Prospero was right; there is a Caliban! And he is alive and
well in that brave New World. The long wait for Alan Nelson's biographical
assassination of the 17th Earle of Oxford has been worth it. The title,
'Monstrous Adversary' is the key to his equally monstrous approach to a
subject that must have caused him much pain over years spent disrobing
Elizabethan documents. If this news item, and the many more scholarly
reviews to follow seems to be unnecessarily ad hominem, it is only because
his own well-honed skills have not been spared. It can best be described as
a systematic de-construction of the brave, brilliant, much put-upon
poet-earl that has emerged from more than eighty years of dedicated study.
The less scholarly Michael Wood in his TV-book series lays pungent 'must-have-beens' of routine, provable matters alongside
blatant 'probablys' and 'perhapses' postulating an eternity of unsupportable
assumptions. In so doing he attempts to create a language-matrix of
credibility; ie: everything Elizabethan is succinctly 'probable'. Somewhat
more cynically, Nelson takes every opportunity to weave his weapons-grade
calumny into nearly every paragraph describing Oxford as well as his unhappy
family (Mother was a whore, Dad a bigamist, womanizer, and thug). A
different gambit, to be sure, from that of his hapless co-conspirator; but
none-the-less a useful matrix to ensnare the unwary reader.
The book's title comes from the label given to de Vere by his erstwhile
friend, Arundel, writing from Royal detention. Early-on we are handed a
blistering poultice of observations about Oxford, including those of this
same Arundel and one of the bad Howards. We are not told, of course, (an
ubiquitous Nelson technique - 'of course'), that these comments came from
men roundly accused of treason by (our) hero. These wild imprecations were
intended to save their heads - or at least their nether ends. Even later,
when Nelson begins to quote from transcript after weary transcript, this
larger legal context still remains cruelly unclear to the reader. For
instance, the possibility that Oxford was working under cover with
Walsingham and others to smoke out Romish plots is not mentioned.
So one might identify Arundel and Howard as Oxford's personal Trinculo
and Stephano. The ferocity with which Nelson accepts their soggy case and
flings it at us will 'doubtless' (another frequent flyer) be ridiculed by
students of scholarly exposition and language. But Nelson does seem to slip
willingly under the filthy gabardine; this time there are six legs instead
of four. By this I mean that as one tries to decipher and digest this
abrasive liturgy, it is not always possible to tell where the 16th Century
venom ends and the 21st begins.
While the book is a kind of literary slam-dunk, this notice is not
intended as a slam. I wish only to prepare the Oxfordian reader for what
will at first seem to be the end of the world. Alan Nelson has brought a
wealth of documentary 'evidence' together in an in-depth search for someone
he truly believes to have existed. His work is a gift to those of us who
will spend happy hours identifying and making public what equally important
information Nelson has either overlooked or chosen not to include. Future
masters degree candidates will have much to unravel, understand, and share
with a new generation of Bardolators.
It was in 1602 that Bartholomew Gosnold returned from 'Virginia' with his
cargo of Sassafras and Cedar logs (loaded by poor Ferdinand), only to have
it confiscated by Ralegh. Th'erle was there on the dock to protect
Southampton's financial interest in the venture while he was in the
Tower. As Prospero he read accounts of the voyage and added his
version of a Native American to a cast of his own characters.
The best melodrama in 'Tempest' is the bit about Prospero's cannibal
becoming a threat to the innocence of Miranda. Will the Anagram he left
behind have his wicked way with her after all? Word is out that Alan Nelson
will take, or has taken on the task of renewing the DNB's fix on Elizabeth's
erstwhile boyfriend (he does mention that bit in passing). Miranda's
innocence may not be an apt metaphor for the DNB, but it readers deserve
greater respect. Nelson has kept (his) incoherent and wolfish earl so busy
screwing everybody in this biography that our Shake-speare will never be
seen as having had time to write anything. If Oxford was evil as our
biographer claims, he is still in Purgatory. Break thee off (Alan) - Look
where it comes again!
* under the gabardine, natch.
