Shakespeare was the oldest of four brothers and was himself brother to two sisters. How seriously he took his role as a brother cannot be gauged, though something may perhaps be deduced from the fact that he spent his adult life three days’ travel distant from his entire family. Nonetheless brothers (and sisters) are an insistent feature of what he wrote, and it is possible to draw two very clear conclusions about his attitudes to siblings from his plays.
Brothers and sisters get on well in Shakespeare’s plays. True, there is sometimes the temptation to condescend, and Laertes for one yields to it: leaving for Paris to continue his studies, he plays the tutor to his sister, advising her to disregard any flirtation on Hamlet’s part, but instead to “weigh what loss your honour may sustain / If with too credent ear you list his songs”. Some audiences may think this advice is a little above Laertes’s station, but Ophelia winsomely responds that she will “th’effect of this good lesson take / As watchman to my heart”. Later, enraged by her death, Laertes reveals that his love for his sister has greater depths than this prurient advice might imply.
This is reasonably characteristic of Shakespeare’s approach to brothers and sisters. Viola and Sebastian in “Twelfth Night” do not meet quite the same challenges – when Sebastian stands in for Viola in mortal danger, he does so inadvertently. And in fairness when Isabella is called upon to sleep with the odious Angelo in “Measure for Measure” in order to save her brother Claudio’s skin, she recoils from the task. But Claudio’s skin is saved nevertheless in part through Isabella’s agency, reinforcing the typically supportive relationship of brothers with sisters in Shakespeare.
But brothers and brothers are different. They are almost invariably pitched as rivals or indeed enemies. True, there are one or two exceptions: in “Henry IV” Part One, Prince John of Lancaster does his royal duty while Prince Hal lives it up in the Eastcheap tavern. In “Titus Andronicus”, Chiron and Demetrius conspire together – though their planning is focused on the grotesque project to rape Lavinia. In “Macbeth” Malcolm and Donalbain reach a loose agreement to escape from Scotland while they still can. And in “The Comedy of Errors”, two sets of twins stumble over one another without realising what is really happening. But in general, brothers do not see eye to eye with brothers.
“The Tempest” is a good example. Prospero has nursed his grievance against Antonio for some dozen years before the chance to take his revenge arises. Antonio had once betrayed his trust and usurped his position as the Duke of Milan – a characteristic Shakespearean act of brotherly love – but now Prospero holds the trump cards: “For you, most wicked sir”, he berates Antonio, “whom to call brother / Would even infect my mouth, I do … / … require / My dukedom of thee”. Prospero forgives him his trespasses, but it is clear this is more for his own benefit than for Antonio’s.
Two other sibling relationships in this play reinforce the pattern established so far. Sebastian has no sympathy for his brother Alonso in this moment of bereavement – he has lost his son in the shipwreck which brought this party to the island – but rather prepares to murder him in order to seize the throne of Naples. By contrast, a third sibling relationship, between Ferdinand and Claribel, is discerned by Gonzalo as creating a parallel narrative: “In one voyage”, he notices, “Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis, / And Ferdinand her brother found a wife”. So there is again the sense of a supportive brother / sister interaction in contrast to the fraternal friction that the play highlights.
There are many other examples of brotherly conflict in the plays. Hamlet’s father is murdered by his brother Claudius, thus suffering a fate worse even than Prospero’s – younger brothers rarely warm to older brothers when, in Shakespeare’s plays, power is at stake. “As You Like It” provides a further case, with Duke Frederick’s usurping of his older brother’s powers – though in fairness, he does recant at the end, and returns the throne to its rightful owner. Meanwhile, in “Richard III”, Clarence is brutally despatched on the orders of his brother Richard.
Brothers and half-brothers are no more companionable. If anything, their rivalry is still more demonic. Edmund in “King Lear” is something of a stranger to his own father, but he has little difficulty in falsely persuading Gloucester that his legitimate brother Edgar – heir to Gloucester’s title and status – harbours malicious intentions towards him. Similarly, the illegitimate Don John in “Much Ado About Nothing” is briefly permitted to destroy the reputation of Hero, the daughter of his brother Don Pedro’s host and friend Leonato. Happily in both cases, justice is done at the close.
Shakespeare himself was one of six surviving children. Three of his siblings were male, two female (though one of his sisters died young). Shakespeare himself was the oldest of the children, though his decision to leave the family home and elope to London does not suggest that a position of responsibility among his siblings held an irresistible appeal for him. Perhaps this is why he chose to write at length about these relationships: over one third of his plays (as this essay has suggested) have something to say on this theme, and the pattern is fairly pronounced. Brothers and sisters are supportive, brothers and brothers compete.
