by L E Pembroke
Despite the rigorous routine, Susanna, for those first few weeks, was content and totally confident that hers was a true vocation. She regarded minor discomforts and forbidden thoughts of family as being temptations of the Devil. She revelled in the challenge of overcoming them. She thought continual contemplation was changing her life, strengthening her in the way a magic potion used in exotic parts of the world strengthened the body or even changed one’s beliefs and attitudes. She recalled one of her own father’s plays, A Mid-summer’s Night Dream that told the story of a magic potion applied to a sleeping person, which, when the person awakened caused him or her to fall intensely in love with the first living thing they saw. She felt, for those first few weeks, that the monastic life she had embraced, like a magic potion, had turned her life into one of utter bliss. Of course she was aware of discomfort, fatigue, lapses in concentration, but with the advice and assistance of fully-professed nuns she believed she was coping well with the exigencies of her life.
Susanna had a friend in the Order. That of itself was a sin. Close friendships were not encouraged in a nunnery. They were considered distractions and, therefore, possibly harmful. Nuns were expected to be polite to one another but not favour one above the other. Warm friendships and emotional outbursts were not tolerated as they diverted the mind from its ultimate goal.
Susanna’s friend was a Lay Sister, her name was Sister Mary Francis. Susanna did not know her friend’s birth name. She was about the same age as Susanna and came from an extremely poor family living on a subsistence farm just out of Rome. As an infant, Mary Francis was gifted to the Church by her parents. Susanna knew about gifting. This practice of gifting one or more of one’s children to the Church to serve in a Nunnery or Monastery as a Lay Sister or Lay Brother was very common and often occurred, not so much because of poverty and large families but because the practice of giving a child to God might earn a reward in another life.
Both Susanna and Sister Mary Francis had little time for communication. Their friendship grew up during the short periods when Susanna carried the crockery from the Postulants’ table in the dining room to the scullery. Mary Francis was only able to converse in her own Italian dialect. Susanna was slowly becoming more accomplished with Latin but as it was only the more educated Choir Sisters who spoke Latin, most of Mary Francis and Susanna’s conversations were not vocal. They used age old methods of communication; making up their own sign and body language as well as changes in their facial expression. Mary Francis was a demure and timid girl. She rarely smiled and gave Susanna the impression she was unhappy in the convent, although she didn’t ever complain.
Susanna could tell the girl was grateful for her interest and when, once or twice, she briefly held the hand of Mary Francis, in a gesture of comfort, tears sprang into the girl’s eyes. One evening after the evening meal and at the start of The Great Silence, when Susanna went to the scullery with her usual load, she found Mary Francis with tears flooding down her face as she washed up. Without thinking, Susanna broke her silence and tried to comfort her friend. Although finding it difficult to understand what had happened, Susanna eventually caught the gist of what the girl was whispering to her.
It appeared that when in the vegetable garden that afternoon, Mary Francis heard a voice call her former name. She looked up to see a young man sitting on the top of the walled garden. He called to her. ‘Cara, come here to me. It is Benito.’
Sister Mary Francis explained. When a fifteen-year-old girl, Cara and seventeen-year-old Benito had loved one another. He was from the same village. They hoped to marry but when he came to her parents and asked for her hand in marriage, they explained to him that marriage was an impossibility because on her sixteenth birthday, their daughter was to be gifted to the Church. The contract had been made soon after her birth. Mary Francis revealed to Susanna that since the time she left her home there had not been one day during which she had not thought longingly of Benito.
When the other nuns working in the vegetable plot heard Benito’s voice, one of them, a woman of about fifty years, had rushed to Mary Francis and with the help of two others, pulled her into the kitchen and slammed the door. Her punishment was that when her day’s work was completed, she was to be escorted to her cell, where she would stay until she repented of her sins.
‘But I will never repent, I have nothing to repent. I love Benito and I hate being here.’
‘I will ask Mother Superior to intercede with the Church authorities on your behalf.’
It was sinful to criticise the Church in any way, but Susanna was shocked. Her friend should not be kept in the nunnery against her will. Susanna intended to do something about the matter.
The following day she asked permission to meet Mother in her office. Permission was granted but the interview did not go according to Susanna’s plan. She was a humble postulant, the lowest of the low. She had broken her vow of obedience and encouraged another to do so. Her punishment was to be confinement to her cell with penance until Mother decided when she had been forgiven by God. Also, said Mother, she was not ready to become a Novice, so unlike the other three postulants she would not be taking part, next month, in the Ceremony of the Clothing at which the postulants become novices.
Her preparatory studies were almost complete. At this ceremony, presided over by a Bishop and during which a postulant’s clothing is replaced by the Novice’s habit, the Mother Superior gives the new Novice her new name. She, with the other postulants, had been tutored thoroughly in the manner of the ceremony and the part they would take in it.
Susanna had chosen to become Sister Mary Therese. Towards the conclusion of the ceremony, the Novice Mistress provided the new Novices with their habits. These were similar in most ways to a nun who has taken final vows, except the veil was shorter and white. The new Novice took simple vows.
Susanna had once been in the chapel as witness to a far more dramatic ceremony. This was when a Novice, after five years, became a fully-professed nun. She recalled vividly the Novice prostrating herself in front of the altar and being covered with a black shroud to symbolise the death of her former life. Her hair was roughly shorn and the Novice Mistress attended to her re-clothing. She then took her Solemn Vows. Her past was over. She vowed to lead a life of contemplation and prayer until her death.
With the expectancy of youth, Susanna had been looking ahead to the time, five years hence, when she would take part in this most solemn Ceremony of the Clothing. Instead, confined to her cell for disobedience, she suffered disappointment and disillusionment that she would have to begin again. She prayed for forgiveness, peace of mind and a stronger faith.
Three weeks later, Susanna was permitted as once more, a beginning postulant, to re-join the nuns in their daily activities. Two new girls had arrived at the convent and were to start, with her, their three months of postulancy.
A further six weeks passed, Sister Mary Francis was released from her cell and resumed her duties, this time only within the House. They met again when Susanna carried the plates into the scullery, but neither was bold enough to speak. Susanna, instead briefly squeezed the hand of her friend.
A further week passed. As usual, Susanna came, immediately before Compline, to the scullery door with the used plates. The door was closed, she pushed with her shoulder against it. Sister Mary Francis lay on the floor in a pool of blood. It was immediately obvious she had slashed both wrists with one of the boning knives. Susanna rushed to her aid. She was too late, the floor was awash with the girl’s blood and by her grey-white appearance Susanna judged her body had very little blood left in it. The fact of the girl committing suicide revealed the depth of her distress, because Mary Francis knew as well as Susanna and all the nuns that suicide was a mortal sin and by killing herself, she had forfeited any chance of being with God in heaven. This illegal act was the worst outcome for any nun - for any Catholic, because the church taught they would spend their after-life burning in Hell.
ACT 3 - 2
&n
bsp; Despite his misgivings about travelling on water, William left Venice by boat. He travelled along a calm Adriatic Sea to Pescara directly east of Rome. After which he took a coach and four to the city. It was far better this way as he was no longer inclined to tour. Florence no longer interested him - nothing interested him, not even the slight chance that the nuns would allow him to see Susanna. He mentally prepared himself for never again meeting his daughter on this earth, in the same way he had fatalistically prepared himself for Ismene’s death. Never an overtly Christian man, he nevertheless firmly believed in an after-life. He was unable to imagine what form that life would take, but was certain that somehow, in some way, there would be a resurrection and he and his loved ones would be part of it. He could hardly bear to go on living if he hadn’t believed that.
He secured rooms in a taverna and the following morning sent a note to Mother Superior asking for permission to visit briefly his daughter. William was prepared for a refusal even though he considered that would be a callous decision. Instead, he received a polite note saying he could see his daughter at half past three the next afternoon between Nones and Vespers.
He was taken to Mother’s office. Susanna was not present. The nun explained she first wanted a private word with him.
‘Susanna is still a postulant, the usual period of postulancy is three months. That time is usually sufficient for us to ascertain if a girl is suitable to become a Novice. I am afraid, Mr. Shakespeare, we are not convinced that Susanna has the right attitude for the life of a nun. We think she may not have a vocation to become a Choir Sister. Novices must take vows of obedience, chastity and poverty and we are afraid your daughter has difficulty with obedience. She broke the rules of silence and had to do penance. Following that she suffered a shock recently when she came across a nun who had died suddenly. Since then she appears to have lost her calling. She has drawn very much into herself and we believe she is suffering from some nervous disorder. The whole matter has been most unfortunate and doubtless Susanna is greatly depressed. We have allowed her to do the postulancy preparation again but I fear when the time comes, once again, she may not be selected as a Novice.’
‘What does she say?
‘Very little. It is possible she expects to become a Novice next month when the ceremony again takes place. However, I have a feeling that your daughter, Mr. Shakespeare, also lacks the humility we require in our nuns.’
‘Susanna has always lacked humility. I have never been confident she had a vocation. When may I see her?’
‘At this very moment, she is outside this office awaiting my call.’
Mother rang her bell, slowly the door opened and Susanna, eyes meekly downcast like a penitent, slowly approached the desk.
‘You may look up, Susanna You have a visitor.’
As if in a daze the girl raised her eyes. ‘Father, father,’ she exclaimed, grasping his hand, ‘help me to become a good person.’
‘You are a good person, Susanna, but you are not going to be a nun. There are many other ways you can serve God. We have decided you are to come home with me.’
He thought she was behaving like a timid child, this was not the Susanna he had known and loved for sixteen years. Would she ever return to the lively girl she had always been?
‘Is it allowed?’
‘Yes, my dear, you will go with your father. There are many ways you can do God’s work in the world outside. Now go to your cell and wait for Sister to bring you your clothing.’
He was convinced it was fate, if Susanna had not broken the silence rule and become involved with a friend, she may have gone on to become a Novice and Novices did not easily leave the Order. ‘The life of a nun was not meant for you, Susanna. I am certain God has other work in mind for you.’ They were walking away from the nunnery. She walked slowly, eyes downcast. ‘You don’t think I am a failure, do you father?’
‘Certainly not, and nor does God Almighty. I will make arrangements for us to leave for England tomorrow. And, I don’t think it necessary to tell the family of your experiences in Rome. Let us, instead, look forward to the next chapters in our life’s adventures.’
ACT 3 - 3
It was Easter in England. The travellers passed through Oxford on the final leg of their journey. They had little to say to one another. William’s mind worked furiously, He had made up his mind to bury himself in the work that always fervently excited him, that would help him live without the only woman he would ever love.
They had an over-night stop in London so he could see, for the first time, the completed Globe Theatre. During William’s absence, his partner, Richard Burbage a close friend and highly thought of actor and impresario, had completed, along with the other three partners, the dismantling of a theatre he had owned for some years and arranged for the transfer and construction of timber, stone, plaster and thatch to this new site on London’s South Bank.
Thrilled with the appearance of the theatre and the potential of his investment (more than fifteen hundred people filled the octagonal building for each performance), William made up his mind to spend very little time in Stratford. He was anxious to get Othello onto the boards.
Susanna, on the other hand, believed she had nothing to look forward to. What would she do with her life? Was she destined to live at home with her mother and Judith leading the unsatisfactory life of a housekeeper, without a husband, a life without challenge and commitment? What else was she fit for? Uncle Gilbert was correct when he said she was over-educated for a woman. What place could she occupy in society? She hadn’t inherited her father’s poetic and imaginative skills. She had been a failure as a nun - too outspoken and forthright - yet to work for God, that’s what she would still like to do, but how?
‘We will not discuss the convent ever, will we father?’ Again and again she sought his reassurance.
‘No, my dear, not ever. That episode was a mistake for you.’
Things would fall into place for her, he was sure of it and besides, it had all been meant to be. If Susanna had travelled to Venice with him, he may never have met Ismene and not had the opportunity to be with her for her last six months.
Once again the complete family waited in town for the arrival of William and Susanna. Things had looked up for John who had been officially a gentleman for nearly three years. The family was once again enjoying the fruits of his success in his civic duties - although both parents seemed to have aged considerably. The travellers had only been gone a year but being away from their home for that period, they noticed on their return small changes that are often not observed in day to day living. John was almost seventy years and Mary over sixty years. Quite an age, thought William, rare to have both parents live past their fifties.
Gilbert, still unmarried, also looked older than his actual age, he was only in his mid-thirties. He was a serious, shy and a devout man. William believed his favourite brother would be a good husband although it appeared as if the girls in Stratford did not find him appealing. William, aware that young girls were not always attracted to shy and self-effacing men, wished that Gilbert would change his way of life and come to London. He thought this quite a feasible idea now that Richard and Edmund worked in the warehouse. And, it would be handy to have a brother one could trust to work on the upkeep of the Globe. They would discuss the matter on his next trip home.
At the welcome home occasion, Anne and his daughter Judith stood apart from the other family members. There was no longer any pretence between William and his wife. He gave her a cursory greeting to which she barely responded. Judith, so different in personality and appearance from Susanna, also displayed little enthusiasm at seeing her father again. Oh well, he had a duty to supply their daily needs, but there was little else he cared to do for them or they wanted from him and he really didn’t care or fret about their relationship. Othello beckoned and several other tragedies were taking shape in his mind. For, William was certain that he had grown as a writer over the immediate past and he was ready for n
ew challenges.
*
William’s father died in 1602. This meant he was now the patriarch of the Shakespeare family and was frequently called home to Stratford to deal with family financial matters. On several visits William became aware that Susanna was rarely at home. It appeared that she had found something to occupy all her time. She visited the poor and sick taking with her herbal remedies made by her mother and sister as well as vegetable broths and other invalid food.
Susanna had made herself indispensable to these poor and lonely people and she began to think that instead of being locked up in a nunnery in Rome, her vocation might be the care of those in need in the region of Stratford-on-Avon. She was aware that there were very few workhouses in England at that time, so the poor and hungry remained in their huts. They didn’t mind that because they hated the thought of leaving their primitive dwellings to go into an unknown situation away from the area in which they had resided throughout their lives. They wanted to die at home, but they needed help and welcomed visits from good-intentioned people such as Susanna. Most were prepared to die alone secure in the belief of a life after death.
John Hall, the young medical student from Paris, began to practice medicine in Stratford in 1602. In later years, William wondered why John chose his home town in which to establish a medical practice. Did he remember their meetings in Paris? Had he been attracted to Susanna from the beginning? Maybe not as Susanna was not exactly charming and hospitable to the young medical student, too worried about him being a Puritan.