Shakespeare’s characters

The Bard wrote works separated into Histories, Comedies, and Tragedies. While some of the characters were historical figures and therefore not named by Shakespeare, others were fictional with names chosen or created by Will. I doubt whether he really created as many as 1,700 words – he only used 20,000 different words in all his works, it is more likely these words are largely the first time they are recorded in writing. But why did he opt for those fictional names? Will etymology provide an answer?

Malvolio from Twelfth Night, a figure I particularly loathe as I was forced to portray this pillock when at school, he has a name from Italian and meaning ‘ill will’ – and from what I recall of the experience, a pretty accurate description.

Romeo is a title character whose name either means ‘Roman’ or ‘pilgrim to Rome’ – the latter is a better bet as the play is set in Verona.

Othello is the eponymous character whom Shakespeare named, probably from the Italian Otello or the Hebrew name Otiel meaning ‘my God is He’. (insert punctuation and see how those four words change in meaning)

Desdemona is from the Greek dysdaimon meaning either ‘misery’ or ‘ill-fated’.

Mercutio is derived from the Latin mercurialis meaning ‘of Mercury’.

Banquo is of Scottish Gaelic origin from ban and means ‘white’ or perhaps ‘fair’.

Titania is from the Titans of Greek mythology, specifically the daughters of those Titans.

Polonius is probably from the Latin word for Poland, Shakespeare may have got the idea from a Latin book on statesmanship by a Polish author.

Laertes is from Greek mythology, the father of Odysseus.

Caliban is believed to be derived from ‘cannibal’, an appropriate name for the character’s savagery.

Hermia is of Greek origin, it means ‘messenger’ as does the Greek Hermes.

Benvolio comes from the Italian benevolo meaning ‘goodwill’, which describes Romeo’s cousin the play rather well.

Capulet is derived from capuleti ‘little chief’.

Fortinbras is of Norman French derivation meaning ‘strong in the arm’.

Yorick, a variation on the Danish Jorck, is itself a variation of George.

Portia is from the Latin porcus meaning ‘pig’, not a particularly appropriate description of the character.

Petruchio is from the Italian name Pietro, itself from the Greek Peter meaning ‘stone’ or ‘rock’.

Perdita is from the Latin perditus meaning ‘lost, abandoned’ and an appropriate name for Shakespeare’s character.

Other names may be associated with Shakespeare, but they pre-date the Bard. These include Ophelia, Prospero, Iago, Shylock, Titania.

Esther Dyson

The question of mental capacity comes into question in the case of Esther Dyson. Murder of a child in Victorian times was not regarded as any less despicable than today, but this 24-year-old woman may have been treated rather differently today.

In 1830 Esther was accused of murdering her illegitimate daughter. Bad enough? Maybe worse when you hear she attempted to sever her newborn child’s head with a knife before attempting to hide the body by throwing it in a dam. Appalled? Read on.

Esther was acquitted on the grounds of insanity – although the ‘insanity’ was probably due to her being deaf and dumb since birth. Feeling more lenient? There’s more.

Contemporary newspaper reports claimed her disabilities were rather exaggerated, describing her as ‘shrewd’ and ‘an intelligent woman’ who well ‘knew right from wrong’. In a crowded court at Leeds in March 1831 was asked how she pleaded but failed to respond – so the members of the jury were asked to determine whether the prisoner stood mute ‘by malice or by thr visitation of God’. The jury blamed the Almighty.

One called to give evidence, Mrs Ann Briggs, had known the prisoner of almost ten years and stated she doubted whether Esther had any idea of what was happening in the courts. But Mrs Briggs admitted Esther certainly knew the difference between right and wrong.

The judge, reluctant to try Esther, instructed the jury to decide whether she was insane, in which case she would be detained at His Majesty’s pleasure. This is what happened and the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum in Wakefield became her home from 24 November 1831 until her death on 2 March 1869 at the age of 62.

It is recorded that she was regularly employed as a housemaid, and showed no symptoms of insanity during her more than three decades at Wakefield.

Was she insane? Should she hang? What do you think?

Jane Frearson

Jane Frearson had lived at the Bell Inn in Derby for some five months, employed as a kitchen maid by Mrs Wightman. She had returned to the area after spending time in Sheffield, again as a domestic servant, having previously lived with her parents at Normanton.

Tuesday 19th January 1830, and at the Bell Inn a most gruesome discovery was made. A newborn female infant had been discovered among the detritus in the privy at the public house. At the inquest, also held at the Bell Inn, medical opinion suggested the child had been alive at birth, there was no outward appearance of any injuries and nothing to suspect internal injuries. The child had probably died shortly after birth. The inquest decided Frearson should face charges and was given bail awaiting her appearance in court.

The case came to court on Wednesday 28th April 1830, where she faced a charge of concealing the birth of her infant bastard child. The court decided to acquit her, and Frearson walked free. It later transpired that Frearson had been seduced by a member of the family while working in Sheffield at the home of what was considered a respectable family. Finding herself with child, she returned to Derby, securing the job at the Bell Inn. Here she attempted to hide her pregnancy, but in the later stages it was clear to all and when the infant was discovered in the privy there was no doubting who the mother was. Frearson claimed the child had been alive at birth but died shortly after, medics could not determine whether the child would have lived had she sought medical help.

Whether Jane Frearson would have faced more serious charges today is uncertain. Contemporary reports do not touch on her mental state, nor go into any details as to how she became pregnant, the reaction of her employers in Sheffield, or why she left their employ.

The Oddingley Murders

Researching one thing often results in finding something else of note. This piqued my interest recently and, although I had read about such before, delved a little deeper.

The story begins in the quiet village of Oddingley some 5 miles north of the city of Worcester. The place name means ‘the woodland clearing of the family or followers of a man called Odda’, and as the story unfolds you will see events really do get ‘odder’.

Beginning on 24 June 1806, two fellows travelling near the glebe meadow heard a gunshot. As they went to investigate, they heard the faint cry of “Murder!” and soon discovered a man lying in the meadow, with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. This was George Parker, Rector of St James’ Church in Oddingley, but not for long as he soon died from his wounds. These witnesses also spied a man fleeing the scene. While these strangers could not name him, from their description he could only have been Richard Heming, a local odd-job man. A man-hunt ensued, but Heming would never be found – it was rumoured he had fled the country and living in anonymity in America. Not having any reasons to doubt the murderer had made good his escape, the story made the local headlines for a while but, other than local gossip, was forgotten.

Forgotten until 24 years later when the skeleton of a man was discovered buried beside the wall of a barn at nearby Netherwood Farm. Forensics not available in the first part of the 19th century, the identity of the chap could only be deduced from the clothes and belongings found with him. There was no doubt these were the skeletal remains of Richard Heming.

Investigations showed Netherwood Farm had been leased to a famer named Thomas Clewes at the time Heming vanished. Arrested, Clewes confessed to having witnessed the death of Heming, gave clear details of the killing and named the murderers. He named John Barnett and George Banks as the killers (a third man, Captain Evans, had since died), all three local farmers who had been at odds with the rector on the subject of tithes and had paid Heming the princely sum of £50 to kill George Parker, but subsequently reneged pn the deal and bludgeoned the assassin to death. They had the motive, the body, and the murderers. Locals were confident Barnett, Banks, and Clewes would soon provide the focus for the spectacle of a public hanging.

What had been a local scandal in 1806, became a national headline in 1830. Interest grew when it was announced they could not be tried with the murder of the rector, but only as accessories. The late Captain Evans, said to be the ringleader and mastermind despite being an officer and a magistrate, could not face charges; farrier James Taylor had dealt the fatal blow (according to Clewes) and he faced a murder charge; Clewes was charged, as were Barnett and Banks.

At the trial, the complexities of the case created more confusion. Clewes was the key, everything revolved around his confession. The jury’s verdict against Clewes was ‘guilty as accessory after the fact’ – but when the judge pointed out (and as the press reported quite vociferously) Clewes had not been charged with that but with ‘aiding and abetting’, they retired a second time and returned with a verdict of ‘not guilty’. Such effectively ended the cases against all concerned, and all went back to the quiet life away from the public eye.

The acquittals were, rather surprisingly, met with relief in and around Oddingley. Indeed, some of the villagers broke into the church and rang the bells in celebration – such levity did not go well with landowners or the press, especially when they learned the bell ringers gathered a group who continued the celebrations by drinking and smoking inside the church. Generally the newspapers were in agreement with the verdict as an important principal of law had been upheld.

While I could never suggest George Parker deserved to be murdered, his tithe demands would certainly be seen as excessive. As rector the tithes came to him, one-tenth of the value of their crops to be paid to him to cover his income. That income of £135 per annum - £14,450 today is not a fortune, but considering he did not have to pay for his accommodation, comfortable enough – but Parker, having spent five years trying to get the farmers to pay up, demanded an extortionate sum of £150 in compensation. When the rector took the farmers to court to get payment, he won. Then after five years the farmers, who had resigned themselves to having pay every year, would have given up – but then Parker got greedy.

Perhaps today forensic evidence would have helped secure a conviction or convictions. Doubtless we could almost certainly have shown Heming had not left the country, and surely forensic evidence would have identified killer or killers. And yet today’s legal system would also likely have rejected Parker’s demands for £150.

Dordon Hall

Dordon Hall, built from red sandstone and one wing built in brick and is situated on Dunns Lane, Dordon.

This post –medieval farmhouse, with elements dating from the 16th or 17th century, was extensively remodelled in the early 18th century by William Sant, who built its prosperous-looking, symmetrical sandstone facade. The building's complex irregular plan and crow-stepped gables suggest earlier Tudor origins, and it features timber framing with whitewashed brick infill, along with latter-day brick and sandstone additions.

Medieval Origins: The earliest part of the house has a timber-framed structure with an irregular plan, indicated by features like jowled posts to the gable ends and hints of a pre-Tudor origin. Early 18th Century Facade: William Sant, a prosperous landowner in the 1720s, commissioned a new facade for Dordon Hall. This addition was built from regular coursed sandstone, featuring a string course and a moulded cornice, giving the building a more formal appearance. Later Additions and Alterations: In the 19th century, the building underwent further alterations and rebuilding, with modifications to the front range, including the addition of a Cl9 ribbed door with a rusticated surround. Some parts of the original timber-framed left wing were also rebuilt with brick.

Materials: Dordon Hall is a combination of materials, including timber framing, whitewashed brick, and sandstone for the main front elevation. Gables: The building displays crow-stepped gables, a distinctive architectural feature that indicates its earlier Tudor-era origins.

Interior Features: The interior includes broad stop-chamfered beams and an altered open fireplace with fire windows, showcasing elements of its historical construction.

William Sant was buried at Grendon Church on 14th April 1779 and here is a copy of his will.