Shakespeare and the Royal Science: Part iii of iii
Interior detail of the Gundestrup Cauldron. Courtesy National Museum of Denmark
Chapter VI
The Battle Between Ancient Truth and Modern Mind: Italian Influences and Elizabethan Aspirations
“Is she a Catholic?”
“I think she’s a Presbyterian,” I said. Julian had a polite but implacable contempt for Judeo-Christian tradition in virtually all its forms. He would deny this if confronted, citing evasively his affection for Dante and Giotto, but anything overtly religious filled him with a pagan alarm; and I believe that like Pliny, whom he resembled in so many respects, he secretly thought it to be a degenerate cult carried to extravagant lengths.
“A Presbyterian? Really?” he said, dismayed.
“I believe so.”
“Well, whatever one thinks of the Roman Church, it is a worthy and powerful foe. I could accept that sort of conversion with grace. But I shall be very disappointed indeed if we lose him to the Presbyterians.”
Donna Tartt, The Secret History, Chapter V.
Granted, the mysteries surrounding Shakespeare are purposefully deep. Even Looney, in his wonderful work is still unable to clearly describe how and why de Vere embarked on the Shakespeare quest. Regarding de Vere and his attitude toward religion; a subject impossible to ignore in his time, as Protestant/Catholic relations were involved in a hot/cold war over the ongoing territorial debate between Britain and France, and all the while de Vere being caught squarely in the middle; to the extent that any normal person who found themselves in his circumstance would have been extremely concerned. Furthermore, it’s rumored he was on a list in the Vatican which detailed the Royals of England sympathetic to the Catholic plight, yet it also noted he wasn’t a true Catholic, just open to the cause; one would imagine out of appreciation to the ancient Apollonian Sun-Cult imagery it represented, and the relevant rites contained therein.
Regarding the question of religion in the case of de Vere, Looney dutifully notes the following:
“This again is representative of the mind of Shakespeare as shown by the plays as a whole: for the attenuated Catholicism they contain could hardly have come from the pen of one of the faithful. All this, too, is in accord with the shadowy indications that are given of Oxford’s dealing with religion: his profession of Catholicism at one time, the accusation of atheism against him at another. Hamlet’s cry, therefore, that “the time is out of joint” points to something deeper than his personal misfortunes and the tragedy of his private life.”
(Ibid.)
By all evidence, de Vere wasn’t beholden to any concept of religion offered by any one entity. His knowledge of the cold, hard, facts regarding the machinations of the stars, planets and mankind honed his intent for making a grand statement opposing the current state of society; particularly how the euhemerization process played a significant role in the extended belief that Royalty are the offspring of gods. However, before we move on from Looney, we’ll add one more bit of information from him, specifically regarding the image of the Boar and how it’s used in Shakespeare, giving us these two examples:
“Falstaff is a work of self-caricature on the part of “Shakespeare.” For Oxford’s coat of arms was the boar, and he himself is spoken of, in a letter of Hatton’s to Queen Elizabeth, as “the boar.”
“The escapades of Prince Hal and his men, in Henry IV, part 1, involve not only the Boar’s Head Tavern, Eastcheap, but also that part of the road near Rochester which connects London with Canterbury.”
(Ibid, p.399)
More importantly, though, and as a vital point of differentiation, we’d add that the de Vere Crest, as it appears in the 1904 work Banners, Standards, and Badges from a Tudor Manuscript in the College of Arms, by Howard De Walden clears up the confusion that the Boar was exclusive to Francis Bacon and his family. Apparently, several families had the Boar as their crest, yet that of the de Vere’s has the distinguishing mark of a star upon the left square: invariably, though, we maintain the Boar’s to do with a much deeper meaning than alluded to on the surface. However, how does one get from there to Shakespeare? And, what did de Vere do to interpret these clues and incorporate them into the contemporary record to perpetuate the ancient formula?
As a point of entry, we’ll introduce The Book of the Courtier, (1528), by Baldesar Castiglione, which is a curious text in the regard that on the surface it seems the obvious companion to that other famous work dealing with the Machiavellian aspects of Italian court, yet, there are obvious clues the Courtier itself is somewhat unlimited in its scope. In my copy of The Book of the Courtier (Penguin Classics, 1967. Translated with Introduction by George Bull), Mr. Bull says the following in his Introduction, regarding the style of The Book of the Courtier:
“Its opening is in strict conformity with the humanist rules of imitation. Cicero, whom Castiglione studied hard as a boy and took for his model (and whose De Officiis was a Renaissance best-seller) supplies the very words for the beginning of the first book. The Orator begins: ‘For a long time I debated earnestly with myself, Brutus, as to which course would be more difficult or serious - to deny your oft repeated request, or do what you ask.’”
(Bull. Introduction, p.12)
Bull then goes on to offer the beginning of the Courtier by means of comparison:
“I have spent a long time wondering, my dear Alfonso, which of the two things was the more difficult for me: either to refuse what you have asked me so often and insistently, or to do it.”
The “imitation of humanist rules” Bull refers to, though, are already hardwired into storytelling in the time of the Courtier, and, therefore, directly connected to the wealth of precessional symbols. It’s not a personal choice on Castiglione’s part, he is merely following the rules of purposeful obfuscation; humanism has absolutely nothing to do with it. Interestingly, The Book of the Courtier was published in England in 1561, the year before de Vere’s father passes away and his life changed forever. He was eleven. That he came across, and was influenced by it, is undoubtable; particularly as its copiously recorded that de Vere was considered quite the Italophile in his time.
The book itself ties England to Italy from the outset in a typical fiction presented as fact, in order to present truth scenario:
“Following many writers of the ancient world, and reviving a pleasant memory, we shall recount some discussions which once took place among men who were singularly qualified in these matters. Even though I did not take part in them in person (being in England when they were held), they were faithfully reported to me soon after my return by someone who was present, and I shall endeavour to reproduce them as accurately as my memory allows so that you may discover what was held and thought on the subject by eminent men whose judgement can always be trusted.”
(The Book of the Courtier, the First Book, p.40)
Also mentioned in the First Book of The Courtier, are the emblems which were popular in the sixteenth century, and it’s noted occasionally the emblems would be topic for conversation at evening gatherings. This leads us to the image of the Boar and its accompanying motto that There’s Nothing Truer Than Truth. For, if a young de Vere were to aspire to the heights of embodying the ideal of the perfect courtier, he would be expected to expound, in great detail, on the basic memes regarding his families claims to royalty, truth, and God. Oftentimes, the process would take all night, and there would be challenges one would have to navigate. We can only imagine de Vere would have been prepared.
Particularly, in November of 1575, when he actually was in Italy. At that point, Commedia dell’arte is all the rage, and de Vere must have taken in more than his share of it, as it’s been copiously noted by contemporary historians that the machinations and devices of Commedia dell’arte are evident in the works of Shakespeare. But more than that, the Book of the Courtier, itself, was the blueprint for the Shakespeare model; particularly regarding the anonymity of the Shakespeare canon; to that end, we’d like to initially point out the following advice, purportedly given from Count Ludovico da Canossa in the First Book:
“So we can truthfully say that true art is what does not seem to be art; and the most important thing is to conceal it, because if it is revealed this discredits a man completely and ruins his reputation. I remember once having read of certain outstanding orators of the ancient world who, among the other things they did, tried hard to make everyone believe that they were ignorant of letters; and dissembling their knowledge, they made their speeches appear to have been composed very simply and according to the promptings of Nature and truth rather than effort and artifice. For if the people had known their skills, they would have been frightened of being deceived. So you see that to reveal intense application and skill robs everything of grace.”
(Ibid, p.67)
This is the exact formula used by de Vere, and, obviously speaks to our original theme of “playing dumb,” as Hamlet and Brutus both do. It’s also interesting how the promptings of Nature are referred to, as being close to nature is what gives Brutus the crown, when he pretends to trip and fall to the ground, and while on his knees, clandestinely kisses it; the mother the Oracle proclaimed would grant the first person to kiss her the rulership of Rome. Edward de Vere did not proclaim his genius to the world. For, as it’s been copiously noted by those who champion de Vere as the Bard; for a Royal to be involved in such a lowly occupation as Theater, would have been severely frowned upon. This, obviously does not include the Theatre of the Royals, for the Royals, which was closed to the public. It’s also been noted that due to the extreme satirical nature of some of the plays, the Author would have been best served by anonymity, as retaliatory efforts would have been severe. There’s also our point that de Vere would have merely wanted to hew to the ancient formula and offer his work as the anonymous poet of time.
The example of this sort of thing is put forth plainly in the First Book:
“Remember that Homer lived so long ago that he is believed to have been the first heroic poet in point in time as well as excellence of style; and whom do you think he could have imitated?
‘Someone else,’ said Federico, ‘still earlier than he, of whom we lack knowledge since it was so long ago.’”
(Ibid, p. 81)
Ultimately, it’s likely it was a combination of factors which led de Vere to take on the “Shakespeare” title, however, what’s evident is that a lot of work went into the effort, and an equal amount, if not more, has been put forth by those who continue to claim that the Stratfordian William Shakspere is Shakespeare. However, these questions are entirely too complex to take up here. Suffice it to say that the question of authorship is, and has been, a hotly-debated topic, and probably will be for some time.
Regarding histories, the Book of the Courtier offers crucial moments in time where Italy plays a vital role regarding our purposes here; specifically in tracing the migratory routes of those fleeing the recently fallen Trojan empire. To that end, we’d like to offer the following tale from the Third Book of the Courtier, where we open on the destruction in the wake of the falling of Troy. The tale is related by the Magnifico:
“After the conquest of Troy, many Trojans who escaped from the devastation fled away, some in one direction, some another. Of these, one band, after being tossed by storms, came to Italy, to the spot where the Tiber enters the sea. After they had landed to search for their necessities, they began to explore the countryside; and then the women, who had remained in the ships, thought up by themselves a practical scheme that would mean the end of their long and perilous wanderings on the sea and win them a new homeland in place of the one they had lost. After they had conferred together, the men still being absent, they burned the ships; and the first woman to put her hand to this work was called Roma. However, they were afraid of the anger of their men, who were now returning, and so they went to meet them; and with a great show of affection, embracing and kissing, some of their husbands and others their blood relations, softened the first impulse of anger; and then they calmly explained the reason for their shrewd decision. Subsequently, the Trojan men, partly because they had no choice and partly because they were kindly received by the native inhabitants, were more than pleased with what their women had done, and they settled there with the Latins in the place where Rome was eventually to be.”
(Ibid, p. 233)
And with actions such as this, the game is afoot. A new group of Trojan heroes perpetuates the state as they spread out north and west, bringing with them knowledge of ancient Asia and the stars and planets. Undoubtedly, the North is different in climate and attitude; for this is not under the purview of humanity to control, but are merely the intricate workings of our planet. As time unfolds, the drama of the Trojans undergoes a series of changes, however, these were rather like the times themselves; dynamic and fluid. In de Vere’s time, the bards and magicians, the philosophers and poets, had been replaced by the Courtier, the rise of the politician, and the Church. All three of these entities would have had to come together to accomplish what the Book of the Courtier refers to as the “greatest and rarest of all human virtues” which is “the manner and method of good government,” for, according to Castiglione, “This would be enough to make men happy and restore the earth to the golden age which is said to have existed once, when Saturn ruled.”
The reference to the ‘golden age of Saturn’ recalls a purported point in time when there was a mortal ruler of the same name. Yet, as previously mentioned, this euhemeristic process had been in play for quite a while before Castiglione’s work is put in print. However, the Saturn of which he speaks, certainly couldn’t have been the individual who is known as Saturn, Kronos and Prometheus; the owner of the scales of measurement, as well as the Promethean originator of fire; the same Saturn that cut off the private parts of his father, Ouranos. While the idea of a mortal Saturn who once ruled on Earth had been in circulation for quite some time; depicted in art and poetry, we believe Castiglione used his name as reference to the precessional properties associated with that figure; primarily as marker of the inception of the 26,000-year calendar. This book of Castiglione’s is example of the quickly-evolving world around the small Court of Urbino in which the tale unfolds. Yet, from their unique perspective, they were afforded the opportunity to look both into the past and future simultaneously; much like the aforementioned god Duir, the god of the oak month, i.e., King Lear; who, himself, is but a manifestation of the Oak god of the Hercules myth, of the cult of Apollo, where he is the keeper of the door, or, the stout guardian of the door. Game of Thrones fans might recognize his characteristics in Hodor.
However, at the time of The Courtier’s writing, Catholicism ruled the day. The thread which inextricably connects the two, though; Apollonian and Catholic, both, is precessional symbolism.
By way of example, here’s what the Book of the Courtier has to say on the subject:
“The bowl of heaven, adorned with so many celestial lamps, and the earth in the centre, surrounded by the elements and sustained by its own weight; the sun, illuminating all things as it revolves, in winter approaching the lowest sign, and then by degrees ascending to the other side; the moon, which derives its light from the sun, in accord with whether the sun is approaching or drawing away; and the five other stars which separately travel the same course: these all influence one another so profoundly through the coherence of the natural order that if they changed in the slightest they could no longer exist together and the universe would crumble.”
(Ibid, p. 331)
Here, the planets and natural order are the only things referred to. There is no mention of the all-Father, or of the hand of god in the description of these machinations. The same holds true for the concept of Sacred Love, which is described thus:
“This love, therefore, is as greater and happier than the others as the cause that produces it is greater. And thus, just as material fire refines gold, so this most sacred fire consumes and destroys everything that is mortal in our souls and quickens and beautifies the celestial part which previously, because of the senses, was dead and buried. This is the pyre on which the poets write that Hercules was burned on the summit of Mount Oeta and through whose fire he became divine and immortal after death; this is the burning bush of Moses, the parted tongues of fire, the fiery chariot of Elias, which doubles the grace and happiness of those souls worthy to see it, when it leaves the earth below and flies toward heaven.”
(Ibid, p. 341)
In this instance, the precessional symbolism abounds. For, in addition to the “fire” which marks the beginning of a new era; that of moving from Aries into Pisces, as signified by Moses, and the chariot of Elias (Elijah), moving across the sky, heavenward; much like the path of the sun; we also are shown the crucial symbol of Hercules. We would also do well in remembering that in the Herculean pantheon, Pallas-Athena, i.e., Shake-speare, was the female counterpart to Apollo; they together guarded the way to the mysteries. We should also recall that “hyperborean” essentially means of the far north, i.e., The British Isles, Iceland, Greenland, Scandinavia; the land beyond the north wind; the Corona Borealis, or the fortress of the northern wind; the Castle of Arianrhod. Also, aside from the lie about the book’s conception, there seems to be a fair amount of politicking going on. This much is evident by Castiglione’s obvious championing of the young lord Henry, Prince of Wales (the future Henry VIII):
“of England the Lord Henry, the Prince of Wales, who is now growing up in all virtue under his great father, like a tender shoot beneath the shade of a noble and fruitful tree, to renew it when the time comes with far greater beauty and fruitfulness. For, as our Castiglione writes from England, promising to tell us much more on his return, it seems that in this prince Nature has wished to show her power by bringing together in a single body enough virtues for a host of men.”
(Ibid, p.312)
That this gushing praise for the young Prince of Wales is regarding the notorious Henry VIII, and that it is put in print, unfortunately means that it can’t be walked back. For, despite the fact he spoke Latin, French, and Spanish well, and was also a composer of both books and music, Henry will forever be remembered for his many wives and their unfortunate mutual demise. Coincidentally, Henry was also a champion of the Roman Catholic church, ultimately being given the title, ‘Defender of the Faith,’ so one might see how this is easily the political concern of Castiglione, as well. For the purposes of our story, though, we’ll point out the fact that forty-four years before de Vere was born, ‘Sir Balthasar Castileon,’ as he was referred to in England, landed in Dover in October of 1506, to the end of accepting the investiture of the Order of the Garter for Guidobaldo I, the Duke of Urbino. After doing so, he is taken to have a private audience with the young Prince of Wales. He’s home by February of 1507. Though Castiglione’s trip only lasts several months, it’s impact lasted for quite some time in England; for his book was wildly popular there, so much so, that roughly sixty-six years later, in 1572, de Vere himself writes the Preface to Bartholomew Clerke’s English translation of The Book of the Courtier, in Latin. In order to have done so, de Vere must have cherished the work, and as we maintain, said work was instrumental in the execution of the Shakespeare canon in offering a blueprint for the creation of an original, timeless work of art, forged in the Promethean fires. These motives are far different than the purported ones of the Stratfordian Shakespeare; the “Will Shakspere” who was a successful businessman, and had no knowledge of the Royal Science.
However, even in the in-depth version of de Vere Looney paints, he ultimately sees him through the lens of nationalistic pride. It’s strange he does so while simultaneously affiliating him with the anonymous master-poets of time, though:
“The three greatest names in the world’s literature are those of Homer, Dante, and Shakespeare. The first belongs to the ancient world and the personality behind the name is lost beyond recall in the perished records of a remote antiquity. The two last belong to the modern world. The former of these belongs to Italy; and Italy is quite certain of the personality and cherishes every ascertained detail in the records of her most illustrious son. The last of the three - and who will venture to say is not the greatest of all? - belongs to England, and although nearer to us than Dante by three hundred years, the personality behind the name is as problematic as that of Homer; his identity being a matter of dispute amongst men whose capacity and calmness of judgement are questionable.”
(“Shakespeare” Identified, Looney, p. 68)
Regarding ‘nationalism’, we shall only mention it is our belief de Vere’s allegiances were far more complex than that. Primary in his allegiances would have been the House of Oxford; which was under attack by the Earl of Leicester, among others, even before he was born; and these circumstances could have contributed to the eventual demise of his father. Royal Court determined his house’s path, so he pandered to it, as did all in the same predicament. He is alive in a vital period of human history. For, as our chapter notes, this is a battle of ancient truth and modern mind. The ancient truth wants us to know the nature of our existence is complex and tied to machinations beyond our scope. Modern mind wants us to cherish only what we can see, feel, and touch. Ironically this is based on what can never be touched, or felt, but are merely abstract concepts: nationalism; God, democracy, and truth, to mention but a few. To reiterate our point; the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford endeavored to produce a compendium of these ancient truths in code. He framed this work in a medium he felt would best preserve them in the coming age; a deft combination of Commedia dell’arte and precessional symbolism, Celtic and near Eastern histories, as well as a preferred history of the British Isles. However, before we move on, we’d like to add that, although we’ve tapped a variety of sources in our thesis, what’s been left unmentioned could easily match what’s been put in. There are also avenues which seemed enticing, yet were ignored for brevity’s sake. Suffice it to say, that if one were interested in this precessional process of which we speak, there is no shortage of information hidden in ancient texts; some being riddled out at the time of this writing.
Chapter VII
Shakespeare in Space, or, “My God, It’s Full of Stars!”
The Movements of the planet Mercury. Hamlet’s Mill, courtesy Verlag Freies Geistesleben, Stuttgart.
“Hail Éarendel, brightest of angels thou,
Sent unto men upon this middle-earth!
Thou art the true refulgence of the sun,
radiant above the stars, and from thyself
illumines for ever all the tides of time.”
Cynewulf’s Christ (8-10th century, CE.)
It should be noted that we would be remiss in failing to mention the recent body of work which exists, and ties Shakespeare to the stars. Yet, while such work exists, close examination revealed that, while intriguing, it does nothing to reinforce our point here. However, to ignore this work seems to be avoiding it. Also, said work is useful for associating the machinations of the universe in the works of Shakespeare; however, we feel it is all essentially fallacious, as it posits the Stratfordian as the genius behind the scheme. That being said, for our purposes, we’ll examine the widely-circulated article from the November 1998 issue of Sky & Telescope magazine, entitled Shakespeare’s astronomical inspiration? (Browe Olson, Donald W.; Doescher, Russel L.; Olson, Marilynn S., Southwest Texas University), wherein the authors question the reason why Hamlet begins with the astronomical observation of Bernardo, from the ramparts of Elsinore, just after midnight:
Bernardo:
“Last night of all, When yond same star that’s westward from the pole Had made his course to illume that part of heaven where now it burns, Marcellus and myself, the bell then beating one [Enter Ghost].”
They also add:
“in Shakespeare’s plays it was usual for dramatic human events to be paralleled by heavenly portents.”
They then go on to scrutinize the logistics of the scene; the time of year, and hour of night to draw conclusions regarding the ‘where and when’ of the play. Based on what the Ghost of Hamlet’s father states regarding his being killed while taking an afternoon nap in the open air (“sleeping within my orchard”), the author’s surmise the murder then took place “Two months later on a cold night in November.” For this, and all other logistical exegesis, they inform us their study utilized planetarium software to find the dates (based on the Julian calendar in use), to determine which stars would be “westward from the pole” at 1 a.m., in addition to this, they note Elizabethans used the Big Dipper asterism to tell time, giving example from Henry IV, Part 1 (act 2, scene 1) where the hour of night is determined from the position of Ursa Major. They also note Shakespeare must have been acutely aware of “the bowl stars of the Little Dipper, Beta and Gamma Ursae Minoris, because he refers to them as “the guards of the ever-fixed pole” in Othello (act 2, scene 1). Based on their computer calculations for Shakespeare’s lifetime, they reach the conclusion the stars of Cassiopeia are a perfect fit, as they stood “westward from the pole” at 1 a.m. in the first part of November, however, this is immediately put in question, as the shape of Cassiopeia is similar, yet none of its stars prominent enough to be so visible. Under the heading of The New Star of 1572 the authors begin a section which introduces the supernova of 1572; here, it is determined to have met the aforementioned criteria for Hamlet’s opening scene, yet it’s also tied to Tycho Brahe and his discovery of the “new star.” At this point, the authors state:
“We can only imagine that Shakespeare, who was eight years old, would never forget when he first saw the new star.”
For the record, Edward de Vere was twenty-two at the time; a time-tested student of astronomy & mathematics, and of Royal Court. From here, the authors furthermore tie the New Star of 1572 to Tycho Brahe, and the eventual publication of his De nova stella, as well as his detailed, first-hand report of the phenomenon on November 11, of that year. In this account, Brahe testifies to the magnitude of the star, which outshone the Dog Star, Jupiter and Venus at their closest to Earth. From these observations, the authors conclude the new star must have had a magnitude of -4 or brighter. To support their statement, they add that the planetarium software shows the supernova to have had a magnitude of -4.6 in November 1572. The authors then quote the English historian Raphael Holinshed in his Chronicles (1587), where he gives a detailed description of the comet, before they go on to tie him to Shakespeare; noting it’s common knowledge Holinshed’s work directly influenced him; according to them:
“In fact, in a lifetime that has left remarkably few clues, several point to a relation with those scientists most closely associated with the study of a new star.”
This statement is then linked to the Rosenkrans and Guldensteren image in the famous portrait from the Brahe Coat of Arms. It is then noted Shakespeare lived near the mathematician Thomas Digges, who was personally sent a copy of the Coat of Arms, and it’s concluded he must have seen it there. Much is made of the observations of Digges and others who theorize about the star. This is tied to Hamlet, specifically Act II, Scene II, where they point out the character’s apparent melancholic reaction to astronomical phenomena:
“this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to me but a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.”
They contrast this with what they refer to as “boyish optimism and delight” from Digges in his A Perfit Description of the Caelestiall Orbes (1576), added as appendix to Prognostication Everlasting:
“we may easily consider what little portion of gods frame, our Elementare corruptible world is, but never sufficiently be able to admire the immensity of the Rest. Especially of that fixed Orbe garnished with lightes innumerable and reaching up in Sphaericall altitude without ende.”
Here, Digges’ statement about what the ‘gods frame’ out of this corrupt, earthly plane, is in fact, the lowest level in a scheme, where the fixed stars up on high are inaccessible; forever out of reach from the likes of the flour of the mill, only accessible to the seed of mankind; mirroring the limited view being disseminated at the time. Case in point being the aforementioned English historian Raphael Holinshed, and his Chronicles; the same ones that purportedly influenced Shakspere (a.k.a., the Stratfordian). Yes, while it’s true the Queen enlisted Holinshed to create his Chronicles, however, she specifically told him to create a history that was limited “From the flood, to the time of Elizabeth.” This, an obvious attempt to obfuscate truth, obliterate the time before Pisces, before Christ; a part of the global history and collective unconscious, which is unerasable. Additionally, these “gods” Digges refers to are nothing more than the stars and planets; there are no other, per Aristotle. Still, despite that fact, the authors go on in this vein, in order to establish the supposed nationalistic mindset of the time:
“To the Elizabethan observer the new star was not only a memorable sight but an event with disturbing religious and philosophical implications. In the two millenniums since Aristotle the fixed stars had been regarded as unchanging celestial symbols of security and order, with transitory phenomena such as comets and meteors assigned to the “elemental” regions below the moon. The unprecedented new star shook people’s confidence. Existing state papers show that Lord Burghley, adviser to Queen Elizabeth, consulted the astronomer Thomas Digges for his judgement about its nature and influence.”
Here, the authors have jumped to two conclusions which undo them in the end. First is the mentioning of Lord Burghley, who happens to have been Edward de Vere’s Father-in-law, and a life-long foe; their personal battles over time well-documented. Given that fact, nothing Burghley says, or does, is to be trusted; he is of that dark and violent world of espionage and counter-espionage: Burghley’s “investigation” into the new star is merely his first foray into figuring out how he’s going to spin the story to the benefit of the Royal court, i.e., the powers that be. If the star shook the general populace’s faith to its foundations, it is because Burghley made it so, not due to their limited astronomical knowledge.
Secondly, they glossed over a piece of information from Hamlet where De Vere gives us crucial insight into what he knows:
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in our philosophy.”
(Act 1, Scene 5. 168-9)
The Sky & Telescope article is a wonderful read, however, as previously mentioned, primary in our objection to it is the fact they suppose “Shakespeare” to be the Stratfordian, whereas to our way of thinking, this is virtually impossible; only De Vere would have had the savvy to pull off the endeavor.
Chapter VII
Werewolves, and Gauls, and Boars, Oh My!
De Vere Family Crest
“But from the birth of Dionysos, the son of Semele, daughter of Cadmus, to the present day is a period of about 1600 years only; from Heracles, the son of Alcmeme, about 900 years; from Pan, the son of Penelope - he is supposed by the Greeks to be the son of Penelope and Hermes - not more than about 800 years, a shorter time than has elapsed since the Trojan war.”
(Herodotus, the Histories, 2.145)
And now, to finally bring us back to the fold of our tale, we’ll return to the beginning, and to Saxo’s thirteenth century translation of Amlethus, or, Hamlet. As noted previously, our Hamlet’s Mill authors take Saxo to task at the outset for what they refer to as a poor translation of that tale. At the root of their complaint is an overlooked piece of information so big, they claim it should have had set off alarm-bells in dear old Saxo’s head.
We’ll let them impart this valuable bit from their Saxo critique:
“He could never have formed, Like Snorri, the great project of reorganizing the corpus of pagan and skaldic tradition inside an already Christian frame. Saxo seems to have known Icelandic fairly well, but not enough to understand the precious and convoluted language of ancient poetry. He was unsure of his bearings and simply arranged his story as best he could even though the name of Hamlet’s father, Orvendel, should have been sufficient to warn him of its derivation from high myth.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p. 86-87)
Though Saxo refers to him as Horvandillus, this is the same character. His name is also variously spelled as Orendel, Erendel, Oervandill, and Aurvandil; purportedly the first of all heroes ever born. This Orvendel, or, Éarendel, is as complex and loaded with meaning as his famous son, but unlike Hamlet, Orvendel is distinctly tied to stars and planetary bodies throughout time, in a variety of locations. His presence in the Edda sets the stage for his presence in the heavens, by way of a humorous tale which finds him being rescued by Thor, who does so to stop Örvandill’s witch wife, Groa, from casting her spell against him, and places Örvandill in a basket on his back, flying him in from Jötunheim in the north; the only problem being Örvandill’s toe had been left uncovered, hanging out of the basket, where it is frozen. Thor notices it and breaks it off, flinging it at the sky, making a star of it which is called Örvandils-tâ. The absolute identification of Örvandils-tâ has been lost to the mists of time, though in the past it has been identified with the whole of Orion, and also with Rigel; beta Orionis, and even the Corona borealis it’s been noted, looks like a toe. Its praises are sung in the passage from the outset of this chapter in the 8-10th century poem Cynewulf’s Christ; yet another example of a great writer whose actual identity has been lost to time; though in Cynewulf’s case, he’s also difficult to affix to any one point in time, as well. Sir Israel Gollancz provides some much-needed perspective from his seminal Hamlet in Iceland, which places the recognition of the star in the middle east, yet shows how it’s been updated to fit the Elizabethan paradigm:
“In Anglo-Saxon glosses “earendel…or “oerendil” is interpreted jubar, but “dawn” or “morning star” would probably be a better rendering, as in the only other passage known in old English literature, viz. the Blickling Homilies:
Nu Seo Cristes, gebyrd at his aeriste,
Se niwa earendel Sanctus Johannes,
And nu se leoma thaere sothan sunnan God selfa cumin wille.
****************************
And now the birth of Christ (was) at his appearing,
And the new day-spring (or dawn) was John the Baptist.
And now the glean of the true sun,
God himself, shall come.
Orendel/Earendel, then, seems to be the foremost among those which announce some “advent” not unlike the passage in the Odyssey (13.93.f) dealing with Odysseus’ arrival in Ithica: When that brightest (aster phaantatos) rose which comes to tell us that the dawn is near, the traveling ship was drawing close to an island.” That might point, again, to Venus, but there are reasons to think of Sirius, the brightest of all fixed stars.”
(Hamlet’s Mill, p.356.)
Apparently, Éarendel’s myth was Christianized by the Germans under Orendel, a star glorified as the true Light which lighteth every man that cometh into the world;” you’ll recognize it from this Chapter’s initial quote from Cynewulf:
“Eala, earendel, engla beorhast,
Ofer middan-geard monnum sended,
And soᵭ-fæsta sunna leoma,
Torht ofer tunglas, ƅe symble inlihtes.”
**********************
“Hail, heavenly Light, brightest of angels thou,
sent unto men upon this middle-earth!
Thou art the true refulgence of the sun,
radiant above the stars, and from thyself
illuminest for ever all the tides of time.”
(Gollancz, Hamlet in Iceland, Introduction, p. xxxxvii, footnote)
Gollancz then summarizes the whole episode as such:
“in spite of the absence of evidence to support the view, it be maintained that the Hamlet-tale was originally connected with the Orwendel myth, those who favour nature-myths have here an excellent opportunity for the display of their ingenuity. “The first hero ever born,” as Orwendel is described in the preface to the old German “Spielmanns Gedicht,” was certainly as his name implies, a radiant god of dawn or of spring; and does not Saxo make him battle with and ultimately slay King Collerus, i.e. King Cold? He kills him in a “spring-tide wood,” and in due course is himself slain by his own brother, and avenged by his own son. The hapless Gerutha, the giant-mother “Groa” of the Edda, is Mother Earth, who in the forced embraces of cruel Winter longs for the return of her beloved Spring.”
(Ibid, p. xxxviii)
Now, whereas the astronomers have utilized their computer software to populate their Elizabethan stars, we shall bring forth a bit of recent archaeology as our piece of modern science to reinforce our thesis. The Early Iron Age artifact named the Gundestrup Cauldron, recently found buried in a bog in Denmark, and tentatively dated to 150 BC, sheds light on the astronomical insights of the time, as well as into the mystery of the de Vere’s, and that Boar of theirs. Masterfully engraved on the inside of said Cauldron is the depiction of four horsemen with helmets; one with a half-circle, or solar orb enclosing an eye, representing Belenos, or Apollo; one with the horns of a bull, representing Taranis, the sun-orb; the third with a boar, representing Teutates, that is, Mars; one is a Raven, representing Lugus, or Mercury. If we harken back to our Chapter 3, The Tao of the Mill, we can recall De Santillana and Von Dechend used Hamlet to introduce Mars through the scene between he and Laertes, where he warns him:
“Though I am not by nature rash and splenetic
Yet there is in me something dangerous
Which let thy wisdom fear…”
Taken from the perspective of the Gundestrup Cauldron image, which shows that Mars is associated with the Boar, makes it evident Hamlet’s warning to Laertes is that he comes from a long-standing, war-like lineage; battle-tested throughout time, and that is why Laertes should be concerned. However, in addition to that affiliation, of perhaps greater importance is that peculiar star on the upper-left quadrant of the de Vere Crest… which star is it meant to signify? The record is silent in regards to the matter; yet, we propose it’s something to do with the Hellenistic concept of world quadrants; the upper left would roughly represent the British Isles; although it could refer solely to Ireland. In any event, in his 2019 paper Theology of the Four Masters: The Four Primordial Druids in Celtic Myths, the Québecois writer M.G. Boutet quotes from The Spoils of Annwn, or, The Raid on Annwfn (The Raid on the Otherworld) from The Book of Taliesin, within The Four Ancient Book of Wales (13-15th centuries):
“Am I not a candidate for fame, if a song is heard?
In Caer Pedryvan, four its revolutions;
In the first word from the cauldron when spoken,
From the breath of the nine maidens, it was gently warmed.
Is it not the cauldron of the chief of Annwvn?”
Boutet then goes on to state the following:
“In Taliesin’s poem, “Caer Pedryvan” is to be taken for Pegasus Square and the “isle of the strong door,” which no doubt alludes to Andromeda. In late October, coinciding with the Celtic feast of Samonios (Irish Samhain), Pegasus is crossing near the Meridian along with the other rapidly regressing summer constellations such as Cepheus, Aquarius, and Grus. At this time, Pegasus is observed to the south of Cepheus as a great square marked by the brightest stars of Pegasus accompanied by the alpha star of Andromeda. In Breton astronomy, the Winged Horse was called Marzhin, (Welsh, Myrddyn, or mariner; Merlin), Pegasus went by the names of Marc’h (marcos, “horse”) in Breton and March Lyr (marcos Leronos, “the horse of Lyr”) in Welsh. The rising of Pegasus marks the arrival of spring. In Greece, it coincides with the occurrence of vernal rainstorms. Merlin’s association with Pegasus is here more than interesting. This could very well be a reminiscence of Myrddyn as master-seer of Caer Pedryvan.”
(Boutet, p. 4)
The Raid on Annwvn is a centerpiece of Lear and his association with celestial phenomena; for, Caer is old Celtic for fortress or citadel, and Petruvan is derived from Petrubannonos, or, four-cornered: so, the four-cornered citadel is a crucial alignment for Northern astronomy, and this Pegasus square; the isle of the strong door, then, is warmed by the breath of the nine-maidens of Hamlet’s Mill. Also, in its capacity as Merlin, the sorcerer, Pegasus somehow served as steed to Lear; however, if it’s not abundantly clear by now; a horse of the ocean is a ship; it also may serve as a vessel which transports one to the heavens. Now, let’s return to Hamlet’s Mill for the final time. Here, our authors inform us in their Chapter XXI, The Great Pan is Dead, of the occasion when the Lycaean “Wolf-Games,” the parent games of the later Lupercalia in Rome, began on Mount Lykaios; the birthplace of Pan, according to Pindar. At one point, Zeus comes to the sanctuary of Pan on Lykaios, to a particular place referred to as Trapezous, where he purportedly is served a dish of human meat, consisting of his own son; in a fit of outrage, Zeus turns Lykaon into a werewolf, and then proceeds to uplift, and tilt the table:
“causing the Flood of Deukalion, the “table” of course, being the earth-plane through the ecliptic. This is the significant event of the tale, and the whole thing is so long no sensible person would try to summarize it.”
With the image of the werewolf firmly established, our authors then go on to boldly tie it to Shakespeare, by way of a historical character named Robert le Diable, who supposedly suffered spells as a werewolf, and afterwards would do penance by “lying in the guise of a dog under the ladder.” This character is then connected to the dynasty of the Scaligeri in Verona, and in particular Prince Escalus in Romeo & Juliet, whose powerful founder was Can Grande della Scala, “Great Dog of the Ladder,” who becomes a host to Dante wandering in exile, and a patron of the Divine Comedy. His successors, Mastino, Cansignorio, had dog names too.” Furthermore, on the theme of celestial dogs, our authors go on to tie the whole affair up with some information from Pythagoras:
“First, Pythagoras called the planets “the dogs of Persephone.” Second, there is only one huge ladder, the Galaxy, and only one canine character lying under this ladder, Sirius.”
The precessional speech of time does not waiver in these circumstances. It can be fully present, yet go completely unnoticed; only divulging itself to those willing to stretch meaning and unlock the style of time. Nothing is evident in this scenario, and the use of periphrasis, among others, is primary in divulging meaning. Therefore, if we take a minor character in a Shakespeare play; in this instance we will use Prince Escalus, given his recently fleshed-out background, and his association with the ladder and Sirius, i.e., the galaxy and the dog star; and take a speech of theirs, which on the surface might seem plain and direct, yet in reality is ambiguous and mystifying from the right angle:
Prince:
“Shut up the mouth of outrage for a while,
Till we can clear these ambiguities
And know their spring, their head, their true descent;
And then will I be general of your woes,
And lead you even to death. Meantime, forbear,
And let mischance be slave to patience.”
(Romeo and Juliet, Act 5, Scene 3, 215-220)
From the outside, the speech seems to fit the tenor of the play; there has been violence and wrong-doing, so the Prince is meant to pass judgement on the guilty parties, and resolve the action.
But something about the wording of his speech caught my attention. And if Prince Escalus is to be affiliated with his deeper meaning and his galactic and stellar properties, then it’s important to investigate all avenues. For instance, the oft-overlooked Cordelia and Lear relationship and their connection to the god Janus; double sided, and its connection to the “stout guardian of the door,” the door which shut off the ancient pagan from the Christian; the Herculean/Apollonian Druidic cult being done away with, to be replaced with a Christian paradigm. Therefore, when “the mouth of outrage” is silenced, or rather, as we’ll tentatively translate the phrase, “the persistent prattle of clergy,” is silenced, then, and only then, can there be a true dialectic. Correspondingly, when it’s said: And know their spring, their head, their true descent; we might take it that Escalus is saying that if we understand the true right of spring, of the vernal equinox; we might know the true gods and the lineage of these. In addition to these, in his role as dog star, Escalus will lead souls up the ladder after death, to the land of rebirth. So, as can be seen, there are a variety of ways in which to divulge meaning when the complexity of the endeavor is understood. While our interpretation of Shakespeare might seem far-fetched to some, we would hope that after digesting so many arcane ideas from antiquity, and having witnessed their use in poetry, history, myth, and song -- one might glean some inspiring meaning.
Regarding death and its meaning in the ancient world, there is much to be divulged from that time. To that end, the Greek historian, Diodorus Siculus, in his Library of History collects all the pertinent information of the barbarians of the time; the Celtic and Goidelic cultures comprising all of Western Europe and the gateway to Eastern Europe, at a crucial point in history which finds both their worlds quickly fading. For our purposes, though, we’ll concentrate on his observations of the Gauls, the stock from which the de Vere’s sprang. Here, Diodorus informs us of their customs regarding hospitality:
“They invite strangers to their feasts, and do not enquire until after the meal who they are and of what things they stand in need. And it is their custom, even during the course of a meal, to seize upon any trivial matter as an occasion for keen disputation and then challenge one another to single combat, without any regard for their lives; for the belief of Pythagoras prevails among them, that the souls of men are immortal and that after a prescribed number of years they commence upon a new life, the soul entering into another body.”
(Diodorus, Book V.28.)
What initially seems a description on hospitality, becomes an exposition on the deepest held-beliefs of a people regarding mortality and the after-life; as is evident here, the raw power and energy of the beliefs of the time supersede what’s to be construed as polite, or proper behavior. But more importantly, the way in which east and west were still in concordance at that time regarding metempsychosis, is indicative of how understanding the heavens is foremost in the model of mortality. For, reincarnation was not only something to believe in, it was something to actively study. This was accomplished by understanding the Way of the Gnostics, or the Way of the Tao; it is not exclusive to either, but both are subservient to the study of nature, the heavens, and the way of humanity. In the pages of Diodorus, one can see the beliefs which motivated the actions of the Celts and Gauls of the time. However, more importantly, in their reading, one might better understand the motivations of characters in the pages of history.
Case in point being the aforementioned singling out of Lear on the battlefield by Cailte, the vicious warrior who invariably slays him, as recorded in The Book of Lecan. If we recall, Cailte is on the field of battle, just prior to engagement, and asks who the greatest warrior on the other side is, all reply it is Lear, he then singles him out for annihilation. Compare that episode to this description from Diodorus regarding the Gauls and their attitudes in battle:
“It is also their custom, when they are formed in battle, to step out in front of the line and to challenge the most valiant men from among the opponents to single combat, brandishing their weapons in front of them to terrify their adversaries.”
(Ibid., 5.29)
For the record, it’s been widely noted that Edward de Vere had a rough side to him, and there is even current authorship which concludes, based on this “boorish” behavior, he could in no way have been responsible for the Shakespeare canon; as such a miscreant would be incapable of elevated thought. Although, we would argue that de Vere knew this “boarish-ness” (pardon the pun), to his core, it was also part of his genius. For, like the Gauls they were, the de Vere’s chose truth over politeness, truth over circumstance, reminding us; there’s nothing truer than truth. To that end, let’s return to Diodorus and his account of the Gauls to reinforce our point:
“when they meet together they converse with few words and in riddles, hinting darkly at things for the most part and using one word when they mean another; and they like to talk in superlatives, to the end that they may extol themselves and deprecate all other men. They are also boasters and threateners and are fond of pompous language, and yet they have sharp wits and are not without cleverness at learning. Among them are also to be found lyric poets whom they call Bards. These men sing to the accompaniment of instruments which are like lyres, and their songs may be either of praise or of obloquy. Philosophers, as we may call them, and men learned in religious affairs are usually honoured among them and are called by them Druids.”
(Ibid., 5.29)
There are many accounts which refer to de Vere as “rash,” “temperamental,” “a braggart,” and the such, however, compared to the above description of his blood line, can we not say he was merely displaying his Gaulish roots? More importantly though, is the fact that de Vere succeeded in affiliating himself with the Druidic masters of Poesy; with the skaldic masters of the Celts, who threw down the challenge to the Bards of the time, via Taliesin, to up their game. If one knows de Vere’s life story, they know he gave everything he had to the endeavor of “Shakespeare.” Property, land, earthly possessions, these were all liquid things he used in his life time solely because they were there at his disposal; helped to meet a greater end. The Taliesin of the ancient world ushered the complex, centuries-long transition from the pagan to the Christian era and simultaneously tied it to the history of the North. The Greeks also recognized the importance of this shift, and accordingly set about chronicling the ancient for posterity. Correspondingly, the British seemed intent in creating the blueprint for a future they knew would be predicated and measured solely by their Elizabethan, Christian, or Piscean era, i.e., one who’s time is out of joint.
However, once again: we argue the business of the Seventeenth Earl of Oxford was to wrap the mystery of the ages since, at least Troy, into the foundation of this endeavor, via the Shakespeare canon. Not in an obvious way; per the ancients, but in the timeless manner of poets, hewing to the creed of his house, always remembering there’s nothing truer than truth.
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