Shakespeare’s England

There wont faire Venus often to enjoy her deare Adonis

2012-02-14T00:00:00.004Z

The Awakening of Adonis, John Waterhouse (c.1900)

To celebrate Valentine's Day, some fragments from Edmund Spenser's epic poem The Faerie Queeene (1590/1596).

Book Three, Canto Six (41- 48)

But were it not, that Time their troubler is,
All that in this delightfull Gardin growes,
Should happie be, and have immortall blis:
For here all plentie, and all pleasure flowes,
And sweet love gentle fits emongst them throwes,
Without fell rancor, or fond gealosie;
Franckly each paramour his leman knowes,
Each bird his mate, ne any does envie
Their goodly meriment, and gay felicitie.

There is continuall spring, and harvest there
Continuall, both meeting at one time:
For both the boughes doe laughing blossomes beare,
And with fresh colours decke the wanton Prime,
And eke attonce the heavy trees they clime,
Which seeme to labour under their fruits lode:
The whiles the joyous birdes make their pastime
Emongst the shadie leavea, their sweet abode,
And their true loves without suspition tell abrode.

Right in the middest of that Paradise,
There stood a stately Mount, on whose round top
A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise,
Whose shadie boughes sharpe steele did never lop,
Nor wicked beasts their tender buds did crop,
But like a girlond compassed the hight,
And from their fruitfull sides sweet gum did drop,
That all the ground with precious deaw bedight,
Threw forth most dainty odours, & most sweet delight.

And in the thickest covert of that shade,
There was a pleasant arbour, not by art,
But of the trees owne inclination made,
Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,
With wanton yuie twyne entrayld athwart,
And Eglantine, and Caprifole emong,
Fashiond above within their inmost part,
That nether Phoebus beams could through thẽ throng,
Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong.

And all about grew every sort of flowre,
To which sad lovers were transformd of yore;
Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus paramoure,
And dearest love:
Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watry shore,
Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late,
Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore
Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate,
To whom sweet Poets verse hath given endlesse date.

There wont faire Venus often to enjoy
Her deare Adonis joyous company,
And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton boy;
There yet, some say, in secret he does ly,
Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery,
By her hid from the world, and from the skill
Of Stygian Gods, which doe her love envy;
But she her selfe, when ever that she will,
Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesse takes her fill.

And sooth it seemes they say: for he may not
For ever die, and ever buried bee
In balefull night, where all things are forgot;
All be he subiect to mortalitie,
Yet is eterne in mutabilitie,
And by succession made perpetuall,
Transformed oft, and chaunged diverslie:
For him the Father of all formes they call;
Therefore needs mote he live, that living gives to all.

There now he liveth in eternall blis,
Joyning his goddesse, and of her enjoyd:
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his,
Which with his cruell tuske him deadly cloyd:
For that wilde Bore, the which him once annoyd,
She firmely hath emprisoned for ay,
That her sweet love his malice mote avoyd,
In a strong rocky Cave, which is they say,
Hewen underneath that Mount, that none him losen may.

To raise thy fortune, twill be Sheep

2012-02-09T17:03:00.001Z

Title page to The Dutch Fortune Teller (1600)

This afternoon I've been reading a Do IT Yourself book of fortune telling printed in 1600. The books comprises some questions a reader might like the answers to, followed by some sagacious words of wisdom, which apply to the question depending on a complicated set of instructions in the book's introduction. From what I can understand, a person asks a question (from the list provided), then makes a note of the number and letters next to that particular question. Then a sort of wheel is required, fortunately printed in the back of the book. The letters and numbers next to the question are then located on the wheel, and two dice are thrown. Whatever number the dice reveal is then located on the wheel, which gives the questioner a number. They then look up that number in the list of answers in the book, and thus have the answer to their question. Not at all complicated.

The book gives this rather baffling example of how to use it.

If you throw 12 upon both Dice, look then for the Number 12 in the same Wheel, whereby you shall find written Worms; this signifieth so much unto you, that you shall go from this Wheel to the lesser Globes, and there to look for the Worm-Globe, which is in the Number 70, within is written JASON, under it this Number 92; which sheweth you further, where you, under the title of JASON, and Number 92, shall find your cast, which was 12, and the Resolution upon your Question.

So, clear as mud. A page from the book showing some of the mysterious wheels:

Here are some of the questions listed in the book. Lovely evidence that in 1600, both men and women were as preoccupied with money, sex, and death, as we are today.

Of all the Questions in general

Whether the sick body shall recover Health?
Whether what is said be Truth or not?
Whether the Person who giveth you fair and good words remains constant to you?
What your dreams may signify to you?
What adventures you shall have this Present day?
Whether the Person who is gone to travel shall come in good Health back again.
In what Trade or Traffic you may have best fortune to adventure your estate or money in?

Merry QUESTIONS for Men and Bachelors only

How many wives a man shall be like to have?
What manner of wife he shall get?
Whether that which you now think upon will come to pass?
To know whether you shall live long, increase in Riches, and be fortunate in your age, yea or no?
To know what fortune may happen to a a child newly born, either boy or girl?
Whether she whom you love so dearly and would fain have doth likewise love you?

For Women and Maidens

Amongst what people one may be accepted of?
To know whether you shall have any Children, yea or no, and how many?
If it were good and convenient to marry him you so constantly bear in your mind?
What Husband may be allotted for you?
Whether you shall get him whom you do love?

Now here come some of the answers, in the shape of individual four-line rhymes (no, it's not one long weird poem). If you want to read your own fortune 17th Century style, ask one of the questions above (don't bother with the wheel business), close your eyes, scroll down, point at your screen, and open your eyes. Voila! Your future.

Of any Thing which thou canst keep,
To raise thy Fortune, twill be Sheep:
Thou canst not have a better Thing,
Which will to thee more Profit bring.

So many Suitors you have now,
That very well you do not know
Which amongst them for to take,
Nor who you should your Husband make [helpful]

His love is greater unto thee,
Than ever thine to him will be:
And if his Love should now decline,
The Fault is none of his, tis thine.

Friend, to be short, and end the Strife,
Thou must and shall have but one Wife:
Make much and cherish her therefore,
For when she's dead, thou get'st no more [nice]

A Pigeon-Merchant right you are,
Your Wealth comes flying in from far:
Be sure that once a Month, or least,
Your goods are like to be increased.

The Journey dangerous will be,
And most unhappy unto thee;
If in the same thou dost proceed,
Its good for thee to take great Heed [buy travel insurance]

Breeding of Hogs is such a Thing,
As special Luck will to you bring,
Wash, Bran, or Grains, they feed on all,
Or that which from your Wife's backside doth fall.

It is not good to trust this Man
With any Thing, for if he can
In private do thee any ill
'Tis very like that so he will

And my two personal favourites:

Your Husband will be very old,
Of Features grim, and Nature cold;
With rotten Teeth, and stinking Breath,
And you each Day will wish his Death.

Think on no second Marriage-Bed,
Your husband is already dead;
Prepare yourself, for you, his Wife,
Shall quickly after leave this Life [charming]

Woodcuts

2012-02-06T10:24:00.002Z

This morning I stumbled upon these incredible woodcuts. One depicts the interior of Parliament in 1641, the other, the execution on Tower Hill of the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, also in 1641. Clicking on an image should open a larger file to view.

They should kiss the Devil's buttocks

2012-02-01T16:51:00.000Z

Today's post comes from a contemporaneous account of the North Berwick Witch Trials, which took place in Scotland in 1591-2. The case was an overnight sensation since it featured the attempted murder of King James VI (later James I of England) by witchcraft.

Agnis Sampson, which was the elder Witch, was taken and brought to Haliriud house before the Kings Maiestie and sundry other of the nobility of Scotland, where she was straitly examined, but all the persuasions which the Kings maiestie used to her with the rest of his counsell, might not provoke or induce her to confesse any thing, but [she] stood stiffely in the deniall of all that was laide to her charge. Whereupon they caused her to be conveied awaye to prison, there to receive such torture as hath been lately provided for witches in that country.

By due examination of witchcraft and witches in Scotland, it hath latelye beene found that the Devill doth generally marke them with a privie marke. The Witches have confessed themselves that the Divell doth lick them with his tung in some privy part of their bodie before he doth receive them to be his servants, which marke commonly is given them under the haire in some part of their bodye, whereby it may not easily be found out or seene, although they be searched. Generally, so long as the marke is not seene by those which search them, the parties that hath the marke will never confesse any thing. By special commandment this Agnis Sampson had all her haire shaven off in eache parte of her bodie, and her head thrawen [twisted] with a rope according to the custome of that Countrye, being a paine most greevous, which she continued almost an hour, during which time she would not confesse any thing untill the Divels marke was found upon her privities, Then she immediately confessed whatsoever was demanded of her, and justifying those persons aforesaid to be notorious witches.

The saide Agnis Tompson was after brought againe before the Kings Maiestie and his Counsell, and being examined of the meetings and detestable dealings of those witches, she confessed that upon the night of Allhallows Eve last, she was accompanied as well with the persons aforesaide, as also with a great many other witches, to the number of two hundred. And that all they together went by Sea each one in a Riddle or Cive, and went in the same very substantially with Flaggons of wine, making merrie and drinking to the kerke of North Barrick in Lowthian, and that after they had landed, tooke handes on the land and danced this reill or short dance, singing all with one voice

Commer goe ye before, commer goe ye,
Gif ye will not goe before, commer let me

Agnis Tompson confessed that the Divell being then at North Barrick Kerke attending their comming in the habit or likenes of a man, and seeing that they tarried over-long, he at their comming enjoyned them all to a pennance, which was, that they should kisse his Buttockes, in signe of duetye to him: which being put over the Pulpit barre, everye one did as he had enjoyned them: and having made his ungodly exhortations, wherein he did greatlye enveighe against the King of Scotlond, he received their oathes for their good and true service towards him, and departed: which done, they returned to Sea, and so home againe.

The witches demanded of the Divel why he did beare such hatred to the King, who answered, by reason the King is the greatest enemy he hath in the worlde: all which their confessions and depositions are still extant upon record. Agnis Sampson confessed before the Kings Maiestie sundrye thinges which were so miraculous and strange that his Maiestie saide they were all extreame lyars, wherat she answered, she would not wishe his Maiestie to suppose her words to be false, but rather to beleeve them. And thereupon, taking his Maiestie a little aside, she declared unto him the verye wordes which passed betweene the Kings Maiestie and his Queene at Upslo in Norway the first night of their mariage. Where at the Kinges Maiestie wondered greatlye, and swore by the living God, that he believed that all the Divels in hell could not have discovered the same: acknowledging her words to be most true, and therefore gave the more credit to the rest.

Agnis Tompson, by the Divels persuasion should have intended and put in execution the Kings Maiesties death in this manner: She confessed that she tooke a blacke Toade, and did hang the same up by the heeles, three daies, and collected and gathered the venome as it dropped and fell in an Oister shell, and kept the same venome close covered, until she should obtaine any parte or peece of linen cloth, that had appertained to the Kings Maiestie, and shirt, handkercher, napkin or any other thing which she practised to obtaine. And the said Agnis Tompson by her depositions since her apprehension saith, that if she had obtained any one peece of linen cloth which the King had worne and fouled, she had bewitched him to death, and put him to such extraordinary paines, as if he had beene lying upon sharp thornes and endes of Needles.

Moreover she confessed that at the time when his Maiestie was in Denmarke, she tooke a Cat and christened it, and afterward bound to each parte of the Cat, the cheefest partes of a dead man, and severall joyntes of his body, and that in the night following the saide Cat was conveyed into the midst of the sea by all these witches sayling in their riddles or Cives as is aforesaide, and so left the saide Cat right before the Towne of Lieth in Scotland. This done, there did arise such a tempest in the Sea, as a greater hath not beene seene: which tempest was the cause of the perrishing of a Boate or vessell comming over from the towne of Brunt Island to the towne of Lieth, wherein was sundrye jewelles and riche giftes, which should have been presented to the now Queen of Scotland.

Againe it is confessed that the said christened Cat was the cause that the Kinges Maiesties Ship at his coming forth of Denmarke had a contrary winde to the rest of his Ships, which thing was most strange and true, as the Kings Maiestie acknowledgeth, for when the rest of the Shippes had a faire and good winde, then was the winde contrarye and altogether against his Maiestie: and further the saide witche declared, that his Maiestie had never come safelye from the Sea, if his faith had not prevailed above their intentions.

As is clear from the account, Agnes Sampson was tortured in prison prior to her confession. She was probably forced to wear a scold's bridle - an iron device which was fitted over the head and had sharp clamps which crushed the tongue, and sometimes spikes which poked into the face. She was also deprived of sleep, chained to the wall of her cell, and abused. It was only after extreme torture that Agnes confessed to witchcraft. She was eventually strangled and burned alive for her supposed crimes. Estimates suggest that up to four thousand people in Scotland were executed for witchcraft through the late sixteenth and seventeenth century.

For more on witchcraft see here

Vill you not stay in my bosom tonight, love?

2012-01-13T16:56:00.003Z

This week I've been reading several of the rather numerous Shakespeare biographies cluttering up my bookshelves, and I was intrigued to stumble upon a reference to what was almost certainly the most famous brothel in seventeenth century England. Information about it is relatively sparse, but I've managed to glean a few details from here and there, enough, I hope, to at least get a sense of the place.

Regular readers of Shakespeare's England will be aware that I've blogged several times on the notorious Bankside stews. Nestling between the theatres, taverns, and bear-pits, brothels were a commonplace of Southwark. The south bank of the Thames was infamous for its freedom from the restraints of the City Fathers; one reason theatres sprang up along the shores of the river, outside the jurisdiction of the authorities. The area was owned by various religious authorities, but was nevertheless notorious for hedonism and licentiousness (1). In the sixteenth century, an edict ordered wherryman to moor their boats by the northern stairs at night, in an effort to prevent ne'er do wells being rowed over to Bankside to the brothels (2). The famous Castle upon the Hope Inn, now the site of the equally famous Anchor pub, was a notorious Bankside brothel (2), as was the Cardinal's Hat (presumably located somewhere close to the extant Cardinal Cap Alley). However, as I discovered, the most famous brothel of all was known as Holland's Leaguer.

Holland's Leaguer had originally been part of the estate known as the Liberty of Old Paris Gardens. It was described in 1632 as a 'Fort citadel or Mansion Howse', and its proximity to the Swan, Globe, and Hope theatres meant it could cater to those attending plays, as well as those who hired a wherry to transport them across the river to the waiting women.

Originally thought to have been run by a prostitute called Long Meg (of whom more in a subsequent post), Holland's Leaguer was a brothel like no other. Opened in 1603, it was the congregating place for all the Dutch prostitutes in London (3). It sat alongside the river, a grand mansion fortified by a moat, drawbridge and portcullis (4).

Holland's Leaguer was a female community set apart from the rest of society, owned and managed by a woman (5), Elizabeth 'Bess' Holland. Bess was married to a man who might possibly have have been the same member of the notorious Holland family who ran the Elizabethan underworld, and she was the most famous prostitute of her day (6). She ran a luxury brothel, and unlike the less salubrious Bankside stews, Holland's Leaguer was a high-class affair. It had a business-like atmosphere, 'good food, luxurious surroundings, modern plumbing, medical inspections, clean linens, and high class prostitutes' (7). Rumours abounded that even James I, and his favourite George Villiers were clients.

A pamphlet in 1632 describes the initial establishment of Holland's Leager:

an old ruined Castell newly repaired, so commodiously placed both for her [Bess's] home-bred customers and Forreine visitants...that her heart could not wish a place of better convenience. The Sea on one side did beare against the walles, and both tall Shippes, Flyeboates, and Pinnaces, might there Anchor in a safe Harbour; on the other side, it had some sleight intrenchments, which albe they were but weake and assayleable, yet the Sea upon all assaults, did grant her both Munition, victual, and avoydance... Of this house by contract, she got possession, and her purse being well filled, and wide open, emptied it selfe to give it adornment, there wanted nothing for State, nothing for Magnificence, nothing for Delight, nothing for Beauty, nothing for Necessity, howsoever the bones that lodg'd in it were rotten and unwholsome, yet the Monument it selfe was wondrous Gaudie, and hansome; there was nothing now for her to search for, but living furniture, and that she divided into three stations. The first, a stout Ruffian to guard her, the second, lustie strong Queans, to supply offices, and the third, petulant painted, and halfe guilt Mimicks, to give entertainment. The first of these shee saved from the Gallowes, the second she hired from the Stews, and the last, she had bought up by whole sale from the Countrey (8).

A visit to Holland's Leaguer and dinner with the top prostitute or quean, Bess Broughton, cost around £20 a head (c.£1700), and this presumably did not include any after dinner activities (9).

The playwright Thomas Middleton describes a typical high-class prostitute in 1604:

He [a pimp] kept the most delicate drab of three hundred [pounds] a year, some unthrifty gentleman's daughter... She could run upon the lute very well, which in others would have appeared virtuous but in her lascivious... She had likewise the gift of singing very deliciously, able to charm the hearer, which so bewitched our young master's money that he might have kept seven noise of musicians for less charges... She had a humour to lisp often, like a fluttering wanton, and talk childish like a parson's daughter... He would swear she spake nothing but sweetmeats, and her breath then sent forth such a delicious odour that it perfumed his white satin doublet better than sixteen milliners (10).

So notorious did Holland's brothel become, that in January 1632 it was besieged by soldiers on the orders of Charles I who had ordered it to be closed down. However, when a troop of soldiers arrived, the story goes that Bess lured them onto the drawbridge and let it down, depositing them into the moat. The prostitutes inside then emptied the contents of their chamberpots on to the soldiers who naturally beat a hasty retreat (11).

Bess evaded the city authorities and despite two summons to the Court of High Commission, she managed to escape the city and set up shop elsewhere (12). Holland's Leaguer eventually closed down in the 1680s.

You may also enjoy Winchester Geese or Bankside Whores and The Wandering Whore

Sources:

1) Peter Ackroyd, London The Biography, (Chatto and Windus, 2000), 690
2) Ibid
3) Anne K Kaler, The Picara, from Hera to Fantasy Heroine (Bowling Green State University Popular Press, 1981), 33
4) Melissa Ditmore (ed) The Encyclopedia of Prostitution and Sex Work, Volume 1 (Greenwood Press, 2006), 211
5) Ibid
6) Kaler, 35
7) Ibid, 33
8) Nicholas Goodman, Hollands leaguer: or, An historical discourse of the life and actions of Dona Britanica Hollandia the arch-mistris of the wicked women of Eutopia VVherein is detected the notorious sinne of panderisme, and the execrable life of the luxurious impudent. (London, 1632)
9) Jessica A. Browner, Wrong Side of the River: London's disreputable South Bank in the sixteenth and seventeenth century, 'Essays in History', 36 (1994), 49
10) Thomas Middleton, Father Hubberd's Tale (1604), cited in Charles Nicholl, The Lodger: Shakespeare on Silver Street (Penguin, 2008)
11) Ditmore, 211
12) Browner, 52

For keeping two white bears

2012-01-04T19:21:00.002Z

While reading Ian Donaldson's splendid new biography of Ben Jonson, Ben Jonson: A Life (OUP, 2011), I was fascinated to note his reference to two potential white polar bears on Bankside supposedly brought back from the Arctic by Jonas Poole in 1609. Donaldson cites an article by Tessa Grant (1) in which Grant poses the view that these bears could perhaps have been used on the London stage. While reading the Calendar of State Papers last autumn, I came across a reference to Henslowe being awarded a license to keep two white bears, prompting further investigations (which also led to Simon Leake's guest blog post on the little known sport of Horse-Baiting on Bankside). The CSPD contains the following entry:

Warrant to pay to Phil.Henslow and Ed.Allen, Musters of the Game at Paris Garden, 42I.10s and 12d per diem, in future for keeping two white bears and a young lion (2)

Ultimately intrigued by the idea of polar bears appearing on the Jacobean stage, I decided to investigate a little of the life of Jonas Poole. Poole (bap.1566-d.1612) was an English sea captain who volunteered to travel to the arctic circle and beyond in order to further English understanding of exploration and commercial whaling. On 10th April 1603, he set sail for Archangel in the Grace under the leadership of Stephen Bennet, the Grace having been refitted for the journey at the expense of Sir Thomas Cherry, governor of the Muscovy Company. The ship returned in September of the same year, and Poole subsequently travelled to the arctic five more times before 1609. In fact, so successful were Poole's trips, that he sailed with the first American colonists to Jamestown in 1607. Between 1603 and 1612, Poole sailed to walrus and whaling grounds in the waters of the arctic every single year bar 1607. His accounts of his travels were given to Richard Hakluyt in 1610, and were subsequently published in 1625 by Samuel Purchas (3).

The following is an early 17th Century polar explorer's description of an encounter with a polar bear:

There came a great bear towards our house, which made us all goe in, and wee levelled at her with our Muskets, and as shee came right before our door, we shot her into the breast, clean through the heart, the bullet passing through her body, and went out againe at her tail, and was as flatted as a Counter, the Beare feeling the blow, leapt backwards, and ran twentie or thirty foot from the house, and there lay down, wherewith wee leapt all out of the house, and ran to her, and found her still alive, and when she saw us, shee rear'd up her head, as if she would gladly have done us some mischief, but we trusted her not, for that we had thread their strength sufficiently before, and therefore we shot her twice into the body again, and therewith shee dyed. Then we rip'd up her belly, and taking out her guttes, drew her home to the House where we flayed her, and took at least one hundred pounds of fat out of her belly, which wee molt'd and burned in our Lampe. This Grease did us great good service, for by that meanes we still kept a Lampe burning all night long, which before wee could not doe, for want of Grease, and eery man had meanes to burned a Lampe in his Cabbin, for such necessaries as he had to doe. The Beares skin was nine foot long, and seven foot broad (4)

Hair-raising stuff. Poole himself speaks of numerous encounters with polar bears while on Cherry Island (Svalbard) in 1609. His account contains references to the killing of bears, foxes, seals, and other wildlife. In one entry, he describes seeing a mother bear with her cubs and yet is unable to kill the cubs because they are only 'of a month old: they skipped about their dams neck, and played with one another very wantonly' (5). On 30th May he and his party

slue 26. Seales, and espied three white Beares: wee went aboard for Shot and Powder, and coming to the Ice again, we should see a shee-Beare and two young ones: Master Thomas Welden shot and killed her: after shee was slyane, wee got the young ones, and brought them home into England, where they are still alive in Paris Garden (6).

It's shocking to imagine explorers like Poole surviving in the hostile environment of the arctic without GPS, modern protective clothing, and access to a plane and medical supplies, but it's simply astonishing that he should risk bringing two live polar bears, albeit cubs, back to England. Of course, exotic animals were par for the course at court and at the Tower, but nevertheless, Poole's decision does seem to modern sensibilities either slightly fool-hardy or quite mad.

In 1611, Poole suffered a broken skull and collar bone on Cherry Island while handling his cargo of walrus ivory and whale fat. He was brought home by a rival whaler and recovered sufficiently from his injuries to return to the arctic the following year. However, Poole's career as a whaler was cut short in September 1612 when he was murdered in Wapping in August, having returned home from what became his final voyage. Poole was survived by his wife and two sons, and his grandson, Jonas, went on to have a successful naval career from 1652 to 1665 (7).

In an interesting addendum, Tessa Grant comments that the water poet John Taylor provides a list of the names of the bears at the Paris Garden (8). Taylor refers specifically to two white bears named Mad Bess and Will Tookey (9). Could they be the Jonas bears? A quick delve into the FAQ at Polar Bear International reveals that in the wild, polar bears live on average 15-18 years. However in captivity they may live well into their late thirties. If the Paris Garden bears are the Cherry Island bears brought back by Jonas, then in 1638 they would have been 29 years old. Grant suggest the Jonas bears retired from the stage in 1612 (9), but it is of course entirely possible they may have lived on as part of the spectacle at the bear gardens for many years to come. And most intriguingly, Simon Foreman records seeing The Winter's Tale in May 1611, just weeks after Henslowe and Allen were granted their warrant to keep 'two white bears'. It's a fanciful notion, but perhaps it was the Jonas bears that inspired Shakespeare to write his famous stage direction, 'Exit, pursued by a bear.'

It is worth noting that there is a second scholarly article on the white bears; Barbara Ravelhofer, "Beasts of Recreation": Henslowe's White Bears, English Literary Renaissance, 32 (2002), 287-323
Unfortunately I have been unable to access the article due to the vagaries of the university server. I hope to read it soon, and perhaps update this post.

For more on bears on Bankside see Drunken Cocks and Bear-Baiting

References:
1) Tessa Grant, Notes & Queries, 246 (2001), 311-13
2) CSPD, entry dated March 20th 1611
3) DNB, R C D Baldwin
4) cited in Samuel Purchas, His pilgrimes In fiue bookes (Vol 3), London (1625), 502
5) Ibid 560
6) Ibid 562
7) Baldwin
8) Grant, 312
9) John Taylor, Bull, beare, and horse, cut, curtaile, and longtaile. VVith tales, and tales of buls, clenches, and flashes. As also here and there a touch of our beare-garden-sport; with the second part of the merry conceits of wit and mirth. Together with the names of all the bulls and beares, London (1638), E.v
10) Grant, 312

What with the flying Birds and skipping Frogs

2011-12-21T13:44:00.000Z

Today's post explores a fancy 17th Century Christmas banquet as described by the author of a popular cook book. Before describing the requisite festive courses deemed appropriate for impressing guests, he provides detailed instructions on how to make a truly baffling centrepiece, complete with gunpowder, live frogs, and a marzipan-esque castle.

Make the likeness of a Ship in Paste board [a soft sweet mixture made from ground sugar and spices. Akin to marzipan], with Flags and streamers, the Guns belonging to it of Kickses [?], binde them about with packthred [twine], and cover them with course paste proportionable to the fashion of a Cannon with Carriages, lay them in places convenient, as you see them in Ships of War; with such holes and trains of Powder that they may all take Fire. Place your Ship in a great Charger [large dish or plate], then make a salt around about it, and stick therein egg-shells full of sweet water; you may by a great Pin take out all the meat out of the Egg by blowing, and then fill it with rose-water.

Then in another Charger have the proportion of a Stag made of course paste, with a broad arrow in the side of him, and his body filled up with claret wine. In another Charger, at the end of the Stag, have the proportion of a Castle with Battlements, Percuilices, Gates and Draw-bridges made of Paste-board, the Guns of Kickses, and covered with course Paste as the former. Place it a distance from the Ship to fire at each other. The Stag being plac't betwixt them with egg-shells full of sweet-water (as before) place in salt.

At each side of the Charger wherein is the Stag, place a Pie made of course Paste, in one of which let there be some live Frogs, in the other live Birds. Make these Pies of course Paste filled with bran, and yellowed over with Saffron or Yolks of Eggs. Gild them over in Spots, as also the Stag, the Ship, and Castle. Bake them and place with with gilt bay-leaves on the torrets and tunnels of the Castle and Pies. Being baked, make a hole in the bottom of your pies, take out the bran, put in your Frogs and Birds, and close up the holes with the same course paste. Then cut the Lids neatly up, to be take off by the Tunnels.

Being all placed upon the Table, before you fire the trains of powder (!), order it so that some of the Ladies may be peswaded to pluck the Arrow out of the Stag, then will the Claret wine follow as blood running out of a wound. This being done with admiration to the beholders, after some sort of short paws, fire the train of the Castle, that the pieces all on one side may go off. Then fire the the trains on one side of the Ship as in a battle. Next turn the Chargers, and by degrees fire the trains off each other side as before. Let the Ladies take the egg-shells full of sweet-water and throw them at each other.

All dangers being seemingly over, by this time you may suppose they will desire to see what is in the Pies; where lifting first the lid off one pie, out skips some Frogs, which makes the Ladies to skip and shreek, next after the other Pie, whence out comes the Birds, who by a natural instinct flying at the light, will put out the Candles, so that what with the flying Birds, and skipping Frogs, the one above, the other beneath, will cause much delight and pleasure to the whole company. At length the Candles are lighted, and a banquet brought in, the music sounds, and every one is much delighted and content.

Having survived this table-piece, the guests are then treated to a staggering banquet:

A Bill of Fare for Christmas Day and how to set the Meat in order

Oysters
A coller of Brawn
Stewed broth of Mutton marrow bones
A grand Sallet [salad]
A pottage of caponets [small capons]
A breast of veal in stoffado [stuffed]
A boiled partridge
A chine [back] of beef or sirloin roast
Minced pies
A Jegote [sausage] of mutton with anchovy sauce
A made dish of sweet-breads
A swan roast
A pasty of venison
A kid with a pudding in his belly
A steak pie
A haunch of venison roasted
A turkey roast and stuck with cloves
A made dish of chickens in puff-paste
Two brangeese roasted, one larded
Two large capons, one larded
A Custard

The Second course

Oranges and Lemons
A young lamb or kid
Two couple of rabits, two larded
A pig sauced with tongues
Three ducks, one larded
Three pheasants, one larded
A swan pie
Three brace of partridge, three larded
Made dish in puffe-paste
Bolonia sausages and anchovies, mushrooms and Caviare, and pickled Oysters in a dish
Six teels, three larded
A Gammon of Westphalia Bacon
Ten plovers, five larded,
A quince pie
Six woodcocks, three larded
A standing Tart in puffe-paste, preserved fruits, Pippins etc
A dish of Larks
Six dried neats-tongues
Sturgeon
Powdered Geese
Jellies

If you fancy your hand at authentic 17th Century mince pies, the author provides several recipes, including this one:

To make minced Pies

Take to a good leg of veal six pound of beef-suet, then take the leg of veal, bone it, parboil it, and mince it very fine when it is hot. Mince the suet by it self very fine also, then when they are cold mingle them together, then season the meat with a pound of sliced dates, a pound of sugar, an ounce of nutmeg, an ounce of pepper, an ounce of cinnamon, half an ounce of ginger, half a pint of verjuyce [juice of unripe grapes or sour crab-apples], a pint of rosewater, a preserved orange, or any peel fine minced, an ounce of caraway comfets [a small tablet of sugar enclosing a caraway seed], and six pound of currants. Put all these into a large tray with half a handful of salt. Stir them up all together and fill your pies, close them, bake them, and being baked, ice them with double refined sugar, rose-water, and butter. Make the paste with a peck of flour, and two pound of butter boiled in fair water, make it up boiling hot.

I'll be following up this post with more recipes in the new year. For now, Shakespeare's England wishes everyone a a very Merry Christmas.

How Gray-Hairs are dyed Black

2011-12-14T15:16:00.000Z

These beauty tips come from a 17th Century book of magic. With advice on everything from removing pimples to making fake tan, what follows are some of the more intriguing suggestions, demonstrating that women in 17th Century London were just as preoccupied with grey hairs and wrinkles as their modern-day counterparts.

How to correct the ill sent of the Arm-pits. The stink of the Arm-holes makes some women very hateful, especially those that are fat and fleshy. Use liquid Allome with Myrrh to anoynt the Arm-pits, or strew the place with dry Leaves of Myrtles in powder. The Roots of Artichokes smeared on doth not only cure the ill sent of the Arm-pits but of the whole body.

It is the singular care of Women to adorn their Hair, and next their Faces, for Women hold the Hair to be the greatest Ornament of the Body, that if it be taken away, all the Beauty is gone, and they think it the more beautiful the more yellow, shining, and radiant it is.

To make Hair yellow, put Barley-Straw into an earthen pot with a great mouth, Feny-Graec [fenugreek] and wild Cummin. Mingle between them Quick-lime and Tobacco made into a Powder, then put them upon the Straw. Put one under the other [making layers as it were] until the whole Vessel be full. Pour on cold water and let them stand a whole day. Then open a hole at the bottom and let it run forth. With Sope use it for your Hair.

The most famous way to make the Hair yellow is to draw Oyle from Honey by the Art of Distillation. First there will come forth a clear Water, then a Saffron-colour, then a Gold-colour. Use this to anoint the Hair with a Spunge, but let it not touch the Skin, for it will dye it Saffron-colour and it is not easily washed off. This tincture will last many days and it will dye Gray-Hairs which few others will.

How Gray Hairs are dyed Black: Anonynt your Hair in the Sun with Leeches that have lain to corrupt in the blackest Wine for sixty days. For long black Hair, take a green Lizard, and cutting off the Head and Tail, boyl it in common Oyle and anoint your Head with it.

Curl'd Hair seems to be no small Grace and Ornament to the Head, and women do all they can to curl the Hair. If you will know how, boyl Maidenhair with Smallage-seed in Wine, adding a good quantity of Oyle, this will make the Hair curl'd and thick. Moreover if you put the Roots of Daffidils into Wine and pour this often on the Head, it will make the Hair curl more.

To dye the Eye-brows. Bitume or Sea-Cole being burnt it is a very fine black, or else the Marrow of an Ox-bone taken out of the Right-Leg and beaten with Soot

Before any thing be used to make the Face beautiful, it must be made very clean and fit to receive it, for oft-times women have excellent Waters and Remedies. This is the best: Bind Barley-meal-Bran in a Linen cloth and let it down into a Pot full of water, and let it boyl till a third part be remaining, and press out the juice. With this decoction wash your face and let it dry. Then bruise Myrhh and mingle it with the white of an Egg, and burn it on hot Fire-sticks or red hot Tiles, and receive the fume by a tunnel. Cover the head with a Napkin, that the smoke flie not away, and when you have received sufficient smoke, rub your Face with a Linen cloth.

To make the Face very soft boyl two Calfs Feet in water, put in Rice one pound, and boyl it well. Let crumbs of Bread steep in Asses or Goats Milk with ten whites of Eggs bruised with their Shells. Distill all at a gentle fire, add to the water with a little Camphire and Borax. Put into a vessel two yong naked Pigeons, with their guts taken forth, and put in as much Milk as will cover them. Add one ounce of Borax, Turpentine three ounces, Camphire one ounce, five whites of Eggs. Put on the cover and distill them.

To colour the body, boyl Nettles in water and wash your Body with it. If you distill Straw-berries and wash your self with the water you shall make your Face red as a Rose.

How to make a Sun-burnt Face white. When women travel in the open Air, and take journeys in Summer, the Sun in one day will burn them black. To remove this, beat about ten whites of Eggs, put them in a glazed Vessel adding once ounce of Sugar-Candy, and when you go to bed anoynt your Face, and in the morning wash it off with Fountain water. If the Face be smeered with the white of an Egg, it will not be sun-burn. Women that have to do in the Sun defend their Faces from the heat of it with the white of an Egg beaten with a little Starch and mingled, and when the Voyage is done, they wash off this covering with Barley-Water. Some rub their foul Skin with Melon-Rindes, and so they easily rub off Sun-burnings and all other sports on the skin.

For a wrinkled face. When Eggs are boiled hard in water, cut them in the middle. Fill the holes where the yokes were with Powder of Myrrh, then over one with the other binder them with a thread. Then take a glazed vessel and lay sticks across it that the Eggs may lie upon them hanging neere the bottom. Put the vessel into a Well and let it hang one foot from the water. By the moysture thereof the Myrrh will dissolve into Oyle of water. Anonynt your face with it. The juice of the green Cones of the Pine tree, being applied to the Face with a Linnen-cloth wet therein will take away all wrinkles from the Face excellently well.

The Gin Lane Gazette

2011-12-12T15:15:00.000Z

Today, Adrian Teal shares details of his forthcoming book.

The GIN LANE GAZETTE

By Adrian Teal

In around 1800, a horrible old lecher called the Duke of Queensbury was obsessed with prolonging his youth and virility. Somehow or other, he got the idea into his head that sleeping with veal chops on his cheeks (which he fed to his dogs in the morning) and taking lengthy milk baths would do the trick. He had large quantities of milk delivered to his London pad, and would wallow contentedly for hours on end. A rumour soon started doing the rounds that he was then selling the milk back to the supplier, so huge numbers of people in London stopped drinking the stuff.

Stories like this tickle my fancy immeasurably and, if they tickle yours too, I bring you glad tidings: I’m writing a whole book of them.

The crowd-funded publishing venture, Unbound, has attracted brilliant writers like Monty Python’s Terry Jones and comic novelist Tibor Fischer to their ranks, and they are now pitching my book proposal via their website. It’s a bawdy romp called The GIN LANE GAZETTE, and will be an illustrated compendium of scurrilous highlights from a fictional Georgian newspaper, dealing with true stories of scandal, intrigue and oddities; a kind of Georgian Heat magazine, if you like.

In addition to gossip columns about ill-behaved eighteenth-century celebs, there will be sports reports, book reviews, obituaries, advertisements for bizarre Georgian goods, services and entertainments, and a ‘courtesan of the month’ feature for reading under the bedclothes. It will have warmth, humour, authenticity, and riotous caricatures disporting themselves across every page.

If my pitch attracts enough pledges, it will be published, and those who subscribe will have their names listed in the back of the book, and can also enjoy many splendid Georgian-themed perks, which include having yourself caricatured as an eighteenth-century belle or buck, and a Georgian pub crawl. You can come to the launch party, and even have yourself drawn into the book, if you like.

This was an age when alcoholic Prime Minsiters fought duels with political opponents, equestrian entertainers rode standing on their saddles while wearing a mask of bees, and quack doctors diagnosed their patients’ maladies by licking the soles of their feet. In undertaking this labour of love I have set out to give people a taste of the exuberance, self-confidence, debauchery, elegance, bravery, villainy, inventiveness and eccentricity which characterize this glorious period of our history, and I hope you will choose to come along for the ride.

You can watch my short video about the project, read my pitch, and pledge, if you like what you see, here

Delightfully worried to death by dogs

2011-12-09T16:22:00.000Z

Today's post comes from guest blogger Simon Leake, who explores the curious and often over-looked early modern bloodsport of Horse Baiting.

There are many surviving eyewitness reports of bull and bear-baiting throughout England from the Middle Ages to the early 19th Century. The baiting of horses however seems to have been much less frequent, or less frequently described. Joseph Strutt, in The Sports and Pastimes of the People of England from the Earliest Period (1801) reproduces this image of “the cruel diversion of baiting a horse with dogs, from a fourteenth century manuscript.”

Strutt’s claim is repeated in several subsequent books on the subject, and even finds its way into Chamber’s The Medieval Stage (1903). In more than one of these later books, the baited animal in the image is given a mane

but closer examination of the manuscript upon which Strutt bases his claim, 'The Queen Mary Psalter' (MS Royal 2.VII), reveals that the animal in question is clearly a horned bull (see title image) and not a horse.

When horses appear in the Bear Gardens of 16th Century London, they are usually at the end of the bill, sent into the ring with apes tied to their backs. A report from an attendant to the Duke of Nájera, visiting London in 1544, shows that this entertainment was not without violence:

Into the same place they brought a pony with an ape fastened on its back, and to see the animal kicking amongst the dogs, with the screams of the ape, beholding the curs hanging from the ears and neck of the pony, is very laughable.

On the 23rd of August 1584 the German traveller Lupold von Wedel crossed the river to Southwark to see a bear baiting. After watching three bears fight with dogs, but before the baiting of a bull, “a horse was brought in and chased by the dogs.” The performance ended with dancing, fighting, a shower of bread and apples, and a fireworks display.

During the first half of the 17th Century horses continued to have a secondary role in the bloody business of the bear-garden. In his ‘Bull, Beare, and Horse, Cut, Curtail and Longtail’ (1638) John Taylor, the Water Poet, describes the appearance of the mounted ape on his Bear Garden palfrey:

Where Iack-an-Apes his horse doth swiftly run  
His circuit, like the horses of the Sun.  
And quicke as lightning, his will trace and track,
Making that endlesse round his Zodiacke,  
Which Iacke (his Rider) bravely rides a straddle,  
And in his hot Careere perfumes the saddle

It is in Restoration London that we find specific references to the baiting of horses, and these events seem to have caused a degree of anxiety that was absent from the baiting of bears and bulls. In both of the following examples the promoters of the event take pains to emphasise the unnatural viciousness of the animal, perhaps attempting to justify the baiting as a form of execution as much as a sport. On the 17th of August 1667 John Evelyn wrote in his diary:

There was now a very gallant horse to be baited to death with doggs; but he fought them all, so as the fiercest of them could not fasten on him, till they run him through with their swords. This wicked and barbarous sport deserv'd to have ben punish'd in the cruel contrivers to get mony, under pretence that the horse had kill'd a man, which was false. I would not be persuaded to be a spectator.

On the 7th of April 1682 the following advertisement ran in Nathaniel Thomson’s newspaper, The Loyal Protestant and True Domestick Intelligence:

London, April 7. At the house on the Bankside, being his Majesties Bear-garden, on Wednesday the 12th day of this instant April, at one of the clock in the afternoon, will be a Horse baited to death, of a most vast strength and greatness, being between 18 and 19 hands high, formerly belonging to the Earl of Rochester, and for his prodigious qualities in killing and destroying several horses, and other cattel, he was transmitted to the Marquiss of Dorchester; where doing the like mischiefs, and also hurting his keeper, he was sold to a brewer; but is now grown so headstrong they dare not work him; for he hath bitten and wounded so many persons (some having died of their wounds) that there is hardly any can pass the streets for him, though he be fast tied; for he breaks his halter to run after them (though loaden with eight barrels of beer), either biting or treading them down, monstrously tearing their flesh, and eating it, the like whereof hath hardly been seen. And 'tis certain the horse will answer the expectation of all spectators. It is intended for the divertisement of his Excellency the Embassadour from the Emperour of Fez and Morocco; many of the nobility and gentry that knew the horse, and several mischiefs done by him, designing to be present.

The venue for this event was Philip Henslowe and Jacob Meade’s Hope Theatre, which had opened in 1614 on the site of the earlier Bear Garden as a dual-purpose venue. By 1682 the Hope was used exclusively for bloodsports, but this event did not go exactly according to plan and the monstrous, murderous horse almost won a reprieve:

London, April 15. This day, the great Horse mentioned in our last being brought to the Bear-garden, several dogs were set upon him, all which he overcame, to the great satisfaction of all the spectators. But, after a little time, a person resolving to save his life, and preserve him for another time, led him away; and being come almost as far as London bridge, the Mobile then in the house cryed out it was a cheat, and thereupon began to untyle the house, and threatened to pull it quite down, if the Horse were not brought again and baited to death. Whereupon the Horse was again brought to the place, and the dogs once more set upon him; but they not being able to overcome him, he was run through with a sword, and dyed. It was designed principally for the entertainment of his Excellency the Embassadour from the Emperour of Fez and Morocco; but, by reason of bad weather, he was not there.

Soon after the baiting of the Earl of Rochester’s horse the Hope appears to have been abandoned as a venue for bloodsports. A new Bear Garden opened at Hockley-in-the-Hole, Clerkenwell, where animals were baited and men fought until the 1730s:

At the Bear-garden in Hockley in the Hole, near Clerkenwell Green, 1710. This is to give notice to all gentlemen, gamesters, and others, that on this present Monday is a match to be fought by two dogs, one from Newgate-market, against one from Honey-lane market, at a bull, for a guinea to be spent, five let-goes out of hand, which goes fairest and fastest in, wins all. Likewise, a green bull to be baited, which was never baited before; and a bull to be turned loose with fireworks all over him. Also a mad ass to be baited. With a variety of bull-baiting and bear-baiting, and a dog to be drawn up with fireworks. To begin exactly at three of the clock.

A much later reference to horse-baiting, from the notes to Alexander Chalmers 1822 edition of The Tatler shows how attitudes to some bloodsports began to change as the 18th century drew to a close:

…it was advertised in 1785, that a fine horse, brought at great expense from Arabia, would be delightfully worried to death by dogs, in an inclosure near the Adam and Eve, in Tottenham-court-road; and to exclude low company, every admission-ticket was to cost half-a-guinea. But the interposition of the magistrates, who doubted of the innocence, or of the wisdom of training dogs and horses to mutual enmity, put a stop for once to that superfine exhibition.

Simon Leake lives in Seattle with his wife and daughter. He tries to be kind to his cat. You can follow him on Twitter here

You might also enjoy If you will have your horse fetch and carry a glove

Blanket Fair

2011-12-09T14:25:00.003Z

This woodcut depicts a Blanket Fair on the frozen Thames in 1684. The detail is really lovely. Download the image to explore.

The ballad which follows describes the Blanket Fair itself:

BLANKET-FAIR, OR THE History of Temple Street. Being a Relation of the merry Pranks plaid on the River Thames during the great Frost.
To the Tune of Packington's Pound.

Come listen a while (though the Weather be cold)
In your Pockets & Plackets your Hands you may hold.
I'll tell you a Story as true as 'tis rare,
Of a River turn'd into a Bartholmew Fair.
Since old Christmas last
There has bin such a Frost,
That the Thimes has by half the whole Nation bin crost.
O Scullers I pity your fate of Extreams,
Each Land-nan is now become free of the Thames.

'Tis some Lapand Acquaintance of Conjurer Oates,
That has ty'd up your Hands & imprison'd your Boats.
You know he was ever a friend to the Crew
Of all that to Admiral Iames has bin true.
Where Sculls once did Row
Men walk to and fro,
But e're four months are ended 'twill hardly be so.
Should your hopes of a thaw by this weather be crost,
Your Fortunes vould soon be as hard as the Frost.

In Roast Beef and Brandy much money is spent
In Booths made of Blankets that pay no Ground-rent,
With old fashiond Chimneys the Rooms are secur'd,
And the Housed from danger of Fire ensur'd.
The chief place you meet
Is call'd Temple Street,
If you do not believe me, then you may go see't.
From the Tempe the Students do thither resort,
Tho were always great Patrons of Revels and sport.

The Citizen comes with his Daughter or Wife,
And swears he never saw such a sight in his life:
the Prentices starv'd at home for want of Coals
catch them a heat do flock thither in shoals;
While the Country Squire
Does stand and admire
The wondrous conjunction of Water and Fire.
it comes an arch Wag, a young Son of a Whore,
lays the Squires head where his heels were before.

The Rotterdam Dutchman with fleet cutting Scates,
To pleasure the crowd shews his tricks and his feats,
Who like a Rope-dancer (for all his sharp Steels)
His Brains and activity lie in his Heels.
Here all things like fate
Are in slippery state,
From the Sole of the Foot to the Crown of the Pate.
While the Rabble in Sledges run giddily round,
And nought but a circle of folly is found.

Here Damsels are handed like Nymphs in the Bath,
By Gentlemen-Ushers with Legs like a Lath;
They slide to a Tune, and cry give me your Hand,
When the tottering Fops are scarce able to stand.
Then with fear and with care
They arrive at the Fair,
Where Wenches fell Glasses and crakt Earthen ware;
To shew that the World, and the pleasures it brings,
Are made up of brittle and slippery things.

A Spark of the Bar with his Cane and his Muff,
One day went to treat his new rigg'd Kitchinstuff,
Let slip from her Gallant, the gay Damsel try'd
(As oft she had done in the Country) to slide,
In the way lay a stump,
That with a dam'd thump,
She broke both her Shoostrings and crippl'd her Rump.
The heat of her Buttocks made such a great thaw,
She had like to have drowned the man of the Law.

All you that are warm both in Body and Purse,
I give you this warning for better or worse,
Be not there in the Moonshine, pray take my advice,
For slippery things have bin done on the Ice
Maids there have been said
To lose Maiden-head,
And Sparks from full Pockets gone empty to Bed·
If their Brains and their Bodies had not bin too warm,
'Tis forty to one they had come to less harm.

You may also enjoy The air was more severely piercing than ever and Cold doings in London

Far out of frame this Midsummer moone

2011-12-07T19:41:00.001Z

Arabella Stuart

These fragments form an overview of the life of Arabella Stuart, cousin to James I, and niece to Mary, queen of Scots. An illegal marriage, followed by an attempted escape to France in men's clothing, and finally committal to the Tower of London where she subsequently starved to death, Arabella Stuart's life makes for intriguing reading.

Arabella Stuart was the daughter of Charles Stuart, Earl of Lennox, and his wife Elizabeth. She was born c.10th November 1575; Arabella's grandmother, Margaret Douglas, dowager countess of Lennox, wrote to Arabella's aunt, Mary, queen of Scots, after her birth, thanking her ‘for your good remembrance and bounty to our little daughter’. Arabella's father died of tuberculosis in 1576 and his title unfortunately passed down the male line. Two years later, Arabella's grandmother died; all her property and estate passing to Elizabeth I. So by the age of three, Arabella's income had all but disappeared. But she was still a person of considerable status. She was first cousin to James VI of Scotland, later James I of England, which put her in line for both the English and Scottish thrones. There were some political commentators at the time who even went so far as to suggest Arabella should succeed Elizabeth I if she died without issue, since her grandmother had been first cousin to the Queen, and Arabella, unlike James VI, had been born in England.

After the death of her mother in 1582, the 7-year-old Arabella was brought up by her maternal grandmother, Bess of Hardwick, at Hardwick Hall in Derbyshire. She had an excellent classical education, learning Latin, Greek, Italian, Hebrew, French and Spanish. Both Mary, queen of Scots, who was by then a prisoner under the care of Bess's husband, and Bess campaigned fiercely to have the Lennox earldom restored to Arabella without success.

Hardwick Hall

A year later, marriage plans were devised to ensure Arabella's match with a suitably well-placed husband. Given her dynastic importance, she was a highly desirable bride, and in 1583-4, at the age of 8 or 9, Bess arranged Arabella's betrothal to Robert, Lord Denbigh, three-year-old son of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Unfortunately Robert died in 1584, and despite talk of Arabella as a possible wife for James VI himself, a suggestion which did not come to fruition, and several other potential marriage candidates, Elizabeth I vetoed every suitor, possibly out of fear that any children Arabella bore would become rivals for her throne.

In 1588, aged 13, Arabella became a lady in waiting at Elizabeth's court. She was described at the time as an 'elaborately dressed girl with reddish fair hair, a heart-shaped face, large, bright, dark blue eyes, and a neat little mouth.' But her position was short-lived. Seen conversing in a rather friendly way with the Earl of Essex, Arabella was sent home in disgrace. For the next twelve years she was confined to pursuing her studies at her grandmother's home in Derbyshire. Over the course of time Arabella grew increasingly frustrated with her strict grandmother, and following several bitter quarrels, she eventually decided to escape. In December 1602, she sent a message to Edward Seymour, first Earl of Hertford, advising him she intended to accept the marriage proposal of his grandson Edward Seymour. This was a disastrous move on the part of Arabella. The Seymours had a rival claim to the English throne and any involvement with Arabella would hint at a direct plot against Elizabeth I. Wisely, Seymour denied all knowledge of Arabella's marriage plans, and reported the affair to the court. A courtier was dispatched to interview Arabella, and satisfied by her answers, he reported back to the queen that Arabella's plans were nothing more than an unhappy attempt at attention-seeking. By early 1603, Arabella was once again agitating to leave home, announcing she had a secret lover, refusing to eat and drink, and finally divulging her lover's identity as the already married James VI. The Earl of Salisbury wrote on the back of one of her agitated letters ‘I think that she hath some vapours on her brain’.

A young Arabella

Elizabeth I died in March 1603, and with the accession of James I, Arabella's situation should have improved. James was initially inclined to be kind towards her, but it wasn't long before a scandal broke in which Lord Cobham was accused of plotting to murder James and the Earl of Salisbury, and marry Arabella off to Thomas Grey to place her on the throne. Fortunately for Arabella she had not been personally involved in this treason; indeed she claimed she had only received one letter about the plot, which she had laughed at and passed on to the king. James must have believed her because she was subsequently invited to court, given a handsome pension, and made carver to his wife, Anne. Arabella hated life at court but she was glad of the income, and in 1605 she seems to have impressed the queen sufficiently to be named godmother to the princess Mary.

In 1607, the Venetian ambassador noted that Arabella, was ‘not very beautiful but highly accomplished, for besides being of the most refined manners, she speaks fluently Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, reads Greek and Hebrew and is always studying’. Most of Arabella's time was spent at court, with occasional visits to Hardwick Hall. After her grandmother's death in 1608, Arabella bought a house in the precinct of Blackfriars. Following an attack of smallpox at Christmas, she travelled north to take the waters at Buxton and visit friends in the area. She was still harbouring hopes the king would find her a suitable husband, but when it became apparent he was as unwilling to encourage a match as Elizabeth I had been, she once again turned unwisely to the Seymour family.

William Seymour (1588-1660)

At 4am on 22nd June 1610, 35-year-old Lady Arabella Stuart secretly married another grandson of Edward Seymour, 22-year-old William, in her apartments at Greenwich Palace. It took seventeen days for the marriage to be discovered. Seymour was sent to the Tower, and Arabella was held in Lambeth. Despite this, they somehow arranged to meet, since in September Arabella suffered a miscarriage. As a result of the marriage, James exiled her to Durham. Her keepers claimed ill health prevented her from making the journey; a report to court dated early 1611 claims 'Lady Arabella dressed herself as well as her extreme weakness would permit, and showed 'readiness to remove', but she then 'had a violent attack in the head' which prevented her from undertaking the journey. Two days before she was due to depart, she disguised herself as a man and escaped. An eye witness reported her appearance: 'a large pair of French-fashioned hose, a man's doublet, a large peruke with long locks, a black hat, black cloak.' Another describes her as wearing 'russet boots with red tops, and a rapier by her side.' Seymour was also in disguise. Despite being imprisoned in the Tower, he somehow managed to sneak out, planning to meet Arabella at an agreed location before they fled to France.

By some means he obtained a disguise consisting of a peruque and beard of black hair, and a tawny suit. A labourer came to the great west gate of the Tower with a cart, bringing his billets of wood, and Seymour walked alone without suspicion from his lodging, following this cart as it returned. He walked along by the Tower Wharf, by the Warders of the South Gate, and so to the iron gate, where he found Rodney waiting with a boat for him'.

Tower of London (1640)

William had arranged to meet Arabella at Blackwall, but when he failed to appear, her servants encouraged her to board a ship for France without delay. However, Arabella insisted on waiting for William, and as the ship lingered in the Channel, it was overtaken and intercepted by an English naval vessel. Arabella was immediately transported to the Tower, and, in an ironic twist, William escaped and sailed safely over to Ostend. On her arrival at the Tower, the keeper searched Arabella and found large amounts of precious jewellery, and over three hundred thousand pounds in cash.

Letters exchanged at the time detail the belongings Arabella was allowed to keep with her for comfort in the Tower. An inventory includes a cup worth £40 (almost four thousand pounds), six silver dishes, four candlesticks, bedding, a basin and jug, wall hangings, and assorted books. She was initially kept in the Queen's lodgings with three or four rooms to walk in and eventually allowed to have servants. To celebrate the royal wedding in 1612 she was even permitted a spot of shopping; a report to court states Arabella 'has shown her joy' at the royal wedding 'by buying four new gowns, one of which cost 1500l' (c.£150,000).

Queen's House, Tower of London

While she was imprisoned, Arabella wrote pleading letters to court, and worked on a piece of embroidery as a gift for the king, which he eventually refused. She also wrote to her husband, who was living in exile in Paris:

Sir, I am exceeding sorry to hear you have not been well. I pray you let me know truly how you do and what was the cause of it for I am not satisfied with the reason Smith gives for it.But if it be a cold I will impute it to some sympathy betwixt us, having myself gotten a swoln cheek at the same time with a cold. For God's sake, let not your grief of mind work upon your body. You may see by me what inconveniences it will bring one to. And no fortune, I assure you, daunts me so much as that weakness of body I find in myself, for 'si nous vivons Vage d'un veau' as Marot says, we may by God's grace be happier than we look for in being suffered to enjoy ourselves with his Majesty's favour. But if we be not able to live to it, I, for my part, shall think myself a pattern of misfortune in enjoying so great a blessing as you so little a while. No separation but that deprives me of the comfort of you for wheresoever you be, or in what state it sufficeth me you are mine. Rachel wept, and would not be comforted, because her children were no more; and that indeed is the remediless sorrow, and none else. And therefore God bless us from that, and I will hope well of the rest, though I see no apparent hope. But I am sure God's book mentioneth many of his children in as great distress that have done well after, even in this world. I assure you, nothing the State can do with me can trouble me so much as this news of your being ill doth. And you see when I am troubled, I trouble you too with tedious kindness, for so I think you will account so long a letter, yourself not having written to me for this good while so much as how you do. But sweet sir, I speak not this to trouble you with writing but when you please. Be well, and I shall account myself happy in being your faithful loving wife,

Arabella

By 1615, Arabella realised the authorities were unlikely to relent and issue her with a pardon, and she became dangerously ill, her condition most likely compounded by her refusal to eat. Described in 1614 as 'far out of frame this Midsummer moone', by the following year Arabella had starved herself to the point of death. She collapsed and died on 25th September 1615, and was buried in Westminster Abbey two days later in the royal vault beneath the coffin of Mary, queen of Scots. All ceremony was forbidden.

Mary, queen of Scots in Westminster Abbey

William Seymour remained in exile until January 1616. His appointment to the Order of the Bath the following November signalled his return to court, and he became chancellor of the University of Oxford in 1643. Having served in the Civil War, he eventually died the second Duke of Somerset in 1660.

Sources: Rosalind Marshall at the DNB; Elizabeth Cooper, The Life and Letters of Arabella Stuart, Vol 2 (1866); Calendar of State Papers Domestic.

Witches are hanged, or sometimes burned

2011-11-20T14:05:00.001Z

These fragments come from William Harrison's A Description of Elizabethan England (1577), and form an intriguing survey of Elizabethan crime and punishment. The images are taken from a 17th Century collection of prints (right click and open in a new tab for larger image).

In cases of felony, manslaughter, robbery, murder, rape, piracy, and such capital crimes as are not reputed for treason or hurt of the estate, our sentence pronounced upon the offender is, to hang till he be dead. For of other punishments used in other countries we have no knowledge or use; and yet so few grievous crimes committed with us as elsewhere in the world. To use torment also or question by pain and torture in these common cases with us is greatly abhorred, since we are found always to be such as despise death, and yet abhor to be tormented, choosing rather frankly to open our minds than to yield our bodies unto such servile haulings and tearings as are used in other countries. And this is one cause wherefore our condemned persons do go so cheerfully to their deaths; for our nation is free, stout, haughty, prodigal of life and blood, and therefore cannot in any wise digest to be used as villains and slaves, in suffering continually beating, servitude, and servile torments. No, our gaolers are guilty of felony, by an old law of the land, if they torment any prisoner committed to their custody for the revealing of his accomplices.

The greatest and most grievous punishment used in England for such as offend against the State is drawing from the prison to the place of execution upon an hurdle or sled, where they are hanged till they be half dead, and then taken down, and quartered alive; after that, their members and bowels are cut from their bodies, and thrown into a fire, provided near hand and within their own sight, even for the same purpose.

Sometimes, if the trespass be not the more heinous, they are suffered to hang till they be quite dead. And whensoever any of the nobility are convicted of high treason by their peers, that is to say, equals (for an inquest of yeomen passeth not upon them, but only of the lords of parliament), this manner of their death is converted into the loss of their heads only, notwithstanding that the sentence do run after the former order. In trial of cases concerning treason, felony, or any other grievous crime not confessed, the party accused doth yield, if he be a noble man, to be tried by an inquest (as I have said) and his peers; if a gentleman, by gentlemen; and an inferior, by God and by the country, to wit, the yeomanry (for combat or battle is not greatly in use), and, being condemned of felony, manslaughter, etc., he is eftsoons hanged by the neck till he be dead, and then cut down and buried. But if he be convicted of wilful murder, done either upon pretended malice or in any notable robbery, he is either hanged alive in chains near the place where the fact was committed (or else upon compassion taken, first strangled with a rope), and so continueth till his bones consume to nothing. We have use neither of the wheel nor of the bar, as in other countries; but, when wilful manslaughter is perpetrated, beside hanging, the offender hath his right hand commonly stricken off before or near unto the place where the act was done, after which he is led forth to the place of execution, and there put to death according to the law.

As in theft therefore, so in adultery and whoredom, I would wish the parties trespassing to be made bond or slaves unto those that received the injury, to sell and give where they listed, or to be condemned to the galleys: for that punishment would prove more bitter to them than half-an-hour's hanging, or than standing in a sheet, though the weather be never so cold.

Manslaughter in time past was punishment by the purse, wherein the quantity or quality of the punishment was rated after the state and calling of the party killed: so that one was valued sometime at 1200, another at 600, or 200 shillings. Such as kill themselves are buried in the field with a stake driven through their bodies.

Witches are hanged, or sometimes burned; but thieves are hanged (as I said before) generally on the gibbet or gallows, saving in Halifax, where they are beheaded after a strange manner, and whereof I find this report. There is and has been of ancient time a law, or rather a custom, at Halifax, that whosoever does commit any felony, and is taken with the same, or confesses the fact upon examination, if it be valued by four constables to amount to the sum of thirteen-pence-halfpenny, he is forthwith beheaded upon one of the next market days (which fall usually upon the Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays), or else upon the same day that he is so convicted, if market be then holden. The engine wherewith the execution is done is a square block of wood of the length of four feet and a half, which does ride up and down in a slot, rabbet, or regall, between two pieces of timber, that are framed and set upright, of five yards in height. In the nether end of the sliding block is an axe, keyed or fastened with an iron into the wood, which being drawn up to the top of the frame is there fastened by a wooden pin (with a notch made into the same, after the manner of a Samson's post), unto the midst of which pin also there is a long rope fastened that cometh down among the people, so that, when the offender hath made his confession nd hath laid his neck over the nethermost block, every man there present doth either take hold of the rope (or putteth forth his arm so near to the same as he can get, in token that he is willing to see true justice executed), and, pulling out the pin in this manner, the head-block wherein the axe is fastened doth fall down with such a violence that, if the neck of the transgressor were as big as that of a bull, it should be cut in sunder at a stroke and roll from the body by a huge distance. If it be so that the offender be apprehended for an ox, oxen, sheep, kine, horse, or any such cattle, the self beast or other of the same kind shall have the end of the rope tied somewhere unto them, so that they, being driven, do draw out the pin, whereby the offender is executed. Thus much of Halifax law, which I set down only to shew the custom of that country in this behalf.

Rogues and vagabonds are often stocked and whipped; scolds are ducked upon cucking-stools in the water. Such felons as stand mute, and speak not at their arraignment, are pressed to death by huge weights laid upon a board, that lieth over their breast, and a sharp stone under their backs; and these commonly held their peace, thereby to save their goods unto their wives and children, which, if they were condemned, should be confiscated to the prince. Thieves that are saved by their books and clergy, for the first offence, if they have stolen nothing else but oxen, sheep, money, or such like, which be no open robberies, as by the highway side, or assailing of any man's house in the night, without putting him in fear of his life, or breaking up his walls or doors, are burned in the left hand, upon the brawn of the thumb, with a hot iron, so that, if they be apprehended again, that mark betrayeth them to have been arraigned of felony before, whereby they are sure at that time to have no mercy. I do not read that this custom of saving by the book is used anywhere else than in England. Pirates and robbers by sea are condemned in the Court of the Admiralty, and hanged on the shore at low-water mark, where they are left till three tides have overwashed them. Finally, such as having walls and banks near unto the sea, and do suffer the same to decay (after convenient admonition), whereby the water entereth and drowneth up the country, are by a certain ancient custom apprehended, condemned, and staked in the breach, where they remain for ever as parcel of the foundation of the new wall that is to be made upon them, as I have heard reported.

If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride

2011-11-09T13:53:00.000Z

Measure For Measure - Review

The Rose theatre on Bankside is a simple construction which houses the archaeological remains of the first theatre built on Bankside (c.1586-7). Not the easiest of places then to stage a Shakespeare production. The Rose has no auditorium, just a smallish viewing platform constructed above the theatre's foundations. This serves as the stage, with the audience sprinkled in chairs around its edges. Measure For Measure, Shakespeare's play about the hypocritical Angelo, placed in temporary charge of a corrupt Vienna by a Duke who wishes to observe society in disguise, is often regarded as a problematic play. However director Brice Stratford handles the challenge with ease.

This production is, by turn, laugh out loud funny, disturbing, thought-provoking, cynical, and even occasionally whimsical. Devoid of props, aside from chains used in the prison scenes, Stratford's production relies entirely on compelling performances from the cast and on the audience's imagination. In this it has much in common with original Elizabethan theatrical performance. Mistress Overdone, the play's comic prostitute, is beautifully played by Elizabeth Bloom, who chats and flirts with the audience, and serves as a entertainingly cynical contemporary commentator on the action. Dan Van Garrett's Angelo is thoroughly mesmerising; dark and violent, yet undoubtedly human. Thomas Vilorio's delightful delivery and affable charm as the bungling humorous Lucio, who slanders the Duke and weaves in and out of the action, is a genuine highlight of the play. Brice Stratford takes on the role of Vincentio in a measured and very accomplished performance, and Suzanne Marie plays Isabella with an enthusiastic professionality which although occasionally feeling rather over-stretched, is nevertheless convincing. Jeremy Smith's Clowne is witty and highly enjoyable, and Otis Waby's condemned Claudio is moving and sympathetic. As an ensemble, the cast has an holistic integrity which makes for a seamless and cleverly authentic production. By teasing out the high comic elements of Measure For Measure, Brice Stratford exposes the darker moral undertones of the play, and this contrast is at times startling; the attempted rape scene for example, is handled particularly well.

If you're not a fan of intimate theatre this production may perhaps prove a challenge, but if you want to experience intelligent, lively, and genuinely interactive theatrical performance in a haunting historical setting, then hie thee hither along to the Rose.

Runs until 4th December.
The Rose Bankside

It were good for her to walke up and down the chamber

2011-10-29T16:28:00.000+01:00

These fragments come from an early 17th Century manual on childbirth written by a surgeon to the French King. It contains all manner of advice on delivering babies, breastfeeding, wet nurses and infant diseases. The following is advice to midwives on caring for a woman expecting a normal uncomplicated delivery.

What must bee observed, when the woman feeles her selfe, neare her time

The time of delivery being at hand, the woman is to prepare her selfe in this manner. She must presently send for the Midwife, and her keeper, it being better to have them about her too soon, than too late; for there be some women that are delivered sodainely without the helpe of any one, although they have beene long in their first labour.

In the meane time, she must have a little bedde provided her, like a pallet, which must bee of a reasonable bigness, strong and firme, and also of an indifferent height (as well for her owne commodity, as the Midwives, and others that shall be present about her, to helpe her, in her labour) and it must be so set & placed, that they may conveniently come and go round about her, it must be placed far from any doore, and somewhat neere the fire. Let it also be conveniently furnished with beds & good store of linnen that they may be often changed, as neede shall require. And likewise there must bee laid crosse the beds feete, a peece of wood, for the woman to rest her feete upon, that so she may have the more strength when she bendeth her legs, as we will shew heereafter.

As soone as she feeles her selfe stirred and provoked with throwes and paines, which are usuall in this case, it were good for her to walke up and down the chamber, and then lay her selfe down warm in her bed: and then again afterwards to rise & walk, up and downe the chamber, and then lay her down warme in her bed: and then againe afterwards to rise up and walke, expecting till the water bee gathered, and the Matrice be opened: for to keep her selfe so long in her bed, would bee very tedious and painfull. Yet it may chance, that being in bed shee may take some rest and have a little slumber, and so by this meanes the mother may gather more strength, & the child be the better inabled to come at the time which God hath appointed it, and also the waters will be the better prepared & gathered.

They may give her, if the labour be long, a little broth, or the yolke of an egge with some butter, and bread, and also a little wine and water. It is very certaine, that all women are not delivered after one fashion: for some are delivered in their bed; others sitting in a chaire, some standing being supported and held up by the standers by: or else leaning upon the side of a bed, table or chaire; others kneeling being held up by the armes. But the best and safest way is; to be delivered in their bed, (the which I advise them to) the midwife, and assistants, as her kinsfolkes, friends, and keepers, observing this that followes.

First the woman must be laid flat upon her back, having her head raised somewhat high, with a pillow under her backe that it bow not: and under her buttocks and os sacrum, let her have another pretty big pillow, that thereby those parts may bee somewhat lifted up: for a woman that sinketh down into the bed can never be well delivered; and therefore the well placing of them is of great consequence. Let her thighs and knees be stretcht forth and laide abroad one from another: and her legs bowed and drawn upward, having her heels & the soles of her feet, leaning hard against the peece of wood, which is laid crosse the bedde for this purpose.

About some they put a swath foure times doubled under their backe, and hinder parts, which comes round about them: this swath must be a foot broad, and so long that it may be held by two women, standing on each side of the bed, there with to lift up the woman in travail a little, pulling it gently towards them, & chiefly when her throws come upon her. For this raising or lifting up doth much refresh her, and makes her endure her throws with more ease.

Beside the two women that hold the swath, there must be two more of her friends or kinsfolks, to take her by the hands, thereby to clinsh or crush them when her throws come, and the other hand they must hold on the top of her shoulders, that she rise not upward too much, and that she may the better straine her selfe, for oftentimes as shee thrusts her feete hard against the peece of wood, which is put crosse the bed, she raiseth her selfe upward. Sometime I have bid one of the women that stand by to presse gently with the palme of her hand the upper parts of the belly, stroking the child downward by little and little, the which pressing did hasten the delivery, and made them endure the throws better, and with more ease.

The woman in travail being thus placed must take a good heart, and straine her selfe as much as she can, when her throws come upon her, making them double and increase, by holding in her breath and stopping her mouth, and forming her selfe, as though she would go to the stoole, which is much fitter for her to doe then to lye crying and lamenting. If she weare about her necke an Eagles stone, loadstone, the skinne of an Urus or wild Oxe or the like, which might keepe backe the child, let them be taken away, and tied to her thighs. But above all things she must be obedient to all that is commanded her, either by her kinsfolks, and friends, or by the Midwife. Likewise she must be patient in her sicknesse, calling uppon God for helpe, since it concernes both her own life, and the childs, and shee must call to mind, that hee hath said with his owne mouth, That the woman should bring forth with labour and paine. For it would bee a rare thing to see a woman delivered without any paine.

They that write the History of America doe tell of the women in that country, which is; That as soone as they be delivered, (they are so kind to their husbands, which tooke the paines to beget the child) that they presently rise up and lay their husbands in their roome; who are used and attended, like women in childbed. And in this manner they be visited of all their friends, and kinsfolk, who bring them gifts and presents.

The Woman that is ready to be delivered being thus placed and laid in her bedde, must have the Midwife neere unto her: who ought first to aske of her woman, whether shee hath gone her full time, and bee ready to bee delivered; and at what time shee conceived; then must shee handle her belly, and marking it well, consider diligently whether the upper parts seeme as if they were empty, and fallen, and the nether parts very bigge and full: which sheweth that the child is sunke downe. Beside, shee must aske her, whether shee have any paines, and in what manner they bee, where they begin, and where they end: and whether they bee little or great, and frequent: whether they begin at the backe, running downe all along the belly, without staying at the Navell: and chiefly if they run along the groine, and end in the bottom of the belly inwardly (that is in the inner necke of the womb) then it is a signe that she begins to fall in travail.

And for the more assurance, let the Midwife thrust up her hand, being first annointed, either with fresh butter, hogs grease, or some other ointment, which heere after shall be set downe. And if she perceive that both the inner, and outward orifice of the wombe, be dilated and opened, it is a signe she begins to be in travail, especially if there flow or come forth by the said passage, any slime, or water: the which doe foreshew, that the birth is at hand, as Hippocrat. saith, which if they be pale, it signifies for the most part, it will be a wench: and if it be reddish that it is a sonne. Now this slime commeth by the dilatation of the inner orifice, and from the membrane, that doth wrap and infold the child, which begins to breake. And also by reason of the vessels, and tyes which are loosened from the sides of the wombe the which may be perceived by the waters which will swell, shewing like a bubble, or rather like a bladder full of water. And when the water begins to be thus gathered, there is no doubt to be made, but that the woman is in travail.

When the waters are in this sort gathered together, by meanes of the throwes, which come by little and little: then the Midwife must place her selfe conveniently neere unto the woman, sitting in a chaire somewhat lower then the bed: and she must sit in such manner, that she may easily put up her hand (being first annointed) into those parts, when need requires. And by this meanes, she may know, whether the child come naturally, or no, for in feeling gently crosse the membrane, that containes the waters, she shall find, either the roundnesse of the childs head, or else some unevennesse. If in feeling, she perceive that there is any hard and equall roundnesse; it is most likely to be the childs head· and that he comes naturally: but if she feele any unevennesse, the contrarie may be imagined.

When she perceive, that all comes well, and according to nature, the throwes increasing upon the woman, and that the child doth strive and endevour to come forth, and the wombe doth straine it selfe to be freed of this burthen; Then the Midwife must incourage the woman, entreating her to hold in her breath, by stopping her mouth, and to straine downward, as though she would go to the stoole: Assuring her, that she shall be quickly eased of her paine: and that her child is even ready to come into the world, exhorting her to be patient, and promising, that she shall have, either a goodly sonne, or a faire daughter, according as she knoweth her affection inclined.

And the Midwives greatest charge must be, that she doe nothing hastily, or rashly, or by force, to inlarge the passage of the child: and much lesse, to let foorth the water, or to breake, and teare the membranes, that containe it: but she must expect till it breake of it selfe. When the water, both by the indevour of the Mother, and likewise of the child, shall be newly broken; then aswell the Midwife, as the rest of the women present, must more and more incourage the woman, especially when her throwes increase; beseeching her in the name of God, that she would farther them, as much as she can possibly. In the meane time, the Midwife must continually annoint the neather parts with butter, or some other fats.

And when the head doth offer it selfe to come foorth, she must receive it gently with both her hands: which being come soorth, and the womans throwes increasing, she must draw out the shoulders handsomely, sliding downe her finger under the childs arme-pits; taking the oportunitie and time when her throwes come fastest. And it is to be noted, that the throwes cease verie little, or not at all, after the head and shoulders be once come forth: Nevertheless, it will be very fit, to give the poore woman a little breathing, intreating her, that she would be of as good cheare as she can. After this, the Midwife having drawen out the shoulders, may easily draw forth the rest of the body: which must not be done either hastily or rashly.

But because the child naturally doth come into the world, with the face downward: therefore when he is quite taken foorth, he must be turned upon his backe: for feare lest hee be stifled, or chok't. And if his navell-string be woond about his necke, (as many times it happens) then must it be unwoond. Oftentimes likewise, the child is so feeble, and faint, that there can scarsely be perceived any breath, or life in him: and therefore he must have a little wine spirted into his mouth, nose, and eares, in that quantitie as shall be needfull. When he is come to himselfe, and begins to crie, then the Midwife must follow the string, wagging and shaking it, thereby to draw, and bring foorth gently the after-birth, to which it is tyed: bidding the woman to cough, and likewise to hold some salt in her hands, fast shut together, and then blow in them.

In the meane time the Midwife, or some other woman, must presse gently with her hand, the top of the womans belly, stroking it lightly downward: the after-burthen being come, it must be laid upon the childs belly: and the child, together with the after-birth, must be wrapp'd up handsomely in a bed, and a blanket, to be carried nearer the fire, covering the head with a linnen cloth five or sixe times double: and yet not exposing him sodainly either to the fire-light, day-light, or candle-light, lest by this sodaine change his sight might be hurt: but his eies must be covered, that by little and little he may open them, and acquaint them with the light.

As soone as the child is borne, and that the Mother is delivered of her after-birth, the Midwife shall cause her legs to be gently laid downe, taking away the peece of wood, that lay at her feet: and put a fine linnen cloth, or rather a cleane spunge, washed in warme water, and wrung out, betweene her thighs, neare unto her naturall parts, that the cold ayre may not get therein: and then must she take the child, together with the after-burthen, and carrie them to the fire, as hath been said already. The midwife shall first tye, and then cut the childs Navel-string, to seperat him from the after-burthen.

After after the Midwife hath cut the Navell, she must wipe and make clean the child, not onely his face, but his whole bodie, and the wrinkles and folds of the arme-pits, buttocks, and ioints, either with fresh Butter, or oyle of sweet Almonds. Some do it with oyle of Roses, others with oyle of Nuts, thereby to make the skin more firme, and to stop the pores, that the outward ayre may not hurt him, and likewise to strengthen all his parts. The child being thus shifted and annoynted, and then well dried, and wrap't up by the Midwife, or others: they must presently give him a little wine and Sugar in a spoone, or else the bignesse of a pease, of Mithridate, or Triacle, dissolved in a little wine, if it be Winter, and in Summer (by reason of the heat) with a little Carduus Benedictus, or some other Cordiall water.

While the Midwife doth cut the childs Navell, and make him cleane, the Nurse, or some other that is present, must have an especiall Care of two things: The first is, To give the woman in child-bed this drinke.

A Drinke for a woman in child-bed:

Take oyle of sweet Almonds newly drawen, two ounces, Syrup of Maidenhayre, one ounce, white Wine, water of Parietarie of the wall, and Carduus Benedictus, of each halfe an ounce. Mingle them verie well together with much shaking, and so let her drinke it. This medicine will mitigate and lenifie the passage of the throat, and Trachaea Arteria, which have been heated, and stretched with crying, and groning: And likewise it will help to provoke the purgings, and hinder the pangs and gripings from being so violent.

The second is, to cause a sheep to be fleaed, and to wrap the womans backe and belly in the skin yet warme, thereby to strengthen and comfort, all those parts, which have been as it were disjointed, and pull'd one from another, with much striving in her travail. Then the Midwife (if she be not busied about the Child) or some other that looketh to the woman, shall applie beneath to the entrance of the naturall part:

A strengthening Medicine:

Take oyle of Hypericum, Saint Iohns Wart, two ounces, Oyle of Roses, an ounce: Two whole egges, Mingle them well together and let them be applied with fine linnen clothes, or flaxe, likewise there must be laid under her a little pillow doubled, to make her keepe her knees up a little, and that her thighs & legs lie not straight down. Let her neither lye along, nor sit upright but keepe her selfe betweene both, having her heade and body rather a little raised, then laid low, that her purgings may the easier come away.

Now when the woman shall be thus accommodated, she must be kept from sleeping, though shee bee very desirous thereof, and let her in the meane time be entertained with some discourse. After the woman hath beene kept three or foure houres from sleeping, you may give her some broth made with a knuckle of Veale, or a Chicken, or in stead thereof, a couple of yolkes of egges, and so let her take her rest: and if she have any desire to sleep, shee may, which must bee some three or foure houres after her delivery, the dores and windowes of her chamber, being close shut, not making any noise.

And so let this suffice, for the naturall travail or delivery; wherein there hath beene no difficulty: the woman beeing neither much troubled, nor having had any greate paines, but those that are ordinary, and such as God hath, which is, that In sorrow a woman should bring forth.

A Bridge Too Far

2011-10-27T18:48:00.004+01:00

With the imminent release of Roland Emmerich's film Anonymous, which seeks to demonstrate that the real author of Shakespeare's plays was none other than the Earl of Oxford, academics on both sides of the pond are getting increasingly hot and bothered. Debates about the authorship of Shakespeare's plays have raged online for weeks, and most of the major newspapers appear to have written at least one headline-grabbing story about the film.

Anonymous takes its starting point from the pro-Oxfordians, who argue there is insufficient evidence to prove Shakespeare could have written his plays, since he had at best a grammar school education, and was merely the son of a provincial glover. Theirs is just one of the many conspiracy theories surrounding the creation of the body of work traditionally ascribed to Shakespeare.

Up until very recently the so-called Authorship Debate has been limited to enthusiastic amateurs digging around in obscure archives attempting to crack the great mystery of who really wrote Shakespeare's works. However, with Roland Emmerich's new film we are entering dangerous new territory. According to the website Shakespeare Authorship, written and maintained by Dr David Kathman, the company Youth Marketing International has created a set of educational materials based on Anonymous which are to be made available to schools and colleges.

An examination of this educational material is enough to provoke serious concern. The online PDF boasts that the material on Anonymous is designed for 'students in English literature, theater, and British history classes.' It opens with the following:

Dear Educator,

There’s little debate that William Shakespeare is one of the world’s greatest poets and playwrights. But who is William Shakespeare?

The answer to that question is the starting point for Anonymous, Sony Pictures’ exciting new historical thriller directed by Roland Emmerich (Independence Day, The Day After Tomorrow) and starring Rhys Ifans and Vanessa Redgrave, which arrives in theaters on October 28, 2011.

Anonymous takes us back to a time when plays and politics were intertwined, and when uncovered secrets reveal how the works we attribute to William Shakespeare may have actually been written by Queen Elizabeth I’s one-time favorite, Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford.

The educational objectives of this program are as follows:

'To encourage critical thinking by challenging students to examine the theories about the authorship of Shakespeare’s works and to formulate their own opinions.
To strengthen students’ communication skills through classroom discussion and debate.
To engage students in creative writing exercises.'

We all want students to formulate their own opinions and to develop their communication skills, but the exercises which follow seem to me to be a determined attempt to make up students' minds for them.

In the first exercise students are encouraged to undertake a survey of the 'historical evidence' for the 'upstart crow':

'THE UPSTART CROW

Here’s what the historical records have to tell us:

• William Shakespeare was born in Stratford-upon-Avon in1564 to John Shakespeare, a glove maker, wool merchant, and town alderman, and his wife, Mary Arden, the daughter of a local landowner.
• We know that boys like Shakespeare usually attended grammar school in Stratford, where they studied Latin, literature, and rhetoric. There is no reason to believe that Shakespeare ever attended a university.
• In 1582, at the age of 18, Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway, age 26.
• The first evidence that Shakespeare was involved in the theater comes in 1592, when the playwright Robert Greene accused him of plagiarism.
• By the late 1590s, Shakespeare is named as a member of the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, an acting troupe later known as The King’s Men. He became part owner of the Globe Theatre when it opened in 1599, and a shareholder in the Blackfriars Theatre in 1608.
• Shakespeare made his first appearance as an author on the title page of Venus and Adonis, a long, erotic poem published in 1593, but the first play to carry his name was not published until 1598. Thereafter, records indicate that he produced approximately two plays a year until 1611.
• William Shakespeare died in Stratford-upon-Avon in 1616. His partners in The King’s Men published a collected edition of his plays in 1623.'

This is followed by the following statement:

'REASONABLE DOUBT

Skeptics accept all these facts, but they find it impossible to believe that a mere grammar school graduate could have written the plays and poems attributed to Shakespeare. Wouldn’t it make more sense, they ask, to suppose that William Shakespeare was only the stand-in for a better educated author?'

Students are encouraged to watch Anonymous and apply their critical thinking to the following exercise:

'PART A: WHAT DO YOU THINK?

Are Shakespeare’s plays the work of a highly educated writer with firsthand experience of aristocracy? Or could they be the work of an author with exceptional creative talent and observational skills who borrowed from learned books to enhance his own writing? Divide your class into two teams, the Upstart Crows and the Reasonable Doubters, to weigh the question: Was William Shakespeare really an improbable genius, or just a front man for someone with real ability?

PART B: WORDS, WORDS, WORDS

Use the information on this sheet to research the theory that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon was not the author of the “Shakespeare” plays. Then write a persuasive essay supporting your position.'

This is hardly an exercise in exploring the Authorship Debate. This is an exercise in encouraging students to 'research the theory that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon was not the author of the 'Shakespeare' plays', and then 'write a persuasive essay' 'supporting' that position. If this were not enough, the 'resources and references' for this educational course are listed as:

Anonymous - www.anonymous-movie.com

Young Minds Inspire - www.ymiclassroom.com

Statement of Reasonable Doubt -
www.DoubtAboutWill.Org

For those requiring further references the following (currently broken) url is provided:

www.ymiclassroom/com/AnonymousReferences.pdf

I'm all in favour of freedom of speech and the right for anyone to express an opinion, however bizarre it may be, and while I'm no fan of those who put forth alternative candidates for the authorship of Shakespeare's plays, I respect their right to indulge in mad conspiracy theories. However this educational material seeks to encourage high-school students to write essays supporting the view that Shakespeare was not the author of his works without them having been given a shred of historical evidence.

Nowhere in the material provided does there appear to be a solid argument in support of Shakespeare as the author of his works. There are no links to websites which argue the case for Shakespeare, nor are there any balanced reading lists which would enable students to research the case for themselves. In my view the material provided is biased entirely in favour of the Earl of Oxford

It's one thing to make a film about Shakespeare riddled with historical inaccuracy and conspiracy theories, but to teach children that those conspiracies might be historical fact is potentially dangerous, irresponsible, and a bridge too far. Until there is conclusive irrefutable historical proof that the Earl of Oxford wrote the works traditionally ascribed to William Shakespeare, I don't believe this material should to be taught in schools.

You can see the Anonymous educational material here
You can listen to academic scholars providing overwhelming evidence that Shakespeare was the author of his works here
Download a free e-book Shakespeare Bites Back by Stanley Wells and Paul Edmondson

Disclaimer:

The views expressed in this blog post are my own personal views. They do not reflect the views of any institution to which I may be affiliated. They are based entirely on my response to information made freely available in the public domain.

11 Blows On His Buttocks

2011-10-20T14:03:00.001+01:00

17th Century Printing Press

These fragments come from a contemporaneous description of the methods and customs of a 17th Century Printing House. One shilling was worth about £4, a crown was 5 shillings, and a penny about 35p.

Persons Instrumental about Printing

The Master Printer who is the Soul of Printing; all other workmen about it are as Members of the Body.
The Letter Cutter, the Mould-Maker, the Letter Caster, the Letter Dresser; all called Letter Founders.
The Compositer, the Corrector, the Press-Man, the Ink Maker; all go under the Notion of Printers.

Customs of the Chappel

Every Printing-House is called a Chappel, in which there are these Laws and Customs for the well and good Government of the Chappel, and for the orderly deportment of all its Members while in the Chappel.

Every Workman belonging to it are Members of the Chappel, and the Eldest Freeman is Father of the Chapel; and the Penalty for the Breach of any Law or Custom is in Printers Language called a Solace.

1. Swearing in the Chappel, a Solace.
2. Fighting in the Chappel, a Solace.
3. Abusive Language or giving the Lie in the Chappel, a Solace.
4. To be Drunk in the Chappel, a Solace.
5. For any of the Workmen to leave his Candle burning at Night, a Solace.
6. If a Compositer fall his composing Stick [a sort of wooden ruler] and another take it up, a Solace.
7. For three Letters and a Space to lie under the Compositers Case, a Solace.
8. If a Press-man let fall his Ball or Balls [used to ink the letters] and another take them up, a Solace.
9. If a Press-man leave his Blankets [woolly cloths] in the Timpan [frame] at Noon or Night, a Solace.
10. For any Workman to mention joyning their penny or more a piece to send for Drink, a Solace.
11. To mention spending Chappel Money till Satur-Day Night, or any other before agreed time, a Solace.
12. To play at Quadrats or excite others in the Chappel to play for Money or Drink, a Solace.
13. A Stranger to come to the Kings Printing-House and ask for a Ballad, a Solace.
14. For a Stranger to come to a Compositer and enquire if he had News of such a Galley at Sea, a Solace.
15. For any to bring a Wisp of Hay directed to a Press-man, is a Solace.
16. To call Mettle [metal] Lead in a Founding-House, is a Forfeiture.
17. A Workman to let fall his Mould, a Forfeiture.
18. A Workman to leave his Ladle [for pouring molten metal into moulds] in the Mettle at Noon or at Night, a Forfeiture.

And the Judges of these Solaces or Forfeitures and other Controversies in the Chappel or any of its Members was by Plurality of Votes in the Chappel; it being asserted as a Maxime that the Chappel cannot Err. Now these Solaces or fines were to be bought off for the good of the Chappel, which never exceeded 1 s. 6 d; 4 d; 2 d; 1 d. according to the Nature and Quality thereof.

But if the Delinquent proves obstinate and will not pay, the Workmen takes him by force and lays him on his Belly over the correcting stone and holds him there whilest another with a Paper board gives him 10 l. in a Purse viz. 11 blows on his Buttocks, which he lays on according to his own Mercy.

Customs for Payments of Money

Every new Workman to pay for his Entrance half a Crown, which is called his Benvenue, till then he is no Member, nor enjoys any benefit of Chappel Money.

Every Journeyman that formerly worked at the Chappel and goes away, and afterwards comes again to work pays but half a Benvenue.

If Journeymen Smout one another they pay half a Benvenue.

All Journeymen are paid by their Master Printer for all Church Holy-days that fall not on a Sunday whether they work or no, what they can earn every working day, be it 2. 3. or 4 s.

If a Journeyman Marries, he pays half a Crown to the Chappel.

When his Wife comes to the Chappel she pays 6 d. and then all the Journeymen joyns their 2 d. a piece to make her drink, and to welcome her.

If a Journeyman have a Son born, he pays 1 s. if a Daughter, 6 d.

If a Master-Printer have a Son born, he pays 2 s. 6 d. if a Daughter, 1 s. 6 d.

An Apprentice when he is Bound, pays half a Crown to the Chappel, and when he is made Free, another half Crown: and if he continues to work Journeywork in the same House he pays another, and is then a Member of the Chappel.

It is Customary for all Journeymen to make every Year new Paper Windows about Bartholomew-Tide, at which time the Master Printer makes them a Feast called a Way-Goos, to which is invited the Corrector, Founder, Smith, Ink-maker, &c. who all open their Purses and give to the Workmen to spend in the Tavern or Ale-House, after the Feast. From which time they begin to work by Candle light.

The Printers, Journeymen, with the Founders and Ink-makers have every Year a general Feast, which is kept in the Stationers Hall on or about May-day. It is made by 4 Stewards, 2 Masters, and 2 Journeymen; and with the Collection of half a Crown a piece of every Guest: the charges of the whole Feast is defrayed.

About 10 of the Clock in the Morning on the Feast day the Company invited meet at the place apointed, and from thence go to some Church thereabouts in this follow|ing Order. First, 4 Whifflers (as Servitures) by two and two walking before with white Staves in their Hands, and red and blew Ribbons hung Belt-wise upon their Shoulders: these makes way for the Company.

Then walks the Beadle of the Company of Stationers, with the Companies Staff in his Hand, and Ribbons as afore.

Then the Minister, whom the Stewards have engaged to Preach the Sermon· and his Reader or Clerk.

Then the Stewards walks by two and two with long white Wands in their Hands, and all the rest of the Company follows in like order till they enter the Church &c. Service ended, and a Sermon for the occasion finished, they all return to their Hall in the same order, where upon their entrance each Guest delivers his Ticket to a Person appointed, which gives him admittance; where every one Feast himself with what he likes best, being delighted all the while with Musicks and Songs, &c.

After Dinner the Ceremony of Electing new Stewards for the next Year begins: then the Stewards withdraw into another Room, and puts Garlands of Laurel or Box on their Heads, and white Wands in their Hands, and are Ushered out of the withdrawing Room thus; first, the Companies Beadle with his Staff in his Hand, and Musick sounding before him, then followed one of the Whifflers with a great Bowl of White-wine and Sugar in his right Hand, and his Staff in the left, after him follows the eldest Steward.

Then another Whiffler as aforesaid, before the second Steward: in like manner another Whiffler before the third; and another before the fourth Steward.

And thus they walk with Musick sounding before them three times round the Hall, and in the fourth round, the first Steward takes the Bowl from his Whiffler and Drinks to one (whom before he resolved on) by the Title of Mr. Steward Elect: and taking the Garland of his own Head, puts it on the Steward Elects Head, at which all the Company claps their Hands in token of Joy.

Then the present Steward takes out the Steward elect, and Walks with him hand in hand, (giving him the right Hand) behind the three other Stewards another round the Hall; and in the next round as aforesaid, the second Steward Drinks to another with the same Ceremony as the first did; and so the third, and so the fourth. And then all walks one round more hand in hand about the Hall, that the Company may take Notice of the Stewards Elect: and so ends the Ceremony of the Day.

Disfigure that peacock

2011-10-10T16:41:00.002+01:00

The Cook - Bernardo Strozzi (c.1620)

I stumbled upon these rather charming 17th Century cooking terms today.

To Carve is to Cut up a Dish of Meat, but according to the Meats, use these Terms for their Carving:

Break that Deer.

Leach that Brawn.

Unlace that Coney.

Chine that Salmon.

String that Lamprey.

Splat that Pike.

Sauce that Plaice and Tench.

Splay that Bream.

Side that Haddock.

Tusk that Barbell.

Culpon that Trout.

Fin that Chevin.

Transon the Eel.

Tranch that Sturgeon.

Tire that Egg.

Undertranch that Purpus.

Tame that Crab.

Barb that Lobster.

Dight that Crevis.

Rear that Goose.

Lift that Swan.

Sauce that Capon.

Spoil that Hen.

Frust that Chicken.

Unbrace that Duck or Mallard.

Dismember that Hern.

Display that Crane.

Disfigure that Peacock.

Unjoynt that Bittern.

Untach that Curlew, and Brew.

Allay that Pheasant.

Wing that Partridge, and Quail.

Mince that Plover.

Thigh that Pigeon, and Woodcock.

Cut up that Turkey and Bustard.

Break that Teal or Sarcel.

Nickum-poop - A fool, a silly sort

2011-10-01T17:40:00.001+01:00

Reading the Dictionary of the Canting Crew is one of my secret pleasures, since it demonstrates beautifully just how many aspects of the English language are almost unchanged from the 16th and 17th centuries. Cant, for anyone unfamiliar with the term, is a form of slang which developed in the late 16th Century between rogues, beggars and thieves. These snippets (published in 1699) reveal that quite a few of the everyday phrases we employ in 2011 were also commonplace in Shakespeare's England.

Bacon, as he sav'd his Bacon - he has escaped with a whole Skin
Bandy-legg'd - crooked
Banter - a pleasant way of pratling which seems in earnest but is in jest, a sort of ridicule
Bay windows - embowed, as of old, standing out from the rest of the Building
Beside himself - distracted
Birds of a feather - Rogues of the same gang, also those of the same Profession, Trade or Employment
To kill two birds with one stone - to dispatch two Businesses at one Stroke
Bite the biter - to Rob the Rogue or Cheat the Cheater
Black and white - in writing
Blind-mans-buff - a play us'd by Children blind-folded.
Blow hot and cold - play fast and loose
Bode-ill - to presage or betoken ill
Brow-beat - to Cow, to Daunt, to awe with Big looks, or snub
Busy-bodies - Pryers into other Folks Concerns, such as thrust their Sickle in another's Harvest
He knows which side his Bread is butter'd - in his own interest
Carrots - Red Haired people
A Man of character - of Mark or Note
Chare-woman - Underdrudges or Taskers, assistants to Servantmaids
How cheap you make yourself - how Contemptible you render your self or undervalue your self
Cheer up - be of good courage, keep up the spirits
Chip off the old block - a Son that is his Father's likeness, more particularly the Son of a Cooper
Close-confident - a trusty Bosom friend
Coals to Newcastle - when the Drawer carries away any Wine in the Pot or Bottle
In cold blood - when the heat of war or Passion is over
Cross-patch - a Peevish forward Person
Not cut out for it - not turned for it
Every dog will have his day - none so wretched as has his good Planet
Egg one on - to prick him on, or to provoke or stir him up
Eves-dropper - one that skulks, lurks or lies under his Neighbor's Window or Door
Gad up and down - to Fidle and Fisk, to run a gossiping
A gust of wind - a short sudden furious blast
Higgledy-piggledy - all together, as Hoggs and Piggs lie Nose in Arse
Hold his nose to the grindstone - to keep him Under
To nip in the bud - to crush anything at the beginning
Out-at-heels - in a declining condition
Pay through the nose - Excessively or with Extortion
From pillar to post - from Constable to Constable
To smell a rat - to suspect a Trick
Give him enough rope and he'll Hang himself - he'll Decoy himself within his own Destiny
Troll-about - saunter, loiter, wander about
Wet your whistle - to Liquor your Throat

A woman given to looseness and lewdness of life

2011-09-26T14:05:00.001+01:00

These snippets come from an early 17th Century account of a murder allegedly committed in London by a wife and brothel owner.

Margaret Ferne-seede, a woman given to all the loosenesse & lewdnesse of life, which either unlawfull lust, or abhominable prostitution could violently cast uppon her, with the greatest infamie, yea, and with such a publique and unrespective unchastitie, that neither beeing chaste nor caught, she regarded not into what eare the loathsomnesse of her life was sounded, or into what bed of lust her lascivious bodie was transported. This more than beastiall lasciviousnes, having consumed the first part of her youth, being then confirmed in some more strength of yeares, she tooke a house neare unto the Iron-gate of the Tower, where she kept a moste abhominable and wilde brothell house, poisoning many young women with that sinne wherewith her owne body long before was filthilie bebotched. From this house at the Iron-gate, she was married unto one Anthony Ferne-seede a Taylor, dwelling in Ducke-lane, but keeping a shop upon Addle-hill neare Carter-lane. This Anthony was amongst his neighbors reputed to be both sober and of very good conversation.

Now it happened that some few monthes agoe in the fieldes of Peckham neare London, there was found a man slaine having his throate cut, a knife in his hand, golde ringes uppon his fingers, and fortie shillings in money in his purse. His woundes [were] of so long continuance that his body was not onely corrupted, but there was also Maggots, or such like filthie wormes ingendered therein, which gave testimony to the beholders that he had not slaine himselfe in that place, as well because the place was free from such a spectacle the day before, as also that such corruption could not proceede from a present slaughter. Againe, what the person slaine no man knewe, both because his phisionomie was altered in his death, and because his acquaintance was little or none in those partes about Peckham. In the end, searching his pockets, and other parts of his apparaile, amongst other notes and reckonings, they found an Indenture wherein a certaine youth which did serve him was bound unto him: this Indenture gave them knowledge both of his name, and of the place of his dwelling, whereupon, certaine discreete persons of Peckham, sent to London to Ducke-lane.

Inquiring for the house of one Anthony Ferne-seede, [they] delivered to his wife the disaster and mischance which had befallen her husband, which her hardoned heart received not as a message of sorrow, but as if it had bene the report of some ordinarie or vulgar newes. She embraced it with an irrespective neglect and carelesness & demanded instantly (before the message would tell her how he dyed) whether his throate were cut, or had he cut his own throate, as either knowing or prophesing how he died. She [then] prepared herself & her Servant in all haste to go to Peckham to behold her husband.

When she & her boy came where the bodie was, where more for awe of the Magistrate than any terror she felt, she made many sower faces, but the drinesse of her braine would suffer no moisture to descend into her eyes: many questions were asked her, to which she answered with such constancie, that no suspition could be grounded against her: then was her boy taken and examined, who delivered the abhomination of her life and that since her mariage with his maister, she had lived in all disquietness, rage, and distemperature, often threatning his life and contryving plots for his destruction. That she had ever since her mariage, in most publique and notorious manner, maintained a yong man, with whom (in his view) she had often committed adultrie: that the same young man since his maisters losse was fled he knew not whither, and that his mistris had even then before the message of his maisters death, sold all his goods (as he supposed) to fly after him whom she loved: all these speeches were not only seconded, but almoste approved by some of her neighbors, which lived neare unto her.

She was taken into a more strict examination, and in the end, by authoritie of Justice she was committed to the White Lyon in Southwarke: during the time of which imprisonment, till her time of tryall, thinking to out face truth with boldnesse, and sin with impudence, she continued out all her examinations taken before severall Justices in her former denialls. She was seldome found to be in charitie with any of her fellow prisoners, nor at any time in quiet with her selfe, rather a provoker then an appeaser of dissentions, given to much swearing, scarce praying but continually scoulding, so that she was as hatefull to all them that dwelt with her in the prison, as shee was to people of honest conversation while she lived abroad. In this uncivill order, spending her houres, the time of tryall comming on, this Margaret Ferneseed was indighted, & arraigned, the purpose of which inditement was to have practised the murther of her late husband Anthony Ferne-seede, who as before was found dead in Peckham field nere Lambeth.

She pleaded not guiltie, putting her cause to God and the Countrie, then were these severall witnesses produced against her, namely of the incontinentness of her life past, her attempt to poyson her husband before this murther, as also to prepare broth for him, and put powder in it, her slight regard of him in his life, and her carelesse sorrow for him after death: with other circumstances as the flight of the fellowe whome she had lived long in adulterie with all, her present sale of her goods uppon her husbands murther, as it may be justly thought, with purpose to flie after him: on which lawfull evidence, she was convicted, & after judgement given her to be burned: and from thence she was conveyed backe to the White Lyon, till the time appointed for her execution.

On Munday being the last of February; she had notice given her, that in the after-noone she must suffer death, and a Preacher commended unto her to instruct her for her soules health, who laboured much with her for the confession of the fact, which she still obstinately denied, but made great showe of repentance for her life past, so that about two of the clocke in the after-noone she was stripped of her ordinary wearing apparell, and uppon her owne smocke put a kirtle of Canvasse [a sort of long tunic] pitched cleane through [painted in tar to speed up the burning process], over which she did weare a white sheet, and so was by the keeper delivered, on each hand a woman leading her, and the Preacher going before her. Being come to the place of execution, both before and after her fastening to the Stake, with godly exhortations hee admonished her that now in that minute she would confesse that fact for which she was now ready to suffer, which she denying, the reeds were planted about, unto which fire being given she was presently dead.

Do not glare upon thy snot

2011-09-16T13:20:00.003+01:00

The following extracts come from a book of manners, written by the Italian Giovanni Della Casa. This edition was published in English in 1576. I've standardised the spelling since the text would otherwise prove rather difficult to read.

When thou hast blown thy nose, use not to open thy handkerchief, to glare upon thy snot, as if you had pearls and Rubies fallen from thy brains.

A man must leave to yawn much, as that it seems to proceed of a certain weariness that shows that he that yawneth could better like to be elsewhere than there in that place, as wearied with the company, their talk, and their doings. And sure, albeit a man be many times disposed to yawn, yet if he be occupied with any delight, or earnest matter to think upon, he shall have no mind to do it. But if he be lumpish & idle, it is an easy matter to fall into it. And therefore, when a man yawneth, in place where there be slothful and idle folks that have nothing to doe, the rest, as you may see many times, yawn again for company by & by. And I have many times heard learned and wise men say, that A yawner meaneth as much in Latin as a careless and idle body. Let us then fly from these conditions that loathe the eyes, the ears, & the stomach. For in using these fashions, we do not only show that we take little pleasure in the company, but we give them occasion to judge amiss of us

It is ill to see a Gentleman settle himself to do the needs of Nature in the presence of men: And after he hath done, to truss himself again before them. Neither would I have him (if I may give him counsel) when he comes from such an occupation, so much as wash his hands in the sight of honest company: for yet the cause of his washing puts them in mind of some filthy matter that hath been done apart. And by the same reason, it is no good manner, when a man chanceth to see, as he passeth the way, a loathsome thing, that will make a man to cast [turn] his stomach, to turn unto the company, & show it them. And much worse, to reach some stinking thing unto a man to smell it, as it is many a man's fashion to do, with importunate means, thrusting it unto their nose, saying: 'Oh, I pray you, how this doth stink'. Where they should rather say, 'smell not unto it: for it hath an ill scent.'

And as these and like fashions offend the senses: to grind the teethe, to whistle, to make pitiful cries, to rub sharp stones together, and to file upon Iron, [and] do much offend the ears and would be left in any case. Neither must we refrain those things alone, but we must also beware we do not sing, and specially alone, if we have an untuneable voice, which is a common fault with most men.

It is also an unmannerly for a man to lay his nose upon the cup where another must drink: or upon the meat that another must eat, to the end to smell unto it, because it may chance there might fall some drop from his nose that would make a man to loath it

Let a man take heed he does not begrease his fingers so deep that he befile the napkins, for it is an ill sight to see it: neither is it good manners to rub your greasy fingers upon the bread you must eat. The servants that be appointed to wait upon the table must not (in any way) scratch and rub their heads, nor any part else in the sight of their Lord & Master. Nor thrust their hands in any of those parts of their body that be covered, as some careless fellows do, holding their hands in their bosom, or under the flaps of their coats behind them. But they must bear them abroad without any suspicion and keep them (in any case) washed & clean without any spot of dirt upon them. And they that carry the dishes, or reach the cup, must beware at that time they do not spit, cough or sneeze.

It is a rude fashion some men use, to lie lolling asleep in that place where honest men be met together, of purpose to talk. For his so doing shows that he doth not esteem the company, and little reckoneth of their talk. And more than that, he that sleepeth wonts (for the most part) to do some foul thing, to behold, or hear, and many times they awake sweating and drivelling at the mouth. And in like manner, to rise up where other men do sit and talk, and to walk up and down the chamber is no point of good manner. Also there be some that so buskell themselves, reach, stretch and yawn, writhing now one side, and then another, that a man would think they had some fever upon them: A manifest sign that the company they keep doth weary them.

Likewise do they very ill that now & then pull out a letter out of their pocket, to read it as if they had great matters of charge, and affairs of the common weal committed unto them. But they are much more to be blamed that pull out their knives or their scissors, and do nothing else but pare their nails, as if they made no account at all of the company, and would seek some other solace to passe the time away.

The yeare hath 33 evil dayes

2011-09-07T14:45:00.000+01:00

Today's post comprises some rather entertaining snippets on predicting the weather, and a list of the 33 evil days to avoid each and every year, taken from a book on Rules to Judge The Weather (1605),

How to Judge of weather by the Sunne rising or going downe:

The Sunne in the Horizon or rising, cleare and bright, sheweth a pleasant day: but thinly overcast with a clowd, betokeneth foule weather. Also at the going downe, the body diversly coloured or red, and about dispersed with like clowdes, the beames red, and of length, pronounce great windes the next day from that part. Blacknesse in the Sunne or Moone, betokeneth water: Red signifieth winde.

How by the Clowdes, change of weather is perceived:

If thicke clowdes resembling flockes, or rather great heapes of wooll gathered in many places, they shew raine. Also when grosse darke clowdes, right over the North part, or somewhat declining to the West are close with the Earth, immediately followeth raine. If they appeare like illes, some deale from the earth, a good token of weather overpassed. Black clowdes signifie raine. White clowdes appearing in winter at the Horizon, two or three dayes together, prognosticate cold and snow.

Of thunders what they signifie:

Thunders in the morning, signifie wind: about noone, raine: In the evening great tempest. Some write (their ground I see not) that Sundayes thunder should bring the death of learned men, judges and others.
Mondayes thunder, the death of women.
Tuesdayes thunder, plentie of graine.
Wednesdays thunder, the death of harlots, & other bloodshed.
Thursdayes thunder, plentie of sheepe and corne.
Fridayes thunder, the slaughter of a great man, and other horrible murthers.
Saturdayes thunder, a generall pestilent plague & great death

A rule to prognosticate the weather by the falling of New yeares day:

It is affirmed of some, when New yeares day falleth on the Sunday then a pleasant Winter doth ensue: a naturall Summer: fruite sufficient: Harvest indifferent, yet some winde and raine: many marriages: plentie of wine and honey: death of young men, and cattell: robberies in most places: newes of Prelates, of Kings: and cruell warres in the end.

On Munday, a Winter some what uncomfortable: Summer temperate: no plentie of fruite: many fancies and fables opened: ages shall raigne: Kings and many others shall dye: Marriages shall be in most places: and a common fall of Gentlemen.

On Tuesday, a stormy Winter: a wet Summer: a divers Harvest: corne and fruite indifferent, yet hearbes in gardens shall not flourish: great sicknesse of men, women, and young children. Beasts shall hunger starve, and dye of the botch: many Shippes, Gallies and Hulkes shall be lost: And the bloodie Flixes shall kill many men: All things deare, save corne.

On Wednesday, Lo a warme winter: In the end Snow and frost: a clowdie Summer, plentie of fruite, of Corne, Hay, Wine and Honey: great paine to women with childe, and death to infants: good for sheepe: newes of Kings: great warres, battell and slaughter toward the middest.

On Thursday, Winter and Summer windie: A rainie Harvest: Therefore we shall have overflowings. Much fruite: plentie of honey: yet flesh shall be deare: cattell in generall shall dye: great trouble, warres, &tc with a licencious life of the feminine sexe.

On Friday, Winter stormie: Summer scant pleasant: Harvest indifferent: little store of fruite, of wine and honey: corne deare: many bleare eyes: youth shall dye: Earthquakes are perceived in many places: plentie of thunders, lightnings, and tempests: with a sudden death of cattell.

On Saturday, a meane Winter: Summer very hot: a late Harvest: good cheape garden hearbs: much burning: plenty of Hempe, Flaxe, and honey. Olde folke shall dye in most places: Fevers and Tercians shall grieve many people: great muttering of warres: murthers shall be suddenly committed in many places for light matters.

And finally, a note on the 33 evil days to avoid each year. I love the monthly advice.

The yeare hath 33 evill dayes generall for ever:

January hath eight such dayes: the first, the second, the fourth, the fifth, the tenth, the fifteenth, the seventeenth, the nineteenth. Drinke white wine in this moneth.

February hath three daies· the 8th the 10th the 17th. These not so evil: the 26th, the 27th, the 28th. Eate no pottage of Oakes, or Mallowes: they are venomous.

March three daies: the 15th, the 26th, the 19th. This not so evill: 28th. This moneth all sweete meates are good.

Aprill two daies: the 16th, the 21st.. These not so evill: the 7th, the 8th, the 10th, the 20th. Use hot meates, of light digestion.

May three daies: the 7th. 15th, the 20th. These not so evill: the 3rd, the 6th. Rise early, and use breakfast.

June two: the 4th and the 7th. These not so evill, the 10th, the 15th, the 22nd. Sage and Lettise are good to eate. Colde water fasting hurteth not.

July two dayes: the 15th and the 20th. Abstaine from carnalitie.

August two dayes: the 19th and the 20th. These not so evill: the 1st, the 29th, the 30th. It hurteth not to abstaine from pottage, and all hote meates, and drinkes of spicerie.

September two dayes: the 6th and 7th. These not so evill: the 3rd, 4th, 21st, 22nd. Eate good fruite.

October one day: the 6th. These not so evill: the 3rd, 16th, 24th. Good wine is wholesome this moneth.

November two dayes: the 15th, the 19th. These not so evill: the 5th, 6th, 28th, 29th. Bleede not.

December three dayes: the 6th, 7th, 9th. These dayes not so evill: the 15th, 17th, 22nd. Bleede not over much. Warme not thy legges at the fire.

‘I’ll go to the Bull or Fortune, and there see a play for two pence’

2011-08-29T15:11:00.000+01:00

Shoreditch from The Agas Map of London (1591)

The First Public London Theatres

The first purpose-built public playhouse in London was the Theatre, constructed under the watchful eye of James Burbage in 1576. Burbage, an actor by trade, was tired of touring and playing in makeshift venues and recognised the need for members of his profession to have a permanent theatre as close to London as possible. Locating a theatre outside the city limits ensured no interference from the city fathers, who made vigorous efforts to ban plays, believing them to corrupt youth, promote idleness, and spread disease. Burbage signed a twenty-one year lease on a site in Shoreditch, and his brother Robert, a carpenter, began construction on the Theatre. This new playhouse, a wooden, unroofed amphitheatre modelled on the popular bear-baiting arenas in London, was described as a ‘gorgeous Playing-place erected in the fieldes’.

By the early 1590s, the Theatre was a flourishing venue, and in 1594 it saw the staging of several early Shakespeare plays, including Romeo and Juliet. In 1597 however, the lease expired, and following a legal dispute with the landlord, Burbage and his players relocated to the Bank Side in Southwark and erected the Globe in 1598.The Globe wasn’t the first theatre in Southwark. The Rose, under the directorship of Philip Henslowe, had opened in 1587, and the Swan under Francis Langley

Wenceslas Hollar’s detail of The Globe (1647)

had been showing plays from 1596. Like Burbage’s Theatre, these were all public playhouses, unlike the private theatres in the City and Inns of Court which charged high admission prices to a wealthy and select audience.

The Globe was described at the time of its construction as 'a house newly built with a garden attached... in the occupation of William Shakespeare and others.’ Public playhouses were polygonal or round buildings, built on a timber frame, with a thatched or tile roof over the galleries. The yard, or standing area, was open to the sky, and reached via a series of entrances. The seated galleries, protected by the roof, were accessed via a series of staircases. Plays were performed daily at two in the afternoon, plague permitting, and were announced by a trumpet fanfare from the theatre's roof, which also sported a flag which flew at high mast when a performance was underway. Several different plays a week were performed, never the same two in the same week, and printed handbills provided details of performances to passers-by. Thomas Platter, a German visitor to London in 1599, wrote an account of seeing a play at the Curtain:

Thus daily at two in the afternoon, London has two, sometimes three plays running in different places, competing with each other, and those which play best obtain most spectators. The playhouses are so constructed that they play on a raised platform, so that everyone has a good view. There are different galleries and places, however, where the seating is better and more comfortable and therefore more expensive. For whoever cares to stand below only pays one English penny, but if he wishes to sit he enters by another door, and pays another penny, while if he desires to sit in the most comfortable seats which are cushioned, where he not only sees everything well, but can also be seen, then he pays yet another English penny at another door. And during the performance food and drink are carried around the audience, so that what one cares to pay one may also have refreshment.

Johannes De Witt’s sketch of the Swan Theatre (1596)

The stage in most public playhouses extended out into the yard, which meant the audience surrounded the actors on three sides. The Lords' Rooms, which flanked the stage, were the best seats in the house. Behind the stage was the tiring house where the actors changed costumes, and above the stage an open balcony which extended the performance space. Over both the stage and balcony was a canopied roof supported by pillars, protecting the players from the elements. Known as 'the heavens' this was often brightly decorated. The stage also had a trap door and mechanical devices for lowering props and players up and down.

Philip Henslowe, owner of the Rose, includes in his list of stage props: a tree of golden apples, the city of Rome, Hell's mouth, a rainbow, lion and bear skins, coffins, tombs, and 'a robe for to go invisible'. Costumes were prized possessions. A black velvet cloak belonging to Henslowe’s theatre, with embroidered sleeves of silver and gold, was listed with a value of £20.10s 6d, about a third of the cost of a house in Stratford-Upon-Avon. Due to this vast expense, the aristocracy often donated costumes to the theatres.

Sound effects were simple but effective and included cannons, bells, and trumpets. A sheet of wobbling metal simulated thunder, and plays often called for mist, lightning, flaming torches, and in one case, fireworks. Because blood made such a frequent appearance on the stage, animal entrails were used for gore, and a sponge soaked in sheep's blood, tucked under an actor’s armpit and squeezed at the opportune moment, reproduced the realistic effect of a stabbing.

Entry to the Globe's yard, standing room only, cost a penny. For a more comfortable experience a visitor could pay an extra penny to sit in the galleries, and a further penny rented a cushion for the duration. Available refreshments included apples, oranges, pies, ale, wine, and even a pipe full of tobacco (three pence a pipe). Theatres on Bankside could accommodate up to 3,000 people per play, and audiences were comprised of every sector of society. Only Puritans abstained for fear of corruption. Bankside wasn’t the only area of London where public theatres flourished. There were playhouses in Clerkenwell, Finsbury, Lincolns Inn, and the City. There were several companies of players attached to the theatres; the Admiral’s Men played at the Rose, Paul’s Children at Pauls, Queen Anne’s players at the Red Bull, Lady Elizabeth’s at the Swan, and the King’s Revels Children at Whitefriars.

Map of London showing the theatres (1920)

In 1609, Shakespeare’s company, the King’s Men, acquired a second theatre at Blackfriars. Little is known of this, the first indoor public playhouse. There is some speculation it was converted from the paved hall of an old priory. Its stage was much small than that of the Globe, and flash young things were permitted to sit on it during performances at a cost of 2 shillings. Admission to Blackfriars was more expensive than the Globe. Six pence paid for a seat in the galleries, and half a crown bought a private box. Lit by candles, and protected from the elements, Blackfriars became a lucrative investment for the King’s Men since they could stage plays all year round. In addition to the public and private theatres in London, plays were also performed at Court and at the Inns of Court. In 1612-13 the King’s Men performed five plays for James I in the Great Hall at Hampton Court.

Estimates suggest that between 1574 and 1642, the playhouses in London had regular audiences well in excess of 150,000 people, demonstrating Burbage’s simple decision to build a theatre in a field led to the birth of one of the most enduring forms of popular entertainment in Europe.

Further reading: Andrew Gurr, The Shakespearean Stage 1574-1642, CUP (1980); The Shakespeare Company 1594-1642, CUP (2004).

Bankside, prior to the construction of the Globe, from The Agas Map of London (1591)

This post was originally published in The London Historians' newsletter.

Everie Justice of peace may imprison by the space of one year without bayle

2011-08-22T17:27:00.000+01:00

Today's post is on aspects of 17th Century English law, provided by Michael Dalton (1564–1644), a barrister and legal writer born in Linton, Cambridgeshire. In 1618, Dalton published a popular legal treatise for local magistrates and JPs entitled The Countrey Justice. Practising JPs and other local magistrates used Dalton's book widely and it has now became an important source on English law for both local and legal historians of early modern England. A second edition appeared in 1619, a third in 1630, and a fourth edition (posthumously) in 1655. The work remained in circulation into the eighteenth century, being reprinted in 1666, 1682, 1690, and 1742 and was also widely used in English colonies including the United States. What follows are some of the more interesting entries in The Countrey Justice.

Ryots

Every Justice of the Peace hearing of any ryot or any intention of a ryot shall goe himself with his servants and other powers of the county to the place where such persons be so assembled, and suppress them; and all such as he shall find riotously assembled and armed, to arrest them and force them to put in suertie for the peace, or for their good behaviour; and if refusing such surety, to imprison them and take away their weapons and armour.

Poore

Young children whose parents are dead are to be set on with work, relieved, or maintained at the charge of the towne where they were dwelling at the time of the death of their parents, and are not to be sent to the place of their birth. If any poor not being rogues shall travel with their children through a town and the father or mother dye, that town is not bound to keep their children. If any poore persons of any parish have able bodies to work, if they refuse such work they are to be sent to the house of correction.

Plague

Anie person infected or dwelling in a house infected with the plague shall be by any Justice of the peace commanded to keep his house. If he wilfully goe abroad, and converse in company having any infectious sore upon him, it is felony. And if such person shall not have such sore about him he shall be punished as a Vagabond and shall be bound to his good behaviour for one whole year. If any person infected or dwelling in a house infected wilfully attempt to go abroad, then Watchmen may with violence enforce them to keep to their houses.

Night walkers

Everie Justice of the Peace may cause to bee arrested all Night walkers, be they strangers or other persons that be suspected or that be of evill behaviour, and more particularly all such suspected persons as shall sleep in the day time and goe abroad in the nights, and who at night haunt anie house that is suspected for Bawdie, or shall in the night time use other suspicious company or shall commit anie other outrages or misdemeanours. Such night walkers are ominous and such night walkings are unfit for honest men.

Egyptian

Every Justice of the Peace may seize all goods of any outlandish persons calling themselves Egyptians that shall come into this realm.

Partridges

Everie Justice of the peace may examine all offences for the destroying or taking of Partridges or Fesants in the night time, and for hawking or hunting with Spaniels in any eared corne.

Hue and Cry

Every Justice of peace may cause Hue and cry and search to be made upon any Murder, Robbery, Theft or other Felony committed. Note that all Hue and Cry ought to be made from town to town and from country to country and by horse-men and foot-men otherwise it is not a lawful pursuit.

Preachers

If any person shall willingly disturb any preacher in the time of his Sermon, or shall be aiding, procuring or abetting thereto, or shall disturb the arresting of any such offender, they shall be brought before any Justice of peace. Within six days one other Justice of the peace must join with the first Justice in the examination of the said offence, and if they two upon their examination shall find the partie accused guilty, then shall they commit him to the Gaole there to remain without baile for three months.

Prophesies

Everie Justice of peace may imprison by the space of one year without bayle such as shall publish anie false prophecies to the intent thereby to make anie rebellion, insurrection, or other disturbance within the King's dominions.

Trespasse

All and every lewd and meane persons which shall unlawfully cut or take away corne, or rob any Orchards or Gardens, or cut any hedge or dig up or take away any fruit trees shall for the first fault give the wronged party recompense. And if such offender shall be thought not able to doe so, they shall be committed to some Constable to be whipped.

Bastardie

Such a bastard childe must be one that is left to the charge of the parish. The mother may bee examined upon Oath concerning the reputed father. Every lewd woman which shall have a Bastard which may be chargeable to the parish shall be committed to the house of correction, there to be punished and set on worke for one year. Such a woman shall not be sent to the house of correction until after the childe is borne and that it is living. Such a bastard childe is not to be sent with the mother to the house of correction, but rather the childe should remain in the towne where it was borne, and there to be relieved by the work of the mother or by the relief from the reputed father

Games unlawful

Everie Justice of the Peace may from time to time enter into any common house or place, where any playing at Dice, Tables, Cards, Bowls, Coyts, Tennis, Football or any unlawful game now invented or hereafter to be invented, and may arrest the keepers of such places and imprison them until they agree to no longer occupy any such house, play, game, alley or place. Also he may arrest and imprison the players there till they bee bound by themselves no more to play at or haunt any of the said places or games.

Rogues and Vagabonds

Any Justice of peace may appoint all Rogues and Vagabonds which shall be taken begging, wandering, or disordering themselves, to be stripped naked from the middle upward and to be whipped till their body be bloody. (Rogues and Vagabonds are defined as 'All persons above the age of seven years going about begging, all idle persons going about the country, including Fortune tellers, Jugglers, Fencers, Wandering persons, Tinkers, Pedlars, common Players of Enterludes and Minstrels wandering abroad.')

Clothing from beyond the grave

2011-08-08T12:06:00.004+01:00

On my recent travels to central and eastern Europe I visited Mikulov castle in the Czech Republic. A beautifully renovated building, it is home to some fantastic 17th Century treasures including clothing recently excavated from the coffins of Margaretha Franciska Lobkowicz (1597-1617) and her husband Wenzel Wilhelm Lobkowicz (1592—1621), who are buried in the crypt of the parish church of St Wenceslas. In 2003, the Regional Museum in Mikulov obtained the couple’s burial garments following the anthropological examination of the skeletal remains that had been carried out by Eva Drozdová of the Department of Anthropology, Masaryk University in Brno. Margaretha was Lady-in-Waiting to Empress Anna, wife of Emperor Matthias. In February 1616, she married and the following year, at the age of twenty, she died giving birth to a son.

The quality of the photos is rather poor due to the dark conditions in which the clothes are preserved.

Coat

Dress

Doublet detail

Stockings and garter

Child's clothing and shoes

For more on 17th Century clothing see here

Lord have mercy on us!

2011-07-14T16:18:00.004+01:00

Reading through some plague statistics recently I was shocked to discover just how many lives were claimed by this disease in the 17th Century. I had known that during plague outbreaks hundreds of people died, but I hadn't realised just how enormous those numbers were. What follows is a brief overview of the disease, followed by the numbers of deaths which occurred during several big plague outbreaks, recorded during a particularly virulent outbreak in 1665.

Bubonic Plague is a disease transmitted by rats. Or rather the fleas on rats. When a plague-carrying flea bites a host, human or rodent, the bacillus enters the bloodstream. This infection then spreads through the lymph nodes, leading to swellings, or buboes, in the neck, armpit, and groin. Of those infected, about two-thirds die. Symptoms of plague included vomiting, diarrhea, severe headaches, nausea, bleeding from the ears, fever and abdominal pain. More general pain resulted from the slow decay of the skin of an infected person which produced black spots all over the body.

In the 17th Century, an outbreak of plague was impossible to treat. Those infected were isolated in their houses for at least twenty days and were compelled to pin a paper to their front door bearing the words 'Lord have mercy upon us'. The parish often paid members of the community to visit plague victims to bring them food, and, in the case of death, call for a cart to bear the body away. All bedding and linen used by an infected person was burned. Those who had visited an infected house carried a long white stick to warn others to avoid contact with them.

Some plague numbers: In 1591-2, 11,503 people died of plague. In 1625, it claimed 35,428 lives, and five years later in 1630, another 1,317. Between 1636-8, 16,213 people succumbed to the disease, and between 1646 and 1648, another 8,324. In 1665, more than 64,296 people died between January and October.

During the outbreak of 1665, the above numbers were published, along with some approved remedies for curing the plague, entitled Certain approved Medicines for the plague, both to prevent that Contagion, and to expel it after it be taken; as have been approved in the year 1625 and also in this present visitation 1665.

To correct the Aire

Thyme, Mint, Rosemary, Bay leaves, Blame, Pitch, Tarre Rosen, Turpentine, Frankincense, Myrrh, Amber. One or more of these, as they are at hand, or may be readily procured, to be cast on the coales to perfume the house.

Perfumes

Such as are to walk abroad, or talk with any may do well to carry Rue, Wormwood, Angelica, Gentian, Myrrh, Valerian or Setwall-root in their hands to smell, and of those they may hold or chew a little in their mouths as they go.

Inward Medicines for the Prevention of the Plague

Take a Spoon full of quick wine vinegar, wherein Wormwood chopped hath been infused. Take good Figs, thirty, Walnut kernels twenty, green Rue picked a good handful, Salt one spoonful, stamp them and incorporate them together. Take of this mixture every morning the quantity of a Prune; Children and weak bodies, as much as a Hasel nut.

For the Cure of the Plague

If any person be infected, let him sweat with Marigold drink, mingling therewith two drams of London treacle (a medicinal salve, or compound, composed of many ingredients).

More snippets on plague can be found here

When Moths haunt amongst the Hangings

2011-07-05T12:13:00.000+01:00

Some 17th Century household tips for getting rid of moths.

The rind of Citron laid amongst cloaths, keepeth them from moth-eating: and smelt on, preserveth in time of pestilence, or corrupt aire.

Oyle lees are good to annoint the bottomes of chests wherein clothes are to be laid, for they drive away mothes.

If you take the maw [stomach] of a weather sheepe new killed, not washed, but having all the filth hanging theron, which lightlie cover with earth in that place, where they most swarme in the garden, and after two dayes, you shall finde a marvellous companie of Moths and other flies heaped thereupon, which either carry away, or bury very deepe in that place.

Guinea-Pepper [an early name for Cayenne pepper], is such an Extream in Nature, viz. so hot and poysonous, that if the bigger sort be dryed, and the Cods cut and the Seeds scattered amongst Clothes, Hats, or the like, that are to be packt up, it proves the best Preservative from the Moth, and other Vermine that is known; for its excessive keenness destroys all Generation, even in the very bud. Likewise, if it be burnt in a Room, the Doors and Windows being close shut, it will destroy and kill all Buggs, Fleas, or the like, and you too, if you do not get out in time, its fumes are so hot, poysonous and penetrating.

To keep Apparel, Hangings &c. from Moths: Brush them several times in the Year with a Brush made of Wormwood Tops, and you may rub them with Wormwood, especially when you discern Moths to haunt amongst the Hangings.

And another Wormwood tip: Wormwood being laid amongst Cloathes will make a Moath scorn to meddle with the Cloath.

Florentine Iris [pale blue iris] is a sweet Powder, and is very proper to sprinkle amongst Clothes to preserve them from the Moth.

The Small Moth, which usually eateth garments, coverings of stooles, cushions, and furniture of beds. These in the eating of such things, are small white worms, like Nits, which are nothing else but Flea-Nits, which in the end turns to Fleas, and they are the original of these small Moths. And that these kind of Moths do proceed from Fleas, I am fully satisfied from an experience I found out in my own house: for keeping of Pigeons in a Closet for a certain time, and after removing them to an other place, had the closet cleansed with as much care as might be, yet notwithstanding in the Spring following, the walls and windows were as full of these small Moths, as was admirable to see, of the dung they could not proceed, for that was gone; so that I could conceive no other thing from whence they should proceed, but from Fleas crept into crivesses and holes, where they lay in Husks, which turned to winged creatures, as in Worms.

Tis very confidently reported, that there are certain Moths that reside in the cavities of a Sponge, and are there nourished: Notwithstanding all which Histories, I think it well worth the enquiring into the History and nature of a Sponge (from the wonderfully entitled: Some physiological descriptions of minute bodies made by magnifying glasses)

Bay leaves, laid up among your cloathes, will give to them a fragrant smell, and keep them safe from moaths.

Puppit-plays are still up with uncontrolled allowance

2011-06-30T13:31:00.001+01:00

This fragment comes from a text published in 1643 to protest the closure of the theatres by the Puritans. Not only does it reveal some interesting details about how actors and playhouses were regarded by the authorities, it also sheds charming light on the working practices and employees of a typical theatre in 17th Century London. It's a really delightful text. I particularly love the bitter disparaging remarks about puppet shows.

The Actors Remonstrance or Complaint, for the silencing of their Profession, and banishment from their severall Play houses. In which is fully set downe their grievances, especially since Stage-playes, only of all publike recreations are prohibited; the exercise at the Beares Colledge, and the motions of Puppets being still in force and vigour.

Oppressed with many calamities and languishing under the burthen of a long and (for ought wee know) an everlasting restraint, we the Comedians, Tragedians and Actors of all sorts and sizes belonging to the famous private and publike Houses within the City of London and the Suburbs thereof, to you great Phoebus, and you sacred Sisters, the sole Patronesses of our distressed Calling, doe we in all humility present this our humble and lamentable complaint, by whose intercession to those powers who confined us to silence, wee hope to be restored to our pristine honour and imployment.

First, it is not unknowne to all the audience that have frequented the private Houses of Black-Friers, the Cock-Pit and Salisbury-Court, without austerity we have purged our Stages from all obscene and scurrilous jests such as might either be guilty of corrupting the manners, or defaming the persons of any men of note in the City or Kingdome; that we have endevoured, as much as in us lies, to instruct one another in the true and genuine Art of acting, to represse bawling and railing, formerly in great request, and for to suite our language and action to the more gentile and naturall garbe of the times; that we have left off for our owne parts, and so have commanded our servants to forget that ancient custome, which formerly rendred men of our quality infamous, namely, the inveigling in young Gentlemen, Merchants Factors, and Prentizes to spend their patrimonies and Masters estates upon us and our Harlots in Tavernes. We have cleane and quite given over the borrowing money at first sight of punie gallants, or praising their swords, belts and beavers, so to invite them to bestow them upon us; and to our praise be it spoken, we were for the most part very well reformed, few of us keeping, or being rather kept by our Mistresses, betooke our selves wholy to our wives; observing the matrimoniall vow of chastity, yet for all these conformities and reformations, wee were by authority (to which wee in all humility submit) restrained from the practice of our Profession.

That Profession which had before maintained us is now condemned to a perpetuall, at least a very long temporary silence, and we left to live upon our shifts, or the expence of our former gettings, to the great impoverishment and utter undoing of our selves, wives, children, and dependants. Besides which our extremest grievance that Playes being put downe under the name of publike recreations, other publike recreations of farre more harmfull consequence permitted still to stand namely, that Nurse of barbarisme and beastlinesse, the Bear-Garden, whereupon their usuall dayes those Demy-Monsters, are baited by bandogs, which dare not be seen in our civill and well-governed Theatres, where none use to come but the best of the Nobility and Gentry; and though some have taxed our Houses unjustly for being the receptacles of Harlots, yet we may justly excuse our selves of either knowledge or consent in these lewd practices, we having no propheticke soules to know womens honesty by instinct.

Puppit-plays, which are not so much valuable as the very musique betweene each Act at ours, are still up with uncontrolled allowance, witnesse the famous motion of Bell and the Dragon, so frequently visited at Holbourne-bridge these passed Christmas Holidayes, whither Citizens of all sorts repaire with far more detriment to themselves then ever did to Playes, Comedies and Tragedies being the lively representations of mens actions, in which, vice is alwayes sharply glanced at, and punished, and vertue rewarded and encouraged; the most exact and naturall eloquence of our English language expressed and daily amplified; and yet for all this, we suffer.

First our House-keepers, that grew wealthy by our endevours, complaine that they are enforced to pay the grand Land-lords rents during this long Vacation, out of their former gettings; in stead of ten, twenty, nay, thirty shillings shares which used nightly to adorne and comfort with their harmonious musique their large and Well-stuffed pockets, they have shares in nothing with us now but our mis-fortunes; living meerly out of the stock, out of the interest and principall of their former gotten moneyes, which daily is exhausted by the maintenance of themselves and families.

For our selves, such as were sharers, are so impoverished, that were it not for some slender helps afforded us in this time of calamitie, by our former providence, we might be enforced to act our Tragedies. Our Hired-men are disperst, some turned Souldiers and Trumpetters, others destin'd to meaner courses. Their friends, young Gentlemen, that used to feast and frolick with them at Tavernes, having either quitted the kin in these times of distraction, or their money having quitted them, they are ashamed to look upon their old expensive friends those Buxsome and Bountifull Lasses, that usually were enamoured on the persons of the younger sort of Actors, for the good cloaths they wore upon the stage, beleeving them really to be the persons they did only represent.

Our Fooles, who had wont to allure and excite laughter with their very countenances, at their first appearance on the stage are enforced, some of them at least to maintaine themselves, by vertue of their babbles. Our boyes, ere wee shall have libertie to act againe, will be growne out of use like crackt organ-pipes, and have faces as old as our flags.

Nay, our very Doore-keepers, men and women, most grievously complaine that by this cessation they are robbed of the priviledge of stealing from us with licence. Our Musike that was held so delectable and precious, that they scorned to come to a Taverne under twentie shillings salary for two houres, now wander with their Instruments under their cloaks, into all houses of good fellowship, saluting every roome where there is company, with Will you have any musike Gentlemen?

For our Tire-men, and other that belonged formerly to our ward-robe, with the rest, they are out of service: our stock of cloaths being a sacrifice to moths. The Tobacco-men, that used to walk up and downe, selling for a penny pipe, that which was not worth twelve-pence an horse-load, being now bound under Tapsters in Inns and Tippling houses.

Nay such a terrible distresse and dissolution hath befallen us, and all those that had dependance on the stage, that it hath quite unmade our hopes of future recoverie. For some of our ablest ordinarie Poets, in stead of their annuall stipends and beneficiall second-dayes, being for meere necessitie compelled to get a living by writing contemptible penny-pamphlets

To conclude, this our humble complaint great Phoebus, and you nine sacred Sisters, the Patronesses of Wit, and Protectresses of us poore disrepected Comedians, if for the present, by your powerfull intercessions we may be re-invested in our former Houses, and settled in our former Calling, we shall for the future promise, never to admit into our sixpenny-roomes those unwholesome inticing Harlots, nor any female of what degree soever, except they come lawfully with their husbands. The abuses in Tobacco shall be reformed, none vended, not so much as in three-penny galleries, unlesse of the pure Spanish leafe. For ribaldry, or any such paltry stuffe, as may scandall the pious, and provoke the wicked to loosenesse, we will utterly expell it. Finally, we shall hereafter so demeane our selves as none shall esteeme us of the ungodly, or have cause to repine at our action or interludes.

Though thou write with a goose-pen

2011-06-23T20:15:00.000+01:00

Three examples of famous handwriting form today's fragments. The first is a page from Christopher Marlowe's Massacre at Paris. The second is an epistle by Ben Jonson which includes his signature, and the third, a letter written by the poet John Donne.

Christopher Marlowe's Massacre at Paris (1593) (Folger Shakespeare Library)

Ben Jonson's Epistle From Masque of Queens (1609)

Letter to Sir George Moore from John Donne 1602 (Folger Shakespeare Library)

Further examples of early modern handwriting can be found here at my post on Hand D, and here at Handwriting.

Captain Cook’s Four-legged Friends

2011-06-21T10:04:00.000+01:00

Today, a guest post from cartoonist and QI contributor Adrian Teal.

I hope to tickle your fancy with a couple of stories which focus on naval matters and another great British obsession: our love of animals. We often forget that, in an era before refrigeration and Heinz’s 57 varieties, eighteenth-century ships were often laden with livestock, including chickens, geese and even cows. The lives some of these critters led were sometimes as epic and noteworthy as those of the globe-trotting Jack Tars who berthed alongside them.

Lieutenant James Cook (1728-1779) was dedicated to the health of his crews, and was determined they should enjoy the benefits of fresh milk on his first great voyage of 1768 - 1771. To this end, he took a lady goat aboard HMS Endeavour for his voyage to observe the transit of Venus from Tahiti, and the circumnavigation of the globe which this expedition entailed. This goat was already a seafaring veteran, however. After serving on land in the West Indies for three years, Captain Samuel Wallis (1728-1795) had her put aboard HMS Dolphin for his circumnavigation in 1766. On her return to England with Cook, she was pensioned off by the Admiralty, and enjoyed ‘good English pasture’ for the rest of her days. Not once did her milk run dry, and Dr. Samuel Johnson (who met Cook and knew his shipmate, the botanist and man-about-town Sir Joseph Banks) penned a Latin couplet about her, which was emblazoned on a collar and put around her neck. It read, “PERPETUA AMBITA BIS TERRA PRAEMIA LACTIS, / HAEC HABET ALTRICI CAPRA SECUNDA JOVIS”. Johnson’s sycophantic hanger-on, James Boswell, later translated and expanded this as follows…

                 In fame scarce second to the nurse of Jove,
                 This goat, who twice the world had traversed round,
                 Deserving both her master’s care and love,
                 Ease and perpetual pasture now has found.

In one of those inconvenient twists which too often dog true stories, she died not long after her retirement.

Rather more long-lived was another sailing companion of Cook, this time on his third and final great voyage. He was a radiated tortoise from Madagascar called Tu’i Malila. Cook (by now a Captain in charge of HMS Resolution and HMS Discovery) gave the tortoise as a gift to the people of Tonga in 1777, and he soon became a valued member of the island’s royal household. In fact, his name means ‘king of the royal residence’. He had a habit of straying, however, and seems to have been highly accident-prone. He was singed in a grass fire, kicked by a horse, and a carriage once ran him over. When he was a boy, the Tongan king used to ride around on his back. He was shown to Queen Elizabeth II during her visit to Tonga in 1953. In spite of his hard life, he was clearly tough as old boots because he didn’t die until 1965, when his age was at least 188 years. His mortal remains are now on display in the Museum of the Tongan National Centre.

Adrian Teal

Written in 'orenge' juice

2011-06-20T19:09:00.000+01:00

A secret letter written in orange juice from 1606

The fearful fire began above

2011-06-19T12:15:00.000+01:00

On June 29th 1613 Shakespeare's Globe theatre burned to the ground during a performance of Henry VIII or All Is True. Henry Wotton, writing to Edmund Bacon, described the event in a letter dated 2nd July. Several ballads were printed detailing the fire, one of which follows below.

'The King's players had a new play called All Is true, representing some principal pieces of the reign of Henry VIII, which was set forth with many extraordinary circumstances of pomp and majesty, even to the matting of the stage; the Knights or the Order with their Georges and garters, the Guards with their embroidered coats, and the like: sufficient in truth within a while to make greatness very familiar, if not ridiculous. Now, King Henry making a masque at the Cardinal Wolsey's house, and certain chambers being shot off at his entry, some of the paper, or other stuff, wherewith one of them was stopped, did light on the thatch, where being thought at first but an idle smoke, and their eyes more attentive to the show, it kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than an hour the whole house to the very grounds. This was the fatal period of that virtuous fabric, wherein yet nothing did perish but wood and straw, and a few forsaken cloaks; only one man had his breeches set on fire, that would perhaps have broiled him, if he had not by the benefit of a provident wit put it out with bottle ale.'

'A sonnet upon the pitiful burning of the Globe playhouse in London'

Now sit thee down, Melpomene,
Wrapped in a sea-coal robe,
And tell the doleful tragedy
That late was played at Globe;
For no man that can sing and say
But was scared on St. Peter's Day.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

All you that please to understand,
Come listen to my story,
To see Death with his raking brand
'Mongst such an auditory;
Regarding neither Cardinal's might,
Nor yet the rugged face of Henry the Eight.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

This fearful fire began above,
A wonder strange and true,
And to the stage-house did remove,
As round as tailor's clew;
And burned down both beam and snag,
And did not spare the silken flag.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

Out run the knights, out run the lords,
And there was great ado;
Some lost their hats and some their swords,
Then out run Burbage too;
The reprobates, though drunk on Monday,
Prayed for the fool and Henry Condye.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

The periwigs and drum-heads fry,
Like to a butter firkin;
A woeful burning did betide
To many a good buff jerkin.
Then with swollen eyes, like drunken Flemings,
Distressed stood old stuttering Hemings.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

No shower his rain did there down force
In all that sunshine weather,
To save that great renowned house;
Nor thou, O ale-house, neither.
Had it begun below, sans doubt,
Their wives for fear had pissed it out.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

Be warned, you stage strutters all,
Lest you again be catched,
And such a burning do befall
As to them whose house was thatched;
Forbear your whoring, breeding biles,
And lay up that expense for tiles.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

Go draw you a petition,
And do you not abhor it,
And get, with low submission,
A license to beg for it
In churches, sans churchwardens' checks,
In Surrey and in Middlesex.
O sorrow, pitiful sorrow, and yet all this is true.

Hadst thou not played some kingly parts

2011-06-17T16:46:00.004+01:00

Henry Peacham's sketch of a scene from Titus Andronicus (1594)

Today Shakespeare's England is delighted to bring you a post from Professor Stanley Wells. Stanley is Honorary President of The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, Emeritus Professor of Shakespeare Studies in the University of Birmingham, Honorary Governor Emeritus of the RSC, General Editor of the Oxford and Penguin editions of Shakespeare, Trustee of the Rose Theatre, and member of the Council for Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. He has published widely on Shakespeare and his contemporaries. In other words, a Shakespeare Legend. What follows is an illuminating new piece on Shakespeare as an actor which first appeared in The Stage.

We’ve been celebrating great Shakespeare actors of the twentieth century. But who came first in the line? Could it possibly have been Shakespeare himself? It’s usually supposed to have been Richard Burbage, who seems to have created, for example, the roles of Romeo, Hamlet, Lear, and Pericles. But the possibility that it was Shakespeare himself is intriguingly implied in a new book by Katherine Duncan-Jones, Shakespeare: Upstart Crow to Swan of Avon. Pointing out that the First Folio, printed in 1623, seven years after he died, includes a list of ‘the names of the principal actors in all these plays’, she suggests that the fact that Shakespeare comes first may ‘imply that he had been a leading performer in every single play included in the Folio.’ It’s a bold claim. Does the heading to the list really have to mean that all the actors named in the list had appeared in all the Folio’s 36 plays? Actually that is impossible. For instance, one of the actors named is Nathan Field, who was not born until 1587, and so would have been an infant when Shakespeare started writing. And another actor in the list, Laurence Fletcher, didn’t join the company until 1603.

Still, there’s no doubt that Shakespeare was an actor. He along with Richard Burbage and the great comedian William Kemp received payments for plays performed before the Queen in December 1594. This shows that he belonged to an acting company, and almost certainly that acting was part of his duty. He is named unequivocally as an actor in the printed list of ‘The principal comedians’ for Ben Jonson’s Every Man in his Humour (acted in 1598) and of ‘the principal tragedians’ in Jonson’s Sejanus (which bombed heavily when it was acted in 1603). I think ‘comedians’ and ‘tragedians’ in these lists simply mean that the actors named were playing in a comedy and a tragedy, not that they were specially known for one kind of acting rather than another. Also, in a document (known as ‘the York Herald’s Complaint’) of 1602 a sketch of his family’s arms is annotated ‘Shakespeare the player’, which may (or may not) be a bit of a slur. A poem by John Davies of Hereford published in 1610 begins ‘Some say, good Will, which I in sport do sing, / Hadst thou not played some kingly parts in sport /Thou hadst been a companion to a king ....’ This clearly refers to his acting, but it is headed ‘To Our English Terence Mr Will. Shakespeare’, where the reference to the Latin dramatist no less clearly relates to him as a playwright. So there’s documentary evidence that he acted, at least from time to time, from 1594 until the performance of Sejanus, in 1603. Davies’s poem shows that he was still thought of as an actor in 1610 though not necessarily that he went on acting till then.

There are also some early anecdotes. In 1699 an anonymous writer said he ‘was a much better poet than player.’ On the other hand John Aubrey, writing in the mid-seventeenth century, says that Shakespeare, ‘inclined naturally to poetry and acting, came to London, I guess about 18: and was an actor at one of the play-houses, and did act exceedingly well.’ A bit later, in the first attempt at a biography of Shakespeare, published in 1709, Nicholas Rowe said that after he ‘was received’ into an acting company ‘his admirable wit, and the natural turn of it to the stage, soon distinguished him, if not as an extraordinary actor, yet as an excellent writer.’

Shakespeare as actor (Samuel Ireland)

What parts did he play? There’s no hard evidence, just a few rumours. Rowe said ‘I could never meet with any further account of him this way than that the top of his performance was the ghost in his own Hamlet.’ Somewhat later the antiquary William Oldys (1696-1761) claimed to have heard from ‘one of Shakespeare’s younger brothers, who lived to a good old age’ that he had had seen Shakespeare play a role which is clearly that of Adam in As You Like It. This anecdote is highly suspect because none of Shakespeare’s brothers lived to an old age.

Since As You Like It and Hamlet had been written by the date of Sejanus, the anecdotal evidence does nothing to extend Shakespeare’s likely acting career beyond 1603, and Jonathan Bate, in his book Soul of the Age, deduces from that that he ‘stopped acting around the time of the 1603-4 plague outbreak.’ He supports this by citing some inconclusive annotations to an early copy of the First Folio and, more significantly, with the fact that ‘a recently discovered list of “Players of interludes” in the records of the royal household’, dated 1607, lists Burbage and other members of the King’s men but not Shakespeare. ‘If he was acting’, says Bate, ‘he would unquestionably have acted at court’(356).

Well, that’s only negative evidence. Duncan-Jones, more positively, cites an annotation not mentioned by Bate in a 1590 edition of Camden’s Britannia which refers (in Latin) to ‘William Shakespeare, manifestly our Roscius.’ The annotator was born about 1596. Roscius was the great actor of ancient Rome, so it does look here as if Shakespeare were being recalled primarily as an actor and that it could refer to late in his career. More significantly, Duncan-Jones draws attention (256) to the first line of the elegy by William Basse on the death of Shakespeare which is ‘Sleep, rare tragedian Shakespeare, sleep alone.’ The word ‘tragedian’ could mean a tragic playwright, but as Duncan-Jones says there is ample evidence that it could also mean an actor – not necessarily even a tragic actor. Shakespeare himself uses it in this sense in Hamlet and elsewhere.

To my mind then there is good presumptive evidence that Shakespeare was still thought of as an actor at the time of his death, and therefore that he continued to act after 1603, probably till close to the end of his career. But did he regularly take major roles in his plays or in those of other men? In other words, was he a star actor? The two greatest luminaries of the tragic stage in his time were Edward Alleyn, who worked for the rival company, the Lord Admiral’s Men, and Richard Burbage. We know quite a bit about them. In the case of Alleyn, this is mainly because of the survival of Philip Henslowe’s papers. We know a number of the roles that Burbage played, partly because of an epitaph which names many. We have no such evidence for Shakespeare. Admittedly whether evidence survives is a matter of chance. But we cannot with certainty name a single role that Shakespeare played, and my guess is that he continued to act through most of his career - to that extent I agree with Duncan-Jones rather than with Jonathan Bate – but that he was not a star actor and did not necessarily take roles even in all of his own plays. So Burbage remains on his throne

Professor Wells' latest book, Shakespeare Sex and Love is a fascinating exploration of love, sex, and romance in Shakespeare's lifetime, providing new insight into the ways in which the discourse of sexuality and love was negotiated by Shakespeare and his contemporaries. An erudite and scholarly book, but one which is also enormously entertaining, occasionally rude, and very good fun. You can purchase a copy here.

You can read Stanley's regular blog posts at Blogging Shakespeare and follow him on Twitter.

Good lord what dainty knacks you have

2011-06-15T16:05:00.003+01:00

Following on from the blog post on John Florio, more conversations from the wonderful Frutes. I've chosen some of the most interesting and charming snippets.

First up, the weather:

A: What weather is it abroade?
S: It raines, it thunders, it snowes, it freeseth, it hailes and there is a great winde.
A: Goe to the windowe and looke better.
S: It is sharp, ill, close, darke, cruell, and stormie weather.
A: We will doe as they doe at Prato then.
S: And how doe they doe at Prato when it raines?
A: They let it raine, and keepe home.

Writing a letter:

S: Give me my deske, and some pen and ynke and paper.
L: I have no paper: neither is there any in the house.
S: Go buie some, here is monie.
L: How much shall I buye?
S: A quire: but let it be good, and that it doo not sinke.
L: It is verie dear of late.
S: Let it cost what it will, I must needes have some.

Chatting on the street:

G: Why do you stand barehedded? You do your self wrong.
E: Pardon me good sir, I doe it for my ease.
G: I pray you be covered, you are too ceremonious.
E: I am so well that me thinks I am in heaven.
G: If you love me, put on your hat.
E: I will doe it to obay you, not for any pleasure that I take in it.
G: What? Will you rather stand than sit?
E: I am very well. Good lord what dainty knacks you have here.
G: I have nothing but a few trifles.
E: What device is this, if a man may knowe?
G: It is a kinde of sweete water, very far fecht.
E: What do you doo with it, if it be lawful to know?
G: I use it to wash mine eyes and my face.
E: In truth it is very good, and verie sweete.
G: I praie you take a little that I have, for my sake.
E: Not for anie thing in the world.
G: I have some more, take it if you love me.

Women:

E: Fie, what an ill favoured woman I see passe through the streete.
G: Which, she that is clad in mourning apparell?
E: Yea sir, I thinke shee mourneth because shee is more foule than corruption it selfe.
G: Naie, you may say that she is more ill favored, more uglie, more loathsome, more foule and filthie than sinne and usurie it selfe.
E: Onelie the sight of her is able to make the whole Cleargie to gueld themselves.
G: I never sawe a finer remedie for love.
E: She would keepe the whole order of priestes chaste.

Making plans:

B: Oh, what a fine cleere night it is.
S: I will wager it will freeze before day.
B: I thinke so too because the skie is full of starres.
A: Will you be within to morrow morning?
B: I will endevour my selfe to be within.
A: I will come to you at seven of the clocke or there abouts.
B: You shall be welcome, and after dinner (God willing) wee will goe to some plaie, or to the Beare-baiting.
A: To some plaie if you will. I do not greatlie fansie the Bear-baiting, by reason of the filthie stinke that is there.
B: In trueth, that stinke is able to infect a man.
A: I perceive you begin to be sleepie, and therefore I bid you good night.
B: By the grace of God, I will lie a bed to morrow morning untill eight or nine of the clocke.

Going to bed:

M: Lay downe the bed, for I will goe sleepe.
L: It is laid downe alreadie.
M: Dresse the bed, lift up that bolster.
L: It is too high alreadie.
M: Put another pillowe upon it.
L: I mervaile how you can lie with your head so high.
M: Lay one coverlet more upon it.
L: Which? That light or heavie one?
M: Which thou wilt, the quilt or the Irish rugge. Drawe the curtains, that the Moone shine not in his face, and lift up that boord-windowe.
L: Shall I help you off with your hose?
M: No, I am not so lazie yet.
L: Shall I untie your pointes?
M: Snuffe that candle, where are the snuffers?
L: I knowe not where they are. Oh here they be. I sawe them not.
M: Put on thy spectacles, forgetfull as thou art. Cast not that candle snuffe upon the ground.
L: Will you have the warming pan?
M: What to doo? It is not yet so colde.
L: Methinkes it is verie colde and sharpe weather.
M: A good fire in the chamber would doo no hurt.
L: I will with all diligence.
M: Oh what a good and soft bed this is.
L: Doo you want anie thing? Shall I put out the candle?
M: No truely, let the candle alone, for I will reade a Chapter.
L: What booke will you reade now you are a bed?
M: The Bible. I can not fall asleepe without reading.
L: They saye it is most wholsome to lye on the right.
M: What noyse is it I heare in that corner?
L: Belike they are either mice, ratts, or weasells.
M: Now I see I shall not sleepe all night.
L: Doubt you not, you shall sleepe well enough. Heere is a cat.
M: I will make them afraid with my snorting.
L: If you snort loud they will all runne away.
M: I cannot sleepe without something on my head.
L: Here is a night cap warme, cleane and neate.
M: I thank thee now goe a-Gods name.
L: I praie God I may sleepe well.
M: Amen, and God graunt I fall into no temptation.

To talke in the darke

2011-06-15T11:43:00.006+01:00

Today's post is on the life of John Florio (1553-1625), Italian language teacher and contemporary of Shakespeare.

John's father, Michael, was a former Franciscan monk, who escaped the Inquisition and fled to England during the reign of Edward VI. In 1550, Michael began preaching at a newly-formed Italian Protestant church in London, but after falling out of favour with other members of the church, he turned to teaching Italian in order to support his family. Two of his more famous students included Henry Herbert, second earl of Pembroke, and Lady Jane Grey.

In 1554, the Catholic Mary Tudor ascended the throne, and Michael, like many foreign exiles, was forced to leave England. He and his family settled in Soglio, Switzerland, near the Italian border. At the age of ten, John was sent to study under the Italian refugee Vergerio, a former bishop, but when his father died, he returned to Soglio, and by 1576 John Florio was back in England.

In London John turned his hand to teaching Italian, and in 1578 he published his first handbook, Florio his Firste Fruites, which he dedicated to Robert Dudley, earl of Leicester. First Fruites is comprised of forty-four chapters of typical conversations and interactions, and a guide to Italian grammar.

Page from Florio's First Fruites (1578). Right click to open a large image in a new tab.

Around the time he published his First Fruites, Florio moved to Oxford, where he taught Italian at the university and became friends with the poet Samuel Daniel. He married Daniel's sister in 1580 and they baptized their first child, Joane, in Oxford in 1585. Their second child, Edward, was born in 1588, and another, Elizabeth, in 1589. During his time in Oxford, Florio published A shorte and briefe narration of the two navigations and discoveries to the northweast partes called Newe Fraunce (1580), an English translation of Ramusio's Italian version of the work by Jacques Cartier.

In 1583 Florio and his family returned to London, and for two years he was employed by the French embassy as a tutor to the daughter of the French ambassador. During this time it is believed he also worked as a spy for Francis Walsingham, a common activity, and one undertaken by many literary men, including Christopher Marlowe. Florio was also occupied translating newsletters from Italy, which he published in one pamphlet, A letter lately written from Rome, by an Italian gentleman to a freende of his in Lyons in Fraunce (1585).

In 1591 Florio published a second language book entitled Florios Second Frutes, which contained 6000 Italian proverbs in the appended Gardine of Recreation; the largest list of proverbs to be published in the 16th century.

Second Frutes (1591)

Proverbs from Second Frutes

Second Frutes was aimed at the upper classes, and contains a wealth of fascinating conversations surrounding daily life, such as visiting the theatre, playing tennis, and attending dinner parties. Interest in languages and all things Italian was at its height in England at this time, and as his biographer notes, 'Florio offered the Elizabethans a vehicle for discovering Italy, its language, and its Renaissance culture without necessarily travelling to the continent.'

In 1598, Florio published the first edition of a Worlde of Wordes, or Most Copius, and Exact Dictionarie in English and Italian. According to the titles he lists at the beginning of the book, he consulted seventy-two works by 16th century writers, to provide over 44,000 entries in English and Italian. But his most famous work was published in 1603; a translation of Montaigne's Essais, entitled The Essayes, or, Morall, Politike and Militarie Discourses. By this point he had severable well-connected patrons including Lady Elizabeth Grey, Lady Penelope Rich and Lady Mary Neville. This translation of Montaigne was a source of inspiration for Walter Raleigh, Ben Jonson, John Webster and William Shakespeare.

Florio's star was in the ascendant, and in 1604 he was appointed groom of the privy chamber, and reader in Italian and private secretary to Queen Anne. He tutored the royal family in Italian and French, and revised his dictionary, which he republished in 1611 as Queen Anna's New World of Words. This new edition included almost 70,000 entries, and covers such subjects as history, astrology, philosophy and medicine. This
edition also included an engraved portrait of Florio, which can be seen above.

In 1617, Florio remarried a woman named Rose Spicer, and when the queen died in 1619, he lost his place at court. Later that year he and his wife were living in poverty in Fulham. Here he worked on a third edition of his dictionary. In October 1625 Florio died of plague, and his wife followed him to the grave a year later. Their daughter Aurelia went on to marry the surgeon James Molins and they had at least nine children.

Florio and Shakespeare were contemporaries and almost certainly knew each other. Shakespeare demonstrates familiarity with Florio's work in Love's Labour's Lost, and in The Tempest, in which he includes a passage from Florio's translation of Montaigne (2.1). At least twelve plays feature Italy or Italian names. Some theorists have speculated that Shakespeare himself was an Italian, and others that Shakespeare
was indeed Florio; the theory goes that John's father Michael was born in Messina to Giovanni Florio and Guglielma Crollalanza (Shakes-pear in English). That he fled to England and assumed the identity of a dead English cousin, his son John then inheriting the real surname Shakespeare.

The Tempest, First Folio (A4r)

(Like all authorship theories, there is little hard evidence to support such claims, and my view is Shakespeare and Florio probably knew each other through the intimate and tight-knit world of the court and London publishing).

John Florio was the leading language teacher of the early 17th Century. His knowledge of Italian Renaissance literature and his elegant writing contributed, according to his biographer, 'to the regeneration of English humanism in the latter part of the sixteenth century and to its consolidation at the beginning of the seventeenth.'

From a modern perspective, Florio's work, particularly the two Frutes, provides charming and revealing evidence of every day life and interaction in 17th Century London, which makes a rich contribution to our understanding of the world of Shakespeare.

You can read some of Florio's entertaining conversations here

Source: Desmond O Connor, DNB

Treading in the footsteps of Shakespeare

2011-06-09T20:17:00.000+01:00

Today I spent the day with historian and author Adrian Tinniswood at Hampton Court, one of the most astonishing historical royal palaces in England. Originally acquired by Cardinal Wolsey in 1514, the palace became home to Henry VIII, who began major building works in 1529. It has been closely connected with English monarchs ever since. However, for me, perhaps the most interesting aspect of Hampton Court, is its connection with Shakespeare. In 1603-4, Shakespeare and his players, the King's Men, attached to the Globe theatre on Bankside, were summoned to Hampton Court to provide entertainment during the royal Christmas celebrations. They were lodged at the palace for three weeks and performed seven plays in the Great Hall built by Henry VIII. It is likely Shakespeare would have overseen the productions of his own plays, and perhaps even have acted on stage. The Great Hall is, aside from Middle Temple, I think the the only surviving theatrical space in which Shakespeare's plays were originally rehearsed and performed. A large room with a raised dais at one end for the King and his family, the plays were probably staged at the opposite end, above which is a musicians gallery beneath a vast window.

The Great Hall at Hampton Court

So if you'd like to stand in the one of the only remaining theatrical spaces in which Shakespeare's plays were performed during his lifetime, hie thee along to Hampton Court Palace.

The lovely detail above, from the Tudor Garden, was restored by historical paint expert Patrick Baty. You can see more of his work at Hampton Court here.

Handwriting

2011-06-08T15:46:00.019+01:00

Over the past few years I've been slowly training myself to read 17th Century handwriting. The task is frustrated by a lack of regulated spelling and a tendency towards punctuation and abbreviation. Some hands are very easy to read, while others prove more challenging. I've been working today with the above - it's a note written by a woman to her parents regarding a hat. Below is my attempt at deciphering it - some of it proved easy, but as you will see, some words still remain illegible to me. Anyone with a far better trained eye than my own is welcome to leave suggestions in the comments. Click on the image to open a larger version.

Loving Father and mother with my hartie commendations unto you. Remembered this is to desire you to send me word what fashion my mother will have her hat and whether she will have a double ? Band or a double? or single? with roose(?). I pray send me word unto which(?) order she will have it. And in haste I commit you to the protection of the almighty God whom I beseech to bless you both in body and spirit from London the eighth of May 1603.

Your loving daughter

Francis Woodall.

Update: Suggestion from Stanley Wells that 'bless you both' is in fact 'bless us both' - thanks Stanley!
And a comment from Sharky deciphers a double 'tassle' - 'whether she will have a double tassle'.
I think 'frypan' might be 'ribbon'...

New suggestion - from Sarah at The Folger - it's not tassle but 'Rowle' band. Thanks Sarah!
The scypere/scyperd has everyone, well, baffled. A trawl through the OED has proved fruitless. Closest I found was 'scye' - the opening of a coat for a sleeve to be inserted, which dates from 1830.

Thanks to Simon Leake for pointing out Cypress was used on hats. OED: '1612.W. Fennor Cornu-copiæ 55 His hat‥With treble Sypers, and with veluet lin'd.' 'Sypers' refers to Cypress, used on hats during mourning.

So, thanks to all the kind suggestions, the deciphered version now reads:

Loving father and mother with my hartie commendations unto you. Remembered this is to desire you to send me word what fashion my mother will have her hatt and whether she will have a dowble Rowle Band or a dowble syper or single syper with a Roose. I praye send me word in what order she will have it and in hast I committ you to the protection of the almightie god whom I beseech to bless us both in boddy and spiritt from London the eighth of may 1603.

Your Loving Dawyter
Franncis Wooddall

Thanks to on Twitter who helped me decipher it @Wynkenhimself, @Stanley_Wells, @SimonLeake, @rediculusT, @AdeTinniswood, @prattrarebooks, @pbabnet and @light_n_shade

Much Ado about Nothing

2011-06-05T11:12:00.001+01:00

Yesterday I was lucky enough to see a new production of Much Ado at Wyndham's theatre on Charing Cross Road. It is one of two productions of the play on stage in London (the other is currently on at The Globe). The Wyndham production pairs Dr Who star David Tennant with comic actress Catherine Tate as the bickering couple Benedick and Beatrice. Several critics have dismissed the production as populist, clearing preferring the more traditional production at The Globe which I have not yet seen.

In my view Wyndham's theatre production offers much for a modern audience to enjoy. The setting for example, Gibraltar in the 1980s, is inspired, since it lends the play a sexy, contemporary feel which helps to locate the audience within the action itself. So many productions of Shakespeare alienate the audience by attempting to recreate the authenticity of the Elizabethan theatre. For many who already find Shakespeare hard going, this can further distance them from what is happening on stage, thus reinforcing the perceived elitist theatricality of a Shakespeare production. In contrast, the Wyndham production, directed by Josie Rourke, invites the audience to participate, to become visitors to the island, to be part of the crowd.

The set too helps to draw the audience into the drama. A plain central circular rotating stage with four classical arches, backed by white washed shutters, reinforces the beach hut simplicity of the production. As the drama progresses we see a poolside hotel, a lobby, a nightclub, a cafe, an office, and a church, all supported with cleverly interchangeable props. The costumes reinforce this relaxed inclusive environment. In the opening scene the cast flop about on sun loungers, smoking cigarettes in bikinis and dungarees. David Tennant arrives on stage in a golf buggy, handing out beers with all the nonchalance on someone who's just arrived from the airport duty-free. Even his starched white military uniform is slightly camp and witty, reminiscent of those uniforms worn by Wham in their Club Tropicana video.

The first half of the play is laugh-out-loud knockabout comedy. Beatrice and Benedick bicker, Hero and Claudio fall in love. Everyone gets drunk at a masked ball, including David Tennant, dressed in a denim mini skirt and red patent Doc Marten boots. Beatrice hides on stage under a dust sheet, Benedick sips from a can of coke containing cigarette ends and runs about in a Superman t-shirt. Even the villain Bastard plays it for laughs. The second half sobers up. If the first half of the play is the night before, the second half is the hangover. Everyone gets serious. Hero is supposedly dead, and Benedick shifts from clown to gentleman. As the action progresses the audience is forced to confront the dark side of the island. We see a funeral, Claudio's desperate night of remorse, Borachio's arrest and confession, and Leonato's anger. But the humour and light touches don't vanish. Rourke supports flashes of comedy; in Dogberry, in Benedick's attempts at a love song, in the declarations of love between Benedick and Beatrice. But these don't overshadow, rather they provide gentle light relief. And as the play draws to a close, the party atmosphere returns; the action ends with a traditional jig, played for laughs by the cast as they dance and sing to a pulsing Hey Nonny Nonny.

I'm conscious of the many Shakespeare purists squirming in their seats at the idea of sequinned dresses, disco beats, and cocktails. But it works. This production really works. It relocates Shakespeare in a contemporary world we can all relate to. It drags him from the clutching arms of elitists. This is a production everyone can enjoy. Children will enjoy the slapstick physical comedy, teenagers will enjoy the disco beats and cool relaxed atmosphere, and grown ups will enjoy the sparkling dialogue and clever staging. And this, at the end of the day, is what Shakespeare should be about. Productions should be fun, engaging, entertaining. Shakespeare wasn't writing for grave academics in the universities and Inns of Court. He was writing for everyday Londoners. A trip to the theatre was open to anyone who had a penny in their pocket. In 1598-9 when Much Ado was likely first performed, its audience would have consisted of people from all walks of life, and Shakespeare's task was to write a play which appealed to just such a wide cross-section. Some went for the jigs, some for the lovers, some for the songs. Others went to listen to the language. But what every single audience member wanted was the same thing: to be entertained.

So ignore the stuffy critics who dismiss Rourke's production as 'populist'. The audience may be full of children who all want to see Dr Who, but does that really matter? Surely the fact a Shakespeare production can not only draw in children, but actually make them laugh out loud, as I witnessed yesterday, is a very good thing indeed. This production is witty, sexy, and clever. Nothing is lost in the setting. The acting on the whole is superb; David Tennant is a delighful Benedick, and Catherine Tate a wonderfully contemporary Beatrice. Rourke's production has everything a good Shakespeare production should have, but it excels where others fail, simply because the audience are invited guests rather than unwanted observers.

To overlook this production because it appeals to the masses does a huge disservice to Shakespeare. We need more productions like this. We need to stop revering Shakespeare and start enjoying him. In my view, this production helps to place Shakespeare firmly back where he belongs: at the very heart of popular culture.

The show runs until 3rd September.

The true Arte of Defence

2011-06-01T17:06:00.003+01:00

Yesterday I had the good fortune to witness a display of Elizabethan sword-fighting. The display, which took place outside in the sunshine, consisted of three very skilled (and very tall) men in protective (Elizabethan-style) clothing demonstrating a variety of Elizabethan swordplay techniques. I had imagined the spectacle would resemble the sword-fights I've seen in the theatre; all breathless energy and nimble footwork. The reality was very different, much more sedate, (although this was in part due to the fact it was a demonstration; in the video below it's much faster). The combatants approached each other slowly, and with caution, which makes a great deal of sense since both are holding potentially lethal weapons. The footwork was steady, no sudden Errol Flynn leaps forward. Balance is very important, since in a serious sword-fight, tripping over a clump of grass is liable to offer an opponent an easy victory. Initially the group demonstrated some defensive practise exercises, which when combined together formed a sort of martial arts dance. Less like fighting, more like balletic fencing. The object is to defend at all possible times while looking for an opening in an opponent's defence; a simple mistake can lead to a fatal wound. Much to my surprise hands formed a large part of the defence; thrusting at an opponent with the sword in one hand, using the other hand to block their blade. According to the lead swordsman, in Elizabethan England duelling often occurred without gloves or any protective clothing, and it is impossible to imagine any gentleman walking away unscathed after such an encounter.

From simple defensive exercises, the display moved on to double-weapon combat, in which each man fought with a sword and a dagger. The dagger, much larger than the one which usually dances before Macbeth's eyes, serves much as the hand had done in the earlier exercises, to defend, but is naturally more robust, and can also be used to attack as well as block. The combination of the sword and the dagger together was compelling, and as the impressive display picked up pace, the air was filled with the authentic clink and whoosh as dagger met dagger and blades cut the air.

Finally came the spears. The most dangerous of the weapons on display; longer than a sword, but with the added advantage of maintaining considerable distance between opponents, which puts the man armed only with a sword or dagger at a distinct disadvantage. It wasn't hard to understand why the many descriptions of atrocities and massacres which occurred in early modern Europe involved these deadly weapons; babies spiked on the ends of spears is a recurring image in texts concerned with religious and political bloodshed. Spears were almost certainly used in serious fights to the death and armed combat. The elegant swords meanwhile would often be used in duelling, which has a long and complex history and was used to settle disputes and recover honour. Surprisingly, losing a duel didn't equate with loss of honour. In fact quite the opposite. The very fact a man elected to duel demonstrated his bravery. Duelling to the death was also surprisingly uncommon. The intention was to display virility and masculinity, not to butcher one's opponent. In fact it was rare for a man to be killed in a duel, although several sensational duels did end in death.

After the display we were invited to handle (cautiously) the replica Elizabethan swords. Weighing a few kilos each, they were much heavier than they appeared; I was barely able to lift a sword off the ground, let alone wield it over my head. The dagger was easier to manage, shorter, obviously, and less heavy. It had a rounded end and a hefty hilt, and dangling it at my side I tried to imagine what it must have been like to have something of that weight permanently suspended from a belt. The larger sword would have been impossible to wear casually, and even in a hilt it would have been considerably dangerous and impractical. The display taught me much about the reality of swords and swordplay in Shakespeare's England. Actors like Shakespeare would also have handled these weapons, whether on the stage, or to protect themselves on the mean streets of London. Ben Jonson killed the actor Gabriel Spenser in a duel, and perhaps Shakespeare walked along bankside to the Globe with a dagger clinking at his side.

The men giving the demonstration belong to The 1595 Club, and train using authentic Elizabethan manuals such as Gicaomo di Grassi's Arte of Defence (1594) and Vincentio Saviolo's The Use of the Rapier and the Dagger (1595). I was lucky enough to have dinner with them last night and they're extremely knowledgeable and utterly charming. Here they are in action. And how cool they are...

The Taming of a/the Shrew

2011-05-29T19:12:00.005+01:00

Above is the title page of a 1594 quarto edition of The Taming of a Shrew. Debate continues as to whether this is a quarto of Shakespeare's play, or a reconstructed memorial copy supplied to the printer by the actors and an unknown writer. For anyone unfamiliar with the term 'quarto', it refers to a play printed as a single stand-alone text which sold for around 6d (about £3.50). Not all of Shakespeare's plays were printed in quarto editions, at least 18 didn't appear in print until the first collected works, known as the First Folio, was published in 1623. Below is the opening scene of the above play from 1594, and, following it, the opening scene from the First Folio. So the question is, did Shakespeare revise his play between 1594 and 1623, or was the early Shrew play reconstructed from memory rather than printed from Shakespeare's manuscript, or were there in fact two very similar Shrew plays in existence? My money is on the 1594 Shrew being a memorial copy, but I'd welcome comments.

The Taming of a Shrew (1594) (Quarto)

The Taming of The Shrew (1623) (First Folio) Click on the image to open a larger version.

Since posting this, I came across an entry in the Stationers' Register dated 22nd January 1607: 'Entred for his copies by direccon of A Court and with the consent of Master Burby under his handwrytinge These iij copies. ROMEO AND JULIETT. Loves Labours Loste.The taminge of A Shrew.' Since The taminge of A Shrew is entered at the same time as two other plays by Shakespeare, would it make sense to assume that this quarto of A Shrew became The Taming of The Shrew by the First Folio?

Woodcut: Newgate

2011-05-29T16:29:00.002+01:00

I stumbled upon this earlier today, a lovely 17th Century woodcut of Newgate Prison. It's depicts two people making a break for it! Click on the image to open a larger version.

Master Andrew, will it please you to eate an egg?

2011-05-27T17:48:00.003+01:00

More from Florio's charming book. This time Aurelio and Pompilio meet on the street and go back to Pompio's house to admire his lodgings, and following that, a dinner party conversation.

Pompilio: Good morrow master Aurelio.
Aurelio: And to you a good morrowe and a good year M Pomilio.
Pompilio: From whence come you in such haste?
Aurelio: I come from visiting a friend of mine.
Pomilio: Where dwells he, if a man may know?
Aurelio: Here by, in this streete.
Pompilio: Is it a hee or a shee friend, tell me in good sooth?
Aurelio: You goe about to make me blush.
Pomilio: Will it please you to goe so farre as my chamber?
Aurelio: Yes sir, but I would be loath to trouble you
Pomilio: Will you goe and see my lodging?
Aurelio: Honoured shall I be, if it please you to accept of my company?
Pomilio: What ho, Trippa, goe before and open the dore for us.

At the lodging:

Pomilio: Boy, bring hither some stooles, set a chaire there.
Aurelio: In good sooth, you are lodged verie commodiously.
Pomilio: To tell you the truth I am verie well here.
Aurelio: You have a daintie bed with verie fine household stuffe.
Pomilio: Here you may see verie farre.
Aurelio: Behold, it is a verie fine and pleasant prospect.
Pomilio: And delightsome, especiallie towards the Easte.
Aurelio: Is this a hyred chamber?
Pomilio: Yes sir, and I paie verie deare for it.
Aurelio: How much doo you paie a weeke for it?
Pomilio: I paie four crownes a moneth.
Aurelio: It is not very deare, being in London.
Pomilio: I must make as good shift as I maie.
Aurelio: In good truth you are verie well stored with bookes.
Pomilio: Those few that I have, be at your commandement.
Aurelio: Lend me this booke, for two or three daies.
Pomilio: Keep it so long as you please.

They then go on to discuss a sick friend, and which horses they will hunt with that afternoon, before arranging to meet at a church porch.

Next a dinner party, hosted by Simon, for his friends Nundinio, Camillo, Horatio, Melibeo, Taneredi and Andrew, waited on by Robert.

Robert: Master, dinner is readie, shall it be set upon the board?
Simon: I praie thee doo so, laie the board when thou wilt.
Robert: By and by, it shall be readie in less than a lightning.
Nundinio: My cravers [appetite], as the scots man saye, serves me well.
Simon: The meate is comming in, let us sit downe.
Camillo: I would wash first, if it were not to trouble Robert.
Simon: What ho, bring some water to wash our hands. Give me a faire, cleane and white towell.
Robert: Behold, here is one upon my shoulder.
Simon: My masters, drie your hands with this towell.
Taneredi: I praie you let us sit downe, for I have a good stomack.
Simon: My masters, the meate cooles.
Taneredi: My friend, I praie thee, give mee a messe of pottage, and a spoon also.
Robert: There be some upon the table, by the salt.
Simon: Bring hither that sallat [salad], those steakes, that legge of mutton, that peece of beefe, with all the boyled meate that we have.
Camillo: This may rather be called a banquet than an ordinarie dinner.
Simon: I praye you everie man serve himself, let everie one cut where he pleases and seeke the best morcels.
Taneredi: Truly these meates are verie well seasoned.
Camillo: In good sooth, you have excellent good bread here.
Nundinio: Good lord, how manie sorts of bread have you in your house?
Simon: Bring forth that loyn of veale roasted, and that quarter, whether it be of Kidde or Lambe.
Camillo: You are happie that have so good a baker.
Simon: Call for drinke when you please and what kinde of wine you like best.
Camillo: Give me a cup of beere, or else a bowle of ale.
Horatio: I love to drink wine after the Dutch fashion
Taneredi: How doo they drinke it I pray you?
Horatio: In the morning pure, at dinner without water, and at night as it comes from the vessell.
Melibeo: I like this rule well, they are wise, and Gods blessing upon them.
Horatio: A slice of bacon would make us taste this wine well.
Simon: What ho, set that gammon of bakon upon the boarde.
Taneredi: Of curtesie give me a little salt, I cannot reach it. I eate more salt than a Goate dooth.
Horatio: Give me a clean trenchar [plate].
Simon: Thou sillie wretch, give everie one cleane plates.
Nundinio: Let us make a lawe that no man put of his cap or hat at the table.
Camillo: An excellent and good lawe, for so shall wee not fowle our hatts.
Taneredi: Neither shall we be in danger to make the haires flie about the dishes.
Simon: Set that capon upon the table, and those rabbits, that hen, those chickens, that goose, those woodcocks, those larkes, those quailes, those partridges, and that pasty of venison.
Nundunio: Yonder is a most fine cubbord of plate
Simon: Andrew commeth. Have you dined or no?
Andrew: To tell you true, I am fasting yet.
Simon: Bring hither a stoole, and set a trenchar, a napkin, a knife, a forke, and a spoone there.
Andrew: Let no man stirre, I will sit here, by your leave.
Simon: Master Andrew, will it please you to eate an egg?

Andrew eagerly accepts the egg, and they go on to complete the meal with cheese, and fruit of every description, followed by marmalade and biscuits and caraway treats. They round off the evening with a merry game of cards and everyone has a splendid time.

Will you weare any weapons to daye?

2011-05-27T15:27:00.003+01:00

More entertaining conversation from John Florio. This time a man visits his friend at home and waits while he dresses. Florio provides some really lovely detail about clothing, and gives us a glimpse into the daily lives of Londoners in late 16th Century London. The conversation takes place between Mr Nolano, Mr Torquato, and the servant, Ruspa. It is entitled 'of rising in the morning, and of things belonging to the chamber'.

Nolano: What ho, M Torquato, will you lye a bed all day?
Torquato: Who is there? Who calleth me? Who asketh for me?
Nolano: A friend of yours. Are you up?
Torquato: M Nolano, I pray you, excuse me. Ile be with you by and by.
Nolano: Rise at your leisure, for I will stay for you.
Torquato: The doore is open, will it please you to come in?
Norlano: God give you good morrow.
Torquato: The like to you, you are very heartily welcome.
Norlano: Are you not ashamed to lie a bed so long?
Torquato: I was not asleep, I was slumbering.
Norlano: How have you rested this night?
Torquato: Well, but I have had many dreadfull dreames. What ho, Ruspa, come hither, where art thou? What art thou doing?
Ruspa: Here I am. What lacke you?
Torquato: Open that window and give me my clothes.
Ruspa: What apparell will you have this day?
Torquato: First give me a clean shirt, one of the fine ones.
Ruspa: There are but two that be cleane.
Torquato: Where be all the others?
Ruspa: The laundress hath fix of them.
Torquato: Dispatch and give me a shirt.
Ruspa: With what band with you have it?
Torquato: With a falling band [a band or flat collar worn around the neck].
Ruspa: There is none.
Tarquato: Give me one with ruffes then.
Ruspa: Here is one with ruffes.
Tarquato: Give me my wastecote.
Ruspa: Which will you have, that of flannell?
Tarquato: No, give me that which is knit.
Ruspa: What sute of apparell will you weare today?
Torquato: That of white satten, laide on with gold lace.
Ruspa: That lacks I know not how many buttons.
Torquato: Set them on then by and by.
Ruspa: I have neither needle, thred, nor thimble.
Tarquato: Mr Nolano, think not the time long, Ile be with you presently.
Nolano: In the meane while I will reade this booke.

Here follows an inventory of all Tarquato's clothes. Presumably to assist the reader in learning the Italian names. He owns:

A long gown furr'd with Martines, a furr'd gown, a night gown of chamlet [a fabric made from Angora], a rugge gowne, a cloake lined with bayes, a cape cloak of fine cloth, a riding cloake of broad-cloth, two doublets, one coate, one velvet Jerkin, one Spanish leather jerkin, one of beaver and the other of felt, and two velvet caps.

He also owns shoes:

Two payre of bootes, one of Spanish, the other of neates leather, one payre of spurrs, three payre of boote hose, one payre of pumps and pantofles [a sort of indoor shoe], and a payre of night slippers.

The inventory continues with:

A dozen shirtes, two of handkerchers, and as many falling bands of lawne, eight ruffes bandes with their hand cuffs, four towels, six wipers [flannels], eight quoifes [night cap or skull cap], ivory combes, cisors, eare pickers and other knacks [nick nacks].

Back to the conversation:

Ruspa: Will you weare shooes or buskins to daye?
Tarquato: Give me the shooing horne, to pull on my shooes. Tye my poynts [laces] with slyding knotts but not with fast knotts.
Ruspa: What girdle will you have?
Torquato: Reach me that of blew velvet embroydered.
Ruspa: Will you weare any weapons to daye?
Torquato: Give me my sword and dagger.
Ruspa: Take this rapier, for it is lighter.
Torquato: Reach me the combe, to combe my beard.
Ruspa: Everie thing is in the case upon the window.
Torquato: Where be my gloves? I see them not.
Ruspa: You forgot them in some place yesternight.
Torquato: What ho, Ruspa, bring hither some drinke.
Ruspa: What would you have Master?
Torquato: Bring some wine, and a manchet [a loaf of fine bread], and
a napkin. Wash the glasses verie well.
Ruspa: Anon, anon, Ile come by and by.
Torquato: Pour out some wine and give me a drinke.
Nolanto: I marvell how you can drinke so earlie. I drinke very
seldome between meales.
Torquato: It is good to drinke in a morning to charme the mist.
Ruspa: Will your worship have anything else?
Torquato: Give me my cap and gird my sword about me.
Nolano: This cloake becommeth you verie well.
Ruspa: Shall I goe with you?
Torquato: No, dresse up the Chamber and laye everything in his place.
Nolano: I pray you let us lose no more time.
Torquato: I am readie, goe before and I will followe you. What ho, boy,
come after me.
Ruspa: I come, but first I will shut the dore.
Torquato: Lock it with the key
Ruspa: Fast binde, fast finde.
Torquato: And he that shuts well, avoydeth ill luck.

Next time, admiring a man's lodgings, and a dinner party.

More from Florio: Let us make a match at tennis and Master Andrew, will it please you to eate an egg?

Let us make a match at tennis

2011-05-26T19:25:00.002+01:00

Browsing through John Florio's English-Italian dictionary and phrasebook, I discovered this charming conversation between the fictional Thomas, John, and Henry. Florio gives these characters typical English exchanges, which he then translates into Italian to enable people to learn the language. Their conversation reveals fascinating everyday detail about late 16th and early 17th century life.

Thomas: Let us goe and plaie at tennis
Henry: One of us must staie out then
John: I will stay out, plaie you two
Thomas: We will cast lotts
John: No, let me be rather a looker on than a plaier
Henry: Go to, since you will have it so, let us two plaie
Thomas: What odds will you give me?
Henry: I will not plaie unless I plaie even hand
John: You may plaie even hand well enough
Thomas: I am content for a set or two
Henry: To what tennis court shall we goe?
Thomas: To charter house court
Henry: Trulie it is the fairest court about London
Thomas: But what shall master John doo in the mean while?
John: I will goe with you to see you plaie
Henry: You shall looke on and be our judge

At the court:

Thomas: What ho boy, bring hither some balles and some rackets
Boy: How manie are you my masters?
Henry: We are but two that will plaie
Boy: Will you plaie in set?
Thomas: Yea marrie, therefore give us good balles
Boy: Here are two dozen of faire and white balles
Thomas: Let us keepe the lawes of the court
John: That is, stake money under the line is it not so?
Thomas, Yea sir, you hit it right
Henry: Here is my monie, now stake you
Thomas: Whose lot is it to plaie?
Henry: Mine, for you are at the house
Thomas: Plaie then, and give me a faire balle

Thomas: A losse: I have fifteene
Henry: Fifteen for fifteene
Thomas: I am thirtie
Henry: Is that balle under or over?
John: Methinks it is under more than a handfull.
Henry: You have fortie then, goe to, plaie
Thomas: And I a dewes then.
Henry: I have the advantage
John: That was a verie faire stroake
Thomas: Everie man is against me.
Henry: I have wonne the first game.
Thomas: This is my woonted ill luck
Henry: I sweate, and am all in a water
Thomas: Let us give over plaie if you will
John: Who must paie for the balles?
Thomas I must, how manie dozens have we had?
Boy: Three dozen and a halfe
Thomas: Here is monie

Henry: Whether shall we goe now?
Thomas: Ile goe home to mine owne chamber
John: What to doo there?
Thomas: To rest a while, for I am wearie.
John: Then let us goe to my lodging.
Henry: It will be best since it is not farre hence.
Thomas: Let us goe apace then, for it is late.

I'll post more entertaining and illuminating chit-chat from Thomas, Henry, and John soon.

More from Florio - Master Andrew, will it please you to eate an egg? and Will you wear any weapons to daye?

Having a fig in her hand

2011-05-26T14:02:00.003+01:00

As a native of the fair city of York I have often walked down The Shambles, one of the most famous streets in England. A narrow medieval thoroughfare overhung with Elizabethan houses, The Shambles was originally a street of butchers. Nowadays it's home to tired souvenir shops and cafes, but in the mid 16th century, the street was home to the saint and martyr Margaret Clitherow.

The Shambles, York

Known as 'the Pearl of York', Margaret Clitherow (1556?-86?), a Catholic convert, was married to the butcher John Clitherow. Their home became a refuge for Catholic priests seeking shelter during a time when Catholicism was being driven underground, and Margaret herself became a leader of the recusant community in York. Indicted for harbouring priests, she refused to stand trial, and was sentenced to peine forte et dure, pressing to death by stones. Today's post is an account of her death, originally published in 1619.

After her examination she was put into a secret place under ground, and her husband into another, but about seven of the clock at night she was conveyed into the castle and there committed close prisoner, and her husband also about some hour after. Four days she remained there before she came to trial, during which time she never spake with her husband but once, and that in the presence of the jailer, after which time she could never be admitted to see him or speak to him.

During her imprisonment in the Castle she gave herself unto more strictness in abstinence and prayer. It being reported to her that the boy had accused her of harbouring and maintaining divers priests, and that according to a law newly in force, she was to suffer death for the same, she was much pleased with the news, and, smiling, thanked the messenger, wishing she had some good thing to give him, but, wanting better means, having a fig in her hand, she gave him that for a reward.

From the time that this holy martyr was committed to prison unto her death, which was some nine or ten days, she never wore any linen next unto her skin and her diet was water-pottage, rye bread, and small ale, the which she took once in the day but in little quantity. And from that time that she had certain notice that she should die she took no food at all.

The night before her death she spake unto the man's wife that had the custody of her to have some women watch with her that night. 'Not that I fear death,' quoth she, 'for that is comfort; but the flesh is frail.' The woman told her that the jailer had locked the door and was gone to bed and, therefore, none could be had. But the woman herself, being ready to go to bed, put on her clothes again and sat by her until towards midnight. At this time the martyr rose up from her prayers, put off her apparel, and put on a linen habit. Without any other garment, she betook herself again unto her prayers on her knees until three of the clock, at which time she came unto the fireside and laid herself flat upon the stones where she lay until six in the morning.

At eight of the clock the sheriff came, and she went barefoot and bare-legged, and her gown loose about her, but her headgear was decently put on, and so she went cheerfully. The place of execution was the toll-booth some twenty foot distant from the prison. The street was full of people; insomuch as she could hardly pass. Yet as she went, she dealt her alms. The sheriff hastened her to come away, to whom she answered merrily, 'Good Master Sheriff, let me deal my poor alms before I go. I have but a short time in this world.'

There were admitted into the room where she suffered death no more but the two sheriffs, one gentleman, one minister, four women, and those the sergeants had hired to to the execution. The martyr, coming into the room, kneeled and prayed unto herself. The officers and standers-by bid her pray with them and they would pray with her, which she denied, saying she would not so much as say 'Amen' unto their prayers. Then they willed her to pray for the queen whereupon she said, 'I do pray for the Catholic Church, for the Pope's holiness, for all such as have care of souls, and for all the Christian princes in the world.' At which words the officers interrupted her, and commanded her not to put the Queen's Majesty amongst that company. Yet she proceeded, 'And for Elizabeth, Queen of England. And I humbly beseech God to turn her to the Catholic faith'. One of the sheriff's, called Gibson, moved with compassion for her, withdrew himself unto the door and stood weeping. The other, nameth Fawcett, commanded her to put off her apparel, saying she must die naked.

She fell down on her knees, and the rest of the women with her, requesting him, for the honour of womankind, that she might not be seen naked, but be suffered to die in her smock, which he would not grant. Then she requested that the women might unclothe her, and they would turn their faces from her during the time of her unclothing, which was granted. And the women put upon her the long linen habit which she had brought with her, and so was quickly laid down on the ground, a sharp stone being laid unto her back. Her face was covered with a handkerchief, her secret parts with the linen habit, and all the rest of her body naked.

When the boards that were joined together in the fashion of a broad door were laid on her to bear the weight, she raised up her hands towards her face and joined them together. The sheriff commanded two of the sergeants to part them and to tie them unto two posts set there for that purposed, which was done, and so her arms extended and her body made a perfect cross. After this they laid weight on her, which when she felt, she cried out, 'Jesu, Jesu, Jesu, have mercy on me!', which were the last words that were heard to come from her. She was dying about one quarter of an hour. They laid on her about seven or eight hundred weight, which did not only break her ribs but caused them to break through her skin. And this was the end of this virtuous and glorious martyr, the day of her death the 25th of March.

Margaret's death

Upon hearing Margaret's sentence, her husband John reportedly wept until blood came from his nose and exclaimed, 'Alas! Will they kill my wife?'

The plaque outside Margaret's former home on The Shambles

The loathsome and odious sin of drunkenesse

2011-05-21T18:07:00.003+01:00

These entertaining fragments from the mid 17th Century warn of the terrible dangers of drinking. Drunkenness and swearing had become such a problem that by 1644 the government was forced to issue a statute setting out fines for uncouth behaviour:

Whereas the loathsome and odious sin of drunkennesse is of late grown into common use within this realm, being the root and foundation of many other enormous sins, as bloodshed, stabbing, murder, swearing, fornication, adultery, and such like; to the great dishonour of God, and of our nation. Be it therefore enacted by the Kings most Excellent Majestie, that all and every person or persons, which shall be drunk, and of the same offence of drunkennesse shall be lawfully convicted lose five shillings (£21) of lawfull Money of England, to be paid within one week next after his, her, or their conviction thereof, to the hands of the church-wardens of that parish. And if the said person or persons so convicted, shall refuse, or neglect to pay the said forfeiture, as aforesaid, then the same shall be from time to time, levyed of the goods of every such person or persons so refusing or neglecting to pay the same. And if the offender or offenders be not able to pay the said sum of five shillings, then the offender or offenders shall be committed to the stocks for every offence, there to remain by the space of six houres. And it is further enacted that if any person or persons, being once lawfully convicted of the said offence of drunkennesse, shall after that be again lawfully convicted of the like offence of drunkennesse; then every person and persons so secondly convicted of the said offence of drunkennesse, shall be bounden with two sureties to our Kings Majestie, the obligation of ten pounds (£850!), with condition to be from thence forth of good behaviour.

A similar statute was issued for swearing, although the fines were not quite so severe:

Swearing and cursing is forbidden by the Word of God; Be it therefore enacted by the Authority of this present Parliament, That no person or persons, shall from henceforth prophanely swear or curse. And if any person or persons, shall at any time or times hereafter offend herein, either in the hearing of any Justice of Peace of the County, or of any Major, Justice of Peace, Bailiff, or head Officer of any Citie or Town Corporate, then every such offender shall for every time so offending, forfeit, and pay to the use of the poor of that Parish, where the same offence is or shall be committed, the sum of twelve pence (about £4).

Anyone over the age of 12 years who failed to pay the fine was placed in the stocks for three hours, but those under 12, were 'whipped by the Constable or by the Parents, or Master in his presence'. Not only were there stiff fines for being drunk and/or disorderly, warnings about the dangers of drink were printed everywhere. The following snippets come from a thunderous text which exposes the character and nature of a drunkard:

Those being robbed of their strength and senses by drinke, are frequently subject to all fearefull accidents, and miserable mishaps. Some being drunke fall into the fire, and are burned. A Gentleman of worth, rising to make water, could finde no fitter place to do it in than the chimney; where, being a few live embers, he fell downe, and not being able to rise againe, had his belly puckerd together like a sachell before the Chamberlaine could come to helpe him. Whereupon, being in great torture, he dranke twenty two double jugs of beer, and so died, roaring and crying that he was damned. Some fall down dead as a dore naile. Some againe fall into the water, and are drowned, as is commonly seene. Some fall and batter their faces, bruise their bodies, breake their armes, their legs, and many breake their necks in the very act of drunkennesse. Others are wounded, beaten, and many times murdered, as often times they stab and murder others.

The drunkard commonly hath a swollen and inflamed face beset with goodly jowles; swimming, running, glaring, goggle eyes, bleared and red; a mouth nasty with offensive fumes, alwayes foaming, or drivelling; a feverish body; a sicke and giddy braine; a mind dispersed; a boyling stomacke; rotten teeth; stinking breath; a drumming eare; a palsied hand; gouty, staggering legs, that would go, but cannot; a drawling, stammering, tongue, clamped to the roofe and gumms; (not to speake of his odious gestures, lothsome nastinesse, or beastly behaviour, his belching, hickups, vomitings, ridiculous postures, and how easily he is knocked down).

And finally, this sobering thought:

Wine so inflames the drunkard with lust, that were his power equall to his desire, were his dreames and wishes all true, hee would not leave a virgin in the world.

See also Hops and Hogsheads, A Warning Piece to all Drunkards & Sack hath the power to make me mad. Or check out the label Booze.

Enters the devil, murder.

2011-05-19T21:31:00.001+01:00

These fragments form an overview of the life of one of Jacobean England's most intriguing playwrights, John Webster. Famously depicted as the bloodthirsty young actor in the film Shakespeare In Love, Webster was the author of two of the most successful Jacobean tragedies of all time, The White Devil, and The Duchess of Malfi.

John Webster was born c.1578 in London, son of John and Elizabeth. The family lived in the parish of St Sepulchre, Newgate, in a home which John would have shared with his parents and five siblings. John's father ran a successful business in Cow Lane, Smithfield, loaning carriages and wagons, and became a well-respected member of the Guild of Merchant Taylors.

No complete school records for the period survive but as a result of his father's membership of the guild, John may have attended Merchant Taylors' School. Like most boys of the period, he would have received a classical education, and a record from the Middle Temple, dated 1st August 1598, refers to the admission of 'Master John Webster, formerly of the New Inn, gentleman, son and heir apparent of John Webster of London, gentleman’. The Inns of Court, often referred to as the Third University, attracted many young men who lived and studed at the Inns as an addendum to their education. There is no evidence Webster studied the law, although it is possible, and legal references are scattered through his plays, but given his father's business background it seems likely Webster trained at the Inns of Court in order to join the family business. Whether he worked alongside his father and brother in the coaching concern is impossible to determine, but a famous reference to Webster as a 'Play-wright, Cart-wright' suggests he spent some time at least toiling away on Cow Lane.

Middle Temple today

An entry in Henslowe's diary, dated 22nd May 1602, marks what was perhaps Webster's first foray into theatrical composition: £5 ‘unto antoney monday & mihell drayton webester & the Rest mydelton in earneste of A Boocke called sesers ffalle’. The following week, £3 was paid to‘Thomas dickers drayton myddellton & Webester & mondaye in fulle paymente for ther playe called too shapes’. The entries refer to the same play, which is now lost, but is thought to have been based on the fall of Julius Caesar. In October of the same year, Henslowe paid Chettle, Dekker, Webster, Heywood and a 'mr smythe' £5.16s for two parts of a play entitled 'A playe called Ladey Jane', and a month later, another £7 for 'a playe called cryssmas comes but once A yeare'. Collaboration was a common element of playwriting, and Webster is clearly serving an apprenticeship in the theatre, perhaps with one of the more experienced playwrights acting as his tutor.

In 1604, Webster was involved in two city comedies with Thomas Dekker, Westward Ho! and Northward Ho!, plays which were performed frequently and proved very popular with audiences. However it is not until 1612 we have evidence of Webster's first solo effort, The White Devil. A gap of seven years does not indicate Webster turned his attention away from the theatre after 1605, indeed it is possible he continued to write but those those plays have simply not survived. He may have chosen to return to work for his father in order to support a growing family. We know from existing records Webster married in March 1606 in Islington, to a woman named Sara. A marriage outside the family parish may have been the result of a rushed celebration, for only two months later Sara gave birth to their son, John, baptised on Fleet Street in May. John and Sarah went on to have at least three more children.

Title Page: The White Devil (1613)

Webster returned to the theatre (if indeed he ever left) in 1612 with The White Devil. It was first performed by Queen Anne's Men at the Red Bull in Clerkenwell. It was not a success, as evinced by Webster's rather bitter address to the reader in the printed edition of the play, 'most of the people that come to that Play-house, resemble those ignorant asses (who visiting Stationers shoppes their use is not to inquire for good bookes, but new bookes)’. The Red Bull was known for its low-brow, rather bawdy entertainment, and Webster's complex and lyrical play was clearly not to the audience's taste. In the same year Webster also wrote A Monumental Column in response to the death of Henry, Prince of Wales.

Webster's second great tragedy, The Duchess of Malfi, was performed in 1614 at the Blackfriars by Shakespeare's company, the King's Men. Its reception was far more positive, perhaps because audiences at the Blackfriars, and the Globe, where it was subsequently performed, were more sophisticated. The death scene in The Duchess of Malfi has been heralded as the climax of Webster's writing career, and one of the most powerful moments in Jacobean tragedy.

Title Page: Duchess of Malfi (1623)

In the same year audiences were enjoying The Duchess of Malfi, Thomas Overbury's satirical The Wife appeared in print, becoming a runaway hit. Overbury, who had died in the tower a few months before, was later suspected of having been poisoned by Francis Howard (for further reading, my post on the Overbury Affair is here). The Wife went through eleven editions by 1622, and Webster made significant contributions to the text in 1615. Some scholars have suggested Webster may even have been Overbury's literary executor, since they both attended Middle Temple at the same time and probably knew each other well.

Webster continued to write for the theatre. His last solo play was The Devil's Law-Case, after which he returned to collaboration with other London playwrights. The rather vicious caricature painted of Webster as a 'Play-wright, Cart-wright' describes him as a man who:

'drawes his mouth awry of late,
How he scrubs: wrings his wrests: scratches his Pate
and as a critic:
Heer's not a word cursively I have Writ,
But hee'l Industriously examine it.
And in some 12. monthes hence (or there about)
Set in a shamefull sheete'

Countering this, his biographer insists Webster worked successfully and harmoniously with his fellow playwrights. He had a good relationship with the companies which performed his plays, particularly the actor Richard Perkins, and he praises his fellow authors in his introduction to The White Devil

'I have ever truly cherished my good opinion of other men's worthy labours, especially of that full and heightened style of Mr. Chapman, the laboured and understanding works of Mr. Johnson, the no less worthy composures of the both worthily excellent Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Fletcher; and lastly (without wrong last to be named), the right happy and copious industry of Mr. Shakespeare, Mr. Dekker, and Mr. Heywood, wishing what I write may be read by their light: protesting that, in the strength of mine own judgment, I know them so worthy, that though I rest silent in my own work, yet to most of theirs I dare (without flattery) fix that of Martial'

The date of Webster's death is uncertain, as is his place of burial. An entry in the parish register of St James, Clerkenwell, states 'John Webster was buried’ on 3 March 1638 which may plausibly refer to the dramatist. As his biographer states, the 'parish of St James adjoined that of St Sepulchre, and it was there that both Dekker and Rowley were buried. There would be nothing surprising in Webster, in his last years, living close to old friends and colleagues.'

St James, Clerkenwell

Webster's literary output was modest in comparison with playwrights like Shakespeare, Fletcher and Middleton, but his lyricism remains second only to Shakespeare.

‘O that this fair garden
Had with all poisoned herbs of Thessaly
At first been planted, made a nursery
For witchcraft; rather than a burial plot
For both your honours.’

The White Devil (1.2.263-269)

Source: Multiple, especially David Gunby, DNB.
For further reading see John Webster: Citizen and Dramatist by M C Bradbrook - an excellent book on his life and works.

In his Wolvish shape he would run among them

2011-05-18T12:23:00.002+01:00

This curious account of a Werewolf comes from Germany in the 1590s. With a ravenous appetite for lust and murder, Stubbe Peeter eventually meets his own rather gory end.

In the townes of Cperadt and Bedbur neer unto Collin in high Germany, there was continually brought up and nourished one Stubbe Peeter, who from his youth was greatly inclined to evill, and the practising of wicked Artes even from twelve years of age till twentye, and so forwardes till his dying daye, insomuch that surfeiting in the Damnable desire of magick, necromancye, and sorcery, acquainting him selfe with many infernall spirites and fiends. The Devill who saw him a fit instrument to perform mischeefe as a wicked fiend pleased with the desire of wrong and destruction, gave unto him a girdle, which being put about him, he was straight transformed into the likeness of a greedy devouring Wolf, strong and mighty, with eyes great and large, which in the night sparkled like unto brandes of fire, a mouth great and wide, with most sharpe and cruell teeth, A huge body, and mightye pawes: And no sooner should he put off the same girdle, but presently he should appeare in his former shape, according to the proportion of a man, as if he had never beene changed.

Stubbe Peeter hearwith was exceedingly well pleased, and the shape fitted his fancye and agreed best with his nature. If any person displeased him, he would incontinent thirst for revenge, and no sooner should they or any of theirs walke abroad in the fields or about the Cittie, but in the shape of a Woolfe he would presentlye encounter them, and never rest till he had pluckt out their throates and teare their joyntes a sunder: And after he had gotten a taste hereof, he tooke such pleasure and delight in shedding of blood, that he would night and day walke the Fields, and work extreme cruelties. And sundry times he would go through the Streetes of Collin, Bedbur, and Cperadt, in comely habit, and very civilly as one well knowen to all the inhabitants therabout, & oftentimes was he saluted of those whose friendes and children he had buchered, though nothing suspected for the same.

It came to passe that as he walked abroad in the fieldes, if he chanced to spye a companye of maydens playing together, or else a milking of their Kine, in his Woolvishe shape he would incontinent runne among them, and while the rest escaped by flight, he would be sure to laye holde of one, and after his filthy lust fulfilled, he would murder her presentlye, beside, if he had liked or knowne any of them, her he would pursue, whether she were before or behinde, and take her from the rest, for such was his swiftnes of foot while he continued a woolf: that he would outrunne the swiftest greyhound in that Countrye: and so muche he had practised this wickednes, that the whole Province was feared by the cruelty of this bloody and devouring Woolfe. Thus continuing his divelishe and damnable deedes within the compass of fewe yeares, he had murdered thirteene young Children, and two goodly young women bigge with Child, tearing the Children out of their wombes, in most bloody and savage sorte, and after eate their hartes panting hotte and rawe, which he accounted dainty morsells & best agreeing to his Appetite.

He had at that time living a faire young Damsell, his Daughter, after whom he also lusted most unnaturallye, and cruellye committed most wicked inceste with her. This daughter he begot when he was not altogether so wickedlye given, who was called by the name of Stubbe Bell, whose beautye and good grace was such as deserved commendations of all those that knewe her: And such was his inordinate lust and filthye desire toward her, that he begat a Childe by her, dayly using her as his Concubine, but as an insaciate and filthy beast, given over to work evil. With greedines he also lay with his owne Sister, frequenting her company long time even according as the wickednes of his hart lead him. Moreover being on a time sent for to a Gossip of his there to make merry and good cheere, ere he thence departed he so won the woman by his faire and flattering speech, and so much prevailed, yet ere he departed the house: he lay by her, and ever after had her companye at his command. This woman was Katherine Trompin, a woman of tall and comely stature of exceeding good favour and one that was well esteemed among her neighbours. But his lewde and inordinate lust being not satisfied with the company of many Concubines, nor his wicked fancye contented with the beauty of any woman, at length the devill sent unto him a wicked spirit in the similitude and likenes of a woman, so faire of face and comelye of personage, that she resembled rather some heavenly creature, so farre her beauty exceeded the chiefest sorte of women, and with her as with his harts delight, he kept company the space of seven yeeres, though in the end she proved and was found indeed no other then a she Devil

Long time he continued this wilde and villanous life, sometime in the likenes of a Woolfe, sometime in the habit of a man, sometime in the Townes and Citties, and sometimes in the Woods and thickettes to them adjoyning. Thus this damnable Stubbe Peeter lived the tearme of five and twenty yeeres, unsuspected to be Author of so many cruell and unnaturall murders, in which time he destroyed and spoyled an unknowen number of Men, Women, and Children, sheepe, Lambes, and Goates: and other Catttell. The inhabitantes of Collin, Bedbur and Cperadt, seeing themselves so greevously endangered, plagued, and molested by this greedy & cruel Woolfe, none durst travell to or from those places without good provision of defence. Oftentimes the inhabitants found the Armes & legges of dead Men, Women, and Children, scattered up and down the fields to their great greefe and vexation of heart, knowing the same to be done by that strange and cruell Woolfe. They daylye continued and sought to intrap him. In the end it pleased God that they should espye him in his woolvishe likeness, and moste circumspectlye set their Dogges upon him. He, seeing no way to escape the imminent danger, presently slipt his girdle from about him, whereby the shape of a Woolfe cleane avoided, he appeared presently in his true shape & likeness, having in his hand a staffe as one walking toward the Cittie. But the hunters came unto him, and brought him to his owne house, and finding him to be the man indeede, and no delusion or phantasticall motion, they had him before the Magistrates to be examined.

Thus being apprehended, he was shortly after put to the racke in the Towne of Bedbur, but fearing the torture, he volluntarilye confessed his whole life, and made knowen the villanies which he had committed for the space of 25 yeares, also he confessed how by Sorcery he procured of the Devill a Girdle, which beeing put on, he forthwith became a Woolfe. After he had some space beene imprisoned, the majestrates found out through due examination of the matter, that his daughter Stubbe Bell and his Gossip Katherine Trompin, were both accessory to divers murders committed, who for the same were arraigned, and with Stubbe Peeter condemned, and their severall Judgementes pronounced the 28 of October 1589· in this manner, that is to saye: Stubbe Peeter as principall mallefactor, was judged first to have his body laide on a wheele, and with red hotte burning pincers in ten several places to have the flesh pulled off from the bones, after that, his legges and Armes to be broken with a woodden Hatchet, afterward to have his head strook from his body, then to have his carkasse burned to Ashes.

Also his Daughter and his Gossip were judged to be burned quicke to Ashes, the same time and day with the carkasse of the aforesaid Stubbe Peeter, and on the 31 of the same moneth, they suffered death accordingly in the town of Bedbur in the presence of many peeres & princes of Germany.

The Dangers of Swearing

2011-05-11T17:19:00.004+01:00

Her men came amongst us with their Bowes and Arrowes

2011-05-07T15:01:00.000+01:00

These fragments come from a description of Sir Walter's Raleigh's discovery of Virginia in 1584.

Queene Elizabeth, granted her Letters Patents to Sir Walter Raleigh for the discovering and planting new Lands & Countries, not actually possessed by any Christians. Sir Richard Grenvell the valiant, Mr William Sanderson a great friend, and divers other Gentlemen and Merchants, with all speede provided two small Barkes well furnished with all necessaries, under the command of Captaine Philip Amidas and Captaine Barlow. The 27. of Aprill 1584 they set sayle from the Thames, the tenth of May passed the Canaries, and the tenth of June the West Indies: which unneedfull Southerly course, (but then no better was knowne) occasioned them in that season much sicknesse.

The second of July they fell with the coast of Florida in shallow water, where they felt a most delicate sweete smell, though they saw no land, which ere long they espied, thinking it the Continent: an hundred and twenty myles they sayled not finding any harbor. The first that appeared, with much difficulty they entered, and anchored, and after thankes to God they went to view the next Land adjoyning to take possession of it for the Queenes most excellent Majestie. Which done, they found their first landing place very sandy and low, but so full of grapes that the very surge of the Sea sometimes over-flowed them: of which they found such plenty in all places, both on the sand, the greene soyle and hills, as in the plaines as well on every little shrub, as also climbing towardes the tops of high Cedars, that they did thinke in the world were not the like abundance.

We passed by the Sea-side towards the tops of the next hills being not high: from whence we might see the Sea on both sides, and found it an Isle of twentie myles in length, and six in breadth, the vallyes replenished with goodly tall Cedars. Discharging our Muskets, such a flocke of Cranes, the most white, arose by us, with such a cry as if an Army of men had shouted altogether. This Isle hath many goodly Woods, and Deere, Conies, and Foule in incredible abundance. Till the third day we saw not any of the people, then in a little Boat three of them appeared, one of them went on shore, to whom we rowed, and he attended us without any signe of feare; after he had spoke much though we understood not a word, of his owne accord he came boldly aboard us, we gave him a shirt, a hat, wine and meate, which he liked well, and after he had well viewed the barkes and us, he went away in his owne Boat, and within a quarter of a myle of us in halfe an houre, had loaden his Boat with fish, with which he came againe to the poynt of land, and there divided it in two parts, and so departed.

The next day came divers Boats, and in one of them the Kings Brother, with forty or fifty men, proper people, and their behaviour very civil; his name was Granganamco, the King is called Wingina, the Country Wingandacoa. Leaving his Boats a little from our Ships, he came with his trayne to the poynt: where spreading a Matte he sat downe. Though we came to him well armed, he made signes to us to sit downe without any shew of feare, stroking his head and brest, and also ours, to expresse his love. After he had made a long speech unto us, we presented him with divers toyes, which he kindly accepted. He was greatly regarded by his people, for none of them did sit, nor speake a word, but foure, on whom we bestowed presents also, but he tooke all from them, making signes all things did belong to him.

A day or two after shewing them what we had, Granganamco taking most liking to a Pewter dish, made a hole in it, hung it about his necke for a brest-plate: for which he gave us twenty Deere skins, worth twenty Crownes; and for a Copper Kettell, fiftie skins, worth fiftie Crownes. Much other trucke we had, and after two dayes he came aboord, and did eate and drinke with us very merrily. Not long after he brought his wife and children, they were but of meane stature, but well favoured and very bashfull; she had a long coat of Leather, and about her privities a peece of the same, about her forehead a band of white Corrall, and so had her husband, in her eares were bracelets of pearle, hanging downe to her middle, the bignesse of great Pease; the rest of the women had Pendants of Copper, and the Noblemen five or sixe in an eare; the apparrell as the wives, onely the women weare their haire long on both sides, and the men but on one; they are of colour yellow, but their hayre is blacke, yet we saw children that had very fayre Chesnut coloured hayre.

After that these women had beene here with us, there came downe from all parts great store of people, with Leather, Corrall, and divers kinde of dyes, but when Granganamco was present, none durst trade but himselfe, and them that wore red Copper on their heads, as he did. When ever he came, he would signifie by so many fires he came with so many boats, that we might know his strength. Their Boats are but one great tree, which is but burnt in the forme of a trough with gins and fire, till it be as they would have it. For an armour he would have engaged us a bagge of pearle, but we refused, as not regarding it, that wee might the better learn where it grew. He was very just of his promise, for oft we trusted him, and he would come within his day to keepe his word. He sent us commonly every day a brace of Bucks, Conies, Hares, and fish, sometimes Mellons, Walnuts,Cucumbers. Pease, and divers rootes.

After this acquaintance, my selfe with seaven more went twenty myle into the River Occam, that runneth toward the Cittie Skicoack, and the evening following we came to an Isle called Roanoak from the harbour where we entred 7. leagues. At the North end was 9 houses, builded with Cedar, fortified round with sharpe trees, and the entrance like a Turnpik. When we came towards it, the wife of Granganamco came running out to meete us, (her husband was absent) commanding her people to draw our Boat ashore for beating on the billowes. Others she appoynted to carry us on their backes a land, others to bring our Oars into the house. When we came into the other roome, (for there was five in the house) she caused us to sit downe by a great fire; after tooke off our clothes and washed them, of some our stockings, and some our feete in warme water, and she her selfe tooke much paines to see all things well ordered, and to provide us victuall.

After we had thus dryed our selves, she brought us into an Inner roome, where she set on the bord standing sodden venison, and rosted fish; in like manner mellons raw, boyled rootes and fruites of divers kindes. There drinke is commonly water boyled with Ginger, sometimes with Saxefras, and wholsome herbes, but whilest the grape lasteth they drinke wine. More love she could not expresse to entertaine us; they care but onely to defend themseles from the short winter, and feede on what they finde naturall in sommer. When we were at meate two or three of her men came amongst us with their Bowes and Arrowes, which caused us to take our armes in hand. She perceiving our distrust, caused their Bowes and Arrowes to be broken, and they beaten out of the gate: but the evening approaching we returned to our boate, where at she much grieving brought our supper halfe boyled, pots and all, but when she saw us but put our boat a little off from the shoar and lye at Anchor, perceiving our jelousie, she sent divers men & 30 women to sit all night on the shoare side against us, and sent us five Mats to cover us from the raine, doing all she could to perswade us to her house. Though there was no cause of doubt, we would not adventure: for on our safety depended the voyage: but a more kinde loving people cannot be found.

Fine feats in the water

2011-05-01T14:18:00.001+01:00

These fragments come from a lovely 17th century guide to learning to swim. Illustrated throughout, the author provides all the instructions necessary for learning to swim like a fish in an English river.

There are fewe or none which have bestowed any paines in the explayning or publishing this Art of Swimming, it being so profitable a thing as it is, towards the preserving of mans life, when as he is at any time distressed in the greedie jawes of the swelling Sea.

The time which the temperature of this our climate affords as good to swimme in, is comprehended in foure monthes, May, June, July, and August. In the place is two things especially to be respected, first, that the banks be not overgrowen with rank thicke grasse, where oft-times, do lie and lurke many stinging Serpents, and poisoned Toades: not full of thornes, bryers, stubbes, or thistles, which may offend the bare feete, but that the grasse be short, thinne, and greene, the banke beset with shadie trees, which may be a shelter from the winde, and a shadowe from the parching heate of the Sunne. Next that the water it selfe bee cleare, not troubled with any kinde of slimie filth, which is very infectious to the skinne, that the breadth, depth, and length therof be sufficiently knowne, that it be not muddie at the bottome, least by much treading the filth rising up from the bottome, thicken the water, and so make it unfitte for that purpose. Also that there be not in the bottome of the River any olde stakes or sharpe stones, which may greatly indanger the Swimmer, but that it be a cleare running water, not a standing corrupted poole, the bottome faire sande, where from the banks may easily be perceaved, whatsoever doth lie in the deepest place of the River.

For the manner of his going into the River, it must not be sweating, for that comming into the cold water it maketh a suddaine change in body, which is very dangerous, but rather by walking easily in some coole shade, or some such other moderate meanes, let him before he enter into the water bring his bodie into a reasonable temperature of heate and cold, and then, not as some which are more bold then wise, rudely leape into the water with their feete downwarde; or when he commeth at the side, fall in upon his right or left side. Or else leaping from the bank, and casting forth his leggs (but yet keeping of them close together) he may light upon his hips, and the hinder parts of his leggs, as you see in this picture:

When he hath perfectly learned to swim to and fro on his bellie, let him learne thus to turne upon his backe, by thrusting out his right hand as far as he can before him, and withall, turne over his left side, and still keepe out his right hand, untill he be turned upon his backe, for that it doth in turning so, support him from sinking, as in this example following:

And when he is thus layd upon his back, he must lie very straight, not bending or bowing with his bodie any way, save onely his legs, which he must easily pull out and in, as when he was on his belly, to put him forwards in the water, as thus:

There is an other kinde of turning when a man is swimming upon his belly, with his head one way, suddainly to turne himselfe, still being upon his belly, & bring about his head and all his body the other way: and for that it is to be done quickly (as oft times you may see the fishes within the water, when in the pleasant heate of Sommer they wantonly friske to and fro) it is commonly called the Koach turne, and that is done thus, if he will turne towards the right hand, hee must suddainely put the water from him with his left hand, and pull that water behinde towards him with his right hand, turning backe his head and his bodie as you see in this next figure:

There is also a turning which is called the bell turne, as when one swimming one his bellie shall suddainely pull in his feete, and in stead of striking with them as is afore sayd, he shall heaving backward with his foreparts, strike forward with his feete, which motion will turne him upon his backe: and because he may at his pleasure turne so upon his backe and belly as hee will, it is called the bell turne, resembling also a bell when it is ringing, as for example:

To swimme upon his side. This kinde of swimming, though it be more laborious, yet is it swifter then any of the rest, for that lying upon one side, striking with your feete as when you swimme on your bellie, but that the pulling in and thrusting out of his hand, which then did onely keepe him up, do now helpe to put him forward: for onely the lower hand supporteth his bodie, and the upper hand roweth, as in this example:

Some more illustrations:

To dive beneath the water:

To swim like a dogge:

To tread in the water:

To pare his toe nails in the water:

To carry anything drie over the water in his hands:

Words of so sweet breath composed

2011-04-23T10:34:00.000+01:00

Today's post is part of a project organised by The Shakespeare Birthplace Trust to celebrate the birthday of William Shakespeare, thought to have been born on this day in 1564. No one knows his exact birth date, but he was christened on April 26^th (it was traditional to baptize a child three days after birth). Bloggers from around the world are taking part, blogging on all aspects of Shakespeare and his importance in their lives. You can find out more at Happy Birthday Shakespeare and take part on Twitter using the #hbws hashtag. What follows are my rather clumsy attempts to convey the meaning Shakespeare has in my life.

My interest in Shakespeare began when I was nine. I picked up a copy of The Complete Works I found lying around at home, and marvelled at its size, its promise, its mystery. I wondered what sort of stories Shakespeare told, and why he used such weird-looking language. It was like discovering a treasure map. That summer I dipped, quite blindly, but with much excitement, in and out of The Complete Works, reading snippets at random; a few lines from Romeo and Juliet, a scene from Richard III, speeches from Hamlet. I didn’t understand a word of course, but I was nonetheless drawn to the plays. It was around this time I first saw John Millais' painting of Ophelia. My parents explained who she was, and to me she began to symbolise all that was exciting and romantic about Shakespeare. I bought a poster of the painting from the art gallery shop and stuck it up on my bedroom wall. I'd lie in bed during the summer evenings and gaze at the poster, wondering about Ophelia. Who was she? Why did she drown? She haunted me. (Naturally it didn’t occur to me to read Hamlet. I was only nine).

By the age of ten I'd become hooked on Shakespeare. Someone gave me a copy of Charles and Mary Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare which I read avidly, and on my eleventh birthday I demanded a birthday cake in the shape of The Complete Works, which my mother laboriously created. I can still recall it now, a big square book-shaped cake, iced in blue, with curly white writing on the front. My mother had even gone so far as to create overlapping edges at the top and bottom, and little grooved lines to suggest pages. It was the most wonderful cake I'd ever seen.

I first read a Shakespeare play in its entirety at school. It was Macbeth. I still have the copy with its adolescent scrawling, battered and worn from being lugged around in my school bag. With the help of my English teacher, who was an enthusiastic advocate of poetry, I made my first tentative steps towards literary criticism. My childish interest in Shakespeare was now becoming concretised into something more tangible. I could understand Shakespeare! Or at least, bits and pieces. His language slowly began to make some sense. I was beyond excited and wrote my very first essay on Shakespeare, ‘Why Macbeth kills Duncan’. During my teens I visited Stratford-Upon-Avon for the first time, courtesy of a school trip. We wandered around Anne Hathaway's Cottage, Shakespeare's Birthplace, and Holy Trinity Church. We saw Henry V, and Richard III at the RSC, and took a backstage tour of the theatre. I can still remember standing on the stage at the RSC looking out at all the seats, imaging the audience. Whatever my previous interest in Shakespeare had been, I was now officially hooked.

At eighteen I was all set to read English at Oxford. I wanted to immerse myself in Shakespeare and spend the rest of my life understanding his plays. However circumstances intervened and I was spirited away to read Classics. As an undergraduate I pursued studies which had little to do with Shakespeare’s England. I was in the world of Imperial Rome, Classical Greece, Ancient Egypt. I read Roman playwrights like Terence, and the comic plays of Aristophanes, the tragedies of Sophocles, and Egypt’s Book of the Dead. But my interest in Shakespeare remained. I continued to see his plays in the theatre, and picked up a copy of his Sonnets at a university book stall.

Now, years later, I'm completing a PhD which has Shakespeare at its heart. Starting with an MA course in 2004, for the last seven years I've immersed myself in his plays and poetry, and what began as simple curiosity has now become a full-blown love affair. During the course of my research, I've learned about the real world in which Shakespeare lived - what he may have eaten for breakfast, life on Bankside, his family, politics, religion, all of which has served to both deepen my knowledge and sharpen my appetite. Shakespeare’s world was one of growth and expansion. England began widespread global trade. Colonies were established. Politics shifted and turned. Religion was a critically divisive issue. The explosion of an immigrant population, the ever-present threat of the plague, and the growth of the theatres were all part of the world in which Shakespeare found himself. So for me, Shakespeare has become a link to the past. He no longer inhabits a curious literary bubble in my mind. He is now a living breathing playwright working in the sunshine and filth of early modern London. He is part of an historical landscape, and his world view reflects his place in a vibrant culture which helped to shape the one in which I find myself today. His kings and queens, murderers and lovers, are all part of a rich literary tapestry; his characters have become a blueprint, as writers of fiction and drama the world over mine the universal seam which Shakespeare helped to create. Shakespeare and his works are now deeply ingrained in my life. As I contemplate the future, I know there won't be a day goes by without me reaching for a play or a poem, so I can slip, even for a few moments, into the astonishing world of his imagination.

Current copy of The Complete Works

John Millais' Ophelia (1852)

School copy of Macbeth

Signed programme from Branagh's Henry V at the RSC

Recently acquired Elizabethan sixpence

Bookshelves

Excerpt from Rupert Goold's Macbeth, my favourite Shakespeare production

Hand D

2011-04-16T12:50:00.001+01:00

Shakespeare's signature (1613)

Many scholars believe one of the hands in the extant manuscript of the Elizabethan play Sir Thomas More belongs to Shakespeare. Below is an image of a page from the manuscript believed to have been written by Shakespeare. Click on the image to open a larger version in a new window or tab.