Plays and places of Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon

By Anita Rao-Kashi
April, TS Eliot said, is the cruelest month, but for addicts of William Shakespeare, it is probably just the opposite — the inimitable Bard was baptised (his birthday is a bit of an issue with experts) and he died in April. More so this April, as it commemorates four centuries of Shakespeare’s passing.

And even though London swirls with events and activities, the place to be is Stratford-upon-Avon, his birthplace, where he is front and centre and almost everything revolves around him.

Having grown up on a rather heavy dose of Shakespeare, it is with suppressed excitement that I set out. As London’s suburbs fall away and the bus races northwest towards Stratford-upon-Avon, the scenery perceptibly changes.



Solid and large buildings give way to wide open and lush green meadows dotted with cattle, fields and farms with rolls of golden hay, hedges that run for miles and disappear into the horizon, and picture postcard villages with pretty houses fronted by even prettier gardens.

The bus sweeps into the squeaky-clean terminal in Stratford-upon-Avon and as soon as I get off, I am fascinated. Leading from the terminal is a series of brass plates embedded on the pavement leading to the most famous waterbody of the town — the river Avon, and thence forward, the city centre. It seems the perfect cue for some of the famous Shakespearean lines from Hamlet to Romeo and Juliet and everything else in between to begin a slow ticker scroll in the head.

The town itself is small with the river running right through it and a population of less than 30,000. It is a warren of streets and a crowded high street, and almost everything hinges on its most famous resident. Interestingly, I was told that many other famous personalities lived in and around Stratford, or visited, at various times in history. These include Oliver Cromwell, JB Priestley, George Bernard Shaw, Arthur C Clarke and Nathaniel Hawthorne.

But there’s nothing to show for it and all of them have been overshadowed. For some reason, it brings to mind the opening line of the famous monologue, “All the world’s a stage...” from As You Like It. To this day, the town is indeed a stage for Shakespeare! I start near the river Avon (which actually translates to river) that runs through the centre of the town. I am struck by overwhelming Shakespearean references. Setting the tone for the visit is a little park adjoining the river which has large black stone statues of characters from Shakespeare’s plays.

Age Cannot Wither On a raised platform is a tall central pedestal on which is the Bard himself is seated in an elaborate chair. The four corners of the platform are occupied by four prominent characters from his plays, Lady Macbeth, Falstaff, Prince Hal and Hamlet, supposedly representing tragedy, comedy, history and philosophy, the main themes that run through his plays. The characters seem all too real, frozen in time. Of them, however, Hamlet has the greatest hold, his brooding, drooping image full of pathos. Inevitably, his immortal line, “To be or not to be...”, echo in my head.

Before melancholy can subsume me, I leave Hamlet to his indecisiveness and stroll down to the river’s edge, which is lined with tiny boats, selling all kinds of knick-knacks, souvenirs, sketches and watercolours. Nearby, at the water’s edge, a gaggle of geese demands attention and food from visitors. On the river, boats are plying up and down; some are carrying visitors, others are carrying on with their daily routine. What draws my attention is the beautiful and striking building further along the bank, the Royal Shakespeare Company’s theatre, the Swan Theatre. It is a sprawling structure of red and grey, where Shakespeare’s plays are performed almost throughout the year. I linger, struck by the scene, letting the river and everything around banish the last vestiges of melancholy.

Unbidden, the line, “I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience”, from Henry VIII comes to mind. 400 Years Ago The peace is broken by a bunch of enthusiastic kids and I find my way back to the main road and town centre. At the information desk I pick up a little map and head first to a place simply called Nash’s House, which has a collection of furniture and furnishings from Shakespeare’s time. More interesting is the set foundations and grounds next door called the New Place where Shakespeare lived from the end of 16th century to his death in 1616.

From there, I make my way to Anne Hathaway’s Cottage where Anne — Shakespeare’s wife — lived before her marriage.

Nearby is also Mary Arden’s house, where Shakespeare’s mother lived. Neither of them quite catches my imagination and is quite dreary and far-from-glamorous but provides a glimpse of what life might have looked like in those times.

Disappointment is quickly pushed aside at the beautiful and ancient Holy Trinity Church where Shakespeare was baptised and both he and Anne are buried. It stands on lovely grounds and is calm and serene.

According to popular lore, Shakespeare is believed to have been born on April 23 and died on that same date, separated by about 55 years. There is no consensus on his birthday among historians and experts, but there is widespread agreement that he was baptised on April 26, 1564. Shakespeare himself might have had the last laugh about this controversy and would probably quote, “When we are born we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools”, from King Lear.

However, it is at the grey-and-brown, timbered Tudor house on Henley Street, with its classic gabled roof, that I feel Shakespeare’s strongest presence. This house belonged to his father John Shakespeare and it is where he was born. After a succession of inheritances, it became an inn and a public house in the 17th century but was reacquired in the 19th century and renovated to look like the original. As I walk around inside, I notice that the rooms and furniture resemble the style of Shakespeare’s days and I try to imagine the life that Shakespeare led.

Stepping out of the house, I wander along Henley Street filled with a plethora of shops selling all kinds of memorabilia, all related to Shakespeare. In one of them, I chance upon a beautifully done and yet sinister looking print on cloth with three witches standing in front of an obscenely large cauldron.

Above them are another of my favourite lines — “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and caldron bubble” from Macbeth. It has a compelling feel and I can’t resist buying it.

By now, the sky is a dull grey and the evening shadows are quite lengthy. I wander around some more, peeking into the Grammar School where he studied, some of the town houses and Falstaff ’s Experience, which takes visitors through a strange and funny ride through time. Finally, I wind up again at the river’s edge, drawn magically and soothed by its gentle flowing waters.

Darkness falls like a curtain, quite suddenly, and I reluctantly turn away, picking up my pace towards the bus terminal. My head is reeling with snatches of Shakespeare quotes, some well-known, others quite obscure but which have found a connection with my head and heart. As the bus meanders out, I crane my neck for a last glimpse. In my head pops the most appropriate line, from Romeo and Juliet: “Goodnight, goodnight! Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Perhaps the perfect line on which to end the trip.

The author is a Bengaluru-based travel and food writer.