Peacham, the Younger: Emblem
Eugene M. Wraith, another editor of “Titus Andronicus”, says of Henricus Peacham’s title page: „Someone has written in what resembles Renaissance handwriting ‚Henrye Peachams Hande 1595’, but this may be a forgery by John Payne Collier, and is, in any case, only a guess. Among other pencilled annotations in a relatively modern hand is one above the figure of Tamora: ‚Written by Henry Peacham – author of the Complete Gentleman.’ This too may be by Collier.” (Adams point out that another pencilled annotation opposite the lines from Act 1 ‚So far from Shakspear Titus Andronicus Sc.2’ refers to a scene-division which Collier adopted in his edition of the play.)
John Payne Collier (1789-1883) was one of the most competent and unscrupulous forgers of all time. Before his career as a Shakespeare researcher and publisher of old English literature took off, he was a journalist and literary critic. Collier didn’t forge for the money; he did it for the fame and the recognition. He felt that he could reap the most fame by filling in empty spaces in old books and manuscripts with home-made “discoveries”, mostly stories and anecdotes that suited his own purposes. He fabricated and “discovered” emendations in the famous “Perkins Folio”. Later he used these so-called discoveries in his own Shakespeare edition of 1853. Collier also “enhanced” the Revel’s account of 1605, the diaries of John Manningham, and the “Book of Plays” from Simon Forman.
The author and illustrator “Henricus Peacham” quotes three passages from Titus Andronicus: The plea for mercy made by the Goth Queen Tamora for her first born son, blunt reply from the Roman military comander Titus (Act 1, Scene 1) and finally the famous confession of Aaron-the-Moor for the most vicious and malevolent deeds. (Act 5, Scene 1). The text crowns a small drawing of Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron and Aaron. Peacham’s copy is more precice than the first quarto edition published in 1594. (E.g. as pointed out by Sir E. K. Chambers: The text that we see below Peacham’s illustration uses the word “haystackes”, this is in agreement with the First Folio edition of 1623. The first quarto edition (1594) speaks of “haystalkes”. )
“Henricus Peacham” takes the liberty of adding his own words when quoting passages from the play. He even has Alarbus deliver a speech long after the man died.
The biggest mystery however is the way Peacham wrote the date.
“Henricus Peacham Anno mo qo g qto“.
mo stands for millesimo (in the 1000th year), qo stands for quingentesimo (in the 500th year) and qto for quarto, in the fourth year. Peacham’s renaissance-shorthand poses no problems, at least not yet. (In his book Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques and Discoveries (1598) Richard Hakluyt mentions a communication from the Turkish Vesir Sinan Bassa to Queen Elizabeth wherein Roman numerals and modern english date specification stand side by side: “IESU vero Anno millesimo quingentesimo nonagesimo” and “in the yeere of Iesus 1590”.)
Only the small g in the third position of the date, doesn’t want to reveal its secret. Why does Peacham stray from his system with the Roman numerals at this point? Why doesn’t he write “nonagesimo” as we would expect (in the 90th year) = mo qo no qto?
What is that small g doing in the third position?
After pondering over this annoying problem for some time, the mathematician and literature theorist David L. Roper came up with the solution. The date that “Henricus Peacham” wanted to write down wasn’t in the fifteen ninetees; it was either in the sixtees, or the seventees of that century. He wished to avoid confusion between “sexagesimo” and “septuagesimo”, both of which would have been abrieviated to so. So he used a different system and wrote a small g, the seventh letter of the alphabet. The date stated here is 1574. (At this point in time Will Shaksper the actor was 10 years old.)
The usage of the small letter “g” for the number 7 was not Henricus Peacham’s own idea. It comes from a method of writing dates that was in common usage by the Greeks (and the Hebrews as well). The Greeks didn’t write numbers, they designated numbers to letters according to their position in the alphabet I.e. 1=α (roman: a), 2=β (roman: b) ... 7=ζ (roman: g). Therefore Peacham used a small g in the third position. He did not write octogesimo = oo or nonagesimo = no because that would have meant that he was his own sixteen years old son. (In 1594, when Henry Peacham Jr. was sixteen years old, the Roman numerals had become unfashionable; only a Turkish Vesir might use it.)
A comparison between the handwriting of Peacham the elder and Peacham the younger confirms this.
Henricus Peacham Anno mo qo g qto
Henricus Peacham, 1621
There are people who wish that this discovery would just go away. Must such a wonderful theory be spoiled by one small “g”? There are those who would question Peacham’s mental health. There are others who would discard “Titus Andronicus” like a lizard detaching its tail, when in danger.
3.2 The Two Gentlemen of Verona
This comedy is about the mercurial Proteus and how he betrayed his best friend, Valentine. Proteus has a strong infatuation for Valentine’s girlfriend, Silvia, the daughter of the Duke of Milan. Proteus betrays Valentine hoping to have the field clear so that he can win Silvia over. After Valentine has been banished from the city, Proteus sends his page (who is in reality his own girlfriend, Julia, dressed as a boy) to Silvia to proclaim his love for her. Silvia, however, knows of the relationship between Proteus and Julia, furthermore she is truely in love with Valentine, so she rejects Proteus.
Here we have one of Shakespeare’s early works. The comedy has some wonderful and brilliantly funny scenes but the plot seems a bit naive and the ending seems to be “constructed”. The literary content, however, is not the focus of our current attention. We want to discuss what the author reveals of his knowledge of local scenes, Verona and Milan, and what he knows about the history and geography of Italy.
In this play, Verona seems to be an unattractive city. Nobody wants to stay there. The young nobleman Valentine goes to Milan to “attend the Emperor in his royal court”. Shortly thereafter, on the instructions of his father, his friend Proteus follows him to “practice tilts and tournaments, / hear sweet discours, converse with noblemen/ and be in eye of every exercise/ worthy his youth and nobleness of birth” (I/3).
Strange though it may seem, on our arrival in in the new city the “Emperor” seems to vanish into thin air. We only hear of “The Duke of Milan”. Has the author forgotten about the Emperor on the mystifying sea journey between Verona and Milan?
In his book, the highly recommended: “The Shakespeare Guide to Italy” (2010) Richard Paul Roe tells us of a short visit by Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, to the duchy of Milan. Following Charles’ V victory over François I in Pavia (1525) and the treaty of Cambrai (1529), Milan, Genoa and Naples were under Spanish rule. As a token of his allegiance, Francesco II Sforza, Duke of Milan (1495-1535), invited the Emperor for a visit. Charles V was expected to stay for a long time, however, he only stayed in Milan for four days: 10th through to 14th March -1533.
This could well explain how Shakespeare was suddenly short of an Emperor. Shakespeare sends the two young men to Milan to attend the Emperor’s court; instead of the Emperor they meet the Duke’s daughter Silvia and
