Numbers in bold brackets [] indicate original page numbers.
The Stratfordian View
IV
No relief from this kind of record is met with through all the years of his final residence at Stratford. At last the end approaches. The great genius is facing death and making arrangements for the direction of his affairs when his own hand shall have been removed. He is evidently looking anxiously into the future, making the most careful provision for the transmission of his property through his daughter "Susanna Hall . . . and after her decease to the first sonne of her bodie . . . and to (his) heires males. . . . and for defalt . . . to the second sonne and (his) heires . . . and the third sonne . . , and the fourth sonne . . . and the fifth sonne . . . and the sixth sonne . . . and the seaventh sonne . . . and for defalt to (his) daughter Judith, and the heires males of her bodie . . . and for defalt to the right heires of the saied William Shackspeare, for ever." Then he carefully disposes of his "second best bed," his "broad silver gilt bole," his "goodes, chattels, leases, plate, jewels and household stuff."
Here, then, he stands dipping "into the future far as human eye can see" ("for ever"): this supposed author of England's most valuable spiritual treasures. The greater part of the works, to the production of which his life and genius had been devoted, had never yet appeared in print. According to the accepted view these invaluable works, which were to secure the fame of "William Shackspeare, for ever" were drifting about, scattered amongst actors and theatre managers; in danger therefore of being permanently lost. [26] Whilst then he was arranging the distribution of his wealth, it was the most natural thing in the world that his mind should have turned to these important productions and that some part of his wealth should have been set aside to ensure the publication of his dramas. With his name and fame there was little fear but what the publishing venture could be made to succeed, and that the possible grandchildren, whose interests he was considering so carefully, would have gained rather than lost by his providing for the publication. From the first word of this will to the last, however, there is nothing which suggests that the testator ever had an interest either in the sixteen plays, that had already appeared in print or in the twenty that had yet to he published or in anything else of a literary nature: a perfectly appropriate end to the whole series of the Stratford records of him, from the day of his baptism to the day of his death, but in flat contradiction to the supposition that the greatest achievement of his life had been the production of those immortal dramas beside which his lands and houses become of insignificant value.
Any supposition that he had already provided for the publication of the dramas is contradicted by the manner in which these works were published in the First Folio edition of 1623. Hardly any terms of reproof could be too severe for a writer who with a knowledge of the introductory pieces of the First Folio edition should maintain that that work appeared as a result of previous arrangements made by William Shakspere of Stratford. And this fact taken along with the total absence of any mention in his will of the unpublished documents ought many years ago to have disposed of the idea that he was their author. The disappearance of the manuscripts themselves, combined with the absence of any mention of them in the will, has given rise to an almost insistent demand for a "Shakespeare" manuscript, and of this Sir E. Maunde Thompson's book on the subject is but the outward and visible sign. For no third rate writer passing the closing years of his [27] life in destitution could have been more completely dissociated from his own literary products than was this the supposed greatest writer in England as he passed the last years of his life in leisure and affluence.
One entry alone in the will connects the testator with his London career - as actor, however, not as dramatist. He left to his "fellowes" Heminge, Burbage, and Condell £1 6s. 8d. each, to buy rings. Halliwell-Phillipps in reproducing the will gives in italics the parts which had not been in the will at first, but which were subsequently interlined: and this bequest to his "fellowes" is one of the interlineations. Like his wife, to whom he left his "second best bed," the actors with whom he had been associated only came in as an afterthought, if not as a result of direct suggestion from other quarters. This is the connection which was put to service in publishing the First Folio edition of "Shakespeare's" works, resulting in what has been recognized as a purely fictitious claim for the responsibility for the publication on the part of the two survivors. Albeit no one, not even Ben Jonson, whose part in the publication has been made so much of, ventured to suggest that he had been entrusted by the reputed author with the publication of the works. If such a task had been entrusted to them it is inconceivable that they should have omitted to mention the fact. They assert, however, that out of regard for his memory they had, on their own initiative, gathered together the manuscripts of the plays and published them. They, moreover, so bungle their account with inconsistencies that Sir Sidney Lee admits the inaccuracy of their story. "John Heming and Henry Condell," he says, "were nominally responsible for the venture, but it seems to have been suggested by (others) . . . the two actors made pretensions to a larger responsibility than they really incurred, but their motives . . . were doubtless irreproachable." To this false pretension, be it observed, "honest Ben Jonson" was party. The camouflage was, of course, as legitimate as any other method [28] of concealing authorship: but when it is urged that Ben was too honest deliberately to deceive the public, we can only answer that the fact is there and cannot be gainsaid. We may also add, what cannot be said of all those who would use Ben's name to prop up Stratfordianism, that Ben was a humorist. His motives also, like Heminge's and Condell's, "were doubtless irreproachable." The point that matters here, however, is that the manner of the publication places beyond doubt the fact that William Shakspere of Stratford had made no arrangement for it. The entire absence of any mention either of his executors or a single member of his much-cared-for family amongst the ten names appearing in connection with the publication, reveals the same completely negative relationship of everything Stratfordian towards the Shakespearean literature.
Seeing that mention has been made of Ben Jonson, the forlorn hope of the Stratfordians, it is remarkable, or rather it would have, been astounding, if there had been any truth in Stratfordianism, that the only literary contemporary of Shakspere's with whom the latter is supposed to have been on intimate terms, the kindred spirit who, accompanied by Drayton, is supposed to have paid the one visit that relieved the intellectual isolation of his self-imposed exile - with fatal results, however, for the tradition is that Shakspere drank to excess and died in consequence - this boon comrade and kindred wit, has no mention whatever in a will bequeathing a number of memorial rings and other mementos to friends.
In addition to the bequests to his family and what is probably remuneration to the two overseers of the will, he leaves his sword to Mr. Thomas Combe, and money to buy memorial rings is left to Hamlett Sadler, William Raynolds, John Hemynges, Richard Burbage and Henry Condell. Every one of these bequests of memorial rings appears, however, as an interpolation into the will: as an afterthought at best. But even in his afterthoughts dear old Ben has no place. We are assured that these [29] interlineations would be made during his last illness. At any rate they must have been made during the last three months of his life, for the original document bears the date January 25th, 1616. "January" is then struck out and "March" substituted, so that alterations were being made up to within a month of his death. Surely, then, if there is any shred of truth in these traditions, Ben Jonson would be in his mind at the time.
Another tradition has, it that Shakspere was godfather to Ben's son, and even traditional particulars of friendly repartee on the subject have been preserved. Amongst the bequests, however, is one of twenty shillings to a godson named William Walker, but no mention whatever is made of the other godson, Ben's boy. Obviously Ben Johnson and his son, the reputed literary comrade and godson, respectively, of the great poet dramatist, counted for nothing in the eyes of William Shakspere; and the Stratfordianism that rests upon a belief in the personal intimacy of the two men is quite out of touch with realities: precisely the same absence of "reality" which marks Jonson's facetious tribute to "Shakespeare" in the now famous lines which face the so-called portrait of "Shakespeare" in the First Folio edition of the plays.
If, then, there be any truth in the tradition of Jonson's visit to William Shakspere just before the latter's death, it quite bears the appearance, in view of the respective parts which Jonson, Heminge, and Condell played in the publication of the First Folio edition, of having had something to do with the projected publication: the interlineation of the actor's names into a will that had already been drawn up being possibly one of the results of the visit. The nonappearance of Jonson's own name in the will was, under this assumption, a serious defect in the arrangement: the principals were evidently not experts at subterfuge. It was the loss of the last chance of bringing into the Stratford
[30] records of William Shakspere anything or any one connected with contemporary literature: a loss which all Jonson's efforts years after Shakspere's death could not make good. The respective roles which Ben Jonson and William Shakspere had to play in this final comedy had evidently been badly adjusted.The actual part played by Jonson in this business hardly comes within the province of the present stage of our argument. The important fact is that there was subterfuge in the manner of publishing the First Folio edition, and to this subterfuge Ben Jonson was a party. There are substantial reasons for believing that the introduction signed by the actors Heming and Condell was Jonson's own composition. The general inconsequence of his attitude has been exposed by Sir George Greenwood; and any argument based upon an assumed literal historic accuracy and unambiguity of Jonson's statements has no locus standi; the literal applicability to William Shakspere of those statements being refuted by Shakspere's own will.
The significance of the omission from the will of all mention of books, still further strengthened by Dr. Hall's silence respecting any books of Shakspere's that had passed into his possession, confirms the impression that William Shakspere had never owned any; notwithstanding the fact already pointed out that only by an unusual resort to books could he have made up for his initial disadvantages.
Turning finally to the actual text of the will as a literary document, the question naturally arises as to traces of "Shakespeare's" craftsmanship. "Shakespeare's" knowledge of law and interest in its subtleties and technique makes it impossible to suppose that such a document could have been executed on his behalf without his participation in its composition. Yet the entire document is just such as a lawyer, in the ordinary way of business, would have drawn up for any other man. The only part in which the [31] personality of the testator might have been exposed is the opening passage, which is as follows:
"In the name of God, amen! I, William Shackspeare, of Stratford upon Avon, in the county of Warr. gent. in perfect health and memorie, God be praysed, doe make and ordayne this my last will and testament in manner and forme followeing, that ys to saye, First, I comend my soule into the handes of God my Creator, hoping and assuredlie beleeving, through thonelie merittes, of Jesus Christe my Saviour, to be made partaker of lyfe everlastinge, and my bodie to the earth whereof yt ys made."
The remainder is purely business.
From the first word of this document to the last there is not the faintest trace either of the intellect or of the literary style of the man who wrote the great dramas.
Needless to say the penmanship of the will is the work of the professional lawyers; but at the end we meet the only instance on record of his ever having put his pen to paper in Stratford For all these years he had lived in Stratford, buying and selling, lending money, prosecuting debtors, dealing in single transactions, involving the turnover of sums of money equivalent to thousands of pounds in modern values, resulting in the preservation of the signatures or "marks" of people with whom he dealt, but no single signature of Shakspere in connection with these Stratford dealings has ever been unearthed. Not until we come to the signing of his will, in the last year of his life, do we meet with an example of his penmanship in his Stratford records. He signed his will. There are three signatures, each on a separate page of the document; and, with the exception of part of one of them, they constitute probably as striking a freak in handwriting as can be found anywhere. Sir E. Maunde Thompson, whose work on "Shakespeare's. Penmanship" testifies abundantly to his faith in the Stratford man, admits that these three signatures had appeared on separate documents we should have been justified in supposing that they [32] were written by three different hands. With the one exception, of which we shall presently treat, the whole of the work is so wretchedly executed that it might well be taken for the work of a child trying to copy writing of which he had only an imperfect appreciation. It is most like the effort of an illiterate man who had attempted to learn how to write his own name, and had not wholly succeeded, but who was struggling through the process, probably with a copy in front of him.
So outrageous is it to suppose that this is the normal handwriting of the great dramatist that recent apologists have suggested the explanation that in his later years he suffered from paralysis: ignoring the fact that the opening words of his will are an assertion of his "perfect health and memory," and the further fact that though he managed to produce some kind of signature whilst afflicted with paralysis, he seems to have produced none at all without the affliction. Paralysis had evidently been good for him. Sir E. Maunde Thompson does not, however, propound the paralysis theory; and with very good reason: for the exceptional part, to which reference has already been made, could not possibly have been done by any one so afflicted. This part consists of three words, "By me William," which precede the name "Shakspeare" in the principal signature to the will. Here we have a single example of expert penmanship standing in such overwhelming contrast to all the other Shakspere writing as to be most perturbing to the orthodox Stratfordian.
To admit frankly that the words "By me William" were not written by the same hand that wrote the rest of the signature and signatures would be to send the whole structure of Stratfordianism toppling into chaos. Sir E. Maunde Thompson's theory is that the testator was very ill at the time, that he began the writing in a moment of temporary revival and fell off when he came to the writing of "Shackspeare." Not only is the contrast between the two [33] parts of the one signature too great for such an explanation, but the contrast is just as great between this particular piece of expert penmanship and the whole of the remainder. This is a point, however, in which mere discussion can do little. Photographic reproductions of these signatures may be seen in Sir Sidney Lee's "Life of William Shakespeare"; in Sir E. Maunde Thompson's "Shakespeare's Penmanship"; in Sir Edwin Durning-Lawrence's "Bacon is Shakespeare"; and in "Shakespeare's England"; and the most casual examination of them will convince any one, we believe, that the contrast agrees more readily with the theory that there were at least two hands at work upon these signatures than with any other theory. This does not, of course, prove that there were actually two hands at work; for the writers just named, with one exception, would naturally refuse their assent to such an inference, notwithstanding the suspicious appearances.
One other point must be mentioned in connection with these will signatures. Halliwell-Phillipps indicates that in the first draft of the will, arrangements were made only for Shakspere's "seal": not for his signature at all. The word "seal" was afterwards struck out and "hand" substituted. By itself this might not have counted for much; but, taken in conjunction with the fact that on no previous Stratford document had a signature appeared, considerable colour is given to the supposition that the lawyers who prepared his documents were not accustomed to his signing them. Considering, too, the looseness of the times with respect to wills - a looseness to which the various uninitialled erasures and interlineations of this will bear testimony - along with the peculiar character of the signatures when at last they appeared, the whole of this "signature" work might easily have been done after the document had passed quite out of the lawyer's hands; there being no witnesses to the signatures.
"With regard to the erasures and interlineations, a [34] few may have been the work of the scrivener . . . but some are obviously the result of the testator's subsequent personal directions. . . . In those days there was so much laxity in everything connected with testamentary formalities that no inconvenience would have arisen from such expedients. No one, excepting in subsequent litigation, would ever have dreamt of asking . . . any questions at all. The officials thought nothing of admitting to probate a mere copy of a will that was destitute of the signatures both of testator and witnesses." (Halliwell-Phillipps.)
Although not actually written at Stratford there are three other Shakspere signatures which belong to his closing Stratford period. The first of these was written in London in 1612, and the other two in connection with his purchase of the Blackfriars property in 1613: so that no stroke from his pen has been unearthed prior to the close of his supposed literary period. Of the first, Sir E. Maunde Thompson says that it is clearly the work of an able penman. Of the second he says that it might be taken for the work of an uncultivated man: this he attributes to nervousness. The third is done in a style so entirely different from the others that he considers it useless for the purpose of expert examination of handwriting: this he seems disposed to attribute to "wilful perversity." Although, then, he does not actually assert that they might be taken for the work of three different writers, his remarks are tantamount to this. And so we may sum up the whole of the writing that has come to us from the hand of one who is supposed to have been the greatest of our English writers. All we have are six signatures in no way connected with any literary matter. All these were executed in the last years of his life, after his great literary tasks were finished; and are so written that, when examined by our leading expert on the subject, who is quite Orthodox in his views of authorship, they look as if they might have been the work of six different men. At the same time there is amongst this writing some that [35] appears like the effort of an uneducated person, and only one signature (1612) of any real value for the study of penmanship. To this we would add as an unshakable personal conviction, supported by the opinions of many to whose judgment we have appealed, that the signatures bear witness to his having had the assistance of others in the act of signing his own name. The general conclusion to which these signatures point is that William Shakspere was not an adept at handling a pen, and that he had the help of others in trying to conceal the fact.
As a last remark on the question of penmanship we must point out the absence of an important signature. The actual deed of purchase of the Blackfriars property: a document which was formerly in the possession of Halliwell-Phillipps but is now in America, although the most important of the three documents, concerned in the transaction has only Shakspere's "seal," not his "hand." In other words, his own part was just such as might have been performed by a completely illiterate man accustomed to place his "mark" on documents; just as his father and mother had done, and as his daughter Judith continued to do. It is upon what Halliwell-Phillipps calls a duplicate of this document, now in the Guildhall Library, that there appears the signature which Sir E. Maunde Thompson says might have been the work of an uneducated man: a signature which looks to the ordinary reader as if it had been finished by another hand. The "wilful perversity" signature is on the mortgage deed, now in the British Museum, and is to any one but a Stratfordian quite evidently a connived forgery.
Viewing then the three periods of William Shakspere's career in their relation to one another we have an opening and a closing period which are perfectly homogeneous in the completely negative aspect they present to all literary considerations. Between them we have an intermediate period by which there is attributed to him the greatest works in English [36] literature. The two extreme and homogeneous periods belong to his residence in one place, quite in keeping with his own non-literary records whilst residing there. The intermediate period, with which we shall presently deal specially, stands in marked and unprecedented contrast to its extremes, and was lived in quite another part of the country. With our present-day conveniences, news agencies and means of communication, it is perhaps impossible for us to realize how remote Stratford was from London in the days of Queen Elizabeth. We are quite entitled to claim, however, that their separateness, so far as intercourse is concerned, was in keeping with the role that William Shakspere was called upon to play.
So far as the transition from stage to stage is concerned, few would deny that if the William Shakspere who had been brought up at Stratford, who was forced into a marriage at the age of eighteen with a woman eight years his senior, and who on the birth of twins deserted his wife, produced at the age of twenty-nine a lengthy and elaborate poem in the most polished English of the period, evincing a large and accurate knowledge of the classics, and later the superb Shakespearean dramas, he accomplished one of the greatest if not actually the greatest work of self-development and self -realization that genius has ever enabled any man to perform. On the other hand, if, after having performed so miraculous a work, this same genius retired to Stratford to devote himself to houses, lands, orchards, money and malt, leaving no traces of a single intellectual or literary interest, he achieved without a doubt the greatest work of self-stultification in the annals of mankind. It is difficult to believe that with such a beginning he could have attained to such heights as he is supposed to have done; it is more difficult to believe that with such glorious achievements in his middle period he could have fallen to the level of his closing period; and in time it will be fully recognized that it is impossible to believe that the same man could have accomplished two such stupendous and mutually nullifying [37] feats. Briefly, the first and last periods at Stratford are too much in harmony with one another, and too antagonistic to the supposed middle period for all three to be credible. The situation represented by the whole stands, altogether outside general human experience. The perfect unity of the two extremes, justifies the conclusion that the middle period is an illusion: in other words William Shakspere did not write the plays attributed to him. To parody the dictum of Hume in another connection, it is contrary to experience that such things should happen, but not contrary to experience that testimony, even the testimony of rare and honest Ben Jonson, should be false. The question of culpability we leave to ethical absolutists.
The circumstances attending the death of Shakspere are quite in keeping with all that is known and unknown of his closing period. The supposed poet-actor, the greatest of his race, passed away in affluence but without any contemporary notice. Spenser, his great poet contemporary, "a ruined and broken-hearted man," dying, as Jonson said, "for lack of bread," was nevertheless "buried in Westminster Abbey near the grave of Chaucer, and his funeral was at the charge of the Earl of Essex." (Dean Church.) Burbage, his great actor contemporary, died about the same time as the Queen (wife of James I), March 1618-19, and "sorrow for his loss seems to have made men forget to show the sorrow due to a Queen's death. The city and the stage were clothed in gloom. . . . Men poured forth their mourning . . . (and) a touching tribute to his charm came from the pen of the great Lord Pembroke himself." (Mrs. Stopes: Burbage.) The death of William Shakspere passed quite unnoticed by the nation. No fellow poet poured forth mourning. The Earl of Southampton whom he is supposed to have immortalized showed no interest. For seven years, except for his mysterious "Stratford Monument," he remained "unwept, unhonoured and unsung." Mrs. Stopes attributes this neglect to his [38] retirement: which supports the view we are now urging, that his retirement involved a severance of such literary and dramatic ties as he might have had. At last the silence is broken. The first tribute to his memory comes from the pen of Ben Jonson, who many years later writes of having "loved the man, on this side idolatry as much as any." For seven years, we must suppose, had grief for the loss of so matchless a friend been hidden in his soul. Then a great occasion presents itself. The collected works of his idol are to be published and Ben is invited to furnish the opening words of the historic volume. Now must his long pent-up grief find its fitting expression. Yet these are his words:
"This figure that thou here seest put
It was for gentle, Shakespeare cut;
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to out-do the life:
O could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he hath hit
His face; the print would then surpass
All, that was ever writ in brass.
But, since he cannot, Reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book."These words are addressed "To the Reader"; and the reader who can discover a trace of genuine affection, grief, or "idolatry" in these lines possesses a faculty to which the present writer lays no claim. From such obituary idolatry who would not wish to be preserved? Sir George Greenwood's view that Jonson had two different people in his mind when he spoke of "Shakespeare" seems the most feasible. We shall not plunge into the discussion of what Ben may or may not have meant by the above lines; but as the first printed reference to a departed genius who was also the object of intense personal affection the words are a palpable mockery. Yet the later and much belated references of Jonson to "Shakespeare" forms the last ditch of Stratfordianism.