Despite the sparkling verbal wit of his poetry, Andrew Marvell is a decidedly visual poet. Indeed, one of the distinguishing features of Marvell’s lyrics is their deep sensitivity to the visual, even painterly, elements of perception and representation. Regularly in his poetry, visual attributes mark ethical, psychological, or political stances. His poetry is distinguished by a remarkable responsiveness to the full range of the visual and plastic arts, from painting to sculpture and architecture. Architecture in particular seems to engross him because it allows him to explore the permutations of structure and design as he meditates on the formal aspects of his own poetic work. His poetry is obsessed by the ever-shifting distinction between the aesthetics implicit in nature, frequently articulated as if it were a self-conscious work of art, and the aesthetics of human creative effort. Marvell, moreover, is fascinated by the ways that art frames and enables apprehension. His profound insight into the contingent qualities of perception complicates any simple distinction between the products of nature and the artefacts of human design. The conventions of visual representation, he seems to say, are what enable us to see the design implicit in the order of the natural world. Most important, these conventions are also what enable us to imagine the world from perspectives other than our own. Tracking the various manifestations of the visual in Marvell’s poetry elucidates his singular accomplishments as a poet.

One of the great mysteries of English literary history is not “who wrote Shakespeare” but rather “why does the question continue to be asked so frequently, and fervently?” There are probably more conspiracy theories attached to the works historically identified with Shakespeare than to any other body of work in the English literary canon. It is easy for early modern scholars to get cranky about these various theories, particularly when so many notions are mired in snobbery or prejudice, and when there is indeed so little to back them up. We should try, though, to see the gamut of theories as a kind of accidental tribute to the miracle of these works. It is as if their authorship were so magical that it could never be explained by the life or experience of any single individual.

Doubts about Shakespeare's authorship emerge rather late, more than 200 years after his death in 1616. They are largely a product of class and educational snobbery, post-Romantic notions of poetic genius, and historical anachronism. Anti-Stratfordians, as those who doubt Shakespeare's authorship of Shakespeare's works are frequently called, are typically skeptical that a kid from the countryside who lacked a university education and an aristocratic upbringing could become England's most celebrated poet. They also assume anachronistically that the lack of documentation around Shakespeare compared to the typical manuscripts and annotated library of a post-Romantic writer is a sign of some conspiracy that needs to be addressed.