April 23! It is day of the Feast of Saint George. He is the national saint of England. Is it any surprise then that the national (actually of the entire world) icon of England, William Shakespeare, was both born and died on April 23!
Shakespeare's life is full of such anomalies. Nobody knows much about him or his life, and hence everybody, contemporary to contemporaneous, that is, till now, is free to take all sorts of potshots at him, to make all kinds of crazy conjectures about him which, however, never reach that creative core within him. Rather like the still center of a storm he is.
May be, that is why his epitaph which curses anyone disturbing his bones, a fact which he metaphorically faced repeatedly when alive. His baptism was on April 26. Hence it is guessed that he was born on April 23.
Beginning thence, everything in his life is rendered suspect. Why did he run away to London? There are dubious wild theories galore. He was a thief, he impregnated a hussy, and so on. Nobody would grant him his superb talent which had no outlet in that hamlet called Stratford upon Avon, and hence, London, bustling with all sorts of activities, was the only option then.
But when you are the soft target because of your brilliant talent, hatchets are always out! Look at his sexuality, for instance. He is accused simultaneously of carrying on very many affairs, and of homoerotic proclivities!
His superb talent was such a thorn in the flesh of so many that the wildest rumours flourish. Many dismiss the very fact that he ever wrote anything. His brilliant and copious work is affianced to Marlowe! For the mighty University Wits who could never ever match his popularity, this lowly born village idiot without any hi-fi education unlike them was the 'Shakescrow', borrowing the feathers!
Poor Willie! Each one of his word (he generously enriched the English language itself) is a polished gem that just cannot be replaced, and yet any jealous bully, who could never match his majesty, would accuse him of plagiarism.
What is most appealing about Shakespeare is that he knows all such jealous crookednesses. Look at his Chandos portrait. He has a very knowing and amused look, right? He never lets them wound him though. Instead, he created works that are not of any age, but of all times.
Each one of his texts (they echo the con'texts' most interestingly), whatever be the genre, sonnet cycle, long poem, comedy, romance, historical play, tragedy, is a perfect picture of all that is human(e), and yet divine, of all the dross in that two-legged animal called man whose glory Shakespeare captures so sensitively.
May be, that is why each generation meets Shakespeare anew, finds in his texts novel meanings. No wonder, Ben Jonson, his 'bitter' rival, has to finally acknowledge that he was not of an age/but for all times!
Pratima@One can write tomes on Shakespeare, and yet his allure would keep on inviting one to explore more, and further. Indeed, to quote Shelley on Wordsworth, William Shakespeare is like the lone star shining bright, guiding the lonely bark lost to voluminous waves. He is the last refuge of blind fools battling bitterly. No wonder, he is not of an age, but for all times!
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