SO, who was he? Or — since one never employs the past tense while referring to creative people — should one ask, who is he? William Shakespeare (1564-1616), known to some literary buffs as Will, one of the greatest pen-wielders that ever graced our planet.
As far as his works go, even those who have never thumbed through the plays and sonnets of Shakespeare, wouldn’t suspect his status as an extraordinary creative individual. But when it comes to his private life, it wouldn’t be disputable to claim that not ‘much’ is known about him, a fact that bamboozles many a reader. How could such a high-profile writer have led such a low-profile personal life? His real identity, as it were, shrouds in mystery. And thank heavens for that ... Kuch batein unkahi rehney do, kuch batein unsuni rehne do ...
What’s intriguing in this respect is the kind of individuals that Shakespearean works have been ascribed to. A great many exegetes of the subject harbour the notion that renowned 16th century essayist Francis Bacon was William Shakespeare, and for some inexplicable reason used the latter as a pseudonym. This is a rather tenuous claim. Let’s just shrug it off in no time.
Even more unconvincing is the idea that Queen Elizabeth I wrote all those 37 (some say 36) mind-blowing plays and 154 delectable sonnets. Shall I compare thee to summer’s day ... Now, that’s stretching it a bit too far. Risking the label of being a misogynist, I find it hard to digest that of all the species, a woman could have such an insight into human life, and pen tragedies like Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, Romeo and Juliet and comedies like Much Ado About Nothing and Twelfth Night.
Then there is the idea that Shakespeare’s iconoclastic contemporary Christopher Marlowe was William Shakespeare — both were born in 1564. But the fact that Marlowe was murdered at the age of 29 makes the argument a tad unpersuasive, for Shakespearean plays kept on gracing theatres in the first decade of the 17th century and his death was recorded in 1616.
However, many historians and literati are of the opinion that the most likely person who could have churned out such stupendous stuff was Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford.
Hailing from an aristocratic family, the son of the 16th Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere was born in 1550. Because of his pedigree, he was trained in many skills that included riding and hunting, not to mention artistic activities like music and dancing, and was well-versed in Latin and French. His father died when he was barely a teenager. When he grew a little older, he was introduced to court, where he had ample opportunities to get mingled with leading figures of the country.
With such a high-ranking family background Edward de Vere was able to get himself acquainted with many aspects of royal life. Critics and historian have, however, drawn certain parallells between Edward’s private life and some of the events that occur in Shakespearean plays.
When Edward de Vere was just 20 years old, he married his guardian’s daughter, a similarity that can be found in Shakespeare’s Cymbeline, who also gets spliced to his guardian’s daughter and hails from a blue-blooded family.
Then, Edward, when he was 25 years old, embarked on a journey to Europe. On his way back, his ship was attacked by pirates, but he escaped unscathed — a similar thing happens to Hamlet.
While Edward was away, his wife Anne gave birth to a baby girl. He believed that the child was not his and accused Anne of adultery. But after five years of separation, for some incomprehensible explanation, he shunned the thought and again started to live with Anne. This theme of adultery and false accusation can be found in quite a few Shakespearean plays, such as Othello and All’s Well That Ends Well. That being so, the question is: why did Edward conceal his identity? Historians believe that in those days it did not befit someone from the noble class to write poetry. To boot, Edward was a court insider. Hence, he wouldn’t want other people to get the idea that whatever political conspiracies, intrigues or events he was touching upon in his plays or referring to in his sonnets, were based on true or semi-true events.
Now, what to make of all this? Yes, it is indisputable that there is not a great deal of information available on Shakespeare’s early days in a town called Stratford-upon-Avon. Yes, it is true, while in London, when he was writing and acting in plays to earn a living, not many people interacted with him and there is no substantial record of his writings. Yes, it is difficult to argue that it was only after a decade or so of his death that Shakespeare’s plays were compiled and published despite the fact that even in the latter half of the 16th century, the printing industry in England was a full-fledged one. And, yes, it is a fact that even when he returned to Stratford-upon-Avon after amassing quite a bit of wealth, not many people got in touch with him. But it is hard to believe that Edward de Vere was William Shakespeare. For one, nothing concrete is available on the matter, and two, Edward was a terribly affluent person, and in the history of mankind the rich have struggled to produce astounding pieces of writing. Art has always been generated by the middle classes and partronized by the upper classes.
So, why indulge in hair-splitting? Why can’t we just read or witness a Shakespearean play and marvel at the genius of a writer with incredible talent? Why must we try and discover who he was, what he looked like, what he wore, whom he fell in love with, and how educated he was? Geniuses have no pedigree. They belong to no race. They come from nowhere. They disappear nowhere.
