Shakespeare and the royal science: Timeless Astronomical knowledge in the works of shakespeare
Edward de Vere, Seventeenth Earl of Oxford. Portrait at the Welbeck Abbey, by Anonymous Artist. Original Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery. Re-Worked by Aztlan Times.
Preface
“True history goes by myths. Its forces are mythical. As Voltaire remarked coolly, it is a matter of which myth you choose.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p. 334.)
Despite the daunting title of our thesis, this is a rather straightforward paper, and at the root of it, two long-published books. The first being Thomas Looney’s (pronounced Lone-ee) “Shakespeare” Identified, originally published in London in 1920, and shortly thereafter in America. The second book is Hamlet’s Mill: An Essay on myth and the frame of time, by Giorgio de Santillana, & Hertha von Dechend (David R. Godine, Publisher. Boston, 1969.)
From Shakespeare Identified, we learn that the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford, Edward de Vere is Shakespeare - though this fact is currently a point of contention, and far from being universally accepted. Through his controversial book, Looney paints a somewhat intricate portrait of Edward de Vere, connecting him to relevant Shakespeare passages and reinforcing his point with personal correspondence and official documents. The most important takeaway from Looney’s book is that Shakespeare (de Vere) was undoubtedly of Royal Court. This point contradicts the popular theory that the Stratford inhabitant who happened to be named William Shakspere is responsible for creating the works of Shakespeare, though he was was not exposed to the sort of education that would construct the intricate world of Shakespeare; comprised of references to law, music, international travel, foreign languages - and, most importantly - astronomy and cosmology. Looney writes that the lack of training in these nuanced teachings concretely establishes the fact the common-born Stratford Shakspere is nothing more than a well-placed ruse. The only question is, by whom? Looney claims that the basis of the Shakspere argument; that a commoner can soar to the heights of society of their own volition, is fantasy in the time-frame it was supposed to have transpired. To be sure, this sort of thing is more a modern invention; a gesture towards “leveling the playing field,” of sorts. Suffice it to say, Looney details this argument in detail in his book, and we can only add that Royal Astronomy would have been the least-likely subject the Stratford Shakspere could have been steeped in.
We are able to come to this conclusion based on the information presented by the second book mentioned - Hamlet’s Mill -- a whopping 451 pages of what its title implies: An Essay on myth and the frame of time. This, of course, is viewed through the lens of the mysterious “mill” of hamlet: what it is and what it does. However, it’s also this ‘vast frame of time’ the book explores which reinforces our Shakespeare argument: the 26,500-year periods which contain the building blocks of the images which construct myth across the globe. The second, major component of this astronomical-observational process is connected to the obliquity of the ecliptic, i.e., the wobble that planet earth experiences in its trajectory, and that effects the observable stars over time.
Regarding the authors, Giorgio de Santillana moved from Rome to America in 1936. In 1941, he enrolled at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and stayed there, first becoming an Associate Professor, and then, after a brief interval of two years of service during WWII, as a Full Professor, until his retirement. Hertha von Dechend was a professor at the Institute for the History of Natural Sciences at the University of Frankfurt am Main and studied with Leo Frobenius. She received her doctorate in 1939 and in the ensuing years would travel to M.I.T. to research and lecture. She and De Santillana published Hamlet’s Mill in 1969, and the most controversial point of their thesis at that time was their contention that knowledge of the precession of the equinoxes and its 26,500-year time-frame preceded Hipparchus (190-120 BC), thought to be the first to recognize it. However, aside from the title and a few passages, their work is not about Shakespeare at all, but a look at the nuts and bolts of the fixed stars and planets which inspired seminal themes in human storytelling via examples of how those myths relate to the cosmos. During the course of our research, we were introduced to relevant Latin and Greek, Sanskrit and Germanic myths (among many others) which informed the world of Shakespeare; surprisingly, the two most important sources divulged turned out to be somewhat disparate. The first of these would be the wealth of Celtic poetry, originally transmitted by word-of-mouth, and only written down in the Christian era. The second, considered to be a classic text, was published in 1528 and written by Baldesar Castiglione, entitled The Book of the Courtier. Fittingly, it’s a well-established fact that Edward de Vere is directly connected to the publishing of this book in the British Isles during his time, and that it was a major influence in his worldview and outlook. The book also provided him the blueprint for how to tell timeless myths in story form, without divulging the source. The Book of the Courtier also cleverly transmits ancient truths regarding the cosmos and the pre-Hellenic world, and, perhaps most importantly, relates the story of the fall of Troy and the subsequent founding of Rome; all events which precede the settling of the British Isles from Trojan remnants.
The latter chapters of this paper incorporate contemporary perspectives from a variety of sources. First, from the November 1998 issue of Sky & Telescope Magazine, an interesting article entitled, Shakespeare’s Astronomical Inspiration? The result of a study at Southwest Texas University, wherein they attempt to recognize celestial observations in Hamlet. Next, providing valuable astronomical information regarding pre-Christian Britain, M.G. Boutet’s wonderful paper, Theology of the Four Masters: The Four Primordial Druids in Celtic Myths, from 2019, ties Welsh and Celtic poetry to the heavens.
For historical perspective, we offer Robert Fabyan’s The New Chronicles of England and France, In Two Parts. Aaron Thompson’s History of the Kings of Britain, a translation of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s original, as well as C.H. Oldfather’s Diodorus of Sicily, In Twelve Volumes. III, Books IV - VIII - all quoted to the end of re-enacting the settling of the British Isles.
Robert Graves’ The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth, provided several meaningful links between Pagan and Christian myth in the British Isles. This work, in conjunction with Sir Israel Gollancz’s Hamlet In Iceland (1898), provide the traces which de Vere invariably uses to the end of creating Hamlet, among others.
We would also like to thank Mr. Don Rubin of the Oxford Shakespeare Fellowship, as well as Alexander Waugh of the De Vere Foundation for reading this document and providing valuable insight. They both offer a variety of sources for researching the de Vere authorship question. Both also have a bevy of You Tube videos available on the subject. Their information is provided in the Bibliography section.
On a final note, regarding who wrote Shakespeare? We can only add it obviously was not the Stratford Shakspere. For our purposes, we merely reinforce and expand upon Looney’s thesis, as well as point to the fact the study of astronomy and the heavens was reserved solely for Royal Court in Shakespeare’s time. We do not view the authorship question from the perspective of religious affiliation, nationalism, or personal dispute. From our point of view, the works of Shakespeare are a somewhat late import to America. The scope its tales occupy, but a fraction of the Native American mythical timeline; they illuminate other worlds; speak to other places, So, when it comes to definitively answering the authorship question, I, as an American, have no skin in that particular game. The irony is, neither did de Vere.
Introduction
Section From Astronomia Gebri, from Gerard of Cremona (1114-1187).
“We circle in one orbit, at one pace, with one thirst,
Along with the heavenly Princes whom thou once didst address from the world” –
“You Who by Understanding Move the Third Heaven.”
Dante, Paradiso, VIII. 34-37
Yes, for all intents and purposes, Edward de Vere, the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford is Shakespeare. He wrote, helped publish and stage the canon of work currently attributed to Will Shakspere, a.k.a, the “Stratford Shakespeare.” That de Vere isn’t given his due is a curiosity to some, unknown to most, and a point of contention to others. However, moving forward under the assumption he is Shakespeare; what we’re suggesting is that at the core of his intent behind producing the Shakespeare canon was the long-held tradition of transmitting essential observations of Astronomical data through myth in the form of Poetry and Literature, much like Homer, Ovid, Dante, and the ancient Celtic and Druidic high Magicians and Bards of the British Isles and Scandinavia before him. At the heart of this essential astronomical data is the precession of the equinoxes, which tracks the movements of planets and stars over millennia; manifesting in the “Grand Cycle” calendar of 26,500 years. In de Vere’s time, one would have needed access to a private Library which contained books regarding Astronomy and Astrology, Latin and Greek, to glean these truths. These, undoubtedly, would be found in the estate of some royal personage. In de Vere’s case, this would have been in either of the respective libraries of his two primary wards and educators; Arthur Golding, a celebrated translator of Ovid, whom Looney (among others), suggests influenced the young de Vere with his version of the Metamorphoses, as well as Sir Thomas Smith for a brief, yet meaningful period, from 1559 to 1562. We argue de Vere began this enterprise as the Renaissance commenced and the battle lines between science and religion were drawn against the backdrop of politics and power; the emergence of the modern formula. In addition, we propose that in the midst of all this turmoil and sweeping change, his endeavor sought to create a medium rooted in the wisdom of the ages, yet could also be apprehended by the developing modern mind. In Italy, Commedia dell’arte was increasingly becoming the popular choice for Theater, and is probably among the primary reasons for de Vere’s extended visit to that country. However, in addition to that, we would add that de Vere was also guided by the principles and philosophy presented in Baldesar Castiglione’s seminal The Book of the Courtier (1528). Bolstered by absorbing Italian Court and Commedia dell’arte in person, de Vere attempted to add Elizabethan England’s court into the fold, positioning her to rival anything coming from the continent at the time; a poetry and language rife with kennings (a sometimes confounding literary technique utilized by Celtic and Druidic Poets, first used as synonyms for transmitting said astronomical knowledge), as well as a pointed belief in a glorious past, where something valuable seems to have been lost, and somehow tied the fall of Troy; these are but some of the devices utilized by “Shakespeare.” For de Vere and others at court who familiarized themselves with the crucial astronomical and historical data necessary to apprehend the intricate changes to peoples and nations over time; and bolstered with the intent of preserving that knowledge in a modern and popular form, the Shakespeare enterprise sought to blend the worlds of sublime and profane, royal and common, spectacular, yet straightforward, into a multi-sensual form which spoke to the history of the planet, and would ring true in the future. This all transpires in a time highlighted by an increasingly hostile religious war, and more importantly, (and we really can’t emphasize this enough), its unseen component of the brutal battle in the British Isles and Europe of espionage and counter-espionage, with their affiliated practices of horrific torture and imprisonment. When taking into consideration the scope of ideas presented and time-line covered in “Shakespeare,” it’s evident it’s time to review it once more, in order to gain a fresh perspective: not merely to contemporize the ideas, but to convey the ancient concepts therein; concepts of time, space, and being from a world hidden long ago by ancient entities. De Vere’s ultimate gift is the Shakespeare canon, and the circumstances under which he delivered it are what propel him into the realm of heroes; perhaps not of the Arthurian ilk, but more a modern sort of hero, a bit star-crossed and torn between the past and present; effete, yet knightly; heroic, yet a scoundrel; not the once and future King, but the once and future Bard.
Chapter I
The Royal Science: Ancient Astronomy, Myth, and the Birth of Poetry
Precession of the equinoxes. Diagram from Hamlet’s Mill (Godine, 1969.) Re-worked by Aztlan Times.
“I embolden the spearman,
I teach the councillors their wisdom,
I inspire the poets,
I rove the hills like a conquering boar,
I roar like the winter sea,
I return like the receding wave,
Who but I can unfold the secrets of the unhewn dolmen?”
Robert Graves’ partial answer to the Song of Amergin riddle in The White Goddess.
Sometime around the summer of 1998, while living in L.A. to attend university, one found themselves perusing the enticing selections at the renowned Bodhi Tree Bookstore on Melrose. And, as is usually the case in such instances, a particular title invariably seems to jump off the shelf, begging attention. In this instance, that book was Giorgio De Santillana and Hertha Von Dechend’s joint work, Hamlet’s Mill: An Essay Investigating the Origins of Human Knowledge and its Transmission Through Myth (David R. Godine, Publisher, 1969). The back jacket cover of Hamlet’s Mill wisely poses several questions to the potential buyer in an effort to pique their interest. Among them; What if we could prove that all myths have one common origin in a celestial cosmology? What if the gods, the places they lived, and what they did are but ciphers for celestial activity, a language for the perpetuation of complex astronomical data? These questions, while potentially sounding far-fetched, somehow intrigued me to the point I purchased the book, among several others, curious to test their thesis. A short time later, perhaps at the end of that summer, I delved into Hamlet’s Mill with the mind to read it cover to cover. Immediately, however, I was challenged by the immense time period discussed, compounded by the seemingly endless variety of myths, quotes and passages from India to Europe, Africa to Asia, and even from America and the Pacific Islands. These issues, as well as the scientific nature of the concepts seemed overwhelming at the time, prompting me to put the book aside, and blithely go on with the preoccupations of daily life. Last year, though, while looking for a pertinent piece of information regarding a previous age, I was reminded of the book and went to pull it from the shelf. The first thing evident was that my old notes made no sense; and from them, I could tell I’d yet to grasp the book’s true import. After all, I’d only made it about a quarter-way through on the first outing. So, I resolved to give it another go, and set about putting time aside to seriously comb through it, taking copious notes along the way. Several months later I was finishing the book, already plotting the outline for this paper. And, while it had taken me some time to grasp the totality of what De Santillana and Von Dechend were putting forth, by the end I was clear about what they meant, and what I had to do.
∞
Despite all its Oriental references, Hamlet’s Mill is primarily an Occidental work; written in a language which might appeal to their contemporaries at M.I.T., the Ivy’s, or Cambridge and Oxford. Accordingly, De Santillana & Von Dechend wisely attach their initial argument to the Greeks, whose philosophies are considered by the Occidental viewpoint as ground zero for “reason,” and “intelligence,” reminding us it was they who first refer to Astronomy as “The Royal Science.” However, one of the most renowned Greeks, Aristotle, claimed the biggest take-way from all this celestial observation was the sobering fact that:
“The most “ancient treasure” that was left to us by our predecessors of the High-and-Far-Off Times was the idea that the gods are really stars, and that there are no others. The forces reside in the starry heavens, and all the stories, characters and adventures narrated by mythology concentrate on the active powers among the stars, who are the planets.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, pg. 177)
It seems an odd conclusion, given the vast pantheon of known Greek gods and half-gods; this idea that they really don’t exist at all. Yet, this contradictory way of thinking spoke to the already established split which had occurred between the Greek elite, such as Aristotle, and the common folk. Here’s the thing, though; his comment on the gods “being stars and planets” was merely just the tip of the iceberg regarding the level of knowledge he and members of the academia had inherited, and were expanding upon. Primary in this knowledge was the previously mentioned precession of the equinoxes; believed to be the cause of the rise and cataclysmic “fall of ages” of the world. Essentially, the precession of the equinoxes is due to the “spinning top” motion Earth does as it makes its way ‘round the sun. This oblique rotation draws out a 23 ½ degree circle around the North Pole of the ecliptic, which is the true “center” of our planetary system. As we “wobble” our way about our orbit in this spinning top motion, the North pole points to different stars based on which way its dipping along its 26,500 - year course; therefore, about 3,000 B.C. the Pole star was Alpha Draconis; at the time of the Greeks, it was beta Ursae Minoris; in A.D. 14,000 it will be Vega. At the summer and winter solstices, the ecliptic and the equator intersect. Furthermore, every 2,200 years, the sun rises with a different sign on the spring equinox. Whatever constellation is visible in the sky alongside the rising sun is known as the pillar, or carrier of the sun. The authors of Hamlet’s Mill tell us that in 5,000 BC, the sun was in Gemini, and then it slowly moved to Taurus; the age of the Golden Bull; then, on to Aries, which was signaled when Moses came down from Sinai “two-horned,” that is, crowned with the Ram’s horns; this then gave way to our current age; that of Pisces, the fish age, curiously called the age of Christ. As complex as the noting of the precession of the equinoxes is, the fact is the endeavor unfolded primarily in the dark, away from the business of everyday life. Here, it is allowed to flower in secret among like-minded individuals. However, to de Vere and his kind, these “secret” truths were to be perpetuated in symbolic form, as was done in the distant past by the masters of antiquity. There was an ancient formula to be followed, and one was to do so explicitly; for it wasn’t only considered their birthright, but also their duty.
Chapter II
Hamlet, his Mill, and the Finely Ground Flour of Time
Model of the Obliquity of the Ecliptic.
Vero nihil verius.
(Nothing truer than truth.)
De Vere family motto.
While discussing precessional knowledge and all it purports, De Santillana and Von Dechend give the following summary regarding its place in the ancient world:
“In hard and perilous ages, what information should a well-born man entrust to his eldest son? Lines of descent surely, but what else? The memory of an ancient nobility is the means of preserving the arcana imperii, the arcana legis and the arcana mundi, just as it was in ancient Rome. This is the wisdom of a ruling class.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p. 7-8)
The image of a serious John de Vere, the Sixteenth Earl of Oxford, passing this important information to his young son, Edward, immediately sprang to mind the first time I read the above passage. Also, that the senior de Vere died when Edward was but twelve, can only reinforce that his father’s words were instrumental in shaping his attitudes and beliefs. Precessional knowledge is a Royal Science, i.e., traditionally, it has belonged solely to Royalty. Our authors are spot-on when they write the memory of a secret (arcane) nobility is the means of preserving secret power, law and worldview. It’s a formula that’s time-tested and which currently functions on multiple levels. However, if we were to take the previous passage regarding the closely-guarded dissemination of the Royal Science and apply it to the ‘Stratfordian’ Shakspere, the results would be laughable; there is absolutely no way the Will Shakspere of popular imagination could have known about precessional knowledge, and all records of him show no connection between the two. Yet, if we plug Edward de Vere into this model; the fit is perfect. And, while its popular these days to limit the discussion regarding Hamlet to existential motifs of isolation and angst, when applied to the royal science perspective, Hamlet takes on infinitely greater dimensions. That de Vere chose it as subject matter is no accident. And while comparisons between de Vere’s life and that of Hamlet’s have been pointed out in the past, de Vere merely used this connectivity as another thread in the tapestry of the play; not as a primary operative device within its framework. Regarding how Shakespeare first became aware of Hamlet, it’s been widely-circulated the connection can be traced to the Dane, Saxo Grammaticus’ (1150-1216) account from his Gesta Danorum; it’s also assumed this is where Shakespere drew it. While the two are similar in a regard; Saxo’s Amleth and Shakespeare’s Hamlet; they’re actually quite different on a fundamental level. The first clue to this is in the name of Hamlet in Saxo’s work: Amlethus.
To that end, De Santillana and Von Dechend go deep into the annals of history to delve into the etymology of the Hamlet name, and this is where things start to get weird.
They tell us:
“The name Amleth, Amlodhi, Middle English Amlaghe, Irish Amlaidhe, stands always for “simpleton,” “stupid,” “like a dumb animal.” It also remained in use as an adjective, Gollancz pointed out that in “The Wars of Alexander,” an alliterative poem from the north of England largely translated from the Historia de Preliis, Alexander is twice thus mentioned contemptuously by his enemies: Thou Alexander, thou ape, thou amlaghe out of Greece.”
In addition to referring to Hamlet as a simpleton, De Santillana and Von Dechend go on to inform us of another, deeper meaning to the name:
“With the figure of Hamlet there goes, too, the “dog” simile. This is true in Saxo Amlethus, in Ambales, in the Hrollfssaga Kraki, where the endangered ones, the two princes Helgi and Hroar (and in Saxo’s seventh book Harald and Haldan), are labeled dogs, and are called by the dog-names “Hopp and Ho.””
(Hamlet’s Mill, p.21)
It's important that the Hrollfssaga Kraki, or, The Saga of King Hrolf Kraki, is introduced here by our authors, in that it demonstrates the circular distribution pattern of myth in ancient Europe. The lineages in Hrolf Kraki’s saga are introduced in Beowulf, their Germanic origins tracing the earlier migration patterns of the pre-Viking culture to Scandinavia, primarily Iceland, and back again to Europe. Not only does this reinforce the idea of common origins for most myth, it in particular shows how the North became increasingly self-referential over time. Most importantly, though, Hrollfssaga Kraki is attributed to Anonymous, and as previously mentioned, anonymity is an important motif of the ancient and Medieval eras; it’s storytelling for storytelling’s sake. However, there also remains the disturbing fact this Hamlet, this stupid dog seems nowhere near our cherished hero as represented in the great drama which transpired at Elsinore. Yet, more importantly, the dog metaphor is worth noting, as it’s inextricably tied to the heavens, and its own star; Sirius, but before we get too far ahead of ourselves, let’s return to the theme of Hamlet/Brutus; for, in doing so, we return to where the roots of Hamlet lie.
Sir Israel Gollancz, in his engaging, Hamlet In Iceland (London, 1898. Strand Publishing), points out the remarkable, yet important similarities between Hamlet’s tale and that of Lucius Junius Brutus, the slayer of King Tarquin, first told by Titus Livius:
“The merest outline of the plot cannot fail to show the striking likeness between the tales of Hamlet and Lucius Iunis Brutus. Apart from the general resemblance (usurping uncle; the persecuted nephew, who escapes by feigning madness; the journey; the oracular utterances; the outwitting of the comrades; the well-matured plans for vengeance), there are certain points in the former story which must have been borrowed directly from the latter. This is especially true of Hamlet’s device of hiding gold inside the sticks. This could not be due to mere coincidence; and moreover, the evidence seems to show that Saxo himself borrowed this incident from the account of Brutus in Valerius Maximus...Saxo must have also read the Brutus story as told by Livy, and by later historians, whose versions were ultimately based on Dionysus of Halicarnassus.”
(Gollancz, Hamlet in Iceland, Introduction, p. 31-32)
The story about Brutus Junius and Tarquin contains an element which has yet to be mentioned, and is a pertinent piece to our thesis, so, we’ll tell it here:
While Tarquin is out in the field employing defensive measures, he is beset with horrible visions, most prominently “a snake sliding out of a wooden pillar.” Not finding anyone locally who can divulge its meaning, he resolves to send his sons, Titus and Aruns to the Oracle at Delphi for answers. Tarquin’s sons set out to accomplish this for their father, however, it is noted they are also accompanied by the King’s sister, Tarquinia’s son, Junius Brutus, who is acutely aware of the dangerous situation he finds himself in; as he knows only too well the heart of Tarquin, who had recently put his father and brother, among other important men of state, to death. So, he resolves to hide beneath a cloak of ignorance, and he determined to find security in contempt since in justice there was no protection, and modeled his behavior as that of a fool, in an attempt to thwart Tarquin’s rapacity. Unbeknownst to Titus and Aruns, Brutus clandestinely carries two gold sticks hidden in a staff of wood as an offering to Apollo, and, as the company approaches the Temple at Delphi, he hangs back, as the two brothers lead. After dealing with the niceties, Titus and Aruns press the Oracle as to who will inherit the crown, to which the Oracle replies:
“Young men, whichever of you shall first kiss your mother, he shall possess the sovereign power at Rome”…Brutus judged that the expression of Apollo had another meaning, and as if he had accidentally stumbled and fallen, he touched the earth with his lips, considering that she was the common mother of all mankind.”
(Ibid., p.xxxiv)
The story introduces an important theme into the Hamlet story; that of paying attention to the natural world and its frequencies, for here is the heart of royalty, as alluded to by none other than the Oracle at Delphi. We’ll develop this theme further at a later juncture, but for now, let’s go back to Saxo’s Amleth, to the scene where he (like Brutus), is taken on a journey, for sport, like Tom Cruise taking out Dustin Hoffman for the day in Rainman.
As he and his company ride along the shore of the northern ocean, he notices an old steering oar left over from a shipwreck, and asks what it might be:
“Why,” they say, “it is a big knife.” Then he remarks, “This is the right thing to carve such a huge ham” – by which he really means the sea. Then, as Saxo goes on, “as they passed the sandhills and bade him look at the meal, meaning the sand, he replied that it had been ground small by the hoary tempests of the ocean. His companions praising his answer, he said he had spoken wittingly.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p.24)
Saxo introduces an important theme here, although he was unaware of it, and therefore fails to develop it properly. For, the manner in which he tells it pales in comparison with the richer version from which it is based.
This comes from the Icelander, Snorri Sturluson (1179-1241), and his masterpiece, The Edda (Treatise on Poetry), which is composed of three sections: Gylfaginning, the beguiling of Gylfi, an epitome of Odinic mythology set in dialogue; Skáldskaparmál, the poesy of skalds, or, the language of poetry, and Háttatal; which discusses the rules of composition, offering models by masters of the craft.
It’s from the Skáldskaparmál where Saxo’s version was drawn, though it’s somewhat unrecognizable, as Saxo was unsure of how to properly translate Icelandic, which he was not well acquainted with. In any event, here’s Gollancz’s translation of Sturluson’s original:
“T’is said, sang Snaebjörn, that far out, yonder ness, the Nine Maids of the Island Mill stir amain the host-cruel skerry-kern – they who in ages past ground Hamlet’s Mill. The good chieftain furrows the hull’s lair with his ship’s beaked prow. Here the sea is called Amlodhi’s Mill.”
(Ibid.)
And, so, the mill turns in the ocean in the north; Sturluson, through Snaebjörn, tells us it’s Nine Maids out on an Isle; Saxo uses Hamlet to tell us it’s the violent churning nature of the Northern sea; recognizing the sands of the shore have been ground small by the hoary tempests of the ocean. These myths typify the exchange of the aforementioned northern peoples; the Celtic-Icelandic-Danish-Swedish-Norwegian-Welsh-British-Scot roots of the tale which are jumbled together like wires in a vast electrical array, long powering a relentless machine of obfuscation. That being said, it seems messy to move on without getting a bit more clarity about this Hamlet, though. Primarily, in regards to such questions as; where is he first mentioned in the English annals? And, more importantly, how did we get from Amleth, to Hamlet? To get the bottom of the question, we must turn away from Saxo and Sturluson, however, and turn to the Annals of Ireland by the Four Masters, and the year 919 A.D. Here we are given the account of the decisive battle of Ath-Cliath, or Kilmashogue near Kathfarnham, county Dublin. It’s a day whose particulars have gone down in the annals of time with appropriately descriptive terms, and in such heroic ballads as; Fierce and hard was the Wednesday; or, Where is the chief of the western world? Niall Glundubh, one of the twelve Irish princes who answered the call to battle, was summoned there by his confessor, Celedabhaill, son of Scannall, successor of Comghall, and it was he who administered final rites to Niall Glundubh that day. Gollancz points out an interesting fact regarding the relationship between Celedabhaill and Niall Glundubh, though, which ties us, in a rather peculiar way, to Shakespeare. It appears that even though Niall Glundubh was asked to fight at the behest of his priest Celedabhaill, the latter would refuse the former the use of a horse to ride into battle; a serious disadvantage, and a huge slap in the face in those days; particularly for an Irish Prince. That fact, upon reading it, had one wondering if in the heat of battle Niall Glundubh might have given his kingdom for a horse. In any event, it’s recorded that in the pre-dawn light of the morning of the battle, Niall Glundubh seems to have thrown caution to the wind, and before marching headlong into the fray, was barking at the assembled throng of troops moments prior to the bloodshed:
“Whosever wishes for a speckled boss, and a sword of sore-inflicting wounds, and a green javelin for wounding wretches, let him go in the morning to Ath-Cliath!”
From the outside, it seems as if Niall Glundubh marched straight into a trap launched by his confessor, Celedabhaill; he who administered the final rites to Glundubh as he lay dying on the glistening green grass that fierce and hard Wednesday. But it’s a well-known fact no one accomplishes anything on their own, so we appear to have stumbled upon some archaic “Game of Thrones” scenario, wherein the struggle of power is forever cemented into the book of time. However, before we digress much further, let’s return once again to the theme of Hamlet, via Sir Israel Gollancz, who cites that fierce and hard Wednesday to get to the bottom of the origin of the Hamlet name. Apparently, in Niall Glundubh’s widow’s song of lament we find, according to Gollancz: the earliest instance of the name " Amloᵭi " or " Hamlet " to be found anywhere in literature.
His widow, Queen Gormflaith’s lament goes thus:
“Ill for me the compliment of the two foreigners,
Who slew Niall and Cearbhall;
Cearbhall was slain by Ulf, a mighty deed;
Niall Glundubh by Amhlaide.”
(Gollancz, Hamlet in Iceland, p. li)
Apparently, about five hundred years before de Vere was born, the Irish annals state on that particular fierce Wednesday in 919 A.D., Hamlet killed Prince Niall Glundubh at the battle of Ath-Kliath. And, so, this hamlet, this stupid dog, seems to have roamed across time, from place to place, causing havoc; slaying princes; his mill grinding throughout the ages of men. This, of course, is a far cry from the drama of a minor Danish Prince; whose only redeeming quality seems to be his humanity in dealing with the crises presented to him; both metaphysical and physical.
Screenshot from Hamlet In Iceland, Gollancz
Regarding Hamlet as presented by Shakespeare, Gollancz summarizes the whole matter thusly:
“In the story as in the play we have the murder of the father by a jealous uncle; the mother's incestuous marriage with the murderer; the son's feigned madness in order to execute revenge : there are the vague originals of Ophelia and Polonius; the meeting of mother and son; the voyage to England: all these familiar elements are found in the old tale.
But the ghost, the play-scene, and the culmination of the play in the death of the hero as well as of the objects of his revenge, these are elements which belong essentially to the Elizabethan Drama of vengeance. It is of course unnecessary to dwell on the subtler distinction between the easily understood Amleth and "the eternal problem" of Hamlet. Taine has said that the Elizabethan Renaissance was a Renaissance of the Saxon genius: from this point of view it is significant that its crowning glory should be the presentment of a typical Northern hero, an embodiment of the Northern character.”
“Dark and True and Tender is the North”
(Gollancz, Hamlet in Iceland, Introduction, p. xcviii.)
As quoted at the outset of this chapter, the de Vere Family motto proclaims “nothing truer than truth.” Perhaps this has something to do with (clandestinely) keeping the record straight in the North among ages of turmoil and change? At any rate, having determined that we have in our Hamlet a figure both historical and fictitious; fierce, yet naïve; crafty, yet dull, i.e., we know there aren’t any easy answers in identifying his origins. His mill, like his character are both literal and metaphorical. Still, that fact hasn’t stopped commentators of Shakespeare over time in ascribing nearly every type of human behavior to him in an attempt to make sense of him; tie him to their theory of this, that, or the other. We argue de Vere used the Hamlet theme as a riddle in and of itself. His knowledge of history and astronomy made his Hamlet far more complex than alluded to in the Northern revenge-based-theme it invariably became tied to. His Hamlet speaks to the North; is of the North, but alludes to ancient times and the south; to Troy, and before. As stated previously, the North became associated with the sea, and, as we shall see, the sea and the sky mirror one another, calling to mind the biblical phrase, “As above, so below.”
Chapter III
The Tao of the Mill
Re-worked detail from Astronomia Gebri, by Aztlan Times.
“Some say, he bid his angels turn askance
The poles of the earth, twice ten degrees and more
From the sun’s axle, they with labour pushed
Oblique the centric globe: some say, the sun
Was bid turn reins from the equinoctial road.”
Milton, Paradise Lost
By now, we hope the picture we’re painting is getting clearer. Regardless of all the technical jargon and antiquated texts; the tale is pretty much straight-forward and to the point. From the Greeks to the medieval north, we’ve shown how historical astronomical data in the form of precessional knowledge has informed story, poetry, and myth by using the device of Hamlet’s mill as example of its complex processes. To that end, De Santilla and Von Dechend’s Mill delves into the other astronomical phenomena which tie it to Hamlet, as well as to the precession of the equinoxes. It is a long and convoluted path they take in the book, one that we shall attempt to skirt here somewhat and get straight to the point. However, for the sake of making the story relatable, we shall begin with their mentioning of the Manicheans and their perpetuation of the Gnostic scheme. Began in Persia in the Third century, AD, Manicheanism is a dualistic belief which syncretizes several cultures in an ascetic environment where matter and non-matter consistently battle. However, De Santillana and Von Dechend inform us the so-called gnostics unfortunately give themselves away by the fact their very name tells their secret, gnosis tēs bodou “knowledge of the way.” This “Way,” which is to be known by heart, purportedly takes one’s spirit out of oneself at death, and upwards through the planetary spheres, past the sentinels of the Zodiac, beyond the fixed stars to the land of timeless light, above the Pole-star, where the unknown god resides eternally. The door of death in the ancient world was a catalyst for discovery and making sense of the unknown; the Pharaoh’s of Egypt serve as primary example of this; armed with their coffin-texts, and prepared to navigate the land of eternity in order to make it to the celestial realm and reincarnation. We mention the Gnostics here to demonstrate how humanity had taken these celestial observations and tied them to rites and rituals which, in their day, were meant to perpetuate the cycle of life; to death, and back, via reincarnation. Their path, or Way was plotted out in intricate detail as a map of the heavens; the belief being that if one were able to complete the journey to the center of the galaxy, and back, their soul would be rewarded with a new body. At the heart of this mapped-out territory is the mill of Hamlet. Here, the soul must submit to the grinding process in order to reconstitute later. This event can be traced back to a celestial phenomenon referred to as the “unhinging of the mill-peg,” which throws time out of whack and reality into chaos, in fact, puts the time out of joint. The astronomical process of the un-hinging of the mill-peg had been laid out intricately previously, notably in the 9th century, when Al-Farghani of the Abbasid court of Baghdad names beta Ursae Minoris Kochab, “mill-peg,” and the stars of the Little Bear, surrounding the North Pole; Fas-al-Raha (the hole of the mill-peg), because they represent a hole, or “axle ring” in which the mill axle turns.
The Arab cosmographer al-Kavzini (early 12th century) adds:
Koth, the common name of the Pole, means really the axle of the movable upper millstone which goes through the lower fixed one, what is called the “mill iron.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p. 137)
The Pole star gets out of place, and “unhinges the mill” every few thousand years, and another star is chosen to best approximate its position; prime example being the Great Pyramid of Giza being oriented not to the Pole star, but to alpha Draconis, which occupied the pole 5,000 years ago, at the time of its construction. So, the unhinging of the mill and the precessional wobble are interconnected. After all, the stars do not move, it is Earth which does so. Here is our main point, though, as explained by De Santillana and Von Dechend:
“The gyroscopic tilt causes a continual shifting of our celestial equator, which cuts the inclined circle of the ecliptic along a regular succession of points, moving uniformly from east to west. Now the point where the two circles cross are the equinoctial points. Hence the sun, moving on the ecliptic though the year, meets the equator on a point which shifts steadily with the years along the ring of zodiacal signs. This is what is meant by the Precession of the Equinoxes. They “precede” because they go against the order of the signs as the sun establishes this on its yearly march.”
(Ibid, p. 144)
This is a crucial bit of data: that the Sun goes against the zodiacal signs. We shall visit this theme later, but for now, let’s return to the Mill of Hamlet and take a look at some relevant references to it in the ancient record. One of the most tantalizing of these comes from the fourth century AD, in the fantastically named Great Magical Papyrus of Paris, wherein a “recipe” for the much-demanded Oracle of Kronos, the so-called “Little Mill” can be found. The passage perfectly blends the sacred and the astronomical, much as it was in past ages.
It goes as follows:
“Take two measures of sea salt and grind it with a handmill, repeating all the while the prayer that I give you, until the God appears. If you hear while praying the heavy tread of a man and the clanking of irons, this is the god that comes with his chains, carrying a sickle. Do not be afraid, for you are covered by the protection I give you. Be wrapped in white linen such as the priests of Isis wear. [here follow a number of magic rites]. The prayer to be said while grinding is as follows:
“I call upon thee, great and holy One,
founder of the whole world we live in,
who sufferest wrong at the hand of thy own son,
thee whom Helios bound with iron chains, so that all should not come to confusion.
Man-Woman, father of thunder and lightning,
thou who rulest also those worlds below the earth.
[There follow more rites of protection, then the formula of dismissal]:
Go, Lord of the World, First Father, return to your own place so that the All remain well guarded. Be merciful, O Lord.”
(Ibid, p. 147)
Here we have an example of precessional instruction blended with early Christian religion which shows the blueprint of how the astronomical is turned religious. It’s also an important passage in the regard, that, while being Christian, it also contains elements of magic; it also addresses the Solar function of the all-father in foundational Christian thought. That being noted, let’s leave this Chapter with (yet) one more morsel of information from Hamlet’s Mill. And, while we’ll tie things together in the end, we shall also convey one last point from them regarding the awesomely complex mill of Amlethus, or Hamlet:
“One of the motifs, destruction, is often associated with the Amlethus figure. The other belongs to Mars. There is a particular blind aspect to Mars, insisted on in both Harranian and Mexican myths. It is even echoed in Virgil “caeco Marte.” But it does not only stand for blind fury. It must be sought in the Nether World, which will come soon. Meanwhile here is the first presentation of the double figure of Mars and Kronos. In Mexico it stands out dreadfully in the grotesque forms of the Black and the Red Tezcatlipoca. There is a certain phase in the great tale, obviously in which the wrecking powers of Mars unleashed make up a fatal compound with the avenging implacable design of Saturn. Shakespeare has, with his preternatural insight, alluded to both when he made Hamlet warn the raging Laertes before their final encounter:
“Though I am not by nature rash and splenetic
Yet there is in me something dangerous
Which let thy wisdom fear…”
(Ibid, p. 176)
Though, many of us have read the scene between Hamlet and Laertes previously, who ever thought it would have anything to do with the influence of Mars and Saturn? I certainly did not. However, now that we’ve introduced Mars into the mix; let’s marinate on that morsel for a bit, while we return again to the dark and true and tender north; to the world of Shakespeare and the Northern perspective in order to get closer to the truth.
Chapters IV -VI dropping 5/20/22
