ABSTRACT
In his recent biography Will in the World (2004), Stephen Greenblatt conjures up the vision of contemporary London and its relevance in the conception both of Henry VI, part two, and of Julius Caesar with a sort of Dickensian pathos:
And it is the London crowd – the unprecedented concentration of bodies jostling through the narrow streets, crossing and recrossing the great bridge, pressing into taverns and churches and theaters – that is the key to the whole spectacle. The sight of all those people – along with their noise, the smell of their breath, their rowdiness and potential for violence – seems to be Shakespeare’s first and most enduring impression of the great city. In Julius Caesar he returned to the bloodthirsty mob, roaming the streets in search of the conspirators who have killed their hero Caesar.1
