Shakespeare's Skull: The Eyebrow Test

This is a still from the Channel Four documentary, Shakespeare's Tomb.  Dr Caroline Wilkinson is analysing the laser scan made of the rogue skull in the ossuary at Beoley church.  What she's saying is this:

"In male skulls you tend to see a bulge just where the eyebrows sit, and you can see on this skull that we don't have a bulge of bone."

Ergo, we hear, the skull is probably female.

And, yes, Dr Wilkinson has a point: the skull really doesn't show much in the way of eyebrow bulges:

One might even suggest that the right eyebrow ridge (the one she's pointing to on the laser scan) looks somewhat damaged.  An earlier photo of the skull shows this quite clearly:

So we're agreed.  Eyebrow bulges not much to write home about.  But what's interesting is that, in the TV documentary, Dr Wilkinson had just been shown lining up the laser scan of the skull with two of the most familiar images of Shakespeare, the Droeshout engraving and the Chandos portrait.  Let's look first at the Droeshout:

Well, that's odd.  No real eyebrow bulges there, and especially not in the area indicated by Dr Wilkinson on the laser scan of the skull.  What about the Chandos, then?

Hmmnn.  You know what?  There aren't really any eyebrow bulges there, either.  And what's so strange about this is that Dr Wilkinson had been looking at both of the above images, apparently, before she told Kevin Colls and Dr Helen Castor that the absence of eyebrow bulges on the skull suggested that the skull might be female.

Funny, though, that she didn't think to mention the comparable absence of eyebrow bulges in the most famous images of Shakespeare, given that she'd just been looking at them.  Surely she can't imagine that the face in the Droeshout and the Chandos is female?

Okay.  Let's try some others.  How about that fond favourite of the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust, the Cobbe portrait:

Well, whaddya know?  A remarkable lack of eyebrow bulges.  And what about the latest contender in the world of Shakespeare portraiture, the Wadlow?

Nope.  Same again - no visible bulging in the eyebrow area.  The Wadlow, of course, is interesting because it helped me to propose the theory that Shakespeare had a condition known as eyebrow ptosis (which he passed on to his illegitimate son, Sir William Davenant).  I came to that theory by way of the Beoley skull and the observation, made by a research student in forensic archaeology and biological anthropology, that the left eyebrow of the skull appears "bumpier" than the right, probably because the fatty deposits of the eyebrow were missing.  They had, it would seem, slipped.  As can be seen in the Wadlow.  That's eyebrow ptosis.

The Wadlow also shows a scar, immediately above the left eyebrow, which also shows up in the same place on the skull.

Now, either all of these portraits are actually of females, or the skull isn't necessarily female at all.  That, or portrait artists didn't understand eyebrows when the above portraits were made.  So let's look at this another way.

The above diagram comes from An Anthropological Study of some Portraits of Shakespeare and of Burns by Professor Arthur Keith, Conservator of the Museum of the Royal College of Surgeons, who gave his paper on this subject on 20 February 1914.  The outside line of the diagram shows the profile of the Shakespeare effigy in the funerary monument in Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon.  The inner image is a drawing of a Bronze Age skull (enlarged 10%).

Look at the outline of the profile of the Shakespeare effigy.  No noticeable eyebrow bulge, is there?  This effigy was looking down on the programme makers when William Shakespeare's grave was being scanned - and yet no one looked up and noticed that the effigy has no significant bulges where the eyebrows sit:

Must be female, then.

Tell you what - just one more (though there are many I could choose from).  Look for the eyebrow bulges:

Now, what's interesting about this one is that we do see, quite clearly, certain features that also visible on the skull - the scar over the left eyebrow, the discoloured and depressed region over the right eyebrow, the damage to the lower edges of the eye sockets, and the loss of fatty deposits about halfway across the left eyebrow, which I described above in connection with the eyebrow ptosis.  What we don't really see is any major eyebrow bulges.  Some fatty deposits, yes, because we can also see where they're missing, but bulges in the bone?  Not many.

And this is where things get a little weird, because the image above is a detail from a 3-D computer reconstruction of the face of the Darmstadt death mask of Shakespeare.  It was made by ... Dr Caroline Wilkinson.

Who apparently had no idea that Shakespeare's eyebrows were remarkably and noticeably not very bulgy.  Even though she had been looking at his portraits and had previously done a facial reconstruction from his death mask.

But then, maybe she did realise that.  And the programme makers didn't want her to mention it.  Maybe careful editing made sure no one got to hear that the skull displays the same characteristics as the Shakespeare portraiture. 

Because let's be clear: in no way was Channel Four's Shakespeare's Tomb the serious scientific investigation it made itself out to be.  That would have left certain people with egg on their faces.

It would also have let the viewers know what they deserved to know.  That the Beoley skull probably isn't an "unknown woman in her seventies" and probably is what Rev C.J. Langston said it was - the "veritable skull of William Shakespeare."

History Repeats Itself

At the start of Who Killed William Shakespeare? (the contract for which I signed four years ago today) I tried to explain how, in the second half of the 18th century, a metropolitan elite - or what we might now call "The Establishment" - seized control of Shakespeare's memory, rudely dismissing what the locals knew and creating their own version of events.

Significantly, they achieved this partly by losing as much evidence as possible and ignoring or misrepresenting the rest.

Well, old habits die hard, and the net result of last night's Channel 4 documentary seems to have been as damaging, hopeless and borderline-farcical as David Garrick's infamous Shakespeare "Jubilee" of 1769.  Back then, hordes of educated sophisticates descended on Stratford-upon-Avon, much to the alarm and consternation of the natives, who were abused and mocked by the visitors.  Then Garrick went home and produced his own show, which made out that only he and his supporters really knew or cared about Shakespeare, and the locals up in Warwickshire were rustic clowns with no idea about Stratford's most famous son.

Shakespeare's Tomb spent an awful lot of its time showing us pretty pictures of Stratford.  For some reason, a man who had conspired to try to prevent the documentary team from investigating the Beoley skull was given a prominent part in the programme as the authority on all things Shakespearean.

The programme stuck to the party line about the story published by the Rev C.J. Langston in 1879 and 1884 concerning the theft of Shakespeare's skull and its discovery at Beoley.  Even though the programme makers had been given abundant evidence that the Vicar of Beoley had identified himself as the author of the story, and that a surprising number of details in the story are verifiable, that was all ignored.

The skull at Beoley was scanned and then Dr Helen Castor and Kevin Colls sat with Dr Caroline Wilkinson, who showed them the scan on her screen.  The conversation went something like this:

Wilkinson: "This little bit here suggests that it might be dark greyish."

Castor: "So you're saying it's black?"

Wilkinson: "Well, we have to be cautious ..."

Castor: "No - you're saying it's black!"

Cue press release: "Skull is black."

I've altered the wording slightly.  But when an osteoarchaeologist/biological anthropologist tweets: "I'm intrigued #ShakespearesTomb - how did you come to the conclusion it was a 70yr old woman?! Magic new ageing techniques?!" you do have to ask how conclusive the results really were.

And the answer appears to be, not conclusive at all.  But right there, on screen, the expert was cornered and forced to make a definitive statement which, as she had tried to point out, couldn't really be made.  This instantly became a Truth Universally Acknowledged.

Of course, if the programme-makers had bothered to explore the existing research into the similarities between the skull and the Shakespeare portraiture, as well as Rev C.J. Langston and his skull story, we'd have got something more nuanced.  But they didn't want that.  They didn't even want any suggestions from the one and only witness called.  They wanted an Unequivocal Statement indicating that the skull is of no interest whatsoever, so we can all move on.

In the meantime, the folks at Beoley seem to be up in arms over the way they've been treated (see comment under previous blog post).  A geologist informs me that anyone who started a university paper claiming that Shakespeare's skull was stolen from the grave, based on the evidence shown in the programme, would be in very big trouble.  And now I hear from somebody else who helped out with the documentary, but who went unpaid and uncredited.

So what happened - apart from two years wasted (in my case)?

The best I can suggest is that, for a good long while, as the documentary project was being developed, it was all in the hands of an intelligent and amicable person who worked hard to bring all the relevant parties together and to lay the foundations for a genuinely interesting, and potentially startling, investigative programme.

Then a director was hired, along with a couple of producers.  The development producer stepped aside.  From that point on, things quickly began to unravel.

It was as if the "metropolitan elite" had come to town, determined to put the locals back in their place.  Yes, use them for as long as they're useful.  Then dump them.  They're not important.  Their local knowledge and their research are irrelevant.  They might as well be on zero-hours contracts.  We don't need to worry about them.

But the POSH people, the ones who've been on TV before, THEY'RE important.  Better still, they can (by and large) be trusted not to stray from the script.

Remember, we're not here to rock any boats, folks.  Langston's story is anonymous - got it?  The skull at Beoley?  Pah!  Who cares?  Skull, no skull, what's the difference?  Let's have some nice shots of Stratford, talk to some nice people, then back to London as quick as we can.

And if an expert isn't being quite as emphatic as we'd like in denying a very promising lead, we can force her - Inquisition-like - to say what we want her to say, and we can do it on camera, just in case anybody else feels like being properly scientific about all this.  No one will notice.  The press release will already have told everybody what we want them to think.  Now, where's my BAFTA?

It's shocking to realise how much hard work and good will was completely and utterly trashed in such a short space of time, by people who were new to the project, and what an unashamedly wasted opportunity the programme turned out to be.  Our knowledge of Shakespeare and the fate of his skull wasn't advanced one iota.  If anything, we've gone backwards.  And the programme-makers are surely patting themselves on the back for stirring up much ado about nothing and making a very pretty looking documentary that avoided upsetting their sophisticated metropolitan friends.

Meanwhile, the rest of us continue the ongoing work of trying to find out and publicise what really happened to Shakespeare and his skull.

By the way - that subsidence in the chancel at Holy Trinity Church, under Shakespeare's gravestone?  That's Will Shakespeare turning in his grave.

A Warning to the Curious ...

... or "How History Works" (Part II?).

I was flicking through this book the other day.  It's on sale at Tudor World in Stratford, where I'm currently doing the odd Shakespeare Tour and Ghost Tour (and great fun they are, too).  What's more, the "Horrible Histories" Gruesome Guide to Stratford-upon-Avon is actually dedicated to the owner, and the phantom residents of, the Tudor World property.

I admire Terry Deary's achievement.  His entertaining brand of History-Without-The-Dull-Bits appeals to young and old, no doubt to the despair and disapproval of the more academic types out there.  And he does a good job of digging up those obscure facts and stories which tend to be omitted from the standard accounts.  In that respect, his Gruesome Guide to Stratford is probably a helluva lot more interesting than the typical guidebook.

He even includes the story of Shakespeare's skull!  Yes, the local "legend" which I spent months researching for Who Killed William Shakespeare?  So, extra marks there for Mr Deary.  Except that he concludes his short account of Shakespeare's missing skull with the information that the skull was safely returned to the Stratford grave.

Almost every account I read of the legend of Shakespeare's skull, as originally recounted by "A Warwickshire Man" (Rev. Charles Jones Langston) in his 1884 publication, How Shakespeare's Skull was Stolen and Found, ends with the information that the missing skull was returned to Stratford.

This recurring "fact" intrigued me while I was researching the story.  You see, thanks to the infamous "curse" on Shakespeare's gravestone, the town of Stratford, and Holy Trinity Church, have always been rather diffident about opening up his grave.  So how, I wondered, had they managed to get the skull back into the grave, sometime in the late 19th century, without anyone noticing, and with no record surviving of the grave having been reopened?

It puzzled me for quite a while.  And then, while I was starting work on the manuscript for Who Killed William Shakespeare? - a breakthrough!  The skull is still inside the crypt at Beoley Church.  It was NEVER returned to Stratford. 

Various photos of the skull were taken at different times in the 20th and 21st centuries - on those rare occasions when the crypt was opened up for an architect's inspection - and those photos prove that the skull stayed exactly where Rev. C.J. Langston found it: in the vault beneath the Sheldon Chapel.

Okay, so ... Why do so many accounts of the story end with "The skull was returned to Stratford", when it quite evidently wasn't?

I've never yet managed to track down the source of that little bit of historical misinformation.  I don't know who first decided that the skull had probably been returned to its owner, or who first sneaked that falsehood into the legend.  But here's the thing: ever since that bit of false information was added to the story, it has been repeated, over and over again, whenever somebody stumbles across the legend, including, of course, Terry Deary, when he included the tale in his "Gruesome Guide" to Stratford.

I'm not attacking Mr Deary.  But I am questioning the way that, once a lie has been introduced into the historical account, it tends to stay there, repeated over and over again, until it becomes a "fact".

I've blogged previously about the will which names Anne/Agnes Whateley, the woman William Shakespeare was first given a licence to marry.  Because Samuel Schoenbaum failed to find that particular will, he concluded that Anne Whateley was a clerical error: she never existed.  And because Sam Schoenbaum said that, it became "The Truth"!  Anne Whateley: the woman who never was.  But she did exist.

The case of Anne/Agnes Whateley and the case of Shakespeare's skull are somewhat similar.  In both instances, something has been introduced to the approved story of Shakespeare which doesn't suit the peddlers of that orthodox account.  Whenever that happens, it seems, the race is on to quash that little problem.  With any luck, something will quickly get sneaked into the historical record which neutralises the threat posed by that rogue story.  So, Anne Whateley, we are led to believe, "did not exist".  The skull "was returned to Stratford".  Neither statement is true, and yet both have been repeated ad infinitum.

The skull story is particularly intriguing, in this regard.  Given that Stratford has, on the whole, sought (a) to ignore the story of Shakespeare's skull - and the actual existence of that spare skull at Beoley, and (b) to rubbish the story whenever someone mentions it, you do have to wonder.  If, as the Shakespeare folks in Stratford insist, the missing skull simply could not have been Shakespeare's, then why is it so important that we all believe it was returned to Shakespeare's grave after Rev. C.J. Langston discovered and identified it?  Isn't that a case of having your cake and eating it?  If it never was Shakespeare's skull, then there's no need to put out the false rumour that it was returned to Shakespeare's grave. 

I think the claim that the skull was returned to Stratford was a deliberate attempt to "close down" the story.  An interesting legend, yes, but no need to get excited because the skull came back to Stratford anyway.  Certainly, definitely, no need to probe any further.  Like the mysterious Anne Whateley, the skull doesn't exist.  At least, it doesn't as long as you don't go looking for it.

So, someone set a hare running.  To stop anyone from really investigating the strange tale of Shakespeare's missing skull - as told by that pillar of respectability, a Victorian clergyman - somebody made up the part about the skull having been returned to Stratford.  Which it never was.  But that's what you'll keep reading is what happened.

Unless you read Who Killed William Shakespeare? of course!

Seriously, though.  History is not, or should not be, a Wikipedia entry, which anyone can alter as they see fit.  The facts matter.  Anyone who "plants" a piece of misinformation - such as "the skull was returned to Stratford" - is deliberately misleading people.  And the people who seem most easy to mislead are historians, who keep repeating the lie, if only to make sure that you don't go getting any ideas.

Beoley or Not Beoley

To the lovely church at Beoley, yesterday morning, on a beautiful day, to film a piece for BBC local news.

And what a piece!  Video-journalist Ben Sidwell did us proud, and the editorial team at BBC Midlands Today introduced the piece with a neat little summary of Shakespeare facts.  Naturally, BBC balance had to insist on words like "alleged" a lot, but they gave us a fantastic hearing, and I can't complain.  Very chuffed with it.  (And a big shout out to Lucy from BBC Hereford and Worcester local radio, who also came along for an interview!)

Why Beoley?  Well, because there's a spare skull down there in the crypt beneath the Sheldon family chapel at Beoley church.  And in the 1880s, the local vicar published a very detailed and descriptive story explaining that this extra skull is William Shakespeare's.

Understandably, perhaps, the Old Guard sought to puncture the story.  I don't know what was said at the interview in Holy Trinity Church, Stratford, but the bit that made it into yesterday's news item was essentially this:

The vicar of Beoley in the 1880s - one Rev Charles Jones Langston - only made up his story about Shakespeare's skull because he wanted to raise money to refurbish his church.  It's a good story, but it isn't true: it was just a fundraising exercise.

We'll briefly pass over any questions of the integrity and honesty of 19th century clergymen (even though the excuse given by the Shakespeare cogniscenti does seem to cast grave aspersions on Rev Langston's honesty) and take a quick look at the facts.

Langston's story, How Shakespeare's Skull was Stolen and Found, was published in 1884.  The following year, he oversaw the restoration of his church at Beoley.  And then he effectively retired, moving to Bath and referring to himself as "formerly Vicar of Beoley".  So he certainly did have a hand in the refurbishment of Beoley Church, although he didn't hang around afterwards to enjoy the fruits of his labours.

Now - Langston's story was privately published and sold for one shilling a copy.  I've not been able to determine how many copies he managed to shift, or what the initial overheads might have been, but I doubt he made enough profit to pay for the costs of a major church restoration.  He might have raised a bit, but there are currently no indications that he had hit on a real moneyspinner.

More importantly, though, Langston published the first half of his story (entitled How Shakespeare's Skull was Stolen) in October 1879, when he was nowhere near Beoley.  He was based in Kent at the time.

In other words, FIVE YEARS before he published the second half of his story, describing the discovery of the "VERITABLE SKULL OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE" in the crypt at Beoley, he published the whole set up - the supposed theft of Shakespeare's skull from its Stratford grave and the failure of the conspirators to return it.

It's stretching credulity just a little to argue that Rev C.J. Langston only published his story to raise money for Beoley church when he published the first half of that story five years earlier, at a time when he was the rector of another parish in a totally different part of the country!

We might also note that at no point in his finished story does Rev Langston mention Beoley by name.  His story - detailed as it is - merely drops heavy hints.  And he avoided identifying himself as the author, describing himself simply as "A Warwickshire Man".

He had gone to an awful lot of trouble - both before and after he moved to Beoley - to weave an intricate and intriguing tale about the theft and discovery of Shakespeare's skull, but then neglected to name the church or the parish in which it was found or the fact that he was now the vicar of that church and desperately needed money to refurbish the place.  None of that was immediately apparent from his published pamphlet.

Is that the best way to raise money for your church?  And would the sale of some privately-printed pamphlets at one shilling each make much of a dent in the refurbishment bill?  Especially if you forgot to mention the name or location of the church or that you were the vicar?

The fact is, nothing points to the Stratford mob having considered Langston's remarkable story at all.  Ever.  They've never looked.  They told themselves, "Oh, he was just trying to raise some money for Beoley church", and left it at that.

Even though the likelihood that he raised much money is pretty small;

Even though he'd already published the first part of his story five years earlier, when he lived in another part of the country;

Even though he never mentioned Beoley in his story;

Even though it would have been - ooh, what's the word? - a little bit morally reprehensible to go around inventing stories about missing skulls turning up in your church just to raise a few quid.  Not really what we would expect of a pillar of the Victorian establishment.

No: the claim that Langston only told his story about Shakespeare's skull because he wanted to raise a bit of money is very lazy thinking.  It's yer typical "we're not prepared to consider or investigate this, so here's a pat and not very well-thought-out reason to believe that we're right and everyone else is wrong" fob off.  To which the only real response is: "Must try harder."

Meanwhile, plugging Who Killed William Shakespeare? on bestofstratforduponavon website, the local view of Shakespeare manages to poke through the blanket of obfuscation and denial imposed on it by outsiders (who consider themselves Shakespeareans).  I quote:

Born in Stratford upon Avon and considered to be one of the world's greatest writers there has long been hints of controversy and conspiracy surrounding the Bard's death.  Stirling's book sets out to answer some of these questions and perhaps offer a few different explanations!

That's from no press release that I know of.  The remarks are essentially those of the local community - the people of Stratford - who have always known that the standard accounts of Shakespeare's death don't stack up.

Happy Birthday, Will!

It's William Shakespeare's birthday.  Happy Birthday, Will!

Of course, there is an argument that we don't really know precisely when Will Shakespeare was born.  The register of Holy Trinity Church, Stratford-upon-Avon, reveals that Gulielmus filius Johannes Shakspere was baptised on 26 April 1564.  William son of John Shakespeare could have been born anything up to a week before his baptism - although it was customary to baptise a newborn child within three days of the birth.  And so 23 April is essentially an educated guess.

At the same time, we know that Will Shakespeare died on 23 April.  This information is given on his funerary monument in the chancel of Holy Trinity Church.  He was buried on 25 April, his gravestone giving no name or dates, only the infamous four-line "curse".  But the funerary monument - which was installed within a few years of his death - is specific.  He died on 23 April 1616 at the age of 53.

This still doesn't answer the question of when, exactly, was he born.  He might have died on his fifty-third birthday - or perhaps he was born on 22 April 1564, in which case we invariably celebrate his birthday on the wrong day.  Okay, so 23 April is also the feast day of St George, the patron saint of England, and it therefore makes a certain sense to celebrate the birth of England's national poet on the 23rd.  But still, there is no hard evidence that Will was actually born on 23 April 1564.

Or is there?  If Shakespeare died on his birthday - 23 April 1616 - and in the town where he was born (Stratford-upon-Avon), then he successfully replicated the fate of one of his characters.

The 'lean and hungry' Cassius is the driving force behind the assassination of Caesar in Will's Tragedy of Julius Caesar, the play which opened the new Globe Theatre on the south bank of the River Thames in the summer of 1599.  After the assassination of Julius Caesar, Cassius and his fellow conspirators are forced to flee the city of Rome.  Chased by an army led by the followers of Julius Caesar, the conspirators escape to Philippi in Macedonia, where the two sides prepare for battle.

Cassius was born in Philippi.  The climactic battle of the play takes place on his birthday, 'as this very day / Was Cassius born'.  He therefore prepares to die on his birthday, and in the place of his birth:

'This day I breathed first.  Time is come round,
And where I did begin, there shall I end.
My life is run his compass.'

Being chronically short-sighted, Cassius has difficulty keeping track of the battle.  When he believes, wrongly, that his friend has been taken captive, he turns to his slave Pindarus:

'Come hither, sirrah.  In Parthia did I take thee prisoner,
And then I swore thee, saving of thy life,
That whatsoever I did bid thee do
Thou shouldst attempt it.  Come now, keep thine oath.
Now be a freeman, and with his good sword
That ran through Caesar's bowels, search this bosom.
Stand not to answer.  Here, take thou the hilts,
And when my face is covered, as 'tis now,
Guide thou the sword.'

Cassius covers his face, and his slave Pindarus runs him through: 'So I am free, yet would not so have been / Durst I have done my will.'

Like Cassius, then, Will Shakespeare died on his birthday, and in the place where he was born.

Coincidence?  I think not.  And in the book I'm working on - Who Killed William Shakespeare? - I seek to prove that Shakespeare had his own 'slave', Pindarus, who did the dirty deed.  On Shakespeare's birthday.  And in the town where he was born.