Who wrote Shakespeare? Here’s a look into the baffling authorship debate; the gaps, the facts, and why this ancient drama persists.

My father and I were finding something to watch on Netflix. His mouse hovers by 10 Things I Hate About You, and I tell him, “I don’t think you’re the primary audience for that one.” He turns to me and says, “Well, I saw it was based on Taming of the Shrew by Shakespeare. I loved Shakespeare as a boy. Did you know my friend Norman thinks Shakespeare didn’t exist, and he didn’t write any of his stuff? What a load of nonsense…” 

While he droned on about how much conspiracy floats around the web these days, my worldview had just been shattered, shot, killed. A murder most foul.  

The guy whose work I spent analysing, for hours on end, while my lifeforce was being sapped? 

Background

For centuries, the name William Shakespeare has stood as an impenetrable titan of literature. His plays and sonnets are cornerstones of Western culture – I mean, seriously. Name one person who wasn’t forced to dissect Hamlet in Year 10. Shakespeare’s words of wisdom and illustrative descriptions resonated across generations. However, beneath this seemingly solid foundation lies a quiver of doubt: the Shakespeare authorship question. A vocal and certainly passionate minority argues that the man from Stratford-upon-Avon simply couldn’t have penned such masterpieces. But why? And does it matter who held the quill?

The Argument

The core of the authorship debate stems from a perceived disconnect between the known biographical details of William Shakespeare and the amount of knowledge displayed in his works. Critics (and we’re talking big names here, but give me a second) point to his relatively humble origins, limited formal education, and apparent lack of documented travels abroad as inconsistent with the plays’ intricate, sometimes legal jargon, its aristocratic settings, and detailed geographical references. How could a glover’s son, they ask, possess such a profound understanding of courtly life, classical literature, and diverse cultures?

It might first be worth noting who Shakespeare’s biggest doubters are. Get ready for this: MARK TWAIN! SIGMUND FREUD! HELEN KELLER! Did the words feel like they slapped you in the face? Good. Cause that’s how I felt when I first heard about this theory. Even Charlie Chaplin was an anti-stratfordian, saying in his autobiography: “I can hardly think it’s the boy from Stratford. Whoever wrote them had an aristocratic attitude.” Et tú, Brute?! 

Why?

One of the most frequently cited reasons by skeptics revolves around his biographical void. Compared to his literary peers like Ben Jonson or Christopher Marlowe, less is definitively known about William Shakespeare of Stratford’s life as a writer. There aren’t any surviving letters; no personal diaries, no manuscripts of his that we know about. His documented life points more towards a successful businessman involved in land, grain, and moneylending, rather than a prolific writer. This absence of literary footprints leads doubters to question how such an extraordinary literary career could leave such little personal trace.

Another significant point of contention is the “knowledge problem.” The plays display an intimate knowledge with aristocratic pursuits, from falconry and heraldry to jousting and sophisticated politics. There’s a profound understanding of classical literature and mythology, and legal terms. The plays are peppered with specific legal phrases and concepts that suggest a deep, almost professional, grasp of English law. Furthermore, the plays exhibit geographical accuracy concerning locations in Italy and France, which some interpret as evidence of extensive foreign travel, something that was not documented.

Finally, there’s the argument from social class and opportunity. In the Elizabethan era, literary pursuits, in gaining levels of recognition Shakespeare had, were still often associated with the educated elite. The idea that a man from a relatively humble background could rise to such literary heights and display such intricate knowledge of elite circles strikes some as improbable. They suggest that the Shakespeare plays must have been written by someone with the leisure, education, and access to the highest echelons of society. Anti-Stratfordians argue his pseudonym would have served to protect the true author’s reputation from the perceived indignity of public playwriting, or to hide politically sensitive views.

What do Stratfordians think?

However, the vast majority of Shakespearean scholars remain steadfast in their belief that Shakespeare is indeed the author. They argue that the available historical records strongly support his authorship. They also contend that genius isn’t bound by social standing or formal education. A keen observer of human nature, a voracious reader, and a prodigious talent could absorb and transform the world around him into what we now perceive as timeless literature – Dickens being another example of such success. Also, the “First Folio of 1623”, a definitive collection of his plays, was compiled and published by his theatrical colleagues, John Heminges and Henry Condell, who explicitly identified “William Shakespeare” as the author and included commendatory poems by Ben Jonson.

Shakespeare Authorship also writes in their article “How We Know That Shakespeare Wrote Shakespeare: The Historical Facts” that: “It’s true that no one single document states categorically that William Shakespeare of Stratford-upon-Avon wrote Hamlet and King Lear, but then no such document exists for any other playwright of the time either.”

So, why does this debate persist? Maybe it’s the allure of a grander conspiracy, the mysterious belief that a hidden hand guided the pen that created words such as “critic” and “addiction”. Or perhaps it’s a discomfort with the idea that someone from a relatively ordinary background could achieve such extraordinary heights. In a world that often values formal credentials so much, the idea of a self-made literary colossus can be challenging. 

The authorship question is a captivating conundrum, but the answer, in the grand scheme of things, may not matter as much. These ‘what-ifs’ will haunt our historians and generations of historians to continue. Either way, some poor Year 10 is probably having a meltdown over Othello right now.