On the face of it, Welles seems to be unequivocally espousing the Oxfordian
stance. But is he really?
The context of Welles' quote makes it clear he's popping off. The quote is
from an 800-word character sketch on page 98 of *Persona Grata,* a book
published in 1954 and written by theater critic Kenneth Tynan along with
photographs by Cecil Beaton. It's a collection of witty and clever sketches
of witty and clever people the authors admired. Here's the context of Welles
' quote (original punctuation):
=================================================================
But speech transforms him. The mane of the fighting bull bristles, and he
lunges forward, breasting his paragraphs like a surf-rider, bouncing over
your interpolated breakers of 'But perhaps-' and 'Don't you think-' His
punctuation is laughter, with him an effortless cachinnation. He chokes over
his own good humour like a fat boy at a feast. Time, meanwhile, slides by.
They say that drunken men never look at their watches; Welles's inebriation
is verbal, a gesture of ease, a great coherent chuckle with echoes
everywhere.
People have compared him to Thurber's Eliot Vereker, the explosive
intellectual whose trick it was to throw hard-boiled eggs into electric
fans, and who would loudly toss off aphorisms such as: 'Santayana? He's a
ton of feathers', or: 'When you have said Proust was sick, you have said
everything'. Welles's opinions are equally sweeping, but a trifle more
amiable. 'Negro actors are all untalented', he may assert: 'Paul Robeson was
just Brian Aherne in black-face'. A moment later: 'What's the problem about
*The Cocktail Party?* It's a straight commercial play with a traditional
comic climax that Saki used and Evelyn Waugh used-surprising martyrdom of
well-bred lady in exotic surroundings.' What does he read most? 'You'll
think me pompous, but P.G. Wodehouse. Imagine it! A benign comic artist in
the twentieth century! Nothing about personal irritations, the stuff
Benchley and Dorothy Parker wrote about-simply a perfect, impersonal,
benevolent style.' Shakespeare: 'I think Oxford wrote Shakespeare. If you
don't agree, there are some awfully funny coincidences to explain away. . .
.' Welles's conversation has the enlivening sciolism of Ripley's Believe it
or Not. His library of snap judgments is magnificently catalogued.
(98)
===================================================
Sciolism, to save hlas readers from looking it up, is a superficial show of
learning.
What is clear is that Welles is spouting what he believes to be shocking and
unorthodox opinions. But does he believe them? It would seem unusual for a
man who staged an all-black Macbeth in Harlem to be serious when making
these types of comments for a frothy collection of essays.
In the 1973 collection of interviews of Welles conducted in the late 60's
and early 70's by Peter Bogdanovich, *This is Orson Welles,* here is what
Welles has to say about Shakespeare the man:
"Shakespeare, remember, was very close to the origins of his culture: the
language he wrote had just been formed; the old England, the Europe of the
Middle Ages, still lived in the memory of the people of Stratford . . . He
was a country boy, the son of a butcher, who'd made it into court. He spent
years getting himself a coat of arms. He wrote mostly about kings. (211-12)"
Unlike Oxfordians, Welles did not believe that knowing more about the life
of the author would provide any special insight into the meaning of the
works.
"Luckily, we know almost nothing about Shakespeare and very little about
Cervantes. And that makes it so much easier to understand their works. The
more we know about the men who wrote them, the bigger chance there is for
all the Herr Professors in the academic establishment to befuddle and bemuse
(257)."
Nor did he believe that Shakespeare wrote for aristocrats.
"Shakespeare was a popular artist. Dickens was a popular artist. The artists
I personally have always enjoyed the most are popular artists (xxix)."
He does not mention Oxford anywhere in the book, a telling gap for someone
who is supposed to be an Oxfordian.
AntiStratfordians constantly take Stratfordians to task for not appreciating
the irony in such works as Jonson's eulogy. It's amazing they can take the
Tynan quote as serious evidence that Welles shared their beliefs.
If the Shakespeare Fellowship has a shred of intellectual honesty, they'll
take Welles off their Hall of Fame list. But of course, they've been
confronted with the evidence on Emerson, also, but I haven't yet seen them
take his name off, so I doubt they'll do the right thing this time, either.
TR
<<A rather usual day, when Roger O. Thornhill (Cary Grant), an
advertising man, goes to a business meeting. While he sits in the hotel
restaurant, the name "George Kaplan" is called but nobody answers. He
calls the waiter to tell him where the phone is, but a few men standing
aside simply believe him to be Kaplan, and so they put a gun to his ribs
and kidnap him. He is brought to the "Townsend" estate where James MASON
gives him, (being sure that he is Kaplan) an offer he cannot refuse.>>
---------------------------------------------------------
ROGER HILL
---------------------------------------------------------
http://www.bway.net/~nipper/postage.html
<<Born George Orson Welles to Richard Head Welles and Beatrice Ives
Welles, May 15, 1915. "I never blamed my folks for Kenosha -- Kenosha
has always blamed my folks for me," Welles was reported to have
grumbled. In 1919, his parents separated. A year earlier, the family had
moved to Chicago. During Orson's boyhood, his father grew increasingly
alcoholic and not inclined to work. His mother, once an accomplished
pianist and a suffragette, became sickly. In May of 1924, when Orson was
only nine, he was summoned to his mother's sickroom for what were to be
some of their last moments together. She died in a Chicago hospital two
days later. By every account Orson found formal education to be tedious
but in 1926, just as his unhappy childhood was gradually slipping into a
lonely adolescence, a rescue arrived when he was enrolled in the Todd
School. At eleven, he was introduced the school's revered headmaster,
the man who became his first real father, ROGER HILL. It was at the Todd
School, where Welles was given free access to the campus theatre and
its printing press, that the impresario was truly born. Encouraged and
nurtured by the Hills, Orson wrote, directed and performed a variety
of roles, including that of the Virgin Mary in the school nativity play!>>
---------------------------------------------------------
http://baka-o.killingmachines.org/single.php?id=28163
<<_Something to Say_ is about a man called Elliot Vereker, who,
Thurber says, "was the only man who ever continuously stimulated
me to the point of a nervous breakdown." Among other witticisms,
this Vereker fellow once said that had Voltaire not existed,
it would not have been necessary to invent him.>>
---------------------------------------------------------
*Persona Grata,* (1954) by theater critic Kenneth Tynan:
<<People have compared [Orson Welles] to Thurber's Eliot Vereker, the
explosive intellectual whose trick it was to throw hard-boiled eggs into
electric fans, and who would loudly toss off aphorisms such as:
'Santayana? He's a ton of feathers', or: 'When you have said Proust was
sick, you have said everything'. Welles's opinions are equally sweeping,
but a trifle more amiable. 'Negro actors are all untalented', he may
assert: 'Paul Robeson was just Brian Aherne in black-face'. A moment
later: 'What's the problem about *The Cocktail Party?* It's a straight
commercial play with a traditional comic climax that Saki used and
Evelyn Waugh used-surprising martyrdom of well-bred lady in exotic
surroundings.' What does he read most? 'You'll think me pompous, but
P.G. Wodehouse. Imagine it! A benign comic artist in the twentieth
century! Nothing about personal irritations, the stuff Benchley and
Dorothy Parker wrote about-simply a perfect, impersonal,
benevolent style.'
Shakespeare: 'I think Oxford wrote Shakespeare. If you don't agree,
there are some awfully funny coincidences to explain away. . . .'
Welles's conversation has the enlivening sciolism of Ripley's Believe it
or Not. His library of snap judgments is magnificently catalogued.>>
----------------------------------------------------------
Jedediah Leland (i.e., Joseph Cotten):
"[Kane (i.e., Welles)] never gave himself away.
He never gave anything away.
He just...left you a tip, hmm?"
----------------------------------------------------------
P.G. Wodehouse. _Blandings Castle_
<<A prize sow is described as being "...to the pig world
what the Masonic grip is to the human.">>
------------------------------------------------------------
http://www.what-a-character.com/cgi-bin/display.cgi?id=982802973
William Brian de Lacy Aherne
His radio work included a turn as "Simon Templar" on The Saint,
and his television work included playing "Booth Templeton"
in The Twilight Zone episode: "The Trouble with Templeton."
Born: May 2, 1902 in King's Norton, Worcestershire/England
Died: February 10, 1986
<<Brian Aherne was born William Brian de Lacy Aherne in King's Norton,
Worcestershire, England. He came to Hollywood after beginning his career
as child actor on the British stage, and later starring in silent films
in Britain. He had his share of roles as the male lead in films such as
What Every Woman Knows, The Song of Songs, and The Fountain.
He also had supporting roles in films such as the 1953 version of Titanic,
and as "Willy Robertson" in Alfred Hitchcock's I Confess.
The brother of actor Patrick Aherne, he was married from 1939 to 1945
to screen star Joan Fontaine. Among non-acting business ventures was
an Arizona land deal he entered into with some fellow movie industry
people. The large tract of desert land was developed as an airport
for training civilian pilots, and during World War II, it was leased
by the government for the Thunderbird & Falcon fields used
to train American, British, and Chinese pilots.>>
http://www.briansdriveintheater.com/dead.html
----------------------------------------------------
<<In the 1973 collection of interviews of Welles conducted in the late
60's and early 70's by Peter Bogdanovich, *This is Orson Welles,*:
"Shakespeare, remember, was very close to the origins of his culture:
the language he wrote had just been formed; the old England, the Europe
of the Middle Ages, still lived in the memory of the people of Stratford
. . . He was a country boy, the son of a butcher, who'd made it into
court. He spent years getting himself a coat of arms. He wrote mostly
about kings. . . Luckily, we know almost nothing about Shakespeare and
very little about Cervantes. And that makes it so much easier to
understand their works. The more we know about the men who wrote them,
the bigger chance there is for all the Herr Professors in the academic
establishment to befuddle and bemuse.">>
----------------------------------------------------
Emily: "Really Charles!! People will think---"
Kane: "---what I tell them to think!"
----------------------------------------------------
Mr. Bernstein(i.e., Everett Sloane) :
"Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Cornell, Switzerland...
[Kane] was thrown out of a lot of colleges."
----------------------------------------------------
C. M. Burns Burns graduated from Yale University in the class of 1914.
At Yale, he was tapped for the infamous Skull & Bones secret society.
----------------------------------------------------
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.
<<Charles Montgomery Burns, a fictional character, is the owner of the
Springfield Nuclear Powerplant in The Simpsons cartoon series. He is
depicted as fabulously wealthy, though in the real world, privately
owned nuclear power plants are not known as lucrative investments.
Due to his status as the town's leading (and perhaps only) plutocrat,
Mr. Burns is able to do whatever he wants with little or no consequences.
Originally, this character was simply called Montgomery Burns, but in
one episode, he yelled "You can't do this to me, I'm Charles Montgomery
Burns!", which plays on a quotation from Orson Welles's Citizen Kane
("You can't do this to me, I'm Charles Foster Kane!") His catchphrase is
the word "Excellent" muttered in a low, sinister voice with tented
fingertips.
His age is most often mentioned as being 104 years. (Though once in the
episode where he ran for governor against Mary Bailey he stated his age
as 81 after Homer guessed 102; and he once had a ninetieth birthday
during the series.) He has credited his longevity to Satan. He has the
same blood type as Bart Simpson, double-O negative. According to tests
done at the Mayo Institute, he has every single disease known to man,
and survives only because they are just barely perfectly counteracting
one another.
Occasional flashbacks show his early life. His family owned nuclear
factories at the start of the 20th century, although back then splitting
atoms was a labor intensive process done with hammers and anvils.
As a privileged rich child Burns would amuse himself by injuring hapless
immigrant laborers. Burns still sometimes imagines that such activity is
a socially acceptable amusement for the well-to-do. He is portrayed as
the prototype of an early capitalist exploiter. When he was very young,
however, he lived happily with his loving, natural parents and brother
George, and his teddy bear Bobo. He chose to give this up and live with
a twisted billionaire, presumably (given the above information) another
relative who subsequently raised him. He has since recovered the bear.
He may have had an affair with Countess von Zeppelin. He apparently
speaks fluent German. His mother who is now 120 years old, once dated
President Taft. He served in the United States Army in World War II,
seeing action in Europe under Sergeant Abraham Simpson. At the end
of the war he was personally hired to transport a trillion-dollar bill
that was the American Government's original contribution to the
reconstruction of Europe, but this bill vanished for many years.
During the 1960s Burns operated a biological weapons laboratory
until it was destroyed by peace activists including Mona Simpson.
He has occasionally run other businesses in Springfield, most
notably a casino that operated for several years after Springfield
legalized gambling. He co-owned the "Lil' Lisa" recycling plant.
He slant-drilled for oil under Springfield Elementary School.
Burns now lives in a mansion on an immense estate called Burns Manor
located at the corner of Croesus and Mammon streets in Springfield, the
site of the annual company picnic: "But now it's time to say goodbye.
Please get off my property, until next year. I suggest you don't dawdle.
The hounds will be released in 10 minutes."
Besides attack dogs, this estate includes a robotic Richard Simmons, a
room with a million monkeys at a million typewriters, a bottomless pit,
a human chessboard (formerly a tennis court), the largest television in
the free world, a Hall of Patriots commemorating his ancestors, and
artefacts such as the only existing nude photo of Mark Twain and
a rare first draft of the Constitution with the word "suckers" in it.
His telephone number is 555-0001.
His Social Security Number is 000-00-0002:
he claims that FDR beat him to having the first number.
Burns has a son, Larry Burns, the product of a brief affair many
years ago, but they do not get along. Bart was briefly his heir.
It is not known who presently stands to inherit his wealth.
(Smithers is to be buried alive in Burns' coffin).
Burn's mental state seems to vary between being fully alert and being
completely delusional. He often slips into using language appropriate
for the early 20th century or even the 19th century -- for example,
he thinks that Prussia is still a separate country (it became part of
Germany in the 1870s) and that Thailand is still called Siam, and
he answers the telephone "Ahoy hoy!" (in the manner of
Alexander Graham Bell before "hello" became commonplace).
The character of C. M. Burns partially is patterned after Howard Hughes
(for example, wearing Kleenex boxes on his feet), with notable
similarities to William Randolph Hearst (indirectly through Citizen
Kane), Scrooge McDuck, and others. He bears a striking
physical resemblance to Fred Olsen, (see comparison at
http://www.skundberg.no/oystein/ymist/tvillinger/ )
a Norwegian shipping magnate and owner of the Timex watch brand.
Quotes:
Complimented on his huge wealth, Burns says:
"Oh yes. But I'd trade it all for a little more."
"What's the point of having money
if you can't inspire terror in your fellow man?"
----------------------------------------------------
Art Neuendorffer
Great post, Tom. Excellent sourcework. Would you say that there's a
parallel between Drummond's talks with Jonson on the latter's
contemporaries and Tynan's sketch of Welles?
Toby Petzold
<snip>
> Great post, Tom. Excellent sourcework. Would you say that there's a
> parallel between Drummond's talks with Jonson on the latter's
> contemporaries and Tynan's sketch of Welles?
>
> Toby Petzold
How so?
TR
Tom, you're such a feeder of trolls. Now Toby will come up with something
amusing as an explanation.
You put Welles' remarks to Tynan about Oxford-as-Shakespeare in the
context of a lot of other contradictory and unguarded observations,
suggesting that he did not really believe in Oxford's authorship. By
the time of Welles' talks with Bogdanovich many years later, he may
have already put his suspicions aside because he could not fully
substantiate them or, for that same reason, simply adopted the
traditional view for the sake of convenience.
In the Conversations, Jonson engages in a very similar round of
thinking out loud about himself and others. Can you really say that
Jonson was any less an egotist than Welles and that he was somehow
more likely to have given Drummond an accurate or useful sketch of his
contemporaries? Critiquing Shakespeare would have been natural and
expected, but what do we get? An observation that is manifestly
ridiculous. How is Jonson's take on Shakespeare any more indicative of
his true opinions or of the state of his personal knowledge than what
Welles said?
Toby Petzold
One distinction which TR failed to note is that Welles was indeed
among the most gifted entertainers ,and one of the few genuine
intellectuals(in the best sense of the word) of our century whereas
Tynan was a parasitical hack who aggrandized his own reputation(such
as it was) by feeding upon the wit, learning ,and(above all)the
physical proximity of the great.
Actually I might enhance TR's case by citing a Shakespeare text
with a preface signed by Welles in the late thirties(the period of the
early Mercury theatre productions) which speaks quite depreciatingly
of the Baconian theory.On the other hand I might more germanely point
out that Welles was already engaged in the mid-fifties with research
for what was possibly his greatest work,"Chimes at Midnight".The first
form of the film had a two week run as a stage play at the
Gate,Dublin,Ireland.My old teacher Richard Snyder,who did his Joyce
thesis at Trinity,enjoyed the good fortune to see this live and
converse with Welles afterwards.Snyder,who thanks to an early reading
of my copy of Looney,was a reserved but intense Oxfordian had a ball
with Welles,who soon had him dropping his reserve.Orson had done a
crash cram reading of any Oxfordian text he could grab,particularly
Gerald Rendell's "Shakespeare's Sonnets and Edward de Vere" and ,of
course,he particularly
appreciated the Henry IV and V links.
Belief?Welles had the scholarship of any great lawyer(too little
appreciated by Kathman and Co).He had the ability to quickly
assimilate virtually any subject which his cause(or his art) required,
and to as quickly forget it once his cause(or his production) had
triumphed. With a pretentious pseuds like Tynan he emphasized how much
they didn't know; with another audience,in another time,another
place,he emphasized that we were lucky not to know more.
I once heard a great attorney celebrating his victory and suddenly
pointing out that he could have won the case for the prosecution on
exactly the same evidence.
Might one suggest the author and director of "F as in Fake" was not
necessarily impressed by affirmative Shakspere authorship claims? In
fact did not Welles direct a script,Journey into Fear, almost
entirely his own work,as written by one of his actors,Joseph Cotton?
Perhaps TR and Kathman would like to argue that the script is by
Cotton and it is the Wellesian attribution that is the genuine fake.I
do not believe that a single contemporary viewer publically
challenged that attribution in print.
No, I just restored the context. The "Shakespeare Fellowship" took it out of
context.
By
> the time of Welles' talks with Bogdanovich many years later, he may
> have already put his suspicions aside because he could not fully
> substantiate them or, for that same reason, simply adopted the
> traditional view for the sake of convenience.
So what? All we can go by is what he said and how he siad it. It appears to
me that if you take the 1954 comment seriously, you have to take the comment
about all blacks being untalented seriously, as well as his commetn on the
Elliot play. Anybody who has read anything at all about Welles knows that
those are tongue-in-cheek comments. If, however, you read the spirit of the
sketch accurately, you can see that Welles' is being facetious. You can
almost see the wink in his comments.
> In the Conversations, Jonson engages in a very similar round of
> thinking out loud about himself and others. Can you really say that
> Jonson was any less an egotist than Welles and that he was somehow
> more likely to have given Drummond an accurate or useful sketch of his
> contemporaries? Critiquing Shakespeare would have been natural and
> expected, but what do we get? An observation that is manifestly
> ridiculous.
How is Jonson's comment on Shakespeare ridiculous? IIRC, Jonson *does*
critique Shakespeare for not being geographically accurate in a play.
> How is Jonson's take on Shakespeare any more indicative of
> his true opinions or of the state of his personal knowledge than what
> Welles said?
The two don't correspond, in my opinion. Jonson certainly does not indicate
he thinks Shakespeare wasn't the author. In fact, he confirms it. And
Jonson's personal knowledge of Shakespeare certainly exceeded Welles'.
TR
>
> Toby Petzold
That's fine, but the reason why the context is relevant to your
purposes is because you think it vitiates the legitimacy of Welles'
remarks on Oxford. That is to say, you believe ALL of his observations
in that sketch can be uniformly dismissed as unrepresentative of his
true opinions, but that isn't necessarily so. Welles may, indeed, have
thought little of Robeson or of negro actors, in general. Can you
contradict that?
> > By
> > the time of Welles' talks with Bogdanovich many years later, he may
> > have already put his suspicions aside because he could not fully
> > substantiate them or, for that same reason, simply adopted the
> > traditional view for the sake of convenience.
>
> So what? All we can go by is what he said and how he siad it. It appears to
> me that if you take the 1954 comment seriously, you have to take the comment
> about all blacks being untalented seriously, as well as his commetn on the
> Elliot play.
That's a logical fallacy, but I suspect you know that. People's views
of things evolve with changes in their circumstances. A "mix of praise
and censure" is exactly that: a mix. And it's not restricted to
literary judgements, but can also apply to any set of beliefs.
> Anybody who has read anything at all about Welles knows that
> those are tongue-in-cheek comments. If, however, you read the spirit of the
> sketch accurately, you can see that Welles' is being facetious. You can
> almost see the wink in his comments.
I don't doubt he was being facetious, but he elaborates on why he
thinks as he does about the Authorship. Maybe popping off on other
subjects at the same time served the purpose of getting away with a
"crazy" idea that could be subsumed in the rest of it.
> > In the Conversations, Jonson engages in a very similar round of
> > thinking out loud about himself and others. Can you really say that
> > Jonson was any less an egotist than Welles and that he was somehow
> > more likely to have given Drummond an accurate or useful sketch of his
> > contemporaries? Critiquing Shakespeare would have been natural and
> > expected, but what do we get? An observation that is manifestly
> > ridiculous.
>
> How is Jonson's comment on Shakespeare ridiculous?
"Shakespeare wanted art"? That's nothing BUT a ridiculous observation.
But, look at how it is just these sort of opinions that have shaded
the traditional view of Shakespeare as an over-achieving child of
nature. It's the oldest saw in the shed and it NEVER made any sense. I
prefer to believe that Jonson's observation was accurate as it
pertained to SHAKSPERE, but the Author? Ridiculous.
> IIRC, Jonson *does*
> critique Shakespeare for not being geographically accurate in a play.
Right. That's the other thing. Scarcely qualifies as a "critique."
It's more akin to a proofreader's triumph.
> > How is Jonson's take on Shakespeare any more indicative of
> > his true opinions or of the state of his personal knowledge than what
> > Welles said?
>
> The two don't correspond, in my opinion. Jonson certainly does not indicate
> he thinks Shakespeare wasn't the author.
He doesn't really speak to that in any event. If I say Joyce is dense
or Faulkner is incoherent, it doesn't mean I am privy to the inner
workings of their artistic processes or knew them with any sort of
intimacy; I just know them by their works. Jonson's belief that
Shakespeare wanted art verges on invalid. Anyway, what would account
for his hagiographical approach to Shakespeare in the FF many years
later? What, if we're going to know the motives, would have
precipitated the evolution of Jonson's opinion?
> In fact, he confirms it. And
> Jonson's personal knowledge of Shakespeare certainly exceeded Welles'.
Certainly. After all, he drank Shakespeare under the table.
Toby Petzold
> Might one suggest the author and director of "F as in Fake" was not
> necessarily impressed by affirmative Shakspere authorship claims? In
> fact did not Welles direct a script,Journey into Fear, almost
> entirely his own work,as written by one of his actors,Joseph Cotton?
> Perhaps TR and Kathman would like to argue that the script is by
> Cotton and it is the Wellesian attribution that is the genuine fake.I
> do not believe that a single contemporary viewer publically
> challenged that attribution in print.
Either way, I hope Welles remembered to credit Eric Ambler as the
author of the novel from which the script is adapted.
Buffalo
Toby, even you must realise that this is idiotic: ""Shakespeare [the
Stratford clown] wanted art and sometimes sense; for in one of his
[Oxford's] plays, he [Oxford] brought a number of men, saying they had
suffered shipwreck in Bohemia, where is no sea, near by one hundred miles.""
What you have to grasp is that if you want to understand early modern
English texts you can't just pull meanings out of your twentieth-century
rectum. The word "art" to a humanist like Jonson denotes a practice that is
learned and rule-governed (not spontaneous and 'natural') and the rules in
question here are of course the neo-Aristotelian unities (hence his sneers
at <WT> and its sixteen-year plot).
Peter G.
Is a geographical blunder a violation of the Aristotelian unities or
of "sense"?
Anyway, I don't NECESSARILY see any personal insight into Shakespeare
as a human being in Jonson's remarks; I do see him picking out a
rather pedantic point on which to hang a criticism. In fact, it makes
Jonson even more pedantic in light of what he was to say several years
later in apotheosizing Shakespeare in the FF. All he can come up with
is a quibble over geography? Why, it's almost like his work on the FF
was a paid advertisement! And no one doubts the veracity of THAT
genre.
Jonson, as I have said many times, is the biggest obstacle to the
Anti-Stratfordian paradigm. As far as I know, Jonson never mentions
Shakespeare until the Stratford man was dead. Jonson may simply have
been claiming a personal familiarity with his [great rival] that
others would have expected him to have. But, Shakespeare is missing
from many areas of the contemporary scene where he would be expected.
Jonson may have been pressed to make comments on him when the best he
could do was point out some very minor problems in the plays
themselves or to make some very generic remarks on whom he took to be
the Author.
> What you have to grasp is that if you want to understand early modern
> English texts you can't just pull meanings out of your twentieth-century
> rectum.
I'll have you know that my rectum is 21st Century.
> The word "art" to a humanist like Jonson denotes a practice that is
> learned and rule-governed (not spontaneous and 'natural') and the rules in
> question here are of course the neo-Aristotelian unities (hence his sneers
> at <WT> and its sixteen-year plot).
I'll buy all that, except to say that I am suprised to learn that art,
to Jonson, was strictly a term of the humanist process. Again, if
Jonson is so disturbed by the "natural" dramatist, why would he have
been called on to lavish such great praise on one whom he found so
disrespectful of the unities and so much more successful than himself?
I believe it's because his work on the FF was commissioned and
circumscribed; ergo, it is suspect as a true reflection of his own
beliefs.
Toby Petzold
>Again, if
>Jonson is so disturbed by the "natural" dramatist, why would he have
>been called on to lavish such great praise on one whom he found so
>disrespectful of the unities and so much more successful than himself?
>I believe it's because his work on the FF was commissioned and
>circumscribed; ergo, it is suspect as a true reflection of his own
>beliefs.
Because Jonson wasn't "so disturbed" by Shakespeare's indifference
to classical modes. He merely points it out in his talk with Drummond,
in the same manner that Jonson points out the flaws with Donne while
praising him too:
"That Donne, for not keeping of accent, deserved hanging."
"He esteemeth John Donne the first poet in the world, in some things:
his verses of the lost chain he hath by heart; and that passage of
'The Calm', that dust and feathers do not stir, all was so quiet. Affirmeth
Donne to have written all his best pieces ere he was twenty-five years
old."
Now, do believe that Jonson thought that Donne should literally be hanged?
If not, are you going to call him a liar, or like any reasonable person,
simply understand that it's hyperbole? He praises Donne, and censures
him as well, and it is this character of Jonson's comments that leads
people to believe that Jonson was honest. A dishonest person would either
criticize to extreme or praise to extreme, but even in the First Folio
poem, Jonson can't help mentioning Shakespeare's "small Latin and less
Greek." Jonson's comments on Shakespeare in total are entirely
consistent. In Drummond he brings up a couple of gossipy items, just
like the comments he makes about other contemporaries, but rather
than tell us some really negative aspect of Shakespeare's character (as he
does when he describes Walter Raleigh's drunken son), all Jonson
can mention to Drummond is the brief "Shakespeare wanted art", and
the comment about Bohemia having a seacoast. In his "Timber", Jonson
likewise praises Shakespeare effusively "...he had an excellent fancy;
brave notions, and gentle expressions:" and "But he redeemed his
vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised, than
to be pardoned", while also pointing out a few flaws. It is this mix
of praise and censure that demonstrates Jonson's honesty. Otherwise
you are going to have to claim that Jonson was dishonest, but deliberately
tried to appear honest by mixing praise and criticism, in just the
same way he did in his comments on other contemporaries. Most
would consider such an idea ridiculous.
See my demolition of Monsarrat's RES paper!
http://hometown.aol.com/kqknave/monsarr1.html
The Droeshout portrait is not unusual at all!
http://hometown.aol.com/kqknave/shakenbake.html
Agent Jim
No.
> If not, are you going to call him a liar, or like any reasonable person,
> simply understand that it's hyperbole?
It's hyperbole.
> He praises Donne, and censures
> him as well, and it is this character of Jonson's comments that leads
> people to believe that Jonson was honest.
I didn't know that was the cause of that epithet. Interesting.
> A dishonest person would either
> criticize to extreme or praise to extreme,
I don't think those are the hallmarks of dishonesty. Now, thinking the
one while writing/saying the other; THAT would be dishonest.
> but even in the First Folio
> poem, Jonson can't help mentioning Shakespeare's "small Latin and less
> Greek."
Which makes him honest.
> Jonson's comments on Shakespeare in total are entirely
> consistent.
Perhaps if they were all made predicated upon a misapprehension of who
the Author really was. Or, if they were made with the knowledge of the
difference between Shakspere and Shakespeare, but couched ambiguously
to preserve some secret. The latter reason would be considerably aided
by a lucrative pension or commission.
> In Drummond he brings up a couple of gossipy items, just
> like the comments he makes about other contemporaries,
The remarks in the Conversations are NOT gossip. Gossip implies some
personal knowledge of the individual in question which, in this
context, is not NECESSARILY there. What Jonson says is ticky-tack
editor-speak. One can read it as completely divorced from a personal
observation as possible.
> but rather
> than tell us some really negative aspect of Shakespeare's character (as he
> does when he describes Walter Raleigh's drunken son), all Jonson
> can mention to Drummond is the brief "Shakespeare wanted art", and
> the comment about Bohemia having a seacoast.
You make my point for me. Those are not personal items of gossip;
they're Jonson being Alex Trebek with a ruff trying to show up a
contestant by cribbing off a cue card. It's trivia.
> In his "Timber", Jonson
> likewise praises Shakespeare effusively "...he had an excellent fancy;
> brave notions, and gentle expressions:" and "But he redeemed his
> vices with his virtues. There was ever more in him to be praised, than
> to be pardoned", while also pointing out a few flaws.
Every single one of those observations can be construed literarily.
Aren't those "vices" Shakespeare's violations of classical forms,
which he mitigated by being so honey-tongued and sweet and mellifluous
and blah, blah, blah? Read all of that stuff again: Jonson is making a
literary critique.
> It is this mix
> of praise and censure that demonstrates Jonson's honesty.
Okay.
> Otherwise
> you are going to have to claim that Jonson was dishonest, but deliberately
> tried to appear honest by mixing praise and criticism, in just the
> same way he did in his comments on other contemporaries.
With other relationships, there may be better evidence of a personal
aspect than the one purported between Jonson and Shakspere. But, I
don't doubt that your formula for honesty (mix of praise and censure =
genuineness) is right on.
> Most
> would consider such an idea ridiculous.
I'm only saying that Jonson's observations on Shakespeare are: 1) all
posthumous and are 2) either of limited critical value or 3)
panegyrical bombast. Wasn't he receiving a pension from one of the
Herberts at the time of the FF? He was logrolling for money. Good on
him.
Toby Petzold