our guide; it had a very plausible and probable sound, and I was bent on believing, which is a great matter in faith of all kinds.

It is something in favor of the supposition that this is an authentic likeness, that it was erected in his own native town within seven years of his death, among people, therefore, who must have preserved the recollection of his personal appearance.  After the manner of those times it was originally painted, the hair and beard of an auburn color, the eyes hazel, and the dress was represented as consisting of a scarlet doublet, over which was a loose black gown without sleeves; all which looks like an attempt to preserve an exact likeness.  The inscription upon it, also, seemed to show that there were some in the world by no means unaware of who and what he was.

Next to the tomb of Shakspeare in the chancel is buried his favorite daughter, over whom somebody has placed the following quaint inscription:—­

  “Witty above her sex, but that’s not all,
  Wise to salvation was good Mistress Hall. 
  Something of Shakspeare was in that, but this
  Wholly of him, with whom she is now in bliss;
  Then, passenger, hast ne’er a tear,
  To weep with her that wept with, all—­
  That wept, yet set herself to cheer
  Them, up with comfort’s cordial? 
  Her lore shall live, her mercy spread,
  When thou hast ne’er a tear to shed.”

This good Mistress Hall, it appears, was Shakspeare’s favorite among his three children.  His son, Hamet, died at twelve years of age.  His daughter Judith, as appears from some curious document still extant, could not write her own name, but signed with her mark; so that the “wit” of the family must have concentrated itself in Mistress Hall.  To her, in his last will, which is still extant, Shakspeare bequeathed an amount of houses, lands, plate, jewels, and other valuables, sufficient to constitute quite a handsome estate.  It would appear, from this, that the poet deemed her not only “wise unto salvation,” but wise in her day and generation, thus intrusting her with the bulk of his worldly goods.

His wife, Ann Hathaway, is buried near by, under the same pavement.  From the slight notice taken of her in the poet’s will, it would appear that there was little love between them.  He married her when he was but eighteen; most likely she was a mere rustic beauty, entirely incapable either of appreciating or adapting herself to that wide and wonderful mind in its full development.

As to Mistress Hall, though the estate was carefully entailed, through her, to heirs male through all generations, it was not her good fortune to become the mother of a long line, for she had only one daughter, who became Lady Barnard, and in whom, dying childless, the family became extinct.  Shakspeare, like Scott, seems to have had the desire to perpetuate himself by founding a family with an estate, and the coincidence in the result is striking.  Genius must be its own monument.