Unlocking Shakespeare

Understanding Shakespeare is often presented as a case of translation; of changing the archaic, old-fashioned, and high metaphorical language of the 16th century stage into words and sentences that make more sense to our modern ears. This can often be assisted by performance; the joy of watching thespians bring these words to life with action and emotion and acting choices. However, when looking at Shakespeare's plays in the classroom, we don't always have the choice to see the Bard's work erupt, cajole, and brood across the stage.

To have a better grasp on the playwright's texts there needs to be an increased awareness of the way in which the contemporary 16th and 17th century audiences of England saw the world - and this goes beyond just understanding the words. In order to see things through their eyes with a greater level of comprehension we need to consider the connotations of certain terms that are used; terms that reflect a radically different set of beliefs and values to those we currently take for granted.

'You' and 'Thou'

You may or may not be surprised to learn that some languages have multiple pronouns for the same way of addressing someone. A 'formal' and an 'informal' version of you is present in Italian, French, German, Danish, Swedish, etc. One is polite and formal, the other is more colloquial and friendly. In English we currently have no such convention; using only you in both situations. In Shakespeare's time, however, this wasn't the case.

The formal terminology was as it is now: you, your, yours, yourself.

The informal equivalent, though, was: thou, thee, thy, thine, thyself.

To make things more complicated, the choice of who got called what was dictated by the Elizabethan class system, and by personal relationships. Here are some examples:

• Thee - if someone was beneath someone in social status, or if two high status people were in private and had a close enough relationship to not be concerned by the 'rules'.
• You - if someone was the same status, or higher, or if you wanted to show respect.
• Sometimes a character in a Shakespeare play will momentarily switch to using a different pronoun in order to insult someone. This can be used to reveal great drama to a modern reader once they are familiar with the above system as it was considered incredibly disrespectful and offensive to do this to someone.
  

Swearing

The modern usage of the term 'swearword' is usually reserved for things like 'sh_t', 'f_ck', etc. It should be noted, however, that the origin of the term 'swear' is closely tied to religion and a person's relationship with God. Generally speaking there have been two kinds of swearwords in the last two thousand years - those that are used in connection with topics and things that are considered taboo or unmentionable (see the examples above) and those that are used in connection to things that are considered sacred.

In Shakespeare's time it was the sacred form of swearing that was considered more serious. If you swore something before God (made a promise, EG. "I swear to God', or "May you be damned to Hell") then it was highly offensive if it you did not mean it, and committing offenses (blasphemy) against God was believed to inevitably lead to Hell. Additionally, as Elizabethan society was a culture that did not include any atheists, saying these things in a flippant manner meant you were invoking something sacred and powerful from God for things that were beneath Him. It was taboo for anyone to presume that they could tell God what to do, so wording had to be careful if a person did not want to offend.

Shakespeare makes use of both kinds of swearing throughout his plays, but you will note that it is the religious kind that features more heavily. As you may be aware from our own context, swearing can be quite varied and colourful, and the religious kind of swearing in Shakespeare's context is no different, with many characters often swearing on different parts of God or icons related to God. Some examples:

• S'blood = short for 'God's blood'.
• Zounds = a shortened version of 'God's wounds'.
  
• God's Bones, God Almighty, Jesus Christ = mentioning these things in a non-religious context was considered offensive.
• Blessed = especially when used in combination with something that a priest would never bless (EG. Part of a fig - hence the swearword 'Blessed fig's end' in Othello)
• God's will = wishing that God would do something on one's behalf was incredibly presumptuous and offensive.
• Damn = asking God to send someone to Hell. Also presumptuous.
  
• Oath = to take an oath before God was an incredibly sacred thing to do. To use the term flippantly was to make a mockery of this.
• By the mass = referring to a holy congregation in a church.
• Strewth = not used by Shakespeare (to my knowledge) but familiar to older Australians. This is a shortened version of 'God's truth'.
  
• Gadzooks = a contraction of 'God's hooks', referring to the hooks that held Jesus to the cross.
  

The Humours

There are several references in Shakespeare's plays to the humours that exist within a human's body. This is a reference to the medieval belief (dating from classical Greek and Roman medicine) that, in the same way that the world consisted of four elements (wind, earth, fire, water), a human's body was made up of its own four components: the humours. Each humour connected to a fluid within the body and corresponded with emotions and personalities. An imbalance in any of one of these humours would be cited by Elizabethan doctors as the source for disordered behaviour, and the terminology associated with this is still partially in use today.

It might be easier to think of the humours as being a medieval explanation for things that would be later explained by science (chiefly medicine and psychology).

The humours were as follows:

• Choler
• Yellow bile from the liver
• If someone was 'choleric' they were considered to be easily angered or irritated.
• Sanguine
• Blood
• A 'sanguine' personality was someone who was cheerful and optimistic, especially in bad situations.
• Melancholy
• Black bile
• Someone 'melancholic' was prone to depression and sadness.
• Phlegm
• Mucus
• A 'phlegmatic' personality was, at best, unemotional and dependable. At worst, the term was related to apathy and laziness.
  

In Othello, for example, there are several references that can become clear upon reflection of the above information:

• "Sir, he is rash and very sudden in choler" - Iago, Act 2, Scene 1
• "I think the sun where he was born / drew all such humours from him" - Desdemona, Act 3, Scene 4
• "Were he in favour as in humour alter'd" - Desdemona, Act 3, Scene 4
  
• "I pray you, be content; 'tis but his humour" - Iago, Act 4, Scene 2
  

And So...

That's just the tip of the Tudor iceberg. I'm sure I'll revisit this topic more each time I teach a Shakespeare text - I'll look forward to it as I find it endlessly fascinating!

Fruit and Shakespeare: Things I Learned in Bundanoon

Bundanoon Makers' Markets

Bundanoon is a nice little town in the Southern Highlands. They made headlines in 2008 and 2009 for becoming the first place in the world to ban the sale of bottled water, and it's a township that is also well-known for hosting Brigadoon, the 'largest highlander gathering in the southern hemisphere' (not an actual quote, but this is the sort of thing said about it. It basically means lots of people put kilts on and strut about on the heath). 

My wife and I have a special place in our hearts for the Southern Highlands. It's only an hour and a half south of Sydney yet still feels like a whole world away. It's also where we got married, and we travel back down there several times a year. 

Gosh, that makes me feel so old. I used to spend my weekends going to pubs and watching punk bands, now I go on bush walks and visit craft shops in Moss Vale. 

This was one of three lyrebirds we saw in the highlands; the other two were feathered and moving but, alas, this was the only one I managed to photograph.

Anyway, the point of this post is that while gadding about in the highlands last weekend, the Duck and I happened across the Bundanoon Makers' Market and met one Rachel Russell, a maker and purveyor of home-harvested jams, preserves and spreads. Here she is, pictured below after I awkwardly asked if I could take a photo of her stand:

Rachel Russell and her home made wares

Ms. Russell introduced me to the wonders of the medlar, a fruit the likes of which I have never heard. As it turns out, this humble-looking fruit has a certain historical and literary significance. The medlar is an ancient winter fruit referenced in many Shakespeare plays (and throughout the Jacobean and Elizabethan eras in general), and its quirky look lends it a variety of euphemistic nicknames that allude to 'open bottoms' and the like. 

Note this quote from Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet, in which he bawdily references the medlar in relation to Romeo wanting to 'get some':

Now he will sit under a medlar tree,

And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit

As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.

O Romeo, that she were, O that she were

An open-arse and thou a pop'rin pear!

I also learned from Ms. Russell about something called bletting, whereby fruit is softened beyond ripening through a process (in this case frostbite) and the toxins are broken down to allow it to become more edible. 

Bletting lends itself to the idiom, "Time and straw make the medlars ripe" (referenced in Don Quixote), and there are a whole host of other allusions related to the innocuous looking little fruit. Elizabethan playwright Thomas Dekker bleakly says in reference to the poor medlar (and bletting), "Women are like medlars - no sooner ripe but rotten".

What a charmer.

Meanwhile, the Edwardian novelist D. H. Lawrence said medlars were "wineskins of brown morbidity", proving that he too had a fatalistic view of innocuous foodstuffs.

Yum!

Anyway, the Duck purchased some chardemedlar from Ms. Russell; an Elizabethan-styled medlar paste for use with cheese or crackers. I tasted some this afternoon on a teaspoon. It tasted like a deep, dark apple stew that had been squeezed out of a dusty medieval Christmas dessert feast. I liked it.