Anne Feversham — A Reader’s Guide
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Before opening Anne Feversham — A Reader’s Guide, the edition data offers a quick orientation: 90,443 words, 6 hr 34 min estimated reading time, and 42 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 16.9 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
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New Place, the largest house in his native town. Such a fact spoke for itself, even if a wise man was inclined to discount the glowing reports of the play-actor’s ever-growing success which reached him continually from London. But, even as far back in the world’s history as the age of Elizabeth, “Nothing succeeds like success” was a maxim known to the philosophers.
“They do tell me, Master Shakespeare,” said the tailor, “that some of these harlotry pieces of yours have been approved by the Queen.”
The playwright could not help smiling a little at a certain uneasiness which was apparent in the tone of his friend, in spite of the fact that that honest man tried very hard to conceal it. “If I said they had not, Master Tidey,” he answered, with dry modesty, “I might be speaking less than I know. On the other hand, if I said that they had, a needy writer for the stage might be claiming more than becomes the least of her Majesty’s servants.”
Master Tidey looked a little incredulous. “They do tell me, Master Shakespeare, that you make them out of your own head entirely. Master Burbage, who was here an hour ago to have new points set in his hose, swore it was so, by the beard of the prophet--facetiously, as I think. But I can hardly believe it, Master Shakespeare, not out of your own head, and that’s the fact. Why, I mind the time you was a little graceless runnion that used to play truant from Stratford Free School. Many’s the time I’ve seen you come sliding down Short Hill of a winter’s morning in your blue short coat, with your books falling out o’ your satchel as you dangled it behind you, and generally twenty minutes late for the muster. You were always a sharp lad, Master Shakespeare, I’m bound to say that although somewhat idly given, but I never thought you’d have had wit enough to make one of these interludes all out of your own head like book-learned men who have been bred at college.”
“It seems unlikely enough I grant you,” said the player discreetly. “And my pieces, such as they are, don’t compare of course with those of some I could mention--there is a young fellow by the name of Ben Jonson, and one of these days you’ll be able to contrive a whole garment for the best of us out of his sleeve ruffles. But I sometimes think, Master Tidey, when of an evening I’ve had a glass o’ clear spring water with a carroway-seed in it at the Mermaid Tavern, that if only he had had the singular good fortune to have been bred at Oxford or Cambridge, the world might one day have heard of William Shakespeare--but no matter! It will all be the same a hundred years hence.” The player laughed cheerfully. “We shall all be forgotten, and our interludes too, long before then.”
“Yes, Master Shakespeare, there can be no doubt about that,” said the tailor heartily. “And personally I thank God for it. I don’t hold with these masks and gallimaufries and such-like cloaks for wantonness, saving your presence. Still the Queen does, as I understand, and although I am much surprised at _her_, that’s a great matter. And that being the case I am bound to admit that for one who left the Stratford Free School at the age of thirteen with no more book-knowledge in his numskull than Daddy Jenkins could put there with his ferrule, and if, as I say, the Queen approves your interludes, and they are entirely out of your own head, as Master Burbage swears they are by the beard of the prophet--why, I am bound to admit that you bring little or no discredit upon your native parish.”
“You pay me a high compliment, Master Tidey,” said the actor. “And fain would I deserve it. But you will grieve to learn, I am sure, that the Queen has commanded the Lord Chamberlain’s servants to her palace at Richmond on the tenth of July, and moreover she desires a new piece from the pen of the least of them all. It would seem that, for some reason at present obscure, her Grace in her bounty is pleased to approve the nonsensical comedy of “Love’s Labour’s Lost,” which, between ourselves, is by no means the brightest of the performances from the hand of the rustical clown in question.”
J. C. Snaith opens Anne Feversham with William Shakespeare, not as a playwright at his desk, but as a customer in a Nottingham tailor's shop. The year is not stated, but the Queen's justice is swift: a young gentleman is to be beheaded, and Shakespeare's first response is a grim joke about dying by the ax versus the rope. The tailor, Master Tidey, stitches a coffin-cloth with an armorial device, and Shakespeare's fingers pass over the rich pall. This initial scene establishes a world where death is a tailor's commission and the playwright's mind is already at work, storing impressions for later use.
Shakespeare as Observer and Participant
Snaith's Shakespeare is not a distant genius but a man of affairs, described as having 'the compact figure of one in the prime of a vigorous manhood' and a 'vivid pallor' with 'somber eyes, slow-burning and deep-set.' The narrative emphasizes his observational habit: details are 'stored in his brain against the time they should be cast into the crucible of its invention.' When he learns of the young man's plot to die with Anne Feversham, the story 'had the power to thrill the heart of one who spent his life in the devising of plays.' Yet Shakespeare is also an active player, scheming to keep the falconer from recognizing the fugitives. The excerpts show him weighing risks, lying by omission, and feeling 'dire perplexity'—a blend of the historical figure and a fictional co-conspirator.
Diction of Danger and Disguise
The language of the excerpts oscillates between courtly euphemism and blunt threat. The tailor calls the execution 'a gentleman's death the Queen is giving him,' and Shakespeare retorts with a dark laugh about dying 'by the string' (hanging). The falconer's quest is described in terms of tracking: 'I have lost all track of them now.' Disguise is central: Anne Feversham wears a 'boy's dress,' and Gervase Heriot is in a 'guise' that might prevent recognition. The word 'guise' itself appears twice, signaling a world where identity is fluid and survival depends on costume. Snaith's dialogue carries a period flavor—'Happen,' 'a has plotted'—but remains clear, avoiding archaic excess.
Structure of Suspense and Interruption
The excerpts reveal a narrative built on interrupted revelations and escalating pressure. In Chapter I, Shakespeare's conversation with the tailor is cut short by the entrance of Gervase Heriot. Later, a midnight talk between Shakespeare and Gervase is interrupted by the falconer's return. Each interruption raises the stakes: the falconer's description of the gypsies is 'explicit enough to tell Gervase that Anne and himself were the objects of his quest.' The player's 'task' presses 'very heavily,' and he must 'do all that lay in his power to prevent the man conversing with Gervase Heriot.' This pattern of near-discovery and tactical delay drives the plot forward, with Shakespeare as the anxious stage manager.
The Falconer as a Figure of Pursuit
The falconer is introduced as a weary, despondent traveler, but his function is clear: he is the hunter. His description of the gypsies is 'brief' yet 'explicit,' and his return at midnight is 'inopportune.' Shakespeare's relief at his departure is undercut by the man's reappearance. The falconer's dialogue is sparse—'You don't happen to have seen anything of those gypsies?'—but his presence creates a constant threat. Notably, the excerpts do not reveal his name or his employer; he remains a function of the plot, a force of pursuit rather than a fully realized character. This anonymity heightens the sense of an implacable system closing in on the fugitives.
The Role of the Inn as a Setting
The inn parlor serves as a stage for the novel's key encounters. It is here that Shakespeare and Gervase talk 'long' into the night, and here that the falconer returns. The space is liminal—a place of transit where strangers meet and secrets are nearly exposed. Snaith uses the inn to concentrate the drama: the player must 'contrive a means to keep Anne Feversham out of his sight' within its confines. The setting also grounds the story in a recognizable Elizabethan milieu, with references to 'the Castle yonder' and the Queen's justice. The inn is both a sanctuary and a trap, a place where the fugitives' disguise is most vulnerable.
Snaith's novel invites readers to watch a playwright at work, not in a theater, but in the raw material of life. The excerpts offer a Shakespeare who is pragmatic, sympathetic, and resourceful—a man who recognizes 'the depth and the valor' of a young soul and acts to preserve it. For those interested in historical fiction that treats Shakespeare as a character rather than a myth, Anne Feversham provides a specific, grounded portrait of the artist as a middle-aged man in a dangerous world.
I’ve always treasured how Snaith’s Shakespeare watches from the shadows, letting others believe they act alone—much like that other disguised guardian of the desperate, whose quiet cunning hides a tender heart. Both books share that gentle paradox: the rescuer who never claims the glory. The Triumph of the Scarlet Pimpernel — A Reader’s Guide holds that same fond memory for me, a familiar warmth in its pages.
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