“I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.” – Prince Hamlet
These lines operate on at least two levels:
On the surface Hamlet appears to be referring to an Elizabethan notion that melancholy grows worse when the wind comes out of the north; his madness worsens when the wind is northerly, but, when it’s southerly, he grows clear-headed and can tell one different thing from the other.
On another level the author, Edward de Vere Earl of Oxford, is referring to his own investment in the 1578 expedition by Martin Frobisher to discover the Northwest Passage to Cathay, or China – an act of financial madness ending in his loss of all three thousand pounds that he had put into it.
Just four days before the eleven Frobisher ships set forth, hoping to find “gold ore” as well as to establish a settlement on the Meta Incognita peninsula, Oxford dispatched a letter to “My Very Loving Friends,” the commissioners for the voyage:
“Understanding of the wise proceeding and orderly dealing for the continuing of the voyage for the discovery of Cathay by the northwest … as well for the great liking Her Majesty hath to have the same passage discovered … [I] offer unto you to be an adventurer therein for the sum of 1000 pounds or more, if you like to admit thereof; which sum or sums, upon your certificate of admittance, I will enter into bond … I bid you heartily farewell. From the Court, the 21st of May 1578. Your loving friend, Edward Oxenford.”
The earl’s share soon rose to three thousand pounds. He entered into bond to buy the stock from Michael Lok (or Lock), a London merchant who also did business in the Mediterranean. The two men may have met in Venice or Genoa, during Oxford’s 1575-76 travels in Italy. Oxford became the largest investor – that is, the gambler with the most at stake. The expedition resulted in no gold, however, so Oxford got no return at all – a staggering loss of three thousand pounds, the sum for which he was “in bond” to Lok, akin to the three thousand ducats for which Antonio in The Merchant of Venice is “in bond” to Shylock.
A mob of furious men attacked Michael Lok, with Frobisher himself calling him “a false accountant to the company, a cozener of my Lord of Oxford, no venturer at all in the voyages, a bankrupt knave.” Convicted upon testimony that he had known beforehand that the ore was worthless, Lok wound up in the Fleet prison.
Added to Hamlet’s mention of “north-north-west” (for the Northwest Passage) are the repeated references in Merchant to “three thousand ducats” (echoing Oxford’s three thousand pounds) and the “bond” (echoing Oxford’s bond), not to mention the name “Shylock” and its similarity to the name of Michael Loc or Lock.
In Merchant the phrase “three thousand ducats” becomes a kind of insistent drumbeat, with the precise of three words uttered exactly a dozen times. And the word “bond” is used thirty-nine times, with different meanings but forming another emphatic, persistent drumbeat:
“Three thousand ducats; I think I may take his bond … I’ll seal to such a bond … You shall not seal to such a bond for me … I do expect return of thrice three times the value of this bond … I will seal unto this bond … let him look to his bond … let him look to his bond … let him look to his bond … Sweet Bassanio, my ships have all miscarried, my creditors grow cruel [as did Oxford’s own creditors, as he descended into insolvency], my estate is very low, my bond to the Jew is forfeit …
“I’ll have my bond; speak not against my bond: I have sworn an oath that I will have my bond … I’ll have my bond … I’ll have my bond … I will have my bond … to have the due and forfeit of my bond … I would have my bond … I crave the law, the penalty and forfeit of my bond … “
Michael Lok “may or may not have been a Christianized Anglo Jew,” writes William Farina in De Vere as Shakespeare (2006). “Add to this the prefix ‘Shy’ (one meaning of which is ‘disreputable’), and it would be an understatement to say that the (otherwise mysterious) origin of Shylock’s name is strongly suggested.”
On 2 February 1580, a little over a year after the fiasco of the third Frobisher voyage, The History of Portio and Demorantes was performed at Whitehall Palace by the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, whose patron was Thomas Radcliffe, Earl of Sussex, under whom Oxford had served in 1570 in the successful (and brutal) campaign to defeat the Northern Rebellion of Catholic earls. Sussex had been Oxford’s mentor and supporter at Court ever since; and in the view of Eva Turner Clark, Portio and Demorantes was the early version of Edward de Vere’s play The Merchant of Venice, to be attributed to Shakespeare two decades later in 1598.
Once Oxford is viewed as the author of Merchant, the character of Antonio may be viewed as standing in for Oxford himself; and, too, Portia quite distinctly becomes Queen Elizabeth – making it a pretty safe bet that “Portio” in Portio and Demorantes had been the early Portia-Elizabeth. (It has also been suggested that “Demorantes” could have been a misspelling of “the merchants.”)
Antonio’s friends appear to voice the concerns and anxieties Oxford must have experienced while the ships were away and there was little to do but wait for the results:
“Believe me, sir, had I such venture forth,/ The better part of my affections would/ Be with my hopes abroad, I should be still/ Plucking the grass to know where sits the wind,/ Peering in maps for ports, and piers, and roads … My wind, cooling my broth,/ Would blow me to an ague [fever] when I thought/ What harm a wind too great might do at sea … ”
The orthodox dating of The Merchant of Venice has been roughly 1596, but all the major sources for the play were available by 1558, according to Joe Peel and Noemi Magri in Dating Shakespeare’s Plays (2010) edited by Kevin Gilvary. And others connections to Oxford and Elizabeth and the doings at the English court are so strong that this play will become a separate “reason” to believe that Edward de Vere was the great author and, in 1593, adopted “Shakespeare” as a pen name.
I would be inclined to include the recently discovered fact that “handsaw” was mistakenly given to the word handsor ? not sure of exact spelling)… that is a name given to a bird seen in Essex, England. I think it is a local term. This is another link to Oxford. I think it is written about in one of the Oxfordian websites. How someone from Warwickshire knew about a bird from De Vere’s ancestral home region is another Stratfordian mystery.
Thanks Ed … I’ll try to find more & post it up with more thanks to you … That is amazing to know, if true, after so long critics have been in the dark
Sent from my iPhone
Hadzor and Hadzor House are local Warwickshire landmarks !
Gents,
look at this passage:
http://www.shakespeare-online.com/plays/hamlet/examq/six.html
And still this one:
http://www.wordnik.com/words/heronshaw
I don’t see it being a local term, but I can’t be sure from here Hungary 🙂
However, the first explanation at this link with the names of Shakspere and Montaigne seems to be reasonable.
Thanks, Sandy. It would be great if it could be identified as specific mostly to Essex, and not to Warwickshire, but I’m amazed it’s taken me this long to learn the meaning of handsaw. (I’d never really tried:-)
On a general note, it seems incredible that this one man has generated so many footnotes, explanations, etc., and that we keep finding him to be accurate.
It is possible that not the Essex/Warwickshire question is what matters. At the link just below the first Shakspeare Montaigne text, there is a rather interesting explanation:
————————————————————
Hamlet says to the players: ‘We’ll e’en to it like French falconers: fly
at anything we see.’ Montaigne’s manner of spying out and pouncing upon
things cannot be better depicted than by comparing it with a French
falconer’s manner. In the first act already, Hamlet, after the
ghost-scene, answers the friends who approach, with the holla-call of
a falconer:–
Hillo, ho, ho, boy; come, bird, come!
Furthermore, Hamlet says in act ii. sc. 2:–‘I am but mad
north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a
handshaw (heronshaw!).’ Now, the north-west wind would drive Montaigne
back into his native province, Perigord, where, very likely according
to Shakspere’s view, he ought to have remained with his sham logic.
The south wind, on the contrary, brings the able falconer to England.
The latter possesses such a penetrating glance for the nature of
things as to be able to distinguish the bird (the heronshaw) that is
to be pursued from the hawk that has been unhooded and cast.
Amazing material here!
If the second half of the Hamlet passage is so laden with meaning, can we assume that Oxford would not have forced his audience to link it to his luckless investments in finding a Northwest Passage as well? In print, perhaps in 1598 could digest it, but on stage, it would be too fast to fathom anything other than the falcon related metaphor. That’s my view on it. Fascinating…… thought provoking, and probably never 100% conclusive, like the entire mystery itself
Also here: http://shakespearebyanothername.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html
Yes!
Yes, thanks for that link.