Summer Days in Shakespeare Land

by Charles G. Harper

Immediately within the church is seen the old register-book in a glass case, containing the entries recording the baptism and burial of Shakespeare, with the broken bow of the old font at which he was baptised. Many years ago it was removed from the church, to make room for a new, and lay neglected in a garden in the town. It has been re-lined with lead, and is used for baptisms, on request.

From the west end of the nave, where these relics are placed, the long view eastward shows this to be a very striking example of those churches whose chancels are not on the same axis with the rest of the building. The chancel in this instance inclines very markedly to the north. The symbolism of this feature in ancient churches is still matter for dispute; and it is really doubtful if it is symbolical and not the product of inexact planning, or caused by some old local conditions of the site which do not now appear; or whether it was thought to produce some acoustical advantages. It is thought that no example can be adduced of an inclination southwards, and that, therefore, the feature is a designed one. The favourite interpretation is that it repeats the inclination of the Saviour’s head upon the Cross.

Advancing up the nave, it will soon be noticed that the north nave-arcade is greatly out of plumb, and leans outwards; a result, no doubt, of Collingwood’s alterations and additions placing too heavy a weight upon it.

At the east end of the north aisle is the former Lady Chapel, now and for long past known as the Clopton Chapel, from the tombs of that family placed there. No structural difference, no variation in the plan of the church, marks the chapel from the rest of the building, from which it is screened very slightly by a low pierced railing on one side, and on the south, looking into the nave, by the ornate stone screen erected by Sir Hugh Clopton, the founder of the family chapel and architect of his own fortunes. It is a part of the tomb intended for himself, and there can be no doubt but that he saw it rising to completion with the satisfaction of a man assured of being not only wealthy, but hoping to live in fame as the benefactor of his native town, for which he did so much.

The screen is crested with elaborate pierced conventional Tudor foliage, and fronted with his arms, and with those of the City of London, the Grocers’ Company, and the Merchants of the Staple. The brass inscribed plates have long since been torn away, and the tomb is entirely without inscription or effigy; as perhaps it is well it should be, for, in spite of all these elaborate preparations, and although directing that he should lie here, Sir Hugh Clopton was, after all, buried in the City of London, where he had made his fortune, and of which he was Lord Mayor in 1492, and in which he died in 1496. The church of St. Margaret, Lothbury, where he was buried, perished in the Great Fire of London, one hundred and seventy years later.

Sir Hugh Clopton died a bachelor, and the other tombs are those of his brother’s descendants. That of William Clopton, who died in 1592 and is described simply as “Esquire,” stands against the north wall of the Chapel. He was great-nephew of Sir Hugh. He is represented in armour, and his wife, who followed him four years later, lies beside him in effigy, both figures with prayerfully raised hands. Above them, on the wall, quite by themselves, are represented the interesting family of this worthy pair, seven in all, sculptured and painted in miniature, in the likeness of so many big-headed Dutch dolls, with the name of each duly inscribed; Elizabeth, Lodowicke, Joyce, Margaret, William, Anne, and again William, the first of that name having died an infant, as did also Elizabeth and Lodowicke. These three are represented as little mummy-like creatures, swathed tightly in linen folds.

But the most gorgeous of all the Clopton tombs is the next in order of date. This is the lofty and extremely elaborate and costly monument of George Carew, Earl of Totnes and Baron Clopton, who married Joyce, eldest daughter of the already mentioned William Clopton. He died in 1629, and his wife in 1636. This costly memorial, together with that to her father and mother, was her handiwork, and she seems to have completely enjoyed herself in the progress of the commission. The Countess of Totnes and her husband are represented in full-length, recumbent effigies, sculptured in alabaster. The Earl is shown in armour and his wife is seen habited in a white fur robe, coloured red outside. A deep ruff is round her neck, and she wears a coronet. The Earl of Totnes was Master of the Ordnance to James the First; hence the symbolical sculptured implements of war in front of the monument; including two cannon, two kegs of powder and a pile of shot; one mortar, a gun, some halberds and a flag.

A later inscription records that Sir John Clopton caused these tombs to be repaired and beautified in 1714. In 1719 he died, aged 80; and in course of time his own tomb became a candidate for repair. No Cloptons then survived to perform that pious office, which was observed by Sir Arthur Hodgson, the owner of Clopton House, in 1892.

The monument of Sir Edward Walker, who died in 1676, is the memorial of a man who held some important positions. He was Charles the First’s Secretary of War, and afterwards Garter King-of-Arms and military editor of Clarendon’s History of the Rebellion. He has some interest for the students of Shakespeare’s life, for it was he who bought New Place in 1675.

There are some smaller tablets on the walls, including one with a little effigy of a certain Amy Smith, who was for forty years “waiting-gentlewoman” to the Countess of Totnes. She is seen devoutly kneeling at a prie-Dieu chair.