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EDWARD DE VERE — MIDDLE PERIOD: DRAMATIC FOREGROUND
I
[242] BEFORE I entering upon a consideration of those dramatic enterprises which occupied an important part of the middle period of Oxford's life, which we place, in a general way, between 1576 and 1590, that is to say from the age of twenty-six to forty, we shall dispose first of all of some personal matters, which we are able to link on to the Italian tour and which furnish corroborative evidence of his identity with Shakespeare. His stay in Italy, it has already been pointed out, had so marked an influence over him as to affect his dress and manners and cause him to be lampooned as an "Italionated Englishman"; the same writer holding him up to ridicule as "a passing singular odd man."
The writer in question was none other than Gabriel Harvey, the friend of Edmund Spenser, who, it has been affirmed, almost succeeded in leading Spenser's genius astray. The Dictionary of National Biography gives us a very careful study of this curious and learned pedant; and if we assume that the writer of Shakespeare's plays was acquainted with him personally, we can quite imagine from this account that the dramatist had him in mind in the writing of "Love's Labour's Lost." We have first of all Berowne's speech on studious plodders (I, 1) which is simply portraiture of Harvey, even to the touch about
"These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights."
[243] For Harvey was, amongst other things, a dabbler in astrology. Again in Act IV, 3, we have a return to the same antagonism to studious plodding in the remark that
"Universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirit in the arteries."The whole spirit of the play is hostile to that merely bookish learnedness which is typified by scholars like Gabriel Harvey. A living specimen of the scholarly pedant is presented in the character of Holofernes, and so realistic is the representation that it has been very naturally supposed that Shakespeare had some contemporary in mind as the prototype of this eccentric pedant. Had the name and personality of Gabriel Harvey been previously associated in any way with Shakespeare, the problem of Holofernes' identification would not have remained unsolved for any length of time. William Shakspere of Stratford could hardly be expected to know much of Gabriel Harvey, and therefore the prototype of Holofernes has remained in doubt, notwithstanding the fact that the resemblance was recognized by Dean Church ("Life of Spenser," p. 18). There is, of course, no correspondence between Holofernes in the play and the scriptural, or rather apocryphal character of the same name, who was decapitated by Judith. The name is therefore selected evidently for some other reason. That reason becomes apparent the moment we put side by side with the name of Holofernes that of Hobbinol, the name under which Gabriel Harvey appears in Spenser's works. For Hobbinol, the name used by Spenser, is generally recognized as a rough anagram made from the name of Gabriel Harvey, whilst Holofernes is but another anagram composed of Spenser's Hobbinol further strengthened by the characteristic letter "r," taken from both Gabriel and Harvey and an "f," suggestive of the "v" in Harvey. The choice of an out-of-the-way name as an anagram instead of the invention of a new one is characteristic of the more subtle genius of Shakespeare.
[244] If, then, we are justified in connecting Holofernes with Gabriel Harvey it becomes impossible to avoid connecting the writer of the play with the Earl of Oxford. For this reason: Oxford, as Harvey admitted, had extended his customary munificence to this scholar when the latter was a poor student at the university; and Harvey, on an important occasion, had addressed complimentary verses to his benefactor. Then behind Oxford's back he had circulated privately satirical verses, supposed to be ridiculing the man whom he had complimented publicly. Now, turning to "Love's Labour's Lost," we find, first of all, a speech of Holofernes' which bears some resemblance to the verses in which he had ridiculed Oxford (the speech introduced by the Latin phrase "Novi hominem," Act V, 1). Then, in the by-play of the second scene in the same act — and this is really the important point — Holofernes is assigned the role of Judas Maccabaeus, and by a turn that is given to the dialogue he is made to appear as "Judas Iscariot," the "kissing traitor." On being twitted on the point he shows resentment as though there was in it an allusion to himself. The ingenious way in which a part played by an actor is turned into a personal attack upon himself is suggestive of a covert personal application; and therefore, if it is not a direct confirmation of our theory, it certainly constitutes, another of the series of surprising coincidences which have appeared at every stage of our investigation.
Under the old hypothesis of the authorship of Shakespeare's works it has been frequently remarked that there is no character in the plays that can be identified with the author himself. If, however, we assume the De Vere authorship we may at once identify the author with the character of Berowne (Biron, in some editions). For it is he who mocks Holofernes as the "kissing traitor." The play as a whole is a satire upon the various affectations of the times: Holofernes representing learned affectation, Don Armado representing [245] Euphuism, Boyet representing the affectations of courtesy. Now the satirist in the play is Berowne, so that he personates the spirit of the play as a whole, in other words he represents the writer, and is indeed the very life and soul of the drama, his biting mockery being something of a terror to his companions.
It is interesting to notice, therefore, that Sir Sidney Lee connects Rosaline who is loved by Berowne with the "dark lady" referred to in the sonnets as being loved by Shakespeare; and Mr. Frank Harris makes the same connection, thus identifying Berowne with the author of the play. The latter writer, though never swerving from the Stratfordian view, has done much to destroy the old notion that there is no character in the plays who can be identified with Shakespeare. He nevertheless, asserts that Shakespeare usually represents himself as a lord or a king. If, then, we can accept Berowne as the dramatist's representation of himself under one aspect, we see at once how much more accurately he represents the Earl of Oxford than he does the Stratford man. "This mad-cap Lord Berowne," "a man replete with mocks, full of comparisons and wounding flouts which he on all estates will execute," is just what we have in a few of the glimpses we get of Oxford's dealings with the people about the court. All that merciless mockery, which Berowne does not hesitate to turn upon himself, mixed with depth of feeling and strong intelligence, and his irrepressible fun tinged with "musing sadness," marks him both as a dramatic representation of the Earl of Oxford, and, in part at any rate, a dramatic self-revelation of "Shakespeare."
We take this play to be largely representative of himself during the years in which, whilst still to be found at court, he was, mainly occupied with literature and drama, and was earning for himself the title of "the best in comedy."
Whether he succeeded at last, as Rosaline had urged Berowne "To weed this wormwood from his [246] fruitful brain," we will not venture to say. Certain it is that amongst the courtiers of the time he appears to have had a reputation for stinging jibes, of which both Sidney and Raleigh seem to have come in for their share.
The quarrel with Sidney, in which he stung his adversary with the single word "puppy," is one of the few details recorded of his life about the court in the early years of this period. The story of the quarrel is variously told, differing in so much as this, that one account speaks of Sidney playing tennis when Oxford intruded, whilst another records that Oxford was playing when Sidney strolled in. In whichever way the story is told it must needs be so as to reflect discredit upon Oxford and credit upon his antagonist. The chief contemporary authority for the details, however, appears to be Fulke Greville, and when it is remembered that Greville was the life-long friend of Sidney, and that when he died, as Lord Brooke, he left instructions that this friendship should be recorded upon his tombstone, we can hardly regard him as an impartial authority.
One particular of this antagonism is, however, relevant to our present enquiry and must be narrated. Oxford had written some lines (again the familiar six-lined stanza) which are spoken of by two writers as specially "melancholy." They may be so, but they are certainly not more melancholy than many passages in "Shakespeare's," sonnets, and are quite in harmony with that substratum of melancholy which has been traced in the Shakespeare plays.
Oxford's stanza:
"Were I a king I might command content,
Were I obscure unknown would be my cares,
And were I dead no thoughts should me torment,
Nor words, nor wrongs, nor love, nor hate, nor fears.
A doubtful choice of three things one to crave,
A kingdom or a cottage or a grave."[247] Melancholy or not, the Shakespeare student will have no difficulty in recognizing in this single stanza several marks of the master craftsman.
To this Sidney had replied in the following verse which the same two writers, curiously enough, refer to in identical terms, as being a sensible reply:
"Wert thou a king, yet not command content,
Since empire none thy mind could yet suffice,
Wert thou obscure, still cares would thee torment;
But wert thou dead all care and sorrow dies.
An easy choice of three things one to crave,
No kingdom nor a cottage but a grave."These two stanzas form an important part of another argument, to be treated later, and, therefore, should be kept in mind.
It will be observed that the "sensible reply" contains no really inventive composition. It is a mere schoolboy parody, formed by twisting the words and phrases of the original stanza into an affront. Had it been an inventive composition it would have contained more matter than Sidney ever compressed into an equal space. Between two intimate friends it might have been tolerated as a harmless piece of banter. Between two antagonists it lacked even the justification of original wit. And if, as one writer suggests, this matter led up to the tennis-court quarrel, considering the whole of the circumstances, including age and personal relationships, Oxford's retort of "puppy" was possibly less outrageous, and certainly more original than Sidney's verse had been. Sidney's uncle, Leicester, upon whose influence at court the young man (then twenty-four years old) largely depended, admits having to "bear a hand over him as a forward young man," so that one less interested in him might be expected to express the same idea more emphatically. The personal attack, it must be observed, had, in this instance at any rate, come first from Sidney. As in other cases one gets the impression of Oxford not being a [248] man given to initiating quarrels, but capable of being roused, and when attacked, striking back with unmistakable vigour.
The story of the tennis-court quarrel is one of the few particulars about Oxford that have become current. Indeed, one very interesting history of English literature mentions the incident, and ignores the fact that the earl was at all concerned with literature. Now, considering the prominence given to this story, it almost appears as if "Shakespeare," in "Hamlet," had intended to furnish a clue to his identity when he represents Polonius dragging in a reference to young men "falling out at tennis."
If our identification of Oxford and Harvey with Berowne and Holofernes be accepted, an interesting point for future investigation will be the identification of other contemporaries with other characters in the play; and in view of Oxford's relationship with Sidney we shall probably be justified in regarding Boyet as a satirized representation of Philip Sidney; not, of course, the Philip Sidney that tradition has preserved, but Sidney as Oxford saw him. For, compared with the genius of Shakespeare, no competent judge would hesitate to pronounce Sidney a mediocrity. If to this we add Dean Church's admission that "Sidney was not without his full share of that affectation which was then thought refinement," it is not difficult to connect him with Boyet, the ladies' man, whom Berowne satirizes in Act V, Scene 2:
"Why this is he
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms; nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet.
The stairs as he treads on them kiss his feet.
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whale's bone;
And consciences that will not die in debt,
Pay him the, due of honey-tongued Boyet."[249] The last two lines are somewhat puzzling apart from any special application. Applied to Sidney, however, they become very pointed from the fact that he died so deeply in debt as to delay his public funeral; his creditors being unwilling to accept the arrangements proposed to them. The difficulties were only overcome by his father-in-law Walsingham, who bad a special political interest in the public funeral, advancing £6,000.
When, moreover, we find Sidney presenting at a pastoral show at Wilton a dialogue, which is obvious plagiarism from Spenser and De Vere, we can understand Berowne saying of Boyet, in the lines immediately preceding those quoted:
"This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,
And utters it again when God doth please."We give a sentence or two by way of illustration:
Spenser (Shepherd's Calender — August):
Will: Be thy bagpipes run far out of frame?
Or lovest thou, or be thy younglings miswent?Sidney (Dialogue between two shepherds):
Will: What? Is thy bagpipe broke or are thy lambs miswent?De Vere (Dialogue on Desire):
What fruits have lovers, for their pains?
Their ladies, if they true remain,
A good reward for true desire.
What was thy meat and daily food?
What hadst thou then to drink?
Unfeigned lover's tears.Sidney (Shepherd's Dialogue):
What wages mayest thou have?
Her heavenly looks which more and more
Do give me cause to crave.
What food is that she gives?
Tear's drink, sorrow's meat.Sidney's whole poem is, in fact, little more than the dishing-up of ideas and expressions from the two poems. [250] If, in addition to this, the reader will turn back to the stanza of De Vere's beginning "I am not as I seem to be," noticing especially the reference in it to Hannibal, he will be able to detect more "pigeon's pease" in the following verse of Sidney's:
"As for my mirth, how could I be but glad,
Whilst that methought I justly made my boast
That only I the only mistress had?
But now, if e'er my face with joy be clad
Think Hannibal did laugh when Carthage lost."A certain degree of rivalry between artists, in any department of art, may be quite consistent with mutual respect. But when one happens to be "a forward young man" guilty of petty pilfering from his rival, one can understand the rival's point of view when he protests:
"He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares
At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs,
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know
Have not the grace to grace it with such show."
(L. L. L. Act V, Scene 2.)The second line of this quotation is especially interesting in view of the occasion of Sidney's plagiarism mentioned above (The Wilton Show). In support of our contention that plagiarism was characteristic of Sidney, we are able to offer the testimony of Sir Sidney Lee, who remarks that "Petrarch, Ronsard and Desportes inspired the majority of Sidney's efforts, and his addresses to abstractions like sleep, the moon, his muse, grief or lust are almost verbatim translations from the French." Altogether, it is evident that Oxford was not without some justification for the use of the one word of his, "the comparison and wounding flout," which has passed into literary history. It would almost appear as though "Love's Labour's Lost" contained a direct allusion to the incident. For, after a passage of arms between Berowne and Boyet we have the following:
[251] Margaret:
The last is, Berowne, the merry mad-cap lord,
Not a word with him but a jest.Boyet:
And every jest but a word.Princess:
It was well done of you to take him at his word.Before leaving this question of "Boyet" we wish to offer an interesting observation upon the name itself. We have been unable to discover any other use of the word. If, however, we replace "Boy" by its old equivalent "Knave" we get the name of one who was possibly the most pronounced foe of Edward de Vere, namely Sir Thomas Knyvet; the word is variously spelt, like most names in those days, but the etymological connection is obvious. The feud between the two men and their retainers was of the same bitter and persistent character that we have represented in "Romeo and Juliet" between the Montagues and the Capulets. Fighting took place between them in the open streets and lives were lost. A duel was fought between Oxford and Sir Thomas Knyvet and both were wounded: Oxford seriously. It is possible, therefore, that quite in keeping with dramatic and poetic work of the type of "Love's Labour's Lost," Boyet is a composite character formed from Oxford's outstanding antagonists, Sir Philip Sidney and Sir Thomas Knyvet.
We have been trying to show that the plays of Shakespeare contain possible pen portraits of men with whom the Earl of Oxford had dealings, representing them, not as tradition has preserved them, but as they stood in relation to Oxford himself. It is no necessary part of our argument that these identifications should be fully accepted. They bear rather on a branch of Shakespearean study that must receive a special development once our main thesis is adopted. Meanwhile they assist in the work of giving to [252] the plays those touches of personality which up to the present have been lacking, and which, in the mass, must go far to support or break down any attempt at identifying the author.
It was during the period of Oxford's life with which we are now dealing that he appears to have made for himself a reputation for eccentricity. Such eccentricity may have been partly natural. His reputation in this particular would, however, most certainly receive considerable addition from the mode of life he adopted as the necessary means of fulfilling his vocation. It is possible, too, that finding it served as a mask to have his way of living attributed to eccentricity, and that it protected him against annoyance and interference, he worked the matter systematically, as Hamlet did. The eccentricity and levity which he evidently showed in certain court circles, including doubtless the members of the Burleigh faction, was probably not only a disguise, but also an expression of contempt for those towards whom he adopted the manner. In those literary and dramatic relationships which mattered most to him his bearing was evidently of a different kind, for there he is spoken of as "a most noble and learned gentleman." It is possible, too, that he may not have succeeded altogether in throwing dust in the eyes of Burleigh; for we find the latter admitting that "his lordship hath more capacity than a stranger to him might think."
This dual attitude towards others is more than once illustrated in the works of Shakespeare. The most prominent illustration is, of course, that of Hamlet. We find something, too, of this double personality in the character of the "mad-cap Lord Berowne" and we have it exactly described in the case of Brutus in "Lucrece":
"He with the Romans was esteemed so,
As silly-jeering idiots are with kings,
For sportive words and uttering foolish things.
[253] But now he throws that shallow habit by,
Wherein deep policy did him disguise;
And arm'd his long hid wits advisedly."The same note appears again in his presentation of Prince Hal, or Henry V, whose
"vanities. . . . .
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus
Covering discretion with a coat of folly" (II, 4)and who "obscured his contemplation under the veil of wildness."
In the case of Edgar in "King Lear" we have the most pronounced development of the idea. Here we have the carrying out of a definite purpose by means of a simulation of complete madness; a purpose which
"taught him to shift
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance
That very dogs disdained."The conception was evidently quite a dominant one in the mind of the dramatist, and that it was characteristic of himself, whoever he may have been, is made quite clear in the oft quoted passage in the Sonnets:
"Alas 'tis true I have gone here and there
And made myself a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear."There is nothing suggestive of enigma in these lines, and therefore only their obvious meaning should be attached to them. "Shakespeare," as the great leader of true realism — quite a different thing from the modern enormity which calls itself by that name — is entitled to be read literally when he speaks directly and seriously of himself; and therefore, when he tells us, in so many words, that he had acted the mountebank in some form, we may take it that he had actually done so. To think of him as a man who it brought to the practical affairs of life a wonderfully sane [254] and sober judgment," meaning thereby that he was a practical steady-headed man of business with a keen eye for the "main chance," is to place his personality in direct contradiction to all that the sonnets reveal of him. Let any one read these sonnets so full of personal pain, then turn to "Love's Labour's Lost," much of which was evidently being penned at the very time when many of the sonnets were being written, and he will feel that he is in the presence of an extraordinary personality, capable of great extremes in thought and conduct, the very antithesis of the model citizen that "Shakespeare" is supposed to have been.
How suggestive is all this of De Vere's lines:
1. "I most in mirth most pensive sad."
2. "Thus contraries be used, I find,
Of wise, to cloak the covert mind."3. "So I the pleasant grape have pulled from the vine,
And yet I languish in great thirst while others drink the wine."Every word of these sentences reveals a man hiding the soreness of his own nature under a mask of levity whilst adding to the world's store of joy and merriment.
We feel justified in assuming, therefore, that the impression of himself which he set up in official circles was largely such as he intended to establish, and that not the least part of the satisfaction he derived from his success in the matter was in the thought of fooling Burleigh and others about the court. It hardly needs pointing out how true all this is of Hamlet, and how Hamlet's attitude towards Polonius, Rosencrantz, Guilderstern and the other courtiers might be taken as a developed and idealized representation of Oxford's dealings with men like Burleigh, Raleigh, Greville, and Hatton.
As a last remark upon this point we would draw attention to the fact that in his work" The Man Shakespeare" Mr. Frank Harris rejects entirely the idea that Shakespeare cannot be [255] identified with any of his characters; and, though approaching the question from a totally different standpoint and with other purposes, selects amongst the most outstanding examples of self-representation several of the cases we have just cited. From this work we quote the following passages:
"In Hamlet Shakespeare has discovered too much of himself." He makes "Brutus an idealized portrait of himself." "Edgar is peculiarly Shakespeare's mouthpiece." "It can hardly be denied that Shakespeare identified himself as far as he could with Henry V."
In every one of these cases, as has already been remarked, we have men hiding a superior nature under a veil of folly. There is probably an element of confusion between the two men named "Brutus," appearing with an interval of five hundred years in "Lucrece" and "Julius Caesar" respectively. But Shakespeare's linking of Prince Hal with the Brutus who pretended to be insane and swore to avenge the death of Lucrece furnishes all the connection needed.
It is not our purpose to attempt to refute his reputed dissoluteness during those years of active association with dramatic companies. It has already been remarked, however, that, had his conduct been quite irreproachable in other respects, the absenting of himself from his normal social and domestic circles, which was partly a necessary condition of the enterprise he had in hand, and the known character of those with whom he had to associate, so frankly stated in the passage we have quoted from Dean Church, would have afforded ample foundations on which antagonists might build for him such a reputation. When we consider further the special character of Burleigh, so aptly described in the passage we have quoted from Spenser's "Mother Hubbard's Tale," we may rest assured that the most would be made of these things to Oxford's discredit. Whatever his private character may have been, a reputation for dissoluteness was [256] almost inevitable under the circumstances. It will be perfectly safe to say, therefore, that he was no worse, but probably very much better, than he has been portrayed. On the other hand, as the Shakespeare sonnets themselves clearly admit departures from recognized canons of rectitude, on the part of their writer, we are not concerned here to claim for De Vere a higher moral elevation than belongs to Shakespeare. At the same time, if we regard these sonnets as the product of Oxford's pen, we shall be able to clear his reputation of much of the slander that has hitherto been in undisputed possession.