STRATFORD-ON-AVON

Taranaki Daily News, 20 December 1930, Page 13 (Supplement)

STRATFORD-ON-AVON

A PILGRIMAGE IS MADE

(By,

"Senex.”)

A bright morning in July! Bright for Birmingham- where the smoke of many factories hangs murkily in the air, unless a, rain shower - brings tiny, particles to settle on one’s new felt hat and leave a stain that gives one to realise why rain water, is looked at askance for. drinking purposes. A promise of a bright day could we but slip away from beneath that pall that - overhangs the Black- Country.-- ■ -. ■ •. . • . .

“Let’s .go to Stratford,” proposed my companions. “You must see Stratford, the birthplace of our immortal bard, and so forth. It’ll be crowded with American tourists, ‘but you’ll never find it otherwise, anyhow.” And so, to the Bull Ring where buses leave in all directions for all parts of England apparent--ly. The few minutes of waiting for a bus is time to wonder what was the origin of the name of the open space, a name more redolent of old Spain and dashing matadors than of ; the one-time centre of the small provincial town my informants tell me Birmingham was be-; fore the age of machinery. There was once a sport called bull-baiting, or-was it bear-baiting? I recollect a;Swinegate and a Boar Lane in a northern city. 'Possibly they are relics of centuriespaet animal fairs. A lifetime of patient, exhaustive study and inquiry would be necessary to weave again the fabric of which the curious names of English streets and places are now only the remaining shreds. The road to Shakespeare’s 'birthplace, soon leads one far from the city streets of craniped houses, on which the sun never seems to shine more than hazily, to green fields and hedges and trees. A pleasant countryside this, with the weather at its best, the air benigh, with a sparkle in it, the skies deep and luminous. Every tree is a delight to the eye, and. trees are not few in this county of Warwickshire. Spring had been late in arrival and their foliage, spare., in comparison with that of our closely-leaved native New Zealand trees, ■ still retained the early, - clear/ cleanly, green of spring. That cool, fresh tint stays just as vividly in the memory as the warm, russet tones of autumn, when a chill wind scatters the leaves from the topmost boughs ’to make a crackling, .yielding: carpet for one’s feet. Long “-before we reach Stratford we receive reminders that this is Shakespeare’s country. The bus stops -for a few moments in the small village of [Henley, not the Henley of boat-race and regatta fame 'but Henley-in-Arden, that Forest 'of Arden wherein Rosalind and Orlando loved and Touchstone fired his sharp shafts of wit and wisdom. A mental note was made by each of us that next time when suggestions were' wanted for a Saturday ramble he would be " first with the bright proposal that we should see what we could, find of those sylvan glades and - leafy copses, flecked with a myriad splashes of sunlight, that we knew from experience of other forests must exist,'vawaiting rediscovery,' in Arden.- An<i £ with thrilling thoughts of adventures and excursions to be undertaken we entered Stratford. I There is one thing that .is the duty of every visitor to the Avon -town. He must visit the house of Shakespeare’s ■birth. We knew there would be many tourists there and we-would have avoided them were we able. I was only a tourist myself but I- refused to include myself in- the -.tripper -category. We were pilgrims, rather, to a sacred shrine, the most cherished in the British Isles by native-born and foreigner alike. Apart from its associations . the house is a fine example of.? the half?timbered domestic. architecture’ ’of the period. Everyone.is'iamiliar ivith the many pictures of it.’ It -was more.: like meeting an old .friend than' making a ..new acquaintance. • My only surprise was to find that the house was in a narrower street than I had imagined. Then. I realised I had never conceived from the various illustrations that there, was another side to the street. Every sketch of the house, at least every sketch to my. knowledge, has . 'been drawn from identically the same viewpoint. A- false impression had been created in myjmihd 'and the effort to establish a fresh image in the memory tended to destroy the long-expected pleasure of the scene. We had expected to find tourists in Stratford. We did. Great char-a-banc loads of them drew up at the house and filed, in one by one. It was too ■ much for us. ;We fled to the; more; likely solitude of the Avon’s Banks and so traced our steps to Holy Trinity Church, whose graceful spire we ha'd seen rising above the tree tops as we had approach-i ed the town, * The-- churchyard- is on the very riveredge and there at least we-found peace, only a few yards from the church, the burial-place of- the poet, just ,as ; later: in the day we were , again .to avoid' the many tourists completely .by - merely resting a few steps from the • beaten trapk. How .studiously, is it always followed and how little to left.or right do the majority appear to wish to stray! It was a useful discovery to make and ■served me in good stead - more than once when I wished only for my own company. It, would have been easy to linger all the day by the -Avon until the shadow crept up the tall church spire. But imy companions -wanted to see the cottage of Ann Hathaway, the wife of Shakespeare, at Shottery. Thither we ■walked along a country road when •motor-coaches did not hoot us qff. We ■were not annoyed. We merely condescended to pity those ; who had not the ■time to wander as leisurely-’as we. The cottage repaid all our efforts. Until about a score of years ago it had been in the possession of the Hathaway family for several hundred years. Almost every article within had been in use up .to the last, when the house was handed to the nation for ever. It was interesting, therefore, as a typical example of an English farm-house as well as for ■its. historical associations.

The word charming is. much misused ■these days but it is the only epithet ■that will- fit the surroundings of the dwelling. A spell was cast over us and we stayed on, enchanted, by we knew ■not what. A little orchard stands -behind the garden. There we. spent the •rest of the afternoon iq.- gentle sunshine, while crowds passed/in and- out •of the cottage with scarce a* 4 glance in' •our-direction. They "had. many other ■Shakespearean relics to see, or rather, ■to “do,” in technical terms. To them •perhaps wo were wasting time. We did not think so. We had trodden the •paths that Shakespeare by the river he must have loved, seen the church spire amidst the trees as he had ■seen it, we, perhaps, had felt a little', ■so very little, of /what he had .felt. It ■was worth it.