The Atlantic Monthly | March 2004
Writing Contest
Rewrite Shakespeare
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Revisions of Shakespeare's "All the world's a stage" speech, posted on March 9, 2004.
These revisions were written in response to the same assignment given to "Shakespeare" in the article "Would Shakespeare Get Into Swarthmore?".
h, that this too, too modern mania for simplification would resolve itself into a metaphor that adequately expresses what a piece of work is man! In identifying only four stages of life, Mr. Linkletter tragically neglects the infinitude of man's faculties. It is disheartening to note that Linkletter is not alone in his insistence that a human life can be reduced to a few meager phases; the mythical Sphinx, whose absurdly accessible riddle maintained that humankind cycled through a paltry three stages, was toppled by the equally simple-minded Oedipus, who, in recompense for what was evidently perceived as a stunning demonstration of unalloyed genius, was led to the throne of Thebes and the bed of his mother. Clearly, life is simple only to those who believe that the ability to distinguish a hawk from a handsaw makes mankind a paragon of animals. The genuine expression of genius consists in discovering ever more Byzantine labyrinths of development through which man must pass as he shuffles off his mortal coil. Defying augury, I have thus far defined seven such stages, but rest assured that there are more waiting in the wings.
Life begins with infancy, generally defined as the period between birth and the realization that one's mother has a sex life. This jolting apprehension engenders in the child an unhealthy obsession with conjugal relations, a "why him, not me?" quandary destined to dog the wretched pup throughout the next six stages of his existence. This filial jealousy can become so pathological that the child may find himself believing that his father is the worser part of the parental unit and that his mother can save herself from the pigsty of an enseamed bed only by refraining from sex until abstinence becomes habitual. Indeed, his fixation on the image of his parents making the beast with two backs can lead to such somatic reactions as severe bouts of vomiting, which are but the physical manifestations of the subconscious desires the child wishes so desperately to expiate. However, wanting to spare his mother the anxiety of seeing her precious progeny so indisposed, the child is likely to be found throwing up in his nanny's quarters while she tenderly holds his head over the chamber pot. It is at this point that the child learns the truth of the old bromide that "love is a choking gall."
To pass successfully through the infancy stage, the child must carefully navigate the narrow strait between enforced restraint and fairly liberal indulgence (assuming a tolerant nanny with a taste for the occasional game of Nymphs and Satyrs). He then must contend with the social mandate that he be suitably educated. Whereas infancy is characterized by an obsession with the dominant female figure in his life, the schoolboy years are noteworthy for their exhumation of the heretofore latent desire to become better acquainted with those of his own gender—a desire for which the public schools of Britain have traditionally offered generous exploration. The form and feature of blown youth is often blasted with ecstasy as he emerges with his shining morning face after a night of furtive nocturnal experimentation, and the schoolboy may fervently believe that there is indeed a divinity shaping his end as he wanders the streets with inchoate longing and knickers askew. When the chapel bell tolls for him, the clapper clanging in a portentous monotone, he reluctantly heeds the cacophony and creeps like a snail unwillingly back to school, this time to find himself sitting at a desk entertaining his logic teacher's baroque hypothetical premises—"Why may not imagination trace the novel dust of Alexander till he find it stopping a bung-hole?"—and like-mannered time-wasting piffle. Beyond learning such practical facts as two bees minus two bees equals no bees, he finds little worthwhile and wishes mostly to sleep—perchance to dream, but mostly just to sleep.
Almost unaware, the schoolboy finds, as he passes beyond the ivy-covered walls of his apprenticeship in the arms of Morpheus, that he is once again stirred by the charms that he initially associated with his mother. However, manly-hewed though his body may be, during the lover phase of his development, an individual is more likely than not to demonstrate a bafflement that is similar to, if somewhat more voluble and anguished than, that which he experienced during his first mewling, emetic brush with female sexuality. For example, when confronted with a scorned mistress's vulnerability, confusion, and pain, he may present almost schizoid symptoms, saying first, "I did love you once," followed almost immediately by a Janus-faced retraction: "I loved you not." At times the vicissitudes of passion may drive the lover to the brink of madness, which may manifest as a rejection of the very institution of marriage and an advocating of nunneries as the only fit abode for women. And yet, at the end of the day, what matters most to the lover is living life on a grand scale, a scale that may lead him to proclaim, for example, that his love for a particular woman surpasses that of forty thousand brothers for their sister. The lover's existence is so conflicted that he may, in a burst of life-affirmation, extemporaneously praise the sky as a magical roof buttressed by beams of golden fire, only to lament shortly thereafter that the earth's atmosphere is nothing more than a collection of four and stale air. In his heart there is a kind of fighting that does not let him sleep, and his sole aim in life is apparently to make everyone around him as miserable as he is.
When he inevitably discovers that all of this love stuff smells to heaven, the individual proceeds to the fourth stage of his existence, that of soldier. He comes to believe that, even though all may be fair in love and war, the latter at least provides the advantage of being fully armed. His heroes during this phase are the likes of imperial Caesar and the great Alexander; so bellicose is he in his conviction that the warrior is the highest form of life that he is unfazed even by the realization that their martial brilliance cannot keep them from becoming the diet of worms. However, beneath the soldier's armor, one often finds remnants of the lover's soul, and he has been known to exploit his exploits to attract members of the fairer sex. This individual operates on the premise that his chosen one will love him for the dangers that he has passed, and that he in turn will love her for loving him for the dangers that he has passed, and that she in turn will love him for loving her for loving him even more for the dangers that he has passed, and so on and so on until one or both of them ends up dead all because neither could ask the other the simplest of questions, such as, "Where the hell is the handkerchief that I gave to you as a token of my undying adoration?" Such lapses in communication have wreaked havoc on relationships ever since Eve neglected to tell Adam that she got the apple from a talking snake; thus does the soldier/lover invariably decide that he is better off barking orders on the battlefield than purring sweet nothings in the boudoir.
As he ages, man determines that the passing years have given him the dubious right to levy judgment on all and sundry, and thus does the justice phase of his existence commence. Ever-ready with a quick mot juste in the face of even the most highly-fraught situations, the justice strides through this stage of life wholly unaware of the damage he leaves in his wake. For instance, in zealous execution of his duty, he may lie in stealthy wait for clues to a potential litigant's true frame of mind and then leap like a horse at the hurdle to the most simplistic conclusion possible (e.g., that the object of his scrutiny is crazy); then, in sharing this intelligence with relevant parties (e.g., the individual's mother), he initiates a bloody interlude unprecedented in the annals of gore, including, even, the Passion of the Christ Himself. Even those individuals who pass more prudently through this phase can be somewhat extreme in their execution of justice, requiring, for example, a pound of flesh to pay off a debt or the murder of a daughter for refusing to marry the man her father has chosen for her. In such men, the quality of mercy goes beyond being strained; it seems to be begging for expulsion, which, when it inevitably happens, leaves others wading through life in excrements.
The sixth stage of man's existence is one of post-midlife frustration, which finds the individual desperately trying to compensate for his waning masculinity by putting on an antic disposition and persisting in the delusional belief that he commands the world in a nutshell, thus making him the king of infinite space. His efforts to restore his lost youth are most piteously observed in his penchant for risqué puns that do nothing but underscore his inability to walk the walk even as he talks the talk. For example, he may ask a lady of good breeding if he might "lie in her lap" in a blatant attempt to evoke in her mind both the sexual act and his prowess in the manly art of sexual deception. However, were he honest with himself, he would accept that all he really wants is the lazy comfort of resting his head on the cushiony plumpness of her ample skirts as he reclines to watch a play. One may only infer that the advancing years have rendered him too infirm to sit up straight in a chair like the rest of us; this infirmity may also have something to do with his retreat to literalism when questioned about the intention behind his request to lie in his lady's lap. After all, his youthful hose has become increasingly spared of use in a world too wide for his shrunk shank; thus, for the man in this stage of his life, it must remain only a fair thought to lie between maids' legs.
The final phase of a man's life is that of the sweet and bitter fool who behaves and reacts very much like the child that developed during phase one. He can be paranoid and petulant, believing, for instance, that a daughter who refuses to be sycophantic in her expression of love has poisoned him as surely as the venom from a serpent's tooth. He can be excessive in his self-criticism, much like a child, who, when snubbed by his mother will attempt to wrack her with guilt, referring to himself as a knave, beggar, coward, panderer, and mongrel bitch all in an effort to revive her affection for him. At long last, however, he comes to understand that men must endure their going hence even as their coming hither, thus binding the two end joints of life's wheel in a single eternal circle. Nature is his goddess, and to her law his services are bound.
Some are born great; some achieve greatness; and others have greatness thrust upon ‘em. The seven stages of man's existence offer ample opportunity for virtually anyone to be considered great, if only for a mere quarter of an hour. Though he knows that golden lads and girls all must like chimney sweepers come to dust, he knows too that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in anyone's philosophy. Whether he returns to the base uses of the grave or hears flights of angels singing him to his rest, we shall never know, for the rest is silence.
—Mary Beth Culp
Palos Verdes, CA
Reader's evaluation: Ms. Culp's essay is an interesting attempt to converge the lessons of Shakespeare and Freud, neither of whom is named in the essay. Together, the writings of the two arguably cover every emotion, delusion, and ambition ever experienced by man. The essay's scope, therefore, is bold. Unfortunately, although Ms. Culp's sentences are loaded with references to these two men's works, none of these references is explicit. In the quick once-over a College Board reader would give this essay, such subtleties would be missed. However, its model organization, use of dozens of SAT words ("cacophony" is a classic) and sheer length (nearly 2,000 words) make up for this shortcoming. Grade: 6 out of 6.
r. Linkletter's observation of what he identifies as the four stages of a person's life is amusing, and though not inaccurate, conspicuously incomplete. Thorough reflection will reveal not four, but seven stages of life, and will further show these seven stages to be universal to the human condition, i.e., found worldwide, and analogous to the sequence of scenes in a drama, just as though it were performed around the globe for the entertainment of the rest of society.
Disregarding the contentions of abortion opponents (purely for the sake of illustration, mind you), it is apparent that life begins with infancy. Infancy is a stage in which a person exhibits a number of traits that prove to be rare, if not entirely absent, in subsequent stages. For example, it is only among infants that one finds the phenomenon of "spitting up." To be sure, projectile regurgitation can and does occur in more mature phases, sometimes with disturbing force and frequency. But the expulsion of infantile vomit is unique in a number of ways. First, it is usually unprovoked. Second, it consists almost entirely of milk or infant formula. Third, it is usually expelled onto the arm, shoulder, or lap of a care-giver. An unintelligible attempt at speech, or babbling, was once thought to be a definitive characteristic of infants. Nathaniel Hawthorne writes of "...the poor baby...with a half pleased, half plaintive murmur." But this behavior has since been observed and recorded in individuals of more advanced stages.
Excepting an untimely demise, childhood invariably follows infancy, and therefore represents the second stage. Like the previous stage, childhood possesses certain characteristics. It is in this stage, at least in most industrialized societies, that formal education begins. Consequently, the child typically bears the marks of one in the pursuit of learning: book bags so heavy as to strain the posture, the tidy gleam of wet, forcibly combed hair, the languid saunter of one who hopes to miss the school bus. It is also at this stage that truancy commences, if only for the impossibility of it preceding formalized education. With these signs present, the child is easily identified.
Again assuming adequate health, a person advances to adolescence, which is by necessity the third stage. This stage is defined principally by voluminous hormonal secretion resulting in intense romantic interest and pursuit. In a person at this stage, a fixation on the object of his affection will typically arise. So intense a passion inflames his fixation that he may be heard to bellow a song dedicated to some part of his love-interest's anatomy, a part which, to the casual spectator, would seem unremarkable—an eyebrow, say, or perhaps a toenail. Shakespeare provides us with some glowing examples of this kind of idolatry in Love's Labour's Lost. So it is that the adolescent takes his place in the course of human progression.
Either of two stages may follow adolescence. One is the role of military man (or woman). Once requisite, this stage is optional in modern society. The traits that mark the military man are as follows: unusual vows of allegiance; a countenance resembling a large, spotted, African feline; a suspicious and contentious temperament; and valor, less the discretion. As the exception, rather than the norm, the fourth stage merits no further description.
The fifth (or fourth, if the previous one was skipped) stage is that of middle age. The middle-aged person is distinguished by his judicious demeanor, portly physique (due to a diet rich in fatty meat and poultry), stern and well-groomed countenance, and wisdom. England's King Henry VIII, for example, was a middle-aged man well known for savoring roasted lamb, for his rotund abdomen, and for his decisiveness. So it is with middle age.
Yet middle age yields in succession to old age for all those fortunate enough to attain it. It is in this, the sixth stage, that failing vision besets a person, as indicated by the need for eyeglasses. The elderly person has a frail build, necessitating a wardrobe tailored to the peculiarly thin frame of a senior. His vocal quality becomes hoarse and high-pitched, and might remind one of a child's. It is in this stage that the erosion of time on a person becomes most evident. For example, consider Ernest Hemingway's description of his most famous character: "The old man was thin and gaunt with deep wrinkles in the back of his neck.... The blotches ran well down the sides of his face and his hands had the deep-creased scars from handling heavy fish on the cords." Only in the elderly are all these distinctions noted.
Having survived old age, a person enters the seventh stage, or if you will, the stretch run. This is the stage characterized by nothing so much as senility and a complete loss of sensory faculties—the "obsolescence" to which Mr. Linkletter refers. Sadly, this stage is more prevalent today than ever. Ironically, as noted by nearly every major periodical, the prevalence is due to the superior health care and medical technology available today, which allows more people to live longer. The only mercy in this pitiful seventh stage is that it is the final one.
And so concludes the odd but eventful saga known as life. It would be appropriate here to add a bit of advice to Mr. Linkletter's observation, and to conclude with another famous quotation: enjoy life as best you can because "no one ever got out of this world alive."
—Tom Schiller
Glendale, MO
Reader's evaluation: Mr. Schiller starts his essay with a clear statement of his disagreement with Mr. Linkletter's quotation and through the subsequent paragraphs provides his reasons in a consistent manner, utilizing supporting examples from the literature of Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ernest Hemingway, and William Shakespeare where appropriate. The essay is organized into several paragraphs, each of which begins with a tidy topic sentence. His facility with vocabulary and various sentence structures is apparent. Grade: 6 out of 6.
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