Although this date is traditionally set as the date of Shakespeare’s birth, the first record we have of this extraordinary poet and playwright is actually the date of his baptism on April 26. He married Anne Hathaway, who was 8 years older after she became pregnant with their daughter Susanna. Shortly after the birth of the twins Hamnet and Judith, he headed off to London and a new life.
Shakespeare invented around 1700 words, such as amazement, dishearten, majestic, to name just a few. He created characters that we use as referent points in our daily conversations. As the critic Harold Bloom wrote, he created the art of the human in theatre. He managed to write plays, in which he also acted, that dealt with not just the range of human emotions, but which also addressed questions of loyalty and betrayal.
Some critics have pointed out that he was not a very good husband to Anne, leaving her with the three children to raise, but many men went off to other places to work as well. A complex figure in troubled and complicated times, he not only managed to survive but gave the world a new beauty in language and plays that still engage us today. He died this day in 1616. Anne outlived him by seven years.
Prayer for the Day
Creator of mind and human spirit, we thank you for poets,
Those persons who use language to create beauty;
From the Psalms of David and the songs of Miriam,
We acknowledge the power of words in our present day.
Open our minds to the beauty of poetry and its lwords,
A language which speaks to the very depths of who we are.
In the name of the One who opens us to your creative Spirit,
Even Christ Jesus our Lord, Amen.
Thoughts for the Day
Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds,/Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,/That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark,/Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks/But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me proved,/I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
- Sonnet 116