Richard II and Edward II take the stage

tennant richardNext week rehearsals begin for the most high-profile event of the RSC’s year, Richard II starring David Tennant, directed by Artistic Director Gregory Doran. There is a lot of information on the RSC’s website including a brief interview with Tennant, but little casting has as yet been made public except for Oliver Ford Davies playing the Duke of York, Nigel Lindsay playing Bolingbrook and Michael Pennington playing John of Gaunt.

The Stratford run is completely sold out but the production will also be running at the Barbican Theatre in London and, best of all for the large numbers who will be able to attend, on 13 November the performance will be broadcast live to cinemas around the world. This will be the first Live from Stratford-upon-Avon broadcast, and John Wyver will be writing a weekly production diary reporting on preparations for this event. His first post on the subject, with many links, is here.

I’m beginning to feel more than a little embarrassed by the number of times I refer to John Wyver’s Illuminations blog, but being so deeply involved with bringing the RSC’s production to cinemas, he just keeps producing great posts. This one looks at earlier screen versions of Richard II. There have been a surprising number, most recently as part of The Hollow Crown series, but one was screened as far as 1950. In his interview David Tennant refers to seeing Derek Jacobi in the role when he was a student, and Jacobi’s Richard was one of the highlights of the BBC Shakespeare series filmed in the 1980s.

Ian McKellen as Richard II

Ian McKellen as Richard II

Another production which has become legendary was the double-act which a young Ian McKellen performed in 1969 when he played both Shakespeare’s Richard II and Edward II in Christopher Marlowe’s play for the Prospect Theatre Company. These productions were filmed and televised in 1970. More recently the plays have also been paired by Shakespeare’s Globe. They have much in common: the weak king with his favourites, opposed by nobles, the king’s downfall and murder. Marlowe’s play was written in the early 1590s, several years before Shakespeare’s, and Shakespeare was to write three plays about another weak king, Henry VI, before tackling the story of Richard II. He wrote some of his finest speeches for Richard, giving us memorable stage moments such as this one:
For God’s sake, let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings;
How some have been deposed; some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed;
Some poison’d by their wives: some sleeping kill’d;
All murder’d: for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp,
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be fear’d and kill with looks,
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life,
Were brass impregnable, and humour’d thus
Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence: throw away respect,
Tradition, form and ceremonious duty,
For you have but mistook me all this while:
I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus,
How can you say to me, I am a king?

John Heffernan as Richard II, Tobacco Factory 2011

John Heffernan as Richard II, Tobacco Factory 2011

This autumn theatregoers also have the opportunity to see Marlowe’s Edward II at the Olivier Theatre. John Heffernan, who played a notable Richard II at the Tobacco Factory in 2011, is taking his first leading role for the National. On the website it’s  described as “A behind-the-scenes exploration of power, sexual obsession, and a king who treats the realm as his playground. The National offers a contemporary take on Christopher Marlowe’s magnificent, erotic and violent play.” Sounds as if it’s going to be a compelling production: it has its first preview on 28 August and plays into October, and more details are to be found on the website.

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Shakespeare’s collaborators in the Elizabethan and Jacobean theatre

220px-CampaspeAfter far too long being seen in isolation, Shakespeare is increasingly seen as but one of many writers of the late Elizabethan and early Jacobean periods. Just recently there have been many studies looking at those other writers who inspired Shakespeare, or with whom he may have collaborated.

John Lyly was one of the first writers for the stage, from the early 1580s writing entertainments to be performed by the boys companies in London at the Blackfriars Theatre. One of his most successful plays was Campaspe. This prose comedy tells the story of the famous classical emperor Alexander who brings from Thebes captives including the beautiful Campaspe. He falls in love with her and commissions the artist Apelles to paint her. The pair fall in love and Alexander allows them to marry, resisting love in favour of the real employment of a leader, the conquering of Persia. “Thou shalt see that Alexander maketh but a toy of love”, he says.

The title page of the quarto indicates that the play was first shown at Blackfriars, presumably a sort of dress rehearsal before being presented before Queen Elizabeth at the court on New Year’s Day. It must have had some resonance for the Virgin Queen who also turned her back on marriage in favour of rule. The actors were the boys companies of Her Majesty’s Children, and the Children of Paules. Lyly was a great influence on later writers, but he had stopped writing plays by the 1590s in favour of a more political career. There’s a great introduction to this neglected writer in this short film, and longer interviews with Lucy Munro and Andy Kesson.

The Rose Theatre

The Rose Theatre

John Wyver always turns up fascinating material in his Illuminations blog, and this post, about TV versions of non-Shakespearean plays (to be the focus of an issue of Shakespeare Bulletin in 2015), includes a rare clip of a scene from Robert Greene’s play Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay. Greene was responsible for the first allusion to Shakespeare as a playwright, describing him as “an upstart crow” and “the only Shake-scene in a country”.

The Shakespearean London Theatres ShaLT project has produced a short downloadable film about the history of Shakespearean theatres. Here’s the link to the film itself, and here’s the link to the Illuminations blog in which John Wyver explains his association with the project.

spanish tragedyIt’s now acknowledged that the writing of plays for the Elizabethan and Jacobean theatre was a complex and collaborative business. The text of The Spanish Tragedy, attributed to Thomas Kyd, is an example of such a play. It has long been speculated that  the additional passages that appeared in the 1602 4th quarto of the play were written by Shakespeare. These arguments have been based on studies by Brian Vickers looking at vocabulary, but Douglas Bruster now claims to have found additional parallels between the spellings of words in these passages and the three pages of the Sir Thomas More manuscript. This is of course a tricky argument: nobody can be 100% sure that Shakespeare wrote these pages, but here’s a link to Bruster’s article, and another to the New York Times article on the subject.

John Florio

John Florio

It’s much more common to find the hands of other writers such as John Fletcher in work ascribed to Shakespeare. Saul Frampton is currently writing a book on John Florio and Shakespeare. Florio is often suggested as the model for Holofernes in Love’s Labour’s Lost and the play’s title may refer to one of Florio’s phrases.  Florio’s wife has often put forward as a candidate for Shakespeare’s Dark Lady of the sonnets.

In an article in The Guardian Frampton suggests that Florio supplied the sonnets to the publisher as an act of revenge for Shakespeare’s affair with his wife, and that he was the author of A Lover’s Complaint.

A Lover’s Complaint was published as an appendix to the Sonnets, written in an antiquated style quite unlike Shakespeare’s. Here’s a sample:
From off a hill whose concaue wombe reworded,
A plaintfull story from a sistring vale
My spirits t’attend this doble voyce accorded,
And downe I laid to list the sad tun’d tale,
Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale
Tearing of papers breaking rings a twaine,
Storming her world with sorrowes, wind and raine.

He suggests there is internal evidence of Florio’s authorship in the choice of vocabulary: ” …it features a host of words never used by Shakespeare and rarely or never by his contemporaries, yet which can nevertheless be found in Florio. For example, neither Shakespeare nor Marlowe nor Jonson use “storming”, “defiling”, “maund”, “blend”, “blazoned”, “outwards”, “gouty”, “amorously”, “oblations”, “plenitude”, “laugher”, “weepingly” “vnshorne”. All are used by Florio repeatedly”.”

In the article about The Spanish Tragedy academic Tiffany Stern sounds a note of caution: “The arguments for ‘The Spanish Tragedy’ are better than for most” putative Shakespeare collaborations, Ms. Stern said. “But I think we’re going a bit Shakespeare-attribution crazy and shoving a lot of stuff in that maybe shouldn’t be there.”  Maybe we will never know for sure, but in the mean time the arguments will run and run.

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All’s Well That Ends Well at the RSC

Alex Waldmann as Bertram, Charlotte Cornwell as the Countess

Alex Waldmann as Bertram, Charlotte Cornwell as the Countess

High summer in Stratford-upon-Avon and at the RST the season is in full swing. Three Shakespeare productions are running in the main theatre, and on Thursday it was possible to see two plays back to back. In the afternoon there was All’s Well That Ends Well, followed in the evening by Shakespeare’s longest and most famous play, Hamlet. Audiences have been able to see the Countess of Rossillion (Charlotte Cornwell) and the King of France (Greg Hicks) turn into Gertrude and Claudius, and even more interestingly Bertram (Alex Waldmann) and Parolles (Jonathan Slinger) become Horatio and Hamlet.

Performing this double act is a reminder of why the RSC has become such a great and famous company over its fifty year history. It can only be achieved by playing long seasons, with a cross-cast company of experienced professionals.  I’m sure there will have been some hardy souls in the audience who managed the double – I’m afraid I wasn’t among them, but I’ve seen both plays separately.

Of the two, I much preferred the All’s Well That Ends Well, directed by Nancy Meckler. David Farr’s Hamlet seemed to me to be a production that was trying too hard to be clever, with a concept that interfered with the play rather than clarifying it. Though as I saw Hamlet early in its run there is now a sneaking suspicion in my mind that, now the company has been together longer, I would enjoy that production more too.

Meckler’s production is entertaining and clear, not always the case with this notoriously difficult play. This link leads to reviews and interviews with Charlotte Cornwell and Alex Waldmann. It could be suggested that the characters are a bit too likeable. There aren’t any villains here. Some productions make Parolles deeply unpleasant, but in this production we can’t help sympathising with his weakness at the same time as we disapprove of his behaviour. It’s the same with other characters: Helena is humble and passionately in love, where she can sometimes be a bit of a prig, annoyingly always in the right. And Bertram is sometimes played as such a flawed character that we wonder why Helena is so keen to spend her life with him. Meckler and her company bring off the difficult feat of making us aware of the faults in all of us, allowing us to forgive them (and ourselves) at the end.

It reminded me of that exchange in Julius Caesar, where Brutus and Cassius argue. Brutus frankly declares “I do not like your faults”. Cassius responds “A friendly eye could never see such faults”. Brutus retorts “A flatterer’s would not, though they do appear / As huge as high Olympus”. We accept our friends, warts and all, rather than being blind to their faults, and it’s much the same with the characters in this production.

Alex Waldmann’s Bertram is young and easily led, rather than bad. He’s on Helena’s side during the scene where she chooses a husband, gives her the thumbs up, until he realises she has set her sights on him  In the final scene, trying to lie his way out of the accusations against him his despairing look to the audience acknowledges that he knows he’s got to change.

One of the battle sequences

One of the battle sequences

I loved the use of music and dance in the production, quickly explaining elements of the plot as in the opening, where Bertram’s partying is halted by the letter telling him of his father’s death. When Bertram childishly runs away to war instead of facing his responsibilities he stands centre stage, an Action Man doll being dressed up as a soldier. And the battle in which he distinguishes himself is an elaborately choreographed ritual combat. War may be a theme of the play, but here it seems to be a way of escaping the reality of growing up.

Elsewhere dance is a celebration of life. The King of France is transformed by Helena’s remedy, showing off his complete recovery by partnering her in a dance before doing a spot of break-dancing, a cartwheel and a handstand.

Charlotte Cornwell as the Countess, David Fielder as Lafeu, Greg Hicks as the King

Charlotte Cornwell as the Countess, David Fielder as Lafeu, Greg Hicks as the King

The Countess is always at the centre of the play, and Charlotte Cornwell plays her as a loving but troubled mother. There’s a section on Designing the Countess on the RSC website in which the designer talks about the decisions made about how to dress her, but I’m surprised that in a production that emphasises the active roles women take to support each other she appears so conventional, and made to appear unnecessarily old: the widow, for instance, is much younger.

 

Costumes for Peggy Ashcroft, Judi Dench and Edith Evans

Costumes for Peggy Ashcroft, Judi Dench and Edith Evans

At the end of the play she remains a figure in mourning black. The costume exhibition Into the Wild, currently being shown at the RSC, shows that it’s always the same. It includes costumes for three Countesses from the past: Peggy Ashcroft’s from 1981, Judi Dench’s from 2003, and Edith Evans’ from 1959. Each wears a long black dress, and each actress’s hair was worn in a grey bun. I’d love to have seen Charlotte Cornwell (the best Rosalind I’ve ever seen, back in 1978), ditch the grey wig, the long black dress and the pearl necklace, and indulge in a life-affirming dance of her own to close the play, when all really does end well.

 

RSC production photographs copyright RSC, taken by Ellie Kurttz

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Art Everywhere: Shakespeare’s Ophelia

John William Waterhouse's The Lady of Shalott

John William Waterhouse’s The Lady of Shalott

For the next ten days, until 25 August, copies of 57 British works of art will be displayed in thousands of locations in the UK: at bus stops, billboards and shopping centres. It’s billed as the world’s largest art show. They were chosen by members of the public from a long list created by a panel of  experts including curators and artists. The project is called Art Everywhere and is the result of a partnership between Richard Reed (co-founder of Innocent Drinks), The Art Fund, Tate and the poster industry, and is being publicised by the Guardian.

Digitisation of paintings is opening up access in all kinds of ways, and although it’s great to be able to see these images on our computer screens or smartphones it’s refreshing to see images of them at full size or larger. To find them invading places where we would normally expect to see advertisements may make our streets more attractive and make us look more closely at the images themselves.

The variety of images shows clearly how techniques and subject matter has changed from the sixteenth century to the present day, but the Guardian reveals that numbers 1 and 2 were John William Waterhouse’s The Lady of Shalott and John Everett Millais’s Ophelia. It’s not surprising that these two paintings made it to the final ten, but it does surprise me that these, with so many similarities in style, date and subject, should be the top two. Both are based on famous literary works, the one by Tennyson, the second by Shakespeare, painted in the Victorian period, and both tell the story of a tragic young woman who drifts to a watery death.

John Everett Millais's Ophelia

John Everett Millais’s Ophelia

Millais’s painting of Ophelia is the most famous painting based on Shakespeare, much copied (though until I saw these two side by side it never occurred to me that the Lady of Shalott owed so much to the Millais Ophelia, created thirty years earlier).

Your Paintings is a joint initiative between the BBC, the Public Catalogue Foundation and participating UK collections which has resulted in around 200,000 paintings being viewable online as a national collection. It’s a fantastic resource which anyone can explore. A search for Ophelia, for instance, results in 19 hits most of which are not particularly familiar.

Just recently the Getty trust has adopted their Open Content Program ” because we recognized the need to share images of works of art in an unrestricted manner, freely, so that all those who create or appreciate art—scholars, artists, art lovers, and entrepreneurs—will have greater access to high-quality digital images for their studies and projects. Art inspires us, and imagination and creativity lead to artistic expressions that expand knowledge and understanding.”

In a blog, they suggest that Open Content is an idea whose time has come. Initially they are making 4,600 of their images available to repurpose, but this number will grow, and they are searchable through the Getty Search Gateway.

On another website, Open Glam, there’s a list of Open Collections, a real treasure trove of glorious material to be searched and enjoyed.

Going back to Ophelia and the Lady of Shalott, why are they so popular as paintings? Is it the gorgeous detail of the painting, the associations with the original works of literature, the character depicted, or the history of the painting itself? One of the reasons for the fame of the Millais painting is the story that the model for the painting, Elizabeth Siddall, became seriously ill after spending so much time lying in a bath of cold water, the painter having been oblivious to her state.

The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust’s current exhibition being held at Nash’s House is based on a survey to find Shakespeare’s most popular characters. Each one has been given a display case (except for Romeo and Juliet who share one) in which a mix of items from the Collections are displayed such as original swords for Mercutio, books like Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy for Hamlet and theatrical costumes like a head-dress for Cleopatra. The exhibition is pulled together by Ailsa Burrows’ charming and witty cartoons for each character and although it’s aimed mainly at children it’s worth a look for adults too. The top ten in the exhibition are: 1. Juliet, 2. Hamlet, 3. Bottom, 4. Beatrice, 5. Mercutio, 6. Romeo, 7. Falstaff, 8. Macbeth, 9. Henry V, 10. Cleopatra.

I was disappointed not to find Ophelia in the top ten as she has such a strong hold on our imaginations and has been so often represented in art and literature. She may not be as romantic or gutsy as the three women in the list, but who wouldn’t want to be Hamlet’s girlfriend, at least before it all begins to unravel?

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Shakespeare’s mulberries: trees of history and legend

The split mulberry tree

The split mulberry tree

Last Sunday, 4 August 2013, one of Stratford’s mulberry trees split in two. There are many ancient mulberries in the town, principally in the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust’s gardens, and they’re mostly propped up by metal or brick supports, making them look much older than they are: according to the Royal Horticultural Society “The mulberry tree has a spreading habit and becomes crooked and gnarled with time”.

All the more unfortunate that the tree that broke is not one of the older trees, but was planted in 1969 in New Place Garden to mark the 200th anniversary of the Garrick Jubilee, the first organised celebration of Shakespeare, usually seen as the beginning of the tourist industry in the town. It was planted by Dame Peggy Ashcroft, and has additional significance because she also chose to have her ashes scattered beneath this tree after her death.

The oldest of the mulberry trees

The oldest of the mulberry trees

Several other mulberries are to be seen in the same garden, principally that which, by tradition, is a scion or cutting from the one which Shakespeare himself planted in this garden. It’s certainly a venerable and massive tree, still bearing fruit. So well-known had the original tree become in the 1750s that the then resident of New Place, the Rev Francis Gastrell, grew tired of the constant requests to see it and chopped it down. Local entrepreneur Thomas Sharpe spotted the opportunity and purchased the wood from which he made many objects, the most important being the carved casket which was presented to David Garrick containing the freedom of the town. So many smaller souvenirs were also made that their authenticity was placed in doubt and Sharpe ended up having to swear that items were the real thing. Gastrell, falling into a dispute over local taxes, in 1759 demolished the house itself and left the town forever.

The 1946 mulberry

The 1946 mulberry

Another of the mulberries in New Place Garden was the source of controversy when in 2012 the SBT applied for permission to cut it down. This had been planted in 1946 to replace an earlier tree on the same spot, and unfortunately stands just where archaeologists thought it would be worth investigating as part of the Dig for Shakespeare excavations of the site. Permission was not granted: perhaps Stratford District Council’s Planning Department were concerned about the potential headlines if another of Shakespeare’s mulberry trees was allowed to be given the chop.

The story that the tree felled by the Rev Francis Gastrell had been planted by Shakespeare is quite likely to be true. In the early years of James 1’s reign, around 1609, landowners were instructed to plant mulberry trees in the hope of promoting a native silk industry, and this was just the time when Shakespeare was spending more time in his large house, New Place. But the mulberry trees which were imported and sold were the wrong sort, black mulberries rather than the white variety which have delicate leaves the silkworms feed on. Black mulberries have delicious, very juicy fruit, which can be eaten straight off the tree and also make excellent pies and preserves, but are less favoured by silkworms. The fruit is held underneath the leaves and when ripe turns black and drops off the tree, staining anything it touches. Shakespeare knew how tricky the berries were to pick. In Coriolanus the hero is encouraged to stand with his head held low:
Now humble as the ripest mulberry
That will not hold the handling.

The royal connection with the mulberry tree is still celebrated: the National Collection of Mulberries is planted in the grounds of Buckingham Palace, and there’s much information on the history of the tree in the UK on this website

Berries growing on Shakespeare's mulberry

Berries growing on Shakespeare’s mulberry

In A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Shakespeare stages the classical story of Pyramus and Thisbe. The lovers are to meet at Ninus’ Tomb, beneath a mulberry tree. When Pyramus arrives to find only Thisbe’s bloodstained scarf, he stabs himself, his blood staining the white mulberries dark red. Ever afterwards the mulberry has dark red juice. Shakespeare doesn’t include the detail of the mulberry tree directly, but he does refer to it:
This grisly beast, which Lion hight by name,
The trusty Thisby, coming first by night,
Did scare away, or rather did affright;
And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall,
Which Lion vile with bloody mouth did stain.
Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth and tall,
And finds his trusty Thisby’s mantle slain:
Whereat, with blade, with bloody blameful blade,
He bravely broach’d is boiling bloody breast;
And Thisby, tarrying in mulberry shade,
His dagger drew, and died.

The mulberry in Hall's Croft garden

The mulberry in Hall’s Croft garden

What’s happened to Peggy Ashcroft’s tree may be regrettable, but it is only to be expected. The RHS explains. ” As trees mature, mulberries have a tendency to lean or suffer from split limbs. To avoid splits or having to make large pruning cuts, prop low-lying branches before their weight causes them to break”. It’s not all bad news though: these trees have real presence, as with the one at Hall’s Croft which appears to be growing horizontally among a bed of flowers. Once it’s supported this one too will begin to assume the character that these lovely trees acquire with age.

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The end of chivalry: John Talbot, the terror of the French

Illustration by H C Selous of Talbot in battle from an 1830 edition of Shakespeare

Illustration by H C Selous of Talbot in battle from an 1830 edition of Shakespeare

According to the messenger who gives the news in the first scene of Henry VI Part 1, Lord Talbot was captured by the French during a battle that took place on 10 August.
The tenth of August last this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop.
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompassed and set upon….
More than three hours the fight continued;
Where valiant Talbot above human thought
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance:
Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him;
Here, there, and every where, enraged he flew:
The French exclaim’d, the devil was in arms;
All the whole army stood agazed on him:
His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit
A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain
And rush’d into the bowels of the battle.

And yet it is known that the battle of Patay, where Talbot was taken prisoner, took place on 18 June. Not only that, but the messenger bringing this news does so immediately following the funeral of Henry V, which happened in 1422, whereas the Battle was not until 1429. It’s another example of how Shakespeare changed events to suit himself, though it doesn’t explain why he changed the date and month. Was it just the fact that “The tenth of August” fits better in blank verse than “The eighteenth of June”?

Henry VI Part 1 from the First Folio, 1623

Henry VI Part 1 from the First Folio, 1623

It’s thought that Henry VI Part 1 was written after what we now know as Henry VI Parts 2 and 3, and Shakespeare certainly plotted it carefully in order to present the story that he wants to tell. Andrew Cairncross, in the Arden Shakespeare edition of the play describes how “he constantly inverts historical order, compresses, expands, repeats, anticipates, transfers events and characters, omits, invents imaginary scenes and characters, and all for dramatic purposes”.

The play tells how England lost its territories in France, and much of it pits the English military leader Lord Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury, against the “maid of France” Joan la Pucelle. Talbot is characterised as the last of the medieval heroes, an audacious soldier unswervingly loyal to his king while most of the English nobles are quarrelling amongst themselves, and Joan’s power is the result of witchcraft and lies.

Shakespeare used Edward Hall’s book The Union of the Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke, published in 1548, as one of his sources. Describing his death, he writes of Talbot’s reputation:
At this battle … ended his life John Talbot … first earl of Shrewsbury, after that he with much fame, more glory, and most victory had for his prince and country, by the space of xxiiii years and more, valiantly made war, and served the king in the parts beyond the sea…. This man was to the French people, a very scourge and a daily terror, in so much that as his person was fearful, and terrible to his adversaries present: so his name and fame was spiteful and dreadful to the common  people. 

 

The death of Talbot and his son from the Oregon Shakespeare Festival production

The death of Talbot and his son from the Oregon Shakespeare Festival production

Shakespeare reorganises the facts with terrific panache. In the play, Talbot and his son die at the end of Act 4, Joan la Pucelle is condemned in Act 5 Scene 4, and the Duke of Suffolk is sent to France to fetch Margaret who is to marry Henry VI only in Act 5 Scene 5.

In fact Talbot and his son were killed in Castillon in 1453, Joan had been executed in 1431 and Suffolk fetched Margaret from France in 1445-6. Shakespeare’s close plotting, rearranging the events of history to create a clear sequence of events, made it one of his great early successes. And Talbot was a popular hero. Thomas Nashe, in Pierce Pennilesse, commented on the play in performance:

“How would it have joyed brave Talbot, the terror of the French, to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb, he should triumph again on the stage and have his bones new embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least (and several times), who, in the tragedian that represents his person, imagine they behold him fresh bleeding.”

John Talbot

John Talbot

Talbot’s death seems to mark the end of the age of chivalry. Viewed like this, no wonder Shakespeare placed it before the taunting of Joan la Pucelle by the English lords and her attempts to save herself by lying . Amongst themselves, the nobles lament:
Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,
Our great progenitors had conquered?
                    …   I foresee with grief
The utter loss of all the realm of France.

A prediction which Shakespeare’s audiences had already seen fulfilled on stage, and which was also matched by historical fact.

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Stratford’s heritage of food and drink

Stratford's Market

Stratford’s Market

Ever since the town of Stratford-upon-Avon was granted the right to hold a weekly market in 1196 it has thrived on trade. The goods bought and sold were the agricultural produce of the area, still remembered in some of the street names: Swine Street (now called Ely Street), Sheep Street, Rother (or Cattle) Market. The corner where the town hall stands is still known as Corn Market.

During Shakespeare’s time the inhabitants of the town had occupations based on the processing of these goods: butchers, tanners, glovers (like Shakespeare’s father), millers and bakers, and there were several farms just on the edge of the town centre. As one of the town’s burgesses, John Shakespeare, was in 1557 one of the ale-tasters  who had to enforce the order “that all the brewers, that brew to sell either ale or beer, shall sell their ale or beer for threepence the gallon”.

Many places catered for the influx of people who needed refreshment on market days: there were thirty ale-houses in Stratford during Shakespeare’s lifetime.

Shakespeare himself occasionally traded in agricultural produce, as we know from the survey undertaken by local Justices of the Peace in 1598. After a series of crop failures some people in the area were close to starvation and there was a real fear of rioting. Goods needed to feed people were being hoarded to be kept until the price rose. Corn and malt, mainly used in the brewing industry, were surveyed, and Shakespeare was one of the people who were holding more than he needed for his own use.

The 1850 town directory still listed many trades dependent on farming, and many businesses were related to it. Agricultural suppliers have been centred in the town, and a canning factory was opened in 1932 to process the market-gardening produce of the area. A different sort of business, but one still relying on agriculture, was the insurance company The National Farmers Union which now has its headquarters in Tiddington just outside Stratford.

The town’s reliance on providing food and drink has been continuous. Markets are still held, mainly in Rother Market: a general market on Fridays, a farmers’ market on alternate Saturdays, and a host of other markets held in different parts of the town around the year. It’s still notable how many pubs, cafes and restaurants are to be found in Stratford-upon-Avon.

Charles Edward Flower

Charles Edward Flower

The business that has had the most impact on the town and its history must be Flowers’ Brewery, and not just because it was a major employer, or the excellence of its beer. The brewery was founded in 1830. Edward Fordham Flower and his wife Sarah were philanthropists, holding parties for the children of the brewery workers and beginning a charitable infant school. He had been elected Mayor in 1851 and 1852, and as the 1864 Tercentenary of Shakespeare’s birth approached, he was approached again, and took the lead in organising the celebrations.

 

The tercentenary banquet

The tercentenary banquet

The pavilion was built on land owned by Flower, and he presided at the opening event, a huge Birthday dinner. Although there was much eating and drinking during the three weeks of the festival there were several presentations of Shakespeare’s plays including Romeo and Juliet and Twelfth Night. The success of the festival in drawing in many people did not however ensure its financial success, and it lost money. It did, though, encourage Flower in the belief that a theatre for the presentation of Shakespeare’s plays was a viable proposition for the town.

SMT-from-AvonDSCN4993 The Shakespeare Memorial Association was created in order to raise funds, Flower himself giving £1000 and a two-acre site by the river. The plan was derided by London critics, but Flower succeeded in building a theatre for Shakespeare, which London had failed to do. In 1926, after the disastrous fire which destroyed most of the original theatre, it was another Flower, Archibald, Edward’s nephew, who ensured that a new theatre was built. Without the Flower family there would be no Royal Shakespeare Company. One of the Flower family remains as an Honorary Governor of the theatre today.

Nicholas Fogg ends his book Stratford-upon-Avon: The Portrait of a Town with a postscript that links the theatre, the Flower family, and the heritage of the town:

A bust of Shakespeare from a hand pump for Flower's beer

A bust of Shakespeare from a hand pump for Flower’s beer

“Around that time [1974] Flower’s Brewery closed, victim of a tendency to bigger units. With its demise went what had been one of Stratford’s staple industries over the centuries and also part of the heritage of local initiative which had given the town its character. All that remains is a logo on a beer brewed elsewhere and the concrete slabs which cover the artesian wells of the vanished brewhouse”

This year Stratford-upon-Avon‘s Food Festival coincides with Heritage Open Days over the weekend of 14-15 September.  With food and drink playing such an important part in the heritage of Stratford and its immediate surroundings, the town council will be celebrating both events with an exhibition in the Town Hall on Brewing and Feasting in Stratford-upon-Avon, and they are inviting people to contribute material to it. If you have memorabilia relating to Flower’s Brewery, or anything that relates to this topic which you would be prepared to lend or share, please get in touch with the Civic Secretary, Charles Wilson, at charles.wilson@stratford-tc.gov.uk

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Shakespeare and the ladies

 

The statue of Shakespeare in Poets' Corner

The statue of Shakespeare in Poets’ Corner

From the earliest of times, Shakespeare’s works have been specially admired by women. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about the “Sociable Letter” written by Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle and published in 1664. Margaret defended Shakespeare against accusations of rusticity, but also admired his ability to write about people of all kinds:
So well he hath express’d in his playes all sorts of persons, as one would think he had been transformed into every one of those persons he hath describ’d… nay, one would think that he had been metamorphosed from a man to a woman, for who could describe Cleopatra better than he hath done, and many other females of his own creating, as Nan Page, Mrs Page, Mrs Ford, the Doctors Maid, Bettrice, Mrs Quickly, Doll Tearsheet, and others, too many to relate? 

Shakespeare’s lack of education was frequently seen as a disadvantage, but for Aphra Behn it was this that gave him a particular appeal for women who also had few educational opportunities. In the preface to her play The Dutch Lover, published in 1673, she wrote “Plays have no great room for that which is men’s great advantage over women, that is Learning; We all well know that the Immortal Shakespeare’s Plays (who was not guilty of much more of this than often falls to women’s share) have better pleas’d the world than Johnson’s works”.

The story that Shakespeare was so liked by Elizabeth I that he wrote The Merry Wives of Windsor at her royal command was first published in John Dennis’s 1702 preface to The Comical Gallant.

In 1726, in his book Shakespeare Restored Lewis Theobald wrote “there is scarce a Poet that our English tongue boasts of who is more the subject of the Ladies’ reading”. But it was really in the 1730s that female enthusiasm for Shakespeare became marked with the foundation of the Shakespeare Ladies Club. Not only did they read the plays, but they lobbied for the performance of Shakespeare’s plays in the theatre over the excesses of popular drama and fashionable Italian operas.

Yet for many years the names of the Ladies of Quality who belonged to this Club were unknown. In his book The Making of the National Poet (to which I owe many of the details in this post), Michael Dobson identifies the leader of the group as Susanna Ashley-Cooper, Countess of Shaftesbury, a well-known patron of the arts who supported the composer Handel and the publication of John Gay’s opera Polly. The aims of the Club were promoted by Mary Cowper’s poem On the Revival of Shakespear’s Plays by the Ladies in 1738 and Elizabeth Boyd, who wrote in the Induction to her play Don Sancho :
And once again let Shakespear bless the Stage;
Soul-soothing Shade, rouz’d by a Woman’s Pen,
To Check the impious Rage of lawless Men.

The Shakespeare Ladies Club is best remembered for its support for a statue of Shakespeare to be put into Poet’s Corner in Westminster Abbey in 1741. The campaign went on for several years: Eliza Haywood wrote that they had “shewn a truly public Spirit in rescuing the admirable, yet almost forgotten Shakespear, from being totally sunk to oblivion: – they have generously contributed to raise a monument to his memory, and frequently honoured his works with their presence on the stage”, and suggests that in doing so their action “will shine to late posterity”.

David Garrick, at his Jubilee more than twenty years later in 1769 remembered that “It was you Ladies that restor’d Shakespeare to the Stage … you form’d yourselves into a Society to protect his Fame, and Erected a Monument to his and your own honour in Westminster Abbey”. The cultivated eighteenth-century gentleman leaning on a pile of books depicted by Scheemakers is probably not quite the image that Margaret Cavendish envisaged, but it’s the most popular image of Shakespeare ever created, endlessly reproduced.

And is the portrait of Queen Elizabeth that can be seen on the base of the plinth a reference to the important role taken by women in promoting Shakespeare’s work?

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Shakespeare and The White Queen: using creative license

Rebecca Ferguson as Elizabeth

Rebecca Ferguson as Elizabeth

The current television series The White Queen has been criticised for its historical inaccuracies, its glossy costumes and out-of-period settings. I haven’t read the books by Philippa Gregory, so can’t tell how much of this relates to them and how much is just the TV series. But Gregory has been given two documentaries to explain, like a theatre programme might, her premise that the women she portrays are at least as interesting as the men, and maybe more, using the only weapons they could: cunning and patience.

The period covered by the series, roughly the 1460s to 1485, is familiar to most of us only through Shakespeare’s plays. And as is endlessly pointed out, the history Shakespeare gives us is not “true”. The notes and introductions to the editions of Henry VI Part 3 and Richard III which I have are mostly taken up by pointing out Shakespeare’s historical inaccuracies. Not only does Shakespeare rely on sources which promote the official Tudor view of the period, but he also twists facts, telescopes events and omits details. The success of his plays does not depend on facts, but on their compelling, irresistible drama.

Gregory’s White Queen is the wife of Richard’s eldest brother Edward, Elizabeth Woodville, fiercely protective of her children for whom she fights against the scheming nobles. All three of the most important women in the series; Elizabeth, Anne Neville and Margaret Beaufort are motivated by ambition for their families as much as for themselves.

white queenBut hers isn’t the only fictionalised version of the story, and I have a copy of an earlier novel, also called The White Queen, that tells the story of Anne Neville. It’s written by Lesley Nickell, who I met in 1979 a year after she had achieved the considerable feat of getting her novel published by Bodley Head. Like Gregory, Nickell challenges the Shakespearean view of Richard, Duke of Gloucester as a vicious monster, making him a hero and his marriage to Anne Neville a love match. Nickell’s Anne is a helpless pawn, whereas Gregory’s Anne is spunkier, but otherwise the stories are similar. As Nickell, who sadly died earlier this year, points out in a note to her book, “[Anne’s] life is not well documented, except as an adjunct to other people’s schemes or actions. No evidence remains of her own opinion of the career which was thrust upon her”. In other words, it’s anybody’s guess, and writers from Shakespeare onwards have been free to imagine her thoughts and feelings.

It’s now accepted that Shakespeare, in following the official Tudor version of history, blackened Richard’s name. The Richard III Society was founded to search for the truth and Josephine Tey’s novel The Daughter of Time, published in the 1950s, has probably been the most influential book on the subject. For both Gregory and Nickell, the real rotter is George, Duke of Clarence who betrays his brother Edward and imprisons Anne in order to control her inheritance. Clarence, condemned to die, in Gregory’s version chooses to be drowned in a butt of malmsey wine. I thought the butt of malmsey was just a story, made up years later, so could have easily have been omitted, but Gregory seems to need to find an explanation to counter Shakespeare’s famous scene.

Aneurin Barnard as Richard and Faye Marsay as Anne Neville

Aneurin Barnard as Richard and Faye Marsay as Anne Neville

There’s also a nod to Richard’s physical deformity, the hunched back signalling evil, which we have been told was invented by the chroniclers. In the TV series, when Richard and Anne go to bed for the first time, the camera lingers on his umblemished back. Gregory’s book was published before the recent discovery of Richard’s skeleton in Leicester which to everybody’s surprise showed that Richard did indeed have a severe curvature of the spine.

The real revelation of the series, though, is Margaret Beaufort. She doesn’t figure directly in Shakespeare’s plays, Queen Elizabeth referring to her “proud arrogance”. Stanley defends his wife:
I do beseech you, either not believe
The envious slanders of her false accusers,
Or if she be accus’d on true report,
Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds
From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

Amanda Hale as Margaret Beaufort

Amanda Hale as Margaret Beaufort

But what a woman Gregory makes of  the mother of the future Henry VII! Clever, devout, several-times married and used to being snubbed she will do anything to ensure her son inherits the crown. She tries to do what Shakespeare’s Richard III does, framing her “face to all occasions”. Like him in Henry VI Part 3, she does
but dream on sovereignty;
Like one that stands upon a promontory
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye;
And chides the sea, that sunders him from thence.

At the end of episode 7 her husband gives her the news that her son has been reinstated with his title, Earl of Richmond, but that his prospects of becoming King are slim. “Your Henry’s going to have to walk past five coffins to get to the throne and I don’t know how he’s going to manage that. Do you?”   With Margaret’s serious face in close-up, then seen from above, she crosses herself and, staring at sea of burning candles, blows out the nearest one and the screen goes black.

I was reminded by the lines further on in that same speech of Richard’s,
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I, – like one lost in a thorny wood,…
Torment myself to catch the English crown:
And from that torment will I free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.

Is Margaret Beaufort, I wonder, going to prove as ambitious and deceitful as Shakespeare’s Richard III?

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Juliet’s birthday: Shakespeare and Lammas-tide

Francesca Annis as Juliet and Marie Kean as the Nurse, Romeo and Juliet, RSC 1976

Francesca Annis as Juliet and Marie Kean as the Nurse, Romeo and Juliet, RSC 1976

Lammas Day, 1 August, was an important day in the calendar, but for Shakespeare-lovers Lammas Eve, 31 July, is the more significant because it was the day of Juliet’s birth.

Juliet is one of the few Shakespearean characters whose age and date of birth we know exactly, and Shakespeare tells us this before we know anything else about her. Act 1 Scene 3 of Romeo and Juliet is the first of a series of beautifully-written scenes in which the love of the two main characters develops. After the violence of the opening of the play with its brawl, the mood changes with Capulet’s exchange with Paris about his daughter and Benvolio and Romeo’s talk about gate-crashing the feast. Then we move backstage to this little gem of a scene in which a servant, the nurse, is put centre-stage. With its affectionate ramblings and bawdiness it is the warmest of speeches.

On Lammas-Eve at night shall she be fourteen;
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.
‘Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;
And she was wean’d,—I never shall forget it,—
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;
My lord and you were then at Mantua:—
Nay, I do bear a brain:—but, as I said,
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!
Shake quoth the dove-house: ’twas no need, I trow,
To bid me trudge:
And since that time it is eleven years;
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,
She could have run and waddled all about
.

Mixed in with the happy reminiscences of Juliet as a toddler are sadder memories of the nurse’s own daughter, Susan, the same age as Juliet “she was too good for me”, and her husband  “a was a merry man”. It’s no wonder that the Nurse, although small, is seen as one of the best of female roles and has often been played by great actresses such as Flora Robson and Edith Evans.

Was Shakespeare prompted to give his heroine a July birthday because of her name, which he inherited from his source? Setting the play in the heat of an Italian summer “for now these hot days is the mad blood stirring”, this may just have been a happy coincidence.

At Lammas-tide the earliest corn to ripen was made into specially consecrated loaves, a festival celebrating the beginning of harvest. These associations with youth, plenty and ripening grain were also appropriate for Juliet who’s at “a pretty age”.

August, from Spenser's The Shepherd's Calendar

August, from Spenser’s The Shepherd’s Calendar

The reapers in The Tempest have already been gathering in the harvest:
You sunburn sickle men, of August weary
Come hither from the furrow and be merry
Make holiday! Your rye-straw hats put on.

All the advice for country men given by Thomas Tusser’s Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandry is to do with getting in the harvest  to ensure plenty for the winter to come:
Make sure of reapers, get harvest in hand,
the corne that is ripe, doo but shed as it stand.
Be thankfull to God, for his benefits sent
and willing to save it with earnest intent.

And in Fantasticks, probably dating from the early 1600s, Nicholas Breton describes the atmosphere of this time of year:

lammas_8The Pipe and the Tabor is now lustily set on work, and the Lad and Lass will have no lead on their heels: the new Wheat makes the Gossips cake, and the Bride Cup is carried above the heads of the whole parish: the Furmenty pot welcomes home the Harvest cart, and the Garland of flowers crowns the Captain of the Reapers. Oh, ’tis the merry time, wherein honest neighbours make good cheer, and God is glorified in his blessings on the earth.

This sounds like a celebration that ought to be revived, but in any case, enjoy Lammas-tide and its pleasures while you can!

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