While it’s hard for some to accept that the Bard of Avon didn’t write the plays that are attributed to him, it’s not as if he had no relation to them. But the evidence has been there all along.
I note that the seminal inspiration for the authorship questions was Samuel Astley Dunham’s 1837 biography of Shakespeare, which appeared in the Lives of the Most Eminent Literary and Scientific Men of Great Britain and Ireland. Quoting Dunham:
… we must observe, that in the beginning of his career—for years, indeed, after he became connected with the stage—that extraordinary man was satisfied with reconstructing the pieces which others had composed; he was not the author, but the adapter of them to the stage. Indeed, we are of opinion, that the number of plays which he thus re-cast, as well as those in which he made very slight alterations, is greater than any of his commentators have supposed.
Later in the work, Dunham repeated this claim: “In fact there is no one drama of our author prior to 1600—perhaps not one after that year—that was not derived from some other play.”
Literary geniuses cannot help but write about the types of people, places, and events that have moved them—and their familiarity with their subjects allows them tantalizing insights and intricacies. So, as is inevitably the case, rural geniuses pen rural masterpieces, seafaring geniuses pen seafaring masterpieces, Yukon-wilderness geniuses pen Yukon-wilderness masterpieces, New-York high-society geniuses pen New York high-society masterpieces, etc. This is what all prodigies throughout the history of literature have done. They have written about lands that had dirtied their shoes and got under their fingernails, about climes that caused them to shiver or sweat, and about people whom they loved or hated and with whom they had worked, dined, or fought. No other great literary artist has ever tried to attempt what Stratfordians must believe.
But this classic case against Shakespeare is even stronger than this. While all the evidence suggests that the author of the canon required first-hand experience with the court, law, Italy, and military; it is still not even clear how Shakespeare could have managed even second-hand knowledge of these subjects. The true-crime story of the murder of the Duke of Urbino—which would become the subject of Hamlet’s play-within-a-play that he called The Murder of Gonzago—not only appears nowhere else in English in the 16th or 17th centuries, scholars have been unable to find the murder discussed in any published Italian work either. Stunningly, Hamlet is the first printed work to contain the story. What is more, the Duke’s murder occurred in Villa Pesaro in Urbino, which also had housed Titian’s famous painting of the victim. And the painting is used as both the model for Hamlet’s father and the description of the painting of Hamlet’s Father.
And that is just one of dozens of examples of insider information on Italy that we find in the plays—which includes accurate descriptions of Padua and Venice, the reference to St. Gregory’s Well just outside of Milan, the life-like statues Giulio Romano, etc.
Consider also all the other expertise flaunted throughout the plays. Did Shakespeare really read Plowden’s Reports in Law French just for fun or to seem more lawyerly? Did he really peruse now-lost manuals on falconry to seem more aristocratic? Did he read travelogues on Continental Europe to seem more traveled? Did he, on his own, learn Italian, French, and Spanish, so he could read the original sources of plays he was adapting? Did he study all of the required military pamphlets in order to add esoteric military details to his work? Did he really, while in his early 30s, assume the guise of an old man when writing personal sonnets to friends and lovers? Did the man from Stratford, at the age of eleven, actually manage to sneak onto Leicester’s grounds at Kenilworth Castle and witness the private water pageant and other entertainments that the Earl provided for the Queen, enabling him to work these visions into A Midsummer Night’s Dream?
Fortunately, we can now accept the obvious answer to all of these questions and rid ourselves of the wide and troubling gap between the knowledge exposed in the masterpieces and the life of William Shakespeare. As all other analyses clarify, particularly a careful study of title page attributions, contemporaneous references, and satires by fellow playwrights, Shakespeare was not the original author of the masterpieces. He merely adapted them for the stage.
I think it’s very difficult for most people to accept two contrary things.
- That the historical figures they were told to have been world-class genuises were considerably less exceptional than they were told.
- That the figures of their time were actually more exceptional than they believe them to be.
I suspect it’s because we know more about the latter, and just as no man is a hero to his wife or his valet, it’s harder for an genuine intellectual to be highly regarded by people of his own time who can’t fully understand what he’s accomplished. Which, of course, is why it’s the frauds that are useful to the modern powers who are celebrated even though their accomplishments are both false and barren.