"In the spring time, the only pretty ring time."

“Perchance he’s hurt i’ th’ battle.” All’s Well that Ends Well, 3.5.86

While we here in Virginia have certainly been living recently with all the trials of

“The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
And by and by a cloud takes all away,”
(The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 1.3.85-87)

we may hope for a sunny, idyllic (and tornado free!) Easter this Sunday.

Like so many of our most popular holidays, Easter began as a pagan celebration, morphed into an intensely Christian holiday, and has today settled into an odd hybrid of the two – with a healthy dose of Cadbury Cream Eggs thrown in.

The name “Easter” is presumably derived from the Germanic goddess of fertility, Eostre, in whose honor festivities were held at the spring equinox to mark the advent of the season. Thus, Easter stems from the ancient tradition of celebrating the rebirth and renewal that comes at this time of year. In fact, two of the items most commonly associated with the holiday, eggs and rabbits, were both ancient symbols of fertility. (Well, not quite; hares were the original “Easter Bunny,” or “Osterhase,” but eventually were replaced by the better known – and cuter – rabbit.) And when these two unique objects combined, you got an egg-delivering rabbit that would become an indelible image of Easter through the centuries.

In keeping with the theme of rebirth, Easter was adopted by the Catholic Church at the Council of Nicea in 325 A.D. to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. It does not, however, fall on the same date every year, but continues, in the pagan tradition, to be governed by the cycles of the moon. Easter is always on the first Sunday following the full moon of the vernal equinox on March 21. Yet Easter is really the culmination of a whole season of religious observances, beginning 40 days prior on Ash Wednesday. The following period of fasting and restraint, known as Lent, culminates in Holy Week, or the week leading up to Easter Sunday and encompassing Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday. This lengthy period of fasting could be where the tradition of hard boiling Easter eggs comes from, since that may have been the way in which the eggs were preserved through Lent, when consumption of meat, dairy, and eggs was forbidden. As you might imagine, by the time Easter itself rolled around, people were ready to feast and let loose.

An Elizabethan Easter

This year, Shakespeare shares a special bond with Easter, since the Bard’s birthday falls on the very same weekend. Although in the plays themselves, references to this spring holiday are limited to one: In Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio chides Benvolio, asking, “Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter” (3.1.26-27)? This quip refers to the popular custom of the time of wearing one’s new clothes on Easter. This was a chance for people from all levels of society to show off their new garb, from simple to fantastic. For some, it was an especially momentous occasion, since it might be the only time they received new clothes all year. Today, people still like to show off their snazzy new “Easter bonnets” on the day.

16th Century Shepherds

Other activities which Shakespeare’s contemporaries would have enjoyed include various outdoor games and dancing. Morris dancing, in which belled and beribboned men would perform intricate dances to frighten away the spirits of winter, was especially popular. The practice of dying and decorating eggs is thought to have begun as early as the 13th century, and in Elizabethan England the colorful eggs were exchanged as gifts between young people. Small children would lay out nests at night, in which the Easter hare would deposit eggs for them to find the next morning – the predecessor of the modern Easter basket. The image of little Will Shakespeare laying out his Easter nest, hoping to find colorful treasures there in the morning, is a charming one.

Of course, what would any decent holiday be without some delicious food to help you celebrate? If you choose to pass up the chocolate bunnies and marshmallow Peeps for some more historical fare (or maybe you’d like to indulge in both, which may or may not be what I’ll be doing…), you might want to try the ubiquitous hot cross bun. Read the history of this baked good, which includes a reference to Ben Jonson’s Bartholomew Fair, here.

And Happy Easter to one and all!

Natalie A.

"Born under a charitable star."

It cannot be denied that, for a man of 447, William Shakespeare has held up remarkably well. Since his death in 1616, each subsequent generation has adopted the world famous playwright for their own, using Shakespeare’s words in some unique way to represent their own time. There are myriad ways in which he is still being discovered and exulted, this blog being one example amid thousands. This year, upon the birthday of the Bard, a whole collection of well-wishers are sharing their love at HappyBirthdayShakespeare.com, and my own tiny tribute will be among them.

Working at the American Shakespeare Center, I have had the opportunity to indulge my love both of Shakespeare and of history and to combine them in heretofore unimagined ways. As a historian, I have above all enjoyed placing the works of Shakespeare in a historical context. For me, coming to see the plays in the framework of their own place and time and not just as SHAKESPEARE’S PLAYS, floating in a timeless vacuum, was something of a revelation. Above all, it has helped to humanize William Shakespeare, the man. Discovering the ins and outs of early modern theatre – the business, the technical details, the glorious heights and monumental lows – and the comedic and tragic facets of daily life in Elizabethan England, is still an ongoing process in my work, and the findings often overflow into my writing here. In that vein, I thought I would take a look at Elizabethan birthdays, and April 23 in particular, since it carries with it the added weight of also being an important, stand-alone English holiday.

"It is my birthday."

Although it isn’t known for sure that Shakespeare was born on April 23, the name of baby Will, or “Guilemus filius Johannes Shakespeare,” appears in the baptismal record of the parish church in Stratford, England, on April 26, 1564. Since a child was commonly required to be baptized on the first Sunday or holy day following their birth, the 23rd is the commonly accepted date chosen as the one on which little Shakespeare entered the world. It is also St. George’s Day, St. George being the patron saint of England perhaps most famously invoked in Shakespeare’s own Henry V. Like many other aspects of the man’s life, however, the true date of Shakespeare’s birth will likely remain forever a mystery.

Although not the glut of presents, pointy hats, and party favors that they are today, a birthday would indeed have been a day of note in early modern England. After all, celebrating birthdays was a tradition which went back millennia; in his Histories, Herodotus says that the ancient Persians, presaging countless others down through history, liked to commemorate the occasion by eating “an abundance of dessert.” The tradition of making a cake to commemorate one’s birthday certainly existed in Shakespeare’s day, but there were likely no candles, due to the expense, and definitely no singing “Happy Birthday to You,” a jingle which didn’t appear until the twentieth century. The Elizabethans possessed an ever-growing love for sugar, which they had begun importing in increasing quantities from far off lands in the East and West, and which they incorporated into both their baking and medicine. On the day of his natality, Shakespeare might have enjoyed some Banbury cakes with family or friends, an original recipe for which appeared in the 1615 English cookbook, The English Huswife:

To make a very good Banbury Cake, take four pounds of Currants and wash and pick them very clean, and dry them in a cloth: then take three Eggs, and put away one yelk, and beat them and strain them with the Barm, putting thereto Cloves, Mace, Cinamon, and Nutmegs, then take a pint of Cream, and as much mornings Milk, and set it on the fire till the cold be taken awy; then take flowre, and put in good store of cold butter and sugar, then put in your eggs, barm and meal, and work them all together an hour or more; then save a part of the past, & the rest break in pieces, and work in your Currants, which done, mould your Cakes of what quantity you please, and then with that paste which hath not any Currants, cover it very thin, both underneath and aloft. And so bake it according to the bigness.

In addition to utilizing generous portions of sugar, this recipe also makes use of currants, and spices such as cinnamon and nutmeg, all popular ingredients of Shakespeare’s world. If you'd like to make some Banbury cakes in his honor, but all that “baking according to the bigness” sounds a tad daunting, try the friendlier, modern recipe.

If April 23 really was his true day of birth, it is tantalizing to imagine Shakespeare taking special pleasure each year in the St. George’s Day festivities, enjoying the fact that his own birthday was being celebrated by all across the country. After all, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, St. George’s Day was a holiday of tremendous importance, on par with Christmas Day. There would have been music, dancing, and feasting, and men would often wear red roses, while the red cross of St. George’s flag would be flown proudly around the town.

In a compelling bit of symmetry, April 23 is also the day on which Shakespeare died, in 1616. Between these two matching bookends falls a life of soaring accomplishments and particular genius, as well as long, empty stretches of the unknown. So, whether you want to celebrate his life or his death, or anything that fell in between, there are lots of ways you can turn this Saturday, April 23, into a party! UNESCO has since declared April 23 “The Day of the Book,” in honor of the power of the written word throughout history, and especially of Shakespeare. It has also, unofficially, become “Talk Like Shakespeare Day,” so break out your “thees” and “thous,” and raise a glass to William Shakespeare…or to St. George, if you prefer. But don’t let the day slip by unnoticed.

And, while I won’t be around to see it, I like to think – and truly believe – that in another 447 years we will still be celebrating Shakespeare, in all his magnificence and mystery. (Unless, of course, we’ve discovered time travel…or cloned him.) Just look at all he has influenced; look at all there is to learn, and, should you accomplish that, all there is yet to find out. After all, as Ben Jonson declared in that oft repeated phrase from his own dedicatory poem to Shakespeare, “He was not of an age, but for all time!”

Natalie A.

The Shakespeare Code: Part 1

Where’s Dan Brown when you need him? Because Norwegian author and code-cracker Petter Amundsen clearly wants to be the next Robert Langdon. Along with fellow Norwegian Erlend Loe, Amundsen has written Organisten, or The Organ Player (Amundsen’s own profession). In the book, Amundsen claims to have discovered hidden ciphers within Shakespeare’s First Folio of 1623. These secret ciphers, according to the author, reveal not William Shakespeare but Sir Francis Bacon as the true creator of the plays. But Sir Francis was not alone in these endeavors. Instead, all text was created out of an editorial partnership between Bacon and the Rosicrucians (or the Brotherhood of the Rosie Cross), a secret philosophical society with ties to the Masons. And there’s more! The uncovered ciphers not only shed light on the true authors(s), but also lead the way to the long lost original “Shakespeare” manuscripts, hidden long ago, Amundsen believes, by Bacon and his Rosicrucian conspirators. Now, I was familiar with the Bacon-as-Shakespeare theory, but the whole Rosicrucian/Masonic element was a new one to me.

The cover of Amundsen’s book. The fact that he was able to lift from an arbitrary passage (Ben Jonson’s commendation of the Droeshout engraving of Shakespeare) his title word, “organisten,” would seem to rather take away from than lend credence to his other embedded findings.

Amundsen’s book is not yet available in English, but a brief foretaste of his findings may be found at BaconSocietyInc.org. In Shakespeare and the Rosy Cross: First Folio Breakthrough – Crucial Signatures Arose (Get it? Arose?), Amundsen asks the questions, “Might there have been a grander motive behind this issuance [of the First Folio] than merely the hope for pecuniary gain? Could someone else be sponsoring the publishers? Someone with an agenda?” Needless to say, Amundsen believes the answer is “yes.” The conclusion is reached that the Shakespeare First Folio was, in fact, both written and then published by the Rosicrucians, whose goal was to spread knowledge and free thought to all levels of British society through the medium of public theatre. As proof, Amundsen goes on to cite various pieces of evidence he has found within the text, each of which involves some complex number patterns that are, I am sorry to say, far over my head. They have something to do with 3 and 17, Pythagorean 3-4-5 triangles, and the number of times “rosie” appears in the First Folio.

The word “CROSS,” discovered in Cymbeline, 2.4.

For example, Amundsen has this to say about the appearence of ”rosie” in Shakespeare’s Sonnet 116: “Sonnet 116 is the only sonnet with a numbering typo. It reads 119, an error of three. [...] Following the pattern observed in the Folio we jump 17 sonnets ahead. Sonnet 133 has the word crossed as word 69. This is an increment of three from Rosie which was word number 66, 17 sonnets back. Please recall that the typo consists of a 6 made into a 9. 3 = C. 17 = R. Rosicrucians called themselves cabalists. This warrants a geomatrical calculation of their chosen name, Rosie Cross. 17+14+18+9+5 + 3+17+14+18+18= 133. Just like the number of the “crossed” Sonnet.” Indeed.

A documentary has even been made about Amundsen and his discoveries. Called Sweet Swan of Avon: A Movie about the Greatest Mystery in Global Literature, it was produced by the Norwegian company AS Videomaker and The British Shakespeare Company of London. The film is not yet available on DVD, but you can watch the introduction here. I could definitely picture this finding a place on the History Channel – perhaps between Ancient Aliens and MonsterQuest?

In the end, Amundsen’s research leads him to, of all places, Oak Island, Nova Scotia. This enigmatic island, it turns out, is the wellspring of a whole host of lost treasure myths and has been given the moniker “the Money Pit.” It is thought to be the resting place of everything from Blackbeard’s secret pirate hoard to Marie Antoinette’s jewels, and even possibly the Holy Grail and/or the Ark of the Covenant. So, is this the resting place of this lost literary treasure – Bacon’s original writings and trove of Rosicrucian knowledge? Unfortunately, the story is stuck in a cliff-hanger for now. Exploration for riches of all sorts continues today on Oak Island, but Amundsen has not yet managed to unearth these elusive documents.

One blogger’s finding (“BACon”!), highlighted in red.

However, Amundsen’s work has inspired others to (re)jump on the Bacon bandwagon, as this blog shows. There’s even a Facebook group dedicated in support of Amundsen’s findings, with the understated title, “The worlds [sic] most important treasure is buried on Oak Island!!!” But is it? All of this has gotten me thinking: the offices of the ASC are located in an old Masonic building. Coincidence? I think not.

Natalie A.

PS. Researching Amundsen and his book has unearthed my own, Oak Island-worthy hoard of fun and fascinating Shakespearean conspiracies, some serious and some fictional. Therefore, I hope to make this entry the first part in a planned trilogy dealing with more of these findings. So, stay tuned...