Hey, kids! Welcome back to The Book Report. The Mythoi Book I: Birth Trade Paper-Back comes out this month (just in case you missed the official press release), and I strongly urge you to pick up a copy.

In a strange bit of cross-promotion, yours truly can be found acting in William Shakespeare’s The Tragedie of King Lear at Shakespeare Orange County this month. Of course, what that meant for me is for the past few weeks I’ve had to sit through the telling of this terrific, tragic tale just about every night, and so I needed something to read to lighten things up a bit.
What more appropriate way to do that than by giving Christopher Moore’s parody of King Lear, Fool (pub. 2009), a reread.

“A Fool and his money are soon popular“
For those unfamiliar with Shakespeare’s tragedy, allow me to recap:
The old King Lear of Britain is ready to retire and wants to pass along control of his kingdom to his heirs. In order to prevent future strife between the Dukes of Albany and Cornwall (each of whom are married Lear’s older daughters, Goneril and Regan), Lear decides to divide his kingdom into three parts, each portion going to a daughter. His trick, however, is that the size and value of each portion is determined by asking his daughters which of them loves him the most.
Goneril and Regan spew honey out of their mouths, but Lear’s youngest and favorite daughter, Cordelia, doesn’t play along. She says,

Why have my sisters husbands, if they say
They love you all? Haply, when I shall wed,
That lord whose hand must take my plight shall carry
Half my love with him, half my care and duty:

Lear, in his pride, does not take this response well. He disowns Cordelia and divides her portion between Cornwall and Albany and gives them the keys to the kingdom, though he shall still “retain the name of king”. It soon becomes clear, however, that the honey coming from the mouths of Goneril and Regan mask the vitriol in their hearts. Lear soon finds himself rejected by his older daughters, turned out into a storm with a fool, a possible madman, and a knight in disguise as his only company. His heartbreak tugs at his sanity as the storm tugs at his health.
Cordelia returns with an army, looking to set the wrong things right, and finds her father wandering feverish and delirious. In typical tragic form, by the end of the play practically everyone ends up dead, and those who survive cautioning,

“The weight of this sad time we must obey;
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.”

“It is a fool’s prerogative to utter truths that no one else will speak.“
In Christopher Moore’s novel, the story of Lear is re-imagined, and told through the eyes of Lear’s Fool, named Pocket. The tale through Pocket’s eyes becomes what Publishers Weekly rightly calls “a buffet of tragedy, comedy, and medieval porn action.” Moore deviates from his source material a bit in order turn the tragedy into such a ribald comedy, changing the ending and borrowing heavily from a couple other Shakespeare plays in the process. But in addition to the utterly hilarious (and vulgar) wit coming from the fool, Moore cleverly imagines scenes to fill in certain gaps in Shakespeare’s play.
Too many details may spoil the fun (and there is a lot of fun to be had), but I will say the book worked wonderfully well at keeping me smiling by the end of each rehearsal. Shakespeare purists who don’t recognize parody as the sincerest form of flattery and people who don’t appreciate a good dick or fart joke will probably not enjoy the book that much. But for the rest of you, I encourage you to pick up the book and give it a read. It’s sure to tickle the whole way through, and I lost count of the moments when I burst out into audible laughter.

Until next time,
Still paddlin’ the old knew…
_-Akatzen-_

Howdy, kids! Welcome back to The Book Report.

A couple weeks ago I did a three part study focusing on three candidates in the Shakespeare authorship question. Today, I’d like to write about a great thrill-ride of a book that features the authorship issue as one of its plot points. The book is Interred With Their Bones by Jennifer Lee Carrell.

The title comes from a line in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar: “The evil that men do live after them; The Good is oft interred with their bones.” The book is pretty standard thriller fare, actually. It’s starts with a death of a Person-With-A-Secret. A friend of the PWAS (the hero of the novel) gets a clue about that secret, and before you can spell conpiracy…conspriacy…conspiracy, the hero is off on a wild hunt for more clues, eluding the machinations of a deranged killer in the process. The book doesn’t deviate from the formula any more or less than The Da Vinci Code (or any of the other Dan Brown novels) did, so what helps these sorts of books stand out is the content of the Secrets.

The secrets covered in Interred With Their Bones deal with the three big mysteries of Shakespeare: 1) Did someone other than Shakespeare write the plays? 2) Who was the Dark Lady and the Fair Youth of Shakespeare’s Sonnets? 3) What happened to Cardenio?

The History of Cardenio is one of Shakespeare’s lost plays (along with Love’s Labours Won), known to have been performed by the King’s Men in 1613. Most scholars speculate that the play was based around the character of Cardenio in Miguel de Cervantes’s Don Quixote. There are no (that we know about) surviving manuscripts of the play, unfortunately, and finding a copy of the play could very well be the literary equivalent of archeologists digging up the city of Troy in the mid 1800s.

But the question that begs to be asked is, “Are these secrets worth killing someone over?“
A certain amount of suspension of disbelief is required when reading Interred With Their Bones, but then, I suppose a certain amount of suspension of disbelief is required when reading any novel. Like The Da Vinci Code, the heroine visits many real places and deals with real questions that have plagued Shakespearean scholars for more than a hundred years. The facts help lend a certain amount of credence to the rest of the book, and as long as you don’t look to carefully and just hang on for the ride, Interred With Their Bones will take you on a wild roller-coaster of a thriller and may just help you learn a little more about one of the best authors of the English Language at the same time.

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A short post from me today, folks. Hope you’re not too disappointed. I also hope all of you have pre-ordered a copy of the Mythoi: Birth graphic novel by now.
Have a fun (and safe) Independence day this weekend!

Until next time…
Still paddlin’ the old knew.
_-Akatzen-_

Welcome back to The Book Report, kids!

Today we’re going to look at one final candidate for the authorship of Shakespeare’s plays. He’s the current reigning champion, supported by Freud, Orson Welles, several Supreme Court Justices, Yale University, hundreds of other academics, and thousands of people since 1920. He was an Elizabethan poet, playwright, military man, sportsman, patron of many writers and a few musicians, and sponsor of at least two acting companies.
His name is Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford.

3. Oxfordian Theory

From a very young age, de Vere received personal tutelage and education from various educators, including Sir Thomas Smith, Cambridge don. He received a BA from Cambridge, and MA from Oxford, and was enrolled at Grey’s Inn for a time. de Vere displayed a great passion for learning, and even may have assisted in translating Ovid’s Metamorphosis into English, since the translator was his uncle, Alan Golding. Due to the wide variety of topics and an almost exclusive reliance on Ovid for classical reference in Shakespeare’s plays, Edward de Vere at this point is as likely a candidate as anyone.

Also appearing in the plays is a familiarity with certain French and Italian customs that would seem to imply that whoever wrote the plays must have traveled through these countries. Edward de Vere traveled through France, Germany, and Italy in the mid 1570s, and in Italy spent time in the same towns as appear in Shakespeare’s plays.

While Shakespeare may have been the author of 36 (credited) plays and many poems, Oxfordians point out there is very little documentation of his personal life. And though there is no direct evidence of a connection between Edward de Vere and Shakespeare’s plays, there is quite a bit of circumstantial evidence. He was a known poet and playwright, his family helped publish the First Folio, and he had connections with the Earl of Southampton, for whom Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece are dedicated.
Additionally, many details of Shakespeare’s plays read almost like a biography (or if you’re an Oxfordian, autobiography) of the Earl of Oxford’s life. Specifically, Hamlet appears to detail aspects of his life almost exactly.

The Melancholy Earl

When de Vere was 12, his father died and his mother remarried shortly after. When he was 15, he was made a royal ward and place in the household of William Cecil, Lord Burghley. Some Shakespeare scholars assert that the character of Polonius was inspired by Lord Burghley. Just as Polonius had a daughter that Hamlet was interested in, Lord Burghley’s daughter Anne was betrothed to — and eventually married — Edward de Vere. Hamlet’s trusted friend was Horatio, and had as a friend the guard Fransisco. de Vere had two cousins, Horace and Francis (which in Italian would be Horatio and Francisco). While returning to England from Italy, de Vere was captured by pirates while crossing the English channel, stripped naked, and left on the Danish shore, just as Hamlet was captured by pirates and later “set naked in the kingdom”.

During his travels in Europe, the Earl ran out of money and had to sell some of his estates for more funds; In As You Like It, Rosalind tells Jaques “I fear you have sold your own lands to see other men’s.”

In 1577, de Vere went in bond for 3,000 ducats for a venture in the Americas to one Michael Lock. In The Merchant of Venice, Antonio goes in bond for 3,000 ducats to Shylock. Both bonds ended up in forfeiture.

There are countless other biographical connections to be found in the plays besides the three mentioned here. But is that enough to conclude that rather than Shakespeare writing a story — or even a biography of someone still living — it’s someone else entirely, writing an autobiography using Shakespeare’s name? Enter Puttenham.

In 1589, George Puttenham wrote The Arte of English Poesie, an examination of English poetry in the 16th Century which Oxfordians cite to support their claim of pseudonymitry. As the Oxfordian website attests, “In the Renaissance period in England no courtiers were allowed to publish poetry –this was an unwritten code of the court. The need for a pseudonym by an author-courtier such as Oxford would have been essential.” Chapter 8 of Book 1 of The Arte… seems to support this (I’m editing only the spelling to help its readability).

“Now also of such among the nobility or gentry as be very well seen in many laudable sciences, and especially in making of Poetry, it is so come to pass that they have no courage to write and if they have, yet are they loath to be known of their skill. So as I know very many notable gentlemen in the Court that have written commendably and suppressed it again, or else suffered it to be published without their own names to it, as it were a discredit for a gentleman, to seem learned, and to show himself amorous of any good Art.”

Okay, that supports the pseudonym theory, but what about the Earl specifically? In Chapter 31 of Book 1, Puttenham writes,

“And in her Majesty’s time that now is are sprung up another crew of Courtly makers Noble men and Gentlemen of her Majesty’s own servants, who have written excellently well as it would appear if their doings could be found out and made public with the rest, of which number is first that noble Gentleman Edward Earl of Oxford. Thomas Lord of Bukhurst, when he was young, Henry Lord Paget, Sir Philip Sydney, Sir Walter Raleigh, Master Edward Dyar, Maister Fulke Grevell, Gascon, Britton, Turberville and a great many other learned Gentlemen, whose names I do not omit for envy, but to avoid tediousness, and who have deserved no little commendation.”

Later in the same chapter, Puttenham mentions playwrights, and Oxford’s name is mentioned as being among the best “for comedy and interlude”. And in Chapter 19 of Book 3 Puttenham includes a bit of Oxford’s poetry as an example of a “response” type poem.

The Argument

The main argument Oxfordians have against Shakespeare, essentially, is that he was too uneducated to write the plays and there is no record of William of Stratford being connected to the theater beyond questionable or falsified documents. Using the evidence I outlined above (and much else — consider my overview a list of brief highlights), Oxfordians believe that the authorship of the plays is much better realized in the Earl of Oxford.
Unfortunately, one big problem Oxfordians face is that the Earl died in 1604 and it is widely believed that several of Shakespeare’s plays were written after he died, most notably The Tempest, King Lear, and Macbeth. Oxfordians respond that the dating of these plays is pure conjecture and it is possible they may have been written before Oxford’s death.

Looking at Macbeth, it is easy to see that Oxfordians are faced with no easy task. The absolute earliest one could date the play is March 1603, when the Scottish James I (who believed himself to be descended from Banquo) took the throne following Queen Elizabeth’s death. The story is one of previous Scottish Kings and witchcraft (a subject King James considered himself an expert on). Additionally, later in the play, there is a pageant of kings paraded before Macbeth, who notes, “And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass Which shows me many more.” The glass would have been a mirror, held so that King James could see his own face, thus making him part of the drama.
There also seems to be a clear reference by the Porter (the clown of the play) to the death of Jesuit Henry Garnet, a conspirator in the famous Gunpowder Plot of 1606. Garnet adhered to a doctrine of equivocation (deception without being an outright lie) in his trial but found guilty. Oxfordians would argue that the doctrine of equivocation was used in the earlier trial of Robert Southwell during the early 1590s, and literature describing the doctrine going back even to the early 1580s.
It is a weak argument, however. The clown of the play wouldn’t mention equivocation if the audience would fail to find it humorous, and references to a paper fifteen to twenty years old is a long time to bring back a joke from. It is far more likely that the play, being performed in the Stuart Court, would be making references to an event which happened during the Stuart Monarchy.
Finally, many scholars believe that the later plays are more technically complex (consider the many sound effects, dark atmosphere, and extreme scene changes in Macbeth) because they were written for the indoor Blackfriar’s Theatre, which The King’s Men (of whom Shakespeare was a member) didn’t take over until 1608.
The first time the play is mentioned as a performance was at the Globe in 1611. Shakespearean and Oxfordian scholars agree that this was not likely the first performance, but there is much more evidence pointing to the play having been written after Oxford’s death rather than before.

Stratfordians
Stratfordians (so called because they believe the author of Shakespeare was the man named William Shakespeare from Stratford) generally dismiss Oxfordians claims, beginning by dispelling the myth that there is some kind of mystery as to whether Shakespeare wrote his own stuff. Oxfordians tend to point out that practically nothing is known about Shakespeare, which should seem unlikely if he was the national treasure that he is (and then point out how so much is known of the Earl of Oxenford).
Actually, we know quite a bit more about Shakespeare’s authorship than many other playwrights of the same era. Additionally, it is precisely because he was not noble that so little of his life is known. Generally, biographies, letters, diaries, and the like were only preserved for the nobility.

Oxfordians tend to stretch evidence a bit when they claim the Earl wrote under a pseudonym; there is actually no evidence to support such a claim. Look at the quotes from Puttenham again. While he does say that some members of the court write under a different name, he specifically mentions Oxford as someone who writes under his own name. He even includes a poem written by Oxford.
The autobiographical evidence found in the plays is not conclusive either. Stratfordian David Kathman points out Hamlet could just as easily be about King James (and that’s not even taking into account that many plot points are inspired by Thomas Kyd’s Spanish Tragedy, including a murder, ghost, and play within a play, among others).

“James’s father, Lord Darnley, had been murdered; his mother had been suspected in the scandal of his death, and she soon married the supposed murderer, Bothwell (who was a heavy drinker, just like Claudius). Mary’s meddling chief counselor, Rizzio, was murdered in her presence, and his body was disposed of secretly by means of a stair-case. Sound familiar? James was a melancholy, indecisive prince, interested in learning, a poet, married to a woman (Queen Anne) who he treated shabbily, and a likely successor to the throne of England.”

Oxford wrote poetry and plays, and based on the evidence, everyone in court (at the very least) knew it. Why would he write more poetry and plays and try to hide them behind someone else’s name? Especially if they are so obviously biographical he might as well have signed his name to them? The answer seems clear to me:

William Shakespeare’s name is on the plays because William Shakespeare wrote them. The same William Shakespeare from Stratford. The same Shakespeare who signed his name to both Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece. The same Shakespeare written about by Frances Mere (in Palladis Tamia in 1598) as having written twelve plays, who also mentions the Earl of Oxford in the same paragraph as Shakespeare. This is also the same William Shakespeare who was an actor in the company which performed the plays of William Shakespeare in theaters tenanted by William Shakespeare.

There shouldn’t be any reason to doubt this, in my opinion, but there is and has been for quite some time. Is any of this doubt actually helpful? I think it is, for without it our picture of the English Renaissance would be considerably less clear. In that, scholars supporting all sides of the issue can agree that none of it is time wasted.

Anyone interested in learning more should go to David Kathman’s very helpful authorship website, as well as these Oxfordian, Marlovian, and Baconian websites.

Thanks for sticking around through this series!

Until next time,
Still paddlin’ the old knew…
_-Akatzen-_

Hey, kids! Welcome back to The Book Report, and Part 2 of my examination of Shakespeare and who might really be the author of his plays.

Last week, I started us off with an examination of Baconian theory, and this week I want to examine what is probably my favorite theory, even if it is by no means the most popular.

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2. Marlovian Theory
All sorts of alternative candidates have been offered at one time or another for being the true author of Shakespeare’s plays. Sir Walter Raleigh, William Stanley, Henry Neville, Mary Sydney, and even Queen Elizabeth I have all been suggested. Perhaps the most interesting alternative candidate, however, is another Elizabethan playwright.

Self-styled Marlovians believe that famed playwright and poet Christopher Marlowe wrote the plays generally attributed to Shakespeare. Scholars almost universally accept that Shakespeare’s writings were influenced by Marlowe. In fact, some parallels are pretty obvious.
For example, in Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta, Barabas sees Abigail on a balcony above him and exclaims,

“But stay! What star shines yonder in the east?
The lodestar of my life, if Abigail!”

Consider the similarity to Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, when Romeo says,

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East and Juliet the Sun!”

Malovians would argue that Marlowe did more than influence Shakespeare, he actually wrote his plays and Sonnets. The trouble with this theory is that Christopher Marlowe died thirteen days before Shakespeare’s first published work, Venus and Adonis. And so the crux of Marlovian theory lies in the idea that Christopher Marlowe faked his death. What Marlovians say concerning Venus and Adonis is that when the poem was registered with the Stationer’s Company on April 18th, 1593 (almost a month and a half before Marlowe’s death) it was registered with no author listed. When the poem was finally published and sold on June 12th (Marlowe died on May 30th), it listed William Shakespeare as the author. Could William Shakespeare be a cover for one of the most elaborate conspiracies in history?

The first person to suggest that Marlowe’s death was faked was Wilbur G. Ziegler in his 1895 novel It Was Marlowe: a story of the secret of three centuries. Since then, a relatively small but very devoted few have kept the idea going to this day.

At the time of Marlowe’s death, he was suspected of writing an atheistic book being used for subversive purposes. Accusations to the Privy Council that he was persuading others to convert to atheism were coming from all directions. A trial over such things would have certainly warranted his execution.

Two days after Marlowe’s death, an inquest was held by William Danby, the Coroner of the Queen’s Household, and a jury of sixteen men. They determined that the cause of death was a knife wound above the right eye, inflicted on him by Ingram Frizer, a man Marlowe was dining with along with two other gentlemen, Robert Poley and Nicholas Skeres. The jury determined the killing was in self-defense and the Queen pardoned Frizer four weeks later. Nearly all of the books and articles written about Marlowe’s death conclude that Frizer, Poley, and Skeres — the witnesses at the inquest — were lying about the details of his death. Rather than self-defense, scholars generally agree it was probably a murder.
And though scholars tend to ask, “Why was Marlowe killed?” Marlovians go one step further. They ask “what was the purpose of Marlowe meeting with Frizer, Poley, and Skeres?” They then posit that if Frizer, Poley, and Skeres could lie about the details of Marlowe’s death, they could also lie about the identity of Marlowe’s body.

The place where Marlowe met the three gentlemen was the Deptford home of Eleanor Bull, a widow who, for a price, offered rooms and refreshments for private meetings. Among Marlowe’s close friends was Thomas Walshingham, who worked with Sir Francis Walshingham’s (they were second cousins) network of secret agents. Marlowe also seemed to have been involved in that sort of work, and was also employed by the Cecils, 1st Baron Burghley (Lord High Treasurer) and Sir Robert Cecil (Secretary of State). Suffice to say, Marlowe seems well connected to persons involved with matters of national security.
Additionally, Frizer and Skeres were also employed by Walshingham (*Note: In the film Elizabeth, starring Cate Blanchett, Walshingham is played pitch perfect by Geoffry Rush, if you want to have an idea of how much influence this man had). Poley, Eleanor Bull, and Coroner Danby were all under the employ of the Cecils. Given that Frizer, Skeres, and Poley all made their living by being able to lie convincingly, it begins to look more and more like a conspiracy is developing.
The night before Marlowe’s meeting at Deptford, John Penry was hanged for writing subversive literature just two miles away from Deptford. Strangely, there is no record of what happened to the body, even though Coroner Danby would have been authorized to determine what was to be done with the corpse. Given the proximity to Deptford and the fact that Penry was only a year older than Marlowe, Marlovians have all the ingredients for a faked death to offer as proof that Marlowe did not die on the evening of May 30th.

Concerning Shakespeare’s plays, Marlovians argue that of all the likely candidates to write the plays Marlowe would have been the most suitable to write them, had he survived. He was a brilliant poet and dramatist, he had access to the education, literature, and intellectual contacts necessary to write plays of such depth and content as Shakespeare’s, and of all the candidates offered as an alternative to Shakespeare, Marlowe had the most reason to hide his identity.

Unlike Baconists (or Oxfordians), Marlovians tend not to examine Shakespeare’s plays for “clues” that their candidate was the true author, acknowledging that the plot devices found in the places could apply to any number of individuals. But even they admit that some things seem to fit perfectly.
For example, in The Merry Wives of Windsor a character sings one of Marlowe’s songs, “Come live with me…” but he mixes the words up with ones based on Psalm 137, “By the rivers of Babylon”, one of the most famous songs about exile ever written.
And in As You Like It, Touchstone jests, “When a man’s verses cannot be understood, nor a man’s good wit seconded with the forward child, understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room”. There is an obvious parallel to Marlowe’s “great reckoning”, yet Shakespeare scholars agree that it seems strange to make Marlowe’s violent death good material for a court jester.
Faked or wrongly presumed death, disgrace, banishment, and changing identities are all major ingredients in Shakespeare’s plays, all of which Marlowe would have been familiar with had he survived. As Shakespeare scholar and literary critic Stephen Greenblatt says,

“Again and again in his plays, an unforeseen catastrophe…suddenly turns what had seemed like happy progress, prosperity, smooth sailing into disaster, terror, and loss. The loss is obviously and immediately material, but it is also, and more crushingly, a loss of identity. To wind up on an unknown shore, without one’s friends, habitual associates, familiar network—this catastrophe is often epitomized by the deliberate alteration or disappearance of the name and, with it, the alteration or disappearance of social status.” (Will in the World, pub. 2006)

The problem with the Marlovian theory is that given the identity and connections of the players involved in the conspiracy, it is just as likely that Marlowe was assassinated. And if his death was faked, it would be more likely that they wouldn’t allow him to write plays for the London stage, on the contrary he’d most likely have been exiled from England.
So while it is possible that Marlowe’s death was faked, there is absolutely no reason to assume he was the true author of Shakespeare’s plays beyond entertaining the notion of a fun conspiracy theory-type mystery.

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Thanks for sticking with me this far! Next week, I am going to discuss the current popular theory for the author of Shakespeare’s works: Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford. Stay tuned!

Until next time…
Still paddlin’ the old knew.
_-Akatzen-_

Howdy folks! Welcome back to The Book Report.

A few weeks ago, I wrote about two books featuring previously unpublished work by Mark Twain, and Sgt. Angle pointed out that Mark Twain wrote a book titled Is Shakespeare Dead? You see, Twain was an avid Baconist — that is, Mark Twain was one member of a group who believed Francis Bacon was the true author of Shakespeare’s plays.

Actually, there are five popular theories about who really wrote Shakespeare’s plays. I thought it would make for an interesting author’s spotlight to examine the five theories in closer detail.

1. Baconian Theory
The first goal any Baconist needs to have is to discredit Shakespeare’s learning. Shakespeare’s father was a glove-maker in the relatively poor town of Stratford. How could he have been able to afford to provide the education concerning law, politics, religion, and mythology that so inundates all of Shakespeare’s work? Additionally, any hard copies of his plays (such as the First Folio) were published posthumously, so there isn’t any tangible evidence that Shakespeare actually wrote them. In fact, so little about Shakespeare’s life in known, most biographies about his life ends up being mostly conjecture.
Once enough doubt concerning Shakespeare as a credible author has been raised, it then falls on the Baconist to offer his substitute: Francis Bacon. Bacon has become known as the father of inductive reasoning (the scientific method). He was a philosopher and statesman, poet, and avid follower of theater. In 1576, Bacon entered Gray’s Inn, one of the four Inns of Court by which a person may be able to practice law in England, and it is at Gray’s Inn that the first bit of evidence for Bacon arises.

On December 28th, 1594, during Innocent’s Day revels “a Comedy of Errors (like to Plautus his Menechmus) was performed by the Players…” Bacon was at Gray’s Inn during this time and several accounts show him to be involved with the Gray’s Inn Players. Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors was written by this time, but there is evidence that Shakespeare and his troop of actors were performing at Whitehall that evening. The plot of The Comedy of Errors takes plot points from two of Plautus’s plays, most notably his Menaechmi, where a pair of identical twins who were separated at birth show up at the same town and are confused for each other by the townsfolk.

The second bit of evidence is that many scholars believe Shakespeare’s The Tempest was inspired by a letter from William Strachey titled True Reportory sent to the Virgina Company from the Virgina colony in 1610, about a year before The Tempest’s first performance. Baconists argue that True Reportory’s viewing was restricted to the Virgina Council, of whom Bacon was a member. The Council released True Declaration in November of 1610 as a piece of propaganda, relying heavily on information in True Reportory, in order to counteract any harsh criticism from returning colonists. It is generally agreed that Bacon was the author of True Declaration, and since Shakespeare couldn’t have seen a copy of Strachey’s letter, Baconists argue only someone on the Virginia Council must have written The Tempest, with Bacon as the likely choice.

Because of Bacon’s work in government, he had access to many government ciphers, and indeed, created one of his own. Many Baconists believe that Francis Bacon included ciphers in Shakespeare’s plays proving he was the true author. Additionally, in Love’s Labours Lost, once character mentions the word “Honorificabilitudinitatibus”, which is the Latin plural of the word, meaning “the state of being able to achieve honors.” Baconists believe the word is used as an anagram for the Latin phrase “hi ludi, F. Baconis nati, tuiti orbi”, which translates to “these plays, F. Bacon’s offspring, are preserved for the world.“

Ultimately, the problem with Baconian Theory is that it relies too heavily on conspiracy theory.
While it is possible that Bacon wrote The Comedy of Errors, a comedy of errors is also a well known genre of comedy, and there is no indication that the play performed at Gray’s Inn is the same play with Shakespeare listed as the author. And although Shakespeare may have never seen Strachey’s letter to the Virginia Company, he certainly would have read their propaganda piece True Declaration. And in 1970, satirist John Sladek showed that “honorificabilitudinitatibus” could also be an anagram showing that Ben Johnson wrote Shakespeare’s plays.
Bacon’s writings already show a keen intellect, vast education, and a willingness to write it all down. If he wrote the plays, why hide behind the name of someone else? And if it were to be shown that Shakespeare and Lord Bacon had a close working relationship, it can just as easily be supposed that Shakespeare was looking for scientific or legal clarification for his own writing as suppose Bacon is handing off sheets of his own plays to Shakespeare.
Baconists have come up with a reason for Bacon using Shakespeare as a front, but it involves a huge conspiracy with nothing in the way of proof. As a result, most Elizabethan and Shakespearean scholars reject Baconian theory as, more or less, a 19th century superstition.

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Whew. When I set out to write about the different Shakespearean theories, I knew it’d be a fairly long post, but not the epic one it’s turning out to be. Thanks for getting through this much with me. What I thought I’d do is break this post up into three parts, so part two will cover the Marlowian, Elizabethan, and Oxfordian theories and part three will finish it off with the Stratfordian theory.

In the meantime, pick up a preorder of Mythoi: Birth, and I’ll see you next week.

Still paddlin’ the old knew…
_-Akatzen-_