Summary (Literary Newsmakers for Students)
Chapter 1: Primal Scenes
In the opening chapter of Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare, Greenblatt draws inspiration from Sigmund Freud's conception of "primal scenes", yet shifts the focus from the intimate psychological landscapes of childhood to the vivid public performances of rural Stratford-upon-Avon. It is here, amidst this small town's lively theatrics, that young Shakespeare likely discovered the magic of the stage. As a schoolboy, he not only studied Latin comedies but also immersed himself in their enactments. Greenblatt muses that he might have taken a role in The Two Menaechmuses, a play that later sparked the creation of his own Comedy of Errors. Wandering acting troupes brought excitement to the town, enthralling audiences with morality plays that painted virtues and vices in broad strokes through allegorical characters like Youth and Chaos. Shakespeare, drawn to this lively tapestry, would later refine these broad archetypes into richly human characters, mirroring the folk festivals of his youthful days. Greenblatt surmises that a royal visit from Queen Elizabeth, who was lavishly entertained by the Earl of Leicester at his nearby castle, imprinted heavily upon Shakespeare, feeding his burgeoning genius.
Chapter 2: The Dream of Restoration
In an era where every aspect of life was tightly regulated, Shakespeare's father, John, navigated a precarious path, juggling his official trade as a glove maker with the shadowy worlds of illegal wool trading and financial dealings. John's aspirations stretched beyond mere wealth; he yearned for the gentlemanly status that came with a coat of arms. Greenblatt speculates that during the interlude between the end of Shakespeare's education around 1580 and his theatrical rise in the 1590s, the young bard assisted his father. His plays, rich with imagery related to gloves and leather, hint at this early exposure. The frequent references to drinking may reveal a darker chapter, suggesting that John's financial ruin was exacerbated by alcohol. This fall from grace, juxtaposed with their earlier prosperity, possibly fueled Shakespeare's fascination with the theme of "the dream of restoration"—a motif he explored through characters like Prospero and Miranda in The Tempest, who find redemption and return to their rightful places. The allure of the theatre, with its chance to play a gentleman, may have been irresistible to Shakespeare, who eventually succeeded in securing his father's gentleman status through a coat of arms.
Chapter 3: The Great Fear
Shakespeare's formative years unfolded against a backdrop of relentless religious upheaval, a turbulent period marked by the fierce struggles between Catholics and Protestants under the Tudor rule. When Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne in 1558, she swiftly reinstated Protestantism, denouncing Catholic practice as unlawful. This harsh decree forced many to live a double life, outwardly conforming to Protestant rules while secretly clinging to Catholic traditions. Greenblatt paints a picture of a household potentially divided, with Shakespeare's mother as a steadfast Catholic and his father balancing both faiths. Controversial evidence suggests that a young Shakespeare found himself in northern Lancashire, a haven for Catholic recusancy, possibly working as a schoolmaster for affluent Catholic families. Here, he might have ventured onto the stage with local troupes and encountered the clandestine dangers of his faith. The specter of figures like Edmund Campion, the executed Catholic missionary, loomed large. Shakespeare's works betray a mind averse to fanaticism but one undeniably captivated by the dramatic tension of such clandestine experiences.
Chapter 4: Wooing, Wedding and Repenting
In 1582, an eighteen-year-old Shakespeare entered into matrimony with Anne Hathaway, a woman eight years his senior, independent, and expecting their first child, Susanna. Despite this union, much of Shakespeare's life unfolded in London,...
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away from Anne. When he passed in 1616, his will conspicuously omitted his wife, leaving her merely his "second best bed"—perhaps as an afterthought. Such details whisper of an unhappy marriage. Greenblatt delves into the complexity of Shakespeare's sentiments towards matrimony, as reflected in his literary creations. The very title of this chapter echoes the sentiments of Beatrice inMuch Ado About Nothing, capturing a cynical cycle of courtship, marriage, and disillusionment. Beatrice and Benedick stand out as one of the rare couples in Shakespeare's comedies with a hopeful future; others seem mismatched. In "problem comedies" like Measure for Measure, forced marriages echo what Greenblatt believes was Shakespeare's own experience. It’s perhaps why his plays, such as Romeo and Juliet and The Tempest, caution against premarital intimacy. Mature married couples in his plays often portray distorted relationships, yet his sonnets reveal that Shakespeare indeed experienced love—albeit outside the bonds of marriage.
Chapter 5: Crossing the Bridge
In the mid-1580s, what circumstances compelled Shakespeare to forsake Anne and their three young children to seek his destiny in the bustling heart of London? Greenblatt delves into a tale originating in the late 1600s, suggesting that Shakespeare fled to avoid retribution for the illicit act of poaching deer from the estate of his influential neighbor, Sir Thomas Lucy. However, this narrative might cloak a deeper antagonism with Lucy, a fervent Protestant known for his ruthless pursuit of clandestine Catholics. Intriguingly, Lucy played a role in the capture and subsequent demise of Shakespeare’s distant kin, John Somerville and Edward Arden, who were declared Catholic traitors. Thus, Shakespeare might have had a genuine reason to fear.
Alternatively, the allure of joining the esteemed Queen's Men, a troupe passing through Stratford in 1587, may have presented a golden opportunity for a promising young actor. Shakespeare's arrival in London likely coincided with a city brimming with life—dangerous yet exhilarating, ever-evolving, adorned with grand architecture that would later inspire the urban landscapes in his plays. As he crossed London Bridge, the grim sight of Somerville and Arden's heads displayed on spikes might have greeted him, a stark reminder of the peril that shadowed his family's history. This grim reality could explain the scarce details available to Shakespeare's biographers, as he adopted a veil of secrecy to navigate the treacherous political landscape.
Chapter 6: Life in the Suburbs
Seeking diversion beyond the city's boundaries, Londoners flocked to the less regulated "liberties," or suburbs. These outskirts offered brutal spectacles, such as the bloodthirsty entertainments of bull- or bear-baiting, where animals, tethered to stakes, were set upon by ferocious dogs. The suburbs also teemed with brothels, adding to their notorious reputation. Shakespeare, undoubtedly, witnessed the harsh punishments and executions meted out as public spectacles on the bustling streets of London. His plays reflect his fascination with these vivid scenes. Amidst these attractions were the nascent theaters of the late sixteenth century. Despite the disdain of religious and civic authorities, who deemed them corrupt and hazardous, theaters persisted, needing a steady stream of patrons and a diverse repertoire to thrive. This environment created a demand for prolific playwrights. Shakespeare found inspiration in his contemporary, Christopher Marlowe, who shared a similar age and background. Marlowe's Tamburlaine was likely among the first theatrical experiences Shakespeare had in the capital.
Tamburlaine dazzled with its exotic backdrops, grand narrative, rebellious spirit, and rich poetic language—standing in stark contrast to the plays of Shakespeare's youth. His early works, particularly the Henry VI trilogy, clearly bore Marlowe's influence. Although Shakespeare lacked Marlowe’s formal education, his friend Richard Field, a printer, provided him access to essential source materials. While his early historical dramas may not match the brilliance of his later masterpieces, they captivated audiences and heralded the emergence of a formidable new playwright.
Chapter 7: Shakescene
As Shakespeare's renown began to blossom in London, he inevitably crossed paths with the University Wits—a circle of stage poets united by their prestigious educations at Cambridge or Oxford and their shared penchant for revelry and risk. This group included the illustrious Christopher Marlowe and the flamboyant Robert Greene, whom Greenblatt vividly describes as "larger than life, a hugely talented, learned, narcissistic, self-dramatizing, self-promoting, shameless, and undisciplined scoundrel." Initially, the University Wits might have been captivated by the provincial author of the Henry VI trilogy, despite his modest schooling. However, whether by exclusion or personal choice, Shakespeare did not assimilate into their ranks. He remained an outsider and competitor. As his career soared in the early 1590s, the University Wits faced untimely demise through disease, violence, and debauchery. In a posthumous tract attributed to Greene, Shakespeare was derided as "an upstart Crow, beautified with our feathers." Shakespeare retorted by satirizing their creations in his works and by crafting the character of Falstaff. This uproarious, witty "fat knight," featured in Henry IV Part One, Henry IV Part Two, Henry V, and The Merry Wives of Windsor, unmistakably bore the likeness of Robert Greene.
Chapter 8: Master-Mistress
This chapter delves into the lyrical genius of Shakespeare beyond his theatrical masterpieces, with a spotlight on his 154 sonnets. These poetic gems were shared in handwritten form long before they emerged in print as Shake-speares Sonnets in 1609. The sonnets present a Shakespearean voice that is unmistakably his own, though the identities of the individuals addressed—a cleverly veiled "you" and other characters—remain a puzzle that has tantalized scholars for generations. This enigmatic quality was no accident. Shakespeare crafted these sonnets for a select few who could truly grasp their intricate meanings. Greenblatt proposes that the first seventeen sonnets might have been penned for Henry Wriothesley, the Earl of Southampton, a dashing young nobleman resisting the societal push towards matrimony. These verses take an unexpected turn, urging the recipient to marry not for the love of a woman, but for self-love: to extend his own lineage through progeny. In articulating this notion, and throughout many of the 154 sonnets, the poet subtly reveals his own affection for this "master-mistress." Shakespeare explicitly dedicated his poems "Venus and Adonis" and "The Rape of Lucrece" to Southampton. The former, a sensuous piece and one of the few works Shakespeare deliberately saw to print, achieved significant popularity. Greenblatt speculates that in seeking aristocratic patronage, Shakespeare was likely attempting to mitigate the economic blow from the temporary closure of the theatres due to civil unrest and the plague.
Chapter 9: Laughter at the Scaffold
In the realm of comedy, Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice stands as a counterpoint to Christopher Marlowe's own dramatic portrayal of a Jewish villain in The Jew of Malta. Though rooted in the Judeo-Christian tradition, the Jew, as depicted, served a pivotal "symbolic role" as the eternal outsider—anti-Christian and almost alien. In Marlowe's play, Barabas, consumed by an unyielding hatred for Christianity, personifies this role without a shred of redemption. Marlowe's works tapped into public fears and xenophobia, echoing an era when Jews had long been expelled from England, yet mob violence against immigrant communities persisted sporadically. In Shakespeare's unperformed contribution to Sir Thomas More, More himself stands against such mob violence. More significantly, Shylock, the Jewish character in The Merchant of Venice, wrenches the audience's empathy even as he stirs their animosity. Greenblatt points to the influence of the Rodrigo Lopez trial on Shakespeare—Lopez, a doctor to the Queen, accused of treason, was Jewish by origin, his conversion to Christianity doubted by many. Those at Lopez's execution laughed at his protestations of innocence and faith, just as audiences might have laughed at Shylock, while grappling with the reflection of their humanity.
Chapter 10: Speaking with the Dead
By the dawn of the new century, Shakespeare seemed to have achieved everything possible in his career, yet he embarked on a luminous new chapter with the creation of his masterpiece, Hamlet. What set this work apart was Shakespeare's exploration of inner turmoil—the complex psychological landscapes of his characters' minds. Throughout his earlier plays, he had honed the art of the soliloquy—those moments when characters, isolated on stage, divulge their innermost thoughts. Drawing from an age-old tale of a Danish prince, previously adapted for the stage and available in published texts, Shakespeare reimagines the prince, not as a child feigning madness to bide time for vengeance, but as a young man, whose assumed madness lacks a defined purpose. This ambiguity centers the play on Hamlet's psychological struggle. Greenblatt suggests that the play's emotional depth may be rooted in Shakespeare's personal grief over the death of his son, Hamnet, in 1596, and the looming loss of his father, within the religious tensions explored in Chapter 3. Protestants had banned Catholic rites such as paying for masses to alleviate the suffering of souls in Purgatory—a liminal space where the deceased expiate their sins before reaching Heaven. For those who believed in Purgatory, like Shakespeare's parents and perhaps Shakespeare himself, their inability to aid their departed loved ones would have been profoundly distressing.
Chapter 11: Bewitching the King
By choosing to leave unclear the reasons behind Hamlet's feigned insanity, Shakespeare crafted a tapestry of mystery—a dense fog of uncertainty that invites audiences into an endless quest to unravel the depths of character. In his subsequent monumental tragedies, Othello and King Lear, Shakespeare employed what Greenblatt dubs the "excision of motive," removing overt justifications for his characters’ actions. The villainous Iago in Othello acts with an inscrutable malice, while Lear’s fatal demand for his daughters’ declarations of love springs from unfathomed insecurities.
In his next towering tragedy, Macbeth, Shakespeare specifically catered to Queen Elizabeth’s successor, James I, who had become a fervent patron of Shakespeare's troupe, now named the King's Men. The play, centered around regicide, followed an attempted assassination of James, known as the Gunpowder Plot. At its start, the witches foretell that Banquo’s lineage—historically linked to James—will reign on Scotland's throne forevermore. This prophesy may have soothed James, yet his reaction to the witches would have been more complex. James harbored a fear and fascination for witches, viewing them as satanic agents. Greenblatt observes that the witches epitomize opacity; their precise role in the play’s unfolding chaos is ambiguous. Does one attribute the source of wickedness to the witches, or does it lie within the human psyche itself?
Chapter 12: The Triumph of the Everyday
The year was 1604, and with the crafting of King Lear, Shakespeare’s thoughts drifted toward the twilight of his own career. In this poignant play, Lear’s abdication ignites a catastrophic chain of events, reflecting fears of diminished stature and reliance on one’s progeny. It seems Shakespeare took these themes to heart, safeguarding his future through astute retirement strategies, notably investing in prime real estate around the tranquil town of Stratford. Despite leading a rather frugal life in the bustling city of London, he envisioned his retirement amidst the pastoral charm of a country gentleman’s life.
In the latter chapters of his illustrious career, as prosperity continued to smile upon him and the King's Men, Shakespeare’s works frequently pondered the passage of time and the inevitable aging. The Tempest, likely penned in 1611, stands as a reflective opus of his artistic journey. Prospero, the play’s central figure, wields the enchanting prowess of a dramatist, orchestrating the destinies of those who find themselves on his mystical island. Yet, in the final act, he shows mercy to those who betrayed him, reclaiming his dukedom only to forsake his magical abilities in favor of returning to the familiar embrace of home.
In a parallel to Prospero’s journey, Shakespeare relinquished his role as the master of theatrical destinies, retreating to Stratford. There, he navigated mundane matters like property squabbles and managed relationships that were far from idyllic. He faced a strained marriage, a daughter's ill-fated union, yet found solace in a cherished bond with his eldest daughter Susanna and her blossoming family. In these everyday triumphs and trials, he embraced the ordinariness from which his literary worlds had once offered an escape.