h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

The Winters Tale. 1999 Royal Shakespeare Company starring Anthony Sher

Elizabethan drama was usually light on stage direction, enter bearing sword, exeunt all, sound of trumpet, are the normal things one finds. This play contains the best stage direction in Shakespeare, perhaps in any drama, ‘Exits, pursued by a bear’. Did the King’s Men borrow one from the bear baiting pit next door?

To me this play is strange. It appears to be two totally different plays with a sort of resolving coda tacked on to the end. The first part is intense, complicated, but fascinating. The second is a joyous romp. What’s not to like. The third is just silly.

First part is a brooding dark claustrophobic horror. King Leontes and his wife Hermione are hosting a visit from King Polixenes of Bohemia, a childhood friend of Leontes. For reasons known only to himself Leontes becomes fixated on the idea that his wife is having an affair with Polixenes, and that the child she is carrying is Polixenes'. His madness develops and his rages increase. Almost everything anyone says to him he reconstructs into something sexual. Polixenes fears for his life and slips away back home without leave taking, an action which only serves to increase Leontes’ jealousy.

Eventually he imprisons Hermione and she gives birth to a daughter, Perdita. Leontes refuses to acknowledge the child as his, and instructs a courtier to dispose of it in some desert place. This the courtier does, taking it to Bohemia and leaving it on a beach. At which point he is attacked by the bear and eaten. Offstage I’m glad to say. His death is reported by the son of the shepherd who finds Perdita and takes her into his care.

A problem all directors have is how do you do this scene. As Greg Doran director of this production said, ‘getting the bear off is easy, but how do you get him on.’ His solution was to drape the back of the stage with a huge sheet of white silk. The bear then rears up behind this sheet and enfolds the hapless courtier. It worked better some times than others. As Greg says, ‘Some nights it looked like a giant polar bear, on others it looked like the courtier gets buried by an avalanche.’

Back in Sicilia, Leontes has sent messengers to the Oracle at Delphi to obtain the evidence of adultery that he needs to legally condemn Hermione. At her trial the messengers arrive back with news from Apollo that Hermione is innocent and the prophecy that Leontes shall have no heir until the child that was lost is found. Leontes is infuriated and curses Apollo, not a good idea at any time, as the god immediately strikes dead Leontes only son. Hermione swoons and it is given out by her friend Paulina that she has died.

Tormented by these tragic events Leontes finally comes to his senses, and spends the next sixteen years as a virtual recluse in his own court. When researching the character, Anthony Sher spoke to a number of psychiatrists about Leontes and was assured that the condition was a genuine mental illness. It was and often is curable, but the worst part is the guilt and self disgust that follows when the patient comes to understand the terrible things they have done whilst ill.

The sixteen years having past, the second play begins. We are in Bohemia with the shepherds and it is the celebratory feast following the annual shearing. In complete contrast to the first part, this is a happy, colourful world full of dance and song and colour. With the addition of Autolycus, a ‘snapper up of unconsidered trifles’, a tinker, travelling salesman, con artist and pick pocket, who joins in the feast to extract cash from the shepherds.

Cue opportunity for much additional stage business, not in the text, but probably following in the tradition of Elizabethan clowns who would extemporise routines on stage. Overdoing it sometimes, as Hamlet complains of in his advice to the players. In this production there is an extremely funny routine in which he manages to steal all the clothing being worn by the shepherd without his noticing.

Perdita is grown to a comely wench and has attracted the affections of Prince Florizel, son of Polixenes, although she is unaware of his status. Also in attendance at the feast are said Polixenes and a courtier, in disguise to check up what Florizel is up to. Florizel declares his love for Perdita and they are about to be handfasted when the King reveals himself and forbids it, and condemns the poor old shepherd who has brought her up and the shepherd's son, to death. Boo Hisss.

Florizel and Perdita decide to run away, as do the two condemned shepherds, and they all decamp to Sicilia. And so ends the second play.

Now there remains only the sorting out of the problems and a happy ending. Florizel and Perdita arrive in Sicilia at Leontes court and he welcomes them as much because they remind him of the son and daughter he has lost. Hard on their heels comes Polixenes, but after being reconciled to Leontes, he is prepared to listen to argument about the marriage. There follows, off stage, the shepherds relating their tale and providing the evidence that Perdita is Leontes daughter, and all is well. So far, so fairytale.

At this point Paulina turns up and invites everyone back to her place to see the new statue she has had made of the dead Queen Hermione. Of course it isn’t a statue because Hermione didn’t die, and the ‘statue’ comes to life and embraces Leontes and NOW everyone lives happily ever after. Bleugh!

A few digressions: The shepherd ‘brother’ of Perdita is sent to buy ingredients for the feast, he lists them to Autolycus:

Three pound of sugar,
five pound of currants,
rice,--what will this sister of mine do with rice?
I must have saffron to colour the warden pies;
mace;
dates?--none, that's out of my note;
nutmegs, seven;
a race or two of ginger, but that I may beg;
four pound of prunes,
and as many of raisins o' the sun.

What do you make of that? No seriously, what would you make. Answers on a postcard, no prizes, it’s just for fun.

And if you fancy a Warden pie; This is a classic raised pie filled with pears and spiced sugar. These became popular in the Middle Ages where Wardenys (Warden pears) were used and were a snack food on the streets of Shakespeare's London. You can use any firm, dessert pear but Wardens (if you can get them) are still the best. Ingredients: 500g plain flour 125g butter 125g lard 5 tbsp water 250g pear flesh, weighed after coring, peeling and chopping 250g demerara sugar 1/2 tsp ground ginger 1 tsp ground cinnamon lemons. No mention of Saffron.

Will may have been knowledgeable about courts and kings and hawking and law and ships but he probably wasn’t much of a cook, probably lived on takeaways whilst in London.

The last digression; or never let a chance go by to take a swing at the Oxfordians.
A major support of the Oxfordian claim that Edward de Vere was the true author is that Will, a peasant from a provincial village could not have had the experience to write about courts, only a courtier would.

Leaving aside the facts that Will was an actor first and undoubtedly acted in dramas involving courts written by others (who incidentally weren’t courtiers either), and spent time in court when playing before the Queen, the argument could easily be turned and the question asked ‘What experience did the 17th Earl of Oxford have of sheep shearing feasts?’ The guy was so posh that, allegedly, he was so concerned that his name not be connected to common plays that he instituted a conspiracy that not only destroyed every shred of evidence, but continued for at least 19 years after his death. I can't seem him hopping about with a bunch of the great unwashed, swigging cider.

Will would have known these events. His father John was a glover by trade but probably made most of his money from wool dealing. Wool was a major commodity in Elizabethan England and the trade was strictly regulated and traders licenced. John Shakespeare was trading illegally, known as ‘brogging’, as we have found from records of cases brought against him and fines levied.

He wasn’t dealing in the odd fleece here and there and part of his leather working either. In 1571, he acquired 300 tods (or 8,400 pounds) of wool and two years before his death, John was still chasing a debt owed to him for 588 pounds weight of wool. It is interesting that these records didn’t come to light until the 19th century but the workshop in the house in Henley Street in Stratford was traditionally known as ‘The Woolshop’. It is a warning that behind every legend stands a reason for the legend. Perhaps one day a look at the legends relating to Will could be fun.

Deb

[Amy P]

Fascinating!

It's not impossible that the ingredients were for a rice pudding with raisins and spices. All those except the raisins would have been imported ingredients, at great cost.

Thanks for that. What would shepherds be doing buying expensive imports? My throwaway remark about Will's culinary skills might be nearer the mark than I thought.