Be not afraid of Shakespeare’s greatness
There are so many situations and characters in Shakespeare that are similar to today: King Lear’s selfish and duplicitous daughters, deceitful and racist Iago in “Othello,” antisemitism in “Merchant of Venice,” and on and on.
For the assignment for the sixth and final week of my Shakespeare class for Johns Hopkins University’s Odyssey lifelong learning program, I asked the participants to choose a specific passage from one of the plays we read and tell us how the passage relates to today. How much have we actually learned about life in nearly 500 years?
It turned out to be an easy assignment for my mostly retired professional participants.
In “Antony and Cleopatra,” written in 1607, Mark Antony, a famous general, twice married, gives up his role as a warrior in order to woo the beautiful and powerful Cleopatra. In a fight for supremacy against Octavius Caesar, Antony makes poor decisions, choosing to follow Cleopatra. When the once strong man can no longer control Caesar or Cleopatra, he commits suicide in despair.
Similarly, some 400 years later — 2012 to be exact — fourstar general David Petraeus, head of the Central Intelligence Agency, was involved in an extramarital affair with Paula Broadwell, a writer whom Petraeus chose to write his official biography. FBI discovered the affair and Petraeus, embarrassed, was forced to resign.
Like Antony, Petraeus left the military. But, unlike Antony, David Petraeus went on to head KKR (Kohlberg, Kravis, Roberts) Global Institute, an extremely successful Wall Street firm.
Whereas Tom, a Hopkins cardiologist in my class, made the Antony/Petraeus comparison, Sally, who teaches architecture courses for Community College of Baltimore, came up with an even more timely comparison.
In Act IV, Scene III of “Macbeth,” Macduff is told that Macbeth has ordered the brutal murders of Macduff ’s innocent wife and children. Sally compared this horrific scene to the innocent Israeli people who discovered last Oct.7 that the terrorist group Hamas had brutally murdered hundreds of their spouses and children.
Tracey, another retired class participant, also chose “Antony and Cleopatra” for a timely comparison. She compared Cleopatra to Meghan Markle. “A former actress,” said Tracey, “Meghan captivated the world with her beauty, intellect and passion for humanitarian causes (think Rwanda).”
“She also captivated Harry, who left his royal role for her.” Harry as Antony? We’ll see how it plays out (“Britain’s Prince Harry formally confirms he is now a US resident,” April 18)!
However, on a lighter side, Susan, a retired marketing executive, compared the competition between Hermia and Helena in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” to her own competition with a friend in her youth.
In a case of mistaken identity, typical in several of Shakespeare’s comedies, each woman believes her lover loves the other one, and the young women verbally attack each other.
Says Helena, “Fie, Fie! You counterfeit, you puppet you.” Answers Hermia, who is shorter in stature than Helena, “[Helena] hath urg’d her height/And with her personage, her tall personage … she hath prevailed with him,” adding, “are you grown so high in his esteem/Because I am so dwarfish and so low?”
Susan, who is short, said this passage reminded her of her tall and stately high school friend, adding “Thank goodness there was no Facebook then or the insults would have gone viral.”
There are so many situations and characters in Shakespeare that are similar to today: King Lear’s selfish and duplicitous daughters, deceitful and racist Iago in “Othello,” antisemitism in “Merchant of Venice,” and on and on.
For sure, literature is life, and one would hope we would have learned from reading readily available great literature. Yet, in our world today, we still have wars and dictators and would-be dictators.
Needless murders, feasts and famines. And life goes on — whether we learn or not.
Finally, Jim, a retired U.S. labor analyst, chose what is surely Macbeth’s most popular speech — and, as many might say, most relevant today.
“Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle,
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury [but] signifying nothing.”