Friday, July 01, 2005

The Tempest

After finishing Greenblatt's fantastic _Will in the World_, I found myself somewhat dismayed by the concluding judgment on Shakespeare's final days. Greenblatt writes,

"Even if we strip away the machinations over the enclosures, the probable sense of disappointment in his younger daughter, the disgrace of Thomas Quiney, the sour anger toward his wife; even if we imagine his Stratford life as a sweet idyll--the great poet watching the peaches ripen on the espaliered trees or playing with his granddaughter--it is difficult to escape a sense of constriction and loss. The magician abjures his astonishing, visionary gift; retires to his provincial domain; and submits himself to the crushing, glacial weight of the everyday."

Such disapproval at the everyday? Such judgment that Shakespeare should retire to the country a wealthy man, not because he was forced to, but apparently because that was his choice? Greenblatt has children, I know, so I can't understand his insistence on the boredom of family, in being near people we love, in sharing dinners, holidays, or simple everyday conversations with those we feel close to. That last chapter seems to reject the idea of happiness without work, comfort in leisure, and satisfaction with a life well-governed.

Yet who is not to say that after a lifetime of what must have seemed grinding, ongoing work, in a dirty city riddled with jeopardy and where a simple night in a tavern might end in anger and death, Shakespeare simply chose to listen to the lessons that come out so clearly in the plays--to take pleasure in family, to love life, and to strive for harmony in the everyday?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I just wanted to thank you for a wonderful class. The small class-size was beneficial for all, but it was the instruction that made the course enjoyable.

I have thought of one thing that would make smaller classes more affordable: money. Perhaps one could create a game show, much like Who Wants to be a Millionaire, where college presidents were unleashed to battle each other. The catch – they would be placed on a small island with little food and – in between answering trivia questions as they pummeled one another with rattan canes – would have to survive “immunity challenges” by publishing constantly. Publish or perish in a literal sense.