The church is ancient—in part dating from the twelfth century—and it contains many interesting monuments, but somehow the whole seems like one huge memorial to Shakespeare. On the floor, at one side of the chancel, is the slab which marks the Poet’s grave, and which bears the famous epitaph, said to have been written by himself:
“Good frend; for Jesus’ sake forbeare
To digg the dust encloased heare;
Bleste be ye man ye spares thes stones,
And curst be he yt moves my bones.”
On the wall above the tomb is the monument,—a bust of Shakespeare, on which the original colors have recently been restored. Nearby are buried Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare’s wife, his daughter, Susanna Hall, and her husband, and other members of the family.
For some minutes our party stood quietly looking over the altar-rail at the grave and its inscription, but finally, the arrival of some loud-voiced, laughing tourists, who conscientiously made fun of everything they saw, caused them to turn away.
Mrs. Pitt then called their attention to some of the stained-glass windows. “Two of them were given by Americans,” she said. “This one here pictures the Seven Ages of Man, which Shakespeare describes in ‘As You Like It,’ Do you see? Now come to the back of the church and look at the parish register, which contains the record of the baptism and burial of Shakespeare. Here it is.”
A glass case holds this precious relic, and by studying carefully the quaint old writing, the words “Shakespeare” and the dates can be traced.
“Think how fortunate that this register was preserved!” exclaimed Mrs. Pitt, leaning over to examine it again. “Important records of births, marriages, and deaths, as well as notable events, were always kept in these books, and yet the people generally did not consider them of much value. The parchment leaves were often torn out and used to rebind schoolbooks, or to line a housewife’s cooking-utensils! Fancy! Some vergers, however, recognized the great worth of these books and preserved them with care. Luckily the men of this church were of that type.”
Here the modern verger, in his flowing black gown, accosted them, and urged them to buy some of the Shakespeare Post-cards, at a shilling each. Having purchased several, and posted them then and there to various friends, they left the church and walked down the lovely path, shaded by arching lime-trees. They then drove to the Shakespeare Memorial, which also stands near the river.
This large, irregular building of red brick and stone, with its one high tower, was erected in 1879. In it is a theatre where plays are given every spring, on the anniversary of Shakespeare’s birth, as well as at certain other times. The children were amused at seeing a rehearsal in progress on the stage.
“How absurd Lady Macbeth does look strutting about and clasping her hands, dressed in that black skirt, shirt-waist, and sailor hat!” Betty laughed.