MylesMatisse: Shakespeare and Me

Shakespeare and Me

This was a story/paper I wrote in the late 90s for a Theatre History class and ended up getting an 'A' on it. Reading it now, it stands up quite well and contains one of my favorite themes...That of time travel/manipulation.

I sat at my computer with not a thought in my mind. I knew I had to write an analytical paper on William Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ for class but, had no clue where to begin. Being exhausted didn’t help matters. This paper had to get done. I glanced over at my clock. 2:35 a.m. Somebody please help me!

The air was cold and damp as I walked down a darkened street. Cobblestones? “What the hell is going on? Where am I?” I thought, continuing down the street…not knowing where the hell I was. The signs on the storefronts were in English, but the wording didn’t seem right. It definitely wasn’t the American English I was used to. Everything seemed so old and not from the 21^st century. This was either some bad movie set or I was lost in a dream.

Noise emanated from a brightly lit place up the street. I followed the music and laughter to try and find the source of it all. I arrived to find a lively pub. As I walked into the place, a feeling of warmth and solitude overcame me.

No one paid attention to me as I looked around the pub. People drank and talked at the bar. A band played on a makeshift stage. Everything seemed so normal, yet, so different. Everyone looked like they had just stepped out of a Shakespearean play.

“This is insane.” I thought as I wandered around the pub.

In one corner, a familiar figure sat alone at a table. “Who was that?” I thought as I watched him. He was balding with a goatee and…”Oh my God!” I realized in shock. “Could it be? William Shakespeare? I have to be dreaming.”

I approached the table slowly. Whoever it was had a drink and was staring down at it, deep in thought. He didn’t look too happy. I wondered if it was a good idea to approach and talk to him. “Why not?” I thought. As I got to his table, he looked up at me.

“Yes? May I help you?” he asked.

I looked at him for a moment, speechless. With effort, I spoke up.

“Are you William Shakespeare?” I blurted.

To my surprise, he answered, “Yes, I am.”

I couldn’t believe it! How was this possible? William Shakespeare, the creator and writer of the most celebrated collection of English language plays/works in the world was sitting right here before me. “I have to be dreaming.” I thought. As I stood before him, I pinched my leg causing me to wince in pain. I wasn’t dreaming. My prayers were answered.

“Are you in pain sir?” he asked.

“No, uh, Mr. Shakespeare…” I stuttered, “My name is Myles Leighton Gullette and I need your help.”

“Please, sit.” he said, motioning to a free seat. “I like your name.”

“Thank you.” I said as I sat down. Against the aged wooden stool, I felt an uncomfortable bulge in my back pocket. Reaching back, I found the source to be a small notebook and pen. I took them out, placed them on the table and moved my stool closer to him.

“I’m so happy I found you.” I continued. “I’m writing an analytical paper for a course at the University and…”

“What University?” he asked."

Uh, Southern Illinois University at Carbondale.” I answered.

“Carbondale?” he asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“It’s far away. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.” I returned.

“You are correct.” he said, “Continue.”

“I picked ‘Romeo and Juliet’ to write my paper on.” I told him.

“Oh, I have problems with that one.” he answered distastefully.

As I sat and listened to him, I couldn’t believe how clear and modern his English sounded, especially compared with the way his plays read. I knew I had to ask him about it.

“Your English is normal. Why is it so different in your plays?” I asked.

“My plays?” he said, pausing. “We only write the old style of English in our plays and writings. We don’t actually talk like that in real life.”

I was dumbfounded. I looked around the bar. “This has got to be a joke.” I muttered to myself. “The ultimate ‘Punk’d’ episode.”

“Excuse me?” Shakespeare asked.

“What is this?” I said with an unbelieving tone. “This can’t be real.”

“I do not understand?” he said, angrily. “What was your name again? Myles?”

“Yes, uh, Myles Leighton Gullette.” I stammered.

“Yes, how can I forget. Alright, Mr. Gullette…” he said sharply, “How can I help you?”

From the look on his face I could tell he was not joking.

“Well, um…” I began, “since you wrote ‘Romeo and Juliet’, could you help me understand the play better?”

“Come.” he whispered. “We mustn’t have this conversation here. People may be listening.”

I looked around the bar as he got up to leave. A couple of people slyly watched us from across the room. Maybe he was right. Those people made me nervous. We left the pub and walked into the night. As we went down the street, he continued to talk to me.

“I couldn’t tell you in there, but, I didn’t write ‘Romeo and Juliet’.”

I stopped in the street. Was this really THE William Shakespeare? “You are William Shakespeare, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Of course I am.” he answered, continuing to walk.

I caught up to him and asked, “What about ‘Hamlet’? Did you write…”

“No, I did not.” he snapped.

“Uh, ‘Twelfth Night’?” I asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid I didn’t write any of the plays under my name.” he said. “My wife, Anne, wrote them all.”
”What?” I asked incredulously, stopping in the street again.

“Let’s keep walking.” he said, turning to me.

“Why?” I asked.

“So we can get to our destination.” he returned.

“No, I mean, why did your wife write them all?” I uttered in confusion.

“Well…” he began, “It’s because, here in this society, women aren’t respected very much or given positions of power and influence. I had to use my name on all of the plays so that they would get published and performed. If her name had been on them, they would have been ignored and Anne would have been laughed out of England. No one would have taken her seriously. She’s a woman.”

“That’s sad.” I whispered to myself.

“What do you mean?” he asked inquisitively.

“Oh, I mean, it’s not fair that they wouldn’t take her seriously.” I answered respectfully.

“That’s England for you Myles.” he quipped. “Here we are. he says as we turn a corner. “Henley Street.” He pointed to an attractive home. “This is our residence.”

“Wow, this is nice.” I said in awe.

“Why thank you very much.” he answered, “It’s not much, but it suits us fine.”

Inside, William Shakespeare introduced me to his wife Anne Hathaway and their children, Susanna and twins Hamnet and Judith. He explained my predicament to his wife and she happily agreed to explain ‘Romeo and Juliet’ to me. William played with the children while Anne and I went into the study. We sat around a large desk in pleasant, comfortable chairs. I got out my notebook and pen while she pulled down the play and a notebook full of, I assume, notes from a bookshelf. As I sat nervously, she opened the play and proceeded to look through her notes.

A knock came at the door. It opened to reveal the housekeeper holding a tray with a pot of tea and two cups. She placed the tray on the desk and left the room, shutting the door behind her. As Anne poured tea for us, she smiled. In the candlelight, I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was.

“I find it wonderful that you wrote all of the plays.” I blurted out.

“You’re so kind, but why do you find it so wonderful?” she asked.

“Because I knew that women from this era had to be intelligent and intellectual.” I gushed. “I just had no idea how much until now.”

“Thank you.” she whispered as she handed me a cup of tea.

She sat and we began to study ‘Romeo and Juliet’. As Anne read passages from her play, I was mesmerized by her grace and beauty. I couldn’t believe that sitting before me was the best source in the world to help me understand Shakespeare. The author herself. On the one hand, I knew that after all was said and done, I would get an ‘A’ on my paper with her help, but on the other, I didn’t care. I knew this night was going to be special and I didn’t want it to end.

“The Monagues and the Capulets.” I began, “They are the two opposing families, correct?”

“Yes.” she returned, “However, the main two characters are Romeo and Juliet with Juliet being the most important.”

“I knew it!” I exclaimed with excitement. “She changes from a girl to a woman and the play focuses the most on her.”

“I modeled Juliet after my daughter Susanna and myself.” Anne told me.

“Yes.” I returned. “Meeting you and your daughter, I can see the resemblance to Juliet. You both are…”

“What?” she asked curiously.

“You both are beautiful.” I nervously stammered.

Anne turned and blushed. “Thank you. It is rare that I receive such compliments.”

A pause filled the air as we look at one another. I got nervous and looked through my notebook. I found notes on Aristotle’s six parts of tragedy.

“This is what my professor wants me to write about.” I said, showing her my notes.

“Aristotle?” she asked, looking at my writing. “How interesting. You have such good notes.”

“Thank you.” I said smiling. “Do you mind discussing the six parts of tragedy and how it applies to ‘Romeo and Juliet’?”

“No, I would like that very much.” she answered.

I looked through my Aristotle notes for a moment and moved closer to Anne so she could see them. “What is Romeo and Juliet?” I asked, “It’s a tragedy right?”

“Yes.” she revealed, “However, the first two acts possess more elements of comedy than the last three.”

“Doesn’t the play turn to tragedy when Romeo tries to stop Tybalt and Mercutio from fighting?” I asked.

“Yes.” she answered, “But, not until they are both killed.”

“What is the plot?” I asked.

“The chorus explains the plot in the prologue to the play.” she revealed, her voice becoming more passionate. “The entire story goes back and forth between love and anarchy. At the beginning of the play, Romeo is deeply depressed because he is infatuated with Rosaline but cannot attain her. It isn’t until they convince him to go to a party that he meets Juliet, falls in love and forgets Rosaline.”

I listen intently as she tells me about the play. “He has found true love, correct?” I asked.

“Yes, for the first time in his life.” she answered, “No matter how much Romeo and Juliet love one another, they are tragically doomed because the two families are deep enemies. Their surroundings are beyond their control and in the hands of fate.”

As she spoke, I wrote her words down as fast as I could in my notebook but found it increasingly difficult to concentrate with each passing minute.

“Why did Romeo and Juliet both have to die at the end of the play?” I asked, trying to bring my thoughts to the business at hand.

“To illustrate how destructive conflicts between families can be to everyone involved.” she explained. “It isn’t until their loved ones die that the two families turn to peace, and…”

“They pay a tremendous price.” I interjected.

“Yes, they do.” she agreed, “Even the help of Friar Lawrence cannot save Romeo and Juliet.”

“Now, what about the characters of ‘Romeo and Juliet’?” I asked. “You wrote them to be believable and consistent didn’t you?”

“Naturally.” she answered. “Although, they do go through tremendous changes.”

“Especially Romeo, Juliet, Escalus the Prince, Capulet and Montague.” I returned excitedly.

“Yes!” she agreed. “But, the Prince, Capulet and Montague change at the expense of Romeo and Juliet, which is an important part of the entire play.”

At that moment, William Shakespeare came into the room and asked Anne if she wanted to tuck the children in for the night. She said she would and invited me to join her. We went to the children’s room. Once inside, she knelt down and kissed each of them goodnight, tucking them in as she went along. While watching her, a feeling of love filled my heart and soul. I realized that I was in love with her intelligence, sensitivity, the class in which she presented herself, and her.

She invited me over to the beds, I said goodnight to the children and we left the room. Walking back to the study, William and her exchanged words.

“Don’t forget all of the dishware downstairs that needs to be done and don’t forget me.” he told her with a commanding voice.

“I know. Now will you please leave me alone so that I can be with Myles.” she sternly answered as we arrive at the study. Looking at William, I shrugged my shoulders and followed her inside. She shut the door behind me and we sat, continuing our studies.

“I feel like I’m intruding.” I told her. “I am very sorry if I…”

“You are not at fault here.” she revealed, “William can be so cold and unfeeling. Maybe that is why he dislikes ‘Romeo and Juliet’ so much.”

“I hate to pry in your personal affairs…” I began.

“No…Please do.” she insisted.

“Are you happy?” I asked, looking into her eyes.

A pause filled the room as she looked away to her notes. After a few seconds, she looked back at me.

“No…not with him.” she whispered. “It has been a long time since I have truly been happy in my marriage. I think William is jealous of my writing abilities. I’m afraid he feels inferior.”

As she continued to talk, I couldn’t help but feel for her. A strong desire to comfort and reassure her that everything would be okay overcame me. I could feel she was suffering inside which was making me suffer as well.

I wanted to hold her, kiss her, help her. I began to lean closer to her. What was I doing? I didn’t care. She needed…Her voice brought me back to the work at hand.

“What were the other parts that Aristotle wrote about?” she asked, interrupting me.

I fumbled on the desk for my notebook and found the correct page concerning Aristotle.

“Okay.” I said. “’Thought’ is the next part. That is the theme, message and moral of the play.”

“The themes are love between Romeo and Juliet and the hatred that surrounds them both.” she interjects. “The message is that the fighting and public unrest caused by the two families can only cause the death and destruction of the society, the families, and Romeo and Juliet.”

“And, the moral of the play?” I asked.

“That hatred, violence, and lack of responsibility and leadership cause only negative happenings to occur.” she answered. “Hatred can destroy love and only with love and peace can a society survive.”

“That’s beautiful.” I returned.

“Thank you, Myles.” she said, touching my shoulder.

“You are most welcome.” I said softly.

“What is the next part?” she asked.

“Diction.” I read from my notes for a moment. “Your husband told me a bit about the diction of the plays. Let me ask you, why did you write these plays using all the ‘Iambic Pentameter’ and such a different form of English than what is used in every day life and conversation?”

“Iambic Pentameter?” she asked.

“Yes..” I stammered, “Um, by that I mean, the rhythm in which sentences are spoken. It drives me insane and makes it difficult for me to immerse myself in the story. To me, it’s distracting.”

“It is all a play on words and a joke against our upper class of society.” she answered. “We are making fun of the wealthy aristocrats. The enjoyable thing about it all is that they don’t get the joke, while everyone else does.”

“That’s funny.” I laughed.

“That is diction.” she returned.

“And, what about the music in ‘Romeo and Juliet’? I asked, referring to another one of Aristotle’s parts of tragedy.

“The prologue in both acts one and two have choruses which are musical in nature.” she answered. “There is also music at the party held by the Capulet household.

“Yes, that’s right.” I said enthusiastically. I looked through the play and pointed out to her a place. “Isn’t there also music here in Act Four, Scene Four when the wedding feast is being completed and Paris arrives?”

“Yes, there is.” she agreed.

“Am I also correct in assuming…” I returned, “that those interactions between Romeo and Juliet, like in the balcony scene, are musical in a lyrical and poetic sense?”

A smile fills her face. “Yes, you are very correct in assuming that.”

“We’ve come to the last part.” I continue. “The spectacle. All visual elements in the play.”

“There is much spectacle to behold in ‘Romeo and Juliet’.” she told me.

“A spectacle in the sense of the fighting between the families, the love between Romeo and Juliet, the chorus, the marriage and the picking of Paris for Juliet, right?” I asked.

“To name only a few.” she answered.

“Do you think that they should produce the play in a specific style?” I asked.

“To get the most out of the story, yes.” she answered. “I wrote it for this period.”

“Is the love between Romeo and Juliet the dominant visual image?” I continued.

“Yes, it is.” she returned.

“I want to let you know that ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is my favorite play.” I told her. “You really did a beautiful job with the entire thing. To me, it’s a work of art.”

“You are so kind.” she told me, embarrassedly. “I am at a loss for words.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said as I touched her softly on the arm.

“Would you like to read from my play?” she asked me.

“I would love to.” I returned.

She opened the play, looked through it, and found a scene.

“Act Two, Scene Two.” she said, holding the play. She motioned for me to move closer.

“The ‘Orchard Scene’ where Romeo is below her window?” I asked.

“Yes.” she answered. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no, not at all.” I returned. “That is my favorite scene.”

We began to read the scene. I played ‘Romeo’ and she played ‘Juliet’. As I heard Anne read Juliet’s soliloquy of love, I felt as if she was directing the words to me personally. As I spoke Romeo’s words to her, I spoke from my own heart.

I was falling in love with Anne Hathaway.

My heart began to race as we moved closer to one another. What was I to do? I wanted so much to kiss her but I knew I dare not. But, as she continued, her beautiful voice filled my mind. We moved a bit closer. I was becoming dizzy, my breath shortening. “What about William Shakespeare?” I thought. “This is his wife…I am in his home.” As my thoughts raced, her eyes connected with mine. A tear appeared in her eye and ran down her face. I knew that she was lonely, hurting, and in need. My thoughts turned to William and how he had wronged her so very much and I…and I…kissed her!

We kissed passionately.

I took her face in my hands and, even though it sounds crazy, gave my heart and soul to her through my lips. I wanted her to know that she was not alone, that she was respected, that she was loved.

As I continued kissing her, emotions flooded my mind. I felt my eyes well up with tears but I didn’t care. I felt so sad for her. She was going through so much oppression from her husband and society at large. She was being forced to live a lie…to hide, and I knew it was undeserved and unfair. I began to gently weep as we kissed, not in weakness, but in a mixture of sorrow, joy, strength and happiness. I wanted to reassure her that everything would be alright. She saw my tears and stopped.

“What is it? What is the matter?” she asked with fear in her eyes.

“Nothing.” I said, reassuringly. “I’m crying for you.”

“Why?” she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

I wiped away her tears and looked her in the eyes. “You don’t know how happy you’ve made me Anne and I want you to know that I feel for what you’ve gone through and you must know that everything will get better.”

“How?” she asked.

“With love.” I returned.

I kissed her again. Her lips felt so soft against mine. She trembled against my touch as did I and at that moment, I fully realized what a wonderful, special and stunning woman Anne was. A woman to be respected, revered, loved, adored. Creative jealousy or not, how William Shakespeare could ignore her the way he did was beyond me. As our kisses became more passionate, the door opened and slammed against the study wall, startling us. We looked up to find a very unhappy William Shakespeare.

“What are you doing with my wife you fool?” he screamed.

“Oh…I…!” I stuttered as I jumped out of my chair.

Anne got up and moved away as William charged me with full force. He tackled me. Anne screamed and tried to stop him. He turned and pushed her back against a table, breaking it and sending her to the floor. Rage boiled up inside me at the sight and as William turned back around, I punched him in the face, sending him back into a wall of books.

“Are you okay?” I yelled to a stunned Anne.

“Yes.” she answered.

“Go!” I yelled to her. “Get out of here. See to your children!”

As she began to leave, William scrambled through the rows of books on the wall. “What was he doing?” I thought as he knocked books onto the floor. He was searching for something. But, what? That’s when I saw him grab something dark. When he turned back around to face me, a gun was in his hand, pointing at me. A look of rage filled his face. Anne, who was at the doorway, turned and saw the gun.

“William!” she screamed. “No!!”

A shot rang out. I screamed in agony.

I jerked up from my computer keyboard at my desk. The remnants of a scream filled the air. “Was that me?” I thought. “Where was I?” I looked around in a panic and saw that I was in my dorm room…present day. My computer screen was blank except for the words, ‘Romeo and Juliet’.

It was all a dream! Wait! It couldn’t be! Everything was so real.

As reality sunk in, I dropped my head in exhaustion and shock. Slowly, I got up. Severe pain shot through my head causing me to drop to my knee. As I got back up, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. I looked and stopped dead in my tracks.

On the floor was Anne Hathaway’s book of notes from ‘Romeo and Juliet’. It couldn’t be. A nervous feeling crept into my stomach. I bent down and picked it up. I opened the cover and saw a note to me! In her handwriting! It read, “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Myles. You changed my life and I am happy to have helped you better understand ‘Romeo and Juliet’. Yours eternally. Love, Anne.”

Overcome with emotion, I let out an audible gasp. I dropped the book and collapsed to my knees. “It wasn’t a dream after all! I had met her! I had!” I remembered the gun and William shooting me. I searched my body frantically for a gunshot and was relieved to find nothing of the kind. I was uninjured.

I looked back at Anne’s book. The cover lay open and I could see her note to me. I picked the book up, sat on my bed and stared at her words. “Love, Anne”….”Love, Anne”….”Love”…LOVE. As I focused on the word, a circle appeared around it and darkened. At first, I didn’t realize what it was, but as my eyes began to sting, I realized it was a tear. My tear…For Anne.

The End.

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