t was in my junior school that I first read one of Shakespeare’s dramas — The Merchant of Venice. My only impression of it was those complex sentences as well as the elusive words, and it was a Chinese translation. I could imagine how hard it would be to understand the original version.

As an English major, I did read several masterpieces by Shakespeare in the first semester, but I thought they got adrift from our real life, especially for us young generation. The recondite language was the most direct barrier to a profound understanding, and my lack of extensive reading as well as living experience also impeded a close study. What’s more, the gulf between my times and Shakespeare’s was so huge and deep that it’s difficult for me to relate works like Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet to my age. Those masterpieces were everlasting but too remote to give me greater empathy.

 Yet my impression was later changed by Shakespeare’s chronicle plays such as King Richard II, King Henry IV, and King Henry V. Fascinated by the BBC Shakespearean dramas, I became interested in reading their original versions. I was deeply touched by those characters from both the noble class and the bottom of society. In fact, they were even more remote for me than the figures in those love stories, for the conspiracy in the royal court and the cruelty on the battlefield hardly occurred in our real life. However, a lot of dialogues and monologues did strike a chord in my heart, and the words enabled me to better empathize with the characters’ inmost emotion, even though I didn’t have any similar experience.

People took it for granted that a king possessing the greatest power in the country must be the most free, but in fact a king’s life was severely restricted. The royals’ fate was inevitably miserable. When Henry IV was tortured by the insomnia, he murmured, “Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and in the calmest and most stillest night with all appliance and means to boot deny it to a king?” Then he sighed with tiredness and grief, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” Richard II once lamented for the late kings, “How some have been deposed, some slain in war. Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed. Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed. All murdered.” A king could not relax vigilance for a single second, because every slack moment could be a deadly risk. This became an endless annoyance in his life.

The throne was stared by every prince and minister, but only the king himself knew how it could exhaust a man. Both domestic strife and foreign aggression burdened on him. The greater power a king has, the heavier responsibilities he will assume; the best king can never be an escapist in front of danger, challenges and even failures. When Henry V was determined to wage a war against France, he sorrowfully confessed, “Never two such Kingdom did contend without much fall of blood, whose guiltless drops are every one a woe.” He might have distressed his soldiers, but he had to lead them to the battlefield. When he lost a battle, more than one soldier complained, but he suppressed his own fear and consoled them with a gentle tone.

All these bitter feelings were deep hidden in a king’s heart. A king could hardly trust a person, even his close relatives. When Richard II was betrayed by his ministers, his brothers all escaped and left him alone to face the rebel armies. Nothing was more tragic than being abandoned by one’s own flesh and blood, and a king had to taste such bitterness for more times.

Besides, the pipsqueaks from the underclass were tiny sparking stars that added liveliness to Shakespeare’s historical plays. They were low and vulgar but not mean and despicable. In King Henry IV, John Falstaff, Mistress Quickly, Doll Tearsheet and other philistines frequented a small tavern to kill time, chattering, quarreling, and joking. They cursed each other with malicious words, but they would offer a warm hand towards each other when in trouble. They were funny, ridiculous and lively. John Falstaff was the most typical of them.

He was crapulent and extremely heavy. A magniloquent man, Falstaff was good at gagging and playing petty tricks. When boasting of his “heroic undertaking” which was indeed faked, he was almost out of breath due to his formidable obesity. Doll Tearsheet was a prostitute who kept quarreling with Falstaff. She never showed any tenderness to him. When Falstaff was about to leave for the war, both became reconcile and realized the precious friendship and affection between them. It is just as the Chinese saying goes, “no discord, no concord.” 

Perhaps no one is completely the same as the dramatic folks in the small tavern, there must be moments in our life that we behave like them. Their licentious behavior was a mask for their discontent about life. The living condition was so tough that they were unable to improve it. They’d rather pretend to be indifferent to everything and act like clowns, entertaining others for more attention and afraid of being left alone. However, their true feelings would be released spontaneously if hardly concealed from others. Such people are not uncommon in our life, and Shakespeare characterized and dramatized them, rendering classic images. I came to feel that Shakespeare’s dramas are no longer out of reach.

Years ago, I appreciated Shakespeare’s works, but just as a viewer standing remotely and observing the look of the antiques. With closer reading in my college, I have stepped forward, approaching Shakespeare and the diverse characters he had created. For me, he is no longer a distant master and giant, but a new friend and mentor deserving my passionate affection and rapport. Indeed, both of us are approaching each other now.

This is one of the award-winning essays in the 2016 Shakespeare Writing Award of Shanghai International Studies University (SISU). The author, Shi Hui, is an undergraduate student of SISU's School of English Studies.  The supervisor, Li Mei, is a lecturer of English at SISU. Her research areas are English-Chinese contrastive linguistics, discourse analysis and language teaching.