The Earl of Oxford’s Annotations in Tacitus and Blondus?
Posted By Roger Stritmatter on February 19, 2012
An article in the November 2011 de Vere Society newsletter by Elizabeth Imlay hypothesizes that marginal annotations and drawings contained in copies of Tacitus’ History of Rome and Blondus History of Europe from Sir Thomas Smith’s library, now in the Queen’s College Library in Cambridge, are by the young Edward de Vere.
Drawings and marginal annotations from volume in Sir Thomas Smith’s library, attributed by Elizabeth Imlay to the Earl of Oxford.
Imlay deserves congratulations for following up on a potentially important piece of evidence. The premises of her inquiry are valid ones.
Imlay deserves congratulations for following up on a potentially important piece of evidence. The premises of her inquiry are valid ones. As Stephanie Hughes has documented in her remarkable Concordia University Bachelor’s Thesis, summarized in a 2000 Oxfordian article, Sir Thomas Smith is a pivotal figure in Oxford’s early education.
Sir Thomas Smith and Oxford
By all appearances Smith tutored young Edward from around the age of four until the death of his father in 1562, after which primary responsibility for his education fell to William Cecil. Moreover, the two volumes in question would have interested the young Edward, whose fascination with history is well documented.
It is entirely plausible that Smith’s surviving library and papers might contain evidence pertaining to the Shakespearean question. In a rational world (alas!) no effort would be spared in undertaking such an inquiry. Unfortunately, as we shall see, in this case Imlay’s interpretation of the evidence is flawed. This is because the annotations, even if they had been by Oxford, cast no new light on the Oxfordian hypothesis, and more importantly because, we shall see, they are not by him.
Despite these limitations, and despite the fact that she endorses a fallacious conclusion, Imlay’s article is significant because it follows up an important angle of inquiry in the authorship question, namely — what can we learn from careful analysis of Oxford’s annotations in surviving books such as his Geneva Bible?
It stands to reason that more such books must exist.
Where are “Shakespeare’s Books”?
Whoever wrote the plays was a voracious reader. Over 300 books survive from Ben Jonson’s library, many of them containing annotations which have proven of some interest to Jonson scholars, even in the absence of a Jonson authorship question.
As Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens has asked, “where are Shakespeare’s books?” In the interest of encouraging others to pursue such inquiry from a more informed perspective this blog entry invites the reader to examine why these particular annotations are not by Oxford.
Forensic Handwriting Analysis
The analysis that follows should be considered a preliminary study. The more controversial a conclusion, the more it must ultimately rest with disinterested independent professionals. For this reason, in completing my PhD dissertation on the de Vere Bible I retained the services of Ms. Emily Will, a board certified forensic analyst, to review my own hypothesis that the annotations were in Oxford’s hand.
But experts cannot be counted on for everything. Every Principle Investigator should know as much as humanly possible about the various areas of specialized expertise which his or her inquiry involves. A good general contractor may not know as much about electrical systems as an electrician, but the more he knows, the more likely he is to hire the right electrician and know whether he’s doing his job or not.
When I first began examining early modern documents in the early 1990s, Marc Shell, now Professor of Comparative Literature at Harvard University, advised me to become my own handwriting expert — and I did.
Having also in the interim examined a number of anonymous early modern and 19th century documents to determine their writership, I have a pretty solid practical understanding of how professional forensic paleographers go about making conclusions. I am also co-author, with forensic documents analysts at the University of Buffalo’s CEDAR forensics lab, of two computerized studies of the 19th century “Hydrachos” document discussed elsewhere on this website (link being restored).
While the following analysis is no substitute for submitting Imlay’s findings to an independent professional, I therefore think it may well be instructive for the reader.
I was predisposed to believe Imlay’s hypothesis, and could see a number of features of this italic hand that strongly reminded me of Oxford’s own.
My first response to this evidence was a positive one because I was predisposed to believe Imlay’s hypothesis. I could see a number of features of this italic hand that strongly reminded me of Oxford’s own. The capital A, for example, in “Antonius” seemed a distinct match Oxford’s capital A as I knew it, or at least thought I knew it, from my paleographical study of the de Vere bible annotations and de Vere’s surviving holograph.[i]
I also liked the shapes of the small letter “a” – the way they tended to form angled lozenges, a bit pointy at both top and bottom and slanted at about twenty-thirty degrees. Moreover, at first I also thought I could see indications that the annotations were not in Smith’s hand.
But I also knew from long experience how easily in handwriting analysis the results can be predetermined by subjective bias on the part of the analyst. With this in mind, any good forensic handwriting analysis must consist of two parts.
The Two Phases of Forensic Inquiry
First you must try in your own mind to prove that the questioned sample matches another. Without such a hypothesis, you have no reason to proceed and are better off spending your time in-line skating or whatever you enjoy doing to relax.
The second step cannot be ignored. Once you think you’ve got a case for the identity of the documents, you must turn your analysis around and work even harder to demolish your own hypothesis.
But if you think the documents might match, this is only your first step. The second step cannot be ignored. Once you think you’ve got a case for the identity of the documents, you must turn your analysis around and work even harder to demolish your own hypothesis.
So you’ve found evidence for identity – patterns in the samples that could be attributed to common authorship….what about differences? Pretend your job is to demolish your own hypothesis. Be mean. Don’t cut yourself any slack. If you don’t do this for yourself, believe, me, someone else will do it for you, and you may not like it…..
In the end a valid conclusion depends on the relative weight of the two cases, for and against, that you are able to construct in your own mind and in your written analysis.
The Weakness of Subjective Descriptions in Forensic Analysis
At first, Imlay’s analysis of the contrast between Smith’s and Oxford’s hands seems plausible. She writes that Smith frequently mixes italic and secretary hands and that his italic tends to display “many secretarial flourishes”; she claims that “you never find any of this happening in the marginal annotations, nor do you find it in Edward de Vere’s correspondence” (16).
Imlay contrasts de Vere’s hand as “rather tight” and “controlled” – i.e., lacking the “secretarial flourishes” visible in Smith’s italic. From this Imlay concludes that “while there are similarities between the handwriting of Edward de Vere and Sir Thomas Smith, there are also sufficient differences to say that it is not Smith’s writing in the margins [of the contested documents]” (17).
While these statements may not be false, they also aren’t easy to “operationalize.” They are impressionistic, subjective evaluations that could be applied in many different ways. For this reasons, they aren’t particular useful for a real forensic analysis. Moreover, Imlay is apparently unaware of some critical elements of historical context that render her analysis far less convincing than it otherwise might sound.
It is not at all uncommon for early modern English writers to switch back and forth between Secretary and Italic when they are writing in a predominantly Secretary mode. This is exactly the same as modern use of italics, and the convention is readily apparent for Latin phrases or other expressions that the early modern writer wants to set apart.
It is not at all uncommon for early modern English writers to switch back and forth between Secretary and Italic when they are writing in a predominantly Secretary mode. This is exactly the same as modern use of italics, and the convention is readily apparent for Latin phrases or other expressions that the early modern writer wants to set apart.
Handwriting in Early Modern England
Of course, this pattern will be evident only in those writers trained in both Secretary and Italic hands. How common this was, we don’t really know. It is, however, readily documented in such basic handbooks of early modern paleography as Gregg’s English Literary Autographs or Dawson and Kennedy-Skipton’s Elizabethan Handwriting 1500-1650 (see, e.g., samples 25, 32 or 39). In play manuscripts, it was typical for speech prefixes and stage directions to appear in italic, while speeches themselves were written in Secretary hand.
The Italic hand did not appear in England until the reign of Henry VIII, when sons of aristocrats and royals (such as Edward VI) were first trained in its use. The use of the script grew throughout the Elizabethan reign. Most who wrote in Italic were also trained in Secretary, but well into the Elizabethan age many writers were apparently versatile only in the more traditional script.
It is important to emphasize that this same “back and forth” between the two copybook forms is very rarely seen in documents of a predominantly italic character.
For this reason, Imlay’s analysis is seriously flawed. A pattern that she attributes idiosyncratically to Smith’s hand is actually a generic characteristic seen in samples of secretary hand from many writers of the period.
The implications of this line of reasoning are clear. The entire basis for Imlay’s attempt to distinguish Smith and Oxford’s hand is faulty. If we had samples of Oxford’s secretary hand of any length, it is almost certain that it would contain, like Smith’s some intermixed italic forms.
This larger point would be irrelevant if the distinction that Imlay wants to draw between Smiths “secretarial flourishes” and Oxford’s “tight” or “controlled” italic were valid, but it unfortunately it is not. Above and beyond the vagueness of the terms, Imlay ignores a distinction central to any good handwriting analysis, the difference between between natural and systematic variation.
Natural and Systematic Variation & Sample Size
Forensic paleographers must distinguish between natural and systematic variation. The former variation that exists within a sample of writing written by the same hand. The latter indicates that any two samples are by different writers. Indeed, since variation of some kind is involved any sample consisting of more than one element of comparison, the art of successful forensic inquiry consists in the ability to distinguish one form of variation from the other.
Sample size is also important. Because of natural variation, it is easy to be misled – in either direction – by singular comparisons, or even comparison based on only a few exemplars of a letter.
Sample size is also important. Because of natural variation, it is easy to be misled – in either direction – by singular comparisons, or even comparison based on only a few exemplars of a letter. Not knowing that a large amount of Smith’s handwriting is available online at The University of Cambridge’s Scriptorium in the form of his circa 1540s-1570s “Inventory,” I began this analysis using only the samples of Smith’s hand reproduced in Imlay’s article.
Neither set of images is ideal for detailed study that would allow definitive conclusions, but together they constitute a sufficient sample to demonstrate that Imlay’s conclusions are wrong.
Comparisons of Questioned Document to Smith and Oxford Samples
Let’s take a look in practice at how these theoretical distinctions might help us to understand why Imlay’s identification of the annotator as Oxford really is implausible at best.
Capital Letters
Capital letters are especially useful for comparison. They are often more complex and can provide more highly-individuated design patterns than lower case letters. Table One illustrates the single capital “G” from Imlay’s questioned document sample, four examples from Smith’s Inventory, and one from Oxford’s 1603 King James Letter.
One exemplar is never sufficient to draw a conclusion. But in this case we only have one exemplar from the questioned sample document and one from Oxford’s hand. We will work with what we have, and despite the limited sample size, comparison with the three exemplars from Smith is instructive.
Smith forms capital G in two ways. One has no flourish and the top and makes a long descender comparable to the one seen in Oxford’s exemplar. The other is very close to the exemplar from the contested document. It has a very round shape, a conspicuous flourish at the top, and no descender.
If we classify the Smith and contested exemplars as group, we see that all of them share one characteristic not seen in the exemplar from Oxford’s hand: they are all considerably rounder and less elongated, not both in their body and in the descender.
Given our caveat about limited sample size, it would be rash to draw any conclusions from this comparison, but it does allow a preliminary generalization. We already see little evidence supporting Imlay’s theory that the annotations are by Oxford, and a good bit suggesting that her inference that the annotations can’t be by Smith is also doubtful.
We already see little evidence supporting Imlay’s theory that the annotations are by Oxford, and a good bit suggesting that her inference that the annotations can’t be by Smith is also doubtful.
Considering some other letters may help to either confirm or call into question this tentative hypothesis.
Imlay complains that comparison of capital letters is difficult because Oxford writes such long sentences that “there are few capitals in most of the letters” (17).
Sample Size and Coping with Limited Data
Although is is true that good samples of Oxford’s capitals are not always available to the analyst, the analyst must make do with what is available and should always bearing in mind that the confidence of a given conclusion is partly a function of the sample size.
Table Two shows what happens when we piggyback on our analysis of capital G some comparisons of capital C from both Smith and Oxford.
This comparison helps to compensate for the fact that the capital letter G is in fact rare in Oxford’s known handwriting, and reveals an underlying unity of form between capital G and capital C that the analyst can exploit for drawing comparisons.
This comparison helps to compensate for the fact that the capital letter G is in fact rare in Oxford’s known handwriting, and reveals an underlying unity of form between capital G and capital C that the analyst can exploit for drawing comparisons.
This time the limiting factor is the contested document sample, which in the reproductions available to me contains no comparable capital C. But we can readily see that this letter is formed in the samples from Smith and Oxford on the same pattern as used for the G.
Most importantly, these two sets of exemplars show the same contrasting features as documented above for G. Oxford’s capital Cs tend to be greatly elongated, while Smith’s are – usually – almost round and sport the same serif as seen in his open G.
The sensitivity of such conclusions to sample size are illustrated by the last exemplar from Smith, which shows an elongated C quite similar to Oxford’s own.
But in this case the exception verifies the rule. While Smith’s capital C commonly duplicates the rounder form with the serif – closely matching the G of the contested sample – Oxford never to my knowledge forms either a capital G or C in this manner.
With this in mind, when we compare these back to the contested document G, this already begins to look like clear evidence for difference that cannot be attributed to the range of variation within the hand of a single writer.
The Accumulation of Systematic Variations Points to Two Different Writers
There are several capital letter “M”s in the questioned document (Table Three), so this may provide a more valid comparison with Oxford’s hand. The three available M’s are reproduced below alongside three capital M’s from Oxford’s hand that illustrate a typical range of natural variation in his hand.
Smith’s Scriptorium Inventory eventually supplied three examples of his capital M. It can be seen that these letters share certain characteristics in common with the exemplars of G and C from their corresponding samples: the contested sample M’s are very straight, with only slight ornamental serifs at the bottom of both descenders.
Oxford’s M, like his G above, has a more flowing appearance created by balanced assymetry. The ascender on the left shoulder is more rounded, and because the descender is more straight, the resulting shoulder is more asymmetrical than that on the right, which forms a more or less symmetrical upturned v not unlike those seen in the contested and Smith exemplars.
By this point we may be starting to form a reasonable conclusion that the questioned document isn’t likely to be in Oxford’s hand and that, on the contrary, it looks suspiciously similar to Smith’s.
By this point we may be starting to form a reasonable conclusion that the questioned document isn’t likely to be in Oxford’s hand and that, on the contrary, it looks suspiciously similar to Smith’s.
Capital R: Secure Conclusion Requires Several Instances of Demonstrable Systematic Variation
In that case, we will not be surprised to learn that capital letter “R” (Table Four) furnishes yet another instance of clear discrepancy between the contested sample and Oxford as well as supplying clear evidence for our alternative hypothesis that the annotations are by Smith.
This is definitely a case where Imlay’s concern over the shortage of exemplars of capital letters in Oxford’s accepted holograph complicates a definitive conclusion. But although a larger sample, especially of Oxford’s hand, would be preferable, we cannot help but notice that such as evidence as we do have corresponds to the pattern we have already seen in the previous examples.The evidence of the contested exemplar matches Smith but not Oxford.
The contested sample shares two prominent characteristics with Smith’s exemplars – 1) In all five exemplars the final descender of the R descends in a very long gentle curve well under a large portion of the subsequent word; 2) In one exemplar from each sample, a long riser extends the back of the R well above the bowl.
The contested sample shares two prominent characteristics with Smith’s exemplars – 1) In all five exemplars the final descender of the R descends in a very long gentle curve well under a large portion of the subsequent word; 2) In one exemplar from each sample, a long riser extends the back of the R well above the bowl.
The Oxford exemplar shows a much more restrained final descender, which terminates well before the next letter of the word. The riser goes up above the bowl but instead of ending in a straight line makes a flourishing loop as it returns to start the next phase of the letter.
Not only is there what appears to be a systematic variation between Oxford’s hand and the questioned document sample, but the latter appears to match Smith’s italic hand in identifiably idiosyncratic ways.
In particular, the large size of the final descender, the way it loops under several or all of the letters in the word it originates is a striking characteristic of Smith’s hand that is matched perfectly in the contested document.
Capital E: A Further Illustration
Capital E (Table Five) supplies an excellent further illustration of the importance of sample size, although this time the limiting factor is the contested sample.
Drawing from the exemplars reproduced in Imlay’s article, which include the top E from the Oxford sample, we might be tempted to think that the Oxford wrote the QD. But when we add in a few exemplars, we see how much more closely Smith matches.
Smith’s E-exemplars share with the contested exemplar — even more conspicuously — a tendency of all three of the arms of the letter to jut out for some length to the left beyond the riser. This is in sharp contrast to Oxford’s, which instead tend to line up with the riser, or jut outward in a very controlled decorative flourish.
Oxford’s capital E shows a high amount of natural variation. Occasionally he even uses the Greek “Epsilon” capital E, as in the last example. But one feature his capital E’s have in common is that they are usually distinguished by one or another of the decorative flourishes that Imlay wrongly thinks is characteristic of Smith’s italic hand. In contrast, Smith’s capital E is, like the contested exemplar, also quite utilitarian in appearance. None of the three arms have any decorative elements or flourishes on them.
Dangers of Subjective Interpretation in Forensic Handwriting Analysis
Against such evidence Imlay would have us believe that Sir Thomas Smith “did not have time” to be “doodling” in his book, while perhaps a “child in the long winter evenings” might have “little else to do” (15) and assures us that one of her colleagues identified the drawings as “the work of a child of about ten or eleven.”
As attractive as this fantasy might be — and as much as the modern reader might want to believe that the adult Smith lacked a sense of humor that would express itself in doodling the margins of books on long winter (or summer) evenings — it has no merit when posed against the hard evidence of forensic paleography.
As attractive as this fantasy might be — and as much as the modern reader might want to believe that the adult Smith lacked a sense of humor that would express itself in doodling the margins of books on long winter (or summer) evenings — it has no merit when posed against the hard evidence of forensic paleography.
As this blog post is already overly long, I will conclude with only one more letter and one more point.
Always Use at Least Three Exemplars if Available
Capital letter “A” furnishes another excellent illustration of the principle of natural variation. The first of the contested document exemplars (Table Six), is distinctly asymmetrical, with a low sloping descender with a broad curve and a foot on the right descender. In this case the crossbar terminates precisely at the right descender.
Capital A is one of the letters that at first suggested to me that Smith was not the annotator, while Oxford might be. Looking at only the first of the two questioned document exemplars and comparing them to Oxford’s, you can see why.
But if we include the second of the questioned exemplars, and compare them to Smith’s a different picture emerges.
Like his E’s, Smith’s A’s tend to be much more utilitarian in character than Oxford’s, composed primarily of straight lines and lacking the decorative feel of the first contested exemplar. This is of course exactly the form mirrored in the second contested exemplar.
On the other hand, the third example from Smith shows how tentative such generalizations must be. Although the above description captures most of his capital As, he is quite capable of making one with a bit more flourish to it, typically by supplying a long tail to the lefthand stroke and a small footing to the righthand one.
When we turn to the Oxford exemplars, on the other hand, we can easily see that the questioned document samples are a better match to Smith than they are to Oxford.
Letters are Always Composed of Basic Strokes that Show Parallelism Across Letter Forms
His capital A’s show the same tendency observable in the capital M to form an asymmetric shoulder, more rounded on the left and more straight and angular on the right. He almost always terminates the right descender with a footing, although somewhat less pronounced than that seen in the first of the questioned document exemplars.
Most interesting of all, although the curving left descender of the Oxford exemplars might superficially seem to match that on the second questioned document samples, it is apparent on closer inspection that the descender in those exemplars descends in a much tighter curve and does not in fact match even the questioned document exemplar with which it shares most in common.
Conclusion
By this point in time we should be prepared to form a more or less definitive opinion about at least one thing. The questioned document samples do not match those we have found from the Earl of Oxford’s documented holograph.
Moreover, they strongly appear to match those of Smith’s. Given that the Queen’s College curator of the collection Karen Begg is already on record suggesting that Smith is the annotator, it would seem that this is by far the most plausible solution to the puzzle.
A preponderance of available evidence confirms that Begg is correct. Apparently aware of the inconclusive nature of her speculations, Ms. Imlay concludes her de Vere Society newsletter article with a request for suggestions about how to proceed.
A preponderance of available evidence confirms that Begg is correct. Apparently aware of the inconclusive nature of her speculations, Ms. Imlay concludes her de Vere Society newsletter article with a request for suggestions about how to proceed.
We are now in a position to offer some informed suggestions.
First, after reading this article if Ms. Imlay still believes that there is any reasonable basis for thinking that the annotations are by de Vere, I recommend that she immediately consult a professional paleographer such as Ms. Will for an independent opinion.
Doing so she will probably need a number of better quality photographic reproductions of the three hands in question. In my own opinion, the answer is likely to confirm the analysis present here, and supported by curator Begg, that the annotations (and therefore the drawings) are by Smith.
More on Literary Forensics.
[i] “Holograph” is a technical term in handwriting analysis that denotes a sample with a signature attached to it. That’s important because such a document – unless forged – is used to establish a sample baseline for making comparisons with a questioned sample document.
Comments
3 Responses to “The Earl of Oxford’s annotations in Tacitus and Blondus?”
- rikwalter says:
Nicely done, Roger. Nicely done.
- William Ray says:
I have no knowledge of the paleographic issues discussed here. The reservation I would have about a hypothesis that Oxford annotated a Tacitus history owned by Thomas Smith is that, one, Oxford would be marking his master’s book, and two, he was young at 8-11 years to be reading Tacitus and making comments. I have no doubt though that the terse Latin of Tacitus, Germania for instance, affected the writing style and the historical philosophy of the later Shakespeare canon.
Tacitus was the ghost lurking in the Shakespeare Histories, in terms of being a model of descriptive style and vividness of imagery. For instance Henry V moving among his soldiers in disguise, speaking to them or overhearing their complaints has been traced to Tacitus. The Shakespeare Histories’ classic dramatizations did not come out of nothing. It is shallow of Stratfordian thinkers (e.g., James Shapiro) to assume literary creativity is sui generis rather than creativity in connection with an existing continuum.
Oxford had a personal basis in both experience, the Border Rebellions, and learning, his vast knowledge of the Greek and Latin histories, for ‘Shakespeare’s’ skill and imagination, –and I might even say a sense of joining the honored tradition of heroic war commentary, which began with Homer. It was an honored aristocratic tradition. Only aristocrats could be heroes. Like Thucydides, he put great speeches only in their voices.
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