Brimming with intrigue, SHAKESPEARE'S CONSPIRATOR shatters beliefs
about the world's greatest playwright. Did he really write the
thirty-seven plays credited to him?
It's 1587.
Shakespeare is struggling to launch his career. Finally he persuades
James Burbage, a theater owner, to stage Henry VI. He's the same
proprietor who refused to look at Amelia Bassano's comedic script.
Infuriated after being blocked at every turn, she reluctantly seals a
secret pact with Shakespeare.
So begins a fiery
relationship that triggers suspicions, plots to expose them, and
grave dangers.Craving recognition and ways to break through, Amelia
pursues illicit relationships with Elizabethan luminaries while
becoming a controversial advocate for women.
Scandals and
complications follow as her life takes dreadful turns. When
Shakespeare pressures her to write a soul-tormenting script, she
fears being exposed as a hidden Jew, a felony in Elizabethan England.
Undeterred, she embeds hints to her authorship and true identity in
Shakespeare's plays. But not everyone is deceived.
In this captivating
story, the web of secrets and trail of clues reveals a perilous and
cloaked Shakespearean world.
SHAKESPEARE’S CONSPIRATOR
EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 9
Will settled back down and nodded his goblet toward her. “How is
your play about the two sets of twins?”
Emilia believed he already knew the answer. She cleared her throat.
“Using your phrase, I’m calling it A Comedy of Errors, but…”
Her lips turned downward as she continued. “I’ve gone to every
theater owner, but none will look at it.”
Tears welled in Emilia’s eyes, and she dabbed them with a linen
handkerchief.
“Do they say why?” asked Will.
“Some do, some don’t. One claimed a play by a woman wouldn’t
attract audiences, which is curious since there’s never been one.
But there’s also an unstated reason.”
“Which is?”
Emilia stared through the rain-streaked window and gathered her
courage to admit the truth. “I’m not well thought of among
theater people. I shan’t go into details but my reputation has been
sullied.”
“I won’t inquire, but I’ve heard rumors…about another
playwright.”
Emilia swallowed hard, relieved he didn’t mention names. She didn’t
wish to talk about Marlowe. An awkward silence filled the space
between them. Yet she could tell Will’s mind was working furiously.
“What are you thinking?”
He coughed, making a dismissive wave. “It’s nothing.”
“Will, say it. You can be blunt.”
“I’m searching for the right words so I don’t offend you.”
Emilia took another sip of ale. “I’ll be more offended if you
don’t tell me.”
Will still hesitated and spoke as if he chose his words carefully.
“There are certain barriers that aren’t coming down. That means
if you want your play performed, you’ll need to make a reluctant
choice.”
“Will, what are you saying?”
Will shifted in his chair, grimacing as if struggling to broach his
idea with her. “Emilia, I’ll be plain. I doubt men’s attitudes
toward women will change. They’re deeply implanted. So—and this
was the mad thought that occurred to me—why not use a man’s name
as the author? Then your script would receive due consideration.”
Emilia recoiled at the artifice. “You’re suggesting I use a male
alias like Emil Bassano
or some other contrived appellation?”
“It could work.”
“It might, but if every woman did, we’d never be recognized for
notable work. Our genders should not matter.”
Will shrunk back in his seat, looking pained. “Everything you say
is true, bringing me to the point I wished to make earlier, which
would solve those practical problems but create other risks.”
Emilia planted her elbows on the table. “And that is?”
“To get Burbage’s true reaction, what if, with your assent, I
showed him your script without any name on it? If he responds
favorably, then we’ll discuss our next moves.”
Emilia saw the value of that approach. “That’s an intriguing
idea. But if he likes it, then what?”
“It will depend on his reaction,” said Will.
Emilia fidgeted with uncertainty, reluctant to lose control over her
work. “I have little to lose, I suppose.”
“Emilia, it’s worth trying. Can you bring the script here
tomorrow?”
Emilia paused, assessing Will. She believed him to be sincere and
fair-minded. He wasn’t sinister like Marlowe, who would have a
concealed motive. I’ll trust him and see. Only then will I know.
“I’ll bring it, but I’ll need it back.”
***
Emilia
paced the streets near the Horn waiting for Will. Her leather
chopines had rubbed her ankles sore. The two-inch wooden soles and
heels were caked with crud from stepping off curbs into sloppy,
potholed roads. Horses and carriages splattered mud on her black
skirt. But Emilia thought only about Will’s meeting with Burbage,
paying little attention to where she walked. She passed the Horn
again and saw Will approaching from the opposite direction, looking
downcast.
“Burbage wants A Comedy of Errors,” he announced
matter-of-factly.
Something’s wrong, Emilia sensed. Why isn’t he pleased?
“Let’s talk inside,” suggested Will.
They found a window table that two laborers had vacated. Will ordered
ale for them both.
“Will, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Burbage likes the novel theme and plot. He thinks it will draw
sizeable audiences...”
Will’s tone is flat, devoid of emotion. Something’s not right.
“Does he know who penned it?”
Will hung his head and put his fist to his mouth.
“What is it, Will?”
“Burbage assumed I wrote it. He said I should be confident enough
to say so.”
Oh no! Is Will stealing my work? “What did you say?”
“I didn’t correct him.”
Emilia jumped to her feet, folding her arms across her chest. I
didn’t expect treachery! “I trusted you! You didn’t tell
the truth?”
Descriptive
Paragraphs:
England,
1587: A young William Shakespeare persuades a theater owner to stage
Henry VI––the same one that refuses to look at Emilia
Bassano's play because she’s a women. Blocked at every turn, she
reluctantly agrees to let Shakespeare submit her scripts under his
name, but at what cost?
Emilia’s
plays propel Shakespeare’s success, which sparks envy and suspicion
from a fledgling playwright after he detects clues embedded in the
scripts that point to her authorship. She faces threats and grave
dangers as a biracial, half-Jewish woman believed to be abetting
Shakespeare’s deception. In contrast to the belittlement and
injustices women face, she portrays their strengths, intelligence,
and savvy through her characters, storylines, and poetry.
Emilia
Bassano Lanyer is most accomplished writer you’ve
never heard of. Until now.
Waldemar
Haffkine: The Man Who Saved Millions of Lives but the World Forgot
Steve
Weitzenkorn
At
the end of the 19th
century and the early years of the 20th
century, Waldemar Haffkine, a zoologist and microbiologist, developed
the vaccines that inoculated millions of people all over the world
against cholera and the bubonic plague. His large human trials took
place in British-controlled India. His reputation, once maliciously
destroyed, is now being resurrected by Paul Twivy, a British
strategist, advertising executive, and author. Perhaps, Waldemar
Mortimer Haffkin will receive the posthumous credit and recognition
he has long been due.
In
Paris, Haffkine developed his cholera vaccine and tested it first on
guinea pigs, rabbits, and pigeons. Then he risked his own life by
injecting himself with attenuated cholera. He was feverish for
several days before he fully recovered. Next, he inoculated three
Russian friends and other volunteers with the same result.
Then
he travelled to India, a country teeming with cholera, to test his
vaccine more widely. His British colleagues belittled his work,
unable to believe that cholera could be prevented through the
injection of a cholera microbe. To prove that it could, Haffkine
vaccinated over a hundred villagers in a remote area. Only those who
did not receive the injection died of the disease.
Wellcome
Images
When
the bubonic plague spread from China to British Hong Kong and then to
Bombay. The British government downplayed its seriousness until it
swept through the dense slums with a mortality rate double that of
cholera. Heffkine was summoned to help. Inside a tiny lab and with a
few untrained helpers, he began working on the world's first plague
vaccine.
After
much experimentation, Haffkine successfully inoculated rabbits
against an attack of the plague. Then, again, he inoculated himself.
He recovered from a bad fever after a few days. When the plague tore
through a Bombay prison, Heffkine inoculated 147 of 319 prisoners.
None of the vaccinated prisoners died while several in the control
group did.
British
doctors grew envious of Heffkine’s success for three reasons.
Heffkine was proving them wrong. He wasn’t a medical doctor. And he
was Jewish. So, what did they do? They went to extraordinary efforts
to discredit and ruin him.
Heffkine was known for being precise and
methodical. When nineteen people he vaccinated died of tetanus in
1902, the skeptical doctors jumped on it, accusing him of injecting
them with dirty needles. The real cause, as the doctors who accused
him knew at the time, came from an assistant’s neglect to sterilize
a vail stopper that had fallen onto the ground. But they buried that
fact and falsified evidence. Why? Antisemitism coupled with jealousy
is the leading theory.
The British doctors didn’t stop with an
accusation. They had Heffkine tried by a British Raj court, which did
their bidding. The three judges had been influenced and prejudiced
against Heffkine. They wanted him to fail. Paul
Twivy writes that this travesty
of justice “deserves to be one of the most famous mistrials in
history.”
