Shakespeare’s Henry the Fifth: Was He Also Henry the Ninth?

henry-de-vere-and-southampton-1621-two-most-noble-henries

Two Henries: in this early 17th century woodcut, Henry Wriothesely, the 3rd Earl of Southampton is on the right. Southampton was General of the Horse in Ireland. His companion is Henry de Vere, the 18th Earl of Oxford.

I recently enjoyed the Folger Theatre’s fine production of Shakespeare’s Henry V starring Zach Appelman as the King. Appelman’s amazing performance makes me think he’s our next great Shakespearian actor, joining the ranks of Olivier, Gieguld, and Branagh.

I read Henry V before watching Appelman conduct his tour de force on the imaginary battlefields of 15th century France.

For me, each new reading of a Shakespeare play is like listening to a Mozart or Beethoven symphony: something new always emerges, some quality or insight about a character not captured before, a phrase that strikes me (“Every subject’s duty is the king’s; but every subject’s soul is his own”), or fresh appreciation for the breadth of the author’s word craft which, in Henry V, he extends à la langue français.

This time I discovered something that perhaps heretofore has gone unnoticed: it’s possible that Henry V was promoting a candidate to succeed Queen Elizabeth I to the English throne at the end of the 16th century.

The Chorus, at the beginning of Act V of the play, describes throngs of English citizens welcoming back Henry (“Harry”) who’s returned victorious from France. The Chorus compares this homecoming to one Caesar received:

“The mayor and all his brethren in best sort,
Like to the senators of the antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels,
Go forth and fetch their conquering Caesar in:
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,
Were now the general of our gracious empress,
As in good time he may, from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him! much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry.”

Scholars have long agreed that the Chorus’s speech is a contemporary reference to the campaign of Robert Devereaux, the 2nd Earl of Essex, to quash rebels in Ireland, which dates the play to around 1599. In the above-quoted text, Essex would be the “general,” and Queen Elizabeth I “our gracious empress.”

I’ll come back to the Chorus’s speech. For now it can be observed that Elizabeth in 1599 had about four years to live, with her succession undecided.

To say it was difficult to discuss who should be England’s next ruler while Elizabeth was still living is an understatement. Under the treason statute at the time, it was a crime punishable by death to suggest that anyone else should be the reigning monarch.

If someone wanted to promote a candidate for King without being hanged or beheaded, then subtlety and plausible deniability, expressed through words and phrases with double meanings, would be the order of the day.

Of course, the double entendre was something Shakespeare was very good at.

We know that Shakespeare had a special relationship with one particular courtier in Queen Elizabeth’s court: Henry Wriothesely, the 3rd Earl of Southampton.

Shakespeare dedicated two long poems, Venus and Adonis, and The Rape of Lucrece, to Southampton. Several biographers of Southampton (including Constance C. Stopes and A.L. Rowse) agree that Southampton is the Fair Youth (or “lovely boy”) in Shakespeare’s Sonnets.

These circumstances show that Shakespeare held Southampton very dear and would have been highly interested in his future.

As mentioned above, the Chorus’s speech in Act V contains a contemporary reference to the Earl of Essex’s military campaign in Ireland. Southampton accompanied Essex on that campaign, a fact that leads to the “new” thing I noticed.

The line, “the general of our gracious empress,” has long been thought of referring to Essex and the Queen. On the other hand, Southampton’s title in Ireland also was “general” – General of the Horse. That the Chorus is referring to Southampton in the speech rather than to Essex is further supported by the last three lines:

How many would the peaceful city quit,
To welcome him! much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry (my empahsis).

Admittedly, one can interpret the word “this” different ways, but my point is that the “him” in the second line could refer to another “Harry,” i.e., the “general” Henry, the Earl of Southampton, whom Shakespeare is comparing to “this” Harry, i.e., Henry V.

Under this interpretation, the Chorus is expressing the hope that Southampton returns victorious from Ireland to the same type of welcome that Henry V received when he returned from France.

And then there’s the Chorus’s speech that begins Act II, which describes the traitors’ plot to kill Henry V:

And by their hands this grace of kings must die,
If hell and treason hold their promises,
Ere he take ship for France, and in Southampton.

The first meaning of “Southampton” is the city from which Henry V embarked for France. However, I believe it would have been difficult for the audience – at least for any courtier – listening to the play in 1599 not to think of Henry, Earl of Southampton as well.

Moreover, there is a logical interpretation attaching this second (or double) meaning to “Southampton” in the speech quoted above.

For “this grace of kings” to die “in Southampton” would mean that it must first be living there, and if the audience considered “Southampton” in the sense of the earl, it could interpret the Chorus’s statement as meaning that “this grace of kings” lives in Henry Wriothesely who, if he were to ascend to the throne, would be crowned Henry the Ninth.

If you think my argument is a stretch, you’re right, it is. But given the treason statutes, in a sense it has to be. Shakespeare would have had to be cryptic if he were advertising Henry Wriothesely as a candidate for the throne.

If Shakespeare was suggesting that the “grace of kings” resided in Southampton, the “general” he hoped would return from Ireland to be greeted like a King, what possible claim could Southampton have had for the throne?

Recent scholarship addresses that very question. If you’re interested, I suggest you check out the work of Hank Whittemore and Charles Beauclerk.

“Shakespeare Uncovered” Takes On Hamlet and The Tempest

John Barrymore as Hamlet in 1922, after Sigmund Freud analyzed the Dane as mother-fixated. Barrymore agreed and, as Hamlet, was the first to kiss Queen Gertrude in her bedroom.

PBS aired the final two episodes of “Shakespeare Uncovered” on Friday, with David Tennant discussing Hamlet, and Trevor Nunn The Tempest.

It was fun watching film clips of various actors playing the Prince of Denmark as Tennant gave a straightforward summary and analysis those new to the play should enjoy.

Viewers also got to see a rare copy of the “Bad Quarto” of Hamlet, the first printed version of the play that’s only about half the length of subsequent versions. Actually, depending on one’s perspective, the “Bad Quarto” is very bad, or not so bad after all.

One theme of the Hamlet episode was how actors bring different interpretations to the lead role. John Barrymore, for instance, was the first to play “the closet scene” between Hamlet and his mother, Queen Gertrude, in her bedroom, kissing her on the lips, thus conveying the taboo sensuality that Sigmund Freud said was at the core of their relationship. In what one might call a classic case of Freudian projection, Hamlet repeatedly accuses Gertrude of being “incestuous.”

Yet, despite being touted as “telling the stories behind the stories” of Shakespeare’s plays, this episode of “Shakespeare Uncovered” was oddly silent about the sources for Hamlet. Instead, it spent a few minutes attempting to link the play to its assumed author’s biography, an approach I found unhelpful not only because it skipped over the play’s sources, but because it relied on too many unproven assumptions about Will of Stratford, the man that many (including historian David McCullough and retired Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O’Connor) doubt was Shakespeare in the first place.

Even though one may not get the “story behind the story,” this episode of “Shakespeare Uncovered” is worth watching. But as for the last episode in the series, which looks at The Tempest, well, that’s a different story.

Trevor Nunn’s discussion of what most consider to be the Bard’s last play is chockfull of biography about the man from Stratford, laden with qualifiers such “ we can’t be sure of this, of course,” that give his analysis a makeshift quality.

Nunn cites a particular event in Stratford Will’s relationship with his daughter, Judith, as a reference for Prospero’s relationship with Miranda in The Tempest. Besides not knowing precisely when The Tempest was written (or any of the plays for that matter), what we do know is that Judith was illiterate, an oft-cited reason why Stratford Will was not the author.

It’s unfortunate, because Nunn could have conveyed his feelings and emotions about Shakespeare’s farewell play, I think, without muddling his narrative with “biography” that smacks of fiction.

The episode also gets caught up in a contradiction of sorts. It relies on the orthodox theory about William Strachy’s account of a 1609 shipwreck in Bermuda as the source for the play (albeit with the qualifier “may have been”), but then spends a lot of time showing that the Mediterranean is the probable setting for “The Tempest,” staying silent about the appearance of the word “Bermoothes” in the play.

Indeed, recent scholarship about The Tempest demonstrates convincingly that it was written at least by 1603 for Shrovetide performance, and not derived not from Strachey but from Richard Eden’s 1555 Decades of the New World. It’s a shame that “Shakespeare Uncovered” doesn’t even touch upon this scholarship, suggesting a bias toward orthodoxy in a field that Shakespeare lovers ought to see as ripe for new discoveries.

All in all, I give “Shakespeare Uncovered” high marks. Here’s my ranking of the episodes (the links are to my reviews):

1. Richard II, with Derek Jacobi (Episode Three)

2. Henry IV and Henry V plays, with Jeremy Irons (Episode Four)

3. Macbeth, with Ethan Hawke (Episode One)

4. Hamlet, with David Tennant (Episode Five)

5. The Comedies, with Joely Richardson and Vanessa Redgrave (Episode Two)

6. The Tempest, with Trevor Nunn (Episode Six)

You can watch the complete episodes on the “Shakespeare Uncovered” website.

 

On “Shakespeare Uncovered,” Derek Jacobi Uncovers Shakespeare as (Surprise!) Edward de Vere

Derek Jacobi has been fearless in espousing a controversial view about Shakespeare’s true identity.

Derek Jacobi is a brave man. The acclaimed Shakespearean actor, apparently unafraid of peers castigating him as a heretic, boldly argues on PBS’s “Shakespeare Uncovered” that the Bard was not the son of a glove maker from Stratford, but the nobleman Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford.

Little more than half way through an episode of the program about the play Richard II, Jacobi explains that Oxford wrote the Shakespeare plays anonymously and allowed William of Stratford to take the credit.

Among other facts, Jacobi cites that the Stratford man’s children were illiterate, and that his will makes no mention of books, manuscripts of plays, or the theatre, strong evidence that the Stratfordian was not the playwright.

Jacobi acknowledges that the Shakespeare authorship question is “hugely controversial.”

The PBS show includes a rebuttal by Oxford University professor Jonathan Bate. Bate asserts that the “middle class grammar school boy” from Stratford who became an actor could understand “courts and kings and politics” because he performed at court, and “courts and kings and politics are things you can read books about.”

I imagine Bate’s remark elicited chuckles from “Oxfordians,” those who believe Edward de Vere was Shakespeare.

I find it surprising that Jacobi was allowed to express his opinion about Shakespeare’s authorship on “Shakespeare Uncovered,” given that its producer, Richard Denton, considers it “nonsense.”

It’s also interesting to me how some folks belittle the view that Shakespeare was de Vere’s pseudonym, given that many serious people – such as the esteemed historian David McCullough – have concluded there’s convincing evidence to support that view.

I found Jacobi’s discussion of Richard II, which included clips from a 1978 production featuring him in the lead role, fascinating, making me want to see again the only play Shakespeare wrote completely in verse.

In the subsequent installment of “Shakespeare Uncovered,” Jeremy Irons provides an analysis of the Henry IV and Henry V plays that’s well-worth watching. Irons is an Oxfordian, too. However, unlike Jacobi, he steers clear of the authorship question.

PBS will broadcast the last two installments of “Shakespeare Uncovered” on Friday, February 8. They will feature David Tennant discussing Hamlet, and Trevor Nunn discussing The Tempest.

In Washington D.C., See London (Twice!)

The city of London, the subject of the Folger Shakespeare Library’s exhibition in Washington, D.C., Open City: London, 1500-1700, is mentioned in the Shakespeare canon more than five dozen times — but always in history plays, most of which are set in the 14th and 15th centuries.  So it’s no surprise that the Folger’s fine exhibition doesn’t spend time trying to connect the revered William of Stratford-upon-Avon to the London described by Shakespeare.

Panorama of London by Claes Van Visscher (1610)

While exploring such links between the Bard and the settings of his plays might be interesting (one wonders why he never mentions Stratford), Open City: London, 1500-1700 is not about how Shakespeare depicted London and environs such as Westminster, Smithfield, and Cheapside in works such as Henry IV, Henry V, Richard II, and Richard III, but rather how political, religious and economic forces, as well as plagues and the 1666 Great Fire, changed the city over the span of two centuries.

If you’re in the D.C. area, I highly recommend seeing the exhibition, which runs through September 30.

Open City: London, 1500-1700 covers three main areas of London life: the church, the theater and the market. Highlights include panoramic period maps of London remarkable in their detail, and a 1616 diptych (hinged panels that the viewer can open) of oil paintings of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

Also on display are rare documents and books, including a 1609 edition of Shakespeare’s Pericles, and a 1689 printing of John Locke’s “A Letter Concerning Toleration.” You’ll also see the coat of arms of all companies and guilds doing business in London, circa 1596.

James McNeil Whistler, Nocturne in Grey and Gold: Chelsea Snow (1876)

If you’d like to view more London of the past, a nice compliment to the Folger exhibition is Whistler’s Neighborhood: Impressions of a Changing London, at the nearby Freer Gallery. The Freer exhibition, which also runs through September 30, features watercolors and small oil paintings by James McNeil Whistler of the Chelsea neighborhood where he lived during the 1880s.

And if that’s not enough London for you, you may just want to go there!

 

 

 

 

Shakespeare Matters: Richard III

From London to California, Shakespeare’s Richard III is all over the place. Mark Rylance, former artistic director of The Globe Theatre and one of today’s best Shakespearean actors, has returned to the London stage in the lead role to rave reviews. In Temecula, California, Shakespeare in the Vines is staging the play through August 25 at the Callaway Vineyards and Winery, a venue where there should be wine enough to fill the barrel into which Richard III’s murdered brother is stuffed.

Born in New York City, the tragedian Thomas W. Keene, the stage name of Thomas R. Eagleson (1840-1898), played Richard III for audiences in Cincinnati and Boston during the years following the American Civil War. The panel in the upper right illustrates the play’s seduction scene in which Richard woos Lady Anne, the wife of the man he’s just murdered.

The first play to be published under Shakespeare’s name (in 1598 – up until then his plays were published anonymously), Richard III has been staged thousands of times. Listverse ranks it number 6 on the list of the Top 10 Greatest Shakespeare Plays.

The Colorado Shakespeare Festival just completed a run of the play, and The Michigan Shakespeare Festival (Jackson, Michigan) is performing it through August 12. The play is in New York through August 25 thanks to The Public Theater’s “Mobile Shakespeare Unit.”

In Baltimore, the Chesapeake Shakespeare Company will showcase the play October 5-28.  Just down the road in Washington, DC, Brave Spirits Theatre recently finished a highly successful run of Richard III (full disclosure: I’m a Brave Spirits supporter).

Directed by Charlene V. Smith, the Brave Spirits no-frills production featured standout performances by Victoria Reinsel, Travis Blumer, and Jessica Lefkow, joined by seven other actors taking on 48 roles. Smith’s creative direction put comic relief into the scene of the murder of Richard III’s brother. For the ghost scene, Smith organized the spirits into a choir and, in an effective reordering of their  speeches, had them take turns haunting the villainous king before encouraging the Earl of Richmond, the play’s hero, to dream of victory.

Now, here are three quick reasons to see Richard III.

 A relevant story. To gain and retain power, a man slaughters his own countrymen and even children while plunging his nation into civil war. Sound familiar? It’s the story of Richard III and the story of today and, it seems, of every day, one reason audiences still connect with this play. It reminds us that no matter what century, ruthless, dictatorial leaders can make people suffer through the scourge of sectarian violence.

History lessons. Richard III offers not one but several history lessons. First, it’s a condensed version of the last seven years of the 30-year War of the Roses, a civil war in which two royal houses – York and Lancaster, the respective symbols of which were the white rose and red rose – duke it out for control of England. Historically, the play is also an early example of state propaganda. In the play, Henry Tudor, the Earl of Richmond, slays Richard III, ending the War of the Roses and restoring peace and order to the realm. The earl, later crowned Henry VII, was the grandfather of Elizabeth Tudor, who became Queen Elizabeth I and occupied the throne when Shakespeare’s play premiered. As with all Shakespeare’s plays, Richard III opens a fascinating window into the history of our language and culture. It shows us, for example, how Elizabethans believed that a person’s natural physical appearance revealed his true nature. They also believed that toads were venomous and evil. In their eyes, Richard III, “rudely stamped” as a “poisonous bunchdback’d (hunchbacked) toad,” would be as evil as evil gets.

Showing the nature of evil. To modern eyes Richard III may not look particularly evil, but his actions prove him so – at least in comparison to the historical Richard III. By watching Shakespeare’s Richard III, you can learn a thing or two about evil men, for example how they can share the same flaws as good men, such as an overconfidence that leads to Richard III’s downfall. At its worse, evil is self-aware: Richard III is consciously bent (so to speak) on being a villain, using fear as his best tool. At the same time, evil can be charming. In one early scene, the demented protagonist manages to successfully woo Lady Anne whose husband he’s just murdered, in front of the dead man’s body no less!

Richard III’s incredible seduction scene is a challenge for actors to make believable, and another reason to see this hugely popular play.

Elephants: Wanted Dead…or Alive?

In Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, one of the assassins says he’ll use flattery to lure the Roman dictator to the Capitol, comparing it to how elephants are “betrayed” with “holes,” i.e., trapped with hidden pitfalls. The comparison sounds archaic, but may soon sound a lot more so: without serious intervention, some warn that the African elephant, whose ancestors have roamed the earth for 50 million years, will fall into the final hole of extinction within 20 years.

That’s right, viewers of Julius Caesar may one day ask, “what’s an elephant?” During our own lifetimes, the majestic African elephant, a highly intelligent animal that appears to have a form of language, is becoming extinct.

African elephants: headed towards extinction in 20 years.

You may think it takes magic to make elephants suddenly disappear, but it doesn’t. It’s happening right before our eyes and we know why. According to the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, there were as few as 472,000 African elephants in 2007, down from 1.3 million in 1979. That’s an average loss of over 25,000 elephants per year.

It’s no mystery how this is happening: massive numbers of elephants are being slaughtered for the illegal ivory trade.

In May, the U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee, led by Senator John Kerry, held hearings on the “Global Implications of Poaching in Africa.” Representatives from Save the Elephants and the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species described how an armed militia, backed by organized crime, recently massacred as many as 400 elephants in the Cameroon for their ivory.

“How shockingly destructive and historically shameful it would be if we did nothing while a great species was criminally slaughtered into extinction,” said Kerry.

The situation of the Asian elephant, the other species of the world’s largest land mammal, is equally dire. Today’s wild population of Asian elephants is dwindling fast and is now estimated at less than 33,000. Sadly, the plunging number may leave programs such as Elephant Trails at the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. as one of the last chances for the species’ survival.

In contrast to their African cousins, the main challenge for Asian elephants is habitat loss: the forests where wild Asian elephants live are being cut down to grow cash crops, such as palm.

Asian elephants: less than 33,000 in the wild.

To his credit, Senator Kerry is taking the problem seriously. He’s introduced Senate Bill 2318  to expand the State Department’s “Rewards Program” to include transnational organized crime and reduce trafficking of all kinds. At the May hearing, he sounded open to the idea of expanding the Rewards Program to include compensating countries that destroy stockpiles of ivory, as Gabon recently has done.

What can you do? Please take a few minutes and send an email to Senator Kerry, expressing thanks for his concern about the elephants’ plight, and the hope that Senate Bill 2318 is expanded to include rewards for destroying ivory.

It’s a small contribution you can make to help keep this magnificent species alive.

 

In the History of Pseudonyms, “Shakespeare” Fits Right In

Romaine Gary aka Emile Ajar

Imagine – a talented but aging author decides one day to publish under a pseudonym. Only his wife and a few associates know his secret. His pseudonymous works enjoy such great success, he realizes he needs a front man to be his public face. So he recruits a younger man to embody his alter-ego, coaching him carefully, even scripting lines about the author’s “real life.” Everyone’s fooled.

If you think this scenario sounds like one addressed by the Shakespeare authorship question – which can be best succinctly stated as, “Did Edward de Vere write under the pseudonym William Shakespeare using William Shakspere of Stratford-upon-Avon as his front man?” – you’re right, it does. It also happens to be the true story of French novelist Romaine Gary, the only person to win the prestigious Goncourt Prize twice, first as Romaine Gary and then as Emile Ajar. Gary enlisted his cousin, Paul Pavlowitch, to play Ajar, preparing him for meetings with his publisher, who was completely convinced by Pavlowitch’s performance. The ruse eventually unraveled when Gary revealed the affair in a novel in which he made Pavlowitch the narrator, a madman in a psychiatric ward who confesses to being Ajar. At that point, the real-life Pavlowitch decided his cooperation with Gary was over.

Carmela Ciuraru recounts Gary’s curious tale in her recent book, Nom de Plume, A (Secret) History of Pseudonyms. She gives case studies of eighteen writers that used pseudonyms or heteronyms, including (I’m using their pseudonyms) George Sand, Lewis Carroll, Mark Twain, Isak Dinesen, and Christian Brulls.

Reading Ciuraru’s book, I identified four categories of reasons why authors use pseudonyms. The most prevalent, shared by at least seven of the eighteen authors she describes (which includes Gary/Ajar and the five named above), is that the pseudonym activates an alter ego, allowing the author to become a different “self” unshackled by the baggage attached to the real name. The other three reasons, distributed roughly among the additional eleven authors profiled by Ciuraru are: a way to avoid publishers’ discrimination against female authors (e.g. the Bronte sisters, and Marian Evans who wrote as George Eliot); a way to deny being the writer of controversial content (e.g., Dominique Aury, who wrote “The Story of O” as Pauline Reage); and a way to hide perceived shameful behavior or avoid displeasure of parents or peers (e.g., Henry York writing as Henry Green, and Eric Blair writing as George Orwell).

Ciuraru shows that a writer can have more than one reason to write pseudonymously. It struck me that Edward de Vere, if he did write as William Shakespeare, fits this profile with three of the four types of reasons.

First, as a poet acknowledged in his time as the best writer of comedy and known to have written plays, de Vere was a nobleman, whose peers frowned upon those who were associated with the theater and its low-life riff-raff. Reading Ciuraru’s book, it surprised me how, during Green’s and Orwell’s day, aristocratic disapproval of writing as a vocation strongly persisted.

Second, as shown in biographies about de Vere, much of the content of Shakespeare’s plays would have been controversial at the time, since many characters appear to mirror people in Queen Elizabeth I’s court, including Elizabeth herself. For example, the character Polonius, who’s slaughtered in Hamlet, is now widely viewed as an unflattering caricature of William Cecil, Lord Burghley, the Queen’s secretary and the most powerful man in England at the time. Burghley was de Vere’s father-in-law, and they detested each other. Many think Queen Gertrude in Hamlet represents Queen Elizabeth, with whom de Vere had a rumored affair.

Finally, if Charles Beauclerk got things right in Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom, William Shakespeare expressed de Vere’s other self – a bohemian artist who loved the creative writing process which allowed him to vent feelings he otherwise would have kept locked up. Beauclerk also presents a compelling argument why Shakespeare’s plays should be seen as “politically inflammatory works” written by a court insider.

What Ciuraru adds – even without addressing whether Shakespeare was a pseudonym – is the plausibility of an author attaching his pen name to another person, who then takes on the role of playing the author. To anyone who reads Nom de Plume, the idea of William Shakspere of Stratford playing “William Shakespeare” as a stand-in for de Vere shouldn’t sound crazy.

There’s strong evidence that “William Shakespeare” was somebody’s pseudonym. As Mark Anderson explains in Shakespeare by Another Name, many of the plays were published under the name “Shake-speare.” In Elizabethan times, use of a hyphen signaled a pseudonym. The one time a play (King Lear) showed the author’s name as “Shak-speare,” the next edition changed it back to “Shake-speare.”

The enigmatic Sonnets also were published under the name “Shake-speare.”

William of Stratford never signed his name as “Shakespeare,” but rather as “Shakspere.” His birth, family and burial records show the name as “Shakspere” or some variation of the short ‘a’ spelling (e.g., Shagspere). His will makes no mention of “Shakespeare” or the plays, or books, or anything else to suggest a writing life.

In contrast, the connections between de Vere’s life and the Shakespeare plays are so numerous, they read like his autobiography. Written in the first person, the Sonnets, too, paint an accurate portrait of de Vere, not Shakspere.

De Vere had the motive, opportunity and ability to use a pseudonym and employ Shakspere as his front man. And as Ciuraru shows, it is not unheard of for an author to use the name of a real person, or a derivative thereof, as a pseudonym. “George Sand” in part came from the last name of her close friend and collaborator, Jules Sandeau. “Shakespeare,” a close variation of Shakspere, would make Stratford Will even more believable as de Vere’s front man, and a good choice for a nobleman who was three-time champion of the tilt.

In the history of pseudonyms, such a hoax is not only curious, but also very plausible.

Shakespeare Wrote Shakespeare

The idea that Shakspere wrote Shakespeare never caught on.

In our zeal in making an argument, sometimes we’ll say something that doesn’t make the best sense. In my opinion, this has happened in the Shakespeare authorship debate. Allow me to explain.

First, some background. The debate – which is more like a cultural war – is over who wrote the poems and plays attributed to William Shakespeare. One main candidate is William of Stratford-upon-Avon (1616-1624), the man that most people assume was William Shakespeare. The second is Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford (1550-1604). In 1920, a Scotsman named Thomas Looney (pronounced “lo-knee”) published a book that showed de Vere, a playwright whom a contemporary called “the best for comedy,” wrote under the pseudonym William Shakespeare. “Stratfordians” have battled “Oxfordians” ever since.

“We all know William Shakespeare, the most famous author of all time,” begins Sir Derek Jacobi in Anonymous, a new movie from director Roland Emmerich that depicts de Vere as Shakespeare. “But what if I told you,” Sir Derek says a moment later, “Shakespeare never wrote a single word?”

And thus begins a new battle in the Great Shakespeare War.

The war has raged on for 80 years. Based on the historical evidence, Looney put forth a strong case that de Vere was Shakespeare. He showed, for instance, that the connections between de Vere’s life and the plays are so numerous, the plays read like his autobiography. For the most part, Stratfordians have tried to dismiss Oxfordians as crackpots.

Full disclosure: I think that Looney was right, de Vere was Shakespeare. Many others share that opinion, including two-time Pulitzer Prize winning historian David McCullough, and U.S. Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia.

Over the years, the case for de Vere has grown stronger. For example, Professor Roger Strittmater has studied annotations in a Bible owned by de Vere. The marginalia in the de Vere Bible correspond so closely to biblical references found in Shakespeare as to be far beyond mere coincidence.

So what about William of Stratford? Well, for starters, his name was William Shakspere, not William Shakespeare.

Which brings us back to the great Sir Derek Jacobi. Whichever side one takes in the authorship debate, one should admire how he’s taken such a pro-de Vere stance at a time when Stratfordians still dominate the theater world. Nonetheless, I think de Vere’s soldiers shoot themselves in the foot with rhetoric such as, “Shakespeare never wrote a single word.” Even if you agree (as I do) that de Vere was Shakespeare, it’s easy to prove such a statement is false.

Think about it. If Edward de Vere was William Shakespeare who wrote the plays, then William Shakespeare was Edward de Vere. This is the associative rule of logic: if A=B, then B=A. William Shakespeare therefore wrote the plays of William Shakespeare, even if the name was de Vere’s pseudonym.

What de Vere supporters really want to say is, “Shakspere never wrote a single word.” But instead they end up saying “Shakespeare never wrote a single word,” which is like saying, “Voltaire never wrote a single word,” or “Mark Twain never wrote a single word,” or “George Orwell never wrote a single word.” It sounds silly.

The latter three names are pseudonyms, but biographies of those authors contain statements such as, “it is unknown exactly when Voltaire wrote Candide,” and “Twain began his career writing light, humorous verse.” In short, Voltaire wrote Voltaire and Mark Twain wrote Mark Twain – and Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare.

Most Oxfordians underplay the importance of Stratford Will’s name, as if it were some minor detail. Instead, they rush to the mountain of other evidence that proves de Vere was Shakespeare. By doing so, Oxfordians get off on the wrong foot, in my opinion, and fall into the deep pit of confusion Stratfordians have been digging for decades.

So here are a few facts worth emphasizing. Will of Stratford was christened “Gulielmus Shakspere.” There are six surviving signatures of this man. All of them spell his last name without the ‘e’ that would make the ‘a’ sound long, as in “shake.” Furthermore, the second syllable of the name is always spelled so it is spoken with the “er” sound as in “her,” or the “air” sound as in “pair,” not the “ear” sound as in “spear.” Stratford Will never signed his name “Shakespeare.” Why? The simplest explanation is that his last name was Shakspere, as in “shack-spare.”

Those that argue that Stratford Will was Shakespeare but spelled his name Shakspere, will point to Christopher Marlowe, who once signed his name “Christofer Marley,” and other contemporary references that spelled “Marlowe” as “Marly” or “Marlin.” Or they cite the example of Shackerley Marmion, an early 17th century dramatist whose name sometimes appears as “Shakerly.” They also look to the anonymous 1592 play, Arden of Feversham, in which one of the villains is called “Shakbag,” sometimes spelled “Shakebag.” None of which supports that Shakspere wrote Shakespeare.

Unlike the difference between “Shakspere” and “Shakespeare,” the spelling and pronunciation of the first syllable of “Marlowe” doesn’t change in the variations. Moreover, we have just one surviving signature of Marlowe’s, but six for Shakspere. One can pronounce both “Shackerley” and “Shakerly” with the short ‘a’ since the second syllable is “er.” In any case, that name is not an example of a long ‘a’ sound remaining after the ‘e’ is dropped. “Shakbag” is an old word of mid-Yorkshire dialect meaning “a lazy roving person; a vagrant.” That’s the correct spelling and that’s how it appears the vast majority of times in Arden of Feversham. Adding the ‘e’ creates a misspelling. Those who argue “Shakbag” as proof that Shakspere wrote Shakespeare therefore must also argue that “Shakespeare” is a misspelling of “Shakspere,” which is absurd.

In fact, we have contemporary evidence that attributing the plays to William “Shakspere” or “Shakspeare” was a mistake. A 1608 quarto of King Lear names the author as “William Shak-speare.” Subsequent quartos correct the name to “William Shake-speare.” As Mark Anderson shows in Shakespeare by Another Name, in Elizabethan times a hyphen often signaled that a name was a pseudonym.

Hundreds if not thousands of editions of Shakespeare exist, but only a tiny fraction of them name the author as “Shakspere.” In 1868, Charles Knight edited “The Works of William Shakspere.” In the early 1900’s, Funk & Wagnalls published “The Complete Works of William Shakspere.” Clearly, the idea that “Shakspere” was the Bard’s correct name never caught on, simply because it wasn’t the correct name. The errant “Shakspere” editions serve as further proof that Shakspere wasn’t the Bard.

Shakespeare wrote Shakespeare, and he wrote many words at that. Oxfordians would help their cause by clearly stating that fact.