See p. 22.—Ante “Anthony Sherley and no other was he who wrote these plays.”

Since I wrote the first portion of this pamphlet so much matter has turned up, showing beyond reasonable doubt that I am right in my conjecture as to Anthony Sherley, that I am encouraged to bring it also before the public. “Magna est veritas,” and in due time the leaven will work its way.

I had called attention (p. 20) to the Sonnets 135, 136, 105.

Sonnet CV.

Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idle show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such and ever so.
Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Therefore my verse to constancy confin’d,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
Fair, kind, and true, have often liv’d alone
Which three, till now, never kept seat in one.

CXXXV.

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy will,
And will to boot, and will in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in will, add to thy will
One will of mine, to make thy large will more!
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill.
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

and the enigmatical allusions in them to Sherley’s motto “only one.” He could not write “only one,” as it would have betrayed the author of the plays, but he shaves as near the wind as he dare, and as he says, Sonnet lxxvi., which I mentioned (p. 19):

Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?

And so it does, when we look behind the scenes. They were written in the hope that some one like myself would arise, a light in a dark place, to give honour to whom honour was due, and pluck the jay’s false feathers from off the crow. The instant you begin to look for it, you will observe how strangely any-how and oft, in all times and places, in season and out of season, this word “one” is wrought into the text of the plays, sometimes in connection with “all’s one”; (he would not write “only one” straight off, else it would have led, as I said before, to detection, and so he uses the plural “all” instead of singular “only,” see Sonnet lxxvi.), and in a much more important position boldly puts it forward (in Quarto 1608, with the name of Shakespeare) “All’s one or one of the four plaies in one,” called “A Yorkshire Tragedy.” Now this play with Anthony Sherley’s motto is nothing more nor less than the story of the ruin of his house; it is hardly disguised under the flimsy title of “A Yorkshire Tragedy.” It is important to note that of all the plays this has no stage names to it, simply “Husband and wife.” Strange! passing strange! Why should Shakespeare care to represent on the stage the history of the Sherley family and ruin? This same company, mark, had played it under the name openly of “The Three English Brothers,” prologue, “Clothing our truth within an argument, fitting the stage and your attention, yet not so hid but that she may appear to be herself, even Truth.” This would also fit the “Yorkshire Tragedy.” What is the substance of the play? It tells the story in blank verse, which we have almost word for word in prose in “The Sherley Brothers,” viz. that of Sir Thomas Sherley the elder gambling away his extensive property. “Elizabeth had seized and sold everything belonging to him except (Wiston), his wife’s dowry.” “Wife: If you suspect a plot in me to keep my dowry . . . you are a gentleman of many bloods; think on the state of these three lovely boys (the leash of brothers old Fuller calls them) . . . Your lands mortgaged, yourself wound into debts.”—“Wife: I see how ruin with a palsy hand begins to shake this ancient seat to dust . . . beggary of the soul and of the body, as if some vexed spirit had got his form upon him.” His wife had interest enough to get him the offer of a place at Court, etc.

But the writer of Shakespeare’s plays was not content with this, an exact account, even to minute particulars, of the history of the three Sherley brothers; just compare that history and this “Yorkshire Tragedy” play, and then read the same story (Richard II. Act 2, scene 3).

King Richard II. Act 2, Scene 3.

“O, then, my father,
Will you permit that I shall stand condemn’d,
A wand’ring vagabond; my rights and royalties
Pluck’d from my arms perforce, and given away
To upstart unthrifts? Wherefore was I born?

* * * * *

I am deny’d to sue my livery here,
And yet my letters-patent give me leave:
My father’s goods are all distrained and sold;
And these, and all, are all amiss employ’d.
What would you have me do? I am a subject
And challenge law: Attornies are deny’d me,
And therefore personally I lay my claim
To my inheritance of free descent.

Act 3, Scene 1.

Boling. “Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth;
Near to the king in blood; and near in love,
Till you did make him misinterpret me,
Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries,
And sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds,
Eating the bitter bread of banishment:
Whilst you have fed upon my signories,
Dispark’d my parks, and fell’d my forest woods;
From my own windows torn my household coat,
Raz’d out my impress, [32] leaving me no sign,
Save men’s opinions and my living blood,
To shew the world I am a gentleman.
This, and much more, much more than twice all this,
Condemns you to the death. See them deliver’d over
To execution and the hand of death.”

Act 1, Scene 3.

Boling. Your will be done: this must my comfort be,
That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me;
And those his golden beams, to you here lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.

North. A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness’ hand.
The language I have learn’d these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego, etc., etc.
What is my sentence then, but speechless death,
Which robs my native tongue from breathing native breath?

Does not every thoughtful reader pause over it and say to himself, why does he bring forward Busby and Green and rate them and sentence them to death? What for? treason? rebellion? murder? sedition? some rash crime? No; but for having “disparked” his parks and pulled down “his impress” (only one!), and his “household coat,” and tells us what he would like to have done to his enemies at Court if he had had the chance, as they had done when they cut off his patron and his kinsman Essex’s head. Now to return to the reason why he should have written a play to unfold the reasons of his family decay. To Cecil from Anthony Sherley, “The worst sort of the world have taken advantage to lay upon me all sorts of defamation” (p. 37), and again, and therefore to clear himself, he shows how it came to pass, and that his father was not in his right senses who incurred “this great debt” (p. 37, Sherley Brothers). Elizabeth had actually “distrained” upon his father’s goods, had carried off even his blankets and sheets, chairs and arras hangings, feather beds, and silver spoons, and left his mother scanty and beggarly supply for her dowry house, not sufficient for the necessities of everyday life. She had seized and sold the vast lands and possessions of his ancestors. (Stemmata Shirleana, Roxburgh Club, p. 251.) “A description of the Manors sold, all save Wiston dowry.” “In 1578 Sir T. Sherley served the office of Sheriff for the counties of Surrey and Sussex. He afterwards became Treasurer at War in the Low Countries, and having fallen under the displeasure of Queen Elizabeth, and become indebted to the Crown, his estates and personal effects, with the exception of the Manor of Wiston, settled on his wife, were seized.” See Lansdowne MSS. Goods seized at Wiston by Sheriff, 1588. Here again I earnestly request comparison with the story in the “Yorkshire Tragedy.” Rowland Whyte, “he owed the Queen more than he was worth; his own doings have undone him.”

SCENE IV.—HUSBAND—YORKSHIRE TRAGEDY.

“What is there in three dice to make a man draw thrice three thousand acres into the compass of a little round table, and with the gentleman’s palsy in the hand shake out his posterity thieves or beggars? ’Tis done; I have don ’t i’ faith; terrible, horrible misery!—How well was I left! Very well, very well. My lands show’d like a full moon about me; but now the moon’s in the quarter—waning, waning; and I am mad to think that moon was mine; mine and my father’s, and my fore-fathers’; generations, generations.—Down goes the house of us; down, down it sinks. Now is the name a beggar’s; begs in me. That name, which hundreds of years has made this shire famous in me and my posterity, runs out.”

To the Rt. Hon. Sir R. Cecil, Knight, from Anthony Sherley:

“Arkangell, 1600, June 10.

“Either the unfairness of the ways or messengers have kept my letters from you. You have not vouchsafed me one only answer . . . your honour knoweth the fortunes of my house, and from how great expectations our sins or disasters brought it both in estate and in disgrace . . . my purpose was to satisfy the world in myself that I was too worthy to have the decay of myself laid on me.”—The Sherley Brothers, p. 28. S. P. O. From Sir R. Cecil, 1600. “Her Majesty has increased her former displeasure towards him so far in respect of this presumption as by no means she will suffer him to come into the kingdome; but wholly rejected any such offer” (p. 31).

The truth is, Elizabeth had been stung in her sorest point. Sherley the elder was paymaster to the forces in the Low Countries, and his accounts were deficient. That was never to be passed over. She, who exercised her ingenuity and talents in cheese-paring, who, whilst waiting for the coming of the Armada, spent her time in trying whether, if she gave her sailors fish and oil instead of salt beef, it would not save her a penny or two a day from each separate mess; who never would victual her ships or refit them, or give them shot or powder more than enough for the day. It was owing to the pluck of the half-starved, half-victualled British sailor in non-repaired ships, and in spite of every disadvantage, that the victory was won; not with her help, not with her providence, but in spite of it. Well was it expressed, “Her maddened grasp of passionate avarice.” Give the devil his due, as we say in the proverb, but don’t give one iota of credit to that stingiest, and vainest of womenkind. Ray’s Glossary of words—“Stingy, pinching, sordid, narrow spirited.” Read all these quotations from Shakespeare’s plays, and compare them line with line and the lives of Sherley’s brothers, and conviction must follow. I might just notice that Anthony Sherley’s knowledge of the localities and people where most scenes of the plays are fixed was unequalled. He told that which he had seen; he spoke of what he knew. Whateley on Shakespeare, “The characters which he has drawn are masterly copies from nature.”Now to return to Sonnet 105, which has always been a stumbling block to commentators, as it clearly was intended to explain some mystery or enigma connected with the author of the plays. I have never yet noticed any reasonably satisfactory explanation of this Sonnet. Why even the person who wrote on the religion of Shakespeare claims it as a sort of William Shakespeare’s Athanasian creed, and meant to express a belief in the Trinity, “three in one!” “All’s one” I noticed may be met with often; but as for “one,” it crops up everywhere. In a single scene in a single page you may count in places six “ones” (“Henry V.” passim), in many cases “lugged” in where the sense and context show it would be far better otherwise, and commentators take trouble to emend it. This is the key to his broad hint (Sonnet lxxvi.), “Why write I still all ‘one,’ ever the same . . . that every word doth almost tell my name.” But, conjoined with his impress “one,” there is also a play upon his “armories,” the Sherley Trinity of virtues. I find in Lansdowne MSS., No. 49, leaf 28, which I have verified, “That armories were antiently introduced to distinguish noble and illustrious families. The house of Shirley of great estimation, ‘Noble light,’ ‘Gold,’ it cannot be corrupted, or the value diminished by earth, water, air, or fire. Gold and sunbeams signifies in virtues, alluding to the Shirley family in particular, ‘Field of gold,’ faith, charitie, wisdom, and fidelitie, and many others, all of which their arms are the true emblems.” There are several pages of this sort in MSS. of British Museum relating to the Shirley family. May not this be the Trinity of virtues mentioned in that puzzling Sonnet 105, “Three themes in one”? [36]If Anthony Sherley did not write the plays and sonnets, why does the writer chronicle his every movement? (passim.) Why does he give an exact account of his family history (Yorkshire Tragedy), their ruin and his own banishment? Why again in Richard II. Act ii. sc. 3, transforming it to himself in a figure, give an account of their harsh treatment by Elizabeth? Why does that same company act the Brothers Sherley on the stage as well as the Yorkshire Tragedy (quarto W. Shakespeare)? Why in all other plays but that alone are there stage names, but in this play when acted (as he wishes it not so to be), a Sherley had interest enough to get his way? Why are all the scenes of the plays laid at places where Anthony Sherley tarries?

Why does Kemp (with “good new plaies”), one of this same company, go to meet him at places where he is then known to be, “over the Alpes,” “Venice,” “Emperor of Germany” (Nine Daies’ Wonder).

Why is it that Shakesperians have been so sure that their claimant must have had a classical education, that they have searched the records of Oxford and find no entry? Why do I find “Aula Cervina” Antonius Sherlye, 1579—equitis aurati fil. 14 ann. Hart Hall is thus described by a contemporary, 1st Elizabeth: “By the advantage of the most famous and learnedest of tutors he acquired a knowledge not common of the Greek and Latin tongues, of philosophy, of history, of politicks and other liberal sciences.”—Would not Shakesperians have been delighted if they could have this said of the tutors W. Shakespere studied under!!

Why, as Clement’s Inn is mentioned, are they sure he must have had a legal training, but can find no mention? Why, when I go to the Library of the Inner Temple, do I find at once the name and record I want, covering just the very date I need for my theory? “1583, November, admitted Inner Temple Sir Anthony Shirley, Wiston, Sussex, the second of the celebrated brothers, died 1630.” Extract from “Members admitted to the Inner Temple 1547–1660.” Why is it the writer is so familiar with the ins and outs, and changes, and intricate governments, and of Italian states and cities, and their laws and ways? Why does he mention what puzzles so many commentators, viz. that Bohemia had a sea-board? [38] Why in everyday talk does he bring in Venetian proverbs and ways of speech. “Fico,” Heylin, p. 124, “When they intend to scoff a man, are wont to put their thumb between two of their fingers, saying, ‘Ecco le Fico.’” This would answer to our “taking a sight.” Must not the familiar use of this and similar proverbs point to residence? “Basta,” what a useful word one finds in it when dwelling in Italy. “A Bergomask dance” (Midsummer Night’s Dream). Who could know, unless resident, that the Venetians looked down on them as coarse and vulgar? Notice also all sorts of trifling incidents which prove the writer was a dweller at Venice, and moved about among the Italian States. Why is he always harping upon ancient families being ruined, and the hardship of banishment? Why are all his provincialisms Sussex and south country? “The many musits through which he goes” (Venus and Adonis). “A hare wee found musing on her meaze” (Return from Pernassus). Surrey Provincialisms, G. Leveson Gower, “Meuse, a hole in the hedge made by a fox, hare, or rabbit, alias a run.” Musit occurs in Two Noble Kinsmen, III. i. 97. Halliwell has muse and muset. “Maund, a basket” (Ray’s South Country Glossary). Why does he so accurately, in smallest details, describe the horrors of a battle-field, the sacking of a town, the horrible scenes and impossibility of keeping in hand the soldiers? How, if he had not been present, could he have imagined the meeting in conclave and settling over night the lines of to-morrow’s battle? What did either Shakespere or Bacon know of that phase of camp life, of battle in retreat and advance, the field before and after, prisoners and their ransom, all true to the letter, of one who had been with Philip Sidney and knighted on the very field of battle in Brittany by the King of France, and sent to the Fleet by Elizabeth’s jealousy because he was so knighted?

“Have I not heard in my time lions roar?
Have I not heard the sea puffed up with winds
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat?
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,
And heavens artillery thunder in the skies?
Have I not in a pitched battle heard
Loud ’larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?”

(Taming of the Shrew.)

All this had Anthony Sherley heard and seen. Had Bacon? Had John Bull’s Stratford pet? Then, as for field sports, hunting in every form or fashion, he describes as none but he and Jorrocks could. (R. S. Surtees, of Hamsterley, I know, drew all his pictures from originals, and that is why they hold their own.) The dying hare, “Venus and Adonis,” was there ever anything more touching? The same repeated, “As You Like It,” Act II. i. the dying deer, and Jacques weeping over it.

Unless at home he had had an early introduction to stable and kennel management, that sort of learning could not be acquired in after-life; his love for his “crop-eared roan,” the descriptions in so many places of his devotion to horses and hounds, he knows them all by name. “Taming of the Shrew,” scene 1, “Huntsman, tender well my hounds;” see also Henry VI. scene 2. His description of deer and deer hunts shows that he had watched their habits, couchant and in chase. What a fund of similar knowledge is there in the Return from Pernassus, not Parnassus, distinguishing between the names at different seasons of their life, and also the same of “Roa-bucke,” “rode on a roan gelding,” “the buck broke gallantly,” and then comes a similar touching description to that of the death of the hare in the Sonnets, “the hounds seized upon him, he groaned, and wept, and dyed, in good faith it made me weep too.” The truth is, when you compare the words and sentiments and expressions with those in Shakespeare’s plays, [40] you feel that one and the same writer was author of them both. Recollect that the modern Pernassus was in the neighbourhood of Bergamo, from whence Kemp had just returned from his visit to Anthony Sherley (see An Almond for a Parrot), and, as Heylyn tells us, “Crema,” the inhabitants of, on the destruction “of Parnassus, a town of Lombardy, where before they lived, were permitted to build here.” Then it is evident that whoever wrote these plays was a Romanist, he sneers at Churchmen and Puritans alike, whilst with regard to Friars and Romanists, he mostly speaks of them with respect. Well, in S. P. O. there is a letter from one Phillipp employed by Cecil “to intercept letters and spy out secrets,” dated Rome, 1601: “He (Anthony Sherley) denyeth himself to have been a Protestant ever since his first being at Venice, and here also he hath used to frequent confession every seven or eight days, and upon Easter Eve he did communicate here; upon Easter Day he dined here in the English Colledge.”

This will account for the attack on Sir John Oldcastle, egged on by his Jesuit friends, and his dropping the subject when he found that the wave of public opinion ran high against him. Last, but not least, we have a few landmarks of localities. “Burton” and “Wincot” stand out in eminence. Far and near have they been sought after by Shakesperians, but from Dan to Beersheba it is all barren; they locate poor Christopher Sly here, there, and everywhere, or else declare there must be mis-spelling; as follows is what one of the best and shrewdest of the commentators is driven to: Steevens: “I suspect we should read Barton Heath. Barton and Woodmancot, or as it is vulgarly pronounced, Woncot, are both of them in Gloucestershire, near the residence of Shakespeare’s old enemy Justice Shallow. Very probably also this fat ale wife might be a real character.” Dr. Samuel Ireland, 1795: “From the similarity of the name and the consideration that no such place as Barton Heath has been by any inquiry of mine discovered in the neighbourhood, I am led to conceive that Barton Heath, which lies in this county about 18 miles from Stratford, must have been the spot to which Shakespeare refers. It is worth hazarding a conjecture to have even a chance of tracing him in any one of his haunts.” Well, I need not such subterfuges, but go down to Stanford’s and buy an Ordnance Map of Sussex, and find both places within an easy reach of Wiston. Names thereabouts seem to be strangely contracted, Wystoneston=Wiston, St. Botulph’s Bridge=Bootle Bridge, so also Woodmancote and Edburton; but if that will not please for Christopher Sly’s residence (when at home?), there is another Burton proper, within a few miles of Wiston; Woodmancote and Edburton are next parish to Wiston, aye, and joining on “Nightingale” Hill, how fond he was of them, he gives us even their notes; his father’s woods were as full of them as his park of deer. There is no question, it appears to me, I cannot answer, no puzzled point I cannot explain, no stumbling-block to commentators I cannot take out of their way. Why then not believe me? “All the world against nothing,” Romeo, III. 5. Although I have run a dark horse, he has run straight and true, and distanced Bacon, whilst Shakespere has alike dropped out of both betting and running. [42] Shakesperians have left their Dagon on the ground and hardly lift the feather of a quill to raise him up. Their last resource in argument is (fact) inspiration! in opposition ridicule! As to their other candidate, that weakly youth never could have been physically equal to have taken his share in youthful sports. Campbell’s Life of Bacon: “Francis was sickly and unable to join in the rough sports suited for boys of robust constitution,” if so he could not have described them so vividly and true; his poetry, such specimens as we have, is hardly-third rate, his prose on stilts, his history discredited. Preface to Bacon’s Essays, 1814: “His History of Henry VII. is in these days only consulted by a few.” Can this be said of his contemporary’s Historical plays? Whilst I have known those who have taken Bacon up and laid him down, I have hardly ever known one who after he had put Shakepeare down with reluctance, but longed for the time to take him up again,—the one interested and enchanted, the other bored. Never both the product of the same brain, or writings of the same man. I have told my tale and run my (paper) chase, and now leave it to my umpires, the British and American readers, to decide whether, as Stratford has been pulled up and Bacon distanced, I may not claim from every unprejudiced mind that Sherley has been well ridden and won in a canter. “De l’audace, de l’audace et encore de l’audace!”

THE AUTHOR,
Dinsdale-on-Tees,
Darlington.

August 13th, 1888.

STEPHEN AUSTIN AND SONS, PRINTERS, HERTFORD.