Rejection letters are not pleasant to receive. Persistence doesn’t always pay off. On the other hand, maybe it does, even if not in the ways you might expect. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.

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Dear sir,

Thank you for your submission to the Journal of the American Historical Society. We are unable to accept your article for review at this time.

• Your submission fails to meet the minimum academic standards required to proceed with peer review.
• Your submission is not suitable for editorial review.

Please review the submission guidelines printed in each issue of the Journal and available on our website. We hope to hear from you again and thank you for your interest.

Sincerely,

Johnathan Krant

Editor-in-chief

Journal of the American Historical Society

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Dear sir,

We received your latest submission to the Journal of the American Historical Society. We remain unable to accept your article, “Pope Joan: The truth behind the female pope,” for review.

• Your submission fails to meet the minimum academic standards required to proceed with peer review.
• Your submission is not suitable for editorial review.
• No efforts have been made to correct defects noted after previous submissions.

We do not anticipate revisions making this article appropriate for publication in our Journal.

Please stop writing to us.

Sincerely,

Johnathan Krant

Editor-in-chief

Journal of the American Historical Society

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Dear Mr. Heartwick,

Congratulations.

With your latest submission, you have become the Journal of the American Historical Society’s most rejected author. In recognition of this supreme achievement, the editors have assigned their newest junior editor - which is to say, me - to respond personally to your latest in a long line of submissions.

I reviewed your submission in detail, and argued fiercely that we should publish it. Sadly, I must report that I was overruled, and your unbroken streak of rejections from our Journal continues. In the hopes that one day we might break through this logjam, I would like to point out a few technical errors.

Footnotes are a customary feature of published papers, but are a mixed blessing for the editorial staff. In the common event that we are unfamiliar with the referenced material, we may either track down the original to verify it or take the author’s word on faith. That is unnecessary with your submissions, and I congratulate you on finding a way to ease our burden. Including the original source material with your submission is a novel solution, in both senses of the word. The whole office comes to an awed halt when we receive one of your boxes.

Dealing with sensitive or fragile materials through the simple expedient of Xeroxing them shows an ability to cut through problems not seen since Alexander cut the Gordian Knot. Just as archaeologists learn about their subjects through the layers of dirt on their artifacts, so too can we learn by studying the layers of copy marks on each paper. I pray you do not discover Windex too soon, least you crush this new academic discipline while it is still in its cradle.

That just nibbles at the edges, picking crumbs from the giant loaf that is “Pope Joan: The truth behind the female pope.” If you had not submitted so many times, the title would suggest you have us confused with the Weekly World News.

By no means do I wish to imply that the research into Pope Joan is unworthy. The legend of the female pope has persisted for nearly a thousand years now, and reputable historians have investigated both the truth or falsity of the legends as well as the legends themselves. Not to imply in any way that you are not a reputable historian, of course.

John XX, the “missing pope,” is a common target. Officially the Popes jump from John XIX to John XXI, so conspiracy theorists have jumped on the idea that John XX has been erased from the official history to cover up the fact that he was a woman. David Blondel demolished that case back in 1650, showing a continuous line of popes - all male - and steering interested historians to study the legends themselves.

350 years is enough. I must stand with you on this one, and insist we revisit this long forgotten subject. We can dismiss Blondel by looking away from the false lead of John XX. Instead, you steer us to the 10th century pope, John XII, whose court was known for its worldliness and depravity.

History being what it is you are not the first to make this suggestion. Traditions of our discipline suggest we credit those who came before us. The 16th century historian, Onofrio Panvinio credits the court of John XII for the legend of Pope Joan. I am on your side in dismissing this mountebank. He took the entirely pedestrian view that one of John’s mistresses, Joan, held such sway in his court that she became known as Pope Joan. Not for us such humdrum theories, and neither should we credit those who would bog us down in the trivialities of mundanity.

Your theory, that Pope John XII was a man at the time of his election and punished by divine retribution for his debauchery by being turned into a woman, is certainly not mundane. Orthodox historians claim that John XII fled Rome when Emperor Otto I tried to depose him, but a sudden sex change is surely as good a reason to flee the city. A much cleaner story, and a far better explanation for his, or rather her, death at the hands of the mob of Rome when she finally gave birth.

Yours is truly a way to bring history to life and encourage the pursuit of learning in our school. Stories such as this could easily replace the dry, boring pursuit of names and dates that have truth as their sole virtue.

In other cases I might suggest submitting to more appropriate journals. For a paper dealing with the history of the papacy I might try the Catholic Historical Society, but I fear their interest in this paper is likely to be even more minimal than ours.

I close with the hope that you will continue persevering in the face of disapproval. Our lives would be all the poorer without you.

Yours,

Bernard Applekraw

Assoc. Editor

Journal of the American Historical Society

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Dear Mr. Heartwick,

It warms my heart to hear from you again. Did you know that I am now the only editor on the staff to have received a telegram? And not just one, but six in the last month? Your persistence is rivaled only by your resourcefulness.

You may rest assured that I am still alive and in good health. And yes, that I continue to review all of your submissions to our magazine.

Despite my most earnest exhortations, the Journal of the American Historical Society remains stuck in the hidebound traditions of scholarship and has not yet seen fit to publish your work.

Without any attempt to stifle your unquestioned creativity, I’d suggest that a little attention to the standards of academic publishing might pay dividends. Original evidence is always welcome in our journal, but strangely enough originality in evidence in not nearly so prized.

Pope John XII had a very decadent court and kept multiple mistresses. This has been established through contemporaneous documents. The details you add on 10th century sex clubs in the Vatican are imaginative but need more substantiation.

I am willing to accept your word that Miss Bernice Nussbaum, your neighbor’s cousin, is indeed a woman of upstanding virtue and propriety - her arrest record notwithstanding. Nonetheless, this journal can not accept her past life regression therapy as evidence.

Even if you include a tape recording of the session.

Another one.

Do you know how hard it is to even find cassette players any more?

Oh, and if Miss Nussbaum should ever find herself in New York City, I have several editors who would be most interested in meeting her.

Certainly the unconventional life and death of John XII deserve more than a conventional and lifeless retelling. The color your bring to the narrative overcomes many flaws. It would still make things easier on our editors if you recognized these departures and provided a source.

In 962, Pope John XII crowned Otto I Emperor of Rome in order to get his help driving Berengar II from the Papal States. You place that event in 960 without any fanfare. If there is a reason for the change, you should document it. If it’s a slip, correct it.

The oath you have Otto take is far more colorful than the one recorded in the Vatican Archives. I particularly like the part about, “And in the name of God I shall take no possession of lands or properties properly belonging to St. Peter or the Devil himself shall bugger me for all eternity.” It makes me wish the Pope still made rulers swear him oaths that we could hear an updated list of such punishments.

The legitimacy of that oath is only lessened slightly for being written on a cocktail napkin.

Otto’s campaign against Berengar was hugely successful. In the conventional telling it lasted just 15 months. Your version lasts 3 years due to the earlier coronation, but as you skip over any details of the campaign itself that proves inconsequential.

In both versions Otto’s success led John to fear his ambition. John XII allied himself to Berengar’s son Adalbart. Your version of John wooing Adalbert to his side is far more imaginative than the usual exchange of ambassadors and would likely do quite well as a novel on its own. It would require a paper wrapper around the cover on most newsstands.

Then in 963 Otto laid siege to Rome and John fled the city with Adalbert, only to return to reclaim the Papacy the following year.

The version of this story in your paper varies ever so subtly. As John betrayed Otto, he was punished by being turned into Joan, and that is why he - or, excuse me, she - had to flee Rome. She continued to seduce Adalbert, but at this point it becomes a literal seduction. It relies on the Vatican having a translated copy of the Kama Sutra.

While this makes for truly fascinating reading, your evidence comes largely from uncovered Masonic literature. I must point out that the Masons are an explicitly anti-Catholic organization. Your collection of 19th century pamphlets is astounding and a worthy collection on its own merits. However, they will not be accepted as actual proof. For comparison, picture a historian a century from now using one of Jack Chick’s tracts to show that role playing games led people to use magic.

A year after they returned to Rome, in 965, Pope John XII died without reaching an accommodation with Otto. Many historians already consider his death quite colorful. He died in the midst of an adulterous affair outside the limits of the city.

Your version follows the legends of Pope Joan more closely. You maintain John XII disguised herself as a man and continued her duties as Pope. At the same time she continued her seduction of Adalbart and became pregnant with his child. She delivered the child in public, and was torn apart by the mob when her ruse was discovered.

I am certain that our sales would increase were we to publish your version. The rest of the editorial staff is less certain.

Although I do not think this will have any effect, I would urge you to pursue a different path. If you clean up your grammar, you have a career ahead of you in publishing popular fiction. Dan Brown cannot hold a candle to you in revealing ancient Catholic conspiracies.

I truly hope to one day see your name on the best seller list so I can tell my friends how I helped you start this astonishing career. I only regret that I will no longer be the regular recipient of your updates.

Yours most sincerely,

Bernard Applekraw

Assoc. Editor

Journal of the American Historical Society

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Dear Mr. Heartwick,

I cannot express my joy that you have managed to track me down at my new employment. I will have to thank my old colleagues for providing you with my forwarding address. I am delighted to resume our correspondence. Indeed, I almost turned down this opportunity for fear of losing your weekly packages.

And I welcome your congratulations on my good fortune.

Or at least, I assume that’s the case once I got through the invective.

I am enclosing a copy of my article, “Anti-Catholic Conspiracies in 19th Century America,” for your perusal. Your kindly phrased supposition that you were the inspiration behind this article is in fact correct. I acknowledged that fact in the introduction and the footnotes. Least there be the slightest shred of doubt, let me acknowledge in writing that you, Mr. Heartwick, are in point of fact Mr. H.

But in no way do I intend to label you as a mere conspiracy theorist, Mr. Heartwick. Your amateur sleuthing that pierces to the heart of long forgotten mysteries puts you far beyond such simple labels. No, there is no insult or slur intended on you. Instead, you inspired my search into this field of American History. Any resemblance between your devoted pursuit of truth and the obsessive cranks described in my article is purely coincidental.

To the heart of the matter, then.

I did not list you as a co-author of my article because you were not. The Journal of the American Historical Society spells out the criteria for someone to be listed as an author, as does every other journal.

Your lack of academic credentials does not prevent you from being listed as an author. However, the fact that you were not a co-author does. Until I published, you did not even know this article existed. You provided neither writing nor research. You were, as I have acknowledged here and in the article, an inspiration. That is not the same as an author.

Take heart, please, and spare me your wrath. Your specialty is Medieval History, at least as it relates to miraculous sex changes of Popes. I would not dream of stepping on your toes within that field of research.

Any further communiques on this matter should be addressed to the University’s legal department, please.

Still yours most sincerely,

Bernard Applekraw

Asst. Professor

Dartjaw University

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Mr. Heartwick,

How I have missed hearing from you this past year. You have become as much a legend in the legal department as you are over here in History. I hope you will continue your correspondence with James Kilkelly, as I know he anticipates your letters every bit as much as I do.

I must admit I felt both surprise and dismay when I learned you changed your field of endeavor. Through these letters I’ve learned more than I’d once desired about the “bad popes” and, of course, conspiracy doctrine of the 19th century. Yes, I do indeed give you credit for launching me on this academic career path. It is thus with a combination of a heavy heart and joyful anticipation that I turn to your new… theory.

It was very tempting to send your letter - well, package really - to the Literature department. Alas, classicists such as us are no longer in vogue and the study of Shakespeare has dropped to a mere fraction of what it once was. So it falls to me once again, as it did when I worked at the Journal, to review your startling submission.

I trust we can keep it to one submission this time around.

Please.

Allow me to start my response with encouragement. You continue to surprise me.

When I saw you’d switched your research to Shakespeare I was expecting a hunt for his “true identity.” I knew better than to expect Edward de Vere, the 17th Earl of Oxford and far and away the most common target for those who do not believe William Shakespeare was the true Bard of Avon. No, I expected something much more exotic, all the way to a proof that Queen Elizabeth I herself wrote the plays. In fact, had you claimed the true author was Edmund Blackadder, I would not have been surprised.

And yet, despite all my preparation, you still surprised me.

Hamnet Shakespeare.

William Shakespeare’s son. His only son.

Died at age 11, in 1596.

Or so they say.

Now, a certain amount of consistency is expected and I am pleased to see you are single handedly keeping the copy machines of a dozen Kinko’s fully occupied. However, I can assure you that I already have my own copies of all of Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets. Were that not the case, I daresay a trip to the campus library could have easily remedied that situation. Or, indeed, a dozen keystrokes on my computer.

You may, in short, assume a minimal level of familiarity when it comes to sources that are not quite so obscure as those relating to Pope John XII.

The only conclusion I can draw is that I should see some great significance in the passages you’ve chosen to underline. Perhaps they differ in some great respect from those passages you highlighted. And the ones that are circled by coffee stains undoubtedly have the greatest import of all. Nevertheless I must confess my incapacity to solve the code thereby revealed.

Getting back to the actual argument, we have baptism records from Holy Trinity Church stating that twin children were born to William Shakespeare and his wife Anne. Hamnet and Judith Shakespeare, christened on February 2, 1585. Only this, if I follow you correctly, is an historical fraud.

Citing no less an authority on Church of England practice than Benjamin Franklin - an amazingly busy fellow, it seems - you show that the baptism certificate was forged, with the name of Judith added at a later date. Now let me credit Benjamin Franklin with being a prolific writer and a polymath who did indeed have a wide range of expertise. He was also a noted Freemason, providing a tenuous connection to your previous work.

Franklin’s authority on 16th century baptismal practices in England was one I had not previously suspected. The pamphlet you provide, Nefarious History, is clear on the subject. Ben Franklin’s gifts are on keen display, including the ability to use Times New Roman fonts and word processing kerning. I have not seen so clear a demonstration since Dan Rather revealed George Bush’s national guard records.

According to you, or rather, according to Ben Franklin, no one faked Hamnet’s birth. They faked Judith’s. Hamnet grew up to age 11, at which point he was… Of course. He was changed into a girl, and became Judith Shakespeare, and later Judith Quiney.

Mr. Heartwick, I wonder if you have considered the nature of your particular obsession?

Yours still,

Bernard Applekraw

Asst. Professor

Dartjaw University

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Dear Mr. Heartwick,

Your persistence is admirable, if puzzling.

Though I clearly do not agree with your flights of fancy, you do put considerable effort into them. And I am not unmindful of the fact that it was responding to your letters about Pope Joan that launched me on the academic career I have today.

In the spirit of gratitude I will critique your latest theories about Hamnet Shakespeare. Theoretically this would help you tighten your arguments for later publication, but you must be aware that will not happen. Not in any academic journal.

It is customary to provide an abstract for publication. This sets out the basic argument you will try to prove in the rest of the paper. With the regular jumps in both logic and subject, I had to read your whole paper to figure out exactly what you want to prove. Leaping subjects from the Order of the Garter to protestant martyrs to Twelfth Night is amusing, but makes for very confusing reading.

Without implying any form of agreement, allow me to summarize your argument. A knightly order, the Order of the Garter, was responsible for transforming Hamnet Shakespeare into a woman. They did this to pressure his father to make changes to the Henriad, the tetralogy of plays centered around Henry IV.

We immediately run into problems with time.

Hamnet died - or was transformed if we accept your version - in 1596. Richard II, the first play of the series, was written in 1595. Henry IV Part I was first performed in 1597, which means it was probably also written before 1596. Your argument relies on this conspiracy keeping the Henriad under wraps until they can force Shakespeare to make their changes.

This doesn’t seem a difficult change. Perhaps Shakespeare was working faster than they expected, or they only discovered the offending passages when they first saw Richard II. Your paper as written, though, assumes that they force all the changes before the first performance. You need to recognize the actual time lines.

The next problem revolves around the reason for the conspiracy, the character of Falstaff. I will admit to loving that character, but that’s a love I share with everyone else who has read or seen the plays. You insist the character was originally to be known as Oldcastle, and this is what the Order of the Garter wanted Shakespeare to change.

This is not a compelling theory for a conspiracy. The character was originally known as Oldcastle. Shakespeare changed the name to Falstaff some time well after the play was released. Richard James mentioned the name change in a letter in 1652. In the quarto text of Henry IV Part II, one of Falstaff’s speech prefixes was left uncorrected, “Old.” instead of “Fal.”

None of this is secret knowledge.

The original John Oldcastle was a famous protestant martyr who had prominent descendants in Shakespeare’s time. Most prominent among them was William Brook, 10th Baron of Cobham. He was a member of the Order of the Garter, I grant, but this was not a secret then or now. Baron Cobham quarreled publicly with Shakespeare, and had sufficient political influence to force him to change the character’s name. There was no reason he would have to resort to supernatural persuasion.

Despite your insinuation, I’m unaware of other such accusations against the Order of the Garter. Diabolic conspiracy in a knightly order usually focuses on the Templars, but I should know by now not expect the typical when dealing with you.

For instance, the Order of the Garter was founded on April 23 because that is Saint George’s Day, and he is the patron saint of their order. It has nothing to do with the anniversary of Pope John XII’s death.

There are only 365 days in the year. There will be events that fall on anniversaries without them being related.

That brings us to Twelfth Night.

You maintain that this play is Shakespeare’s attempt to tell us what happened to his son. When Viola disguises herself as Cesario, we are supposed to see that Judith is a disguise worn by Hamnet. When Viola casts off her disguise to marry Duke Orsino we are to infer that Hamnet truly became Judith when she married Thomas Quiney.

While you are not the first to find references to his children in the twins, your theory simply does not work. The play was written in 1601 or 1602, while Judith did not marry until 1616.

Even your metaphor doesn’t work, as it involves ignoring Viola’s twin brother Sebastian. While Viola thinks he is dead, he is not, and his reappearance in the play adds to the many mistaken identities that make it such a great comedy. However, it also destroys the message you believe he was trying to get across.

Even if we accept that all of these problems can be resolved, I am not entirely clear how this threat was supposed to work. The Order of the Garter could not have simply threatened to turn Shakespeare’s son into a girl, since you say they had done so. Presumably their threat was to duplicate their efforts on Shakespeare himself, but that would be an empty threat. A female Shakespeare would not be able to change his, or her, plays.

But that is already taking this theory further than I believe it deserves.

In years past I mentioned Dan Brown’s work, and will do so again. Mr. Heartwick, I encourage you to take these theories outside the realm of academic literature. I must be honest with you here, there is no chance these will ever be published in any scholarly journal. You may, however, do well enough writing popular fiction.

Heaven knows there’s an audience for it.

Yours,

Bernard Applekraw

Asst. Professor

Dartjaw University

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Dear Mr. Heartwick,

No.

I am not a member of the Order of the Garter. I am neither a Mason nor a Freemason.

I am a member of several historical societies, at least two of which are worldwide. Check my C.V., they’re all listed and I keep them up to date.

Ah, forgive me. I also belong to a Pub Quiz League and a Wine-of-the-Month club, neither of which I list publicly. I do not believe either of them qualifies as a secret society.

It is strange when I think about it, but at this point I have carried on a longer correspondence with you than with anyone else. The sheer volume of mail you have sent has kept the Post Office in business, but I have come to rely on that stream of input over the years. Our letters may not have achieved the same heights as, say, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkein’s exchanges, but over the years I have come to some affection for you.

So it is as a friend that I express my concern at the conspiratorial turn of your recent letters.

Please take a step back. There is no one hunting you for “getting too close to the truth.” I can assure you that no one has ever pressured me to avoid publishing your works. To be as blunt as I can, that was never under consideration. No pressure was needed.

I have encouraged you to publish your stories as fiction, but you have steadfastly resisted that idea. As you’ve never been able to publish in scholarly journals, and do not want to publish in popular ones, I’m at a loss to figure out why a conspiracy would be hunting you.

The idea that I am a member of these conspiracies is, I’m afraid, laughable. It should give you pause on its own face. I am hard pressed to influence my Dean, and virtually at a loss when it comes to influencing my students. The idea that I can influence world events on any level is, in all modesty, ridiculous.

I urge you again to reconsider your current path. Your references to being able to defend yourself are frankly frightening.

Take a vacation. I will still be here to receive your letters when you recover.

Your friend,

Bernard Applekraw

Assoc. Professor

Dartjaw University

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Dear Martin,

I do not know whether to laugh or cry.

When you stopped writing to me I hoped you were taking my advice and resting from your obsessions. That is not the case, as you still wring out tales of massive conspiracies. Connecting the Freemasons to the Knights Templar is indeed a feat worthy of the ages.

But even beyond that, I find your change in subject astonishing.

Just as we once passed from John XII to Hamnet Shakespeare, so now we pick a new subject.

Elvis.

Really.

I know, certainly, how many tales there have been that he faked his death. So many people could not want to accept that he was gone. I grew up hearing the stories from my mother and seeing them plastered on papers at the supermarket checkout lanes.

I cannot recall any of them making the claim that the King was transformed into a woman as part of a secret war between a religious and masonic conspiracy.

Congratulations.

It is hard to imagine anyone adding a new theory to the many that have swirled around him. But you managed.

I must admit I almost expected you to ignore the dates and decree that he is now Aretha Franklin. It would have been nicely poetic to turn the King of Rock and Roll into the Queen of Soul.

So I must admit that I am curious. This is the first time you’ve ever withheld a theory from me. Who do you think they turned Elvis into?

You drop hints of how important it is, the biggest secret you’ve uncovered yet. Then leave me hanging.

While I have never found your theories convincing, I have always read them. You do not need to build suspense. If you have something, tell it, and I’ll evaluate your theory, again, for the holes in it.

Until then, I will withhold judgment.

Yours,

Bernard Applekraw

Assoc. Professor

Dartjaw University

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Dear sirs,

I am writing to inquire if you have any information regarding the present whereabouts of one Mr. Martin Heartwick. He was a resident of this address as of six months ago. Did he leave any forwarding address or other means of contact?

I am a friend of his, and have some worries about his safety, which is the reason for this inquiry.

Thank you for any information,

Bernard Applekraw

Assoc. Professor

Dartjaw University

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My darling Monica,

I am so sorry you will not be able to join me next weekend, but I completely understand. A funeral does not make for a romantic date.

I hate to cancel our weekend getaway, but Martin Heartwick and I shared a long correspondence. While I never met the man, I consider him a friend and want to honor him at least this extent.

It’s hard to believe it’s been only three months since we met, I feel like I’ve known you forever. I certainly begrudge the time away from you, and cannot put in words how much it hurts to cancel our plans.

I wish you had known Martin too; and not just so we could be together that weekend. You share his love for historical conspiracy theories, although he lacked the sense of humor you have about them. I saved some of the material he has sent me over the years and hope to share it with you. I think you’ll like it.

If nothing else, I’m sure it will make you laugh. And that makes it worth it for me too.

I may have some stories to tell after it’s over, as I understand this will be an unusual ceremony. They never found Martin’s body after he disappeared, but that alone would never be enough to capture his eccentricities. I have been told that he had some specific requests for his burial. Without meaning to sound ghoulish, I am almost looking forward to it.

It’s a strange thing, but in some ways you remind me of him.

No, don’t laugh. It’s true.

In the good ways.

In all the years I corresponded with Martin, it was always by mail. Never a single email or even a phone call. You are the only other person I’ve ever met who still has that strange love for pen and paper. I hope you’ll forgive my phone calls over the weekend. If I must break our plans and be without your company, at least I can hear your voice as consolation.

I miss you already, and promise we will have our weekend getaway soon.

With all my love,

Bernie