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‹Etwas kann nicht sein. Und trotzdem ist es so› Jenseits des Mordes an Gonzago

Alan Stott – UK

Zusammenfassung:

Das neue Jahrhundert kann bereits auf einige herausragende und kontroverse Ergebnisse der Shakespeare-Forschung zurückblicken, deren Anerkennung noch aussteht. Diese neueren Entdeckungen und Schlussfolgerungen fordern dazu auf, sowohl die Frage nach dem Verfasser des Shakespeare’schen Werkkanons, als auch diejenige nach der Quelle seiner Inspiration neu zu stellen. Dieser Aufsatz fasst die neuesten Forschungen (Anderson, Stritmatter, Whittemore, Beauclerk) zusammen, diskutiert die Auffassung von Dichtern und schöpferisch tätigen Autoren, die auch als Literaturkritiker immer noch Dichter bleiben (Blake, Keats, James Joyce, Charles Williams, Ted Hughes), und greift zwei Einsichten Rudolf Steiners bezüglich der Figur des Hamlet und der Rolle König James I auf.

‹Etwas kann nicht sein. Und trotzdem ist es so› Jenseits des Mordes an Gonzago —Alan Stott – UK  [PDF]

 

William Blake spricht in seinem Brief an John Flaxman vom 12. September 1800 davon, dass Shakespeare ihm ‹in reiferen Jahren seine Hand reichte›, ebenso wie Paracelsus und Jakob Böhme. Ein Jahrzehnt zuvor war Blake zu der Ansicht gelangt, dass zwischen dem Künstler als historischer Persönlichkeit (dem Geist) und dem von ihm geschaffenen Werk (dem Schatten) eine lebendige Verbindung besteht. Blake zufolge reinkarniert sich der Künstler ‹eins ums andere Mal›, während der Schatten ein Eigenleben führt. Daraus ergibt sich, wie in Blakes späteren Prophetischen Büchern angedeutet, dass beide sich zu verschiedenen Zeiten begegnen können.

Dass der Schatten Shakespeares eine Evolution durchgemacht hat, lässt sich nicht leugnen, angesichts seines Durchganges durch die Pantomime im 18. Jahrhundert, kritische Neubewertung (vor allem durch S.T. Coleridge), Viktorianisches Entertainment und seine Wiedergeburt durch die Hand des Literaturkritikers A.C. Bradley im Jahre 1904 [1]. Während zwischen 1904 und 1920 eine verblüffende Wiederentdeckung der Werke stattfand, wurde durch J. Thomas Looney [2] 1920 eine Forschungsarbeit begonnen, die ‹Shakespeare› als die reale Persönlichkeit Edward de Vere identifizierte; James Joyce eröffnete aufs neue die Debatte um die Beziehung zwischen Hamlet und Shakespeare, und Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925), so meine These, leistete Hilfestellung sowohl bezüglich der Verfasserschaftsfrage als auch bezüglich der Figur des Hamlet. [3]

Nachdem er zunächst für das Goethe-Archiv in Weimar tätig gewesen war, führte Steiner ein Literatenleben in Berlin. Er war der Herausgeber und Verfasser der Theaterkritiken des wöchentlich erscheinenden Magazins für Literatur. In der Zeit seiner Vortragstätigkeit stimmen Steiners Äußerungen zugegebenermaßen mit der sogenannten konventionellen oder orthodoxen Ansicht überein, dass William aus Stratford-on-Avon (1564–1616) der Verfasser gewesen ist. Die Argumente für die These, Francis Bacon (1561–1626) – welcher zu Steiners Zeit als hauptsächlicher Alternativkandidat gehandelt wurde – sei der Barde gewesen, nennt Steiner ‹äußerst oberflächlich›. [4] Allerdings verweist Steiner auf eine gemeinsame Inspiration, die Bacon und Shakespeare miteinander verbindet und welche auch in neuerer Zeit von dem Historiker Frances Yates [5] angesprochen wurde. Ich werde darauf noch zurückkommen. Unterstützer der Bacon-Hypothese mögen hierdurch Bestätigung finden, könnten sich aber zu vorschnellen Schlussfolgerungen verleiten lassen. Einen weiteren Beitrag zu der Debatte lieferte Looney mit der Veröffentlichung einer Reihe von schlagkräftigen Argumenten, die für den Kandidaten Edward de Vere, den 17. Grafen von Oxford (?1548–1604) als Verfasser sprechen – was jüngst (2010) von Charles Beauclerk [6] aktualisiert wurde. Mit anderen Worten, wir stehen vor der Tatsache, dass das erste Jahrzehnt des 21. Jahrhunderts die Debatte um den Verfasser mit ähnlicher Intensität neu entfacht hat, wie die Zeit zwischen 1904–1920 seine Werke wiederentdeckte.

Bekanntlich wissen wir über die Person Shakespeares nur verhältnismäßig wenig. Wenn wir annehmen, dass Steiners geistiger Blick die Tatsachen dieses Falles erfasst , und wenn wir weiter annehmen, dass die Hand, die diese Feder führte, verborgen bleiben musste, so könnte ein geistiger Berichterstatter auch gute Gründe haben, die gängige Lehrmeinung zu wiederholen. Ihm wäre bewusst, dass historische wie literarische Beweise zur rechten Zeit ans Licht kommen würden. Unter diesen Umständen könnten wir einen Appell an die konkrete  Wahrnehmungsfähigkeit unseres Geistes erwarten, vielleicht verbunden mit einer gewissen verbalen Ironie. Niemand wird Chaucer (wahrscheinlich 1345–1400) die Verbreitung von Unwahrheiten über die Pilger von Canterbury vorwerfen, im Gegenteil, wir wissen es zu schätzen, wie der Dichter ihren realen Charakter mit Hilfe der Ironie beschreibt. Die Ironie ist ein allgemein anerkanntes Mittel, um unter Umgehung der Fixierung auf Buchstaben oder gar Schwülstigkeit auf die Wahrheit hinzuweisen (schon Haydn und Beethoven verwendeten in ihren Kompositionen sowohl offensichtliche als auch subtile Ironie, lange bevor diese für moderne Komponisten zum Standardwerkzeug wurde). Aber es zeigt sich, dass der ‹Barde von Avon› selbst Ironie und Satire zu seinem konsequenten Lebensstil machte. Beauclerk weist auf die drei ‹miteinander verwobenen Fabeln in jedem Drama Shakespeares› hin: die fiktive Handlung, die Satire sowie die ‹seelische Handlung› des Unbewußten des Verfassers bzw. seiner ‹mythischen Existenz› (Beauclerk, S. 162). In diesem umfassenden Kontext sei eine Passage aus einem vor 100 Jahren gehaltenen Vortrag Steiners zu genauerer Betrachtung herausgegriffen, sowie eine seiner späteren Äußerungen bezüglich der Inspiration des Barden.

Neuere Publikationen

Eine ausführliche Biographie Edward de Veres von Mark Anderson (2005) [7] zeigt die zahlreichen Verbindungen zum Shakespeare’schen Werkkanon auf. Anderson, der fest auf dem Boden der Wissenschaft steht, präsentiert einen Kandidaten aus Fleisch und Blut, der geeignet ist, genau die Lücke zu schließen, die in unseren Wissen über den Barden klafft. Der Verfasser vermeidet Annahmen, Anspielungen und Esoterik; sein Beweismaterial ist historischen Ursprungs, umfangreich und untermauert die von Looney vertretene Haltung. Wir können Leben, Studium, eheliche Probleme, Reisen, literarische und schauspielerische Laufbahn, Enttäuschungen und Krisen verfolgen – alles dies Rohmaterial in Beziehung zu dem Werkkanon. Eine Liste der dokumentierten soliden Fakten aus dem Leben des Kandidaten aus Stratford würde sich – im Unterschied zu den Annahmen, die sich auf ihn beziehen – in einigen Seiten erschöpfen. [8]

Gleichzeitig erscheint es notwendig, jenen besonderen Text (wahrscheinlich handelt es sich um ein Geschenk anlässlich eines Hochzeitstages) der schnell unterdrückten Sonette (1609) (Shake-Speares Sonnets, by our ever-living poet – ‹von unserem unsterblichen Dichter› – ist ein Adjektiv, das nie zur Bezeichnung von lebenden Personen verwendet wird) mit ihren rätselhaften biographischen Anspielungen neu zu untersuchen. Zunächst hat Alistair Fowler [1970] die komplizierten formalen Mittel dieser Abfolge von Sonetten – einer bemerkenswerten tour de force, deren Komplexität nur noch von Spenser übertroffen wird – auf meisterhafte Weise überzeugend offengelegt. [9] Er konnte zeigen, dass die Sonette richtig nummeriert sind und dass die wenigen absichtlich unregelmäßigen Sonette eine Schlüsselposition innerhalb der Pyramidenform einnehmen. Nun legt aber Hank Whittemore [2008], indem er die drei Jahresabschnitte und andere zeitliche Bezüge einbezieht und die Metaphern entschlüsselt, Zeile für Zeile offen, wie sich parallel zu der offensichtlichen und buchstäblichen Bedeutung eine verborgene persönliche Geschichte von nationalem, ja internationalem Interesse durch die Sonette zieht. [10] Weit davon entfernt, sich blind einem „biographischen Ansatz“ in der Interpretation hinzugeben, zeigt Whittemore auf, dass die Sonette dazu gedacht waren, eine quälende Lebensgeschichte in ein Kunstwerk umzuwandeln. Die Geschichte spielt sich in realer Zeit ab, wobei manche Sonette tägliche Tagebucheinträge bedeuten. Der Verfasser setzte dem ‹holden Jüngling› ein dauerhaftes ‹Denkmal›. Mit anderen Worten, wir hören aus der Sequenz der Sonette mehr heraus, wenn wir wissen, wer der lebende Verfasser war. Wäre dies nicht der Fall, so würde das gesamte Werk postmoderner Autoren wie John Barth an Bedeutung verlieren. Angesichts der großen Bedeutsamkeit jüngster Forschungsergebnisse bleibt uns nichts anderes übrig, als unser Wissen von Shakespeare als Person und Autor auf den Prüfstand zu stellen.

‹Shake-Speare› erscheint in den ersten 17 Sonetten zunächst als sorgender Vater und potentieller Großvater, so folgert C-S. Lewis: ‹Welcher Mann auf Erden, ausgenommen ein Vater oder potentieller Schwiegervater, schert sich schon darum, ob irgendein anderer Mann heiratet?› [11] Die ‹dunkle Dame› der Sonette, dies zeigt jetzt Whittemore, ist Königin Elisabeth, und der ‹holde Jüngling› ist ihr und de Veres 17-jähriger Sohn (geb. Ende Mai 1574, gest. 1624) – der als Henry Wriothesley aufgezogen wurde (s. Beauclerk 105-107). Er ist ‹Cupidus›, das Kind der Liebe der Sonette 153 und 154, die sich beide auf einen Besuch der Königin in der Stadt Bath beziehen [12], zu dem de Vere im August 1574 dazukam:

Doch half mir’s nicht: die Bäder, die mir taugen

Sind Amors Feuerquellen, Liebchens Augen

Als 3. Graf von Southampton ist Henry Wriothesley derjenige, dem ‹Shakespeare› das erste und zweite seiner relativ wenigen – tatsächlich waren dies die einzigen offiziellen – zu seinen Lebzeiten veröffentlichten Werke widmete: die beiden Gedichte Venus und Adonis (1593) und Raub der Lucretia (1594). Der Verfasser, so Whittemores Vermutung, verübte im Grunde genommen Verrat, indem er den Namen ‹William Shakespeare› mit der Sache derjenigen in Zusammenhang brachte, die verlangten, dass Königin Elisabeth ihren Nachfolger benennen sollte. Hätte man ihn als königlichen Spross anerkannt, so wäre Henry König Henry IX von England geworden. Zuvor hatte Wriothesley es vorgezogen, eine stattliche Summe (5.000 £= ca. 185.000 £, was heute ca. 300.000 € entspricht) zur Strafe dafür zu zahlen, dass er den Plan William Cecils (des obersten Ministers Königin Elisabeths) ausgeschlagen hatte, dessen älteste Enkelin (zugleich Wriothesleys Halbschwester), nämlich de Veres und Anne Cecils Tochter Elizabeth, zu heiraten und auf diese Weise die Familie Cecils mit dem Königshaus zu verbinden. Die Spannungen gipfelten in der vereitelten sogenannten ‹Essex-Rebellion› vom 7. Februar 1601, mit der die Machthaber, allen voran Robert Cecil, der hinter dem Thron alle Fäden in der Hand hielt, gestürzt werden sollten. Als Essex enthauptet wurde, war Elisabeth verzweifelt. Als einziger der Anführer entging der Graf von Southampton der Todesstrafe. Whittemore stellt die schlüssige These auf, dass dieser nicht anerkannte Prinz im Gegenzuge dafür nicht nur allen Ansprüchen auf die Krone entsagen musste, sondern man sich damit gleichzeitig auch das Stillschweigen seines Vaters – des für die Nachwelt hinter dem Namen Shakespeares stehenden Autors – sicherte. Es gab kein Entrinnen mehr aus der Maske. Eine der ersten Amtshandlungen des neugekrönten König James I (1566–1625) war die Freilassung Wriothesleys am 10. April 1603. Mit der Ernennung zum ‹Captain of the Isle of Wight›  beförderte man ihn aufs Abstellgleis in Form eines ‹kleinen Königreiches›, von wo aus er keinen Schaden mehr anrichten konnte.

Darüber hinaus hat Roger Stritmatter [13] in seiner sorgsam recherchierten Dissertation [2001] über die Anmerkungen in der Genfer Bibel Edward de Veres Beweise dafür vorgelegt, dass selbiger im Verborgenen als Schriftsteller tätig war. Einige der unterstrichenen  Verse beziehen sich auf verborgene Verfasserschaft – den von Ironie geprägten Lebensstil der Gottesnarren und Propheten: ‹der Prophet ist ein Narr; der Geistesmann ist verrückt› (Hosea 9:7); Matthäus, Kapitel 6:4, gibt den Ratschlag ‹Dein Almosen soll verborgen bleiben, und dein Vater, der auch das Verborgene sieht, wird es dir vergelten›. Erinnern wir uns an Hamlets angebliche ‹Verrücktheit›, Lears Narren, der die Wahrheit spricht, Edgar als ‹armer Tom›, und all solche Themen wie Verkleidung, falsche Identität, Zwillinge und die zahlreichen unehelichen Charaktere. Eine beträchtliche Anzahl von unterstrichenen Versen in der Genfer Bibel steht in Zusammenhang mit dem Gesamtwerk und seiner Beziehung zu dem inneren Leben Edward de Veres.

Mit Shakespeare’s lost Kingdom (2010) begeben wir uns schon eher auf kontroverses Gebiet. Charles Beauclerk, der sich auf das Verhältnis des Barden zu Elisabeth konzentriert, dringt weiter in das Gebiet von Mythenbildung und skandalösen Umständen vor, die zu der immer dringlicheren Frage nach dem Thronerben führten. Es besteht durchaus die Möglichkeit, dass Elisabeth – der Legende nach ‹Jungfräuliche Königin› und Gemahlin ihrer Untertanen – die Mutter mehrerer Kinder war – ein Autor beziffert die Anzahl ihrer Schwangerschaften auf zehn. [14] Da gab es sonderbare Krankheiten und Zeiten der Zurückgezogenheit; in einem Polizeistaat schweigt man über gewisse Dinge. Aber auch in diesem Falle wollten die Menschen an die nationale Legende glauben. Dann ist da  noch das Portrait einer schwangeren Dame von Marcus Gheeraerts dem Jüngeren (ca. 1594) in Hampton Court, Greater London, in der man ursprünglich Königin Elizabeth erkannte. Es ließe sich auch noch hinzufügen, dass das später entstandene Portrait von van der Werff in Dublin, Irland, Elizabeth zusammen mit drei Kindern darstellt. [15] Es heißt, sie alle seien bei Pflegeeltern aufgewachsen, und anschließend in Cecil House (The Strand, in der Nähe der Themse) als ‹königliche Zöglinge› wieder ans Licht gekommen. William Cecil, der 1571 den Titel eines Lord Burghley verliehen bekommen hatte, sollte de Veres Schwiegervater werden. De Vere war der erste, Wriothesley der letzte ‹königliche Zögling›. Sie erhielten dort vermutlich die beste im Lande verfügbare Ausbildung und besaßen Zugang zu herausragenden Bibliotheken.

Beauclerk befasst sich mit der These, königlicher Inzest sei durch den vom Wunsch nach einem Thronfolger besessenen und sexbesessenen König Heinrich VIII, Vater Elisabeths, wiederbelebt worden. Sie selbst, so scheint es, hat seine Neigungen geerbt. Diese brillante Prinzessin übersetzte (1544) Königin Margarete von Navarras Spiegel der sündigen Seele [16], einen religiösen Text mit zweideutigen Untertönen: ‹Oh mein Heiland, durch Glaube ward ich gepflanzt, und mit dir vereint. O welche Vereinigung ist dies durch den Glauben bin ich mir deiner sicher, und nun darf ich dich so nennen: Sohn, Vater, Gatte und Bruder, Vater, Bruder, Sohn, Gatte…›

Was war die Ursache für das Interesse der frühreifen 11-jährigen Prinzessin Elisabeth? In unserem demokratischen Zeitalter geben wir der genetischen Vernunft den Vorzug und – dies tatsächlich erst seit relativ kurzer Zeit – respektieren das Recht auf romantische Liebe. Aber für eine Erbaristokratie waren ein ‹guter Name› und arrangierte Heiraten die Norm. Indem man kraft rechtswidriger Verbindungen nach mythischem und historischem Vorbild ‹unter sich blieb›, konnte man sich sogar mit dem Nimbus des Heiligen umgeben. Königliches Blut war heilig, es musste ‹rein› bleiben. Beauclerk, der Elisabeths innere Pein mit historischem und psychologischem Tiefblick nachzeichnet, bietet Gründe an, weshalb sie niemals einen Nachfolger bestimmte und damit die Tudordynastie auslöschte. ‹Ihr Entschluss, nicht zu heiraten und ihren Thron nicht zu teilen, gehörte mit zu ihrer unnachgiebigen Entschlossenheit, ein Bild von sich selbst zu entwerfen, das ihre Herkunft transzendierte›  [Beauclerk, 35]. Hinsichtlich des Werkkanons lässt sich nicht leugnen, dass das in Perikles offen behandelte Inzestthema auch in Hamlet, Lear und anderen Dramen nicht weit unter der Oberfläche liegt [17]. Die Protagonisten, hierin sind sich wenigstens alle einig, sind jedenfalls äußerst problembelastete Charaktere.

Es sollte nicht übersehen werden, dass James Joyce die Verbindungen zwischen Text und Verfasser als unauflöslich betrachtete. In Ulysses, seinem epischen modernistischen Roman ironischen Stils (1918–20 als Fortsetzungsroman veröffentlicht, 1. Komplettausgabe Paris 1922), entwirft Joyce eine virtuose Diskussion in der National Library (in dem Abschnitt ‹Scylla und Charybdis›), in der viele der bisher genannten und andere, später aufgegriffene Themen auftauchen. In seinen hilfreichen Anmerkungen schreibt Declan Kiberd [18]: ‹Die Uhrzeit ist 2 Uhr nachmittags; das Organ ist das Gehirn, die Kunstrichtung ist Literatur, die Symbole sind Hamlet und Shakespeare; und das Linati-Schema gibt als Sinn‚ zweischneidiges Dilemma’ an.› Der Begriff der Vaterschaft und eine Kritik des Begriffes ‹Verfasser› stehen hier im Brennpunkt. Vieles weist darauf hin, dass William Shakespeare aus Stratford den Part des Geistes von Hamlets Vater gespielt hat. ‹Stephen… scheint der Ansicht zu sein, dass der Künstler, indem er ein Werk erschafft, wirkliche Schmerzen empfindet, und dass Kunst eine Möglichkeit ist, ein Selbst zu erkennen und zu erleiden, um umso besser darüber hinauswachsen zu können› (Kiberd in Joyce, 1014). Joyce musste die in Homers Odyssee mehrfach zu findende Aussage wieder aufgreifen und umwandeln, Odysseus sei ‹der unglücklichste aller Menschen› gewesen. Wir verstehen Ulysses nicht richtig, wenn wir den Schmerz nicht fühlen, der Bloom umgibt; wir verstehen Hamlet nicht richtig, wenn wir an ‹Wm Shakespeare› und Edward de Vere nicht wahrhaft interessiert sind.

Vor dem Hintergrund der jüngsten Forschungsergebnisse wird die Tatsache, dass Joyce, Beauclerk, Mitchell und andere Hamlet und der Verfasserschaftsfrage besondere Aufmerksamkeit widmen, zu einem eindringlichen Appell. ‹(Der Herzog von) Oxford stellt einen überzeugenden Hamlet dar – oder auch andersherum›, folgert John Mitchell. [19] Wenn Hamlet im großen und ganzen als Selbstportrait seines Schöpfers anzusehen ist und das gleichnamige Stück dessen Situation beschreibt, und wenn er darüber hinaus hinter führenden Protagonisten späterer Stücke wieder erscheint, dann finden sich im Werkkanon weitere Hinweise auf die aufgewühlte innere Verfassung des am meisten bewunderten Dramatikers der Welt – und des am meisten diskutierten Stückes der Welt. Durch die Kunst, wenngleich ‹geknebelt durch die Obrigkeit› (Sonett 66), fand dieser verborgene Schriftsteller nicht nur eine Möglichkeit zu überleben, sondern auch seine anscheinend unmögliche Lebenssituation zu überwinden. Diese Tatsache, die Beauclerk einfühlsam verfolgt, könnte unsere Bewunderung für das Werk des hinter Shakespeare stehenden Verfassers – und das seines jüngsten Biographen – noch vergrößern. Wie sonst hätte er seine großen Tragödien – aber genauso auch die Komödien mit ihrer subtilen topischen Satire [20] – sowie die späten Werke erschaffen können, als nur heraus aus einer inneren Erfahrung und einer immensen schöpferischen Anstrengung, die das Theater zum Spiegel seiner Welt machte? Wer würde nicht behaupten wollen, dass die ‹realen› Charaktere Polonius und Claudius eine falsche Rolle spielen, während das ‹fiktionale› Stück innerhalb des Dramas, ‹Der Mord von Gonzago›, die Realität repräsentiert?

Keats schreibt (Brief Nr. 123,  Februar 1819): ‹Das Leben eines Menschen, wenn es irgend einen Wert hat, ist eine fortgesetzte Allegorie – und sehr wenige sind in der Lage, das Mysterium seines Lebens zu erkennen – eines Lebens wie die heiligen Schriften, gleichnisartig […] Shakespeare lebte ein allegorisches Leben: seine Werke sind sein Kommentar dazu.› Was Keats vermutete, kann nunmehr durch eine zunehmende Anzahl von  Forschungen erhärtet werden, die in dieselbe Richtung weisen.

Der Schatten: Suche nach Identität

Wenn der ‹Schatten› Shakespeares sich aus einer konkreten historischen Persönlichkeit herausgebildet hat, deren stärkster Selbstausdruck Hamlet ist, so müssen wir nun auf Steiner eingehen, der das Thema der Suche nach Identität auf tiefgründigste Weise in seinem einleitenden Vortrag des Zyklus über das Markus-Evangelium aufgreift (1912). [21] Im Lichte jüngerer Forschungen betrachtet, werfen seine Bemerkungen zu Hamlet ihrerseits ein helles Licht auf die Verfasserschaftsfrage. Der Vortragende skizziert die Ost-West-Situation und erwähnt dabei die alten spirituellen Strömungen des Ostens sowie fünf Dichter, die die abendländische Kultur wesentlich beeinflusst haben – David, Homer, Dante, Shakespeare und Goethe. Steiner betont, dass die fünf erwähnten Dichter ein getreueres Bild von den Ereignissen zeichnen, als es einer rein äußerlichen Geschichtsschreibung allein möglich wäre. Vor diesem Hintergrund schildert Steiner weiter, wie tiefgreifend das Mysterium von Golgatha, der Tod und die Auferstehung des Christus, auf die Seelen wirkte, die vor diesem Ereignis auf der Erde lebten und danach innerlich verwandelt wiederkehrten. Der Begriff der Metamorphose wurde von Steiner bereits zu einem früheren Zeitpunkt (1904) mit dem menschlichen Leben in Verbindung gebracht, [22] nun bezieht er sich auf zwei praktische Beispiele, die bedeutenden Seelen von Empedokles und Hektor von Troja mit ihren abendländischen Wiederverkörperungen.

Troja hatte Hektor hervorgebracht, der ‹ganz im antiken Sinne an seiner Vaterstadt Troja hing, [und ein Mensch war] mit großer, mit umfassender Menschlichkeit.› Und wir erfahren weiter: ‹Die wirkliche Gestalt, die dem zugrunde liegt, was Shakespeare als Hamlet gestaltet hat, ist Hektor. Dieselbe Seele lebte in Hamlet, die in Hektor lebte.› Der wirkliche Hamlet hat ‹auch einmal› als dänischer Prinz gelebt. Aber der dänische Prinz Amleth aus dem 11.Jh., auf dem die gegenständliche Geschichte basiert, entzieht sich unserem Blick. Denn es stellt sich heraus, dass der Verfasser des Stückes seine Geschichte anders enden lässt, als es die Chroniken überliefern. Hierin liegt der springende Punkt. Am Ende seines Stückes ist die Bühne von Leichen übersät – das Militär übernimmt die Kontrolle. Der Schriftsteller macht deutlich, dass systematische Rache in den Selbstmord der Rasse mündet. In Shakespeares nächstem Stück, Maß für Maß, lässt sich – wie John Vyvyan zeigen konnte – verfolgen, wie durch das Thema der Selbsterkenntnis und Vergebung eine neue Wendung innerhalb einer potentiell tragischen Situation herbeigeführt wird. [23] Shakespeares Charaktere erfahren hier erstmals etwas von der Verwandlung, die im Zentrum der Erdenevolution steht. Solches gilt jedoch nicht für den Amleth des 11. Jahrhunderts.

Die fünf Persönlichkeiten, von denen Steiner sagt, sie hätten unsere Kultur geprägt, sind literarische Künstler, d.h. Schöpfer von Geschichten, Mythen, von etwas, in dem bleibende Werte Ausdruck finden und das mehrere Bedeutungsebenen ahnen lässt. Der Einfluss ihrer Werke überwindet die Begrenztheit ihres Zeitalters, was einige Fragen offenlässt. So stammen beispielsweise einigen Forschern zufolge die Psalmen nicht alle aus Davids eigener Hand. König David gab einem Genre seinen Namen. Die Psalmen – die zu den ersten lyrischen Werken der Menschheit zählen – sind gleichzeitig Gebete; mit Richard Maix Benson als Ganzes betrachtet und auf der mythischen Bedeutungsebene gelesen, ist der Psalter ‹eine fortlaufende Darstellung der Auseinandersetzung des Messias mit dem Bösen›. [24] Und Homer, ist er ein Individuum, oder eine Figur, die Volkstraditionen zusammenfasst? Hier bevorzugen heutige Forscher die erstere Sichtweise, aus literaturhistorischen Gründen. Und natürlich zieht heute auch Shakespeare im Zusammenhang mit eben dieser Frage: ‹Wer führte die Feder?› zunehmend das Interesse auf sich. In dem erwähnten Vortrag äußert Steiner selbst die Vermutung, dass in späteren Jahrhunderten die Existenz Goethes angezweifelt werden wird. Nur wenig wird man dann von ihm noch wissen – und dies, so fügt er gar hinzu, ‹wird gut sein›! Es werden also nicht Goethes irdische Belange, sondern seine dichterische Schöpfung des Faust, des Wahrheitssuchers wird dann für die Nachwelt von Bedeutung sein. Andererseits, wer würde Faust als völlig unabhängig von Goethes Kenntnissen des Cornelius Agrippa betrachten wollen? Und Blake stellt in Milton sowohl die historische Gestalt dar, die mit ihrer Familie zu kämpfen hat, als auch Blake selbst, der mit Miltons Schatten kämpft – dem Welt-Bewusstsein von Paradise Lost.

Um es deutlich zu sagen: heute deuten die Forschungsergebnisse unübersehbar auf die historische Persönlichkeit Edward de Vere als Verfasser hin, während gleichzeitig hinter dem Hamlet’schen Schatten so etwas wie eine metahistorische Persönlichkeit steht, die ihn leitet. Empedokles ‹steht hinter› Faust. In Hektor und Empedokles ist etwas zum Abschluss gekommen; in nachfolgenden Inkarnationen erscheinen ‹große Seelen klein›. Hat Steiner, der Willliam Shakespeare, aus dessen Leben nur wenige Grundzüge bekannt sind, überging, uns damit tatsächlich über seine Absicht im Dunkeln gelassen? Im Jahre 1912 beschäftigte sich lediglich ein kleines Häuflein von ‹Exzentrikern› mit der Verfasserschaftsfrage. Stattdessen sagt Steiner: «Die wirkliche Gestalt, die dem zugrunde liegt, was Shakespeare als Hamlet gestaltet hat, ist Hektor.»

Ebenso, wie unser Verständnis des Verfassers sich an dem Leben am Hofe Elisabeths orientiert, so können wir Hektor nicht unabhängig vom Fall Trojas betrachten. Troja, so Steiner, [25] erlebte seine Blüte zu einer Zeit, da die Priesterschaft die herrschende Oberschicht stellte und die Menschen über ein instinktives Hellsehen verfügten (Kassandra sagt den Tod Hektors voraus).Troja musste an die Griechen fallen, da das neue verstandesmäßige Bewusstsein sich mit der Verbreitung des Hellenismus entwickeln sollte. Nun jedoch, mit dem Beginn der ‹Zeitenwende› gegen Ende des 15. Jahrhunderts, beginnt sich ein neues, oder besser gesagt erneuertes Bewusstsein zu entfalten. Da sich mit dem neuen Selbst-Bewusstsein in der Renaissance ein verändertes Wahrnehmen und neue schöpferische Möglichkeiten in der Kunst entwickelten, erscheint es besonders bedeutsam, dass Shakespeares Zeitgenossen, zweifellos beeinflusst von dem Gelehrten und Mystiker John Dee (1527–1608/9) und anderen, London als ‹das neue Troja› bezeichneten. Brutus beispielsweise, der Urenkel des Äneas aus der Trojanischen Legende, besuchte die Druidenschule bei Totnes in der Grafschaft Devon, bevor er London gründete, den späteren Heimatort des Globe Theatre. Kunst imitiert das Leben, und das Leben imitiert Kunst – der fiktionale Leopold Bloom bestellt im Gasthaus bei David Byrnes ein Glas Burgunder und ein Gorgonzola-Sandwich, und Besucher des realen gleichnamigen Gasthauses in Dublin werden am 16. Juni zur Feier des Tages (‹Bloomsday› –  der Roman Ulysses von James Joyce mit der Hauptfigur Bloom spielt am 16.6.) dasselbe auf der Speisekarte finden.

Shakespeare widmete Troilus und Cressida – welches Stück etwa zur selben Zeit wie Hamlet  entstand  – dem Trojanischen Krieg. Troilus, das konnte gezeigt werden, ist in Wirklichkeit die romantische Seite Hektors, welcher selbst wiederum das personifizierte Troja darstellt. Troilus-Hektor ist sozusagen eine Persönlichkeit (Hughes, S. 200). Charles Williams hat auf die Bedeutung dieses vernachlässigten Stückes hingewiesen. [26] Mit der Krise, in die Troilus angesichts von Cressidas Untreue gerät, rücke die „einzige innerliche Krise, über die zu sprechen sich lohnt“ in den Mittelpunkt der Aufmerksamkeit. Williams betont, Untreue könne bei Shakespeare an einer Krise zwar einen Anteil haben, dieselbe ginge aber immer darüber hinaus: ‹Etwas kann nicht sein. Und trotzdem ist es so.› Williams, der dafür noch weitere und tragischere Fälle anführt, bemerkt, die Umwandlung, mit der ‹der Shakespear’sche Genius befasst gewesen› sei, seien Erfahrungen dieser Größenordnung gewesen. Die Arbeit daran dauerte bis zum Ende der schriftstellerischen Laufbahn des Barden. Ted Hughes [27] hat sich zu dem Mythos – von Keats ‹Allegorie› genannt – geäußert, der es dem Autor ermöglichte, diese Arbeit überhaupt zu leisten. In Venus und Adonis, gemeinsam betrachtet mit der weltlichen Umkehrung dieses Stückes, dem Raub der Lucrezia, ist die tragische Formel enthalten, die ‹mythische Gleichung, die von Wie es euch gefällt (Erstauff. 1598) an durch alle Stücke bis hin zu den späten Dramen, in denen die Tragödie schließlich überwunden wird, zutagetritt. Die mythische Gleichung ist keine abstrakte Theorie; Ted Hughes weist auf den düsteren Verbund zwischen dem Autor und seinem Schatten hin, von denen jeder seine eigene Vergangenheit besitzt.

Die Feder ist mächtiger als das Schwert

Hiermit wenden wir uns nun einem zweiten von Steiners Beiträgen zu. Indem er über die Inspiration des Zeitalters und die Bedeutung des ersten Jahrzehnts des 17. Jahrhunderts spricht, erwähnt Steiner (1917 und 1924) vier Persönlichkeiten – Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, Jakob Böhme und Jakob Balde. Alle vier waren vom Rosenkreuzertum inspiriert, dessen Vertreter auf Erden eine ‹eingeweihte Persönlichkeit› war. Die Identität dieser Persönlichkeit, dieses ‹lästigen Patrons›, steht nicht fest – Friedrich Hiebel [28] nimmt an, dass damit Jakob I gemeint ist, und Richard Ramsbotham [29] argumentiert ähnlich. Steiner spricht von einer doppelten Strömung, die von Britannien ausgeht. Bacon war der Urheber einer empirischen, materialistischen Naturwissenschaft. Diese wurde abgemildert durch eine andere Strömung, die, wie Steiner betont, von enormer Bedeutung ist, etwas was die Briten, das angelsächsische Volk «nicht verlieren darf, wenn sie nicht vollständig im dem Materialismus verfallen soll» [30] Diese andere Strömung, die gegen Kommerzialismus und Materialismus ankämpft, wurde ihnen durch Jakob I «eingeimpft».

Dem Barden gelang es, das zu transformieren, was seine ursprüngliche, ‹offizielle› Aufgabe genannt werden könnte: die Rechtfertigung der Tudormonarchie. Dieser Dramatiker, der den schmerzhaften Weg der Selbsterkenntnis – welche, wie wir wissen, das einzige wirkliche Wissen darstellt – intensiv verfolgt und beschrieben hat, war hauptsächlich während der Thronherrschaft Elisabeths tätig. Sein Werk steht mit seinem Verhältnis zu der Königin in engem Zusammenhang. Elisabeth selbst, so Charles Williams in seiner feinsinnigen Biographie über Jakob I [31], die geistige Patin Jakobs I, «… wusste, dass er, wenn diese geistige Verwandtschaft bestehen blieb, die Krone, die noch die ihre war, unausweichlich gewinnen würde, während sie sie verlieren musste. Er war vierzehn, und sie war siebenundvierzig… ». Das war 1580. Sobald er den Thron bestiegen hatte, suchte Jakob I, indem er mit ‹The Lord Chamberlain’s Men› die Truppe de Veres übernahm und sie (im Mai 1603) in ‹The King’s Men› umbenannte, Shakespeare-Produktionen nach Kräften zu unterstützen. Zudem erschien der zweite ‹gute› Quartband mit Hamlet (1604-05) mit einer Titelvignette des Herausgebers, die zwei Zwillinge mit dem königlichen Wappen in ihrer Mitte zeigt (siehe Artikelanfang), und in der Weihnachtszeit jenes Jahres wurden Festspiele mit sieben Shakespeare-Dramen bei Hofe aufgeführt. Ist dieser dem verstorbenen Autor gezollte Tribut ein Zeichen für den Beginn, oder selbst Teil, der erwähnten «Einimpfung»? – übrigens ein passendes Wort, denn die Dramen sind mit dem Herzblut des Autors geschrieben. Dem Werkkanon, Ergebnis einer legendären Schöpferkraft, ist mit Sicherheit ein nachhaltiger Einfluss auf unsere Gesellschaft zuzuschreiben. Wie aber konnte James, über die schwer greifbaren Eigenschaften seiner irdischen Persönlichkeit hinaus, den Barden zu dessen Opfer inspirieren? Hiermit ist offensichtlich mehr gemeint als dass James’ Daemonologie (1597) Material für die Hexen in Macbeth bot. James erfüllt alle Anforderungen eines Hauptakteurs in Shakespeares Geschichte. Durch die Ermordung seines Vaters, den James während seiner Kindheit verlor, und seine durch romantische Eskapaden in Verruf geratene Mutter besteht sogar eine verblüffende Verwandtschaft zwischen James  und der Situation Hamlets. Ist die Kunst das Abbild des Lebens?

In einem esoterischen Kontext würde das Verb ‹inspirieren› darauf schließen lassen, dass die geistige – oder mythische – Ebene gemeint sei. Um diese Ebene im Werk des Barden zu erforschen, musste erst ein Dichter kommen. Ted Hughes taucht tief hinein in Jacques (= Shax-père) als ‹Selbst-Repräsentanten› seines Urhebers und untersucht, wie Mythos und Realität alle drei Figuren dieses Namens (welcher in Shakespeares Quellen nicht auftaucht) miteinander verweben: den melancholischen Jacques, Jacques de Bois und Jaques le Grand [32]. Kaum einer würde wohl bestreiten wollen, dass Wie es euch gefällt und Ende gut, alles gut (1598/99) eine deutliche Schwelle zu einer neuen Welt markieren. Wenn von dieser Zeit an eine starke, sprechende menschliche Inspiration in den Dramen spürbar wird, ist diese dann schon zu einem früheren Zeitpunkt angelegt worden? Abgesehen von alledem, was sich über James (Jakob/Jacques) und seine politischen, theologischen, lyrischen und dramatischen Werken zutage fördern lässt, ist es sein starker Anspruch auf den englischen Thron, der –  noch untermauert durch den Vertrag von Berwick (Anglo-Scottish League 1586), der ihm den Weg ebnete – James zweifellos in einer gewissen Hinsicht zum realen ‹usurpierenden› oder ‹rivalisierenden Bruder› (genealogisch gesehen zum Verwandten 2. Grades in Relation zu Edward de Vere als Sohn von Elizabeth) macht: mit all der schöpferischen Spannung, die sich daraus ergibt. Das Motiv der zwei Brüder wird manchmal auch Zwillingsmythos genannt; bedeutsames Beispiel hierfür ist der Mythos der Zwillinge Jakob und Esau aus der hebräischen Bibel. [33] In Ende gut, alles gut, enthält ein dritter, heiliger Jakob/Jacques beide ‹Brüder› desselben Namens. Tatsächlich klingt in den zwei Brüdern ein althergebrachtes, sprechendes Symbol für eine/n ‹reale/n› Autor/in und seinen/ihren Schatten an, welche beide, wie William Blake sagen würde, ‹von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit fortwandeln›.

Es wurde bereits darauf hingewiesen, dass die Tatsache, dass de Vere als Mitglied des Gerichts 1587 an der Verurteilung von James’ Mutter – Mary, der Königin von Schottland – beteiligt war, ersteren sicherlich nicht kalt gelassen hat. Dieses Ereignis, das auch für die Thronfolge Konsequenzen hatte, mag für den nicht anerkannten englischen Prinzen den Anstoß zu einer (wahrscheinlichen) ersten Version des schottischen Dramas gegeben haben. ‹Von allen Protagonisten der Dramen ist Macbeth der einzige, der mit vollem Bewusstsein das Seelenleben dieser beiden gegensätzlichen Figuren [des irrationalen Bruders und des Adonis] gleichzeitig durchlebt› (Hughes, S. 242). Dieses Drama markiert auf einzigartige Weise den entscheidenden Wendepunkt in dem bei Shakespeare zentralen Doppelmythos von Venus – Adonis/ Tarquin – Lucretia. Geschildert wird darin nicht nur, wie sich Adonis’ Verwandlung in ein Wildschwein vollzieht, sondern dass er sich dieser Tatsache auch voll bewusst ist – das Wildschwein (seine Hauer sind Macbeths Dolche) bleibt trotz allem göttlichen Ursprungs. Hughes’ tiefsinnige Denkweise steht in krassem Gegensatz zu der oft wiederholten Annahme, der Dramatiker reagiere auf öffentliche Ereignisse. Vielmehr lässt sich zeigen, dass der Barde aufgrund seiner Selbsterkenntnis allen um Längen voraus ist, und dies nicht zuletzt auch hinsichtlich der thematischen Bezüge. Was Macbeth betrifft, so kommt Kenneth Muir (Hrsg. d. anerkannten kritischen Ausgabe Arden Second Series v. 1984) zu dem Schluß: ‹So wird mit der Mehrdeutigkeit auf eines der Hauptthemen des Dramas verwiesen, und die Stimme der Mehrdeutigkeit hätte ihren Platz in der Pförtnerszene verdient, selbst wenn [der Jesuitenpater Henry] Garnett [auf dessen Aussage vor Gericht der Pförtner anspielt]. niemals gelebt hätte oder niemals in die Pulververschwörung [von 1605]. verwickelt gewesen wäre.› [34]

Was auch immer meine anfänglichen Gedanken dazu beitragen können, um mit Steiners Aussage bezüglich des ‹bedeutsamen Geheimnis› hinsichtlich der Inspiration James’ I zurechtzukommen: der Wert der Literatur in einer imperialistischen Konsumgesellschaf ist am Ende sicherlich unschätzbar – oder auch subversiv, je nach Standpunkt. ‹Unter der Herrschaft der Großen/ ist die Feder mächtiger als das Schwert›, schreibt Edward Bulwer-Lytton. [35] Dieser berühmte Ausspruch scheint relevant zu sein. Im Frühjahr 1601 ließ die Zensur der englischen Regierung einige Zeilen aus dem Drama Sir Thomas More streichen – zur selben Zeit fanden die Exekutionen der nach der Essex-Rebellion Verurteilten statt. ‹Der Mord an Gonzago› war in der Tat wirkungsvoll.

Obwohl er behauptet hat, dass die Verfasserschaftsfrage bezüglich Shakespeare belanglos sei, hat Northrop Frye, der vielleicht einflussreichste Literaturkritiker des 20. Jahrhunderts, in seinem Lebenswerk über die gesamte ‹Ordnung der Wörter› (wie Coleridge es nennt) den Ursprung der Literatur im Mythos ausgemacht, d.h. in Geschichten über ‹das, was ist›. Nach Ansicht der Oxfordianer hat der Barde seinen eigenen Mythos gelebt und ihm gleichzeitig in seinem Werk eine neue Form gegeben. Er entwickelt darin alle vier der von Frye beschriebenen ‹Modi›: Komödie, Romanze, Tragödie und Ironie/Satire. [36] Adonis – Oberon/Bottom – Hamlet – Troilus/Hektor – Antonius –, und Venus – Titania – Gertrude – Cressida – Kleopatra sind Kunstschöpfungen, die auf Beziehungen zum wirklichen Leben basieren. Die Perspektive der Dichter – dass das Leben des Barden eine ‹Allegorie› war (Keats), eine einzigartige Beziehung zwischen Geist und Schatten (Blake), dass er seine Phantasie heranzog, um zutiefst tragische Momente aufzulösen (Williams), und zwar aufgrund innerer Erfordernisse, die sich aus dem Umgang mit der ‹mythischen Gleichung›  ergaben (Hughes), erscheint mir als tragfähige Grundlage, um einander scheinbar ausschließende Ansichten, die sich aus biographischen und historischen Kenntnissen ergeben, miteinander zu vereinbaren. Die Oxfordianer beispielsweise verweisen darauf, dass Bezüge zu aktuellen Ereignissen nach 1604 nicht mehr auftauchen (Anderson, S. 360), während jene, die einen Einfluss James’ I in den Werken sehen, annehmen, dass einige der Dramen erst nach 1603, d.h. nach der Ankunft James’ I in England, entstanden sind. Wir wissen, dass Der Sturm zur Vermählung von Prinzessin Elisabeth mit dem Kurfürsten Friedrich von der Pfalz am 27. Dez. 1612 aufgeführt wurde. Dies bedeutet nicht, dass das Stück erst kurz zuvor geschrieben worden sein muss, obwohl einige Literaturkritiker darüber spekulieren, dass die Maskerade der Hochzeitsnacht hinzugefügt worden sein könnte – allerdings ohne dass dafür irgendwelche Beweise vorlägen. Das Entstehungsdatum dieses Dramas, dem in der ganzen Diskussion eine Schlüsselrolle zukommt, wird heute auf 1603 oder davor angesetzt. [37] Frances Yates schreibt über den Beginn des 17. Jahrhunderts, man habe in dieser Zeit den Versuch einer ‹Wiederbelebung› (Hervorhebung von mir) der elisabethanischen Ideale, Mythologie und Philosophie unternommen. [38] Eine eingehende Untersuchung sollte die Rätsel auflösen können, zumal dann, wenn die Einheit von Mythos und Biographie erkannt worden ist. Aus welchem Grunde sonst sollte Wie es euch gefällt mit dem Bild der leeren Höhle enden? Und warum sonst sollte Haydn die Passage ‹Seid fruchtbar, wachset, mehret euch› (Die Schöpfung) von einer melancholisch getragenen Cellostimme begleiten lassen?

Allerdings ist die Zusammenstellung des Paares Hektor – Hamlet nicht ganz unproblematisch. Sicherlich stellt Homer Hektor so dar, wie es Steiner berichtet. Aber Hamlet ist sehr viel mehr als nur der zaudernde Zyniker, den die Literaturkritiker aus Steiners Tagen, und sogar diejenigen unserer Zeit, in ihm sehen. ‹Was Shakespeare als Hamlet gestaltet hat› – so Steiners Formulierung in seinem Vortrag 1912 – verfällt der Versuchung durch den unreinen Geist seines Vaters, der Rache fordert. Hamlets Edelmut muss systematisch zerstört werden (Vyvyan). Diese Situation wird in den späteren Dramen überwunden. Hamlet als die ‹Persona› seines Verfassers, kann doch noch die ihm innewohnende Menschlichkeit entwickeln und schließlich zum Zauberer Prospero werden, der denjenigen vergibt, die ihn aus seinem Reich vertrieben haben. Ebenso sehen wir Stephen Dedalus am Ende von Ein Portrait des Künstlers als junger Mann, wie er unbedingt Irland verlassen will; in Ulysses kehrt er dann wieder, um den ‹Telemachus› überschriebenen Teil mit dem Ausruf ‹Usurpator!› zu beenden und damit das Hamletmotiv anklingen zu lassen. In diesem Falle wissen wir, dass der Autor einige seiner tiefsten Empfindungen in sein Werk hineingelegt hat. Sollten wir dasselbe nicht auch von Shakespeare wissen können?

Souveränität

Der vorliegende Artikel ist die Reaktion eines Lesers auf ein einzigartiges Szenario. Zusammenfassend könnte man sagen, dass ich in einem früheren Lebensalter einer relativ sentimentalen Sicht auf einen sehr wandelbaren, instinktiv schreibenden Schriftsteller und Dramatiker begegnet bin, vor die sich aber dann das Bild des verstoßenen, unehelichen Sprosses, des Genies und namenlosen Mannes schob, der an einer akuten Identitätskrise litt – und zwar aus Liebe. Dem widerspricht nicht, dass die Suche nach dem Menschen hinter der literarischen Schöpfung ganz besonders ins Zentrum der Aufmerksamkeit rückt, wenn im Falle von Hamlet, Schöpfung und Schöpfer in eins zusammenfallen. Hinter der literarischen Schöpfung des Hamlet erscheinen der Verfasser und seine Welt, der elisabethanische Königshof. Wenn Beauclerk und die Oxfordianer Recht haben, fällt es schwer, in dem Autor selbst, einer kulturellen Leitfigur unseres Zeitalters, einen Menschen vom Lande zu sehen. Bei dem Stratford Shakespeares handelt es sich in erster Linie um eine Erfindung des 18. Jahrhunderts durch den Dramatiker und Schauspieler David Garrick und anderer, die das rustikale Bild aufbauten, welches die Politiker der Nachwelt vermitteln wollten.

Unter diesen Voraussetzungen wäre der Barde der brillante, unberechenbare, innerlich unruhige, zwischen der Rolle des Feudalherren und des Bohemien hin- und hergerissene Aristokrat im Zentrum der Macht gewesen. Als enthusiastischer und – wie sein ‹brüderlicher Rivale› James I – zweifellos auch ‹lästiger Patron› des neu belebten Theaters, der Zeit seines Lebens stets wenigstens eine Schauspieltruppe unterhielt, diente seine Theaterlaufbahn als Spiegel, wie Hamlet es ausdrückt: ‹Das Schauspiel sei die Schlinge, in die den König sein Gewissen bringe› (in de Veres Fall natürlich die Königin). [39] Zur selben Zeit tritt die Truppe ‹The Lord Chamberlain’s Men/The King’s Men› in den öffentlichen Theatern auf. Der Barde übt Bildungserziehung an der Nachwelt, indem er den Grundstein für den künstlerischen Gebrauch der englischen Sprache legt. In 35 der 36 Dramen (die Ausnahme ist Die lustigen Weiber von Windsor) des First Folio geht es um Personen von königlicher oder fürstlicher Abstammung, um deren innere Seelenkämpfe und schlussendliche Wandlung. Dieser Dramatiker schuf die Gestalt des Hamlet, der selbst für eine Gruppe von Schauspielern ein Stück schreibt und mit ihnen einübt, in dessen Verlauf die Hauptfigur eine Rede über den Fall Trojas hält. Wenn derselbe noch im Sterben seinen Freund Horatio bittet:

Wenn du mich je in deinem Herzen trugst,
Verbanne noch dich von der Seligkeit,
Und atm’ in dieser herben Welt mit Müh,
Um mein Geschick zu melden

(Hamlet, V, ii)

– dann fällt es schwer, nicht zu glauben, dass hier der Mann dargestellt wird, der Shakespeares Werke schrieb.

Als er über die Kunst der sichtbaren Sprache zu den Eurythmisten spricht, [40] erwähnt Steiner als ersten Dichter Shakespeare. Er spricht von ihm als von einem der wortschöpferischsten Dichter während einer frühen Entwicklungszeit der Sprache. Max Müller (1861) schätzte das Vokabular Shakespeares auf rund 15.000 Wörter – spätere Untersuchungen sprechen von bis zu 21.000 Wörtern – was etwa dem doppelten Umfang von Miltons Vokabular entspricht, der 8000 Wörter verwendete. Das Oxford English Dictionary schreibt Shakespeare das Verdienst zu, 3200 Wörter erstmals verwendet zu haben. Dies bedeutet, dass Shakespeare der Herrscher über ein weitaus größeres Reich ist als dasjenige des gekrönten Monarchen. Wenn nun Edward de Vere der versteckte Autor ist, so musste er dies mit dem Verzicht auf eine königliche Laufbahn ebenso wie mit dem Verzicht auf den Namen eines Autors bezahlen. Die Beweise dafür finden sich in den Sonetten, den Bibeleintragungen und in dem Verhältnis zwischen Werkkanon und Biographie. Indem er auf ein temporäres höheres Ansehen verzichtete, lebte dieser Dichter ‹das Leben einer Allegorie›, ein ‹bildliches› Leben zugunsten aller Benutzer der meistgesprochenen Sprache der Welt – des Englischen. Zieht man die Übersetzungen in Betracht, so reicht sein Einfluss freilich noch weit darüber hinaus. Inspiriert durch seine verräterische Venus, die Dunkle Dame, und seinen ‹brüderlichen Rivalen› James, jedweden jugendlichen, militärischen Ehrgeiz nach innen schlagend, und, auf einer noch tieferen Ebene, – wenn meine These anerkannt würde – eine vorchristliche Seelenverfassung durch innere Arbeit verwandelnd und solchermaßen schließlich alle widrigen Lebensumstände meisternd, wurde der Mensch, der Shakespeares Werke schrieb, zu einem geistigen Weltensouverän, dessen Reich kein absehbares Ende hat. ‹Auf die eine oder andere Art sind wir alle in der englischsprachigen Welt alle seine Untertanen geworden,› so Beauclerks abschließendes Urteil (S. 387).

Schlussfolgerung

Wenn die historischen Überlieferungen über die Entstehung unserer modernen Welt manipuliert wurden, so muss die Geschichte umgeschrieben werden, muss neu überdacht werden, welche Konsequenzen sich aus diesen Erkenntnissen für uns heute ergeben. Das aber reduziert Kunst nicht auf Biographie und Geschichte. Denken wir wirklich, dass die Verfasserschaftsfrage hinsichtlich Shakespeare überflüssig ist, da wir doch ‹die Dramen haben›? Und haben wir diese wirklich? Für wenigstens einen Liebhaber des Barden eröffnet die Arbeit von Wissenschaftlern, die sich mit der Offenlegung der mythischen und satirischen Inspirationsquellen des Autors aus Fleisch und Blut befasst, zu tieferer Anerkennung und neuem Respekt für jenen Menschen, dessen Opfer überragende Kunst entstehen ließen. Indem ich zu seinen Füßen sitze, lerne ich immer mehr Neues über den schöpferischen Prozess, der sich allen Widrigkeiten zum Trotz aufrechterhalten lässt. In dem Barden können wir heute den wohl subversivsten schriftstellerischen Dissidenten erkennen – er ist unser Zeitgenosse.

In der heutigen leidvollen Zeit ist es von Wichtigkeit, bestimmte Dinge zu verstehen, sie zu durchschauen und gleichzeitig zu versuchen, unsere eigenen Sicherheiten und unsere geistige Identität zu finden. Angesichts des enormen Druckes, der die Kunst ausgesetzt ist, und der uns alle zwingt, Prioritäten zu setzen und uns zu engagieren, ist es darüber hinaus angebracht, dass wir erkennen, in welch guter Gesellschaft alle strebenden Künstler das Privileg haben sich zu befinden. Abgesehen davon, dass ich meinem Glauben Ausdruck verleihen durfte, dass bezüglich der Verfasserschaftsfrage kein anderer je früher oder weiter als Steiner gesehen hat, weshalb seiner Aussage eine Schlüsselrolle zukommt, könnte ich sogar lernen, den Cecils  - den skrupellosen Schurken des Stückes – dankbar dafür zu sein, dass sie das Sandkorn in der Auster spielten. ‹Alles zu verstehen,› so die Schriftstellerin George Eliot, ‹hieße, alles zu verzeihen.› Ungeachtet der Tatsache, dass man sich über manche Details der oben skizzierten These uneins sein kann, welche grundlegenden Fakten fehlen denn jetzt noch in der Geschichte?

Mein Dank gilt meinen Freunden für ihre Hilfe bei der Erstellung dieses Aufsatzes, allen voran Dr. Neill Franklin für seine wertvollen Anregungen und Verbesserungsvorschläge. Die Verantwortung für sämtliche Schwächen dieses Aufsatzes liegt allein bei mir. – A.S.

 

Titelvignette: Druckervignette des Titelblattes des ‹guten› Quartbandes von Hamlet (1604/5) mit dem königlichen Wappen in der Mitte

 

[1] A.C. Bradley.  Shakespearean Tragedy. London: Macmillan. 1904.

[2] Online: www.archive.org/details/shakespeareident00looniala. Neueste Ausgabe: Ruth Loyd Miller, Hrsg. &  J. Thomas Looney. “Shakespeare” Identified in Edward de Vere, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. 2 Bde, 3. Aufl. Port Washington, NY/London: Kennikat, 1975.

[3] Der vorliegende Artikel untersucht Aspekte aus: Alan Stott. “Shakespeare: Who held the pen?”, in Shakespeare Matters, Sommer 2007, Journal d. The Shakespeare Fellowship; auch im Rundbrief der Sektion der Redenden und Musizierenden Künste Nr. 47, Dornach. Michaeli 2007. Im Internet erhältl. über die Websites d. Fellowship oder d. Goetheanum, oder direkt über www.alansnotes.co.uk (Artikel auch auf Deutsch).

[4] Rudolf Steiner. Das Karma der Unwahrhaftigkeit. Bd.. 2. Vortrag, Dornach, 15. Jan. 1917. GA 174. Außerdem in: Rudolf Steiner. Karmische Zusammenhänge. Bd. 2. Vortrag, Dornach, 12. April 1924. GA 236. Im Internet unter http://fvn-rs.net/index. Interessanterweise taucht der Name ‹Shakespeare› in dem allerersten Absatz v. Charles Williams’ Bacon-Biographie auf. London: Arthur Barker/New York: Harper & Bros. 1933: “The mortal greatness of Francis lacked but one thing – he was not Shakespeare; his judgement lacked but one intelligence – he would not have supposed the subordination was on his side” (1) (‹Die Größe von Bacon wurde nur durch eines gemindert – er war nicht Shakespeare; seine Urteilskraft ermangelte nur der Kenntnis eines Faktums – er hätte nie angenommen, dass die Unterordnung von seiner Seite ausging.›) “[T]he real difference is metaphysical; it is between a man possessed of a particular vision of the universe and a man possessed of no vision but of the universe. It would be almost easier to believe that Bacon wrote Milton; the serious mind aspiring to schematize the universe is in both” (‹(D)er wirkliche Unterschied ist metaphysischer Natur; er besteht zwischen dem einen, der von einer bestimmten Vision des Universums besessen ist, und dem anderen, der nicht von einer Vision besessen ist, sondern vom Universum. Es würde fast leichter fallen zu glauben, dass Bacon Miltons Werke geschrieben habe; der ernste Geist, der das Universum schematisieren will, ist in beiden vorhanden.›) (S.105; s. auch S.310).

[5] Frances A. Yates. Shakespeare’s Last Plays. London: Routledge. 1975. S. 131. Am. Titel: Majesty and Magic in Shakespeare’s Last Plays. Deutsche Übers.: Shakespeares letzte Spiele. 1975. Franz. Übers. Les dernières pièces de Shakespeare. Belin 2000. Span. Übers.: Las últimas obras de Shakespeare. Fondo de Cultura Económica. 2001.

[6] Charles Beauclerk. Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom: The true history of Shakespeare and Elizabeth. New York: Grove Press. 2010.

[7] Mark Anderson. Shakespeare by Another Name. The life of Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, the Man who was Shakespeare. New York: Gotham Books. 2005.

[8] Eric Sams. The Real Shakespeare: Reviving the early years, 1564-1594. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. 1995. Ein gründlicher und origineller Versuch, die ersten 30 Jahre vom Standpunkt der Stratfordianer zu umreißen.

[9] Alastair Fowler. Triumphal forms: Structural patterns in Elizabethan poetry. Oxford. OUP 1970. S: 183-197.

[10] Hank Whittemore. The Monument. Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts. Meadow Geese Press. 2008. Website: http://shakespearesmonument.comhttp://shakespearestreason.com/ etc.

[11] C.S. Lewis. English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding Drama. Oxford. OUP. 1954. S. 505.

[12] “The suggestion that Shakespeare here alludes to a visit to the spa at Bath may be quietly ignored,” (‹Die Annahme, dass Shakespeare hier auf einen Besuch des Kurbades der Stadt Bath anspielt, darf einfach ignoriert werden,›) behauptet John Kerrigan (Shakespeare: Sonnets & A Lover’s Complaint, New Penguin Edition. 1986. S. 387). Warum sollte der des Denkens mächtige Mensch sich dazu entschließen, es dem Vogel Strauß gleichzutun? Wenn die Wahrheit uns frei machen soll, so müssen wir ihr ins Auge blicken. Zweifellos: “the sonnets may be deft, but they are sordid too” (‹die Sonette mögen geschliffen sein, aber gleichzeitig sind sie auch schmutzig› (S. 62). Zweifellos: “sweating tubs (= baths) were used to cure the pox”(‹Schwitzbäder waren ein Mittel gegen die Pocken›) in London zur Zeit Jakobs I. Die Beschäftigung mit dem Heißwasserhahn muss die Untersuchung des Heizsystems aber nicht unbedingt ausschließen – d.h. die Liebesgeschichte eines königlichen Paares, von dem ein Teil der Barde selbst ist – einschließlich der Tatsache, dass eine Empfängnis in der Stadt Bath stattfand, wie Hank Whittemore in seiner maßgeblichen Ausgabe der Sonette darlegt (s. auch Fußnote 10).

[13] Roger A. Stritmatter. The Marginalia of Edward de Vere’s Geneva Bible: Providential discovery, literary reasoning, and historical consequence. Dissertation, Univ. of Massachusetts Amherst. Feb. 2001. Northampton, MA 01060. Oxenford Press. Erhältl. über die Website d. Shakespeare Fellowship, und online: http://shake-speares-bible.com/dissertation/

[14] Die Kinder Elizabeths nach Roberta Ballantine. Marlowe Up Close. Xlibris, 2007:

  • 1549 Zwillinge: Edward de Vere & Edward Manners, von Admiral Tom Seymour.
  • 1554 Philip Sidney, von Prinz Philip von Spanien.
  • 1556 Zwillinge: Mary de Vere & Philip Howard, wieder von Prinz Philip
  • 1558 Ferdinando Stanley, von Philip, jetzt König von Spanien.
  • 1561 Francis Bacon, von Francis Walsingham.
  • 1561 Mary Sidney Herbert, von Robert Dudley (den Elizabeth 1560 heimlich geheiratet hatte).
  • 1562 Robert Cecil, von Robert Dudley.
  • 1563 Robert Sidney, von Robert Dudley.
  • 1566 Robert Devereux, von Dudley, nun Graf v. Leiceister.
  • 1573 Henry Wriothesley, von Edward de Vere.

Es scheint gut dokumentierte Beweise für die Veränderungen von Elisabeths Kleidergröße während ihrer Schwangerschaften zu geben: es existieren noch einige der originalen Maßnotizen.

[15] Eine Reproduktion d. v. Gheeraerts gemalten Portraits (ca. 1592) findet sich bei  Beauclerk (s. Fußnote 5). Eine Radierung(ca. 1675–1700) v. Cornelius Vermeulen d. v. Adriaen van der Werff (1659–1722) gemalten Portraits aus d. Trinity College, Dublin, findet sich in Jean Overton Fuller, Sir Francis Bacon: a biography. George Mann of Maidstone 1994. (Abb. gegenüber v. S. 129, Diskussion S. 349-51). Ein Kind mit Umhang nach d. Art römischer Kaiser hält eine Martyrerpalme (Essex?); ein anderes hält eine Viola//Ruderpinne mit Ruderblatt (verborgener Musiker/Dichter, der d. Ruder d./eines Reiches in d. Hand hat: Oxford?) und Weizenhalme (Symbol f. d. Auferstehung). Eine Sphinx (Anspielung auf Oedipus?) ist unterhalb der Hand d. dritten Kindes im Hintergrund zu sehen (Arthur Dudley?). Abb. (Drucke erhältl.) s. d. Website d. National Portrait Gallery http://npg.org.uk/

[16] Königin Margaret v. Navarra [Übers. Prinzessin Elizabeth Tudor]. The Mirror of the Sinful Soul. London: Asher & Co. 1897. Faksimile, Nachdruck . Kessinger 2007. S. 83. Ebenso in mod. Schrifttype: Elizabeth 1: Translations, 1544-1589, Hrsg. Janet Müller & Joshua Scodel. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press. 2009.

[17] Zu King Lear, s. z.B. Shellee Hendricks “The Curiosity of Nations: King Lear and the Incest Prohibition”. Habilitation. McGill Univ. Montreal 1999. <digitool.library.mcgill.ca:8881/dtl_publish/5/30173.html>

[18] James Joyce. Ulysses. Einf.. & Anm. v. Declan Kiberd. Bodley Head 1992/ Penguin Books 2000.

[19] John Michell. Who Wrote Shakespeare? London & New York: Thames & Hudson. 1996. 169. Michell gibt eine nützliche Übersicht d. Kandidaten für d. Urheberschaft . Er berichtet auch über d. Entdeckung v. W. Hall of Hackney as “Mr W. H.”, S. 179-80. Nach einem Vortrag (2004) äußerte Michell (1933–2009) gegenüber dem Verf. d. vorliegenden Artikels, die Beweise, die de Vere  mit den Sonetten in Zusammenhang brächten, passten „hand in glove“ (‹wie d. Hand in d. Handschuh/die Faust aufs Auge›). Dies äußerte er noch vor dem Erscheinen (2008) der Publikation von H. Whittemore (s. Fußnote 10 oben).

[20] Beauclerk bietet einige überraschende Interpretationen an, z.B. d. frühen Dramas A Midsummer-Night’s Dream (S. 200-207). Wir wissen, dass MND zum ersten Mal zur Hochzeit von de Veres Tochter Elizabeth  mit dem Grafen v. Derby, vermutl. am 26. Jan. 1595 aufgeführt wurde, und ebenso vermutl. zur Hochzeit von Southamptons Pflegemutter Mary Browne Wriothesley mit Sir Thomas Heneage am 2. Mai 1595, dass es dann schließlich überarbeitet und zur Hochzeit von Southampton (auf den im Stück auch angespielt wird: “little changeling boy“ – ‹kleines Wechselkind› – auch mit Demetrius als Repräsentanten) mit Elizabeth Vernon 1598 nochmals aufgeführt wurde. Die historischen Persönlichkeiten sind alle in dem Stück repräsentiert (s. auch Anderson, S. 287-88; sowie Fußnote 7 oben).

[21] Rudolf Steiner. Das Markus –Evangelium, 1. Vortrag, Basel 15. Sept. 1912. GA 139. Dornach, Rudolf Steiner Verlag, 1988. Im Internet unter: s. Fußnote 4

[22] Rudolf Steiner. Theosophie. 2. Kap., GA 9. Dornach, Rudolf Steiner Verlag. 1904.

[23] John Vyvyan. The Shakespearean Ethic. London: Chatto & Windus. 1959. Eine vielbeachtete Studie.

[24] Richard Meux Benson. The War-Songs of the Prince of Peace. 2 Bde, London: John Murray. 1901. Diese Übers. m. Kommentar sind eine Klasse für sich.

[25] Rudolf Steiner. Vortrag, Berlin, 28. Oktober 1904.

[26] Charles Williams. The English Poetic Mind (1932). Reissued New York: Russell & Russell. 1963. S. 59.

[27] Ted Hughes. Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being. London: Faber & Faber. 1992.

[28] Friedrich Hiebel. Das Drama des Dramas. Dornach 1984. S. 56-61.

[29] Richard Ramsbotham. Who wrote Bacon? London: Temple Lodge. 2004. Der Autor – dem ich mehrere wertvolle Anregungen verdanke, erwähnt meinen früheren Artikel in seinem Nachwort zur deutschen Übersetzung (Jakob I. Basel: Perseus Verlag. 2008). Leider spricht aus seiner kurz gehaltenen Stellungnahme bezüglich dessen, was Oxfordianer vorzubringen haben, das Vorliegen der üblichen Fehlinformationen. Wie viele, so lehnt auch Mr Ramsbotham die Vorstellung eines gebildeten Edelmannes ab, die die von den Stratfordianern vertretene Vorstellung vom genialen Landmann ablösen könnte. Allerdings hätte es ein Landmann schwer, sich in diese Abfolge einzureihen: König David, Homer, Dante, Goethe…. Wie dem auch sei, der Barde verneigt sich vor der spirituellen Tatsache, dass wir alle edlen Geblüts sind. Selbsterkenntnis bedeutet Souveränität – wie Ted Hughes darlegt, wird Macbeth schließlich zu Prospero. Wenn in Philip. 1:7-11 der Entwurf des ganzen Menschen vor uns steht, dann fällt die Umwandlung für niemanden vom Himmel. Ramsbotham gesteht dem Barden wohl eine verwandelnde Kraft zu (“Shakespeare and World Destiny”. The Golden Blade 49. Floris Books: Edinburgh 1997. S. 102-20), scheint aber das Lebensopfer des realen Verfassers nicht zu sehen, das die jüngere Forschung der Oxfordianer ans Licht gebracht hat. Meiner Ansicht nach zieht er die falschen Schlüsse aus den wichtigen Erkenntnissen einer Verschwörungstheorie bezüglich einer herrschenden Elite des Westens. Mit meinem Text vertrete ich die Ansicht, dass es nun die Vertreter der sogenannten konventionellen oder orthodoxen Meinung sind, die Stellung beziehen müssen- selbst dann, wenn diese Meinung bereits seit 400 Jahren besteht – und zwar gegenüber der fundierten Behauptung, dass es diese orthodoxe Meinung ist, die einer politischen Verschwörung entstammt.

[30] Rudolf Steiner, Das Karma der Unwahrhaftigkeit. Bd. 2, GA 174. S. 176.

[31] Charles Williams. James I. London: Arthur Barker. 1934. Reprinted: Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock Publishers. 2008. S. 38.

[32] Ted Hughes 1992. S. 101-116, s. auch S. 431f. Jaques le Grand wird nur mit Namen genannt (All’s Well That Ends Well. III. iv. 4 und III. v. 35, und 95 “great Saint Jaques”). Über das Pilgerthema stellt Hughes auch einen Zusammenhang zu St Jaques le Grand, alias St Iago of Compostella, Spanien, her. Dieses Stück spielt wiederum teilweise in Florenz, in dessen Nähe die Kirche von San Giacorno d’Altopasis steht. Dass es in Snitterfield bei Stratford eine St. Jakob geweihte Kirche gibt (Jonathan Bate, Soul of the Age. Penguin 2008. S. 39) hat weder mit diesem Stück, noch mit dem Werkkanon etwas zu tun. Obwohl es sich gut liest, bleiben die Argumente in meinem Text von diesem informativen Buch mit seiner anti-Oxfordianischen Polemik und seinem besonderen Einsatz für William völlig unberührt.

[33] Stephen Prickett, The Origins of Narrative. Cambridge: CUP. 1996, stellt die Aneignung  als grundlegend für sämtliche Entwicklung auf dem Feld geistiger Bildung dar. Nach Owen Barfield, “Israel and the Michael Impulse”, Anthroposophical Quarterly, Bd. 1, Nr. 1, Frühjahr 1956, S. 2–9 (rsh-library@anth.org.uk), weist die implizite Antwort auf Jakobs Frage nach dem Namen d. kämpfenden Engels (1. Mos. 32:29) auf den eigentlichen Urquell der menschlichen Sprachfähigkeit hin, nämlich auf das Geschenk des göttlich-menschlichen Alphabets

[34] Kenneth Muir, Hrsg. Macbeth. The Arden Shakespeare Second Series. London & New York: Routledge. 1984. xxviii. Dem Jesuitenpater Henry Garnett wird “A Treatise of Equivocation” (‹Eine Abhandlung über die Mehrdeutigkeit›), ca. 1595, zugeschrieben. Kommentatoren, die versuchen, ein spätes Entstehungsdatum für das schottische Drama zu etablieren, stützen sich auch auf das im Werkkanon einmalige Vorkommen des Wortes „combustion“ (II, iii, 57) und sehen darin eine Anspielung auf die Pulververschwörung von 1605. Muir weist darauf hin, dass das Wort „Tumult, Verwirrung, besonders in politischer Hinsicht“ bedeutet (Arden Ed. 1951, verbesserte Aufl.. 1972. S., vergl. “combustion in the state” Hen. VIII, V, iv).

[35] Kardinal Richelieu in Edward Bulwer-Lyttons Drama ‹Richelieu; or the Conspiracy›  (1839); vielleicht dachte der Autor hierbei an Heb. 4:12.

[36] Northrop Frye. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton Univ. Press 1957. Penguin Books 1990. Zusammenfass.: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatomy of_Criticism. Deutsche Übers. Analyse der Literaturkritik. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. 1964.

[37] Roger Stritmatter und Lynne Kositsky. A Moveable Feast: Sources, Chronology and Design of Shakespeare’s Tempest (in Arbeit). s. Artikel: http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/tempest/kositsky-stritmatter%20Tempest%20Table.htm.

Siehe auch http://oberonshakespearestudygroup.blogspot.com

Generell z. Thema der Datierung:

http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/moore_datesofplays.html

[38] Frances A. Yates. The Rosicrucian Enlightenment. London: Routledge. 1972. Ark edition 1986. Routledge Classics 2001. Deutsche Übers.: Aufklärung im Zeichen des Rosenkreutzes. 1997. Siehe auch Fußnote 5 oben.

[39] Jeder andere Dramatiker erhielt in dem elisabethanischen Polizeistaat irgendwann einmal eine Verwarnung oder wurde für Verstöße gegen die Zensur zu einer Gefängnisstrafe verurteilt. Wie konnte es „Shakespeare“ gelingen, diesem Schicksal zu entrinnen? Die Position der Oxfordianer weiß auf diese Frage eine befriedigende Antwort.

[40] Rudolf Steiner. Eurythmie als sichtbare Sprache. 2005. Vortrag, Dornach 24. Juni 1924. GA 279. S. 50.

 

 

“Something cannot be. Only it is”: Beyond the Murder of Gonzago

Alan Stott – Stourbridge, U.K.

Abstract:

The new century has seen some outstanding controversial research in Shakespearean studies. These current discoveries and inferences now invite a reconsideration of both authorship and inspiration. This paper summarises the latest research (Anderson, Stritmatter, Whittemore, Beauclerk), discusses the perceptions of poets and creative writers, who do not cease to be poets when writing criticism (Blake, Keats, James Joyce, Charles Williams, Ted Hughes) and follows up two insights of Rudolf Steiner on the authorship question concerning the figure of Hamlet and the role of James I.

“Something cannot be. Only it is”: Beyond the Murder of Gonzago [PDF]

 

William Blake’s letter to John Flaxman of 12 September 1800 acknowledges that Shakespeare “in riper years gave me his hand” along with Paracelsus and Jakob Boehme. During the previous decade Blake had come to the view that there is a living connection between the artist as historical person (the Spectre) and the created works (the Shadow). Still following Blake, the artist reincarnates “time after time” while the Shadow has a life of its own. It follows, as Blake’s later Prophetic Books indicate, that the two may meet at different times.

That the Shadow of Shakespeare has evolved is undeniable, passing through 18th-century pantomimes, critical revaluation – especially through S.T. Coleridge [1] –, Victorian music-hall and rebirth at the hands of literary critic A.C. Bradley in 1904. [2] Whereas the period 1904-1920 was witnessing a staggering rediscovery of the works, J. Thomas Looney [3] in 1920 initiated the research that identified “Shakespeare” as real-life Edward de Vere; James Joyce reopened the debate regarding the relationship between Hamlet and Shakespeare; Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925), I submit, offered assistance regarding both the authorship question and the figure of Hamlet. [4]

After his earlier work at the Goethe Archives in Weimar, Steiner led a literary life in Berlin. He edited and also wrote the theatrical reviews for a national weekly, the Magazin für Literatur, equivalent of the London Saturday Review. Throughout his lecturing career, admittedly, Steiner’s remarks comply with what is called the conventional or orthodox view, that the actor William of Stratford-on-Avon (1564–1616) wrote the plays. The arguments that Francis Bacon (1561–1626) – the chief alternative candidate in Steiner’s day ­– was the Bard, Steiner says, “are utterly superficial”. [5] Steiner certainly reveals a common inspiration linking both Bacon and Shakespeare, also suggested more recently by historian Frances Yates. [6] I return to this in what follows. Baconians, then, see something but could be jumping to premature conclusions. Further to the debate, as a candidate for authorship Looney published a constellation of powerful arguments pointing to Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford (?1548–1604), an argument that has been recently (2010) updated by Charles Beauclerk. [7] In other words, we must accept that the first decade of the 21st century has forcefully reopened the authorship issue in much the same way as 1904-1920 rediscovered the works.

Everyone knows the Shakespearean records are sparse. If we assume Steiner’s spiritual vision meets the facts of the case, then – also assuming the hand that held the pen had to be concealed – a spiritual reporter may have had good reasons to go along with repeating the accepted fiction. He would be perfectly aware that historical and literary evidence would come to light at the right time. In such circumstances, we might expect an appeal to concrete imaginative perception will be made, perhaps with a certain verbal irony. Nobody accuses Chaucer (prob. 1345–1400) of conveying untruths about his Canterbury Pilgrims; on the contrary, we appreciate how through irony the poet reports on their real characters. “Gospel irony,” writes the independent researcher and specialist in Oriental law J. Duncan M Derrett, “which is one of the gems of world literature, is almost entirely unrecognised for what it is.” [8] Irony is recognised as a standard means to point to the truth, counteracting a fixed literalness and even pomposity (in music, too, Haydn and Beethoven employed overt and subtle irony long before modern composers made it standard practice). But we find that the Bard himself made irony and satire his consistent life-style. (Irony and satire are not the same as sarcasm; Elton Trueblood’s short account of “The Humour of Christ” (1964) might supply a useful corrective here.) Beauclerk draws attention to the three “interlocking plots in any given Shakespeare play”: the fictional plot, the topical satire, and the “soul story” of the author’s unconscious or “mythic existence” (Beauclerk. 162). In this comprehensive context, I select for closer scrutiny one passage from a lecture Steiner delivered 100 years ago, and another later statement concerning the Bard’s inspiration.

Recent publications

A full-length biography of Edward de Vere by Mark Anderson (2005) [9] points out the plentiful connections to the Shakespearean canon. Anderson, supported by the necessary scholarship, provides a flesh-and-blood candidate to fill the yawning gap in our knowledge of the Bard. The biographer avoids suppositions, ciphers and esoterics; the evidence he produces is historical, cumulative and considerably furthers Looney’s claims. We follow the life, studies, marital problems, travels, literary and theatrical career, frustrations and crises – all this raw material in relation to the canon. A list of documented solid facts concerning the life of the Stratford candidate, as distinct from suppositions, would be exhausted in a few pages. [10]

At the same time it is necessary to re-investigate that particular text (a probable wedding-anniversary present), the quickly supressed Shake-Speares Sonnets (1609) “by our ever-living poet” – the adjective, it is clear, never used of a living person –, with their enigmatic biographical references. As a start, the intricate formal devices of the Sonnet sequence – a remarkable tour de force, second only to Spenser in complexity – have been convincingly revealed by the exemplary scholarship of Alastair Fowler (1970). [11] The Sonnets, he shows, are numbered correctly, and clues to the pyramid-form are presented by the position of the few intentionally irregular sonnets. But now, Hank Whittemore (2008), [12] incorporating the three year-parts and other temporal references and deciphering the imagery, reveals line-by-line that, running parallel to the overt literary meaning, there is a hidden personal story of national, indeed international interest. Far from indulging the “biographical fallacy” in our reading, Whittemore shows that the Sonnets were intended to transmute a tortuous life-story into a work of art. The story takes place in real time, some Sonnets marking a day-by-day diary. The author created a permanent “monument” to the “fair youth”. In other words, the Sonnet sequence communicates more to us when we recognise the living author. If this were not so, then the entire work of postmodernists such as John Barth would be reduced in meaning. In the face of the cumulative weight of recent research there is no option but to reconsider Shakespeare, man and author.

“Shake-Speare”’s initial concern in the first 17 Sonnets is that of a father and potential grandfather, as C.S. Lewis surmised: “What man in the whole world, except a father or a potential father-in-law, cares whether any other man gets married?” [13] The “Dark Lady” of the Sonnets, Whittemore now shows, is Queen Elizabeth, and the “fair youth” is her and de Vere’s 17-year-old son (b. late May 1574, d. 1624) – brought up as Henry Wriothesley (see Beauclerk 105-107). He is the love-child “Cupid” in Sonnets 153 and 154 that refer to a royal visit to the city of Bath, [14] which de Vere joined in August 1574:

But found no cure; the bath for my help lies

Where Cupid got new fire – my mistress’ eyes.

As 3rd Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, is the dedicatee of “Shakespeare’s” first and second of relatively few – indeed, the only official – publications in his lifetime, the two poems Venus and Adonis (1593) and Rape of Lucrece (1594). The author, Whittemore suggests, in effect took a treasonous step by associating the name “William Shakespeare” with the cause of those demanding that Queen Elizabeth name her successor. If acknowledged, Henry would have become Henry IX of England. Earlier, Wriothesley had chosen rather to pay the handsome, punitive fine (£5,000 = c. £185,000, or c. $1.3 million in today’s money) by refusing the plan of William Cecil (Elizabeth’s chief minister) that he marry Cecil’s eldest granddaughter (also Wriothesley’s half-sister), de Vere’s daughter Elizabeth by Anne Cecil, and thus bring the Cecil family into royalty. The tension came to a head with the abortive “Essex rebellion” (so called) of Feb. 7, 1601 that challenged the regime, in particular Robert Cecil who held the power behind the throne. When Essex was beheaded, Elizabeth was distraught. Southampton was the only leader to survive. The agreement to save his life, Whittemore lucidly suggests, was not only on the condition that this unacknowledged prince give up all claims to the throne, but also by guaranteeing the complete silence of his father, the hidden author known to posterity as “Shakespeare”. The mask became stuck. Among the first things King James I (1566–1625) did as the new sovereign was to release Wriothesley from imprisonment on April 10, 1603. Conveniently side-lined, he became Captain of the Isle of Wight on July 7, 1603, a “little kingdom” out of harm’s way.

Roger Stritmatter, [15] moreover, provides evidence that Edward de Vere was a hidden writer in a scrupulously researched Ph.D. thesis on the markings of the latter’s Geneva Bible (2001). Some underscored verses refer to secret authorship – the life-style of irony of God’s fools and prophets: “the prophet is a foole; the spiritual man is mad” (Hosea 9:7); Matthew, chapter 6:4 advises giving “almes… in secret, & thy Father that seeth in secret, he wil rewarde thee openly”. Recall Hamlet’s feigned “madness”, Lear’s Fool who speaks the truth, Edgar as “poor Tom” – not to mention, too, such themes as disguise, mistaken identity, twins and the sequence of bastard characters. A significant number of underscored verses in this Bible relate to the canon itself and its relationship to the inner life of Edward de Vere.

We encounter more controversial areas with Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom (2010). Charles Beauclerk, concentrating on the Bard’s relationship to Elizabeth, explores further both the mythology and the scandalising circumstances that led to the increasingly urgent question of the succession. It is certainly possible that Elizabeth (1533–1603) – the “Virgin Queen” of accepted myth, married to her subjects, was the mother of several children – one author argues for ten pregnancies. [16] There were strange illnesses and confinements; in a police state you keep quiet about certain secrets. But, there again, people also wanted to believe the national myth. There is the portrait, too, by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger (c. 1594) in Hampton Court, Greater London, of a pregnant lady, originally identified as Queen Elizabeth; one could add that the later van der Werff portrait in Dublin, Ireland, depicts Elizabeth with three children. [17] After a childhood with foster parents, it is claimed they turn up with the “royal wards” living in Cecil House on the Strand, near London’s River Thames – William Cecil, made Lord Burghley in 1571, was to become de Vere’s father-in-law. De Vere was the first, Wriothesley the last royal ward. There they received probably the best education in the land, with access to remarkable libraries.

Beauclerk follows up the suggestion that royal incest was revived by the succession-obsessed and sex-obsessed Henry VIII, father of Elizabeth. She herself, it seems, inherited his appetites. This brilliant Princess translated (1544) Queen Margaret of Navarre’s The Mirror of the Sinful Soul [18] – a religious text with ambiguous innuendos.

O my sauioure, through faith I am planted, and ioyned with the. O what vnion is thys syth (through faith) I am sure of the, and now I maye call the: sonne, father, spowse, and brother, Father, brother, sonne, husband….

What prompted the interest of the precocious 11-year-old Princess Elizabeth? In our democratic age we favour genetic common sense, and – relatively recently in fact – we respect the claims of romantic love. But for a powerful hereditary aristocracy, a “good family name” and arranged marriages were the norm. “Keeping it in the family” with illicit unions of mythical and historical precedent even achieved a sacred nimbus. Royal blood was sacred; it was to be kept “pure”. In tracing Elizabeth’s inner torment with historical and sympathetic psychological insight, Beauclerk offers reasons why she persisted in not naming a successor and thus snuffed out the Tudor dynasty. “Her resolution not to marry and not to share her throne was part of this unyielding determination to create an image for herself that transcended her origins” (Beauclerk. 35). With regard to the canon, nobody can deny that the incest theme, overt in Pericles, is not far beneath the text in Hamlet, Lear and other plays. [19] The protagonists, at least everyone agrees, are very troubled characters indeed.

It should not be overlooked that James Joyce saw the connections between text and author are indissoluble. In his epic, modernist novel in the ironic mode Ulysses (serialised 1918-20, pub. complete in Paris 1922), Joyce stages a virtuoso discussion in the National Library (section: Scylla and Charybdis) where many themes so far mentioned appear, and others still to be mentioned. In his helpful notes, Declan Kiberd [20] writes: “The time is 2 p.m.; the organ, brain, the art, literature, the symbols, Hamlet and Shakespeare; and the Linati schema renders the sense as ‘two-edged dilemma’.” The concept of fatherhood, and a critique on the idea of author is the focus. There is good evidence that Stratfordian William Shakespeare acted the part of the ghost-father in Hamlet. “Stephen… seems to suggest that the artist suffers real pain in the act of creation and that art is a way of knowing and suffering a self, the better to transcend it” (Kiberd in Joyce. 1014). Joyce needed to re-express and transmute the repeated claims in Homer’s Odyssey that Odysseus was “the most unfortunate of men”. We misread Ulysses if we do not respond to the pain that surrounds Bloom; we misread Hamlet if we are not genuinely interested in “Wm Shakespeare” and Edward de Vere.

Emerging from our review of recent research it is a strident appeal that Joyce, Beauclerk, Michell and others focus their particular attention on Hamlet and the authorship question. “Oxford makes a convincing Hamlet – or vice versa”, concludes John Michell. [21] If Hamlet is largely a self-portrait of its creator and the play of that name depicts his situation, and if moreover he even reappears behind leading protagonists in later plays, then in the canon we are given clues to the inner turmoil of the world’s most admired playwright – and the most discussed play in the world. Through art, though “made tongue-tied by authority” (Sonnet 66), this hidden writer found a way not only to survive, but also to surmount his seemingly impossible life-situation. This fact, sympathetically followed by Beauclerk, could increase our admiration for the Bard’s – and his latest biographer’s – achievement. How otherwise do we imagine the great tragedies – indeed, the comedies too, with their subtle topical satire [22] – and the late works could otherwise have been written, but from inner experience and supreme creative effort, using the theatre as a mirror of his world? Who would not claim that the “real” characters Polonius and Claudius play a false role, whereas the “fictional” play-within-the-play “The Murder of Gonzago”, represents reality?

Keats wrote (letter 123, Feb. 1819), that “A Man’s life of any worth is a continual allegory—and very few eyes can see the Mystery of his life—a life like the scriptures, figurative […]. Shakespeare led a life of allegory: his works are the comments on it”. What Keats divined has now been substantiated through cumulative research which continues to point in the same direction.

The Shadow: search for identity

If the “Shadow” of Shakespeare has emerged from a concrete historical figure whose strongest self-expression is Hamlet, then it is time to address Steiner, who takes up the theme of the search for identity at the deepest level in the introductory lecture of his course on Mark’s gospel (1912). [23] His remarks on Hamlet, seen in the light of recent research, throw a bright light on the authorship question. The lecturer sketches the East-West situation, mentioning the ancient spirituality of the East, but also five writers who profoundly influenced Western culture – David, Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe. Steiner emphasises that the five mentioned writers present a truer picture of events than outer historical accounts alone can. In this context, the lecturer goes on to sketch the profound effect of the Mystery of Golgotha, the death and resurrection of Christ, on souls who incarnated before and who reappeared, inwardly changed, after that Event. The concept of metamorphosis applied to human life had already been argued (1904). [24] As practical examples, Steiner takes two great souls, Empedocles and Hector of Troy, and their subsequent incarnations in the West.

Hector grew out of Troy. “He clung in the ancient way to his home city of Troy… a towering figure, a man of all-embracing humanity.” Steiner reveals: “The real figure underlying Hamlet, as presented by Shakespeare, is Hector. The same soul that lived in Hamlet lived in Hector.” The real Hamlet lived as a Danish prince “at one time”. But, the eleventh-century account by Saxo Grammaticus (d. c. 1204) of a Danish prince Amleth, providing the basis for the earthly story, disappears from view.  For we discover, the playwright fashions the account to end differently from what the chronicles relate. [25] This fact is crucial. At the end of his play the stage is strewn with corpses ­– the military takes over. The result of systematic revenge, the playwright shows, leads to racial suicide. With Shakespeare’s next play, Measure for Measure, the theme of self-knowledge and forgiveness brings a new turn to a potentially tragic situation, traced by John Vyvyan. [26] Shakespeare’s characters begin to learn of the change at the heart of earth-evolution. This is not what we learn from the story of Amleth who obtains his revenge.

The five personalities whom Steiner mentions as moulding culture are literary artists, that is, creators of stories, of myth, that which expresses lasting value and suggests polysemous meaning. The influence of their creations supersedes the limitations of their age, which leaves behind some issues. For example, David, according to scholars, did not actually pen all the Psalms. King David gave his name to a genre. The Psalms, among humankind’s first lyrics, are also prayers; taken by Richard Meux Benson as a whole and read on the level of myth, the Psalter constitutes “a continuous epic of Messiah’s conflict with evil”. [27] Again, is Homer an individual, or a figure who unites folk-tradition? Here scholars today prefer the former view, on literary grounds. And, of course, Shakespeare is gaining interest today precisely in this connection of “who held the pen?” In the lecture under consideration, Steiner himself suggests that centuries hence the existence of Goethe will be contested. Little of him will be known – this, he even adds, will be “a good thing!” Not his entanglements, then, but Goethe’s poetical creation of Faust, the searcher for truth, is the important concern for posterity. On the other hand who would want to separate Faust entirely from Goethe’s knowledge of Cornelius Agrippa? And in Milton Blake portrays both the historical figure struggling with his family and Blake struggling with Milton’s Shadow – the world’s consciousness of Paradise Lost.

To be clear about this, contemporary research unavoidably points to the historical figure, Edward de Vere, as author, while at the same time there is what could be called a meta-historical figure lying behind and informing the Shadow Hamlet. Empedocles “stands behind” Faust. Hector and Empedocles represent “a conclusion”; in their subsequent lives “great souls appear small”. In bypassing William Shakespeare, about whose life little substantial is really known, is Steiner’s purpose necessarily concealed? In 1912 the authorship question only occupied the attention of an “eccentric fringe”. Instead, Steiner reveals “the real figure underlying Hamlet, as presented by Shakespeare, is Hector”.

Just as our understanding of the author is rooted in the Elizabethan court, so an approach to Hector will be occupied with the fall of Troy. Troy, says Steiner, [28] flourished in the age of instinctive clairvoyance (Cassandra predicts the death of Hector), ruled by a priestly hierarchy. Troy had to fall to the Greeks, for the new intellectual consciousness had to develop with the spread of Hellenism. But now, at “the tremendous transition” beginning at the end of the fifteenth century C.E., a new, or better said renewed consciousness starts to unfold. As the new self-awareness of the Renaissance led to new developments in artistic vision and creativity, it seems particularly relevant that Shakespeare’s contemporaries spoke of London as a “new Troy”, no doubt influenced by the myth-making magus John Dee (1527–1608/9) and others. Brutus, great-grandson of Aeneas of the Trojan legend, for example, attended the Druid College near Totnes, Devon, before founding London, home of the later Globe Theatre. Art imitates life and life imitates art – fictional Leopold Bloom orders a glass of Burgundy and a Gorgonzola sandwich in Davy Byrne’s; visitors to the real Davy Byrne’s in Dublin on 16th June will be served the same in commemoration of Bloomsday.

Shakespeare devoted Troilus and Cressida – written about the same time as Hamlet – to the Trojan War. Troilus, it has been pointed out, is really the romantic side of Hector, who himself personifies Troy. Troilus-Hector is, as it were, one man (Hughes 200). Charles Williams points to the significance of this neglected play. [29] In Troilus’ crisis faced with Cressida’s philandering, the play pinpoints “the only interior crisis worth talking about”. Shakespearean crisis, he emphasises, includes but exceeds philandering: “Something cannot be. Only it is.” Experience of this magnitude, Williams observes, citing more tragic cases, is “the change with which Shakespeare’s genius was concerned”. It took the rest of the Bard’s career to work out. Ted Hughes [30] comments on the myth – Keats’ “allegory” – that enabled the author to carry it out. Venus and Adonis, combined with its secular reversal The Rape of Lucrece, together yield the tragic formula, the “mythic equation” in evidence from As You Like It onwards (first performed in 1598), right into the late plays with their eventual overcoming of tragedy. The mythic equation is no abstract theory; Ted Hughes recognised the solemn marriage of author and shadow, both of which have their pasts.

The pen is mightier than the sword

We turn now to a second of Steiner’s contributions. Speaking of the inspiration of the age and the importance of the first decade of the seventeenth century, Steiner (1917 and 1924) mentions four personalities – Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, Jakob Boehme and Jakob Balde. They shared the same Rosicrucian inspiration, represented on earth by “an initiated personality”. The identity of that personality, that “lästige Patron—difficult/ annoying patron”, is contested; Friedrich Hiebel [31] suggests James I is meant, and Richard Ramsbotham [32] argues similarly. Steiner speaks of a dual stream flowing from Britain. Bacon activated an empirical, materialistic natural science. This was mitigated by another stream that, Steiner emphasises, is crucial, “something which [the British, the Anglo-Saxon people] must not lose if they are not to fall utterly into materialism”. [33] This other stream, working against the grip of commercialism and materialism, derives from the “inoculations” initiated by James I.

The Bard managed to transform his conceivable initial, “official” task of justifying the Tudor monarchy. The playwright who intensely pursued and portrayed the painful pathway of self-knowledge – which, as we know, is the only real knowledge – was active mainly during Elizabeth’s reign. His offerings were also bound up with his relationship to her. Elizabeth herself, claims Charles Williams in his perceptive biography of James I, [34] “the spiritual godmother of James, … knew if that spiritual kinship held that he must inevitably win, and she must inevitably lose, the Crown that was still hers. He was fourteen and she was forty-seven…” in 1580. As soon as he began his reign in England, King James I, taking over de Vere’s troupe, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, and renaming them (May 1603) the King’s Men, did his best to promote Shakespearean productions. Furthermore, the second “good” Quarto of Hamlet (1604-5) appeared under a printer’s Gemini-designed headpiece with the royal coat of arms in the centre (reproduced here); a festival of seven Shakespearean plays was given at court for the Christmas season of that year. Does this tribute to the deceased author mark the beginning, and part of the referred-to “inoculations”? – a good word, for the plays are written in the author’s heart’s blood. The canon, the product of creative myth, is surely a major transforming influence in society. But how did James, in a capacity beyond his ambiguous earthly personality, inspire the sacrifices of the Bard? Clearly, more is meant than that James’ Daemonologie (1597) provided some information for the witches in Macbeth. James qualifies as a main player in Shakespeare’s story. With the murder – during his infancy – of his father, and the disreputably romantic escapades of his mother, James even shows a striking kinship to Hamlet’s situation. Art imitates life?

The verb “inspire” used in an esoteric context would seem to indicate the spiritual, or mythical level. It took a poet to research this level in the Bard. Ted Hughes delves deeply into Jaques (= Shax-père), as “self-representative”, discussing how myth and reality intertwine all three of that name (a name not found in Shakespeare’s sources): Melancholy Jaques, Jaques de Boys and Jaques le Grand. [35] Few would disagree that As You Like It and All’s Well That Ends Well (1598/9) mark a distinct entry into a new world. If we sense from this date on a towering and informing human inspiration, were the seeds planted even earlier? Aside from the erudition of James (Jacob/Jaques) and his political, theological, poetic and dramatic works, his strong claim to the throne of England backed up by the Anglo-Scottish League (1586) that smoothed his way, at one level undoubtedly qualifies James as a real-life “usurping” or “rival brother” (genetically, on the Oxfordian claim, second cousin) with all the creative tension that inspires. The two-brothers motif is sometimes called the Gemini myth; there is also the profoundly relevant myth of the twins Jacob and Esau in the Hebrew Bible. [36] In All’s Well, a third and sacred Jaques contains both “brothers” of the same name. The two brothers, in fact, may be taken as a long-established and resonant symbol of a “real” author and his/her Shadow, both going forward, as Blake would say, “from eternity to eternity.”

It has been pointed out, that de Vere’s part as juror at the trial (1587) of James’s mother Mary Queen of Scots, must certainly have disturbed him. The implications for the succession and the stimulus the event gave the unacknowledged English prince may have led him to create a (likely) first version of the Scottish play. “In all the plays… Macbeth is the only hero to live the fully aware inner lives of both these opposed figures [the irrational brother and Adonis] simultaneously” (Hughes 247). This play is unique in marking the crucial turning-point in the central Shakespearean double-myth of Venus-Adonis/ Tarquin-Lucrece. Adonis is portrayed not only becoming the Boar but also knowing the fact ­– the Boar (his tusks are Macbeth’s daggers) who is nevertheless still divine. Hughes’s profound thinking gives the lie to the much-repeated assumption that the playwright responds to public events. The Bard’s self-knowledge sets him demonstrably streaks ahead of everyone else, not least on the subject of topical references. As regards Macbeth, Kenneth Muir (editor of the Arden Second Series edition, 1984) concedes [37] as much: “Equivocation therefore links up with one of the main themes of the play, and the equivocator would have earned his place in the porter scene if Father Garnet had never lived or become involved in the Gunpowder Plot” of 1605.

However valid my initial suggestions here might appear in order to come to grips with Steiner’s claim for the “significant mystery” of James’s inspiration, the subsequent value of literature in an imperialist, consumer society is certainly inestimable – or subversive, depending on one’s view. “Beneath the rule of men entirely great,/ The pen is mightier than the sword”, writes Edward Bulwer-Lytton. [38] This famous saying seems relevant. In early 1601, lines from the play Sir Thomas More were marked by a government censor for deletion, while executions for the Essex rebellion proceeded apace. “The Murder of Gonzago” was indeed effective.

Though he claimed the Shakespeare authorship question is not an issue, Northrop Frye – perhaps the most influential literary critic of the twentieth century – in his life’s work on the whole “order of words” (Coleridge’s phrase) has accounted for the origins of literature in myth, that is, stories about “what is”. Oxfordians claim the Bard both lived his myth and re-expressed it in the canon. He develops all four of Frye’s “modes”: comedy, romance, tragedy, and irony/satire. [39] Adonis-Oberon/Bottom-Hamlet-Troilus/Hector-Anthony and Venus-Titania-Gertrude-Cressida-Cleopatra are artistic creations based on a real-life relationship. The perspective of the poets – that the Bard’s life was “an allegory” (Keats), a unique relationship of Spectre and Shadow (Blake); that his imagination was drawn to solve the deepest tragic issues (Williams), through the interior demands incumbent on a working-out of the “mythic equation” (Hughes) – appear to me to provide clinching concepts to reconcile apparently exclusive views arising from biographical and historical knowledge. Oxfordians, for example, claim that references to contemporary events cease after 1604 (Anderson 360); those who claim to detect the influence of James I assume certain plays were written after James came to England in 1603. The Tempest, we know, was performed for the betrothal of Princess Elizabeth and Frederick, the Elector Palatine, 27th December 1612. This does not indicate it was written just prior to that occasion, though some scholars speculate without any evidence that the nuptial masque could have been added. The date of composition of The Tempest – the crucial case – is now shown to be on or before 1603. [40] Frances Yates writes on the early years of the seventeenth century as an attempted “Elizabethan revival” [41] (my emphasis) of ideals, mythology and philosophy. An in-depth scrutiny should clear up the riddles, especially once the union of myth and biography is recognised. Why else does As You Like It end with the empty cave? Why else indeed does Haydn accompany “Go forth and multiply” (The Creation) with a plangent cello?

Nevertheless, there is a problem with the Hector–Hamlet pairing. Homer certainly portrays Hector as Steiner reports. But Hamlet is much more than the dithering cynic seen by the literary critics of Steiner’s day, and even our day. “Shakespeare’s Hamlet” – Steiner’s phrase in the lecture of 1912 – succumbs to the temptations of his father’s impure ghost, demanding revenge. Hamlet’s human nobility has to be systematically destroyed (Vyvyan). This situation is transcended in the later plays. “Hamlet”, as the playwright’s persona, does develop his inherent humanity, eventually metamorphosing into the magus Prospero who forgives those who had usurped him of his dukedom. Similarly we find Stephen Dedalus desperate to leave Ireland at the close of Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, returning in Ulysses to proclaim as the last word of the “Telemachus” section, “Usurper!”, foreshadowing the Hamlet-motif. In this instance we know that the author has embedded some of his deepest feelings in the work. Should we not know equally about Shakespeare?

Sovereignty

The present article is one reader’s response to a unique scenario. Broadly speaking, early in life I met a rather sentimental view of a chameleon, instinctive playwright, but now I have been shown the disaffected pariah, bastard, prodigy and nameless man who suffered an acute identity crisis – all for love. It cannot be gainsaid that the search for the human being behind the literary creations comes into sharp focus when, in the case of Hamlet, creation and creator unite. The literary creation Hamlet reveals the author and his world, the Elizabethan court. If Beauclerk and the Oxfordians are right, the author himself, a cultural leader of our age, is difficult to identify as a country person. Shakespearean Stratford is largely an eighteenth-century invention of playwright and actor David Garrick and others, building up the rustic image the politicians wanted posterity to believe.

If this is so, the Bard would be the brilliant, unpredictable, troubled aristocrat at the heart of government, torn between feudal lord and bohemian. As an enthusiastic and, like his “rival brother” James I, no doubt also a “difficult/ annoying patron” of the re-born theatre, who kept at least one troupe of actors throughout his adult life, his theatrical career provided a mirror “to catch the conscience” of the Queen. [42] At the same time The Lord Chamberlain’s/ King’s Men perform in the public theatres. The Bard educates posterity, basically by founding the artistic use of the English language. Thirty-five of the thirty-six plays (the exception is Merry Wives) in the First Folio concern royalty and ducal personalities, focussing on their interior troubles and eventual transformation. In the playwright’s Hamlet – who himself wrote for and rehearsed a group of players, of which the leading actor demonstrated a speech from the fall of Troy, and who with his dying breath bids Horatio,

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story.               (Hamlet V, ii)

– it is hard to disbelieve that we see portrayed the man who wrote Shakespeare.

In speaking to the eurythmists about the art of visible speech, [43] the first poet Steiner mentions is Shakespeare. He speaks of this poet as the chief wordsmith at a formative stage in the growth of the language. Max Müller (1861) claimed Shakespeare’s vocabulary was 15,000 words – later scholars claim up to 21,000 words –, about twice as much as Milton, who uses 8,000. The Oxford English Dictionary credits Shakespeare as using 3,200 words for the first time. That is, Shakespeare is sovereign of a much more extensive kingdom than that of the crowned monarch. If, then, Edward de Vere is the hidden author, he paid the personal price involved in having to renounce a royal destiny and indeed his very name as an author. The evidence is there in the Sonnets, the Bible markings and the relationship of the canon to the biography. In exchanging a temporal eminence, this poet “lived the life of allegory”, a “figurative” life for the sake of all users of the world’s most-used tongue – the English language. His influence reaches in translation even beyond this, of course. Inspired by his treacherous Venus, the Dark Lady, and his “rival brother” James, internalising all youthful military ambition, and – if my thesis is accepted – deeper still, changing a pre-Christian condition of soul by internalising and thus eventually surmounting all the thwarting circumstances of his life, the man who wrote Shakespeare became a spiritual world-sovereign whose reign has no foreseeable end. “In some way or other we in the English-speaking world have all become his subjects,” concludes Beauclerk (387).

Conclusion

If the historical records of the makings of our modern world have been manipulated, history needs re-writing, its implications for our age re-assessed. But this does not reduce art to biography and history. Do we really imagine the Shakespearean authorship question is superfluous, since we “have the plays”? Yet do we have them? For one lover of the Bard at least, the work of scholars to reveal the mythical and satirical inspirations of the flesh-and-blood author opens a deeper appreciation and renewed respect for that human being whose sacrifices led to sovereign art. Sitting at his feet, I learn even more about the creative process sustained against the heaviest odds. The Bard now emerges as probably the foremost subversive, dissident author – he is our contemporary.

In the present painful times, it is important to understand, to see through certain things while endeavouring to establish our own certainties and spiritual identity. Moreover, in the current squeeze on art that is forcing us all to be clear about our priorities and to commit ourselves, it is timely to realise to what good company all striving artists may be privileged to claim they belong. Beyond stating my belief that nobody saw earlier or further on the authorship question than Steiner, and who consequently provides the cornerstone, I might even learn to be grateful to the Cecils – the Machiavellian villains of the piece – for being the sand in the oyster. “To understand everything,” claims novelist George Eliot, “would be to pardon everything.” Despite disagreement concerning some details in the sketch outlined here, what essential facts are now missing from the story?

 

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For this article, I acknowledge help from my friends, especially Neil Franklin, Ph.D., who made several valuable additions and suggestions. The weaknesses are all mine—A.S.

 

Headpiece: Printer’s headpiece appearing on the opening page of the “good” Quarto of Hamlet (1604-5) with the centrally inserted royal coat of arms.

 

[1] Coleridge assumed the conventional authorship of Shakespeare’s plays, while rejecting the facts of his life and character: “Ask your own hearts, – ask your own common sense – to conceive the possibility of this man… being the anomalous, the wild, the irregular, genius of our daily criticism! What! are we to have miracles in sport? – Or, I speak reverently, does God choose idiots by whom to convey divine truths to man?”

S.T. Coleridge. “Shakespeare’s Judgement equal to his Genius”. Lectures, 1818, in

Coleridge: Poems and Prose. Penguin Books: Harmondsworth. 1957. 240; also

“Old” Everyman, Coleridge’s Essays & Lectures on Shakespeare. London: Dent/ New York: Dutton. ND. 47.

[2] A.C. Bradley.  Shakespearean Tragedy. London: Macmillan. 1904.

[3] Online: www.archive.org/details/shakespeareident00looniala. Latest edition: Ruth Loyd Miller, ed. &  J. Thomas Looney. “Shakespeare” Identified in Edward de Vere, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. 2 vols., 3rd ed. Port Washington, NY/London: Kennikat, 1975.

[4] The present article explores aspects first broached in: Alan Stott. “Shakespeare: Who held the pen?” in Shakespeare Matters, Summer 2007, journal of The Shakespeare Fellowship; also Newsletter of the Section for the Arts of Eurythmy, Speech and Music, No. 47, Dornach. Michaelmas 2007. Internet access via the Fellowship or the Goetheanum websites, or direct www.alansnotes.co.uk (articles also in German).

[5] Rudolf Steiner. The Karma of Untruthfulness. Vol. 2. Lecture Dornach, 15 Jan. 1917. GA 174. London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1992. 131. Again in: Rudolf Steiner. Karmic Relationships. Vol. 2. Lecture Dornach, 12 April 1924. GA 236. Internet access, German originals – http://fvn-rs.net/index. Interestingly, the name “Shakespeare” occurs in the very first paragraph of Charles Williams’ biography Bacon. London: Arthur Barker/New York: Harper & Bros. 1933: “The mortal greatness of Francis lacked but one thing – he was not Shakespeare; his judgement lacked but one intelligence – he would not have supposed the subordination was on his side” (1). “[T]he real difference is metaphysical; it is between a man possessed of a particular vision of the universe and a man possessed of no vision but of the universe. It would be almost easier to believe that Bacon wrote Milton; the serious mind aspiring to schematize the universe is in both” (105; see also 310).

[6] Frances A. Yates. Shakespeare’s Last Plays. London: Routledge. 1975. 131. Am. title: Majesty and Magic in Shakespeare’s Last Plays. Germ. tr.  Shakespeares letzte Spiele. 1975. Fr. tr. Les dernières pièces de Shakespeare. Belin 2000. Sp. tr. Las últimas obras de Shakespeare. Fondo de Cultura Económica. 2001.

[7] Charles Beauclerk. Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom: The true history of Shakespeare and Elizabeth. New York: Grove Press. 2010.

[8] J. Duncan M. Derrett. Jesus’s Audience. London: Darton, Longman & Todd. 1973. 26.

[9] Mark Anderson. Shakespeare by Another Name. The life of Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, the Man who was Shakespeare. New York: Gotham Books. 2005.

[10] Eric Sams. The Real Shakespeare: Reviving the early years, 1564-1594. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. 1995. A thorough and original attempt to map the first 30 years from the Stratfordian view.

[11] Alastair Fowler. Triumphal forms: Structural patterns in Elizabethan poetry. Oxford: OUP. 1970. 183-197.

[12] Hank Whittemore. The Monument. Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts. Meadow Geese Press. 2008. Websites: http://shakespearesmonument.comhttp://shakespearestreason.com/ etc.

[13] C.S. Lewis. English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding Drama. Oxford: OUP. Oxford. 1954. 505.

[14] “The suggestion that Shakespeare here alludes to a visit to the spa at Bath may be quietly ignored,” claims John Kerrigan (Shakespeare: Sonnets & A Lover’s Complaint, New Penguin Edition. 1986. 387). Why should rational humans choose to imitate the ostrich here? If the truth is to make us free, we need to face it. No doubt “the sonnets may be deft, but they are sordid too” (62). No doubt “sweating tubs (= baths) were used to cure the pox” in Jacobean London. A preoccupation with the hot water-tap does not preclude investigating the entire heating system – that is, the love-story of a royal couple, one party of which is the Bard himself – including the fact that a conception took place in the city of Bath, revealed in Hank Whittemore’s definitive edition of the sonnets (see endnote 11).

[15] Roger A. Stritmatter. The Marginalia of Edward de Vere’s Geneva Bible: Providential discovery, literary reasoning, and historical consequence. Ph.D. thesis, Univ. of Massachusetts Amherst. Feb. 2001. Northampton, MA 01060. Oxenford Press. Obtainable through the Shakespeare Fellowship website, and online: http://shake-speares-bible.com/dissertation/

[16] Elizabeth’s offspring according to Roberta Ballantine. Marlowe Up Close. Bloomington: Xlibris. 2007:

  • 1549 twins: Edward de Vere & Edward Manners, by Admiral Tom Seymour.
  • 1554 Philip Sidney, by Prince Philip of Spain.
  • 1556 twins: Mary de Vere & Philip Howard, by Prince Philip again.
  • 1558 Ferdinando Stanley, by Philip now King of Spain.
  • 1561 Francis Bacon, by Francis Walsingham.
  • 1561 Mary Sidney Herbert, by Robert Dudley (Elizabeth had secretly married him in 1560).
  • 1562 Robert Cecil, by Robert Dudley.
  • 1563 Robert Sidney, by Robert Dudley.
  • 1566 Robert Devereux, by Dudley, now Earl of Leiceister.
  • 1573 Henry Wriothesley, by Edward de Vere.

There appears to be good documentary evidence for the changes in Elizabeth’s dress sizes during the pregnancies: some of the original notes of measurements still exist.

[17] The portrait by Gheeraerts (c. 1592) is reproduced in Beauclerk (see endnote 7). An engraving (c. 1675–1700) by Cornelius Vermeulen of the Adriaen van der Werff (1659–1722) portrait in Trinity College, Dublin, is reproduced (opp. p. 129) & discussed in Jean Overton Fuller. Sir Francis Bacon: a biography. George Mann of Maidstone. 1994. 349-51. One child with a cloak buckled like a Roman Imperator holds a martyr’s palm (Essex?); the other holds a viol/ rudder with helm (secret musician/ poet holding the helm of the/ a kingdom: Oxford?) and sprigs of corn (resurrection symbol). A Theban sphinx (echoes of Oedipus?) is to be seen under the hand of the third child in the background (Arthur Dudley?). Image (prints available) on National Portrait Gallery website: http://npg.org.uk/

[18] Queen Margaret of Navarre [tr. Princess Elizabeth Tudor]. The Mirror of the Sinful Soul. London: Asher & Co. 1897. Facsimile reprint ed. Kessinger 2007. 83. Also, in modern letterpress: Elizabeth 1: Translations, 1544-1589, ed. Janet Müller & Joshua Scodel. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press. 2009. 95.

[19] On King Lear, see, e.g., Shellee Hendricks “The Curiosity of Nations: King Lear and the Incest Prohibition”. Master’s thesis. McGill Univ. Montreal 1999. <digitool.library.mcgill.ca:8881/dtl_publish/5/30173.html>

[20] James Joyce. Ulysses. Intro. & notes by Declan Kiberd. Bodley Head 1992/ Penguin Bks 2000.

[21] John Michell. Who Wrote Shakespeare? London & New York: Thames & Hudson. 1996. 169. Michell usefully summarises the candidates for authorship. He also recounts the discovery of Mr W. Hall of Hackney as “Mr W. H.”, 179-80. After a lecture (2004), Michell (1933–2009) said to the present writer that the evidence linking de Vere and the Sonnets fits “hand in glove”. This was said before Whittemore’s publication appeared in 2008 (see endnote 11 above).

[22] Beauclerk offers some revealing interpretations, e.g., of the early play A Midsummer-Night’s Dream (200-207). We know MND was first performed for the marriage of de Vere’s daughter Elizabeth to the Earl of Derby, prob. on Jan 26 1595, also prob. performed for the second marriage of Southampton’s foster-mother Mary Browne Wriothesley to Sir Thomas Heneage, May 2, 1595, then finally revised and performed for the wedding of Southampton (referred to as a “little changeling boy” and also represented by Demetrius) to Elizabeth Vernon 1598. The historical personalities are all represented in the play (see also Anderson 287-88; endnote 8 above).

[23] Rudolf Steiner. The Gospel of St Mark. Lecture I, Basel 15 Sept. 1912. GA 139. New York: Anthroposophic Press/ London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1986. Internet access: www.rsarchive.org (website for texts in Germ., see endnote 5 above).

[24] Rudolf Steiner. Theosophy. Chapter 2. GA 9. Germ. orig. ed. 1904. Internet access: www.sacred-texts.com/eso/theo/index.htm, or http://wn.rsarchive.org/Books/GA009/English/AP1971/GA009_index.html

[25] Saxo Grammaticus and the Life of Hamlet. Translation, history and commentary by William F. Hansen. Lincoln & London: Univ. of Nebraska Press. 1983. Saxo wrote the oldest extant literary account based on oral tradition of unknown age. Hanson states (2): “We have no reason to believe that Amleth is a historical character or that any of the events that Saxo relates… even happened, either in the pre-Christian period or later. At least there is no evidence to support a belief that Amleth has existed anywhere other than in story.”

[26] John Vyvyan. The Shakespearean Ethic. London: Chatto & Windus. 1959. A much valued study.

[27] Richard Meux Benson. The War-Songs of the Prince of Peace. 2 vols. London: John Murray. 1901. This tr. and commentary occupies a class of its own.

[28] Rudolf Steiner. Lecture Berlin, 28 October 1904.

[29] Charles Williams. The English Poetic Mind (1932). Reissued New York: Russell & Russell. 1963. 59.

[30] Ted Hughes. Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being. London: Faber & Faber. 1992.

[31] Friedrich Hiebel. Das Drama des Dramas. Dornach 1984. 56-61.

[32] Richard Ramsbotham. Who wrote Bacon? London: Temple Lodge. 2004. The author – to whom I am personally indebted for several insights – mentions my earlier article in a footnote to his Afterword to the Germ. tr. (Jakob I. Basel: Perseus Verlag. 2008). Unfortunately, his brief reply to Oxfordian contentions betrays the customary misinformation. Like many people, Mr Ramsbotham scorns the idea of an educated nobleman replacing the inspired country person of the Stratfordian view. A country-person, though, could be at odds in the list: King David, Homer, Dante, Goethe…. However that is, the Bard celebrates the spiritual reality that we are all born in the purple. Self-knowledge is sovereign – as Ted Hughes explains, Macbeth eventually becomes Prospero. If Philipp. 2:7-11 presents the whole human blueprint, then transformation doesn’t drop out of the sky for anyone. Ramsbotham certainly recognises transforming power in the Bard (“Shakespeare and World Destiny”. The Golden Blade 49. Floris Books: Edinburgh 1997. 102-20), yet he apparently fails to appreciate the Bard’s real-life sacrifices as revealed by recent Oxfordian research. In my opinion, he consequently misapplies the important insights of conspiracy theory concerning a Western ruling élite. My text submits that the onus is on those who hold what is called the conventional or orthodox view, despite its 400-years standing, to answer the informed contention that the orthodox view originated in a political conspiracy.

[33] Rudolf Steiner. The Karma of Untruthfulness. Vol. 2. GA 174. London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1992. 131.

[34] Charles Williams. James I. London: Arthur Barker.  1934. Reprinted: Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock Publishers. 2008. 38.

[35] Ted Hughes 1992. 101-116, also note 431f. Jaques le Grand is only mentioned by name (As You Like It. III. iv. 4 and III. v. 35, also 95 “great Saint Jaques”). Through the theme of pilgrimage, Hughes also connects to St Jaques le Grand, alias St Iago of Compostella, Spain. The play, again, is partly set in Florence, near which is situated the church of San Giacorno d’Altopasis. That there is a church dedicated to St James the Great at Snitterfield near Stratford (Jonathan Bate, Soul of the Age. Penguin 2008. 39) relates neither to this play, nor to the canon. A good read, Bate’s informative book, however, with its anti-Oxfordian polemic and special pleading for William, nowhere affects the arguments in my text.

[36] Stephen Prickett, The Origins of Narrative. Cambridge: CUP. 1996, explores appropriation as fundamental to all development in literacy. Owen Barfield, “Israel and the Michael Impulse”, Anthroposophical Quarterly, Vol. 1, No. 1, Spring 1956, 2–9 (rsh-library@anth.org.uk), suggests the implied answer to Jacob’s question put to the wrestling angel regarding the latter’s name (Genesis 32:29) points to the very origin of literacy, i.e., the giving of the divine-human alphabet.

[37] Kenneth Muir, ed. Macbeth. The Arden Shakespeare Second Series. London & New York: Routledge. 1984. xxviii. The Jesuit leader Henry Garnet is believed to have written “A Treatise of Equivocation” c. 1595. Commentators, attempting to establish a late date for the Scottish play’s composition, also take the sole use in the canon of the word “combustion” (II, iii, 57) to allude to the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Muir notes the word meant “tumult, confusion, especially of a political kind” (Arden Ed. 1951, corr. 1972. 62), cf. “combustion in the state” Hen. VIII, V, iv.

[38] Cardinal Richelieu in Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s play “Richelieu; or the Conspiracy” (1839); perhaps the author had Heb. 4:12 in mind.

[39] Northrop Frye. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton Univ. Press 1957. Penguin Books 1990. Summarised: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatomy_of_Criticism. Germ. tr. Analyse der Literaturkritik. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. 1964.

[40] Roger Stritmatter and Lynne Kositsky. A Moveable Feast: Sources, Chronology and Design of Shakespeare’s Tempest (forthcoming). See article: http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/tempest/kositsky-stritmatter%20Tempest%20Table.htm.

See also http://oberonshakespearestudygroup.blogspot.com

On the general question of dating:

http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/moore_datesofplays.html

[41] Frances A. Yates. The Rosicrucian Enlightenment. London: Routledge. 1972. Ark edition 1986. Routledge Classics 2001. Germ. tr.: Aufklärung in Zeichen des Rosenkreutzes. 1997. See also endnote 6 above.

[42] Every other playwright in the police state of Elizabethan England was at some time reprimanded or imprisoned for running foul of the censor – how did “Shakespeare” manage to escape this fate? The Oxfordian position provides a satisfactory answer to this question.

[43] Rudolf Steiner. Eurythmy as Visible Speech. Tr. Alan Stott. Weobley: Anastasi. 2005. Lecture, Dornach 24 June 1924. GA 279. ET. 33. Germ. ed. 50.

 

Music for “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

Music for “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”—William Shakespeare

Act 2 scene 2

A Midsummer Night's Dream	—Lullaby

A Midsummer Night's Dream —Lullaby

FAIRIES sing.

FIRST FAIRY

You spotted snakes with double tongue,

Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong,

Come not near our fairy queen.

CHORUS

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby.

A Midsummer Night's Dream	—Lullaby

A Midsummer Night's Dream —Lullaby

SECOND FAIRY

Weaving spiders, come not here;

Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence!

Beetles black, approach not near;

Worm nor snail, do no offence.

CHORUS

Philomel, with melody

Sing in our sweet lullaby;

Lulla, lulla, lullaby, lulla, lulla, lullaby:

Never harm,

Nor spell nor charm,

Come our lovely lady nigh;

So, good night, with lullaby.

 

Act 3 scene 1

A Midsummer Night's Dream	—Bottom's song

—Bottom's song

BOTTOM [Sings.]

The woosel cock so black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill,

The throstle with his note so true,

The wren with little quill,—

TITANIA  [Awaking.]

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

BOTTOM [Sings.]

The finch, the sparrow and the lark,

The plain-song cuckoo gray,

Whose note full many a man doth mark,

And dares not answer nay;—

 

Download the Music for A Midsummer Nights Dream [PDF]

“Something cannot be. Only it is”: Beyond the Murder of Gonzago

 

“Something cannot be. Only it is”:

Beyond the Murder of Gonzago

 

Alan Stott – Stourbridge, U.K.

Abstract: The new century has seen some outstanding controversial research in Shakespearean studies. These current discoveries and inferences now invite a reconsideration of both authorship and inspiration. This paper summarises the latest research (Anderson, Stritmatter, Whittemore, Beauclerk), discusses the perceptions of poets and creative writers, who do not cease to be poets when writing criticism (Blake, Keats, James Joyce, Charles Williams, Ted Hughes) and follows up two insights of Rudolf Steiner on the authorship question concerning the figure of Hamlet and the role of James I.

*

William Blake’s letter to John Flaxman of 12 September 1800 acknowledges that Shakespeare “in riper years gave me his hand” along with Paracelsus and Jakob Boehme. During the previous decade Blake had come to the view that there is a living connection between the artist as historical person (the Spectre) and the created works (the Shadow). Still following Blake, the artist reincarnates “time after time” while the Shadow has a life of its own. It follows, as Blake’s later Prophetic Books indicate, that the two may meet at different times.

That the Shadow of Shakespeare has evolved is undeniable, passing through 18th-century pantomimes, critical revaluation – especially through S.T. Coleridge [1] –, Victorian music-hall and rebirth at the hands of literary critic A.C. Bradley in 1904. [2] Whereas the period 1904-1920 was witnessing a staggering rediscovery of the works, J. Thomas Looney [3] in 1920 initiated the research that identified “Shakespeare” as real-life Edward de Vere; James Joyce reopened the debate regarding the relationship between Hamlet and Shakespeare; Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925), I submit, offered assistance regarding both the authorship question and the figure of Hamlet. [4]

After his earlier work at the Goethe Archives in Weimar, Steiner led a literary life in Berlin. He edited and also wrote the theatrical reviews for a national weekly, the Magazin für Literatur, equivalent of the London Saturday Review. Throughout his lecturing career, admittedly, Steiner’s remarks comply with what is called the conventional or orthodox view, that the actor William of Stratford-on-Avon (1564–1616) wrote the plays. The arguments that Francis Bacon (1561–1626) – the chief alternative candidate in Steiner’s day ­– was the Bard, Steiner says, “are utterly superficial”. [5] Steiner certainly reveals a common inspiration linking both Bacon and Shakespeare, also suggested more recently by historian Frances Yates. [6] I return to this in what follows. Baconians, then, see something but could be jumping to premature conclusions. Further to the debate, as a candidate for authorship Looney published a constellation of powerful arguments pointing to Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford (?1548–1604), an argument that has been recently (2010) updated by Charles Beauclerk. [7] In other words, we must accept that the first decade of the 21st century has forcefully reopened the authorship issue in much the same way as 1904-1920 rediscovered the works.

Everyone knows the Shakespearean records are sparse. If we assume Steiner’s spiritual vision meets the facts of the case, then – also assuming the hand that held the pen had to be concealed – a spiritual reporter may have had good reasons to go along with repeating the accepted fiction. He would be perfectly aware that historical and literary evidence would come to light at the right time. In such circumstances, we might expect an appeal to concrete imaginative perception will be made, perhaps with a certain verbal irony. Nobody accuses Chaucer (prob. 1345–1400) of conveying untruths about his Canterbury Pilgrims; on the contrary, we appreciate how through irony the poet reports on their real characters. Irony is recognised as a standard means to point to the truth, counteracting a fixed literalness and even pomposity (in music, too, Haydn and Beethoven employed overt and subtle irony long before modern composers made it standard practice). But we find that the Bard himself made irony and satire his consistent life-style. Beauclerk draws attention to the three “interlocking plots in any given Shakespeare play”: the fictional plot, the topical satire, and the “soul story” of the author’s unconscious or “mythic existence” (Beauclerk. 162). In this comprehensive context, I select for closer scrutiny one passage from a lecture Steiner delivered 100 years ago, and another later statement concerning the Bard’s inspiration.

 

Recent publications

A full-length biography of Edward de Vere by Mark Anderson (2005) [8] points out the plentiful connections to the Shakespearean canon. Anderson, supported by the necessary scholarship, provides a flesh-and-blood candidate to fill the yawning gap in our knowledge of the Bard. The biographer avoids suppositions, ciphers and esoterics; the evidence he produces is historical, cumulative and considerably furthers Looney’s claims. We follow the life, studies, marital problems, travels, literary and theatrical career, frustrations and crises – all this raw material in relation to the canon. A list of documented solid facts concerning the life of the Stratford candidate, as distinct from suppositions, would be exhausted in a few pages. [9]

At the same time it is necessary to re-investigate that particular text (a probable wedding-anniversary present), the quickly supressed Shake-Speares Sonnets (1609) “by our ever-living poet” – the adjective, it is clear, never used of a living person –, with their enigmatic biographical references. As a start, the intricate formal devices of the Sonnet sequence – a remarkable tour de force, second only to Spenser in complexity – have been convincingly revealed by the exemplary scholarship of Alastair Fowler (1970). [10] The Sonnets, he shows, are numbered correctly, and clues to the pyramid-form are presented by the position of the few intentionally irregular sonnets. But now, Hank Whittemore (2008), [11] incorporating the three year-parts and other temporal references and deciphering the imagery, reveals line-by-line that, running parallel to the overt literary meaning, there is a hidden personal story of national, indeed international interest. Far from indulging the “biographical fallacy” in our reading, Whittemore shows that the Sonnets were intended to transmute a tortuous life-story into a work of art. The story takes place in real time, some Sonnets marking a day-by-day diary. The author created a permanent “monument” to the “fair youth”. In other words, the Sonnet sequence communicates more to us when we recognise the living author. If this were not so, then the entire work of postmodernists such as John Barth would be reduced in meaning. In the face of the cumulative weight of recent research there is no option but to reconsider Shakespeare, man and author.

“Shake-Speare”’s initial concern in the first 17 Sonnets is that of a father and potential grandfather, as C.S. Lewis surmised: “What man in the whole world, except a father or a potential father-in-law, cares whether any other man gets married?” [12] The “Dark Lady” of the Sonnets, Whittemore now shows, is Queen Elizabeth, and the “fair youth” is her and de Vere’s 17-year-old son (b. late May 1574, d. 1624) – brought up as Henry Wriothesley (see Beauclerk 105-107). He is the love-child “Cupid” in Sonnets 153 and 154 that refer to a royal visit to the city of Bath, [13] which de Vere joined in August 1574:

But found no cure; the bath for my help lies

Where Cupid got new fire – my mistress’ eyes.

 

As 3rd Earl of Southampton, Henry Wriothesley, is the dedicatee of “Shakespeare’s” first and second of relatively few – indeed, the only official – publications in his lifetime, the two poems Venus and Adonis (1593) and Rape of Lucrece (1594). The author, Whittemore suggests, in effect took a treasonous step by associating the name “William Shakespeare” with the cause of those demanding that Queen Elizabeth name her successor. If acknowledged, Henry would have become Henry IX of England. Earlier, Wriothesley had chosen rather to pay the handsome, punitive fine (£5,000 = c. £185,000, or c. $1.3 million in today’s money) by refusing the plan of William Cecil (Elizabeth’s chief minister) that he marry Cecil’s eldest granddaughter (also Wriothesley’s half-sister), de Vere’s daughter Elizabeth by Anne Cecil, and thus bring the Cecil family into royalty. The tension came to a head with the abortive “Essex rebellion” (so called) of Feb. 7, 1601 that challenged the regime, in particular Robert Cecil who held the power behind the throne. When Essex was beheaded, Elizabeth was distraught. Southampton was the only leader to survive. The agreement to save his life, Whittemore lucidly suggests, was not only on the condition that this unacknowledged prince give up all claims to the throne, but also by guaranteeing the complete silence of his father, the hidden author known to posterity as “Shakespeare”. The mask became stuck. Among the first things King James I (1566–1625) did as the new sovereign was to release Wriothesley from imprisonment on April 10, 1603. Conveniently side-lined, he became Captain of the Isle of Wight on July 7, 1603, a “little kingdom” out of harm’s way.

Roger Stritmatter, [14] moreover, provides evidence that Edward de Vere was a hidden writer in a scrupulously researched Ph.D. thesis on the markings of the latter’s Geneva Bible (2001). Some underscored verses refer to secret authorship – the life-style of irony of God’s fools and prophets: “the prophet is a foole; the spiritual man is mad” (Hosea 9:7); Matthew, chapter 6:4 advises giving “almes… in secret, & thy Father that seeth in secret, he wil rewarde thee openly”. Recall Hamlet’s feigned “madness”, Lear’s Fool who speaks the truth, Edgar as “poor Tom” – not to mention, too, such themes as disguise, mistaken identity, twins and the sequence of bastard characters. A significant number of underscored verses in this Bible relate to the canon itself and its relationship to the inner life of Edward de Vere.

We encounter more controversial areas with Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom (2010). Charles Beauclerk, concentrating on the Bard’s relationship to Elizabeth, explores further both the mythology and the scandalising circumstances that led to the increasingly urgent question of the succession. It is certainly possible that Elizabeth – the “Virgin Queen” of accepted myth, married to her subjects, was the mother of several children – one author argues for ten pregnancies. [15] There were strange illnesses and confinements; in a police state you keep quiet about certain secrets. But, there again, people also wanted to believe the national myth. There is the portrait, too, by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger (c. 1594) in Hampton Court, Greater London, of a pregnant lady, originally identified as Queen Elizabeth; one could add that the later van der Werff portrait in Dublin, Ireland, depicts Elizabeth with three children. [16] After a childhood with foster parents, it is claimed they turn up with the “royal wards” living in Cecil House on the Strand, near London’s River Thames – William Cecil, made Lord Burghley in 1571, was to become de Vere’s father-in-law. De Vere was the first, Wriothesley the last royal ward. There they received probably the best education in the land, with access to remarkable libraries.

Beauclerk follows up the suggestion that royal incest was revived by the succession-obsessed and sex-obsessed Henry VIII, father of Elizabeth. She herself, it seems, inherited his appetites. This brilliant Princess translated (1544) Queen Margaret of Navarre’s The Mirror of the Sinful Soul [17] – a religious text with ambiguous innuendos.

“O my sauioure, through faith I am planted, and ioyned with the. O what vnion is thys syth (through faith) I am sure of the, and now I maye call the: sonne, father, spowse, and brother, Father, brother, sonne, husband….”

What prompted the interest of the precocious 11-year-old Princess Elizabeth? In our democratic age we favour genetic common sense, and – relatively recently in fact – we respect the claims of romantic love. But for a powerful hereditary aristocracy, a “good family name” and arranged marriages were the norm. “Keeping it in the family” with illicit unions of mythical and historical precedent even achieved a sacred nimbus. Royal blood was sacred; it was to be kept “pure”. In tracing Elizabeth’s inner torment with historical and sympathetic psychological insight, Beauclerk offers reasons why she persisted in not naming a successor and thus snuffed out the Tudor dynasty. “Her resolution not to marry and not to share her throne was part of this unyielding determination to create an image for herself that transcended her origins” (Beauclerk. 35). With regard to the canon, nobody can deny that the incest theme, overt in Pericles, is not far beneath the text in Hamlet, Lear and other plays. [18] The protagonists, at least everyone agrees, are very troubled characters indeed.

It should not be overlooked that James Joyce saw the connections between text and author are indissoluble. In his epic, modernist novel in the ironic mode Ulysses (serialised 1918-20, pub. complete in Paris 1922), Joyce stages a virtuoso discussion in the National Library (section: Scylla and Charybdis) where many themes so far mentioned appear, and others still to be mentioned. In his helpful notes, Declan Kiberd [19] writes: “The time is 2 p.m.; the organ, brain, the art, literature, the symbols, Hamlet and Shakespeare; and the Linati schema renders the sense as ‘two-edged dilemma’.” The concept of fatherhood, and a critique on the idea of author is the focus. There is good evidence that Stratfordian William Shakespeare acted the part of the ghost-father in Hamlet. “Stephen… seems to suggest that the artist suffers real pain in the act of creation and that art is a way of knowing and suffering a self, the better to transcend it” (Kiberd in Joyce. 1014). Joyce needed to re-express and transmute the repeated claims in Homer’s Odyssey that Odysseus was “the most unfortunate of men”. We misread Ulysses if we do not respond to the pain that surrounds Bloom; we misread Hamlet if we are not genuinely interested in “Wm Shakespeare” and Edward de Vere.

Emerging from our review of recent research it is a strident appeal that Joyce, Beauclerk, Michell and others focus their particular attention on Hamlet and the authorship question. “Oxford makes a convincing Hamlet – or vice versa”, concludes John Michell. [20] If Hamlet is largely a self-portrait of its creator and the play of that name depicts his situation, and if moreover he even reappears behind leading protagonists in later plays, then in the canon we are given clues to the inner turmoil of the world’s most admired playwright – and the most discussed play in the world. Through art, though “made tongue-tied by authority” (Sonnet 66), this hidden writer found a way not only to survive, but also to surmount his seemingly impossible life-situation. This fact, sympathetically followed by Beauclerk, could increase our admiration for the Bard’s – and his latest biographer’s – achievement. How otherwise do we imagine the great tragedies – indeed, the comedies too, with their subtle topical satire [21] – and the late works could otherwise have been written, but from inner experience and supreme creative effort, using the theatre as a mirror of his world? Who would not claim that the “real” characters Polonius and Claudius play a false role, whereas the “fictional” play-within-the-play “The Murder of Gonzago”, represents reality?

Keats wrote (letter 123, Feb. 1819), that “A Man’s life of any worth is a continual allegory—and very few eyes can see the Mystery of his life—a life like the scriptures, figurative […]. Shakespeare led a life of allegory: his works are the comments on it”. What Keats divined has now been substantiated through cumulative research which continues to point in the same direction.

 

The Shadow: search for identity

If the “Shadow” of Shakespeare has emerged from a concrete historical figure whose strongest self-expression is Hamlet, then it is time to address Steiner, who takes up the theme of the search for identity at the deepest level in the introductory lecture of his course on Mark’s gospel (1912). [22] His remarks on Hamlet, seen in the light of recent research, throw a bright light on the authorship question. The lecturer sketches the East-West situation, mentioning the ancient spirituality of the East, but also five writers who profoundly influenced Western culture – David, Homer, Dante, Shakespeare and Goethe. Steiner emphasises that the five mentioned writers present a truer picture of events than outer historical accounts alone can. In this context, the lecturer goes on to sketch the profound effect of the Mystery of Golgotha, the death and resurrection of Christ, on souls who incarnated before and who reappeared, inwardly changed, after that Event. The concept of metamorphosis applied to human life had already been argued (1904). [23] As practical examples, Steiner takes two great souls, Empedocles and Hector of Troy, and their subsequent incarnations in the West.

Hector grew out of Troy. “He clung in the ancient way to his home city of Troy… a towering figure, a man of all-embracing humanity.” Steiner reveals: “The real figure underlying Hamlet, as presented by Shakespeare, is Hector. The same soul that lived in Hamlet lived in Hector.” The real Hamlet lived as a Danish prince “at one time”. But, the eleventh-century account by Saxo Grammaticus (d. c. 1204) of a Danish prince Amleth, providing the basis for the earthly story, disappears from view.  For we discover, the playwright fashions the account to end differently from what the chronicles relate. [24] This fact is crucial. At the end of his play the stage is strewn with corpses ­– the military takes over. The result of systematic revenge, the playwright shows, leads to racial suicide. With Shakespeare’s next play, Measure for Measure, the theme of self-knowledge and forgiveness brings a new turn to a potentially tragic situation, traced by John Vyvyan. [25] Shakespeare’s characters begin to learn of the change at the heart of earth-evolution. This is not what we learn from the story of Amleth who obtains his revenge.

The five personalities whom Steiner mentions as moulding culture are literary artists, that is, creators of stories, of myth, that which expresses lasting value and suggests polysemous meaning. The influence of their creations supersedes the limitations of their age, which leaves behind some issues. For example, David, according to scholars, did not actually pen all the Psalms. King David gave his name to a genre. The Psalms, among humankind’s first lyrics, are also prayers; taken by Richard Meux Benson as a whole and read on the level of myth, the Psalter constitutes “a continuous epic of Messiah’s conflict with evil”. [26] Again, is Homer an individual, or a figure who unites folk-tradition? Here scholars today prefer the former view, on literary grounds. And, of course, Shakespeare is gaining interest today precisely in this connection of “who held the pen?” In the lecture under consideration, Steiner himself suggests that centuries hence the existence of Goethe will be contested. Little of him will be known – this, he even adds, will be “a good thing!” Not his entanglements, then, but Goethe’s poetical creation of Faust, the searcher for truth, is the important concern for posterity. On the other hand who would want to separate Faust entirely from Goethe’s knowledge of Cornelius Agrippa? And in Milton Blake portrays both the historical figure struggling with his family and Blake struggling with Milton’s Shadow – the world’s consciousness of Paradise Lost.

To be clear about this, contemporary research unavoidably points to the historical figure, Edward de Vere, as author, while at the same time there is what could be called a meta-historical figure lying behind and informing the Shadow Hamlet. Empedocles “stands behind” Faust. Hector and Empedocles represent “a conclusion”; in their subsequent lives “great souls appear small”. In bypassing William Shakespeare, about whose life little substantial is really known, is Steiner’s purpose necessarily concealed? In 1912 the authorship question only occupied the attention of an “eccentric fringe”. Instead, Steiner reveals “the real figure underlying Hamlet, as presented by Shakespeare, is Hector”.

Just as our understanding of the author is rooted in the Elizabethan court, so an approach to Hector will be occupied with the fall of Troy. Troy, says Steiner, [27] flourished in the age of instinctive clairvoyance (Cassandra predicts the death of Hector), ruled by a priestly hierarchy. Troy had to fall to the Greeks, for the new intellectual consciousness had to develop with the spread of Hellenism. But now, at “the tremendous transition” beginning at the end of the fifteenth century C.E., a new, or better said renewed consciousness starts to unfold. As the new self-awareness of the Renaissance led to new developments in artistic vision and creativity, it seems particularly relevant that Shakespeare’s contemporaries spoke of London as a “new Troy”, no doubt influenced by the myth-making magus John Dee (1527–1608/9) and others. Brutus, great-grandson of Aeneas of the Trojan legend, for example, attended the Druid College near Totnes, Devon, before founding London, home of the later Globe Theatre. Art imitates life and life imitates art – fictional Leopold Bloom orders a glass of Burgundy and a Gorgonzola sandwich in Davy Byrne’s; visitors to the real Davy Byrne’s in Dublin on 16th June will be served the same in commemoration of Bloomsday.

Shakespeare devoted Troilus and Cressida – written about the same time as Hamlet – to the Trojan War. Troilus, it has been pointed out, is really the romantic side of Hector, who himself personifies Troy. Troilus-Hector is, as it were, one man (Hughes 200). Charles Williams points to the significance of this neglected play. [28] In Troilus’ crisis faced with Cressida’s philandering, the play pinpoints “the only interior crisis worth talking about”. Shakespearean crisis, he emphasises, includes but exceeds philandering: “Something cannot be. Only it is.” Experience of this magnitude, Williams observes, citing more tragic cases, is “the change with which Shakespeare’s genius was concerned”. It took the rest of the Bard’s career to work out. Ted Hughes [29] comments on the myth – Keats’ “allegory” – that enabled the author to carry it out. Venus and Adonis, combined with its secular reversal The Rape of Lucrece, together yield the tragic formula, the “mythic equation” in evidence from As You Like It onwards (first performed in 1598), right into the late plays with their eventual overcoming of tragedy. The mythic equation is no abstract theory; Ted Hughes recognised the solemn marriage of author and shadow, both of which have their pasts.

 

The pen is mightier than the sword

We turn now to a second of Steiner’s contributions. Speaking of the inspiration of the age and the importance of the first decade of the seventeenth century, Steiner (1917 and 1924) mentions four personalities – Shakespeare, Francis Bacon, Jakob Boehme and Jakob Balde. They shared the same Rosicrucian inspiration, represented on earth by “an initiated personality”. The identity of that personality, that “lästige Patron—difficult/ annoying patron”, is contested; Friedrich Hiebel [30] suggests James I is meant, and Richard Ramsbotham [31] argues similarly. Steiner speaks of a dual stream flowing from Britain. Bacon activated an empirical, materialistic natural science. This was mitigated by another stream that, Steiner emphasises, is crucial, “something which [the British, the Anglo-Saxon people] must not lose if they are not to fall utterly into materialism”. [32] This other stream, working against the grip of commercialism and materialism, derives from the “inoculations” initiated by James I.

The Bard managed to transform his conceivable initial, “official” task of justifying the Tudor monarchy. The playwright who intensely pursued and portrayed the painful pathway of self-knowledge – which, as we know, is the only real knowledge – was active mainly during Elizabeth’s reign. His offerings were also bound up with his relationship to her. Elizabeth herself, claims Charles Williams in his perceptive biography of James I, [33] “the spiritual godmother of James, … knew if that spiritual kinship held that he must inevitably win, and she must inevitably lose, the Crown that was still hers. He was fourteen and she was forty-seven…” in 1580. As soon as he began his reign in England, King James I, taking over de Vere’s troupe, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, and renaming them (May 1603) the King’s Men, did his best to promote Shakespearean productions. Furthermore, the second “good” Quarto of Hamlet (1604-5) appeared under a printer’s Gemini-designed headpiece with the royal coat of arms in the centre (reproduced here); a festival of seven Shakespearean plays was given at court for the Christmas season of that year. Does this tribute to the deceased author mark the beginning, and part of the referred-to “inoculations”? – a good word, for the plays are written in the author’s heart’s blood. The canon, the product of creative myth, is surely a major transforming influence in society. But how did James, in a capacity beyond his ambiguous earthly personality, inspire the sacrifices of the Bard? Clearly, more is meant than that James’ Daemonologie (1597) provided some information for the witches in Macbeth. James qualifies as a main player in Shakespeare’s story. With the murder – during his infancy – of his father, and the disreputably romantic escapades of his mother, James even shows a striking kinship to Hamlet’s situation. Art imitates life?

The verb “inspire” used in an esoteric context would seem to indicate the spiritual, or mythical level. It took a poet to research this level in the Bard. Ted Hughes delves deeply into Jaques (= Shax-père), as “self-representative”, discussing how myth and reality intertwine all three of that name (a name not found in Shakespeare’s sources): Melancholy Jaques, Jaques de Boys and Jaques le Grand. [34] Few would disagree that As You Like It and All’s Well That Ends Well (1598/9) mark a distinct entry into a new world. If we sense from this date on a towering and informing human inspiration, were the seeds planted even earlier? Aside from the erudition of James (Jacob/Jaques) and his political, theological, poetic and dramatic works, his strong claim to the throne of England backed up by the Anglo-Scottish League (1586) that smoothed his way, at one level undoubtedly qualifies James as a real-life “usurping” or “rival brother” (genetically, on the Oxfordian claim, second cousin) with all the creative tension that inspires. The two-brothers motif is sometimes called the Gemini myth; there is also the profoundly relevant myth of the twins Jacob and Esau in the Hebrew Bible. [35] In All’s Well, a third and sacred Jaques contains both “brothers” of the same name. The two brothers, in fact, may be taken as a long-established and resonant symbol of a “real” author and his/her Shadow, both going forward, as Blake would say, “from eternity to eternity.”

It has been pointed out, that de Vere’s part as juror at the trial (1587) of James’s mother Mary Queen of Scots, must certainly have disturbed him. The implications for the succession and the stimulus the event gave the unacknowledged English prince may have led him to create a (likely) first version of the Scottish play. “In all the plays… Macbeth is the only hero to live the fully aware inner lives of both these opposed figures [the irrational brother and Adonis] simultaneously” (Hughes 247). This play is unique in marking the crucial turning-point in the central Shakespearean double-myth of Venus-Adonis/ Tarquin-Lucrece. Adonis is portrayed not only becoming the Boar but also knowing the fact ­– the Boar (his tusks are Macbeth’s daggers) who is nevertheless still divine. Hughes’s profound thinking gives the lie to the much-repeated assumption that the playwright responds to public events. The Bard’s self-knowledge sets him demonstrably streaks ahead of everyone else, not least on the subject of topical references. As regards Macbeth, Kenneth Muir (editor of the Arden Second Series edition, 1984) concedes [36] as much: “Equivocation therefore links up with one of the main themes of the play, and the equivocator would have earned his place in the porter scene if Father Garnet had never lived or become involved in the Gunpowder Plot” of 1605.

However valid my initial suggestions here might appear in order to come to grips with Steiner’s claim for the “significant mystery” of James’s inspiration, the subsequent value of literature in an imperialist, consumer society is certainly inestimable – or subversive, depending on one’s view. “Beneath the rule of men entirely great,/ The pen is mightier than the sword”, writes Edward Bulwer-Lytton. [37] This famous saying seems relevant. In early 1601, lines from the play Sir Thomas More were marked by a government censor for deletion, while executions for the Essex rebellion proceeded apace. “The Murder of Gonzago” was indeed effective.

Though he claimed the Shakespeare authorship question is not an issue, Northrop Frye – perhaps the most influential literary critic of the twentieth century – in his life’s work on the whole “order of words” (Coleridge’s phrase) has accounted for the origins of literature in myth, that is, stories about “what is”. Oxfordians claim the Bard both lived his myth and re-expressed it in the canon. He develops all four of Frye’s “modes”: comedy, romance, tragedy, and irony/satire. [38] Adonis-Oberon/Bottom-Hamlet-Troilus/Hector-Anthony and Venus-Titania-Gertrude-Cressida-Cleopatra are artistic creations based on a real-life relationship. The perspective of the poets – that the Bard’s life was “an allegory” (Keats), a unique relationship of Spectre and Shadow (Blake); that his imagination was drawn to solve the deepest tragic issues (Williams), through the interior demands incumbent on a working-out of the “mythic equation” (Hughes) – appear to me to provide clinching concepts to reconcile apparently exclusive views arising from biographical and historical knowledge. Oxfordians, for example, claim that references to contemporary events cease after 1604 (Anderson 360); those who claim to detect the influence of James I assume certain plays were written after James came to England in 1603. The Tempest, we know, was performed for the betrothal of Princess Elizabeth and Frederick, the Elector Palatine, 27th December 1612. This does not indicate it was written just prior to that occasion, though some scholars speculate without any evidence that the nuptial masque could have been added. The date of composition of The Tempest – the crucial case – is now shown to be on or before 1603. [39] Frances Yates writes on the early years of the seventeenth century as an attempted “Elizabethan revival” [40] (my emphasis) of ideals, mythology and philosophy. An in-depth scrutiny should clear up the riddles, especially once the union of myth and biography is recognised. Why else does As You Like It end with the empty cave? Why else indeed does Haydn accompany “Go forth and multiply” (The Creation) with a plangent cello?

Nevertheless, there is a problem with the Hector–Hamlet pairing. Homer certainly portrays Hector as Steiner reports. But Hamlet is much more than the dithering cynic seen by the literary critics of Steiner’s day, and even our day. “Shakespeare’s Hamlet” – Steiner’s phrase in the lecture of 1912 – succumbs to the temptations of his father’s impure ghost, demanding revenge. Hamlet’s human nobility has to be systematically destroyed (Vyvyan). This situation is transcended in the later plays. “Hamlet”, as the playwright’s persona, does develop his inherent humanity, eventually metamorphosing into the magus Prospero who forgives those who had usurped him of his dukedom. Similarly we find Stephen Dedalus desperate to leave Ireland at the close of Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man, returning in Ulysses to proclaim as the last word of the “Telemachus” section, “Usurper!”, foreshadowing the Hamlet-motif. In this instance we know that the author has embedded some of his deepest feelings in the work. Should we not know equally about Shakespeare?

 

Sovereignty

The present article is one reader’s response to a unique scenario. Broadly speaking, early in life I met a rather sentimental view of a chameleon, instinctive playwright, but now I have been shown the disaffected pariah, bastard, prodigy and nameless man who suffered an acute identity crisis – all for love. It cannot be gainsaid that the search for the human being behind the literary creations comes into sharp focus when, in the case of Hamlet, creation and creator unite. The literary creation Hamlet reveals the author and his world, the Elizabethan court. If Beauclerk and the Oxfordians are right, the author himself, a cultural leader of our age, is difficult to identify as a country person. Shakespearean Stratford is largely an eighteenth-century invention of playwright and actor David Garrick and others, building up the rustic image the politicians wanted posterity to believe.

If this is so, the Bard would be the brilliant, unpredictable, troubled aristocrat at the heart of government, torn between feudal lord and bohemian. As an enthusiastic and, like his “rival brother” James I, no doubt also a “difficult/ annoying patron” of the re-born theatre, who kept at least one troupe of actors throughout his adult life, his theatrical career provided a mirror “to catch the conscience” of the Queen. [41] At the same time The Lord Chamberlain’s/ King’s Men perform in the public theatres. The Bard educates posterity, basically by founding the artistic use of the English language. Thirty-five of the thirty-six plays (the exception is Merry Wives) in the First Folio concern royalty and ducal personalities, focussing on their interior troubles and eventual transformation. In the playwright’s Hamlet – who himself wrote for and rehearsed a group of players, of which the leading actor demonstrated a speech from the fall of Troy, and who with his dying breath bids Horatio,

If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,

Absent thee from felicity awhile,

And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,

To tell my story.               (Hamlet V, ii)

– it is hard to disbelieve that we see portrayed the man who wrote Shakespeare.

In speaking to the eurythmists about the art of visible speech, [42] the first poet Steiner mentions is Shakespeare. He speaks of this poet as the chief wordsmith at a formative stage in the growth of the language. Max Müller (1861) claimed Shakespeare’s vocabulary was 15,000 words – later scholars claim up to 21,000 words –, about twice as much as Milton, who uses 8,000. The Oxford English Dictionary credits Shakespeare as using 3,200 words for the first time. That is, Shakespeare is sovereign of a much more extensive kingdom than that of the crowned monarch. If, then, Edward de Vere is the hidden author, he paid the personal price involved in having to renounce a royal destiny and indeed his very name as an author. The evidence is there in the Sonnets, the Bible markings and the relationship of the canon to the biography. In exchanging a temporal eminence, this poet “lived the life of allegory”, a “figurative” life for the sake of all users of the world’s most-used tongue – the English language. His influence reaches in translation even beyond this, of course. Inspired by his treacherous Venus, the Dark Lady, and his “rival brother” James, internalising all youthful military ambition, and – if my thesis is accepted – deeper still, changing a pre-Christian condition of soul by internalising and thus eventually surmounting all the thwarting circumstances of his life, the man who wrote Shakespeare became a spiritual world-sovereign whose reign has no foreseeable end. “In some way or other we in the English-speaking world have all become his subjects,” concludes Beauclerk (387).

 

Conclusion

If the historical records of the makings of our modern world have been manipulated, history needs re-writing, its implications for our age re-assessed. But this does not reduce art to biography and history. Do we really imagine the Shakespearean authorship question is superfluous, since we “have the plays”? Yet do we have them? For one lover of the Bard at least, the work of scholars to reveal the mythical and satirical inspirations of the flesh-and-blood author opens a deeper appreciation and renewed respect for that human being whose sacrifices led to sovereign art. Sitting at his feet, I learn even more about the creative process sustained against the heaviest odds. The Bard now emerges as probably the foremost subversive, dissident author – he is our contemporary.

In the present painful times, it is important to understand, to see through certain things while endeavouring to establish our own certainties and spiritual identity. Moreover, in the current squeeze on art that is forcing us all to be clear about our priorities and to commit ourselves, it is timely to realise to what good company all striving artists may be privileged to claim they belong. Beyond stating my belief that nobody saw earlier or further on the authorship question than Steiner, and who consequently provides the cornerstone, I might even learn to be grateful to the Cecils – the Machiavellian villains of the piece – for being the sand in the oyster. “To understand everything,” claims novelist George Eliot, “would be to pardon everything.” Despite disagreement concerning some details in the sketch outlined here, what essential facts are now missing from the story?

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

For this article, I acknowledge help from my friends, especially Neil Franklin, Ph.D., who made several valuable additions and suggestions. The weaknesses are all mine—A.S.

Headpiece: Printer’s headpiece appearing on the opening page of the “good” Quarto of Hamlet (1604-5) with the centrally inserted royal coat of arms.

 

[1] Coleridge assumed the conventional authorship of Shakespeare’s plays, while rejecting the facts of his life and character: “Ask your own hearts, – ask your own common sense – to conceive the possibility of this man… being the anomalous, the wild, the irregular, genius of our daily criticism! What! are we to have miracles in sport? – Or, I speak reverently, does God choose idiots by whom to convey divine truths to man?”

S.T. Coleridge. “Shakespeare’s Judgement equal to his Genius”. Lectures, 1818, in

Coleridge: Poems and Prose. Penguin Books: Harmondsworth. 1957. 240; also

“Old” Everyman, Coleridge’s Essays & Lectures on Shakespeare. London: Dent/ New York: Dutton. ND. 47.

[2] A.C. Bradley.  Shakespearean Tragedy. London: Macmillan. 1904.

[3] Online: www.archive.org/details/shakespeareident00looniala. Latest edition: Ruth Loyd Miller, ed. &  J. Thomas Looney. “Shakespeare” Identified in Edward de Vere, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. 2 vols., 3rd ed. Port Washington, NY/London: Kennikat, 1975.

[4] The present article explores aspects first broached in: Alan Stott. “Shakespeare: Who held the pen?” in Shakespeare Matters, Summer 2007, journal of The Shakespeare Fellowship; also Newsletter of the Section for the Arts of Eurythmy, Speech and Music, No. 47, Dornach. Michaelmas 2007. Internet access via the Fellowship or the Goetheanum websites, or direct www.alansnotes.co.uk (articles also in German).

[5] Rudolf Steiner. The Karma of Untruthfulness. Vol. 2. Lecture Dornach, 15 Jan. 1917. GA 174. London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1992. 131. Again in: Rudolf Steiner. Karmic Relationships. Vol. 2. Lecture Dornach, 12 April 1924. GA 236. Internet access, German originals – http://fvn-rs.net/index. Interestingly, the name “Shakespeare” occurs in the very first paragraph of Charles Williams’ biography Bacon. London: Arthur Barker/New York: Harper & Bros. 1933: “The mortal greatness of Francis lacked but one thing – he was not Shakespeare; his judgement lacked but one intelligence – he would not have supposed the subordination was on his side” (1). “[T]he real difference is metaphysical; it is between a man possessed of a particular vision of the universe and a man possessed of no vision but of the universe. It would be almost easier to believe that Bacon wrote Milton; the serious mind aspiring to schematize the universe is in both” (105; see also 310).

[6] Frances A. Yates. Shakespeare’s Last Plays. London: Routledge. 1975. 131. Am. title: Majesty and Magic in Shakespeare’s Last Plays. Germ. tr.  Shakespeares letzte Spiele. 1975. Fr. tr. Les dernières pièces de Shakespeare. Belin 2000. Sp. tr. Las últimas obras de Shakespeare. Fondo de Cultura Económica. 2001.

[7] Charles Beauclerk. Shakespeare’s Lost Kingdom: The true history of Shakespeare and Elizabeth. New York: Grove Press. 2010.

[8] Mark Anderson. Shakespeare by Another Name. The life of Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, the Man who was Shakespeare. New York: Gotham Books. 2005.

[9] Eric Sams. The Real Shakespeare: Reviving the early years, 1564-1594. New Haven & London: Yale University Press. 1995. A thorough and original attempt to map the first 30 years from the Stratfordian view.

[10] Alastair Fowler. Triumphal forms: Structural patterns in Elizabethan poetry. Oxford: OUP. 1970. 183-197.

[11] Hank Whittemore. The Monument. Marshfield Hills, Massachusetts. Meadow Geese Press. 2008. Websites: http://shakespearesmonument.comhttp://shakespearestreason.com/ etc.

[12] C.S. Lewis. English Literature in the Sixteenth Century excluding Drama. Oxford: OUP. Oxford. 1954. 505.

[13] “The suggestion that Shakespeare here alludes to a visit to the spa at Bath may be quietly ignored,” claims John Kerrigan (Shakespeare: Sonnets & A Lover’s Complaint, New Penguin Edition. 1986. 387). Why should rational humans choose to imitate the ostrich here? If the truth is to make us free, we need to face it. No doubt “the sonnets may be deft, but they are sordid too” (62). No doubt “sweating tubs (= baths) were used to cure the pox” in Jacobean London. A preoccupation with the hot water-tap does not preclude investigating the entire heating system – that is, the love-story of a royal couple, one party of which is the Bard himself – including the fact that a conception took place in the city of Bath, revealed in Hank Whittemore’s definitive edition of the sonnets (see endnote 11).

[14] Roger A. Stritmatter. The Marginalia of Edward de Vere’s Geneva Bible: Providential discovery, literary reasoning, and historical consequence. Ph.D. thesis, Univ. of Massachusetts Amherst. Feb. 2001. Northampton, MA 01060. Oxenford Press. Obtainable through the Shakespeare Fellowship website, and online: http://shake-speares-bible.com/dissertation/

[15] Elizabeth’s offspring according to Roberta Ballantine. Marlowe Up Close. Bloomington: Xlibris. 2007:

  • 1549 twins: Edward de Vere & Edward Manners, by Admiral Tom Seymour.
  • 1554 Philip Sidney, by Prince Philip of Spain.
  • 1556 twins: Mary de Vere & Philip Howard, by Prince Philip again.
  • 1558 Ferdinando Stanley, by Philip now King of Spain.
  • 1561 Francis Bacon, by Francis Walsingham.
  • 1561 Mary Sidney Herbert, by Robert Dudley (Elizabeth had secretly married him in 1560).
  • 1562 Robert Cecil, by Robert Dudley.
  • 1563 Robert Sidney, by Robert Dudley.
  • 1566 Robert Devereux, by Dudley, now Earl of Leiceister.
  • 1573 Henry Wriothesley, by Edward de Vere.

There appears to be good documentary evidence for the changes in Elizabeth’s dress sizes during the pregnancies: some of the original notes of measurements still exist.

[16] The portrait by Gheeraerts (c. 1592) is reproduced in Beauclerk (see endnote 7). An engraving (c. 1675–1700) by Cornelius Vermeulen of the Adriaen van der Werff (1659–1722) portrait in Trinity College, Dublin, is reproduced (opp. p. 129) & discussed in Jean Overton Fuller. Sir Francis Bacon: a biography. George Mann of Maidstone. 1994. 349-51. One child with a cloak buckled like a Roman Imperator holds a martyr’s palm (Essex?); the other holds a viol/ rudder with helm (secret musician/ poet holding the helm of the/ a kingdom: Oxford?) and sprigs of corn (resurrection symbol). A Theban sphinx (echoes of Oedipus?) is to be seen under the hand of the third child in the background (Arthur Dudley?). Image (prints available) on National Portrait Gallery website: http://npg.org.uk/

[17] Queen Margaret of Navarre [tr. Princess Elizabeth Tudor]. The Mirror of the Sinful Soul. London: Asher & Co. 1897. Facsimile reprint ed. Kessinger 2007. 83. Also, in modern letterpress: Elizabeth 1: Translations, 1544-1589, ed. Janet Müller & Joshua Scodel. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press. 2009.

[18] On King Lear, see, e.g., Shellee Hendricks “The Curiosity of Nations: King Lear and the Incest Prohibition”. Master’s thesis. McGill Univ. Montreal 1999. <digitool.library.mcgill.ca:8881/dtl_publish/5/30173.html>

[19] James Joyce. Ulysses. Intro. & notes by Declan Kiberd. Bodley Head 1992/ Penguin Books 2000.

[20] John Michell. Who Wrote Shakespeare? London & New York: Thames & Hudson. 1996. 169. Michell usefully summarises the candidates for authorship. He also recounts the discovery of Mr W. Hall of Hackney as “Mr W. H.”, 179-80. After a lecture (2004), Michell (1933–2009) said to the present writer that the evidence linking de Vere and the Sonnets fits “hand in glove”. This was said before Whittemore’s publication appeared in 2008 (see endnote 11 above).

[21] Beauclerk offers some revealing interpretations, e.g., of the early play A Midsummer-Night’s Dream (200-207). We know MND was first performed for the marriage of de Vere’s daughter Elizabeth to the Earl of Derby, prob. on Jan 26 1595, also prob. performed for the second marriage of Southampton’s foster-mother Mary Browne Wriothesley to Sir Thomas Heneage, May 2, 1595, then finally revised and performed for the wedding of Southampton (referred to as a “little changeling boy” and also represented by Demetrius) to Elizabeth Vernon 1598. The historical personalities are all represented in the play (see also Anderson 287-88; endnote 8 above).

[22] Rudolf Steiner. The Gospel of St Mark. Lecture I, Basel 15 Sept. 1912. GA 139. New York: Anthroposophic Press/ London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1986. Internet access: www.rsarchive.org (website for texts in Germ., see endnote 5 above).

[23] Rudolf Steiner. Theosophy. Chapter 2. GA 9. Germ. orig. ed. 1904. Internet access: www.sacred-texts.com/eso/theo/index.htm, or http://wn.rsarchive.org/Books/GA009/English/AP1971/GA009_index.html

[24] Saxo Grammaticus and the Life of Hamlet. Translation, history and commentary by William F. Hansen. Lincoln & London: Univ. of Nebraska Press. 1983. Saxo wrote the oldest extant literary account based on oral tradition of unknown age. Hanson states (2): “We have no reason to believe that Amleth is a historical character or that any of the events that Saxo relates… even happened, either in the pre-Christian period or later. At least there is no evidence to support a belief that Amleth has existed anywhere other than in story.”

[25] John Vyvyan. The Shakespearean Ethic. London: Chatto & Windus. 1959. A much valued study.

[26] Richard Meux Benson. The War-Songs of the Prince of Peace. 2 vols. London: John Murray. 1901. This tr. and commentary occupies a class of its own.

[27] Rudolf Steiner. Lecture Berlin, 28 October 1904.

[28] Charles Williams. The English Poetic Mind (1932). Reissued New York: Russell & Russell. 1963. 59.

[29] Ted Hughes. Shakespeare and the Goddess of Complete Being. London: Faber & Faber. 1992.

[30] Friedrich Hiebel. Das Drama des Dramas. Dornach 1984. 56-61.

[31] Richard Ramsbotham. Who wrote Bacon? London: Temple Lodge. 2004. The author – to whom I am personally indebted for several insights – mentions my earlier article in a footnote to his Afterword to the Germ. tr. (Jakob I. Basel: Perseus Verlag. 2008). Unfortunately, his brief reply to Oxfordian contentions betrays the customary misinformation. Like many people, Mr Ramsbotham scorns the idea of an educated nobleman replacing the inspired country person of the Stratfordian view. A country-person, though, could be at odds in the list: King David, Homer, Dante, Goethe…. However that is, the Bard celebrates the spiritual reality that we are all born in the purple. Self-knowledge is sovereign – as Ted Hughes explains, Macbeth eventually becomes Prospero. If Philipp. 2:7-11 presents the whole human blueprint, then transformation doesn’t drop out of the sky for anyone. Ramsbotham certainly recognises transforming power in the Bard (“Shakespeare and World Destiny”. The Golden Blade 49. Floris Books: Edinburgh 1997. 102-20), yet he apparently fails to appreciate the Bard’s real-life sacrifices as revealed by recent Oxfordian research. In my opinion, he consequently misapplies the important insights of conspiracy theory concerning a Western ruling élite. My text submits that the onus is on those who hold what is called the conventional or orthodox view, despite its 400-years standing, to answer the informed contention that the orthodox view originated in a political conspiracy.

[32] Rudolf Steiner. The Karma of Untruthfulness. Vol. 2. GA 174. London: Rudolf Steiner Press. 1992. 131.

[33] Charles Williams. James I. London: Arthur Barker.  1934. Reprinted: Eugene, Oregon: Wipf & Stock Publishers. 2008. 38.

[34] Ted Hughes 1992. 101-116, also note 431f. Jaques le Grand is only mentioned by name (As You Like It. III. iv. 4 and III. v. 35, also 95 “great Saint Jaques”). Through the theme of pilgrimage, Hughes also connects to St Jaques le Grand, alias St Iago of Compostella, Spain. The play, again, is partly set in Florence, near which is situated the church of San Giacorno d’Altopasis. That there is a church dedicated to St James the Great at Snitterfield near Stratford (Jonathan Bate, Soul of the Age. Penguin 2008. 39) relates neither to this play, nor to the canon. A good read, Bate’s informative book, however, with its anti-Oxfordian polemic and special pleading for William, nowhere affects the arguments in my text.

[35] Stephen Prickett, The Origins of Narrative. Cambridge: CUP. 1996, explores appropriation as fundamental to all development in literacy. Owen Barfield, “Israel and the Michael Impulse”, Anthroposophical Quarterly, Vol. 1, No. 1, Spring 1956, 2–9 (rsh-library@anth.org.uk), suggests the implied answer to Jacob’s question put to the wrestling angel regarding the latter’s name (Genesis 32:29) points to the very origin of literacy, i.e., the giving of the divine-human alphabet.

[36] Kenneth Muir, ed. Macbeth. The Arden Shakespeare Second Series. London & New York: Routledge. 1984. xxviii. The Jesuit leader Henry Garnet is believed to have written “A Treatise of Equivocation” c. 1595. Commentators, attempting to establish a late date for the Scottish play’s composition, also take the sole use in the canon of the word “combustion” (II, iii, 57) to allude to the Gunpowder Plot of 1605. Muir notes the word meant “tumult, confusion, especially of a political kind” (Arden Ed. 1951, corr. 1972. 62), cf. “combustion in the state” Hen. VIII, V, iv.

[37] Cardinal Richelieu in Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s play “Richelieu; or the Conspiracy” (1839); perhaps the author had Heb. 4:12 in mind.

[38] Northrop Frye. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton Univ. Press 1957. Penguin Books 1990. Summarised: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatomy_of_Criticism. Germ. tr. Analyse der Literaturkritik. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. 1964.

[39] Roger Stritmatter and Lynne Kositsky. A Moveable Feast: Sources, Chronology and Design of Shakespeare’s Tempest (forthcoming). See article: http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/tempest/kositsky-stritmatter%20Tempest%20Table.htm.

See also http://oberonshakespearestudygroup.blogspot.com

On the general question of dating:

http://www.shakespearefellowship.org/virtualclassroom/moore_datesofplays.html

[40] Frances A. Yates. The Rosicrucian Enlightenment. London: Routledge. 1972. Ark edition 1986. Routledge Classics 2001. Germ. tr.: Aufklärung in Zeichen des Rosenkreutzes. 1997. See also endnote 6 above.

[41] Every other playwright in the police state of Elizabethan England was at some time reprimanded or imprisoned for running foul of the censor – how did “Shakespeare” manage to escape this fate? The Oxfordian position provides a satisfactory answer to this question.

[42] Rudolf Steiner. Eurythmy as Visible Speech. Tr. Alan Stott. Weobley: Anastasi. 2005. Lecture, Dornach 24 June 1924. GA 279. ET. 33. Germ. ed. 50.

 

 

“Right balance between heaven and earth”

“Right balance between heaven and earth”: 

A Practical Inner Path for Musical Artists

Alan Stott, Stourbridge—U.K.

A text may be read for the information it contains – the “what”. To appreciate process and form, however, questions need to be asked, such as “how?” and “when?”, particularly a text on music, one of the time-arts. Precisely in Eurythmy as Visible Singing, Rudolf Steiner [1] reveals to his small audience of performing artists what he finds important in the accounts of spiritual science. The facts have to be correct, he admits, yet the essential contents are the processes, sequences, tension and resolutions. Like dreams, he adds, all this initially non-sounding experience can be written down “only in musical notation”. This indication points unmistakably to the rhythm of number, evident in such phenomena as grouping of notes, note values, use of scales, and measurement of metre through time signatures. Elsewhere, Steiner suggests the alternative is also to be practiced; we are to “learn to feel the inner relationships of numbers as a spiritual music”. [2] A basic example could be the eurythmy-forms for the intervals. [3] These, Steiner characterises, are produced “through the rhythm” into the will. Musical eurythmical forms, then, are experienced as three-dimensional, rhythmical creations.

Steiner also leaves further clues that his written style varies with his subject matter.[4] Throughout all his written work, Steiner kept strictly true to his own advice concerning “style”, that is, to use the chiastic form, pictured in the seven-branched candlestick. [5]. This reflective form (from the Gk.letter “chi”, X) allows a rhythmical self-reference, a feature of all music that continually quotes its past in order to move on. A seven-sentence rhythm is present throughout Steiner€™’s writings, supplying one answer to his indication, given in connection with catharsis and initiation, to read texts of spiritual science as a pianist reads musical scores. [6]

Steiner himself, then, clearly employs musical principles to fulfil his task as a world-teacher. The eurythmist, he says, [7] is to portray experience of musical and speech sounds. He demands much more than exercises in “spelling”. With his introductory words to Eurythmy as Visible Speech, Steiner directly mentions the importance “in every branch of eurythmical activity… the personality of the eurythmist should be brought into play”. [8] Speech works with the forces of the “I”, through which the Spirit-Self shines. The astral body is the musician in us. [9] With music the ego “dives into” the astral element; music reveals “the laws of the ego/the ‘I’”. [10] Consequently, it could be helpful for practicing musical artists to pause and express these laws in language – even if aphoristic at times –, to glance at selected features in the lectures that inaugurated the new art of “eurythmy as visible singing”.

The Eightfold Path

For the personal development of the musical, eurythmical artist, Steiner evokes a specific educational help based on number and process. This self-reflective teaching was first given to the world by the Buddha, modernised and summarised by Steiner [11] in connection with the development of the 16-petalled lotus-flower in the region of the larynx. Adam Bittleston [12] characterises the Eightfold Path as “relevant indeed to all the ways in which the astral body needs to be brought into a renewed right balance between heaven and earth”. The Eightfold Path, down-to-earth and eminently helpful for artists, I submit, informs each of the eight lectures of Eurythmy as Visible Singing, attaining specific mention through the lecturer’s admonitions and meaningful humour. [13] Steiner steers a path between, let’s say, “too little heaven, and too little earth”, or in other words, naturalism and abstraction in art, to which no-one is exempt.

The early eurythmist Elena Zuccoli (1901–1996) suggests [14] a related eightfold overview. The lectures contain the principles of a path of practice with educational power;

you can feel them like a scale from keynote to octave, but you can also use this sequence of the lectures as an ideal pattern for teaching music-eurythmy in the training. In the given sequence of eurythmical laws, the artist finds a support for his/her imagination and rich suggestions for artistic ways of fashioning… [Zuccoli adds:] “Everything in this lecture-course was completely new for us.”

An “ideal pattern” can no doubt help with making timetables and neat lesson-plans, but more concretely with the actual artistic deepening to unite content and form, material and technique. A “path” implies development and change; an artistic training is intentionally personal. The musical scale, the lecture-course and the Eightfold Path ultimately originate from the same source in the human being, summed up as the numerical series “One to Eight”. No imported “tradition” is taught or explicitly mentioned; the connections are intrinsic, awaiting discovery. [15]

Following the “scale” of eight lectures, we now offer an initial quasi-meditative commentary based on the practical advice of the Eightfold Path, which – with the Beatitudes of Matthew’s gospel (chap. 5) – Steiner relates to the 16-petalled lotus flower. [16]

 

“Eurythmy as Visible Singing”

Lecture I

The word Verständnis, “understanding”, is used five times at the very beginning of this course of eight lectures. (5) (Numbers in round brackets refer to page numbers.) Eurythmy is only somehow complete when an audience is present; in portraying the sounds of speech and musical sound, the eurythmical gestures are to embody experience. The word “understanding” returns later in Lecture 1 (three times on p. 10,where the word “artistic” appears five times): without a knowledge of the nature of the human being and the capacity to pour yourself as a “whole human being” into theartistic event, you cannot achieve authenticity.

Right or Complete Understanding/ View/ Opinion is the first step on the Eightfold Path. Like The Highway Code for road users, this stage already contains a picture or seed of the ultimate practical goal, viz. practising, autonomous artists. The lecture-course itself at the very least is a “Highway Code” for eurythmists. Neither driving nor eurythmy can be learnt from any book; both texts simply provide guidelines for conduct. It cannot be denied that Steiner’s teaching, given orally as living words, is to assist the process of liberation precisely from all self-inflicted limitations.

Lecture II

The joke about a “tired” eurythmist being “a caricature” is a hint at the second stage on the Eightfold Path: Right Thought or Decision/ Judgement – decide on meaningful actions. In its negative symbolism the number two is the number of division, positively it expresses productive polarity. Steiner’s joke raises the question, when is an artist not an artist? – that is, not specifically, or professionally in creative mode: he “cannot always be at it”. (20) When, for example, away from the canvas or the instrument, when not moving on the boards – in private life, perhaps tidying the place, cooking, out shopping, or driving – surely these activities, too, can all become artistic? Through exercising a homeopathic principle – “a little and often” – and by the grace of God, the whole of human life is to become an art.

This introduces deeper considerations, hinging on the concept of paradox, a word emphasised here by Steiner. Lecture 2 is full of productive polar activity; dual conceptions are also mentioned. Pain and suffering contrasting with joy are necessities, the lecturer maintains, out of which human expression arises in the first place. Here Steiner answers the age-long question about the origin of music. From its very beginnings, music expresses inner experience of soul-and-spirit “living and vibrating here and now” on this earth. [17]

The second step of Christian initiation is the schooling in how to meet pain: the Master did not conceal an escape route. In eurythmy “the whole human being is to become a sense organ”. (16) A eurythmist is “to become in some respects a new human being”. (20) “Poor me”, then, or even “wonderful me” is left behind; a new inner life undermining our fixations is begun.

Lecture III

Right Speech or Communication is the third step on the Eightfold Path. Speech formation contains “a hidden eurythmy” (26); it counteracts the degenerate situation of speech today. Coming to terms with materialism is a main concern of Lecture 3, where death is encountered. The third Beatitude promises that “the meek” – not the materialists – “will inherit the earth” (Ps 37:11 refers to Palestine; Matthew means “the Kingdom”). The word “meek” has changed its meaning over the centuries; “patient” and “long-suffering” are alternative translations. The meek are the non-self-assertive; “He who says ‘I’ in me” can speak with them. Moses and Jesus were meek (Num. 12:3, Matt. 11:29). Gerald Heard [18] suggests the Greek work for “the meek” really means “the trained”, the training being the life of the spirit. Right Speech respects the spirit, which is divine action. Spirit continually renews life. The musical descending seventh brings “life to the lifeless” (25); the raising of the sensory element to etheric experience results from finding the middle way between naturalism and abstraction. Finding the “melody in the single note” (29) between memory and expectation is proposed, one of several triads in Lecture 3. Speech belongs to the “I”; Christoph Rau, [19] discussing the Eightfold Path renewed during the mealtimes of Luke’s gospel, discusses Luke 8: 1-9:50 which includes the Parable of the Sower [of the Word]. In lecture 3 the three planes are introduced withthe three-dimensional cross. We are “to enter” and “make use” of it; the verbs in the gospels are “take up” and “follow” (Matt 16:24; Mk 8:34; Luke 9:23 adds “daily”; John 12:26 adds “where I am, there shall my servant be”).

Lecture IV

The fourth step on the Eightfold Path is Right Action or Deed. The down-to-earth reference in Lecture 4 is the appeal to the difference between “two eurythmists, one of whom is an intellectual… virtuoso”, the other “an artist” (43). What is Right Deed for the artist? Mediocrity is not implied in either executant – mastery is surely assumed – neither is Steiner condemning a certain specialisation. Rather, as a criterion for human art the lecturer is contrasting the integrity of the artist with the fragmentation of the virtuoso – wholeness and harmony versus estrangement and disintegration.

The appeal in Lecture 4 (39) is uncompromisingly expressed:

You see, the presentation of eurythmy quite especially reveals that the melody takes up the actual spirit and carries it on. Fundamentally speaking, everything else does not add the spirit of the musical element, being at all events a more or less illustrative element.

In Lecture 4 (40), too, artistic method is described – to become centred, to unite with the three-dimensional, etheric cross of movement:

It is really true to say: “As a physical human being I mark the beat; as etheric human being, the rhythm; as astral human being I am the evolver of melos; it is thus that I appear before the world” (In the original German, the word Ich, “I”, occurs once).

In Christian initiation, “Bearing the Cross” is the fourth stage. The cross is Yahweh’s throne, His “chariot” (e.g., I Chron. 28:18; Ezek. 1; Sirach 49:9; Psalms 80:1; 104:3; 68:17). It is also the Tree of Life (Gen. 2:9) in the midst (not “between”) of heaven (Rev./Apoc. 4 and 22:2). The central sanctuary of the Hebrew nation, the Hekal (the “Holy of Holies”) was a cube room, the sides of which, when extended, form the three-dimensional cross. It was heaven. It pictures the upper chest region of the human being, exempt from the attacks of the adverse powers. Moses heard “the voice of one speaking unto him… between” the wings of “the two cherubims” (Num. 7:89), that is, between the shoulder-blades. “Yahweh’s magic breath enters directly into the spatial, physical human being”. [20] We recognise the point of departure for singing gesture. [21] The Debir (the “Holy”) was the Garden of Eden. [22] At the very end of the lecture and exactly mid-way in the lecture-course, eurythmy therapy is mentioned. The expression “Out you go!” (46), addressed to unmusical [decadent] nature inman, ultimately derives from the permanent, continuing presence of the Mystery of Golgotha. The expression “second coming” does not occur in the New Testament; He has come. “His Cross was made, not of wood, but of love”; [23] it is personal. It is also thethreshold to all the worlds. [24]

Lecture V

Lectures 1–4 has for the most part addressed the experience of the individual. A single step is taken with the gestures for both the major and the minor triads (Lecture 1); breaths (Schwünge) between phrases have been introduced, also the bar line (Lecture 4). The first real mention of moving with others comes at the beginning of Lecture 5. Choral eurythmy is “the concerted working of a number of persons” (47). The fifth step on the Eightfold Path is Right Livelihood or Profession. Rather than take matters “schematically”, the lecturer says, eurythmy colleagues – actual human being – open up further artistic possibilities. We are not shown a philosophy, theology or ethics different from the systematic schools, but the great deliverance from them; the human essence is brought into play. At the heart of the lecture-course “the metamorphosis of salt” is mentioned. (46) Salt preserves; its cubic crystal symbolises the earth fourth stage of cosmic evolution. As members of humanity in the present fifth post-Atlantean epoch, we may join all transforming work that concentrates the whole of human endeavour. The effort to “raise the physical human being” (70) is arduous, but it may lead to receive “power to become the sons of God” (John 1:12).

“Five,” Steiner says, confirming the negative symbolism, “is the number of evil”. [25] The reference in Lecture 5 to the obstinate fact of “bodily hindrances and impediments” (55) recognises the presence of sickness and evil, or Sin and Death, in their true form – in Christian initiation, “Descent into Hell”. Sin is “lawlessness” (I John 3:4): chaos, rebellion, apostasy. Steiner criticises neither the perishing human race, nor the atonal concept that proposes release; he offers practical help. Can we “love the visible world”? No other verb will suffice. The word “love” is used five times in Lecture 5, to counter “hate” also used five times. Redemptive love begins with the consciousness-soul; Christian initiation speaks of “Mystic Death”. Words spoken to Nathaniel (John 1:47) really mean, “You belong to the fifth grade of the Mysteries and have overcome all deception of the sensory world” – including naturalism of sensory sound and theoretical abstraction about it, that, to use a phrase of Luther, would throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Expressions in Lecture 5, such as “freedom to carry out each individual movement beautifully” (53) and “true human dignity” (55) indicate a growing responsibility. Love of and for the resurrection body is meant, lovingly and scientifically described in detail especially in Lecture 7. A freedom from constraints exists, it is true, as well as a freedom for spontaneity. In the two texts Steiner [26] recommends for eurythmy students, the middle way of artistic risk aims at a new creativity, a new naivety – music-critic Alfred Einstein calls this “a re-born innocence”, re-born because fully aware. The goal of both recommended texts is integrated personalities living in civic freedom. Schiller claims human beings exercising the “play-drive” are to become a work of art. Steiner’s “ethical individualism” born of vision, is neither idiosyncratic nor dictatorial but social, enabling contributions in productive living. Is not most talk of “freedom” sentimental moonshine and/or adolescent growing pains?

Precisely in Lecture 5, the T A O-exercise is given to people living and working in the fifth post-Atlantean epoch. It is one of Steiner’s greatest eurythmical attempts to assist the Spirit’s slow healing of mankind’s congenital sickness, termed in theology “original sin”, or the Fall of Man This exercise concerning the “body as instrument” (54) is for “inner strength… to carry over into all your eurythmy” (56) leading to inner suppleness and a deepest awareness of the point of departure for singing gesture itself in the physical body. Alignment to that centre counteracts the Fall of Man. The unified, perfected human being who “surrenders to T A O… renew[s] creation” writes Martin Buber. [27] As in the Grimms’ fairy-tale “Little Briar Rose/ Hawthorn Blossom”, Nature’s enchantment can be lifted.To live in harmony with both nature and spirit is Right Livelihood.

Lecture VI

With a concrete example of painting a picture “of a house” (63), a reference to the sixth step on the Eightfold Path is indicated: Right Effort or Striving. The activity of drawing – no doubt justified as a technical explanation of a visual object – from the hands of a master will even supersede a technical category. Steiner’s drastic language, taken in the context of his examples, suggests that the drawn line is an artistic lie. The sixth Beatitude concerns ultimate seeing (Matt. 5:8). We pursue the theme: Steiner, scrupulous in his use of terminology, speaks of “Kunsterkenntnis—knowledge/appreciation of art”, never (that I am aware) “theory”. For the productive artist there is no division between theory and practice. There is “no such thing as drawing”, neither an acoustic science to interest the artist qua artist (Lecture 8. 80), nor, consequently, in music is there a “music theory”. Of course, the subject presents an educational challenge; rudiments need to be explained – but how? The Waldorf-School class-teacher, too, is to introduce the alphabet, mathematics, and indeed all subjects with as much imagination as he can summon. Explanations and attempts at musical appreciation exist which are extremely helpful, inasmuch as appeal is made to musical processes and experience. Did not the author of The Philosophy of Freedom, mentioning the principles of musical composition, claim: “All true philosophers were artists in the realm of concepts.” [28] Where would we be without the sympathetic and inspiring musicians and musicologists –indeed, of Steiner’s own examples in the lecture-courses on eurythmy?

Meditative consciousness (“awake dreaming”) is described in Lecture 6, with the suggestion (mentioned at the outset) of putting a specific part of Occult/Esoteric Science—an Outline into music. This “outline” summarises the mind of the Creator-Logos. Steiner’s suggestion, with its far-reaching relationship between art, anthroposophy and the Christ-Impulse, is directly made to creative artists. The First Goetheanum revealed human, cosmic laws, hence it “was musical, it was eurythmical”(49); it was a “House of the Word”. The Goetheanum was as the cake-mould is to the cake; the cake being “the right feelings and right thoughts” of those within the building. [29] The sixth degree of Christian initiation is “Entombment”, or “Burial”: becoming united to the earth. The earth becoming a new Sun: Resurrection.

Lecture VII

The phrase “esoteric realm” (77) in connection with the instrumental awakening of the eurythmist, points to the seventh step on the Eightfold Path, Right Mindfulness, summed up as Right Memory/ Remembrance – learn as much as possible from life, in its wholeness. “Seven is the number of perfection.” [30] Eurythmy can claim to be sacramental, in the sense Steiner already outlines in his first writings [28] and to which he remained true throughout his life.

Becoming aware of the idea within reality is the true communion of the human being. Thinking in relationship to ideas signifies the same as the eye for light, the ear for sound. It is an organ of perception.

This perceptive, active thinking is eurythmy: firstly, speaking of the instrument – “intuitive vision” (67) directed to the limbs is a thinking with the whole body; and secondly as an expressive art – “the ear for sound”, both speech sound and musical sound. Living sound itself expresses the human being; it is portrayed in eurythmy by the whole human being. Inner life and manifestation, reflection and action are unified; intention and motif coincide. When this superseding of dualism occurs, action is at once moral (meaningful) and spontaneous and consequently free.

Lecture VIII

The final words of Lecture 7, “in retrospect complement our studies”, point to the final step on the Eightfold Path – Right Concentration: “gently taking counsel with ourselves, shaping and testing our basic principles of life”, [32] and, quite practically here, discussing the music with the player. “On the esoteric path, we must be aware that what matters in not ‘good intentions’, but what we actually do.” [33] Harmony of our thoughts and words with the events in the outer world helps the gift of clairvoyance, the development of the sixteen-petal lotus flower. Bittleston [34] comments:

The eighth exercise of the path, which in a sense includes all the others, calls for an inner life that leads to genuine self-knowledge. This can seldom be achieved directly, simply by looking at ourselves; objective standards, and a lively understanding of our environment, are needed first. From these, we can glance back towards ourselves.

Discussing the phrasing – “It simple belongs to the matter” (87) – is a comment on the artistic profession; for Steiner music and eurythmy are not separable. Playing for eurythmy is a new branch of the profession, not quite the same as the work of a répétiteur. The “matters” that “need correction” rightly refer to the practising artists themselves. Steiner’s comment to discuss phrasing with the player is far removed from advocating “be nice” to your musician, which can be rather patronising. Musicians are forgiving, but there are limits to what is bearable.

Artists practise method, never such a creature as “theory”. Steiner’s mission – to track thoughts to their origin – was likewise essentially creative. He did it by researching normal thinking activity as distinct from its product “thought”. As a creative activity, eurythmy, too, is not separable from life, for everyone – including the audience – is engaged on the inner path whether they know it or not. Aware of the inner path, I may yet be under some grand illusions of my progress. The circuit from composer, via the interpreter/s, via the audience and back to the composer has to be complete for a spontaneous, artistic event to take place. [35] Artists are servants from the first note to the last. In other words, the activity of persons in relation – practical ethics – with a study-of-man as its spiritual-scientific basis, turns out to be the really essential thing. Eurythmy is not only “visible singing” and “visible speech”, but also “visible karma”.

Unspoken lectures

Steiner finally speaks of “fourteen” lectures (87). If the eight that were given relate to the 16-petalled lotus flower in the region of the larynx (eight petals are given; eight are to be developed), then the six unspoken lectures may have related to the 12-petalled lotus flower of the heart (six petals are given; six are to be developed). Feeling “inner warmth or inner cold” (87) when practising “is what inner life is”; it characterises the 12-petalled lotus flower. [36] With this link, Steiner may have enlarged on the divine-human system of angle-gestures; here number becomes geometry. This comprehensive solar angle-system, with its stroke of genius combining the 12 and the 7, reveals the musical system of humankind. The angle-gestures give the possibility of portraying both the clarity and the expressive nuances of musical experience that, like study of the human being, has no foreseeable end. [37]


GA = Gesamtausgabe. Rudolf Steiner, Collected Edition of complete works. Dornach. Online:http://fvn-rs.net/index/. Many titles and lectures are available in English: www.rsarchive.org/

RB = Rundbrief. Newsletter of the Section for the Art of Eurythmy, Speech and Music. Biannual, Dornach. E.T. by M. & A. Stott. Online registration: abo@dasgoetheanum.ch

Tb = Taschenbuch. Paperback edition, Rudolf Steiner Verlag, Dornach.

For earlier articles by the present writer: www.alansnotes.co.uk

[1] R. Steiner. Eurythmy as Visible Singing. GA 278. Lecture 6. Dornach. 25 Feb. 1924. 59. Weobley: Anastasi 2011. Tr. with commentary by Alan Stott. Contains J.M. Hauer’s manifesto Interpreting Melos (1923).

[2] R. Steiner. Mythen und Sagen: Okkulte Zeichen und Symbole. GA 101. Lecture, Cologne. 29 Dec. 1907.

[3] R. Steiner. The Essence of Music… GA 283. Lecture, Stuttgart. 8 Mar. 1923. New York: Anthroposophic Press. 1983.

[4] R. Steiner. Occult/Esoteric Science—an Outline. GA 13. Foreword to 4th ed. 1913.

[5] R. Steiner. Speech & Drama. GA 282. Lecture 3. Dornach. 7 Dec. 1924. See Alan Stott. “’The Philosophy of Freedom’ as a musical work of art: the 7-sentence rhythm of love” in RB 44, Easter 2006; RB 45, Michaelmas 2006; RB 51, Michaelmas 2009. Dornach.

[6] R. Steiner. The Gospel of St John. GA 103. Lecture, Hamburg. 31 May 1908.

[7] R. Steiner. Eurythmy as Visible Singing. GA 278. Lecture 1. Dornach. Feb. 1924. 1.

[8] R. Steiner. Eurythmy as Visible Speech. GA 279. Lecture 1. Dornach. 24 June 1924. Anastasi: Weobley 2005. 28. “Personality” is the correct traditional word.

[9] R. Steiner. The Essentials of Education. GA 308. Lecture, Dornach. 10 April 1924, a.m.

[10] R. Steiner. Art as Seen in the Light of Mystery Wisdom. GA 275. Lecture, Dornach. 29 Dec. 1914.

[11] R. Steiner. Knowledge of the Higher Worlds—How is it achieved? GA 10. Chap. 5. “The fact that these conditions [of development] correspond with certain teachings of the Buddha is no reason for not finding them true in themselves” (tr. Metaxa, rev. Monges. Anthroposophic Press: New York. 1947. 146/ tr. Metaxa, rev. Osmond & Davey. Rudolf Steiner Press: London. 1969. 128). “The student… can now have positive knowledge that a Buddha or the Evangelists did not utter their own revelations but those which flowed into them from the inmost being of all things” (AP 170. RSP 146).

[12] Adam Bittleston. “Traffic and Character”. The Golden Blade 1968. 107-23 (esp. 116-21). Emphasis original. Photocopies from rsh-library@anth.org.uk.

[13] Alan Stott. “Character and Conduct in GA 278”. In 3 parts. RB 35, 36 & 37. Michaelmas 2001, Easter 2002 & Michaelmas 2002. The present article is based on this essay.

[14] Elena Zuccoli. Ton- und Lauteurythmie. Walter Keller: Dornach. 1997. 39. Tr. A. S. Emphases original.

[15] Some aphoristic suggestions can found in my edition, Appendix 8 (see Endnote 1).

[16] R. Steiner. An Esoteric Cosmogony. Lecture. Paris. 6 June 1906. GA 94. Dornach 1979. Eng. Spiritual Science Lib. 1987.

[17] R. Steiner. The Arts and their Mission. Lecture, Dornach. 2 June 1923. AP: Spring Valley, New York. 36.

[18] Gerald Heard. Training for the Life of the Spirit. Cassell: London. 1941. 6.

[19] Christoph Rau. “The Eightfold Path in Luke”. Perspectives. Mar. 2002–Mar. 2003. Floris Books. Edinburgh. Tr. A. S. from: Die Christengemeinschaft. Jan–Mai 1990. 14-18; 66-71; 130-35; 189-94; 222-27. Stuttgart. See also Chr. Rau. “Das Rätsel des Lukas” in Das Goetheanum. Nr. 50. 15. Dez. 1991. Dornach. Tr. A. S. in MS.

[20] R. Steiner. The Balance in the World and Man. GA 158. Lecture, Dornach. 21 Nov.1914. Steiner Book Centre: N. Vancouver. 1977.

[21] On five other occasions in 1924, Steiner spoke on Ansatz, the point of departure for singing gesture, quoted more fully in Endnote 57 of my commentary (see Endnote 1 above): Bern, 15 April 1924. GA 309; Stuttgart, 10 April 1924, a.m. GA 308; Dornach, 9 Sept. 1924. GA 318; Stuttgart, 30 April 1924. GA 277a. 140; and a report by Albert Steffen. Dante und die Gegenwart. Essays. Dornach. 1965. 59.

[22] Margaret Barker. The Gate of Heaven. SPCK: London. 1991. Margaret Barker. The Revelation of Jesus Christ. T&T Clark: Edinburgh. 2000.

[23] George Matheson. Landmarks of New Testament Morality. Nisbet: London 1888. 244. Online:www.archive.org

[24] René Guenon. The Symbolism of the Cross. Sophia Perennis: Ghent. 2001.

[25] R. Steiner. Occult Signs and Symbols. Lecture, Stuttgart. 15 Sept 1907. GA 101. Anthroposophic Press: New York 1972. 32f.

[26] During the Faculty Meeting. Stuttgart. 30 April 1924. GA 277a. 142: (a) FriedrichSchiller. On the Aesthetic Education of Man in a Series of Letters. Bilingual ed. E.M.Wilkinson & L.A. Willoughby. OUP: Oxford 1954/83. Definitive tr. with commentary. Tr. alone in Friedrich Schiller. Essays. Continuum: New York. 2001. 86–178. (b) R. Steiner. The Philosophy of Freedom. GA 4.

[27] Marin Buber. “The Teaching of the T A O” (1910). Pointing the Way: Collected Essays. Humanity Books: New York. 1999. 31-58. Quotation, p. 54.

[28] R. Steiner. GA 4. Foreword to 1894 ed., rev. 1918. Emphases original.

[29] R. Steiner. The Balance… GA 158. Lecture, Dornach. 21 Nov. 1914. 30f.

[30] R. Steiner. Occult Signs and Symbols. Lecture, Stuttgart. 15 Sept. 1907. GA 101. 43.

[31] R. Steiner. Higher Worlds. GA 10. AP 1947. 140f./ RSP 1969. 124.

[32] R. Steiner. Goethean Science. GA 1. Mercury Press: Spring Valley. New York. 1988.91. Emphases original.

[33] R. Steiner. Higher Worlds. GA 10. AP 141/ RSP 124.

[34] Adam Bittleston. “Traffic…” The Golden Blade 1968. 121.

[35] Hermann Pfrogner. Zeitwende der Musik. Langen Müller: München & Wien. 1986. 234.

[36] R. Steiner. Higher Worlds. GA 10. AP 1947. 147/ RSP 1969. 129.

[37] See Maren Stott. “Eurythmy and the Musical System, with Emphasis on the DiatonicScale”. 2007; “Awakening in Eurythmy Students an Artistic Feeling for the Gestures ofthe Musical Scale”. 2008. www.alansnotes.co.uk

Round pegs…? Debussy & Eurythmy

Book Review: Sylvia Eckersley. Number & Geometry in Shakespeare’s Macbeth

Sylvia Eckersley, ed. Alan Thewless. Number and Geometry in Shakespeare’s Macbeth: the Flower and the Serpent. 7 appendices. Numbered First-Folio text of Macbeth. 8 plates. 43 figs. 346 pp. Floris Books. Edinburgh 2007. ISBN 978-086315-592-5. R.r.p. £20.

The post-boxes in Greece are labelled with words looking like “esoteric” and “exoteric” – our “inland” and “abroad”. On this distinction, “the authorship question”, in seeking for hidden clues, is “esoteric”; literary detection pursues an “inland” question. But what of the painstaking efforts of studying the texts and marshalling all the evidence to trace the creative processes of the Bard? By seeking to establish facts this research is scientific; in seeking to interpret the evidence it is also artistic and critical. Is, then, this activity esoteric, exoteric, or perhaps both together?

Readers of “Shakespeare Matters”, already used to the search for hidden clues, will welcome a new revelation of the structure of Bard’s plays. Sylvia Eckersley explores Macbeth with the new-old concept of symmetry, known as chiasm (from the Greek letter chi, X). Developed from parallelism, it was found in the Psalms (Thomas Boys) and even throughout the Bible (E.W. Bullinger. The Companion Bible).

Sylvia Eckersley – related to Thomas Huxley and daughter of an eminent scientist noted for his radar research – claims to have discovered symmetrical forms for the plays. Simply put, there is a mid-point around which the lines of text – including the prose and the stage directions– relate like gigantic menorahs: first and last lines, second and penultimate, and so on. In addition, there are also relationships around mid-act and mid-scene points, and significant number rhythms. The lineation is that of the First Folio (1623). This emerges as an esoteric text, challenging its accepted reputation as a botched job. The lines at the exact centre of Macbeth are:

Macb. See they encounter thee with their harts thanks
Both sides are even: here Ile sit I’ th’ mid’st
The results of a lifetime’s work are encapsulated in circular, geometrical figures, each accompanying an entire play. With their act-”wings”, they look at first like astrolabes. What is the use of all this? These templates, we are shown, provide an objective method to discover the Bard’s deeper meaning. In the worked example, Macbeth, even darker revelations of the main characters’ motivation challenge the play’s conventional interpretation. An exact reading of the text, including the layout and punctuation, reveals ambiguities and an alternative plot.

What exactly is Lady Macbeth’s relationship with King Duncan? What, too, are the circumstances of her death? Why does Shakespeare give Lady Macbeth two references to nursing? She goes on to suggest a violent, murderous deed. If she did have a child by Duncan, is this what became of him? What is this “darling” doing hidden in an act-centre as the Porter’s “Le-cherie”? and Macbeth’s final words in Act II, 2, “Making the Greene one, Red”?

We get an even more disturbing play than the one we thought we knew, one in which we can also sympathise more with the main characters. The evidence for all the insights is the only original, the First-Folio, text. Why hidden? An ephemeral sex-and-violence drama was clearly not the Bard’s intention.

Eckersley, a scrupulously disciplined author, avoids speculation. But just how significant, in context, is her discovery? Nature herself is symmetrical, certainly geometrically ordered, right up to the human skeleton. Interestingly, nature’s abundance is not usually termed “uniformity”. The editor suggests the analogy of architecture. Studies show that every inch was planned of, for example, Stonehenge, the Great Pyramid and Chartres Cathedral. These monuments are models of the universe. We can think, too, of the latest research (Hertha Kluge-Kahn; Helga Thoene) on Bach’s instrumental cycles revealing a Christian cabbalist using traditional techniques of – for our intellects – seemingly super-human mathematical-musical complexity. All this is employed for the composer’s own expressive purposes. Without words, Bach praises his Creator by attempting to create after His pattern through a hidden plan based on a unifying concept. Informed ideas on “inspiration” are becoming ever more concrete, and could interest readers. Yet we still meet the attitude, “Who cares who penned the plays” a backwoodsman or an English nobleman – we have the plays!”

Well, do we? Eckersley carefully presents a new method which could take Shakespearean interpretation on to a new, comprehensive level of objectivity. The template and number-rhythms she identifies challenge our complacencies. Her discoveries come at a time when advances in appreciating megalithic science, to more recent architectural and musical masterpieces, all proclaim that we live in a universe of meaning. Great artists, researching “what is”, consistently show that the “irrational” and creative mind can be researched – usually termed “self-knowledge”. The grand illusion and fear of our “subjective” and “irrational” selves, facing the apparently “objective” world seemingly “out there”, become united in a world of correspondences in which we live. The Bard, Bach, and the builders of Chartres Cathedral were hardly backwoodsmen. For them the world is one with the undivided human being.

The binary-system mind-set has to be superseded, – and betimes; For ’tis most dangerous. Western Baconian science is a chapter overlaying our indigenous holistic science, on which the Bard draws. It is not true, as Richard Dawkins evangelises, sentimentally confusing applied science with scientific method, that we need to choose between the rational and irrational. Today, grateful for Hume’s skepticism and the Enlightenment, we still await an accepted, inclusive scientific method to account for all the phenomena. Binary “right-or-wrong”, “either-or” mentality would eliminate all ambiguity, all metaphor, all poetry. The threatened control of globalisation, moreover, caricatures an achievable unity proclaimed by the poetic imagination. In his detailed analysis of tragedy and its overcoming, Shakespeare is streaks ahead, ever addressing the real issue of keeping whole. If “We are such stuff/ As dreams are made on”, then conceivably we shall one day wake up.
In this perspective, I doubt whether the play-figures discovered by Eckersley were cast in bronze and hidden in Wilton House (argued in chapter 11). Along with Bach, a comparable mathematical genius, the Bard employs his advanced consciousness in creating – after all, neither do chess players use pocket calculators.
The author, who knew Macbeth and other plays by heart – literally forwards and backwards – died in 2001. On the day of her death, charitable status was awarded to the Sylvia Eckersley Foundation which holds her literary estate. To G. Wilson Knight’s “interpretations”, the insights of John Vyvyan, Ted Hughes and others, students are now offered a further powerful research tool.

Both exoteric/ esoteric, and scientific/ artistic categories, as such, become increasingly superseded as more is revealed of the astonishingly comprehensive and prophetic mind of the Bard himself. Eckersley succeeds less in advocating a new theory, more in revealing afresh the text itself. From inside knowledge, too, the First-Folio editors John Heminge and Henrie Condell almost 400 years ago, already advised:
Reade him, therefore, and againe, and againe:

Alan Stott, August 2007

Shakespeare

First, there is an increasing awareness of the authorship question, and second, abundant cumulative evidence to suggest who held the pen. What did Steiner actually say? Did he leave a clue, to be read when the time was right? This article was published simultaneously in two Journals: in the U.S.A., and in Europe.

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Reviews

Reviews on my translations of and commentaries on Steiner’s two basic texts for eurythmists.

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The Philosophy of Freedom

The seven-sentence rhythm of love in R. Steiner’s “The Philosophy of Freedom”. Actually, it is there in all his basic written work, and there are no doubt several other rhythms. These observations of the author’s exact artistic technique, to me suggest further research into evidence from other scientific and artistic disciplines.

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