A critique of Back to the the “Monument Ashbourne … · Shakespeare Library sent the Ashbourne portrait hundreds of miles away from Washing-ton, DC, for examination by the Canadian

Vol.4:no.1 Fall 2004"Let me not to the marriage of true minds admit impediments..."

(Continued on page 10)


Engaging

Prince Tudor


By Barbara Burris

A critique ofthe “Monument

theory”By Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatter, PhD.By Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatter, PhD.By Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatter, PhD.By Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatter, PhD.By Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatter, PhD.

I n the fall of 2002, the Folger Shakespeare Library sent the Ashbourne portrait hundreds

of miles away from Washing-ton, DC, for examination by theCanadian Conservation Institute(CCI). Why they went so far afieldstrongly appears to connect tothe recent controversy sur-rounding the Sanders portrait, aclaimed Shake-speare portraitthat was examined by the samecompany.

Dated 1603, the Sandersportrait depicts the head and

More layers of deception in the2002 examination of the portrait

Concordia seminar touches thethird rail of Oxfordianism

Hank Whittemore’s summer 2004 Shakespeare Mattersarticle, “Authorize Thy Trespass With Compare,” promisesto supply a simple, comprehensive solution to the enigma

of the sonnets: “Reading the sonnets becomes as clear anduncomplicated as reading a signed, dated letter to a knownaddressee about the events of the day,”1 writes editor Bill Boyle inhis accompanying essay. Whittemore’s solution, believes Boyle,“is absolutely correct”2 and makes “crystal clear what was oncemysterious and opaque.”3 Like many Shakespearean students, wewould love to receive the definitive enlightenment promised bythese bold words. Regrettably, however, the Whittemore solutionto the sonnets fails to live up to Boyle’s advance publicity.

No critique of Whittemore’s “solution” to the sonnets wouldbe complete without some reference to the highly selective use ofreference materials used to construct the theory. Although manyrelevant influences are noted regarding subjects such as the dateof Sonnet 107, neither Whittemore nor Boyle acknowledges thedebt that both writers owe to previous scholars who have analyzedthe structure of the sonnets. Traditionally, scholars identify foursignificant parts: 1-17 (fair youth/marriage sonnets), 18-126 (fairyouth sonnets), 127-152 (dark lady sonnets), 153-154(mythological coda). From this it can be seen that two of the foursegments which serve to define Whittemore’s monument aretraditional (127-152 and 153-154) in the sense of beingacknowledged by many Sonnet scholars. Contrary to Boyle’sclaim that “all commentators have struggled with” but “none havesolved” the question of whether the 1609 Q is in authorial order,many commentators, including Stephen Booth,4 have argued thatuntil a better order can be discovered, the best premise is that theorder is in fact authorial. We see nothing in Whittemore’s analysiswhich materially contributes to this question. Asserting achronological order for the Sonnets does not constitute evidenceto resolve this question.

The Whittemore “monument” depends on the one structuralinnovation of moving the first break from sonnet 17 to sonnet 26.By making this change, Whittemore produces the 100 sonnetsequence (27-126) which forms the “center and centerpiece”5 of

Back to theAshbourne

The Ashbourne Portrait

When Prof. Daniel Wright first an-nounced last year that the topic forthe Summer 2004 Shakespeare Au-

thorship Studies Seminar would be the dreaded“Prince Tudor” theory the slings and arrows ofoutrage started flying almost immediately,and they still haven’t stopped. As most Oxfor-dians are well aware, this particular issue hasstirred passions from the earliest years of theOxfordian movement in the 1920s and hasmore than once proved to be a schism that has

Hank Whittemoregave a presentationon his new theoryon the Sonnets.

page 2 Fall 2004Shakespeare Matters

Internet Ed. (©2004, The Shakespeare Fellowship - not for sale or distribution without written consent)

Shakespeare MattersPublished quarterly by the Shakespeare Fellowship

Editorial OfficesP.O. Box 263

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Editor:William Boyle

Contributing Editors:Mark Anderson, Dr. Charles Berney,

Charles Boyle, Dr. Felicia Londre,Lynne Kositsky, Alex McNeil,

Dr. Anne Pluto, Elisabeth Sears,Dr. Roger Stritmatter, Richard Whalen,

Hank Whittemore, Dr. Daniel L. Wright

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The purpose of the Shakespeare Fellowshipis to promote public awareness and acceptanceof the authorship of the Shakespeare Canon by

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scholarly research and publication into allaspects of Shakespeare studies, and also into the

history and culture of the Elizabethan era.The Society was founded and incorporated

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Shakespeare Matters welcomes articles, essays,commentary, book reviews, letters and news items.

Contributions should be reasonably concise and, whenappropriate, validated by peer review. The views expressed

by contributors do not necessarily reflect those of theFellowship as a literary and educational organization.

To the Editor:

Much valuable stuff in the Summer2004 issue; here is my grab bag of re-sponses. I am very anxious to read HankWhittemore’s new book on the sonnets. Ithink, based on what he and Bill Boylewrote, that he may well have proved hiscase—as far as the “central” 100 sonnetsare concerned. I am not as convinced,however, of his interpretation of the so-called “Dark Lady” poems, although QueenElizabeth may well have been the subjectof some of them. Absent some more eso-teric reading, Sonnet 138 (for example)would seem to be addressed to a youngerwoman, and Sonnet 130 to a woman withblack hair. If the Sonnets 128-154 werewritten earlier than (or concurrently with)the first 127, this circumstance would dis-turb Hank’s thesis that all of the sonnets arein “authorial order”—a contention he suc-cessfully maintains (in my opinion) for thecentral 100.

President Alex McNeil omits from hiscatalog of “noteworthy publications” for1608-1609 the first quarto of “M. WilliamShak-speare—His True Chronicle Historieof the life and death of King Lear and histhree Daughters…” in 1608. This quarto issingular in being the first publication of aShakespeare play in which the author’sname (along with the 1609 Sonnets quarto)precedes the title. As Oxfordian GwynnethBowen (citing Stratfordian Sir Sidney Lee)pointed out, this was a practice mostly

used for dead authors. (Additionally, thespelling “Shak-speare” was never used bythe Stratford man.)

Finally, what is one to say about Tho-mas Pendleton’s and John Mahon’s upside-down responses to Dick Whalen? Are weseriously being asked to believe that be-cause Stratford Will is shown by Mahon tobe “difficult,” he could have written theworks, but Oxford’s being more “awful”proves that Oxford could not?

It is high time that Oxfordians repudi-ate the calumnious assertions of Nelson,Giroux, Mahon and their ilk: that Edwardde Vere was a monster. The truth is, as SirGeorge Greenwood wrote in 1908, “not asingle creditable act” can be attributed tothe Stratford man. On the other hand, thetributes to the 17th earl’s character, intelli-gence, generosity, and religiosity are quitenumerous—from Gabriel Harvey, RobertGreene, Spenser, Percival Golding, to SirGeorge Buc—and this is only a partial list!To Stratfordians, apparently, where abso-lutely nothing is known, anything can beimagined (such as Pendelton’s nonsenseabout Shakspere “quite likely” being bet-ter educated than de Vere)!

Gordon C. CyrBaltimore, Maryland8 September 2004

To the Editor:

Lynne Kositsky and Roger Stritmatterin their report on the recent University ofTennessee Law School symposium notethat Steven May’s talk dealt with stylisticfeatures and imagery advanced asarguments for the Oxfordian thesis byLooney in his classic of 1920. They reportMay’s observation that some of Looney’sexamples “are in fact widely found inElizabethan literature and hence are notfingerprints...” They characterize May’spresentation as “an exceptionally forcefuland credible critique of the Oxfordian case,”informing us that “Professor May gaveexamples from Turberville, Grange,Gascoigne, Whetstone, and others toreinforce his argument.”

Although we were not present to hearMay’s talk, on the basis of the report andour own research we remain skeptical ofthe forcefulness and credibility of May’sdata. Our skepticism relates to the fact thatwe have shown in Shakespeare’sFingerprints that the names ‘Turberville’,‘Gascoigne’, and ‘Whetstone’ wereOxfordian pseudonyms. In our soon-to-appear Never and for Ever, we go on toshow that the name ‘Grange’ was anothersuch. Haggard hawks aside (many examples

To the Editor:

The Summer 2004 issue of ShakespeareMatters is superb! Clearly, William Boyleis proving his mettle as editor.

His tandem piece with HankWhittemore’s provides one of the bestexpositions of WHY Oxford could notwrite poetry or plays under his own nameand why Henry Wriothesley’s sentencewas commuted from execution toimprisonment.

Albert BurgstahlerLawrence, Kansas12 August 2004

Fall 2004 page 3Shakespeare Matters


From the EditorFrom the EditorFrom the EditorFrom the EditorFrom the Editor

Where do we go from here?

of which May may have saved himself timeby culling from our book), lovers of truthin packaging are encouraged to considerthe following three couplets:

TURBERVILLE (Tragical Tales 408-9):To quite all which good parts, this vow I

make to thee:I will be thine as long as I have power mine

own to be.

SHAKESPEARE (Sonnet 123, 13-4):This I do vow and this shall ever be,I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.

GASCOIGNE (Hundreth SundrieFlowres):Such one I was and such always will be,For worthy dames, but then I mean not

thee.

Restricting to the Shakespeare-Gascoigne comparison, we witness a 7-fold lexical overlap, a stunning syntacticoverlap, identical rhyme, and equivalentcoreference relations (this : this :: such one: such). Is this example of convergingcongruence relations a randomcoincidence? That such is hardly likely isshown by the fact that analogous examplesaccumulate and cascade throughout therelevant works in ways that cannot beexplained by anything other than uniqueauthorship. Examples are provided inChapters 9, 12, 13, and 14 of our book.

Inasmuch as May delivered his paperto a roomful of lawyers and mentionedWhetstone, we cannot resist bringing onelast comparison to the attention ofOxfordian readers.

Shakespeare (2 Henry VI, 4.2.36)The first thing we do, let’s kill all the

lawyers

Whetstone (Heptameron)If chief magistrates should set their handsto this justice, there would be more lawyershanged for stealing of houses than roguesfor robbing of hedges.

Michael Brame & Galina PopovaUniversity of WashingtonSeattle, Washington5 August 2004

Will in the World

The Ashbourne Portrait

With the publication of the long-awaitedStephen Greenblatt biography on Shake-speare (the Stratford man, that is—see ourcomments below), and continuing devel-opments within our own Oxfordian move-ment, we have arrived at a crossroads.

In our last issue we announced whatsome of us considered to be a major break-through in the study of the Sonnets, andalong with it perhaps a major new develop-ment in the authorship debate. With thepublication of a “Critique of the MonumentTheory” in this issue, our readers can seethat first we must decide among ourselvesjust what the Sonnets are really about andhow important they are (or are not?) toprevailing in the overall debate. We willhave more on this evolving debate on theSonnets and Whittemore’s “Monument”theory in coming issues of SM in 2005.

And we should add that just as impor-

tant to the Sonnet issue and the “Monu-ment” theory is the so-called “Prince Tu-dor” theory and all that implies for thedebate and our search for the truth. Begin-ning on page one in this issue we have areport about the Shakespeare AuthorshipStudies Seminar held in August at Concor-dia University (at which the topic was “PrinceTudor; Truth or Delusion?”), which includesan assessment from Seminar Director Prof.Daniel Wright.

The reason we ask “Where do we gofrom here?” is that the Sonnets and the“Prince Tudor” theory are inexorably inter-twined and vexing. And, as we all know,contentious. But if the ultimate truth to thewhole authorship mystery is contained inthe Sonnets, and does involve the truth ofthe relationship between Shakespeare/Ox-ford and the Earl of Southampton, well,then, where else is there to go?

Some of our friends over the past yeardidn’t think Harvard professor StephenGreenblatt’s new Shakespeare biography,Will in the World, would be any big deal—just another in a long line of attempts to fillthe void of the Stratford man’s life andsomehow make it fit the works.

But now that it’s here, and we have seenthe “big wet kiss” coverage it is getting inmajor media and cultural publicationsacross the board, we think it’s clear that itis a big deal, part of an “authorship war”that we know all about, but which doesn’teven get acknowledged by Greenblatt him-self or most of his reviewers. At least lastyear, with the Wood and Nelson books,authorship was more part of the story.

While we won’t be reviewing the bookuntil our Winter issue, we do have in thisissue a review of The New Yorker review,

and that is in itself somewhat revealingabout both the book and its reception.

What’s most stunning is how bothGreenblatt and his reviewers openly ac-knowledge that his biography is prettymuch “made up.” But no one seems to bebothered by that, since what he’s made upis such a wonderful story, and it “couldhave“ been that way. And this comes, let usremind you, from a well-known, well-re-spected Harvard professor—a “new his-toricist” whose expertise is setting litera-ture in its proper historic context to betterunderstand it.

The strongest part of the Oxfordianargument has always been historic contextand the fit between the author and the work.So now we have Stratfordian context; theworks are made real because they are nowconnected to a life made up. Whatever.

Meanwhile, down in Washington, theAshbourne portrait still hangs in the Fol-ger Shakespeare Library, waiting for jus-tice. In this issue we return to the Ashbournestory with an article by Barbara Burris thatexamines the technical testing done on theportrait in 2002.

We have already published in thesepages four articles on Burris’s researchinto the portrait and whether or not it is

in fact the Earl of Oxford. We think ourreaders should take a close look at thiscurrent contribution, because the story lineis pretty straightforward and clear, andbacked up by the Folger ShakespeareLibrary’s own files. In brief, the story of the2002 examination provides us with a por-trait of what Oxfordians are up against intrying to prevail in this centuries-long au-thorship battle. Check it out.

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Will in the World - more Stratfordian gossamerIf the general newsof the world isn’td i s c o u r a g i n genough, and in caseyou don’t subscribeto The New Yorker,you yet will want toobtain a copy of theSeptember 13th is-sue in order to readand suffer throughAdam Gopnik’s in-terminably long,

drooling-with-praise review of StephenGreenblatt’s biography of Will Shaksper,Will in the World, the latest Stratfordianbiography that the Establishment is pro-moting with feverish vigor—this reviewarticle being but one of the more recentinducements in the major media to rallypublic support for a collapsing orthodoxy(SM will be reviewing the book in our nextissue—Ed.).

Gopnik’s fawning paean of Greenblatt’sbook—the work as a whole, he encapsu-lates, is “startlingly good,” and he acclaimsit nothing less than “the most complexlyintelligent and sophisticated . . . study ofthe life and work [of Shakespeare] that [he]ha[s] ever read”—is much in the spirit ofJohn Leonard’s review of Greenblatt’s bookthat appears in the September issue ofHarper’s. Gopnik’s review is a gushing six-page advertisement, awash in sugary rap-ture for this latest in a line of what we havecome to expect from the Shakespeare in-dustry: ever-new biographies, publishedwith predictable regularity, that presumeto advance a definitive version of the Strat-ford man’s life or improve the “spin” on anold one—while sometimes paradoxicallysuggesting that the provision of a “life” forStratford Will finally isn’t really necessary.(When was the last time, however, that youever heard one of these writers or review-ers say that we should forgo probing thelives of the writers of Paradise Lost, Crimeand Punishment or I Know Why the CagedBird Sings—such works being better stud-ied without the irritating annoyance of hav-ing to consider who wrote them and why?)

Familiar clichesFamiliar clichesFamiliar clichesFamiliar clichesFamiliar cliches

Full of praise for the author’s new rev-elations (Gopnik, for example, callsGreenblatt’s declaration that Shakespeare

based Falstaff on Robert Greene “a tri-umph of biographical criticism”), Gopnikalso doesn’t fail to rhapsodize aboutGreenblatt’s repetition of the most tire-some Stratfordian commonplaces. He trotsout Greenblatt’s familiar clichés aboutStratford Will with the zeal of the propa-gandist who tries to convince others of aspurious claim by repeating it, as thoughsomething could become true by merelystating it again and again. Shakespeare,Gopnik recounts, wrote “two plays a yearfor almost twenty years”; he probably be-came a tutor in Lancashire during the so-called “lost years”; he “would do anythingfor a joke or a pun”; and he was an artistdriven by commercial instincts—an avari-cious man who, nonetheless, was willfullyordinary, “self-mockingly modest” and“unprepossessing,” given to small bour-geois ambitions.

Shakespeare, we are to believe, indif-ferently—almost with casual insouci-ance—gave birth to the Renaissance inEngland by revolutionizing the languageand the world of literary art, all in theeffort, first and foremost, to make a fewpennies off the masses’ desire for anafternoon’s diversion or to satisfy a wealthyaristocrat’s vanity. His successes quicklyyielded him the ability to pursue his pri-mary goal in life by walking away fromLondon with enough money in his pocketsto indulge, at a young age, “the romance ofretirement” and thereby fulfill his dreamof becoming the “benevolent paterfamil-ias in a small suburban town” —for aboveall, Gopnik reminds us, Shakespeare was“a social climber” who “seems to havesworn to do anything in life that he couldto get himself and his family . . . in a bigbourgeois house.”

Gopnik reports that Greenblatt’s bookdraws on “fertile decades of biographicalscholarship” into the life of Shakespeare totell us that Stratford Will was “somethingclose to an overnight sensation” and thatby the early 1590s he was “among the mostfamous writers in the country.” He brokeinto poetry with Venus and Adonis and TheRape of Lucrece (good first efforts, eh?—or at least considerable improvements on“Lousy Lucy”!). We are informed that heattained “extraordinary social position,”for he was “a pet of the aristocrats” who,like a sixteenth-century Truman Capote,“moved in very fancy circles,” and we are

told that he also messed it up in the artisticworld of London by making enemies of theUniversity Wits—a life (whew!) certainlycrowded with excitement and incident!(Would—we can continue to wish—thatanyone had ever recorded a single minuteof this amazing life…!)

Shakespeare, however, wasn’t just acoarse proto-capitalist with a passion forthe demos, a flair for popular drama(“Shakespeare shows us that you don’t haveto look from on high in order to see it all”)and a habit of engaging in contretempswith inferior if learned rivals; he wroteplays, Gopnik reports, because, as a Catho-lic frustrated by the State’s suppression ofCatholic worship, he needed to find anoutlet for his love of ceremony and ritual:not a Christian of serious conviction, “[i]twas the pagan part of Catholicism that heloved…” Indeed, cold and distant from thespiritual faith of his ancestors, Greenblattsuggests that Shakespeare probably at-tended the execution of Ruy Lopez where,as Gopnik reports, watching him hanged,drawn and quartered, Shakespeare mayeven have “shared a mordant snicker withthe crowd.” (One entire chapter inGreenblatt’s massive biography of Shake-speare is devoted to the execution of RuyLopez.)

Leading a double lifeLeading a double lifeLeading a double lifeLeading a double lifeLeading a double life

Greenblatt, as Gopnik recounts, pro-poses that Shakespeare’s injunction againstdisturbing his body (the curse carved onhis tomb in the Stratford church) was in-tended to keep others from burying hiswife next to him. Gopnik points out thatGreenblatt thinks Will didn’t spend muchtime with his family after his flight fromStratford in the late 1580s, but yet theyremained “the obsessive focus of his finan-cial advancement for the rest of his life.”The death of his son, Hamnet, inspired a“revenge play bearing a variant of his son’sname,” although the play, the exposition of“a complete inner life,” probably was writ-ten, we are told, not in a reflex of grief overthe death of his son but out of Shakespeare’simaginative anticipation of what hethought he would feel when his fatherwould die, as Hamlet, for Greenblatt,Gopnik reports, is not just about the deathof Hamnet but a play about Will and a yet-


Book NotesBook NotesBook NotesBook NotesBook Notes



The Utrecht ConferenceThe first Dutch conference on the

Shakespeare authorship question tookplace 8–10 July 2004 in the pleasant Dutchcity of Utrecht. It was organized by JanScheffer, a psychiatrist at the Pieter BaanCenter in Utrecht, and Sandra Schruijer, aprofessor of psychology at TilburgUniversity.

The opening session took placeThursday afternoon and was followed by awelcoming reception at the Museum vanSpeelklok tot Pierement (Musical Clockand Barrel Organ Museum). Conferees weretreated to a demonstration by the museumdirector of some incredibly elaboratemechanized orchestras from the 18th and19th centuries. Presentation of papers beganFriday morning. Dan Wright led off with“The Undoing of Shakespearean Ortho-doxy: Edward de Vere and the CatholicStratford ‘Shakespeare’.” He was followedby Odin Dekkers’s report on JohnMackinnon Robertson, an early 20th-century philosopher who advocated acomposite-authorship theory of theShakespearean works. Dekkers is the chairof the English Literature department at theUniversity of Nijmegen and editor of thejournal English Studies. He is a newcomerto the Oxfordian theory, and during thecourse of the conference offered(informally) to host another authorshipconference next year in Nijmegen. Themorning session was concluded withCharles Berney’s paper, “The Earl ofLeicester in the Plays of Shakespeare.”Berney was the Shakespeare Fellowship’sofficial representative to the conference.

In the afternoon, noted researcherRobert Detobel recounted Oxford’s legalactions before his death, and concludedthat he may have committed suicide. Thistalk was followed by one of the highlightsof the conference, a report by several highschool students from St. Odolphus inTilburg on their Shakespeare authorshipcompetition. The students who participatedin this project were divided into fourgroups, and each group researched thecase for one of the authorial candidates(Oxford, Marlowe, Bacon, and StratfordWill). The groups were allotted one day forinternet research, and presentations tookplace the following afternoon. A prize wasawarded to the Marlowe team for the bestpresentation (this decision was not meantto imply that the judges were convinced

that Marlowe was the author). The studentsat the conference were enthusiastic aboutthe competition, and it might besomething that could be tried in the U.S.

Following the student competitionreport, DeVere Society member ElizabethImlay described progress in the Society’sdating project. This in turn was followedby Michael Dunn’s impressive performanceas Conan Doyle’s supersleuth in “SherlockHolmes and the Shakespeare Mystery,” aperformance Fellowship members mayremember from the 2002 conference inBoston.

Saturday’s session featured papers bythe conference organizers. Jan Schefferspoke on “Psychodynamic Aspects of theAuthor as Appearing in Hamlet,” suggest-ing that Oxford’s playwriting activitieswere a form of compensation for havinghis childhood cut short by the death of hisfather and his subsequent wardship in theCecil household. Sandra Schruijer’scontribution was entitled “ConstructingIdentities in the Shakespeare AuthorshipDebate: A Social Psychological Analysis.”She gave an overview of intergroupconflicts and suggested ways in which thedebate could be framed so as to reducepartisan emotion. She also reported on hermonitoring of the internet exchangesbetween Alan Nelson and Diana Price,expressing dismay at the way the formertreated the latter.

Another feature of the morningprogram was a presentation by PieterHelsloot on his new book, Edward de Vere,onvermijdelik Shakespeare ( “. . . inevitablyShakespeare”). It’s a slim volume,handsomely printed, with some previouslyunpublished portraits, and accounts of theVere family members who died fightingthe Spanish in Holland.

Participants agreed that it was a verysuccessful conference, and there wasinformal talk of another authorshipconference in the Netherlands, perhaps asearly as next year. Scheffer and Schruijerplan to edit a volume of conferenceproceedings. American participants weresurprised and impressed by the amount ofOxfordian activity in the Netherlands.Perhaps the barrier to consideration of theOxfordian hypothesis will prove to be lowerin European universities than in English-speaking countries.

—CVBerney

A psychologiston authorship

One of the more intriguing presenta-tions at the Utrecht Conference was bySandra Schruijer on “Constructing Identi-ties in the Shakespeare Authorship De-bate.” This was a talk about the actual on-going political battle between today’s Strat-fordians and anti-Stratfordians.

A summary of her talk was posted on theAuthorship Debate Forum on theFellowship’s website (the summary ob-tained and posted courtesy of Michael Dunn,who was in Utrecht to present his one-manauthorship show as Sherlock Holmes tak-ing on the debate).

Schruijer’s key points in this talk in-volved the difference between “relationalconflict” (in which two groups try to winover each other, and often belittle theiropponents) vs. “task conflict” (in whichtwo groups try to find ways to work to-gether towards a common goal). She feltthat the authorship debate needed tomove on to the “task” model for any pro-gress to be made.

What then followed on the discussionforum was a typical authorship exchange,with the “relational conflict” taking prece-dence over any “task” exchanges (thoughFellowship trustee Lynne Kositsky weighedin on her efforts to engage Stratfordians in“task” oriented debates and noted how herown thinking was evolving as she pursued“task” oriented exchanges).

Meanwhile Stratfordian debater TerryRoss joined in—in true “relational con-flict” style—to explain to everyone thatOxfordians are incapable of being “task”oriented, and there’s your problem. Thedebate then moved on into the “same old,same old” mode for a month, and—sur-prise! surprise!— no minds were changed.

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Shakespeare’s Sonnets andthe Aesopian Method

By Peter RushBy Peter RushBy Peter RushBy Peter RushBy Peter Rush

T he announcement in the last issue (SM, Summer 2004) of the imminent availability of a pre-publication

edition of Hank Whittemore’s long-awaited book on the sonnets, TheMonument, and two previews in the sameissue, by Editor Bill Boyle and Whittemore,have at last joined the debate that hasbeen in the offing for the past five years,since Whittemore first announced an earlyversion of his novel thesis. Emails pro andcon have already started flying back andforth on at least one Oxfordian internetdiscussion group debating Whittemore’sapproach to understanding the sonnets,and I am sure that Oxfordians everywhereare preparing to enter the lists—somebased on only the published previews,others who intend to hold their fire untilthey can study the entire work.

To assist the latter, this article willbriefly develop a core insight withoutwhich the debate will be rather sterile,with which a whole new world ofpossibilities will open up.

Shakespeare’s Sonnets is truly asingular work. Most readers, and even mostauthors on the subject, make no pretenseof fully understanding the entire corpus of154 sonnets. A brave handful of scholarshave attempted to gloss all 154, but nonesave one, A. L. Rowse, makes the claim thathe has fully solved the enigma of the sonnets.All, including Rowse, resort to a sonnet-by-sonnet ad hoc attempted explicationdu texte, taking each sonnet and trying tointuit a story behind that sonnet, most ofwhich posit the poet, his beloved “fairyouth,” and a woman who seems to beplaying with both of them.

Even a casual perusal of selected sonnetsfrom such books as Katherine Duncan-Jones’s Shakespeare’s Sonnets, one of thebest and most extensive recent attempts toexplicate every sonnet (and one whichdoesn’t posit a homosexual relationship tothe youth), reveals the inability to intuit ameaning for large numbers of singularwords, phrases and lines. Just to pick an

example, she simply has nothing to sayabout line 9 of sonnet 33, “Even so my sunone morn did shine,” nor about the rest ofthat singular quatrain. The entire quatraincries out that there is something strangebeing imparted here; why “my” sun, why“the region cloud,” not just “clouds”, butone specific cloud, “the” region cloud(whatever “region” might mean), etc.?Rowse, who also glosses every sonnet, islikewise silent on this quatrain.

To my knowledge, there are noOxfordian attempts to do for the entiresonnet sequence what a few Stratfordianshave done. Obviously, knowing that theauthor is Oxford and not Shaxpere ofStratford, is absolutely essential—noStratfordian efforts, no matter how wellintentioned, can possibly get anythingright if they have the wrong author. Butthat substitution made, I submit that mostOxfordian analyses founder on the sameshoals that have doomed all Stratfordianefforts.

It is the belief that “what you see is whatthere is.”

The prevailing approach is to assumethat the poems are about the poet, whetherOxford or Shaxpere, and his relationshipto a young man (some Stratfordians, andmany Oxfordians, actually agree that he isthe 3rd Earl of Southampton), and a woman,who completes a love triangle. The sonnetsare thought to be mainly about the trialsand tribulations of these three persons.

The devil is in the details, as usual. Suchreadings compel the creation of anelaborate scaffolding of imagined eventsamong these three: the youth betraying thepoet, stealing the woman, and being fickle,the poet going through a gamut of emotionsas all this is happening, traveling here andthere, and so on. A great deal of “plot” hasto be invented to support each such readingof each sonnet, and taken as a whole, thisapproach becomes an incrediblyconvoluted speculation on what “might”be going on, dependent on “reading into”the sonnets most of the supposed meaning.

This very chaos suggests thatsomething else must be involved, apossibility buttressed by the number oflines that almost all glosses gloss over, orignore altogether, because they evidentlycannot make sense out of them. “Fair,kind and true is all my argument,” “youand love are all my argument,” “Fair, kindand true have often lived alone,” “jewelhung in ghastly night,” “tongue-tied byauthority,” “why is my verse so barren ofnew pride?,” “when in the chronicle ofwasted time,” etc. Space limitations forbidfurther discussion of these, and severaldozen more lines, that simply don’t makesense in the context of the imputed lovetriangle that is the stuff of so manyscholarly works, but which stand aschallenges, the failure to meet whichindicts all previous efforts to explicate thesonnets. The reader will have to wait toread The Monument to find out what theyreally mean.

There is a better way, and Whittemoreis the only author I know of to havediscovered it. Starting with Oxford as thepoet, and early on realizing that the youthhad to be Southampton, and that Sonnet107 celebrated the forthcoming peacefulaccession of James days after Elizabethdied, and also James’s order to releaseSouthampton from the Tower, dating it toApril of 1603, Whittemore suddenly sawthat the key to Sonnet 27’s sudden blacktone had to be that it referred toSouthampton’s arrest and incarceration inthe Tower in February 1601. This, in turn,suggested that Sonnets 28-106 werebracketed by those two fixed dates, andwere all written in reference to the periodof confinement of Southampton.

Pursuing that hunch, Whittemore foundother lines referring to historical eventsduring the period in question. Moreimportantly, he began to see that the sonnetswere written in a sort of code, wherecommonplace words, like “love,” “age,”“fair,” “true,” “beauty,” “one,” “time,”“moon,” “sun” and many others, if



understood as metaphors each with aconsistent meaning, yielded a story, achronicle, of Southampton’s tenure in theTower and of Oxford’s efforts to spare hislife, and get him released.

Discovering for the first time in fourcenturies that the sonnets are written in acode is the signal breakthrough thatpermitted Whittemore to solve this 400-year-old mystery. As he progressivelydecoded more and more words, more andmore sonnets yielded a clear, unambiguousmeaning, to the point today where everysonnet has yielded to his method, and tellsa consistent, coherent story, aboutSouthampton, Oxford, and Elizabeth.

There is a name for Oxford’s method. Itis called “Aesopian.” An excellent dictionarydefinition is “communications that conveyan innocent meaning to outsiders but holda concealed meaning to informed membersof a conspiracy or underground move-ment.” It is typically used when the authorseeks to communicate important political

ideas and information that cannot be safelysaid in public, where censorship forcespolitical statements underground. “Tongue-tied by authority” is almost certainlyOxford’s statement of the conditions hefaced while writing the sonnets.

Oxford all but gave away the gamewhen he stated in sonnet 76 that he had to“keep invention in a noted weed.” “Weed”is best translated as “disguise,” andWhittemore’s discovery is that the entiretyof the sonnets as conventionally interpretedis nothing but the disguise for the real,underlying, political meaning, largely thechronicle of Oxford’s efforts on behalf of acondemned traitor (sonnets 27-126).

If Whittemore is correct, then theconventional avenue of criticism that hasbeen leveled against his thesis misses thepoint. If there is an Aesopian layer ofmeaning beneath the surface, apparentmeaning that scholars have never yetpenetrated, then no reading of anyindividual line, no standard interpretation

of any sonnet, can be used to refuteWhittemore’s decoded Aesopian meaning.The two operate on parallel tracks, and donot intersect. Both are, in effect, “correct,”neither can falsify the other.

However, the surface meaning is justthat, the disguise, the mask, the ephemera,of no lasting consequence. The “real”meaning is, obviously, the underlyingmessage being communicated.

Hence, the only relevant way to critiqueWhittemore’s thesis is to show that eitherthere is no underlying Aesopian message,or that there is one, but Whittemore hasn’tfound it. Both approaches require delvinginto the details of Whittemore’s expositionof each and every sonnet, examining howconsistently he applies his code, and tryingto show that it doesn’t explain what hethinks it does. Just citing lines from varioussonnets, and giving surface meanings as asupposed “proof” that Whittemore’sAesopian meaning is wrong, is not a viableline of argument.

Shakespeare Authorship Trust in LondonThe Second Annual Shakespearean

Authorship Trust Conference was held onJuly 3-4, 2004 in London. AmericanOxfordians in attendance included Prof.Daniel Wright (Portland, OR), Gerit Quealy(NYC) and Pidge Sexton (St. Louis, MO).Quealy, a former SOS trustee, is an activemember of the De Vere Society in England.Dr. Wright was appointed an AssociateTrustee of the Authorship Trust followingthis meeting.

The meeting was opened by MarkRylance, Artistic Director of The GlobeTheater, London. Rylance welcomed alland set the ground rules for the conference.This was not to be a debate; the four speakerswere merely going to present theircandidates for the authorship of theShakespeare canon and make an effort toconnect that candidate to the play of theevening, Measure for Measure. In hisopening remarks, Mr. Rylance requestedthat questions from the audience beinquiries for information and that anyremarks be also of an informative nature.This was not to be a forum for attacks uponthe speaker, his message or his candidate.

First to speak was Michael Wood, forthe Stratford man. He presented the usual

“facts,” none of which connected hiscandidate to the writing of the plays andpoetry. He contended that his candidatewrote Measure for Measure in 1604 forKing James but otherwise had nothing tooffer to tie his man to the writing of theplay.

Michael Frohnsdorff presented forChristopher Marlowe contending, as manyMarlovians do, that his death was a ploy tocover up his espionage activities after whichhe went to Italy and wrote the works ofShakespeare. Frohnsdorff contended thatMarlowe wrote Measure for Measure in1604 after he supposedly returned toEngland in disguise.

Robin Williams presented an interest-ing biography of Mary Sidney, attemptingto tie her to the writing of the Sonnetsbecause she had a much younger lover.Miss Williams emphasized Mary’s greatlearning and that her home, Wilton, waswhere she developed a great literary circle.Here again there was no connection of thecandidate to the writing of Measure forMeasure.

Peter Dawkins presented for Francisand Anthony Bacon believing the plays tobe their collaboration. Dawkins also

believes that the play was written in 1604for King James to instruct him about mercyand authority.

Charles Beauclerk presented a splendidpaper outlining the authorship of the earlof Oxford through his biography and hisclose relationship with Queen Elizabeth.The character of the duke in Measure forMeasure, Beauclerk maintains, is theauthor pulling his dramatic strings to forceQueen Elizabeth to recognize hershortcomings, especially in chastising himfor follies that were similar to her own.

There was some significant mediacoverage of the conference, with RobinWilliams’s talk on Lady Pembroke beingpublicized in advance and The New YorkTimes covering it in August (WilliamNiederkorn article, August 21, 2004).

While having such a prominentauthorship venue clearly results from theefforts of Globe artistic director andoutspoken anti-Stratfordian Rylance, it wasannounced at the end of summer that Mr.Rylance would be leaving the Globe afterthe 2004-2005 season, a developmentwhich could call into question any futureauthorship events being held under theGlobe’s auspices. —Pidge Sexton



kept all Oxfordians from working togetherover the years. Wright thought that some-thing so longstanding, with so many deeplycommitted adherents, merited serious con-sideration in the search for the truth aboutthe authorship mysteries.

The theory, in its basic form, is that therelationship between Shakespeare and theEarl of Southampton, as expressed in theSonnets and the dedications to the twonarrative poems, must be parental—notthat of lovers, not that of friends, and cer-tainly (for Oxfordians) not that of patronand poet. It is in fact the Sonnets which havebeen—right from the beginning—the pri-mary source of theories about Southamp-ton as a prospective Tudor heir. Withoutthem there could well be no such theory.

In considering having this theory as thetopic for the 2004 seminar, Wright knewthat the person he needed to have on handwas Hank Whittemore, a leading propo-nent of the theory and someone who hasbeen working for years on a book about theSonnets (The Monument, now published)that would attempt to explain the Sonnetsfully, and in so doing, demonstrate how

Engaging Tudor (cont’d from page 1)

Enjoying an excursion to the Cascade Mountains southeast of Portland are: (top left) Mark Jackson, Paul Altrocchi and MargueriteGyatt; (top right) Dan Wright, Earl Showerman and Helen Gordon; (bottom left) Wenonah Sharpe and John Varady; (bottom right,left to right) John Varady, Bill Boyle, Paul Altrocchi, Earl Showerman, Pat Urquhart, Dan Wright, Hank Whittemore, Mark Jackson.

Marguerite GyattMarguerite GyattMarguerite GyattMarguerite GyattMarguerite GyattBill Boyle (3)Bill Boyle (3)Bill Boyle (3)Bill Boyle (3)Bill Boyle (3)

they support the royal heir theory. OnceWhittemore committed to participate inthe seminar, John Varady (Los Altos, CA)agreed to represent the alternative point ofview. Wright himself always has been anoutspoken critic of the theory, but alsoalways has supported the ideal of opendiscourse on all matters related to theauthorship debate.

While Wright has written up his ownassessment of the seminar (opposite page),we can say that it was definitely an interest-ing week, and while no minds werechanged, some progress was made in un-derstanding how the issue fits into thelarger picture of the authorship debateitself. In fact, by the end of the week whenit was suggested at the concludingroundtable discussion that, “Discussing thePT theory is reasonable, and dismissing itout of hand is unreasonable,” there wasunanimous agreement with the statement.

A good part of the week was taken upwith a presentation by Whittemore of his“Monument” theory, including detailed lineby line, sonnet by sonnet readings of Son-nets 27 to 126. All participants agreed thatthis was an exceptional experience, and one

skeptic remarked that whereas the sonnetshad always seemed hard to read, they wereall remarkably clear when glossed from the“Monument” point of view.

Also of interest was the unanimousagreement that it was virtually impossiblefor the imprisoned 2nd Earl of Southamp-ton to have been the actual father of the 3rdEarl, his Oct. 6th, 1573, letter reporting thebirth notwithstanding. Seminar partici-pants agreed that the birth announcementcould have been: “It’s a bastard!”

A rarely seen painting of the 2nd Earl’swife, Mary Browne, was shown at one ses-sion, and seminar participants debatedwhether the 3rd Earl did or didn’t resembleher (it was 50-50 whether he did or not).Still, considering that participants agreedthat the 2nd Earl most likely was not thefather, that leaves wide open the questionof just what the relationship between Ox-ford/Shakespeare and the 3rd Earl 20 yearslater was—for if he wasn’t the 2nd Earl’sson, then whose son was he? And who knew?

There is much more to consider on allthese matters, which we will in upcomingissues of SM, and which will also take placeat next summer’s seminar. —WBoyle



This year’s Shakespeare AuthorshipStudies Seminar at Concordia Universitymay not have achieved consensus withrespect to the authority or definitive char-acter of the Tudor Heir thesis (after aweek’s intense scrutiny of the issue, theseminar remained about as it began—halfsupportive of the Tudor Heir thesis, halfopposed or skeptical)—but all ofthe participants were able, at theseminar’s conclusion, to recognizethat in the task of interpreting theElizabethan past, the historicalrecord must be expanded to in-clude the witness of its poets andplaywrights—most notably Shake-speare—and that historical recordincludes the Sonnets.

The achievement was not insig-nificant. In a world which some-times naively supposes that the his-tory of a nation is recorded mostauthoritatively (or only) in its official docu-ments and records—inaccurate testa-ments though we often know those officialrecords to be—Shakespeare challenges usto look at his work with an eye to hisengagement of persons and issues of hisage. That is a task too few modern readersof his work are willing to embrace becausewe all grew up with the fiction that litera-ture, as opposed to “history,” is “art” or“pretty poetry”—rarely serious in the sensethat we ought sometimes to hear in litera-ture the voice that often speaks as it doesbecause truth cannot otherwise be spoken.

However, when we reflect on the taskof many of literature’s great writers, wehave to affirm that, despite our often easyassumption that writers usually write forsuperficial or narrowly personal reasons,many of the world’s greatest writers havewritten not for entertainment or commer-cial reward (or even to celebrate their art)but because of their passion—their need—to tell the truth about an event, an age, ora person to which posterity might, but forthe writer’s contribution to history, beblind and deaf. Where would we be in ourappraisal of the significance of the man,Jesus, if the record of his life had been leftsolely to the account of Flavius Josephus?How would we assess the reign of RichardIII if he had defeated Henry Tudor at

Prince Tudor Seminar: An AssessmentBy Dr. Daniel L. Wright

Bosworth Field and his legacy not been leftto the savage imaginings of Tudor-financedpens? Would we know anything—any-thing!—of the causes and conduct of thegreat Peloponnesian War if it were not forthe literature of the Athenian aristocratThucydides?

We cannot forget, too, that many of the

Western world’s greatest writers lived notjust in tumultuous times but under thepersonal shadow of the axe, and they wroteurgently in response to that intimate ter-ror: Dante was condemned to be burned atthe stake for opposing the foreign policy ofPope Boniface VIII; Fyodor Dostoyevskywas sentenced to death for opposing thetyrannical Czarist government of NicholasI; Voltaire was cast into exile for outragingthe aristocracy—and after his death, hisbody was desecrated and thrown into agarbage pit. In our own day, we are familiarwith writers such as Wole Soyinka, theheroic Nigerian dramatist and politicalsatirist who was sentenced to death ontrumped-up charges during the brutal mili-tary dictatorship of General Sani Abacha.

If Oxford was Shakespeare, and if hisson was Henry Wriothesley, he had to an-ticipate (and even participate in!) his son’sdelivery to the headsman’s block—andperhaps face (and flee?) his own arrest onwhat he may have feared was a forthcomingcharge of treason in 1604 when Wriothesleyand others were re-arrested on 24 June ofthat year. The Sonnets, moreover, may notbe the only literary testaments of Oxfordthat speak to the possibility of these eventsand suggest the means by which he wouldhave us understand them: changeling chil-dren, royal bastards and aristocrats driven

into exile are not exactly uncommon fig-ures in Shakespearean drama.

So: do the Sonnets record the historyof a passionate same-sex romance thatcould not, because of the capital nature ofits offense, speak its name? Possibly. Dothey record the history of a love affair witha prominent woman at Court whose iden-

tity, for her own special safety,needed to remain concealed? Pos-sibly. Do they record the history ofa son, born to royal promise butdenied the fulfillment of that prom-ise? Possibly. The sonnets will bearthese and other interpretations.Such, therefore, is the conundrum.The Sonnets surely tell a story, butwhat story is it that they tell? Whatis the truth behind the shadows ofShakespeare’s art? If it is discern-ible—and we have to think it is ifShakespeare is honest in declaring

to his primary recipient that his “monu-ment shall be my gentle verse”—then thereis a meaning to the Sonnets that ought tobe fathomable. But to whom is Oxfordspeaking, and how are we to know?

To this end, perhaps the most hopefuloffering on the horizon for fresh consider-ation is Oxfordian actor and author HankWhittemore’s forthcoming study of thesonnets: The Monument. We’ve enjoyed, atour CU seminar this summer, a bit of whatmay be “a foretaste of the feast to come” inan all-too-laconic survey of some of Hank’sinsights during a lazy August week punc-tuated by picnics, day trips into the Cas-cade Mountains, and late-night dinners onthe river.

Whether Hank’s provocative analysisand conclusions will prove right, wrong ormerely another interesting contributionto an already crowded history of analysis,we await publication and study to dis-cover. One thing is certain: with Hank’sforthcoming book, a new hope that we maybe able to unlock those poems that thegreat poet, William Wordsworth, identi-fied as “the key to Shakespeare’s heart” issoon to offer itself for our consideration.My hope—and the hope of all the seminarparticipants—is that Oxfordians will giveit the careful attention all signs suggest itdeserves.

The seminar concluded with a Friday morning roundtablediscussion on the week’s events and talks.



Monument critique (cont’d from page 1)the monument. When introducing aninnovation into scholarly discourse it iscustomary to provide a thoroughjustification for the change in emphasis aswell as to explain what elements of the caseare based on the authority of other scholars.Whittemore’s justification for theinnovation is that the sonnets can be mappedonto a chronological framework whichaccords with the events of the EssexRebellion and the imprisonment andliberation of the Earl of Southampton.Within this schema, Sonnet 27 representsthe February 8, 1601, imprisonment ofSouthampton. Unfortunately, this super-ficially attractive schema suffers from anumber of obvious defects. First,Whittemore is forced to entirely disregardthe discrete nature of the marriage sonnets(1-17) as a group. Second and moreimportantly, although Whittemore’s proseis engaging and the story dramatic, theevidence in 27 allegedly connecting toWhittemore’s historical narrative simplyevaporates on close inspection. This is inno discernible way a sonnet about an arrestor imprisonment, but a lyrical meditationby the poet, who has been travelling and inhis evening rest imagines the continuationof his physical journey to the addressee.The significant point here is that the poetis or has been away. The addressee hasneither been removed nor arrested. Andalthough it may be true that the image ofthe jewel “hung in ghastly night” (27.11) is,in the most general sense, consistent withthe charged emotional atmosphere of theevents Whittemore describes, mereconsistency is hardly enough to confirmhis interpretation, unless other, morecompelling, corroborative evidence canbe cited.

Reviewing the Evidence:Reviewing the Evidence:Reviewing the Evidence:Reviewing the Evidence:Reviewing the Evidence:Sonnets 27-126Sonnets 27-126Sonnets 27-126Sonnets 27-126Sonnets 27-126

Establishing a break at Sonnet 27produces the illusion of structuralcoherence, but the division, alas, isarbitrary. Sonnet 26 begins to develop thetheme of the poet’s absence, referring tothe “written ambassage” the poet has sentto the fair youth. In fact, Vendler calls 26“the first epistolary sonnet”6 (148),suggesting that the poet may already betravelling. In Sonnet 27, it is the poet’sthoughts that “intend a zealous

pilgrimage” to the addressee. The thematiccontinuity is obvious, calling into questionthe basis for identifying Sonnet 27 as abreak of any kind, let alone one marking anevent as dramatic as the imprisonment ofthe Earl of Southampton.

Using Sonnet 107 as the marker,Whittemore divides the 100-sonnetsequence (27-126) into two segments: Thefirst segment of 80 sonnets (27-107) is saidto correspond to the 26 months spanningSouthampton’s February 8, 1601, arrest to

his April 10, 1603, release; the secondsegment (107-125) covers the period fromSouthampton’s release to Elizabeth’s April28 funeral, with Sonnet 126 added on as an“Envoy” to Southampton. But this divisionconceals, and partly competes with,Whittemore’s further qualification aboutthe Sonnet structure: Sonnets 27-86 (60sonnets), according to Whittemore, arewritten at the rate of one per day and aresaid to cover the period beginning withSouthampton’s imprisonment. Sonnets 87-106 (20 sonnets) apparently cover the nexttwo years of confinement; while 107-126(the final 20 sonnets) match the 20 daysbetween Southampton’s release and theQueen’s funeral if one includes the “Envoy.”

It is unfortunate that the rules governingthe sequence change. Why, for instance,may one poem in the second segmentcover many days or even months, whileeach poem in the first and third segments

describes only one day? The inconsistencyis troubling and Whittemore provides nocoherent justification for it. He even seemsunaware that a justification is required. IfShakespeare set out to write a 100-sonnet“center” to his “monument,” surely therules would remain the same throughout?Anything else appears arbitrary. And ifeach poem in the final segment describesone day, how would the poet know inadvance that these daily poems wouldnumber 20, thus bringing him to theconvenient 100 he needs to construct themonument? These “sub-groupings” alsodisturb the symmetry of the 100-sonnetcenter, which we might expect to consist of50 and 50 sonnets rather than 60, 20, and20.

Nevertheless, at least at the beginningof the final segment, Whittemore isfortunate enough to enjoy the authority ofthe many other scholars who date Sonnet107 to spring 1603 and regard the phrase“the mortal moon hath her eclipse endured”as an indication of Elizabeth’s death onMarch 24. It is entirely plausible, therefore,that the line “Supposed as forfeit to aconfined doom” refers to Southampton’simprisonment. But one sonnet does not amonument make, and the possible contextof 107 presents another problem. If, asWhittemore contends, it is written tocelebrate Southampton’s release, itprecedes a sonnet that seems likely to referto his imprisonment or execution. InSonnet 112 the poet speaks of the youth asone who is

...so strongly in my purpose bredThat all the world besides me thinks y’are

dead. (112.13-14)

To us, the “Essex rebellion” reading ofthis couplet is plausible—although otherinterpretations are also plausible.However, identifying the line as being aboutSouthampton’s imprisonment undersentence of death has an unfortunateconsequence for Whittemore’s “monu-ment” thesis. If both 107 and 112 are aboutthe Essex Rebellion, and if 107 truly marksSouthampton’s release from the tower,then it follows that the sonnets are notarranged in chronological order, a findingwhich undermines, if it does not destroy,Whittemore’s “monument.”

In fact, with the possible exception of107, 112, and 124, a close reading of

“When introducing an“When introducing an“When introducing an“When introducing an“When introducing an

innovation into scholarlyinnovation into scholarlyinnovation into scholarlyinnovation into scholarlyinnovation into scholarly

discourse it is customarydiscourse it is customarydiscourse it is customarydiscourse it is customarydiscourse it is customary

to provide a thoroughto provide a thoroughto provide a thoroughto provide a thoroughto provide a thorough

justification for thejustification for thejustification for thejustification for thejustification for the

change in emphasis aschange in emphasis aschange in emphasis aschange in emphasis aschange in emphasis as

well as to explain whatwell as to explain whatwell as to explain whatwell as to explain whatwell as to explain what

elements of the case areelements of the case areelements of the case areelements of the case areelements of the case are

based on the authoritybased on the authoritybased on the authoritybased on the authoritybased on the authority

of other scholars.”of other scholars.”of other scholars.”of other scholars.”of other scholars.”




Sonnets 27-126 reveals no evidentconnection to the events of the rebellionand Southampton’s imprisonment, andsome of the sonnets manifestly cannot beabout either. For example, Sonnets 71-74are all meditations on the poet’s imminentdeath. In these and other sonnets, the poetrepeatedly emphasizes the fair youth’ssurviving him, a curious emphasis indeedif the youth is living in the Tower under adeath sentence. Furthermore, manysonnets in the 100-sonnet sequence (27-126) address the youth as an object ofconsolation to whom the poet turns whendistressed by other circumstances:

But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,All losses are restored and sorrows end.(30. 13-14).

Why would the poet be consoled by, orfind joy in, the idea of his beloved if thatbeloved is incarcerated? This couplet andmany others make no sense of the contextas defined by Whittemore, who creates theillusion of such a connection only throughthe adroit selection of certain words andphrases with no regard for their immediateor larger context as parts of sonnets orsonnet sequences.

We have already considered Sonnet 27.Let us now examine the evidenceWhittemore presents for linkingsubsequent sonnets to Southampton’simprisonment. He states:

Identifying with the younger earl’splight, [the poet] records in 29 that hehimself is “in disgrace with fortune (theQueen) and men’s eyes” in the same waySouthampton is suffering in the Tower.7

However, a close reading of the sonnetshows that the poet is not in any wayidentifying with “the plight” of theaddressee, but talking of his own disgrace,which is again compensated for by hispleasant thoughts of the youth:

Yet in these thoughts myself almostdespising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,(Like to the lark at break of day arising)From sullen earth sings hymns at heaven’s

gate,For thy sweet love remembered such

wealth brings,That then I scorn to change my state with

kings.

Whittemore’s evidence connectingSonnet 30 to the Privy Council trial ofEssex and Southampton is even lesscredible:

Oxford records in 30 that the PrivyCouncil will summon him to the Sessionsor Treason Trial of Essex and Southamptonto sit as the highest ranking earl on thetribunal of peers who will judge them.8

Here Whittemore mistakes a meta-

phorical use of the words sessions andsummon for a literal one. The “sessions” towhich the poem refers are the poet’s ownimaginative sessions of “sweet silentthought” and the “summoning” is not ofthe session, but of a “remembrance ofthings past.” Although legal metaphors dopermeate this sonnet (and many others),there is no mention here of a trial, exceptperhaps in the most oblique Proustiansense (i.e., a psychological “trial” at whichthe writer is defendant, advocate, andjudge). Moreover, even if one understood“sessions” and “summon” to be literal ratherthan metaphorical, the direct link to theSouthampton trial would still beunestablished. Although Whittemore doesnot acknowledge the fact, these terms applyto many different kinds of trials, not justcapital crimes such as treason.

Compounding these implausibilities,Whittemore attempts to identify

Southampton as one of the “preciousfriends hid in death’s dateless night.” (30.6)As the “friends” are described in the thirdperson and the youth in the second person,this is clearly not a viable reading.Additionally, the youth cannot be one ofthe “precious friends,” as they are alreadydead. He is, instead, exactly as in Sonnet29, providing solace for the poet’s“losses...and sorrows” — acting, in otherwords, as a replacement for those alreadygone. When the poet calls the addressee“the grave where buried love doth live” inSonnet 31, his meaning is transparent andhas nothing to do with the imprisonmentor imminent execution of the addressee;rather, the youth has become the repositoryfor the poet’s lost loves. This reading iswithout ambiguity, for the poet continues:

Their images I loved I view in thee,And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.(italics added)

Treasons ComparedTreasons ComparedTreasons ComparedTreasons ComparedTreasons Compared

Also critical to Whittemore’s thesis ishis analysis of Sonnet 35, in which “Oxfordaccuses himself...of ‘authorizing’Southampton’s ‘trespass’ or treason by‘compare.’” The word “treason” does notappear in this sonnet; interestingly, itappears only in 151, outside the 100 “EssexRebellion” sonnets. There it refersmetaphorically to the body’s rebellionagainst the will, and is in fact a bawdydescription of male erection. Attemptingto skate over the critical problem of hisown interpretation of 35 by placing anunwarranted interpretation on the wordsensual, Whittemore defines “sensual fault”as “willful, riotous crime.”

In other words, “sensual” means willfuland/or riotous. This definition is contraryto the word’s uses in Shakespeare (SeeMeasure for Measure 2.4.160, As You LikeIt, 2.7.66, and Sonnet 141.8) andcontravenes usage as specified by variousauthorities we consulted.9 By no stretch ofthe imagination can “sensual” here beconstrued to mean what Whittemoreappears to think it does. A “sensual fault” isa sin of the flesh. The word “trespass,” usedin the sonnet as a synonym for the “sensualfault,” appears to have a similar meaningin Romeo and Juliet:

“Although legal“Although legal“Although legal“Although legal“Although legal

metaphors do permeatemetaphors do permeatemetaphors do permeatemetaphors do permeatemetaphors do permeate

this sonnet (and manythis sonnet (and manythis sonnet (and manythis sonnet (and manythis sonnet (and many

others), there is noothers), there is noothers), there is noothers), there is noothers), there is no

mention here of amention here of amention here of amention here of amention here of a

trial, except perhapstrial, except perhapstrial, except perhapstrial, except perhapstrial, except perhaps

in the most obliquein the most obliquein the most obliquein the most obliquein the most oblique

Proustian sense...”Proustian sense...”Proustian sense...”Proustian sense...”Proustian sense...”



Monument critique (cont’d from page 11)Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged.Give me my sin again. (I.5.111)

Of sonnet 42, Whittemore states:

Oxford reminds [Southampton]...thatfor now he is stuck with Elizabeth as hissovereign and that he himself had “lovedher dearly” or served her with devotion,but now his “chief wailing” or sorrow isthat she has Southampton in her prisonfortress.10

A less plausible exegesis of what isapparently a poem about a lovers’ triangleis difficult to imagine. None of thefollowing words are mentioned in thesonnet: “Elizabeth,” “Southampton,”“prison,” or “fortress.” Instead, the poemdescribes the familiar circumstance of twomen, the poet and presumably theaddressee, fighting over a woman. Thepoet rationalizes his position by suggestingthat as his friend and he “are one,” thepoet’s mistress loves only the poet himself.He describes his own conceit as a “sweetflattery” (“flattery” here meaningdelusion)—a very strange phrase to employwith regard to “Southampton in [theQueen’s] prison fortress.”

Misprision of DefinitionMisprision of DefinitionMisprision of DefinitionMisprision of DefinitionMisprision of Definition

In many ways, the crux of Whittemore’sargument can be found in a single word inSonnet 87. Boyle declares that

Equally important [to the theory] ishow the meaning of other words in othersonnets suddenly becomes clearer.Foremost among such other words is“misprision” in Sonnet 87, glossed by allcommentators for two centuries as a“misunderstanding” of some sort...theentire meaning of sonnet 87 really hingeson this one word—misprision.11

As Boyle observes, an interestingtechnical alternative was available to thepoet. In Tudor law, “misprision of treason”could refer to a crime which fell just shortof treason. Given the extendedimprisonment of Southampton and hiseventual release, it is certainly legitimateto suppose, although concrete evidence isapparently lacking, that at some point theverdict was changed to misprision and his

sentence was commuted from death to alesser punishment. Unfortunately, simpleawareness of this circumstance falls farshort of a demonstration that Sonnet 87has anything to do with the Essex Rebellionor Southampton’s imprisonment. To startwith, “of treason” is missing, even byimplication. More important, this is asonnet about emotional leave-taking. Itappears at first as if the poet is abandoninghis relationship with the addressee, but itsoon becomes clear that the addressee is

actually relinquishing the poet, as clarifiedin Sonnet 89, which begins, “Say that thoudidst forsake me for some fault...” (89.1:emphasis added). When the poet states in87 that the addressee is “too dear” (toobeloved or costly) “for [his] possessing...”(87.1), the line anticipates the abandon-ment which becomes clear in 89.

Boyle does not acknowledge theimplications of the Sonnet’s surroundingcontext. Like sonnets 4 and 134, 87 issaturated with financial metaphor (dear,possessing, estimate, charter, bonds,granting, worth, riches, gift, patent). If wewant to understand “misprision” in itsactual, as opposed to hypothetical, context,we should read the word in relation to thisfinancial schema. Stephen Booth notesthat one definition of misprision is“undervaluation,”12 which accordsperfectly with the language of the sonnetwithout recourse to the meaning that Boyle

and Whittemore depend on to make theirthesis. Boyle’s caption for the sonnetdeclares that “The word ‘misprision’ inSonnet 87 has never been glossed as‘misprision of treason’ since no one everhad the correct context.” We suggest analternative reason for the word never havingbeen glossed in this way: The context of thesonnet does not support it. Instead, thepreferred meaning is clearly “under-valuation.” To accept the meaning suppliedby Boyle and Whittemore requires us toignore the obvious context (with itsextensive monetary metaphors) of thesonnet itself in favor of a hypotheticalcontext, which the sonnet, without themisconstruction of the word “misprision,”entirely fails to support.

Context: Peeling the Literary OnionContext: Peeling the Literary OnionContext: Peeling the Literary OnionContext: Peeling the Literary OnionContext: Peeling the Literary Onion

The foregoing analysis identifies areasof interpretation which are so basic that weare forced to reflect on the nature of amethodology that could produce suchdemonstrably erroneous results. We havealready seen Bill Boyle declare the “entiremeaning” of Sonnet 87 hinges on oneword. This kind of focusing on individualwords or phrases, separated from the larger“story” of the sonnet, is characteristic ofthe methodology employed by both Boyleand Whittemore. Boyle describes thediscovery of the monument solution as “anintriguing process of focusing on key wordsand phrases and mulling onpossibilities.”13 Unhappily, these “possi-bilities” are then revealed to the world ascertainties. A startling example of this isSonnet 63. After quoting the sonnet’sconcluding sestet, Boyle writes:

Just as suddenly I got it. I saw in mymind a picture of Southampton being ledto the block, about to have the “confounding[Elizabethan] Age’s cruel knife [theheadman’s ax]” cut his “life” [head] off,even as the poet, picturing the same thingand “fortifying” himself through hiswriting, swears he shall never be cut frommemory because “he...still green” [he shalllive forever] in “these black lines” [myverse].14

The extensive interpolation ofinterpretative glosses is a clue to theproblems inherent in this line of reasoning.One need not read beyond the first two

“The foregoing analysis“The foregoing analysis“The foregoing analysis“The foregoing analysis“The foregoing analysis

identifies areas ofidentifies areas ofidentifies areas ofidentifies areas ofidentifies areas of

interpretation which areinterpretation which areinterpretation which areinterpretation which areinterpretation which are

so basic that we are forcedso basic that we are forcedso basic that we are forcedso basic that we are forcedso basic that we are forced

to reflect on the natureto reflect on the natureto reflect on the natureto reflect on the natureto reflect on the nature

of a methodology thatof a methodology thatof a methodology thatof a methodology thatof a methodology that

could produce suchcould produce suchcould produce suchcould produce suchcould produce such

demonstrablydemonstrablydemonstrablydemonstrablydemonstrably

erroneous results.”erroneous results.”erroneous results.”erroneous results.”erroneous results.”




lines to understand that the poet does notanticipate the addressee’s death; on thecontrary, he expects him to live until he’sat least the poet’s present age:

Against my love shall be as I am nowWith Time’s injurious hand crushed and

o’erworn... (63:1-2)

The sonnet tells us the poet wishes tocommit the addressee’s youthful beauty tomemory through poetry–not, as Boyleinfers, because he expects him to beexecuted, but rather because he expectshim to live until “all those beauties whereofnow he’s King/Are vanishing or vanishedout of sight.” (63.6-7) Boyle’s inter-pretation depends on ignoring this level ofpoetic context (that is, reading the sonnetas an entire coherent statement), and placesa wholly unjustified misconstruction onthe word “Age’s,” so that it will conform tothe meaning required by his theory abouta hypothetical historical context. “Age”does not refer to the “Elizabethan Age” butis a personification of the aging process.The phrase “Age’s cruel knife” alludes tothe Renaissance commonplace of Death,who arrives with a reaper’s scythe. A similarimage occurs in Sonnet 12: “And nothing’gainst Time’s scythe can make defence.”(12.13) If we accept that Sonnet 63 is talkingabout execution, surely we must acceptthat 12 is communicating the same idea?Yet Sonnet 12 lies far outside Whittemore’s100-sonnet center and is a part of a sequenceurging the addressee to marriage. On thecontrary, both instances of the image are apersonification of time.15

“Sometime I’ld divide, and burn“Sometime I’ld divide, and burn“Sometime I’ld divide, and burn“Sometime I’ld divide, and burn“Sometime I’ld divide, and burnin many places”—Arielin many places”—Arielin many places”—Arielin many places”—Arielin many places”—Ariel

Another example of this kind ofmisperception of individual words, onwhich detailed interpretations are thendeveloped, is “place,” which Whittemorein Sonnet 44 interprets as a deliberatelyobscure reference to the Tower of London(a proposition he bolsters with selectcitations from historical sources); however,what Whittemore doesn’t say, andapparently hasn’t considered, is that “place”occurs over 450 times in Shakespeare’splays and 10 times in the sonnets, and veryrarely in Shakespeare can it possibly havethe specific meaning to which he attributesit here. Most damaging of all, the “he” in the

line cited by Whittemore

As soon as think the place where he wouldbe. (44.8: italics added)

does not refer to Southampton, to the Earlof Essex, or a “fair youth” of any kind, as theaddressee in the sonnet is “thou.” Theantecedent is readily apparent in thepreceding line:

For nimble thought can jump both sea andland,

As soon as think the place where he wouldbe. (44.7-8)

The lines are about the ability ofthought, Ariel-like, to traverse physicalspace and experience a desired locationwhich is not physically present. Whatever“place” Shakespeare may have intended bythe word—and there is nothing in thesonnet which supports Whittemore’sreading—it is definitely not the Tower ofLondon.

Undaunted by such empiricalproblems, and having, he presumes,securely identified the locale in 44 by thefiat of defining a mind to be a prisonpalace, Whittemore then states of Sonnet45: “Messengers are riding back and forthbetween the Tower and [the poet’s] home[in Hackney] to bring news of Southamp-ton’s health battles.” Not only does the

word “Tower” not occur in this sonnet,“place” does not either! It has been liftedfrom 44. Moreover, the sonnet’s messen-gers, whom Whittemore represents ashorsemen, are explicitly identified in thesonnet as the metaphysical abstractions,“slight air and purging fire” (45.1),symbolizing thought and desire. And,although Whittemore writes of “[the poet’s]home [in Hackney],” the poet himself doesnot, but instead suggests again that he istravelling by use of the phrase “wherever Iabide” (45.2). In short, there is no hint ineither 44 or 45 of the historical events thatWhittemore assures us are the secret key tothe Sonnets.

Missed OpportunitiesMissed OpportunitiesMissed OpportunitiesMissed OpportunitiesMissed Opportunities

Our English teachers always taught usto beware the bold generalization and shunthe unverified proclamation. So far in thisarticle we have raised objections to thepositive interpretations on which Whitte-more and Boyle have rested their case.Doubtless reply will be made that we havenot waited to evaluate the entirety of theevidence contained in Mr. Whittemore’sbook. This is true but also irrelevant. Nolarger case which depends on the kind ofexamples cited in these two articles can beregarded as a sound one. Moreover, wewonder how a theory that fares so poorlywith respect to the sonnets chosen foranalysis can possibly accommodate thecontent of sonnets that are not mentioned.Boyle and Whittemore are not shy aboutclaiming a global explanatory power fortheir theory. Boyle states: “Everything inthe middle sequence of one hundredsonnets is real and related to the EssexRebellion and its aftermath.”16 If this is so,how do we account for Sonnet 57?

Being your slave, what should I do buttend,

Upon the hours, and times of your desire?I have no precious time at all to spend;Nor services to do till you require.Nor dare I chide the world without end

hour,Whilst I (my sovereign) watch the clock for

you,Nor think the bitterness of absence sourWhen you have bid your servant once

adieu.Nor dare I question with my jealous

thought,Where you may be or your affairs suppose,

“““““Our English teachersOur English teachersOur English teachersOur English teachersOur English teachers

always taught us toalways taught us toalways taught us toalways taught us toalways taught us to

beware the boldbeware the boldbeware the boldbeware the boldbeware the bold

generalization andgeneralization andgeneralization andgeneralization andgeneralization and

shun the unverifiedshun the unverifiedshun the unverifiedshun the unverifiedshun the unverified

proclamation.”proclamation.”proclamation.”proclamation.”proclamation.”



Monument critique (cont’d from page 13)But like a sad slave stay and think of noughtSave where you are, how happy you make

those.So true a fool is love, that in your will,(Though you do anything) he thinks no ill.

The addressee in this sonnet ismanifestly not in prison but is free to comeand go as he pleases. Indeed the poetdeclares himself unable to question

with my jealous thoughtWhere you may be or your affairs suppose.(Emphasis added)

In fact, the poet is in a sense imprisonedby the addressee, as he waits on his “desire,”while the addressee makes otherselsewhere happy with his presence. Sonnet58, thematically similar to its predecessor,confirms this reading:

That god forbid, that made me first yourslave

I should in thought control your times ofpleasure,

Or at your hand th’account of hours tocrave,

Being your vassal bound to stay yourleisure...

Be where you list, your charter is so strong,That you yourself may privilege your timeTo what you will... (Emphasis added).

In the art of literary interpretation noconcept is more evasive and difficult thanthat of context. Boyle and Whittemorepropose a radical new “context” forevaluating the sonnets. What they havefailed to acknowledge and grapple with isthe multi-layered nature of “context.” Theirmethod short-circuits close reading ofsonnets and their sequences, affecting todiscover a “solution” in a hypotheticalexternal context which is very weakly, if atall, reflected in the contents of the poemsit is supposed to elucidate. An acceptablereading should encompass, at the veryleast, an entire sonnet, but instead theyseize on a word or a phrase, deduce aconnection to the dramatic events of theEssex Rebellion, while never returning tothe sonnet itself to see if their interpretationcan be substantiated by a reading of theentire sonnet in its published sequence. Inalmost every case, it cannot. The methodachieves the illusion of significance onlyby ignoring the immediate, actual contextof the Sonnet while discovering an alleged

connection between a single word ahypothetical historical context.

Finally, it is important to notice thatthe legal terminology Whittemoreidentifies as key to this 100-sonnetsequence17 is in fact not confined to thesesonnets. We have shown above that“treason” occurs only in sonnet 151.“Prisoner” and “pent” occur in 5. “Conspire”occurs in 10. “Doom and date” occurs in14. “Heinous crime” occurs in 19. “Dowitness bear” occurs in 131. “Prison,” “jail,”“ward” and “pent” occur in 133. “A severalplot” occurs in 137. These examples, few ofmany, illustrate that the alleged “context”of the Essex Rebellion and Southampton’simprisonment is more a statement of thepoet’s legal interests or education andentirely superfluous to the interpretationof most, if not all, of the sonnets in the 100-sonnet sequence.

L’envoyL’envoyL’envoyL’envoyL’envoy

It is both impossible and unnecessaryin a short paper to comment in detail on allof the misapprehensions found inWhittemore’s and Boyle’s articles,18 andour critique has by design been abbreviatedto reflect only a few of the most egregiousproblems; however, we believe theWhittemore-Boyle “monument” theory isflawed both in its method and itsconclusions. The alleged monument failsto manifest the numerical structureattributed to it, and the only point ofchronological plausibility in the entireschema is Sonnet 107 (spring 1603).Contrary to the theory’s claim, it isimpossible to reconcile the entire sequenceof Sonnets 27-126 with the allegedchronological and historical context.

As we have shown, even those sonnetswhich Whittemore and Boyle single outas exemplars of the theory’s persuasiveforce fail to substantiate their claims. Weurge all readers to study carefully thesonnets themselves and to formulate theirown conclusions regarding the utility ofthe “monument” theory. Testing the textagainst the theory will always yield anadvancement of knowledge.

Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:

1 Boyle, William. Shakespeare Matters(Summer 2004), 11.

2 Boyle, ibid., 11.

3 Boyle, ibid., 11.4 Booth, Stephen. An Essay on Shakespeare’s

Sonnets. New Haven and London: YaleUniversity Press, 1969.

5 Boyle, op. cit., 11.6 Helen Vendler, The Art of Shakespeare’s

Sonnets. Cambridge: The Belknap Press ofHarvard, 1997, 148.

7 Whittemore, Hank. Shakespeare Matters(Summer 2004), 18.

8 Whittemore, ibid., 18.9 See, for example, the definition at

www.cogsci.princeton.edu/cgi-bin/webwn.10 Whittemore, op. cit., 20.11 Boyle, op. cit., 12.12 Shake-Speare’s Sonnets: Edited With an

Analytic Commentary by Stephen Booth.New Haven and London: Yale UniversityPress, 1977, 291.

13 Boyle, op. cit., 15; our emphasis.14 Boyle, ibid., 13.15 Here, of course, Whittemore may well reply

that “Time” is a figure “representingElizabeth Tudor, Queen Elizabeth I ofEngland” (16)—if this proposition is true,then it would seem to nullify our criticism,since the “knife” could be both the knife oftime and the executioner’s axe. Unfortu-nately this generalization regarding themeaning of “time” cannot be defended byany convincing evidence. It is awkward, tosay the least, to equate the power of timeto a monarch who is herself subject to themortal aging process. To do so would be tocommit an idolatrous flattery of which webelieve the author wholly innocent. Othereuphemisms, such as “Beauty,” or “Rose,”seem far more appropriate as symbolicreferences to Elizabeth.

16 Boyle, op. cit., 14. Our emphasis.17 Ibid., 20.18 For example, Boyle states that the

publication of Q “was undoubtedlysuppressed,” but the bibliographicalevidence does not support this interpreta-tion and neither does any other concreteevidence of which I am aware. Rollins’s1944 census in The New Variorum Edition(Philadelphia: J.B. Lippincott, 1944)identified 13 surviving copies, a largenumber for a publication as perishable asQ. By contrast, only two copies exist ofHamlet Q1, and seven of the 2nd quarto.These numbers are typical and are notevidence for suppression.




shoulders of a young man painted on awood panel with a fabric label on the backidentifying it as Shakespeare. The Sandersclaims, which have surfaced a number oftimes during the last century and havebeen rejected each time, resurfaced in 2001as the result of an enterprising reporter’ssearch for a story in a Toronto newspapercirculation war. The hype surrounding thepainting, now owned by a Canadian, en-couraged much wishful thinking amongStratfordians seeking a more appealingphysiognomy for their man than theDroeshout and the Stratford monument.As a result of this publicity a conferencewas held in Toronto in November 2002,featuring the experts who had examinedthe Sanders. Also on the panels were FolgerShakespeare Library personnel. Partisansof the Sanders painting were hopeful thatthe conference would proclaim the paint-ing to be a portrait of Shake-speare.

But things soon went awry as the ex-perts began to point out major problemswith the Shake-speare attribution. Much tothe chagrin of the Toronto reporter, thepanelists who dealt directly with the evi-dence displayed polite reservation or out-right skepticism about the Shake-speareattribution. There was one curious excep-tion, the Canadian Conservation Institutepanelist, who spoke on the most techni-cally restricted look at the painting.

After the 2001 Toronto newspaper ar-ticles CCI had been hired by the owner ofthe portrait to try to date it. At that time CCI,which had previously worked mainly formuseums, had experienced financial prob-lems and had lowered its prices to enter themarket for individual private clients.

When CCI chemist Marie ClaudeCorbeil was introduced, the large screenbehind the introducer in the darkenedauditorium blazoned “The Scientific Ex-amination of the Sanders Portrait of Shake-speare.” There arose a murmur from eventhe partisan Stratfordian audience. WhenCorbeil took the podium she stated thatshe was responsible for the wording of thattitle, and that she would discuss the radiog-raphy, the testing of the dating of the woodpanel and the “identification” tag of thepainting.

CCI had done no comparative analysisconnecting its very limited technical ma-

terials testing with the question of whetherthe Sanders is a portrait of Shake-speare.Perhaps the conclusion proclaimed by thetitle of Corbeil’s talk could be attributed tooverzealous Stratfordian partisanship. Thefar more likely explanation is that Corbeilwas simply representing the interests ofher CCI client, the owner of the portrait,who had a huge financial stake in theportrait being that of Shake-speare.

The Folger hires CCI toThe Folger hires CCI toThe Folger hires CCI toThe Folger hires CCI toThe Folger hires CCI toexamine the Ashbourneexamine the Ashbourneexamine the Ashbourneexamine the Ashbourneexamine the Ashbourne

It is then not surprising that the FolgerShakespeare Library turned so far afield inSeptember 2002 for a technical, but ex-tremely limited, materials examination ofthe Ashbourne portrait to shore up theirclaims that Sir Hugh Hamersley is thesitter. In this testing they attempted torefute Charles Wisner Barrell’s experts’ X-ray and infrared testing of the painting. Artexperts had long urged the Folger to sendthe painting out for thorough testing, onerecommending the Amherst College fa-cilities nearby (Amherst trustees overseethe Folger), but this advice was ignored.Possibly the Folger’s sudden interest intesting was in response to my series ofarticles in Shakespeare Matters beginningin the fall of 2001. Those articles, espe-cially articles 3 and 4 in the Spring and Fallof 2002, exposed alterations made to theAshbourne while in the Folger’s posses-sion and provided evidence against theFolger claims that Hamersley is the sitter.Interestingly, they did not attempt to ad-dress or rebut directly any of the evidenceof alterations presented in my articles.

Marie Claude Corbeil was again thechemist and lead scientist (along with Jer-emy Powell) who examined the Ashbourne.Like her Sanders portrait talk, the title ofthe CCI report to the Folger, “ScientificExamination of the Ashbourne Portrait ofShakespeare/Sir Hugh Hamersley,” makesa claim for Hamersley that cannot be jus-tified from the examination that was made.CCI’s limited technical examination pro-vided no proof that the sitter was Hamersley.CCI never examined the coat of arms on thepainting, the Folger’s supposed evidencefor Hamersley, nor did it undertake anycomparative studies linking the paintingto Hamersley. CCI was specifically re-

stricted by the Folger to analysis of only thegold paint in certain parts of the paintingand only the top level of that paint. CCI wasdirected to do radiographic examinationand to look for “any changes” in the paint-ing, but was not provided with crucialbackground information to perform thistask.

Not surprisingly, the CCI report sup-ports the Folger’s claims about theAshbourne in every area, including theirclaim that the inscription is original to thepainting—a critical part of their Hamersleyclaims. Sweeping generalizations aremade from inadequate technical materi-als analysis.

In this article we will analyze the reportshowing how the limitations placed onthis “examination” invalidate the very con-clusions that were drawn. We will concen-trate on the main issues involving the con-dition of the canvas and the related issue ofthe authenticity of the inscription. CCI’s10-page report, containing less than fourpages of text, provides the primary basisfor this analysis.

Additional information was providedfrom the author’s extensive phone inter-view of Marie Claude Corbeil on Novem-ber 8, 2002, after she had completed herreport and sent it to the Folger. The infor-mation from the interview with Ms. Corbeilprovides some important background in-formation not included in the report.

The Folger’s instructions to CCIThe Folger’s instructions to CCIThe Folger’s instructions to CCIThe Folger’s instructions to CCIThe Folger’s instructions to CCI

The mandateThe mandateThe mandateThe mandateThe mandateCorbeil, who very graciously and ex-

tensively answered my questions about theexamination, stated frankly that CCI exam-ines only what the client requests be exam-ined. She said the Folger had “mandated”it to “authenticate the inscription” to de-termine if it was contemporaneous or wasadded later as Barrell suggested, and toreport “any changes” compositionally overthe painting—specifically in relation toBarrell’s findings. In other words, CCI wasaware that the Folger wanted to refute theBarrell examination and conclusions.These areas involved the hair, neck ruff,“CK” initials, the rubbing out of the origi-nal inscription, and Barrell’s (andSpielmann’s) observations that the same

Ashbourne (cont’d from page 1)



Ashbourne (continued from page 15)paint in the later added inscription hadbeen used to paint over the book andthumb ring.

Information not given to CCIInformation not given to CCIInformation not given to CCIInformation not given to CCIInformation not given to CCIThe Folger provided CCI with only

two pieces of information to inform andguide them in “authenticating the inscrip-tion” and in looking for “any changes com-positionally over the painting” in order torespond to Barrell’s findings. These were acopy of the 1940 Scientific American ar-ticle by Barrell, and William Pressly’s ar-ticle from his 1993 book (A Catalog ofPaintings in the Folger Shakespeare Li-brary) stating that Hamersley was the sit-ter.

What the Folger did not provide is mostsignificant. They did not provide their own1948 X-rays, which confirm Barrell in allkey points—despite changes made thatshow up in these X-rays, such as the attemptto remove the “CK” monogram of the art-ist, Cornelis Ketel. They did not providetheir files on the portrait, which includesimportant restoration information andphotos and much that refutes its position.Nor did they provide Pressly’s more exten-sive Shakespeare Quarterly article. Corbeilreceived no pictures of different states ofthe portrait other than the post-1932 blackand white reproduction in the 1940 Scien-tific American article, and the color photofrom the article in Pressly’s book showingthe current state of the painting. She wasnot given any of the recent articles inShakespeare Matters relating to costumedating, coat of arms and Hamersley claims,“CK” monogram issues and evidence ofalterations to the portrait after Barrell, allof which would indicate areas to be scru-tinized. The implication of what was pro-vided is that no changes were made to theportrait after its change into “Shake-speare”and that, after Barrell’s examination, theportrait had been found to be HughHamersley without dispute.

Corbeil was unaware of all this infor-mation. For example, when I told her aboutthe Folger’s 1948 X-rays she replied thathaving those would have helped her. Herconclusions against Barrell in various ar-eas exhibit the importance of this lack ofinformation. In addition, CCI did no com-parative or intellectual analysis of the paint-

ing involving matters such as iconogra-phy, costume, provenance, school of paint-ing, etc. Barrell, on the other hand, did docomparative analysis to supplement hisexperts’ technical examination of the paint-ing.

The Folger also limited the examina-tion in the crucial area of the inscription,which was really the main issue. Therewere two things the Folger needed to “con-firm” here: (1) That Barrell was wrong in

concluding that the original inscriptionwas removed and replaced with a new onewith the dates “1611 age 47,” which fit theStratford man. That is crucial to the Folger’sclaim that the present inscription is theoriginal inscription, but changed from“1612” to “1611.” (2) That the “l” paintedover a possible scraped out “2” was done tochange the 1612 date of Hamersley to fitthe 1611 date of the Stratford man in thechange into Shake-speare. They note that1612 fits Hamersley’s age of 47 in 1612(though it also fits numerous other men inEngland). They claim that a rubbing out ofa possible “2” in the date was overpaintedwith a “l” to fit the Stratford man. Thisclaim is added to the claim that the coat ofarms is Hamersley’s, and thus they con-clude this proves the sitter is Hamersleychanged into Shake-speare. On the surface

it sounds plausible, if Hamersley were thesitter—which all the evidence negates.

Inadequate data for conclusionsInadequate data for conclusionsInadequate data for conclusionsInadequate data for conclusionsInadequate data for conclusionsI described these restrictions on test-

ing and the withheld information to aresearch scientist for a major art museumwhose job involves testing for authenticitypaintings offered to the museum. He re-sponded that he would be very suspiciousof a client who would restrict him to test-ing the top layer of paint only. Nor wouldhe want to be restricted to certain areas totest. He opined that the client had an an-swer it already knew and wanted to receive.As to the withheld information he said hewould want all information about the paint-ing and unequivocal cooperation from theclient. When paintings are tested at hismuseum they are provided with all theintellectual comparative analysis data in-cluding iconography, provenance, historyof the painting, school of painting, etc.,before any testing begins. He said they canoften preclude a period for a painting, butthere are very few absolute dating systemsand in most cases they do not make deter-minations based on very narrow materialstesting, or based on a tiny piece of materialwithout all the background information.From the information I told him he con-cluded that there were not enough data todraw conclusions.

Bias of reportBias of reportBias of reportBias of reportBias of reportBarrell’s major claim was that the

Ashbourne painting was an overpaintedportrait of the Earl of Oxford. The originalinscription had been removed and a newinscription painted to fit the Stratford man’sage (47) in 1611. A full head of hair hadbeen painted over, the arms of Oxford’ssecond wife painted over and other per-sonal iconography of the painting (book,thumb ring) covered and hidden with thesame gold (or orange yellow, as he calledit) paint used in the 1611 inscription.(Spielmann in 1910 had also noted thelatter alterations). The Folger denied thatOxford was the sitter and later claimedfrom dubious information (as we exposedin previous articles) that Sir HughHamersley was the sitter.

This was the issue at the heart of the2002 examination. In her limited materi-als testing, and without doing any com-

“The Folger provided CCI“The Folger provided CCI“The Folger provided CCI“The Folger provided CCI“The Folger provided CCI

with only two pieceswith only two pieceswith only two pieceswith only two pieceswith only two pieces

of information to informof information to informof information to informof information to informof information to inform

and guide them inand guide them inand guide them inand guide them inand guide them in

‘authenticating the‘authenticating the‘authenticating the‘authenticating the‘authenticating the

inscription’ and ininscription’ and ininscription’ and ininscription’ and ininscription’ and in

looking for ‘anylooking for ‘anylooking for ‘anylooking for ‘anylooking for ‘any

changes compositionallychanges compositionallychanges compositionallychanges compositionallychanges compositionally

over the painting...’”over the painting...’”over the painting...’”over the painting...’”over the painting...’”




parative analysis, Corbeil had no ba-sis to make a decision in favor ofHamersley over Oxford. Yet the reportshows acceptance without questionof the Folger claim’s for Hamersley.Like the Sanders portrait title report,the Ashbourne title is conclusive with-out basis. “Scientific Examination ofthe Ashbourne Portrait of Shake-speare/Sir Hugh Hamersley” statesbaldly the acceptance of the Folgerclaims. And doesn’t it sound impres-sive and intimidating, “The ScientificExamination”? We will see how “sci-entific” it is as we look at it moreclosely.

Introduction to the reportIntroduction to the reportIntroduction to the reportIntroduction to the reportIntroduction to the reportFirst, we must comment on the

sleight of hand in the introduction.The report begins by saying the por-trait was believed to be Shakespeareuntil the late 1930s when Barrell’s X-ray and infrared examination “showedthat the portrait was of another sitter”(emphasis added). Even thoughBarrell publicly identified the sitteras Oxford, the CCI report doesn’t evenmention his name. The next sentencecontinues as if it were summarizingBarrell’s findings: “The three mostnotable changes were that a coat ofarms belonging to the first sitter was com-pletely painted over, the date, “1612” waschanged to “1611” so that the age “47” inthe inscription on the painting could cor-respond to Shakespeare’s age, and thehairline of the sitter was raised to imitateShakespeare’s baldness” (p. 3, emphasisadded). The first and third statements re-flect Barrell’s conclusions; the second,however, does not.

She has mixed up the Folger’s conclu-sions with Barrell’s findings. As we havenoted, Barrell’s X-rays showed that theentire original inscription was removedand that the inscription now on the paint-ing was added later in the change to Shake-speare! Corbeil has combined the Folger’sclaim of the “1612” date change and theirclaim that it is the original inscription tomake it seem like one of “three” majorfindings of the original X-ray examinationof the painting! She has also made a con-clusive statement about an issue (the “1612”date change) that is in contention.

She then continues: “In 1979, a con-servators treatment was undertaken atthe Folger Shakespeare Library and thecoat of arms was uncovered and found tocorrespond to that of Sir Hugh Hamersley”(p. 3). This she accepts without question,against Barrell’s finding (which she doesnot mention) that the coat of arms be-longed to Oxford’s second wife. I asked herif she had examined the coat of arms. Sheresponded that she hadn’t looked at it. Nordid she have the Folger files, their 1948 X-rays or the Shakespeare Matters articleshowing alterations to the coat of arms.

The inscriptionThe inscriptionThe inscriptionThe inscriptionThe inscriptionBarrell, himself a photographic expert,

hired the top radiography scientists of thetime to examine the Ashbourne. In 1940Barrell reported the results of this exami-nation in Scientific American, includingthe fact that the original inscription hadbeen scraped out so “vigorously that per-forations were made in the canvas.” He

noted, “…it is still possible to distin-guish the ghostly remnants of bothalphabetical characters and numer-als” (p. 44). From this evidence Barrellconcluded that the inscription nowon the painting was not the originalinscription and that the original hadbeen removed and replaced with the“1611” date and the Stratford man’sage of “47” in that year.

The authenticity of the 1611 in-scription became a crucial issue forthe Folger, which later claimed theportrait was of Hugh Hamersley. Thatidentification was based on incorrectand altered evidence in the coat ofarms that we have exposed in previ-ous articles in Shakespeare Matters.To bolster its claim the Folger main-tained, as we noted, that the date wasoriginal to the painting, and had beenchanged from 1612 (the year in whichHamersley’s age was 47) to 1611 to fitthe Stratford man. The Folger’s claimthat Barrell was wrong about the re-moval of the original inscription andthe substitution of the 1611 inscrip-tion is crucial to the Folger’s claimthat the inscription now on the por-trait is original to the painting. Thisexplains the emphasis on “authenti-cating” the inscription in the Folger’s

instructions to CCI.

The condition of the canvasThe condition of the canvasThe condition of the canvasThe condition of the canvasThe condition of the canvasIn order to “verify” that the inscription

now on the painting is the original, theFolger had to first prove that Barrell waswrong about his X-rays showing that theoriginal inscription had been erased sovigorously that it left perforations in thecanvas. The condition of the canvas thusbecomes a crucial starting point. How didCCI examine the canvas? They didn’t!

Corbeil told me, as appears in the re-port, that she could not see the canvas in theX-rays, but that the canvas was smooth inthe area of the inscription and there was noevidence of scraping. As Barrell’s X-raysshowed evidence of severe scraping thatleft perforations in the canvas, to fullyresolve these contrary reports Corbeilshould have examined the painting for thepossibility of resurfacing. But she chose toaccept what she could see with no further

The Ashbourne portrait as it now appears following restora-tion. Recent technical tests conducted by the CanadianConservation Institute have been cited as evidence backingup the Folger Shakespeare Library’s claim that the originalsitter was Sir Hugh Hamersley, not Edward de Vere asclaimed by Charles Wisner Barrell in his 1940 ScientificAmerican articles.

Fig. 1Fig. 1Fig. 1Fig. 1Fig. 1 By permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare Library



Ashbourne (continued from page 17)

testing.Instead of investigating further, she

assumed that Barrell and his experts had tohave been wrong. This is one of a numberof instances where the withholding of in-formation by the Folger affected the con-clusion of the report. A truly independentinvestigation, aware of the conservator’sreports and alerted by other alterations tothe portrait, would have included a furtherinvestigation behind the inscription to seeif the damaged perforated canvas reportedby Barrell’s experts had been smoothedand covered over so as to be now invisiblein X-rays.

A major metropolitan museum con-servator explained to me how a paintingcould be resurfaced so that prior scrapingwas no longer visible. He said that someconservationists are experts in replicatingsurfaces. After making the repair the re-storer would only need to lay down a whitelead oil-based medium that absorbs X-raysand then, knowing the composition of thenearby paint, incorporate the area into thesurrounding paint. A skillful restorer couldcover scraping and the surface would thusappear smooth on an X-ray. The canvaswould not be visible in the X-ray due to thewhite lead medium. Skilled observersmight detect a disturbance in the area in anX-ray if they are looking for it, whichwould then require further analysis of thepaint layers. Because evidence of a priorinscription is so critical a point of disputein the Ashbourne painting, this area of theinscription should have been examinedand tested for the possibility of resurfac-ing.

I asked Corbeil if she had looked at theback of the canvas for evidence of perfora-tions or filling of holes and she said no, thepainting was re-lined, she couldn’t see thecanvas at all.

“Furthermore the canvas is in perfect“Furthermore the canvas is in perfect“Furthermore the canvas is in perfect“Furthermore the canvas is in perfect“Furthermore the canvas is in perfectcondition.”condition.”condition.”condition.”condition.”

A month later I was astonished to readin the report, after a referral to Barrell’scomments on the rubbing out of a previousinscription, the statement: “Furthermore,the canvas is in perfect condition and doesnot show any perforations” (p. 4). I lookedfor a reference in the report to any exami-nation of the canvas to back up this state-

ment. There was none. Corbeil had told methat she had not seen the canvas. How couldany statement be made about the condi-tion of the canvas without ever havingexamined it? Much less that it “is in perfectcondition”?

Here is what the Folger’s own files(which were not provided to Corbeil) sayabout the condition of the canvas. In July1979 conservator Peter Michaels workedon patching the back of the canvas before

relining. He notes in his report, “removeold lining, begin scraping glue, removewax from back fill holes and thin spots withettl mache—apply patches.” Later he notes,“apply more fillings to weak areas in re-verse—apply patches—apply patches[again]…line on heavy canvas with waxresin.”

In July 1988 conservator Arthur Pagenoted in his recommended treatment, “Re-move and/or level any excessive fills witha scalpel” and “Remove wax-resin liningand any patch/fill materials which contrib-ute exaggerated thickness to the originalcanvas.”

Michaels verifies the existence of holesin the canvas and Page in turn verifiesMichaels’s patches of areas in the canvas.These appear to be extensive. Michaels alsonotes thin spots that have been patched

previously and weak areas, hardly a de-scription of a canvas “in perfect condi-tion,” but a clear confirmation of Barrell’sreport that the original inscription hadbeen scraped so vigorously that it left per-forations in the canvas. Early canvases werethinner than later ones (we dated the paint-ing by costume and the “CK” initials andother information to c.1579 in a previousarticle). Scraping and rubbing to erasesomething is precisely the kind of actionthat would have created holes and thinspots.

Failure to disprove the existence of aprior scraped out inscription therefore in-validates any CCI testing of the presentinscription. Nevertheless the CCI “tested”the 1611 inscription following the Folger’srestrictive directions and concluded, asmight be expected, that it was the originalinscription.

Varnish testing claimsVarnish testing claimsVarnish testing claimsVarnish testing claimsVarnish testing claimsThe varnish test involved determining

whether the inscription sat above or belowthe varnish, in order to establish whetherthe inscription had been painted at thesame time as the painting or later. Gener-ally, if the inscription paint is above thevarnish, it was painted after the paintingwas completed. If no varnish is foundbelow the inscription, it was likely paintedat the time the portrait was made, afterwhich a coat of finishing varnish wouldhave been applied to the entire painting,inscription and all. However, as an inscrip-tion can be added any time later, this is ahighly speculative assumption. But the ma-jor assumption underlying the varnish testby CCI involved a prior conclusion, basedon insufficient examination and testing,that Barrell had been wrong about theexistence of a previous inscription that hadbeen scraped, and which also left ghostlyremnants of letters, a few of which can beseen in the Scientific American photo andin the 1948 X-rays (especially directly abovethe “S” of SVAE). Interestingly it was onlythis “S” that was used to test for varnish bygoing down under layers of pigment witha sample cross-section of this letter.

Corbeil concluded from this small var-nish test that the inscription was originalbecause there was no varnish under the “S.”But that conclusion assumed that Barrellwas wrong about a previous inscription, a

“Because evidence of a“Because evidence of a“Because evidence of a“Because evidence of a“Because evidence of a

prior inscription is soprior inscription is soprior inscription is soprior inscription is soprior inscription is so

critical a point of disputecritical a point of disputecritical a point of disputecritical a point of disputecritical a point of dispute

in the Ashbourne painting,in the Ashbourne painting,in the Ashbourne painting,in the Ashbourne painting,in the Ashbourne painting,

this area of the inscriptionthis area of the inscriptionthis area of the inscriptionthis area of the inscriptionthis area of the inscription

should have been exam-should have been exam-should have been exam-should have been exam-should have been exam-

ined and tested for theined and tested for theined and tested for theined and tested for theined and tested for the

possibility of resurfacing.”possibility of resurfacing.”possibility of resurfacing.”possibility of resurfacing.”possibility of resurfacing.”




conclusion we have already shown to beinvalid. Her conclusion was also based onan assumption that Barrell was talkingabout an inscription simply put on top ofan already varnished painting. But that isnot what Barrell stated. He stated that theoriginal inscription was vigorously re-moved. If paint in the inscription area waslargely removed, then the varnish on top ofthat paint would also have been removed atthe same time. The entire area would haveto be repainted before the new inscriptionwas added and then varnish added on topof the new inscription. So there would beno varnish under at least part (if not all) ofa new inscription (because we don’t knowexactly how much of the old inscriptionarea is covered with the new inscription).Thus Corbeil’s test that found no varnishunder the “S” also directly supportsBarrell’s conclusion that the original in-scription was removed. And if varnish wereto be found under some, but not all of theinscription, that would be further proof ofBarrell’s findings. Perhaps that is why onlyone letter was chosen for testing.

Thus the conservator’s evidence sup-porting Barrell on the scraped and perfo-rated canvas, showing a prior inscription,and the suspicious inability of X-rays topenetrate the inscription area all the way tothe canvas, comes back to haunt this ex-amination. CCI’s conclusion from the var-nish testing that the present inscription isthe original is invalid, and can just asreasonably be used to support Barrell’sfindings.

CCI claims from paint testingCCI claims from paint testingCCI claims from paint testingCCI claims from paint testingCCI claims from paint testingthat the inscription is originalthat the inscription is originalthat the inscription is originalthat the inscription is originalthat the inscription is original

As noted, the Folger placed rigid re-strictions on paint analysis. They restrictedchemical testing of the paint only to thegold paint in certain areas. Two placeswere tested, the last “1” in “1611” and thesame paint that appears on an area of thebook. Only the top layer of paint was testedon both. Also, the top layer of the gold ororange yellow “old” paint from the letter“S” was tested.

As I noted in a previous article, arthistorian Spielmann, who first observedthe painting in 1910, and Barrell in 1937,noted that the entire inscription was paintedwith the same gold paint as in the

overpainting of the book and the signetthumb ring. Spielmann noted that all ofthose additions were of an ancient applica-tion. Michaels (in his 1979 restorationwork) noted that the inscription paint wasvery old and hard. None of them remarkson any numeral that stands out with adifferent paint, or that such different paintis also used to overpaint the book or ring—which is what the Folger will claim aftertheir 1988-89 restoration. Barrell notedthat the paint on the book and ring coveredover personal identifications of the sitter.A rubbing taken by Barrell of the thickpaint over the signet ring revealed a boar’shead.

These statements from Spielmann,Barrell and Michaels about the paint presentproblems for the Folger, especially in theirlater claims that the sitter is Sir HughHamersley. For them the whole inscrip-tion cannot be all the same paint. If it were,that would negate their claim that the

original inscription for Hamersley waschanged long after the portrait was painted,with the original “1612” being changed byrubbing out a “2” and replacing it with a “l”in order to have a 1611 date that wouldmatch Shake-speare’s age (47) in 1611. Inaddition, the other changes involving thepainting over the book, etc., at the sametime have to fit this changed “1” paint andnot the paint of the whole inscription asdescribed by Spielmann and Barrell.

When numerous old color photos(Spielmann’s, Ruth Loyd Miller’s, and con-servator Michael’s pre-restoration colorphoto) of the painting are compared, thelettering and numbering all looks like thesame old gold paint, corroboratingSpielmann’s and Barrell’s observations.There is no difference in paint color in thefinal “l” of “1611.” The first difference inthe paint color of the “1” shows up in acolor photo from the slide of the paintingas it appears now, after the 1988-89 Folgerrestoration directed by William Pressly.The “1” in the painting now looks like adifferent paint, a paler lemony yellowrather than the gold in the rest of theinscription. And it looks newer. The newpaint also appears on parts of the book butit is most visible in the “1” in the inscrip-tion.

Corbeil also noticed that this paint ofthe “l” is different. She notes that the “yel-low-painted areas” which she examinedbut did not chemically test (except for thetop layer in the “S”) were painted using “agolden yellow paint. However, the number‘1’ painted over the scraped off number ‘2’of the date and the mask on the book coverwere painted using a different pale yellowpaint. While the golden yellow paint showsnumerous signs of age…the pale yellowpaint looks newer in comparison” (pp. 4-5).

She notes that the golden yellow paintof the inscription (from the “S”) was madeof lead tin yellow type I, a paint “mostfrequently used in the fifteenth, sixteenth,and seventeenth centuries, and has neverbeen found in a painting done after 1750”(p.5). This will be a significant date.

The pale yellow “newer” paint of the “l”and over the mask on the book was foundto be “cerussite, probably massicot.”Corbeil told me that such paint has long

The key issue about the tests done by the CanadianConservation Institute involve the Folger’s in-structions to test only the top layer of paint in thefinal “1” of the “1611” date. As can be seen in theenlargements of the dates above, an original dateof “1612” had apparently been changed to “1611.”But when? And why? A comparison of the dates ofthe paint in the inscription would be crucial,but were the tests conducted by CCI a fair compari-son? (Fig. 2 is taken from a 1961 B&W Folger imageof the portrait; Fig. 3 is how the inscription nowappears, with the “1” remaining but a scraped out“2” also showing.)

Fig. 2Fig. 2Fig. 2Fig. 2Fig. 2

Fig. 3Fig. 3Fig. 3Fig. 3Fig. 3 By permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare LibraryBy permission, Folger Shakespeare Library



Ashbourne (continued from page 19)been in use and that she couldn’t date it. Iasked her if that paint could be 20th or 21st

century paint. She admitted that it couldbe. But in her report she does not mentionthat possibility and obscures the issue sothat the general reader would not under-stand its significance. She says, “Massicotis a traditional pigment, the presence ofwhich does not help in determining whenthe pale yellow paint was applied” (p. 5).

Pressly’s directions concerning thePressly’s directions concerning thePressly’s directions concerning thePressly’s directions concerning thePressly’s directions concerning theinscriptioninscriptioninscriptioninscriptioninscription

In William Pressly’s June 28, 1988,Memorandum to Folger Director WernerGundersheimer about how to incorporateelements of Hamersley into the Ashbourneportrait and what directions to give to theconservator Page, he addresses the issue ofthe “l” in the inscription:

As for the inscription, enough of the“2” survives from the original date of 1612that it would be easy to reconstruct. The “l”at the end of 1611 would not be perma-nently removed: it would only beoverpainted (emphasis added).

Here in Pressly’s own words is the ex-planation for the sudden appearance of thepale lemon yellow “1” in the painting. Itconfirms that the “1” the Folger paintedover—and that Pressly even contemplatedremoving!—was originally of the sameold paint as the rest of the inscription. Itappears that paint which cannot be datedwas specifically chosen to paint over thisold “1.” The same pale lemon yellow paintwas also used on the “mask” on the bookcover to make it appear that this changewas done at the same time as the “l” in thisconcocted change into Shake-speare fromHamersley. Here was another “proof” forHamersley added by the Folger to thepainting.

What about the shadowy scraped offfigure behind the “1” that could be con-strued as a “2” and shows up in Barrell’s X-rays? Is there an explanation? Yes, and it hasnothing to do with Hamersley. The sim-plest explanation that fits all the knownfacts is that it was a mistake made at thetime the entire inscription was added andwas corrected immediately. Someone gotthe year wrong or age wrong for the Strat-

ford man and it was easier to correct the “l”than to change the age. This explanationcomports with the fact that the “1” on thepainting was originally of the same paintas the other numerals, as noted by observ-ers and documented in color photos. Asfor the Folger’s claims, it is mere coinci-dence that Hamersley was age 47 in 1612.The evidence confirms Barrell’s conclu-sion that the entire original inscriptionwas removed and replaced with the entire

inscription now on the painting.One further conclusion can be drawn

from CCI’s testing of the paint in the “S” ofthe inscription. According to CCI thispaint has never been found past 1750.Therefore the inscription and otherchanges to the portrait into Shake-spearehad to have been done prior to 1750. Thiseliminates Kingston as the person whoaltered this portrait into Shake-speare, ashe was first connected with the Ashbourneportrait in 1847. Other evidence aboutKingston corroborates that view. It cameto him or to the Ashbourne School as aportrait of Shake-speare. Future articles inShakespeare Matters will discuss theportrait’s provenance and dates of change.

Perhaps if CCI had the Folger files theywould not have concluded so readily from

the paint of the “1” that the Folger wascorrect and Barrell wrong. To quoteCorbeil, “However, the number ‘1’ paintedover the partially scraped off ‘2’ in the dateand the mask on the book cover werepainted using the same pale yellow paint,different in composition from the goldenyellow paint used in the rest of the painting.It is likely that these elements were addedwhen the portrait of the original sitter wastransformed into Shakespeare” (p.7). Weagree that those elements were added, butwe know now they were added in 1988-89.

Did Corbeil pick up some of the originalDid Corbeil pick up some of the originalDid Corbeil pick up some of the originalDid Corbeil pick up some of the originalDid Corbeil pick up some of the originalgold paint with her sample?gold paint with her sample?gold paint with her sample?gold paint with her sample?gold paint with her sample?

I will speculate about something thatpuzzled Corbeil and seems also to confirmthis overpainting of the “1” from a techni-cal perspective. She was to take off only thetop layer of paint. Because she did notknow that the “1” had been overpaintedonly very recently, she probably picked upby accident stray pigment from the origi-nal “1” underneath of the same gold coloras the rest of the inscription.

She notes that the old gold yellow paint(lead tin yellow) has what appear to be“lead soap inclusions which are frequentlyobserved in paint films pigmented withlead based pigments such as lead white andlead tin yellow. This phenomenon is notobserved in the pale yellow paint” (p. 5).The pale yellow paint she identified asmassicot. She was puzzled at the presenceof cerussite in the massicot paint that wasapplied to the top layer by the Folger:“However the presence of cerussite is un-usual: while cerussite (lead carbonate) isoften found associated with lead white(lead carbonate hydroxide, a traditionalwhite pigment) as an impurity, it has rarelybeen observed by itself” (p. 5).

Now put the two together with theknowledge of the Folger’s overpaintingwith the pale yellow paint. The gold yellowpaint of the original inscription (lead tinyellow) contained lead soap inclusions.Cerussite is often found associated withlead white. Could it be that, in picking upthe top layer sample of the pale yellowpaint used to paint over the old “1,” Corbeiljust happened to also pick up stray bits ofcerussite from the gold paint below? Or,perhaps, was lead white used on top of the

“Here in Pressly’s own“Here in Pressly’s own“Here in Pressly’s own“Here in Pressly’s own“Here in Pressly’s own

words is the explanationwords is the explanationwords is the explanationwords is the explanationwords is the explanation

for the sudden appearancefor the sudden appearancefor the sudden appearancefor the sudden appearancefor the sudden appearance

of the pale lemon yellowof the pale lemon yellowof the pale lemon yellowof the pale lemon yellowof the pale lemon yellow

‘1’... It confirms that the‘1’... It confirms that the‘1’... It confirms that the‘1’... It confirms that the‘1’... It confirms that the

‘1’ the Folger painted over‘1’ the Folger painted over‘1’ the Folger painted over‘1’ the Folger painted over‘1’ the Folger painted over

... was originally of the... was originally of the... was originally of the... was originally of the... was originally of the

same old paint as thesame old paint as thesame old paint as thesame old paint as thesame old paint as the

rest of the inscription”rest of the inscription”rest of the inscription”rest of the inscription”rest of the inscription”



“What is badly needed“What is badly needed“What is badly needed“What is badly needed“What is badly needed

is a full technicalis a full technicalis a full technicalis a full technicalis a full technical

examination overseenexamination overseenexamination overseenexamination overseenexamination overseen

by independent expertsby independent expertsby independent expertsby independent expertsby independent experts

and by both sides ofand by both sides ofand by both sides ofand by both sides ofand by both sides of

the dispute who have fullthe dispute who have fullthe dispute who have fullthe dispute who have fullthe dispute who have full

documentation of all thedocumentation of all thedocumentation of all thedocumentation of all thedocumentation of all the

history of alterationshistory of alterationshistory of alterationshistory of alterationshistory of alterations

to the portrait.”to the portrait.”to the portrait.”to the portrait.”to the portrait.”

old gold pigment of the “l” before paintingit over with the pale yellow to shield it frombeing seen by X-ray or from having thegold paint beneath picked up in a topsample? Regardless, Corbeil picked upsomething below this top layer samplethat didn’t fit the paint in the sample.

The “CK” monogram, neckThe “CK” monogram, neckThe “CK” monogram, neckThe “CK” monogram, neckThe “CK” monogram, neckruff and coat of armsruff and coat of armsruff and coat of armsruff and coat of armsruff and coat of arms

We will briefly discuss other issueswhere Corbeil concluded that Barrell waswrong and the Folger was right. She didn’tsee the “CK” initials. As noted in a previousarticle, attempts were made to remove the“CK” initials after Barrell’s 1940 ScientificAmerican article and before the 1948 X-rays. The very visible and identifiable rem-nants of the “CK” initials are still in the spotin the coat of arms where Barrell’s X-raysshow them and where the Folger’s own1948 X-rays show them. Even Pressly ad-mitted the remnants were there in thearticle Corbeil had. Maybe she didn’t lookhard enough for them. Regarding the neckruff, Corbeil says Barrell maintained it wasdouble the size of the visible ruff but shedid not observe this on the CCI infrared orX-ray. I am almost afraid to venture a guessas to what might have been done to whatwas visible of the old ruff in Barrell’s X-raypicture in the Scientific American—givenall the alterations we have uncovered thusfar. As we noted, Corbeil never even con-sidered the coat of arms worth looking atand took the Folger’s word that it wasHamersley.

ConclusionConclusionConclusionConclusionConclusion

It is significant that the CCI conclusionssupport the Folger’s long-held positions,in opposition to Barrell’s findings, andoften in opposition to the information inthe Folger’s own files. We have shown thatthese conclusions lack credibility andvalidity, beginning with the condition ofthe canvas and following through theinscription changes to the “CK” initialsand the lack of any examination of the coatof arms. We have noted the limitationsimposed by the Folger regarding paintanalysis and the withholding of importantbackground information necessary for anunderstanding of where to look for

changes. This limited technicalexamination is nothing more than acherry-picking exercise to verify theFolger’s foregone conclusions.

This examination of the report has ad-duced evidence of further alterations tothe painting in the inscription area—namely the overpainting of the “1” that CCIwas to test in only the top layer. It has alsoprovided technical evidence that supple-ments other evidence against Kingston’s

having altered the painting into Shake-speare. Ironically, our examination of thisreport has brought out more evidenceagainst Hamersley.

What is badly needed is a full technicalexamination overseen by independent ex-perts and by both sides of the dispute whohave full documentation of all the historyof alterations to the portrait. Such an analy-sis must be augmented with equally im-portant comparative analysis of other as-pects of the painting such as costume,provenance, artist, etc. The excuse cannotbe made that further microscopic paintanalysis would damage the painting—con-sidering all the abuse it has undergone.Analysis of all layers of paint— and in somecases the underlayment—is needed in anumber of areas of the coat of arms, the

“CK” area, the ruff area, the inscription, thewrist ruffs, the book, ring, gauntlet, headarea, nose, etc. Examination for resurfac-ing is needed in the inscription area as wellas examination of the back of the canvas inthis and the ruff area, etc. But this is a highlyunlikely prospect at this time. Hopefully,a regard for the integrity of this extremelyimportant painting would now prevail atthe Folger, to prevent any further alter-ations and destruction. The Folger has aresponsibility to preserve this invaluableportrait for future generations.

In the meantime the truth about thepainting does not have to wait for furthertechnical analysis. Were it not for the Ox-ford Shake-speare issue involved, therewould have been little or no dispute overit in the first place. Barrell’s discoveriesabout the overpainting of this portrait of anobleman, along with later research con-cerning the costume, provenance, iconog-raphy, etc., is enough now to convince anyfair-minded art expert of the identity anddating of this portrait without any furthertechnical investigation.

The evidence is there, were it not for thethreat of Oxford as the real Shake-speare tothe Stratfordian establishment. That is thecrux of this battle over the Ashbourne thatthe Folger purchased in 1931 as a genuineportrait of Shake-speare—the largest andfinest portrait of the true Bard.

SourcesSourcesSourcesSourcesSources

Barrell, Charles Wisner, “Identifying Shake-speare,” Scientific American, (January,1940): 4-8 and 43-45.

Corbeil, Marie-Claude, CCI chemist, Phone con-versation regarding Ashbourne examina-tion (November 8, 2002).

Corbeil, Marie-Claude and Powell, Jeremy, Ca-nadian Conservation Institute, Scientific Ex-amination of The Ashbourne Portrait ofShakespeare/Sir Hugh Hamersley for theFolger Shakespeare Library. Washington,DC, USA, (October 11, 2002).

Folger Shakespeare Library, The AshbournePortrait Files. Michaels Conservation Fileand Page Conservation File.

James, A. Everett, Jr., SC. M, J.D., M.D. Radiol-ogy of Fakes and Forgeries in Art, CRCPress LLC (1998): 265-277.

Private conversations with museum conserva-tionist and research scientist, which theyrequested not be attributed.

Spielmann, M.H., F.S.A. “The Ashbourne Por-trait of Shakespeare, I and II” The Connois-seur (Jan-April 1910, May-Aug 1910): 244-250 and 38-42.



ColumnColumnColumnColumnColumnA year in the lifeA year in the lifeA year in the lifeA year in the lifeA year in the lifeBy Hank WhittemoreBy Hank WhittemoreBy Hank WhittemoreBy Hank WhittemoreBy Hank Whittemore

1601 (II): “I ... watch the clock for you”

On the evening of February 19, 1601,as the day-long treason trial drew toits close amid the lofty gloom of

Westminster Hall, the twenty-five peerson the tribunal delivered their unanimousverdict one by one in order of rank, fromlowest to highest, ending with Edward deVere, Earl of Oxford, who now uttered thesingle public word from his lips all day:“Guilty.”

Robert Devereux and HenryWriothesley, the Earls of Essex andSouthampton, were brought again to thebar. “The peers here, who have heard theevidence and your answer in defense, havefound you guilty,” said the Clerk of theCrown, who glared at Essex: “Now whatcan you say for yourself why you should nothave judgment of death?”

The tall, proud Lord Essex replied byparaphrasing a well-known line ofShakespeare (from Henry IV, Part 1 whenPrince Hall tells Sir John Falstaff: “Why,thou owest a death!”) as he addressed thejudges: “I do not speak to save my life, forI see that were in vain. I owe God a death,which shall be welcome how soon ever itpleaseth her Majesty!”

Given that Shakespeare himself washearing his own written words within thisreal-life context, it would be difficult tofind a more extraordinary historicalmoment – except for when Southampton,his beloved Fair Youth of the privatesonnets, turned to the noble audience andpleaded for help:

“I pray you truly to inform the Queen ofmy penitence,1 and be a means for me toHer Majesty to grant me her graciouspardon. 2 I know I have offended3 her, yetif it please her to be merciful unto me, Imay, by my future service, deserve my life4 … I have spent the best part of mypatrimony in Her Majesty’s service, withfrequent danger of my life, as yourLordships well know … But since I amfound guilty by the law, I do submit myselfto death, yet not despairing of Her Majesty’smercy to me.”

For Oxford, in that dank Westminstercourtroom, this may have been the most

painful of all the sorrows he had enduredin his half-century of life to now. Sevenyears earlier he had publicly committedhimself to Henry Wriothesley by pledging

in print: “The love I dedicate to yourLordship is without end … What I havedone is yours, what I have to do is yours,being part in all I have devoted yours.”5

Privately he had celebrated his personalbond with Southampton by telling himhow “happy I that love and am beloved”while calling him “Lord of my love, towhom in vassalage thy merit hath my dutystrongly knit.”6 Yet just now, having nochoice in the matter, he had voted to sendthe 27-year-old earl to death – for a crimeagainst the state that he himself may havehelped to trigger through writings such asRichard II, which had been revived forpolitical propaganda on the eve of thefailed attempt to remove Secretary RobertCecil from his power behind the throne.7

Given that he had made suchdeclarations to Southampton, it becomesvirtually impossible to think that Oxford,who so desperately clung to the truth as thelast defense against the erosion of his soul,would fail now to do what he could to helphim. Also, given his compulsion to express

the truth in words, and having alreadydone so in private sonnets to HenryWriothesley, it is just as unthinkable thathe would fail amid the current crisis to takeup his “tables” or writing tablets with avengeance, motivated with a greater thanever sense of mission to set the recordstraight. 8

Such is the perspective of TheMonument, my forthcoming edition ofShake-Speares Sonnets, presented to setforth and demonstrate a coherentexplanation of both the form and thecontent of the 154 consecutively numberedverses. In my view Oxford reacted toSouthampton’s tragedy by launching intowhat would become the most intenselysustained poetical sequence the world hasknown. The scenario envisions him writingtwo or three sonnets at a single sitting oreven up to a dozen at a time, before revisingand carefully arranging the initialoutpouring with 60 sonnets in precisecorrelation with 60 days—from Sonnet27, upon the imprisonment of Southamp-ton on the night of February 8, 1601, forplaying a lead role in the Essex Rebellion,until Sonnet 86 in alignment with thecalendar on April 8, 1601, two months later.9

These 60 daily sonnets, ultimatelycomprising the first segment of a 100-sonnet center within Oxford’s “monument”of verse for posterity, coincide with eventsthat came one upon another as the Cecil-run government rushed to ensure its ownsafety, exaggerate the rebels’ crimes andprosecute them with all the power andauthority of the Crown to carry out itsjustice of choice. Unfolding pell-mell werethe public proclamations of treason, thesummoning of the peers, the Essex-Southampton trial on February 19, thebeheading of Essex six days later at theTower of London; the trial and condem-nation of five others at Westminster Hallon March 5; the public mutilation of two ofthem on March 13 at Tyburn and thebeheading of two more on March 18 atTower Hill, where Londoners continued togather each morning in expectation ofSouthampton’s death, until it dawned on

“...Oxford reacted to“...Oxford reacted to“...Oxford reacted to“...Oxford reacted to“...Oxford reacted to

Southampton’s tragedy bySouthampton’s tragedy bySouthampton’s tragedy bySouthampton’s tragedy bySouthampton’s tragedy by

launching into whatlaunching into whatlaunching into whatlaunching into whatlaunching into what

would become the mostwould become the mostwould become the mostwould become the mostwould become the most

intensely sustainedintensely sustainedintensely sustainedintensely sustainedintensely sustained

poetical sequence thepoetical sequence thepoetical sequence thepoetical sequence thepoetical sequence the

world has known.”world has known.”world has known.”world has known.”world has known.”



them that he had been spared.Within this chronological framework

Oxford is viewed as continuing apace byrecording his agreement with Cecil tofurther conceal his relationship withSouthampton from the world and bury hisname beneath that of “Shakespeare,”culminating with Sonnets 78-86 of the so-called Rival Poet series. He would beginthe next 20 verses with Sonnet 87 (revealingthe new, lesser judgment againstSouthampton of “misprision” of treason)and cover the remaining two years of hisimprisonment until Sonnet 106, therebycompleting this extraordinary “Chronicleof wasted time” in correspondence withthe younger earl’s final night in the Toweron April 9, 1603.10

By this reckoning Oxford includes 80sonnets to record the full two years and twomonths during which Southampton wasreduced to the commoner “Mr. Wriothes-ley, Henry” (legally “the late earl”) whileremaining “supposed as forfeit to aconfined doom” in Her Majesty’s fortress.11

He followed with a series of 20 sonnets(107-126), matching each of the 19 daysbetween April 10 (when Southampton wasactually liberated from imprisonment) andApril 28, 1603 (the date of Elizabeth’sfuneral, the official end of the Tudordynasty), capped by the concluding envoy(126), addressed to “my lovely Boy.”

So ends the 100-sonnet center (seeFigure 1 for highlights) of the “monument”that Oxford would build for Southampton.

Within this sequence he would promisehim in Sonnet 55 to preserve the “livingrecord of your memory” and reinforce thatpledge in Sonnet 81 with concise testimonythat he had agreed to “die” or allow his ownidentity as “Shakespeare” to stay hiddenfrom contemporary view and disappearcompletely for at least some generationsto come:

From hence your memory death cannottake,

Although in me each part will be forgotten.Your name from hence immortal life shall

have,Though I (once gone) to all the world must

die…Your monument shall be my gentle verse,Which eyes not yet created shall o’er-read…

Shortly after the trial, waiting in theTower to learn his fate, Essex also began toset down his thoughts and feelings in

poetical form. During the four days leadingto his execution, he completed 384 lines tothe Queen:

I see that my continuance in this placeCannot be long…To gain thy favor whil’st my life dost last...Ev’n in the meanest place to wait on thee 12

Essex’s use of “place” for the Towerrecalled the trial, when the Lord HighSteward told the two condemned lords:“You both shall be led from hence to theplace from whence you came, and there toremain during her Majesty’s pleasure—from thence to be drawn upon a hurdlethrough the midst of the City, and so to theplace of execution…”13

The unmistakable reference to theroyal prison-fortress as the “place” appearsin Sonnet 44 on February 25, 1601, whenEssex lost his head to the executioner’s axe.Oxford, using the “noted weed” or familiarcostume of poetry,14 vows that the “thought”in his mind can nimbly leap to the “place”where “he” (the thought) would prefer tobe:

No matter then although my foot did standUpon the farthest earth removed from

thee,For nimble thought can jump both sea and

landAs soon as think the place where he would

be.

In the very next line, alluding to theexpectation that Southampton will followEssex on the scaffold, Oxford feels theblade on his own neck as well:

But ah, thought kills me…

In Sonnet 45 he continues to merge hislife with that of the younger earl:

My life being made of four, with two aloneSinks down to death…

And in the ensuing days he will confrontdeath by referring both to Southampton’smortality and to his own obliteration:

“Die to themselves … Sweet deaths”(54); “Gainst death and all oblivious enmity”(55); “This thought is as a death” (64);“For restful death I cry … Save that to die”(66); “After my death … deceased I” (72);“Death’s second self … As the death bed”(73)…

Within the 80 prison verses this threadwill reach a crescendo in the powerfullines of Sonnet 81, when their twin fatescome together in a single great reckoningwith fate:

Or shall I live your Epitaph to make,Or you survive when I in earth am rotten,From hence your memory death cannot

take,Although in me each part will be forgotten.

THE 100-SONNET CENTERSonnets 27 - 126

THE PRISON YEARS SONNETS 27 – 106 (80)

Sonnet 27 Feb 8, 1601 Rebellion and ImprisonmentSonnet 30 Feb 11, 1601 Peers Summoned to TrialSonnet 38 Feb 19, 1601 Trial of Essex-SouthamptonSonnet 44 Feb 25, 1601 Execution of EssexSonnet 52 March 5, 1601 Trial of other ConspiratorsSonnet 60 March 13, 1601 Merrick & Cuffe ExecutedSonnet 65 March 18, 1601 Danvers & Blount ExecutedSonnet 66 March 19, 1601 Southampton’s Life SparedSonnet 87 April 9, 1601 “Misprision” of TreasonSonnet 97 Feb 8, 1602 1st Anniversary of RebellionSonnet 104 Feb 8, 1603 2nd Anniversary of RebellionSonnet 105 March 24, 1603 Death of Queen Elizabeth ISonnet 106 April 9, 1603 Final Night in the Tower

THE FINAL DAYS SONNETS 107 – 126 (20)

Sonnet 107 April 10, 1603 Liberation by King JamesSonnet 125 April 28, 1603 Funeral of Queen ElizabethSonnet 126 April 29, 1603 Farewell to Southampton


Figure 1



“The death of Essex left Sir RobertCecil without a rival in the Court or cabinet,”Strickland writes, “and he soon establishedhimself as the all-powerful ruler of therealm.”15

“The fall of Essex may be said to datethe end of the reign of Elizabeth in regardto her activities and glories,” Stopes adds.“After that she was Queen only in name.She listened to her councilors, signed herpapers, and tried to retrench in expenditure;but her policy was dependent on thedecisions of Sir Robert Cecil.”16

The Secretary had envisioned evenswifter revenge. “By the time my lettersshall come unto you,” he had written to SirGeorge Carew two days after the failedRebellion, “both he [Essex] and the Earl ofSouthampton, with some of the otherprincipals, shall have lost their heads.”17

Edward de Vere would have to dealwith Cecil, his brother-in-law, to secure astay of the younger earl’s execution. Tofurther gain the promise of Southampton’seventual release with a royal pardon, hewould be forced to continue at theSecretary’s mercy. In the near future Cecilwould enter a secret correspondence withJames VI of Scotland, preparing for theKing’s succession while retaining his ownpower behind the throne; and it may wellbe that Oxford himself would become theunidentified “40” in the correspondence.18

“I must plainly confess that both ye andyour faithful colleague 40 have by yourvigilant and judicious care so easily settledme in the only right course for my good,”James would write to Cecil on June 3,1602, adding, “I always and ever shallaccount [you and 40] as one.” The Kingwould also write to the hunchbackedSecretary “assuring 40 that with God’sgrace he shall never be disappointed of hisconfidence in my honesty upon yourrelation … and thus, praying 40 to beassured that by your means only he shallhear from me.” (On July 29, 1602, however,the King would write directly to “40,”promising “that all my dealings with youshall ever be accompanied with these threequalities: honesty, secrecy, and constancy,”reiterating that “I will deal with you by noother way but by the means of 10 [Cecil].”19

Our previous column concluded 20days (and 20 sonnets) after the failedRebellion and only two days after thebeheading of Essex. In Sonnet 46 on

February 27, 1601, Oxford echoes the trialand how Southampton, upon the verdict,delivered a plea for the Queen’s mercy. Keywords are woven within his poetical fabric:

My heart doth plead that thou in him dostlie…

But the defendant doth that plea deny…To ‘cide this title is impaneledA quest of thoughts, all tenants to the

heart,And by their verdict is determined…

Such words are found in a similarcontext in the plays of English royal history:

“What lawful questlawful questlawful questlawful questlawful quest [jury] hath have giventheir verdict verdict verdict verdict verdict up unto the frowning judge?”– Richard III, 1.4.180; “Thy son is banishedupon good advice, whereto thy tongue aparty-verdict verdict verdict verdict verdict gave” – Richard II, 1.3.233;“Forthwith that Edward should bepronounced a traitor and all his lands andgoods be confiscate [Southampton’scurrent fate]. What else? And thatsuccession be determineddetermineddetermineddetermineddetermined [Cecil’s currentgoal]” – 3 Henry VI, 4.6.54

February 28: “A League”February 28: “A League”February 28: “A League”February 28: “A League”February 28: “A League”Oxford in Sonnet 47 alludes to the

“league” or alliance that Secretary Cecilhas forced him to enter on Southampton’sbehalf:

Betwixt my eye and heart a league is took…

“You peers, continue this united leagueleagueleagueleagueleague” – Richard III, 2.1.2

March 1: “Locked Up”March 1: “Locked Up”March 1: “Locked Up”March 1: “Locked Up”March 1: “Locked Up”Continuing this historical record in

Sonnet 48, he refers to the “wards” orguards at the Tower:

How careful was I, when I took my way,Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,That to my use it might unused stay,From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of

trust!

“Truest BarsTruest BarsTruest BarsTruest BarsTruest Bars = “most reliable locks orbarricades” – Duncan-Jones; FalsehoodFalsehoodFalsehoodFalsehoodFalsehood= “The usual adverbs in legal recordsalongside the descriptions of particulartreasons are ‘falsely’ and ‘traitorously’” –Bellamy; WardsWardsWardsWardsWards = “Meaning ‘guards’ …the range of its applications include chestsand prison cells” - Booth20

Then he directly addressesSouthampton, who is literally “locked up”

in the Tower, where the Crown hasdispatched “thirty extraordinary guards tohelp with the additional duties” occasionedby the Rebellion:21

Thee have I not locked up in any chest,Save where thou art not, though I feel thou

artWithin the gentle closure of my breast,From whence at pleasure thou mayst come

and part.

“O thou bloody prison, fatal and ominousto noble peers! Within the guilty closureclosureclosureclosureclosureof thy walls Richard the Second here washack’d to death!” – Richard III, 3.3.9

March 2: “Lawful Reasons”March 2: “Lawful Reasons”March 2: “Lawful Reasons”March 2: “Lawful Reasons”March 2: “Lawful Reasons”He fears in Sonnet 49 that Southamp-

ton will “frown” upon him and regard him“strangely” for having cut a deal with Cecil;but he also emphasizes that he is acting“against myself” while arguing for the“lawful reasons” by which the younger earlcan be saved:

And this my hand against myself uprear,To guard the lawful reasons on thy part…

The crux of the legal agreement behindthe scenes is that he and Southampton will“leave” each other by being able to “allegeno cause” of any relationship:

To leave poor me, thou hast the strengthof laws,

Since why to love, I can allege no cause.

March 3: “My Grief “March 3: “My Grief “March 3: “My Grief “March 3: “My Grief “March 3: “My Grief “He testifies in Sonnet 50 that, riding

on horseback from the Tower back to hisHackney home, he has just visited withSouthampton to explain the details of thebargain face to face. The journey is only afew miles, but he suffers from the “weight”and “woe” of their meeting:

The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,Plods duly on to bear that weight in me…

The cutting of all ties with Southamp-ton from this point on produces the “grief”that lies ahead of him in life; behind, in theTower, is the Fair Youth himself:

My grief lies onward and my joy behind.

March 4: “Where Thou Art”March 4: “Where Thou Art”March 4: “Where Thou Art”March 4: “Where Thou Art”March 4: “Where Thou Art”Sonnet 51 is a companion piece in

which Oxford uses his ride from “where

Year in the Life (cont’d from page 23)




thou art” to weave in allusions toSouthampton’s “offence” and his ownefforts to legally “excuse” his crime bylessening the judgment against him:

Thus can my love excuse the slow offenceOf my dull bearer, when from thee I speedFrom where thou art…

“My nephew’s trespasstrespasstrespasstrespasstrespass may be well forgot;it hath the excuse excuse excuse excuse excuse of youth and heat ofblood, an adopted name of privilege, ahair-brained Hotspur, govern’d by aspleen; all his offencesoffencesoffencesoffencesoffences live upon my headand on his father’s” – 1 Henry IV, 5.2.16;“My soul is heavy and troubled for myoffencesoffencesoffencesoffencesoffences” – Southampton, writing fromthe Tower to the Privy Council after thetrial22

March 5: “Up-Locked”March 5: “Up-Locked”March 5: “Up-Locked”March 5: “Up-Locked”March 5: “Up-Locked”Standing trial for high treason are Sir

Christopher Blount, Sir Gelly Merrick,Henry Cuffe, Sir John Davis (not Davies)and Sir Charles Danvers. All are foundguilty and sentenced to death (Davis, whomay have been a Cecil agent in their midst,will be spared), as Oxford expands uponthe two previous verses by referring again,in Sonnet 52, to his prison visit:

So am I as the rich, whose blessed keyCan bring him to his sweet up-locked

treasure…

By the terms of the bargain made withCecil to save his life, the “solemn” and“rare” sight of Southampton was amongsuch “feasts” that, from now on, will occuronly “seldom” (if at all) in the “long year”that appears to lie ahead,

Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,Since seldom coming in the long year

set…

“Thus did I keep my person fresh and new;my presence … seldom,seldom,seldom,seldom,seldom, but sumptuous,showed like a feast,feast,feast,feast,feast, and wan by rarenessrarenessrarenessrarenessrarenessand solemnitysolemnitysolemnitysolemnitysolemnity” – the King in 1 Henry IV,3.2.53

March 6: “Strange Shadows”March 6: “Strange Shadows”March 6: “Strange Shadows”March 6: “Strange Shadows”March 6: “Strange Shadows”Edward de Vere (“every” = E. Ver) and

Henry Wriothesley (“one” = his motto Onefor All, All for One) both suffer in Sonnet53 under the “strange shadows” ofElizabeth’s imperial frown:

What is your substance, whereof are youmade,

That millions of strange shadows on youtend?

Since every one hath, every one, one shade,And you, but one, can every shadow lend.

Having introduced “Shakespeare” withVenus and Adonis dedicated to Southamp-ton in 1593, he now reinforces theidentification of him as the Fair Youth ofthe Sonnets:

Describe Adonis and the counterfeit

Is poorly imitated after you…

March 7: “Sweet Deaths”March 7: “Sweet Deaths”March 7: “Sweet Deaths”March 7: “Sweet Deaths”March 7: “Sweet Deaths”Robert Cecil writes to George Carew

“to let you know what is like to become ofthe poor young Earl of Southampton, who,merely for the love of the Earl [of Essex],hath been drawn into this action.” Because“most of the conspiracies were at DruryHouse, where he [Southampton] was alwayschief,” he continues, “those that woulddeal [plead] for him (of which number Iprotest to God I am one, as far as I dare) aremuch disadvantaged of arguments to savehim.”23

The Secretary hereby puts himself onrecord as a Southampton supporter, whileprolonging the agony by claiming to be“disadvantaged of arguments to save him.”Cecil may be building up the difficulty, inanticipation of taking credit for anyreprieve, but at the same time he maygenuinely doubt that the Queen can bedissuaded from going forward with theexecution.24

Oxford writes of Southampton in

Sonnet 54 as “Sweet Roses” whose innersubstance cannot be killed even if he isexecuted:

Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odorsmade.

And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,When that shall vade, by verse distills your

truth.

Duncan-Jones understands the final lineas “by means of verse [in general], yourtruth is preserved and transmitted to futuregenerations.”25 But Oxford is also referringto “my” verse of these specific sonnets andpaving the way for the great lines thatimmediately follow.

March 8: “The Living Record”March 8: “The Living Record”March 8: “The Living Record”March 8: “The Living Record”March 8: “The Living Record”With Oxford still uncertain about

Southampton’s fate, his towering verse inSonnet 55 is motivated directly by thesegrim circumstances. Here Oxford/Shake-speare now makes his first specific pledgeto build a “monument” for the Fair Youthto preserve “the living record of yourmemory” for posterity. And we cannotavoid including the entire sonnet, whichemphasizes the fundamental struggle thatEdward de Vere is waging for HenryWriothesley against the forces representedby Time:26

Not marble nor the gilded monument27

Of Princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme,But you shall shine more bright in these

contentsThan unswept stone, besmeared with

sluttish time.When wasteful war shall Statues overturn,And broils root out the work of masonry,Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire

shall burnThe living record of your memory.28

‘Gainst death and all oblivious enmityShall you pace forth! Your praise shall still

find roomEven in the eyes of all posterityThat wear this world out to the ending

doom.29

So till the judgment30 that yourself arise, You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes.31

March 9: “This Sad Interim”March 9: “This Sad Interim”March 9: “This Sad Interim”March 9: “This Sad Interim”March 9: “This Sad Interim”In Sonnet 56 he likens this sorrowful,

nerve-wracking time of Southampton’simminent execution to a force as powerfulas the royal sea:

Let this sad Int’rim like the Ocean beWhich parts the shore, where two

contracted new

“Here Oxford/Shakespeare“Here Oxford/Shakespeare“Here Oxford/Shakespeare“Here Oxford/Shakespeare“Here Oxford/Shakespeare

now makes his firstnow makes his firstnow makes his firstnow makes his firstnow makes his first

specific pledge to buildspecific pledge to buildspecific pledge to buildspecific pledge to buildspecific pledge to build

a ‘monument’ for thea ‘monument’ for thea ‘monument’ for thea ‘monument’ for thea ‘monument’ for the

Fair Youth to preserveFair Youth to preserveFair Youth to preserveFair Youth to preserveFair Youth to preserve

‘the living record‘the living record‘the living record‘the living record‘the living record

of your memory...’”of your memory...’”of your memory...’”of your memory...’”of your memory...’”



Come daily to the banks…

“Here, then, we have Shakespeare typifynghis Friend variously as a sunsunsunsunsun, a godgodgodgodgod, anoceanoceanoceanoceanocean or a sea: three familiar metaphorswhich he and his contemporaries use torepresent a sovereign prince or king.” –Leslie Hotson 32

March 10: “Watch the Clock for You”March 10: “Watch the Clock for You”March 10: “Watch the Clock for You”March 10: “Watch the Clock for You”March 10: “Watch the Clock for You”Oxford in Sonnet 57 embarks on a

series of 10 verses for 10 days that build indesperation (and literary power) as theylead to the moment of truth forSouthampton. They are akin to thesequential chapters of a dramatic narrative,recounting the history of what took placebehind the scenes as Edward de Vere wagedwar with Time on behalf of the youngerearl whom he now, directly and specifically,calls his sovereign:

Nor dare I chide the world without endhour

Whilst I (my sovereign) watch the clock foryou.

March 11: “Imprisoned Absence”March 11: “Imprisoned Absence”March 11: “Imprisoned Absence”March 11: “Imprisoned Absence”March 11: “Imprisoned Absence”He writes to the imprisoned earl in

Sonnet 58 as a “vassal” or subjectaddressing his king:

Being your vassal bound to stay yourleisure.

O let me suffer (being at your beck)Th’imprisoned absence of your liberty,

The last line above suggests “lack of theliberty of you,” Booth writes, expandingthis to “lack of the privilege of unrestrictedaccess to you” – that is, an accurate reportby Oxford that he can no longer visitSouthampton in the Tower.

“His libertylibertylibertylibertyliberty is full of threats to us all” –Hamlet, 4.1.14; “I am sorry to see youta’an from libertylibertylibertylibertyliberty, to look on the businesspresent. ‘Tis His Highness’ pleasure youshall to the Towerthe Towerthe Towerthe Towerthe Tower.” – Henry VIII, 1.2.204

Even if Elizabeth spares him and KingJames releases him, Southampton willneed a royal “pardon” from the newmonarch to avoid being re-accused of thesame crime; and now he has it in his ownpower to accept the bargain with Cecil andgain the promise of one:

Be where you list, your charter

is so strongThat you your self may privilege your timeTo what you will. To you it doth belongYour self to pardon of self-doing crime.I am to wait, though waiting so be hell…

“CharterCharterCharterCharterCharter: a written document deliveredby the sovereign … granting privilegesprivilegesprivilegesprivilegesprivileges… granting pardon pardon pardon pardon pardon … to receive a pardonto receive a pardonto receive a pardonto receive a pardonto receive a pardon”– O. E. D.; “Then I crave pardon pardon pardon pardon pardon of YourMajesty” – 3 Henry VI, 4.6.8; “Thus inhaste I crave Your Majesty’s pardonpardonpardonpardonpardon” –Oxford to the Queen, June 159933;“‘y’have passed a hellhellhellhellhell of Time, / And I, atyrant, have no leisure taken / To weighhow once I suffered in your crimecrimecrimecrimecrime” –Sonnet 120

March 12: “A Former Child”March 12: “A Former Child”March 12: “A Former Child”March 12: “A Former Child”March 12: “A Former Child”Oxford, having offered Venus and

Adonis as “the first heir of my invention”for Southampton, is now “laboring” by thesame “invention” (method of concealingyet revealing) to give him rebirth andgrowth in these private sonnets. Under thedire circumstances as time keeps runningout, he opens Sonnet 59 by describing thissupreme effort in a four-line howl:

If there be nothing new, but that which isHath been before, how are our brains

beguiled,Which, laboring for invention, bear amissThe second burthen of a former child!

“Bear Amiss”“Bear Amiss”“Bear Amiss”“Bear Amiss”“Bear Amiss” suggests “miscarry” –Booth; “Burthen”“Burthen”“Burthen”“Burthen”“Burthen” = burden; “My firstburthenburthenburthenburthenburthen, coming before his time” – JohnLyly, 1580, dedicating Euphues his Englandto Oxford

March 13: “Crooked Eclipses”March 13: “Crooked Eclipses”March 13: “Crooked Eclipses”March 13: “Crooked Eclipses”March 13: “Crooked Eclipses”Merrick and Cuffe are hanged, drawn

and quartered as Oxford braces forSouthampton’s own reckoning in Sonnet60:

So do our minutes hasten to their end…

Alluding to Cecil’s “crooked” figureand to his malignant or devious character,he blames both him and Time (Elizabeth)for the destruction of Southampton’s “gift”of life and blood:

Crooked eclipses ‘gainst his glory fight,And time that gave doth now his gift

confound.

March 14: “The Watchman”March 14: “The Watchman”March 14: “The Watchman”March 14: “The Watchman”March 14: “The Watchman”Edward de Vere glances at himself as

“ever” in Sonnet 61, vowing toSouthampton:

To play the watchman ever for thy sake.For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake

elsewhere,From me far off, with others all too near.

“As we be knit near near near near near in our alliance” –Oxford to Cecil, February 2, 1601

March 15: “Thee, My Self”March 15: “Thee, My Self”March 15: “Thee, My Self”March 15: “Thee, My Self”March 15: “Thee, My Self”As the hour draws even closer for

Southampton to lose his head, Oxfordrecords that his own self-love is but areflection of his love for him. He mergestheir two selves in Sonnet 62 to indicatethat, by “painting” or writing these versesfor posterity, he shares in his fate:

‘Tis thee (my self) that for my self I praise,Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

March 16: “I Now Fortify”March 16: “I Now Fortify”March 16: “I Now Fortify”March 16: “I Now Fortify”March 16: “I Now Fortify”His intensity grows in Sonnet 63 as

Southampton faces death at any moment:

Against my love shall be as I am now,With time’s injurious hand

crushed and o’er-worn,When hours have drained

his blood…

“O let her [Elizabeth] never suffer to bespilled the bloodspilled the bloodspilled the bloodspilled the bloodspilled the blood of him that desires to live

Year in Life (cont’d from page 25) The “Invention” at the Center 153-154 (2)

1——26/27—————————76/77——————————126/127——152 (26) (50) (50) (26)

Sonnet 76: “My Verse” Sonnet 77: “Thy Book”

Figure 2



but to do her service … The shedding ofshedding ofshedding ofshedding ofshedding ofmy bloodmy bloodmy bloodmy bloodmy blood can no way avail her” –Southampton from the Tower, to the PrivyCouncil after the trial34

Bringing it all back to “now” in thediary, Oxford incorporates the real situationwith “knife” for the executioner’s axe, “cut”for the expected beheading and “life” forthe flesh-and-blood life of Southamptonthat is about to be lost:

For such a time do I now fortifyAgainst confounding Age’s cruel knife,That he shall never cut from memoryMy sweet love’s beauty, though my lover’s

life.

“In fine, she hath the hand hand hand hand hand and knifeknifeknifeknifeknife,/That may both save and end my lifemy lifemy lifemy lifemy life” –Oxford poem (“The trickling tears”), TheParadise of Dainty Devices, 1576; “Andthere cut cut cut cut cut off thy most gracious head” – 2Henry VI, 4.10.81

March 17: “As a Death”March 17: “As a Death”March 17: “As a Death”March 17: “As a Death”March 17: “As a Death”For the bargain with Cecil to save

Southampton and gain his release with apardon, the royal “ocean” of King Jamesmust “gain advantage” on the “shore” ofEngland by an “interchange of state”through his succession, as Oxford envisionsin Sonnet 64:

When I have seen the hungry Ocean gainAdvantage on the Kingdom of the shore…When I have seen such interchange of

state…

“Even to our Ocean,Ocean,Ocean,Ocean,Ocean, to our great KingJohn” – King John, 5.4.57;”And says thatonce more I shall interchange my waneinterchange my waneinterchange my waneinterchange my waneinterchange my wanestatestatestatestatestate for Henry’s regal crown” – 3 HenryVI, 4.7.3

Because this will also mean theobliteration of Elizabeth’s own “state” anddynasty, Oxford will continue to “weep”even if that which he “fears to lose”(Southampton) is spared:

Or state itself confounded to decay,Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminateThat Time will come and take my love away.This thought is as a death, which cannot

chooseBut weep to have that which it fears to

lose.“But you must know that your father lostlostlostlostlosta father, that father lost, lostlost, lostlost, lostlost, lostlost, lost his” – Hamlet,1.2.89

March 18: “Hold a Plea”March 18: “Hold a Plea”March 18: “Hold a Plea”March 18: “Hold a Plea”March 18: “Hold a Plea”Danvers and Blount are beheaded on

Tower Hill, leaving no more excuse forthe Crown to delay Southampton’sexecution. Writing in Sonnet 65 of theyounger earl’s “sad mortality” and “beauty”while referring to him as a “flower” aboutto be crushed, Oxford echoes the legal“plea” and “action” to save his life:

Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, norboundless sea,

But sad mortality o’er-sways their power,How with this rage shall beauty a plea,Whose action is no stronger than a flower?

“But if I shall defer anything in this actionactionactionactionaction,I will leave the whole consideration thereofto Her Majesty” – Oxford to Burghley, June7, 159535

He refers to the “gates of steel” withinthe Tower fortress:

Nor gates of steel so strong but timedecays…

O fearful meditation! Where, alack,Shall time’s best jewel from time’s chest lie

hid?Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot

back?

“I am come to survey the Towerthe Towerthe Towerthe Towerthe Tower this day…Open the gatesgatesgatesgatesgates!” – 1 Henry VI, 1.3.1“With meditatingmeditatingmeditatingmeditatingmeditating that she must die atonce” – Julius Caesar, 4.3.190

March 19: Southampton Is SparedMarch 19: Southampton Is SparedMarch 19: Southampton Is SparedMarch 19: Southampton Is SparedMarch 19: Southampton Is SparedSonnet 66, a virtual suicide note unlike

all the other verses (and echoing Hamlet’s“To be or not to be” soliloquy), falls withinthis chronology as the 40th sonnet on the40th day proceeding from Southampton’simprisonment on February 8, 1601; viewedfrom this perspective it becomesShakespeare’s exhausted emotionalresponse to Queen Elizabeth’s privatedecision on March 19 to spare the FairYouth from execution:

Tir’d with all these, for restful death I cry…

Among his listed complaints appearsthe limping, swaying figure of Robert Cecil,who in fact holds sway over Oxford,Southampton and Elizabeth as well as overEngland’s destiny:

And strength by limping sway disabled…

“It is tempting to suspect a glance at thecontrol of the State, including vigorousmilitary men like Raleigh and Essex, bybybybybythe limping Robert Cecilthe limping Robert Cecilthe limping Robert Cecilthe limping Robert Cecilthe limping Robert Cecil” – DoverWilson36

After a week or so the London publicwill begin to assume that Her Majesty musthave commuted Southampton’s sentenceto perpetual imprisonment. No legalexplanation for the reprieve will beannounced or recorded by the government(although Cecil will get credit in historyfor having obtained the royal mercy), butOxford supplies the answer in Sonnet 87for “eyes not yet created” (see endnote 30).

This column will continue the “livingrecord” in the next issue, when Oxfordreaches the exact midpoint of the 100-sonnet center of his “monument” forposterity (see Figure 2) and explains his“invention” for writing “my verse” of theSonnets.

Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:Endnotes:

1 “Penitence” is echoed in Sonnet 34: “Thoughthou repent, yet I have still the loss.”

2 “Pardon” is echoed in Sonnet 58: “Yourselfto pardon of self-doing crime.”

3 “Offended” is echoed in Sonnets 34, 42, 51,89 and 110 of the Fair Youth series (andnowhere else).

4 Both “mercy” and “my life” will be repeatedin Sonnet 145 of the Dark Lady series,when, according to this view of thechronology of the poems, Oxford will reactto the Queen’s reprieve of Southampton’sexecution by writing: “Straight in her heart


“...the London public will“...the London public will“...the London public will“...the London public will“...the London public will

begin to assume that herbegin to assume that herbegin to assume that herbegin to assume that herbegin to assume that her

Majesty must haveMajesty must haveMajesty must haveMajesty must haveMajesty must have

commuted Southampton’scommuted Southampton’scommuted Southampton’scommuted Southampton’scommuted Southampton’s

sentence to perpetualsentence to perpetualsentence to perpetualsentence to perpetualsentence to perpetual

imprisonment.”imprisonment.”imprisonment.”imprisonment.”imprisonment.”



I have argued on two previous occasionsthat a close reading of novels by SirWalter Scott (Kenilworth, The Abbot)

suggests that Scott was aware that the worksof Shakespeare were actually written byEdward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford, andmoreover that Scott was familiar with manyof the details of de Vere’s life. Since Scottwas writing 100 years before thepublication of Looney’s book, Shake-speare Identified, I have dubbed Scott a“paleo-Oxfordian.” Response to theseessays from the community of Oxfordiansinterested in Scott’s works has been soenthusiastic that I have been encouragedto delve into yet another of the Waverleynovels.

The Monastery (1820) is the prequel toThe Abbot, which was discussed inShakespeare Matters (Fall 2003). It followsthe fortunes of two brothers, Halbert andEdward Glendinning. Halbert’s interestsare chiefly hunting and the use of arms;Edward’s nature is contemplative andspiritual—indeed, he becomes theeponymous cleric of the sequel. The plotis moved along from time to time by aghost called “the White Lady,” acontrivance to which many of Scott’sreaders objected (The Monastery was notone of his more successful novels).

One of my motives in undertakinganother Scott novel was to see if I couldfind one which did not contain a characterresembling Edward de Vere—a control, soto speak, to make sure I was not readingthings into the novels that weren’t there.For the first week or so I thought TheMonastery was it. Then on page 171 SirPiercie Shafton, the Euphuist, isintroduced. Mysie, the miller’s daughter,describes him thus:

“I think this rider be not of our country.He has a crimson velvet bonnet, and longbrown hair falling down under it, and abeard on his upper lip, and his chin cleanand close shaved, save a small patch on thepoint of it . . .”

I don’t know about you, but the image I get

Sir Walter Scott as Paleo-Oxfordian

Part 3: The Monastery

on reading this description bears a strongresemblance to the Welbeck portrait ofOxford in a foppish mode. More cluesfollow:

. . . the etiquette of the times did notpermit Sir Piercie Shafton to pick his teeth,or to yawn, or to gabble like the beggarwhose tongue (as he says) was cut out bythe Turks . . . [p. 174] 1

The reference to tooth-picking remindsus of the Bastard’s speech in King John(1.1.190) in which he pictures himself as acourtier: “Now your traveler,/He and histoothpick at my worship’s mess,/And whenmy knightly stomach is suffic’d,/Why thenI suck my teeth and catechize . . .” And“Turk” was Elizabeth’s nickname forOxford.2

When Sir Piercie Shafton first makeshis appearance in the novel he isaccompanied by Christie of the Clinthill, athuggish henchman of the lawless BaronJulian Avenel. On approaching theGlendinning dwelling, Christie calls outto a servant

“Ha! Art thou there old Truepenny?” [171]

This is virtually identical to Hamlet’sline as he addresses his father’s ghost(1.5.150). It has been pointed out3 that“Truepenny” is a direct reference toOxford’s father, who was the son of a Vere(True) and a Trussel (part of the mechanismused in stamping pennies). At the end of thechapter, Christie is regaling the servantswith tales of his wild exploits

. . . and Tibb Tacket, rejoiced to findherself once more in the company of a jack-man, listened to his tales, like Desdemonato Othello’s, with undisguised delight. [185]

So the section of the narrativeintroducing Sir Piercie Shafton begins andends with a specific allusion to one of theShakespeare plays.

Sir Piercie is an enthusiastic followerof the school of Euphuism:

“Ah, that I had with me my Anatomy ofWit—that all-to-be unparalleled volume—that quintessence of human wit—thattreasury of quaint invention—thatexquisitely-pleasant-to-read, and inevitably-necessary-to-be-remembered manual ofall that is worthy to be known—whichindoctrines the rude in civility, the dull inintellectuality, the heavy in jocosity, theblunt in gentility, the vulgar in nobility,and all of them in that unutterableperfection of human utterance, thateloquence which no other eloquence issufficient to praise, that art which, whenwe call it by its own name of Euphuism, webestow on it its richest panegyric.”4 [179]

He is referred to many times in the textas “the Euphuist.” The ostensibleimplication of the definite article is that, ofthe characters being discussed, he is theonly one devoted to the practice ofEuphuism. It can also be taken to meanthat Sir Piercie is intended to be identifiedwith the central figure of Euphuism (in thesame way that “the Christ” is the centralfigure of Christianity, or that “the Dane” isthe ruler of Denmark). Who is the centralfigure of Euphuism? The orthodox answeris that it’s John Lyly, secretary to the Earlof Oxford, who is taken to be the author ofEuphues: His England and The Anatomy ofWit. However, Brame and Popova, usinglinguistic techniques, have concluded that“The fingerprint evidence shows that deVere did write the plays ascribed to hisformer secretary Lyly . . .”5 WarrenDickinson, an independent scholar,concurs: “This nobleman who nursed TheAnatomy of Wit with great love mustcertainly have been Lord Oxford.”6

However, Sir Piercie, like Oxford, is notrestricted to the Euphuistic style.

. . . Sir Piercie . . . replying without tropeor figure, in that plain English whichnobody could speak better when he had amind. [186]

Slighter clues abound almost withoutlimit.

by Chuck Berney



[Sir Piercie] broke forth into a soliloquy.“What foul fiend sent this wench hither? . . .But patienza, Piercie Shafton . . .” [197]

The word “soliloquy” inevitablyreminds us of Hamlet. The phrase ‘foulfiend’ recalls Edgar’s speeches in Lear(3.4.61 et seq). And why use the Italianword for “patience” if not to remind us ofOxford, “the Italianate Englishman”? Later,Sir Piercie reminisces:

“ . . . —quitting the tiltyard, where I wasever ready among my compeers to splintera lance . . . —exchanging the lighted halls,wherein I used nimbly to pace the swiftcoranto, or to move with a loftier grace inthe stately galliard . . .” [208]

Ogburn quotes an account of Oxford’striumphant jousting in the courttournament of May 1571: “The challengers. . . all did very valiantly, but the chiefhonour was given to the Earl of Oxford.” 7

Mention of “the stately galliard” echoes SirToby Belch’s line in Twelfth Night (1.3.120),“What is thy excellence in a galliard,knight?” More directly, we are remindedthat Oxford himself was one of the bestdancers in the Elizabethan court.8 Later, inthe second volume, there is further mentionof Sir Piercie’s excellence in a galliard (andother forms of music), together with hispredilection for sonnets.

Then she could hear him resume hiswalk through the room, and, as if hisspirits had been somewhat relieved andelevated by the survey of his wardrobe, shecould distinguish that at one turn he halfrecited a sonnet, at another half whistled agalliard, and at the third hummed asaraband. [2:150]

Again like Oxford,9 Sir Piercie has beenhaving financial troubles.

“ . . . my estate, I wot not how, hath oflate been somewhat insufficient to maintainthe expense of those braveries wherewithit is incumbent on us, who are chosen andselected spirits . . . to distinguish ourselvesfrom the vulgar.” [212-3]

Oxford himself makes a cameoappearance in one of Sir Piercie’s nostalgicreminiscences about the idyllic life he ledin Elizabeth’s court.

“ . . . it was my envied lot to lead thewinning party at that wondrous match at

ballon, made betwixt the divine Astrophel(our matchless Sidney), and the righthonourable my very good lord of Oxford.”10

[2:52]

Presumably Scott intends to remindthe reader of the tennis-court quarrelinvolving Oxford and Sir Philip Sidney,though of course Oxford and Sidney didnot play each other, but argued about theuse of the court. Perhaps the incident is aninvention of Sir Piercie’s, since at the end

of the novel it is revealed that he is noteverything he claims to be. But ballon isnot the only exercise at which Sir Piercie isadept; Scott himself testifies that

The English knight was master of allthe mystery of the stoccata, imbrocata,punto-reverso, incartata, and so forth,which the Italian masters of defence hadlately introduced into general practice.11

[2:54]

And Sir Piercie, like Oxford, is eager toput his skills to the test in actual combat.

“In a word, I am willing to head all whowill follow me, and offer such opposition asmanhood and mortality may permit . . . andbe assured, Piercie Shafton will measurehis length, being five feet ten inches, on theground as he stands, rather than give twoyards in retreat, according to the usualmotion in which we retrograde.” [2:286]

It is unusual to see the word“retrograde” in a nonastronomical context.The only other example I can think of isClaudius’s speech to Hamlet (1.2.112):

“For your intent in going back to schoolin Wittenberg, it is most retrograde to ourdesire . . .”

At one point Sir Piercie lists some of the“braveries” by which he distinguisheshimself from the vulgar.

“ . . . my rich crimson silk doublet,slashed out and lined with cloth of gold,which I wore at the last revels, with baldricand trimmings to correspond—also twopair black silk slops, with hanging gartersof carnation silk—also the flesh-colouredsilken doublet, with the trimmings of fur,in which I danced the salvage man at theGray’s-Inn mummery . . .” [215]

Ogburn12 lists some of Oxford’s youthfulexpenditures for clothing: “. . . one doubletof cambric, one of fine canvas, and one ofblack satin. . . four yards of velvet and fourothers of satin, for to guard and border aSpanish cape . . . one velvet hat and onetaffeta hat: two velvet caps, a scarf, twopairs of garters with silver at the ends, aplume of feathers for a hat, and another hatband.” Ogburn also has something to sayabout Edward de Vere and Gray’s Inn: “Atseventeen, in 1567, Edward was admittedto Gray’s Inn, there to acquire the legalknowledge that would impress so many inthe plays.” Ogburn describes “masques”and “revels” performed by the students atGray’s Inn, and adds “If we know our man,he lent a hand in the writing and productionof those masques and acted in them, takingthe first steps to making himself ‘a motleyto the view’.”

Question 1. Question 1. Question 1. Question 1. Question 1. Did Scott knowingly usehistorical figures as prototypes for hisfictional characters? The answer is yes. Inhis notes at the end of the second volume,Scott writes

JULIAN AVENEL. If it were necessaryto name a prototype for this brutal,licentious, and cruel Border chief, in an agewhich showed but too many such, theLaird of Black Ormiston might be selectedfor that purpose. He was a friend andconfidant of Bothwell, and an agent inHenry Darnley’s murder. At his last stagehe was, like other great offenders, a seemingpenitent . . . [2:315]

Question 2.Question 2.Question 2.Question 2.Question 2. Can the parallelismsbetween Sir Piercie and Oxford describedabove be attributed to chance, or do they


“And why use the“And why use the“And why use the“And why use the“And why use the

Italian word forItalian word forItalian word forItalian word forItalian word for

‘patience’ if not‘patience’ if not‘patience’ if not‘patience’ if not‘patience’ if not

to remind usto remind usto remind usto remind usto remind us

of Oxford,of Oxford,of Oxford,of Oxford,of Oxford,

‘the Italianate‘the Italianate‘the Italianate‘the Italianate‘the Italianate

Englishman’”?Englishman’”?Englishman’”?Englishman’”?Englishman’”?



require that Scott have had Oxfordspecifically in mind? We summarize thesimilarities and clues (in the order listedabove) as follows: appearance/ toothpick,Turk/ “Truepenny” quote/ Desdemona-Othello/ Euphuism/ skill in plain English/speaks Italian/ good jouster/ good dancer/knows sonnets/ good musician/ financialtroubles/ plays ball with Oxford andSidney/ good fencer/ aspires to militaryleadership/ fancy dresser/performer atGray’s Inn. Let us assume the nullhypothesis—that is, that Scott wasinterested only in creating a generic foppishcourtier and did not have Oxfordspecifically in mind. Then he might wellhave chosen appearance, Euphuism, gooddancer, knows sonnets, good musician,financial troubles, and fancy dresser tocharacterize his creation. This accountsfor seven of the 17 attributes and clues welisted. It seems clear that Scott intendedSir Piercie to be a comic character, butsome of the remaining attributes are atodds with such an intent—for example, acomic character is not usually one who isa good jouster, a good fencer, or one whoaspires to military leadership (these are,however known attributes of Edward deVere). The jousting is particularly difficultto reconcile with the null hypothesis—itrequired enormous amounts of money toacquire the armor, the war horse and otheraccoutrements. At the end of the novel, itis revealed that Sir Piercie is the grandsonof a tailor, and would have no estates todraw on for an expensive pastime likejousting. It plays no part in the plot.Apparently Scott has given his courtier anattribute that undermines the character’sbelievability for no good reason, except(possibly) to enhance his resemblance toEdward de Vere.

So far we have examined 10 of the 17attributes and clues, and have found thatseven are consistent with the nullhypothesis while three mitigate against it.Let us admit that the toothpick-Turk quote,the Desdemona-Othello reference, and thegame of ballon with Oxford and Sidney,while suggestive, do not rise to the level ofevidence. We have four items left toexamine. (1) Skill in plain English. Whoother than Oxford/Shakespeare could bedescribed as speaking English better thanany other? (2) Speaks Italian. This attributeis revealed by one word, “patienza,” spoken

by Sir Piercie to himself. No doubt therewere a number of Elizabethan courtierswho could read Italian, or speak itoccasionally, but how many habituallythought in Italian? To me, this is a clearreference to de Vere, the “ItalianateEnglishman.” (3) Christie of the Clinthill’squote of the “Truepenny” line from Hamlet.What function does this serve? Christiecannot be knowingly quoting from Hamlet(a) because the character is illiterate, and

(b) the setting of the novel is the early1560s, and 1583 is the earliest date anyonehas suggested for the writing of Hamlet(though it must be admitted that Scott thewriter gives avoidance of anachronism aremarkably low priority). And rememberthat “Truepenny” is not just a line fromHamlet, but a codeword incorporatingtwo Vere family names. The onlyexplanation I can think of is that Scott isblowing a fanfare for the cognoscenti,signaling that after 171 pages he is readyto introduce his Oxford character. (4) TheGray’s Inn performance. This casually-mentioned detail is one of astonishingspecificity, and it comes like a bolt fromthe blue. How many foppish courtiers wentto law school? (Well, Oxford did, and hewent to Gray’s Inn.) Nowhere in the novelis Sir Piercie’s legal training required,mentioned, or even hinted at. And heperformed in a dramatic production!Surely the probability of a novelist imbuinga courtier from central casting with thesespecific attributes is vanishingly small. Asfar as I’m concerned, the null hypothesis isdead as a doornail.13, 14

NOTE ADDED IN PROOFNOTE ADDED IN PROOFNOTE ADDED IN PROOFNOTE ADDED IN PROOFNOTE ADDED IN PROOF: I have foundmy control sample. Scott’s novel TheFortunes of Nigel (1822), though it has asprinkling of Shakespeare quotes, is (as faras I can determine) completely free ofOxford-identified characters.

Notes:Notes:Notes:Notes:Notes:

1. Pagination follows the 1893 edition of DanaEstes & Co., Boston. This edition consistsof two volumes bound as one; page 123 inVolume 2 will be written as 2:123.

2. Paul Altrocchi, “ ‘My Turk’: Why theNickname?” Shakespeare Matters 3.3(Spring 2004) 22-24. See also SM 3.4, p.2.

3. Stephanie Caruana, Shakespeare OxfordSociety Newsletter 29.3A, Summer 1993.

4. You will be astonished to learn that thecritics found Sir Piercie to be as objection-able as the spectral White Lady.

5. Michael Brame and Galina Popova,Shakespeare’s Fingerprints (Adonis,2002),p. 405.

6. Warren Dickinson, The Wonderful Shake-speare Mystery (Omni, 2001), 231.

7. Charlton Ogburn, The Mysterious WilliamShakespeare (EPM Publications, 1984),479.

8. Ogburn, 473, 598. The Dictionary ofNational Biography (Oxford, 1921) in itsentry for Edward de Vere (Vol. XX, pp.225-9) quotes a letter from Gilbert Talbotto his father (11 May 1573): “My Lord ofOxford is lately grown into great credit, forthe queen’s Majesty delighteth more in hispersonage, and his dancing and valiantness,than any other.”

9. DNB, loc. cit. : “ . . . Oxford’s continuedextravagance involved him in pecuniarydifficulties.”

10. The Oxford English Dictionary definesballon (obs., rare) as “a little ball orpacke.” It defines balloon (alt. spellingballon) as “the game played with this ball.”The citation for balloon is “The winningparty at that wondrous match at ballon.”

11. Compare Mercutio’s line in Romeo andJuliet (2.4.25): “Ah, the immortalpassado, the punto reverso, the hay!”

12. Ogburn, 453-4.13. 2 Henry VI, 4.10.40.14. Those who attended the 2003 Shakespeare

Fellowship Conference in Carmel willrecall that one can prove anything usinganagrams. However I cannot resistpointing out that a perfect anagram forSIR PIERCIE SHAFTON is IRONICSHAFTSPIERE. ‘Shaftspiere’ is at least asclose to ‘Shakespeare’ as ‘Shake-scene,’which our orthodox brethren withoutexception construe as a reference to theBard.

Scott (continued from page 29)

“This casually- “This casually- “This casually- “This casually- “This casually-

mentioned detailmentioned detailmentioned detailmentioned detailmentioned detail

is one of astonishingis one of astonishingis one of astonishingis one of astonishingis one of astonishing

specificity, andspecificity, andspecificity, andspecificity, andspecificity, and

it comesit comesit comesit comesit comes

like a boltlike a boltlike a boltlike a boltlike a bolt

from the blue.”from the blue.”from the blue.”from the blue.”from the blue.”



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did mercy come … And saved my life,saying, ‘Not you.’”

5 From the dedication of Lucrece in 1594.6 Sonnets 25 and 26.7 It would seem entirely possible that Cecil

threatened to charge Oxford himself withtreason for writing the deposition scene inRichard II and/or for allowing the LordChamberlain’s Men to perform it at therequest of the conspirators – although it’sdifficult to see how he could have avoidedrevealing Oxford as the author of theShakespeare works. There is no directevidence that Southampton personallygained the playwright’s authority to usethe play for propaganda, but manyhistorians have assumed it (possiblycorrectly); for example: “It was he[Southampton] who had arranged theperformance of Richard II before therebellion,” Catherine Drinker Bowen writeswithout qualification in The Lion and theThrone (Boston: Little, Brown and Co.,1956, p. 154). And Oxford appears tosuggest in Sonnet 35 that he had authorizedSouthampton to use the play: “All menmake faults, and even I in this,/ Authoriz-ing thy trespass with compare…” Also inthat verse he pledges to help the youngerearl by making some legal agreement thatwould harm himself: “Thy adverse party isthy Advocate,/ And ‘gainst myself a lawfulplea commence.”

8 Hamlet interrupts his own tirade againstKing Claudius to write down his thoughtsand feelings. “O villain, villain, smilingdamned villain!” he cries, only to stop coldand mutter, “My tables. Meet it is I set itdown that one may smile, and smile, andbe a villain – at least I am sure it may be soin Denmark. (Writes)” – Hamlet, 1.5.106;and this appears to reflect Oxford’s habit.

9 Scholars such as Duncan-Jones see linkages

of two or three sonnets throughout thesequence, particularly among the 80“prison” verses, to the point where theyall read as a continuous narrative poem.

10 Sonnet 106: “When in the Chronicle ofwasted time…”

11 Sonnet 107, celebrating Southampton’srelease from the Tower on April 10, 1603:“Not mine own fears nor the propheticsoul/ Of the wide world dreaming on thingsto come/ Can yet the lease of my true lovecontrol,/ Supposed as forfeit to a confineddoom.”

12 May, Steven, Studies in Philology (ChapelHill: University of North Carolina Press,1980), 48; and The Elizabethan CourtierPoets (Asheville: Pegasus Press, 1999),255, 330; the poem was later entitled ThePassion of a Discontented Minde; to Maygoes credit for confirming Essex’s author-ship and offering details of its compositionin the Tower.

13 The Arraignment, Tryal, and Condemnationof Robert Earl of Essex, 1679, edited byMargaret Pierce Secara and reproduced athttp://renaissance.dm.net/trial/index.html.A direct record is in Calendar of StatePapers Domestic, Acts of the PrivyCouncil (Cecil Papers, Hatfield House);and William Camden included an account inhis Annals of 1630.

14 Sonnet 76: “And keep invention in a notedweed”

15 Strickland, Agnes, 675.16 Stopes, Charlotte Carmichael, The Life of

Henry, Third Earl of Southampton (NewYork: AMS Press, 1969, reprinting of the1922 edition), 243.

17 Stopes, op. cit., 198; Handover, P.M., TheSecond Cecil (Great Britain: Eyre &Spottiswoode, 1959), 224, citing theCamden Society, 66.

18 Researcher Nina Green first suggested thatOxford may have been “40” on her private

email forum Phaeton; otherwise the mostfrequently mentioned possibility has beenOxford’s friend Charles Howard, Earl ofNottingham, Lord High Admiral (and heroof the 1588 victory over the Armada), whowas also one of Elizabeth’s closestconfidantes.

19 Akrigg, G. P. V., ed., Letters of King JamesVI & I (Berkeley & Los Angeles: Univer-sity of California Press, 1984), 192-195;James wrote to the Earl of Mar andEdward Bruce on April 8, 1601, that Cecil“is king there [England] in effect.”

20 Duncan-Jones, Katherine, ed., Shakepeare’sSonnets (Great Britain: the ArdenShakespeare, third series, 1997), 206;Bellamy, John, The Tudor Law of Treason(Great Britain: Routledge & Kegan PaulLtd., 1979), 33; Booth, Stephen, ed.,Shakespeare’s Sonnets (New Haven &London: Yale University Press, 1977), 211.

21 May, Studies in Philology, op. cit., 95, citingActs of the Privy Council of England, ed.John Roche Dasent (London, 1906),XXXI, 155, 262.

22 Salisbury Papers, vol. X1, p. 72: “AfterFebruary 19, 1601.”

23 Stopes, op. cit., 224.24 “Elizabeth did not waver – though once, it

is true, she remanded the order for Essex’sexecution, then canceled her remander” –Bowen, op. cit., 163.

25 Duncan-Jones, op. cit., writing that“whereas in Sonnet 1 [and other marriagesonnets] procreation was recommended asthe means of preserving beauty’s rose, thatpower is here attributed to poetry.”

26 TIME, appearing only in the Fair Youthseries (1-126) represents the ever-dwindling time left in the life and reign (andultimately the dynasty) of QueenElizabeth; this is the concrete timeline ofthe diary.

Year in the Life (continued from page 27)




Shakespeare MattersShakespeare MattersShakespeare MattersShakespeare MattersShakespeare MattersThe Voice of the Shakespeare FellowshipThe Voice of the Shakespeare FellowshipThe Voice of the Shakespeare FellowshipThe Voice of the Shakespeare FellowshipThe Voice of the Shakespeare FellowshipP. O. Box 263P. O. Box 263P. O. Box 263P. O. Box 263P. O. Box 263Somerville MA 02143Somerville MA 02143Somerville MA 02143Somerville MA 02143Somerville MA 02143Address correction requestedAddress correction requestedAddress correction requestedAddress correction requestedAddress correction requested

Year in the Life (continued from page 31)

Inside this issue:Inside this issue:Inside this issue:Inside this issue:Inside this issue:

27 Nearly all editions emend “monument” tothe plural “monuments,” but I see noreason for it.

28 Within the monument is this diary linked toreal events in real time, so the record ofSouthampton’s life is in fact “living” anddynamic, as he had promised in Sonnet 18:“So long as men can breathe or eyes cansee,/ So long lives this, and this gives life tothee.”

29 Southampton, upon his release in Sonnet107, will have been “supposed as forfeit toa confined doom” or judgment of perpetualimprisonment.

30 Oxford is writing of various kinds of“judgment” aside from the biblical FinalJudgment. One meaning is related to theverdict of high treason against Southamp-ton at the trial, which will be reduced to a“better judgment” of “misprision” oftreason, enabling him to be released and togain a royal pardon. This reduction of theverdict will be announced in Sonnet 87:“So thy great gift [of life] upon misprisiongrowing/ Comes home again, on betterjudgment making.”

31 “Lovers” as Brutus uses the term: “Ro-mans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me formy cause.” – Julius Caesar, 3.2.13, i.e.,loyal subjects or supporters.

32 Hotson, Leslie, Mr. W. H. (New York:Alfried A. Knopf, 1965), 28.

33 Chiljan, Katherine, ed. (Letters and Poemsof Edward, Earl of Oxford, 1998), 123;Oxford to Elizabeth, June 1599, CecilPapers 71.26.

34 Stopes, op. cit., 225-26.35 Chiljan, op. cit., 106.36 Wilson, J. Dover, ed., The Sonnets (London:

Cambridge University Press, 1966), notesfor Sonnet 66.

Critique of the “MonumentCritique of the “MonumentCritique of the “MonumentCritique of the “MonumentCritique of the “MonumentTheory” - page 1Theory” - page 1Theory” - page 1Theory” - page 1Theory” - page 1

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Engaging Prince Tudor - page 1Engaging Prince Tudor - page 1Engaging Prince Tudor - page 1Engaging Prince Tudor - page 1Engaging Prince Tudor - page 1

Will in the WorldWill in the WorldWill in the WorldWill in the WorldWill in the World - page 4 - page 4 - page 4 - page 4 - page 4

1601, Part II: “I watch the clock1601, Part II: “I watch the clock1601, Part II: “I watch the clock1601, Part II: “I watch the clock1601, Part II: “I watch the clockfor you” - page 22for you” - page 22for you” - page 22for you” - page 22for you” - page 22

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living-but-thought-about-as-if-dead JohnShaksper—“a play about a son strugglingto set his father’s soul free.” Greenblatt,however, in any event, does not think thatHamlet is Shakespeare’s most autobio-graphical play; he thinks that distinctionbelongs to A Midsummer Night’s Dream.He suggests, too, that Shakespeare lived adouble life—one amongst the Londonglitterati and another, quietly and alone, inrented rooms or in occasional domesticretreat during summer holidays with thewife and kids in Stratford – the same wifewith whom he did not want to share a grave,a daughter with whom he would have adifficult relationship, and a little boy whomay have inspired but did not even appearin, let alone dominate, the dramatic actionin the play ostensibly loosely named afterhim.

Shakespeare’s “life,” as one can readilysee both in Greenblatt’s book and Gopnik’ssurvey, makes absolutely no sense of theman—Adam Gopnik’s desperate attemptto give Greenblatt’s chaotic and disharmo-nious biography shape and symmetry aside.Greenblatt, like the biographers beforehim, is left largely to supposition, conjec-ture, guesswork, intuition, imaginationand reliance on hearsay and rank nonsensein attempting to sort the man from thelegends and reconcile the man to the works.He seems, in his attempt to come to termswith the phantom writer from Stratford, towant it each way, all ways and every way –and perhaps, finally, we cannot faultGreenblatt or reviewers like Adam Gopniktoo much for that. Theirs, after all, is the

path of all would-be Shakespeare biogra-phers and their apostles who, like so manybefore them, have begun their hopefuljourney to the Emerald City of Stratford bytaking one of many roads only to have theirjourney ended by discovering that oncethey gain entry to the citadel, they find outthey’ve entered a world where horses con-stantly change their colors and all theresidents are dupes who are ruled by afraud.

Greenblatt’s “biography” (for which, itis rumored he was paid $1 million dollars),leaves readers, therefore, right where theybegan: dazed and baffled in Munchkinland,ready for yet another house to be droppedon them, lost in the forest, or drugged andasleep amongst the poppies. When willreaders, one has to wonder, stop payingheed to the frenzied wizards ofStratfordianism and, fed up with beingtold to stop their pestering inquiries be-cause “Oz has spoken!” start to exercisetheir curiosity and discover that the manwho is the real wizard is the man behind thecurtain? —DWright

Will in the World (continued from page 4)

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A critique of Back to the the “Monument Ashbourne … · Shakespeare Library sent the Ashbourne portrait hundreds of miles away from Washing-ton, DC, for examination by the Canadian