The Which of Shakespeare's Why: A Novel of the Authorship Mystery Near Solution Today

The Which of Shakespeare’s Why

To my dear wife Susan.

Shakespeare Speaks to Posterity

Horatio, I am dead; thou liv’st.

Report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied.

O God, Horatio, what a wounded name,

Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me!

If thou didst ever hold me in your heart,

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain

To tell my story.

Hamlet, Mr. Trouble and Troubled,

The Tragedy of Hamlet

Guilty creatures sitting at a play

Have by the very cunning of the scene

Been struck so to the soul that presently

They have proclaim’d their malefactions.

Hamlet, at least it was a plan.

I have had a dream past the wit of man

to say what dream it was.

Bottom, not always a clown,

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

William Shakespeare is the biggest and most successful

fraud ever practiced upon a patient world [meaning gullible].

Henry James, with whom his scientist brother William for once agreed

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person.

Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.

Oscar Wilde

Contents

Shakespeare Speaks to Posterity

A Threshold Note to the Reader

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

A Parting Note to the Reader from Leigh Light

Sources

A Threshold Note to the Reader

Leigh Light is not my name. For good reason. But if you are the sort I like you just Googled it anyway looking for a clue. And finding it.

In WW II the British Leigh light spotlighted incoming German night bombers to shoot at. The bombers’ eyes were blinded, like their minds, and could not perceive the Leigh’s surrounding. Where it was coming from, you could say.

In writing this funny novel . . . funny, yet . . . The Which of Shakespeare’s Why, I had to consider the present contentious state of scholarship as to who actually wrote the works of Shakespeare. This argument involves some fiercely ideological bombing from above, you could say. Thus the pen name. I have a dog to walk along university streets.

The Which began in one moment, upon hearing familiar Shakespeare lines simply changed in key. The way a single bell coda tolling in major’s carefree tone creates another perception when rung in minor key’s somber profundity. A student encountered at a campus performance of The Tempest passingly remarked she believes Shakespeare was a mask name for the actual author. A subject not in my field and so not discussed, I just sought my seat. But then as The Tempest performance proceeded my heart grew more interested than my mind.

The Which’s inspiration moment came in the dramatic turn of the concluding epilogue. Exhausted magician-king Prospero crosses the dark emptied stage, peering from the footlight edge into alerted faces of his audience. There in seat C43 suddenly I grasped this was indeed The Tempest’s author. Speaking as such, the author of Shakespeare’s whole canon.

The fake-bearded student Prospero actor must have been an old soul. He delivered that epilogue as a slow pained plea. Here quoted is the begging imprecation the author of Shakespeare wrote 400 years ago. Said to audiences who themselves knew much unwritten about their time’s dangerous world. Which today is obscure.

Release me from my bands [means restriction]

With the help of your good hands!

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill or else my project fails,

Which was to please. Now I want [means lack]

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,

And my ending is despair,

Unless I be relieved by prayer,

Which pierces so that it assaults

Mercy itself and frees all fault.

And so from crimes would pardoned be.

Let your indulgence set me free.

Immediately a circa 1600 audience would have understood the magician author’s prayer for indulgence as the Catholic idea of release from its Purgatory. As well as begging sympathetic mercy.

That is what this novel, The Which of Shakespeare’s Why, offers. Set in modern New York and London speaking today’s language, this laughing tale does grant indulgence to that troubled beseeching genius. Who is the author of Shakespeare and yet is not the man long called Shakespeare.

The Which casts aside the mask placed over him. Releases the Shakespeare author from the Elizabethan Crown’s expedient political stratagem to hide his identity by force of its bands, The Which offers that hidden author voice through a novel set today. And by a tale woven in form similar to works of Shakespeare himself, using some persistent thematic elements of his plays. So yes, The Which is alive in Shakespearean comedy. And yes too, twining in helix, alive also in Shakespearean anguish.

Thus you will find a kingly displaced noble beleaguered amidst hidden identities. There shall be comely young women with steel at their center. There shall be comely young women with steel at their center, and also outsized male ego and hot-headed behavior. A clever secret player or two or three. A truth-telling clown. Eerie personages. Laughter you did not see coming.

And as was always there in the plays’ real time the author’s underlying, biding, mocking anger. Complex as the brutally shifting Elizabethan Court. There shall be no simple male hero inside The Which since there are none in all the works of Shakespeare. Nor, as we shall understand soon, was the actual author other than a very complex man like so many of his unforgettable characters.

Regarding the Man Who Was Shakespeare

Here below is a painted portrait of the man who really was and is Shakespeare. All here following written in this prefatory letter to readers is simply fact stated from published books. Without using Internet ephemera. These documented facts are reported in this note without embellishment. Embellishment is a matter for the tale of our following novel, The Which.

Edward De Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford

This portrait of the 17th Earl of Oxford was created in Paris at his age 25 in 1575. That is when Edward de Vere began his vitally seminal sojourn observing aristocratic courts of France and Italy. Which included reveling in the lively new commedia dell’arte theater spirit, which soon after his return to England innovatively animated several of the plays eventually included in today’s Shakespeare canon.

The Which is soberly scholarly where it conveys to readers the Earl’s historically documented biography. Where that textured arc of life experiences seems to closely merge into the works of Shakespeare is both the comedy and the tragedy of this novel.

The Earldom of Oxford, originally spelled Oxenford, was created in the 11th century by William the Conqueror to reward his general named Vere. When Edward inherited the Earldom in 1562 as a boy it was the most wealthy in England.

Yet he died in 1604 close to a pauper. Then living on saving sustenance granted for still mysterious reasons by both Queen Elizabeth and her successor King James. Both sovereigns were well documented Shakespeare play enthusiasts.

The Earl of Oxford had other ancient inherited designations, being principally Lord Great Chamberlain and Viscount Bolbec. In our 21st century day Edward would likely be given additional identifying tags. Such as manic-depressive bipolar. Suicidally profligate. Obsessive compulsive.

But, and by far most importantly as to the Earl’s personal qualities, we must fairly call him the most well-rounded advanced scholar of the English Renaissance. Fluent in Greek, Latin, French, Italian, and Spanish. The Earl’s boyhood tutors in history, science, botany, law and, above all, languages were the most erudite in Britain. They schooled him rigorously all through adolescence, drawing upon the most rare and sophisticated libraries of the realm.

Because he was a Prince the Earl did not matriculate at a university. But in respect for his achieved tutored advanced learning he was awarded honorary degrees by the universities of Cambridge and of Oxford, both ceremonies attended by Queen Elizabeth. He also studied at England’s pre-eminent law school, Gray’s Inn.

From his early 20s the Earl financially subsidized several writers. In gratitude about 30 books were dedicated to him, some mentioning his own contribution to content. And, notably, into his 30s the Earl employed two successful playwrights as personal secretarial assistants.

One of those seasoned theater writers continued to work with the Earl longer. He was made artistic director of a theater playhouse that the Earl bought but could not retain in his insolvency.

Some scholars conclude that while under age 20 and still a legal ward of the Crown, the Earl, Edward de Vere, was the first translator to English of the Latin works of Ovid. Ovid is by far Shakespeare’s favorite source of tales and images. These detective scholars’ theory is that the late teenage precocious scholar Edward used his uncle and Latin tutor’s respected name as a mask to gain necessary approved registration of the book with the Crown’s censor. That uncle’s other publications were grim Puritan religious tracts and translations of nonfictional classics. And so that old man was an unlikely actual author of the lubriciously sexy first English translation of Ovid. Scholars trace tell-tale matching patterns in both the Earl’s and Shakespeare’s language; they report distinctive matching idiosyncrasies of grammar and spelling.

As to the Earl’s publicly acknowledged youthful translations, they include the first into English of both classic Latin and Italian Renaissance books of advanced philosophy. Some scholars trace links from them to Shakespeare’s thought and language. Links in the Shakespeare canon texts are also suggested from dozens of passages that the Earl marked or annotated in his personal bible. Which was long withheld from scholarly inspection but is now the thematic subject of a meticulous published Ph.D. thesis.

The scholarly Earl’s personality is documented as unusually vivid. He was a much younger beau of the Queen. The Earl twice won the championship at major jousting festivals in her honor. And the boisterously lively Earl was Elizabeth’s lauded performance dancer among her favored athletic courtiers. They bantered one another in Latin and French and shared irreverent humor.

However, after a flamboyant first decade of adulthood, profound existential change began to overtake the Earl. His downward spiral worsened through loss of vital royal favor. Amid Court rivals the Earl wandered into a sequence of embarrassing personal scandals. He temperamentally disobeyed Crown authority and made some dangerous enemies. From his 20s to mid-30s the Earl steadily sold for cash almost all his ancestral land holdings that still remained after aggressive seizures by Court individuals in power over him.

Those liquidations of his patrimony supported the Earl’s lavish annual personal expenditures. Including generous subsidy of several writers and actors, and hopeless service on the huge debt gratuitously imposed by both the Crown and individual creditors. The Which views the Earl’s idealism and, as well, considers relentless documented power manipulations of his dangerous Elizabethan contemporaries.

Our tale highlights resonant lines of Hamlet and Lear, probing beneath them to biographical underpinnings. There is no need for you to now read or reread any of the plays. Because all relevant text is set out here in The Which.

By his late 30s the Earl had become thoroughly ostracized from Court. All his efforts to become a military leader in family tradition were quashed. As were his expectations as a senior noble to join elite political authority groups. As were his attempts to secure some economic patronage of the kind often bestowed upon Court favorites.

By age 38 the Earl was living close to indigency. But from then he was supported by a very unusually large and never explained pension from the famously parsimonious Queen. The last 14 years of the Earl’s life were basically reclusive. He was wholly reliant for solvency upon the mysterious terms of the Queen’s capriciously terminable quarterly pension on unexpressed terms.

So this man, who The Which flatly says wrote The Tempest line quoted above, indeed did live into his full maturity in such bands, contemporaneously meaning imposed constraint. The Earl lived his long latter years quietly ensconced in a gracious house bought by his second wife and her family. Apparently chosen because it was a few minutes’ walk from the Globe and another theater.

The Earl’s three daughters each married a wealthy peer of England. One such, together with his brother who controlled authority over Crown permission to publish, were the sole payors of printing the extraordinarily expensive 900-page First Folio in 1623. It comprises 36 Shakespeare plays, a dozen of which mysteriously were not known previously to exist. Both these aristocratic publishers of the First Folio were longtime friends of their peer the Earl.

A second daughter of the Earl was married to another longstanding friend of the Earl. A wealthy lord, he like the Earl was an advanced scholar and also well experienced in Italian aristocratic courts. This son-in-law lord was rumored in a contemporaneous letter to be secretly writing plays for public performance.

Scholars supporting the case for the Earl posit thus: That dozen of the Earl’s previously unknown plays in the First Folio surfaced due to his daughters’ possession of them held private for 20 years after his sudden death in 1604 amid a severe plague outbreak. In Oxfordian theory those unknown draft plays were discreetly polished by his literary friend and son-in-law before submission for the Folio. With about 100 household servants, this intellectual son-in-law friend had abundant time to work for years editing the Earl’s draft manuscripts.

Upon Queen Elizabeth’s 1603 death her successor, King James, even before coronation, voluntarily continued the Earl’s pension. At that time James’s wife requested more Shakespeare plays because by then she had seen all known to exist. James also immediately voluntarily conveyed back to the Earl some valuable land previously seized by the grasping Tudor Crown. The incoming Scottish Stuart King seems to have been well briefed as to the dignity due to the Earl.

Susan de Vere’s wedding to the imminent Earl of Montgomery in 1604, the year of her father the 17th Earl of Oxford’s death, amounted to a Shakespeare plays festival. Five plays in the canon were performed sequentially and none by others. As signally noted above, Montgomery and his brother the Earl of Pembroke eventually became the sole funders of the enormous cost of the comprehensive 1623 First Folio of Shakespeare’s plays.

Also in the Holiday Revels of 1604/1605 under King James, occurring between November 1 and February 12, 10 plays in the Shakespeare canon were performed. Oxfordians see this unusual gathering of Shakespeare works in a few months as in a spirit of tribute to their author who died that same year. Only Ben Jonson’s Every Man Out of His Humor was also performed in that Revel season; the play savagely ridicules a rural uneducated character named Sogliardo who pretends to be a writer.

The Earl’s grave is lost. The plays stand as cenotaph if you accept his authorship.

Perspective as to the time of these works’ respective composition is quite difficult to reconstruct but of vital importance. Much of the perennial dispute as to the Earl’s authorship, versus the now sole alternative claim for the Stratford native man William Shaksper, roots in chronology. In sum Oxfordian proponents see evidence that by 1585 about half the mature works in the Shakespeare canon already existed, as contemporaneously reported performed in some cognate title or form but most without script extant today. In 1585 the Stratford man was just 21 years of age and still living impoverished in rural Warwickshire far distant from London. There is a contemporaneous document reference to a Titus Andronicus private Court performance in London in 1574. Shaksper was then 10 years old.

Until after 1570 there was no public theater structure in England. Traveling actor troupes presented morality plays and miracle plays originated in medieval times, utilizing residence and inn spaces. The advent from 1574 of purpose-built theaters led to explosive demand from large new London audiences for a flow of entertainments. The resulting new generation of playwrights, due to rigid social hierarchy and cultural reasons, typically were not identified and the scripts seldom printed.

Thus dating early plays in the Shakespeare canon often involves inference only, not documented clarity. However, a central Oxfordian perception is that the Earl in his mid-20s (so from about 1573) to mid-30s produced much of the canon plays as juvenilia. And then throughout his increasingly reclusive long later years maturely rewrote them, refining quality for posterity.

Oxfordians assert that the Stratford man’s longstanding orthodox chronology is strikingly factually unrealistic, because William Shaksper’s birth date 14 years after the Earl compresses the Shakespeare canon’s composition into a very doubtfully short period of finished work. Appearing only from 1592 and amounting to three dozen plays plus two long elaborately erudite poems. Mysteriously all this blizzard of theorized creative output by Shaksper left behind no trace of juvenilia or revision, for there exists literally not a single scrap of manuscript among the 900 pages of plays in the First Folio. There is absolutely no sign of correspondence to or from anyone regarding the 20 performed plays and two popularly selling controversial printed long poems. And the archival record now seems to confirm the man who was Shakespeare completely ceased writing by 1604. A few academic claims of later co-authorship are not convincingly documented; they could be explained as theft by other writers of material after the Earl died in 1604.

Oxfordian scholars see the contemporaneously reported 1574 to 1585 proto-Shakespearean plays to be Oxford’s own immature creations. Not as sources for Shakespeare. Thus not as copied plays written by mysteriously unknown earlier authors, who were never heard from again despite centuries of academic scholarship.

The circumstances of the Earl’s internal exile for basically the last 14 years of his life are at play in the life portrait that The Which sketches. Both the key plays and Shakespeare’s sonnets speak clearly of their author’s despondent distress as to reputation and posterity. The sonnets’ aging author knows his name is lost; see numbers 29, 37, 72, 81, 112, and 121. And recall Prospero’s and Hamlet’s expiring sadness, imprecating not to be forgotten.

A modern person naturally questions the Earl’s motivation to write anonymously, as opposed to hiring a sharp marketing firm. But insight emerges from literal personal statements of the sonnets, and in those last utterances of Prospero and Hamlet quoted above. Shakespeare revealing himself as a lost soul does seem to hope for personal redemption in some future time. That writing is not the voice of a busy jobbing writer for cash pay. The Earl did not write for pay. He was too rich to need money payment . . . . until he went broke. And thereafter the Queen stepped in as his sole patron, financing him completely for those last 14 years of secluded writing.

These above are simple contemporaneously documented historical facts as to the life of the 17th Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere. But as to that man’s feelings, and as to the art welled up from them, that tale is written on the wind. The Which is itself a kind of wind.

The vision and voice of Shakespeare affects our culture. Most of us today walk the world with some conception of his works somewhere in mind. So comes The Which for you to consider. A tale lightly laughing and yet serious. For indeed it is fittingly woven much in the very patterns of Shakespeare’s own dark comedies.

Regarding the Mask

But first in proper scholarly perspective you should have a purely factual overview of William Shaksper of Stratford-upon-Avon, whom tradition has long placed as author of the canon of Shakespeare, despite doubt expressed for over 150 years. By now that doubt has come to a focus, and The Which surveys it by a lively modern tale.

All factual statements in this prefatory letter to readers as to William Shaksper, the Stratford man, are drawn only from published books, not Internet content. These facts are reported here without embellishment, excepting a few factually unfounded popular assumptions are correctively addressed. Embellishment as to the William Shaksper figure, as with the Earl, is in the realm of our tale The Which.

But The Which is not much banded by this man Shaksper. This soberly considered novel believes Shaksper surely was not the great writer Shakespeare who the world sees and hears. But Shaksper actually was involved in the real life times of the works of Shakespeare in other ways. Curious, still mysterious, ways that The Which touches upon.

First Folio Portrait Engraving

This appearing on the cover of the First Folio of Shakespeare’s collected plays is said there to be a portrait of the author. It was engraved in 1623 by someone who when William Shaxper died in 1616 was 15 years old living in London. Shaxper lived his final dozen years in far distant Stratford. So this 22-year-old artist had never seen the man. The 1623 Folio was the very first print to point to the Stratford man as being the writer William Shakespeare.

Over centuries scholars have questioned the portrait’s peculiar crudeness. Not just the blank stare, with a line at right that looks like a mask edge and an ear like a pull tab. It is remarked that this man seems to have two right eyes and two left arms, with one of his jacket’s shoulder sleeves reversed back to front. The hydrocephalic head seems a sacerdotal image served on a whitewashed platter. Floating disconnected from an improbably small body.

The early 17th century was an era fascinated by hidden message cryptograms, a popular European art form. To some Oxfordian scholars this sketch is one. Meaning Here’s a mask of a mask. As the exquisitely real portrait of the Earl above examples, artists of the period were quite capable of lifelike portraits.

This Stratford man’s name cradle to grave was recorded officially as William Shaksper. Regionally pronounced Shaxper; it is spelled Shaxper here in The Which to avoid even more confusion of identity. On scripts the name Shake-speare or Shakespeare was printed 92 times before the 1623 First Folio bearing that author name; never was it spelled Shaksper in any printed document.

Of record the Stratford man never once anywhere spelled his name Shakespeare. And of record never once claimed to be a writer, much less the famous William Shakespeare. In period pronunciation his surname’s a would have been soft like in hat; in contrast the a in shake would have been hard like in aim.

Actually a lot evidencing Shaxper has survived 400 years. There is a dossier of about 70 documents. But nothing, nothing at all, not one extant scrap of paper, shows he was a writer of any sort or even that he physically could write. As opposed to identity as an opportunistic Elizabethan businessman occasionally operating in its rumbustious new theater world.

Many books and ephemera have stumbled at Shaxper’s troublingly scant yet factually inconvenient biography. The pro-Shaxper academic orthodoxy basically urges students to limit attention to those glowing literary works of Shakespeare. Urging readers to simply ignore Shaxper’s incongruous biographical record as irrelevant to texts. Though a