In 1952, renovations took place in Cambridge in the part of Corpus Christi College where Marlowe had probably once stayed. Among other things, two oak panels were removed that a student wanted to use to build a Hi Fi shelf. When he discovered that they were painted, he took them to the librarian John Patrick Tuer Bury. A black-and-white photograph was sent to the National Portrait Gallery, but they were unable to provide any information about the person because it bore no resemblance to any known portrait. As the panels were in extremely poor condition, the college commissioned Holder & Sons to restore them. When the work was done, the painting went back to Corpus Christi College, where it has hung ever since.1
Anonymous: Portrait of a young man. 1585. Corpus Christi College. Cambridge (CC0)
The provenance of the pre-1952 portrait is unknown, as is the name of the painter and ultimately that of the model.
The image measures approximately 45.72 x 60.96 cm (18 x 24 inches). In its upper left corner is written "Ætatis suae 21 1585" (his age 21 1585). The details would be consistent with Marlowe’s data. He would have just done his BA at the time – a gratifying event, but certainly not of such dimensions that the son of a shoemaker could fall for the idea of having his portrait painted.
"But there were other young men in Cambridge of those years at that moment and the gilded youth who stares from the portrait does not look like a hard-up shoemaker’s son, still (normally) an aspirant for holy orders."2
In addition, the clothing is noticeable, which is far too precious for a craftsman’s son.
Of particular interest is the inscription underneath, "Quod me nutrit me destruit." (What nourishes me destroys me.) To date, neither a Greek nor a Latin source for it has been found. The search in English-language literature was equally unsuccessful. The Elizabethans, however, knew the motto "Quod me alit me extinguit." (What nourishes me extinguishes me.) Contemporary heraldic books associated it with the emblem showing an inverted burning torch. Monsignor di San Valiere, a Milanese who fought under François I at the Battle of Marignano in 1515, had this emblem on his standard.3 No mention is made of the inscription or motto in any of Marlowe’s works. In Shakespeare, on the other hand, we find two variations of the phrase.
"Thaisa: A burning torch that’s turned upside down;
The word, 'Quod me alit, me extinguit.'
Simonides: Which shows that beauty hath his power and will,
Which can as well inflame as it can kill."4
And in sonnet 73 it goes:
"In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, wereon it must expire,
Consum’d with that which it was nourish’d by."5
Corpus Christi College never claimed that their portrait would show Christopher Marlowe. It was Calvin Hoffman who, two years after the discovery of the painting, claimed to have recognised clear parallels between the Cambridge portrait and the engraving Martin Droeshout had made of William Shakespeare in 1623 for the First Folio edition. In order to support his theory of a Christopher Marlowe who had also written Shakespeare’s works, he therefore had to assume that the Cambridge portrait showed Marlowe.6 But there is no evidence to confirm this assumption. In 1585, Corpus Christ College had 111 students, of whom an estimated one-seventh celebrated their 21st birthday that year.7 Even if Marlowe had had the financial means, which may be doubted, considering that James Wheatley and Edward Elvyn had to sue for Marlowe’s outstanding payments in early 1589,8 there was no reason why he should have had his portrait painted or why the college should have commissioned such a painting. Marlowe’s career did not go as it was meant to for the holder of a Matthew Parker Scholarship from Corpus Christi. He was more of a warning example than an outstanding role model that should have been held up in front of future students. Nor did his social status permit a portrait. He was a scholarship holder from the working class who would never have dressed as luxuriously as the man shown in the picture, even if he had disregarded the dress codes laid down by law. Nevertheless, for over fifty years, it has been mainly the Cambridge portrait that has been propagated as the image of Christopher Marlowe. Although there has been opposition to this assumption in recent years,9 it continues to be supported. Scholars who strictly reject all of Calvin Hoffman’s other considerations cling to his thesis about this image because presumably no one wants to admit to themselves that: "[…] the only reason to identify this as a portrait of Marlowe, rather than of one of his schoolmates, is that it is Marlowe we want a portrait of."10 According to current knowledge, we must honestly confess: We have no idea what Christopher Marlowe looked like.
