Polonius Texts

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French | Patterson | Looney | Winstanley | Ogburn | Whalen | Sobran


from Shakspeareana Genealogica

by George Russel French

(Macmillan & Co., London: 1869, pp. 299-310)

Date of Action, B.C. 434

In Coxe's Travels, Volume v., we find this passage in the History of Denmark;--"Adjoining to a royal palace, which stands about half-a-mile from Cronborg, is a garden which our curiosity led us to visit, as it is called Hamlet's garden, and is said by tradition to be the very spot where the murder of his father was perpetrated. The house is of modern date, and is situated at the foot of a sandy ridge near the sea. The garden occupies the scite of the hill, and is laid out in terraces rising one above another. Elsineur is the scene of Shakspeare's Hamlet, and the original history from which that divine author derived the principal incidents of his play is founded upon facts, but so deeply buried in remote antiquity that it is difficult to discriminate truth from fable. Saxo-Grammaticus, who flourished in the 12th century, is the earliest historian of Denmark that relates the adventures of Hamlet. His account is extracted and much altered by Bellforest, a French author, an English translation of whose romance was published under the title of the Historye of Hamblet, and from this translation Shakspeare formed the ground-work of his play, though with many alterations and additions."

In a foot-note Coxe says,--" The only copy I ever saw of this work is in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge, in the curious collection relative to the School of Shakespeare, given by the late Mr Capell to that society. It is in black letter, intitled, The Historye of Hamblett; Imprinted by Richard Bradocke for Thomas Pavier."

Coxe proceeds to give a sketch of Hamlet's history from Saxo-Grammaticus, whose Latin text he sometimes quotes:--"Long before the introduction of Christianity into Denmark, Horwendillus, Prefetct, or King of Jutland, was married to Gerutha, or Gertrude, daughter of Ruric, King of Denmark, by whom he had a son, called Amlettus, or Hamlet. Fengo murders his brother Horwendillus, marries Gertrude, and ascends the throne. Hamlet, to avoid his uncle's jealousy, counterfeits folly....Fengo, suspecting the reality of his madness, endeavours by various methods to discover the real state of his mind; amongst others he departs from Elsineur, concerts a meeting between Hamlet and Gertrude, concluding that the former would not conceal his sentiments from his own mother, and orders a courtier to conceal himself, unknown to either, for the purpose of over-hearing, their conversation." Hamlet kills the hidden spy, as in the play, and then reproaches his mother. "Fengo returns to Elsineur, sends Hamlet to England under the care of two courtiers, and requests the king, by a letter, to put him to death. Hamlet discovers and alters the letter, the king orders the two courtiers to immediate execution, and betroths his daughter to Hamlet." The prince on his return to Denmark sets fire to the palace, kills his uncle, and is proclaimed king. In the chronicle Hamlet marries another princess, and lives happily for a time with his two wives, but at length is "killed in a combat with Vigletus, son of Ruric." In the old story Hamlet is little better than a semi-barbarian; in the play he is delineated with the lofty thoughts of a philosopher, and a scholar, and the refined manners of an English gentleman, and the reason for this it will be the aim of the Compiler of these Notes to show. In his Genealogical Table of the Kings of Denmark, Betham places Ruric in the year 434 B.C., and he names the personages before alluded to, as Gerutha, whose first husband he calls Hurwendil, father of Hamlet, and her second was Freggo, the usurping uncle. Beyond these names none of the other persons in the play belong to that remote period, but much interest in them is awakened by the opinion of critics that SHAKSPEARE intended nearly all the dramatis persona: to have some resemblance to characters in his own day, and certainly there are good grounds for the conjecture.

Bearing in mind that Bellforest's translation was published in 1560, and that the wonderful drama was written in 1596, we will proceed to the notice of the personages believed to be indicated by certain names in the play, who are nearly all in one way or other connected with the history of SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, who seems by common consent to stand for "young Hamlet." This is the key-note to the rest. His honoured father, the wise and able Sir HENRY SIDNEY, of Penshurst, is put down for the elder HAMLET, to whom the Poet does not assign any other name, but to whom he ascribes so high a character, as when the son is looking on his portrait, Act III. Scene 4,--

"See, what a grace was seated on his brow," &c.

Dr Zouch says, "a more exalted character than that of Sir Henry Sidney can scarcely be found in the volume of history." Of him, therefore, his son might say, as Hamlet of his father,--

"I shall not look upon his like again."

One of the parts supposed to have been filled by SHAKSPEARE himself was that of--

"The majesty of buried Denmark;"

according to Rowe; and SHAKSPEARE'S only son, who died when under twelve years of age, was baptized Hamnet, which is considered synonymous with Hamlet; his godfather most probably being Hamnet or Hamlet Sadler, to whom the Poet left a legacy, of--

"xxvjs viijd to buy him a ringe."

It is worthy of remark that Sir Henry Sidney died (May 5, 1586) five months and twelve days before his accomplished son, and that very date is reckoned by commentators to have elapsed between the murder of the elder Hamlet and the final catastrophe in the play, young Hamlet's death.

The usurping CLAUDIUS of the drama has been regarded as a satire on the Lord Keeper, Sir NICHOLAS BACON, not of course with reference to crime; nor has any one ever ventured to link the revered name of Sidney's mother, Lady MARY DUDLEY, with the guilty queen, GERTRUDE.

The next important personages in the play are the "Lord Chamberlain," POLONIUS; his son, LAERTES; and daughter, OPHELIA; and these are supposed to stand for Queen Elizabeth's celebrated Lord High Treasurer, Sir WILLIAM CECIL, Lord Burleigh; his second son, ROBERT CECIL; and his daughter, ANNE CECIL. Hamlet's bosom friend HORATIO is said to be HUBERT LANGUET (by Mr JULIUS LLOYD); MARCELLUS and BERNARDO are allotted to FULK GREVILLE and EDWARD DYER; "FRANCISCO may perhaps be intended for HARVEY." (LLOYD). LAMORD, who is only alluded to in the play, Act IV. Scene 7,--

"he is the brooch indeed,
And gem of all the nation ;"

is meant for Raleigh; young Fortinbras,--

"Of unimproved mettle, hot and full,"

for the brave, but impetuous ROBERT DEVEREUX, Earl of ESSEX, then in the height of his fame; "OLD NORWAY," uncle to young Fortinbras, is ascribed to Sir FRANCIS KNOLLYS, whose daughter Lettice married Walter Devereux, first Earl of Essex, and their son was Robert, just noticed. "Young Osric" is a specimen of the foppish gallants of Queen Elizabeth's court, who affected the style of language, called Euphuism, of which Sir Walter Scott has given an amusing example, in the person of "Sir Piercie Shafton," in the Monastery.

With the exceptions of Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo, the Compiler does not seek to disturb these appropriations. But first to examine into the history of the Cecils. It is well known that an alliance of marriage was proposed by their fathers to take place between Philip Sidney and Anne Cecil, the "fair Ophelia" of the play: here is one link of resemblance in the story. Queen Gertrude says,--

"I hop'd thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife."

Anne Cecil became the wife of Edward de Vere, seventeenth Earl of Oxford. This was not a happy marriage for the lady, and the only quarrel in which Philip Sidney ever engaged was with Oxford, who had behaved to him with great rudeness, and the challenge between them was only frustrated by the Queen's interference. Did our Poet bear this quarrel in mind when he makes Hamlet leap into Ophelia's grave and grapple with Laertes?--

"I will fight with him upon this theme."

In the drama Polonius, on his son Laertes leaving him for foreign travel, gives him his blessing, and advice, telling him,--

"And these few precepts in thy memory
Look thou character."

We have now come to a second link in the chain of evidence. When Robert Cecil was about to set out on his travels, his father (who lived till 1598) was careful to enjoin upon him "ten precepts," in allusion, as he explains, to the Decalogue, and in some of these the identity of language with that of Polonius is so close, that SHAKSPEARE could not have hit upon it unless he had been acquainted with Burleigh's parental advice to Robert Cecil, who was forty-six years old when the play was written. It is worth while to compare the "precepts" of the two fathers: those of Polonius can with certainty be divided into at least nine sections; they are not of course intended to run parallel in all respects with those of Cecil, but some of them are wonderfully alike.







..........."Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel*;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new hatch'd unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel, but being in,
Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich not gaudy;
For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
And they in France of the best rank and station
Are of a most select and generous chief in that.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all, to shine ownself be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man,
Farewell; my blessing season this in thee."

Act I. Scene 3.

[*In some editions it is "hoops of steels," but "hook " will best agree with grapple."]

Now Lord Burleigh's "ten precepts," which are numbered in due order, contain some startling coincidences of expression with the precepts of Polonius; those which do not fit the Poet's text may be merely glanced at. Precept 1 relates to "choosing a wife," and keeping house; 2, to bringing up children; 3 contains advice respecting servants. Precept 4--"Let thy kindred and allies be welcome to thy house and table. Grace them with thy countenance, and farther them in all honest actions. For by this means thou shalt so double the band of nature as thou shalt find them so many advocates to plead an apology for thee behind thy back. But shake off those glow-worms, I mean parasites and sycophants, who will feed and fawn upon thee in the summer of prosperitie, but in an adverse storme they will shelter thee no more than an arbour in winter. 5. Beware of suretyship for thy best friends. He that payeth another man's debts seeketh his own decay. But if thou canst not otherwise chose, rather lend thy money thyself upon good bonds, although thou borrow it. So shalt thou secure thyself, and pleasure thy friend. Neither borrow of a neighbour or of a friend, but of a stranger, whose paying for it thou shalt hear no more of it. 6. Undertake no suit against a poor man without receiving much wrong. 7. Be sure to make some great man thy friend. 8. Towards superiors be humble, yet generous. With shine equals familiar, yet respective. Towards shine inferiors show much humanity and some familiarity. 9. Trust not any man with thy life credit, or estate. 10. Be not scurrilous in conversation, or satirical in thy jests."

The Lord Treasurer Burleigh was not over fond of actors and the drama, whereas Robert Dudley, the splendid Earl of Leicester, uncle to Philip Sidney, was the great friend of the players. In 1573 "the Earl of Leicester's players" visited the town of Stratford-upon-Avon, when the future Poet was nine years old. Burleigh was often in antagonism to Leicester, and prevented his obtaining the appointment of Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and otherwise thwarted his ambitious views. Next to Leicester, the most able and bitter of Burleigh's adversaries was Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, father-in-law of Sir Walter Raleigh, and uncle of the wife of Edward Arden of Parkhall SHAKSPEARE'S cousin on the mother's side, in whose condemnation the Lord Treasurer concurred. Moreover Burleigh neglected Sir Francis Walsingham, whose daughter Frances became the wife, first of Sir Philip Sidney, and afterwards of the Earl of Essex. Hubert Languet on one occasion suggested to his pupil Philip Sidney to affect more attachment than he felt to Cecil. SHAKSPEARE'S inclinations would naturally take side with the great Warwickshire noble in remembering the political skirmishes between Leicester and Burleigh, and his covert satire on the latter, under the guise of Polonius, would be well understood in his day, and probably relished by none more than by Queen Elizabeth herself, who could enjoy a jest, though at the expense of her wise and faithful William Cecil.

It is a charming trait in the character of Hamlet that whereas, to keep up the delusion respecting his sanity, he amuses himself at the expense of the good old Lord Chamberlain, he will not allow any one else to show a want of respect to him, and thus he cautions the player-actor,--"Follow that lord, and look you mock him not."

We must now seek to identify (to some extent) Sir Philip Sidney with "young Hamlet :" Ophelia's language,--

"O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!
The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword:
The expectancy and rose of the fair state,
The glass of fashion, and the mould of form,
The observ'd of all observers "--

has been often applied by biographers to Philip Sidney, who is perhaps the character of all others of whom Englishmen are most justly proud. Camden calls him, "the great glory of his family, the great hope of mankind, the most lively pattern of virtue, the glory of the world." Raleigh, who seems to have had no jealous feeling towards him, styles him "the English Petrarch ;" Owen calls him "the Marcellus of the English Nation ;" Lee (author of Cæsar Borgia) says, "he was at once a Cæsar and a Virgil, the leading soldier, and the foremost poet. All after this must fail. I have paid just veneration to his Name, and methinks the Spirit of Shakspeare pushed the Commendation." The great sons of Apollo, Spenser, Ben Jonson, and Waller, have all recorded their admiration of Sidney. The Prince of Orange spoke of him as "his master;" Queen Elizabeth called him "her Philip," and her court and people shared in the esteem of their sovereign for the man who was not less valued abroad by the greatest princes of the time, who treated him, young as he was, more like an equal than the subject of another potentate. When Philip Sidney, who was born in 1554, was on his "grand tour," in 1572, he fell in at Frankfort with the famous scholar, Hubert Languet, "by whose advice he studied various authors, and shunned the seductions of popery" (Dr ZOUCH). The friendship between them was very strong, and many letters are preserved written in Latin from Languet to Sidney, which were first printed in 1639. The writer of these remarks ventures to differ from those critics who assign Languet to Horatio, and in proposing Fulke Greville instead, he brings forward the following arguments to support the change. In the first place Hubert Languet was at least thirty-six years older than Sidney. It is generally understood that Languet was 63 years old at his death in 1581. In the second place, their tone towards each other, in their correspondence, is rather that of master and pupil, or Mentor and Telemachus, than of bosom friends, equals in years. Languet addresses Philip, "mi dulcissime fili," and Sidney writes thus of his tutor;--

"The song I sung old Languet had me taught;
* * *
He liked me, but pitied lustful youth,
His good strong staff my slipp'ry years up-bore,
He still hoped well, because I loved truth"

Arcadia, Book III.

Fulke Greville, in his Life of the renowned Sir Philip Sidney, speaks of his tutor as--"the reverend Languet, who became a nurse of knowledge to the hopeful young gentleman."

Now to apply the test to Fulke Greville, as Horatio. He was a kinsman of Philip Sidney; equally descended from the noble Beauchamps; born in the same year, 1554; educated with him at the same school, at Shrewsbury*, which they entered on the same day; and they studied afterwards together at one, if not at both of the Universities, Oxford and Cambridge; they were the dearest friends through life; fellow-travellers; comrades in the tilt-yard. They had prepared to accompany Sir Francis Drake in his expedition to the West Indies, but were forbidden to do so by Queen Elizabeth, who would not spare two such promising youths from her court.

[*As Lord President of Wales Sir Henry Sidney resided at Ludlow Castle, which is only about 24 miles from Shrewsbury, then as now famous for its school. Philip Sidney went to Christ Church College, Oxford, at twelve years of age, and after studying there for three years, removed, as generally supposed, to Cambridge, and was probably of Trinity College, with his friend, Fulke Greville. Chalmers' Biog. Dict.]

Let us now examine SHAKSPEARE'S language. At their first interview Hamlet recognizes his former comrade, Horatio,--

"Sir, my good friend, I'll change that name with you ;"--

and again acknowledges their early association in school at Wittenburg,--

"I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student"

Next we have the expression of Hamlet's strong regard for Horatio, Act III. Scene 2;--in the passage, ending,--

"Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee."

All these expressions, and the affectionate demeanour between the two friends throughout the play, point to a companion of the same age and station, as was Greville, rather than to one so much older than Sidney, as was Hubert Languet. Fulke Greville, knighted by Queen Elizabeth, and created Lord Brooke by James the First, wrote Life of the renowned Sir Philip Sidney, and directed this inscription to be placed upon his own tomb;--


One of Sir Philip Sidney's Pastorals is addressed to his two most intimate friends (Sir) Edward Dyer, and (Sir) Fulke Greville, coupling their initials with his own:--

"Welcome my two to me, E. D.--F. G.--P. S.--
The number most beloved.--
Within my heart you be
In friendship unremoved;
Join hearts and hands, so let it be,
Make but one mind in bodies three."

To these two cherished friends, and congenial spirits, Sir Philip Sidney in his will left a precious legacy of regard;--"Item, I give and bequeath to my dear friends, Mr Edward Dyer, and Mr Fulk Greville, all my books." In the play Hamlet addresses Horatio and Marcellus evidently as his chief intimates;--

"And now, good friends,
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers,
Give me one poor request."

With some fair reason therefore it is urged that Greville and Dyer were intended for Hamlet's friends Horatio and Marcellus.

EDWARD DYER, of a good Somersetshire family, cousin to Sir James Dyer, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, was born in 1540, and, having been educated at Oxford, travelled abroad, and was much employed by Queen Elizabeth in several embassies, particularly in Denmark, in 1589; and on his return the Queen conferred upon him the Chancellorship of the Garter, and knighted him. He wrote some poems, called England's Helicon, and Description of Friendship, and died in the reign of King James.

There are other remarkable coincidences to be noticed. In the play, when Horatio desires to know how his friend contrived to imitate his uncle's treacherous commission, Hamlet tells him, Act v. Scene 2,--

....................."I sat me down,
Devis'd a new commission, wrote it fair;
I once did hold it, as our statists do,
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now
It did me yeoman's service."

In a letter written, Oct. 18, 1580, by Sir Philip Sidney to his younger brother Robert (afterwards Earl of Leicester), whom he lovingly addresses as "sweet Robin," and "dear boy," he says, "I would by the way your Worship would learne a better hand, you write worse than I, and I write evil enough."

Almost the last words of the dying Hamlet contain an injunction to Horatio--

"If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity awhile,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain,
To tell my story."

As we have seen, Fulke Greville did write the "story" of his beloved friend, comrade and schoolfellow.

Sir Philip Sidney's last words to his weeping brother Robert deserve to be quoted:--"Love my memory, cherish my friends; their faith to me may assure you they are honest; but, above all, govern your will and affections by the will and word of your Creator, in me beholding the end of this world, and all her Vanities."

May not the words of Fortinbras refer to the rejection of the crown of Poland, which was offered to Sir Philip Sidney, at the death of Stephen Bathori,--

"Let four captains
Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put on,
To have proved most royally"?

SHAKSPEARE was only ten years younger than Sir Philip Sidney, and it is highly probable that the Poet was personally acquainted with him, as it is evident he was with Sidney's writings, the Arcadia being first printed in 1594, and the Defence of Poesie, in 1594. There are some remarkable coincidences of language in SHAKSPEARE'S Pericles, and SIDNEY'S Arcadia: in the latter a character is called Pyrocles, and this passage occurs;--"The Senate-house of the Planets was set no time for the decreeing perfection in a man. SHAKSPEARE has:--

"The Senate-house of planets all did sit
To knit in her their best perfection."

Afterwards, in the same scene is this line,--

"For he's no man on whom perfections wait''
Pericles, Act I. Sc 1.

And other passages in the same play have a striking resemblance to parts of the Arcadia.

In those portions of the dramatic story which conform to the incidents of the early chronicle the chief character is still the heathen "Prince of Denmark," but in the matchless inventions of the Poet we see in "Young Hamlet" all the perfections of mind and body which adorned Sir Philip Sidney*; and this resemblance once admitted brings one to the conclusion that of all the glowing tributes of admiration which have been paid to the memory of the brave, wise, and gentle Sidney, by poet, historian, and biographer, none is more touching, more deserved, or graceful, than the imperishable verse of SHAKSPEARE, who in commemorating Sidney, under "Hamlet the Dane," might have addressed him in the words of one of his sonnets, LXXXI:

"Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er read;
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse,
When all the breathers of this world are dead:
You still shall live, such virtue hath my pen,
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men."

[*Aubrey says of Sidney, "he was not only of an excellent wit, but extremely beautiful."]



from Censorship and Interpretation
by Annabel Patterson

(Univ. of Wisconsin Press, Madison: 1984.)

(pp. 10-11)
"For what we find everywhere apparent and widely understood, from the middle of the sixteenth century in England, is a system of communication in which ambiguity becomes a creative and necessary instrument, a social and cultural force of considerable consequence. On the one hand writers complain constantly that their work is subject to unauthorized or unjust interpretation; on the other they gradually developed codes of communication, partly to protect themselves from hostile and hence dangerous readings of their work, partly in order to be able to say what had to publicly without directly provoking or confronting the authorities. It has frequently been pointed out that legislated control of the press by such mechanisms as prepublication licensing tends to be virtually impossible to enforce, given the variety of stratagems to which writers and printers could resort to to evade laws - clandestine presses, books smuggled in from abroad, not to mention the costs and difficulties of administering such a system, and the inevitable fallibility or carelessness of the licensers. Pottinger cites the extreme case of a French censor who reported, of a certain translation "called The Koran, by Mahomet," that he found "nothing in it contrary to religion or morals." But there is a whole range of publishing in England that can be better accounted for by assuming some degree of cooperation and understanding on the part of the authorities themselves, something that goes even beyond the recognition that unenforceable laws were better than none, that the occasional imprisonment, however arbitrary, had an exemplary force. Rather, there were conventions that both sides accepted as to how far a writer could go in explicit address to the contentious issues of his day, how he could encode his opinions so that nobody would be required to make an example of him."

(p. 14-15, quoting Quintilian)
"You can speak as openly as you like against…tyrants, as long as you can be understood differently, because you are not trying to avoid giving offence, only its dangerous repercussions. If danger can be avoided by some ambiguity of expression, everyone will admire its cunning."

(p. 17)
"…I see the prevailing codes of communication, the implicit social contract between authors and authorities, as being intelligible to all parties at the time, as being a fully deliberate and conscious arrangement. This is the significance of those famous puzzling incidents of noncensorship: Elizabeth I recognized the topical meaning of a production of Richard II in 1601…"

(p. 24)
"Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia is a natural introduction to the joint study of interpretation and culture."

(p. 28, quoting Sidney's Defence of Poesie)
"Is the poor pipe disdained, which sometime out of Meliboues' mouth show the misery of the people under hard lords or ravening soldiers? And again, by Tityrus, what blessedness is derived to them that lie lowest from the goodness of them that sit highest; sometimes, under the pretty tales of wolves and sheep, can include the whole considerations of wrongdoing and patience."

(p. 29, quoting Puttenham)
"The Poet devised the Eglogue…not of purpose to counterfait or represent the rusticall manner of loves and communication; but under the vaile of homely persons, and in rude speeches to insinuate and glaunce at greater matters, and such as perchance had not bene safe to have beene disclosed in any other sort, which may be perceived in the Eglogues of Virgill, in which are treated by figure matters of greater importance then the loves of Titirus and Corydon."

(p. 39)
It seems clear that this fable is, like Geron's tale of the silenced swan, not only about repression and the restriction of free political commentary, but about itself, about fabling, and about equivocation in the interests of safety. It is worth remembering Sidney's point in the Defence, that living "under hard lords" leads to writing "under the pretty tales of wolves and sheep," a phrase that conflates pastoral and beast fable as those forms which can imply "the whole considerations of wrongdoing and patience." While Sidney's fable seems to remain ambivalent on these subjects (and hence, as we have seen, provocative of different interpretations), it does not remain ambiguous; for by pointing out the need for ambiguity, in a system where no one may "freely speak" except the ruler, Sidney, in effect, makes plain his desire for reform."

(p. 44)
"What I shall suggest in this chapter is that Chamberlain and his contemporaries were far more sophisticated about the problems of interpretation than we might suppose; that their sensitivity to both the difficulties and the interest of interpretation is remarkably well documented; and that we can from these documents reconstruct the cultural code, for that is what developed, by which matters of intense social and political concern continued to be discussed in the face of extensive political censorship."



from Shakespeare Identified
by J. Thomas Looney

(Frederick A. Stokes Company, New York: 1920, pp. 400-407)

The personal relationship in the play which bears most critically upon our present argument is that of Hamlet with Polonius and Ophelia. The chief minister at the royal court of Denmark is Polonius. The chief minister at the royal court of England was Burleigh. Is the character of Polonius such that we may identify him with Burleigh? Again it is not a question of whether Polonius is a correct representation of Burleigh, but whether he is a possible representation of the English minister from the special point of view of the Earl of Oxford. To what has already been said elsewhere in this connection, it will perhaps suffice to quote from Macaulay's essay on Burleigh:

"To the last Burleigh was somewhat jocose; and some of his sportive sayings have been recorded by Bacon. They show much more shrewdness than generosity, and are indeed neatly expressed reasons for exacting money rigorously and for keeping it carefully. It must, however, be acknowledged that he was rigorous and careful for the public advantage as well as for his own. To extol his moral character is absurd. It would be equally absurd to represent him as a corrupt, rapacious and bad-hearted man. He paid great attention to the interest of the state, and great attention also to the interest of his own family."

Hardly any one will deny that Macaulay's delineation of Burleigh is correct portraiture of Polonius; and, therefore, if Burleigh appeared thus to Macaulay after two and a half centuries had done their purifying work on his memory, one can readily suppose his having presented a similar appearance to a contemporary who had had no special reason to bless his memory. The resemblance becomes all the more remarkable if we add to this description the spying proclivities of Denmark's minister, the philosophic egoism he propounds under a gloss of morality, his opposition to his son's going abroad, and his references to his youthful love affair and to what he did "at the university." All these are strikingly characteristic of Burleigh and the most of them have already been adequately dealt with.

Probably the most conclusive evidence that Polonius is Burleigh is to be found in the best known lines which Shakespeare has put into the mouth of Denmark's minister -- the string of worldly-wise maxims which he bestows upon his son Laertes (Act I. 3). They are much too well known to require repetition here. With these in mind, however, consider the maxims which Burleigh laid down for his favourite son, of which Burleigh's biographer ( Martin A. S. Hume) remarks that though "these precepts inculcate moderation and virtue, here and there Cecil's own philosophy of life peeps out." He then gives examples:

"Let thy hospitality be moderate."

"Beware that thou spendest not more than three or four parts of thy revenue."

"Beware of being surety for thy best friends; he that payeth another man's debts seeketh his own decay."

"With shine equals be familiar yet respectful."

"Trust not any man with thy life, credit, or estate."

"Be sure to keep some great man for thy friend."

The whole method, style, language and sentiment are reproduced so much to the life in Polonius's advice to Laertes that Shakespeare seems hardly to have exercised his own distinctive powers at all in composing the speech. The connection of the advice of Polonius with similar precepts in Lyly's "Euphues" has long been recognized. What seems hitherto to have escaped notice is that both have a common source in Burleigh. How much of what appears in Lyly of these precepts was derived through Oxford it would be useless to discuss. The general relations of the two men has already been sufficiently considered.

We take this opportunity of remarking, what may not be very material to our argument, that the spirit of the closing words of Polonius's speech, the words The ethics beginning, "Unto thine own self be true," seems to us to be generally quite misunderstood. These words bring to a close a speech which, throughout, is a direct appeal in every word to mere self-interest. Is, then, this last passage framed in a nobler mould with a high moral purpose and an appeal to lofty sentiment? We think not. The bare terms in which the final exhortation is cast, stripped of all ethical inferences and reinterpretations, are as direct an appeal to self-interest as everything else in the speech. They are, "unto thine own self"; not unto the best that is in you, nor the worst. Consistently with his other injunctions he closes with one which summarizes all, the real bearing of which may perhaps be best appreciated by turning it into modern slang: "Be true to 'number one.' Make your own interests your guiding principle, and be faithful to it."

This is quite in keeping with the cynical egoism of Burleigh's advice, "Beware of being surety for thy best friends"; but "keep some great man for thy friend." And, of course, it does "follow as the night the day" that a man who directs his life on this egoistic principle cannot, truly speaking, be false to any man. A man cannot be false to another unless he owes him fidelity. If, therefore, a man only acknowledges fidelity to his own self, nothing that he can do can be a breach of fidelity to another. On this principle Burleigh was true to himself when he made use of the patronage of Somerset; he was still true to himself, not false to Somerset, when he drew up the articles of impeachment against his former patron. Bacon was true to himself when he made use of the friendship of Essex; he was still true to himself, not false to Essex, when he used his powers to destroy his former friend.

This philosophic opportunism was therefore a very real thing in the political life of those days. And the fact that Shakespeare puts it into the mouth not of a moralist but of a politician, and, as we believe, into the mouth of one whom he intended to represent Burleigh, serves to justify both the very literal interpretation we put upon these sentences, and the identification of Polonius with Elizabeth's chief minister. Needless to say, one who like "Shakespeare" was imbued with the best ideals of feudalism, with their altruistic conceptions of duty, social fidelity and devotion would never have put forward as an exalted sentiment any ethical conception resting upon a merely personal and individualist sanction. For this admiration of the moral basis of feudalism would enlighten him in a way which hardly anything else could, respecting the sophistry which lurks in every individualist or self-interest system of ethics.

The advice of Polonius to Laertes is given just as the latter is about to set out for Paris, and all the instructions of the former to the spy Reynaldo have reference to the conduct of Laertes in that city. The applicability of it all to Burleigh's eldest son Thomas Cecil, afterwards Earl of Exeter, and founder of the present house of Exeter, will be apparent to any one who will take the trouble to read G. Ravenscroft Dennis's work on "The House of Cecil."

The tendency towards irregularities, at which Ophelia hints in her parting words to her brother, is strongly suggestive of Thomas Cecil's life in Paris; and all the enquiries which Polonius instructs the spy to make concerning Laertes are redolent of the private information which Burleigh was receiving, through some secret channel, of his son Thomas's life in the French capital. For he writes to his son's tutor, Windebank, that he '`has a watchword sent him out of France that his son's being there shall serve him to little purpose, for that he spends his time in idleness." We are told that Thomas Cecil incurred his father's displeasure by his "slothfulness," "extravagance," "carelessness in dress," "inordinate love of unmeet plays, as dice and cards"; and that he learnt to dance and play at tennis.

With these things in mind let the reader again go carefully over the advice of Polonius to Laertes, and the former's instructions to Reynaldo. He will hardly escape, we believe, a sense of the identity of father and son, with Burleigh and his son Thomas Cecil. One point in Hamlet's relations with Laertes strikes one as peculiar: his sudden and quite unexpected expression of affection:

"What is the reason that you use me thus?
I loved you ever."

Now the fact is that Thomas Cecil was one entirely out of touch with and in many ways quite antagonistic to Burleigh and his policy. In spite of his wildness in early life he is spoken of as "a brave and unaffected man of action, out of place in court, but with all the finest instincts of a soldier." He was also one of those who, along with Oxford, favoured the Queen's marriage with the Duke of Alencon, in direct opposition to the policy of Burleigh. Thomas Cecil was an older man than Oxford, and they had much in common to form the basis of affection.

It is impossible therefore to resist the conclusion that Polonius is Burleigh, and that Thomas Cecil formed, in part at any rate, the model for Laertes. This being so, it follows almost as conclusively, that Hamlet is Oxford. For, although Polonius's daughter, Ophelia, was not actually Hamlet's wife, she represents that relationship in the play. The royal consent had been given to the marriage, and it was through no fault either of herself or her father that the union did not take place. Hamlet's bearing towards his would-be father-in-law is moreover strongly suggestive of Oxford's bearing towards his actual father-in-law. What points of resemblance may have existed between Ophelia and Lady Oxford it is impossible to say. We notice, however, that the few words the Queen speaks respecting Ophelia harp on the idea of that sweetness which, we have noticed, Lady Oxford and Helena in "All's Well" had in common:

"Sweets to the sweet: farewell! I thought thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife . . . sweet maid."

Something, too of that mistrust and peculiar treatment which Hamlet extended to Ophelia has already been remarked in Oxford's bearing towards his wife, along with suggestions of the ultimate growth of a similar affection.

We have also observed that the only accusation which Oxford was willing to make against his wife was that she was allowing her parents to interfere between herself and him. This is precisely the state of things to which Hamlet objects in Ophelia. He perceives that Polonius is spying upon him with her connivance, and cunningly puts her to the test; whereon she lies to him. His reply is an intimation to her that he had detected the lie.

Hamlet. Where is your father?

Ophelia. At home, my lord.

Hamlet. Let the doors be shut on him that he may play the fool nowhere but in 's own house.

Hamlet's use of the double sense of the word "honest" in a question to Ophelia -- the identical word which in its worse sense was thrust to the front by Burleigh respecting the rupture between Lord and Lady Oxford -- is not without significance. Polonius, we take it, then, furnishes the key to the play of Hamlet. If Burleigh be Polonius, Oxford is Hamlet, and Hamlet we are entitled to say is "Shakespeare."

No feature of the parallelism between Hamlet and Oxford is more to the point than that of their common interest in the drama, and the form that their interest takes. Both are high-born patrons of companies of play-actors, showing an interest in the welfare of their players, sympathetic and instructive critics in the technical aspects of the craft. They are no mere passive supporters of the drama, but actually take a hand in modifying and adjusting the plays, composing passages to be interpolated, and generally supervising all the activities of their companies. Not only in the play within the play, which forms so distinctive a feature of "Hamlet," but also before the period dealt with, it is evident that Hamlet had been so occupied. In all this he is a direct representation of the Earl of Oxford, and of no one else in an equal degree amongst the other lordly patrons of drama in Queen Elizabeth's reign.

To fully elaborate the parallelism between Hamlet and Oxford would demand a rewriting of almost everything that is known of the latter, illustrated by the greater part of the text of the play. We shall therefore merely add to what has already been said several of the minor points. Hamlet expresses his musical feeling and even suggests musical skill in the "recorder" scene (III. 2). In the same scene he shows his interest in Italy. The duelling in which he takes part also has its counterpart in the life of Oxford, and even the tragic fate of Polonius at the hand of Hamlet is a reminder of the unfortunate death of one of Burleigh's servants at the hands of Oxford. Hamlet's desire to travel had to yield to the opposition of his mother and stepfather. His unrealized ambitions for a military vocation are indicated in the final scene, and his actual participation in a sea-fight is duly recorded. The death and burial of Ophelia at the time of Hamlet's sea episode is elsewhere shown to be analogous to Lady Oxford's death about the same time as De Vere's sea experiences. Suggestions of a correspondence between minor characters in the play and people with whom Oxford had to do can easily be detected. Rosencrantz, for example, might well be taken for Oxford's representation of Sir Walter Raleigh, "the sanctimonious pirate who went to sea with the ten commandments" -- less one of them. If we are right in this guess we have a most subtle touch in Act III, scene 2. Hamlet instead of saying "By these hands," in speaking to Rosencrantz, coins an expression from the Catechism and calls his hands his "pickers and stealers," thus indicating most ingeniously the combination of piracy with the religiosity of Raleigh. Hamlet's next ironical remark that he himself "lacks advancement" helps to bear out the identification we suggest.

That the dramatist had some definite personality in mind for the character of Horatio hardly admits of doubt. The curious way in which he puts expressions into the mouth of Hamlet describing this personality, without allowing Horatio any part in the play which would dramatically unfold his distinctive qualities, marks the description as a purely personal tribute to some living man. Here, however, it is the very exactness of the correspondence of the prototype, even to the detail of his actual name, that makes us suspect the accuracy of the identification we propose. For the introduction into the play of Oxford's own cousin, Sir Horace de Vere (or, as the older records give it, Horatio de Vere) seems only explicable upon the assumption that the dramatist was then meditating -- just before his death -- coming forward to claim in his own name the honours which he had won by his work; or, at any rate, that he had decided that these honours should be claimed on his behalf immediately after his death, and that Horatio de Vere had been entrusted with the responsibility. Such an assumption has full warrant…



"Polonius, Rizzio and Burleigh"
from Lilian Winstanley's Hamlet and the Scottish Succession

(Cambridge University Press, London: 1921, pp. 109-128)

OTHER portions of Hamlet which appear to contain historical reminiscences are the scenes connected with Polonius.

If the account of the murder, for instance, be carefully compared with the saga on the one hand, and with Scottish history on the other, it will be found, I think, that it shows hardly any resemblances to the one but very close resemblances to the other.

The saga reads:

Feng was purposely to absent himself, pretending affairs of great import. Amleth should be closeted alone with his mother in her chamber, but a man should first be commissioned to place himself in a concealed part of the room and listen heedfully to what they talked about. For, if the son had any wits at all, he would not hesitate to speak out in the hearing of his mother or fear to trust himself to the fidelity of her who bore him. The speaker . . . zealously professed himself as the agent of the eavesdropping. Feng rejoiced at the scheme and departed on presence of a long journey. Now he who had given this counsel repaired privily to the room where Amleth was shut up with his mother, and lay down skulking in the straw. But Amleth had his antidote for the treachery. Afraid of being heard by some eavesdropper he at first resorted to his usual imbecile ways and crowed like a noisy cock, beating his arms together to mimic the flapping of wings. Then he mounted the straw and began to swing his body and jump again and again, wishing to try if aught lurked there in hiding. Feeling a lump beneath his feet he drove his sword into the spot and impaled him who lay hid. Then he dragged him from his concealment and slew him. Then, cutting his body into morsels, he seethed it in boiling water and flung it through the mouth of an open sewer for the swine to eat, bestrewing the stinking mire with his helpless limbs....

When Feng returned nowhere could he find the man who had suggested the treacherous espial; he searched for him long and carefully, but none said they had seen him anywhere. Amleth, among others, was asked in jest if he had come across any trace of him, and replied that the man had gone to the sewer but had fallen to its bottom and been stifled by the floods of filth, and that then he had been devoured by the swine that came up all about the place. [Saxo Grammaticus]

The Hystorie of Hamblet gives substantially the same tale; it says that Hamlet cut the body into pieces, boiled it, and then cast it into an open vault or privy, so that it might serve as food for the pigs.

Now, here there is one point of resemblance with Shakespeare's Hamlet; that is the motive given to the eavesdropper who is to report Hamlet's confidences to his mother, but all the rest is entirely unlike.

What has Shakespeare's Hamlet in common with this grotesque clown who crows like a cock, and with this hideous barbarian who boils the body of his victim and then throws it through a sewer to the pigs ?

Turn now to Scottish history and see what it says of the murder of Rizzio:

Signor David became the queen's inseparable companion in the council room and the cabinet. At all hours of the day he was to be found with her in her apartments.... He was often alone with her until midnight. He had the control of all the business of the state.... Darnley went one night between twelve and one to the queen's room. Finding the door locked he knocked, but could get no answer . . . after a long time the Queen drew the bolt . . . he entered and she appeared to be alone but, on searching, he found Rizzio half-dressed in a closet.... Darnley's word was not a good one but that was what he said. . . . Darnley desired the dramatic revenge of killing Rizzio in the queen's presence.... The conspirators ascended the winding stairs from Darnley's room . . . Darnley entered . . . supper was on the table . . . the queen asked Darnley if he had supped. [Froude]

So the scene proceeds; Rizzio calls loudly for help, but he is stabbed; Darnley's dagger is left in the body so that he may be clearly incriminated, the body itself is dragged down a staircase and flung upon a chest.... The queen lamented bitterly for him: "Poor David! Good and faithful servant. May God have mercy on your soul."

Afterwards, we may remember, Darnley was reconciled to the queen and showed or affected to show bitter repentance for his share in the murder. The Lords Politic sat for several days to consider the murder; but, since they feared to accuse anyone, nothing was done.

Now, here, we surely have far closer resemblances to the scene in Hamlet though, as in the other parallels, the scene is dramatised by isolating and concentrating; two scenes are run into one, the scene where Darnley alone discovered (or said he discovered) Rizzio, and the scene of the murder.

We have the discovery by the hero alone, we have the stabbing with the hero's weapon in the dead man's body. We have the queen's bitter lament for the "good old man" [Act IV., i.] and for the "rash and bloody deed." Hamlet disposes of the body "by a staircase," and the staircase played a principal part in the Rizzio murder.

We may also observe that Hamlet's gruesome remark about Polonius being "at supper, not where he eats but where he is eaten," [Act Iv., iii.] seems like a macabre reference to the Rizzio murder where the victim also was found "at supper"; the same may be said of the remark that "a certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him," which, again, looks like a macabre reference to the wearisome and futile sittings of the "Lords Politic" in considering the murder. Any of these references might be accidental if it stood alone; it is, as always, the combination which is the convincing thing.

We may observe that the intimacy of Polonius with the queen is really close; he is not, like the eavesdropper in the saga, a person with whom she has no intimate concern; he is a genuinely trusted councillor.

It may be said that the Rizzio murder belongs to Darnley and not to James I., but it had a close and vital connection with the group of historic events, and was in itself, a thing which probably determined the choice, magnificent dramatic material.

We may also observe that the whole scene is, as it were, set apart in the play and stands detached from the main action. There is, again, the statement that Hamlet repents his deed, for, according to the queen " he weeps for what is done," and she, at any rate, desires to shield and protect him. All this is foreign to the saga, but does occur in the history. Darnley professed penitence and the queen did protect him. I may also point out that the other reference to the Rizzio murder occurred in the first scene where the ghost appeared to Hamlet, and in this scene with the queen the ghost appears again. There is, apparently, a logical and dramatic connection between the two.

Moberley has a note on the lines:

"Indeed this councillor
Is now most still, most secret and most grave
Who was in life a foolish prating knave."

He observes that they are almost exactly the same words used by the porter at Holyrood, when Rizzio's body was placed on a chest near his lodge.

But we do not, I think, dispose of the historical resemblances in the character of Polonius by saying that his death resembles that of Rizzio's. It has more than once been pointed out that he shows a likeness to Burleigh, and this, also, appears to be true. We may observe that Burleigh died in the year 1598, shortly before Hamlet was produced; he had died at the advanced age of seventy-eight, and was thought by many to have been in his dotage; even Elizabeth in her wrath occasionally accused him of dotage. [Martin Hume, Burieigh.]

Burleigh had been the bitter enemy of Shakespeare's patrons-Essex and Southampton, and it was generally believed that the Cecils between them had lured Essex to his ruin. The popular mind also ascribed to Burleigh enmity against the Scottish succession.

Now, if Burleigh were the bitter enemy of Shakespeare's friends, if he were very generally unpopular and mistrusted, if he were believed to be an enemy to the Scottish succession, Shakespeare might very naturally represent him as another of the main enemies of his philosophic prince, and that is what he appears to have done, for the resemblances between Burleigh and Polonius seem too great to be ascribed to any form of accident.

In the first place we may note that the original form of the name was Corambis and not Polonius, and that Corambis does suggest Cecil and Burleigh.

Polonius, throughout the play, stands isolated as the one person who does really enjoy the royal confidence; he is an old man, and no other councillor of equal rank anywhere appears. This corresponds almost precisely with the position held by Burleigh; he had, for the greater part of his reign, been among Elizabeth's chief councillors, and the death of Walsingham and others left him isolated in her service, surviving almost all the men of his own generation.

Cecil was a man of learning, and Polonius obviously desires to be esteemed as such. Cecil had been closely associated with some of the chief classical scholars of the day, Cheke for example, and Polonius makes a boast of his classical learning: [Act II., ii.] "Seneca cannot be too heavy, nor Plautus too light."

Cecil, in his youth, had played a prominent part in Cambridge, and was proud to remain connected with the university, and Polonius also alludes to his life in the university and his taking part in the university plays. [Act III., ii.] I did enact Julius Caesar; I was killed i' the Capitol; Brutus killed me."

We may also remember, in this connection, that when William Cecil died, he was still Chancellor of the University of Cambridge; there can be no doubt both from Hamlet's question, and from his reply, that Polonius liked to associate himself with the university as Cecil did.

Cecil had one romance, and one romance only, in his life, that was when he married a penniless bride -- Mary Cheke, the sister of the great Greek scholar; the marriage was vehemently opposed by his family, but Cecil espoused her in secret.

Now, according to his own account, Polonius also had experienced a romantic love-affair in his youth: "truly in my youth I suffered much extremity for love, very near this." [Act II., ii.]

This particular speech has nearly always been considered as a pure absurdity; but it would be even more ironically amusing if the audience believed it literally true.

Again, Burleigh's eldest son -- Thomas Cecil -- was a youth of very wayward life; his licentiousness and irregularity occasioned his father great distress and, during his residence in Paris, his father wrote letters to him full of wise maxims for his guidance; he also instructed friends to watch over him, and bring him reports of his son's behaviour. So Polonius has a son -- Laertes -- whom he suspects of irregular life; Polonius provides that his son, when he goes to Paris, shall be carefully watched, and that reports on his behaviour shall be prepared by Reynaldo.

I will place side by side the parallels that seem to me most pertinent, pointing out first that there is no resemblance whatever in the saga source.

Amidst his manifold public anxieties Cecil had to bear his share of private trouble.... Thomas, his only son by his first marriage with Mary Cheke was now (1561) a young man of twenty, and in order that he might receive the polish fitting to the heir of a great personage, his father consulted Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, the Ambassador in Paris, in the Spring of 1561, with the idea of sending him thither. A subsequent recommendation of Thomas Windebank, the young man's governor, to the effect that it would be well to accept Throgmorton's offer, although Sir William Cecil was loath to trespass on his friend's hospitality, "in order that the youth might learn, not only at table but otherwise, according to his estate," leads us to the conclusion that Thomas Cecil had not hitherto been an apt scholar . . . from the first it was seen that the father was misgiving and anxious. Cecil was a reserved man, full of public affairs; but this correspondence proves that he was also a man of deep family affections, and above all, that he regarded with horror the idea that any scandal should attach to his honoured name. In his first letter to his son he strikes the note of distrust.. . . "He wishes him God's blessing, but how he inclines himself to deserve it he knows not." None of his son's three letters he explains, makes any mention of the expense he is incurring. . . . To Windebank the father is more outspoken. How are they spending their time, he asks, and heartily prays that Thomas may serve God with fear and reverence. But Thomas seems to have done nothing of the sort, for, in nearly every letter, Windebank urges Sir William to repeat his injunctions about prayer to his son.... But the scapegrace paid little heed.... Rumour of his ill-behaviour reached Sir William, not at first from Windebank. In March 1562 an angry and indignant letter went from Cecil to his son, reproaching him for his bad conduct. There was no amendment he said, and all who came to Paris gave him the character of "a dissolute, slothful, negligent and careless young man and the letter is signed 'your father of an unworthy son.'" [Martin Hume, Burleigh.]

A week later Cecil writes: "Windebank, I am here used to pains and troubles, but none creep so near my heart as does this of my lewd son.... Good Windebank, consult my dear friend Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, to whom I have referred the whole.... If ye shall come with him (i.e. Thomas) to cover the shame, let it appear to be by reason of the troubles there." [Martin Hume, Burleigh.]

We may compare this with Hamlet? [Act II., i.]

POL. Give him this money and these notes, Reynaldo.
REY. I will, my lord.
POL. You shall do marvellous wisely, good Reynaldo,
Before you visit him, to make inquire
Of his behaviour.
REY. My lord, I did intend it.
POL. Marry, well said; very well said. Look you, sir,
Inquire me first what Danskers are in Paris;
And how, and who, what means, and where they keep,
. . . . . . . . . . . and finding
By this encompassment and drift of question
That they do know my son, come you more nearer,
Than your particular demands will touch it:
. . . . . . . . . . . put on him
What forgeries you please; marry, none so rank
As may dishonour him; take heed of that;
But, sir, such wanton wild and usual slips
As are companions noted and most known
To youth and liberty.
REY. As gaming, my lord.
POR. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, quarrelling,
Drabbing: you may go so far."

Now, surely we notice here an essentially similar situation to the one given in Burleigh's life; the father an immaculate, all-wise councillor at home, the spendthrift son leading a licentious life in Paris, and anyone who knows the father encouraged to give reports on the son's behaviour which the father anticipates, with only too much justice, will almost certainly be evil reports.

Cecil wrote a number of maxims for the guidance of his son, and these maxims show a remarkable likeness to those given by Polonius to Laertes.

"If his own conduct was ruled," says Martin Hume, "as some of his actions were by the maxims which in middle age he had laid down for his favourite son, he must have been a marvel of prudence and wisdom. Like the usual recommendations of age to youth, many of these precepts simply inculcate moderation, religion, virtue and other obviously good qualities; but here and there Cecil's own philosophy of life comes out, and some of the reasons for his success are exhibited. "Let thy hospitality be moderate . . . rather plentiful than sparing, for I never knew any man grow poor by keeping an orderly table.... Beware thou spendest not more than three of four parts of thy revenue, and not above a third part of that in thy house."

"Beware of being surety for thy best friends; he that payeth another man's debts seeketh his own decay."

"Be sure to keep some great man thy friend, but trouble him not with trifles; compliment him often with many, yet small gifts."

"Towards thy superiors be humble, yet generous; with shine equals familiar yet respectful; towards these inferiors show much humanity and some familiarity, as to bow the body, stretch forth the hand and to uncover the head."

"Trust not any man with thy life, credit or estate, for it is mere folly for a man to entrust himself to his friend."

We may compare with this Polonius [Act 1., iii.]:

"Be thou familiar but by no means vulgar.
Those friends thou hast and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy psalm with entertainment.
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but being in,
Bear't, that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.

"Neither a borrower nor a lender be,
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."

Martin Hume sums up Burleigh's proverbs by saying:

"Such maxims as these evidently enshrine much of his own temper, and throughout his career he rarely seems to have violated them. His was a selfish and ungenerous gospel, but a prudent and circumspect one."

Exactly the same might be said of Shakespeare's Polonius. This particular fact, that the maxims of Polonius strongly resemble those of Burleigh -- was pointed out by George Russell French in 1869.

Again, one observes the omnipresence of Polonius; he manages everything, he interferes in everything, he keeps everything in his own hands. This was certainly true also of Cecil, who had a passion for detail:

"Everything seemed to pass through his hands. No matter was too small or too large to claim attention. His household biographer says of him that he worked incessantly, except at meal times when he unbent and chatted wittily to his friends, but never of business.'' [Martin Hume]

Cecil had a peculiar method of drawing up documents touching matters of state: thus he would consider all the reasons for and against a particular action, stating its advantages and disadvantages in the most elaborate way and with meticulous care of detail. It is in just the same close and elaborate way that Polonius displays his ideas before the king. Everything is surveyed, not a detail omitted. [Act II., ii.]

"He repulsed -- a short tale to make . . .
Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and, by this declension,
Into the madness wherein now he raves
And all we mourn for."

This is an admirable satire on the type of man who like Cecil, prides himself on the logical, methodical development of detail.

Cecil was emphatically a man of peace; in politics it was his great aim to keep out of war; in private life he disliked the idea of a military career for his son Thomas, and he was a person with whom everybody found it very difficult to quarrel; he kept the peace with Leicester, and with Essex in spite of infinite provocation; Essex, especially, was given to taunting and tormenting him; but, when Cecil was unable to avoid a quarrel in any other way, he was accustomed to develop a timely fit of gout, and retire to his own house.

We see this same trait in Polonius who carefully advises Laertes against quarrels: "Beware of entrance to a quarrel," and who will put up with almost everything from Hamlet in order to avoid an overt dispute, even, as Cecil did from Essex, with the most contemptuous mocking.

Cecil employed spying and eavesdropping as political weapons to a quite amazing extent:

"Spies and secret agents paid by him were in every court and in every camp . . . the English Catholic nobles were closely watched and for a month every line the Spanish ambassador wrote was conveyed to Cecil by Borghese. Once, early in May, the bishop's courier with important letters for the Duchess of Parma, was stopped two miles beyond Gravesend by pretended highwaymen who were really gentlemen (the brothers Cobham) in Cecil's pay, and the man was detained while the letters were sent to the Secretary to be deciphered and copied." [Martin Hume]

The Dictionary of National Biography states the matter thus:

"His life began to be threatened; assassins were bribed to slay him and the queen: the murder of both or either, it was taught, would be something more glorious than mere justifiable homicide. Against the new doctrine and its desperate disciples it seemed to Cecil that extraordinary precautions were needed, and for the next twenty years he kept a small army of spies and informers in his pay who were his detective police, and he used it without scruple to get information when it was needed, to keep watch upon the sayings and doings of suspected characters at home and abroad. They were a vile band, and the employment of such instruments could not but bring some measure of dishonour upon their employer."

Intercepted letters and the employment of spies were, then, a quite conspicuous and notorious part of Cecil's statecraft, and they are certainly made especially characteristic of Shakespeare's Polonius. Polonius intercepts the letters from Hamlet to his daughter; he appropriates Hamlet's most intimate correspondence, carries it to the king, and discusses it without a moment's shame or hesitation: he and the king play the eavesdropper during Hamlet's interview with Ophelia: he himself spies upon Hamlet's interview with his mother. It is impossible not to see that these things are made both futile and hateful in Polonius, and they were precisely the things that were detested in Cecil.

It is also worthy of note that Burleigh took the utmost care not to conduct marriage projects for his daughter in a way that might suggest he was using her to further his own interests.

"How careful he was to avoid all cause for doubt is seen by his answer to Lord Shrewsbury's offer of his son as a husband for one of Burleigh's daughters.... The match proposed was a good one and the Lord Treasurer -- a new noble -- was flattered and pleased by the offer." [Martin Hume]

He refused it, however, because Shrewsbury was in charge of the Queen of Scots, and he feared the suspicion of intrigues.

"A similar but more flattering offer was made by the Earl of Essex in 1573 on behalf of his son; but this also was declined."

Cecil, in fact, was always particularly careful not to let Elizabeth or anyone else think that ambition for his daughter could tempt him into unwise political plans.

In exactly the same way we find Polonius guarding himself against any suspicion that he may have encouraged Hamlet's advances to Ophelia. "The king asks [Act II., ii.]: "How hath she received his love?" and Polonius enquires, "What do you think of me? "The king replies: "As of a man faithful and honourable"; Polonius proceeds to explain that, such being the case, he could not possibly have encouraged the love between Hamlet and his daughter; but he had informed the latter that she must "lock herself" from the prince.

There is a further curious parallel in the fact that when Cecil's daughter -- Elizabeth -- married De Vere, Earl of Oxford -- the husband turned sulky, separated himself from his wife, and declared that it was Cecil's fault for influencing his wife against him.

"A few days later Burghley had reason to be still more angry with Oxford himself, though with his reverence for rank he appears to have treated him with inexhaustible patience and forbearance.... Oxford declined to meet his wife or to hold any communication with her; Burghley reasoned, remonstrated, and besought in vain. Oxford was sulky and intractable. His wife, he said, had been influenced by her parents against him and he would have nothing more to do with her."

So, also, in the drama we find Polonius interfering between his daughter and her lover, we find his machinations so successful that Hamlet turns sulky, and is alienated from Ophelia for good.

Other significant details may be observed.

Cecil was a new man, and nothing annoyed him more than to have the fact called to his attention. "The most artful of his enemies, Father Persons, well knew the weak point in his armour, and wounded him to the quick in his books, in which he pretended to show that the Lord Treasurer was of base origin, his father a tavern-keeper, and he himself a bell-ringer. We have seen in a former case that attacks upon his ancestry almost alone aroused Lord Burleigh's anger." [Martin Hume]

Hamlet, we may remember, taunts Polonius with following a base trade, with being a fishmonger; Polonius repudiates the idea with scorn, to which Hamlet retorts: " Then, I would you were so honest a man." [Act II., ii.]

There is probably more than one meaning here, but the most obvious is a taunt at a low origin.

Again Ophelia sings songs of lamentation one of which seems obviously intended for her father. "He is dead and gone"; she confuses him with a religious man: "his cockle hat and staff And his sandal shoon." [Act IV., v.]

Towards the end of Burleigh's life there was, apparently, a standing jest about him in the character of a religious man, a hermit.

Thus, Martin Hume refers to the queen's visit to Theobalds, and to a letter presented by a man dressed as a hermit; the letter reminded her that the last time she came "his founder, upon a: strange conceit, to feed his own humour, had placed the hermit contrary to his profession in his house, whilst he (Burghley) had retired to the hermit's poor cell."

Yet more curious parallels may be quoted. In a strange letter to Essex, Lord Henry Howard exults that "the dromedary that would have won the favour of the Queen of Sabez is almost enraged" (meaning Burleigh by the dromedary), and asks the earl whether "he cannot drag out the old leviathan and his cub" (meaning the two Cecils). We may surely compare this with Hamlet's conversation with Polonius:

HAM. Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
POL. BY the mass, and 'tis like a camel, indeed.
HAM. Methinks it is like a weasel.
POL. It is backed like a weasel.
HAM. Or like a whale ?
POL. Very like a whale. [Act III., ii.]

When we remember that Shakespeare would, in all human probability, have had access to the Essex correspondence shown by Essex himself, we can see the point still more strongly.

It is hardly necessary to show, how, in the correspondence of the time, such as that of Standen and Anthony Bacon, Burleigh is continually alluded to with contempt. Thus Standen writes to Anthony Bacon, March 1595, that the queen paid no heed to Burleigh, when he protested against the expedition to Cadiz: "When she saw it booted not to stay him, she said he was a 'froward old fool.'"

Anthony, even in his correspondence with Lady Anne Bacon, refers to Burleigh continually as "the old man."

This is the general tone of Hamlet to Polonius. Burleigh seems to have done his utmost to conciliate Essex, and Anthony Bacon speaks of Burleigh's humiliation with pleasure: "Our Earl hath made the old Fox to crouch and whine." The humiliation of Burleigh by his scornful rival was, indeed, one of the standing jests of the court.

I may also quote in this connection Jonson's estimate of the character of Polonius:

"Polonius is a man bred in courts, exercised in business, stored with observation, confident in his knowledge, proud of his eloquence and declining into dotage . . . This idea of dotage encroaching upon wisdom will solve all the phenomena of the character of Polonius."

Now, it does not seem to me possible that an Elizabethan audience could overlook the resemblances between Polonius and Burleigh, they are at once so wide and all-embracing and so minute and detailed.

We have the fact that each is a councillor, almost supreme,in his office, isolated in his generation with no person of equal authority near him. Each has a passion for detail, for personal management, for analysing matters with the minutest care. Each has the habit of giving worldly-wise maxims to a son, maxims which are full of prudence but totally lacking in generosity and unselfishness, maxims which are sometimes almost word for word the same. Each has a spendthrift son, who goes to Paris and who receives many instructions from his father, a licentious son who is watched by his father's orders, and reports upon whom are brought home by the father's commands. Each takes the same care not to aim too high in a daughter's marriage lest he should compromise his own position. Each causes a separation between his daughter and the man she loves because the daughter is believed to be completely the father's agent and his decoy. Each has the same methods of statecraft, by intercepting letters of the most private nature, by shameless, undignified incessant spying, spying practiced upon all possible occasions. Each has the same reverence for rank, the same interest in the university and university life, the same assumption of classical scholarship, the same dislike of quarrels, the same willingness to bear insults rather than resent them.

Each is insulted by being compared to various animals, a camel, a weasel, and a whale, on one side, a dromedary, a fox and a whale on the other. Each is made a public butt by a brilliant young man, by Hamlet in the one case, and by the Earl of Essex in the other.

It is difficult to see how Shakespeare could have got more resemblances into the brief space at his disposal. Add to this the fact that the Cecils were the bitter enemies of Essex and his party, that it was the son of Burleigh who has supposed to have triumphed over and destroyed the unhappy Essex, and we have a motive for Shakespeare's satire of the most powerful and cogent kind.

It does not seem to me particularly difficult to see what Shakespeare's method is. Burleigh was just precisely one of the characters who would interest his -- Shakespeare's -- audience most, and who really did present a magnificent subject for study. On the other hand, from the dramatic point of view, Burleigh had one immense disadvantage: that nothing in particular had ever happened to him, and that he died quite respectably and tranquilly in his bed. The murder of Rizzio was, however, one of the most dramatic events in recorded history; Shakespeare, therefore, combines the character of Burleigh with the end of Rizzio. The dramatic motive for doing so is just as clear and definite as the dramatic motive for combining the parts of the two Bothwells in one, and calling them both Claudius.

We have, of course, a real parallel between Rizzio and Cecil; both were men put in a position of supreme trust and wielding immense power by secret and underhand methods; both were regarded as unprincipled and intriguers, and both were objects of detestation and dislike.

Moreover, the uniting in one of the two characters stitches, as it were, the two parts of the drama together; it brings the James I. part into close relation with the Essex part.



Ogburn, Charlton, The Mysterious William Shakespeare

(2nd ed., EPM, McLean: 1992.)

I do not know how much malice the Cecils may have borne de Vere, though surely they resented and disapproved of him. When Hamlet appeared with its satirical portrayal of the chief counsellor to the throne, there must have been a great to-do, for the name given to the pompous old man who cited maxims so like Burghley's Preceptes was Corambis -- Cor ambis, "two hearted," a palpable swipe at Burghley's motto, Cor unum, via una, "one heart, one way." Clearly, only a dramatist with royal protection could have got away with it. But the record is silent on any reaction, though Cecil power was sufficient to have Corambis changed to Polonius after the first printing. Both from internal evidence and Nashe's reference to it in 1589, we may judge Hamlet to have been written by that year, but it may be that the prolix old counsellor was made recognizably Burghley only after his death in 1598, five years before the play was first printed. (Ogburn 202-203)

The late Elizabeth Taylor, whose novels do not suffer in comparison with Jane Austen's, has one of her characters remark that she "can never understand why Polonius has to look so ancient . . . with those youngish children" and another explain that "He has to look like Lord Burghley, you see. I've no doubt he was made up to be the spit image at the first performance, and the idea has gone on ever since." That the tradition is at one with the author's intention can hardly be doubted -- though this is a fact from which the Stratfordians have to tiptoe quietly away, quite unable to explain how a mere actor-playwright would dare lampoon the man who for forty years was nearest the Queen in power and whose son was coming to fill his shoes and how, if he had so challenged authority, he could conceivably have got away with it. (Let alone can they account for the appearance of the royal coat-of-arms on the first page of the play containing this enormity as it was printed, evidently with fidelity to the author's manuscript upon Oxford's death in 1604.) Yet there it is -- the unquestionable travesty of Burghley in Polonius.

Burghley was fifty when Oxford married his fourteen-year-old daughter, and the Earl at twenty-six, as we know from a letter he wrote him at the time, considered his father-in-law already aged; probably the Lord Treasurer even then had the white beard in which, alone, we know him. Corambis, as Polonius was called in the first quarto of Hamlet, is palpably a play on Burghley's motto, "Cor unum . . . ," as we have seen. Another verbal play establishing the same link comes when Hamlet, having dispatched Polonius, tells the King:

A certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him.
Your worm is your only emperor for diet. [Italics added.]

Burghley was given to recalling that he was born during the Diet of Worms, which Emperor Charles V had opened and at which Martin Luther had defended his doctrines. When Hamlet calls Polonius "a fishmonger" he is referring to Burghley's having put a bill through Parliament making Wednesday a meatless day in addition to Friday to encourage the fisheries; the Catholics called it "Cecil's Fast." Then there are those maxims Polonius recites for his son's guidance, which we have heard Sir E. K. Chambers acknowledge parallel those which Burghley wrote for his son's, which had not been printed when Hamlet was written; "Conceivably," Chambers says with notable lack of conviction, "Shakespeare knew a pocket manuscript." Some of Burghley's Certaine Preceptes are, beginning with the best known:

And that gentleman who sells an acre of land, sells an ounce of credit. For gentility is nothing but ancient riches.
Let thy hospitality be moderate; & according to the means of thy estate; rather plentiful than sparing, but not costly.
Beware of surety for thy best friends. He that payeth another man's debt, seeketh his own decay.
Be sure to keep some great man thy friend, but trouble him not for trifles.

In the Harvard Magazine article (to which I have to keep reverting because it put the highest orthodox authorities on the spot to answer to the evidence) I had only small space to give to autobiography in Shakespeare's plays. After quoting Queen Elizabeth's angry remark, "I am Richard the Second; know ye not that?" I said that "actually, she seems much more fully to have been Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, and the Earl of Leicester -- as near to a husband as Elizabeth ever had -- to have been King Claudius." I then quoted from a characterization of Hamlet in a book by Brigid Brophy, Michael Levey, and Charles Osborne: "The prototype of western literature's most deplorable and most formless form, autobiographical fiction." Pointing out that the dramatist "left us his speaking self-portrait as the most memorable character in English letters," I had room left for only the following:

His relations to Burghley's daughter Anne, whom he married, were very much those of Hamlet's to Polonius's daughter Ophelia. His mother seems to have married just a few months after her husband's death, as Queen Gertrude, Hamlet's mother did. Leicester, widely believed to have murdered his wife, Amy Robsart, to clear the way to his marriage to Elizabeth, was given possession of the bulk of the estates belonging to the future dramatist [the real-life Hamlet], then a boy -- just as Claudius, who also cleared the way to his marriage to Gertrude and the throne by murder, acquired the kingdom to which Hamlet was heir by the favor of Gertrude.

The Harvard professors replied that:

It is true that the Earl [of Oxford] had a stepfather, Leicester; but the analogy can be carried further only by straining and twisting; and Mr. Ogburn cannot make up his mind whether Oxford's mother or Queen Elizabeth should be cast as Gertrude.

The first part of that sentence, as we have earlier remarked, reveals the extent of the professor's ignorance of Oxford, if not of Elizabethan history. As for what the rest reveals -- well, it was the editor's idea, not the professors' that they undertake to reply to the article. (Ogburn 369-370)

I sent letters to entreat him to take my house for his lodging, whereof I had no answer, and yet I wrote twice by two several messengers. But my son sent me word that he found him disposed to keep himself secretly two or three days in his own lodging and yet that Edward Yorke told him secretly that his Lordship would come first to my house, but he would nobody knew thereof. Whereupon I was very glad but his wife gladder. And the contrary I knew not until he was landed and then my son told me how he did suddenly leave the barge and took a wherry and only with Rowland Yorke landed about Yorke's house.

Hereupon I sent to welcome him and with request to take a lodging in my house, but thereto he answered that he meant to keep himself secret in his lodgings two or three days and then he would speak with me. And the messenger did come from his wife with request that if he should not come that night to her father's house she would come to him, for she desired to be one of the first that might see him. To it he answered neither yea nor nay, but said, "why, I have answered you," meaning that he would keep himself secret two or three days, as the messenger took it. Whereupon I thought it convenient she would forbear to go to him until we might see how others were suffered to come to him or he to resort to others. Within two hours I heard by them that had been with him how many had been with him without any his misliking . . . and that there was a coach preparing for my lady his sister to come to him, which, being heard by my daughter she very importunately required me she might go to him. And yet I required her to stay until I might send to my Lord Howard from whom I would know whether he knew that my Lord her husband would go to Court.... My Lord Howard sent me word that he as yet could not tell.

On April 23rd, two days before setting down the recapitulation for the record that we have just read, Burghley had written the Queen a letter that in its merciless, repetitious wordiness reads like the very effusion parodied in Polonius's speech in Act II, Scene 2, of Hamlet -- the one beginning

My liege, and madam, to expostulate
What majesty should be, what duty is,
Why day is day, night night, and time is time,
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and time.
Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit,
And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes.
I will be brief. Your noble son is mad.
Mad, call I it; for, to define true madness,
What is't but to be nothing else but mad?

Burghley's letter rambles like some rivers, through continuous eddies:

Most sovereign lady, as I was accustomed to from the beginning of my service to your Majesty until of late by the permission of your goodness and by occasion of the place wherein I serve your Majesty, to be frequently an intercessor for others to your Majesty, and therein did find your Majesty always inclinable to give me gracious audience; so now do I find in the latter end of my years a necessary occasion to be an intercessor for another next to myself, in a cause godly, honest and just; and therefore, having had proof of your Majesty for most favours in causes not so important, I doubt not but to find the like influence of your grace in a cause so near touching myself as your Majesty will conceive it doth....

To enter to trouble your Majesty with the circumstances of my cause, I mean not for sundry respects but chiefly for two; the one is that I am very loth to be more cumbersome to your Majesty than need shall compel me; --

Burghley will be no more cumbersome than Polonius would be tedious.

-- the other is for that I hope in God's goodness, and for reverence borne to your Majesty, that success thereof may have a better end than the beginning threateneth. But your Majesty may think my suit will be very long where I am so long ere I begin it; and truly, most gracious sovereign lady, it is true that the nature of my cause is such as I have no pleasure to enter into it, but had rather seek means to shut it up for them to lay it open, not for lack of the soundness thereof on my part, but-for the wickedness of others from whom the ground work proceedeth.

The Queen would have known what led her counterpart in Hamlet to urge, "More matter, with less art."

My suit therefore shall be presently to your Majesty but in general sort, that whereas I am, by God's visitation with some infirmity and yet not great, stayed from coming to do my duty to your Majesty at this time, and my daughter, the Countess of Oxford, also occasioned to her great grief to be absent from your Majesty's Court, and that the occasion of her absence may be diversely reported to your Majesty -- because the ground and working thereupon toucheth me as nearly as any wordly cause in my concept can do --

The sentence runs to no fewer than 248 words. The writer protests that "old worn servant that he is" he compares with the best of the others "for loyalty and devotion," while his daughter could challenge any "in fervent admiration of your graces." Whether "the cause betwixt my Lord of Oxford and her" arise from his "misliking of me or misdeeming of hers" he says he cannot guess. (Ogburn 557-558)



from Richard F. Whalen's Shakespeare: Who Was He?

(Praeger, Westport: 1994, pp. 108-111.)

With the characters of Ophelia and Polonius the play Hamlet comes closest to the life of Oxford. Ophelia is the young daughter of Polonius, councillor to the king. She is supposed to marry Hamlet. Anne Cecil was the daughter of Burghley, chief minister to the queen. Before she was fifteen she was betrothed to Oxford, and she ultimately was married to him, although the marriage was postponed once. Ophelia on stage and Anne Cecil in real life were both young girls under the sway of powerful rulers and councillors in the royal court. Both were daughters of commoners and both were destined by their elders for marriage to young aristocrats of noble blood.

Polonius has long been considered a caricature of Burghley, Oxford's guardian and then father-in-law.'] Shakespearean scholars in the nineteenth century recognized the caricature decades before anyone thought Oxford might be the author. Since then, even scholars who ignore or dismiss the possibility that Oxford was Shakespeare have generally accepted the identification of Polonius as Burghley. The evidence is quite convincing.

The author of Hamlet, whoever he was, probably not only knew Burghley, but was closely associated with him. The principal evidence for this close association is Polonius's advice to his son, Laertes, in the string of maxims that ends, "This above all, to thy own self be true." Polonius's maxims are a parody of Burghley's long-winded advice in a letter to his own son. Burghley's letter, however, was not printed until years after he, Oxford, and Will Shakspere were dead. To produce the parody, the author of Hamlet must have seen Burghley's precepts in an early manuscript form or heard about them. Oxford would have been perfectly placed not only to see or hear about Burghley's precepts, but to have been inspired to parody them. (There are no records that Will Shakspere of Stratford ever met Burghley or had anything to do with him.)

Polonius was Burghley in name as well as in character. The name's probable origin shows that it was not picked at random but had insider connotations for those in the queen's court. Two contemporary notes have been found that refer to Burghley by the nicknames "Polus" and "Pondus," both easily combined and transmuted into the Polonius of the play.

Furthermore, the character Polonius had a different name in an early version of the play, a name that could also be linked to Burghley, but more disparagingly. In the first quarto version the character's name is Corambis. Burghley's Latin motto was "Cor unum, via una," that is, "one heart, one way." By substituting "ambis" for "unum" after "Cor," the author created a name of doubleness instead of singularity. "Bis" means twice or again. It could be heard as signifying double-hearted, suggesting doubledealing or devious. The name Corambis, with its pejorative connotation, was changed to Polonius in later editions of the play. Only an author who was an insider at court would be likely to create this sequence of nicknames based on Burghley's character and reputation.

References to Lord Burghley abound in Hamlet. Burghley was well known for his spying tactics, even to the point of having spies report on his own son while the son was in Paris. Polonius has spies report on his son while the son is in Paris.

Hamlet kills Polonius while the councillor is spying on him from behind a curtain, but makes light of the slaying, almost as if it were symbolic, not real. He later tells the king mockingly that "a certain convocation of worms" is working on Polonius, adding that "your worm is your only emperor for diet." Burghley expressed pride in having been born during the Diet of Worms, a convocation of church and secular leaders in the German city named Worms and presided over by the emperor.

Hamlet calls Polonius a "fishmonger"; Burghley sponsored a law that made Wednesday a meatless day, in addition to Friday, in order to support the fishing industry and fishmongers.

The set of allusions to Burghley, first minister to the queen and Oxford's guardian and then father-in-law, are multiple, pointed, and specific. Stratfordian scholars recognize them, but do not explain how Will Shakspere of Stratford could have conceived them or, if he did, how he could have escaped public censure and punishment for ridiculing Lord Burghley, even after Burghley's death. (One of Burghley's sons succeeded him.) Oxfordians conclude that the allusions point inevitably to the seventeenth earl of Oxford as the author, the insider at court whose rank in the nobility and favored status with the queen and then with King James protected him from reprisals.

The allusions in Hamlet to Oxford's life are sometimes direct and extended, sometimes short and subtle, merely throwaway lines. At one point in act 2, Hamlet says, for no particular reason, "I am but mad north-north-west." The line makes little sense in the play, unless it's an allusion to the investment that Oxford lost in the expedition that was seeking a northwest passage to Asia. If Oxford was the author, he was making a jibe at his own expense.

Hamlet reports that his ship was set upon by pirates while he was on his way to England; Oxford's ship was twice set upon by pirates while he was returning to England.

Hamlet appears at one point reading an unidentified book. Some Stratfordian scholars like to suggest that the book must be Cardanus Comforte because so much of the book's philosophy is reflected in the play. Several scholarly articles have been written on the book's role in Hamlet. The first of them was published in the nineteenth century, long before Oxford was proposed as the author Shakespeare.

Oxford knew the book well. He commissioned it and wrote a long preface addressed to the man who translated it from the Italian. The importance of Oxford's role in the book's publication is shown by the fact that Oxford's name, but not that of the translator, appears on the title page.

Hamlet commands, organizes, and stages the play within the play as an author, producer, and director-not as an actor. He is an enthusiastic, well-known patron of the visiting troupe of actors. They readily take his direction in authorial and technical aspects of the performances that he adapts in order to "catch the conscience of the king." Oxford was an active patron of acting companies, and he wrote and produced plays and was in a position to help direct them. Oxfordians maintain that one of his purposes in some of the plays was to catch the conscience of the queen.

Hamlet's most trusted friend is Horatio. One of Oxford's favorite cousins was Horatio de Vere, fifteen years his junior. Horatio took charge of Oxford's son Henry during a military campaign on the Continent. At one point, when Oxford was in his twenties, he reportedly wanted to make Horatio and Horatio's brother the heirs to his earldom.

Hamlet's dying words to Horatio strike a note of powerful poignancy for those who become convinced that Oxford as Shakespeare revealed himself most intimately in Hamlet. The dying Hamlet for some reason implores Horatio to tell the true story about the events depicted in the play. If Hamlet's words are also taken to represent Oxford's anguished cry that posterity may never link his name with the work of his lifetime, printed under the pen name William Shakespeare, then the passages carry a devastating message: "Horatio," says Hamlet, "I am dead. Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied."

Horatio tries to join Hamlet in death by drinking the poison that killed the queen, but Hamlet stops him and says:

O God, Horatio, what a wounded name,
Things standing thus unknown, shall live behind me.
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart,
Absent thee from felicity a while,
And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain
To tell my story.



from Joseph Sobran's Alias Shakespeare

(The Free Press, New York: 1997, pp.192-195.)

Burghley himself appears in Hamlet. He is the model for Polonius. This is hardly deniable. It was acknowledged by scholars as early as 1869, long before Oxford was proposed as the author -- just as Southampton was seen in the youth of the Sonnets long before anyone imagined that his connection to Oxford was significant. Edmund Chambers, foremost of modern Shakespeare scholars, agrees that Polonius appears to be based on Burghley. The Reader's Encyclopedia of Shakespeare says of Burghley: "A master of craft himself, he had a striking capacity to ferret out the conspiratorial designs of others. In the 1590s his chief opponent at court was Essex, whose faction Shakespeare is said to have supported." The Reader's Encyclopedia concludes:

As a result many scholars have argued that Burghley is being satirized as Polonius in Hamlet. Evidence of this view is believed to be found in Burghley's Certaine Preceptes, or Directions (1616), which he wrote for his son, Robert Cecil, and which Shakespeare may have seen in manuscript Polonius' famous advice to Laertes (I, iii, 58 - 80) is strikingly similar to Burghley's precepts in this treatise. Hamlet's reference to Polonius as a "fishmonger" may also be an allusion to Burghley's attempt as treasurer to stimulate the fish trade.

The only thing amiss in this passage arises from the assumption of Mr. Shakspere's authorship. It makes the incongruous suggestion that Mr. Shakspere would not only have taken sides in a political rebellion, but, having gotten hold of Burghley's then unpublished precepts to his son, would dare to satirize Burghley on the stage. Oxford would obviously have been far more likely to have access to Burghley's precepts, and to have had both motive and liberty to lampoon them.

Polonius does not appear in the play's source. In Belleforest's account, Hamlet kills an unnamed "councillor" whom he catches spying on him. Shakespeare not only expands the part into one of the longest speaking roles in his play, but makes Polonius Hamlet's chief antagonist, albeit a relatively benign one, for the first three acts. The leisurely second act, in which the action pauses, digresses languidly, allowing a vivid portrait of Polonius to be drawn.

Like Burghley, Polonius is a garrulous royal minister with a penchant for spying. When we first meet him, his son Laertes wants to go back to France, where, we later gather, he has been living wildly. Burghley's son Thomas Cecil spent two years in France, causing his father great distress with his wayward life, as reported to Burghley by his spies. Shakespeare gives us a dramatically superfluous scene in which Polonius sends his servant Reynaldo to spy on Laertes, explaining to him the art of eliciting information without seeming to: "By indirections find directions out" (Act 2, Scene 1). Soon afterward, Polonius is spying on Hamlet; in 1584, Oxford was enraged to discover that Burghley had tried to use one of his (Oxford's) servants as an informant.

Incidentally, Polonius' phrase "falling out at tennis" (Act 2, Scene 1) may be a buried joke about Oxford's famous spat with Sidney, whose pedantic taxonomy of dramatic forms is also satirized through Polonius: "The best actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral tragical-historical, tragical-comical-historical-pastoral . . ." (Act 2, Scene 2).

Thinking that Hamlet is mad, Polonius asks, "Do you know me, my lord?" (Act 2, Scene 2) Hamlet, pretending to be mad, replies, "Excellent well. You are a fishmonger" -- a gibe at Burghley's efforts, mentioned above, to promote the interests of fishermen in Parliament. In 1563, he had urged a bill imposing a second compulsory fish day every week, Wednesday as well as Saturday. In a surviving memorandum, we find him arguing that it is "necessary for the restoring of the Navy of England to have more fish eaten and therefore one day more in the week ordained to be a fish day and that to be Wednesday rather than any other." He sought, among other things, restrictions on the import of fish and the removal of restrictions on their export. Catholics called the result "Cecil's Fast." Nothing could better illustrate the difference between Oxford's temperament and his father-in-law's than Burghley's energetic pursuit of this mundane measure.

We feel the difference all through Hamlet's exchanges with Polonius, his almost-father-in-law. "Have you a daughter?" Hamlet asks. When Polonius says yes, Hamlet, still feigning insanity, warns: "Let her not walk in the sun. Conception is a blessing, but not as your daughter may conceive" -- another allusion to the real-life relations between Oxford and Burghley, whose daughter's first conception resulted in such uproar.

Ophelia herself, sweet and innocent but unable to cope with the warring males in her life, strongly resembles the young Anne Cecil. Polonius is unable to believe that Hamlet loves Ophelia honorably, and his cynicism undermines their budding love, much as Oxford felt that his in-laws had blighted his marriage to Anne.

When the acting troupe arrives at Elsinore, Burghley's contempt for Oxford's "lewd friends" is evident in Polonius' disdain for the players Hamlet loves, whom Rosencrantz has announced as "those you were wont to take delight in, the tragedians of the city." While Hamlet is moved by the leading actor's recitation of Aeneas' speech on the fall of Troy, Polonius merely complains that the speech is "too long." He finds it unbearable that the actor shows emotion: "Look, whe'r he has not turned his color, and has tears in's eyes. Prithee no more!" -- an unmistakable echo of Oxford's 1572 letter to Burghley, quoted earlier, describing Huguenot refugees from the St. Bartholomew's Eve massacre as "French Aeneases" recounting their "tragedies" with "tears falling from their eyes."

Hamlet advises Polonius to treat the players with respect, for they may have the last word about him: "Let them be well used, for they are the abstract and brief chronicles of the time. After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live." The suggestion that the theater is topical surprises us if we assume that Shakespeare is writing "universally," with no special reference to his own time. But Hamlet himself tells us otherwise, and the play itself is the fulfillment of his warning. It gives us a fascinating glimpse of Oxford and Burghley.

When Hamlet stabs Polonius, the deed has to be covered up -- as Oxford's stabbing of Burghley's undercook had been. The very phrase Burghley had used to excuse Oxford, "se defendendo," is parodied in the gravedigger's blundering legal terminology, "se offendendo." Hamlet's grim pun that "politic worms" are making the dead Polonius their "diet" looks like another private joke: according to Gerald W. Phillips, Burghley liked to recall that he was born during the Diet of Worms.

Such personal touches offer a tantalizing intimacy with the playwright, and they have persuaded many of Oxford's authorship. In reconsidering the Sonnets, we shall see evidence both more intimate and more obvious.



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