by L E Pembroke
ACT 1 - 2
In September 1581, William, with no idea when or even if he would be able to pursue what he had come to think of as his future life’s work, took the long and wearisome journey home. He wanted to be one of the players in a Company with a well-thought of patron and, more than that, he wanted to be a playwright. Although he knew himself to be in many ways an impractical romantic, he was always confident of his abilities to be both poet and playwright.
Especially, William wanted to meet up with his friends from Lord Strange’s Company of Players and soon to be headed for London and hopefully fame. However, he knew he had to bide his time as he had a duty to his own family who were still living in difficult financial circumstances.
The plain square carriage jolted along the rough tracks south to Stratford. William was confident that in less than a year he would move on to fulfil his dream. In the meantime, he especially looked forward to his brief reunion with sixteen-year-old Gilbert.
As had been the case two years before, the complete family awaited the arrival of the coach at one of Stratford’s coaching inns. They weren’t given to emotional reunions in the Shakespeare family - a welcoming clap on the shoulder from John, a prim kiss on the cheek from Mary. He noticed that at forty-four years, his mother hadn’t worn too well. Was she ill? She looked fatigued despite having the assistance of Anne Hathaway. He was also instantly aware that Anne appraised him with a penetrating glance. Two years ago he would have blushed, but no longer. Those amorous dalliances with cheeky Bridget had done much for his confidence and self-esteem.
William had learnt much about high fashion in Lancashire and immediately noticed that his mother’s long brown wool kirtle was not in the least fashionable. She wore a cream linen partlett or scarf that covered her neck and shoulders and a discreet hat worn over her close-fitting skull cap. Mary proudly wore the clothes of her class, as everyone did on pain of punishment from the Sumptuary Laws that forbade the lower and middle classes from dressing above their station. Back in his more humble birthplace, William was able to compare and contrast the clothing worn by the inhabitants of Stratford with that of the residents of Hoghton. His mother would have been ill at ease amongst the ladies at Hoghton in their silks, taffetas, slashed sleeves, elaborate ruffs and with their hair usually dyed fair. His father too dressed conservatively. William recognised, that unlike him, his parents were content with their place in society and were typical representatives of the country middle class. John would have been more than a little uncomfortable in the short velvet pantaloons, full length stockings, and the extravagant doublets with slashed sleeves to which William admired and had become accustomed in Lancashire.
Gilbert thumped him on the back and wore a wide, welcoming grin. His sister, Joan curtsied prettily. Seven- year-old Richard gazed at him curiously and the infant, Edmund bawled and clung to Anne when the stranger approached him.
*
It didn’t take long for John to make it clear that he looked forward to William working along with his brother in the warehouse, there being more than enough to do for himself and Gilbert. Certain of the brevity of his sojourn in Stratford, William agreed that he would gladly help out in the warehouse for the following months.
Hence, first thing on the next day, John with his two oldest boys arrived at the family business, the warehouse in the middle of the town. Gilbert was the storeman and up until now John, buyer and office manager. They discussed the allocation of jobs, on William’s part with little enthusiasm. Nevertheless, after agreeing with his father that he would run the office, he began his first day’s work. John proudly erected a sign he had recently put together which read: JOHN SHAKESPEARE AND SONS, MANUFACTURER OF LEATHER GOODS.
At the end of the day they went together to quaff a few ales before returning to the home he had known all his life and which was, as always, rather crowded. Altogether there were five adults and three young children and just one member of staff, a kitchen maid. No-one in the family considered Anne Hathaway a servant. They thought of her as a family member of invaluable assistance to Mary. The Henley Street home was not spacious despite being one of Stratford’s biggest. The town itself was small with fewer than two hundred houses accommodating a population of some fifteen hundred. The Shakespeare home was the typical of the day, black and white half-timbered cottage with thatched roof and at its rear, a garden enclosed by a wall built of roughly hewn stones and, in which was a pond almost completely covered with medicinal water herbs. In the surrounding soil a diverse variety of herbs were competing for space with one another.
The family ate in a substantial hall close to the kitchen. John’s office was on the ground floor, and adjacent to the hall was the plainly- furnished sitting room. William was never completely comfortable in the utilitarian house - all straight lines and timber. He would not easily forget the grandeur of Hoghton and remembered the luxuriant furnishings of ancient Rome about which he had read in the Hoghton library - cushions, wide individual seating, and colourful wall hangings; all very different from these hard, high-backed timber settees made for two people with a box for storage fitted under the seats. The several bedrooms were upstairs and again the furniture and furnishings were simple and practical.
Following his first full day at his father’s business, William’s mother was eager to speak with her son. In the sitting room that night she broached the subject dearest to her heart - the persecution of Catholics.
‘Did you hear about Fathers Edmund and Joseph, William?’ she said as soon as he returned. He could see she was overflowing with anger and resentment. Mary, more than all the others in the Shakespeare family, dwelt unceasingly and morbidly on the persecutions of those who tried to perpetuate the old faith in England.
‘I met them both last Easter at Hoghton; I was greatly disturbed by the news. Don’t talk about it Mother, nothing can be done.’
‘That’s not what they are saying around here. Somebody has to try and put a stop to this oppression.’
It was the sort of reaction he expected from his mother and most of his family. He, on the other hand, was pragmatic. There were times when he asked himself whether he was a lesser person because he was not the type to risk his life for the faith. He guessed only few men would be prepared to risk martyrdom for their religious beliefs and he was certain he was not one of them. William thought about Thomas More who had been beheaded thirty years before he himself was born. More, having stood up to the King who planned to divorce his first wife in order to marry again, paid the ultimate penalty for his intransigence. William admired men like that but knew he was not made of that stuff. He would keep his beliefs to himself. God knew what his beliefs were and William believed they were no business of anybody else.
He muttered. ‘You’ll not put a stop to them, not while the Queen is on the throne.’
‘There are people in our own family who believe Elizabeth should not be on England’s throne.’
‘That is dangerous talk, Mother, you’d be wise to ignore it.’
Whenever Mary embarked on religious discussion her face reddened and swelled with indignation as it had now done. Tears came to her eyes. Her religion meant so much to her; he often thought, more than her children did. He felt sorry for her and for all people who were perpetually wrapped up in misery about the state of their church. He reached forward and took her hands in his, yet, she wasn’t comforted. As time had passed, Mary, he could see, had become even more of a religious zealot.
Well, he understood her attitude; what sort of a world did they live in where people condemned their neighbours because of their religious beliefs? He supposed it was not surprising that Mary was the most extreme in the Shakespeare family, after all she came from a family of religious extremists. There was no doubt in his mind that it would take several generations for this terrible religious resentment to die out in England, how many more would die for their beliefs?
Her voice rose with indignation. ‘My first loyalty is to my God. I am prepared to
give my life for Him.’
‘If I may suggest, Mother, pray privately to God, but be seen at the Holy Trinity Church. Try to outwardly conform to the English law. I believe “the better part of valour is discretion.”’
‘Oh William, you are always trying to bamboozle me with your words.’
Wise to change the subject, he thought.
‘So Miss Hathaway still resides with us?’
‘She is of great assistance to me, especially with Richard and Edmund.’
‘I am surprised she is not married with a home of her own. I believe she is eight or nine years older than me. Has she no suitors?’
‘I don’t believe she has any inclination that way.’
Don’t you, mother, thought William, that is not my impression. He glanced towards his father who had remained silent during the former discussion. John, only slightly, raised his eyebrows.
*
Within days William was living the routine life of a warehouse clerk in a small town. At times he assisted father and brother to sort out hides brought in from local farms and helped to fashion them into clothing and leather goods. Tedious work, he thought, he much preferred the pungent smell of greasepaint to that of animal hides.
Things did not turn out as William had envisaged. He spent the following four years working with his father and brother Gilbert. While doing so he often dreamt up fanciful plots for his plays. And, at night when he tossed and turned in his bed, (something that happened frequently during 1581 and 1582 when the daily sight of Anne Hathaway aroused him sexually), he frequently calmed his mind by occupying his playwright’s imagination.
William yearned for intellectual companionship, someone who could discuss with him the contents of books, printed books, that were now readily available, but there was not much of that in Stratford. At Hoghton he was given a copy of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. He would have liked to discuss the book with Gilbert or his father, but their interests were otherwise and anyway, they would not have appreciated a story that featured a “Pardoner” who sold indulgences and others who did not conform to their idea of the way a church representative should think and behave.
There were few people in the town of Stratford with whom he could discuss literary matters. Blacksmiths, farriers, carpenters, builders and roofers were too busy making their money with their hands to crave knowledge of other ways of life. And, living in villages encircling the town were ploughmen, cowmen, yeoman landowners and skilled and unskilled labourers whose lives was full enough for them - work, a willing wife, enough ale to satisfy them, what need did they have of books? So William kept his thoughts and dreams to himself.
Invariably John Shakespeare and his two sons joined the men of the town in taverns at close of their working day. Theirs was a simple, rural life no different from eighty per cent of England’s population. In summer, the days were long, work in the fields began at five in the morning and finished at eight in the evening for six days a week. In winter, the farmers and labourers worked from dawn to dusk. William was becoming increasingly restless.
On Sundays, the families met again at church where, to avoid being fined for non-attendance, everyone signed the Attendance Book. After church, John went with the men of the town to the pub for a midday ale often followed up with a game of skittles or draughts. Mary and Anne, indeed all the women of the town went home and spent the day doing light duties such as tapestry, embroidery and mending.
Time was passing, William wanted to make a move, but perhaps not just now, his parents would justifiably be angry with him for not playing his part in the upkeep of the family. He thought often of his time in Lancashire and greatly missed the company of all at Hoghton, especially that of the players. Too fatigued by the end of the working day to employ his play-writing skills William scarcely ever picked up a quill at home. What was the point anyway? Nobody in his home town would be interested in watching a play written by him. He was suffering with a constant feeling of frustration and loss which was only occasionally relieved by an awakening interest in the mature Anne Hathaway.
It was perfectly obvious that his parents believed he was home for good. His father needed his assistance and his mother often remarked that she thanked God that, during these troubled times, all her family were now together and safe in their home.
During November 1581, Fathers Edmund and Joseph, after five months in the Tower, were tried for treason and according to family members and the recusant population of England, the most barbarous sentence was handed down by the Lord Chief Justice.
‘It was to be expected. She shows no mercy,’ said Mary echoing the sentiments expressed within the Arden family. ‘That woman will never forgive the papists for refusing to recognise her mother’s marriage to the King’.
The priests were first to be hanged, until they were not quite dead. They were then to be taken down whilst still conscious, and drawn and quartered so that entrails and male organs would spill to the ground. If not dead at this stage, they were to suffer the final torture of being dragged behind a cart to London Bridge where their heads were to be put on spikes.
When the time came, throughout England, witnesses circulated details of the deaths of the priests. Fury as well as fearsome resentment grew amongst members of the old faith. In many recusant homes, there was talk of insurrection, not least amongst these families were members of the Arden family who were still living in the Arden Forest close to Stratford.
John Shakespeare, to avoid the danger of persecution, insisted that each week his wife and children were to attend Stratford’s Holy Trinity Church and sign the Visitors’ Book. Mary, full of hatred and despair, reluctantly complied unwilling to risk charges of treason disrupting her family.
*
By Springtime 1582, William’s thoughts turned more frequently to women and in particular to the young woman who lived in the Shakespeare home. He was certain he hadn’t mistaken the less than covert messages in Anne Hathaway’s body language - the warm smile, admiring long looks and eagerness to speak to him. He was flattered and captivated. She was not unattractive. Nevertheless, he held back; after all, she was eight years older than him and there were plenty of pretty girls of his own age in both the town and district. Yet, he took great pleasure in having a more mature young woman indicate she was interested in him.
Their liaison began in a seemingly innocent manner at the Stratford May Day Festival. The young people in particular from every town in England looked forward to the celebrations held on the 1st of May to welcome in summer. It was traditional to cut down a birch tree and place the trunk, decorated with flowers and ribbons in the middle of the town square or village green.
During the festival, townspeople loved to dance around the tree called the Maypole. Morris Dancers performed nearby and all were accompanied by the clapping of sticks, jingle of ankle bells, pipes and drums. This was a day of dancing, drinking, feasting and games far in excess of those played at the various Saints’ Day festivals, and for this reason, strongly opposed by the Puritans. Their chief complaint concerned the custom of permitting young couples to roam the countryside on May Day Eve in search of a suitable maypole and the flowers and greenery with which to decorate it. These puritanical complaints were not surprising as the number of births was always exceptionally high early in the following February.
Gilbert was astounded when he heard his brother suggest to their mother that it might be a kindness if he took Anne with him into the countryside on May Day Eve. Mary agreed, yes, it would be a kindness as Anne rarely left the house. Mary had no fear of amorous complications. After all, Anne at twenty-six years would never feel anything but friendship for her eighteen-year-old son. The age difference was exactly as it had been when she married John, except of course, it was John who was twenty-six while she was eighteen. It was unthinkable to her that William would have any romantic notions about a woman so much older than himself.
Gilbert heartily agreed with that point of view - it was totally unthinkable. ‘Are
you insane?’ he asked his older brother. ‘I can think of six or seven comely and well-formed girls you’d be better off with.’
William kept his own counsel. He was adamant his only intention was to do Anne Hathaway a kindness and give her an opportunity to take part in the May Day celebrations.
On the night before May Day they joined many other young couples, giggling girls and confident, strutting young men, who eagerly disappeared into the nearby countryside on the pretext of finding the best and straightest birch trunk.
Within seconds of leaving town, William and Anne were holding hands. Within fifteen minutes William’s arm was casually flung over Anne’s shoulders and hers encircled his waist. Within an hour, they were entertaining one another, immune to the heavy dew that soaked the wild grass on which they lay - and on to the clothing they had discarded.
*
A memorable May Day Eve, thought William. He felt confident of his sexual prowess. He looked forward to many opportunities to further his acquaintance with Mistress Hathaway and was certain she would assist him in his search for a regular source of sexual play.
Mistress Hathaway, in her turn, thought deeply about methods of contraception she’d heard whispered about in the village of Shottery and here in Stratford. She thought the simplest method of contraception would be the rhythm method whereby abstinence was practised at the most fertile time in a woman’s cycle. And, this was the only method of contraception permitted by the church. She suspected that method was not always practical, especially with a young, virile and passionate lover. So thought that perhaps she should try another frequently used idea. This was to insert within her body a vinegar-soaked cloth which she had been told would make the environment for a man’s seed less hospitable. However, any unnatural form of contraception was illegal, a young woman might well end up being burnt at the stake if she used such a method, this ultimate punishment was not unheard of, so what should she do? Really, the answer was obvious, it soon occurred to Anne, why should she bother with any method? She was inclined to think that if Mary Shakespeare discovered she was with child, she would insist that her son marry her and Anne was not averse to becoming the next Mistress Shakespeare.