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Arthur Neuendorffer

Jul 15, 2021, 8:53:52 PMJul 15
. "Moore C W The Freemasons Monthly Magazine Vol IV 1845"
from the coming in of the Saxons to the year 1839, Compiled and
condensed from the most authoritative records, by Br. Thomas Joseph
Tennison, President of the Masonic Council of Armagh, Ireland.
1607: James I., a Brother Mason, Grand Patron by Prerogative, appointed
. Inigo {IONES}, Grand Master of all England, in which capacity he served
. for 11 years. His Wardens were M(aste)r [W]illiam [H]erbert the Earl
. of Pembroke, & *{N}ICHOLAS {STONE}*, Esq., who, attended by many
. Brothers attired in Craft clothing, walked to White Hall, and
. laid the first stone of the Banquetting Hall, with knocks, huzzas,
. and sound of trumpets, throwing a purse of gold upon the {STONE}
. for the operatives to drink “To the King and Craft!"
1618.[W]illiam [H]erbert, Earl of Pembroke, was chosen Grand Master.
. . . He appointed Inigo {IONES} his Deputy.
. Charles I., a Royal Mason and Grand Patron by Prerogative;
. under him [H]enry [DANVERS], Earl of Danby, who erected
. the beautiful gate of the Physick Gardens, at Oxford.
1630-1-2. [H]enry [DANVERS] , Earl of Danby.
. . . . . . KJV Psalm *46*
. . "SHAKE" is the *46*th word from the beginning,
. . and "SPEAR" is the *46*th word from the end.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . <= *46* =>
. SHakespeareatl e. n g t h .thypi. o u s f e l l o w e s g i u e T h e .worl
. dthyWorkesthyW o. r k e s .bywhi. c h o u t l i u e T h y T o m b e,t .hyna
. memustwhenthat S. T O N E .isren. t A n d T i m e d i s s o l u e s t .hyST
. RATFORDMONIMEN T. H e r e .weali. u e s h a l l v i e w t h e e s t i .llTh
. isBookeWhenBra s {S}e a n .dMarb. l e f a d e,s h a l l m a k e t h e .eloo
. keFreshtoallAg e {S W}h e .nPost. e r i t i e S h a l l l o a t h w h .atsn
. ewthinkeallisp r {O}d{E}g .ieTha. t I{S}N O T*S[H]A K E S P E A R E S* eury
. LineeachVerseH e {R}e s{H} allre. u i u{E}r E[D]e e m e t h e e f r o .mthy
. HerseNorFireno r {C}a n k .ringA. g e a s{N|A]s o s a i d O f h i s t .hywi
. tfraughtBookes h [A]l l o .ncein. u a d E[N|O}r s h a l l I e r e b e .leeu
. eorthinketheed e [A]d T h .oughm. i s T[U]n t{I}l l o u r b a n k r o .utSt
. agebespedImpos s. i b l e .withs. o m[E]n e w s t r a i n e t o u t d .oPas
. sionsofIulieta n. d h e r .Romeo. O[R]t i l l I h e a r e a S c e n e .more
. noblytakeThenw h. e n t h .yhalf [S|W O R D}p a r l y i n g R o m a n .sspa
. keTillthesetil l. a n y o .fthyv. o l u m e s r e s t S h a l l w i t .hmor
. efiremorefeeli n. g b e e .xprEs. t B e s u r e o u r S h a k e s p e .aret
. houcanstnEVERD Y. E B u t .crOwn. d w i t h L a w r e l l l i u e e t .erna
. lly.
[H.DANUERS]. 45 : Prob. in poem ~ 1 in 192,000
(IONES) , - -47 : Prob. mear [H.DANUERS] ~ 1 in 950
{HEWS}, , , -47
{[AA]CROSS} -46 : Prob. {CROSS} in poem ~ 1 in 67
DON-QVIXOTE Of the Mancha. []

LONDON Printed by William Stansby, for Ed. Blount and W. Barret. 1612.
CHAP. II. Of the first sally that Don-Quixote made to seeke aduentures.
Scarce had the ruddy Apollo spread ouer the face of the vast and spacious earth, the golden twists of his beautifull hayres, and scarce had th{E} little enameld birds with their naked tongues salut{E}d with sweet and*[M]ellifluous harmony, the arriuall of {R}osie Aurora, when [A]bandoning her iealous husbands so{F}t couch, shee shewe[S] her selfe to mortall wights through the gates and wind[O]wes of the *Manchegall Orizon. When the famous Knight Do[N]-Quixote of the Mancha, abandoning the slouthfull plumes, did mount vpon his renouned horse Rozinante, and began to trauell through the auncient and notorious fields of Montiel, (as indeede he did)s and courses.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . <= 46 =>

. ScarcehadtheruddyApollosp .r. eadouerthe .f. aceofthe
. vastandspaciousearththego .l. dentwistsof .h. isbeaut
. ifullhayresandscarcehadth {E} littleenamel .d. birdsw
. iththeirnakedtonguessalut {E} dwithsweetand [M] ellif
. luousharmonythearriuallof {R} osieAurorawhen [A] band
. oningheriealoushusbandsso {F} tcouchsheeshewe [S] her
. selfetomortallwightsthrou .g. hthegatesandwind [O] we
. softheManchegallOrizonWhe .n. thefamousKnightDo [N] Q
. uixoteoftheMancha
{FREE} -46
[MASON] 46
But one cannot sustain an indifferent air concerning Fedallah.
He was such a creature as civilized, domestic people in the
temperate zone only see in their dreams, and that but di{M}ly;
but the like of whom now and then glide among the unch{A}nging
Asiatic communities, especially the Oriental i{S}les to the
east of the continent—those insulated, immem{O}rial, unalterable
countries, which even in these moder{N} days still preserve
much of the ghostly aboriginalne{S}s of earth’s primal generations,
when the memory of the first man was a distinct recollection,
and all men his descendants, unknowing whence he came, eyed each
other as real phantoms, and asked of the sun and the moon why they
were created and to what end; when though, according to Genesis,
the angels indeed consorted with the daughters of men, the devils
also, add the uncanonical Rabbins, indulged in mundane amours.

Moby-Dick or, THE WHALE. by Herman Melville

This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery,
and showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of
{F}ooling me—but at the sa{M}e time what could I think of a
ha{R}pooneer who stayed out {A} Saturday night clean into
th{E} holy Sabbath, engaged in {S}uch a cannibal business
as s{E}lling the heads of dead id{O}lators?

“Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a da{N}gerous man.”

“He pays reg’lar,” was the rejoinder. “But come, it’{S} getting
dreadful late, you had better be turning flukes—it’s a nice bed:
. . . . . . . . . <= 46 =>
. Thisacco. u .ntcleareduptheot. h .erwiseunaccountablem
. ysterya. n .dshowedthatthelan. d .lordafterallhadhadno
. ideaof {F} oolingmebutatthesa {M} etimewhatcouldIthink
. ofaha {R} pooneerwhostayedout {A} Saturdaynightcleanin
. toth {E} holySabbathengagedin {S} uchacannibalbusiness
. ass {E} llingtheheadsofdeadid {O} latorsDependuponitla
. nd. l .ordthatharpooneerisada {N} gerousmanHepaysregla
. r. w .astherejoinderButcomeit {S} gettingdreadfullatey
. . o .uhadbetterbeturningfluke. s .itsanicebed
{FREE} . 45
But one cannot sustain an indifferent air concerning Fedallah.
He was such a creature as civilized, domestic people in the
temperate zone only see in their dreams, and that but di{M}ly;
but the like of whom now and then glide among the unch{A}nging
Asiatic communities, especially the Oriental i{S}les to the
east of the continent—those insulated, immem{O}rial, unalterable
countries, which even in these moder{N} days still preserve
much of the ghostly aboriginalne{S}s of earth’s primal generations,
when the memory of the first man was a distinct recollection,
and all men his descendants, unknowing whence he came, eyed each
other as real phantoms, and asked of the sun and the moon why they
were created and to what end; when though, according to Genesis,
the angels indeed consorted with the daughters of men, the devils
also, add the uncanonical Rabbins, indulged in mundane amours.
DON-QVIXOTE Of the Mancha. []

LONDON Printed by William Stansby, for Ed. Blount and W. Barret. 1612.
The Authors Preface to the READER.

THOV maist beleeue mee (gentle Reader) without swearing, that I could willingly desire this booke (as a child of vnderstanding) to be the most beautifull, gallant, and discreet, that might possibly bee imagined. But I could not transgresse the order of Nature, wherein euery thing begets his like: which being so, what could my sterile and il-tild wit ingender, but the history of a dry tosted, & humorous son, full of various thoughts & conceits neuer before imagined of any other: much like one who was ingendred within some noysome prison, where all discommodiries haue taken possession, and all dolefull noyses made their habitation? seeing that rest, pleasant places, amenity of the fieldes, the cheerefulnesse of cleere skie, the murmuring noyse of the Cristall fountaines, and the quiet repose of the spirit are great helpes for the most barren Muses to shew themselues fruitful, and to bring forth into the world such births as may enrich it with admiration and delight. It oft times befals, that a father hath a child both by birth euil-fauoured and quite deuoide of all perfection, and yet the loue that hee beares him is such, as it casts a maske ouer his eies which hinders his discerning of the faults and simplicities thereof, and makes him rather to deeme them discretions and beauty, and so tels them to his friends, for witty iests and conceites. But I (though in shew a Father yet in truth but a stepfather to Don-Quixote) will not be born away by the violent current of the modern custome now a daies, and therefore intreate thee, with the teares almost in mine eies as many others are wont to doe, (most deare Reader) to pardon and dissemble the faults which thou shalt discerne in this my sonne:

for thou {A}rt neither his kinsman nor friend, and thou hast thy sou{L}e in thy body, and thy free wil therein as absolute as the {B}est, and thou art in thine owne house wherein thou art as {A}bsolute a Lord, as the King is of his subsidies and thou k{N}owest well the common Prouerbe, that vnder my cloake a f{I}g for the King, all which doth exempt thee and makes thee {FREE} from all respect and obligation; and so thou maist boldely say of this history whatsoeuer thou shalt think good without feare eyther to be controlled for the euil, or rewarded for the good that thou shalt speake thereof. I would very faine haue presented it vnto thee pure & naked, without the ornament of a Preface, or the rabblement and Catalogue of the wonted Sonnets, Epigrams Poems Elegies &c, which are wont to bee put at the beginning of bookes. For I dare say vnto thee that (although it cost me some paines to compose it) yet in no respect did it equalize that which I tooke to make this preface which thou dost now reade. I tooke oftentimes my pen in my hand to write it, and as often set it downe again, as not knowing what I should write, and being once in a muse with my paper before me, my pen in mine eare,

. . *mine elbow on the table, and my hand on my cheeke*,

imagining what I might write, there entred, a friend of mine vnexpectedly who was a very discret & pleasantly witted man: who seeing me so pensatiue, demanded of me the reason of my musing: and not concealing it from him, said, that I bethought my selfe on my preface I was to make to Don-Quixotes history, which did so much trouble me, as I neither meane to make any at all, nor publishe the history of the acts of so noble a knight.
. . . . <= *46* =>
. forthou. {A} .rtn .eitherhiskinsmannorfriendandthouhas
. tthysou. {L} .ein .thybodyandthyfreewilthereinasabsolu
. teasthe. {B} .est .andthouartinthineownehousewhereinth
. ouartas. {A} .bso .luteaLordastheKingisofhissubsidiesa
. ndthouk. {N} .owe .stwellthecommonProuerbethatvndermyc
. loakeaf. {I} .gfo .rtheKingallwhichdothexempttheeandma
. kesthee. {F R E E} fromallrespectandobligation
{ALBANI} 46 : Prob. at start ~ 1 in 732
*St. {ALBANI} Viscomes* memorial to Bacon in the chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge
For how can I chuse (quoth I) but bee much confounded at that which the old legislator (the Vulgar) will saie, when it sees that after the end of so many yeeres (as are spent since I first slept in the bosome of obliuion) I come out loaden with my gray haires and bring with me a booke as dry as a kexe, void of inuention, barren of good phrase, poor of conceipts, and altogether empty both of learning & eloquence: without quotations on the margents, or annotations in the end of the book, wherwith I see other books are still adorned be they neuer so idle, fabulous, and prophane: so full of sentences of Aristotle and Plato and the other crew of the Philosophers, as admires the Readers, & makes them beleeue that these Authors are very learned and eloquent. And after whē they cite Plutarch or Cicero, what can they say, but that they are the sayings of S. Thomas or other Doctors of the Church: obseruiug herein so ingenious a Methode, as in one line they will paint you an inamoured gull, and in the other will lay you downe a little seeming deuout sermon, so that it is a great pleasure and delight to reade or heare it, all which things must bee wanting in my booke, for neither haue I any thing to cite on the margent, or note in the end, and much lesse doe I know what Authors I follow, to put them at the beginning as the custome is, by the letter of the A. B. C. beginning with Aristotle, and ending in Xenophon, or in Zoylus or Zeuxis. Although the one was a Railer, and the other a Painter. So likewise shall my booke want sonnets at the beginning, at least such sonnets, whose Authors bee Dukes, Marquesses, Earles, Bishops, Ladies or famous Poets. Although if I would demand them of two or three Artificers of mine acquaintance I know they would make mee some such, as those of the most renowned in Spaine, would in no wise be able to equall or compare with them.
<<A real problem for translators occurs. When, in the original text, the author sets out a list of nouns or adjectives in alphabetical order. What is to be done when there is no literal translation or synonym, which has the required first letter? In the tale of the Curious Impertinent in Don Quixote ;(Pt.1, ch.34) Camila’s maid, Leonela, tells her not to worry about her affair with Lothario, saying that he has many good qualities, “the whole A.B.C.” He is, she tells her, “amiable, bountifull, courteous, dutifull, enamoured, firme, gallant, honorable, illustrious, loyal, milde, noble, honest, prudent, quiet, rich, true, valorous, young and zealous of thine honour.” “The four S.S. which they say every good Lover ought to have” had already been mentioned. This could refer to a Spanish proverb which said that he should be *SAGE*, *SINGLE*, *SOLICITOUS* and *SECRETIVE*. And X has been omitted from the list, as, in Leonela ‘s opinion,-it “does not quader well with him, because itsounds harshly.” Cuadrar is the Spanish word for “square”, so it must be admitted that, if there was no doubt about Cervantes’s authorship of Don Quixote, this would indicate that the English translator had simply not taken the trouble to find a suitable English word at this point. But this is the only time when a Spanish word has been used in the English text. All Shelton’s adjectives in this long list of desirable qualities are well chosen.

The Spanish text of Cervantes shows clear signs of an imperfect translation. Most of the adjectives chosen are suitable -Agradecido, Bueno, Dadivoso (grateful, good, generous) and so on. But some of the words in this list are out of line. The third quality required is Caballero, a gentleman, a noun, not an adjective. Cohen, in his modern translation, unhappy about this break in the sequence of adjectives, substitutes Shelton’s ‘Courteous’. Where Cervantes had to choose a word beginning with a P, he has written Principal,meaning principal, or main. Where Shelton has written ‘true’, ‘Cervantes has chosen Tacito, tacit,or implied. The Spanish word for ‘taciturn’ is taciturno, hardly a quality desirable in a lover. There are very few words beginning with Y in Spanish; where Shelton wrote ‘young’, Cervantes failed the jump altogether, writing ya esta dicha, ‘it is already said’. Finally, where in the English text we read ‘zealous’, Cervantes has come up with zelador, a watchman, or attendant, a word which is usually spelt with a ‘c’, not a ‘z’. As in the words whichstart with ‘y’, there are not many words in Spanish which begin with ‘z’.

In fact there are no adjectives in this category which Cervantes could have chosen.The whole story of the Curious Impertinent stretches over fifty-two pages. It is set in Italy,not Spain, and it strains the reader’s concentration. It is a detailed philosophical analysis of a suspicious husband, a cautious lover and a beloved wife who finally weakens. Whoever wrote Don Quixote was a philosopher, fascinated by the minutiae of mental indecision and by the component elements of friendship and love.
DON-QVIXOTE Of the Mancha. []

LONDON Printed by William Stansby, for Ed. Blount and W. Barret. 1612.
Book 4: CHAP. VII : Wherein is prosecuted the history of the curious impertinent.

And seeing this is so, let not these scruples & nice thoughts assault or further disturbe your mind, but perswade your selfe that Lothario esteemes you as much as you doe him, and liues with content & satisfaction, seeing that it was your fortune to fal into the amorous snare, that it was his good lucke to catch you with his valour and deserts: who not only hath the foure. S S. which they say euery good louer oughtto haue, but also the whole A. B. C. which if you will not credite, doe but listen to me a while, and I will repeate it to you by roate. He is as it seemes, and as farre as can iudge amiable, bountifull, courteous, dutifull, enamored, firme, gallant, honourable, illustrious, loyall, milde, noble, honest, prudent, quiet, rich, and the S. S. which they say, and besides true, valorous. The X. doth not quader well with him, because it sounds harshly: Y. he is young. And the Z. he is zealous of thine honour. Camila laughed at her maydens A. B. C. and accounted her to bee more practicke in loue matters then she her selfe had confessed, as indeed she was, for then she reuealed to her Mistresse, how she and a certaine young man well borne of the Citie did treate of loue one with another: Hereat her Mistresse was not a little troubled in minde, fearing that her honour might be greatly indangered by that meanes; she demaunded whether her affections had passed farther then words, and the maid answered very shamelesly and freely that they did: for it is most certaine that this kinde of wretchlesse Mistresses doe also make their maydens carelesse and impudent: who when they perceiue their Ladies to faulter, are commonly wont to hault likewise themselues, and care not that the world doe know it. Camila seeing this errour past remedie, could do no more but intreate Leonela not to reueale any thing of her affaires, to him she said was her sweet heart; & that she should handle her matters discreetly & secretly, lest they might come to Anselmo or Lotharios notice. Leonela promised to performe her wil, but did accōplish her promise in such sort, as she did confirme Camilas feares, that she should lose her credit by her means. For the dishonest & bold Gyrle after that she had perceiued that her Mistres, her proceedings were not such as they were wont, grew so hardy as she gaue entrance, and brought her louer into her Maisters house, presuming that although her Ladie kne{W} it, yet would she not da{R}e to discouer it. For th{I}s among other harmes f{O}llow the sinnes of Mis{T}resses, that it makes t{H}em slaues to their own{E} seruants, and doth oblige them to conceale their dishonest and base proceedings as it fell out in Camila, who although she espied Leonela not once onely, but sundry times together with her louer in a certaine chamber of the house, she not onely dared not to rebuke her for it, but rather gaue her oportunity to hide him, and would remoue all occasions out of her husbands way, whereby he might suspect any such thing.
But all could not hinder Lothario from espying him once, as he departed out of the house at the breake of the day: who not knowing him, thought at the first that it was a spirit, but when he saw him post away, and cast his cloake ouer his race, least he should be known, he abandoning his simple surmise, fell into a new suspiciō which had ouerthrown them all, were it not that Camila did remedie it. For Lothario thought that he whom he had seene issue out of Anselmos house at so vnreasonable an hower, had not entred into it for Leonelas sake, nor did he remember then that there was such a one as Leonela in the world, but onely thought that as Camila was lightly gotten by him, so belike she was won by some other. For the wickednesse of a bad woman bringeth vsually all these additions, that she looseth her reputatiō euen with him to whom prayed and perswaded she yeeldeth her selfe: and he beleeueth that she will as easily, or with more facility consent to others, and doth infallibly credit the least suspicion which thereof may be offered.

And it seemes that Lothario in this instant was wholy depriued of all reasonable discourse, and quite dispoyled of his vnderstanding, for without pondering of the matter, impatient & kindled by the iealouse rage that inwardly gnawed his bowels, fretting with desire to be reuenged on Camila, who had neuer offended him, he came to Anselmo before he was vp, & said to him: know Anselmo that I haue had these many daies a ciuill conflict within my selfe whether I should speake or no, and I haue vsed as much violence as I might, to my selfe, not to discouer a thing vnto you, which now it is neither iust nor reasonable I should conceale. Know that Camilas fortresse is rendred and subiect to all that I please to commaund, and if I haue beene somewhat slow to informe thee this of truth, it was because I would first see, whether it proceeded of some light appetite in her: or whether shee did it to trie me, and see whether that loue was still constantly continued, which I first began to make vnto her by thy order and licence. I did also beleeue, that if shee had beene such as she ought to bee, and her that we both esteemed her, she would haue by this time acquainted you with my importunacy: but seeing that she lingers therein, I presume that her promises made vnto mee are true, that when you did againe absent your selfe out of the towne, she would speake with mee in the wardrobe (and it was true, for there Camila was accustomed to talke with him) yet would not I haue thee runne rashly to take reuenge, seeing the sinne is not yet otherwise committed th{E}n in thought, & perhaps betweene this and the oportunity she might {H}ope to put it in execution, her mind would be changed, and she repen{T} her selfe of her folly. And therefore seeing that thou hast euer f{O}llowed mine aduises partly or wholy, follow and keepe one counsa{I}le that I will giue vnto thee now, to the ende that thou mayest afte{R} with carefull assurance, and without fraud satisfie thine owne {W}ill as thou likest best, faine thy selfe to be absent two or three daies as thou art wont, and then conuey thy self cunningly into the wardrobe, where thou maist very well hide thy selfe behind the tapestry, and then thou shalt see with thine owne eyes, and I with mine what Camila will doe; and if it be that wickednesse which rather ought to be feared then hoped for, thou maiest with wisedome, silence, and discretion bee the proper executioner of so iniurious a wrong.
{WRIOTHE} -54 : Prob. of both {WRIOTHE}s in Part 1 ~ 1 in 600
DON-QVIXOTE Of the Mancha. []

LONDON Printed by William Stansby, for Ed. Blount and W. Barret. 1612.
Book 4: CHAP. VII. : Wherein is prosecuted the history of the curious impertinent.

<<Here Lothario saw that he was entred into the lists, which his friend so much desired, which his aduersarie before him who was with her beautie able to ouercome a whole squadron of armed Knights; see then if Lothario had not reason to feare himselfe? but that which he did at the first onset was:

*to lay his elbow on the arme of his chaire, and his hand on his cheeke*,

and desiring Camila to beare with his respectlesnesse therein, he said he would repose a little, whilest hee attended Anselmo's comming.>>
Book 3, CHAP. IIII. : Wherein are rehearsed the discourses passed betweene Sancho Panca, and his Lord Don-Quixote, with other aduentures worthy the recitall.
<<By this Don-Quixote arose, and setting his left hand to his mouth, that the rest of his teeth might not fall out, he caught hold on the raignes of Rozinantes bridle with the other, who had neuer stird from his Master: (such was his loyaltie and good nature) hee went towards his Squire, that leaned vpon his Asse, *with his hand vnder his cheeke*, like one pensatiue and malecontent. And Don-Quixote seeing of him in that guise, with such signes of sadnesse, said vnto him. Know Sancho that one man is not more then another, if he doe not more then another.>>
Book 3, CHAP. XIII. : How the Curate and the Barber put their designe in practise, with many other things, worthy to be recorded in this famous Historie.
All the house was in a tumult for this sodaine amazement of Luscinda, and as her mother vnclasped her bosome to giue her the ayre, there appeared in it a paper foulded vp, which Don Fernando presently seazed on, and went aside to reade it by the light of a torch, and after he had read it, he sate down in a chayre, *laying his hands on his cheeke, with manifest signes of MELANCHOLY* discontent, without bethinking himselfe of the remedies that were applied to his spouse, to bring her againe to her selfe.

Melencolia I is a large 1514 engraving by the German Renaissance artist Albrecht Dürer. The print's central subject is an enigmatic and gloomy winged female figure thought to be a personification of melancholia - melancholy. Holding her head in her hand, she stares past the busy scene in front of her. The area is strewn with symbols and tools associated with craft and carpentry, including an hourglass, weighing scales, a hand plane, a claw hammer, and a saw. Other objects relate to alchemy, geometry or numerology. Behind the figure is a structure with an embedded magic square, and a ladder leading beyond the frame. The sky contains a rainbow, a comet or planet, and a bat-like creature bearing the text that has become the print's title.
Book Review by Mather Walker 2008

<<When Settlers first came to the New World for a long time they
huddled along the East Coast before striking out into the great-
unexplored continent beyond. Baconians, who first came to the New
World of Francis Bacon, for a long time have huddled along the East
coast of the Shakespeare works, but now comes Francis Carr. Francis
Carr has written an important book. With his book Who Wrote Don
Quixote he strikes off into new territory making himself the Daniel
Boone, or Simon Kenton of the vast unexplored continent of Francis
Bacon's concealed writings. To most people Don Quixote is only a
masterpiece, but Carr sees a mystery in addition to a masterpiece, and
in his 198-page book Carr makes a full-scale study of this mystery.
Carr believes Francis Bacon, not Miguel Cervantes, wrote Don Quixote,
and in a foray, sure to evoke a sense of déjà vu in those pesky
Baconians who keep pulling the scab off Stratfordian orthodoxy,
he presents a great deal of evidence to support his contention.

Carr notes in the case of Cervantes many suspicious circumstances
reminiscent of those in the case of theShakespeare. Emerson said of
William Shakespeare, "I cannot marry the man to his verse." Carr says
of Cervantes I not only cannot marry the man to his prose, I cannot
even marry his prose to his prose, noting that the sEVERal other works
under Cervantes' name: The Exemplary Stories, The Tale of Foolish
Curiosity, La Galatea, The Labor of Persiles, and so on, are of such
a marked mediocrity they present irreconcilable differences with the
masterpiece that is Don Quixote. As icing on the cake Carr observes,
"There is no manuscript", no letter, no diary, no will, and no
document that proves that Cervantes wrote Don Quixote", but the
coup de grace comes when Carr shows us that the book itself states
emphatically 33 times that Cid Hamet Benengeli, not Cervantes was
the author. For example, the Thomas Shelton translation,
in chapter 1 of Book 2 of the Part One of Don Quixote, says:

. "The historie of Don-Quixote of the Mancha,
. written by Cid Hamet Benegeli"

Who was Cid Hamet Benegeli? The book tells that Cyd means Lord.
Ben, of course, means son, and engeli means'of England'. So Cid Hamet
Benegeli was Lord Hamet, son of England. Carr notes also that, "To a
Frenchman, the name, if pronounced Don Quichotte, sounds like Don qui
s'ôte , the knight who hides himself, or d'on qui s'ôte , by one who
hides himself." So the book explicitly tells us that the real author
one who hides himself, namely: LORD BACON, SON OF ENGLAND.

Moreover, as Carr says, we are told 33 times in Don Quixote that Hamet
is the real author, a number that has often been associated with
Bacon. Carr notes that on the title page of the English edition of Don
Quixote, published in 1612, the name of the publisher, Ed Blounte,
appears (and also on the second part published in 1620). In view of
the evidence that Bacon wrote Shakespeare, it is not surprising that
Carr finds it suspicious that this is the same Ed Blount, who along
with Isaac Jaggard, is listed as PRINTer of the 1623 First Folio
edition of the collected works of William Shakespeare
(and is listed in the colophon as one of the publishers).

As further evidence that the real author is concealed Carr points to
the title page of the first Spanish edition of Don Quixote. The title
page shows a hooded falcon resting on the gloved hand of a man who is
hidden from view within a cloud. There is a lion in the picture that
ostensibly symbolizes England. But who is the hidden falconer? On the
border around the inner picture are the words, "Post tenebras spero
lucem", i.e., after darkness I hope for light. Signaling yet again
that something is hidden here. But how can we solve this dark puzzle?
Chapter 68 of the Second Part of Don Quixote gives us a clue. Don
Quixote tells Sancho Panza, "Post tenebras spero lucem", and follows
the Latin words with a translation, "after darkness I expect light."
It seems that the explanation has been added to help the reader,
but Sancho still does not understand. The clue comes at this point.
Sancho launches into a tribute to sleep, and this tribute is
virtually a paraphrase of the speech about sleep in Macbeth (which
appeared a few years before the publication of Don Quixote):

. Sleep that knits up thE RaVEllED slEaVE of caRE,
. The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
. Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
. Chief nourisher in life's feast.

(As an additional connection to the Shakespeare works it can be
noted that the "POST TENEBRAS LUX; after darkness light" legend
also appeared on the 1600 quarto edition of A Midsummer Nights
Dream, PRINTed by James Roberts).

Moreover, Carr establishes a timeline that demonstrates that the
manuscript of Don Quixote was in England long before it was published
in Spain. The manuscript of the first part of Don Quixote was in
England eight or nine years before the book was published in Spain,
and the second part was translated and registered in London within
a month of the date it was licensed for publication in Spain. It is
hardly necessary to note the impossibility implicit in the notion
that the second part of Don Quixote could have been sent to England
from Spain, and then translated and made ready for the publisher,
all in the period of one short month.

Don Quixote has two parts. The first part was published in Madrid in
January of 1605. The second part was licensed for publication in
Madrid on November 5, 1615. Shelton translated both English parts of
Don Quixote. His first part was published in London in 1612. His
second part was published in London in 1620. These are subsequent
to the Spanish publication, HowEVER, Carr cites the following
statement made by Shelton in his dedicatory letter
to the first part of Don Quixote:

"Having translated some five or six years ago,
the Historie of Don Quixote, out of the Spanish Tongue,
into English, in the space of forty days"

This has a very strange implication. If the dedication was written in
the same year as the publication this would mean the manuscript of the
book was in London in 1606 or 1607. If the dedication was written when
the book was registered, in January of 1611, the dates would 1605 or
1606. On the other hand, Carr notes, the dedication is addressed to
Lord Walden (Thomas Howard). Thomas Howard was Lord Walden up to 1603
at which time he was created Earl of Suffolk, and since Shelton was
dedicating the book to his patron we may be certain he would have been
careful to get his patron's title right. This indicates the dedication
was written prior to 1603. If the dedication was written in 1602 the
"five or six years" would put the manuscript of the book in London in
1597 or 1596, eight or nine years before it was published in Spain.
The circumstances in regard to the second part of the book are also
very suspicious. The second part of the book was registered at the
Stationer's Company in London on December 5, 1615. It is impossible
that the text for the second part could have been sent to London
from Madrid and translated between November 5 and December 5.

Carr shows this becomes even more suspicious when Thomas Shelton
is put under the microscope. Carr says, "Who was Thomas Shelton?
No one knows. Before and after the translation of
the two parts of Don Quixote, he is an invisible man."

It is generally acknowledged that the English translation by Thomas
Shelton was the first translation of Don Quixote in any language, but
Carr asks the question: was this the first translation from Spanish
into English, or was the Spanish book actually the first translation
from English into Spanish? Certainly, if Don Quixote actually
originated in England the book must have been translated into Spanish
at some time. Furthermore, since Arabia is used as a blind for
England, any allusion in the book to this translation would be of
a translation from Arabic into Spanish. Carr points out that the
description of precisely such a translation can be found in the book
itself. In Part One of Don Quixote, chapter 9, in Shelton's text,
we find a description of the author himself "walking on
the Exchange of Toledo" and encountering a boy who is selling
"old quires and scroules written in Arabicall characters":

"I looked about to view whether I could perceive any
Moore translated Spaniard that could read them; nor was
it very difficult to finde there Such an interpreter…
I requested him to turne me all the Arabicall sheetes…
That treated of Don-Quixote into Spanish.
I would pay him What he listed for his paines…
He translated all the worke in lesse than a moneth and a half."

The time period given for the translation, Carr notes,
is practically identical to the forty days given by Shelton
for his translation of the book into English. Carr points
that the period given strains credibility and
was probably a deliberate ploy to move the reader
to inquire further into the matter.

A really curious feature of the second part of Don Quixote, noted
by Carr, is the name of the neighbor of Don Quixote, Thomas Cecial.
Sir Thomas Cecil was a neighbor and friend of Bacon's. When Bacon
left Grays Inn for Twickenham in 1595 to escape the plague,
Richard Cecil, the son of Thomas Cecil accompanied him.

In his Preface to The Reader the author of Don Quixote says:

. "I tooke often times my pen in my hand, as not knowing
what I should write, and being once in a muse with my paper
before me, my pen in my eare, mine elbow on the table,
and my hand on my cheeke, imagining what I might write."

Carr notes that this seems to have been a habitual posture of
Bacon since the memorial to Bacon erected by Sir Thomas Meautys
in St Michael's Church, St Albans shows Bacon seated exactly
as described in the preface to Don Quixote, and in the memorial
Meautys describes this as the habitual posture of Bacon.
Meautys tells us [He] "used to sit thus":

Carr finds in Don Quixote some 70 quotations, or expressions, that are
identical or similar to those that appear in the works of Bacon, or
Shakespeare, Carr notes that in his De Augmentis Bacon says:

. "Dramatic poesy, which has the theatre for its world, would be of
excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable of no small
influence both of discipline and of corruption. Now of corruption in
this kind we have enough, but the discipline has in our time been
plainly neglected. The action of the theatre, though modern states
esteem it but ludicrous unless it be satirical and biting, was
carefully watched by the Ancients that it might improve mankind in
virtue; and indeed many wise men and great philosophers have thought
it to the mind as the bow to the fiddle."

And in Shelton's Don Quixote we find the following:

"Comedie, as Tully affirmes, ought to be a mirrour of mans life, a
patterne of manners, and an Image of TRUTH. If wee would passé further
to examine the divine Comedies that treate of God, or the lives of the
Saints, what a multitude of false miracles doe the composers devise?

. The auditour, having heard an artificiall and well ordered Comedy,
. Would come away delighted with the *JESTs* , & instructed by the
. TRUTHs thereof; wondering at the successes, grow discreeter by
. the Reasons, warned by the deceits, become wise by others example,
. Incensed against vice, and enamoured of virtue;
. all which affects A good Comedie should stirre up in
. the hearers minde, were he NEVER so grosse or clownish…
. It is not possible for the bow to continue still bent:
. nor can our Humane and fraile nature sustaine it selfe long,
. without some Helpe of lawfull recreation."

Carr examines the Spanish and English texts of Don Quixote in detail
and finds numerous indications that the English text came first. Not
only this, but he even examines the topology of Don Quixote and finds
many indications that the landscape through which Don Quixote wanders
in his quest is actually the landscape of England instead of the
landscape of Spain. One example of this is the windmill episode,
which has become the most celebrated incident in the whole work.

Immediately before going forth on his adventure where he encountered
the windmill Quixote's barber, cook, and niece have thrown out and
burned his books, and even blocked up and hidden the door to his
library. His niece tells him that an enchanter who rode on a serpent,
has destroyed the books. She says his name was Muniaton, but Don
Quixote says he was Freston. Then when he goes he comes to a landscape
where there are 30 or 40 windmills, but Quixote says they are really
giants. Carr notes that near the village of Friston in Sussex, a
village that was originally spelt as Freston is a figure of a giant,
227 feet high, known as the long Man of Wilmington, who according to
one legend was the giant of Friston (Freston), nearby stood an old
windmill, and there are a number of windmills in the neighborhood.
Carr also notes that one of the traditional interpretations of the
Long Man of Wilmington is that he is the Sun God, and that Muniaton
can be interpreted to mean the wisdom-enhanced spirit of the Sun. So
Carr says, "in the county of Sussex, in the south-eastern corner of
England, only sixty miles from London, we are in a land of windmills,
of giants, of old legends and tales of singlecombat." And he adds
that nearby is a small, deep pool of clear water and that there
was a legend that in ancient times a dragon, a creature of enormous
size that had wings and looked like a serpent was wont to come
forth from the depths of this hole and prey on the sheep
in the neighboring areas.

Charles Fort, aficionado of the roads less traveled, named one of his
books, The Book of the Damned, because, he said, the facts in the book
were damned to be ignored and excluded by mainstream scholars &
scientists. Who Wrote Don Quixote may or may not be a book of
the damned, but it is certainly a damned interesting book.
As Francis Bacon said, "Some books are to be tasted, others
to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested."
Who Wrote Don Quixote is one of the latter.
Art Neuendorffer
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