Bardolatry

William Shakespeare died on April 23, 1616. He was most probably born in April of 1564. No matter the exact dates, the world would be a far poor place had he not existed. I am a fan of the Bard of Avon. I claim no expertise, only informed interest.

There is something special about attending a Shakespearean play, especially at the new Globe Theatre in London. The Globe does not try to “popularize” the Bard’s works by changing eras, jazzing up the costumes, or stupefying the playgoer with awe inspiring special effects. The Globe dramatizes Shakespeare much like Shakespeare dramatized Shakespeare, thank goodness!

There is something unique about reading a Shakespearean play or sonnet. Only then can one appreciate the art of Shakespeare as writer. The Bard used the best writer tricks: foreshadowing, plot development, pacing, character development, figurative language, elegant forms and metre, and so much more.

It is still considered commendatory to memorize parts of his work. Do you have a favorite quote, or does the occasion determine which phrases to utilize? It is humbling to ponder one’s mortality in light of the Sonnet 71. How can one take themselves seriously when confronted with “…a tale told by an idiot…”? Who has not smiled when thinking “For there was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently”? Smarted to hear “How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man’s eyes”? Discovered satisfaction in “’Tis the mind that makes the body rich”?

It pains me to realize that, nearly 400 years later, pendants continue to claim that William Shakespeare did not write the works attributed to him. It is probable that a few plays were, at least in part, not his: King Henry VI part I, King Henry VIII, and Pericles, Prince of Tyre. It is also important to understand that the first folio did not make its public appearance until after the death of Shakespeare’s widow in 1623. There was plenty of time for thespian colleagues Herminge and Condell to spruce up a scene or augment an act in the seven intervening years after Shakespeare’s death. Granting that an editor may have added value after the fact does not diminish Shakespeare’s achievements.

The principal arguments against Shakespeare’s authorship emanate from the fact that William was a middle class boy, educated in the common school, without aristocratic pedigree. For an impressionable young man who loved words, that humble education would be sufficient. There is certainly evidence that humble beginnings have not suppressed genius. Mark Twain, James Joyce, Toni Morrison, Naguib Mahfouz, and Dostoyevsky are but a few examples.

Detractors ask, “How could the son of a glover and petty official possess such genius? Demonstrate the highest mastery of the English language? Capitalized on dramatic instinct and human psychology?” With passion, courage, ambition and desire, how not?

In his Preface to the Works of Shakespeare (1725) Alexander Pope wrote, “He seems to have known the world by intuition, to have looked through human nature at one glance.” The key is instinct. Good writers can be trained. Great ones transcend. Genius is a gift, 99 per cent of which is hard work! Shakespeare not only had the native genius and ambition, but the intelligence to understand the business of writing; not only the talent, but also the opportunity. He was gifted as well as assiduous. Shakespeare was an actor before he became an author. He understood the art of engaging an audience because he was capable of awe; he had the courage to innovate; he had an extra-ordinary command of words; he hungered for success. I think he was also shrewd. Genius is not limited to the London born, the Queen’s Court, or Cambridge. Talent surprises. It is democratic.

Like the movie or rock star of today, Shakespeare had his finger on the pulse of contemporary society. Elizabethans thrived on novelty and politics. Classes mixed in the dirty streets of London, in the taverns, and where the groundlings watched the latest plays. Fame fosters symbiotic relationships. A popular actor or writer would most naturally be flattered by the attentions of aristocratic patrons and intellectuals, who might, on occasion, make a suggestion or two. It is even possible that his relationships went deeper. Some of the Sonnets suggest bisexuality. A certain duality is evident in Sonnet 144. Shakespeare, under the influence of friends, may have paid a complement, included a suggestion, improved an idea, re-shaped a poem—but Shakespeare was the master of his craft.

For centuries scholars concur. John Dryden, in his Prologue to the Tempest, (1667) wrote:

Shakespeare who (taught by none) did first impart
To Fletcher wit, to labouring Jonson art…

…Shakespeare’s magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.
Most modern experts credit Shakespeare’s authenticity. David Bevington is a renowned expert on Shakespeare. I had the privilege of studying with him at the University of Chicago for a semester. And I have heard him speak on Shakespeare in lectures in other venues. He is of the conviction that Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare. I do not attempt to speak for him: his knowledge of the subject is great, mine is not. The breadth and depth of Dr. Bevington’s reasoning is beyond the scope of this small essay. However he did share one of his arguments for authenticity. It is derived from the theme of father/daughter relationships that appears frequently in Shakespeare’s plays. Shakespeare was very close to his daughters, especially to Susanna, his eldest. He was solicitous for the welfare of his second daughter Judith, twin to his dead son Hamnet. A reading of Shakespeare’s will affirm the loving care he had for daughters. Is this conclusive? Of course not, but it is suggestive of authenticity.

Building on Professor Bevington’s reasoning, I have examined another recurring theme in Shakespeare’s plays, the position of wives. Shakespearean spouses are very often missing (e.g.Thaisa), banished (Hermonie), dead (Miranda’s mother), ignored (Did Juliet not have a mother?), accused of infidelity (Desdemona), or just plain trouble (Lady Macbeth). In As You Like It Rosalind says “…maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives…” In nearly every comedy and tragedy Shakespeare dispatches the wife and/or mother.

In real life William seems not to have liked his wife who was several years older than he. It was probably a case of “marry in haste…” Certainly he left her for the bright lights of London. In his will she was left his “second best bed with the furniture.” At his death William Shakespeare was wealthy. He was generous to his daughters and relatives. He was niggardly with his wife. I often think of the poor woman sleeping in that second best bed for seven more years until her death. Her treatment is consistent with the dramatist’s treatment of wives in the plays. Of course this is not conclusive evidence, but worthy of consideration.

The Shakespearean authorship controversy will continue. Neither side will be able to convince the other. It might be best for the Bard to speak for himself. The Tempest is considered his last play, his farewell to his life’s work as a dramatic storyteller. Prospero becomes his alter ego in this last play. In Act III he declares:

Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And like this baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
In Act IV Prospero/Shakespeare summarizes the power of his artifice as he abnegates “his potent art”:

…I have bedimm’d
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,
And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak
With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck’d up
The pine and cedar: graves at my command
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ‘em forth…
Which plays come to mind?

The Bard of Avon is justifiably proud of his accomplishments as he eases into his final years. His humble beginnings are reprised as he graciously begs leave to retire:

With the help of your good hands:
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please: now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair,
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be
Let your indulgence set me free.
There was no one like Shakespeare but Shakespeare!
A note to readers: I have not given the sources of my Shakespearean quotations, because I want you to look for yourselves. In preparation of this piece I consulted: class notes, PBS article by Al Austin “Who Wrote Shakespeare?” (April 1989) and The Complete Dictionary of Shakespeare Quotations compiled by D.C. Browning, New Orchards edition 1986, J. M. Dent & Sons Ltd c. 1961. The Pope and Dryden quotes are to be found on page 480 of this text.

For those of you who wish to pursue the controversy, the most commonly named Shakespearean ghost writers are: Francis Bacon, Edward de Vere, William Stanley, Christopher Marlowe, and Roger Manners.

April's Allure

There is something about Spring that impels me to write more bad poetry. OK, you've been warned. Incidentally, the November daffodils are in bloom although they may be covered with snow by morning.

April’s Allure


Eliot’s “cruellest month”
So careless of our hopes;
Suasive siren, trait’rous tease.

Sunny sev’ntys today
The morrow’s icy winds;
Unscrupled, tiresome minx.

Abundance coaxes blooms
Pettish frost withers buds;

Surrender to April's charms at peril to your soul.

Tantalizing witchery.