Category Archives: The Arts

SHAKESPEARE’S BROTHER – THE SCRIPT!

THE EDMUND SHAKEPSEARE BLOG

As part of the project here on Edmund Shakespeare, as promised, we are blogging the treatment that preceded a partially completed novel, but then the detailed research on Edmund Shakespeare and Southwark that should really build a history of an ‘unrecorded life’.

Apparently a script was read in Stratford last year that reached the Cohen Brother’s desk on Richard Shakespeare and another in the pipeline about Susanna.

SHAKESPEARE’S BROTHER

ACT I – O, PARDON! THE LOVELY BASTARD
1596-1599

It is spring, 1596, and a handsome 16 year old lad we mistake for Will Shakespeare, is trying to escape a life at home in provincial Stratford, rattling along the road to dreams and greatness in London. His thoughts are mixed with a montage of the opening of two theatres in Bankside and Blackfriars, where a children’s troupe becomes the Queen’s Choir, and of groundlings, nobles and critics, and the thunder of applause, or the pelt of vegetables. In London, Edmund Shakespeare arrives, and makes for the Curtain Theatre, in Shoreditch, walking in with the reverence of going into a church, to see the aging Edward Alleyn rehearsing the Prologue of Henry V – ‘Or may we cram, Within this wooden O, the very casques, That did affright the air at Agincourt? O, Pardon! Since a crooked figure may, attest in little place a million; And let us, ciphers to this great accompt, On your imaginary forces work…’

Edmund’s brother William, now 30, is in the middle of writing a new history, as a member of thrilling young troupe of actors, Lord Strange’s Men. The process of acting, rehearsing and rewriting, all together, is clear, but two years after they were closed because of plague, the theatres are open again, although the City of London has just banned them within its mile wide limits, and business is moving south, indeed London is on the move. The players are now in the hands of one of the ‘Liberties’, and, dangerously, South of the River, the influence of the just ascended Bishop of Winchester, Thomas Bilson, on payment of an annuity to Elizabeth of £400, in a world where offices were bought. A hawk against Catholic recusants, like Shakespeare’s own Grandfather Edward Arden, and hugely ambitious, Bilson ‘carried prelature in his very aspect’, a defender of the notion Christ descended into hell, the ‘Decensus Controversy’, not to suffer in sympathy with the ‘damned’, but to wrestle the keys of heaven from the devil.

We see the Bishop dining in his great hall in Southwark, a dead ringer for Antonio, in Measure for Measure, but it hides his Court’s apparent acceptance that a human hell can be maintained in London, with the Bishop of Winchester’s brothels, and the Clink prison next door, where the prisoners have to fund their own incarceration. The Church is much in play, at a time when the Elizabethan Religious Settlement is crucial, the Book of Common Prayer insisting children must be baptised, the first Sunday after their birth. While the likes of Arden had been executed for plotting against Queen Elizabeth, as his Catholic Son-in-law, John Sommerville, had been racked, and executed in The Tower. The Tower too looms over the whole drama, both literally and metaphorically for the high-born, a warning to over ambition. Elizabeth’s is an attempt at a more tolerant time, and stability too, but religion is a dangerous political tool, and eyes are everywhere still.

William Shakespeare is on the cusp of huge success though, with his plays starting to appear four years before, in 1592. It has already been a roller-coaster ride, and Edmund gives blessings, and a gift from their mother, Mary Arden, as we hear the line from the theatre, ‘We few, we happy few, we band of brothers….’ Will tries to persuade his baby brother against the dangerous, murderous and filthy city though, despite his affection for Ed, and the scheming, paranoid court.

He tells him simply to go straight home, to the healing countryside. To pretty Silvia, a local girl he grew up with, and they all thought Ed would marry. To go back to their mother, Mary Arden, and the pastoral ‘Forest of Arden’, of Stratford and Warwickshire, to get married, and make gloves! Ed’s loves are hunting deer, sitting by the mill chase, stealing apples, and running wild, and the seasons, blossom-fall, high summer, barren trees, blasted heaths, and deep snow will be much in evidence. We see they were the young Shakespeare’s loves too, and it is a constant theme of town versus country, hard city versus healing nature, as countrymen and women flood in along the Canterbury road, Chaucer’s road, at Borough, to make their ‘fortunes’ in town.

‘The theatre, Ed,’ Will asks Edmund, warily, ‘is the plague in your blood too?’, warning him too how hard it is to really make it as a player, because they are vain and fractious, jealous and backbiting, and in love with the ‘bubble reputation’. Perhaps he should go and see Gilbert, their brother also doing business in town. Edmund comments that Will is losing his hair.

To be continued…

Shakespeare’s Brother is in Copyright to David Clement-Davies and Phoenix Ark Press 2102 All RIghts Reserved

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ABRAMS AND TERRORISM

Isn’t interesting that in such dark times, (since the Twin Towers came down, perhaps,) my own editor and now Abrams Vice President, Sarah van More, could not defend a series of children’s books, starting with the novel coming this week, The Terror Time Spies, that were designed to help kids deal with a climate of fear?

The actual value of a story was irrelevant, in their ‘defence’ of editorial power, that wrecked a career and removed a publisher too. I argued, as I had with a partner and ‘so-called’ friend, that a lot of it was about American consciousness these days, projecting fear, but also massive arrogance, and a quality of selfishness and lack of depth too, that some have called Ego Consciousness. ‘Our rights’, but no-one else’s, and engaging the full weight and threat of a system. That projection is understandable in a climate of world terror and conflict, wherever it comes from, but not for a second in a world of children’s and Young Adult books.

Perhaps my anger was actually frightening, at times, but when a publisher is trying to publish a novel with ‘no contact with the author’, actually to mask the legal dispute that had developed, you really are in the realms of Kafka, or just plain tyranny and cruelty. In this case a business tyranny as bad as any other. Tara Break’s projected life fears were enormous, perhaps out of the darkness in her own strange family, and a terror of standing up too. But when a CEO, Mike Jacobson, threatens an author, fighting for their career out of so many personal betrayals, and on their own in London, with ‘issuing attorney’s notices in New York and London’, but also suggests that I had ‘some other motive’, as if I was some terrorist, then something very odd is going on. At one point I joked that that New York madness would involve delivering a literary manuscript in an armoured car!

The abuse of power was later reflected by instructing an entire department not to read a blog, as a publisher denied dialogue on books already there. The whole thing, for a year of trying to work, was because Tara Break would not put away an accusation that was a complete distortion of the events that led up to her changing a number, and the reasons for them. That jaunt through the fields of publishing, writing, true love or friendship cost me everything, and her publisher Howard Reeves his job too, but then she was hand in glove with my editor, Sarah Van More. Who, in her own collapsing life relationships, not only chose to ‘defend’ Tara Break, but invade her own author, breach his trusts to another publisher, Sharyn Novembre at Penguin, and apply no decent or equitable principle, in her scramble for power. The question remains of who the mystery man was, in the mix, who never had the guts to stand up to this supposed bully, and if he actually works at Abrams too.

But the real ‘Terrorism’ was the ferocious and ultimately cynical politics inside Abrams. It was how they both judged and accused without allowing any kind of proper hearing too. How they abused the principles of authorial respect, proper working conditions, emotional safety, freedom of speech, and honest dialogue too, to serve Tara Break’s interests entirely. Why exactly do they publish anything – for the money and their careers alone? In the end I couldn’t take their devil’s pact of silence for success, as they disrespected all their contracts too, so I walked away. Let’s hope, in taking so much poison out, and now publishing one of those three novels too, we can sweep away the awfulness and rebuild.

But if an American CEO can try to lie about the real issues to the US Author’s Guild as well, and promote Sarah Van More over Harold Roves, then under his leadership Abrams are a publisher that cares about nothing, and America will make its world reputation worse and worse. America is a free country, a great democracy, at root, and I once thought Abrams an extremely fine publisher, but If you think it’s an unimportant story because it is ‘only’ about books, or one person’s livelihood, imagine what could happen if innocence or personal freedom were involved? It does happen, in ‘real’ life, and in often frightening America.

DCD

Phoenix Ark Press

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REPLYING TO TIFFANY B

Hi Tiffany,

thanks for writing again. I’m very positive about Phoenix, readers’ kind and interested responses, and trying to let the issue ‘go’, but some very deep principles indeed were abandoned in this, both in life and in publishing. The astounding fear generated in New York around it has much to say of our times, perhaps, and a harm that can spread well beyond something as apparently unimportant as books. I did not behave very well, at times, but Abrams did something that was not only inhuman but actually breached essential US legal, even Constitutional principles. That’s why it’s flagged at the top of a blog. It is boring and repetitive sometimes, even damaging to put it there, but it was also blind and unnecessary. It is people who make the ‘systems’ we hide in or blame, and people who stand over real harm, or actually cruelty. In other examples that can go really dark. Abrams could and should make it right, but never will, and it is also about the sad climate in Publishing nowadays. As for The Sight 3, that would have happened too. I was told in the middle of it, by my editor Susan Van Metre, now Abrams VP, that fans ‘would love’ a sequel to Fell, and wrote a proposal, but that too was jettisoned, in a completely inadequate response to another book there and an editor’s ‘power over her list’, as my time and fans were disrespected.

As for my stories, Fell, Kar, you’ve hit a nail on the head. But Fell was the novel written at a wonderful time, that a person refused to even read, once talked about in warm jokes during editorial, but later part of awful invasions, by both an ex and my own editor, side by side. No writer or artist can be forced to function under those shocking conditions. No one can be dictated to like that, but see such dreadful and cynical hypocrisy. I hope they wake up to the harm they did, not only involving me but Howard Reeves. Nor was the story only about Abrams, but friendships back in London, and a laziness and emotional negligence that well reflected the passions and rivalries of wolf packs! Wolves though also seem to look after their own. Let’s move on and tell better stories about many things. Thank you for the encouragement, fans are only and rightly interested in the quality of stories, not the back room business of publishing, which here got straight into the front room.

all very best, DCD

To David Clement-Davies

I know Abrams stung you right through the middle but (being positive) forget about them. Your on this site now, your releasing ebooks on Amazon. Your doing wonderful for yourself. Look up reviews on amazon on paperback on some of your books:

The Sight:

http://www.amazon.com/The-Sight-David-Clement-Davies/product-reviews/0142408743/ref=cm_cr_dp_all_helpful?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending

Fire Bringer:

http://www.amazon.com/Fire-Bringer-David-Clement-Davies/product-reviews/0142408735/ref=cm_cr_dp_all_summary?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1&sortBy=bySubmissionDateDescending

These reviews are not towards the publisher but to your work. The Sight has about 182 reviews.

Forget about The Man and continue this site’s great future.

You have my fan love, I don’t care about a publisher when I read a book I only care about the story, how it’s written, how character personalities are written and their situations. For a good example: Kar from The Sight, Kar is dragged away from his family when The Balker kidnap his siblings by Skop and adopted into Larka’s family and he seemingly accepts what he’s got before being separated from Larka and having to turn lone but calls Huttser father near the end when reunited with his pack.

I remember The Sight like it was a movie. I think it’s your best. Fire Bringer was good too but for me, I personally love dogs more then deer.

I hope Sight 3, will happen one day and you can give us the epilogue where Fell and Tarlar and puppies. Puppies would insure Fell’s happiness I think he needed it after the end of Fell, Kar needs to be with Larka. I’m sorry but I can’t imagine any other wolf with him.

This is the ending I’d write as a fan but my plot and layout planning sucks.

Hope this encourages you keep on your future track. All the best.

Tiffany B, A fan

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THE MAD DOG OLYMPIC OPENING!

Spectacular but inclusive” was Danny Boyle’s hope for his directed opening of the London Olympics, last night, also talking poor little Britain acknowledging it’s real place in the world. Are we fourth, sixth, or last, in the great global rat race? But so Mr Boyle threatened to accept a natural Brit mediocrity too, as gloomy but reliable as the Wimbledon-style weather. So what did we get, out of all that secrecy, as rain threatened play?

Well, if you think we’re nuts at Phoenix Ark Press, welcome to Boyle’s World, because it’s truly balmy! As bucolic farmers and fulsome milk maids wafted about, below a mock-up of Glastonbury Tor, in an Olympian version of the Wombles meets the Hobbit, the rings, my precious, the rings, enter lovely lovie Kenny Branagh, dressed as a mix of Isambard Kingdom Brunel and Abraham Lincoln, but quoting the Tempest – “Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises”. We were terrified, not only of the mixing metaphors.

If the Tempest is a tour around Shakespeare’s generative, magical imagination, dark and light, this was a tour de force around Danny Boyle’s rock n’ roll head. With that oddly holy British mysticism, and a beautifully sung-out Jerusalem, the Ents (Tolkien’s talking trees) of our green and pleasant lands, were then uprooted into the dark, satanic mills of industrialism. Before it bowed to a great many talented Britains, put WorldWide Webster Sir Tim Burners Lee at its digital heart, and exploded into export UK, (the Queen was not so much amused, Mr Bond, as just bemused), in a human and pixellated extravaganza.

If the Olympics gave up being apolitical with the Spartans, this also put Danny Boyle’s politics at its absolute heart, blazing the NHS at its centre, with a lovely presence of kids and rocking docs and nurses. But if everything is really political, (psst, don’t tell anyone), then god bless Danny Boyle, snogs and all, because all you do need is love. Perhaps every nation on earth will now race to offer a global vision, and solution. Not only was it inclusive, and so spectacular that it was astonishing, it was warm, witty and in the end as moving as the cross-country torch procession.

Private Eye may have a field day with snatched glimpses of Charles and Camilla having a snigger, as Seb looked embarrassed (God damn those cameras everywhere) or David Beckham looking like a new Gillette ad down the Thames, and in times of austerity the bread and circuses element may have bankrupted us all, (is there such a thing as a triple jerk recession?), but you can forgive it all for the fun, talent, the human world vision and the magnificent Olympic crucible of flame. Lord Coe’s and that French bloke’s speeches was not half bad either.

So enter the glowing beauty of human faces, bodies too, and rainbows of colour, in what it’s about now, the sportsmen and women of the world, inclusively, if they are not shot when they get home. As a roar went up for the US, our heart-strings broke, but two hundred Nations made and were soaking in the warmth of a Games that is already palpable, and if this is London’s third Olympics, it is the first where every country has included a woman athlete. Maybe London and Britain have come home. It’s all those competitors though who will really tell us how well we do it over these two weeks.

Britain may have sunk the good ship Britannia, stupidly, handed London last summer to a gang of nasty yobs, aspiring to ugly gold lame hoodies, and mired itself in awful Press and City scandals, but mad dogs and Englishmen are still alive and well, (actually the most ancient Britains were Welsh – the Braethon). But above all it proved this weird island race is not only one of vision, but a race of genius and lunatic artists, as brilliant as Phoenix Ark Press. It’s after this that we’ll see if anyone can wake up to real inclusivity, get Banks lending, not robbing or fixing, and solve the growing reality gaps. Is the digital revolution truly connecting us though, or turning us into weird fantasists? “And I believe, that something so simple as rock and roll will save us all.” Well, you never know, Danny boy! So over to you, Olympians. Burn athletes, live the dream, for yourselves, for your countries, for the world!

PS just to enjoy a bit of the home advantage and going for Gold too, Phoenix Ark Press have now appointed the sporting thriller The Godhead Game by David Clement-Davies unofficial read of the London Olympics!

It does not quite kidnap David Beckham, but it does send kidnapped sportsmen to play a murderous game in the rainforests, and there will not be any left if we don’t wake up, while it employs the theme of this year’s Mayan ‘end of the world’, to look at the state of Capitalism and the human spirit. The London countdown is over, but the world countdown to December has begun. Available in exclusive if reluctant digitality from Amazon.comClick here

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SHAKESPEARE, OXFORD, CATHOLICS, MIDDENS AND SCHOOLING WITH IVOR BROWN

The Edmund Shakespeare Blog

That little 1949 edition on Shakespeare by Ivor Brown certainly underlines gaps in my knowledge, which are probably wide as a church door, but it’s very clear the Stradfordian-Oxfordian clash is in full swing by the time it came out, five years after the war. Indeed the book seems written to defend against it, though, with apologies to passionate William Ray, Brown reminds how it was all good-natured stuff, with a shared love of the times. So, if genius cannot perhaps come from quite ‘anywhere’, but needs the soil of some culture, certainly reading and writing, Ivor Brown underlines the grandeur of the Arden line, if Shakespeare’s family were a dispossessed branch, financial crises, but the town prominence of John Shakespeare and that fight for a Coat of Arms, even if Shakespeare winked at it. He also pours a dung heap of scorn on the contempt the Oxfordians then hurled at a supposedly illiterate household, because it had a midden outside. The communal dung heap was a feature of country towns, and he also points out that the demonstrably literate Adrian Quiney also signed his name with a cross, as did John Shakespeare, on the same document. That x marking a spot was a common Elizabethan practice, particularly perhaps among people who did not especially like signing documents, or trust the law.

He’s very interesting on the lack of information about any schooling, and again, having spent my own little time going blind trying to read Elizabethan records, while evoking the Stratford Shakespeare you must underline the sparsity and sometimes difficulty of evidence too. No record of Shakespeare exists between a baptism and a wedding, but then why would there need to be any? If there is not a ‘mountain of evidence’ though, there is a comparative mountain, compared to Bacons and Oxfords, though I owe time to a Cardan grille! But one name comes up again in the book, Simon Hunt, a teacher at the Stratford Grammar School, who ended his days a Jesuit in Rome. I have made no connection yet between the London Hunts, owners of The Vine where Edmund Shakespeare was staying when he died, a Phoenix discovery linked to the reign of Henry VI, thank ye very much, and any Stratford Hunts, whether Simon, or Richard Hunt, the Vicar and Oxford man who owned the book with the latin inscription talking of Shakespeare as a ‘Roscius’. I think it’s a valuable area of enquiry though, in that intensely interconnected Elizabethan world, so do join the blog, if you can add to the scholarship. (Then I’ll write a book and make some money out of it, buy a fine house and live like the earl of Oxford!)

As for a Catholic trail that might echo out of a Catholic school master, as one Catholic friend said hopefully at Stoke Abbot last weekend, “then everyone was a Catholic”. Well, yes, perhaps, because ‘is the pope a Catholic’? You might ask it of the Barberinnis, those hungry Princes of the Church, or indeed Pope Leo X, who said ‘it has served us well, this myth of Christ’. As for any myth of Shakespeare, I have my own notions about his beliefs, out of highly secular though also magical plays, but also his affections for prominent Catholics, and connections with them too. There is that Blackfriars Gatehouse, and if there was any intimacy with the London Hunts, pure surmise, there is now that Brotherhood of Our Lady of Assumption, somewhere in the background, founded at St Margaret’s Church in Southwark. But above all there is Southwark as a place of independence and free thought, on both sides, but a vivid London Reformation fault line.

St Margaret’s had been thrown down, though who knows what became of the Brotherhood. But anyway, the Fraternity, like the Bishops of Winchester, seems much involved in local property ownership, of taverns and perhaps brothels, since Alan Nelson said in his lecture that local lore suggested The Vine was a tavern-brothel. Alan Nelson is right in saying there is no evidence, but you just have to look at Cowcross Street, Clerkenwell,Shoreditch, described in The Lodger, something of Soho today, but especially Southwark then, to understand what taverns often were, or how close it all was. “It all happened here,” said one lady, talking of Bankside and beaming at me from the Globe reception, while the theatre too is that place of putting on and taking off clothes. Ooh la la.

DCD

PA PRESS

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CHARLES DANCE, STEPHEN SPIELBURG AND READING SHAKESPEARE ON SILVER STREET

The Edmund Shakespeare Blog

Just finished Charles Nicholl’s excellent The Lodger, which came into the frame as appropriate scholarship, when trying to get a project on Edmund Shakespeare off the ground. That moved from a novel, to a TV proposal, to months at the Metropolitan Archive, trying to be honourable to the actual evidence, or lack of it. Last weekend I also found a little second-hand yellow bound edition of the 1949 Shakespeare biography, by Ivor Brown, in the wonderful Stoke Abbot book barn in Dorset, at their annual village fair. Brown’s highly articulate and extremely passionate take is dedicated to ‘The Players’, and takes just the route I wanted to, which is straight through a theatre door. It’s approach and language could not be more different to Nicholls’ finely written and very measured story of the Bellot-Mountjoy case, and the evidence of Shakespeare lodging on London’s Silver Street, mixing with the likes of the French immigrant wig making family, and also the tavern-brothel owner George Wilkins, who is the best candidate for the co-authorship of Pericles. Low company indeed.

First though to upbraid a modern ‘player’, Charles Dance, who was extremely nice when I collared him in the Chelsea Arts Club, over a sneaky cigarette in the garden, and asked him to take a look at a two page treatment on Shakespeare’s Brother. Little did he know I had had to suffer repeated nights of watching his striding Coriolanus, when I was working front of House at the RSC, years back. He can have no had idea of my only professional ‘acting’ performace, for one night, as the bear in the Winter’s Tale, at Regents Park Open Air Theatre. I borrowed Joe Regal’s costume. After Anonymous had come out though, he could hardly suspect my already dreaming fantasy, being a fantasy author, of today’s finest players rising up in fiery indignation to defend the ‘cause’ of Elizabethan actors, scumbags to heroes, and tell Edmund Shakespeare’s lost story in Southwark. “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers!” Dream on, though my cry these last four years has been about being ‘allowed’ to write, and earn, especially under contract. But, while warning that he would be brutally honest, Charles Dance at least gave his word that he would get back to me, and never did! Words, words, words. Perhaps he loathed it, or it was Molly Parkin, or he was right about my “living in cloud cuckoo land” if I thought the giants of stage, TV and Film had more time than for two pages. At least the folk at Sky Arts thought it not that bad. But since I think a director like Stephen Spielberg has all the storytelling magic, yet necessary respect for historical accuracy too, to tell such a Southwark Tale, perhaps borrowing Roland Emmerich’s set, not to mention the Hollywood clout, he is very welcome to pick up a phone instead and call Phoenix Ark Press. “Mr Davies, I have Mr Spielberg on the phone, we have to have this Edmund Shakespeare story thing, the world is crying out to know!” Both the TV treatment and the nascent novel though, as part of an overall project on Edmund Shakespeare here, with the non-fiction work above too, will be blogged as well.

The Lodger is fascinating, if strangely slight in the end, like so much world building around Shakespeare, although it’s interesting that Nicholl’s creative juices really start to flow when he talks of the steamer side of London, from the fortress brothel, Holland’s Leaguer, in Southwark, to the dirty weekend goings on in Brentford. But then the mystery and drive of sex are always in question in sensing how Shakespeare lived and “conceived it so”, as are all the murderous arguments of the Reformation. That was what my story of lost Edmund was largely about though, living in and surviving often foul London, and the madness, jealousy and misery of art. I still think Stoppard in Shakespeare in Love got some spirit very right, and he should know more than most. Charles Nicholls particularly highlights the period from around 1604 to 1607 as Shakespeare’s time on Silver Street, and Measure for Measure and Pericles as part of a sea change in his work. He also suggests the influence and effect his relationship with the dispossessed daughter Marie Mountjoy may have had on the plays. From Pericles to Lear, The Winter’s Tale and The Tempest, so many of Shakespeare’s major characters in the later plays are about father-daughter relationships, and London and Southwark was a place where very good advice might be to ‘lock up your daughters.’. But if such biographical links can be made, or are purely suggestive to the creative psyche of such a writer, another fact that must surely have resonated very loudly indeed through William Shakespeare’s life at the time was the death of his youngest, player brother, Edmund, in 1607. Edmund’s own infant son had died, four months earlier, and was marked down as ‘base born’. That means that the unmarried mother, living in the poor environs of Morefields, was about to give birth, at a supposedly very happy time for elder and now succesful William, the marriage of his own daughter Susanna to John Hall, that same year. With the Great Frost that seized up the Thames in December, and saw London watermen cutting channels in the ice, as they do in Coriolanus, with a marriage and a filial death too, 1607/8 was also quite a shattering year then.

Off the top of my head, I think it was the unreliable John Aubrey who first suggested Shakespeare spent something like ten years living in Southwark, after he moved from the Bishop’s Gate. His recorded time on wealthier Silver Street, north and inside London Wall, suggests he was more in transit. It is a pet theory here that his move from Southwark, by current evidence in that monumental year of 1603, that saw a Queen’s death and the return of plague, also had something to do with the political rise of long time resident in Southwark, Philippe Henslowe. I think not enough has been made of the Henslowe rivalry, Will Kempe split, the building of the Globe, the decline of the Rose, two hundred yards away, and the political rivalries at court, with Henslowe as Master of the Game and a Groom of the Chamber, like Shakespeare, the man who would build The Hope, as he northern Fortune declined, but die in the same year as Shakespeare, 1616. These were showmen, in sometimes literally violent competition. Shakespeare in Love gets that rivalry between the Admiral’s and King’s Men, or His Majestie’s Servants.

But there is also Henslowe’s local establishment role, along with Edward Alleyn, as part of The Great Enqueste, under James I. It is recorded in the St Saviour’s Church Token Books too. In Southwark that brought into the frame the fascinating question of the troubled administration of St Saviour’s, now Southwark Cathedral, where Henslowe and then Alleyn became Wardens, and the complaints about the merry behaviour of the 80 stong Vestrymen there. Being a warden meant you oversaw wills, deeds and property transfers in the area though, and we know much of Henslowe’s numerous business interests there from his famous account books. With the death of the Queen and a new royal administration, every office was thrown into question, and in controversial Southwark, the hopeful stomping ground of the expanding City of London too, just around then William Shakespeare, triumphant at the Globe and elsewhere, seems to move out of the area, to Silver Street. In many ways he seems to be a man often trying to get away from it all.

But Henslowe’s fingers in Southwark pies was also dabbling in the administration of poor relief in the area, and the running of local charitable institutions like Cure’s College. It is in an accounts book in the Cure’s College papers, again without the notes and off the top of my head, that I found a note of a payment of 20 Shillings for “Mr Jonson’s Booke”. I do not know if others have found that, and have not jet checked it against Henslowe’s hand writing, but it suggests to me a play by Ben Jonson, and that Church admin, local arms colleges, taverns, brothels and theatres, could be a very off the cuff and interconnected affair.

As for his unknown brother Edmund, completely absent in any playlists, yet marked down as a player too, and dying at only 27 in Southwark in 1607, how can you tell his story? There is a great deal to be said about brothers in Shakespeare’s plays, especially Lear and As You Like It, though nothing that proves anything absolutely. If the controversies rage over the sparse records around William, although far more considerable circumstantial evidence, which The Lodger finely adds to, Edmund’s really would be the ‘Biography of an Unrecorded Life’, as I first tagged Shakespeare’s Brother. As all biography contains ‘fiction’, perhaps putting scholarship right beside creative narrative will be helpful, although it also shows how quickly knowledge of the plays start to change the vision, and get into the work. But there are only six records of Edmund Shakespeare’s existence, one is questionable, and two repeat. We really only know of a birth and a death then, and that he was, although not how successfully, supportively or jealously, a player. So much about him suggests something we are unused to in reading about the mythic William Shakespeare though, a World mythos that he and his work achieved only later, despite any contemporary phenomenon, as Ackroyd claims, and that is a Shakespeare as failure. That is the thrill of the historical detective story too though, which helps recapture the whole extraordinary story of writers and actors in Southwark, indeed ordinary London life, over four hundred years ago.

DCD

Phoenix Ark Press

(Phoenix Ark is a member of the independent Publisher’s Guild.)

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OLYMPICS, EDMUND SHAKESPEARE AND PLACING A STORY IN CONTEXT

THE EDMUND SHAKESPEARE BLOG

London is about to host an Olympics, but there is also a Cultural Olympics going on and a Shakespeare fest too. There is useful work being done at the moment mapping Elizabethan London, and Southwark. It is work that a lay student can join in with too and an example is the use of the so-called ‘Agas Map’ Click here. A little doubtful here of ‘Virtual Reality’ or ‘interactive history’, often supposed facts and dates too, it still helps readers imagine the ground, four hundred years ago.

To start imagining Bankside though, go there today, and visit Sam Wanamaker’s Globe Project, which stands near the area of old ‘Paris Gardens‘, a Liberty, where Francis Langley’s Swan Theatre once stood, a Bull and Bear baiting arena, and the Royal Barge house on the Thames, that the landlord and impresario Philip Henslowe franchised and re-equipped. Just South East of the modern Globe, parallel with the Thames, runs dreary modern Park Street, which more or less follows the line of old Maid Lane, which for a time became the Broadway or Shaftesbury Avenue of its day. It was on Maid Lane that Henslowe put up his Rose Theatre, and in 1599, the Burbages, with Will Shakespeare a sharer, The Globe. It is possible that another figure involved in the theatres, Jacob Meade or Maide, a prominent waterman, like so many in the district, took his name for Maide Lane.

The Elephant Tavern, perhaps referenced in Twelfth Night, stood on one Maid Lane corner, as did The Vine, in a group of properties called Hunt’s Rents. The Vine included, as did many monastic and also tavern properties, a brewhouse, in a celebrated brewing area by the river, and a ‘messuage’ of land, tenements, stables and gardens. So it was like hundreds of taverns located in Southwark. It was bequeathed in the Online will of Edwarde Hunt, to his ‘beloved wife Mary’, who was pregnant, in 1588. It is uncertain when it went up, but a Vyne is mentioned in the 1530’s, and it belonged to a John Le Hunte, under Henry VI. Or rather to that Brotherhood of Our Lady of Assumption, connected to St Margaret’s Church, granted rights to buy Land and properties by the King of up to Twenty Marks. In the Token Books of Southwark Cathedral, registers of locals buying church tokens handed in to prove communion attendance, Edmund Shakespeare’s name appears at the Vine in 1607. He died that freezing December and was buried on the 31st, though the furiously chill weather extends the possible time of fairly rapid burials. Alan Nelson and his colleague Professor Ingram have been listing all the names in the Token Books to put up on line.

They include the likes of Edmund Shakespeare, Phillip Henslowe, and Edward Alleyn, several actors and some characters who appear in other references to Shakespeare. Keep walking East passed the modern sites of The Rose and Globe excavations, and you get to the point Park Street turns right and South. It was once called Deadman’s Place. If you had gone South West four hundred years ago you would have got to St Margaret’s Cross, where St Margaret’s Church once stood, dissolved during the Reformation, to become a local prison. We think Deadman’s Place is linked to land called, in one document, Lord Farrar’s Place, that St Margaret’s Church bought up for a new burial ground and sepulchre.

Above the Park Street bend, at the modern wine mecca Vineopolis, begins what was once the Liberty of The Clink, running along Clink Street, where London’s oldest prison stood, passed the remains of Winchester House, the London palace of the Bishop of Winchester, and you get to St Saviour’s Dock, where the Golden Hinde replica is, Winchester Street and then Southwark Cathedral. We can now prove that Phillipe Henslove lived in a house that was effectly No 5 Bell Alley, just before Clink Street, on the edge of the Church Square, probably part of another tavern and tenement complex, like The Vine, or the nearby Green Dragon Inn.

Henslowe lived in Southwark for over 20 years, but for several years his Son-in-law the famous actor Edward Alleyn moved in with him. Both were to become Wardens of St Saviour’s Church, for a time. Both were also involved in something called The Great Enqueste. It began with the Coronation of James I, into many affairs, but in Southwark coalescing about complaints against the Church Vestrymen and local administration, that is its own important and fascinating story. Here we think, because the Wardens oversaw legal agreements and purchases, it was very important in the Shakespeare story, and may have been one of the reasons William Shakespeare moved out of the area again. If Charles Nicholls is right about the dates surrounding Shakespeare’s sojourn on Silver Street, around Elizabeth’s death, then it makes sense, if a rival like Henslowe came more to the fore as a Southwark Man, with the Queen’s death.

The topography of the area has of course changed enormously, with the rise in height, the crowding of concrete buildings, and above all the movement of London Bridge, west by over fifty yards. But what remains is the dominating space of St Saviours Church, Southwark Cathedral, and the fact that Bankside, once Stewside, has not moved at all, unlike the North Shore. Olympic visitors disgorging next week at London Bridge Tube Station, or people trying to get away from it all, and rediscover an extraordinarily interesting and important area, threatened by buildings like the Shard and the activities of Thames Water, may find it difficult to imagine. But perhaps the coming blogs and precise details will help. In the meantime, here is a picture of JJ Visscher’s famous engraving of 1616, the year both Shakespeare and Henslowe died.

Let the eye dwell on the bottom shore, across the river from the old wooden, walled City of London. To the right is the small church of no longer standing St Olaves, the spire of which Peter Ackroyd says is mentioned more than any other in Shakespeare’s Plays, although London then had five St Olaves. Go West to the old covered London Bridge, famous throughout Europe, then to the large church of St Saviours, originally St Mary’s Overies, now Southwark Cathedral. Keep going left and you get to Winchester House or Palace, in the Clink Liberty, and then you get to Maid Lane, where the round bear gardens and theatres stood. In time we will pinpoint where Edmund Shakespeare was staying in 1607. (The panorama is taken from Wikepedia. If there are any copyright issues please contact the blog.)

FOR FURTHER EVIDENCE AND WORK SEE SHAKESPEARE’S BROTHER IN THE PUBLISHER’S PAGES, ABOVE


Phoenix Ark

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WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, PRINCE CHARLES AND EDWARD DEVERE

There is one small element of the William Ray’s trumpeting of the theory about Edward Devere that Phoenix Ark will support, and that is you must not make too many ‘establishment’ assumptions about Shakespeare for granted. It is why we found something of the ‘Shakespeare Land’ RSC tradition, at times, or the entire industry that has built up, something of a block to rediscovering the playwright and the plays. Not to mention why the Barbican Centre, one former RSC home, may have great concert halls but is the ugliest building in Europe. As, in contrast, the BBC and The Hollow Crown are so superbly recapturing Will and the plays. It is why too much worthiness towards the ‘bard’, in school, or anywhere else, can vitally separate students from the living word, which you must inhabit, perhaps like a player, to get to the wonder and genius of.

In fact, even the ‘establishment’ theory, with so much more evidence than others, often has thin links and tiny facts too, built into entire worlds. That is certainly not to go against the William of Stratford ‘theory’, but it is to leave imaginative space to understand the real man and the time again. Someone we believe even more astonishing, if you really put it all in context. But if there is the world of airy fancy, or the new American approach of near virtual ‘recreation’, there is that third place, part fact, part fiction. It is perhaps expressed in Peter Ackroyd’s instinctive understanding of writers and the mystery of identity, and above all about the metaphorical nature of an explosive language, and a vital, organic historical moment. Shakespeare reforges the language, as if it was his non-royal but divine right. But of course Shakespeare was not THE Shakespeare he has become, however lauded in his time. He was rediscovered, even ‘reinvented’, mythologized and institutionalised too, with almost every private or public political agenda attached to his name and works, over the years. But then his work encompasses so much. His greatest rediscovery was under the early Victorians, even if they ‘Bawdlerised’ the agonies of King Lear.

One notable critic of course was Dr Johnson though, who has very interesting links, talked about in Shakespeare’s Brother (if it ever gets published) to the Thrale family. Ralph Thrale, direct from the Bishops of Winchester, bought up the land on which those theatres stood, and where Edmund Shakespeare lived for a time, turning it into the largest brewery in Europe, the Anchor Brewery. So while the players and playwrights, and their and Will’s words, were going through the guts or ears of Londoners, the future in Southwark was headed towards that all driving force, money, thanks to Londoner’s drinking guts, and the land ownership of taverns by the City, especially with the entry of the Barclay’s and Courage families. Hey ho.

It was very interesting when Anonymous came out though that Prince Charles put his name to the Stratford Camp, with his face on the website. Then he is a patron of the Birthplace Trust. We have often been admirers here, to adopt just a token of Royal crawling, or graceful respect, especially for work such as the Princes’ Trust, and even thought of sending him the ‘royal’ spirited Fire Bringer, when it first came out. It is about Scottish deer, after all. We have no idea if he’s any kind of scholar or not on the subject of Shakespeare, but it is also interesting that The Prince of Wales, divinely righted or not, does not support the Edward Devere theory either. Incidentally, along with Dr Johnson, one of the many visitors to the Anchor Brewery where The Globe and The Vine had stood, was another Prince of Wales.

PA Press

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EDMUND SHAKESPEARE, THE EARL OF OXFORD, FALSTAFF AND THE HOLLOW CROWN

Wonderful to see the BBC series of plays, and actor’s commentaries, in The Hollow Crown. To see Simon Russel Beale talking about that empty word ‘honour’, or Falstaff, though honour was very important to Shakespeare and the time, in a sense beyond the Knighted meaning, that might evoke Calvino’s The Ancestors. To see Jeremy Irons rowing The Thames, recalling those events James Shapiro describes so powerfully in 1599, when the Burbages and Shakespeare, perhaps his youngest brother Edmund, a player too, carried the wood from The Theatre across to river to Southwark, to build The Globe. They took their theatre, their craft and their vision on their backs, and Phoenix believe in very conscious opposition with the likes of impressario and landlord Philip Henslowe, as Will Kemp, an original Globe sharer, split away, although any good story needs its baddy and Henslowe is quite a complex character.

If the experimental blog on Edmund Shakespeare here, Shakespeare’s Brother, is of any value, it has turned up some startling and unknown facts about Southwark and a London district we think completely underestimated in understanding a period and those plays. One of those insights is Jeremy Irons’ reporting that Falstaff was based on the Lollard soldier Sir John Oldcastle. An ancestor of the temporary Master of the Revels, Lord Cobham, whose wife lived on London Bridge and owned Southwark property, Oldcastle may have been an inspiration, though one chorus actually denied it on stage, mentioning Oldcastle, out of the little controversy, and saying ‘this is not the man.’

But another candidate is the real Sir John Fastolf. If you believe in the literal translation of authors, out of people or events, he seems an obvious candidate. Perhaps the point is that the Fastolfs actually owned a Southwark Tavern called The Boar’s Head. The sight was excavated by the Museum of London, though nothing found. Then there is that very famous Boar’s Head of Henry IV and East Cheap. There was a Boar’s Head in the walled City too, and perhaps two in Southwark, with its hundreds of taverns, but again it has been slightly translated. For those who have been following the little spat about the Edward Devere, Earl of Oxford, authorship theory though, it brings up the subject of how writers actually work, moving between facts and fictions, drawing from many ideas and sources, and translating their realities, as Bottom is translated in his fairy dream, in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

Perhaps then Will was thinking of Oldcastle, but a local tavern owning family too, the Fastolfs, and their cowardly ancestor Sir John Fastolf, soon to be made a False Staff, with a rival tavern in Southwark actually in the frame. Was he taking revenge for some local goings on, as he got caught up in that battle over the Soer house? He might simultaneously have been firing a purposeful shot at the walled City. But perhaps the point, if we are seeking Shakespeare’s ‘identity’, out of the nonsense Devere theory (that’s a friendly shot at William Ray) is the difficulty of biography and the real value being the realised vision on the page.

But what is really thrilling, with unknown Edmund Shakespeare in the frame too in Southwark, now linked to a tavern called the Vine, owned by the Hunt family, probably bought under Henry VI, by a local fraternity called The Brotherhood of Our Lady of Assumption, Edmund being the missing player if you like, is building up the localised picture, however faint, however filled with semi-fictive imaginings, of a real place and very interconnected people. There is a great deal more to come.

Phoenix Ark

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THE SHARD AND SOUTHWARK

So Renzo Pianzo’s Shard finally opens officially, if mostly unoccupied! A soaring inspiration, a blinding nonsense or a blot on the landscape? Simon Jenkins calls the building, owned largely by the Quataris, ‘an outrage’ and nothing to do with the landscape and heritage of the area. He is largely right, though it is hard to keep in check the architectural visions and nightmares of London. Then, when the viewing gallery opens in 2013, perhaps it is a chance to look down on the history of little Southwark beneath and perhaps turn any fight towards Thames Water’s plans, or what preserving history in any area, but especially phenomenally important areas like Southwark, means. Perhaps the inspiration on the ground are real people, shops, businesses, Borough Market and the story of the theatres there 400 years ago.

ps Bless Boris johnson for his ‘Shardenfreude‘ joke to the Germans, but we are clearly all overgrown schoolboys and love our tribal quips, as the planet goes to the Isle of Dogs!

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