London South Collegiate Institute - Oracle Yearbook (London, Ontario Canada)

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L. S. C. I. ORACLI2 surrounded by various modern school buildings. But it was the ancient building that I came to admire. Or- iginally a Guild Hall, later the Town Hall, the building has been continu- ously used as a school-room since 1482-ten years before Columbus dis- covered this continent. Here came Shakespeare. creeping like snail nn- willingly lo school. Here hellearned his little Latin and less Greek. Open bookshelves fill the entire end behind the master's desk, which is elevated on a dais. A brass plate marks the conjectural location of the poet's own desk which has gone off to join the great majority of relics. They are very plain desks, consisting merely of a board laid across twoiron up- rights. I am told that an Ontario collegiate has adopted the design. Several boys sit together at each. But the glory of the place, apart from the half-timbered exterior, is the magnificent tie-beam roof of this schoolroom. The hammer-beam roof in Westminster Hall, London, is larger, loftier, more ornate, but not so characteristically medieval as this sturdy structure. Rafters, supports, beams are black with age but solid as ever. On one of the two sunny afternoons, I was lured to the river. From the many boathouses I selected the one next the memorial library. Have you a canvas-covered canoe? I asked the boatman. Just these, sir, he said, indicating some Peterborough Cedars fitted with two parallel keel-boards. That will be O.K, I returned in- cautiously. Another 'f-lush' American, thought the boatman. How much? I continued. Two shillings an hour, he replied promptly. See you again, I sighed,making for the boat-house at the Clopton Bridge where I knew the rate was one shilling. Massive Clopton Bridge with its many piers remains as it was when Shakespeare brought his eight-year-old son there to fish on a,f1ne day in April. A, fresh -breeze was driving through the arches and making navigation of a canoe with keel-boards a bit trouble- some. . But there was the blessed sun. No wonder the Britons worshipped E 23 him. Waterside Park on the right bank had attracted many a burgess to enjoy the fine afternoon from abench beside the Hower-beds, others, however, were punting on the river. Some even preferred a motor launch. I paddled by the New Memorial theatre, to be dedicated next April. On the opposite bank are the bowling and cricket greens with quiet meadows beyond, traversed by a footpath. -iiThe river glideth at his own sweet wi .' A few hundred yards along this quiet reach is Holy Trinity Church, whose tower and spire rise from the massed lime trees. A man and a maid from far-away India are seated on the churchyard wall revelling in this ex- quisite Warwickshire setting. I stroll through the churchyard and enter, by a long aisle of arched lime trees, this ancient sanctuary whose tower and transepts actually antedate those of Westminster Abbey. just within the vestibule is the old sanctuary knocker, one of the few remaining in England to remind us of the days when sanctu- ary meant security from pursuing enemies for thirty-seven days. A church which exhibits early English decorated Gothic and perpendicular architecture would, of itself, be in- teresting. In addition, its chancel is oddly deflected to the left of the line of the nave. It possesses one of the few chained Bibles, dated 1611. And it preserves the huge registers, like family Bibles, recording thep oet's baptism, April 26, 1564, and his burial, April 25, 1616. By the porch stands the font in which he was baptized, and yonder in the east, before the high altar, is the tablet which covers his mortal remains. The most stately epitaph in all this land of monuments and shrines is that of Sir Christopher Wren over the north transept entrance of St. Paul's: Si rnonnmenturn. reguiris circum- spice. The most moving epitaph is in the north cloister of Westminster Abbey: Jane, Lister, dear ehilde, 1688. , But there is something essentially fitting in these lives prepared by the great man to perpetuate the bond CContinued on Page 281

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22 L. S. C. I. ORACLE 44 if 37 9 By H. B. NoRToN Perhaps joseph Conrad had in mind such people as I when he wrote: They would be labelled as having passed through this and that place and so would be their luggage. My suit- case had just received another gaudy label in yellow and black. It bore the well-known likeness, bald and bearded, and also the legend, Paddington to Stratford-on-Avon, Great Western Rail- way, Shakespeare Express. They say that motor-buses are taking away the business from rail- ways in England no less than in Can- ada. One would never suspect it from the appearance of an English station on a Saturday morning, say Victoria or Paddington. London is being de- populated for the week-end. Queues are formed at all the booking-offices. Porters are plowing through the throng, loaded with valises, shawl-straps and what-have-you. One does not check baggage in England, one bribes a porter to stow it, either in the com- partment with the passengers, or in the guard's van, some distance up the train. Shunting engines are placing trains on adjacent tracks, and occasionally emitting the most ear- splitting shrieks yet devised by the ingenuity of man. But, Heaven be praised, it is 9:10, and we are moving. In England the 9:10 train leaves at 9:10. In two hours we are at Stratford, interviewing more porters, handing out more half-crowns. It is raining here, too--and yet-and how! Our bus goes along Henley Street past the birthplace. It is now a broad, tidy street-in decided contrast with those days when the elder Shakes- peare was fined for accumulating a garbage heap at his front door. The house is surrounded by a lawn and flower-garden. At the foot of the street 'is the river Avon,from whose Saxon Street ford the town is named. It is spanned by the sturdy Clopton stone bridge, built of many arches, and barely wide enough for vehicles to meet. . No Overtakingn says a warning sign. . . 1 Of course, Shakespeare is Stratfordls greatest industry. Much patient and persistent effort has been employed in authenticating relics and associations of the poet. For example, we are ad- jured to visit the Weir Brake. It is a pleasant walk through the mead- ows and along the river bank past the mill, under the railway embankment and up the hill. Expecting to find the original bank where the wild thyme blows, we find instead a luxuriant flora of broken pop-bottles and other debris. Another objective of all pilgrims is the New Place Museum. Everyone knows that Shakespeare purchased a somewhat pretentious property here when he retired to his native town in 1611, where he might rest from labor before his little life is rounded with a sleep. But nothing remains of New Place except a few grass-covered foun- dation stones, and the flower garden containing many varieties mentioned in the plays. The adjacent building, Nash's house, contains a museum of archaeological and other relics, some of which relate to the poet. The muni- cipal gardens adjoining at the rear are well worth a visit. 1 More relics are exhibited at the birthplace in Henley Street, among them some rare books and manu- scripts. The old rooms are an excellent re- construction, with their low ceilings, broad-planked flooring, diamond-paned easements and cosy ingle-nooks. Tradi- tion says the poet was born in one of the upper rooms. Yet the only six- teenth-century portion of the place is the cellar, according to a candid old janitress. Nevertheless, time has spared much. Few English towns can boast so many well-preserved, half-timbered houses as Stratford. First among them I should place the grammar school and adjoining row of alms houses. The boys had just left for lunch when I arrived, for in England july is, not a vacation month. The archway leads from the street to an inner 'quadrangle I

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