The real story of the Shakespeare sonnets is that of one man howling in defiance of obliteration — the burial of his truth, the blotting out of his identity. The man is Edward, Earl of Oxford, raging against the agents of his destruction and promising to overcome them by preserving the truth in this “monument” of verse for posterity.
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 – 81
Speaking of defiance -- Oxford used this "crown signature" from 1569 until the Queen died in 1603 and James succeeded her, when he ceased to use it.
In a real way Oxford becomes a Christ figure who, in the course of the sequence, undergoes death and resurrection:
The offender’s sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence’s loss [cross] – 34
[Henry, Earl of Southampton’s sorrow for his role in the Essex Rebellion offers little relief to Oxford, who has agreed to suffer the consequences for him.]
And both for my sake lay on me this cross – 42
[Both Southampton and Queen Elizabeth, who holds him in her Tower prison, are causing Oxford to suffer]
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken,
A torment thrice threefold thus to be crossed – 133
[They comprise a royal, dynastic family triangle; because Southampton has committed treason, all three of them are doomed.]
The 1609 dedication of the Sonnets (the inscription on the Monument) to "Mr. W. H." - a reversal of Lord Henry Wriothesley, reflecting his lowly status as "Mr." while in the Tower - from "our ever-living (deceased) poet" -
Oxford is volunteering to take on the burden of the guilt:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help be borne by me alone – 36
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise – 38
[All praise will go to Southampton while Oxford disappears from view.]
To play the watchman ever for thy sake – 61
[He will save Southampton’s life and secure his freedom.]
And art made tongue-tied by authority – 66
[Oxford’s ability to speak directly through these private sonnets has been nullified by official decree; his art has been “tongue-tied” or silenced by the crown, in the person of Sir Robert Cecil, who now runs the Elizabethan government in its final years heading to an uncertain succession.
[He is using a special language, however, allowing him to speak here indirectly. (“That every word doth almost tell my name” – 76) In effect, his words carry a double image, simultaneously conveying two (or more) meanings.]
He is fading away:
When I, perhaps, compounded am with clay,
Do not such much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay – 71
After my death, love, forget me quite…
My name be buried where my body is – 72
My spirit is thine, the better part of me – 74
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die – 81
The 1594 dedication of "Lucrece" to Southampton -- by "Shakespeare" the pen name and so-called rival poet of the sonnets...
The agent of Oxford’s obliteration is his own pen name, “William Shakespeare,” which he had used to dedicate his first works, Venus and Adonis of 1593 and Lucrece of 1594, to Southampton [the only one to whom “Shakespeare” dedicated anything]; and now that mask is being glued to Oxford’s face:
Was it his [“Shakespeare’s”] spirit by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch that struck me [Oxford] dead? – 86
The more that “Shakespeare” is seen to be praising Southampton, the less visible Oxford becomes:
When your [Southampton’s] countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine – 86
After Southampton’s liberation by King James on April 10, 1603, a climactic event celebrated by Sonnet 107, his defiance grows into a roar by an amazing compression of words, a literary feat that may well have no equal. I would urge all to read over the final Sonnets of the “fair youth” sequence from 107 to 126. Let’s just close with Sonnet 123, in which Edward de Vere tells Time itself, “Thy registers and thee I both defy!” — that is, he defies the official history to be written by the winners [Cecil]; he defies it and will be “true” [indicating his own identity, through his motto Nothing Truer Than Truth] despite all that has crushed him:
No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change,
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange,
They are but dressings of a former sight:
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them borne to our desire
Then think that we before have heard them told:
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond’ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste.
This I do vow, and this shall ever be,
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
The day is coming sooner than later when students will be given the opportunity to appreciate the greatness of these sonnets. Within the traditional paradigm there has been no possibility for such appreciation; the best that can be taught is the value of the poet’s rhetorical skills, as he puts forth his universal themes, while the severe limitations of Stratfordian authorship dictate that the genuine human drama remains unseen.
Well, it will be seen! And then there will be new life in the classroom, new excitement in the lecture hall, and a kind of Shakespearean renaissance — as we crawl out of the long dark tunnel of tradition into the bright light of truth.
Hank Whittemore's Shakespeare Blog 