Folger Library: Shakespeare “Signature” is a Fraud. . .

Posted By Roger Stritmatter on January 31, 2014

For the second part of this three-part series on the Folger copy of Lambarde’s Archaionomia, click here. To start at the beginning, click here. Or just keep reading. . .

While the Public Relations officer of the Denton County Sheriff’s Department was exercising his creativity designing internet graphics comparing the late Charlton Ogburn, Jr., to Chico Marx, I was corresponding with the Folger’s chief manuscript curator Heather Wolfe, PhD, about the Shakespeare “signature” on the title page of the library’s second copy of William Lambardes’ Archaionomia.

In a move that reminds me of the military genius of the late Colonel George Custer, Oxfraud admins decided to promote the Archaionomia title page into the new banner for their Facebook discussion group [thank you, Chris Carolan, for archiving this! – R.S. 4/24/2022].

Now, I know you are dying to know what Dr. Wolfe told me. But first let’s talk about the Marx brothers. I knew Charlton Ogburn, and let me assure you, he wouldn’t have been happy about being compared to Chico Marx.

No way.

Charlton was more of a Groucho guy.

Actually Charlton was especially fond of his own Groucho Marx routine. He frequently recited this on long summer evenings on the lovely porch of his Beaufort, S.C. residence.

I know because I sat and listened to him.

Among his favorites was this one:

“Outside of a dog, a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”

I was recently reminded of this aphorism on account of Alexander Waugh’s remark that the Oxfrauds have lately been reduced to creating voice-overs for the “growl of a senile dog that refuses to get of the car.”

Waugh meant the sort of ad hominem exemplified in Reedy’s graphic of the late Mr. Ogburn – whose 1984 Mysterious William Shakespeare remains among the most relevant and important works ever written on the Shakespearean question.

Shakespeare “Signature”

In the interest of the general edification, if not their own self-interest, one can only hope that  Reedy & Co. will, by hook or by crook, drag themselves out of the dog, if not out of the car, long enough to contemplate Dr. Wolfe’s derailing of their delusions:

“I have no doubt that the signature is a forgery. It’s not an issue for us. We have many Shakespeare forgeries in the collection!” (email to R. Stritmatter, 29/1/2014)

Whoa….did an official representative and curator of the Folger library actually just say that?

Yep (Figure One).

So much for  Reedy’s charming conclusion to his series of increasingly intemperate remarks over the last few days responding to Farnsworth’s recent guest post questioning the legitimacy of the inscription:

I have no idea why Roger thought you would be an appropriate guest to post on this topic [Snip….again, Tom, this is not acceptable for discussion….] ‘Intuition’ and ‘conjecture’ make up the sum of your argument, along with questioning the Folger’s integrity. My previous suggestion to read up on this and educate yourself about it still stands.

This is what Alexander Waugh meant about the dangers of growling too much after dinner.

Even before I had permission from Ms. Wolfe to quote from her email, Farnsworth  responded to my query about Reedy’s final round of provocation with this astute observation: “his last words aren’t worth responding to, and this whole exercise is about discussing ideas as part of the SAQ. People interested enough to read all the comments won’t be swayed one way or another by his last entry.”

The moral may seem unambiguous, but if past experience is any measure I’m sure that  Reedy & Co. will think up some way to make this sound more like D-Day than the battle of Little Big Horn.

Reviewing the Oxfraud playbook from Schopenhauer, usefully sampled by John D. Lavendoski on ShakesVere, Reedy has already used up most of the strategies. These include those labelled by the Oxfraud philosopher in residence as “claptrap,” “got out of a lunatic asylum,” or consisting of “chicanery” enabled by being “generally insolent” against an opponent.  At this point in time, with Reedy’s argument in tatters, Schopenhauer #XXIX may be advisable:

If you find that you are being worsted, you can make a diversion—that is, you can suddenly begin to talk of something else, as though it had a bearing on the matter in dispute, and afforded an argument against your opponent.

Here’s what I think, though — not being a wise man like Herr Schopenhauer. I think Mr. Reedy needs to extricate himself from the dog before making further maneuvers in operation Wilde Goose Chase. [link deactivated here until the post in question can be restored].

Given that this is a bit like asking a reluctant colleague to undertake a twelve step program when he’s being paid to sit at a bar and swill all day, a little friendly pressure may be required [For the record, the incident that prompted my wording was from a work experience in 1985]. Accordingly, comments on this blog post (as well as Farnsworth’s, where Reedy was already given the “last word”) are now closed.

If Mr. Reedy wants to complain, he can do that somewhere else. A more appropriate course of action might be be to revisit the Wikipedia entry on “Shakespeare’s Handwriting” and busy himself with updating the entry to include prominent reference to Dr. Wolfe’s informed opinion that the Lambarde “signature” is, as Farnsworth had already argued in vain to Reedy, a forgery.

 At the very least you would think Reedy would now have the decency to remove the dishonest label on Wikipedia’s version of the bowdlerized image of the inscription. Wikipedia labels the forgery a “signature.” [update 4/24/2022- the dishonest label has not yet been corrected].

It isn’t a signature; its a forgery made with a press-stamp.

If Reedy doesn’t want to cite my blog as his source, I’ve uploaded a timestamped .jpg of Dr. Wolfe’s original communication, so he won’t even have to email me for the documentation.

An email may not the ideal way to document this sort of finding, but personally I’ll wager Dr. Wolfe’s 64-word missive against the sum total of Reedy’s typing on this topic over the last few days. I’ll even throw in the informed but ultimately circular reasoning of Nicholas Knight and the rest of the commentators who kept trying over last sixty years to turn this pig’s ear into a silk purse.  

The music has now stopped and Reedy is the one without a chair to sit in.

Before signing off, let’s consider some of the larger implications of this denouement (tragic as it is, if you’re an Oxfraud sympathizer). There is a fundamental issue of credibility at stake here, and the credibility is not just that of Reedy, the semi-retired public relations Sheriff of Denton county.

As anyone can see from the Wikipedia history page, Reedy has been a regular and influential editor of the article in question, among many others. Indeed, Reedy and his Wiki sidekick the inimitable Paul Barlowe have been the most frequent and enthusiastic of recent editors to the page [in 2014].

No, the legitimacy and authority of Wikipedia is at stake here. The question is, can  Reedy do the right thing to protect that authority, or is his “higher” allegiance to the wild goose of Avon so overwhelming that he will continue to turn a blind eye to the character of his own error?

Being a real scholar means sometimes changing your mind, admitting that you did so, and explaining why.

Or you can just stay in the dog.

Staying in the dog will keep you warm on a cold winter night,  but as Groucho says, it is difficult if not impossible to read from in there. Consequently, over time the relevance of your opinion grows dimmer and dimmer.

So if you stay in the dog, don’t be surprised when people grow tired of the growling.