In the second half of 1564, more than 200 inhabitants of Stratford are buried—about one-seventh of the town.
MASTER SHAKESPEARE:
One-seventh.
GEORGE:
Which means: you don’t get to pretend it’s somewhere else.
And another Stratford record helps us track the rhythm of fear.
The Folger’s documentation notes the outbreak breaking out that summer, deadliest in September, and that it wasn’t until the following February that the worst was over.
MASTER SHAKESPEARE:
So it had a season.
GEORGE:
A season, yes.
And isn’t that terrifying?—to live in a town where death becomes a season, like harvest.
GEORGE:
Now here’s a detail I love because it’s so human.
The Stratford Corporation—the town leadership—meets during this period and makes a choice:
they meet outside, in the Chapel garden, specifically to reduce the chance of infection.
MASTER SHAKESPEARE:
Outdoors—because indoors is… closer.
GEORGE:
Because indoors is shared air. Shared breath.
And even without germ theory, they understood this much: closeness is danger.
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