Hamnet: Chapter 8 Summary & Analysis

In the 1580s, long after midnight on her wedding night, Agnes stands at the window. She cannot sleep; her head is swirling with thoughts. Her new home is just two stacked rooms topped by a slope-roofed attic. John had been using it for storage—of wool, she thinks, based on the faint animal smell that lingers in the rooms. That afternoon, he was as reluctant to hand over the key as the tutor was to take it; Agnes thinks that the living arrangements must have to do with the terms Bartholomew set for the marriage. She and Bartholomew silently observed the awkwardness between John and the tutor at the threshold, John slapping her husband forcefully rather than merrily, and the tutor springing into a defensive posture as if he feared more blows.

As Agnes’s warm breath fogs the cool glass of the windowpane, she realizes that the house is shaped like an “A.” She cannot read, but the farmer taught her to recognize the letter that begins her name. She falls into a comforting memory of sitting on the ground between her mother’s knees and watching him scratch an “A” into the mud. Agnes takes the shape of the house, the way it echoes the first letter of her name, as her sign. She ignores the rest: the ominous call of a nearby owl, Mary’s obvious displeasure, her husband’s youth, John’s temper, and the constrained quarters. She is unpacking her small bundle of possessions when her new husband wakes and calls her back to bed. 

Agnes tells her husband about the A-shaped house, telling him she cannot sleep on the cross-stroke of the A, floating in the air so far from the ground. He promises that they will be doing something other than sleeping in the bed. He begins to empty her hands of her possessions—her gloves, her wedding crown, two books. One, a book describing the medicinal qualities of plants written in Latin, catches his eye. Agnes explains that a kindly neighbor left it to her in her will. She asks if he will read it to her, and he promises he will—later.

During the first week of her marriage, Agnes observes everything around her. She watches the maids rise early to complete their morning chores. She notices how little work there is to do—there are no fences to mend or animals to tend or hungry farm-men to feed at midday. Instead, there are visits and deliveries to be made and to be received. She sees that Mary rules the house, assigning tasks to the maids and staying occupied with needlework. She notices that John is often out. Her husband sometimes goes out to give lessons or visit the tavern. When he’s home, he skulks in their bedroom, reading and staring out the window.

Agnes begins to insert herself into the rhythms of the household. She rises before the maids one morning to bake the bread herself, adding sweet herbs and making sure it doesn’t burn. She trims the candle wicks and changes the table linens and polishes the floors. After a week or so, Mary realizes that things are being done without her having to remind the maids. Then, she finds Agnes in the washhouse with Eliza and the maids, making soap with lavender buds pressed into it so that it will smell sweet. When Mary sees that Agnes is unperturbed by this hard, physical work, despite her pregnancy, she feels a stab of jealousy over Agnes’s youth and fertility. 

And all the while, Agnes continues to make observations about her new in-laws. She sees that John likes strong, pugnacious Gilbert the best among his children, while Mary favors Richard. She sees that the baby, Edmond, idolizes his brother, her husband, and she knows that he is destined to live a short but bright and happy life. She sees that all six children flinch if John makes a sudden move. One night, John grows irate with Edmond, who’s too tired and cranky to sit quietly at supper. When he hits John with a piece of piecrust, John explodes from his stool. But before he can reach the baby, the tutor confronts him, scuffling with him to hold him back. Agnes scoops up Edmond and flees with him to the yard.

After a while, her husband comes to Agnes and Edmond in the yard. He slips his arm around her. She thinks about the gloves hanging in the workshop, how the skins from which they are made come from living animals. She thinks about how much must be discarded from a creature to make a glove that fits so smoothly and tightly around a person’s hand; she thinks about the violence of the tools used to cut, pierce, and stretch the leather into shape. She thinks about how a glover will only ever want the surface layer of a creature and how he will discard and disregard the rest. And she thinks about the depths she saw in the tutor on the day they first met. She wonders how long they can stay here before they must fly to freedom elsewhere.

Eliza comes into the yard to fetch Edmond; Agnes and her husband go through their own door. Agnes realizes, in this moment, that her husband is split into two. In their small home, he is the man she married. In his parents’ house, he is another person entirely. He is snappish and aggravating. He bristles against his parents’ expectations. She wondered why; now, after what she saw at supper, she understands. She leads him to a chair and rubs her fingers through his hair until he relaxes under her hands.