I watched the Globe’s production of Twelfth Night again yesterday. Now, the original Globe Theatre was burned down by accident during a 1613 performance of Shakespeare’s Henry VIII, and that just got me to thinking….

Despite portraying Henry VIII as basically a noble king painted into a dark corner by the machinations of everyone else, focussing on the 'Great Question' about Catherine of Aragon, and glossing over, with the lightest of touches the accusations, trial and subsequent execution of Ann Boleyn (Elizabeth’s mother) Shakespeare probably wisely left writing (or at least performing) the play until Queen Elizabeth herself was dead.

Elizabeth died in 1603 and Shakespeare died in 1616 while only in his 50s. So he had a good few years to have come up with something about her life. Writing about Elizabeth under James however wouldn’t have been entirely without risk. Despite gaining the English throne from Elizabeth, she was still the woman who’d had his mother, Mary Queen of Scots, imprisoned and then executed. Also James, as King of England was busy in the first decade of his reign trying to mend fences with the Spanish - the super-power of the age.

Through Shakespeare-tinted specs I’m sure Elizabeth would have made a cracking play, but given the times and Shakespeare’s ability to bend facts to make them fit the political necessities and propaganda of the day, I wonder how he would have portrayed her.....

As a tragic virgin queen who, despite several suitors, nevertheless sacrifices her own contentment for the good of her people?

As Gloriana, England’s wise and tolerant monarch whose own fearful youth had made her reluctant to "look into men’s souls"?

Or perhaps, focussing on the Armada, portraying her as an Amazon, a warrior princess, and a staunch English bulwark against Spanish catholicism?


As I say, it’s just an idle thought really, but Elizabeth must be one of the great unwritten Shakespeare plays.

One of a trilogy, perhaps - one each for Neddy, Mary & Liz?

Nothing to do with Elizabeth, but I was interested to see that the small theatre in Dunedin we sometimes go to had a 68-hour Shakespeare reading last weekend.  I gather they did all the plays - presumably didn't try to make up any.  We didn't seem to know it was on till it was over.  Anyway we were busy at Dunedin's 24-hour book sale run by another theatre, and eating our son's Christmas present, a voucher for a Scottish themed restaurant.  (We didn't have the haggis or the 700 gram steak, though the young men at the table next to us both had these.  We didn't stay long enough to see how big their steak was though.)

Gilgamesh of Uruk wrote:

One of a trilogy, perhaps - one each for Neddy, Mary & Liz?

Fratricide and sororicide would have been good themes for such a trilogy - the murderous jealousy and hatred that existed between the Seymour brothers (and their wives) during Edward's reign, not to mention the love triangle of Thomas Seymour, Elizabeth and Katherine Parr. Followed by Mary's struggle with the temptation to avenge her mother by killing Elizabeth - with Philip of Spain hovering in the background eyeing up the young Elizabeth. Cracking stuff, but impossible for WS to write about with any degree of honesty.

Mary Queen of Scots' story was the one with the most potential for proper tragedy - not a good idea with her son as your company's patron though.

Not quite WobbleWeapon standard but a peg-legged Elizabeth as portrayed by the world's foremost actress of her day (and a seemingly permanently inebriated Essex played by Lou Tellegen). This 1912 film plumbs depths of the narrative rarely if ever surpassed by the Gwyneth Paltries etc of more modern times and would, in all likelihood, have been a huge hit on the boards of the Globe (especially for those at the rear who couldn't hear a word being said on stage).



Dutchman Telegen (was he telegenetic? we shall never know ...) was no stranger to tragedy in real life. After losing half his face in a smoking accident he was declared bankrupt, diagnosed with cancer, and then committed suicide by stabbing himself with a sewing scissors seven times, something a drunk Essex would have found very hard to say..

Willie boy was also involved in a collaborative play about Sir Thomas More, which was never performed in his lifetime.

The RSC performed this play in 2005.

Meles meles wrote:

"Age cannot wither her nor custom stale
Her infinite variety."

Interesting that you quote from Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra. It is thought by some critics that WW actually had Elizabeth in mind when he created his Egyptian "lass unparalleled."

There is one scene in particular - Act III scene iii - where Cleopatra interrogates a terrified messenger about Octavia, Antony's new wife. It could be that that as Shakespeare was writing this he was thinking of Elizabeth's infamous interview with Sir James Melville (the Scottish ambassador): she gave poor Melville a real hard time quizzing him about Mary's looks, height and musical ability. Like Cleopatra, Elizabeth was determined that she should be the cleverer, the more alluring, the more musical - the better in every way - of the two. Melville was in despair as to how to answer diplomatically, and in the end declared that his queen was the fairest queen in Scotland and Elizabeth the most alluring queen in England!


Cleopatra. Didst thou behold Octavia?

Messenger. Ay, dread queen.

Cleopatra. Where?

Messenger. Madam, in Rome;
I look'd her in the face, and saw her led
Between her brother and Mark Antony.

Cleopatra. Is she as tall as me?

Messenger. She is not, madam.

Cleopatra. Didst hear her speak? is she shrill-tongued or low?

Messenger. Madam, I heard her speak; she is low-voiced.

Cleopatra. That's not so good: he cannot like her long.

Charmian. Like her! O Isis! 'tis impossible.

Cleopatra. I think so, Charmian: dull of tongue, and dwarfish!
What majesty is in her gait? Remember,
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty.

Messenger. She creeps:
Her motion and her station are as one;
She shows a body rather than a life,
A statue than a breather.

Cleopatra. Is this certain?

Messenger. Or I have no observance.

Charmian. Three in Egypt
Cannot make better note.

Cleopatra. He's very knowing;
I do perceive't: there's nothing in her yet:
The fellow has good judgment.

Charmian. Excellent.

Cleopatra. Guess at her years, I prithee.

Messenger. Madam,
She was a widow,—

Cleopatra. Widow! Charmian, hark.

Messenger. And I do think she's thirty.

Cleopatra. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is't long or round?

Messenger. Round even to faultiness.

Cleopatra. For the most part, too, they are foolish that are so.  
Her hair, what colour?

Messenger. Brown, madam: and her forehead
As low as she would wish it.

Cleopatra. There's gold for thee.
Thou must not take my former sharpness ill:
I will employ thee back again; I find thee
Most fit for business: go make thee ready;
Our letters are prepared.

[Exit Messenger]
Charmian. A proper man.

Cleopatra. Indeed, he is so: I repent me much
That so I harried him. Why, methinks, by him,
This creature's no such thing.

Charmian. Nothing, madam.

Cleopatra. The man hath seen some majesty, and should know.

Charmian. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else defend,
And serving you so long!

Well, I can't presume to guess what Master Wobbleweapon would have chosen as his Elizabethan theme - or quote Antony and Cleopatra like Temperance, but I think if I had been him I would have gone with Elizabeth as Gloriana as a safe option (not to be thrown in jail - or worse.)

Temperance wrote:

Gilgamesh of Uruk wrote:

One of a trilogy, perhaps - one each for Neddy, Mary & Liz?

Fratricide and sororicide would have been good themes for such a trilogy - the murderous jealousy and hatred that existed between the Seymour brothers (and their wives) during Edward's reign, not to mention the love triangle of Thomas Seymour, Elizabeth and Katherine Parr. Followed by Mary's struggle with the temptation to avenge her mother by killing Elizabeth - with Philip of Spain hovering in the background eyeing up the young Elizabeth. Cracking stuff, but impossible for WS to write about with any degree of honesty.

Mary Queen of Scots' story was the one with the most potential for proper tragedy - not a good idea with her son as your company's patron though.

The story of Mary, Queen of Scots and also that of Lady Jane Grey certainly provided material for other playwrights.

At the other end of what could be termed (from England’s point of view) as ‘the long Stuart century’ (1589-1714) was the dramatist Nicholas Rowe. He was a Shakespeare scholar and sought to write plays himself in a similar vein. Just as Shakespeare had written plays during the reign of an English queen (Elizabeth) and then during that of her non-English successor (James I), so did Rowe write plays during the reign of a British queen (Anne) and then during the reign of her non-British successor (George I). And just as Shakespeare would witness the union of the crowns of England and Scotland in his lifetime, so would Rowe witness the union of the parliaments of England and Scotland during his. In the last year of Anne’s reign, Rowe wrote a play called The Tragedy of Jane Shore which can be seen as being supplementary to Shakespeare’s Richard III. It’s a somewhat po-faced morality tale which takes a closer look at the life of Lord Hastings’ mistress.

The following year, on the accession of King George I, Rowe wrote another play about a Jane – this time Lady Jane Gray.  The play about the Tudor succession crisis of the 1550s was written against the contemporary backdrop of the 1715 Jacobite rebellion. The death of Queen Anne without an heir had re-opened the succession question which the 1701 Act of Settlement was supposed to have ended. Whereas the Act was a Whig-promoted bill it had received cross-party support and indeed it was a Tory administration which oversaw its passage through parliament. As the first Tory government since the 1688 Glorious Revolution, the 1701 administration was keen to prove its loyalty and reliability to the widowed and ageing King William. The Act excluded Anne’s catholic half-brother James Francis Stuart and several others in favour of the issue of the protestant Sophia of Hanover, the granddaughter of James I.  William’s death and the accession of his childless sister-in-law Anne the following year, saw the Tories in an increasingly strengthened position. Most Tories were Protestant and pro-Settlement as were their Whig opponents, yet James Francis had many supporters among the Tories who saw this as an opportunity to test the Act’s validity. ‘The Fifteen’ was the result.
 
Rowe sought to draw a parallel between William III’s Act of Settlement of 1701 and Edward VI’s Devise for the Succession of 1553. Edward’s device excluded his catholic cousin James V of Scotland as well as Edward’s ‘illegitimate’ older sisters Mary and Elizabeth. He settled upon the issue of his cousin Frances Grey who was the daughter of his paternal aunt Mary, Duchess of Suffolk. Lady Jane was Frances’ daughter. In the play, Lowe depicts Jane Grey as the tragic heroine whose legitimate claim to the throne is usurped by the pushy catholic Mary Tudor who challenges the succession. At the beginning of the play, following the death of Edward VI, Jane’s father-in-law the Duke of Northumberland confidently states that:

The daughters of our late great master Henry,
Stand both by law excluded from succession.

Lady Jane Grey herself, however, replies:

Can you, my lords, give me the power to canvass
A doubtful title with king Henry’s daughters?  

Significantly those are the only 2 references to Elizabeth in the whole play and she isn’t even named. Mary, however, is named throughout the play and she and her catholic faith are the main focuses of the plot. Jane’s husband Lord Guildford Dudley says:

the rage of Rome
Demands whole hecatombs, a land of victims.
With superstition comes that other fiend,
That bane of peace, of arts and virtue – tyranny;
That foe of justice, scorner of all law.
Mary shall by her kindred Spain, be taught
To bend our necks beneath a brazen yoke,
And rule o’er wretches with an iron sceptre.

When Jane is still hesitant, Northumberland urges her on:

But be our queen, be England’s better angel.
Nor let mistaken piety betray you
To join with cruel Mary in our ruin:
Her bloody faith commands her to destroy,
And yours forbids to save.  

For Lowe’s purposes, Elizabeth with her Protestantism, was inconvenient to the narrative and so he makes her less than a footnote in the play.



(Jane - the Nine Day Queen. Her story was used a hundred years after Shakespeare to bolster the Hanoverian cause in 1715.)

85 years after Rowe, the German playwright Friedrich Schiller wrote a play called Maria Stuart (about James I’s mother Mary, Queen of Scots). The play is about Mary’s last months of life following the Babington plot. Schiller presents the drama as essentially a tale of sexual jealousy between Mary and Elizabeth involving a love triangle with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. An ‘accidental’ meeting of the 2 queens is arranged by Dudley while Elizabeth is out hunting near Fotheringhay where Mary is imprisoned. The meeting doesn’t go well with Elizabeth berating Mary for plotting against her life while Mary loses her composure and declares that she is the rightful queen and that Elizabeth should be kneeling to her. Elizabeth storms off in indignation. Mary then turns to her nurse and consoles herself:
 
Vor Leicesters Augen hab ich sie erniedrigt!
Er sah es, er bezeugte meinen Sieg!

Before Leicester’s eyes have I humiliated her!
He saw it, he witnessed my victory!

Later, when contemplating Mary’s death warrant which has been sent to her for signing, Elizabeth delivers one of the most celebrated soliloquys in German literature:

O Sklaverei des Volksdiensts! Schmähliche
Knechtschaft – Wie bin ich's müde, diesem Götzen
Zu schmeicheln, den mein Innerstes verachtet!

Oh the slavery of duty! Ignoble bondage.
How weary am I, from my innermost depths,
Of flattering those gods!

In the soliloquy at the end of which she signs the warrant, Schiller leaves the audience in no doubt as to Elizabeth’s mindset:

Nein, diese Furcht soll endigen!
Ihr Haupt soll fallen. Ich will Frieden haben!
– Sie ist die Furie meines Lebens! Mir
Ein Plagegeist vom Schicksal angeheftet.
Wo ich mir eine Freude, eine Hoffnung
Gepflanzt, da liegt die Höllenschlange mir
Im Wege. Sie entreißt mir den Geliebten,
Den Bräut'gam raubt sie mir! Maria Stuart
Heißt jedes Unglück, das mich niederschlägt!
Ist sie aus den Lebendigen vertilgt,
Frei bin ich, wie die Luft auf den Gebirgen.

No, this fear must end!
Her head must fall. I will have peace!
She is the harpy of my life!
An ever-present spectre of doom.
Whenever I planned a joy or hoped for one,
There lay that hell-snake in my way.
She snatched away my lovers from me,
Robbed me of my bridegroom!
Mary Stuart is the name of every misfortune which has befallen me!
If her life were ended,
I would be free, as mountain air.

Schiller then has Elizabeth put the blame for Mary’s execution on court secretary William Davison for overstepping his instructions and passing the warrant for Mary’s death onto Lord Burleigh for execution. Schiller depicts Elizabeth as being deliberately ambiguous in the instruction she gave to Davison upon handing him the signed paper. And she is equally ambiguous in later accusing him of misunderstanding her intention following news that Mary has indeed been beheaded.

Just as Rowe had written a 15th Century-set play with a female lead Jane Shore, so too did Schiller with Die Jungfrau von Orleans (The Maid of Orleans). Written a year after Maria Stuart, the 2 plays couldn’t be more different. It actually subverts the tale of Joan of Arc. In the play, Joan is shown leading the French forces fanatically and mercilessly. She even kills a young Welsh soldier who has surrendered to her. Later, however, her heart softens when she falls in love with an English captain who then captures her. Although she is subsequently condemned to death as a sorceress, Schiller has her escape from prison and lead the French to victory but die during the battle. The play is a study in fanaticism, with the ‘British’ (the word used by Schiller) depicted as being the reasonable party. The villain of the piece is Isabel the mother of France’s Charles VII who first manipulates and then betrays Joan.

Schiller’s plays were written in Weimar under to patronage of Duke Charles Augustus during the War of the Second Coalition against Revolutionary France. Charles Augustus had been exasperated when the protestant king of Prussia and the catholic Holy Roman emperor had sought to blame each other for military failures during the War of the First Coalition. Prussia had then signed a separate peace with France at Basel in 1795 and withdrew from the Coalition. The year of Maria Stuart’s publication (1800) had also seen Britain out of favour with many in Europe. With the War of the Second Coalition ongoing and following a couple of humiliating defeats in the Netherlands, the British had negotiated the Convention of Alkmaar in 1799 with the Dutch and the French which allowed the British to withdraw their troops from Holland. The British would henceforth restrict themselves solely to naval engagements in the war. The following year, however, British naval strategy was beginning to bear fruit (albeit in far-off Egypt) and Britain’s standing on the continent among those opposed to Revolutionary France had risen slightly. Hence The Maid of Orleans had a much more pro-British tone than Maria Stuart.

An excellent 1980s production of the play for Bavarian Television can be viewed here:

Maria Stuart

(with subtitles in English)



(The Goethe and Schiller statue outside the Hoftheater in Weimar. Poet Johann Goethe considered his colleague Schiller to be the German Shakespeare.)