UC-NRLF B H SDD 3bD SHAKESPEARE - SECRET Edwin Bor-Mann iHa THE SHAKESPEARE-SECRET. THE Shakespeare-Secret BY EDWIN BORMANN. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY HARRY BRETT. ' ^ . , ^^:'v;'Jy \S:. LONDON TH. WOHLLEBEN. 45. GREAT RUSSELL STREET W. C. 1895. Printed by Fischer & Wittig, Leipzig. VIVENTIBUS ET POSTERIS SALUTEM. M 3911 CONTENTS. Page Translator's Preface XI Author's Preface XV I. THE HIGHEST POESY. 1. The great silence I 2. Poesy as a chief part of learning 4 3. The classification of poesy 4 4. Does dramatic -parabolic poesy really exist? y II. SHAKESPEARE'S 'THE TEMPEST' a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's Natural Philosophy. 1. Pretergenerations 9 2. The relationship to the other parts of 'The Great Instauration' 12 3. 'The Tempest' and 'The History of the Winds" 16 4. The summing-up of the foregoing 21 III. SHAKESPEARE'S 'HAMLET' a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's Anthropology. 1. 'A matter of the highest importance' 23 2. The spirit-scenes of the first act 24 3. The four sub-sections of the science of Anthropolog)' 47 4. The defects in medical science 56 5. Further Hamlet-Bacon-Similarities 75 6. Summary of that which has been found ■ . 85 IV. SHAKESPEARE'S 'KING LEAR' a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's doctrine concerning Negociating, Business. 1. The doctrine of Negociation a 'missing science' 94 2. Quotations from Francis Bacon's chapter on the doctrine of Negotiation, inten- ded to elucidate the contents 95 3. The first scenes in the tragedy of 'King Lear', with interpolation of quotations from Francis Bacon's chapter on the doctrine of Negotiation 97 4. The summing-up of the foregoing 121 — VIII — V. SHAKESPEARE'S COMEDY OF 'LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST' a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's doctrine of Light and Luminous Matter. „ rage 1. The wealth of light in the comedy 125 2. The concordance of ideas between the comedy and Bacon's science of light . 132 3. The summing-up I47 VI. THE BACON -PARABOLISM OF THE REMAINING SHAKESPEARE - DRAMAS. 1. The arrangement of the Folio-Edition of the Shakespeare-Dramas 149 2. The Bacon-Parables in the Shakespeare-Comedies and -Histories 152 3. The moral of the Shakespeare - Tragedies corresponds with Bacon's ethics as practice does with theory 175 VIL BACON'S 'HENRY THE SEVENTH' a Supplement to the Shakespeare-Histories. 1. The gap in the historical dramas 185 2. The concealed verse in 'The Historie of King Henry the Seventh' . . . 186 3. The theatrical allusions in 'The Historie of King Henry the Seventh' . . . 191 VIII. FRANCIS BACON AND 'WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'. 1. The life of Francis Bacon 195 2. The writings of Francis Bacon which bear his name 202 3. The anonymous and pseudonymic writings of Francis Bacon 207 4. The great anonymus between 1591 and 1598 211 5. The cessation of anonymity and the appearance of the poet-name 'William Shakespeare' 217 6. Shakespeare or Shakspere? 223 7. The issue of books of the Bacon-Shakespeare-Pcriod 227 8. Mutual hints at each other 229 A. Bacon hints at Shakespeare 229 9. Mutual hints at each other 234 B. Shakespeare hints at Bacon 234 10. The external features of the Shakespeare-Folio-Edition of 1623 239 11. Bacon's literary (Confidants: Rawley, Jonson and INIatthews 247 IX. POETISED SCIENCE. 1. A short Review of all hitherto discovered 256 2. The six Parts of the '(ireat Instauration of Sciences' 260 A Final Word . 266 A List of the Works chiefly referred to 274 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. I. PORTRAITS. Francis Bacon as a boy. After a coloured bust. Francis Bacon as a youth. After Milliard. Francis Bacon about the year 1618. After Van Somer. Francis Bacon. After Oliver. Francis Bacon. After Simon Pass. Francis Bacon. After Houbraken. Francis Bacon's Funeral Monument. Nicolas Bacon. After Van der Werff. Elizabeth, Queen of England. After Hilliard. Earl of Essex. Queen Elizabeth. James 1st. After Van Somer. Charles 1st as Prince of Wales. Charles 1st with Wife and Child. After D. My tens. Charles 1st. After Van Dyck. Buckingham. After Cornelius Jansen. Inigo Jones. After Van Dyck. Ben Jonson. After Oliver. Ben Jonson. After Vertue. The Player William Shakspere. After Droeshout. The Funeral Monument of William Shakspere. The Funeral Monument as printed on the title-page of the Shakespeare Society. 11. FACSIMILES OF HANDWRITINGS, TITLE-PAGES, SINGLE PAGES AND OTHER MATTERS. Letter from Francis Bacon. The five Signatures of William Shakspere. The Signature of Judith Shakspere. The Signatures of Queen Elizabeth, Francis Bacon, Ben Jonson, John Milton, Oliver Crom- well, Inigo Jones, John Locke and Moliere. Title-page to the ist Edition of Bacon's Essays. Title-page to the 2"^ Edition of Bacon's Wisdom of the Ancients. Title-page to Bacon's Instauratio magna. — X - Title-page to the !«' Edition of Bacon's History of Life and Death. Page 407 ot the same book. Title-page to Bacon's Sylva Sylvarum. Title-page to Bacon's History of the Winds. Title-page to the ist Edition of Bacon's Posthumous Works. Title-page to Bacon's History of Henry VII. Chief Title-page to the i^t Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Left side. Chief Title-page to the ist Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Right side. Tail-piece of the 2nd Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Title-page of the 2nd Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Title-page of the ist Volume of the Montagu Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Title-page of the ist Volume of the Spedding Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. Title-page of the ist Edition of the Taming of a Shrew. Title-page of the ist Edition of Romeo and Juliet. Title-page to the 2st Edition of Romeo and Juliet. Title-page to the 3rd Edition of Henry the Fifth. The left counterpart of the Title-page of the l^t Complete Edition of the Shakespeare-Dramas. Title-page to the ist Complete Edition of the Shakespeare-Dramas. Catalogue of the ist Complete Edition of the Shakespeare-Dramas. Final page of the Catalogue of the 2nd Complete Edition of the works of Paracelsus. Closing page of Hamlet in the i^t Complete Edition of the Shakespeare-Dramas. Closing page of the History of Life and Death in the ist Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. The tail-piece used for the Editions of Paracelsus, Shakespeare and Bacon. Original-Size. Title-page to the ist Edition of Idea Medicinae Philosophicae of Petrus Severinus Danus. Title-page to the ist Edition of the Work De Rerum Natura of Bernardinus Telesius. Title-page to the 2nd Complete Edition of the Works of Paracelsus. Ticket of Admission to a Masque at Gray's Inn. III. PLANS AND VIEWS. The western half of London at the time of Francis Bacon's birth (1561). The Tower and London-Bridge at the time of Bacon's birth (1561). Cambridge at the time when Bacon studied there (1575). Exterior of a London folks' theatre (the Globe). Interior of a London Theatre (The Swan). The Interior of Westminster-Hall. Gorhambury in 1568, in 1795, in 182 1. St. Michaels-Church near St. Alban's. BETWEEN P. 228 and P. 229. Table showing all the works issued during the liacon- Shakespeare -Period, viz. from 1591 ti 1627. Table showing tlic proportion of works published (from 1 591 to 1627) to the time at Bacon'i' disposal. Page 234 Bacon's family coat-of-arms. On the Title-page. Francis Bacon's bust-portrait after Van Somer. TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. ,HE Bacon-Shakespeare-Ouestion is now about forty years old. This notwithstanding, the problem as to who was the real luthor of the glorious dramas has never and nowhere been handled with such energy, patience and skill as are combined in Edwin Bormann's: The Shaicespeake-Secret. It is the very first time that this question has been taken up from the strictly scientific standpoint and dealt with in all its grandeur and loftiness. The investigation begins inductively, but soon proceeds to the comparison of whole works with whole works, of complete kinds of poesy with entire kinds of science and, after — for the very first time — laying the principal stress on the side of natural science, leads, as the result of this labour, to the proof of a general and indissoluble connexion between poetry and science and likewise to the solution of the question as to the authorship of the imperishable dramas. The proofs adduced are, in every individual instance, based on the best sources ; the quotations are given in both Latin and English. No reasoning being will think of objecting that the Germans have not the right to say their say in this important question when he learns that the two first Complete Editions of the Works of Francis Bacon were not published in England but in Germany, namely, the first one at Frankfort on the Maine in 1665 and the second at Leipzig in 1694. The third Complete Edition (which Spedding wrongly describes as the first) did not appear in London until 1730. Moreover, it is well-known across the Channel what great services German science and art have rendered to the Shakespeare-poems and that the German loves and venerates his adopted son, Shakespeare, as warml)- as his own children, Lessing, Goethe and Schiller. When Bormann's SiiAicESPE.aLRE-GEHEiMMss appeared in May of 1894 it raised a storm of excitement all over the civilized globe and especially in Germany and Austria. Joyful, vigorous assents on the one side — XII — were met with violent (and sometimes unmannerly) dissents on the other, and the latter, in the face of the fact that the whole work is written in the calmest style of sound logic and without any sign of hostility to the views which others may hold. How Bormann understands the way to meet and overthrow his adversaries (who have, of course, not been wanting) has just been shown in his Neue Shakespeare- Enthullungex , Heft II (Xr7v Shakespeare- Rcvclatiojis , Part II) , upon the personality of his greatest opponent in Germany, His Excellency CuNo Fischer, who claims to be the most thorough of all Bacon-authorities! Many of the most learned scientists, a large number of the first poets and authors, a majority of the most highly-prized periodicals of the day have given their unqualified adhesion to the results of Bormann's investigations, while some of the philologists of the age, who w^ould gladly say ,,as you were", are at their wit's end to know whether to speak now or ,,for ever after hold their peace". It is an absolute fact that Germany has been continually busying herself with the present question for the last year-and-a-half and that the Bacon-Shakespeare-Theory as handled by Bormann is daily gaining new and important adherents. Of these may be named : Dr. Richard Beck, Professor of Geology and Mineralogy, Freiberg in Saxony; A. Bing, Editor and Author, Francfort on the Maine; Prof Dr. Bloomfield, Balti- more; Victor Bliithgen, Poet and Author, Freienwalde on the Oder; Oscar Borcherdt, Stage-manager and Actor, Leipzig; Georg Botticher, Poet and Author, Leipzig ; E. Brausewetter, Editor and Author, Berlin ; Julius Bruck, M. D., Poet and Author, Leipzig; Conrad Burger, Editor and Author, Leipzig; Dr. G. Cantor, Professor of Mathematics, Halle on the Saale ; Otto Doederlein, Consul of the United States of North- America, Leipzig; Felix Dormann, Author, Berlin; Baurath Bruno Eelbo, Architect and Poet, Leipzig; Max Evers, Editor and Author, Leipzig, Richard Fleischer, Editor and Author, Wiesbaden ; Fedor Flinzer, Painter and Author, Leipzig; Arthur Gadebusch, Author, Leipzig; Eugen Grosser, Editor and Author, Berlin; Dr. Ernst Haeckel, Professor of Zoology, Jena; D. Hack, Poet and Author, Bedin ; Alban von Hahn, Author and Theatre-director, Leipzig; Alfred Hauschild, Editor and Architect, Dresden; Dr. Walther Hempel, Professor of Chemistry, Dresden; R.Hennig, Author, Leipzig; Dr. L. Huberti, Editor and Author, Leipzig; Dr. Ernst Kalkowsky, Professor of Geology and Mineralogy, Dresden; Prof Dr. Hermann Knothe, Historian, Dresden; Dr. Max Lange, Author and Publisher, Leipzig; W. Langenbruch, Sworn expert in handwriting and Editor, Berlin ; A. von der Linden, Author, Leipzig ; Dr. Julius Lohmeyer, Poet and Author, Charlottenburg ; Dr. William Marshall, Professor of Zoology, Leipzig (a great-grandson of the poet Robert Burns) ; Max Martersteig, Author and Theatre-director, Riga, Russia; Dr. Karl MiiUer, Editor and — XIII — Author, Halle on the Saalc; Wilhelm Miillcr, Editor and Author, New York; Retired-Captain August Niemann, Poet and Author, Hannover; Privy Government-Counsellor Platzmann, D. L., District-prefect, Leipzig; Court-Counsellor Dr. W. Preyer, Professor of Physiology, Wiesbaden ; Baron Rudolf von Prochazka, Author and Composer, Eger ; W. L. Rosen- berg, Author, Cincinnati; Prof. Dr. Ludwig Scharf, English Philologist, Vienna; Senator Schemmann, Hamburg; Robert Schilling, Manager of the International News Company, Leipzig; Karl Schneidt, Editor and Author, Berlin ; Dr. Julius Stinde, Poet and Author, Berlin ; Dr. C. Sturm- hoefel. Historian, Leipzig; District-Court-Counsel Dr. Uschner, Author, Oppeln; Dr. R. D. M. Verbeek, Director of Mining and Foundries, Java ; Actual Privy Counsellor, His Excellence Count Vitzthum von Eck- stadt, Dresden (died in October 1894), for many years Saxon Am- bassador to the Court of St. James; Privy Counsellor Prof. Dr. Vogel, Astronomer, Potsdam ; Dr. Robert Waldmiiller-Duboc, Poet and Author, Dresden ; Hanns Weber, Author, Vienna ; Privy Counsellor Prof. Dr. Her- mann Welcker, Anatomist and Anthropologist, Halle on the Saale. The following important periodicals have given favorable notices, namely : AUgemeine Zeitung, Munchen ; BibHographische Rundschau fur Theologen, Leipzig ; Breslauer Zeitung, Breslau; Biihnen-Genossenschaft, Berlin; Biihne und Leben, Berlin; Casseler Tageblatt, Cassel; Danziger Neueste Nachrichten, Danzig ; Das Kleine Journal, Berlin ; Der Stein der Weisen, Wien ; Deutsches Dichterheim, Wien; Deutsche Revue, Stutt- gart; Die Kritik, Berlin; Djelo (a Servian periodical); Echo, Berlin; Frankischer Kurier, Niirnberg ; Generalanzeiger, Leipzig ; Die Grenzboten, Leipzig; Hallesche Zeitung, Halle on the Saale; Hamburger Nachrichten, Hamburg; Die Handschrift, Berlin; Handels-Akademie, Leipzig; Hol- landsche lUustratie, Amsterdam ; Illustrirte Welt, Stuttgart ; Kolner Tage- blatt, Cologne on the Rhine; Kolner Volkszeitung, Cologne on the Rhine; Kunst-Chronik, Munchen; Leipziger Neueste Nachrichten, Leipzig ; Leip- ziger Tageblatt, Leipzig; Litterarischer Courier, Wiirzburg; Nachrichten aus dem Buchhandel, Leipzig; Natur, Halle on the Saale; New Yorker Staatszeitung, New York; Rigaer Zeitung ftir Stadt und Land, Riga; Schlesische Volkszeitung, Breslau; Schlesische Zeitung, Breslau; St. Peters- burger Zeitung, St. Petersburg ; Universum, Dresden ; Von Haus zu Haus, Leipzig ; Weimarische Zeitung, Weimar ; Wiener Fremdenblatt, Vienna ; Wiesbadener Tageblatt, Wiesbaden ; Wochenschrift fur dramatische Kunst, Francfort on the Maine; besides many others. Those who have not hitherto met with the name of Edwix Borm.vxx in connexion with literature may accept the writer's assurance that Bormann is just the man for such a task. He is a poet of renown, a naturalist, a philologist, a philosopher, and combines a keen sense of humour with sound, dispassionate logic, while his industry and patience — XIV — are untiring, so that he embodies all the qualities necessary to the writing of such a work as that now submitted to the English- speaking pubUc. This Shakespeare -Secret is not a work to be read and dealt with in an off-hand manner. Whosoever proposes to discuss it critically must make up his mind to go over the same ground as our -talented friend, Bormann. And let not such would-be critic ima- gine that Bormann's investigations have been limited to that which is disclosed in the present work. The field which he has explored up till now has already given (in German) The Bacon -Shakespeare Anec- dote-Treasure and two parts of New Shakespeare Revelations — with more to follow. The translator's labours have not been confined to the simple reduction of the original into EngUsh. Besides constant reference to the Tauchnitz - Edition of The Works of WilHam Shakespeare , to the German version thereof by Von Schlegel & Tieck (Deutsche Verlags- Anstalt, Stuttgart), The Shakespeare -Lexicon by Alexander Schmidt, L. L. D. (Georg Reimer, Berlin), and Bartlett's Concordance to Shake- speare (Macmillan & Co., London), he has had liberty of access to all the works alluded to by the author. The present writer (a free-born citizen of London) has already been reproached with want of patriotism for helping to cast down "our great national poet" from his high pedestal. The reproach is by no means justified ! One does not hesitate to deprive a man of that which he has not come fairly by and, as for the old saw: De morhiis nil nisi bene, were it really observed, then — farewell to all history ! We are here confronted with a scientific question which demands a scientific answer. The question, is as to whether it is possible that a man of (practically speaking) no education could have written such profound truths , shown such universal knowledge and have couched these in language that breathes the very highest poesy in every line. The answer thereto is given in the present work. If Edwin Bormann has put down the false god (whom Bacon himself set up) from the high pedestal on which he has stood for three centuries, we are offered more than ample compensation and consolation for the (apparent) iconoclasm, inasmuch as a far greater man , one of the most profound and poetical thinkers and writers of all ages — and still a true-born Englishman — is made to fill the vacant place. The translation has, indeed, been A Labour of Love, — may it not prove to be Love's Labour ('s) lost! HARRY BRETT. AUTHOR'S PREFACE. jHEN reading the imperishable Shakespeare -Dramas the majority of educated people have at all times felt themselves confronted with what seemed to be an inconsistency. By that is meant the apparent want of equality between the depth , wealth and variety of the thoughts contained in this poesy and the personality of him who is supposed to have created it. The tragedy of Havilrt, which, according to the judgment of all competent authorities, stands close alongside of the Faust of our Goethe, the mighty paintings of the workings of the souls of a Lear, an Othello^ a Macbeth, the sturdy Roman characters in the tragedies of Coriolanus and Julius Caesar, the powerful poesy of the ten Histories of the Enghsh Kings and the richness of the humour, wit and charm contained in the Comedies are put forward as having flowed from the pen of a stage-player of whose grade of educational attainments nothing has, as yet, been elicited except that they were, in all probability, of a very limited nature. And, as a matter of fact, numerous writings have appeared during the last thirty to forty years, the aim of which was to strive to prove that it was not the stage -player William Shakspere who wrote the dramas, but Sir Francis Bacon, afterwards Baron Verulam and even- tually Viscount St. Albans, whilom Lord Chancellor of England, the learned searcher into nature, the philosopher, the historian and lawyer, who was the real author thereof. The present work has also for purpose to ventilate the question of the authorship of the dramas, but from quite another standpoint to that taken up by anything that has appeared before it. The preceding works present only isolated and disconnected evidence and endeavour to con- struct their proofs of the authorship out of a mosaic of unconnected thoughts. — XVI — The present investigation, like those that were made before it, starts inductively from isolated facts, but it proceeds to the comparing of whole works with whole works, of whole branches of poesy with whole branches of science, and arrives, after — for the first time — directing the whole weight of the enquiry to the natural -philosophical side of the question, to the final conclusion that a general and indissoluble con- nexion exists between poems and science and, consequently, claims to have solved the problem concerning the authorship of the dramas. The nature of this work necessitates frequent quotation. A short explanation as to the manner in which such is done will suffice to make the matter clear. — The major part of the quotations is taken from the Folio -Editions of Shakespeare (1623) and of Bacon (1665). The remaining portion thereof is taken from the oldest editions at my disposal. Only in very rare instances has recourse been had to modern editions. It was necessary to quote the Latin, because the original language is alone that which can be regarded as authoritative evidence. The English translation thereof is given with each quo- tation for two particular reasons, namely (i) in order to leave no room for doubt in any single instance and (2) for the purpose of rendering the book convenient and intelligible to a larger circle of readers. All quotations and titles of books referred to are printed in italics. LEIPZIG. EDWIN BORMANN. I. THE HIGHEST POESY. 1 I. THE GREAT SILENCE. lOEVER to-day thinks back to the time of Queen Elizabeth and of King James the First of England finds himself in- voluntarily reminded of om-: name, that of the universally be- loved poet, William Shakespeare. It was not so two hundred years ago. Whoever might have desired in the year 1694 (therefore only seventy to one hundred years after Elizabeth, James and Shakespeare) to know who was Englands greatest genius of yon period, would have been unanimously greeted with another name, viz. — that of the much- admired philosopher, Francis Bacon. The fame of the dramatist had faded within a few decades, for Puritanism had fought against the vanities of life and suppressed all theatrical performances for a while. Shakespeare had to be rediscoveked in the eighteenth century. During all this time, however, the star of the philosopher was in- creasing in brilliancy. Just as nowadays the poesy of William Shake- speare is being printed again and again and is translated into almost every civilized language, so were the writings of Francis Bacon then treated. They were printed in Latin and EngUsh and also, partly, in French and Italian. Separate issues appeared not only in London and Oxford, but also in Paris, Amsterdam, Leiden, Strassburg and Venice. And the honour of issuing the first complete edition of the great English- man's works belongs not to his native land but to Germany. It appeared in the year 1665 in Latin under the title Francisci Baconi Opera Omnia and was printed and published at Frankfort on the Maine. I It was Francis Bacon himself who, in the evening of his active Ufe, edited all his works in single volumes of different forms or, at the least, prepared them for publication. These were, in part, writings that had al- ready appeared, and which had been materially enlarged and revised, and, partly, entirely new works. They appeared in rapid succession between 1620 and 1627, whereas their author closed his eyes for ever in 1626. It was otherwise with regard to William Shakespeare. He would not (or could not) provide for an edition of his works in his latter days. About the year 16 10 he had retired from London to his native town, Stratford-on-Avon, and died and was buried there in 1616, far removed from all literary life. But, at the same time as Francis Bacon handed over to the printers in completed form all that he had written, namely seven years after the death of -the StiTatford: player, there appeared (Hkewise in London) a complete editioji of William Shakespeare's Dramas. Exactly in the same manner ae Ibe? whoie of Bacon's writings show many revisions and numerous amplifications of the earlier separate issues, so was it the case with this edition. A number of works are entirely rewritten: a number of others were brought to light for the first time. The editors were, according to the dedication and the preface, two players, namely Hemixge and CoKDELL, former colleagues of William Shakespeare. But whoever places the Novum Organum (1620) and the Encyclo- pedy De Augmcutis Scientiarum (1623) of Francis Bacon side by side with Mr. William SJiakespeares Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies (1623) must certainly regard them as kindred works, inasmuch as all three appeared in the same stately folio-form. Since that time industrious scholars have collected whatever emanated from the pens of Bacon and of Shakespeare. Shakespeare-editions have become legion and the newest edition of the complete works of Francis Bacon, issued by Spedding, Ellis and Heath (London in 1857 — 1872), contained in 14 volumes with 8000 pages, presents all that which the editors assume to have been written by Bacon. Francis Bacon and William Shakespeare undoubtedly represent the pinnacles of the English mental culture of the i6th and 17th centuries. Both were of about the same age. Bacon having been born in 1561 and Shakespeare in i 564. Both lived for decades in the same city, to wit in London. The one represents the highest stadium of science, the other the perfection of the poetic art of his countrymen. Does it therefore not seem almost miraculous that we should know absolutely nothing whatever of a personal intercourse or of a written correspondence between them and that neither, even by one single syllable, makes mention of the other in his writings.? — 3 — Shakespeare wrote dramas, some of which are laid in far-off lands and in far-off times, — but Bacon! lie wrote an ICncyclopedy of the Sciences ; he wrote Essays ; he wrote about the art of paraboHc poesy ; he repeatedly used the warmest and most intellectual terms in praise of the poetic-art, more particularly of dramatic verse. He borrowed his similes by preference from the stage-world ; he left behind him dozens of unfinished works and treatises , voluminous memorandum- books and hundreds of letters , and , this notwithstanding , never and nowhere did he mention his compatriot and contemporary William Shakespeare. Did Bacon not know or, knowing, not appreciate him } Spedding, the editor of the latest complete edition, is disposed to assume the former. But , let us consider the position ! When Francis Bacon was a young man all London was in a state of enthusiasm in consequence of the plays relating to the history of the English dynasty which were being performed in the capital, while about the year 1600 all London was convulsed by the merry comedies of William Shakespeare. When Bacon became Counsellor to Queen Elizabeth and , later on, Counsellor, Solicitor-General, then Lord-Keeper of the Great Seal and, finally. Lord High Chancellor under King James the First, the tragedies and comedies of W'illiam Shakespeare were performed before the court uninterruptedly and often in quick sequence. Politics likewise came into close connection with the name of Shakespeare. One afternoon in the year 1601, before the Essex-riot took place, the history of the dethronement of Richard the Second was purposely performed , in order to excite the populace. The Queen was furious and all London discussed the question. And we are asked to believe that Bacon had never heard of this William Shakespeare >. (!) A further point ! Besides two epic poems and the sonnets, there appeared a number of separate dramas during the years 1590 to 1622. In 1623 the folio-edition, with 36 plays, appeared. Bacon was a man who read much, one for whom nothing was too unimportant, and this man is assumed to have read nothing emanating from William Shakespeare.? Furthermore! Francis Bacon was intimately associated with a man who stood in close connexion with the theatre, with one who certainly knew all about the Shakespeare- dramas, with one who had written a glowing prefatory poem to the Shakespeare-Folio-Edition of the year 1623 : he was on terms of close friendship with a man who was the next-greate.st dramatist of England, namely Ben Jonson. It was not only that he associated with him. For five years Ben Jonson, the dramatist, had resided at Francis Bacon's house. And we are asked to beUeve that Francis Bacon had never seen, never read, never even heard of any of the works of W^illiam Shakespeare, — the greatest of all dramatists } Such an assumption verges on the impossible. The inference must therefore be that some other reason existed to account for the fact that the name of William Shakespeare is never mentioned. What inference is more logical than to attribute the fact to an Ixtentionajl Silence.? And, inasmuch as this silence is of so profound a character that it even applies to the most intimate letters of Bacon, one cannot assume other- wise than that the reason for this silence was a very deep-seated and earnest one. Let us note what Bacon says in respect of poesy! We find it in the second book of his great Encyclopedy Dc ^iiigiiicutis Scioitianiiii {Adva}icciiic)it of Learning). 2. POESY AS A CHIEF PART OF LEARNING. Bacon divides science into three principal sections, namely: (i) de- scriptive science, (2) meditative or poetic science and (3) exploratory science. These he calls : History, Poesy and PhilosopJiy. The first (in the widest sense of natural- and of human-history) is the Science of Memory; the second is the Science of Imagi- nation; the third is the Science of Reason; (Ilistoria ad Mniioriain refertnr, Poe'sis ad P/ianfasian/, PJiilosophia ad Rationein.) History simply examines into the impressions which the mind has gathered; Poesy imitates them in the play of the imagination; Philosophy arranges them into correct combinations and divisions. Poesy is therefore , according to Bacon's conclusions , a principal section of science. But such poesy is not to be considered in the sense in which it is now usually understood. Poesy, as laid down by Bacon, may be regarded in a dual sense, namely with regard to the Words and with regard to the Matter. With regard to the Words it is a form of speech, and therefore to be treated of in that branch of philosophy which deals with rhetoric. With regard to Matter, however, poesy \^ feigned history and belongs, as such, to the second part of collective science. (Per Poe'siin anteni , hoe loeo intelliginnis non aliud, quani historiain eonfetam, sive fahilas.) Form in such case is of secondary moment , because true history may be written in verse und feigned history in prose. 3. THE CLASSIFICATION OF POESY. Poesy, the science of reconstructive imagination, has consequently the same classification as that which Bacon gives to history as the science of memory , namely: Xatii rat and human history, (Natnralis, — 5 — aw/is J and the sub-sections thereof. Moreover, it must be classified according to its inmost character into narrative, dramatic and parabolic poesy, (Narrativa, Draiiiatica , Parabolica). Narrative poesy is simply an imitation of history, differing therefrom only in so far that it en- hances facts. Dramatic poesy is, as it were, liistory made visible. (Draiiiatica est veluti hisloria Spectabilis). It represents actions as if they were present {nam const itiiit imaoinem rerum tanqiiam praeseMtmm, historia autem taiujiiam praeteritanim). Parabolic or allegorical poesy, the third section, is the poesy of emblems or symbols. It is typical history; by ivhich ideas tliat are objects of the intellect are represented in forms ' Unit are objects of the sense. (Parabolica vera est historia cum i\po ijiiae Intellectnalia dediicit ad sensum). Narrative or historical poesy represents things as being more per- fect and of more beautiful diversity than they really are to be found anywhere in nature. As the actual facts and actions are not impressive enough to satisfy the feelings of mankind , poesy interposes in order to represent the facts in more heroic form, to distribute good or ill fortune more in accordance with merit or demerit, (poetical justice) and, in cases where the true facts would fatigue by repetition and similarity, rapid or unexpected changes are employed in order to refresh the mind. It leads us by this means not only to pleasure but also to largehearted- ness and morality. And it has in this respect something of the divine, inasmuch as it subjects matter to the desire of the mind instead of causing the mind to bow under the weight of matter. Dramatic poesy, as having the theatre for its world, can have great influence on public morals. (Dramatica autem Poesis, (juae Theatrum /label pro niundo , nsu eximia est. si sana foret). Learned men and great philosophers have regarded it as a sort of plectrum or jack, wherewith to play on the feelings of mankind, (animorum plectrum), because the feelings are much more accessible to impressions and humours when many are assembled together than when one is alone. Parabolic poesy is of a higher character than the other two kinds. It serves as an illustration and as an infoldment, (ad Illustrationem, ad Involucrnm), and is therefore a method of teaching and an artifice for concealment. ( Docendi Ratio, Occulta ndi Artificinvi). It was much used in early days as a means of enlightenment, for instance, by Mene- nius Agrippa in the fable of the revolt of the other parts of the body against the stomach. The other kind of parabohc poesy, that of con- cealment , shows the secrets of religion , of politics and of philosophy under the veil of fable or parable. It is Bacon's conviction that much of this concealment-poesy lays hidden in the old parables and he says further: // is to be desired that this important class of poesy should be more cultivated in future. He concludes this section with the follow- — 6 — ing praise of poesy: for brhig as a plant which comes from the hist of the earth without a formal seed, it has sprung up and spread abroad more than any other kind of learning. (Quin potius cum planta sit Poesis, quae veluti a terra luxtiriante, absque certo semine, germinaverit, supra ceteras doctrinas excrevit, et diffusa est.) These are all clear, appropriate and poetically-fine words concern- ing poesy. One point strikes us on close examination Bacon places narrative, dramatic and parabolic poesy side by side. But parabolic poesy can under no circumstances be placed alongside of narrative and dramatic poesy. The conception thereof must be gained from an entirely different point of view. It must stand either auove or below narrative or dramatic poesy ; never on the same level. Narrative poesy excludes dramatic poesy and vice-versa. Not so is it with parabolic poesy, for can not parabolic poesy, the poesy of scientific enlightenment and con- cealment, represent the bygone as well as the present i. e. be narra- tive or dramatic? It is even necessary that it should be either the one or the other. To put it tersely, parabolic poesy may again be subdivided into narrative-paraboHc and into dramatic-parabolic poesy. But if Bacon classes the paraboUc above the non-parabolic, if he places the dramatic above the narrative, he must of necessity recognise as the highest class of poesy that which is at the same time both para- bolic and dramatic. According to this view, therefore, the highest kind of poesy is the dramatic-parabolic; it is that which, in veiled form, discloses to the spectator the secrets of science. Bacon, in order to give an example of that which he has in mind, introduces three of his own fables into his Encyclopedy, describing, them as Examples of PJiilosophy according to the Fables of the A)icients, (Exempla Philosophiae secundum Parabolas Antiquas). Whereas he had previously called poesy feigned history (Ilistoria ad Placitum conficta) we learn through these fables that feigned philosophy can also exist. In short, one sees that this second section is decidedly not a sharply defined chief-division because it can, on the contrary, spread itself over all other sciences, as if it were brought forth by the volup- tuousness of the earth. These parables are : Of the Universe, according to the Fahlc of Pan. A natural philosophical parable. Of War, according to tJir story of Perseus. A political parable. O/ Desire , according to the Fable of Dionysus. A moral-phik)- sophical [^arable. Neither of them is in dramatic form. But, as soon as Bacon has finished with the third parable, he says: Hit I wr stay loo long in the Theatre (Verum in llieatro nimis din moramur). This serves as proof of the correctness of the inference drawn , namely that dramatic- parabolic poesy is what Bacon regarded as being that of the highest class , but it is evident that he again expressed this thought in veiled language. In his Encyclopedy he thus leaves the llicalrr for the Palace of tlir Mind, i. e. he begins the consideration of the third principal science, that of Philosojihy, taking leave of i)oesy in the following words: Poesv is as a drcaiii of learning ( Poe'sis antein iloefri//ae tanqiia)ii soiiininin). Shortly summed up : The highest poesy is dramatic-parabolic poesy which, in the theatre, presents to eyes and feelings the science of history and of philosophy in exalted and enhanced form, confining itself to the main features and nevertheless veiling the same as it were in a dream. 4. DOES DRAMATIC -PARABOLIC POESY REALLY EXIST ? But where (it may be asked) is this highest class of poesy to be found } Has dramatic-parabolic poesy ever been composed or performed } Well, in the selfsame year in which Bacon's Folio-Edition of the Encyclopedy was published the Folio -Edition of the Dramas of William Shakespeare appeared. One would be disposed to imagine that if such a poetical work by axy dramatist , and especially one of Bacon's time, was forthcoming, it would be found to emanate from him who was at the same time the most many-sided and the greatest. William Shake- speare's Folio -Edition contains comedies of the most varied nature, the histories of the English kings and tragedies, the plots of which are laid among the most unlike races and at the most divergent periods. It contains the serious , the merry , the burlesque and the parody but — does it also contain dramatic -parabolic poesy .^ The pubHshers of the Foho- Edition have made the answering of this question a very easy matter. The book contains in all 36 plays. It begins with the comedy of The Tempest, and ends with the tra- gedy of Cymbeline. One need not search long! The very first of the plays, The Tempest, shows most striking accordance with the first of Bacon's parables. The principal figure in the comedy is Prospero , the banished Duke of Millaine, who lives as a powerful magician with his daughter, Miranda, on a desert isle in the ocean. All that is said by Bacon about Pan is actuall}' and literall\- traceable in Shakespeare's Prospero. Pa)i represents and denotes tJie Universe, or the All of Things. Prospero is a mighty magician , thoroughh- experienced in all things that concern nature. Pan is covered ivitJi hair ; and Pan's Jiair is especially long in tlie heard. — Even to the present day Prospero appears on the stage with long waving hair and beard. Pan, as symbol of his dignity as ruler, bears a S//eepIiooic; Pro- spero a magic - staff. Pan has a cloak or mantle; Prospero a Alagiciz garni ent , Ma- gicke robes. Pan is the god of Jinnters ; Prospero hunts on the stage. Pan catches the Typhoon; Prospero has brought the winds under his control. Pan is the master of ninsic ; Prospero and Ariel, his bright, assistant air- spirit, fill Prospero's isle with sounds and music of all kinds. Pan plays on the pipe of seven reeds ; Prospero's servant Ariel entices with drum and pipe. In the parable music restrains and reduces to sobriety; in the comedy music entices the drunken Stephano, Trinculo and Caliban, until they again become sobered by their difficult tramp through swamps and hedges. Pan is moreover, according to Bacon's parable, tiie god of all dwellers in the country; Prospero causes the reapers to hold a dance. Pan is the conunander and dui^e (dux) of the dancing nymphs; Prospero is a banished duke (dux, Duice , of Millaine) by whose commands the nymphs dance. Satyr and Silenus stand in relation to Pan ; Stephano and Trinculo are the thirsty -souled side -pieces in the comedy. Pan suddenly arouses panic terrors ; Prospero arouses the horrors of the storm. Ceres plays a part in the parable of Pan ; Ceres appears in the festival which is interwoven into The Tempest. Pan has but one child, (7vhich is a nmrvel — quod mirtint est — adds Bacon,) a daughter lainbe ; Prospero has also only one child, likewise a daughter, Miranda ((jne to be admired). Thus far the Pan-Parable. The wealth of accordance with the Prospero -Comedy seems to indicate that, whereas J'an is a parable in narrative-form TJie Tempest is a dramatic parable. In order to test the correctness of this inference it is necessary to examine whether ox not points of concordance may be found be- tween the poesy of the comedy and the scientific prose -writings of that period. What is more logical than to compare the manifold scientific writings of Francis Bacon with William Shakespeare's 7he Tempest in order to ascertain whether, in addition to the Pan-parable, one or more of Bacon's other works bear anv relation thereto.? II. SHAKESPEAEES 'THE TEMPEST' a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's Natural Philosophy. I. PRETERGENERATIONS. ^^RANCIS Bacon's scientific work of a life-time TJic Great Iiistaii- |, ration of Sciniccs (Alagria Iiisiauratio Scientiartim) was intended to comprise six parts. The first was to be the Encyclopedy Dc Augiiicutis Scientiariiiu , the second the New Organon (Logic), the third the Natural History. With the fourth and fifth parts, which were to be devoted to the Interpretation of A^atiire the transition to the sixth part of the whole, to Philosophy proper, was to have been effected. The first part is, as we already know, complete; it appeared in 1623. The second part, half complete and with notes indicating the form of further progression, had already appeared in 1620 under the title A^07'h;// Organ nw (the Neii^ Organon). The third part, Natural History, was intended to comprise a number of individual dissertations. The first of these appeared in 1622, the second in 1623, and in 1627, a year after Bacon's death, a stately volume of looo natural-history- aphorisms, entitled Sylva Syharuiii (the ]Vood of ]Voods). Of the proposed contents of parts four, five and six only traces or notes are to be found in Bacon's writings. The Encyclopedy of the Sciences had already appeared in 1605, at that time in English, under the title : The Twoo Bookes of Francis Bacon of the Proficience and Adva)icevicnt of Learning Divine and Humane. To the King. The work was dedicated to James the First who had ascended the English throne two years before. A second edition appeared eighteen years later, in 1623. It was enlarged to double the size and written in Latin. Its title runs: Francisci Barofiis de Veritlamio, ]^iee-Coniitis Sancti ^ilhani J)e Dignitate et Angmeiitis Scientiarinn Libri IX. Ad Regein Suinn. (Xine hooks on the 1 )ignity and ^Idvanee- mcnt of Learning hx Francis Baron of Verulani, Viscotmt of St. Albans. To the King.) This review, written with wonderful clearness and elo- quence, forms the first part of The Great Instanration. It is a review of the sciences as known to Bacon's age which gives a prospect of the sciences of the future. When d'Alembert, the Frenchman, more than a century later, issued his Encyclopedic, he wrote an introduction which showed that his work was entirely based on Bacon's system. Whereas the latest, Spedding's, Complete Edition gives the Encyclo- pedy, De Aiigmcntis Scientiarum, the second place, namely that after The Ne7v Organon, the Frankfort Edition of the Opera Omnia begins with De Aiigmcntis, which is entirely in accord with Bacon's intentions. The sciences of his age are shortly characterized in the work, whereas the sciences of the future are dealt with far more in detail, especially those in which the human mind has to break new ground in order to expand and to advance the general good of humanity. The short, but weighty table which forms the close of the book furnishes evidence of the fact that in the opinion of the author thereof this De Augmentis held, in importance, the first place. The heading to this table is : A^ovus Orbis Scicnfianim, sive Desiderata ( The Avtc IVorld of Sciences , or Desiderata). Bacon names, as entitled to the first place, that which he finds wanting and desires to see remedied, namely the Errores A^atnrae. sIt'c Historia praetergenerationum. ( The Errors of Nature, or the History of Praefergenerations.) The second book deals with the Natural History (Historia) of these intermediate forms; the third book treats of the Natural Science connected therewith (Interpretatio). Bacon therein discusses the three conditions of nature, viz. The Freedom of Nature, the Errors of Nature, the Bonds of Nattirc (Libertas, Errores. J Incula Naturae). In Natural History he consequently deals with the kinds, the intermediate forms (Mo)istra) and the arts (Historia Generationum. Praetergenerationum, et Artium). Where nature has freedom of motion it appears to us in the form of species or kinds ; where it is restricted and influenced by natural causes it appears to us in u/onstra or inter- mediate forms ; lastly, where mankind interposes with his help and art, it appears to us as nature in bonds. It is with the second kind that we have specially to occupy ourselves at this point, namely with erring nature, with nature diverted from her accustomed channels by external natural influences, with the nature of intermediate forms (Praetergenera- tiones, Monstra) in the broadest sense of these terms, consequenth- of bastards, cross-breeds, varieties, abortions and monstrosities. The third book of the Encyclopedy names examples of such intermediate forms. Bacon calls moss an intermediate form between corruption and plant. Fishes (such as barnacles) which are attached to a given spot, he calls intermediate forms between plant and fish, lie calls rats and mice inter- mediate forms which may as readily arise through corruption as through seed. Bats are intermediate forms between birds and quadrupeds ; flying fishes are between birds and fishes. Sea-calves are the intermediate forms between fish and quadruped. William Shakesjiearc's Tltr Tdiipcsf presents a complete picture- gallery in illustration of these words and views. First there is Caliban, an oaf, the son of the Devil and of the witch Sycorax, an ugly clumsy monster, half human and half fish or toad, with mind and mood that sway between animal and human natures. He is described or addressed more than forty times in the comedy as nifliistcr, exactly in the sense in which Bacon uses the term. Secondly there is his charming opposite: Ariel. He appears sometimes as a spirit of the air, sometimes as a sea-nymph, and sometimes as a harpy. Ariel is an intermediate form between man and bird. Many of the creatures mentioned by Bacon are represented in TJic Tempest. Caliban is called moon-calf; the rat occurs; the coral (as intermediate form between plant and stone) and the bat find mention. If we search among the other characters in the comedy the next questionable figures that strike us are the boon-companions, Siepliaiio and Trinculo, for, if we take into consideration that which Bacon says in his Natural History about drinking and about instinct and intelligence, these two half- and quite-drunken, dreary fellows appear to us as standing, physically speaking, f)n the borders between instinct and reason. Psychical side-pieces to these morally intermediate forms between man and beast, are to be found in Antonio and Sebastian who purpose the murder o{ King Alonso and the venerable counsellor Gonzalo in their sleep. To what a degree the moral contained in The Tempest is in accord with natural science is shown by a remark made by Miranda. The gentle maid says she cannot understand how her noble-minded father, Prospero, and the detestable Antonio, who dethroned his elder brother and cast him to the merciless ocean-waves, can have had one and thp: saau: origin. She would doubt the honour of her grandmother, meaning thereby that she regarded Antonio as a bastard, a mistake of nature, an intermediate form. But this is not all. The spirits that serve up the banquet in the third act are described as severall strange -shapes, and immediately thereon follows the speech relating to fabulous intermediate forms, to the unicornc {ox stag-horse), to the phoenix and, furthermore, to people who 7vant the use of tongue, to Mountayneeres, dew-lapt, like Buls, to men ivliose heads stood in their brests. Prospero himself, the leading character of the comedy, who commands the winds, who causes the fairies, the nymphs and strange forms to appear, who creates all sorts of inexplicable sounds and has fathomed all the secrets of nature, is a supernatural being. — 12 — In short, on whichever side we look, we find in Tlic Tnupcsf inter- mediate forms, bastards, monsters, errors and unusual creations of nature. The attempt to attribute all this to chance can no longer be justified after the foregoing reviewal. The aim is clearly shown and the facts are in accord, never in conflict with Bacon's views. 2. THE RELATIONSHIP TO THE OTHER PARTS OF 'THE GREAT INSTAURATION'. Let us now turn to the second part of The Great Jiistauratiflu. Here again the question of dividing natural science into three parts, viz. into (i) the Freedom of Nature, (2) the Errors of Nature, and (3) the Bonds of Nature is put prominently forward. The supplement to The N'ezo Organoji forms , in fact , a Preparative to- wards a Natural and Experimental History , sueh as may serz'e for the foundation of a true philosophy (qualis sufficiat, et sit in or dine ad Basin et Ftindamenta Philosophiae verae). It is the first aphorism of this weighty supplement which discusses the history of created beings, of intermediate forms and of the arts. We see hereby that the Shakespearean Comedy of The Tempest, not only coincides with the science of Francis Bacon through the accord between the characters of Pan and Prospero but that it is also bound up with the weighty idea of the science of intermediate forms and this takes place in the following manner, viz.: the First comedy of the Folio-Edition accords with the First missing science -of- the -future re- ferred to in the Encyclopedy and with the First of the aphorisms inten- ded to prepare the way for the true philosophy in The Ne7V Organon. And now let us refer to the third part of The Great Tnstanration, to that relating to natural history! In the year 1622 Bacon issued a Historia Ventorum (the Idistory of the JVindsJ as forming the first section of his Natural History. This, in the Frankfort - Edition , follows immediately upon The New Organon. Already therefore in the title this beginning of the third part of the Magna Instauratio accords with the first Shakespearean Comedy: The Tempest on the one side; The Winds on the other. But here, again, let us not rest satisfied with externals ! At the end of The History of the lVi?/ds are to be found, just as in the Encyclopedy, a number of wishes for the future , of pro- spects with regard to the coming duties of science. Bacon calls them Oplativa. As seventh wish we find: 7. Optatio. J 'entos exeitare, et sedare. y. Desideratum. . / method of raising and allaying 7vinds. — 13 — And now let us refer to ihc. first paj^e of VVillirun Shakespcvirc's 7'//r Trmpcsf ! It contains the whole of the first scene and the first six lines of the second. The first scene is laid on board of a vessel tossed hither and thither by the tempest. The boatswain calls to one of the passengers, Gonzalo, the King's Counsellor: You arc a Counsellor, if you can coinmand these Elements to silence, and "Mork the peace of the present, wee will //ot ha)id a rope more; use your authoritie. Then the beginning of the second scene runs thus : Enter Prospero and Miranda. jMira. If hv your Art {my dearest ftther) you luree Put the wild ivaters in this Rore ; a lay them / It is thus seen that already on the First page of the Shakespearean work the idea set forth in Bacon's Natural History appears twice. The Counsellor Gonzalo can do nothing with the tempest by virtue of his command. It is the magician Prospero who has raised the tempest and who will now allay it. That which Bacon expresses as a scientific hope and that which the boat.swain in the first scene ironically demands as a practical claim is poetically accomplished by Prospero. Ends and beginning meet. There where serious science ceases, bright poesy intervenes; there where the sciences of Memory and of Reason, where History and Philosophy have reached their limits the science of Ji/ui- gination (Phantasia) steps in. And thus the beautiful expression used by Bacon : Poesy is as a dream of learning seems to find fulfilment in The Tempest. Let further search be made ! In 1623, therefore in the same year with the Folio- Edition of the comedy, appeared, as second section of his Natural History, Bacon's History of Eife and Death. The author of this present woi-k was fortunate enough to find in the Public -Library of his native city, (Leipzig,) an original edition of the above-named book , that is to say a copy of the work which the author thereof had himself arranged and supervised. Such work is printed in octavo form. At the end appear, as climax to the whole treatise, 32 rules with the same number of ex- planations : C a nones mobiles de Diiratione Vitac , ct Forma 2 fort is (Provisional or nio7uihte Rules concerning the Duration of Eife and the form of Death.}. In the Frankfort -Edition these rules bear large initial - letters , but in the small London-Edition they are printed with still larger initials and in so large a type that only 16 Hues of print find room on an octavo-page. The first rule runs thus: Canon I. A^on ft Consu)iiptio , nisi quod deperditum sit dc Corpore , trans- migret in Corpus ^lliud. — 14 — Rvlr I. There is no coiisiiiiiption , unless that ivhicJi is lost by one bodx passes into anothei'. But in the second scene of the comedy (page 5 of the Folio- Edition) the air-spirit Ariel sings to the prince, Ferdinand, who has been saved from the wreck, the song : Full fadoiii Jive thy Father lies, Of his bones are Cor rail made ! Those arc pearles that were his eies, Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a Sea-change Into something rich, and strange . . . This, expressed in charming , poetic form , clearly and indubitably conveys the same natural -historical idea of the imperishability and cir- culation of matter as it is recognised at the present time, whereas three hundred years ago the idea was held by very few mortals. Bacon gives clear expression thereto in the first rule of his History of Life and Death. Once in large letters with a gigantic initial and the other time in fluctuating verse -measure and elegant rhyme printed in italics in order to distinguish it from the other part of his diction. How important this idea seemed to the investigator is shown by the position given to it in his Ne7V Organon. Bacon refers in the 48 "' section of the 2 ""^ book to 19 different forms of motion. He calls the first: JMotus Antitypiae Materiae (Resistance in matter) per qiiem plane anniliilari nan vult (in virtue of which it absolutely refuses to be anniJiilated ). And this thought recurs often in Bacon's writings. We therefore find complete concord between poet and thinker in respect of one of the main principles of all natural science. But the man who could give to this principle such a poetic form could not have touched only superficially thereon; he must have thought it out thoroughly. The man who composed this little song on the circulation of matter, who had, in common with Bacon, the desire to find a means of exciting and allaying the winds, who, as for a wager, philosophised with Bacon on the subject of intermediate forms, who depicted in his Prospero the wisdom of the Pan -parable — such a man must have .stood , equally with Bacon , at the summit of the science of his time. A year after Bacon's death appeared (also compiled by himself) the Sylva Sylvarmn (the Wood of Woods) containing 1000 aphorisms relating to natural history. N°^ loi to 290 apply to the teaching of sound. The author presents in scientific gradation : unmusical sounds, ("noises,) musical separate -sounds, (times,) musical sequences, (melody,) — 15 — iiiitsical coiiihiualioiis , {haniioiiw) iiislniiiiiiital i/ms/c , vocal ii/iis/c. And in '/V/c Tniif^rst, when tlic music i)crff)rnicd by invisible spirits is heard, Caliban explains matters to the casta\va\s, the boon -companions Stephano and Trinculo, as follows: lie not a ffrard, ihc Jslc is full of noysrs. Sounds, uiid sivrct aires, iJial give delighl and hurl iiol : Soiiietinies a thousand kvangling Instruments Will liuin about mine cares, and so ///clime 710 ices . . . In short Caliban, the monster in the comedy, represents the various kinds of sounds in exactly the same six -fold gradation as Bacon and does so in merry, rippling verse. We thus find how trains of thought of most minutely intimate nature are interwoven between T//e Tc/npest and all parts of The (rrcat l//sta/t ration. THE TEMPEST. I )ram FIRST )f Uic Folio -Edition of 162 162!r-^, Encj'clopedy. Pan - parable. intermediate forms. FIRST Science of the future. New Organon. Intennediate forms. Motion of resist- FIRST Aphorism. FIRST kind of motion. History of the History of Life and j Sylva .Sylvarum: Winds. Death. [Six-fold gradation Wind . . . Tempest. Imperishability of Sound. Exciting, allaying and Circulation of same. flatter. FIRST natural -historical treatise. PART III. i'*t Treatise. FIRST Rule. of the GREAT INSTAURATION. 1620 to 1627. 3. 'THE TEMPEST' AND 'THE HISTORY OF THE WINDS'. If the assumption that TJic Tnnprsf is a poetical supplement to and continuation of Bacon's science is to be still further confirmed, it is essential to turn for comparison to that creation of the mind to which The Tempest stands nearest in respect of title as of subject , namely The History of the Winds. The similarity of title between this first comedy and the first natural- historical treatise, the nearly simultaneous appearance of both works (in 1622 and 1623), the equally strongly emphasised wish expressed in both for the discovery of a means of exciting and allaying the winds, all these are certainly weighty bases of evidence in favour of the scientific- parabolism of the poesy of The Tempest. The present aim, however, is to enquire whether The History of the Winds (which occupies about 60 octavo-pages of Spedding's edition and 24 folio-pages of the Frankfort- edition) agrees or disagrees on other points with the views of nature as set forth by the author of The Tempest. With the north-wind, says Bacon, men are brisker, healthier and have a better appetite; with the south-wind more dull and heavy. The north-wind is bad for consumptioit, coicgh, the gout, or any sharp Jiumottr. Here, if a clear and dry soiith-ivind eontinue long, it is very pestilential. (Nobis si Have r it paulo dintitis in sudo, absque pliivia Anster, valde pest Hens est.) In the Dramatis Personae (cast) of the comedy Ariel is described as an ayrie spirit. In his merriness and freshness, his sound and cheer- ful being, he corresponds with what Bacon says of the north-wind. Caliban, on the contrary, the misshapen, dull, morose fellow, shows a decidedly south-wind-nature. His mother, be it remembered, was Sycorax a south-wind-witch of the worst sort. She came, so the comedy says, from Algiers, whence she was expelled in consequence of her many evil deeds and was o)ie so strong That eouM controle the Aloon ; iinike floives and ebs . . . in short, the witch Sycorax was no harmless fable-witch but a mighty witch of nature who could bring danger upon great cities and raise the flood. If the term Caliban (as is generally assumed) is an inversion of the word Canibal, so, too, does the word Sycorax put us in lively remembrance of the word Sirocco. According to Bacon, when the south-wind j^asscs over swamps it brings pestilence. According to Shakespeare, the witch Sycorax brushes evil dews with raven feathers from unwholesome fens. Her nature is — 17 - described in the comedy as rarfliy — which is distinct from earthly. CaHban, too, her son, is adressed by Prospero as thou Earth. In Bacon, Hkewise, south-wind and earth appear in close connexion. We learn from him that the south-wind on our hemisphere, where the south-pole lies under the earth, also blows from below. Caliban's very first entrance corresponds entirely with Bacon's views concerning the south-wind : Cat. As 7vickrd c/nvr, as err ///v mother brush' d With Ravens feather from lunvJiolesoine Fen Drop on yoti both: A Soiith^vest blow on yee And blister \07i all ore. whereupon Prospero, entirely in the sense of Bacon's north-wind, retorts: Pro. For this be sure, to night thou shall have cramps. Side-stitches, that shall pen thy breath zip, Urchins Shall for that vast of night, that they may wcrke • All exercise on thee : thou shall be pinch' d As thicke as hony-combe, each pinch more stinging Then Bees that made 'em. The urchin-stitches and the bee-stings clearly point to gout. Here is another bouquet of pestilence-blossoms from the mouth of Caliban : All the Charmes Of Sycorax : loades. Beetles, Balls light on you .... 'file red-plague rid you ^ill the infections that the Sunne suckes 2tp From Bogs, Fens, Flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By ynch-meale a disease : .... A plague upon the lyrant. Would such a thoughtful and masterly linguist as the author of The Tempest, in wishing to poartray a cursing monster in general , have found no greater variety in the curses.? It is the regular recurrence of pestilence - and fen - curses that shows mo.st impressively the south- wind nature of Caliban. The strongest evidence of the contrast between the natures of Ariel and Caliban appears in the fourth and fifth acts of the comedy, where Ariel drives Caliban with blows across the stage. Whatever happens in the comedy , whatever we see and hear , in no single instance do we find a natural-historical contradiction between Shakespeare and Bacon. What the one knows is known to the other ; what the one means is meant by the other; where the one errs the other is at fault. Bacon calls toads with tails prognostics of the pest ; Caliban's body ends in a clumsy tail. Bacon calls the sirocco a biininig air ivithoitt Jiai/ir; Prospero says of Caliban : iic dos make our Jire. Bacon names bay-berries and juniper-berries as remedies against the pest. Caliban says to Prospero: ivoiddst give me water with berries in it. Bacon calls the stars real flames; Caliban speaks of the stars that by day and night burue. Bacon says: In a sou tti -wind tJie breath e>f men is more offensive. Trinculo says of Caliban : He smels li/ee a fish . . . . a kind of , not of the newest, poor e -John. Bacon says : The screech of the 07vl indicates fair weather. Ariel sins s: J J 72 ere the Bee sucks, there suck I, In a CovDslips bell, I lie. There I cowch zvhen Oivles doe crie, On the Batts backe I doe flie After Sommer merrily. When owls screech the air -spirit sleeps in the cowslip's bell, meaning that it is a fine summer-night. (It may be mentioned paren- thetically that the Batt is introduced thrice into The Tempest.) — The raven , in contrast with the owl , is , according to Bacon, the foreteller of bad weather. It is also in Shakespeare the special bird of the witch Sycorax. (In Greek the raven is named o xoqa^. The name Sycorax is thus compounded out of Sirocco = South-wind and raven, implying the bird of the south-wind.) — It has been often noticed already with what seamanlikc certainty the author of TJie Tempest describes the vessel, the action of the storm and the manipulations of the mariners in the first scene. Ariel, too , describes his attack upon the vessel in quite nautical terms. — Bacon's History of the Winds, likewise, does not neglect this point. It contains 35 instructive paragraphs under the heading: Alotiis ]^en- torum in velis navitim (The Motion of Wields in the Sails of Ships). This section gives the description of a vessel with admirable clearness, of its masts , spars and sails and of all their proportions. It then dis- cusses the effect of the winds upon the sails and directs what is to be done in Iteai^y storms (tempestatibus majoribus). The air is recognised by us as the primary transmitter of sound — ■ of the mighty thunder as of sweet music. And precisely as the laws — 19 — of acoustics and the teaching of the winds are handled in Bacon's scientific writings so do we find in The Tempest that noises, tones, music, thunder, in short, that all kinds of sound play an important part in every act. The six-fold distinction of sound has already been referred to. But that is not enough. Bacon says : // is supposed that the ringing of bells disperses the storm. When, in the comedy, the heavy storm has died away Ariel sings the previously quoted song on the circulation of matter (Full fadom five) to which, as closing sounds, the ding-dong of bells is added from behind the scene. Thus, here again, as already in so many other instances. Bacon's theory is put into practice; his science is converted into action ; an instructive phrase is presented to the eye in tangible form. Still more profound is the following uniformit)' of thought. In Bacon's Sylva Sylvarnm the following comparison of the senses is made : The sense of hearing reaches the mind more closely than the other senses but less corporeally than the sense of smell. And Ariel describes to his master, Prospero, the effect that music, which is per- formed by invisible musicians, has upon the rough fellows, Caliban, Stephano and Trinculo, in these words: They prickt their eares, advanc'd their eye-lids , lifted np their noses as they smelt vmsicke. That is as much as to say that fellows possessing coarser senses , who are most affected by those of taste and smell, conceive music also as something corporeal and desire to enjoy it in their own way. As they smelt miisicke! The words are full of drastically comical poetry and yet so full of profound knowledge and thought. It is submitted that this passage belongs to the most characteristic of anything which one can imagine within the boundaries of parabolic comedy-poesy. This sniffing of music excites merriment, even in the naive spectator who has had no preparation in natural science , but it is only the thinker who grasps spontaneously the whole depth of thought comprised in the words ; only for him shines the parabolic mental lightning of the poet. Such as he experiences merriment* and gathers wisdom at the same time. Thus, and not otherwise, is the second chief part of Bacon's science, namely poes>' , to be understood , and thus only is it to be regarded when at its highest grade , i. e. in dramatic-parabolic poesy , and this, moreover , w^hen , in agreement with the first Bacon-parable , a natural- historical thought forms its basis. There is nothing dry, nothing un- wholesome or stiff-kneed in allegorical and parabolic art as presented to us in Shakespearean verse. Bright, merry Imagination relieves sober Reason of her office. Poesy dreams onward beyond where Science must for the time-being hold her hand. Imagination gives form, tone and colour to the theories of the learned ; she presents profound wis- — 20 — dom to the people in the garb of pleasure; she converts into golden, enjoyable and instructive practice an appreciable state of knowledge which would otherwise be reserved for the select few. The reflexion with regard to the senses, the considering of what effect the deprivation of one or more of the senses produces, of how- intoxicating and deafening means alTect the senses , the enquiry as to whether there exist more than the five recognised human senses, all these questions recur frequently in Bacon. So , in exactly the same ratio, does philosophising anent the senses form one of the favorite occupations of the great dramatist. Miranda , her father excepted , has seen no other male being but the monster CaHban. When she sees the young prince Ferdinand for the first time she asks: What is'f a Spirit? And Prospero's answer is that of an exact searcher into nature to a teachable pupil : Pro. No wcncJi, it cats, and sleeps , and hath such senses As 7ve have: such. Let the emphatic repetition of sucJi be duly noted ! The following is another example of how (and often) in TJie Tempest the greatest wisdom is clothed in playful terms and put into the mouths of semi, or complete fools. In Bacon's History of Life and Death, as touching the fishes , we read : Sanguinis pcrJiibentiir esse niinus tepidi. (Their blood is reported to he less 7varni.) In the comedy Trinculo at first supposes Caliban , who is lying on the ground , to be a fish on account of the odour he emits and of his fin-like arms (a strange fish) ; then he feels him and exclaims : warme o'my troth: I doe now let loose my opinion ; hold it no longer ; this is no fish , but an Islander. The knowledge of the fact that the higher vertebrates (mammalia and birds) are warm , whereas the lower vertebrates, (amphibians and fishes) are cold-blooded animals, or rather have blood of no decided, individual warmth, was most certainly very little known three hundred years ago. Even Bacon cautiously uses the term perhihentiir (it is said , it is reported). But , here again, Shakespeare's fool , l^rinculo , is as well informed on the point as the investigator of nature , Bacon , and uses the knowledge practicall)", in order to definitely decide whether Caliban is man or fish. So much in respect of The Tempest and its affinity to Bacon's science. The following fact is of extrinsic nature. In the year 1609 the ship of Admiral Sir George Sommers, who commanded the exploration- flotilla , stranded. The English took refuge on the Bermuda Islands.*) *) Soinincrs was not, as we often read, tlie first discoverer of the Herimidas. The islands had been discovered earlier, for the words '],a IJerniuda' are found printed in Urtelius' Atlas as far back as 1570. — 21 — The comedy of Tlir Toiipist appeared soon afterwards. Direct men- tion of the Bermudas is made by Ariel, so that no doubt can exist as to the intimate connexion between their rediscovery and the comedy : TlioH calldst Die up at iitiihtigJtf to fetcJi dc7vc From the still-vext Bermoothes . . . Bacon figured among those who contributed with advice and money to fit out the expedition of discovery. Among those who were asso- ciated with him in this colonisation-society were the Earls of Pembroke and Montgomery. And it was to these two earls and brothers-in-law that the Complete Folio-Edition of Shakespeare's Dramas was dedicated fourteen years later, 7"/^ Te>iipest being the first work appearing therein. 4. THE SUMMING-UP OF THE FOREGOING. Let us hold a short retrospect on that which has been found ! The magician of nature , Prospero , commands the winds in the sense of Bacon's science-of-the-future. In the comedy, as in the scientific writings , exactly the same views concerning the nature of the winds, and more particularly of the north and south winds, are to be found. Complete conformity of ideas exists with regard to the circulation of matter. The knowledge , then restricted to very few, concerning warm- und cold-blooded animals is common to both. The views with regard to sound are the same, viz., the grading of sounds ; the effect of bell-ringing upon storms ; the effect of music on coarse minds and on drunkards. The same degree of interest is shown with reference to the human senses. The interest shown concerning devia- tions from nature , intermediate forms and monstrosities is identical. The same interest is taken in the rediscovery of the Bermudas. The same meaning is conveyed in hundreds of individual items relating to natural science and psychology. To these must be added the complete uniformity subsisting between the natures of Prospero and Pan. More- over it is most surprising to note that the i-ikst Shakespearean Drama of the Folio-Edition shows the most intimate relation to the first, un- attained , science of the future (see De Atigi/ie/itis), to the fikst trea- tise on motion (Orgamim), to the first natural-philosophical aphorism (Parasceve), to the fipxst natural -historical treatise (History of the Winds) , to the FutsT rule of the History 0/ Life and Death. Still more striking is the fact, as supplementing that mentioned above, that the Folio-Edition of Shakespeare appeared in the same years as all the Baconian writings and, finally, that it is of exactly the same form and size (folio), printed in the same types and with the same lively mixture of mediaeval and italic as the chiefest works of Bacon. The summing-up of all these facts leaves no doubt behind. The conclusion to which one. is necessarily compelled is : that the comedy of The Tempest is not a comedy in the ordinary sense of the word. It is, on the contrary, a parabolic-dramatic poem, written in illustration of natural -science and in the highest style of art. The Tempest belongs to that which, in conformity with Bacon's particular idea, may be regarded as the highest poesy. The affinity to Bacon's collective science , in respect of externals as of internals, in leading features as in hundreds of individual instances, (and this present essay by no means exhausts the comparisons which are available) is of so intimate a character as to justify the assumption that both works, namely The Tempest and The Great Instanratioii, emanated from one mind, in short, that the poet and the thinker consisted of but one and the same person. III. SHAKESPEARE'S 'HAMLET a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's Anthropology. I. 'A MATTER OF THE HIGHEST IMPORTANCE.' S the first of Bacon's natural-historical treatises presents so much clear evidence of concord with the first drama of the Folio- Edition it impels one to turn to the second natural-historical section in order to examine whether such also contains threads of connexion with some particular Shakespeare-play. The History of the Winds appeared in 1622. Five prefaces, also in Latin, representing five separate sections of natural-history which were to appear in the five next following months, were appended thereto. The prefaces were those to The History of Dense and Rare (Historia Densi et RariJ, to The History of Heavy and Light (Historia Gravis et Levis), to TJie History of the Sympathy and Antipathy of Things (Historia Sympathiae et Antipathiae), to Tlic History of Sulphnr, Mercury and Salt (Historia Sulphiiris, Mercurii et Satis), and to The History of Life and Death (Historia Vitae et Mortis). But the intention was not carried into effect. The following months were pro- ductive of nothing. And when in the following year (1623) a second treatise appeared , it was not The History of Dense and Rare as originally intended, but that referred to in the sixth place, namely, TJie History of Life and Death . As Bacon says on the first page of matter, he had decided to publish this in the second place owing to the extreme importance of the subject (seciinditin cdere, propter exiniiaui rei utilitatem). And it really is with an extraordinarily im- portant fraction of the Shakespeare Folio-Edition of the same year that The History of Life and Death stands in intimate connexion , namely with TJic Tragedie of Hamlet, Prince of Denmarke. — 24 — And in the same manner as The Tempest not only parabolises The History of the Winds but also stands in active thought-connexion with all other parts of The Great Instatiration , so is it the case here. Hamlet mirrors not only the ideas set forth in The History of Life and Death; it is at the same time, even down to details, a poetical elucidation of the fourth book of Bacon's Encyclopedy, De Augmentis Scientiarum. It presents close comparisons with The History of Dense and Rare (which appeared for the first time many years after Bacon's death), as well as with various parts of Sylva Sylvarum , with the parable Proserpina, or Spirit, with the two essays Of Death , with a list of separate sciences appended to The New Organon and with a page of manuscript from Bacon's large Memorandum- Book. The fore- going statement is reproduced in tabular form. The result of our examination will confirm the correctness of the following sketch. HAMLET. First Edition in Quarto -form in 1603. Greatly revised Edition in the Folio -volume of 1623. Encyclope- N. Organon. dy. 4th Book: The Doctrine concerning the Body and the Soul of Man. List (at the end of the work) of the Missing Sciences. List (at the end of the work) of Separate Sciences and of other Matters. The History of Life and Death. All , more particularly the 32 Rules at the end and the Address to the Reader as Preface. More par- ticularly the lating to the Spirit. More par- Proserj^ina, [Two Essays ticularly the or Spirit. 1 concerning' passages re- lating to Physiogno- my , Spirit, Senses, Imagination. N. Atlantis. List (at end of work) of Sciences, Death. A page of manuscript from the large memorandum-book (about 1594). 2. THE SPIRIT -SCENES OF THE FIRST ACT. The first act consists of five scenes. Three of them take place on the fortress-terrace, one is held in the hall of the castle and one in the dwelling-room of the Lord-Chamberlain, Polonius. This is how they are — 25 — directed to be played in the modern editions. The Folio-l^dition of 1623 leaves the place of action to the imagination of the reader. In the silence of a bitterly cold, star-lit winter-ni^ht Barnardo, Marcellus and Horatio await the apparition of the deceased king, which had already shown itself on the same spot in the preceding night. The spirit appears. They try to induce it to speak — in vain. They try to detain it — without success. It disappears as it came. The three decide upon telling Prince Hamlet what has happened. In the second scene the Court is seen assembled in the castle-hall. Gertrude, the widow of the deceased king, has married his brother, the actual king of the Danes, Claudius. Prince Hamlet is the only one who has not yet laid aside his mourning-garb. His mother adjures him to throw off his sombre thoughts and garments. She and his step-father unite in begging him not to return to the Wittenberg High-School, but to stay with them in Denmark. Hamlet consents, but as soon as the Court have left the stage he makes known in a soliloquy his longing for death and his disgust at a world in which his beloved mother could marry again within a month of the death of his cherished father. Horatio, Marcellus and Barnardo appear and tell the prince of the occurence of the night. It is arranged that they shall await the spirit on the terrace during the coming night. In the third scene we see Laertes, the son of the Lord-Chamberlain, ready for a journey to attend the Paris University. He takes leave of his sister Ophelia and of his father Polonius. Ophelia gives him kindly advice and the father his blessing on the way. After Laertes has started Polonius warns his daughter against the love-trifling of Prince Hamlet. The next scene shows us, again on a cold winter-night, Hamlet accompanied by Horatio and Marcellus on the castle-terrace. The spirit appears. But Hamlet cannot induce it to speak in the presence of the others. The spirit signs to him and Hamlet follows it in spite of the earnest dissuasive attempts of his friends. Arrived at another part of the terrace, the spirit calls upon Hamlet to execute vengeance. It tells him how, while sleeping in the orchard during the afternoon according to habit, he (the father) was murdered through the pouring of poison into his ear and that the murderer was his own brother, the present king. The spirit vanishes. The friends hasten to join Hamlet, who induces them to swear that, whatever may happen with regard to the occurence of the night, they will keep silence. This closes the first act. We see that the dramatic kernel of this act is the spirit. During three-and-a-half scenes it takes front rank with regard to the interest of the plot, whereas the first half of the second scene initiates us in all brevity into the state of matters in the royal family, while the third scene, in doing the same with regard to the Polonius-household, shows — 26 — us a pleasant contrast to the sombre side. Quite two-thirds of the act are devoted to the spirit. But the spirit in Hamlet bears two names: Ghost and Spirit. Ghost is the personal name, whereas it is almost invariably referred to by the speakers as Spirit, and its statement begins with : / a7]i thy Father's Spirit. The word Spirit (in Latin Spiritus) also plays a great part in Bacon's scientific writings. The Spirit-theory, as will soon be briefly shown, is one of the principal points in Bacon's natural-philosophy. This spirit-doctrine is based on the views held by the natural-philo- sophers, Paracelsus, Telesius and Severinus Danus. Theophrastus Paracelsus, the great Swiss thinker (he lived from 1493 to 1 541), set up the theory; Bernardinus Telesius Consentinus, the Italian natural-philosopher (1508— 1588), enlarged upon it and Petrus Severinus Danus, the Danish physician (died in 1602), reduced it to a distinct system. Bacon understood no German, or, at most, very little thereof. He can scarcely have studied the intellectually-rich and almost countless writings and pamphlets of Paracelsus as they were written in a style of German that was still clumsy and indistinct. But Bacon knew his theory from the principal work of Bernardinus Telesius of Cosenza, De Reruni Naturd (Concerning the Nature of Things), of which the first two books appeared in 1565 and the whole was completed in 1586; he, furthermore, knew this theory thanks to the work of the Dane Petrus Severinus: Idea Afedicinae PJiilosophicae (The Idea of a Philosophical Medical System ), which work was written in clear and lucid Latin and served him (Bacon) as instructor in the science of healing, the work being based on natural science. When Bacon, in quite early youth, began to sketch out the plan of his Great Instati- rotion — and we find traces of this aim as far back even as before his fourteenth year — the works of Telesius and Severinus were the newest in the field of natural-philosophy. Even Bacon himself, who very rarely mentions the names of other investigators, mentions the works above-named at short intervals in the 4th Chapter of the 3rd Book of his Encyclopedy: illa)ii (theoriam) Theophrasti Paracelsi, eloquenter in Corpus quoddam, ct Harmoniam Philosophiae redactam a Scverino Dano; Aut Telesii Consentini .... (the Theory of Theophrastus Paracelsus, eloquently reduced into a body and harmony by Severinus the Dane ; or that of Telesius of Consentiuni ....), and he mentions two of them again (Bernardinus Telesius and Paraielsus) in the 3rd Chapter of the 4th Book, wherein he discusses the question of the human soul in detail. But, as we shall soon see, the Spirit in //ai/ilef is not a being created at will by poetical imagination but clearly the personification — 27 — of the natural -philosophical idea of the spirit according to Bacon's views. And thus the views of Paracelsus accord with those of JVIarcellus, while those of Bernardinus Telesius harmonise with those of Barnardo in the first act of } la)iilct. And Hamlet himself represents the ideas of the third in the trio, namely, of the physician Severinus Danus («';?^//f bitter cold — The Ay re bites shre7vdly : it is vrrx cold — // is a //ippi/ig and an eager ay re. It is owing to the cold that the spirit is condensed and made visible. The spirit-substance is represented as being a breath compounded of the naturrs of flame ai/d air , having the softness of air to receive i///prrssio//s. — Hamlrt. Scene I : — 30 — Horatio. Stay, and spcakc. Stop it, Marcellus. Marcellus. Shall I strike at it with my Partizan ? Horatio. Do, if it rvill not stand. Bafnardo. 'T is here. Horatio. 'T is here. Marcellus. 'T is gone. Exit Ghost. They strike at the venerable form of their king with their partisans! Do these gentlemen behave like officers ? Methinks they act like natural philosophers. Hence comes it that Marcellus lets fall the words : For it is as the Ayre, invulnerable. And 7vith the vigour of fire to propagate its action says Bacon further. The last Rule of the History of Life and Death moreover says, in dealing more fully with the question : from flame the spirit gets its noble and poxverftil motions and activity. {Mobiles suos et Potentes Alotus , et Activitates). Its noble motions correspond exactly with that which Marcellus says immediately after the disappearance of the spirit : We do it wrong, being so JMaiesticall To offer it the sheiv of Jl'olence to which are forthwith added the above words : For it is as the ^iyre, invulnerable. — All this is contained in the first scene. — The animal soul is clothed with the body and resides , in peifect animals, chiefly in the head. — This corresponds to a nicety with the longer remarks in the second scene : Hamlet. Then sa7v you not his face ? Horatio. O yes, my Lord, he wore his Beaver np. Hamlet. What, lookt he frowningly ? Horatio. A countenance more in sorro7v than in anger. Llamlet. Pale, or red? LToratio. Nay very pale. Hamlet. And fixd his eyes itpon you? Lloratio. Most constantly. Let us take note that the scene, which the spectator has also experienced , is here again described in detail , and that partly from other j)oints of view. This, as already stated, occurs in the second^ scene. — 31 — The animal sduI runs alon;; the jtrrvrs and is refrrsJird and rr- paired by the spiritiwiis blood of the artrrirs. In accord with this dictum, we find in the fourth scene, when Hamlet decides to follow the spirit, the words : -» Hamlet. My fate cries out, And makes each petty Artire in this body, As hardy as the Nemian Lions nerve: In human beings , says Bacon finally : d7veU both an animal soul (spiritns) and a reasoning , a divijie sonl (anima). And exactly thus is the question treated in the fourth and fifth scenes. The friends warn Hamlet not to follow the spirit for it might do him a harm. Hamlet. Why, ivhat should be the feare? I doe not set my life at a pins fee ; And for my Soule, 7vhat can it doe to that? Being a tiling i in mo r tall as it selfe : Here we hear of the immortall Soule (anima) existing in the spirit of the late king. But, when the spirit in the fifth scene has dis- appeared and calls up from below Swear e , Hamlet calls it boy — triLe-penny — fellow — and old JMole. In this case the animal soul (spiritus) is| addressed — as an animal. What, other than the natural- philosophical view, could induce Hamlet, who has just spoken of it with veneration zs, father , king and immortal soul, to address it with ;so unflattering a name as old Mole? Thus far, as has been seen, the words of the Encyclopedy and of the first act of Hamlet are concurrent both in train of thought and in order of treatment. A number of other expressions, moreover, confirm the fact that the spirit in Hamlet is a spirit in the sense of the natural-philosophical spirit-theory. Hamlet's first words to the spirit are : Be thou a Spirit of health, or Goblin damn'd. Bring with thee ay res from Heaven, or blasts from I fell. Here again air and flame are found together as in Bacon's com- pounded of the natures of flame and air. Mention is made of the noble motion not once but three times: with Afartiall stalke — with sollemne march — 7vith 7vhaf courteous action. The spirit is for the day confined to fast in Fiers , in sulphurous and tormenting Flames. It is not allowed to wander by day ; it is invisible through flame, exactly as the Baconian spirit is invisible by heat. Thus, the last Rule but one of the ffistcm^' of Life and Death accords on all three points — 32 — with the spirit in Hamlet: Ca7ion XXXI . Spiritus vivis Inter itiim patitur immediate, ciim destitititzir ant Alotu ; aiit Refrigerio ; aut Alimento. (Rule XXXI. The living spirit perishes immediately , ivhen it is deprived either of motion or of refrigeration or of aliment.) When, in the first scene , the spirit disappears , the three observers are about to take steps to deprive it of motion : Stay Illusion — Stay and speake — Shall I strike? Do, if it 7vill not stand. But, when it disappears in the fifth scene, it is the refrigeration together with aliment of which it is deprived, for the morning nears and the s^in-it fasts in fires by day and is therefore without nourishment. It can only walk in the chill of the night. The approach of warmth causes it to think of departure ; Bit t soft, methinks I sent the Mornings Ayre. And shortly before vanishing it points, in true natural-philosophical manner, by a comparison of the different light-powers, to the approach of warmth and light : The Glow-iiwrme sJwives the Matine to be neere, And gins to pale his lineffectuall Fire : And, exactly as the spirit closes its speech with the simile of the glow-worm, so ends Bacon his copious chapter on the spirit and soul of man by pointing to a branch of science, the Form of Light, which has not yet been sufficiently dealt with, wherein he recommends that investigation should be made as to 7vhat connexion with fire and lighted matter have glow-wornis and fire-flies (Quid deniqiie Juibent commune cum flamma et ignitis Cicendulae et Luciolae . . .). It may be mentioned in passing that Bacon's parable relating to the spirit, which is contained in The Wisdom of the Ancients, (De Sapientia Veteriim) , namely Proserpina , sive Spiritus, (Proserpina, or the Spirit), also presents a considerable number of striking points of comparison with the spirit in Hamlet. The spirit in Hamlet lives sometimes above and sometimes beneath the earth — just as is the case with Proserpina. The Hamlet-spirit when beneath the earth is in the power of flame ; Proserpina is in the power of the fire-god, Pluto. The Hamlet-spirit calls this abode its Prison-IIouse ; of Proserpina is said : clauditur et detinetur (she is enclosed and. imprisoned beneath the earth). In the Danish legend the senior Hamlet is cut down at a banquet ; in the drama he is robbed of life while sleeping in his orchard. In exactly similar manner Proserpina is carried off by Pluto while gathering flowers. Theseus and Pirithous endeavour to rescue Proserpina, but contranwise are theviselves curdled and never reascend again (sed co)itra ipsi — 33 — coagnlfutur , iifqitc ai>iplius rcsiiri^aiit}. In Ifaiiilrt Barnardo and Marcellus try to capture the spirit , while Horatio tells of their first encounter with the same and how they became almost to Jelly ivith tJic Act of fcarc. Taking into account the double-meaning contained in never reascend again, the comparison between parable and drama may also be brought to show the same conclusion , inasmuch as Bar- nardo and Marcellus never reascend again — for after the close of the first act they never reappear on the stage. They are two figures that have naught to do except to help explain the spirit and its acts. On its final disappearance they likewise vanish from the stage. Besides the intimate similarity of thought between the speeches in Hamlet, the passages in the Encyclopedy and the explanation contained in the parable of Proserpina, we find the jingling of names : B<7rnardo T/^eseus : B<^rnardo Te/es/us J/arcel/us Pirithous : Parf'^cebus. M and P, as lipped sounds, lie very near together. Moreover, it is desirable to take note of the philological fact that the names of all the three who observe the spirit have Italo-Latin endings ; none of them have Scandinavian-Danish endings. Barnardo ends on o just like the Italian name Bernardino; Marcellus with ns, like the German-Latin Para- celsus ; and Horatio more than covers the pureh" Latin word Ratio, in- cluding its Latin ending. Let us now deal with the three above-named characters more closely and from the scientific point-of-view ! Here, once more, we find that it is Bacon's chapter on the human soul which furnishes the key to the matter. After enumerating the principal capacities of the soul, namely: Understanding, reason, imagination, memory, desire, will, and promising to handle them in the books of Logic and of Ethic, Bacon mentions two supplements to the science of the capacities of the soul, namely divination (divinatio) and fascination (fascinatio). Concerning divination, let us now read the following sentences (which are in the very same column as the words relating to the spirit of which mention is made abovej : Habet Astrologiis praedictiones s?/as ex situ astrornm. Hain't etiam Medicus suas ; de mortc ingruente ; de convalescentia ; dc symptomatibns morhonun superventtiris ; ex ?irinis, pulsibiis , aspect n aegroriim, et si- milibus. Habet et Politicns suas ; < O urbem venalem ; et cito pcrituram, si Emptor em invenerit.'y (Quotation from Sallust's De Bella Jugur- thino, 38) Cujus Vaticinii tides non din morata est; impleta primum in Sylla, postea in Caesare. Hujus modi igitur praedictiones, praesentis non sunt Instituti, verum ad artes proprias remitti debent. 3 — 34 — (The astrologer has his predictio7is, from the position of the stars. The physicia7i likezvise has his predictions of approaching death, of recovery, of co7ning symptoms of diseases, from the urine, the pulse, the look of the patient, and the like. The politician also has his; «0 venal city, that ivill quickly perish, if if finds a purchaser .-}> which prediction was 7wt long i^i being verified; being fulfilled in Sylla frst, and afterwards in Caesar. Predictions of this kind therefore are not to our present purpose, but are to be referred to their 07vn arts.) And in the next column begins the explanation as to fascination, which is couched in the following terms: Fascinatio autem, est vis et actus imaginationis inte^isivus in carpets alterius: (vim enifji imaginationis sttper Corpus proprimn ipsius ima- giuantis superius perstrinximus). In hoc genere schola Paracelsi, et eme7ititae nattiralis Magiae cultores, tain fier^int i7n7nodici, 7it i7uagiua- tionis impetum et apprehension ei// miracula patranti fidei fantiim 7wu exaequari7it. Alii ad similitudi7ieni veri propius ace e denies, cum occultas rerum energias et impressiones, sensuu77i irridiatio72es . . . acutius in- tuere7itur . . . (Fascination is the power and act of imaginatio7i i7itensive upo)i the body of another (for the power of imagination upon the body of the imaginant I have spoke above) ; zvherein the school of Paracelsus and the disciples of prete7ided natural magic have bee7i so inte77iperate, that they have exalted the power a7td apprehe7ision of the i77iagiiiation to be 7nuch 07ie with the power of 7niracle-working faith. Others, that di-aw nearer to probability, looking with a clearer eye at the secret worki)igs and impressioiis of things, the irradiations of the senses . . .) The occurences in the first Hamlet-scene, while the spirit is not on the stage, all correspond with the foregoing. Before it appears for the first time we hear from the mouth of Barnardo an astrological prophecy. The spirit vanishes and Horatio suggests that the apparition bodes some strange eruption to the state. After he has made a political prophecy which is exactly in accord with Bacon's writings, the spirit appears for the second time and, as soon as it has left the stage again, Marcellus speaks of the power of wonder-working faith just in the sense of the Paracelsus-doctrine, to which Bacon makes reference. That with such a mighty artist as the author of Uaiiilrt all is interwoven into the play in the most pertinent manner, is natural. But, in spite of this, the passages which we have to discuss are not absolutely indispensable to dramatic effect. They are conse- quently often cut , or reduced to a minimum , under modern stage- management. 3d Firstly, there is the astrological prediction from the posilioii of the stars. Barnardo predicts , in accordance with his experience of the preceding nights and from the position of the stars, that the si)irit will reappear at the same hour : Barnardo. Last night of all. When yond same Starr e that's Westward from the Pole Had made his course Villume that part of Heaven Where now it burnes, Marc ell us and my selfe, The Bell then beating one. Enter the Ghost. After the spirit has vanished again there follows the physician's prediction of an approaching sickness as indicated by the look of the patient. This time it is Horatio who is the prophet. The patient is the state. Horatio prophecies from the sorrowful eyes of his deceased king. He remarks: Snch zvas the very Ar/nour he had on, Whe?i th' Ambitious N'orwey combatted : So fro7vn' d he once, when in an angry parte He si/iot the sledded Pollax on the Ice. and immediately thereupon follows the prediction : /// 7vhat particular thought to work, I know not : But in the grosse and scope of my Opinion, This boades some strange erruption to our State. Upon this prophecy follow the longer narrative concerning the duel between the two kings and a description of the preparations that are being made for war by young Fortinbras of Norway. Then Horatio continues : A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. In the most high and palmy state of Rome. A little ere the mightiest fulius fell. The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets: As stars with trains of fire, and dews of blood : Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star, Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands. Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. Not only do these words correspond with the political prediction to which Bacon makes reference in the third order; they have in two 3* - 36 - passages striking similarity with Bacon's words. Bacon speakes of ^/le venal city that awaits a purchaser; in Hamlet it runs: tJie graves stood tenantless, — a term that is peculiarly commercial and legal. In Bacon it is Caesar, in Hamlet it is the mightiest Jjiti^is, a man towards whom Bacon at all times showed special inclination. Moreover, the last four lines and more particularly and the moist star, Upon wJiose influence N'eptune's empire stands, Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse contain many natural-science-items. The moon, the moist star of Neptnne, to whose influence ebb and flood are due, was in eclipse and she is described as having been sick almost unto death. The spirit appears a second time and, as soon as it has again vanished, words follow which correspond with the fourth passage in Bacon. These words are taken from the doctrine of Paracelsus, which places tJie power of imagination to be much one with the power of miracle-working faith. These issue from the mouth of Marcellus : Marcelhis. Some sayes, that ever 'gainst that Season comes Wherein our Saviours Birth is celebrated. The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long: And then (they say) no Spirit can walke abroad. The nights are wholesome, then no Planets strike, No Faiery talkes, nor Witch hath power to Charme: So hallozv'd, and so gracioiis is the time. Special note should be taken of the carefully-worded some sayes and the repetition thereof in brackets (they say). Still more striking is the use of the words Fantasie and beleefe In the remarks of Marcellus which occur quite at the beginning of the scene: Marcellus. Horatio sales, 'tis b7it our Fantasie, And will 7iot let beleefe take hold of him To7iching this dreaded sight, twice seen of us. Others, so says Bacon, in opposition to the Paracelsus-doctrine, Others, that draw nearer to probability, looking with a clearer eye at the secret workings and impressions of things, the irradiations of the senses .... This others corresponds with Horatio. — 37 — In answer to MarccUus he says scei^lically : 'J'ltsli, hislt, livill not apprarc. To the longer statement concerning the belief in miracles, when tlic iiigJits arc ivJwlesoine he gives a cool reply, as if induced thereto by pure courtesy : So I luwi' Iirard, and do in part brlccvc it. and adds immediately that the morning comes and Let us impart 7v//at 7ve have seene to nig Jit Unto yoii7ig Hamlet. We, however, find altogether five similarities of idea between Bacon's chapter on the human soul and the contents of the first Hamlet-scene, and all of these are in the same order of sequence, namely: astronomical prophecy, medical prophecy, political prophecy, the wondering view of the followers of Paracelsus, the clearer view of Reason. All these are used in the tragedy as explanatory interlocutions and while the spirit is not on the stage. Many other minutiae might be mentioned. For instance, the next sentence in Bacon runs: Atque huic conjuncta est disquisitio, qnomodo Inniginatio intendi et fortijicari possit. (With this is joined the inquiry hoiv to raise and fortify the imagiiiation.) In the tragedy Marcellus and Barnardo try to raise and fortify the imagination of Horatio : Marcellus. Horatio sales, 'tis but our Fantasle, And 7vlll not let beleefe take hold of him .... Barnardo. Sit down awhile And let ?/s once againe assaile your cares, That are so fortified against our Story .... Thus we have in Bacon the strengthening of the power of ima- gination whereas Horatio resists these powers, while the representatives of the power of imagination endeavour to storm and carry his fortification. Alliterative sense accompanies the alliterative sounds : fortificari^ fortified. But, whereas Barnardo and Marcellus are ever ready to represent the side of the power of imagination, Horatio persistently combats the same by cautious doubts instigated by the better and cooler view of reason (ratio) .• Tush, tush, 'twill not appeare. Only when he has seen the spirit with his own eyes and Barnardo confidently asks him : - 38 - Baniardo. Ho7v now Horatio f You tremble and look Is tills not something more then Fantasie? What till like you on' If — then only does Horatio answer, quite in the sense of the natural- philosophy of sensuality and at the same time with a touch of juristical colouring : Horatio. Be/ore my God, I might not this beleeve Without the sensible and true avouch Of mine owne eyes. To the question of Marcellus : Is it not like the King? Horatio answers with mathematical precision: As thou art to thy sel/e. Again, when the spirit appears for the second time Horatio addresses it as illusion and only speaks of it, as were it only a thing and consequently neuter and directs Marcellus to strike at it with his partisan. We gather from the second scene that Horatio has studied with Hamlet at Wittenberg. This is certainly a serious anachronism, for the historical Hamlet lived before the birth of Christ, whereas the University of Wittenberg was not founded until A. D. 1502 (by Frederick the Wise). It is probable that in the choice of the name of an university it was intended to hint at Giordano Bruno, the Italian natural-philosopher, who had lived in London in the beginning of the ninth decade of the sixteenth century and afterwards taught at the Wittenberg university, for his views also find expression in Hamlet's and Horatio's words. Again and again Horatio describes the spirit as an apparition and also assures the prince : / knew your Father: These hands are not 7nore like. Horatio has watched sharply and noted how the spirit fixed its eyes persistently on him and his fellow-observers. Hamlet then asks: Staid it long? Horatio. While one 7vith moderate hast might tell a hundred. All. Longer, longer. Horatio. Not when I saw't. Longer, longer, call out the two who are more readily influenced by imagination. Not when I saw't is the calm and positive assurance of Horatio, the clearest-headed one of the three. In the fourth scene Horatio warns the prince not to follow the spirit. It might assume another and horrible form: — 39 — Whicli Diigitt deprive your Sotivcraignty of Rrasofi, And dratv you info madness tJiink of it? Hamlet frees himself and follows the spirit. Horatio. He waxes desperate 7vitJi imagination. The two soul-qualities, Reason and Imagination, or Fantasie, are again found following close on one another, quite in the Baconian sense, while Horatio represents calmly testing and advising Reason (ratio). After the impressive scene between the Spirit and Hamlet the friends seek for the prince. Illo, ho ho — Hillo, ho ho, they re- spectively call out in order to find each other in the darkness. In like manner Marcellus calls out Holla in the first scene and even by day-light, in the third act, Hamlet addresses his friends with: Wliat hoa, Horatio ! This Ho is a highly suspicious call when one considers that, on the other side, the remaining two-thirds of the name of Horatio play so important a part, viz. : Ho-ratio. And now let us note Horatio's last words in the first act. Even when the spirit calls out for the third time its subterranean siveare!, doubt is not removed from Horatio's mind : Horatio. Oh day and night : hut this is 7vondrous strange. and Hamlet answers : Ha]nlet. A fid therefore as a stranger give it welcome. There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, Then are dream 7 of in our Philosophy. As we have seen, philosophy is, according to Bacon, the science of reason: There are more things in Heaven and Earth, oh Reason, than thy science can imagine ! — Let us next turn to the character of Hamlet as individual in order to prove that, taken from the scientific standpoint, he is intended to represent medical science as based on investigations into nature and to do so in such form as Bacon has adopted them from the doctrines of Severinus Danus, the Danish physician and philosopher. The beginning of the second scene of the first act shows us Hamlet as the melancholy prince. Clothed in mourning he stands in silence amidst the crowd of gaily-clad courtiers. His mother strives to console him for the loss of his father. Death is common to all, llliy seemes it so particular 7vith thee .^ Whereto Hamlet answers : Seemes Madam? Nay, it is: I kno7v not Seemes: — 40 — One might, in truth, accept this beginning of his first lengthy speech as the motto for the whole of natural science ! He continues : Hani Iff. 'Tis not alone my Inky Cloake (good MofherJ Nor Customary suites of solemne Blacke, Nor wiiidy suspiration of fore' d breath, No, nor the fruitfidl River in the Eye, Nor the deiected haviour of the Visage, Together with all Formes, Afoods, shelves of Griefe, That can denote me t?'nly. These indeed Seeme, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that Within, zvhich passeth show ; These, but the Trappiiigs, and the Suites of woe. According to Bacon thoughts of this character belong emphatically to natural science. As point of comparison we must continually have recourse to Book IV of the Encyclopedy, namely The Doctrine con- cerning the Body and the Soul of Ma7i (Anthropology). Therein, where Bacon, in the 1st Chapter, discusses the connexion between soul and body , he refers to the science of physiognomy and finds therein a something wanting. Aristoteles certainly took the bodily form into consideration but only when in repose and not when in motion, although the latter occasion is of far greater importance. For, as the tongue is to the ear, so is motion to the eye. The physiognomical science of motion is therefore, to Bacon's mind, a most importajit and too little considered branch of natural science. We consequently find that it is dealt with in the great collection of natural-history-details in his Sylva Sylvarum. It is discussed in § 713 to § 722 under the general heading of Experiments in consort toucliing the impressions 7vhich the passions of the mind make upon the body. But the second para- graph (§ 714) discusses scientifically that which we have just heard from Hamlet's mouth. He speaks of the forms of grief and woe. Here, too, sighs, tears, contraction of the face are named, and that in exactly the same order of sequence. Sighing is caused by the draw- ing in of a greater quantity of breath to refresh the heart that laboureth. In Hamlet it runs : Windy suspiration of fore' d breath. Then, the origin of tears is explained. Hamlet says: the frtiitfull River in the Eye. Next, the contraction of the face. Hamlet mentions: the deiected haviour of the Visage. The comprehensive Hamlet-line: Together 7vith all Formes, Moods, shewes of Griefe would correspond with Bacon's separate descriptions of sobbing, screaming, teeth-gna.shing, perspiring, etc. — 41 — The kin_sical chemical and biological efl"ects are jumbled together. But we must note how the science of three hundred years ago sought to explain such occurrences ! Thus, the first sort of effect of the detained spirit, melt- ing, is only produced by heat. The parts that are to be melted detain the spirit and this spirit acts softeningly and meltingly on the firmer parts. In the second class of effect, that of putrefaction, the spirit escapes in part and is detained in part; all is thus dissolved into its — 42 — respective elements. In the third instance, that of vivification or creation, the spirit is entirely detained ; it swells however, and makes local move- ments, to which the firmer parts of the body must respond, and thus it creates new forms and organisations. The idea that through the action of this spirit both putrefaction and life can be produced hangs together with the Generatio aequivoca (equivocal generation) or theory concerning generation without seed or egg. Maggots, worms, insects of all sorts were seen to be brought into life upon decaying matter while the eye could trace no sign of eggs and so it was assumed that generation was a lateral effect of putrefaction. All this will be found again in the following acts of Hamlet. Let us return to the beginning of Hamlet's monologue! We find in his words the longing for a death, if possible without putrefaction, in short, for a death by melting and volatilisation into the ether of the spheres. But whether with spirit-theory or without it, the two Unes referred to are as much impregnated with natural science as anything that ever flowed from a poet's pen. Thoughts based on natural science and medicine follow each other in the monologue in quick succession. The world is called c?// unweeded Garden tJiat growes to Seed. Tilings rank, and grosse in Nature possesse it meerely. The deceased Danish king is likened to Hiperion, the sun-god, to Phoebus, to Apollo. But, as Hamlet is the son of this Danish king , so is ^sculapius , the god of medecine , the son of the Greek sun-god (see the Encyclopedy III, 2). Hamlet is there placed in direct parallel with the mythological founder of medical science. That this hint as to origin is not unintentional is proved by the fact that in the grand scene between mother and son (Act III, Scene 4) Hamlet again likens his father to Hyperion. — Let us con- tinue the consideration of the monologue ! As if increase of Appetite had growne By what it fed on. — A beast that wants discourse of Reason would have mourn' d longer. This discourse of Reason is thoroughly Baconian. Bacon, who thinks about everything, reflects upon the language of gesture, the speech by signs, the dumb speech, the language of animals, for anything relating to the imparting of thought by means other than sound and articulation interests him greatly. According to his opinion (which agrees with the views held at the present day) animals have many means of understanding each other; they have a kind of language, but not the discourse of Reason, for that is peculiar to man. And Hamlet uses this quaint combination in exactly the same sense. Then follow: TJie salt of Teares — The hiicshing of her gauled eyes and finally, in the last line of the mono- logue, two other members of the human body play a part, namely heart and tomrue. — 43 — But all this is not enough. The picture rrc these shooes ivere old, which seems to be far removed from medecine and natural science, is found again in a remarkable Baconian passage. In his greeting : Viventibiis et Posfen'.s Sabitem (To the Present and Future Ages, Greeting) , which begins the History of Life and Death, our frail body is likenened unto Caleeos (Shoes), and tegmina (garments) , which man during life must use and ivear out as little as possible (quavi viini- muiii atteri). It may be mentioned parenthetically that in the very same sentence of this Greeting reference is made to the sighing for death : aspire and pant after the land of promise , (ad terrain Promissionis perpetuo aspiremus , et anhele?jms) furthermore that the world is likened to a ivilderniss , (in hdc Mundi Eremo) and that, just as the word frailty is employed in the Hamlet-monologue, so herein the word fragilis plays a part. This suggestive closing sentence in the Greeting to the Present and Future Ages with its solemn address which so appeals to our hearts, appears to be the self-same thought as that con- veyed by the Hamlet-monologue, only condensed into Latin prose, for the train of thought is identical, even down to details. Let us now turn to the fourth scene , where Hamlet in person awaits the spirit. As the three friends come on the noise of drums and trumpets is heard in the distance. The sensual king sits at the banquet and each draught that he takes must be thus accompanied. Hamlet uses the fact (in a long speech of 26 lines) in order >to declaim against the vice of drunkenness. In Bacon's natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, four paragraphs, § 723 to § 726, are devoted in the same sense to drunkenness and these paragraphs immediately follow the abovementioned ten paragraphs, § 713 to § 722, concerning the im- pressions caused on the human body by the emotions of the mind. The verses contain real pearls of thought , such as are thoroughly Baconian. We find phrases such as : vicious mole of nature — since nature cannot choose his origin — tJie stamp of one defect — natjire's livery. But these words flow on with a certain long-winded heaviness. One thought is dragged out through many lines and therefore it appeared to the poet (or let us say to the publisher) when arranging the Folio-Edition of 1623, that this passage (which occurs shortly before the appearance of the spirit) was too voluminous. It was consequently cut down to four lines, the complete original being contained only in the separate publications in Quarto-form which preceded the Folio- Edition. Then follows Hamlet's address to the spirit containing the already quoted passage : Bring with thee airs from Heaven or blasts from Hell and the oft-quoted we fooles of Nature. Soon after mention is made of the immortal soul, which the spirit also possesses, and Hamlet's - 44 — And makes each petty Art ire in this body As hardy as the Nemian Lion's nerve. In a lonely spot on the terrace the spirit discloses to Hamlet the secret of the fratricide. Then it vanishes and Hamlet's speech is again clothed in the garb of natural and medicinal science : Hamlet. Hold my heart; And you my sinnewes, gro7v not instant Old; But beare 'ine stiff ely up: Then he calls out : Hamlet. jMy Tables, my Tables; meet it is I set it doivne, That one may smile, and smile and be a Villain e ; adding : So Unckle there you are , just as a physician after noting the diagnosis adds the name of the patient. Herein Hamlet again acts in the sense of Bacon and of Hippo- crates whom Bacon has named as example, for the 2nd Chapter of Book IV of De Augmentis Scientiariim describes as a first defect in the science of healing the neglect to do as the industrious Hippo- crates did , namely set down a narrative of the special cases of the patients, (narrativam. componere , casntim circa aegrotos specialiuin). — We shall soon see that all the other defects in medical science are mentioned in the tragedy. Furthermore, the already so often quoted, world-known words of Hamlet towards the close of the act : Hamlet. There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, Then are dream' t of in our Philosophy are also contained in the same sense in one of Bacon's writings. In Spedding's Edition, Vol. VIII, page 123, we read in a posthumous fragment (which was however written before Hamlet) lieaded Mr. Bacon in Praise of I\^nowledge : Hoiv many things are there which 7ve imagine not/ The closing words of the act are a medico-surgical comparison from Hamlet's mouth: Hamlet. The time is out of ioynt : Oh cursed spight. That ever / was borne, to set it right. We shall see how, with each succeeding act, facts arc added to facts until they stamp Hamlet, the melancholy Dane, as the representative of a sy.stem of medicine based on natural science. — 45 — Herewith we come to the end of the consideration of the spirit- scenes. We have noted that the ghost accords in name and action with- Bacon's Spirit, that Horatio corresponds in name and acts with Ratio. Paracelsus and Bernardino Telesio, the representatives of the spirit-theory are introduced, under softly altered names, as Marcellus and Barnardo. The views of Hamlet also agree up to now with that which w^e have learnt about the ideas of Severinus Danus. In like manner the behaviour of the prince is in outward harmony with that which the name Severinus implies (severus = melancholy, serious). But, as Marcellus and Horatio answer the sentry's challenge with : Lcige-tiun to t/ir Dane, one may with equal justice interpret the words as meaning allies , friends of the Danish king or as allies , followers of Danus. From the scientific point of view Paracelsus, Horatio and Severinus Danus are closely bound up together. This pointing of the word Dane (Latin Daims) corresponds also with the fact that in the tragedy, when the inhabitants of Denmark are meant, another expression is used to describe them. Polonius (Act II, Scene I) speaks of the Danskers resident in Paris. The mention of the University of Wittenberg reminds us of the Italian natural-philosopher, Giordano Bruno. And in like manner the spirit-scenes accord with a dramatic-parabolic representation of the spirit and of the principal spirit-theorists and natural-philosophers of the sixteenth century, namely, Paracelsus, Bernardinus Telesius, Severinus Danus, Giordano Bruno in conjunction with the representative of reason, Horatio. But if the personal names, Marcellus, Barnardo, Hamlet (the melancholy Dane) and Horatio have specific parabolic meanings and connexions, it will repa}' the trouble to enquire into the characters of the few other personal names introduced into the spirit- scenes. People holding such views as those held by Hamlet are not given to swear by the saints. When we hear in the fifth scene from Hamlet's mouth: Yes, by Saint PatricJce we are disposed to believe that this exclamation is aimed at Patricius Venetus whom Bacon, as already stated, names in one sentence together with Paracelsus, Telesius and Severinus. And now to the miniature character engaged in the spirit-scenes ! The first on whom our glance falls at the beginning of the tragedy of Ilanilet is the solitary sentr\-, Francisco. Barnardo comes, Horatio and Marcellus come ; the\' call to each other ; Francisco is released from duty, goes off in less than a minute and does not appear again during the whole play. Now, the name Francisco is just as little Danish as Marcellus, Barnardo and Horatio. It is not Italian either, for in Italian it is written with E and not with I in the middle, thus : Francesco. But, as written in the play, it contains the English fore-name of him who, besides Paracelsus, Telesius, Severinus and Patricius, occupied himself, as the latest, with the spirit-theory. It is - 46 - the fore-name of the author of De Augmentis Scie7itiarmn and of the History of Life and Death. Francis corresponds in sound exactly with his fore-name, while the final syllable is of the same sound as two- fifths of his surname Bacon. To this point is attached a scientific and a personal fact. Francis has to say: ' Tis bitter cold, Aiid I am siclic at Iieart. Bacon , in the History of Life and Death mentions the un- favorable influence which intense cold has on the stomach. When, therefore, Barnardo says to the sentry : Barnardo. 'Tis now strooie twelve, get thee to bed Francisco. and the latter replies as above, it corresponds exactly with Francis Bacon's personal condition in respect of stomatic weakness. WiUiam Hepworth Dixon publishes in his Personal History of Lord Bacon. From 2inpublished papers, 1861 a letter, dated 24th Mai 1592, from Lady Ann Bacon, Francis' mother. She wrote it from her land-seat, Gorhambury near St. Albans, to her son Anthony, who was living to- gether with his brother Francis in London : / verily thin/e your brother's weak stomach to digest hath been much catised and convinced by un- timely going to bed and then musing, L know not what,when he shotcld sleep. Quite as carefully, in a motherly and by no means military way, Barnardo reUeves the shivering and stomatically weak sentry of like name from guard, addressing him even by forename : get thee to bed Francisco ! But, that the views of the ancient and those of the more and most modern thinkers busily occupied the mind of Bacon, is clearly shown in the 4th Chapter of Book III of De Augmentis Scientiarum. Bacon herein designates as a defect the want of a compilation of the ideas of the ancient philosophers (Placita Anti(j?ionim Philosophorum). In short, he demands a history of philosophy and advises people to be more modest and not to think so contemptuously of the opinions of Pythagoras, Philolaus, Xenophanes, Anaxagoras, Parmenides, Leucippos, Democritus and others and also not to ignore the modern theories and doctrines. And then follows that disconnected passage wherein all the spirit-theorists are named in short succession: those doctrines of Theo- phrastus Paracelsus which the Dane Severimis has reduced into pleasing form and philosophical harmony, or those of Telesius of Cosenza, or of Patricius Venetus, or of our fellow-countryman Gilbert .... Let us substitute the name of the Englishman Francis Bacon, for that of the Englishman Gilbert, and then we find all the philosophers whose poetical mirrorings are together set before our eyes in Hamlet. And this history of philosophy (says Bacon in the same place) should be vividly and naturally depicted, just as Tacitus depicted the acts of — 47 — Xi'ro and Chntdius. The tragedy of Hmiilrt therefore seems to be intended to poetically replace the defect referred to in Bacon's science. The name of Claudius, however, leads us to a consideration of the other characters in the drama. 3. THE FOUR SUB -SECTIONS OF THE SCIENCE OF ANTHROPOLOGY. Claudius , this essentially Roman name, is borne by the Danish king in the tragedy of Ilanilrt. And he is in his whole conduct a very Claudius as the latter is described by Cornelius Tacitus, while that which Bacon says in his History of Life and Death concerning the Roman Tiberius Claudius Nero, may be applied word for word to the Claudius of the tragedy. Bacon, in discussing the longevity of man, writes under No 16: Augustus aunos vixit septuaginta sex; . . . Tiberius duos anipliiis Annos vixit; Vir lentis luaxillis, (ut Aitgustus aiebat) sermon e scili- cet tardus, scd validiis ; Sangmnarius, Bibax, quiqtie Libidinetn etiain in Diaetam transtulit. (Augustus lived 76 years ; . . . Tiberius lived to be ttvo years older; a man (as Augustus said of him) 0/ sloiv fa^L's, that is, of sloii) but strong speech; bloodthirsty, intemperate and one who made lust part of his diet.) The speech of the tragedy-king is also bombastic, but powerful. He has a fratricide upon his conscience and orders the murder of his step-son ; he is a drunkard and a sensualist. Tacitus, however, wrote the life of the Emperor Claudius as well as that of the just now characterised Tiberius , whose full name was Tiberius Claudius Nero. We shall soon see in what connexion these and other principal characters of the tragedy stand with medecine, anthropology and natural science. Let us note what Bacon says in the 2nd Chapter of the often -quoted fourth Book of De Augmentis Scientiarum. This chapter treats of the doctrine of the human body and Bacon, as touch- ing the body, takes four things into consideration, namely; Health, Beauty, Strength and Pleasure. As corresponding thereto he dis- tinguishes the doctrines of Medecine, Cosmetic , Athletic and 'Wduf- tary , (Voluptaria quam Tacitus appellat Eruditum lux?im — 7vhich Tacitus truly calls educated luxury). In that portion which treats of medicine he , evidently for the purpose of not making the matter too complicated , comprises the consideration of the functions, humours, respiration, sleep, generation, old age etc., nameh" that which we now call physiology and the history of evolution. Cosmetic is divided into real and unreal. Athletic is also divided into several subsections. - 48 - The Pleasure - doctrine, finally, comprises the wide field of sensuality and voluptuousness, even to the noblest pleasures of the noblest senses, namely: music, painting, poetry and dramatic art. But, as we see in the tragedy the spirit-doctrine parabolised through the spirit, through Hamlet , Horatio , Marcellus , Barnardo, and Francisco ; as we further- more see in the person of Hamlet the representative of medecine , so shall we find that the remaining portions of the science of the human body, scientifically considered, are represented in their salient features through the remaining characters of the drama, namely: Real and unreal Cosmetic — through Ophelia and Claudius, Athletic — ,, Laertes and Gertrude, and Pleasure-doctrine — ,, Claudius, Gertrude, Rosincrance,, Guildensterne, Osricke, the players and the grave-digging clowns. Cosmetic or the cultivation of beauty is, as stated, divided by Bacon into real and unreal. Corporis eniin inu7iditia, et decor honcshis,. recte existimatur promanare a ?nodestia qitadam morum, et a revereiitia, inprhnis erga Deum, ciijus creaturae stimits ; turn erga societatem, in qua degim2is; tiini rtiain erga nosmet ipsos, quos non niinus, inio magis, quain alios revereri debeuuis. (For cleannes and decency of body is rightly esteemed to proceed from a modesty of manners , and from reverence, first of all towards God whose creatures zve are; then to- wards society wherein we live; and then also towards ourselves, 7vJiom 7ve ought to reverence ?iot less, but rather more, then others). But of the unreal he says : Verum adulterina ilia decoratio, quae fucos et pig- menta adhibet , digria certe est illis defectibus, qui earn comitantur. (But that adulterate decoration, which snakes use of dyes and pigments, is 7vell wortJiy of the deficiencies which always atte7id it.) According to Bacon's views, therefore, cleanness and decency of the body are intimately connected with cleanness and decency of manners. And to whom are the words: cleanness and decency of body, proceeded from a modesty of maimers, from reverence towards God, society and ourselves more appropriate than to the loveable Ophelia.? Let one consider the mutual warnings of the sister and brother, Ophelia and Laertes (I. 3). Let one consider the conversation held immedialely thereafter with her father and the modest closing-sentence : / shall obey my Lord. Let one consider the warnings given by Hamlet in feigned madness to the gentle being (III, i). Let one remember the smart repartee contained in the nevertheless modest words in the grand dramatic scene (III, 2) and , finally , let one think of her death , reminding one of a sweet flower- fable. From all these let us select only one cxam[)le. The serious warning of Laertes to Ophelia (I, 3) begins thus: — 49 — Larrtfs. For nafiirr crrssaiif docs not gro7v alo/ir, III f/i('7Vfs and Biilke : but as his Temple imxcs, TJie iu7vard service of t/ie Minde and Sonic Groivcs 7vide ivifJurll. Here also, as in Bacon, the simultaneous growth and progress of body and habits are mentioned. But that is not enough. On the very same page Bacon closes the chapter on Cosmetic with the sentence : Alqiie sic Doctrinam, quae circa corpus Jioniinis versatur, quod Aniviae p7'o tahernaculo duntaxat est, clandimus. (And so much for the phi- losophy concerning the body of ?nan, which is but the tabernacle of the Diijid.) In Shakespeare it is the Temple, in Bacon the tabernacle. OpheHa is therefore, in her impersonation, the embodiment of the real Cosmetic science in the Baconian sense. It is otherwise with her name. Her name forms the bridge to the first principal part, to medical-science. The Greek o)cpeU(o means I help, am useful, curative, 1) dxpekeicc, or fj (hr/f/Jn (in which latter form it covers all the letters of the name Ophelia) means consequently help, assistance, and in the form used by Plato oHfelf-ia imyix)) medical aid. The name of Hamlet's beloved is therefore in complete harmony with the medical nature of the Dane. Unreal Cosmetic is referred to repeatedly in the tragedy. In his feigned madness Hamlet reproaches his beloved with having recourse to unreal cosmetic : / have heard of your pratlings too ivel enough. God has given you one pace, and you make your sclfe another; you gidge , you amble, and you lispe , and nicknaine Gods creatures, and maize your Wanto7t7icsse, your Ignorance. (NB. The modern editions replace pratlings by paintings and pace by face). In each of such in- stances it is a question of rougeing, dissembling, pretence of being better than one is, in short of unreal Cosmetic. It is to unreal Cosmetic that Polonius requires his daughter to have recourse; he suggests, figuratively, the use of rouge when he advises her (III, i) while awaiting Hamlet to make pretence of reading: Polonius. Reade on this boofic. That shew of such an exercise may colour J 'our lonelinesse. Then he moralises on : Polonius. JVe are oft too blame in this, 'Tis too much prov'd, that with Devotions visage, And pio7is Action, ivc do szirge (stigar?) o're The divell hiinselfe. (Note by the translator. Both the modern English and German editions — see Tauchnitz and von Schlegel and Tieck — give respectively 4 — 50 - sugar and iiberzuckern. Should this passage not rather be read as having probably been originally written surge o're =^ overwhelm ?) But the king feels the thrust. He murmurs : King. Oil 'tis tnic : How smart a lasJi t/iat speech doth give my Conscience f The Harlots Cheeke beautied with plaist'ring Art Is not more ugly to the thing that helpes it Then is ??ty deede, to my most painted zvord. O heavy burthen/ Thus we find following close upon one another the pretence of reading, sham piety, the rouged harlot-cheek, the painted word of the guilty-conscienced King — all unreal cosmetic of body and of soul. Next comes Athletic. Bacon, as he states, takes this science in a wider sense and discusses it from the stand-point of Agility and Endura?tce. He divides Agility under two headings, viz. Strength and Swiftness. Endurance is similarly divided, namely into Patience in natural wants and Fortitude under torments. Under Strength he remarks specially on the stupendous strength of maniacs (JMania- corumj; nndtv Fortitude uitder torments the cojistancx of some persons under exquisite tortures (inter exquisita TortnentaJ. In illustration of Agility he refers to the diver's art, the wonderful power of holding the breath. We tabulate them thus : Athletica Agilitas Tolerantia (Agility) (Endurance) Robur J^elocifas Indigentiarum Na- Cruciatibus (Strength) (Swiftness) turalium patientia Fortitudo (Patience in (Fortitude under natural wants) torments) We have two tangible examples for the first .section, strength and swiftness, (i) in the strong but hesitating and slow person of Hamlet and (2) in the weaker but stormy and quick character of Laertes. Hamlet hesitates and delays revenging the death of the noblest of fathers ; Laertes hurries from a far-off country in order to demand immediate penance for the death of Polonius, the partly good-natured and partly malicious old babbler. Both show their athletics in /umping, wrestling and fencing (Hamlet V, i and 2) : Dost thou come heere to whine, to outface me with leapiiig in her grave .^ asks Hamlet, when jumping into the grave after Laertes. They wrestle together in the grave .so that the king calls out: Pluck them asunder! In the closing — 51 — scene they plax with the foils. Ikit when they are vvresthng in the grave Hamlet exclaims : Hamlet. I pry the c take thy frngcrs from my throat; Sir though I am not Spleenative, and rash, Yet have I something in me dangerotts, Whieh let thy imseness feare. Away thy hand. Here we find not spleenative (quick-tempered) and rash in contrast to the quickness of Laertes.- But the dangero7is, which shall let Laertes' Tviseness feare, what other is it if not the stupendons strength of maniacs to which Bacon refers.? In this scene Hamlet again affects madness. In contrast to the long-windedness of the diver, to which reference is made in the Encyclopedy, stands the directly-mentioned short-windedness of Hamlet. He's fat and scant of breath / exclaims the queen in the closing-scene and the king drinks to Hamlet's better breath. The fortitude under torments joined with the constancy under exquisite tortures which together form the other chief section of Athletic, namely Endurance, are these not disclosed minutely in the words used by the spirit: to fast in Fiersf To fast means to want. To fast in fire means to want and at the same time to bear torture. Moreover the spirit's phrase: snlphurotts and tormenting Flames comprises the Latin word Tormenta, exactly as Bacon used it. The contrast to the whole athletics, and more especially to this enduring spirit of a hero-king, is found in his whilom wife, queen Gertrude. Frailty, thy name is woman ! exclaims Hamlet, referring to his mother. The last words said by the spirit before vanishing in the first act aim at impressing on Hamlet the duty of sparing his weak mother. And when the spirit reappears in the third act Hamlet is just appealing to his mother's conscience. Again there is expressed the request to spare her because : Conceit in, weakest bodies, strongest workes. The stress laid on woman's frailty in three such specially prominent parts of the tragedy places the figure of Gertrude in most clear and sharp contrast to the strength of Hamlet, to the nimbleness of Laertes and to the endurance disclosed by Hamlet's father. This frailty, in short, forms the contrast to that which Bacon calls ^ifhle/ic. In the History of Life and Death Bacon, in addition to the qualities already named (jumping, wrestling and fencing) enumerates the following bodily-exercises, viz. : Running, Ball-play, Equestrianism, etc. There is much talk of such also in Hamlet. In Act II, i. Tennis is mentioned, while, in Acts IV and V much is said about riding, horses, fencing, of foils, daggers and such-like. 4* — 52 - Voluptaria (the doctrine of educated luxury), the fourth division of Anthropology, is dealt with by Bacon far more elaborately than Athletic. These pleasures are classified in the Encyclopedy according to the organs of the senses. To the Eye belong painting and the arts directed to buildings, gardens, clothing, vases, cups, jcins and the like. To the Ear belong music, that of song and of nnnd- and stringed-iustntmeuts. Sensiis hi duo magis casti (these two senses are the purest). Then follow the much less esteemed pleasures of the lozver senses , nameh', those of the nose, of palate, and of touch, which are discussed as ointments, scents, dainties and delights of the table and, finally, the means of exciting enjoyment. At the close it runs : Cum Artibus Voluptariis Jociilares copulo. Deceptiones siquidem Sensuum, inter Delectationes Sensmim reponendae sunt. ( With arts voluptuary I couple arts joc7ilar ; for the deceiving of the senses is one of the pleasures of the senses.) But the art which deceives several senses in an agreeable manner and simultaneously is none other than the dramatic art, or, as may be said in the Baconian sense, the noble dramatic art, inasmuch as it simultaneously deceives and delights the two noblest and purest organs of sense, namely eye and ear. With this neatly turned reference to the dramatic art closes the collective treatment of Book IV which offers so many points of connexion with the noblest work of all noble ^.xX. — Hamlet. Let us next contemplate the pleasures of the senses, as contained in the tragedy ! Simple mention may be made of the fact that parts of buildings, of gardens, that clothing and weapons are spoken of therein. But paintings are also frequently referred to. In Act II, 2 : t7venfy. forty, an hundred Ducats a piece for his picture in Little ; in Act IV, 5: Divided from . . . fair judgment. Without the which we're pictures, or mere beasts, in Act V, 2 : For, by the image of my cause, I see the portraiture of his. Moreover in the Queen's Chamber, Act III, 4 hang two paintings, the one of the old king Hamlet, the other of his brother Claudius : Hamlet. Looke heere upon this Picture, and on this. In Act V the word cup is twice used. Music, that pleasure of the oral sense, is represented by act and speech so often that one may be saved the trouble of enumerating the passages. We find, in addition to the human voice, trumpets, fifes, flutes, drums and cannon-firing, the latter serving to strengthen the drum- and trumpet-music. But, foremost of all, let us consider the passages wherein man is likened to a pipe. This occurs twice in Act 111. Hamlet is in conversation with the two courtiers, Rosincrance and Guildensterne, — 53 - who have been commissioned by the King to animate Hamlet and at the same time to spy out his mind. One of the players has a flute. Hamlet takes it from him and urges Guildensterne to play thereon. Guildensterne protests repeatedly that he cannot do so. At last Hamlet says to him: JT/iy lookc you itoiv, /low umvorthy a thing you make of iiic: you would play upou iiic ; .... Wliy do you thinkc, that I am easier to bee plaid on, then a Pipe.' And in the same scene quoth Hamlet to Horatio : Hamlet. And blest are those, Whose Blood and Judgement are so well co-mingled, That they are not a Pipe for Fortunes finger, To sound what stop she please. Just such another comparison appears in Bacon's chapter on the human body (IV, 2), wherein he begins to discuss medecine : Varia ista ct subtilis corporis humani compositio et fabrica efficit, ut sit instar organi musici operosi et exquisiti, quod harmonia sua facile exctdit. (This variable and subtle composition and structure of man's body has made it as a musical instnunent of mtich and exquisite workmanship, which is easily put out of tune.) Hamlet, likewise in the above-named passage, calls the flute he holds in his hand this little Organe , so that he uses not only the same thought but also the same word Organe (OrganumJ. Man is an organ that it is difficult to play upon and easy to put out of tune. Bacon continues: And therefore the poets did zvell to conjoin music and medicine in Apollo, because the genius of both these arts is almost the same: for the office of the physician is but to know hozv to stretch and tune this harp of man's body that the harmony may be without all harshness or discord. (Atqtte in eo consistat plane Medici officium , tit sciat htimani corporis Lyram ita tendere et pulsare, tit reddatur concentus minime discors , et insuavis.) Therefore therein, as herein, the physician is shown as looking upon comparison as essential. Now to the senses of smell and of taste ! In Act III, I, mention is made of salve, and of sweet breath and perfume. Ophelia's madness and death are surrounded with flower- scents. Finally, the pleasures of the table are referred to in connexion with the gluttonous King, and this in almost every act. It is specially declared that he has a never-ending thirst. He is always wishing to drink to the health of somebody or something. Hamlet's long speech about drunkenness is also aimed at him. This speech which covers 26 lines of the earlier Quarto-Edition is cut down to 4 lines in the later Folio-Edition. However, we have seen in the Tempest that its author classes those who are morally deficient and drunkards among the human- — 54 — animal intermediate-forms (monstrosities) and this is equally the case in Ha 111 Iff. The bloodthirsty, voluptuous drunkard, Claudius, is compared to a goat-hoofed Satyre. In the monologue of the first act, where Hamlet likens his father to the sun-god, he compares his uncle with man-beast; Hiperion to a Satyre! The spirit also expresses itself in the same sense when telling of the murder: Hamlet. Mine uncle ! Ghost. I that incestiwits, that adulterate Beast. But not only do we hear in these words of the lowest-pleasure of the senses, that of feeling, namely licenciousness, being placed in the fore- ground. Such pourtrayals are frequent. One may be spared detailing them. Only two prominent passages need be mentioned. As touching Claudius, the spirit describes animal pleasure with exactly the same characteristic word as that used by Bacon (IV, 2) concerning the Cornelius Tacitus -precedent. Bacon adds to the word Voluptaria (doctrine of pleasure) the following phrase : (juaiii Tacitus appellat Eriidituiu luxiini (ivhich Tacitus calls educated luxury). And the spirit in Hamlet says : Ghost. Let not the Royall Bed of Denmarke be A Co2ich for Luxury and damned Licest. There luxus, here Luxury. Both are used in the sense of Bacon and of Tacitus. And the other noticeable passage is that where Hamlet in the grand scene (Act III, 4), in warning the queen, calls to her as farewell : Hamlet. Good night, but go not to mine Unkles bed, Assume a Vertue, if you have it not. . . . The son here addresses his own mother with regard to sensuaUty as her soul's physician. Lastly we have the arts of merry deceiving of the senses. Well, in Hamlet they form the central point of the whole play. In Act III, sc. 2 it is a play within a play, a stage upon a stage. From Polonius' lips we have the long enumeration: Tragedie, Comedie, Historic, Pasto- rall: Pastoricall-Comicall- Historicall- Pastorall: Tragicall- Historicall: Tragicall-Comicall-Historicall-Pastorall (\l, 2). We find such words as : panto7nimic, play the fool, jest, jester. Puns arc found every- where and even the Clownes crack jokes and ask each other riddles. What are these, if not merry arts? The most striking fact, however, is that the dramatic art plays a part not only in the interpolated dramatic-piece but also that it is placed in the foreground in two longish scenes. Shortly before the beginning of the play within the - 55 — play (III, 2) Hamlet tells the players a number of rules that every good actor may even now bear in mind. Again, at the end of the second act he declaims a number of verses from an older tragedy to the players standing around him. We see that Hamlet, with good memory, practices the art of declamation and that he is a fine judge, theoretically, of the dramatic art. Quite in the same sense does Bacon, shortly after comparing the human body to a musical instrument that is easily put out of tune, advise doctors to occupy themselves with subsidiary matters tending to rejoice the heart. Bacon supplements the advice by adding that there have been physicians who as poets, antiquarians, critics, orators, statesmen, or theologians surpassed the reputation gained by them in their own special calling. Thus, too, is Hamlet an excellent amateur player and poet. He is the writer of the celebrated verses con- tained in OpheUa's letters. He composes a lot of verse for the piece to be played before the king. But still more than all this speaks the fact how skilfully he plays the fool before the king and court. Equally interest- ing is the Hamlet-Bacon-concord in respect of the players declamation in Act II, 2. At Hamlet's request the first player declaims the passage where Hecuba laments over the death of her husband , king Priam. The player changes colour and has real tears in his eyes. And in the long monologue that follows at the close of the act Hamlet laments his want of feeling and energy while the mime himself was weeping : A /id all for iwthhigf For Hecuba? What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecnba, That he should rveepe for her? The parallel to this closing monologue is found at the close of the sixth book of De AugDiciitis Scientiariun. This book discusses the communication of thought and treats of two supplements in the last chapter, namely : the doctrines of criticism and of education. The author speaks therein of a special kind of educational method : At que est res, quae si sit Profcssoria, in/amis est; Veruin dis- ciplinaria facta, ex optiinis est. Intelligimus autem Actionem Theatralem. Quippe quae memoriam roborat ; vocis ct pronunciatio?iis toniim atque efficaciam. temperat; Vultum et gestum ad decorum componit, Fiduciam non parvam conciliat, denique oculis hominum juvenes assuefacit. (It is a thi7ig indeed, if practised professionally, of lo7v repute ; but if it be made a part of discipline, it is of excellent use. I mean stage- playing : an art which strengthens the memory, regulates the tone and effect of the voice and pronunciation, teaches a decent carriage of the countenance and gesture, gives not a little assurance, and accustoms young men to bear being looked at.) - 56 - Then Bacon relates an episode from Tacitus. A certain Vibulenus, tormerly an actor, served in the Pannonian legion. This Vibulenus, having stirred up a revolt against the prefect Blaesus, had been thrown into prison and rescued by his comrades. He then held a speech to the troops in which he accused the prefect of having murdered his brother. Anszver, Blaesus, ivherc didst thou cast his body? The horror-struck soldiers are about to slay the prefect when it transpires that there is no word of truth in the matter, inasmuch as Vibulenus never had a brother. He played the wJwle thing as if it had been a piece on the stage. (Ille vero rem totam, tanquam fabulam, in scena peregit.) And then the phrase : Sed quis fratri meo vitatn, quis fratrem mihi reddit? (But who shall restore life to my brother, or my brother to me?) is in its double-question a counterpart to : What 's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba? To the actor-soldier, Vibulenus, the words of Hamlet : Whafs Hecuba to him? would equally apply. We have now become acquainted with three books of De Aug- mentis Scientiarum which clearly close in direct connexion with the Shakespearian dramatic art. At the end of the second book we find the three parables of Pan, Perseus and Dionystis and then there are those words with which Bacon breaks off: Veriim in Theatro nimis diu moramur (But zve stay too long in the theatre). At the close of the fourth book we found the comparison between the glow- worm's light and other illuminating matters; this corresponds with the final words of the spirit before vanishing in the first act. At the end of the sixth book we find in Vibulenus the unmistakeable counterpart to the first-player in Hamlet. After having shown the connexion between the Tragedie of Hamlet and Bacon's spirit-doctrine, after having found that all four individual parts of the science of the human-body (medicine, cosmetic, athletic and voluptaria) are fully represented in Hamlet (and all strictly in the Baconian sense), let us now proceed to further justify the assertion put forward by producing evidence to prove that Hamlet is the physician after the manner Bacon imagines an ideal physician should be. 4. THE DEFECTS IN MEDICAL SCIENCE. That Hamlet appears in the first act in the character of a natu- ralist and physician has been sufficiently emphasised. The present — 57 - aim is to furnish evidence to show that he always appears in the other acts, and invariably in harmony with Bacon's views thereon, in the cha- racter of a physician who bases his science on investigations into na- ture, that he is, in short, a parabolically-invented counterpart to the author of the Idea JMcdicinae Philosopliicnc, in short to Severinus Danus. If the three sister-sciences. Cosmetic, Athletics and Pleasure-doc- trine, presented so many points of comparison between Bacon and Hamlet, the fourth science, that of medicine, as the most distinguished and comprehensive, offers still more parallels. It is to this, moreover, that Bacon devotes the by far greatest part of his chapter on the hu- man body, (Dr Aii^^m. Sc. IV, 2). But the greatest space of this section is, in its turn, devoted to the science of the medicine of the future, that is to say to those branches thereof which were missing in his day. And all these missing items (Desiderata) are referred to in the tragedy of Hamlet. According to Bacon, medicine has three principal duties or sub- sections, namely the Preservation of Health, the Ctire of Diseases, and the Prolongation of Life. There are few deficiencies in the first- named, therefore Bacon treats of it curtly. Much is wanting in the second part. He mentions : Medical Reports (Narrationes Medicinales). Comparative Anatomy (Anatomia comparata) . Vivisection (Anatomia Vivorum). The Treatment of Diseases pronounced Inairable (De curatione morbonim habitornm pro insanabilibus ) . The Means for rendering Death easy to the Body (De Eutha- nasia exterior e). Authentic Medicines (De Medicinis authenticis). The Imitation of Natural Hot Springs (Imitatio Thermarum ua- turalium). The Physician's Clue, sc. Natural Philosophy. (Filum medicinalej. Of the first-named missing feature mention is, as we have seen, made in Act I of Hamlet. It is at that place where Hamlet calls for my Tables, my Tables ! and makes notes therein respecting the conduct of his uncle. One might imagine that this idea, which emanates from Hippocrates and Bacon as a medical suggestion, is far removed from the train of thought running through Hamlet , which is of psychological and pantomimic, rather than of medical character. But we have seen how all these sciences run in Baconian lines, into one great whole, namely Anthropology. And when we find all the other above-named defects in this science referred to in the tragedy, and that in the same order of reference, we can no longer doubt that the same thoughts were at work in both cases. - 58 - The second defect is the want of a Comparative Auatoiuy. We moderns understand under this term the comparison of the whole and of individual parts of the bodies of animals which are more or less akin to each other. Bacon means by the term the differences in form in different human beings , therefore differences between beings of the same species. Naught else but this is meant by Hamlet , in the grave-yard scene (Act V, i), namely: Comparisons between various human skulls ; attempts to guess whether this or that skull belonged to a politician, a courtier, a lawyer or a merry-andrew. A third defect is that of Vivisection. Let us condense Bacon's views thereon ! Anatomy practised on the living is something inhuman. Nevertheless we are bound to admit that very many anatomical details which, taken from the medical standpoint, are necessary to a know- ledge of our bodies can never be learnt by a dissection of the dead. Thus vivisection serves humanity in its turn and we cannot dispense with it. We must, however, confine it to living animals , which will allow of drawing comparison with human nature. In Bacon's time rats were, probably, the principal objects of such experiments; at least Ham- let's exclamation in Act III, Scene 4 suggests the fact : Hotv no7v a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead. The situation is as follows, viz.: Im- mediately after the effect of the play Hamlet visits his mother at her request. Polonius listens, with the assent of the queen, behind an arras. Hamlet arrives. Mother and son mutually reproach each other : Hamlet. Come, come, and sit yoii doivii, you sliall not boiidge : You go not till I set yon up a glasse. Where you may see the i^imost part of you? The older editions contain the directions : Locks the door. In the Folio-Edition the mother's cry of fear follows immediately on the above, namely : Queen. What 7vilt thou do? thou ivilt not murder me? Helpe, helpe, hoa. Polonius. What hoa, helpe, helpe, helpe. Hamlet. How now, a Rat? dead for a Ducate, dead. Polonijis. Oh I am slai7ie. Killes Polonitis. The thrust is given through the arras. The symbolically-meant phrase of Hamlet : Where you may see the inmost part of you ! is understood literally by his mother, whereas Hamlet is about to undertake a vivisection of her soul. Hence wc find in a previous scene the words : / 7vill speak Daggers to her, but use none. Hence, too, the queen's words. O Hamlet, speake no more, thou turnst mine ryes into my very soule. Hence, too, her exclamation : These words — 59 — like Daggers enter in >/iiur eares. Hence, finally, her lament : O Hamlet, tJioii has cleft my Jirart in t^vaiiie. Thereupon, Hamlet still continuing the moral vivisection, answers : I/amict. O throw away the worser part of it, And live the purer with the other half. As Hamlet's father represents the spirit so does Hamlet's mother, parabolically speaking, serve to illustrate the weak, frail body on which the physician here practices a metaphorical vivisection. In fuller con- firmation of this view we twice find other, similar concordance with the thoughts set forth in the science of Bacon. In the passage in De Augmcntis Sc. where he refers to the missing science of vivisection he says that much which remains a sealed book in the corpse is in the living body made far more clear to the eye, (possint esse conspiciii). Exactly in this sense does Hamlet act when his mother imagines that he will use the knife on her because he says that he will make her inmost part visible. The dissection of the heart has also its Bacon- parallel, namely where he speaks of the softening of dried up portions of the body in his History of Life and Death in the sense of strength- ening and rejuvenating them ; he opens a passage by relating the manner in which Medea made PeUas young again. She cut the old man's body in pieces and boiled them with certain herbs in a pot. Bacon rejects the cutting -in -pieces but suggests that a certain amount of seething might be applicable. He continues: Attamen etiam Concisio in Frjista adhibenda aliqitatenii videtur non Ferro, sed Judicio ! (But yet the cutting to pieces fnot indeed with a knife, but with the judg- ment] may in some sort be useful fj Not with the knife but with the judgment does Hamlet dissect his mother's heart and thereupon he advises her how to improve herself and become young again. That the train of thought contained in the drama is a parabolised vivisection is evident from the exclamation: a rat! Hamlet tells his mother that he will, morally speaking, vivisect her. She believes that he intends to murder her. At the same moment Hamlet (as Bacon recommends in his science) turns away from the human being and practices on — a rat. This accords, too, with Hamlet's answer to the king's question anent the play : King. What do you call the Play? Hamlet. The Mouse-trap : Marry how? Tropically: Thus Hamlet seeks to catch mice with the play as his trap and, as he believes that it is the king with his half animal lusts who lurks behind the arras, he thinks to have the rat in his power. — 60 — Concerning the next deficiency, ///f Cti-re of Diseases which are described as incurable, Bacon says that exceptionally-skilled and high- minded physicians are necessary thereto. Hamlet is about to relieve his mother from an evil that is difficult of cure. If we take a few Baconian sentences which soon follow on that which has already been quoted we find a scientific key to the close of the grand scene between mother and son. Bacon says that a medicine cannot work immediately and by one exhibition. In like manner a speech only once, or even several times, repeated will not suffice to relieve one of an inborn vice. Verum quae in Natura exirme possunt et pollent, sunt ordo, proseciitio, series, vicissitudo artificiosa. (It is order, pursuit, sequence, and skilful interchange of applicatioji, 7v/iich is mighty in nature.) The verses which follow on Hamlet's and live the purer ivith the other half run : Hamlet. Good night, but go not to mine Uutclcs bed, Assume a Vertuc, if you have it not, rcfraine to night, And that shall lend a kind of easinesse To the next abstinence . . . The older Quarto-editions also contain the following words which are not contained in the Folio-edition, namely : ... the next more easy ; For use almost can change the stamp of nature . . . These thoughts are again entirely congruent, for Bacon, too, speaks simultaneously of the curing of both body and soul, of healing sickness as well as vice. He also recommends regular repetition and endurance and speaks of the mighty effects of a right use upon our nature. A further deficiency is the Means for rendering DeatJi easy to the Body (E^ithanasia). Bacon tells of the beautiful, easy death of Antonius Pius, who was snatched away as it were by a deep and pleasant sleep. Just as gently and painlessly was Hamlet's father killed in the orchard through the dropping into his ear of a poison that acted with lightning effect. But Bacon distinguishes between that Euthanasia which regards the preparation, of the soul (quae animae praeparatiouem rcspicit) and the Euthanasia exterior (the easy dying of the body). Hamlet makes precisely the same distinction. Hamlet's father died quickly, but without the preparition of the soul, i. e. with external but not with internal Euthanasia. For this cause when Hamlet is about to slay his uncle while the latter kneels praying he stays his hand. It seems to him to be no vengeance to send the murderous king to his account with so well-prepared a soul. He must die in the midst of his sinful lusts: Hamlet. When he is drunk asleepe : or in his Rage . . . — 6i — lie must be engaged on some vice, be gambling or cursing — then 1 lamlet will sla}' him. We ha\e now seen hc)w five principal deficiencies in medicine find expression in Hniiilcf. I.et us now approach the last and most distinguished of such defects : JJcsideratiir nimiriim Philosophia naturalis vera ct activa, ciii Mcdicitiar Sciciitia inacdificchir. (A true and active Natural PhilosopJiy for tJie science of medicine to be built upoji.J But we find natural philosophy, and always in the Baconian sense, in every page, we might sa>- in every verse, of Hamlet. The speeches of all the characters in the play are filled with Baconian natural philosophy and, most of all, in those of the leading figure, Hamlet. The spirit-scenes are already in the field of natural science as taught in the Encyclopedy and in the History of Life and DeatJi ; man}- of the medicinal details are closely bound up with natural science and now we shall find, through a number of striking examples, how all branches of Bacon's search into nature find their echo in Hamlet, how they are always in friendly harmony with the poetic thoughts and never — not in one single instance — in contradiction therewith. The enumeration thereof will follow the same order as that of the drama. Act I, I . Barnardo. Last night of all, Ulieu yop.d same Starr e that's West^vard from. the Pole Had made his course t' illume that part of Heaven IMiere now it burues . . . Seven words bearing the colouring of natural science in these few lines ! We have an astronomical fixing of the time before us, but the most important expression, from the scientific point of view, is found in the verb burnes. In Bacon's Theory of the Heaven (The ma Coelij we read: My Theory affirms that the stars are real flames. (Sid era veras flam mas esse.) Act I, I. Horatio. As stars 7vith trains of fire, and deivs of blood. Disasters in the sun ; and the moist star. Upo?i whose influence Neptune's empire stands. Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse. Comets, sun-spots, lunar-eclipse, the influence of the moon on the ocean, its ebbs and floods, moreover, the medical comparison of the eclipse with sickness — all this is crowded into four lines and agrees entirely with Bacon's views as set forth in his Thema Coeli and in his treatise On the Ebb and Flow of the Sea (De Fluxu et Re flux u Maris). — 62 — We quote the following three passages on account of the many natural-science-thoughts contained therein: Act I, 3. Laertes. The Canker Galls, the Infants of the Sprmg, Too oft before the buttons be disclos'd, And in the Morne and liquid dew of Youth, Contagious blastnicnts are most imminent. Act I, 3. Polonius. I, Springes, to catch Woodcocks. I doe knoiv When the Bloud burnes, hozv Prodigall the Soule Gives the tongue vowes : these blazes. Daughter, Giving more light then hcate ; extinct in both. Even in their promise, as it is a making; You must not take for fire. Act I, 4. Hamlet. Since nattire cannot choose his origin. Act I. 5. Quoth the spirit to Hamlet: Ghost. I could a Tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soule, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres, Thy knotty and combi?ied locks to part. And each particular haire to stand an end. Like Quilles upon the fretfull Porpentine: This exact description of extreme mental excitement corresponds with that which we have already taken cognisance of in considering^ the third rule of the History of Life and Death concerning the qualities of the spirit. When the spirit has the desire to take flight and is entirely detained it compels the former parts to assume new forms. The eyes become more prominent through the swelling of the spirit; the locks divide themselves ; the hair assumes fresh forms, each particular one stands on end. The Like Quilles upon the fretfull Porpentine, which might almost cause us moderns to smile, is in reality the most drastic simile for internal excitement in the Baconian sense, for we read in his Historia Densi et Rari (History of Dense and Rare) : Complura aniinalia per ferociam erigunt cristas, et pilos, et plumas : quod fit ex contractione cutis per timiorem spiritimm.. (Many animals when angered erect their combs, hair and feathers. And this proceeds from a con- traction of the skin by the S7velling of the spirit.) In the next sentence he says that turkey-cocks swell out very considerably and erect their feathers, like a mane, when enraged (irati). The poison which is so vividly described in : 77iat S7vift as Quick- silver, it courses through the Natural Gates and billies of the Body - 63 - is called Hcbnioii by the poet. The same herb, Henbane, f I lyoscyaiiiiis,) is classed under the Opiates and narcotics in tlir History of Life and Death. The surgical simile at the end of the first act also finds its counter- part in Bacon's writings. Act I, 5. Ha in let. The time is out of ioyut : Oh cursed spight, That ever I ivas borne to set it right. When only 2 1 years old Francis Bacon had already written a short treatise (it was not printed until 1 50 years later) in which he says that probably the man to improve the diseased estate of the liwrld would be Francis, the Duke of Anjou and Brabant. We next read : We do plainly see in the most countries of Christendom so unsound and shaken. an estate, as desireth the help of some great person, to set together and join again this pieces asunder and out of Joint. The state of matters is described on both sides as unsound. Here, as in Hamlet, it is the question of help on the part of an individual ; here, as therein, the medical comparison is completed by the characteristic out of Joint. When, in the second act, the king commissions the two courtiers Rosincrance and Guildensterne to cheer Hamlet up , his language also bears a medical colouring. The king speaks o{ Hamlet's transformation; he desires to find a remedy and the courtiers take leave while express- ing the hope that Heaven make our presence and our practices Plea- sant and helpfull to him. Specially noticeable is the fact that the state of health of one person who is only mentioned (and that conversationally) twice in the play, is exactly described in both instances. The old king of Norway is com- bined, in Act II, 2, with the words Sicknesse, Age, Impotence, while we have already heard, in Act I, 2, that he was Impotent a7id Bedrid. Both of these qualities are printed in large type in the Folio-Edition. Let us consider the verse contained in Hamlet's letter to Ophelia: Act II, 2. Doubt thou, the Starr es are fire, Doubt, that the Siinne doth move: Doubt Truth to be a Tier, But never Doubt, I love. The first line says, in concord with the previously-mentioned Bacon- Shakespeare-passages , that the .stars are real flames. The second de- clares the sun to move — that is round the earth ! That might raise a doubt in our minds. But Bacon had not fully acknowledged the theory of Copernicus in his own scientific writings. As a man of thirty he ridiculed these neiv carmen which drive the earth about in his Praise of Knowledge. And in the essay Of Wisdom for a Man's Self he - 64 - says with regard to the earth : for ihat only stands fast upon /lis oivii centre. Hamlet and Bacon therefore think the same , even down to their scientific errors. The signature to the above-named love-letter runs: IJiinc , 7vJiitst tJiis AlacJiinc is to Jiiinc. Here we find the human body compared to a machine one and a half centuries before De Lamettrie issued his chief work, L'/wninic machine (Man, a uuicliinc). This self-same scene shows us conversationally the last form of spirit-motion, namely the creation of new organisms, as such is discussed in the third rule of The History of Life and Death. When the spirit takes action but is detained against its will the firmer portions (of the body) take on new forms, (see the changes in the conformation of eyes, hair , the swelling of the comb , feathers , porcupine-quills a. s. o. to which reference has been made above). It even creates new life. This creation, without eggs or seed, which is simply due to the motions of the spirit brought about by warmth , this Generatio aequivoca — an error in the science of that period — falls from the mouth of Hamlet: Act II, 2. Hamlet. For if the Sun breed Alagots in a dead dogge . . . And then forthwith to Polonius : Hamlet. Have you a daughter? — Let her not walke i'th'Sunne : Conception is a blessing, btit not as your daughter may conceive. Here is first the creation of new beings through corruption and heat, then the attempt made in feigned madness to extend this creative power, as attributed to the sun alone, to the highest form of animal life, namely to man. It is certainly true that, in order to be able to introduce such an assertion into a drama, it was necessary to put it into the mouth of a character who was mad or, at least, feigned to be so. Thus it is that we find so often in the mouths of the Shakespearean fools, as in this instance, the highest wisdom expressed, under the form of madness, or by such as the half-childish Polonius. That this inference is the correct one is shown by the comments of Polonius immediately following thereon. These words, in the quaint form (hovering between prose and l)lank verse) in which they are couched in the Folio-edition of 1623, run as follows: Polonius. Hoiv pregnant {sometimes) his Replies are f A happinesse, That often Ufa dii esse Jiite 01/, Which Reason and Sanitie could not So prosperously be deliver d of - 65 - And in the same sense : Pohviius. TJtoiigh tJtis be inadiicssr. Yet tJicrc is ^fctJlod in 7. It contains, in truth, Hke every verse and every word in Hamlet, the whole method of the highest science as known to that period, for every step forward in the drama is equivalent to a step forward in parabolically versified science in the sense of Francis Bacon. In Act II, 2 the courtiers Rosincrance and Guildensterne are thus greeted by Hamlet : ] faiiilct. What have you my good friends, deserved at the hands of Fortune, that she sends you to Prison hither f Guildensterne. Prison, my Lord f Hamlet. Denmark 's a Prison. Rosincrance. Then is the U^orld one. Hamlet. A goodly one, in ivhich there are many Confines, JVards, and Phingeons ; D enmar ke being one o' th' 7Vorst. Rosincrance. We think not so my Lord. Hamlet. Why then 'tis none for you ; for there is nothing either good or bad, hut thinki^ig nuikes it so: to me it is a prison. Rosincrance. Why then your Ambition makes it one: 'tis too narrotv for your minde. Hamlet. O God, / could be bounded in a nutshell, and count my selfe a King of in finite space. The word LJenmarke occurs about twenty times in the tragedy. But at the place where it is reproduced above in different type it is emphasised in the FoUo-edition by italics, for this is the passage which gives parabolically the explanation of the word. Denmarke means in English not only the land (or mark) of the Danes 'but also the land (or mark) of dens or caves. Now, the cave which Hamlet has here in mind plays an important part in Bacon's philosophy. Aphorism XLII in the first book of the Xeiv Organon mentions, as one of the chief errors to which mankind is subjected, the Ldols oj the Cave: Jdola Specus sunt hiola hominis individui. Llabet eniin unusquisque (praeter aberrationes Naturae htunanae in gcncre) Specuni sivc cavernam quan- dam individuam, quae lumen Naturae fra7tgit et corrumpit. ( The Idols of the Cave are the idols of the individual man. For every one besides the errors common to Jiunnin nature in general has a cave or den of his own, tvhich refracts and discolours the light of nature.) In book V, chapter 4 of his Encyclopedy , De Augmentis Scientiarum , Bacon carries out this word-painting still more clearly. Herein, likewise, he speaks of the hiols of the Cave. He adds the well-known allegory 5 — 66 — of Plato and says : If a child has been brought up in an underground cave until maturity and then comes suddenly to the surface and to day-light it is unavoidable that a number of strange and erroneous im- pressions will arise in him. Then, to further quote Bacon verbatim : JVow we, althotigh our perso7is live in the vie7v of heaven, yet our spirits are included in the caves of our 07vn bodies. (Nos vero scilicet sub aspcctu coeli degimus, interea tamen aniini in cavernis corporum no- stroruiii conduntur.) Therefore the body constitutes the cave or den of the spirit! It is in this sense that Julia, on hearing that Romeo has slain her cousin, Tybalt, compares the body of her beloved to a fair cave in which a horrid soul, a dragon, dwells: Romeo and Juliet, III, 2: Nurse. O Serpent heart, hid with a flowring face. Juliet. Did ever Dragon keepe so fair e a Cave? Cave serves as picture of the body. It is in the same sense that Hamlet uses the word den when he, as physician, combines it with the word rnarke and calls it prison and du7igeon. Directly afterwards he says his spirit could be bounded in a nutshell. But as this nutshell of the body is the external shell of his spirit, so also is Denmarke the cave-mark, the body of his spirit. Thus Hamlet mirrors Plato's thought exactly, but still more emphatically that of Bacon. The two Courtiers may think that Hamlet speaks of the kingdom of Denmarke; the prince lets them think so and calmly philosophises on. It is in the same sense that this word Denmarke must be taken when it is used in Act I, 4. Something is rotten in the State of Denmarke. It is in this sense that we may continue to understand Den- marke in: voyce of Denmarke, the whole ear e of De7imarke, Denmark's health. And let thine eye looke like a Friend on Denmarke — a request which is especially appropriate to Hamlet, the physician, if we translate Denmarke with body, and this the more so as the word comes from the mouth of queen Gertrude, the representative of the frail human body. And this word De^imarke is nearly always personified. It gives besides an explanation as to the title of the play. We understand therefrom why the tragedy is not simply called Hamlet, or Prune Hamlet, but The Tragedie of Hamlet. Prince of Denmarke. It is The tragedy of Hamlet, the Prince of the Den-Mark, the tragedy of Hamlet, the physician, the prince of the human body. All this is in full accord with the previously-mentioned parabolising of the Danish physician, Severinus Danus, by the melancholy Dane. - 67 - Again, for the words i/ierc is nothing cither good or bad we find ample commentary in the Aphorisms Of the Coulcrs of Good and Evill which appeared in 1597 in a httle vokime with the first Essays. But Thinking makes it so: to me it is a prison. Thus it runs on in Hamlet and also in a Mask (now in Spedding's edition) which Bacon wrote anonymously at the end of the i6th century for a court- festival given by the Earl of Essex, wherein we read: There is no prison to the prison of thoughts. And how appropriate are the words : 'tis too narro7V for your i/ii/nfr to the prison of the thoughts, to the prison of the spirit, to that which the human body really is. The speech of Hamlet that follows soon after, in which he gives expression to his dissatisfaction at and philosophises anent the glorious- ness and nothingness of man, contains quite a number of Bacon-similes. A single one of them will suffice: What a piece of ivork is a man! — tJie beauty of the zvorldf And in the parable o^ Pan, Bacon says: Deliciac enim Alundi, Animae viventijim sunt (the son Is of the living are the delights of the world), while Hamlet's melancholy denies the delights with the identical word employed by Bacon in its Latin form : Man delights not me. The conversation is directed at this point to the approaching players. Rosincrance. If you delight not in Man , 7vhat Lenton entertainment the Players shall receive from yon I One sees how the dramatic art is reckoned to anthropology in Bacon; thus, also in Hamlet it crops up for the first time in direct connexion with the philosophy concern- ing man. We have already discussed the appearance of the players and Hamlet's declamation. The long monologue which forms the close of the second act contains the well-known words: for Hecuba. In order to show the natural-philosophy and medical colouring contained in this soliloquy let us simply enumerate the number of names of parts of the human body which, in addition to the terms voice, function, life, spirit, are mentioned. These are : visage, eyes, ear, pate, beard, face, nose, throat, kings, liver, gall, heart, brain, to?iguc, organ. How Bacon liked to think about a language without words is known to us already. Such is likewise the case with Hamlet. Near the close of the monologue he decides to test his uncle by the performance of a play wherein a similar murder shall be introduced : For Murther. though it have no tongue, will speakc With most myraculous Organ. In the conversation with Ophelia we hear from Hamlet's mouth : Act III, 2 : Hamlet. For vertue cannot so innoctilate our old stocke, but we shall rellish of it. How much Bacon thought of grafting (innocula- 5« — 68 — ting) and what an important part the skilful exercise thereof plays in his science will be seen on close examination into the comedies. In the same scene we read : Act III, 2. King. How fares oitr Cosin Hamlet r Hamlet. Excellent Ifaitli. of the Camelions dish: I eatc the Ayir promise-cramm' d. you cannot feed Ca- pons so. But that the chameleon feeds on the air is no simple creation of the poet's brain. It was the scientific belief of that period , for Bacon in § 360 of his natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, writes anent the chameleon: He feedeth not only upon air (tJiongh that be Ids principal sustenance) . . . Preparations for the play are being made. His mother calls to Hamlet to near her, Hamlet. No good Aloiher. here's Mettle more attractive. A stronger magnet is present; he hes down at Ophelia's feet. And fhe play within a play, the murder of Gonzago, bears through- out a stamp of natural science. The mimic royal-pair reckon their thirty-years' marriage according to the transit of sun and moon: Full thirtie times hath PJioebus Car gon round, Neptune s salt Wash and Tellus Orbed ground: And thirtie dozen Maoris tvith borrozved sheene, About the world have times tzuelve thirties bcene .... The mimic king declares himself to be sick unto death in the following words : King. My operant Powers my Functions leave to do I Quite in the sense of this operant we find in TJie History of Life and Death no less than nine sections furnished with superscriptions beginning with the words: Operatio super .... (The Operation upon . . .), namely, the effect on .spirit, blood, humours, intestines, nourishment, whereby the strength of the functions (Functiommi Robur) are to be increased and the prolongation of life (Prolongatio Vitae) be aimed at. Thus we find here : Operatio, Functiones and Robur and there : operant, Functions and Powers, and these in each instance in close connexion with the duration of human life. We have already considered the grand scene (Act III, 4) between mother and son which appears to begin with vivisection and ends in a moral treatment of the soul. It is also connected b}' man}- details with medecine and natural science. - 69 - Hamlet points to the portraits of both kings which are hanging on the wall and asks his mother how it is possible, after having loved a so god-like man, to love so animalised an one. Havilet. Eyes zvitJiout feeling, feeling zvithont sight. Ears xvitJiont hands or eyes, smelling sans all. Or but a siekly part of one true sense Could not so mope. This dwelling on one or more of the senses is, again, entirely in agreement with Bacon's philosophy. Hamlet weighs the powers of a fraction of an individual one of our five senses. The spirit appears in the chamber. It is visible and audible to Hamlet but not perceptible to his mother. Qiieene. Alas, hozu ist i^'ith you? Forth at your eyes, your spirits xvildely peepe, And as the sleeping Soldiers in tli Alarme, Your bedded haire, like life in excrements, Start up; and stand an end. This, from a natural-philosophical point of view, forms the supple- ment to the effect of fear and horror as we saw it in Act I, 5. There the spirit of the father says : / coidd a Tale unfold, zvhose lightest luord Would harroxv up thy souk, freeze thy young blood. Make thy two eyes like Starres, start from their Spheres, Thy knotty and combined locks to part. And each particular haire to stand on end. Like Quilles upon the fretfull Porpentine. Here his mother says : FortJi at your eyes, your spirits wildely peepe, adding : Your bedded haire, like life in excrements, start up, ana stand an end. Here, as there, we find the explanation contained under the third Rtde at the close of the History of Life and Death. The spirit of him who is excited in his soul seeks to take flight (in this instance through eyes and hair) but, being detained, develops new forms of organism or even new life, for, according to Bacon's theory, worms are born out of putrefying matter through the motions of the spirit. In Act IV, 3 the king asks: Nozv Ilandet, where s Polonius: Hamlet. At supper .... not zuhere he eats, but where he is eaten, a certaine convocation of zvorms are ene at him .... We fat all creatures — 70 — else to fat us , and zve fat our selfe for Magots. Your fat King , and your leane Begger is but variable service to dishes, but to one Tabic thafs the end. King. Alas, alas! Hamlet. A man may fish zvith the worm that hath cat of a Kitig, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm. King. What dost thou meane by this .- Hamlet. Nothing but to shew you hozv a King may go a Progresse through the guts of a Begger. This passage corresponds in train of thought exactly with the first section of that chapter of the History of Life and Death which bears the superscription : Alimentatio (Nourishment). It runs : Alimentum erga Alimentatum debet esse Naturae inferioris , et simplicioris substantiae : Plantae ex Terra et Aqua nutriuntur; Animalia ex Plantis ; Homines ex Animaltbus. (Nourishment should be of an inferior nature and a simpler substance than the body nourished. Plants are nouiished by earth and water; animals by plants, men by animals.) Hamlet tells us in accord with this doctrine that the higher animals find their nourishment in those of lower type ; man feeds on the fish, the fish on the worm. Inasmuch as the worm in its turn feeds on the remains of the dead human bod>', the circulation of matter becomes completed by returning back to itself The circuit is produced thus: man — fish— worm — man. Here we have at the same time a frightfully drastic example of the durability and of the circulation of matter as taught in the first of the closing-rules of the History of Life and Death wherein we are told that nothing is lost, that everything passes into some other body. Two other examples are found in the graveyard-scene at the be- ginning of the last Act. Act V, I. Hamlet. To zvhat base uses may zuc returnc Horatio. Why may not Imagination trace the Noble dust of Alexander, till lie find it stopping a bunghole. Horaiio. 'T zvere to consider, to curiously to consider so. Hamlet. No faith, not a iot. But to follozv him th ether zvith modestie enough, and likeliehood to lead it; as thus. Alexander died: Alexander was btmed: Alexander returneth into dust; the dust is earth; of earth we make Lome, and why of that Lome (zvhereto lie zvas converted) migth they not stopp a Beere-barrell.- This is again, in mo.st unmistakeablc manner, the doctrine of the imperishability and circulation of matter. But this passage is not only related to the most important and frequently-quoted first rule of 'Lhe — 71 — History of Life and Death ; it stands in direct connexion with a remark made by Bacon as touching the dust of Alexander the Great. In § 771 of his Sj'/va Sylvaruin he relates that Caesar visited the tomb of Alexander the Great in the city named after him. In spite of the excellent embalming, the corpse was so tender that Caesar, touching but the ?iose of it, defaced if. That is to say that a gentle touch sufficed to reduce the nose to dust. It is true that Bacon says : / find it (the statement, Trsl.) in Plutarch and others, but the story is not to be found in Plutarch and is told in different fashion by other ancient writers. Dio Cassius relates that Caesar broke off a piece of the nose. To put it tersely. Bacon, as we have already found in so many instances, muses on a scientific fact which the Shakespearean dramas develope in poetic form. Bacon, without giving his source of information for the statement, depicts the beginning of the faUing-to-dust of the Great Alexander, whereas Hamlet follows up the question until he uses the great Alexander's dust to stopp a Beere-barrell. Closely following on the term Beere-barrell comes Hamlet's : Inipcriall Caesar, dead and turn d to clay. Might stop a hole to keepe the zvinde away. Oh, that that earth, zuhich kept the world in azve, Shoidd patch a Wall, fcxpell the zcinier's fiaiv. The idea is a repetition of the reflection upon Alexander, namely as to the change in form of imperishable matter. But here, once more, we find the same train of thought : Caesar following upon Alexander. Alexander's dust awakens in Hamlet the thought of Caesar. Here, again, the poet carries the thought farther. The hand that converted Alexander's nose into dust, itself becomes dust. Let us supplement these three examples by a fourth, viz. the change effected by the sea on the remains of King Alonso as told in Ariel's songlet, (The Tempest i, 2), and then we have the following illustrations of the first Rule of The History of Life and Death: ,.. ,, Bones — Corals. Kmg Alonso < ^^.^^ _ p^^^,^ King — Worm — Fish — Beggar. Alexander — Dust — Earth — Loam — Bung. Caesar — Dust — Earth — Wall-plaster. The fact of the indestructibility of matter counts as one of the main principles of the atomic philosophy of the ancient Greek sage Democritus. Bacon adopted it in toto in his natural philosophy and accorded to it a special place of honour. The modern natural philo- — 72 — sopher accepts the fact as a matter of course, nevertheless there still exist among the so-called educated-classes very many who have not a particle of knowledge on the subject. One may thus imagine how much, or rather how little, was known on this point in England three hundred years ago. We have thus, while leaving aside hundreds of instances of concord, followed Bacon's natural philosophy through Hainlet. At this point we leave the consideration of the last pi-incipal defects in the science of the cure of sicknesses in order to cast a few glances on the third section of medical science, namely on the science of the Prolongation of Life (Frolongatio Vitae). The transition to this new section of Bacon's De Augvientis Seie/i- tianim is effected by means of a phrase with which we have already become familiar. The closing-sentence of that remarkable Greeting la Present and Picture Ages which opens The History of Life and Death stands, as we have seen, in close parallel with the first Hamlet-mono- logue — even the allegory of the wearing-out of shoes occurs therein. And this sentence is repeated herein, almost verbatim and including the Shoes, at the transition-passage (Book IV, Ch. 2) leading to the section relating to the Prolongation of Life. There are many allusions 'to longevity in the words addressed by Hamlet in his feigned madness to Ophelia. The first word with which he addresses the maiden is Niniph, and the advice which he thrice gives to her in the same scene (Act III, i) and with which he takes leave of her is: Get thee to a Nunnerie! We read in The History of Life and Death that the nymphs are numbered among the mortals, but are counted among the long-lived. It is also mentioned therein that the practicing of religious duties seems to prolong life and that hermits and inhabitants of cloisters are disposed to longevity. Thus Hamlet's feigned madness, as ever, keeps in accord with anthropological and medical problems and affords the poet opportunities of saying that which his parabolising wisdom suggests. In this same section, which relates to the length and brevity of human life. Bacon refers to Tiberius Claudius who was long-lived in spite his wanton manners and whose character we see reproduced in the part of the tragedy-king. Hamlet, too, philosophises behind the back of this same character on the pro- longation of life. The monologue in the presence of the praying king, when Hamlet has already felt for his dagger in order to slay his uncle, closes with the words: Act III, 3. Hamlet. My mother stayes. This Physickc but prolongs thy sickly dayes. Exit. — 73 — Furthermore, the name of the oldest character in the tragedy, that of the aged Polonius, is in all probability imitated from that of a long- lived historical personage. In the chapter now under discussion Bacon refers among the long-lived sages to Apollonius of Tyana. Bacon says of this Apollonius of Tyana at the beginning of the tenth hundred of his natural-history-aphorisms in Sylva Sylvartim that he was a Pythagorean prophet and regarded the whole world as a living being. This world was supposed (by him) to possess a spiritus mimdi or world-soul, and the ebb and flow of the sea , the absorption and expulsion of water to represent the breathing of this gigantic creature. However, even in the greatest creature, as for exeviple in a great wJiale , adds Bacon, sensations and feelings traverse the whole body. According to this theory, therefore , neither local distance nor want of resistance on the part of matter would present an obstacle to all kinds of magical operations. We might, for instance, feel in Europe what is being done in China. This view of Apollonius as to the world-creature being very like a Whale is clearly that which Hamlet ridicules when, in his feigned madness, he calls the attention of Polonius to the cloud: Act III, 3. Hamlet. Do you see that Clozvd} thafs almost hi shape like a Camell. Polonius. BytJi Misse, and it's like a Camell indeed. Hamlet. Me thinkes it is like a Weasell. Polonius. It is back'd like a Weasell. Hamlet. Or like a Whale. Polonius. Very like a Whale. This sort of AppoUonius- Polonius -philosophy tends to explain one point through another, in short, to render credible that which is most incredible. Here, again, we find the concord between Bacon and Handet to be illu.strated in ver}' many instances. Thus : AppoUonius was very old — Polonius is senile ; in the former we find the allusion to the absorption and emission of water and in the latter the reference to the cloud which represents neither more nor less than the absorption and emission of moisture; there, too, we find the comparison with a whale , as here. At the close of this section Bacon remarks further that Paracelsus and many other authors on magic imagined that, if the human spirit ( micro cosmus) should give a suitable impulse to the world- spirit, by means of strong imagination and ample faith, the former could command nature. It is in this sense that Hamlet , in sharply satirical manner commands the imagination of Polonius, and therewith the cloud to assume forms representative of the world-spirit. — 74 — Finally be it noted that an elucidation of Bacon's philosophy on the Prolongation of Life is found in the two Hamlet -monologues (Acts I, 2 and III, l), inasmuch as they throw light on the artificial shortening of life, by suicide : Oil that this too too solid Flesh, would melt .....' and again : To be, or not to be, that is the Question: But, if we have in the first-mentioned monologue a poetical parallel to the closing sentence in the To the Present and Future Ages, Greeting, we find unmistakeably in the second one the reproduction of the thought which Bacon has expressed in his two essays, namely : Of Death and An Essay of Death. The thought contained in the monologue of the third act is as follows : Shall one continue to battle against a hostile fate or put an end to life? Death is but sleep (to dye, to sleepe—no more); it is an end to many troubles. But perhaps dreams come? (To dye, to sleepe, pei-- chance to Dreame ;). Hence it is that we hesitate. The dread of some- thing after death of which we are ignorant deters us from consummating the act. And now to some tests from Bacon's essays Of Death I Men fear Death, as children fear to go in the dark, so runs the opening phrase of the first essay. The dread of the unknown, which plays such a part in the Hamlet-monologue, is herein made the object of consideration. The cJiange is bitter ; the expectation brings terror. It is in these phrases that the second essay discusses the theme of fear. While Hamlet asks himself whether death be not a dream, Bacon declares the greater part of life to be a dream. He says: All that zvhich is past is as a dream; and he that hopes or depends upon time coming, dreams waking. Whereas Hamlet says that death is a cessation of many evils. Bacon says in quite the same sense : / might say much of the commodities that death can sell a man. Furthermore, he closes the essay as follows : (the author has written on into the small hours of the night ; his eyes fail in their functions ; his body longs for rest) and I shall presently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died the first hour I zvas born. The verb to sleep is avoided with penman-like intention. But does this final sentence in truth mean other than : To sleepe — to die ? This closes the comparisons between Bamlet and Bacon's anthropo- logy. A further question may arise in the reader's mind, namely : if Hamlet is the parabolic figure of the physician wh\- docs he not possess the art to protect himself from early death and why does he also come to grief in the tragedy? Bacon seems to wish to furnish — 75 — us with the answer thereto. The chapter of the Encyclopedy (IV, 2) on the human body mentions, in its introductory words to the science of medicine, the fabulous inventor of the heahng art, /Esculapius. We have, moreover, already seen above that ^sculapius, like Hamlet, is the son of Apollo (Phccbus, Hyperion). When mentioning /Esculapius Bacon quotes the following verse of Virgil : Aen. VII, 722 : I lie rcpcrtorem Medicinae talis et Artis, Fiilmine Plwebigenavi Stygias detrusit ad undas. (Apollo's son the healing art ivho gave Jove Jiurled with thunder to the Stygian zvave.) The sun-born physician, yEsculapius, is killed by Jupiter's thunder- bolt ; the sun-born physician, Hamlet, dies at the end of the tragedy through a sword-thrust. The point of the sword (foil) was poisoned and this poison works quickly, like a lightning-flash. The last words of the dying Laertes to the dying Hamlet speak in medical terms : Act V, 2. Laertes. No Medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee, there is not halfe an honre of life. 5. FURTHER HAMLET-BACON SIMILARITIES. In view of all these natural-philosophical-parabolic harmonies between the Hamlet-poem and the Baconian science it will hardly excite surprise to find that there are many similarities in other directions of thought. While we read in Hamlet the line : Act II, I. Polonins. Your bait of falshood, takes this Carp of truth we find in Bacon's still older note-book the remark: Tell a lie, and find a trtith, which is utilised in his essay Of Sinndatioii and Dis- simulation. While we hear in the tragedy (II, 2) expressed as wish : More matter, witJi lesse Art and Hamlet's contemptuous : Words, ivords, zuords, we find in Bacon the Aristotle-thought : For zuords are but the images of matter. While Bacon says: Dramatica (Poesis) est veluti Jiistoria Spectabilis, (Dramatic Poesy is as History made visible), Hamlet enlarges on the point when speaking of the strolling-players : for they are tJie breefe Chronicles of the time. All that we read in the tragedy concerning youth and old age, especially Hamlet's jeering at Polonius, (II, 2) are found again in the special section to which Bacon has given the superscription Discrimina luventutis et Sencctutis, (The Differences between youth and old agej in his History of Life and Death. Young Fortinbras (his name is of athelic character as it denotes : Stroxg-ijs'-tiie-Akm) begins a war in wantonness and without any reason- able cause. Hamlet says of him : Act IV, 4. Hamlet. This is thUmposthume of much wealth and peace, That inward breaks, and shews no cause ivithout WJiy the man dies. In Bacon we find the same thoughts with regard to the effects of wealth and peace conveyed in the following two sentences : Corrupted through wealth or too great length of peace , in a letter written by him to the young Earl of Rutland before the year 1600 (Vol. IX, 12), and: He that turneth the humours back and maketJi the wound blood inwards, ingendereth malign idcei's and pernicious imposthumations, as found in the essay Of Seditions, so is it also found allegorically in Hamlet's words. Longish passages, shortish phrases and individual words of juristical nature are found by the dozen in the tragedy. How distinctly and professionally worded is the description (Act I, i) of the quarrel between the two northern kings ! In the Folio-edition it is materially enlarged upon. How often is mention made of agreements, seals, of all sorts of legal matters ! In what strictly legal phraseology the dissonances of life are described in Hamlet's monologue To be, or not to be! How precise and pertinent is the satire on the tricks of the lawyers in the grave-digger-scene ! Let us close here with the following ! The Cloivne with whom the prince is conversing does not know him : Act V, I. Clowne. It was the very day, that young Hamlet was borne, hce that zvas mad, and sent into England. Hamlet. I marry, why was he sent into England! Clowne. Why, because he was mad; hee shall recover his zaits there; or if he do not, it's not great matter there. Hamlet. Why? Clowne; ' T zvill not be scene in him, there the men are as mad as he. And in the Encyclopedy we read how a pope's nuncius returned from a foreign country where he had served as ambassador and was asked whom he proposed as his successor. The nuncius replied that in no case should they send anybody who was too wise because no very wise man would ever be able to fathom what it was proposed to do in that country. Bacon judiciously suppressed the name of the nation — n — in question, whereas the grave-dig<^ini,f Cloii<)ie mentions it. Both occur in the sense of the remark of Polonius to the effect that Folly may say many things on which Wisdom must observe silence. Before closing the comparison between individual items of Bacon's ideas and the thoughts contained in the tragedy of Hamlet one fact ma}' be mentioned on account of its special peculiarity and as in distinc- tion from the rest. Of him whose name is printed on the title-i)age of all Hamlet-editions as on the title-page of the Folio-edition, of the Player William Shakespeare or Shakspere, we possess in his own handwriting nothing whatever except five indistinctly written signatures. No letter, no poem, no drama, no sketch of a play, no page, no line, no word of all the sketch glorious mental productions has reached us in the handwriting of the player Shakespeare. With Bacon it is quite the reverse. Hundreds of letters and sketches, ay, even complete manuscripts of his principal works, written by his own hand, are to be found in the public and private libraries of England. Among others the library of the British Museum in London possesses a bundle of large folio-sheets, one of which bears the superscription : ProDuts of Forvmlaj'ies and Elegancies. These sheets are mostly in Bacon's own handwriting, while a portion thereof is written by one of his scribes. As is shown by a memorandum on one of the sheets, they date from the last decade of the sixteenth century. One of these sheets, which is entirely in Bacon's own handwriting, bears Play as heading. It really con-' tains few figures of speech ; but so much the more matter. This matter is the richer and more multifarious inasmuch as Bacon deals with the word Play in the widest sense of the word and comprises thereunder all skilfulness and pleasure of body and mind ; these are treated of in such manner that that which herein falls within the meaning of play corresponds to a great extent with that which Bacon enumerates in his science of anthropology under athletics and the doctrine of pleasure. Let us now examine in regular order the notes contained on this sheet devoted to play. In so doing we shall be easily reminded by each paragraph of one or more Hamlet-scenes. PLAI. The syn against the Jioly ghost — tcrmedinzealbyonc of the fat lie r s. The word play is found at once in the first long speech of Hamlet (Act I, 2) wherein he assures his mother that he does not mourn with his black suit, his moist eye and his doleful mien. For they are actions that a man might play. His step-father, however, is not at all in favour of long periods of mourning. His next speech is aimed against this overdone practice, and, although he does not say in the same words that it is a syn agaijist the holy ghost, he retains the Baconian sense by using the terms impious and most incorrect to Heaven and then continues : Fyc, His a fault to Heaven. A fault against the Dead, a fault to Nature. The terms used in Bacon : play, syn against, zeal, one of the fathers, correspond with » those occurring in Hamlet's first appearance on the stage. We find, following closely upon one another : play, fault against, fye, zeal, as of a father. Here it is a step-father, there it is a father- of-the-church. The notes on this Play-\ia.gQ are continued. Cause of oths, quarells, expence and unthriftines: ydlenes and indispositio of the inynd to labors. These follow in the same order in Polonius' blessing (Act I, 3) the word quarell, the same idea with regard to expence, and in the moralising speech of the same old man (Act II, i) we find the words expence, gaming, sweai'ing, quarelling following closely upon one another. Again, in Act III, 3 are seen the words gaming and swearifig., close together. In the first meeting between Hamlet and Horatio (Act I, 2) occur in like manner if not the same words : expence and indispositio of the mynd ■ to labors, at least the terms tlirift and truant disposition, also close together. Bacon and Hamlet clearly combine in their thoughts the wasting of property with the wasting of time and the saving of property with the saving of time. Art of forgetting. In Act I, 3 Polonius is desirous of teaching his daughter, Ophelia, the art of forgetting. King Claudius preaches the art of forgetfulness in his first address to Hamlet, (I, 2). Hamlet will practice the art of forgetting in order to retain but one single thought, namely the purpose of avenging his father : Act I, 5. Yea, from the Table of my Memory, He wipe away all triviall fond Records. cause of society, ac q ?i ai n t a n c e , familiarity in f rend s. The courtiers , Rosincrance and Guildensterne , force themselves upon Hamlet in order to cheer him up and to discover the bent of his thoughts. But before Hamlet claims of Horatio, as the service of a friend, that he do watch the behaviour of the king in respect of the murder, he states the reason of his friendshij) : — 79 — Act III, 2. Since my dccre Sojcle is Afistris of my cJioyse, And could of men distinguish, her election Hath seald'd thee for her selfe. neere and ready attendance in servants. This, and the shortly before mentioned familiarity in frends, are mirrored in the words exchanged between Horatio and Hamlet. The first greetings passed run thus : Act I, 2 . Hamlet. Horatio, or I do forget my selfe. Horatio. The same my Lord, and your poor Servant ever. Hamlet. Sir my good fi-iend. He change that name with you : recreatio and ptitting of me lajicho ly. The courtiers are directed to cheer up Hamlet and relieve him of his melancholy. Hamlet, the physician and judge of the human body and soul, is, for the purposes of recreation, a well-trained amateur actor and also an excellent rhetorician. He thus at once becomes another man in the presence of the players. His soul is free, and merry jokes flow from his lips. Reference is several times made to his melancholy and to his laying it aside. Thus in the first address to Hamlet : Act I, 2. Queen. Good Hamlet cast thy nightly colour off. In a later passage are his words : JHy zveakness and my melancholy and in Act III, i : his MelancJioly. Putting of malas curas et cupiditate s. N. B. Bacon, to whom the matter is always of more importance than the word, often mixes up Latin and EngHsh in his notice-sheets. The putting-off of malas curas (evil cares) finds its echo in the tragedy, viz. in the passage where the king begins his grand prayer with the words : Act III, 3. Oh viy offence is ranke, it smels to heaven . . . The putting-off of cupiditates (cupidity, evil desires) finds its echo in the scene between mother and son which follows immediately on the fore- going, and more particularly in that which is grouped around the words : Act III, 4. Queene. Oh Hamlet, thoo has cleft my heart in txvaine. Hamlet. throw away the zvorser part of it, And live the purer ivith the other halfe. Games of activity and p a s s e ty me ; of act. of strength , quick- nes; quick of ey, hand, legg, the zuhole moco: strength of armc, legge; of activity , of sleight. — 8o — We recognised Hamlet and Laertes as the representatives of strength and agility when discussing Athletic. The quickness of eye is shown in the sharp watch practised on the king (Act III, 2) ; the strength and agility of leg is shown in jumping (Act V, i); those of arm and leg in wrestling (Act V, i); those of arm, leg and eye are combined in fencing (Act V, 2). Mention is also made in Hamlet of riding and even of teujiis (Act II, i). Of pass etyiii e onely; ofJiazard: of play vii.xt. To the play of pastime belongs more especially the play in the third act. Thereto, and to the play of hazard, belongs all that is described in the tragedy as gaining. Mixed play, as a combination of chance with skill, is to be regarded partly as pastime and partly as a game of chance; it finds its illustration in the king's wager in connexion with the duel (V, 2). Of hazard; ineere hazard; cmining in inak ing y^ game. This comes partially under the foregoing. Cunning in making ye game will be discussed later on. Of play e; exercise of attentio. The urgent challenge of Hamlet to Horatio to watch the king closely during the play. Act III, 2 : / pry thee, ivJien than seest that Acte afoot, Even zvith the very Comment of thy Soule Observe mine Unkle: This watching is thereupon carried into effect forthwith. of m e ni ry. The declamation of Hamlet, the declaiming of the players, and the play itself, (Acts II and III) belong hereto. Polonius, too, begins the warning to his son (I, 3) thus : And these fcws Precepts in thy memory See thou Character. And, when the spirit takes leave of Hamlet with the words Re- memlwr mc, Hamlet determines to wipe all trivial thoughts from off the Table of my Memory. Act I, V. Remember tJiee ? I, thou poore Ghost, zvhile memory holds a seate In this distracted Globe. of dissimulation. 1 lamlet feigns madness through a great part of the play. He admits this to his mother in so many words : — «I — Act III, 4. That I essentially am not in inadnesse. But mad in craft. Hereto belongs, moreover, the art of dissimulatif)n as practised by Rosincrance and Guildensterne and the counter-cunning of Hamlet. Of d i s cr c CO. The question of discretion is dealt with already in the first act of Havdct and in charmingness of detail. Act I, 2. Hamlet. I pray you all If you Jiave hitiicrto conccald this sight; Let it be treble in your silence still: And whatsoever els shall hap to night, Give it an jmderstanding but no tongiie ; jNIoreover, the Spirit, although it proclaims the murder, is condemned to practice the art of silence : Act I, 5. I am forbid To tell the secrets of my Prison-House. Hamlet instructs his friends in the art of secrecy (discretion) in the most elaborate and minute manner, viz. at the close of the first act. At first Horatio and IMarcellus are made to assure him never to make known what they have seen during the night. Then they have to swear never to speak of what they have seen. He makes them swear never to speak about what they have heard and, at last, he requires of them as follows : Hamlet. But come Here as before, never so Jielpe yoji mercy, Hozv strange or odde so ere I beare my selfe ; (As I perchance heereafter shall thinke meet To put an Anticke disposition on:) That you at such time seeing me, never shall With Armes encombred thus, or thus, head shake; Or by pronouncing of some doubtfidl Phrase ; As zvell, we know, or we could and if we tuould, Or if we list to speake; or there be and if there might. Or such ambiguous giving out to note. That you knoiv ought of me : this not to doe : So grace and mercy at your most neede Jielpe you: Siveare. Ghost. Siveare. Hamlet. Let us goe in together, And still your fingers on your lippes I pray. Only he who desires to teach of such matters speaks in such detail and with such knowledge and lucidity of the play (sports) and exercises of body and mind, of memory, forgetfulness, dissimulation, silence and secrecy; only such an one as he who presents to us parabolic science, a science which, as must be admitted by all, is trans- posed into glorious poetry, thus converting the dry instructive sentences of theory into golden practice and living truths, could have written like that. Not all the further minutes contained on the note-sheet, from which we have hitherto quoted word for word to the extent of about one half can be brought into such distinct connexion with the Hamlet-ideas. If one of the notes does run : Sfvcrall playes or ideas of play it may apply to all imagin- able matters. If the word Christmas is found therein without any con- nexion whatsoever with other points, we do not know whether it is permissible, or not, to read it as applying in the first sense to the words of Marcellus when he says wherein our Saviours Birth is celebrated. It is otherwise as regards such notes as the following : Of giiick return c, tedious. Laertes has scarcely heard of the slaying of his aged father when he returns in hot haste from Paris in order to avenge the death. Hamlet, in contrast thereto, hesitates and defers the act of vengeance from day to day. — On the same page we again find the words : quick, shnve. Fran k p lay , w a ry p lay. In Act V, 2 Hamlet says : / will this Brothers wager frankely play. As in contrast hereto, the king and Laertes (Act IV, 7) arrange that the duel shall take place with a poisoned sword-point and in Act V, 2 this dishonorable course is carried into effect immediately after Hamlet's words frankely play are spoken. The wounded Laertes speaks of his oiune Treacherie and Treacherous Instrument. This \-erbal and actual contrast to the frankely play constitutes the foule play of which Hamlet expresses suspicion in Act I, 2, where he says: / doubt some foule play. /h'tts. In Act I, I the kings of Denmark and Norway stake their lands; in Act IV, 5 King Claudius stakes his kingdom ; in Act V, 2 the duel is bound up with a bet and these and other wagers are discussed in detail. Lookers on. In Act III, 2 the whole court looks on the play; in Act V, 2 they do the same while the duel is going on. - 83 - /// (^ g 111 t. Shortly before we find: of praesent judgm^ , of iinccrten yssuc. Both fencers are of different opinion as regards the result of the first bout. Hamlet claims the judgement of the referee and Osricke who is clearly chosen as impartial um])ire expresses his decision : Hamlet. One. (i\Ieanindome. - 99 -^ D r occasion ib ii s s p a rs is. Scattered Occasions. Column 20!;. and 'tis our fast intent, To shake all Cares and Businesse''') from our Age, Conferring them on yonger strengths, 7vhile rue U)ih}{rtJirn' d craivle toivard death. Parabola. Quiconturbatdonnini Parable. He that troubles his column 211 suam possidebif venfos (Prov. own house shall inherit the XI, 2g). wind (Prov. XI, 29). Parabola. Iter pigrorn m , quasi Parable. The way of the slothful Column 217. sepes spinarum (Prov. XV, igj. is as a hedge of thorns (Prov. Explicato. . . . Idem observari possit XV, 19). Explanation. . . . This etia/n in familia regenda; in qua, likewise may be noted in the si adhibeatur ciira et providentia, management of a family, wherein omnia placite et veluti sponte proce- if care and forethought be used, d^Dit, absque strepitu et fiimulfu: everything goes on smoothly and Sin haec desint, ubi major aliqiiis of itself, without noise and discord; mollis intervenerit , omnia simnl but if they be wanting, on any agenda turmafim occuninf; tumul- important emergency everything tuantur servi, aedes personanf. has to be done at once, the ser- vants are in confusion , and the house is in an uproar. Our son of Comical, ^ind yo?i our no lesse loving So)ine of Albany, ire have this houre a constant will to publish cud -/ Sh. Page 283, Our daughters severall Dowers, that future strife. Column b. Alay be prevented now. The Pri^ices, France and Burgundy, Great Rivals in our yongest daughters, love. Long in our Court, have made their amorous soiourne. And heere are to be a//s7C'er'd. Defilia e loc a 11 d a. On the marriage of a daughter. Column 2ofi. Tell me my daughters (Since nozv 7ve will divest us both of Rule, Interest of Territory, Cares of State) Which of you, shall 7ve say doth love us most. That loe, our largest bounty may extend. Where Nature doth with merit challenge. Gonerill. Our eldest borne speake first. Gon. Sir, I love you more then 7vord can 7veild y^ matter, Deerer then eye-sight, space, and iibertie, Beyo77d what can be valezved, rich or rare. ■■) The word Busimsse is used for the first time. 1* No lesse theii life, 7vlth grace, health, beatify, honor: As Trnich as Childe ere lov'd, or Father found. A love that makes breath poore, and speech unable, Beyond all manner of so much I love you. Column 209. Parabola. Mollis Responsio frangit irani (Prov. XV, i). Column 218. Parabola. In omni opere bono erit abn n da )itia; nbi a lit an verba sunt plurima ibi fre- quenter egestas (Prov. XIV, 2jJ. Explicatio. Separat Salomon hac parabola frtictum laboris lingtiae, et laboris manuuni; quasi ex altera prov eniat egestas , ex altera abundantia. Etenim fit fere perpetuo , ut , qui miilta effutiunt , jactant niulta , miilta promittunt, egeni sunt, nee eniolu- mentum capiant ex illis rebus, de quibus loquuntur. Quin etiam, nt pluriinum, industrii minime sunt, aut impigri ad opera, sed tantum- modo sermonibus se, tanqnam venfo, pascunt et satiant. Parable. A soft answer turneth away wrath (Prov. XV, i). Parable. In every good work there is abundance; but where there are many words there is commonly penury (Prov. XIV, 23). Explanation. Herein Solomon makes a distinction between the fruit of the labour of the hand and that of the tongue; from the one proceeds abundance, from the other penury. For it generally happens that they who talk much, boast much, and make many promises, are needy persons, who make no profit of the things whereof they discourse. For the most part also they are no ways industrious and active in point of work, but merely feed and fill them- selves with words , as with wind. Cor. What shall Cordelia speake? Love, and be silent. (Continuation of Sane, ut poeta loquitur. Qui site t , est firmus."^') Is qiii conscius est, se i?i opere proficere, sibi plaudit, et tacet: Qui vera e contra conscitis est, atcras se inanes captare, multa et 7/iira apud alios praedicat. Parabola. Melior est correptio manifesta, quam amor occultus (Prov. XXV I L 5). Explicatio. the foregoing.) Surely, as the poet says. He that is silent is sure: — he who knows that he is succeeding in what he is about, is satisfied and holds his tongue; whereas he who feels that he has got hold of nothing but wind, betakes himself of talking and boasting. Parable. Open rebuke is better than secret love (Prov. XXVII, 5). Explanation. This parable '■) Ovid. Kuiu. Amor. 697. — lOI — Rcprchcndit parabola molliticm rebukes the mistaken kindness of a uiiconoN , qtd amicitiac privilcgio friends, who do not use the privi- iion nhintiir in admoncndo libcrc lege of friendship freely and boldly (taudactcramicos, tam de crroribus, to admonish their friends, as well (]iiam de pcriciilis siiis. Quid cnim of their errors as their dangers. faciam'^) (solct hujiismodi mollis What can I do, says a man of (I III icus diccre) auf quo iiw vcr- this character, or what steps fa III r'''"") A mo ill am qnaiitiim can I take? I love him as much ([uis, max iiiic ; me que, siqnid as any one, and if any mis- //// ad7es hence, and banishment is here ; llic Gods to their deere shelter take thee Maid, That iustly thinksf and hast most rightly said:'-^) Rex Salon/0//, de q/io testat/ir Solomon the King, of whom the Cohmm 209. Scriptura ; Cor^^'^^) illi fuisse Scriptures testify, that his heart instar are//ae maris. . . was as the sands of the sea.... A// d your large speeches, may your deeds approve. That good effects may spring from zvords of love: Parabola. Verba pl/irima . . . Parable. Many words . . . labour column 2i«. labor li//gnae . . . vei/to satia//t. of the tongue . . . with wind. Thus Kent, O Princes, bids you all adeiv. Hec'l shape his old course, in a Country new. Exit. Flourish. Enter Gloster with France, and Burgundy, Attendants. Glo. Heere's France and Burgundy, my Noble Lord. Lear. My Lord of Bitrgundie, We first addressc toward you, who 7vith this King Hath rivald for our Da/tghter ; 7vhat ii/ the least JVill yo/i require i/i present Doxvcr 7vith her. Or cease your q/test of Love? Bur. Most Roy all Males ty, I crave no m,ore then hath yo/ir High //esse offered. Nor xvill you tender lesse? Lear. Right N'oble Burgni/dy, *) **) The word Cordelia answers to both of these (1605: Cordelia), which is derived from Cor (the heart) and the Greek SriKog (open). Conjoined these give: the Open-hearted, the Large-hearted, or one who loves the truth. As contrast thereto the word Lear (1605: Leir) has a striking resemblance to the English word Liar, or a friend to lies and flattery. — io8 — When shf ivas dcarr to us, 7vr did Iwld her so. But now her price is fallen : Sir, tJiere she stands. If ought within that little seeming substance. Or all of it with our dipleasure piec'd. And /lothing more may fitly like your Grace, Shee's there, and she is yours. Bur. I know no answer. Lear. Will you with those infirmities she owes. Unfriended, new adopted to our hate, Dow'rd witJi our curse, and stranger d with 07ir oath. Take her or, leave her. sii. Page 285, jJKj-^ Pardon i>ie Royall Sir, Election makes not up in such conditions. Column 208. Defilia e 1 c a n d a. On the marriage of a daughter. Lear. Then leave her sir; for by the powre that made me, / tell yo2i all her wealth. For you great King, L would not from yottr love make such a stray, To matcJi you where I hate, therefore beseech you T' avert your liking a more "worthier 7vay, Then on a wretch whom Nature is ashatu'd Almost t' acknowledge hers. Fra. This is most strange, That she whom eve^i but noiv, was your obiect, The argument of your praise, balme of your age. The best, the deerest, should in trice of time Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle So many folds of favour: sure her offence Must be of such unnaturall degree, That monsters it: Or your force-voucht affection Fall into taint, which to beleeve of her Must be a faith that reason withoiit miracle Should never plant in me. Cor. I yet beseech your Males ty. If for I want that glib and oylie Art, To speake and purpose not, since what 1 will intend, lie do't before I speake, that you make knowne It is no vicious blot, murther, or foulest esse, No unchaste action or dishonoured step That depriv'd me of your Grace and favour, But ever for want of that, for whicii I am richer, A still soliciting (-xe, and such a tongue, Tl/at I am i'iad I have lud , /houoh not to have it, — 109 — Hath lost mc in yotir liking. Lear. Better thou had'st, Not beetle borne, then not t have pleas' d me better. Fra. Is it bnt this:'' A tardinesse in nature. Which often leaves the history unspoke That it intends to do: my Lord of Burgundy, What say you to the Lady? L.ove's not love JVhen it is mingled with regards, that stands Aloofe from th' in tire point, rvill you have her? She is herselfe a Do^orie. Bur. Roy all King, Give but that portion 7vhich your selfe propos' d. And here L take Cordelia by the hand, Duchesse of Burgundie. Lear. Nothing. L have srvorne, I am Jirme. Bur. I am sorry then you have lost a Father, That you must loose a husband. Dep'ilia elocanda. On the marriage of a daughter. column 208. Cor. Peace be ivith Burgundie, Since that respect and Fortunes are his love, I shall not be his wife. Fra. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich being poore. Most chaise forsaken, and most lov'd despis'd. Thee and thy vertues Jure I seize upon. Be it la7vfull I take up whaTs cast away. Gods, Gods! ' Tis strange, that from their cold'st neglect ATy L^ove should kindle to enflam'd respect. Thy dowreless Daughter J-Cifig, thro7vne to mv chance. Is Queene of us, of ours, and our fair e France: Not all the D?ikes of rvatrish Burgundy, Can buy this unpriz'd precious Maid of me. Bid them fare-vell Cordelia, though unkinde, 'Thou loosest here a better 7vhere to finde. L^ear. Thou hast her France, let her be tJiine, Defilia elocanda. On the marriage of a daughter. Column 208. for 7ve Have no such Daughter, nor shall ever see That fice of hers againe, therfore be gone, Without our Grace, oiir Love, our Benizon ; Come N^oble Burgundie. Flourish. Fxeunt. column^' — no — Fra. Bid farivcll to your Sisters. Cor. The Jewels of our Father, tvith wash'd eies Cordelia leaves you, I know you what you are. And like a Sister am most lost to call Your faults as they are named. Love well our Father: To your professed bosomes I commit hi?n. But yet alas, stood I within his Grace, I would prefer hi/// to a better place, So farewell to yon both. Regn. Prescribe not us our dutie. Gon. Let your study Be to content your L.ord, who hath receiv'd you At Fortunes almes, you have obedience scanted. And zvell are worth the wa7it that you have wanted. Cor. Time shall itnfold 7vhat plighted cu/i/iiug hides, Who covers faults, at last 7vith sha///e derides: Well may you prosper, Fra. Come on my faire Cordelia. Exit France and Cor. Gon. Sister it is not little I have to say. Of wJiat /liost /leerely appertaines to us both. I thinke our Father will hence to night. Reg. That's most certaine, ana with you: next ///oneth zvith us. Gon. You see how full of changes his age is, the observation rve have made of it hath beene little; he akvaies lov'd our Sister ///ost, and with 7vhat poore iudge/zieiif he hath /low cast her off, appeares too grossely. Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age, yet he hath ever but slei/derly knowne himselfe. Go//. The best and soundest of his ti///e hath bi// b/it rash , tha// must we looke from his age, to receive not alo/ie the imper- fections of long ingraffed condition, but therewithall the un- rttly -ivay-wardnesse, that ii/pr///e and cholericke yeares bri//g with them. Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to have fro/ii hi///, as this of Ke//ts banishme/it. Go//. There is further coi//ple///e//t of leave-taking beti.veene France a//d hi///, pray you let us ft together, if our Father carry authority zvith such dispositio// as he beares, this last s/trre/zder of his zvill but offend us. I//gratil/idi//e/// eor/i/// , (]uos, aliis Ingratitude from those whom to praeteritis, adopia//t, et delig/i//l .. . the neii'lect of others they select Ill Qnin ft hoc pacto rumor es sibi pro- gignimt nan optimos, ctfcunas a/n- bigiias. Etcnim, ex proiuotiouc subita, ori- tur insolent i a. and adopt . . . Nay further, they thus draw upon themselves ill re- ports and dishonourable rumours. F'or sudden promotion begets in- solence. Reg. We shall fnrtJier think of it. Gon. We must do soi/iethiug, and i'th' heate. Exeunt. SCENA SECUNDA. Enter Bastard. Bast. Thoit Nature art my Goddesse, to thy Lazv My services are bou7id, ivherefore should I Stand in the plague of custome, and permit The curiosity of Nations, to deprive m,e? For that I am some twelve, or fourteene Moo7ishines Lag of a Brother? Why Bastard? Wherefore base? When my dimensions are as xvell compact. My minde as generous, and my shape as true As honest Madams issue? Why brand they 2is With Base? With basenes Bastardie? Base, Base? Who in the lustie stealth of Nature, take More composition, and fierce qualitie, Then doth within a dull stale tyred bed Goe to th' creating a whole tribe of Fops Got 'tzveene a sleepe, and wake? Well then. Legitimate Edgar, L must have your land. L)e ambitu vitae dio coeniendo. de prae- Advancement in Life purchase of a farm. Our Fathers love is to the Bastard Edmond, As to th' legitimate: fine word: Legitimate. Well, my Legitimate, if this Letter speed. And my invention thrive, Edmond the base Shall to' tJi L.egitimate: T grow, I prosper: .the ("1 Sh. Page 28 Colunin ;i Dc ambitu vitae ... Faber quis- qite forttinae suae. Advancement in Life . . . Every Coiun man is the architect o f h i s o w n fortune. Now Gods, stand up for Bastards. Enter Gloucester. Glo. Kent bamsh'd thtis? and France in chollcr parted? And the King goite to night? Prescrib'd his pozvre, Confin'd to exhibitioji? All this done Upon the gad? Edmond, hoiv now? What ncwes? J)ast. So please your Lordship, none. Gloit. l}7ty so earnestly seeke yon to piit np ye Letter? Bast. I kno7v tio neives, my Lord. Gloii. What Paper were you reading? Bast. Nothing my Lord. Glon. No? wJiat needed then that terrible dispateh of it into your Pocket? The quality of nothing , hath not such neede to hide it selfe. Let's see: come, if it be nothing, I shall not neede Spectacles. Bast. I beseech you Sir, pardon //tee; it is a Letter of i/iy Brother, that I have /tot all ore-read ; a/td for so t/tuch as I Jtave perns' d, I fi/tde it /tot fit for your ore-looki/tg. Glou. Gtve /ne the Letter, Sir. Column 2IO. Parabola. Sed et cuitctis ser- 1/to/tibtts, qui d icu/ttur , /te ac- C0//1 //t des a u re t/t tua /// , /t e fo r- te attdias servtit/t ttiui/t t/taledi- centeni tibi (Salo//to). Explicatio. Jl'x credi possit , vita /it qtia/ttu//t perturbet i it tit His curiositas , circa illas res, quae ttostra i/iter- su/tt: N^i//tirti/)i , quando secreta ilia rimari satagimns, qtiae detecta et i/ive/tta , acgritudi/tctit quideiit a/ti/tto i/tfera/tt, ad co/tsilia aute//i expedicnda /tiltil juvent. Prii/to e/tim sequitur a/ti//ti vex a tio et i It qu ietudo , cu//t ltu//ta/ta o//t/iia pi'rpdiac et i/tgratiiudiitis ple/ta siitt. Column 213. Parabola. Pri/t ceps , qti i libe/tter praebct au res 7'erbis t/tendacij, omnes servos habet improbos (Prov. XXJX, 12). Explicatio. . . . Alii fabidaruni argumenta, co/ttra iitii/ticos .'iuos , tattqtia//t iit sceita, cotttpo/tti/tt . . . A'ihil e/titit (tit Parable. Lend not thine ear to all words that are spoken, lest thou hear thy servant curse thee (Solomon). Explanation. It is scarcely credible what confusion is created in life by a useless curiosity about the things which concern us ; that is , when we set to work to inquire into those secrets which when discovered produce uneasiness of mind, but are of no use to forward our designs. For first there ensues vexation and disquiet of mind, seeing all things human are full of treachery and ingratitude. Parable. A prince who readily hearkens to lies, has all his ser- vants wicked (Prov. XXIV, 12). Explanation. . . . Others get up stage plots and a number of the like fables against their enemies . . . For, as Tacitus says of Claudius, — 113 - ait Tacitus de Claudio) tutum est there is no safety with that npitd Principcni , ciijits aiiimo prince, who has nothing in omnia sunt fainjita))! iiidita ft his mind but what others put jussa. into it. Bast. I shall offend, rill/rr to drtaii/r, or give it: The Contents, as in part I understand theni. Are too blame. Glou. left's see. Id's see. Bast. I hope for my Brothers i list ificat ion , liee tvrote this hut as an essay, or taste of my Vertue. Glou. reads. This polieie, and reverence of Age, makes the world hitter to the best of our times: keepes our fuwtunes from us, till our oldnesse cannot rellish them. I begi)i to finde an idle and fond bondage, in the oppression of aged ty- ranny, ivho swayes not as it hath power, but as it is sujfer'd. Come to ine , that of this I may speake more. If our Father would sleepe till I wak'd him, you shotild enioy halfe his Revennew for ever, and live the beloved of your Brother. Edgar. (Close of the Explanation of the (Close of the Explanation of the Column 210. y^-AX2}o\&: Sed et cunctis sermonibus, parable: Lend not thine ear to all (jiti dieuntitr, ne accommodes aurem words that are spoken . . .): tiiain . . .}: Merito igitur summae Rightly therefore was it considered priidentiae tribiiebatur Pompejo great wisdom in Pompey that he Magna, quod Sertorii chartas uni- burned all Sertorius's papers unper- versas, nee a se perlectas, nee aliis used either by himself or others. permissas , igni protinus dedisset. Hum? Conspiracy? Sleepe till I 7vake him, you should enioy halfe Jiis Revennew: my Sonne Edgar, had Jiee a hand to 7vrite this? A heart and braine to breede it in? When came you to this? ]\lio brought it? Bast. It was not brought mee , my Lord; there's the cunning of it. I found it throwne in at the Casement of my Closset. Glou. You knozv the character to be your Brothers? Bast. If the matter were good my Lord , I durst swear it were his: but in respect of that, I 7vould faine thinke it 7vere not. Glou. It is his. Bast. It is his hand , my Lord: but I hope his heart is not in the Contents. Etenim, de latebris vitioriim non For as to the concealment of vice, Coiumn 229. male Poeta : Saepe la let vitiiim it is well said by the poet, that 8 — 114 proximifatr boiii.^) Quare, si q^icni defectum in nobis ipsis perceperimus, opera dan da, ut personam etpraetextum virtiitis finitimi mutuemitr , sub cujiis nmbra latent. J^erbi gratia, tarda gra V if a s praetexenda , ign a v o lenitas, et sic de caeteris. vice often hides itself in the neighbourhood of virtue. And therefore, whatsoever want a man has , he must take care to borrow the mask and colour of the neighbouring virtue that shadows it; as if he be dull, he must affect gravity; if a coward, mildness; and so on. Column 228. Glo. Has he never before sounded yon in t/iis busij/esf**J Bast. Never my Lord. Bnt I Jiave heard him oft maintaine if fo be ft, that Sonnes at perfect age , and Fathers declin'd. the Fattier should bee as Ward to the Son, and the Sonne manage his Revenne^v. Did solet de calumnia: Audacter For as it is said of calumny, calu m niare , son per a liquid calumniate boldly, for some Jiaeret. of it will stick . . . Glou. O ]^illai}i, villain: his very opinion in the Letter. Abhorred Villaine, unnaturall, detested, brutish J^illaine; worse then brutish: Go sirrah, seeJze him: He apprehend him. Abhominable Villaine, where is he? (From the Explanation of the proverb : Sed et cunctis sermoni- bus . . .): liuinana o/nnia perfidiae et ingratitudinis plena. Sic, lit videmus , Tigellinus , cum se Petronio Turpiliano inferiore/n sentiret in voluptatibus Xeroni ministrandis et praegustandis, Met us (ut ait lacitus) A^eronis rimatus est et hoc pacta aonulum evertit. (From the Explanation of the proverb: Lend not thine ear . . .): all things human are full of treachery and ingratitude. Thus, we see, when Tigellinus saw himself outstripped by Petronius Turpilianus in providing pleasures and catering to Nero's humours, he wrought (says Tacitus) on Nero's fears, whereb\' he dis- placed his rival. Bast. I do not 7vell tino7v my Z. If it stuill please you to suspend your indigttation against my Brother, til you can dirive from hi^n better testimony of his intent, you shold run a certaine course: where, if you violently proceed agai)ist him, mistaking his purpose, it would make a great gap in your owne Honor. *) Ovad, Art. Amat. II, 662. '■*■) The word busines for the seconil time. - 115 — and shake in peeccs , the heart of his obedience. I dare sh. Page 286, pawne downe my life for him, that he hath writ this to feele Column b. my affection to your Honor, and to no other pretence of danger. Gloii. Thiu/x'e von so.'^ Bast. If vo/ir Honor iiidge it ineere , / will place you where you shall heare us confer re of this, and by an Aiiricular assura)tce luree yoiir satisfaction, and that without any further delay, then this very Evening. Glou. He cannot bi- such a Monster. Ediuond sceke him out: wi)ide me info him, I pra\ you: f'a me the Btcsinesse'^j after your owne 7visedo///e. Cu riositas ilia a n i m u m suspi- This curiosit\- overcharges the Column 210. cionibus nimiis oncrat, (juod mind with suspicions, a thing consiliis inimicissimuni est eaque which ruins counsels, and renders reddit inconstantia, el complicata. thern inconstant and perplexed. / 7vould unstate my selfe, to be in a due resolution. Bast. I 7vill seeke him Sir, presently: convey the businesse*y as I shall find meanes, and acquaint you withall. Glou. These late Eclipses in the Sun and Moone portend no good to us: though the 7visedoifie of Nature can reason it thus, and thus, yet Nature finds it selfe scourg'd by the sequent effects. Love cooles, friendship falls off, Brothers divide. In Cities, ■mutinies; in Countries, discord: in Pallaces, Treason; and the Bond crocked, 't-wixt Sonne and Father. This villaine of mine comes tender the prediction; there's Son against Father, the King fats from byas of Nfaturc, there's Father against Childe. We have scene the best of our time. Ma- chinations, Jiollownesse, treacherie, and all ruinous disorders follo7v us disquietly to our Graves. Find out this Jl'llain, Edmond, it shall lose thee nothing, do it carefilly: and the Noble and true-harted Kent banish' d; his offence, honesty. 'Tis strange. Exit. Bast, this is the excellent foppery of the 7Vorld, that 7vhcn 7ve are sicke in fortune, often the surfets of our 07vn behaviour, 7ve , make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the Moone, and Star res, as if 7ve tvere villaines on iiecessitte. Fooles by heavenly com- pulsion,, Knaves, Theeves, and Treacliers by Sphericall fre- *) The word Businesse a third time. ■■■'*) The word businesse a iburtli time. 8* ii6 doiiii)iance. Dninknrds, Lyars, and Adtdterers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary ififluence; and all that we are evill in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasioft of Whore -master- man , to lay his Goatish disposition, on the charge of a Starre, My father compotmded with my mother under the Dragons taile, and my Nativity was under Ursa Major , so that it followes, I am rough and Leacherous. I should have bin that I am., had the maidenlest Starre in the Firmament t^vinklcd on my bastardizing. Column 198. In Traditionibus Astrologiac non inscite omnijio distincta sunt ingenia, et dispositiones honiinnni , ex praedominantiis Planetanini ; quod alii a A^atura facti sint ad con- fcmplationcs , alij ad res civilcs; alii ad militi am ; alii ad am- bit 11 in . . . Column 222. Attamen istac scntentiae ; Faber q 21 is q u efortu nac snae; Sap ic n s doniinabitur astris; Invia vir- tu ti nulla est via, ac similes; si intclliganfur et adhibeantur potius pro calcaribus ad i^idustriam, qtiam pro stapedibus ad insolentiam . . . prociddubio in pectoribus ho- minum mag7ia7iimorum sedem ?ion- nullam occuparuiit. In the traditions of astrology men's natures and dispositions are not unaptly distinguished according to the predominance of the planets; for some are naturally formed for contemplation, others for busi- ness, others for war, others for advancement of fortune . . . Nevertheless, proverbs such as these. Every man is the architect of his own fortune; A wise man shall rule over the stars; No path is impervious to vir- tue; and the Uke; if taken and used as spurs to industry, and not as stirrups in insolence . . . are doubtless imprinted in the greatest minds. Enter Edmr. Pat: he conies like the Catastrophe of the old Come die; my Cue is villa nous Melon ch oily, ivith a s/ohe like Toni o' Bedlam. 207. Qiiii^ eniin deformius, qua in See nam in J'itain fransferre? Alii fahularuin argumcnta, contra iniinicos suos , tan qua in in scena, coinponunt. What is more uncomely than to bring the manners of the stage into the business of life? Others get up stage plots and a number of the like fables against their enemies. O these Eclipses do portend these divisions. Fa, Sol, La, Ale. Edg. How now Brother Kdinond , what serious contemplation are you in? — 117 — Bast. T am thinking Brother of a prediction I read this other day 7vhat sJioiild folloiv these Eclipses. Edg. Do \oH hitsie'-} voiir selfe ivifJi tliat:' Bast. I promise you , the effects lie zvrites of succeedc itnJiappily. WJien satv you my Eat her last? Edg. The night gone by. Bast. Spake you with him? Edg. I, two houres together. Bast. Parted you in good termes? Foitnd you no displeasure in him, hv word, nor couiitenance? Edg. None at all. Bast. Bethink your selfe wherei7i you may have offended him: and at my entreaty forbeare his presence, untill some little time hath qualified the heat of his displeasure , which at this instant so rageth in him, that with the fnischiefe of your sh. Page 287, person, it would scarsely a lay. Column a. Edg. Some Villaine JiatJi done iiie wrong. Edm. That's my fear e, I pray you have a continent forbearance till the speed of his rage goes slower : and as I say, retire with me to my lodging, from zvhence I will fitly bring you to heare my Lord speake : pray ye goc, there's my key : if you do stirre abroad, go arm'd. Edg. Arm'd, Brother? Parabola. Advenit veluti viator Parable. Poverty comes as one Column 210. pauperies, et egestas quasi vir that travelleth, and want as armatus (Prov. IV, 11 >. an armed man (Prov. VI, ii). Edm. Brother , I advise yo?i to the best, I am no honest man, if ther be any good meaning toward you : I have told yotc what I have scene, and heard: But faintly. NotJiing like the image, and horror of it, pray you away. Edg. Shall I heare from you aiion ? Exit. Edm. I do serve you in this businesse :^'^) A Credulous Father, and a Brother Noble, Whose nature is so farre from doing harnies, That he suspects none : on whose foolish honestie My practises ride easie : I see the businesse, ***^ Let me, if not by birth, have lands by 7vit, All 7vith me's me etc, that T can fashion fit. Exit. *) The word bnsie again. "•■■'■■) The word businesse i'or the I'lfth time. ''•■'*) The word businesse l"or the sixth time. Page 287, aliimn b. — 118 — SCENA TERTIA. Enter Gonerill, and Steiuard. Gon. Did my Father strike my Gciitlrmaii for ciiidiiig of liis Foole? Ste. I JMadam. Gon. By day and nigJit, lie ivrongs me, every Iio7vre He ftas/ies into one grosse crime, or otiier. That sets 71s all at ods : He not endure it ; His kniglits groTV riotous, and Jiimselfe upbraides us On every trifle. WJien he returnes from hunting, I will not speaJze zvith Jiim, say I am sicke. If you come slacke of former services, You shall do well, the fa2ilt of it He answer. Ste. He's camming Madam, I heare him. Gon. Put on what weary negligence you please, You and your Fellowes: I 'de have it come to question; If he distaste it, let Jiim to my Sister. Whose mind and mine I kno7v in that are one. Remember 7vhat I have said. Ingratitudinein eoruni , quos , aliis Ingratitude from those whom to praeteritis , adoptant , et deligimt. the neglect of others they select and adopt. Ste. Well Madam. Gon. And let his li nights have colder holies among you : wJuit growes of it no matter , advise your fellowes so. He write straight to my Sister to hold my course; prepare for dinner. Exeunt. SCENA QUARTA. Enter Kent. Kent. If hut as will I other accents borrow. That can my speech defuse, my good intetit May carry through it selfe to that fell issue For which I raiz'd my likenesse. Now banisht Kent. If thou ca7ist serve where thou dost stand condemn\l. So may it come, thy Master 7vhom tliou lov'st, Shall find thee full of labours. Homes witJiin. Jinter Lear and ^ittendants. Lear. Let me not stay a iot for din tier, go get it ready : how no7v, wluit art tliouf Kent. x\ man Sir. — 119 — Lear. What dost tJioio f^rofesse? WJiaf ivould'st tlwn ivith 7isf Kent. I do prof esse to be no lesse t//e// I seenie: to serve Jiini tniely that will put n/e In trust, to love him that is honest, to converse ivitli hi/// that is ivise and sales little, to feare iudge/iie/it , to pght ivJte/i I eai/ziot choose, a /id to eate no fisJi. Lear. WJ/at art thoii.^ Ke//t. ./ verv ho// est hearted Fello7v , a//d as poo re as the King. Lear. If tJ/o/i be'st as poore for a si/bieet, as hee's for a King, tJioii art poore e//o/igh. Wl/af li'o/thfst fho/ii' Kent. Service. Lear. JJ7/o ivo/dd'st tho/i servcf Kent. Yon. Parabola. Si Spirit/is potesta- Parable. If the spirit of the ru- Column 214. te /// habe//t is a dsce// derif sii per ler rise up against thee, leave fe locii/// t/t/i/// //o// di///iseris, not thy place ; for management quia c/iratio faciei cessare pacifies great offences (Ecc- ///ag//a peccata (Eccles. X, 4). les. X, 4). I Up to here the tragedy has been printed word for word. ' ^ Let us now take some tests out of the undermentioned I scenes in Act I, and from those in Acts II and III. From Act 1,4: Foole. Ir I gave the/// all //ly livi/ig. Lid keepe /ny Coxco//ibes my sh. Page 28 selfe, there's ///i/ie, beg another of thy Daz/gJ/ters. L^ear. Take heed Sirrah, the ivhip, From Act 1,5: Foole. Then I h/ythee be merry, thy zuit shall not go slip-shod. ^^'^ ^f^" '^"- -' -^ -^ -^ o ^ Column a. Lear. Ha, ha, ha. Parabola. Vir sapiens, si ciii// Parable. If a wise man contend Coi st/ilto co/ite// derit , sive irasca- with a fool, whether he rage — I20 — tiir, sive rideat, non inveniet or laugh, he shall find no rest requiem (Prov. XXIX, 9). (Prov. XXIX, 9). From Act 1,4: Foole. Marke it Ntincle : Have more then thou showest, Speake lesse then thou knoivest . . . Column 214. Parabola. Totuiii spirituni su- Parable. A fool utters all his ui/i pro/ert stu Itus ; at sapie us mind, but a wise man reserves reservat aliquid in posteruni something for the future (Prov. (Prov. XXIX, 11). XXIX, II). Sh. Page 288, Column a. From Act II, 4: CoiumnT I (-^^ ^^^ ^"^ ^^ ^^^ ^ Lear goes off cursing his second daughter, who is as ungrateful as the eldest one.) Sh. Page 295, Column b. Lear. you thinke He weepe. No, He 7iot weepe, I have full cause of iveeping. S tor me and Tempest. Actus Tertitis. Scena Prima. Storme still. Enter Kent, and a Gentlemaji, severally. Gent. tears his white hair,^) Which the impetuous blasts, 7vith eyeless rage. Catch in their fury . . . Kent. But true it is, from France there comes a power Into this scatter' d kingdom; . . .**y/ *) Livius calls the scattered hairs and more particularly those of enraged persons crmes sparsi, while Ovid calls them capilli sparsi. — The same adjective is used in Doctrina de occasionibus sparsis (the doctrine of the scattered, destroyed or unsuccessful bussinesses or occasions). **) Scatter' d kingdom is equivalent in tliis passage to scattered occasions. Both these passages are not given in the I'"i)li()-edition whereas they appear in the older Quarto-edition. These two short words are (pioted from the Tauchnitz-edition. Sccna Seciuida. Storme still. Enter Lear, and Foole. Lear. Bloiv ivindes and crack your cheeks ; Scena Quarta. Enter Lear, Kent, and Foole. Storme still. Storme still. Storme still. Storme still. Sh. Page 296, Column a. Sh. Page 297, Column a. Sh. Page K^t, Column b. Sh. Page 298, Column a. Sh. Page 29! Column 1). Parabola. Qui con turbat domum Parable. He that troubles his Column 211 S2iam, possidebit ventos (Prov. own house shall inherit the XL, 29). wind (Prov. XI, 29). 4. THE SUMMING-UP OF THE FOREGOING. We see Lear, after he has scattered his kingdom, wandering through the storm with scattered hairs, roofless and impoverished. He serves as living illustration of Bacon's Doctrine of Negociations and thus converts the instructive proverb of Solomon : He that troubleth his 07vn house shall inherit the wind, into a dramatic parable of far mightier effect. That Bacon had not only something similar to Ki7tg Lear, but rather exactly this figure and none other, in his mind is indubitably shown in his explanation of the proverb. That which he more particularly understands by the expression : troubling one's own house is separation from the wo iii en-folk, disinheriting of children zxid-frequoit family changes. The Encyclopedy gives prominence thereto in slanting type (italics). King Lear dissevers himself from several women — his daughters. He does not disinherit several children , but he does disinherit his youngest and dearest child. He purposes living alternately with his two elder daughters. And that which is further contained in Bacon's curt explanation is clearly mirrored in Lie. As painefully to poare upon a Bootee, To see/ie the light of trutJi, 7vhilc truth the while Doth falsely blinde the eye -sight of his looke: Light seeeki7ig light, doth light of light beguile: So ere you fin de where light in darknesse lies. Your light grows darke by losi)ig of your eyes. Studie )iie ho7v to please the e v e indeede. By fixing it upon a fairer eye. Who dazling so, that eve shall be his heed. And give him tig Jit that it was blinded by. Studie is like the heavens glorious Sunne, That 7vill not be deepe searcJi'd with savvey lookes: Small have cofitinuall plodders ever wonne. Save base authoritie from others Bookes. These earthly Godfathers of heavens lights, — 127 — That give a name to every fix cd Starve, Have no more profit of their shining niglits . Than those that 7vaike and wot not ivhat they are. Too much to icnow, is to kno7V nought but fame: And every Godfather can give a name. Greene, Rose, Snow, see, seene,fire,fire, see, scene, sable coloured melancholic, blacke, sn oiv-whit e , ebon, c ol o It r I- d , viewcsf , bclioldesf , s u rvay e s f , seest , looked for , sec, lookc, c )ii pic X io II , complexion, sea-water (Greene, complexions, (? r c c n c , c o lo u r , c o lo u r , g r e c n e , w Ji i t c , red, colours, white, red, blush, pale 7V h i t e , white, redde, lig/il, blushing, see, scene, see, see, lookc, painted, eye, eye, sight, entcrview, see, eye, 7V h i f e , sa7v, light, light, light, eyes. JJliy all his bchavioicrs doe make their retire. To the court of his ey c , peeping thorough desire. His hart like an Agot with your print impressed, Proud with his forme, in- his eie pride expressed. His tongtie all impatient to speake and ?iot see. Did stumble with haste in his cie-sight to be, All s ences to that sencc did make their repaire, To feele only looki)ig on fairest affaire: Me thought all his s c u ces zvere loekt in his c y e , As Jewels in C h r is tall for some Prince to buy. Who tendring their own worth from -whence they -were g last. Did point out to buy them alojig as you past. His faces o-wne margent did coate such amazes. That all eyes sa-w his cics iiichantcd with gazes. Etc, eic, see, sense, eie, eics, fainting,fir'd, stars, sec, scncibly. Carnation : wJiite, see, purblinde, colours, whitly, p itch-ba Is , eyes, Argus, glasse, see, see, eie, vidi. See, see, see, see, s a 70, eyes, picture, Oule, see, see, fe- 7vell, Cooke, sensible, Dictisima, Dictisima, die lima, Phebc, Luna, Moone, Moone, Moone, lookc , Pi r e , u m b ra , vcdc, eyes, sees, eye, lightning,fire, cc les t ia 1 1 , go I d e n , overglance, s n ow-7v h itc , lookc, colourable, colours, eve, light, eye, eyes. So sweete a kisse the golden Su n ne gi7'es not. To those fresh morning drops upon the Rose , As thy eye be antes, 7vhen their fresh rayse have smot. The night of de7V that on m\ checkes do7(.'ue flo7ves. — 128 — Nor shinies the s ilv e r Mo o n e o?ir half so br ig h t , Through the tra?tsparent bosoine of the deepe, As doth thy fa c e through teares of mine give light: Thou shiu'st in every tea re that I doe iveefe, No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee : So ridest thou triumphing m my ivoe. Do but behold the teares that swell in me, And they thy glory through my grief e ivill shoiv ; But doe not love thy selfe, then thou wilt keepe My teares for glasses , and still make me weepe. O Queen of Queenes, hovo farre dost thou excell, No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell. Shade, eye. Sun, shine, greene, ore-eye, Amber (haires), amber, Amber coloured Raven, s u ii n e , shine, u n s e en e , Aethiop, looke, pale, blush, blush, blush, sa7v. Gold, Christall, eyes, see, eyes, appeares, see, Beame, scene, see, see, over -view, see, eye. Berowne. Who sees the heavenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and savage man of Inde) At the first opening of the georgeous East, Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? I J liat peremptory Eagle-sighted ey e Dares looke upon the heaven of her bro7V, That is not blinded by her maiestic? King. What zeale, what f uric, hath inspir'd thee now? My Love (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone, Shee (an alt eliding Star re) scarce scene a light. Beroimie. My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne. O but for my Love, day would turne to night. Of all complexions the cid'd soverraignty. Doe meet as at a faire in her faire cheeke, Where severall Worthies make one dig?iity. Where nothing ivants, that want it selfe doth seeke. Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, Fie painted Rethoricke, O she needs it not, To things of sale, a sellers praise belongs : She passes prayse, then prayse too short doth blot. A witHered Hermite, fivescore winters worne. Might shake off fiftie, looking in her eye: Beauty doth varnish Age, as if ne7v borne, And gives the Crutch the Cradles infancie, 129 O 'tis the Suime that makcth all things shine. King. By heaven, thy Love is blacke as Ebonie. Bcroivnc. Is Ebonie like her? O tvood divine? A wife of such wood were felicitie. O who can give an oth? Where is a booke? That I may swcare Beauty doth beauty lackc. If that she learur not of Jirr eye to looke: No face is faire that is not full so b la c k e. King. O paradoxe, Black is the badge of hell, The h u e of dungeons, and the Schoole of night : And beauties crest becomes the heavens well. Berowne. Dive Is soonest tempt resembling spirits of light. O if in blacke my Ladies bro7ues be deckt. It mournes, that painting usurping haire Should ravish doters with a false aspect: And therefore is she borne to make blacke , faire. Her favour turnes the fashion of the dayes, For native bloud is counted painting now : And therefore red that 7vould avoyd dispraise. Paints it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow. Duma7ie. To look like her are Chimney-sweepers blacke. Longavile. And since her time, are Colliers counted bright. King. A7id Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake. Dumane. Dark needs no Candles now, for dark is light. Berowne. Your mistresses dare never come in raine, For fear e their colours should be washt away. King. 'Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine. He finde a fairer face not washt to day. Berowne. He proove her faire, or talk till dooms-day here. King. No Divell ivill fright thee then so much as shee. Dumane. I never knew man hold vile stuff e so deere. Longavile. Looke , heer's thy love, my foot and her face see. Berowne. O if the streets were paved with thine ey e s , Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. Dumane. O vile, then as she goes what up war d lyes? The street should see as she walk'd over head. see, pore, looke, looking, ey es , fiery , eyes, eyes, seeing, eye, eyes, gaze. Eagle, blinde, sensible, bright, Apollo, eyes, spar cle , promethean fir e , Sun^ic, light, eye, luna- ticke, vides, video, s e ene , fir e-wo rk e , Diamonds, look. Light, light, darke, light, light, darke, light, light, snuffe, darkely, look, darke, light, ligh t , pic ture , red, golden, burns, shade, eyes, shade, behold, s e e , a pp ea res , 9 — 130 — see , Black moors , viewes, eyes, eyes, eyes , vieives , beholde , behold, behold, Stifine be allied eyes, Su7ine bea/i/ed eyes. Daughter bea7?ied eyes. Beroivne. J^ouchsa/e to shew the sunshine of your fac e , That we (like savages) may worship it. Rosaline. Aly face is but a Moone, and clouded too. King. Blessed are clouds , to doe as such clouds do. Vouchsafe b righ t Mo one, and these t/iy sta rs to s h in e , (Those clouds remooved) upon our water ie eyne. Rosaline. O vaine peticioner, beg a greater matter, T/iou nozv requests but Moon esJi in e in the water. Moone, Afoone, Moone, white handed, looke, invisible, scene, sense, sence, sensible, tapers, pu/t out, Roses, Roses, clot/ds, Roses, 7uhite as WJiales boue, see, eie, as pure as the u n sa Hi c d Lilly , nn s e ene , e ies , s eeing , fierie , eie, light, light, eie, lookes, browes, looke, pale, stars, blind, wJiite, zvhite, see, eyes, see, eye-sight, Jewell, fe7vell, see, the apple of her eie, fire, leere, eie, painted, looke, see, scarce scene, light, darke. Painter, Grey- hound, sence. North -pole, cloud, scene, cloud. (Love is) Form'd by the eie , and there/ore like the eie. Full of straying shapes, of habits, and of formes Varying in subiects, as the eie doth route. To everie varied obiect in his glance. Lies, eies, looke, lookes, t^velve Celestiall Signs, heatc , eie, b la eke, looke, behold, eye, saw, O^vlc, Oivle. When Dasies pied, and Triolets blew. And Cuckow-beeds of y e llo 7v h e re .• And Ladie-smockes all silver white. Do paint the Medowes with delight. Bleach, /sides, staring Owle, sno7v, red, staring Owle. Thus we find in the comedy, which fills hardly more than 22 folio- pages , the word eye, or its collateral form eie, about 60 times. See just as often, and light 30 times. We hear all sorts of seeing and eye-motion spoken of. Of sources of light are named : Sunne 6 times, Luna, Moone still oftener, fixed Starre, attending Starre, the twelve Celestiall Signs, lightning, freworke, promethean fire, taper and candle. I I — 131 — down even to the staring O^vle with its eyes that shine in darkness. The word colou?' appears 6 times. Reference is made more than 40 times to coloured and shining objects, and to various degrees of colour and brightness. Altogether more than 500 words relating to light and its effects are used. But this number is materially increased, inasmuch as on reading the work attentively we find such words as /aire, bcmity, shame, then oifearc (because white of colour); besides these are found: quick, hasty, tender, merry, joyous, ivitty, and their contrasts: slow, lazy, heavy, melan- choly, dull, all being in close conjunction with the idea of light and In in in OILS matter. Heaven, day and night. Seasons -dLndi hours occwx frequently. It is scarcely necessary to enumerate all these words in the order of their recurrence but merely to add that the wordy^zW' (in the sense of beautiful) appears as often as the words see and eye or eie, namely 60 times, or on the average 3 times to a page. The most prominent and wittiest of all the brilliant minds in the comedy is Bero7vne. The modern editions print the name Biroii, or Biron, whereas he is called Bero7vne (meaning brownj in the FoUo- edition. It was evidently intended that he should be of dark complexion. He loves the dark-haired and dark -eyed Rosaline; in fact, until the colour brown is thought of as in connexion with the word Beroivtie the point of such a line as Aly eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne is missed. The name Rosaline contains the name of the most beautifully coloured of all flowers, Rosa. The word Moth, the page's name is generally translated as the insect (say Tinea L.) but in the Folio-edition it is placed in the same likeness as Moth (meaning a mote or sun- atom) both words being written with capitals : You Found his Moth, the King your Moth did see : But I a Beame doe Jinde in each of thee. Reading this in the sense of the comedy, which holds that light is synonymous with love, this phrase means as much as : You found his mote (of sun), The King saw your mote (of sun), But I, I find a perfect (sun-) beam In each one of all ye three. As a contrast to the agile, clever MotJi the name chosen for the constable is Dull, meaning stupid, obtuse, slow. The name of the 9* — 132 — courtier Lougavill (also written Loigavilr) means far removed frovi the vulgar (Long-a-vile). This idea is clearly expressed in the line : Duviaur. I never knew man hold vile shiffe so deere. Immediately afterwards Longavill likens Berowne's lady-love to a shoe. Both of them object to Berowne that his sweetheart is too dark and too low, while Dumane and Longavill, on the contrary, give that which is vile, common, vulgar a wide berth (Long-a-vile). The name of the ambassador , JMarcade (it is thus spelt in the Folio-edition, whereas the modern ones give it as Mercade) is similarly conceived. iMarcade appears in the fifth act to announce the death of the French king to the princess : Qu. Welcome Marcade, hut that thou iiiterruptest onr merriment. To mar means to spoil, to destroy, to interrupt; cade, cadence means tunefulness, harmony, euphony. Like the pseudonym of the author Marprelate (who would root out the priest- hood), like the poet's name Marlowe (who would do away with what is vulgar, low) — presumedly also a pseudonym — like the name of the vicar Mar-text (text-spoiler) in Shakespeare's comedy of As you like it, the word JMarcade means one who spoils harmony, mars merriment, is, in short, a spoil-sport. Merriment, Love, Joy, are all equivalent to Light. Hence follows immediately on the above quota- tion, referring to Marcades's appearance and message of mourning, the remark from Berowne's lips : the Scene begins to clojtd. 2. THE CONCORDANCE OF IDEAS BETWEEN THE COMEDY AND BACON'S SCIENCE OF LIGHT. 27 years after Bacon's death (in 1653) there appeared for the first time in print a treatise entitled Topica Inquisitionis de Lace et Lumine {Topics of Inquiry respecting Light and Luminous Matter). The oldest edition accessible to the author of this work was the neat Amsterdam issue of Optisciila Varia Posthuma Francisci Baconi (Various small posthumous works of Francis Bacon), edited by Bacon's former secretary and chaplain. Dr. William Rawley, in 1663. The treatise occupies eight little duodecimo-pages of this edition, while it fills three columns, namely 746 to 748, of the Frankfort Folio-edition of the Opera Omnia issued in 1665. — 133 — The short sections of this terse scientific work discuss optics in brief, but so much the more well thought-out, words; they bear the following twelve headings: 1. Tabula Pracscntiac. (The Table of Presence.) 2. Tabula Abscntiac in proxivio. (The Table of Absence in the next Degree.) 3. Tabula Gradimm. (The Table of Degrees.) 4. Colorcs Lucis. (Colours of Light.) 5. Rcflcxioncs Lncis. (Reflections of Light.) 6. Multiplicafionrs Lucis. (Multiplications of Light.) 7. Modi obrucndi Luccm. (Methods of overpowering Light.) 8. Opcrationcs sivc effcdiis Lucis. (Operations or Effects of Light.) 9. Mora Lucis. (Continuance of Light.) 10. Via et Processus Lucis. (Ways and Passages of Light.) 1 1 . Diaphancitas Lucidoruvi. (Transparency of Lucid Bodies.) 12. Cogimfioncs et Hos till fates Lucis. (Affinities and Oppositions of Light.) Bacon names as light-producing bodies : Stellae (stars) , Metcora ignita, (fiery-meteors, which are all light-giving appearances within the earth's atmosphere), flainvm (flame), ligna, Metalla , et alia ignita, (wood, metals, and other bodies ignited), saccharum inter scalpendum et frangeudum (sugar , in scraping and breaking) , Cicendula (the glow-worm), rores Aquae salsae percussae et sparsae (spray of salt- water, beaten and thrown about), oculi quorundam animaliuni (the eyes of some animals) , ligna nonnulla putria (some kinds of rotten wood), magna 7'is Nivis, (a great mass of snow), and other matters. All these light-producers are referred to in Love's Labours lost, the majority directly, some in parabolic form. Stars are often represented: Sumie, Moone, fixed Starre, attending Starre, the twelve Celestiall Signs. Of fire-meteors , i. e. light-giving appearances in the air , we find lightning. Fire is represented as proniethean fire, fireivorke, and, furthermore, several times d^s fire , fiery. Taper and candle and even Snuffe (of a candle) are not wanting. In the closing song fire-wood is referred to. Winter sings : And Tom beares Logges into the hall. Heated light-giving metal is represented hy the enamoured fire- eater Armado. Thou heat'st my bloud he says to the page, and when he sees the milk-maid he blushes (reddens). The glowworm, whose - 134 — degree of light-power is in Ilaiiilct so admirably compared with that of the approaching dawn , is certainly not absolutely named in the comedy , nevertheless the meaning is transparent enough. Berowne surprises his three enamoured friends and says to the king: Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reprove These wormes for loving, that art most in love? Then follows immediately the passage : Yoio found his Moth, the King your Moth did see: But I a Beanie doe finde ijz each of three meaning thereby that he sees how much they are in love. Thus, the lovers glow and give forth more or less light in the warmth of their love. Berowne compares their love with sun-atoms and a sunbeam, and with the same breath he calls the courtiers wormes. What sort of worms are they except light-giving worms (glow-worms).'' In the beginning of Act V occur in the self-same column the words scracht, scraps, and salt-7vave. It must be admitted that the word (sugar gives light when scratched or scraped) is not directly conjoined with the two first-named words, but the language (in another place Shakespeare uses the word honey-sweet) seems intended for a comparison with a piece of sugar. At all events the speech is first of rubbed, scracht grammar and then of scraps, which the schoolmaster and the curate bring into a great feast of Languages. Then comes, twice and in direct connexion therewith, the use of the Latin videsne, video (seest thou not.^ I see). Then a wit of the page. Moth, is compared with salt-water that is snip, snap, quickly thrown about — and wit is light. Sfiow and luminous eyes of some animals are, moreover, to be found in the winter-song at the close of the fifth act and to which reference was made a little way back in connexion with firewood. The word snow appears once in rhyme ; the word staring O^vle twice, namely in the refrain of the two strophes : Theit nightly sings the staring Oivle. Staring owl-eyes shine by night. It is with this last small gUmmer of light that the light and wit of the comedy closes. — Armado compares the song with that of Apollo. Now Apollo is not only the god of song but also and more particularly the god of light, the sun-god. This closes the poem. 3. As degrees of light Bacon uses : the flanie of imod , the flame of spirits-of-wiiie, the flame of coals. The object comes very near to the — 135 overpowering of light, which will be discussed in § 7. The comedy is, indeed, rich in comparisons of degrees of light, thus: My Love (her Mistress) is a gracious Moone, Shee {an attending Starre) scarce seen a light. and, soon after: A Lover s eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde — This is equally a comparison or wagering contest between two grades of light which ends with the overpowering of one of the contending forces. In Bacon's science, as in Shakespeare's poetry, the eye is treated of as a source of Ught. The lover's eye is like the sun, it blinds the eagle-eye that looks into it. 4- Under Colours of Light Bacon gives prominence to four colours of the stars. The stars are candidae (white), splendidae (bright), rubeae (reddish), plumbeae (lead-coloured). It by no means seems to be an accident that the ladies who are compared with stars should also be four in number. Maria is a zvhite star, for Longavill, who compares his lady-love with the sun and goes into raptures over the heavenly eloquence of her eyes, asks emphatically on their first meeting: what is she in the white ? The king in his love- sonnet compares the princess first with the sun and then with the moon. Apollo, the sun-god, is distinctly described as bright; thus, the princess corresponds with the bright star. Rosaline is, according to her name, Rosa-line (rose-like) the reddish star. Whether or not Catherine corresponds with the lead-coloured star we need not venture to determine. Boyefs glance is likened unto a leaden sword. Anyhow, the concord in number between the scientific and the poetical stars is certainly note- worthy. ]So g7-een flames (flamae virides) are yet discovered is found in the paragraph. This seems to agree with the battle of words between Armado and Moth in the second scene of the play. Armado asks concerning Sampsons love : Of what complexion r Moth replies : Of the sea water Greene sir. Greene, says Armado, indeed is the colour of Lovers; but to have a love of that colour, methinkes Safnpson had small reason for it. Again we find that there is no green flame and, moreover, no green lady-love. My love is most immacidate white and red. Then again, Armado stands, in respect of name, occupation, conduct and speech , very near akin to iron , while Bacon closes paragraph 4 by asserting that heated iron becomes red and, if heated still more, nearly white. - 136 - Of the remaining kinds of flame it is said in the short section : Flammae ordinariae croceae sunt, et, inter eos Coruscationes caelitiis ct Flammae pulveris pyrii maxime albicant. (Common flames are generally saffron-coloured, and among them celestial corrnscations and the flames of gunpowder are most inclined to zvhiteness.) Of common flames we find fire, firework, taper and candle mentioned in the play. Lightning is also represented. Gunpowder, too, is named. At the end of Scene I, Act IV we find the direction Shoote zvithin and in Act III, Scene I a cannon-shot is paraboUcally described in comical language. The manner in which all this occurs is so drastic and at the same time so natural and simple that the passage must be given in its entirety in order to show how scientific facts may be made suitable to the stage through the parabolic art. But, first of all, let a passage from the 1 2th paragraph on light be quoted : Torpor Corponim in partibus suis, maxime est luci inimicus. Nam fere nihil lucet, quod non, ant propria natura, insigniter mobile est ; aut excitatum, vel calore, vel motu, vel spiritu vitali. (Sluggishness of bodies in their parts is the chief enemy of light. For there is scarce anything luminous zvhich is not either in its oivn natiire very movable, or excited by heat or motion or the vital spirit.) All this is in complete concord with that which is said in the play as preparatory to the cannon-shot. The contrast between slow and swift and the propulsive heat, motion and vitality which can fire a body that is other- wise dull and heavy cannot be more clearly expressed. Armado sends his page. Moth, to fetch the fool, Costard. (Armado is named a Braggart; Moth Boy?) Brag. The zvay is but short, azvay. Boy. As swift as Lead, sir. Brag. Thy meaning prettie ingenious, is not Lead a me tall lieavie, dull, and slow? Boy. Minnime honest Master, or rather Master no. Brag. I say Lead is sloiv. Boy. You are too swift sir to say so, Ls that Lead slow which is fird from a Gunne ? Brag. Sweete smoke of RJietorike, He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet thafs he: I shoote thee at the Szvaine. Boy. Thump then, and I flee. Brag. A most accute Luvenall, voluble and free of grace . . . 5- Of bodies that refract light Bacon names in first order: specula, aquae, Metalla polita, luna, gemmae (mirrors, water, polished metals, the I I - 137 - moon and precious stones). In the play we find: twice ^/ass: tmce j;-/ast (glazed); twice crystal; four X\mQS bright and jewels; three times Pearls; once Diamonds. The moon is represented the strongest of all, namely : nine times in English, each time with a capital letter as Moone, once in Latin as Luna and three times in a mutilation of the word Diktynna (Jiy.Tvvva, the sub-name of Artemis or Diana, the hunting- and moon- goddess) ; once in Greco-latin as P/iebe (Phoebe, fpot^)], Diana as moon- goddess). The reflex of water is pourtrayed most distinctly in the king's sonnet : T/io/( s /tin' St in every teare that I doe zveepe, No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee: So ridest thou triumphing in my woe. Do but behold the teares that sivell in me, And they thy glory througJi my grief e zvill shoiv: Bui doe 7iot love thy selfe, then thou tvilt keepe My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe. Even two reflexes are combined in one instance : TJlou nozv requests but Moonshine in the zvater. The moon reflects the sun's light, the water reflects the moonlight. Moonlight on the water is consequently the reflex of a reflex. 6. This section discusses the multiplication of light. Let this be compared with : Studie me how to please the eye indeede, By fixing it upon a fairer eye, Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed, And give him light that it was blinded by. Moreover light is increased by reflexion (§ 5). 7- Light is overpowered, says Bacon, either by the superiority of a greater light or by the grossness and opacity of mediums. (Veluti per exuperantiam majoris Lucis, mediarum crassitudines, aut opacitates.) Under the standpoint of this paragraph we find, as under the title Love's Labour s tost, the charming alliteration of the letter L : Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile. This means, in other words, that when two lights come together, the stronger overpowers the weaker; the light of the e>e is blinded - 138 - through the sudden appearance of a bright light, while the flame of a candle is scarcely visible in the sun-shine. To this place belong also the passages mentioned under § 3 concerning the attendant star, which hardly shows a visible light alongside of the moon, and that referring to the enamoured eye, which, like the lover's eye zuill gaze an eagle blinde. Furthermore : Who sees the lieavenly Rosaline, That (like a rude and savage man of hide) At the first opening of the gorgeous East, Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blinde, Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? and closely following thereon : What peremptoiy Eagle-sighted eye Dare looke upon the Heaven of her brozv, That is not blinded by her viaiestie? The second kind of Ught-overpowering-effect is that obtained through non-transparent or Hght-restricting mediums. The word shade occurs in English as well as in Latin (umbra) in the comedy. Cloud and clouded appear often, as, for instance : My face is but a Moone, and clouded too. and again : TJie Scene begins to cloud. The ladies are stars, therefore the masks before their faces are intransparent mediums that overpoiver the light. The masks are compared directly with clouds: Vouchsafe bright Hloone, and these thy stars to shine, (Those clouds remooved.) . . . meaning when the masks shall be removed. Moreover, in the king's sonnet, which is especially rich in optical parabolism, the transparency of air is compared with the transparency j; of tears : Nor shines the silver Moone one half so bright, Through the transparent bosomc of the deepe. As doth thy face through teares 0/ mine give light. The second half of this short paragraph 7 runs finally thus : Radii solis certe, in flammam foci immissi, flamma)i, vcluti fumum quendam 139 alhiorcm, apparerc faciunt. (Certainly the suns raxs directed on a flauie of fire make the fiaiue appear as a tvhite smoke.) This, too, is drama- tically paraboliscd : Longavill. I beseech you a word: what is she in the zvhite ? Boyet. A woman sometimes, if you saiv her in the light. Longavill. Perchance light in the light. Now it must be self-evident that a double-meaning is contained in the words light in the light, namely light, in the sense of lightness of heart or mind, and light in the sense the Saxon dialect Leichte means both (Lcichtc and Leuchtc). of light-giving-power, just as in a frivolous person and a candle Bacon calls colour the chief effect of light : Omnis enim color Litcis imago fracta est ; (For all colour is the broken image of light.) As touching this point the following word-statistics concerning the reference to colour in the comedy are submitted : times 6 colour. 2 hezv (hue). J complexion. 8 white. 1 tvJiite as Whales bone. 2 pale. 1 pale ivhite. 2 snow-white. 2 snotv. I hides. I Milke. I Lilly. I bleach. I silver white. I white handed. J ivhitly (whitish). 6 red. S Rose. about 700 Rosaline. I Carnation. about 200 Berowne (Brown). 5 blush. I yellozu. fillies 2 amber. I Amber-coloured Raven. I gold. J golden. I gilt. 4. grcene. I sea-zvater Greene. I blew (blue). / Violets. I Grey-hound. I pied (particolored). 8 paint. 1 painter. 2 picture. 2 Ebonie (ebony). I ebon coloicred. I Chimney szveepers. I Colliers. 1 sable coloured (black). 6 melancholic (sadness). / pitch-bals. 2 Aethiop. I Black moors, p blacke. — I40 — 9- The ninth paragraph speaks de mora liicis (of continuance of Light), quae, ut videtur, momentanea est (wliicJi appears to be momentary). In explanation of this point the following sentences are used : Neque oiim lux, si per multas horas in eubicido duraverit, magis illud illuminat qiiam si per momentum aliqiiod: Cum in calore, et aliis, contra fit. Etenim, et prior calor manet, et novus supei'additur. Attamen crepuscula nonnihil a reliquiis Lucis provenire, ah aliqidbiis putantur. (For light, though it be continued in a room many hours, does not light it any more than if it had been there only a second; tvhereas in heat and other things it is other- zvise. For both the former heat continues and a neiv one is superadded. And yet the tzvilight is thought by some to proceed in some degree from the remains of light.) From the point of view shown by this paragraph one may find the justification for converting the title of the comedy from Loves L.abours lost into Light's Labour s lost. We know from the explanations before referred to that : Love is like the eye. Love and the beloved are likened to all possible sorts of light, from the sun down to the glow-worm; the lover's eyes can gaze the eagle blind ; woman's eyes scatter forth promethean-fire, in short, love is light and eye, to be in love is to glow, to give forth light. The comedy is never tired of returning to the subject. But it is not enough that the first word of the comedy-title Love, conveys a meaning. In each instance where the words Labour.^ and lost, recur in the play our reading of the sense is but confirmed. In the title the word lost stands in close connexion with the word love. In the comedy itself the word lose is only found four times, three of which are in direct conjunction with words of the same import as love, namely: light, eye, fire: Page 122 of the Folio-edition contains this passage: So ere you finde where light in darknesse lies, Your light grotvs darke by losing of your eyes. Page 140 of the Folio-edition says as follows: when we greete With eies best seeing, heavens fierie eie: By light we loose light. In both these instances the loss of eyesight (being blinded) cor- responds with the overpowering of a lesser by a stronger light. It is different on page 123, where we find in one line lost and its opposite won: I — 141 — IV 71 as toivncs witJi fire, so tvoii, so lost. Here the effect of fire is immediately null. And this line is in concord, on the one side, with Bacon's view as to the duration of light which appeal's to be mometitary and, on the other side, with the title of the play, for the fire's exertion is lost. And in like intrusive manner does the idea Mora Lucis momentanea est (the duration of light is momentary) seem to be interwoven in poetical form into the line wherein the word labour occurs. This word labour only occurs once during the whole course of the play, namely : Page 141 of the Folio-edition: WJien great things labouring perish in their birth. Just in the same manner as the luminous beauties and love appear and disappear again suddenly at the close in the comedy, just as all love's labour is lost, so also is the labour of light lost. Great things perish in their birth ; light disappears again as quickly as it comes, namely in a moment. Light, though it has continued in a room viany hours, does not light it any more than if it had been there only a second, says Bacon. The King of Navarre (see page 143) begs: King. Nozv at the latest minute of the Jiour, Grant us your loves. But the princess is inexorable : Princess. A time me thinkes too short, To make a world-without-end bargaine in. No, no my Lord. And so the princess journeys off with her three ladies. The labour both of love and of Ught is lost. They propose to meet again in a year's time, therefore a faint ray of hope remains. This is exactly in accord with Bacon's remark in § 9 on the Continuance of Light, which closes as follows : Yet the twilight is thought by some to proceed in some degree from the remains of light. And exactly as a glimmer of hope remains of the brightness and light of love, so, as it were like a twilight, does Berowne appear to point to the real twilight in two words of the closing scene, when he calls out : A light for Monsieur Judas, it groives dark, he may stumble. and soon afterwards : The Scene begets to cloud. r^ — 142 — But the next words of the princess run : Boyet prepair, I will azvay to night. Thus twiUght follows on day, evening on twilight and if the piece closes with a two-fold reference to tJie staring Owle that nightly sings: Then nightly sings the staring Ozvle this is certainly not fortuitous but, on the contrary, a dying out — in the Baconian sense — of this dramatic Ught-parable by taking the form of the weakest source of light, by reduction to that which can only be seen in the darkness of night. lO. This section treats of the Ways and Passages of Light (de viis et Processibiis Lucis). Light spreads all round (Lux circumfunditur), but, adds Bacon, // is necessary to enqtiire whether it spreads equally upivards and doivmvards. The charming comedy -scene in which the friends surprise each other in their love-affairs corresponds with Bacon's words. Berowne appears with verses in his hand. He hears footsteps and climbs into a tree. The king comes on and reads his love-sonnet. He hears some one approaching and hides himself. Longavill appears and reads a sonnet. He hears some one nearing and conceals himself on the other side. Dumane comes on, reads his sonnet and is watched at the same time from right, left and above. The poet emphasises the down-looking most especially: Berotvne. Like a demie God, here sit / in the skie, And wretched fooles secrets heed f idly ore -eye. And when all three are thus caught by Berowne the king asks: Are we betrayed thus to thy over-viezv? But the distribution of light in a downward direction, the seeing from below, is not actually but allegorically referred to in the following drastic and quizzical lines: Longavile. Looke, heers thy love, my foot and her face see. Beroivne. if the streets, were paved with thine eyes. Her feet were much too dainty for such tread. Dumane. vile, then as she goes what upward lyes? The street should see as she walk' d over head. The next sentences of the paragraph sjjcak of shadows, of shadow- giving bodies, of the rectilineal direction of light. Thus speaks the king as he hides himself in the thicket: k — 143 — Sweet leaves shade folly. The three observers stand in the shade and arc invisible. The fourth, Dumane, stands in the light and is watched by all, while he distributes light on all sides. Boyet, too, talks — with special emphasising of the words — twice of sJiade and once of thicket, while the schoolmaster even uses the Latin equivalent sub umbra (in the shade). II. The next paragraph speaks of Transparency and mentions more specially that the body of air and the body of water are transparent (diapJianum). Let us recall once more the phrase mentioned already under § 7 wherein the penetration by light through both mediums is mentioned close together and the comparison is made between them : Nor shines the silver Moone one half so bright, Through the transparent bosom of the Deepe, As doth thy face through teares of mine give light. 12. The closing section discusses the Affinities and Oppositions of Light. The affinities heat, tenuity, motion, and their opposite, sluggishness, have already become known to us. But Bacon discusses the similarities and differences subsisting between light and sound with the greatest detail. Were all the passages in the play which contain close comparisons between light and sound, eye and ear, sight and hearing, eye and tongue to be given, some dozens of verses would have to be quoted here. Let us content ourselves with one weighty distinction : quod lux sono velocior sit (Light is quicker than sound). In the comedy we hear from mocking girls' lips : Above the sense of sence so sensible: Seemeth their conference, their conceits have wings. Fleeter then arrotvs, bullets, wind, thoght, stvifter tilings. What the poet referred to under swifter things, or, in fact, the swiftest of things, is easy to guess at in view of the foregoing. It is that to which the princess points in the words : When great tilings labouring perish in their birth. In both instances the word things shadows with the parabolic veil at which is common to both cases, namely the word and its meaning. Light. — 144 — The comparison has hitherto been made with the treatise that appeared posthumously concerning Light and Luminous Matter. But, furthermore, the natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, which is written in the Enghsh tongue and which appeared shortly after the author's decease, contains long sections standing in constant harmony with the scientific observations contained in the comedy of Loves Labours lost. §255 to §277 discuss Experiments in consort touching the consent and dissent of visible s and audible s and § 867 to 873 treat of Experiments in consort totiching the eyes and sight. We will confine the comparison to paragraphs 871 to 873. The first half of § 871 runs: Men see better, when their eyes are over against the sun or a candle, if they put their hand a little before their eyes. The reason is, for that the glaring of the sun or the candle doth weaken the eye; whereas the light circumfused is enough for the perception. For we see that an ovej'-light maketh the eyes dazzle; insomuch as perpetual looking against the sun zvould cause blindness. Again, if men come out of great light into a dark room ; and contrariwise, if they come out of a dark room into a light room; they seem to have a mist before their -eyes, and see ivorse than they shall do after they have stayed a little while either in the light or in the dark. Their hand a little before their eyes — see the beginning of Act III: With your hat pentho2ise-like ore the shop 0/ your eies. Against the sun — see Act IV, 3 : be first advis'd Ln conflict that you get the Sunne of them. Light circumfused is made applicable in the words of Boyet : Under the coole shade of a Siccamore, L tJiougJit to close mine eyes some half an houre: When lo to interrupt my furposd rest, Toward that shade L might behold addrest, The king and his companions ; ivarely I stole into a neighbour thicket by . . . Here we see the sunlight, we see under the shade circumfused light, we see the motion from one light into another and the effects thereof An over-light maketh the eyes dazzle — and in the comedy we find : that the finer eye dazzles the one less bright ; that light which seeks light will cheat light of its light ; that if we salute the fiery eye of heaven with the sharpest eye we lose light through light. Perpetual looking against the sun zvould cause blindness — and in the comedy : I — 145 — Stiidie is like the heavens glorious Sunne, That will not be deepe searcJid with sazvcy lookes. What peremptory Eagle-sighted eye Dares look upon the heaven of her brozv, That is not blinded by her males tie? A Lover s eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde. Out of great light into a dark room, out of a dark room into a light room — in the comedy : So ere you finde where light in darkness lies, Your light gi-ows darke by losing of your eyes. Practice and theory, the poetic art and science cannot more perfectly and harmoniously explain each other than do the verses of the play and these few sentences of Bacon — which are so full of meaning. We learn from § 873 that diamonds, a fair garden, a beautiful person and such-like make the spirits pleased and merry. We are reminded of the diamonds and jewels in the comedy; we see how the whole of the play, from beginning to end, is performed in a fair garden, namely in the king's park, which is described in Armado's letter as a curious knotted garden. Flowers, silk, all possible coloured and bright objects are mentioned and one does not tire of praising the beauty of the ladies. Faire alone recurs over 60 times! In the same paragraph we read : The sight is the most spiritual of the senses. Boyet's description of the enamoured king agrees therewith : Why all his behaviojirs do make their retire To the court of his eye. The tongue did stumble in his eie-sight to be. Me thought all his senses zvere lockt in his eye. Thus all his senses were absorbed into the highest, the most spi- ritual. Or, still more plainly : The tongues of mocking ivenches are as keen. As is the Razors edge, invisible: Cutting a smaller haire then may be scene, Above the sense of sense so sensible . . . Here we find the sense of sight described — almost in the identical words of Bacon — in a roguish comparison with the tongues of mocking wenches, as the fairest, noblest, finest of the senses. At the point where § 1000 of the collection of natural-historical aphorisms leaves off the feuilletonistic-novellistic fragment Ncxc Atlantis — 146 — begins. Bacon pourtrays therein a scientifically -ideal state. On a lonely island in the ocean live none but clever, good men. The central point of splendour in the whole is So/o7fion's House, a model academical institution which is fitted out with all that can be produced with the aid of sciences based on experience and which, therefore, comprises the highest philosophy combined with the noblest poetry. Here is a zoological garden, there a botanical garden ; here are fresh-water, there salt-water lakes with all kinds of fish and water-fowl, astronomical, mineralogical, chemical, and medical collections ; here are baking-ovens, breweries, hatching-ovens, chemical-ovens, there collections of mecha- nical, optical and acoustic-instruments, of machines and mathematical instruments and here, too, are houses for merry deception of the senses which are each in turn glorified through science. Concerning the optical collection we read : We have also perspective-houses, zvhere zve make demonstrations of all lights and radiations; and of all colours; and out of tilings uncoloured and transparent.^ zve can represent unto you all several colours; not in rain-bozvs, as it is in gems and prisms, but of themselves single. We represent also all multiplications of light, zvhich zve carry to great distance, and make so sJiarp as to discern small points and lines; also all colorations of light: all delusions and deceits of the sight, in figures, magnitudes, motions, colours : all demonstrations of shadozvs. We find also divers means, yet unknown to you, of producing of light originally from, divers bodies. We procure means of seeing objects afar off; as in the heaven and remote places; and represent tilings near as afar off, and things afar off as near ; making feigned distances. We have also helps for the sight, far above spectacles and glasses in use. We have also glasses and means to see small and minute bodies perfectly and distinctly; as the shapes and colours of small flies and zvorms, grains and flazhs in gems, zvhich cannot otherwise be seen ; observa- tions in urine and blood, not otherzvise to be seen. We make aj'tificial rainboivs, halos, and circles about light. We represent also all manner of reflexions, refraction, and multiplications of visual beams of objects. Now let one think of the comedy and how the king and his three friends purpose devoting themselves to study for three years to come : Our court shall be a little Achadevie. And in this little Achademe does not all that take place which is made to occur in Bacon's great academy, the prospective-house of Solomon's academy in the Nezv Atlantis r The words making feigned distances find their dramatic counterpart in the scene where the king and the courtiers, disguised as Russians and masked, appear before the ladies and Rosaline asks mockingly how man\' inches are in one of the many miles that they have measured. 4 - 147 - Put concisely, just as this Nnv Atlantis constitutes a practcrgcncrntion, a middle-point between science and poetry, so does this description of the perspective-house represent a transition, a middle-point between Bacon's Light-theory and the Light-practice contained in the Shake- spearean comedy of Loves Labour s lost. 3. THE SUMMING-UP. Without reverting again to individual points, it may be asserted that the comedy of Love's Labours lost stands in the same relationship to Bacon's science as the three previously-discussed dramas. It is a parabolic-dramatic poem in the sense of Francis Bacon; it does not deviate in one single point from Bacon's views. The matter of time is noteworthy : 159S. I St Edition of Love's Labours lost. 1623. 2nd ^^ ^^ ^, ,, „ 1626. Bacon died. 1627. I St Edition of Sylva Sylvarum and New Atlantis. 1653. I St Print of the Treatise on Liglit and Luminous Matter. But the connexion between Bacon and this poem stands prominently out not only after the author's death, but also already before, or, at least, simultaneously with the birth of the comedy. — Although we have hitherto only worked upon internal evidence and first come later on to discuss personal and external points, it may perhaps be permitted, by way of exception, to mention a fact of an extraordinary nature at this present stage of the enquiry. In the beginning of the fifth act the fool Costard says to the page Moth : / marvel thy Master hath not- eaten thee for a word, for thoji- art not so long by the head as honori- ficabilitudinitatibus. This word-monster of thirteen syllables is made up principally of Latin end-syllables and was well chosen or invented for this joke. Now, this sentence appeared for the first time in print in 1598 and the comedy bore the name of William Shakespeare on the title- page. But in a portfolio of Bacon-manuscripts, which will be dealt with later on and which is filled with handwriting indubitably belonging to the years 1592 to 1597, is to be found a sheet on the which Bacon's amanuensis had evidently either tested his pen or filled up an un- occupied quarter of an hour with scribblings. Among other written matter on this sheet appears : honorificabilitudino. This word is not found anywhere else in the whole of the English literature. Let us now collect the whole results of all our examinations up to date and bear in mind that The Tempest is the most spirited and 1 o * — 148 — Love's Labour s lost is the wittiest of all the Shakespeare-comedies ; that Limnlet contains the mightiest thoughts and Lear is the most thrilling of all the Shakespeare-tragedies. We may then well say with full justice that the mind that was able to create these four dramatic masterpieces possessed enough poetic strength and power of language to have also produced the remaining dramas contained in the Folio- Edition, and that if four of the poems prove throughout to be parabolic- scientific stage-plays it is probable that the remaining ones contained in the volume are likewise of parabolic character. — Hence we will begin to subject the remaining dramas of the Folio-Edition to an examination in groups. VI. THE BACON-PARABOLI8M OF THE REMAINING SHAKESPEARE- DRAMAS. I THE ARRANGEMENT OF THE FOLIO-EDITION OF THE SHAKESPEARE-DRAMAS. IP'^^IRST of all a word in explanation. P ^^ The reader has, perhaps, expected to hear more said about the run of the fables, the construction of the scenes, the draw- ing of the characters, of the beauty of the diction and the verse. Let him , however , kindly remember that the aim is not to prove to the world something that was already known long ago, namely what a grand poet the author of the Shakespeare-dramas was, and will ever remain, but rather that the aim of this book is to show how the dramas conceal beneath their wealth of beauty of all kinds the flowers of the highest science of the period in which they were written. Were it not that the poetical beauties are of so noble and powerful a character, the mass of parabolised wisdom contained therein would doubtless have been rediscovered long ago. The present effort is, therefore, to make this overlooked and undetected science clear by comparing it with the scientific works of Bacon, and, as it is more a question of science than of poetry that has to be discussed, the reader may easily feel that it is the scientific side which is herein regarded as the main feature, whereas he himself is, perhaps, disposed, from the very beginning, to take the opposite view of the subject. The truth, however, is that poetry and science balance the scales, that neither overweighs the other and that through this so equipondious connexion scientific works of art have arisen, the grandeur of which has been partially surmised by the world, while the latter will only recognise it in its entirety and learn by slow — ISO — degrees how to understand and to fully appreciate the same through f comparing it with the scientific explanations and hints contained in Bacon's works. ^ The Shakespeare-Folio-Edition of the year 1623 is in exactly the same form as the Edition of Bacon's Encyclopedy Dc Augmcutis Scientiancm (1623) and as the Frankfort Edition of Bacon's Complete Works (1665). It is the form still in use as writing-paper, namely foolscap, measuring 8^4 X I3 ins. The Title-page is worded : MR. WILLIAM SHAKESPEARES COMEDIES, HISTORIES, & TRAGEDIES. Published according to the True Originall Copies. "oppcr-plate Bust-portrait, 6i/_, ins. wide X 7^/2 ins. high LONDON Printed by Ifaac laggard, and Ed. Blount. 1623. On the left page opposite this title-page appears in' gigantic letters a ten-lined poem To the Reader signed B. I. — Then follow: • 2 pages of dedication in prose to the Earls of Pembroke and Mont- gomery, I page of prose — address to the reader, 4 pages with four dedicatory-poems, signed: Ben Jonson , Hugh Holland, L. Digges and I. M., I page containing a list of the names of the principal actors who have appeared in the plays, I page of Contents ; then, on upwards of 900 pages, come 36 dramas, divided into Comedies, Histories and Tragedies. Each of these three sections has a particular page-number beginning with I. Troylns and Crrssida was interpolated between the Histories and the Tragedies shortly before the completion of the book and after the catalogue was printed , so that 30 pages are unnumbered. I =;i The following is a copy of the Catalogue : ACATALOGVE of the several Comedies, Hiflories, and Tra- gedies contained in this Volume. COiMEDIES. The First part of King Henry the fourth. ^6 The Second part of K. Henry the fojirth. y^ The Life of King Henry the Fift. 69 The Firft part of King Henry the Sixt. g6 The Second part of King Hen. the Sixt. 120 The Third part of King Hen- ry the Sixt. i^j The Life & Death of Richard the Third. ij^ The Life of King Henry the Eight. 20j K^/A' Tempest. Folio i. I^^*~Smj The two Gentlemen of Verona. 20 The Merry Wives of Wind- for. 3S Meafure for Meafure. 61 The Comedy of Erroiirs. 8j Much adoo about NotJiing. loi Loues Labour lost. 122 Midfommer Nights Dreame i^j The Merchant of Venice. idj As you Like it. j8j The Taming of the Shrezv. 20S All is zvell, that Ends zvell. 2jo Tzvelfe- Night, or zvhat you ZVlll. 2JS The Winters Tale. 304. TRAGEDIES. The Tragedy of Coriolanus. Fol. i. Titus Andronicus. 32 Romeo and Juliet. jj Timon of Alliens. 80 The Life and death of Julius Ccefar. lop The Tragedy of Macbeth. iji The Tragedy of Hamlet. ij2 King Lear. 283 Othello, the Moore of Venice, jio Anthony and Cleopater. 34.6 Cymbeline King of Britaine. j6p HISTORIES. The Life and Death of King John. Fol. I. The Life & death of Richard the fecond. 23 The order of arrangement of these dramas corresponds with the order of arrangement adopted by Francis Bacon in his Encyclopedy De Augnientis Scientiarum. The comedies treat of purely natural- — 152 — scientific objects and aims in parabolic form; the histories deal with the histories of English kings with a continuous parabolising of natural science, more particularly of astronomy; the tragedies deal with the science of humanity, of man's body and soul, of men as individuals (Moral Doctrine) and of men as gregarious-beings (Civil Doctrine). 2. THE BACON-PARABLES IN THE SHAKESPEARE- COMEDIES AND -HISTORIES. The assertion that all of the Shakespeare-Comedies contain para- bolic natural science is vividly strengthened by the fact that half of the scenes of all fourteen comedies are played in the open air, i. e. in free nature, in the garden or in the park. In both of the poems which have already been more closely dis- cussed, namely The Tempest and Love's Labour's lost, not one single scene is laid in a room or in a street. The Tempest is played in the first scene on a vessel's deck, and in all the rest on the forest-ground of the island. The plot of Love's Labour's lost is laid in the royal park from the first scene to the last. Of A Midstimmer Nights Dreame three acts , of As you like it two whole acts and two others in part are played in the forest. Twelfe Night , or ivhat you 7vill and The Winter's Tale are played partly in a garden; the close of The two Gentlemen of Verona, the close of The Merry Wives of Windsor and that of The Merchant of Venice are each and all played in a park. Moreover, the proper names of the characters appearing in the comedies are largely borrowed from nature. Such names as Silvms, Silvia {Silva, the wood) Llortensio (Llortns, the garden), Oliver, Olivia (the Olive-tree), two Rosalines, Viola (the violet), Quince, Florizell, Dogbery, Pease-blossome, Mustard-seede, are borrowed from the vege- table world. Names such as Moth, Cobweb, Costard (skull). Elbow, Snout, are derived from the animal kingdom. The watery element is honoured by two Marianas, by Mr. and Mrs. Foord. The names Lucio, Ltccentio, Luciana, Luce (from lucere, to give light), PJiebe (the moon-goddess), Moonshine, Lafeiv (fire), ]\Ioth (a sun-ray-molecule), Beroivne (brown), Bianca (the white one), all point to light. To all these are added gods of nature and spirits of nature, besides beings who occupy themselves with nature, with the animal and vegetable kingdoms, such as Lris, Ceres, funo, Oberon, Titan ia. Puck, Ariel, Nymphes, Fairies, Shepherds a?id Shepherdesses, Reapers, Forresters, and many others. The first comedy. The Tempest, has already been minutely discussed in the first and second sections of this book. Let one recall the clever, poetical song of Ariel concerning the imperishability and circulation of — 153 — matter. This song is exactly in unison with the first rule laid down by Francis Bacon upon the principal qualities of matter in his History of Life and Death. Matter (stuff) stands out still more prominently in the second and third comedies, in both of which it appears typically in speaking and in acting form and actually constitutes the hero of the comedy. Protheus, the principal character of The tzvo Gentlemen of Verona, and Falstaf, the leading person in The Merry Wives of Windsor, both are and, as their names imply, matter. Proteus, sive Materia (Proteus, or Matter) is the heading to the 13th parable in Bacon's De Sapientia Veterum (Of the Wisdom of the Ancients). Sttb Protei enim Persona Materia significatur (For under the Person of Proteus, Matter is meant to he represented). Furthermore, in the Encyclopedy, instead of the word Matter, the word Proteus only is frequently found. — Then, too, the personality of Falstaff explains itself as soon as we regard it in the form in which it is presented immediately on the first page of the Merry Wives in the FoUo-Edition, namely as Falstoffe and Falstoff, meaning falling stuff, or heavy, dull, plump, downwards-sinking matter. In Bacon's science Proteus represents the changeable, that which is subject to every imaginable external influence. Proteus and his love personify this changeableness in the comedy ; he changes his mind and she her shape : // is the lesser blot modesty findes, Women to change their shapes, than men their miiides. It is thus we read on the closing page of the comedy. His hesitations, his infidelity to his beloved and towards his friend are not long reproached to this Proteus. As soon as he is exposed all is forgiven him with kindly words. There is no question what- ever of either punishment or repentance — or of any promise of amend- ment. Nobody does great harm to matter by changing; for instance if it changes out of a dissolved into a crystallised form, out of a metal into an oxide, or out of a bud into a flower. Words like the following : Act II, I. Yoit are Metamorphis'd ivitJi a Mist r is. Act II, 4. He is a kind of Cam el ion, show clearly the adhesion of the poem to this idea of natural science. The theories of heat and of mechanics furnish the following com- parison : Act II, 4. Even as one heate, another hcate expels. Or as 07ie naile, by strength drives out another. So the remembrance of my former Love Ls by a neiver object quite forgotten. — 154 — Let one remember at this point Goethe's WaJilvr}"ivaudtscJinftcii (the Relationships of Selection) where OttiHe is compared with sulphuric- acid, Charlotte with carbonic-acid and the one expels the other from the heart of Edward (the chalk). This is likewise natural-scientific parabolism, but the poet, who lived in a more enlightened age, did not require to use the art of veiling and thus employed the simile directly in his romance; he even gave it prominence by calling the whole work The Relatiofiships of Selection as harmonising with the chemical comparison. The following simile is derived from the theory of Ught : Act II, 6. At frst I did adore a twinkling Starre, But now I worship a celestiall Sufine / An expression from the lips of the servant to Proteus points out the nature of the poem in Bacon's own words : Thoic shall never get such a secret from me, but by a parable. On a closer examination of the parabolic-scientific contents of the comedy it becomes necessary to take especial note of motion, warmth, hght, sound and music in addition to the points of view of matter and form. The poem contains a great number of cleverly thought-out remarks on these subjects and such remarks stand in continual con- formity with Bacon's natural-science. Falstaff impresses every spectator already through the quantity of matter presented by his obese figure. Moreover, he refers with his own mouth to his special aptitude in falling and sinking. He describes his condition after being thrown out of the washing-basket into the Thames in these words : Act III, 5 : And yo2i may know by my size, that I have a kinde of alacrity in sinking. Moreover the three experiments that are made upon him and which are specially named with the word experiment (in Act IV, 2), correspond exactly with three experiments referred to in Bacon's History of Dense and Rare. There is now lying before the author the oldest source of all later editions of this writing, namely the Historia Densi et Rari which is contained in the Opnsciila Varia Post- huma Francisci Baconi (Various posthumous Minor Works of Francis Bacon) published by Rawley in 1658. On pages 73, 74 and 75 of this neat little book are to be found the three experiments of matter already referred to under the Numbers i, 5 and 10; these are the ones which are played off on Falstaff in Acts III, IV and V of The Merry Wives. The History of Dense and Rare discusses, as its sub-title, Historia Coiti- onis ct Expansionis Materiae per Spatia, says, the Contraction and Expansion of Matter in Space, or that which is now called the doctrine of the three aggregate conditions. — 155 — The first joke which the merry ladies of Windsor play off upon the fat knight (Falstaff is hidden in a washing-basket and thrown with the dirty clothes into the Thames) agrees with the experiment touching the heat generated in a closed space and the cooling down which follows. The matter is on the point of melting, but is prevented from so doing by the cold. — The second joke (Falstaff is dressed up as an old woman and then well cudgelled) corresponds with the fact that iron and steel do not melt in an ordinary fire but only acquire a certain degree of softnes, lose their brightness and become malleable and flexible. The third joke (Falstaff is burnt with candles by the forest sprites who make him yell) accords with the fact that bodies of a compact nature which contain a watery fluid in their interior burst with a loud noise before they take fire, because the moisture escapes in the form of gas. Let us note only the description given by Falstaff of his cool bath in the Thames. It is throughout of a physical character. Of course the natural-scientific kernel is veiled by the drastically comical manner of relating it. IVel, if I be scrv'd suck another tricke, He have my braines 'tauc out and butter' d, and give them to a dogge for a New-yeares gift. — — And then to be stopt in like a strong distillation with stinking Cloathes, that fretted in their ozvne grease: thinke of that, a man of my Kidjiey; think of that, that am as subiect to heate as butter ; a man of co7itinttall dissolution, and thazv : it zvas a miracle to scape suffocation. And in the height of this Bath (when I was more then halfe stew'd in grease (like a Dutch -dish) to be throwne into the Thames, and coold, glowing -hot, i?t that serge like a Horscshoo; think of that ; hissing hot: thinke of that (Master Broome). But how important it was for the Folio - Edition specially and sharply to emphasize the physical features of the action is gathered from the fact that the expressions strong distillation , that fretted i)i their owne grease, subject to heate as butter, a man of contiiiuall disso- lution and thaw are interpolated for the first time into the Folio-Edition of 1623 whereas they are missing in the Quarto -Edition of 1602. A peculiar and indubitable pun on the name of Bacon, which is contained in the fourth Act of The Merry Wives of Windsor, was also first interpolated into the 1623 edition. This will be reverted to later on, when discussing personal matters. A closer examination into the parabolism in this comedy will bring much that is interesting and surprising to light. The fourth , fifth and sixth comedies are Measure for Measure, The Cumcdic of Errors, and Much adoe about A^othing. Much that is of a physico-chemical -parabolic character appears in each of these. - 156 - Motion, Weight, Overweight, Warmth, Light, Sound, all play special parts. Moreover, a closer investigation into the individual plays will show the intimate connexion between them and the paragraphs touch- ing the various kinds of motion which are contained in the Ne7v Organoii, between them and the great Natural History Sylva Sylvarnni and between them and Bacon's Treatises and Chapters on Dense and Rare, WaniitJi and Cold, Light, Sound and Heavy and Light. Reason and Will, says Bacon in the beginning of the fifth book of his Encyclopedy, are like twin -sisters and the closest friendship subsists betiveen Truth and Goodness. Then he goes on verbatim: Quo magis ruhori fuerit Viris doctis, si Scientid sint tanquam Angeli alati, Cupiditatihus vero tanqtiani Serpentes qui humi replant. (The more shoidd learned men be ashamed, if in knowledge they be as the zvinged angels, but in their desires, as crawling serpents.) The hero of the comedy of Measure for Measure is just such an angel, both in character and in name. The wise and universally esteemed Angela (the italian form of the word angel) is the deputy of the duke. He exercises the law against the passion of love with the greatest rigour and secretly falls himself a victim to this passion. The closing words of the third act contain the essence of the whole drama. They are the more prominent inasmuch as they are written in terse and rhymed verse. The good Regent, so it runs shall serve as a model and in all things give measure for measure. T7vice trebble shame to Angela, To weede my vice, and let his grow. Oh, IV hat may Man within him hide. Though Angel on the outward side? In the Encyclopedy, in an exactly similar train of thought, are found the words robur (shame), Angelus (angel), cupiditates (vices). Only the snakes (serpentes) are wanting in the comedy; but instead we find in the next lines the likening to a Spider. Again, the characters in the comedy of Measure for Measure think and speak about life and death exactly like Bacon. We have two Essays On Death by Bacon. The thoughts contained in both are to be found again in the first scene of Act III of Measure for Measure. One Essay begins with the words : / have often thought upon death, and fnd it the least of all evils. Measure of Measure begins, in Act III, i, a long reflection on Life and Death with the words: Reason thus wilJi life: If I do loose thee, I do loose a thing That none but fooles would keep . . . — 157 — The other Essay begins with the words: Afcii fear Drafli , as (liildriii frar to i^'o in llir dark. Afrastirc for A/rasa rr contains in Act III, i, a second longish reflection on death beginning with the words : If") hut to die, and go 7vc kiio7v not zvhcrc . . . The further comparing of this philosophising on death is very fruitful. Moreover, the beginning of the Esssay 0/ Riches, in which riches are hkened to a burthen, to a heavy hindersome piece of luggage, is reproduced in the beginning of the same Act of Measure for Measure. In the Comedy of Errors two persons (master and servant of Syra- cuse) seek their twin brothers (master and servant of Ephesus). The frame of the plot is borrowed from the Mencechmi of the Roman comedy-writer Plautus. The parabolism of the play points mainly to the Motion of Matter and to the Atomic Theory. The first representative of the Atomic Theory, the Greek philosopher Democritus, is highly esteemed by Bacon. There are ideas connected with the Atomic Theory which show forth in such verses as the following : Act I, 2. I to the 7vorld am liice a drop of water, That in the Ocean seekes another drop. Who falling there to finde his fellow forth, (Unseene, inquisitive) confounds himselfe. Act II, 2 . as easie inaist thou fall A drop of water in the breaking gulfe. And take unmingled thence that drop againe Witho7it addition or diminishing . . . In the comedy Dromio of Syracuse is transformed in mind and in shape. The kitchen-wench is spherical, like a globe, she is as broad as she is long. And where Luciana (whose name is theoretically derived from Ulcere = to give light) speaks, or where the lover talks to this Luciana, the verses begin to sparkle with all sorts of allusions to light and to ideSiS connected with light; these allusions, as we well know from the examination of Love's Labour's lost, are on all fours with Bacon's natural science. We hear of eye, shame, fair, looks, red, pale, motion, movi^ig, love , light, of the eye of eyes , of rays, beams, looking into the night, silvery, golden, a fatdt of the eye and much more. Liice, too, the servant-maid, is compared with lamp and light. — ■•■■) (meaning YKA.) 158 - In MiicJi adof about NotJiing the fates of two loving-couples are pourtrayed. The one pair is heavy, big and stout of body but at the same time merry, playful, light and gay in mind. The other couple is light, small and neat of body, but sad, heavy, melancholy in mind. The stout couple find their characters designated in their names. Benedickc (u^ell and thick or stout) and Beatrice (the happy, the beatified one). One hears of and from Beatrice that she ivas borne to speake all mirtJi, you were bonie in a merry Jwure, there was a starre daunst and under that was I borne. The thin pair of lovers are named Claudio and Hero. Claudio (from clandcrc = the silent one, one shut up within himself) has the figure of a Lambe and is disposed to seriousness. Hero is specially described as Leonato's short daughter; she is 2. March-chictie and too low for a hie praise. In the fourth act of the Comedy a physical instrument is, to all appearances, parabolised in the scene before the altar, which bears the name of Hero's altar. Bacon describes this in his History of Dense and Rare. The alternate blushing and paling of the bride (Hero), her fainting, the extinction of the fire of love, furthermore, the physical comments from the lips of Frier Francis , who was to join the pair in wedlock (he confirms the observation with experimental scale), all points vividly to this in- ference. For individual comparisons with Bacon's science there is much still at command, but the exact verification in connexion with this comedy must be reserved for a future time. The comedy next in the order of the Folio-Edition, Love's Labour's lost, was fully discussed in the fifth section of this work. Whoever wishes to compare the eighth in order of the comedies, A Midsummer Nights Dreanie, with Bacon's science must turn more particularly to Bacon's L^iquisitio de Magncte (Inquiry respecting the Magnet), which was published as a posthumous work by Rawley in 1658, to Bacon's Preface to a proposed Historia Sympathice et Antipathiae Reruin (History of tJie SympatJiy a?id Antipathy of Things) and to all that which relates to sympathy and antipathy as contained in the natural history Sylva Syharum. Act I, I. Your eyes are loads tarres. The loadstar is the polar star to which the magnetic needle shows. Fhe more I hate, the more he followes me. TJie more I love, tJie more tie hateth me. Act I, I. Hermia. Hcle7ia. Act I, I. Hermia. O crosse I too Jiigh to be enthral' d to lone. T^ysandcr. Or else misgraffcd, in respect of y cares. Hermia. O spight / too old to be ingag'd to yo7ig. Lysander. Or else it stood upon the choice of merit. — 159 — Hcrmia. O hell! to choose love by another eie. Lysniider. Or if there were a simpathie in choice . . . Act II, I. )'ou draiv me, you hard-hearted Adamant, But yet you draw not Iron, for my heart Is true as Steele. Leave you your power to draw, And I shall have no power to follozu you. Light and Jieavy, Magnet, Sympathy and Antipathy hang together according to Bacon's views. He calls them distant effects or influences. According to his theory (for Newton comes after him) heavy bodies are attracted by the earth and light ones b\' the heavens. Bodies in sympathy with each other are mutually attractive ; antipathetic ones repel each other. The magic juice that Pucic, by order of his master, the elf-king Oberon, drops on the eyelids of the sleepers, changes at will the sympathies and powers of attraction between the various persons of the comedy, namely Lysaiider, Demetrius, Hermia, Helena, Titania and Bottome the Weaver. In the preface to the History of Sympathy and AntipatJty which is appended to the History of the Winds (the scientific counterpart of TJie Tempest) we find the following sentence : Operatio autem ejus (sc. speij in hominibus, prorsus simile et saporiferis nonnullis Medica- meiitis, quae somnum conciliant, atque insuper Iceta et placentia soninia immittunt. ( The effect of hope on the mind of man is very like the working of some soporific drugs, which not only induce sleep, but fill it with joyous and pleasing dreams.) — This is undoubtedly the casting of a ray of light upon the paraboHc secrets o{ A Midsummer Nights Dreame. In the comedy of The Merchant of Venice the written pledge of a pound of the flesh of the merchant Antonio, together with the legal decision of the course, forms the basis of the plot. Bacon added a new essay Of Usury to the last edition (1625) of his Essays. The chief- points of comparison between this Essay and the Comedy are placed here briefly side by side : Essay: Many have Jinide witty in- Comedy: Shylock is often quizzed vectives against Usury. by Antonio about his in- terest. Essay : The Usurer is the greatest Comedy : Shylock is an usurer sabbath-breaker , because and swears by our holy his plough goes every Sun- Sabbath, day. Essay: Usurers should have oran- Comedy: Shylock is a Jew and for ge-tawny bonnets, because this reason probably wore they do judaize. an orange-coloured head- gear. Essay: // is against nahire for money to beget money. Essay: Since flier e nuist be bor- rowing and lending , and mem are so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury mtist be permitted. Essay: Usury makes feiver mer- chants. Essay: Merchandizing is the vena porta (^main arteryy) of wealth in a state. Essay: Usury nialces poor mer- chants. Essay: Kings or states ebb and flow 7vith merchandising. — i6o — Comedy Shylock proves by the history of Laban's cun- ning in breeding spotted lambs that interest is justi- fied. Comedy: Antonio declares that there is nothing harder than a Jewish heart. Comedy: Shylock strives to send a merchant out of the world. Shylock would cut out a pound of flesh nearest to the merchant's heart. Antonio becomes Comedy Comedy: Comedy: poor. Essay: Who lends on mortgages Comedy and bonds will look pre- cisely for the forfeiture. Essay: Cruel monied man. Essay: Balance. Essay: The tooth of iisnry be grinded that it bite not too much. Essay: The trade of merchandise being the most lucrative, may bear usury in a good rate, other contracts not so. — So much concerning usury and bonds oi the judgment. The State of Venice and the merchant Antonio finally divide Shylock's fortune between them. Shylock lends against a bond and insists sharply on the receipt of the for- feited security. Comedy: Shylock is one. Shylock has with him the balance for weighing out the flesh. Shylock's whole fortune is confiscated. Comedy: Comedy: Comedy: The comedy is far less directed against usury than against loans on security, mortgages! And now to In the third chapter of the eighth book of his Encyclopedy Bacon describes the doctrine of universal right as deficient. And precisely as he — i6i shortly gave before, in the second chapter of the same book, such a number of parables (Solomon's proverbs) in connexion with the missing science of B/isincss so docs he here set out a number of Aphorisms directed against the missing ideal justice. The principal j)oints of comi)arison in connexion herewith are as follows: Aphorism : / lum^ come to speak of examples , from ivhich justice is to be derived when the la70 is deficient. Aphorism: Examples of new laws which not only passed among clerks and se- cretaries but under the eyes of seiiators, judges, or the principal courts, which are confirmed by the tacit approval of the judges have claim to serve as authorities. Aphorism: Examples well debated and ventilated in. dis- course and discussion, deserve more authority than such as are buried in desks and archives. Aphorism: Examples whicJi have reference to la^vs should not be sought from his- torians, but from public acts (actis ptiblicis) and the more careful tra- ditions. The law as laid down in The Merchant of J^enice is thus neither that of Venice nor of England but an ideal law, the law of a superior form of justice in the sense of the Encyclopedy Di tiarum. II Comedy : The Laws of the State of Venice are incapable of deciding. The Doge therefore directs that the celebrated jurist Dr. Bellario of Padua shall plead through his re- presentative (the dis- guised Portia). Comedy: Portia, as a young ad- vocate, followed by Ne- rissa disguised as a writer, decides the peculiar point of law in the sight of senators, judges and the supreme court of law of Venice. The Doge gives his tacit approval. Comedy : The same contains plenty of arguments pro and con. The comedy of the Merchant of Venice is such an actus publicus. — 1 62 — Bacon owned a shady country-seat at Twickenham near London. It was here that he sought refreshment after his judicial activity. It was here that he cast off the quaUties of the every-day lawyer and it .is probably in this sense that he wrote in Promtis, his collection of memoranda, the words : Law for tJie merry tales of Tivickcnhani. Ideal law and the laws for merry tales are to Bacon's mind quite different to the written English or Italian laws. Furthermore, after the suit is settled and after Shylock the Jew disappears for ever from the stage, the fifth act of the comedy over- whelms us with a wealth of merry and intellectual natural science. This final act is laid in the garden of Portia. At times the moon shines, then again it is veiled by clouds and sweet music is heard. But during quite the first half of this act, in more than 120 lines of verse, the dramatic action is suspended. On the other hand, we hear a charming prattle about light and sound, reflections concerning moon- light, sunUght, night and day, references to sounds heard in the dark, comparisons betw^een degrees of light-power, words about harmony in music, about the harmonic colour-effects of the sky, about the im- pressions caused by sound upon the blind, anent the effect of music on the mind and much more of the same sort. And all these are interwoven with the most graceful blossoms and flowers of rhetoric. Here are two examples : Portia. That light 7ve see is burning in my hall: How farre that little eandell throwes his beanies. So shines a good deed in a naughty world. Nerissa. When the moone shone we did not see the candle f Portia. So doth the greater glory dim the less. and : • JVe sJiould hold day 7vith the ^intipodes, If yo2i would 7valke in abscence of the sunne. We shall see later on how the comedy in certain passages reflects ab- solutely personal experiences made by and circumstances affecting Bacon. All the comedies hitherto examined, when regarded in the light of natural science, treat of matter and its motions. They show us the mutability of matter and its contraction and expansion ; they parabolise heat and cold, weight and lightness, sympathy and antipathy; they treat of light, of magnets, of sound, of music, of the winds and motions of the atmosphere ; they are. in short, directed to those natural and experimental occurences which we of the present century class under the names of Physics and Chemistr\-. Moreover, they are materially connected with so-called inorganic matter. - i63 - It is otherwise with the last five comedies. These discuss organic nature. And, as it is question therein of the most animated form of l)()es\, nameh- dramatic poesy, they are directed towards nature in its most moveable forms and therefore to that which, either by natural laws, or by experiment and human art and power, is compelled into motion, to that, in fact, which, be it either to its disadvantage or profit, is compelled to changes, is forced to adopt new forms or to create new individualities. The third kind of natural history is , according to Bacon , (De Aiti^iiinitis Scifiitiantiii ]I, 2.) The History of Arts — the perfection in art in the present sense of the term — or, as it is also called MccJiaiiical and Experimental History (His tor ia Artiuvi, or Historia inccJianica ct cxperimentalis). This section, as Bacon expresses him- self symbolically, and therefore by allegory or parabolically, forms the Bonds (vincula) of Nature. That the terms Art, N^attirc and Experiment stand in the closest relationship, and quite in the Baconian sense, with the group of Shake- speare-Comedies to which we have not hitherto directed our attention may be seen by the few short examples which follow : AlVs Well, that Ends Well Act. H, i : That laboicring Art can never ransom nature. The same. Act II, i : make an experime^it. The Winters Tale. Act IV, 4 : There is an Art, which in their pidenessc shares With great creating Nature. over that Art (Which you say adds to Nature) is an Art That nature makes. This is an Art Which does mend Nature. The Art it selfe is Nature. And all this is found in the narrow space of twelve consecutive lines of comedy-verse! The development of organic nature through the intervention of human hands and human art is the main and favorite natural -scientific — 1 64 — . theme of this closing group of the comedies. But among all the per- fections of art as employed by man to improve nature no means are used which are more similar to the bonds (vinculaj of nature than is the case in the innoculation (grafting) of plants for the purposes of improving them. After the cut has been made into the wild stem and the eye of the nobler species inserted, the place is bound up with yellow bass, so that the stem is, in fact, in bonds. For instance: we can innoculate the five-leaved wild rose with the hundred-leaved centi- folium or cabbage-rose; we can, by grafting into it the eye of a finer sort, improve the wild fruit-tree. The titles of the comedies already harmonise excellently with the ideas just propounded: As yon like it. The Taming of tJie Shreiv. Airs Well, that Ends Well. What you will. The Winters Tale. How easy of explanation are these superscriptions when one thinks of the improvement of plants in connexion therewith, thus : As yo^i like it — one may improve the plants by means of art ; TJie Taming of the Shrew — the bringing under control, the ennobling of the wild rose ; Alls Well, that Ends Well — all grafting and ennobling aims at a good ending; What yon will — you may produce through art (the title corre- sponds in sense with As yon like it) ; The Winters Tale — human art is able to produce evergreen gardens and flower- clad winters. The following are a few illustrations taken from each of the five named comedies. The comparisons with Bacon's science are only specially given where such appears to be essential. Bacon, in his Encyclopedy, Book V, Ch. 2, describes the grafting or innoculation of plants as still deficient. He mentions, however, new experiments which were then being made to graft musk -roses on to wild briars. In the comedy As you like it the Clown Touchstone strives to persuade the Shepherd Corin to go to court and to transform himself from an evil - smelling boor into a musk -scented nobleman. He says to Corin : God make incision in thee, than art raw (Act III, 2). Immediately following the above-mentioned passage Bacon says that the grafting of fruit-trees is very usual, whereas that of forest- trees is, on the contrary, very rare. - 165 - In As you like it , which is to a great extent played in a forest, the trees receive tongues. Anonymous love-poems are affixed to them and these are described as the fruits of the trees. The Fool is com- pared with a j/irdlar and is to be grafted on to a forest -tree which means that such an act would be tantamount to a degradation of the species. The Fool's answer is: }'flu Jiave said: but ivlietJier wisely or no, let the Forrest judge. The fourth act introduces the improving of the wild Oliver (the olive, or oil -tree) on the stage. In The Taming of the Shrew the ladies are constantly being com- pared with flowers, thus : And ivith her breath she did perfume the ayre — For she is sweeter than perfume it selfe — As morning Roses newly washt with dew — Sweet as spring-time flo7vers. This is doubly significant in the face of the former comedies, more particularly so in Love's Labour's lost, wherein they are not even once compared with flowers and scents , notwithstanding the frequent reference to womanly beaut3^ Therein they are lights (luminous matter) here they are plants. In the same comedy the termagant Katherine has bound the hands of the gentle Bianca. Bianca begs her : iinbinde my hands and assures her : / will do 7vhat yo2t will. In the third of these comedies. All's Well, that Ends Well, is found the bold and yet so beautiful comparison : his plausive words He scattered not in eares, but grafted them To grow there and to beare. On the one side we see in The Taming of the Shrew a girl with bound hands who gives the assurance : Or, what you will, command me, will I do. On the other side we see in the comedy which bears the title What you will a man with legs bandaged crosswise, as if grafted. The enamoured Malvolio, in order to please his mistress, appears in yellow stockings and with garters crossed. Then such phrases fall as : Some are become great, some atcheeves greatnesse, and some have greatiiesse thrust tippon em. Thou art made if thou desir'st to be so: If not, let me see thee a steward still, the fellow of servants. — 166 — This docs make sonic obstruction in the blood: This cross e-gartering , but what of that? If it please the ey e of one — The chambermaid, Maria, wishes to see the fntites of the sport and Olivia, the mistress, after Malvolio has again repeated to her all the principal points, namely : greatnesse thrust tcppon em, yellow stockings, cross e-gartering exclaims: Why this is verie Midsummer maduesse ! The Winters Tale takes the highest flight of thought. The first aphorism in Bacon's New Organon runs: Homo Naturae minister, et Interpres tantum facit et intelligit, quanttim de Nattirae Or dine re, vel mente, observaverit : nee amplius scit, aut potest. (Man being the servant and iiiterpreter of N'ature, can do and understana so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or i?t thought of the course of nature : beyond this he neither kno7vs anything nor can do anything.) And immediately thereupon we read in the third aphorism of this work: Natura enim non nisi parcndo vincitur. (Nature to be commanded mtist be obeyed.) And we find in The Winters Talc the same thought expressed in verse : Yet Nature is made better by no meane. But Nature makes that Meane. This scene, moreover, which contains such an intimate comparison with the beginning of the New Organon, also holds other comparisons of the most profound kind with Bacon's Essay Of Gardens and with the Natural-History, Sylva Sylvarui/i. The Essay Of Gardens, like that Of Usury, is only introduced into the last Edition of the Essays. It was never printed until 1625. Right at the beginning thereof plants and flowers are enumerated according to the various seasons in which they take on their garbs of verdure and blossom, while the desire to possess such an evergreen garden finds expression. The Winters Tale does exactly the same in Act IV, 4. Of Gardens: For November, December, and January such things as are greene all winter. The list comprises rosemary. The Winters Tale: Rosemary , and Rue, these keepe seeming, and favour all the Winter long. Of Gardens: In March and ^i p r i I v i ole ts , daffodil, co7vs- lip , flower-de-lices , lilies of all nature. The Winters Tale: Flow re's o'the Spring, Daffodils, Violets, Ox lips, Cro7vne Iniperiall, Li Hies of all kinds, F 1 070 re dr Luce. - i67 - 0/ Gardens: Jii May a)id June ... the FroicJi mar lipoid, lav c )idcr. The Winters Tale: Lavender, Mints, Savory, Mariorum, The Ma ry-Gold. These are /lo 7V res of m id die su m m e r. Of Gardens: In fitly gilli/loru ers of all varieties. The Winters Tale: The yeare grooving ancient Car- nations, and streak' d Gilly-vors. To these striking external enumerations are furthermore added the most pertinent words with regard to the improvement of the various species by grafting and in respect of variegating and changing of form through the crossing of seeds. The following conversation between Perdita and Polixenes is con- nected with the carnations of which mention has just been made: Perd. Sir, the yeare grooving ancient, Not yet on summers death, not on the birth Of trembling wittier, the fayrest flowres o'the season Are our Carnations, and streak' d Gilly-vors, (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind Our rtisticke Gardens barren, and I care not To get slips of them. Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden) Do you neglect them. Perd. For I have heard it said. There is an Art, which in their pidenesse s /tares With great cr eating-Nature. Pol. Say there be: Yet Nature is ntade better by no rneane, Btct Natter e ntakes that Meane : so over that Art, (Which you say addes to Nattire) is an Art That Nature makes: you see (sweet Alaid) we ntarry A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke, And ntake conceyve a bark of baser kinde By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art Which doe's mend Nature: cJtange it rather, but The Art it selfe, is Nature. Perd. So it is. Pol. The It make your Garde tt rich iit Gilly' vors, A ltd do itot call the /it bastards. Perd. lie not put The Dible in earth, to set one slip of theiit : No more thert were I painted, I wotild wish This youth should say 'twer 'well: and o?iely therefore Desire to breed by nte. — i68 — The natural-scientific kernel of this discussion is as follows : Pcrdita calls the streaked gilliflowers bastards and does not care to cultivate them. PoUxenes explains to her that human art can in- fluence the nature of the vegetable -kingdom in two ways nameh- (l) by GRAFTING or ENNOBLING, (2) by SEED-CROSSING or CHANGING the character of the plant. Both these means are borrowed from nature itself The style and manner in which the graceful Pcrdita extends the simile of the creation of new varieties of particoloured carnations to the creation of children with a painted girl (and this towards a stranger and, more- over, in her sweetheart's presence) shows us clearly how the poet in this passage gives precedence to natural science instead of to an action consistent with the character of the maid. Moreover, the scientific outweighs the dramatic throughout this long conversational scene. The plot is, in fact, suspended for a considerable time. After this contemplation it will suffice to quote the words of the introduction of § 477 of the natural history, Sylva Sylvarum, in order to show that all these ideas are true Baconian thoughts. Under the heading: Experiments in consort touching compound fniits and /towers is mentioned that, by means of crossings, various living creatures, to wit bastards (Monstra) are produced, as, for instance, the mule as a cross between horse and donkey. That which follows throws the clearest light upon the above-mentioned dialogue in the Winters Tale namely the compounding or mixture of kinds in plants is not found out; which nevertheless if it be possible, is more at coiiiiiiand than that of living creatures, for that their hist requireth a voluntary motion; wherefore it were one of the most noble experii7ients touching plants to find it out: for so you may have great variety of neiv fruits and /lowers yet unknown. Grafting doth it not. That mendeth the fruit, or doublcth the /lowers, etc., but it hath no power to make a new kind. For the scion ever over-ruleth the stock. Thus, about sixty lines of verse contain the same thoughts as the beginning of the New Organon, the same thoughts and concord of description in respect of many items with the Essay Of Geirdens, the same thoughts as one of the weightiest sections of Sylva Sylvarum, namely that relating to the grafting and crossing of various species. T/te compounding or mixture of kinds in plants is not found out, says Bacon. We have thus, in the comedy of the Winters Tale again to do with a versified Baconian Science. But the perspective of this science of the future reaches to our century, for, when Charles Darwin, the keen-minded compatriot of Francis Bacon, carried his epoch-making works. On the origin o/' species, and /lie J^ariation of animals and plants under domestication, in his brain (they appeared respectively in 1S59 and 1868) it was principally experiments concerning the composition — 169 — and crossing of various kinds of cultivated plants with which he occupied himself and it was from such experiments that that theory emanated which is now one of the chief pillars of the whole science of life. The Histories form the second i)art of the Shakespeare-Folio-Edition of 1623. The numbering of the pages begins again with i, that of the sheets with a, so that, from the stand-point of the printing-trade, these Histories constitute a book, or volume of a book, in just the same manner as is the case with the Comedies and with the Tragedies. In the first of the Histories, that of King John, mention is made of Cano)is to which reference has already been so often made in order to show up the ignorance (?) of the great dramatic poet. One may rest assured that the man who wrote down this Anachronism in King Jolni knew exactly what he did and what he meant. Because Ricliard II. compared himself with a sun that is Jiid behind ilie Globe, because the Ball of Earth is referred to in the prologue to the 2»d part of Henry IV., are we to believe that nonsense lurks behind this natural-scientific wisdom .' Did the poet (to whom natural-science was more familiar than the A. B. C. was to many of his and still is to many of our contemporaries) really not know that the historical Richard II. and the historical Henry IV. could not have used the terms Globe and Ball of EartJi for the simple reason that they had no idea con- cerning the spherical form of the earth .^^ To dream of the science of the future in poetical form, was the author's highest aim. Taken from this point of view all the anachronisms of the great sage explain themselves. And it is just the anachronisms which point to the fact that para- bolic science is presented to us in the Histories in like manner as is done in the Comedies, in Hamlet and King Lear. The Comedies treat of the History of the Errors of Nature and of the History of the Arts, or, in other words, of the History of Intermediate Forms ( Monstra) and of the History of Experimentalising on Unorganic Matter and on Plants. The Histories certainly appear at the first glance to serve solely as illustrations of the History of the Kings of England. But, in addition thereto and simultaneously therewith, they contain all that which Bacon describes in the first part of his Natural History, namely in the so-called History of Generations (Encyclopedy II, 3), as wanting, viz : the Histories of the Heavenly Bodies, of Meteors and the Atmospheric Region, of Earth and Water and of the Elements. The first of these sections corresponds in general with the astronomy of our day, the second with our meteorology including the history of comets and meteors and the third and fourth with our geology and geography. The connexion between this Bacon -Sience and Shakespeare- Verse is simply this: the Kings are Suns; those faithful to their kings - I70 — are Planets ; the Rebels are Comets and INIeteors ; the Falling Grandees are Falling- and Shooting-Stars; Falstaff and his Boon -Companions are the Representatives of the Clouds, the Winds, the Lightning, and of Will-o '-the- Wisps : in short, of all that which happens in the lower air -regions, and near the earth's surface. Whole, long scenes and considerable portions of the soliloquies (which frequently interrupt the dramatic action in like manner as in TJie Winters Tale) are devoted to matters of geology and geography and are distinctly only intended as expositions of natural -science. The natural - scientific combined with the political grouping of the figures is already made apparent by externals. Thus, at the close of the 2nd Part of Henry IV., we find a List of Characters. It is the only one in the whole of the Histories and it fills a whole page. This List of Characters shows four distinct groups , which are kept separate from each other in print and such groups correspond with the above classification. The 1st group contains the names of the king and of his sons (Sonnes) ; the 2nd Opposites against King Henrie the Fourth; the 3rd Of the King's Partie and the 4th Irregular Humorists. The 1st group is that of the Sonnes ; the 2nd that of the Comets and Meteors (Rebels); the 3rd that of the King's Planets and the 4th that oi Falstaff and his Companions, namely the Winds, Lightning, Will-o'- the-Wisps, Rain and all other Kinds of Falling Moisture. The words Irregular Humorists may be taken as being as much derivatives of humour in the sense of cheerfulness and fun, as of humour in the original meaning of the word , namely : dampness , moisture. Finally, we find on the List the subsidiary persons and the women. An or- nament is shown both above and below ; both being in the form of a diagonal lath. It may be added that the lower one corresponds in its pictorial parts with the contents of the second parable which Bacon gives us in his De Augmentis Scientianim , namely Persetis, or War. A Political Parable. THE ACTORS NAMES ^ VMOUR the Presentor. King Henry the Fourth. Prince Henry, afterwards Crowned King Henrie the Fift. Prince John of Lancaster I ,, ^ ,, ^ 7- n -^ 1 n ,/ r ^1 , \So)ines to Jienrv the lourth , c^ brethren. Humphrey of Gloucester \ , ^r „, ^ "V ;,. to Henry 5. I hoinas of Clarence I 171 — Nor tint )ii bcrla na. The Arch BysJiop of Yorkc Mowbray. Hastings. Lord Bardolfe. Travers. Morton. Colcvilc. Oppositcs against Ki)ig Ilcnric the Fourth. IVarwicke. Westmorland. Surrey. Gotvre. Harecourt. Lord Chief c Justice. Pointz. Falstaffe. Of the Kings Bardolplic. Partie. PistolL Peto. Page. Sliallow \ Both Country Silence \ fust ices. Davie, Servant to SJialloiv. Phang, and Snate, 2. Scricants Moiildie. Shado7v. Wart. Feeble. Biillcalfe. Country Soldiers. Humorists. Northumberlands Wife. Drawers. Percies Widdow. Beadles. Hostesse Quickly, Groomes Doll Teare-sheete. Epilogue. The Kings are therefore Sounes. Richard H. calls himself ///r searching Eye of Heaven — hid beJiind the Globe. Overthrown by his opponent, Henry IV. (Bolingbroke), he exclaims : Oh, that / were a Mocking King of Snow, Standing before the Sunne of BiUlingbroke, To melt myself a^vay in Water- drops. Henry ]\, will imitate the Sunne. Henry /J\ speaks of Sunne- like Maiestie. Henry V. as Prince bears the name of Hal among his boon-companions, and, be it noted a Halo represents the Court around the Sun. Just as the Halo dulls the brightness of the Sun, does Prince Hal detract from the glory of his royal father. The opening words of Richard HI. liken Edward H^. to a Sun: Now is the Winter of our Discontent Made glorio7is Summer by this Son of Yorke. — 1/2 — Henry VIII. and the Frrnch King are compared to hvo Sunncs. Wolsey wishes that this Sitnnc (Henry VIII. } may never set. In the closing prophecy with regard to James I. it runs that he will star- like rise. Fallen Grandees are Falling -Stars. Richard 11, Act II, 4, runs: Ah Richard, with eyes of heame mind, I see thy Glory like a shooting Starre, Fall to the base Earth, from the Firmament. Wolsey in Henry l^III, Act II, 4, says: And from that full Meridian of my Glory, I haste now to my Setting. I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the Evening, And no man see me more. And when he fa lies, he falls like Lucifer, iVever to hope againe. In the same drama it is said that court-ladies diVe stars, and some- times falling ones. The Rebels are Meteors and Comets. When the news of the death of Richard II. is spread abroad, Meteors fright the fixed Starres of Heaven. In the opening -scene of Henry IV. it runs: Those opposed eyes, which like the Meteors of a troubled Heaven , all of one Nature , of one Snbstance bred fan into flame the civil war. Henry IV., while still the rebel Bolingbroke, was marvelled at like a comet. I. Henry IV, Act V, i : fJVill yo70 And move in that obedient Orbe againe. Where you did give a faire and naturall light. And be no more an exhall'd Meteor. Hereto, moreover, belong such words as that the rebellious Wor- cester is malevolent to you in all Aspects , and two Starres (Henry and Hotspur) keepe not their motion in one Sphere. The Irregular Humorists pourtray the atmospheric region , the lowest portion of space lying between the moon and the earth. Falstaff calls himself and his companions Gentlemen of the Shade, Minio)is of the Moojie . . . being govcr/zed as the Sea is. by our noble and chaste mistris the Moone. Prince Henry determines to be a Sunne, and to drive away these clcnids and mists — his low boon-companions. — 1/3 — And he does so as soon as he ascends the throne as King Henry V. But, for the time-being he remains Prince Hal — a Halo round the Sun, a picture of exhalations that dim the brightness of Henry the Fourth's Sun. In Act II, 2, Falstaff is pourtrayed exactly as a raining cloud, as falling matter (Fal-stoffe) : Falstaffc sweates to death, And Lards the leane earth as he walkes along. Bardolphe is teased about his rubicund nose : Thou art the Knight of the burning Lampe , thou art an Ignis fatuus, or a Ball of Wild- fire, therefore he is compared with two specimens of luminous matter in the lower region of the air, for Ignis fatuus means Will-o'the-Wisp. It is not purposed to give herein a special analysis of the Histories (which is reserved for some future time) but to adduce evidence of the fact that these historical dramas contain much that is parabolic. A few more instances will suffice. In the ist Part of Henry IV., Act III, i, the rebels are in council round the map of England, discussing the dividing up of the same. While this is going on there is so much talk of earthquakes, eruptions, meteors, currents, the nature of the banks, bed and rapidity of the river, of diverting it from its course, of canalisation and so forth, that one might well imagine himself to be listening to a lecture on geography and geology in the Baconian sense. In the ist Part oi Henry IV., Act I, i, Sir Walter Blunt descends from his horse Strain 'd with the variation of each soile. Betwixt that Holmedon, and this Seat of ours. Blunts clothing therefore represents a geological map. That villanous Salt-peter should he digg'd out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth . . . Sink it in the depths of the Sea where the lead can never tonch the bottom and other similar passages equally show the geological train of thought of the poet. But nothing proves this more clearly and distinctly than the glorious lines in the 2nd Part of Henry IV., Act III, i, which run: King H. Oh Heaven, that one might read the Book of Fate, And see the revolution of the Times Make Mountaines levell, and the Continent (Wearie of solide firmenesse) melt it selfe Into the Sea: and other Times, to see The beachie Girdle of the Ocean Too wide for Xeptunes hippes . . . — 1/4 - There are the principal features of the geological changes of the earth's surface as taught by the science of the day, namely : the rising and falling of mountains, the disappearance of continents below the level of the sea, the formation of new continents by the retraction of the sea, the rising of the banks. It is science of the future put into the mouth of an EngUsh King who in really knew a great deal about soldiers and wars but who never in his life thought about the rising and sinking of continents and the geological alterations of the earth's surface. If all these anachronisms, which are so full of wisdom, all this nonsense, as some say with a shrug of the shoulder, should be expunged from the dramas, a large portion of the beauties of the immortal poems would be lost at the same time, for poetry and scientific parabolism are, as ever in these master-pieces, intimately bound up together. But just as these royal geological words begin with the solemn introduction : Oh Heaven, that one might read the Book of Fate, — so does Bacon, in his Preparative to7vards a N^atiiral and Experimental History (Parasceve), demand that it shall be written with holy zeal, because it is the boot? of God's ivorks ( Voliunen Opentm P)ei) and a kind of second Scripture (tanquam Scriptura altera). That which groups itself round these words of Bacon's Parasceve corresponds with the views expressed in the Histories of the Henrys. Furthermore, the other branches of natural science present passages enough to offer us an intimate comparison between the dramas and the prosaic science. Of all these let one suffice, namely : In the first scene oi Henry J\ two of the priestcraft discuss the sudden conversion of the thoughtless prince into an active and thorough ruler : Bishop Ply. The Strawberry grooves tt7iderneath the Nettle, And holsome Berry es thrive and ripen best. Neighbour' d by fruit of baser qualitie: And so the Prince obscur'd his Cofiteinplatiou Under the Veyle of Wildnesse . , . Bis/iop Canterbury. It nnist be so ; for Miracles are ceast: And therefore ive must needes admit the ineanes. How things are per feted. One of the paragraphs in Bacon's Natural I/istorv which discuss the melioration of fruits, trees and plants is the prosaic counterpart to the above thoughts. Thus runs i^ 441 : Shade to some plants conduceth to make them large and p rasp ero7i s more than sun; as in strawberri es and bays. etc. Therefre amongst straw- berries S07V here and there some borage-seed, and von shall — 175 — Ji7id the straivbcrries under tl/osc leaves far more large than their felloivs . . . and 7vhen you sow the berries, iveed not the borders for the first half year ; for the weed giveth them shade. N. B. Particular attention is directed to the personification con- tained in the word fellows. We learn a little further on that the thriving of certain plants in the neighbourhood of certain others is not to be regarded as a Miracle but is dependent on natural causes. Does this not make one think he is listening to the Bishops of Ely and Canterbury? Or, on the other hand, are Bacon-paragraphs quoted in Henry IV.f 3. THE MORAL OF THE SHAKESPEARE - TRAGEDIES CORRESPONDS WITH BACON'S ETHICS AS PRACTICE DOES WITH THEORY. The /til Book of De Augmentis Scientiarum deals with Morals (Ethica). The third chapter thereof is devoted to the cultivation of the soul (Ciiltura A^iimi). The contents of this chapter, which fills four folio-pages of the Frankfort-Complete-Edition, gives us, shortly stated, the following : He who speaks to us of virtue without telling us how it is acquired, shows us a beautiful statue, but one that is without life and motion. And yet the acquisition of virtue, which is the practice of morality, is that portion of philosophy w^hich, although it has been lightly touched upon here and there, has not yet been taken into closer consideration. It is to be counted among that which is wanting. Its principle features are as follows : Passions are sicknesses of the soul. Just as the physician deals in respect of the body, (i) with the different constitutions of his individual patients, (2) with the various kinds of disease and (3) exactly as he must bear the different remedies in mind, so likewise in the culture of the soul and in the healing of its sicknesses (passions), there are three points to be considered, namely: (i) the various kinds of dis- position (Characteres diversi dispositionum), (2) the passions (Afiectns), and (3) the remedies (Remedia) for the same. The third, namely the remedies, is under our control, whereas the first two are not. Nevertheless these must be closely watched and recognized, because on an accurate knowledge thereof depends the remedial science and the capability of judging how, when and where to apply the right curative agents. I. Touching the various kinds of natural dispositions or charac- ters. By these are not meant the ordinary inclination towards virtue or towards vice, but those tendencies which lie deeper. Both morality - 176 - and state -craft have, in the most wondrous manner, entirely neglected this branch of science. Astrology, on the other hand, has been much occupied therewith, inasmuch as it claims that man's natural disposition is dependent on the influence of this or that planet. In like manner one finds characters depicted in the works of poets although, for the most part, in excess of reality, inasmuch as the subject is one of those wherein the ordinary speech of mankind is wiser than what is found in books. The best in this line is given to us by the cleverer his- torical writers who , as it were, cause this and that person to appear upon the stage. It is not intended to represent them as pictures of perfection, but to characterise their principal features as they really were. Moreover in deaUng with the natural tendencies one must take into consideration the differences of sex, of age, of climate, of health and sickness , of beauty and ugliness , all of which exercise their re- spective influences on the temperament and, in addition thereto, count must be taken of the effects produced by fate, for such influences as those produced by royalty, nobility, obscure birth, wealth, poverty, etc, must not be overlooked. 2. Touching the passions and disturbances , i. e. diseases of the soul. Passions are the storms that agitate the quiet sea of the soul. It is true that Aristotle wrote several books on morality, but he never touched upon the passions therein ; he dealt with these under Rhetoric, where it is shown how they may be excited and raised by speech. There certainly exist sundry elegant little books that treat of some of the passions, such as of anger, of exaggerated shyness, etc. Sed si verum oninino dicen- But to speak the real truth, the dtiin sit Doctores hujus Scientiae poets and writers of history are praecipui sunt Poetae et His to- the best doctors of this know- rici, in quibus ad vivum depingi ledge, where we may find pain- ct dissccari solet, Quonwdo Af/ec- ted forth with great life and dis- tus cxcitandi sint ct accciidcndi? sected, how affections are kindled Quomodo leniendi ct sopiciidi? and excited, and how pacified and Quomodo riirsiis continendi ac re- restrained, and how again contained fraenandi, nc in acttis erumpant? from act and further degree; how Qtwrnodo itidcvi sc, licet conipressi they disclose themselves , though ct occultati, prodant? Quas opera- repressed and concealed; how they tiones edant? Quas vias subeantf work; how they vary; how they Qualiter sibi niutuo implicentur ? are enwrapped one within another; Qualiter inter se digladientur et how they fight and encounter one opponantur ? Et innumera hujus with another; and many other generis. particularities of this kind. 3. Touching the remedy, namely that which lies under our control. The ])hiloso])hcrs should have regarded with the greatest attention all — 1/7 — that infiuences morality, namely the strength and force of custom , of practice, of habit, of education, of imitation, of competition, of society, of friendship, of praise, of reproof, of warning, of fame, of law, of books, of study and so forth, for herein are to be searched out the means by which the health of the soul may be sustained or restored. Various rules con- cerning custom and habit are given as instances. — But there is a culture of the soul which far excels all the others. The soul, in fact, comes nearest to perfection when it aims at a good and virtuous life and adopts as its aim that which is really attainable. Such a perfecting of the soul is, as it were, the work of nature itself, whereas the others seem like the work of men's hands. The artist works sometimes here and sometimes there, now at the face and then at a limb. Nature, on the contrary, causes the flower, or the animal, to grow simultaneously in all its parts. In like manner the whole soul grows simultaneously with all its virtues by reason of the high aim which it has set before it. The chapter closes with the observation that a connexion and equality subsists between the goodness of the soul and that of the body. As in physical health, beauty, strength and pleasure are distinguish- able, so must we strive in the psychical to make the soul healthy and free from passion in order that it may become beautiful and pleasant in bearing, strong and active in all life's duties, and at the same time not become blunted but retain a lively sense for harmless pleasures and intelligent enjoyment of life. The one is wanting in this , the other deficient in that, so that the combination of all four qualities is rare. Thus far have we discussed the Chapter on the Culture of the Soul. — As is seen by the foregoing, we have again to deal with some- thing that is wanting, and that which is wanting is, as was already often the case, cleared up in SJiakespcarc. To what great extent the author of this chapter thought while at w^ork thereon of the poetic art and of the theatre is most distinctly evidenced by various expressions. Abstract virtue is like a beautiful siatiic 7vithoiit life and motion. There- fore, he who depicts the practice of virtue brings life and motion into this figure. In the representation of characters the best services are rendered by pods and by such historians as present the various per- sonages as it were upon a stage. And, immediately following thereon, we find again that poets and historical writers understand the pour- trayal of the passions better than the philosophers do. Upon this fol- lows the concise and accurate description as to from what points of view the passions are to be regarded. But it is not alone this praise of the poet and of the dramatic historian, not alone the repeated hints at representative art and the mention of the stage that brings this chapter into direct connexion with Shakespearean art. It is far more, and in a much higher degree , the complete concord between the - 1/8 - whole of the natural, philosophically humane, the seriously gentle and large - hearted views of Bacon , on the one side , and that which we see and hear in the tragedies' of the Folio -Edition, on the other side. -The tragedies deal equally with a close examination into natural ten- dencies. The tragedies, in like manner, treat of the passions as diseases of the soul. The tragedies, too, treat of the remedies for these soul- diseases. And this is not done in isolated instances. It is the case ever and everywhere and in all the tragedies. First of all let us take a number of examples concerning natural tendencies. We find at once on the first page of the first tragedy : Coriolanus I, i. ]]^/iaf Jic cannot liclpc in I/is Xafnrr, yon account a ] Vrc /// //////'. Coriolanus II, 3. I/] as Jiis nature is, Jic fall in rage. Coriolanus III, i. His nature is too noble for the World. Coriolanus III, 2. Would you have vie false to viy Nature? " Coriolanus III, 2. / xvould dissemble with my Nat/ire. Caesar III, 3. My Nature could not beare it so. again in : Macbeth IV, 3. I leer e abjure the taints, and blames, I laide npMi my selfe, for strangers to my Nature. and in : Anthony and Cleopatra I, 4. // is not Caesars Naturall vice, to hate one great Competitor. Anthony and Cleopatra I, 4. His faults in Jiiiii — Hereditarie, rather then purchaste. These passages might be easily and materially multiplied. They all point to the sharp emphasis of natural disposition. The most eloquent thereof are the first and the two last passages, which speak of the nature which cannot be altered, of the natural and hereditary vices and faults. The influence of the planets on human nature is so often referred to in the tragedies that one may be spared the enumeration thereof. The ridiculing of this belief is also not wanting. One has but to remember the passage from the mouth of the bastard in King Lear (Act I, 2). TJiis is the excellent foppery of the ivorld, that 7vhen ive are sicke in fortune, often the surfets of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters, the Sun, the Moone, and Starres, as if we were villaines on necessitie, Fooles by heavenly compulsion. Knaves, Theeves, and Trenchers by Sphericall predominance. Drunkards, Lyars, and Adul- terers by an inforc'd obedience of Planatary influence ; and all that we are evill in, by a divine thrusting on. An admirable evasion of Whore-master-man, to lay his Goatish disposition, on the charge of a — 179 — Sfarrc, My faflirr conipoiDidni ivitJi in\ mot her ////drr thr Dr/ii^ons tailc, and my Xdtivity 7vas iiiuirr I 'rsa Major, so that it fo/towrs, I am rough and Lcacherons. I sJioiild Innw bin tliat I am, //ad thr 7iiaidrntrst Starrc in thr I'lrmamriit t^viiil^lrd on mx lnistardizi)ig. This means in other words that the stars have nothing to do with the matter. Natural disposition accounts for all. But, according to Bacon, among natural tendencies are to be counted difference of sex, age, climatic influence, health, sickness, beauty, ugliness, etc. Well, the sexes are distinguished sharply enough in the tragedies. On the one side are found, as represented by Ophelia, Cordelia, Desdemona, and Imogen gentleness and maidenly shyness, and, on the other side, as pourtrayed in Lady Macbeth and Cleopatra, the nature of the furies and of the sirens. The differences in age are found, beginning with the new-born son of the Moor Aaron in Titits Andronirus and passing through all periods of life up to the second childhood of Polonius in Handrt. The different effects of climatic influence, as in contrast to those of the european and northern figures, are shown in the characters of the Moor Aaron, Othello the Moor, in the fiery love of the south- europeans, Romeo and Juliet and in the african wantonness of Cleopatra, her maids and courtiers. Health has sickness for its opposite. The tragedies present to us, in addition to the touching madness of Ophelia, the passion of ambition, which, in Lady Macbeth, has become a disease, the insane anger of King Lear and Othello, and the feigned madness of Hamlet. As touching ugliness and deformity Richard the Third may be specially mentioned. His history, in contradistinction to all the other histories written by the poet, is described, even in the superscription, as The Tragrdy of Richard thr Third. Besides these natural tendencies the differences arising from fate, such as royalty, nobility, obscure birth, wealth, poverty, magisterial dignity, retirement, good- and ill-fortune etc., must, according to Bacon, be taken account ot". The Tragedies present to us rulers and children of rulers in j\Iacbrtli, Ilam/rt, Lrar and Cymbrlinr, as well as aristocrac}- in the same plays. Furthermore, the Bastard Edmund in Ki)ig Lrar is of obscure birth. Riches and want are pourtrayed in Tiino}i of Athriis and King Lrar. Magisterial dignity is found in all its various degrees. Retirement to the loneliness of a wild cave is presented in Cxmbr/inr. Good- and ill-fortune are shown in all their shades from the love- happiness of Romeo to the nameless misery in King Lrar, where a mad and hungry king wanders roofless over the stormy heath and the sightless Gloster is led by his discarded and despised son Edgar. 12* — i8o — Thus much concerning the different natural tendencies or characters. We find in the comparison of the whole, as in that of all the isolated instances, the complete accord that exists between Bacon's science (theory) and the construction (practice) of the tragedies. Not one of the hints that Bacon devotes to the dramatic art is neglected in Shakespeare. Let us now see whether the tragedies so regard the emotions and the passions as diseases as they are regarded by Bacon in his philosophy and let us do that which, in practice, can scarcely be separated from this point, namely think at the same time of the remedies for the same. In Coriolanus, Act III, i, the Tribune of the People demands the death of the ambitious Coriolanus: He's a Disease that mtist be ctit a7vay. But Menenius Agrippa replies : Oh he's a Liiiibe that ha's hut a Disease, Mortall, to eiit it off: to cure it, easie. Tim on, Act 1, 2. They say my Lords, Ira furor b rev is est. (That anger is a short madness.) Macbeth, Act IV, 3. Let's make 7is Med'cines of our great Re- venge, to cure this deadly greefe. The Earl of Kent in King Lear, Act I, i, excites the fury of the king to the utmost. Lear in his rage clutches at his sword. Kent exclaims : Kill tJiy Physition ! In the same tragedy, Act IV, 6, we find: Why I do trifle thus 7vith his dispaire. Is done to cure it. In OtJiello, Act II, 2, lago resolves to put the Moor into such a passion that common sense shall be unable to cure it. We thus see that in the tragedies, and that continually, the passions are also regarded as diseases. We see how the friends, as faithful physicians of the soul, seek for and find the proper remedies. Finally, we see how the diseases are sometimes incurable and end in madness. At this point leave is taken to introduce an observation of a quasi personal nature. Bacon's mother, the learned Lady Ann, had long been and remained till the close of her Hfe mentally benighted and she died, as an over-strict puritan, in religious mania. Her son, in oppo.sition to the idea of heredity which is at the present day so strongly emphasised in certain quarters — an idea which the natural philosopher Bacon, too, well knew and recognised, — her son Francis remained to the end of his days a great thinker and advocated in the most decisive manner the exalting and sunny idea that madness is naught but aggravated passion and that it is preventable, even curable (as in King Lear), on condition that the passion is timely suppressed and healed in accordance with natural laws. Hie pourtra>al of madness — i8i — in MacbetJi, Ilainht and AV//^' Lear is, even to the present da>', acknowledged by medical science to be unsurpassed. The poet must certainly have had opportunities for years of study and observation. Let us now examine that expressive passage in Dc Aiigmcntis Scicntianmi wherein Bacon describes the poets and the historical writers as the best doctors in the science of passions. It gives, in the form of terse questions, a whole and charming nosegay of rules and hints for dramatic and, more especially, tragic poetry. Where are the passions so painted forth 7vith great life as in the Shakespeare-Tragedies } Is not a figure found in almost every work by whom the passions are dissected? Let one think of Menenius Agrippa, of the Monk in Romeo and fulict, of Kent in King Lear, of lago in Othello! This self-same lago teaches how the passion of jealousy is kindled and excited. How anger is kindled and excited we learn from Coriolanns and from King Lear, which latter pla\' also shows us how it is to be pacified and restraiiied. Concealed passion discloses itself in the Banquo-scene of MacbetJi and in the play-scene of Llauilet. In Haiiilet, the passions of domi- nation, luxury and drunkenness are enwrapped one with another in the person of the king, as are luxury and slothfulness in Anthony and Cleopatra. In Romeo and fnliet the passion of love fights and en- counters that of anger against Tybalt and — thus may we close this point with Bacon's own words — and many other particulars of this kind. It is hardly necessary to bring individual proofs in order to show that all the remedies for the soul are to be found in the tragedies. In Hamlet alone we find all the remedial means which govern morality and affect the soul of which Bacon makes mention and which are applied in the Baconian sense. These are custom, practice, habit, edu- cation, society, friendship, reproof, laws, books, studies etc. Let us instance the powerful scene wherein Llamlet preaches morality to his own mother fas illustrating the human body), that is to say that he prescribes for her, down to the minutest details, how to get rid of her bad habits of licentiousness by gradual negation. Hamlet, Act III, 4: ^Issiime a ]^ertne, if you have it not. And in order to conquer that monster custom, the habits' devil, he advises the queen to abstain for that one night, for then each other night will become easier and easier : For use almost can change the stau/p of nature. Here we find, almost in one breath, and throughout in the sense of the Culture of the Sonl, the employment of the words : l^ertue, Custom, Llabits, Practice and all these in the form of^a Reproof. But, says Biicon, the best means of perfecting the soul is to select a high gaol for it. The whole soul grows in so doing , exactly as is the case in nature, where all grows in every part. It is in this sense that Laertes addresses his sister Ophelia : Hamlet, Act I, 3. For nature crrssant dors not grozv alone, In thexves and Btilkc: but at his Tempi f Tvaxes, The inward service of the Minde and Sonic Growcs ivide ivithall. Thus also in llajnlet is a soul depicted which grows simultaneously in all its parts, like the body. But the concordances between the Bacon -Chapter and the Tra- gedies go much further. It is not alone that they agree with each other in the views expressed, that they concur in their details, that they mutually amplify each other, as is the case between theory and practice ; nay , in the narrow space of twelve pages are to be found direct allusions to Coriolanus, Trail us and Cressida, Hamlet, Macbeth and Cymbeline. The first sentence of this section, wherein Bacon speaks of the passions , begins verbatim : For as the ancient politicians in popnlar states zvere 7vont to compare the people to the sea and the orators to the winds . . . (Quod populus csset mari ipsi similis, Oratores antem ventis). The first scene of the first of the Tragedies begins in exact conformity with this. Several citizens in the popular state of Rome arouse the passions of the people by their speeches. Shortly after the foregoing Bacon names several little books that treat of the passions, and anger is at the head of these. The first tragedy, Coriolanus, corresponds exactly therewith , for it is a tragedy of anger. In the further course of this section we find Bacon remark that Aristotle described young men as unsuitable auditors for moral-philosophy. The same is found, almost word for word, in Troilus and Cressida, Act II, 2 : //ot much Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought Unfit to heare Mo rail Philosophic. We found the conformity between Hamlet and the allusions to custom, habit, practice and the relations between the growth of body and of soul. How Hamlet -like must appear the expression ape of nature (simia naturae) to everybody. — But the most striking of all are certain sentences at the beginning and end of the Bacon-Chapter now under discussion. Let us, therefore, compare a short piece of four or five sentences with the short, first scene of the fifth Act of the Tragedy of Macbeth. - 1 83 - It is the well-known scene wherein the insane Lady Macbeth appears with a liL^ht in her hand and is watched by the doctor and the chamber-maid. Bacon says that those who are iitcii tally sick need medicine fo awake the sense , while in the Tragedy it is said of the mentally sick lady: her eyes are open — kit their senses are shut. While Bacon says: the cure of men's ininds belongs to sacred divinity, the Tragedy tells us: More needs she the Divine, then the Physitian. Whereas Bacon quotes from a psalm: The eyes of the h an dma id look perpetually to the hands of her mistress, we hear in the Tragedy that the Wayting Gentlewoman has already watched her mistress a quarter of an houre thus washing her hands. Bacon continues: many things are left to the care and discretion of a handmaid, while the waytii/g gentle-woman says that she has heard things which she will not report after her lady. Even to the physician, who requires confidence, she keeps silence. Bacon says: this case is not yet reduced to -written inquiry , while the physician of the Tragedy says, he will set downe what comes from her to satisfie his remembrance. Whereas we read in Bacon that we should note -what is in our power, and -what not, we hear from the mouth of the doctor of the Tragedy: this disease is beyond my practice. The comparison presented by the close of this chapter is as follows. Bacon asserts that whoever has lived in King's courts and amidst affairs of state from childhood upwards rarely possesses deep and straightforward morals. In Cymbeline the banished Lord Belarius edu- cates the stolen sons of the King in the solitude of the forests and mountains. But there where Bacon closes the consideration of the passions and their remedies he quotes four lines of verse from Virgil's Aeneis VI. 894: Sunt genii)iae Somni portae, quorum altera fertur Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris ; Altera candenti perfecta niteiis Elephanto, Sed falsa ad coeluni mittunt insomnia Alanes. (Two gates the entrance of Sleep's house adorn Of ivory one, the other simple horn ; Through horn a crowd of real visions streams, Through ivory portals pass delusive dreams.) And this gate of horn is dramatised parabolically in Cymbeline, Act III, 3, through the gate to the cavern of Belarius. Both word and sense of this passage accord exactl}' with the above-quoted Bacon-Virgil thought. — i84 — Belarius steps forth from the cave and says : A goodly day, not to keepc house iiHth sucJi, Whose Roo/e's as lowe as ours: Sleepe Boyes, this gate histructs you how f adore the Heavens; and boives you To a mornings holy office. The Gates of Monarches Are Arch'd so high, that Giants may let through And keepe their impioiis Turhouds on, untJwut Good morrow to the Sir//. The life of the princely boys, who know naught of their high birth, is compared with a sleep. They are to learn to know the truth from behind the narrow cavern-entrance before they return to the court of Cymbeline, their father, with its high-vaulted portals and its decep- tive dreams. Exactly as these thoughts concerning the training of the sons of princes form the conclusion of Bacon's Chapter T)e C/tlt/ira A//in/i, so does Cy/i/heli//e, the drama in which the two young sons of the Icing are being brought up in the Baconian sense and consequently far from the court, constitute the close of the series of passion-pictures which the world is accustomed to admire under the name of ]Villia/// Shake- speare^ s Tragedies and it equally forms the close of the great Folio- Edition of 1623, the which appeared in the same year and in the same city as Bacon's Chapter De Cultura Ani/iii. Truly, if the world of to-day should demand of me an introduction to the Shakespeare Tragedies, I should be compelled to reply: it is already written, the most glorious introduction imagin- able. Only read />'^ Aug/// e// lis Sciei/fiar/i///, Lib. /V/, Cap. 111! VII. BACON'S 'HENRY THE SEVENTH' a Supplement to the Shakespeare-Histories. I. THE GAP IN THE HISTORICAL DRAMAS. 'ET us compare the rotation of the Dramas of the EngUsh Kings of the Shakespeare-Foho-Edition with the actual order of suc- cession of the EngUsh Rulers ! Eight Kings ruled in England from 1377 to 1547. Six of them furnished the titles to the Historical Shakespeare-Dramas while two did not. These latter are Edward the Fourth, who reigned from 1461 to 1483, (between Henry VI. and Richard III.) and Henry VII., the father and predecessor of Henry VIII. But Edward IV. only seems to be mis- sing, for, as a matter of fact, he plays a part in no less than three of the Dramas, namely in the 2"^ and j''^ Parts of Henry VI. and in Richard III., first as prince and then as king. ^There is, therefore, only really wanting The Historie of the Raigne of King Henry the Seventh, who ruled from 1485 to 1509. And this was the title of the first work written by Bacon after his fall. This work appeared almost simultaneously with the Folio-Edition of the Dramas and it remains the only large historical work bearing his own name which we possess from Bacon's pen. We have, therefore, as supplement, the noteworthy fact before us, that the gap in Bacon is filled up in Shakespeare, and the void in Shakespeare is remedied in Bacon. Now, Bacon might have begun this historical work (Henry VII. 1 with an introduction; he might have begun with the \outhful history of the king or with a description of his person and character. But he did nothing of the sort ! Bacon's Historie of the Raigne of King Henry the Seventh takes up the matter exactly at the point, where Shakespeare's Richard HI closes. Richard III. is beaten and killed by Henry, Earl of Richmond (from henceforth Henry VII.) at the Battle of Bosworth Field. God say, Amen are Henry's last words in the — i86 — Drama. And Bacon's Historic begins with the King ordering a Te Deum to be sung on the battle-field itself. On reading further we find that, just as The Tragedy of Richard III. describes him as a bloudy Tyrant and a Homicide so does Bacon's work dub him on the very first page as tyrant and speaks of his cruelties and parricides on the second one. Plots have I laide, Inductions dangerous says Richard III. in the opening monologue. He ims not without secret trains and mines says Bacon of the same Richard on the second page of his historical work. Was ever woiiuxn in this humour ivoo'd? Was ever ivoiium in this hui/iour ivonrie? quoth Richard III. in Act I, 3. Therhy to woo and win the hearts of the people is found on the second page of Bacon. Like follows upon like. — This climbing ivy of a Plantagenet ought to kill the real tree himself. — The parallel hereto is found in The Tempest.— Laxvful espialls. — The parallel in Hamlet. — That both knee and heart did truly bozv before him — parallel in Richard II., where York says to his kneeling nephew Bolingbroke : Shew me thy humble heart, and not thy knee! and many, many more. Only one more specially charac- teristic similarity need be referred to, and that more in detail. On page 151 of Spedding's Edition of The History of Henry T//. Bacon relates that the Lord Chief Chamberlain Stanley was beheaded on account of a highly treasonable expression that began with If The judges ruled (to quote verbatim) that -?? was a dangerous thing to admit Ifs and ^iuds, to qualify words of treason. And we find in Richard HI. the em- ployment of this most unusual plural-form. Who does not remember the terrible words of King Richard III. (in Act III, 3) against Lord Hastings, who had fallen into disfavour.^ — : Richard HI: Talk'st thou to me oflfs: tJiou art a Tray tor, Ojf with his Head. 2. THE CONCEALED VERSE IN 'THE HISTORIE OF KING HENRY THE SEVENTH'. But all that has gone before is surpassed by one fact ! Bacon's Historic of Henry J 77. is, for the most part, like its poetised step- sisters, the Shakespeare-Histories, written in verse. It is true that this verse is not detectable by the eye, for the work in all its 219 pages is printed in prose-form. But the ear detects it. A number of such - i87 - ten- and eleven-syllabic blank-verses are added which are concealed under the form of prose. Without being all of them faultlessly rhythmical verses, they, nevertheless, all indubitably bear the character of the Shakespearean verse. In order to facilitate the reading thereof verse-form is given to the sentences which appear in the original as prose by beginning a fresh line after about every tenth or eleventh syllable. This purely formal external change is the only alteration ventured upon. The sound of no single syllable is altered. Where the com- pression of two syllables is necessary (to the rhythm) a ^ is added; where a vowel that is usually mute requires to be sounded it is shown by a grave accent C). It is not necessary to use the signs very frequently. It must be further mentioned that in this instance, the reference- numbers in the margin all refer to the latest complete Edition of Bacon (Spedding's Edition) inasmuch as an old English copy of this work was not accessible at the moment. It must be remembered that all the works of Bacon, even down to such of his works as were originally written in English, fJ7i'^/ry VII., Xatuml-History, Essays), were circulated in Germany exclusively in the Latin tongue. Hist. H. VII. P. 27. But tyrant both i>i title and regiment. P. 27. A great oljserver of religions forms. P. 28. He 7cas not 7vit/ioiit secret trains or mines. P. 29. He ivoiild be but a King of courtesy. On these verse- and thought-pictures, which are each contained in one line, follows a longer one of 67^ lines. That thought and sentence run from one Une into the next is not a matter to wonder at. All the later Shakespeare-Verse also show this peculiarity. p. 29. 30. ^^nd tliougJi he should obtain By Parliament to be continued, yet He knezv there ims a very great difference Between a King that holdeth his crown by A civil act of estates and one That holdeth it originally by The lazv of nature and descent of blood. P. 31. To beat dozvn upon murmur and dispute. P. 3 1 . An act merely of policy and power. P. 31. All eminent persons of the line of York. P. 32. Accompanied with many noblemen. p. 32. For fJiry tJwuglit genrrallx t/ifif lie 7vas A Princr as ordained and sent do7vn from Jieaven. A longer passage of finest euphony is the next following. It contains, moreover, the previously mentioned similarity of thought with Richard II. (to bow the heart and knee) and the Bacon-line con- taining this thought is faultlessly Shakesperean .• — P. 32. And as his victory gave Jiini the knee So his purpose of marriage with the Lady Elizabeth gave him the heart ; so that Both kiiee and heart did tritely bow before him. P. 35. The coronation followed tzoo days after. P. 35. At which time Innocent the Eighth 7vas Pope, One might imagine that such short versification is easily to be traced in almost any English prose. The attempt was made specially by search, even in other authors' works, to verify this question. Hidden blank verse is exceedingly rare. Moreover, they are far, far scarcer in Bacon's other works than in his Henry l^II. in which, including the indifferent ones, there are traceable at least 1500 examples on the 219 pages! P. 39 Therefore during the Parliament he published His royal proclamation, offering pardon And grace of restitution to all such As had taken arms or been participant Of any attempts against him. P. 41. The King loved to employ and advance bishops. P. 41. So long expected and so much desired. P. 41. 42. Though she 7vas beautiful, gentle and fruitftl. But f is aversion to7vard the house of York JJ^as so predoiniiuunt in Jiim, as it Found place not only in his 7vars and cou/isels, But in his chamber and bed. P. 43. .SV; this rebellion proved hut a blast. P. 43. The dregs and leaven of the northern people. P. 44. 'Thus 7vas fuel prepared for the spark. P. 45. TJiere 7vas a subtle priest called Richard Si /mm. That lived in Oxford and had to his fupil ^ I bakers son named Ijnnbert Simnell. P. 46. She 7vas a busy negociating 7vonnrn. — i89 — P. 46. And none co2ild hold tlic book so well to prompt And instruct tliis stagr-play, as she conld. P. 48. TJicir great devotion to tJie /louse of York. P. 50. .[nd her tivo sons deposed of the cro7vn, Bastarded in their blood, and cruelly untrdered. All that has hitherto been quoted is contained in the first 24 pages and might easily be doubled. The* instances are, moreover, all taken from the narration. That which now follows is taken from direct speech. That about to be quoted is from the first speech of the Chancellor, John Morton. Each section closes rh>thmically. A few are given: P. "j^. The one a foreign business; the other Matters of government at home. P. 78. But (the King) Shall think it a good change, if it please God To change the inward troubles and seditions Where7vith he hath been hitherto exercised Into an honourable foreign war. P. 78. That if his Grace be forced to make a war He do it without passion or ambition. And the very peculiar close of the same parliamentary speech by the Chancellor : P. 81. More have I not to say you, and wish That 7vhat hath been said had been better expressed. The following samples are taken from the speech held by King Henry VII. at the opening of parliament in 1491 : P. 118. But 7ve hope this shall end in victory. P. 118. But by the favour of Almighty God Try our right for the crown of France itself; Remembering that there hath been a French King prisoner in England, and a I\iing Of England croivned in France. And now for the speech of Perkin W'arbeck, who asserts that he, as Richard Duke of York and son of Edward IV., is the rightful heir to the throne! In the Dramas also, longish speeches are often begun with apostrophes which are shorter than a verse-line — : P. 163. High and mighty I\ing ; J 'our Grace and these your nobles here present — 190 — Jllay be pleased benignly to bow your ears To hear the tragedy of a young man, that By right ought to hold in his hand the ball of A kingdom, but by fortune is made himself A ball, tossed from misery to misery. And From place to place. You see here be/ore you The spectacle of a Plantage7iet, JJ7/0 hath been carried from the nursery To the sanctuary^ from the sanctuary To the direful prison, fro?n the prison To the hand of the cruel tormentor, And from that hand to the wide wilder >i ess (as I max truly call if). For so the world hath been to me. So that He that is born to a great kingdom hath A^ot gro2tnd to set his foot upo)i more than this J J 7/ ere he no7v standeth by your princely favour. Thus much of Perkin's speech in the Historie of King Henry the Seventh. And now let us compare the Shakespeare -Reminiscenses therewith, shortly and in their order of progression. Pericles II, i : ^i nurn 7ohom both the waters and the 7uind. In that vast tennis-court, have made the ball. Pericles V, i: Thou hadst been toss' d from wrong to injury. Pericles II, i : ... the sea . . . WasJi'd me from shore to shore , and left me breath N^othing to think on but ensuing death. 3rd Part of Henry VI. V, 2: quoth the dying Warwick: of all my Lands, Is nothing left me. but my bodies length. Here we have Warwick , there Warbeck ; here the space where the body lies, there the space where the foot stands. How often is the Sanctuary, the holy place of refuge, referred to in the Dramas ! How often are theatrical comparisons made, as is the case here , where Bacon employs the expressions Tragedy of a young man. Spectacle of a Plantagcnet. How often do we find the word wilderness in Shakespeare ! In short, the whole of this portion of about 20 verse-lines written in prose -form is so thoroughly Shakesperean, that we can only choose one of two conclusions, namely: It is either deliberately copied — 191 — in a nK)st unheard of manner, or it is written by Shakespeare himself — by the real Shakespeare, by tlie self- same one who wrote Prrichs, Henry VI., and Henry ]^I1. 3. THE THEATRICAL ALLUSIONS IN THE 'HISTORIE OF KING HENRY THE SEVENTH'- How thoroughly Bacon depicts this Warbeck- scene in theatrical style is evidenced by the introductory apostrophe. He therein describes how the Scottish King receives Perkin Warbeck in the audience -hall surrounded by his nobles. Perkin appears with the suite that the king had sent to meet him. He enters the hall, goes towards the king, bows slightly as if to embrace him, steps back a few paces and then gives his explanation in a loud voice, so that all may hear him. After this description, which no prompter's book could give more distinctly, the above- quoted verses begin. But this is not the only part where allusions to the theatre are employed. No other scientific author is so rich in comparisons drawn frofti the theatrical world and from dramatic art as Bacon. No other scientific writer speaks so often and with such intimate knowledge of the mimic art, of the language of gesture, of dramatic poesy, as does Bacon, and this preference for the theatre comes nowhere more distinctly and oftener into the foreground than in The Historie of King Henry the Seventh. A small number of examples may serve as vouchers for this statement, namely : P. 45. A7/d accordingly to frame him and instruct him in the part he was to play. P. 45. To instruct his player, either in gesture and fash- ions . . . P. 45. 77ie resemblance of him 7v]iom he was to represent. P. 46. And none could hold the book so well to prompt and instruct this stage-play, as she could. P. 47. Simon did first instruct his scholar for the part of Richard Duke of York. P. 47. He thought good (after the manner of scenes in st'age -plays and masks) to shew it afar of P. 50. After her husband's death she was matter of tragedy. EUzabeth, the Queen of Edward IV., is being discussed. Now, this Elizabeth is one of the central figures in the tragedy of Richard HI. P. 59. He would be a continual spectacle. p. 59- p. 88. p. lOI. p. 132. p. 135- p. 135- p. 145. p. 157- p. 163. p. 163. p. 163. p. 166. p. 172. p. 180. p. 187. p. 191. p. 194. p. 202. p. 203. p. 231. P. 232. p. 224. — 192 — W/irrras fortune conuiionly doth not bring in a comedy or far c e after a trage dy. The Earl of Northnfnbcrland , 7vho 7vas the principal man of aiithority in those parts. To have made a play and disgjtise of it. ^ind con Id make his 07vn part, if any time he chanced to be o u t. The person of Richard Da ice of YorJi, ivhich he was to act. The part he zvas to play. The stage where a base counterfeit should play the part of a King of England. Playing the Prince. The tragedy of a young man. The spectacle of a Plantagenet. That execrable tragedy. A great Prince and not a representation only. Perkin, acting the part of a prince handsomely. The Lord Mayor and the Sheriffs did their parts stotitly and well. His stage-like greatness. Therefore no7v, like the end of a play, a great number came upon the stage at once. His first appearance upon the stage in his new person. Tragica I plot. It was one of the longest plays of that kind. Play the fool. Gratiano in Scene I of the Merchant of Venice says : Let me play t h e fo o I e. Conveyed to the Tower (which ivas a serious par t). In triumphs of justs and tourneys and balls ajid masks (which they then called disguises) he was rather a pri/icely and gentle spectator than seemed much to be delighted. This description of how the king demeaned himself at the performances, constitues (on the last page but one of the book) the close of the pourtrayal of Henry the Seventh's character. Pause, disguise, feigned, applause, and person are, moreover, words that recur from 10 to 20 times in Bacon's historical work. A few more passages in the book which are directed to poetry and dramatic art may be quoted in conclusion. — 193 - On Page 146 are the words Ami because lir is a i^rcaf I'riiicr, if you iiavc any good poet li e r e , lie can lieip liiiii liufli notes to ivrite iiis life. Therefore, a good f)oet, and not a historian, is recommended for the purpose of writing the Hfe of Perkin. But, as there is so much talk of playing roles, of scenes, of a prompter's book and so forth contained in this history, a good dramatic poet would probably have been more accurate. (Let one remember Perldn Warbecie by John Ford, 1634, and Schiller's Fragment Warbecii.) But Bacon puts the above words into the mouth of a Doctor of Canonical Law, Sir William Warham, who was sent to Flanders in 1493 as ambassador of Henry Vll. Did the scientist who was so well instructed in all fields of human powers and knowledge really not know that no soul in England in 1493 thought of bringing historical matter onto the stage? Before 1580 it had never entered the mind of any Englishman to dramatise England's history. Why, Bacon himself, even if he had not had so many theatrical comparisons at his pen's point, ay, even had he been the most bigoted puritan and theatre-foe, knew this fact as well as any other son of London — of the same age. He was a young man about 25 years old when, in about the year 1585, the first English histories were brought upon the stage. They were something quite new, unheard-of, never before dreamt of and they at once took the hearts of all, of young and old, of plebeian and patrician, fairly by storm. And, notwithstanding all that has been shown, one might still be disposed to think that the passages quoted are only directed to the poetic art in general and not to dramatic-historical poetry in particular. But more distinct evidence is forthcoming. At the passage where the marriage of Arthur, the Prince of Wales, as eldest son of Henry VII., with the Spanish Princess Catherine is discussed the wording runs : P. 213. in all Hie ile^'ices and conceits of tiie triiunpiis of tin's nmrriaor, there ivas a great deal of astronomy. 77/e lady being re- sembled to Hesperus, and the Prince to Arcturus ; and the old King ^llphonsus (that 7cas the greatest astroiuvner of Kings and ivas ancester to the lady) ivas brought in to be the fortune-teller of the nnitch. And iviiosoever had those toys in compiling, they ivere not altogether pedan- tical. But xou nuxx be sure that King ^irthur the Briton, and the descent of the Lady Katlierine from Hie house of Jjincaster, ivas in no wise forgotten. We find herein dramatic-historical poetry mentioned at a period when there was not a trace of it to be found in England. That the description of these festivities was not based on a reliable source is 13 — 194 — already shown by the expression you may be sure, which is in this instance equivalent to probably, I assume, or you may suppose. In short, Bacon puts inventively to the credit of the older and unknown festival-poet thoughts which are absolutely Shakespearean and does so with reference to a man who lived a century before the Bacon-Shake- speare age. The ancient poet is made to hark back to the most ancient British history — exactly as happens in CymbeUne. He is represented as introducing the House of Lancaster onto the stage — just as is done in the Histories, where the Houses of York and Lancaster are brought onto the scene. His princes and princesses are stars — exactly as in the Kings' Dramas of the Folio-Edition. Moreover, the festival-play is represented as containing a great deal of astronomy — just as is the case in the dramas of the Henrys and the Richards. We are directed and led back by Bacon himself through this passage in the Historie of King Henry the Seventh, which work itself has already struck us as being a supplement to the Shakespearean Histories, to the chief-point of our consideration of the historical dramas. That which is claimed to have been entirely proved in the last chapter with regard to these dramas is confirmed here by Bacon, as historian. A scientifically educated poet is enabled to parabolise much into the history of his native land, particularly astronomical science, when he prepares it for the stage. Bacon neither knew nor named the skilful court-poet of Henry VII., the pre-shakespearean Shakespeare. Ay, verily, it would have been difficult for Bacon, as for the whole of the literature-history of England, to have described him more nearly. Whosoever he calls him. Whether or not such a mysterious Whosoever existed at the court of Henry VII. must remain an open question. We are well aware, on the other hand, that such a grand Whosoever, such a concealed poet, as he called himself, existed at the courts of Elizabeth and James I. Let us now proceed to a consideration of the circumstances af- fecting individuality and examine whether, and to what extent, all that has hitherto been gathered stands in accord with the life of Francis Bacon. VIII. FRANCIS BACON AND WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'. I. THE LIFE OF FRANCIS BACON. IP^^RANCIS Bacon was the youngest son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, P ^^J\ Lord Keeper of the Great Seal to Queen Elizabeth. He was ^ born in York House (Charing Cross), the official London residence of his father, on the 22nd of January 1561. His contemporaries praise Sir Nicholas, describing him as a wise, just and amiable man. His son Francis has preserved to us in his collection of anecdotes some of the jokes which go to prove that Sir Nicholas was also a wit. Ben Jonson, too, says of him : Sir NicJwlas Bacon was singular, and almost alone, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's time. — (See Ben Jonson 's Dis- coveries^ Sir Nicholas had three sons and three daughters by his first marriage. His second wife, Ann, was the daughter of Sir Anthony Cook, the learned tutor of King Edward the Sixth. Lady Ann occupied her- self diUgently with theology and understood the classical languages. A number of clever and amiable letters which have been handed down to us show that she had excellent command of her English mother- tongue. Her eldest sister was married to William Cecil , afterwards Lord Burghley, Elizabeth's great statesman, and the other three sisters also had influential husbands. Ann brought her husbands two more sons, namely, Anthony and — Francis. But little is known of his childhood. A short anecdote which has come down to us shows that he began early to deal with thought and word. Once , when Queen Elizabeth asked him about his age , he answered unhesitatingly: I am two years yoitnger than Your Majesty's happy reign. It is also said that the Queen playfully called him her young Lord-Keeper. A coloured bust of the boy, now in the possession of Earl Verulam, is remarkable for its tremendous occiput. 13* — 196 — In the spring of 1573 Francis was taken with his (two years older) brother Anthony to Trinity-College, Cambridge. After two and a half years there he left it with a thorough dislike to the aristotlean and scholastic philosophy cultivated thereat and already thinking of the serious plans formed in his fourteen-years-old head for that gigantic work to which he subsequently gave the name of Magna Instaiiratio Sciciiti- ariim. The year 1576 took him to France as attendant upon Sir Amias Paulet, the English ambassador, and his lady, who took a motherly interest in the lad. It was that France of political and religious confusion, which had passed four years previously through the St. Bartholomew-night, which he visited. Francis stayed there about two and a half years, always near the French court , and alternating between Paris , Blois, Tours and Poitiers. A charming miniature-portrait painted by Hilliard, which shows us a soft, beardless, youthful face over a wide-frilled collar (or ruff), dates from this period. The sudden death of his beloved father recalled Francis to Eng- land in the spring of 1579. He would have preferred to live to shidy, but, inasmuch as the patrimonial property was but a moderate one, and moreover Sir Nicholas died without a will, while the eldest son of the first marriage was chief heir, Francis was compelled to shidy to live. Thus it was that he began to study law with his brother Anthony at Gray's Inn, one of the large Inns-of-Court of London. It was not love for the cause which drove him to it, for we know that greater plans were in his mind. Moreover, he wrote in a letter to the Earl of Essex to the effect that jurisprudence was, according to his idea, a tooth that he would gladly have extracted. It is true that he primarily aimed at becoming an advocate (barrister-at-law), but he thought to be able to leave this career soon and , by the help of his uncle, the Lord Treasurer Burghley, to enter into government employ. But his uncle was not favorable disposed towards these many-sided, starvation-studies to which the nephew devoted himself so enthusiasti- cally. He seems to have thought that a man who occupied himself so much with so many and various matters was not one suited to a serious official career, so that, to cut matters short, all the endeavours of Francis in this direction remained fruitless. Hence it was that he became a barrister. However, one si)here of activity which was more in harmony with his knowledge and inclination was open to him, namely, the ])arliamentary career. He was continuously chosen as member- of- parliament and held his seat there during the last twenty years of Elizabeth's reign in all the pariiaments of 1584, 1586, 1588, 1593 and 1597. The par- liament of 1586 was occupied with the Mary-Stuart case; that of 1588 (when Bacon represented Liverpool) held its session in the threatening — 197 - year of the Spanish Armada. Bacon opposed the wishes of the Queen in the parhament of 1593 and lost her farour for a lon^ while. His uncle, Lord Burghley, and Robert Cecil, son of the former and cousin to Francis, had left him in the lurch. It was through the young, chivalrous and intellectual Earl of Essex that the thirty-years-old barrister sought advancement. Essex, the handsome grandson of the favorite female cousin of Queen Elizabeth, the only male relative on her mother's side, was the recognised favorite of the Queen, who was about 34 years his senior. Bacon hoped for himself, but he likewise hoped, by the favorable influence of Essex, to be beneficial to the Queen and to the State. He brought his brother Anthony, who had previously spent several years in France and Italy, into continuous contact, as secretary, with the young earl, while he was constantly assisting the latter with political, lite- rary and friendly advice and with brains and pen. We .shall have to look more closely into this particular field of Bacon's activity when discussing his writings. Essex repeatedly interposed in the warmest manner in favour of Bacon's advancement. Bacon applied twice for superior official positions and was twice refused. He was beaten in his attempt to secure the appointment of Solicitor-General and Attorney-General by his compe- titor, Edward Coke. He was also defeated by the same Coke in his attempt to gain the hand of a beautiful young widow, a grand-daughter of Lord Burghley. All that Bacon succeeded in obtaining during these years was: (i) the reversionary lease of a country house at Twickenham near London, (2) the present of a country estate from Essex — which he sold for £ 1800 — and (3) lastly, the position (unsalaried) of Queen's Counsel. The first edition of his Essays, which subsequently became so celebrated, appeared in 1597 — at that time as a thin, little volume. His pecuniary position was such that a hard creditor had him arrested in the pubUc street in 1598 for a debt of £ 300. It was only through the interposition of Robert Cecil and the Lord Keeper of the Seal, to whom he appealed by letter, that he was released. The connexion with Essex began about 1590. After 1596 it be- gan to grow cooler. The earl went his own way and only received, and that rarely, a written or verbal advice from his former confidant. The conduct of Essex became more and more arbitrary. He aroused the anger of his protectress. The breach widened through continuous defiance and mutual misunderstandings until Essex allowed himself to be drawn into that unfortunate rising of the rabble which brought him first into the dungeon and soon afterwards to the scaffold (in 1 601). Francis Bacon was compelled by the Queen, as by the law-court, to sit in judgment on the earl and even to conduct a portion of the prosecution. He obeyed with repugnance, but his duty to his sovereign and to the .state was greater than his duty to his old ally. It will be necessary to return to this episode in detail when discussing the Hterary activity of Bacon. The Virgin Queen died in 1603 and James VI. of Scotland , the son of Mary Stuart, ascended the English throne as King James I. Bacon earnestly strove for the favour of the new king, who was more favorable to the sciences than his predecessor. He was knighted soon afterwards as Sir Francis Bacon and appointed a salaried King's Counsel in 1604. His thanks for the same appear in the dedication of the first large scientific work, The Advaiicemcnf of Learning, which was written in English. This is the self- same work which appeared eighteen years later fin 1623) as a second edition, increased to the double and transcribed into Latin ; it then bore the title De Aiignientis Scientianini. In 1606, when 45 years old, Bacon married young Alice Barnham, an orphaned daughter of Benedict Barnham , a merchant and Alderman of his ward. He was appointed Solicitor- General in 1607. His office gave him much occupation, from this time onwards. He .rose quickly from step to step until in 161 8, he became Lord High - Chancellor with the title of Baron Verulam and finally (in 1 621) received the title of V^iscount St. Albans. Francis Bacon, stood, as sexagenarian, at the summit of his power. During the years so full of work and honours (1605 to 162 1) he only pro- duced two works, namely: a collection of parables, De Sapieufiei JV/e- ni)ii, in 1609, which he dedicated to his cousin, Robert Cecil, then Earl of Salisbury, and, in 1620, the Kovuin Orgamim, which latter he dedicated to his king. Both are in Latin. An enlarged edition of the Essays appeared in 161 2. Bacon remained but a short time at the height of his power. Only a few weeks after being made a viscount came a sudden fall. King James had long found himself in continuous monetary trouble. He had repeatedly negociated with parliament concerning the surrender of certain royal privileges. This and the unfavorable influence of favorites on the king ('first Carr and his wife, and then Villiers, Duke of Buckingham) and , added thereto , the constantly increasing influence of Puritanism, had caused the relations between the government and the popular party to become more and more strained. Bacon , more- over, had experimentalised and not always successfully. The parliament of 1 62 1 was convened under his advice. The opposition became vio- lently active forthwith. The doing -away with abuses was demanded, a campaign was initiated against monopolies, and the law-courts were attacked. Bacon was denounced as having accepted gifts of money in his capacity of judge. His most dangerous opponent was Edward Coke, his former rival, who had, in a difference with the king, some years previously — and not without Bacon's influence lost all his — 199 — a])pointiTients. The powerful popular party was not to be pacified. Lord High - Chancellor Bacon, or else the all-powerful favorite of the king , the Marquis (and later on Duke) of Buckingham , or even the king himself — one of the three must fall as victim to the attacks of the enraged parliament. Bacon w^as the one. He fell. The excite- ment made him ill. He declared himself, in writing, to be guilty of all the charges brought against him. This occurred in compliance with the wish of the king, who was not anxious for a close enquiry, while the fallen Chancellor could only hope for salvation through the monarch's favour. The Lords judged and condemned him to a fine of £ 40,000 and imprisonment in the Tower during the king's plea- sure, to the loss of all state-offices, the loss of the right to sit in par- liament and to banishment from the Court. That which was made the principal feature of his offence was, in real truth, a fault of the age. He was charged with accepting bribes, whereas Bacon declared posi- tively that he had done nothing but what every other person in his place also did. He had accepted presents, yet never while a case was sub judice but, on the contrary, only after the decision of the court had been given, such gifts could therefore never have served as bribes and must be regarded as presents for services rendered. Our age is certainly not disposed to regard the matter in quite the same harmless light, but rather to side with the complainants' views. But then we live in other times ; in Bacon's time people were more naive with re- gard to accepting gifts. For instance: Queen Elizabeth regularly ac- cepted New Year's Gifts from the people of her court. Thus Bacon once gave her among other things one pcttycote of zvhitc satten, cinbro- thered all over like feathers and billets. The times have also gone by when an unsalaried Counsel was allowed to present his Queen with a petticoat as a New Year's Gift and when such was graciously accepted. Bacon, after recovering his health, found his way into the Tower according to the verdict of parliament. However, the king released him a few days afterwards and also let him off the money -fine. He lived for a time in banishment at his country-seat, Gorhambury near St. Alban's ; later on he obtained permission to return to London. He occupied his old chambers in Gray's Inn. The king granted him a pension of £ 1200 a year and gave him a seat in the House of Lords. Bacon, however, never reappeared in parliament. It was at Gorhambury and in Gray's Inn that he arranged, wrote and published during the last five years of his life, and in rapid succession, the most stately set of important works that, possibly, any mortal ever presented to the world at such a time of life. He caught cold during a carriage-drive in the spring of 1626 while making physical experiments with snow. He had to seek refuge — 200 — at the country-seat of the Earl of Arundel and died there on the 9th of April 1626, early on Easter Sunday. His marriage was childless'. What he bequeathed to the world will live in good and great hearts for all time. But we, one and all and whether we will or not, stand under the charm of his spirit, for his activity covers every branch of human knowledge and ability. He discovered new truths in every direction, prepared new paths, collected the good of antiquity, elucidated it and handed it down to the younger ages in intelligible and convenient form. And where his very own mouth and his Baconian pen have not done so, the peculiarly poetical supplement to all his thoughts and feelings which bears the name William Shakespeare shows to us the deepest workings of his heart, so that we trace and experience the influence of Francis Bacon, even down to the present day, yea, even there where the sound of his name has long since been forgotten. Everything imaginable, both good and bad, both wise and otherwise, has been said and written in the course of centuries about Bacon's character and mind. In order to complete the picture , some of the opinions of his contemporaries are appended. William Rawley, his Lordship's first and last chaplain, and at the same time his secretary and scientific assistant, published a volume of posthumous writings of Bacon in 1657, 31 years after their author's death, together with a short description in Latin of his life. As touching Bacon's science it runs: N'on raro mentem subiit cogitatio, Dcum, si ullum inortaliiwi no- vissiniis his temporibus radio quodam scientiae Humanae illuminare dignatus sit, ilhim proculdubio illumifiasse. (I have been induced to think, that if there were a beam of knowledge derived from God upon any man in these modern times, it was upon him.) As touching Bacon's art of conversation we read in the same biography : Mensam ejus refectionem anriiim aeque diceres ac l^entris. (His meals were refections of the ear as well as of the stomach.) And further on : Saepe observatiim, neque viroruiii quonmdam illustrium notitiam effngit, quod si occasio forte interveniret sermonis alieni inter colloqi(,e7idu'}n repete7idi, ex facilitate praeditum fuisse, ut novis subinde ct melioribus vestibus inductum prof err et ; adeo ut Aiictor ipse sermonem proprium ornatu ctUtiorem cerneret, sensu atitem et materia minime mulctatum. (I have often observed, and so have other men of great account, that if he had occasion to repeat another man 's words after him, lie had an use atid faculty to dress them in better vest- ments and apparel tluui t hex had before; so that the author sJiould find his 0W71 speed/ i///irh a mended, and yet tlie substance of it still retained.) — 20I — Concerning his official activity Rawlcy says: W/if/i Jir had to charge anybody he conducted himself 'ut severitatis ocitlo Exemplum, Misericordice personam intncretnr'. fyls one that looked upon the example with the eye of severity, hit upon the person with the eye of pity and compassion.) Lord Brook had been asked to read the manuscript of 77ic Historic of King Henry the Seventh. After reading it he returned it to the author with these words: Commend me to my lord, and bid him take care to get good paper and ink, for the work is incomparable. (Commendatnm me habeas Dominationi suae, et exora eum, ut de papyro et atramento bono com- parando curam suscipiat : opus enim ipsum stipereminet.) And Dr. Samuel Collins, a learned Cambridge-man, asserted: That wheti he had read the book of the Advancement of Learning, he found himself in a case to begin his studies anew (studia sua de Integra re nova re.} Sir Walter Raleigh, the celebrated naval hero, wrote : Comitem Sarisburiensem Orator em bonum fuisse, scriptorem malum; e contra, Comitem Nor thanipr aniens em scriptorem bonum fuisse. Orator em 7nalum, sed Doijmiwn Franciscum Baconum in utroque, tarn dicendo quam scribendo praecelluisse. (That the. Earl of Salisbury was an excellent speaker, hit no good penman ; that the Earl of Northampton ftJie Lord Henry Howard] 7vas an excellent penman, but no good speaker ; but t/iat Sir Francis Bacon 7vas eminent in both.) Even one of his most violent adversaries in parliament, Robert Phillips, described the Lord Chancellor in that fateful session as a man who was so richly endowed with all the gifts of nature that he would say no more about him, for he (Phillips) was unable to say enough on that subject. Peter Boener, his domestic apothecary and at the same time one of his secretaries, ranked Bacon's virtues even higher than his mental faculties. He said that a monument must be erected to him as a memorable example of virtue, kindness, peacefulness and patience. Toby Matthews, the seventeen years-younger friend and literary counsellor of Bacon, had translated the Essays into Italian (under the title of Saggi Morali) and dedicated them to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. In this dedication he gives the portrait of his friend, thus : / do not so much admire his greatness as his virtues. Then he goes on: Not the favours which I have received at his hands (innumerable though they be) have so enchanted and enchained my heart as his personal life and character. Were he in a lowly position I could not love him less. Were he my enemy I shoiild in spite tliereof still love aftd strive to serve him. 2. THE WRITINGS OF FRANCIS BACON WHICH BEAR HIS NAME. The scientific work of Francis Bacon's life bears as title: Magna Insfauratio Scicntiarinii (The Great Instauration of Sciences). The work was planned to be in six parts. The first three parts are forth- coming in their main features and in individual working-out. Of the last three we find hints only in the writings which bear Bacon's name. The first part of the Great Instanration is the Encyclopedy, the second the New Organori, and the third the Natural History. Although this Great Instauration of Sciences may appear to us to be so fragmentary and incomplete, such is not so much so the case as it seems to be at first sight. On the contrary, this existence of gaps, this leaving open of points, this hinting of the future, all these show a peculiarity that entirely accords with the character of the work. The work itself explains to us that academical philosophers are disposed, as much as possible, to represent and hand down science as being a rounded-off whole, in order to avoid the risk of exposing themselves before their pupils. The pupil imagines that he is getting something perfect in itself and feels little inducement to go on building-up. Bacon's doctrine holds otherwise. He presents to us human knowledge and thought in all their various branches and kinds, but that which he considers essential is, not to attempt to shine by a rounding-off of his science or of his system, but, on the contrary, to continually point to gaps, to direct attention to those branches of human knowledge where little or nothing has yet been done, where the younger forces and the science of the future require development. Whereas the learned academecians are disposed to present science in the form of a neatly arranged and pleasant-smelling bouquet which is, in truth, of little use for the purposes of propagation. Bacon presents science in the form of an unpretentious stem with roots, a stem that is intended to bring forth future blossom and fruit. It is in this sense that the first principal part of his work, which we often call the Encyclopedy for brevity's sake, bears as title Of tiie Dignity and Advancement of Learning (De Dignitate et Ang/nentis Scientiarum). The progress of the sciences, the future of human know- ledge and of human power in nature, these are what held the first place in Bacon's thoughts. And therefore is it, as d'Alembert so pointedly describes it, that this work on the Advancement of Learning appears like an innnense catalogue of that wliicJi remains to be dis- covered (Catalogue immense de ce qui reste a decouvrir). — 203 — Bacon, as we have already seen, divides human knr)\vledgc according U) the three capacities of the mind, namely : Memory, hnagination and Reason, into History, Poesy of Fables for feigned History) and Philosophy. History, is, in turn, sub-divided into Natural History and Human History. Each of these receives exact and exhaustive sections and sub-sections in the work on the Advancement of Learning. Poesy of Fables is either Narrative-, Dramatic- or Parabolic-Poesy, and is, moreover, as being feigned history, subject to the same arrange- ment as actual history, that is to say is sub-divisible into Natural-historical Poesy of Fables, into Human-historical Poesy of Fables, and into all sub-sections thereof. What a strange part poesy plays in Bacon's system was seen in the introductory chapter of this book. Lastly : Philosophy is composed of Divine Philosophy, Natural Philosophy and Human Philosophy — with hundreds of sub-divisions. All these branches of science are noted clearly and tersely and such a distinct picture of the whole system of science is sketched out that it can be arranged in tabulated form in upwards of 300 lines. But it is the gaps which interest the author of the Advancement of Learning con.stantly and in every direction. He states what is wanting, he shows what most nearly approaches to that which is missing, and he points olit in what manner the future is called upon to continue the search. Thus, he misses : an inductive Natural History based on experiences, a History of the Transition-Forms and Deformities, a History of Litera- ture, a Natural IMagic, a Physiognomic of the Body while in Motion, a Comparative Anatomy, an Art of Prolonging Life, a Science for Conveying Thought without Speech, a Science for cultivating the Human Mind, a Science of Society, a Science of Universal Justice and very much besides. From this choice bouquet of desirable Increase of Learning one sees already that they are not impracticable cobwebs of the brain after which Bacon hoped that the Science of the Future would .strive. Many of these branches of learning have only begun to take further development during the present century, while many others can still hardly be regarded as more than tiny roots. While the first principal section of the Instauration of Sciences contains a far-seeing review of all that which man knows and of that which it seems further desirable to know, the second principal section, the Nezv Organon, furnishes the tools and means for further thought and shows us how to find and to wander with certainty in the ways of progress. This second part may be called Bacon's Logic. But this logic is a doctrine which not only teaches us how to think. It teaches us still more how to seek after new ideas, i. e. : it enlarges and develops the mind and thereby increases and multiplies human science and power — 204 — in accordance with his views that we ought not to endeavour to compress the world into the narrow cell of our mind but rather to enlarge the mind in order that it may become more and more capable of receiving the great All. After the A^ew Organon has pointed out the principal errors of the human mind together with the means of avoiding them, he shows us the path which man's spirit should take, namely: to collect experiences (natural history, or the description of nature); to explain these experiences (natural science, Philosophia prima, or primary philosophy) and to make out of the results obtained hereby new discoveries and thus enlarge the powers of man (Philosophia scciinda, or secondary philosophy). The third principal section of Science, viz. Natural History, en- deavours to collect as many experiences based on facts as possible. And it is at this point that Bacon again and again complains that he, unaided, can do but too little. The History of the Winds, the History of Life and Death and the History of Dense and Rare are, as we have already seen, completed. All three are written in Latin, like De Atig- mentis Scientiarum and the Organon. A large number of great tables show us how many things Bacon planned in addition to these and how exhaustive such a natural history should be according to his views. The whole of the experimental and mechanical arts belong to this section; nothing lay too remote for his giant-mind; nothing seemed to him so unimportant that it might be neglected. He wanted a History of the Heavenly Bodies, a History of Meteors, a Geology, a History of the Elements, but, together with these, he wished for Histories of the Arts of Cooking, of Baking, of Viniculture, of Gardening, a History of the Chase, one on Sports, etc. He classes all these under Natural History. His U^ood of Woods (Sylva Sylvarunt) which Rawley published soon after its author's death, contains lOOO aphorisms affecting all branches of Natural Science. The New Atlantis, the fragment of the description of a happy future state of society, handled in novellistic- feuilletonic style, was appended thereto. The Wood of Woods and the Neiv Atlantis are both in EngHsh.— These are the grand fragments of the Great Instauration of Sciences which are found in Bacon's works. Bacon's doctrine is not a system, but rather an emancipation from all system. It is a philosophy superior to all philosophy, a sign-post, a light-house. — Bacon's name has been very differently treated in the course of these three centuries and among the various races. Never- theless, whether idolised, whether treated with indifference, forgetfulness or abuse, his doctrine has always been the guiding star to true science and such will it ever remain. Bacon intended to interpolate his political and moral writings be- tween the first and second parts of his great work as an intermediate volume. This volume would have contained three works that appeared J — 205 - at different times, viz: 'I'lir llisforir of King Ilotry the Sevrnili, The Wisdom of tJic Ancients and the T.ssoys. TJif Jfistoric of Kino- lloiry tlic SrvrntJi was tlic first work that Bacon wrote after his fall. He dedicated it to Charles, then Prince of Wales. As Bacon was in banishment and, therefore, far from all sources of reference, certain omissions were unavoidable. This notwithstanding, the work is to the present day the basis of all subsequent histories of Henry VII. The work appeared in English and was translated into Latin later on. The Wisdom of tlir Ancirnfs ( Dr Safirnlia \'rtrninf) relates in Latin 31 Greco -Roman myths and then the indications given, which are mostly of Bacon's own invention, often cause us to accept the very boldest of them as perfectly natural and as matters of course. The superscriptions alone give us a fore-taste as to what is to follow; for instance : TxpJion, or the Rebef- Protects, or Matter; Cnpid, or the Atom; Proserpina, or the Spirit; The Syrens, or the Pleasures. Three of the parables are transferred, almost verbatim, to the De Augmentis Scie)itiarnm , namely to that part of the Encyclopedy where poesy is explained to be the second principal section of science (history of the imagination), thus: Pan, or Nature; Perseus, or War; Dionysiis, or Desire. We have, moreover, already become acquainted with the parables of Proteus and Proserpina. Bacon's Essays constitute the work that lies nearest to the hearts of Bacon's contemporaries and of the England of the present day. They were written in English and appeared , translated into Latin, about 1638. Originally (in 1597) there were but 10 of them. In the 2nd edition (161 2) Bacon had increased them to 40 and in the 3rd edition (1625) to 58. The I St edition contained, in addition to the 10 short Essays, a fragment concerning the Colours of Good and Evil and 12 short Meditationes Sacrae (Religious Meditations) written in Latin. It is an elegant little volume. The Essays are tiny pearls of literature of which every Englishman has the fullest right to be proud. Bacon issued (in 1625) two other small collections which, although short, furnish most striking evidence of his manysidedness. One of these, Translation of certaine Psalmes into English verse , is the trans- lation of seven Tmlmes into rhymed verse; the other consists of about 300 Apophthegms (Anecdotes) which are told in classical style. As to the literary value of the psalm-translations, opinions differ very greatly. Only two points need be mentioned in connexion therewith. The poems (psalms) are rhymed throughout and in no more than seven translations not less than five different forms of strophe are employed. These two facts suffice to convince every expert that the man who, in the idle hours of an illness at the age of 64 , knew how to handle — 206 — verse and rhyme with such facility had , in earlier years, forged more verse than is contained in the, 14 volumes of his Complete-Edition. The short Sir Francis Bacon Jiis Apologie, in ccrfaiiic iiiipntatious coiiccniiug the late Earle of Essex, which appeared in 1604, has still to be mentioned. All else that is printed in his collected works consists of writings that appeared for the first time after the death of Bacon , a portion thereof did not even appear for the first time until the 19* century. These are partly works preparatory to the first and second parts of the Great Instauration of Sciences , partly portions, either finished or in draft, of the Natural History, partly historical sketches , and partly juristical works. From the natural - historical series the treatises con- cerning the Magnet, Light, Ebb and Flood, and the History of Dense and Rare; and, of the historical works, the Essays relating \.o fulins Caesar, Queen Elizabeth, and the beginning of a ///.s-/^;;-;)' ^AV//^ //cv/ri' the Eighth may be mentioned. These are, in their main features, the titles and the characteristics of the writings which bear the name of Francis Bacon. If we examine into the periods at which they were respectively written the following exceedingly peculiar fact strikes us. Until Bacon was in his 46th year he held no real office and thus had much , very much free time at his command. As is evident from all that we and others know of and about him , he was a man who was never idle, one who know how to turn his time to good account. And in all these 46 years nothing of his appeared in print except the little , thin volume of Essays in 1597 (when Bacon was 36 years old!), the Apo- logie concerning Essex (only 20 pages long) in 1604 and, in the same year, the Advancement of Learning, as the first edition of the Encyclopedy (which contained 220 pages and was dedicated to the king), was called. During the very busy fourteen years of his official life (1607 — 162 1) he published The Wisdom of the Ancients (in 1609), the enlarged Essays (in 1612), and, after revising it twelve times with his own hand, the Neiv Organon (in 1620). This notwithstanding, during the last five years of his life (1622 to 1626), and in spite of being repeatedly troubled by illness, the world was enriched by The Historie of King Henry the Seventh, The History of the Winds, The History of. Life and Death, De Atigmentis Scien- tiarnm (being the 2"ii edition, enlarged to the double and reduced into Latin, of that which had appeared in 1604 as The Adva}i cement of Learning), the 3'- : What had the man who, in his riper years, and on the threshold of old age, commanded such a mass of mental power, diligence and creative force, done in the many unemployed hours at his disposal up to his fourtieth year? And the answer thereto must run : He had written both without disclosing a name and also under a false one. 3. THE ANONYMOUS AND PSEUDONIMIC WRITINGS OF FRANCIS BACON. In the I ^t and 2^"^ Volumes of James Spedding's seven-volumed work The Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon, i. e. in the 8th and 9th V^olumes of the Complete Edition of Bacon, are found printed the following writings, which originally appeared anonymously or pseudo- nymically and which , according to Spedding and in the opinion of all other investigators, are recognised as having undoubtedly emanated from the pen of Francis Bacon. Whoever has read much of Bacon recognises them at once by their style. 1584. A letter drafted for Anthony Bacox. 1584 or 1585. A long ten-sided letter containing political advice to the Queen. AxoxYMors. This letter was long regarded as emanating from Lord Burghlev. 1589. Advice concerning the disputed questions in the English Church. AxoNYMors. 1589 or 1590. A letter to Monsieur Critoy, Secretary of France, written for the English Secretary of State, Sir Francis Walsingham and signed by the latter. 1592. The play A Conference of Pleasiire, know^n under the tittle of My Lord of Essex his device. 1592. Notes concerning a pamphlet. Anonymous. About 1593. Draft of a letter for Anthony Bacon. I 594. A true report of the detestable treason intended by Dr. Ro- derigo Lopez. AxoxvMors. 1595. A second play, purporting to be by the Eakl. of Essex but in reality by Bacon. And in the following years : Three long letters with advice about travels addressed to the ICarl of Rutland, a young cousin of the Earl of Essex. Drawn up by Bacon and signed by Essex. — 208 — A similar letter relating to studies addressed to Sir Foulke Greville, a young relative of the Earl of Essex. Drawn up by Bacon and signed by Essex. The Proceedings of the Earl of Essex, Fragment. Axoxymous. Bacon had written this at the wish of the Queen. A letter from Essex to Bacon, drawn up by Bacon. A letter from Essex to the Queen, drawn up by Bacon. Ideas for a letter that Essex was to write to the Queen. The author was Bacon. A letter to Essex purporting to emanate from Axthoxv Bacon. Drawn up by Francis Bacon. A letter to Anthony Bacon purporting to emanate from Essex. Drawn up by Francis. How such pseudonymic and anonymous works were brought about is clearly explained by two letters. In March of 1603 Bacon wrote to the Earl of Northumberland: If I may he 0/ use to you i' LordsJtip, by my /lead, tongue, pen, means, or friends, I humbly pray you to hold me your own. (X, 58.J And soon afterwards, shortly before the new king, James, arrived from Scotland, Bacon wrote again to the Earl of Northumberland and sent him the draft of a proclamation to be used in the king's name on his entry into England. B. X, ^^ : For which purpose I have conceived a draught, it being a thing familiar in my Mistress' times to have my pen used hi public zvritings of satisfaction . . . I would desire you to withdraw my na?ne, and only signify that yon gave some heads of direction of such a matter to o)ie of whose style and pen you had some opinion. Thereupon follows the complete draft of the proclamation, of course without an)' hints from the Earl, and emanating from A to Z from Bacon's brain and pen. Moreover, Spedding says with regard to the position towards the Earl of Essex, see Vol. VIII, p. 119: As Essex aspired to distinction in many other 7va\s, so Bacon studied in many other 7vays to help him. The most striking among the above-mentioned writings are the devices of in\ Lord of Essex. On the I /til November 1592 Essex had invited Queen Elizabeth and the Court to celebrate her birth-day at his palace, York-House, which had once been the residence of Sir Nicholas Bacon and was the birthplace of Francis. The play bore as title A Conference of Pleasure, and, inasmuch as nobody seriously enquired after such secondary matters as the names of poets, it was tersely called J/v Lord of Essex his device. Fragments thereof are contained in Vol. VIII, p. p. 119 — 143- One of these fragments is headed Praise of Knowledge. Here are a few crumbs from it : . i Nuni is but what he knoweth. Is /iot knowledge — 209 — a true and only natural pleasure, li^Jiereof tJierc is no satiety Y Then again, a witty comparison between scholastic philosophy and alchemy: TJie one never failctJi to niultiply words, and the other ever faileth to inulfiplx gold. Verses are also hidden among the prose, such as: I fow many things are there 7vliieh ive imagine not I This is a complete Alexandrine-line and also one that seems to come direct from the soul of Prince Hamlet (Act f, 5). Two more verse-lines : Are 7ve the rieher dy one poor invention f The sovereignty of man lieth hid in knoiidedge. The second Essex-play was performed three years later, namely on the 17th November 1595, under exactly similar circumstances. The characters are: an old I/ermit, a Statesman, a Soldier and a Squire (Vol. VIII, p. p. 374 — 386J. One passage in the play was cut out pre- sumedly at Essex's request on account of his jealousy against Raleigh, the bold seaman, but it has been preserved on a special sheet of manuscript. The esquire introduces a young West-Indian prince and his guide. The prince was born blind. He comes because a prophecy runs to the effect that he will gain the light of his eyes in the vicinity of the Queen of England. The prophecy is in sonnet-form and exactly in the rhyming style of a Shakespeare-Sonnet. It also possesses the same beauty. The guide of the blind prince says : Vol. VIII, pp. 388, 389. Seated between the Old World and the Nezv, A land there is no other land may touch, Where reigns a QtiecM in peace and honour true ; Stories and fables do describe no such. Never did Atlas such a burden bear, As she, i?i holding up the world opprest ; Supplying with her virtue every wJiere Weakness of friends, errors of servants best. No nation breeds a -warmer blood for war. And yet she calms them l)y her majesty: No age hath ever 7vits refined so far. And yet she calms them by her policy : To her thy son must make his sacrifice If he will have the morning of his eyes. The lad hands in his presents and gains his sight. And, again, we find in the continuation of the speech of the prince's Attendant the following hidden-verse: Vol. VIII, p. 389- Lovers are cJiargcd to aspire too JiigJi : It is as the poor dove, 7vhicJi when her eyes Arc sealed still mo7intetJi itp into the air. They are charged 7vith deseendi)ig too Imv: It is as the poor mole, which seeing not The clearness of the air diveth into The darkness of the earth. The Queen on the same day granted to Francis Bacon at the request of the Earl of Essex the use of the country-seat, Twickenham- Park, for 21 years. Whether she knew that Bacon was a party to the play (and to what a great extent) has not yet been discovered. But Bacon's plays were not performed in York-House only. They were also produced in Gray's Inn. The merry little world of letters devoted itself with special affection to theatrical performances and masks during the Christmas Holidays — the Twelve-Nights. For instance, soon after the Christmas-Day of 1586 a tragedy, The Misforttme op Arthur, was performed in the great banquetting hall and in the Queen's presence. It purported to have been versified by eight gentlemen, of whom Francis Bacon was one. It is said that he invented the dumb- shows. Now, the verse is so exactly in Baconian diction that the greater part, if not the whole play, is clearly due to his authorship. Furthermore, a masque that lasted twelve days was held in 1594- A chivalric prince of masques. Prince Purpoole, made his entry into Gray's Inn after the fashion of a Carnival-prince where he held his court during the whole of the Christmas-Holidays. Special laws were made and a Chapter on Orders and so forth was drawn up. The addresses of six Counsellors and the reply of the prince thereto were all drawn up by Bacon ; the description of all the festivities is con- tained in Vol. VIII, pp. 326 — 342. On one evening they performed ^i Comedy of Errors — like to Plautns his MenecJmnis and this was given by the players. Here we find the title of one of the dramas, which has subsequently the name Shakespeare written on its forehead , we find, furthermore, the actors of a pubUc troupe connected for the first time directly with the name of Francis Bacon, the arranger of the festivities and the principal poet of the whole masque-time. Bacon was also actively engaged with such-like matters at other times. Under date of 1 5th October i 596 he begged the Earl of Shrewsbury, by letter, to borro7v a horse and armoitr for some public shew. In another (undated) letter he invited his uncle. Lord Burghley, to a play or masque that was doubtless especially brilliant as all four London Inns-of-Court had combined for one common object. (See Vol. IX, p. 370, for both letters.) But his puritanically-minded mother, Lady Ann Bacon, was not at all favorably disposed towards this sort of thing. On December 5th 1594 she wrote to her son Anthony : / trust they will not niicin nor mask nor sinfully revel at Gray's Iiui. Francis was just then busy with his Prince Purpoole and the Comedy of Errors ! Earlier than this, on the 24th May 1592, she had written to Anthony from Gorhambury: I verily think your brother's weak stomach to digest hath been much caused and confirmed by untiviely going to bed, ajid then musing I know not what, when he should sleep. (See Vol. VIII, p. 326 and Dixon's Per- sonal history of Bacon , p. 32.) Thus wc see that Bacon was a con- cealed poet even towards his own mother. But not only plays, or masks, flow from the pen of the skilled lin- guist. At Vol. X, p. 149 he himself says: Her Majesty had a pur- pose to dine at my lodge at Twicknam Park , at which time I had (though I profess not to be a poet) prepared a sonnet. The words in brackets have an absolute double - meaning. If a comma - rest is put behind the word profess it would run Though I profess , not to be a poet (meaning that he claims that he is no poet). But if the comma-pause is made after not it would read Though I profess not, to be a poet (meaning that though he does not claim to be a poet he may be one nevertheless).*) Moreover, later on, after his fortieth year, he in a letter distinctly admits himself to be a concealed poet. King James was a friend to the drama and to the poetic art. In 1603 Bacon's friend, the lawyer and poet Davys, who soon afterwards became Attorney-General in Ireland, travelled a portion of the way in order meet the new ruler. Bacon, in a letter to Davys , begs that he will recommend him to the king. (See Vol. X, p. 65.) And the last sentence of this short letter, which was to have such an important influence on Bacon's future, runs : So desiring you to be good to concealed poets, / continue, Your very assured Fr. Bacon. 4. THE GREAT ANONYMUS BETWEEN 1591 AND 1598. Until the year 1580 one can hardly speak of such a matter as an English popular (folks-) stage. But in the decade of 1580 to 1590 there appeared a stately number of pla\-s by means of which the *■) / profess not stands in i^lden times anil in poetical style often in place of / do not profess. English stage quickly reached a high status. The public was not cu- rious to ascertain whence they emanated. There were no play -bills. Playwrights were not yet applauded. The play could also not be named after a lord, i. e. after somebody who had invited and who bore the expense of the performance, because each person had paid for himself at the doors. In short, the plays that filled the theatres and delighted the EngHsh public were anonymous in the fullest sense of the word. It appears from various reliable sources that a portion of these dramas came on to the stage before 1585; but to us they only take tangible form from the time when they appear as printed books, and such appearance in print frequently occurs from one to five or more years after the first performance. And even in this book-form the dramas appear without the authors name. Thus, there appeared : in I 591. The troublesome Raigne of King John. „ 1594. A Pleasant Conceited Historie, called The taming of a Shrew. „ 1594. The famous Victories of Henry the Fifth. ,, 1 594. The frst Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous houses of Yorke and Lancaster, with the death of the good Duke Humphrey. (The contents corresponds with the 2nd Part of Shakespeare's History of Henry VI.) ,, 1 594. The True Tragedie of Richard the third. „ 1595. Menaecmi — The Comedy of Errors. „ 1595- '^^^^ ^^^'^ Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, a)id the Death of the good King Henrie the Sixt. (The matter corre- sponds with the jrd Part of the Shakespearean History of Henry VI. j „ 1 597. An excellent conceited Tragedie of Romeo and fuliet. )) 1597- The Tragedie of King Richard the second. „ 1598. The History of Henrie the Fourth. Although some of these stage - histories may sound very different to the poems having the same names and aims which are found in the Folio -Edition of 1623 and although a part of the world of letters has considerable doubts as to whether the pieces emanate from the same poet to whom we are indebted for the FoUo - Edition , there is yet one play thereunder which, in this first edition, varies so little from that of the 1623-Edition that it must, without any doubt whatsoever, be called the self- same poem. The title-page thereof is as follows: — 213 — AN EXCELLENT conceited Tragcdie of Romeo and luliet. As it hath been often (with great applause) plaid publiquely, by the right Ho- nourable the L. of Hunsdon his Servants. LONDON Printed by lohn Danter. 1597- But as to who was the anonymous poet of this tragedy and of the just -before -mentioned comedies and histories, certain inferences are forced upon us by the following fact. There lies in the Library of the British Museum in London a bundle of large manuscript-sheets, partly written by an amanuensis, but, for the greater part, in Bacon's own handwriting. It is a Protiius of Fon/ni- laries and Elegancies, a sort of gigantic memorandum-book. Spedding describes it and gives a short extract therefrom in Vol. VII, pp. 189 — 211. The Play-Sheet (see Hamlet) is also contained therein. An English investigatrix , Mrs Henry Pott, has deciphered all the notes — they number 1655 — and published them in 1883 in book-form. One of the weightiest results of this labour is shown on sheet in. It is proved that this sheet was written about Christmas 1594 and entirely in Bacon's own handwriting. One side of it bears the endorsement Fornmlarics and Elegancies and the other is covered with words and sentences which point, almost without exception, to Romeo and Juliet. Which is the older, the tragedy or the notes.? In the one case the notes would only be extracts or reminiscences , in the other event the notes are work preparatory to the tragedy. — 214 — The notes (made in 1594) are three years older than the first publication (1597). They cannot, therefore, be extracts from the printed book. There would still remain the possibility of assuming that the piece itself is older than the notes and that it appeared on the stage three years before publication. In such event Bacon may have written down reminiscenses from memory after seeing the performance. Well, the notes in question are quoted , together with the corresponding passages in the tragedy. Would such an intellectual mind as that of Bacon , on coming out of from the performance of such a poem as Romeo and Juliet, write down such notes as TJie Cocke, The Larke, Bon iour , Bridegroome when he reached home.?* Every body who reads the following lines without prejudice must admit that the sheet of the year 1594 is nothing else than a preparatory work for the tra- gedy which appeared in print in 1597. The sheet begins with such notes as Good morrow, Good swoear, Bon iour, in English, French and Latin. Reciprocal greetings were very unusual in England before 1600. Bacon had learnt to appreciate them in France. How now.^ was the ordinary way of beginning a conversation. Bacon , therefore , first tried to find out some well-sounding English forms of salutation. Promus III. Goo d m orrow. Good s7voear. Good tr avail e. Good mat ens. Good betimes, bonitm ma7ie. Romeo and Juliet. Act I, sc. i . Good morroiv. Cousin. R. & J. Act II, sc. 3. Good morroiv, Father. R. &' J. Act II, sc. 4. Good morrow to you both. Pr. III. Bon io2tr, Bon ioiir, Bridegroome. — R. & J. Act II, sc. 4. Signior Romeo, Bon iour. Pr. III. Good day to ni e an d good morrow to you — R.&J. Act I, sc. I. Benvolio. Good morrow, Cousin. Romeo. Is the day so young? — That which is still morning to the one, seems to the other, who has risen earlier, to be full day. Pr. III. / have not said all my prayers till I Jiave bid you goo d-m o r row. — 215 — R. & J. Act II, sc. 2. T/iat I shall say good iiighf, till it he iiiorroiv. Pr. III. Late, ry s i )i g e — /)' // d i ii g r a-brddc. Early r i s i )i g c — s ii in o n s to risr. R. cVy. Act IV, sc. 5. The nurse finds Juliet in bed: Mistris, what Alistris? Juliet? Fast I tvarrant her she. Why Lanibe, why Lady, fie you sluggabed, Why Love L say? Madam, sweat heart: tvliy Bride? Pr. III. Surge piier — mane surg ere. (Arise, boy — arise early.) R. & J. Act I, sc. I. So earely wa thing did I see your Sonne. R. c^ /. Act I, sc. I. Many a morning hath he there beene seene, WitJi teares ang7ne7tting the fresh mornings deaw. Pr. III. ro m e. (Clearly the name of the Hero of the tragedy: Romeo. N. B. Another, investigator, Dr. Eduard Engel, asserts that this passage in the manuscript is to be construed otherwise. But, even if one admits without discussion that he is in the right, do not the dozens of strikingly similar words, phrases and thoughts between the notes of Bacon and the tragedy remain as pertinent as ever.?) Pr. III. Q u i a bon voisin a bon matin. Lodged next. (He who has a good neighbour has a good morrow.) R. & J. Act II, sc. 3. Care keepes his watcJi in every old mans eye, And where Care lodges, sleepe will never lye. Pr. III. Falsa qitid est somnus gelidae nisi mortis imago. (What then is sleep , except a false image of the ice cold death.?) R. C^ J. Act IV, sc. I. The monk hands Juliet the little flask containing the sleeping-draught. He explains the effects of it in detail and ends with the words : EaeJi part depriv'd of supple government. Shall stiffe and starke, and cold appeare like death, And in this borrowed likenesse of shrtmke death, Thou shall continue tivo and forty houres. And then awake, as from a pleasant sleepe. — Here and there the word sleepe, here image, false picture, there borrozved likenesse, here cold icelike death, there stifie and starke, and cold appeare like death. — 2l6 — Pr. III. Alba da. (Matutinal music.) R. & J. Act IV, sc. 4. 'tis day. Play Musickc. The Cotiiitie will be here with Miisicke straight. Pr. III. Golden sleepe. R. & J. Act II, sc. 3. But wliere itiibnised yoiitJi with unstiift braiiie Doth couch his liuis, there golden sleepe doth raigne. Pr. III. The wings oj ye mor ning. R. & J. Act III, sc. 2. The 7vings oj nigJit. Pr. III. The Cocke. R. & J. Act IV, sc. 4. The second Cocke Jiath Crow'd. Pr. III. The Larke. R. &J. Act III, sc. 5. // was the Larke the Heranld of the Morne. Pr. III. A b e dd — roseyou — owtbed. R. & r. Act IV, sc. I. To rowse thee from thy bed. Pr. III. Uprouse. Yoic are up p. R. &/. TJioii art aroused. Pr. III. I doe as bir ds doe for I fly u t of my fe ath e rs. — In Romeo and fuliet the idea of earliness is also most closely bound up with the idea of birds, thus : Nightingale. Larke, Cocke. Pr. III. I pray God yottr early rising does yoii 1/0 hurt. R. fy-f. Act IV, sc. 4. Get you to bed, faith youle be sicke to Diorrow For this nights watching. Pr. III. A m e ;/. R. & f. Act II, sc. 6. Amen, amen ! Pr. III. Yo n h a 7> c an a la r m in y ^ h e a d. — 217 — A^ cVy. Act II, sc. 3. Von tig Soinie, it argurs a disfrnipcrcd head. Pr. Ill Block heads a >i d clock heads. R. c^y. Act IV, sc. 4. Thoa shall be a loaeerhead. ■. III. G 00 d 11 i g R. c^ J. Act II, sc. 2, R. &^/. Act II, sc. 2, R. c^ /. Act II, sc. 2 R. '/. Act II, sc. 2 ///. Good niglil. GoodniM, ooodenghl. [uliel. Good night, good night. Romeo. Partiiig is such S7veete sorroiv. That I shall sax o-ood iti^ht, till it be Pr. III. Well to forget R. & J. Act II, sc. 2. Juliet. I have forgot 7vhy I did call thee backe. Ronico. Let me stand here till thou remember it. — Romeo takes advantage of Juliet's forgetfulness in order to lengthen his stay. This, a few notes only excepted, shows the contents of sheet 1 1 1 of the Proimis. 5. THE CESSATION OF ANONYMITY AND THE APPEARANCE OF THE POET-NAME 'WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE'. The veil lying over the author of the anonymous plays had been somewhat raised here and there by- about the year 1598. Rumours were flying about as to the authorship of a book which had great affinity to the dramas and there can be no doubt that Rumour was also busy with regard to the far more important question as to the authorship of the dramas themselves. But, inasmuch as the matter with which these rumours hung together was a very serious one, so serious indeed that it might possibly bring the author to the torture- chamber or even to the scaffold, it was imperatively necessary to invent a thicker veil, a more effective mask. The tragedy of King Richard the Second aroused the displeasure of Queen Elizabeth in a very high degree, for political reasons. Whereas the veil of anonymity had sufficed for the tragedy in 1 597 it now became necessary to veil it under the more protective mantle of pseudonymity. — And thus it appeared suddenly with the name of William Shakespeare and the year 1598 on the title-page. The Essex-affair of the years 1598 to 1601 is what throws a pretty clear light on the literary occurences. The Earl of Essex, the spoilt favorite of the aged queen, had become too self-willed both in act and speech. He had fallen into disfavour with Elizabeth and been appointed to the viceroyaltyship of unsettled Ireland. He entered upon his new appointment with reluctance. After a few small enterprises, he concluded a truce with the rebels and returned to England without leave. The queen refused to pardon him and he had to answ^er for his acts before a jury of his peers and learned lawyers. One of the charges against him was of a literary character. The tragedy of Richard the Second had been performed since the year 1597, and probably still earlier, before the London public with much applause. The powerful Act IV, in which Richard is dethroned by his cousin Bolingbroke (afterwards Henry IV.) and the parliament, cut the queen to the heart. She thought she recognised Essex in the person of Henry Bolingbroke. And: / am Richard, knozv you not that? (Dixon's Personal History of Lord Bacon. P. iii.) She was strengthened in this opinion by another literary work. The same subject was treated of in a short historical work which appeared with the year 1599 on the title-page. The book, which bore no author's name, was dedicated to the Earl of Essex and this dedication was signed by a Dr. John Hayward. The queen caused this Hayward, a young lawyer, to be seized and thrown into the Tower. Then she sent for him among her counsellors who was most skilled in literary matters; she summoned Francis Bacon to her presence. We have Bacon's own version of this, for in the year 1603 he saw himself compelled, owing to the unfavorable opinion in which he was held, to issue an Apology concerning the Earl of Essex. Herein he tells us how he had ever and always given good advice and en- deavoured, at a time when Essex would no longer listen thereto, to soften the queen's feelings towards the Earl. Let Bacon speak for himself! (X, pp. 149 and 150): About the same time 1 rcnicmber an answer of mine in a matter which had some affinity with my Lord's cause, which though it grezv from me, tvent after about in others' najnes. For her Majesty being mightily incensed with that book which was dedicated to my Lord of Essex, being a story of the first year of King Henry the fourth, thinking — 219 — it a seditious prelude to put into the people's heads boldness and faction, said she had good opinion that there was treason in it, and asked me if I could not find any places i?i it that might be drawn within case of treason: %v hereto I ansivercd : for treason stircly I found nojie, but for felony very many. And zuhen her ^Majesty hastily asked me zvherein, I told her the author had committed very apparent theft, for he had taken most of the sentences of Cornelius Tacitus, and translated them into English, and put them into his text. And anotJier time, when the Queen zvould not be persuaded that it was his writing whose name was to it, but that it had sotne more mischievous author, and said with great in- dignation that she would have him racked to produce his author, I replied, Nay Madam, he is a Doctor, never rack his person, but rack his stile; let him have pen, ink and paper, and help of books, and be enjoined to continue the stoij tvJiere it breaketh off, and I will undertake by collecting the stiles to judge ivJietJier he zuere the author or no. — Thus quoth Bacon. We see herefrom in what a clever way he tried to pacify the feehngs of the queen and at the same time to take all the point out of the matter. On each occasion he seems to agree with her and then to twist the question out of the dangerous, political to the more harmless, literary field. The author is a felon — he pilfers from Tacitus; the author must be raked — with paper and ink. It is also particularly noteworthy how thoroughly Bacon knew the book, so that he could at once advise upon it: Tacitus had been plundered. That the book referred to, which was thus veiled as a story of the first year of King Henry tlic fourtJi , treated of the dethronement of Richard H. is clear, for that was the principal occurence of the first year of such reign. The author of this present work states that he is not in a position to say anything about the book referred to , inasmuch as he could not obtain a copy thereof. Whether much or little was borrowed from the Roman historian must, therefore, remain an open question, but that the tragedy of Richard the Second, which deals with the same subject, is full of Tacitus-thoughts has been proved by a modern in- vestigator. Holmes, in his work TJie AutJwrsJiip of Shakespeare (p. 252). It may be added parenthetically that Dr. Hayward subsequently filled a higher position under Bacon. But the most important passage in Bacon's narration is that of the first sentence, wherein he mentions a matter, which though it grezv from me, went after about in others' names. Had Bacon referred to the historical work only it would have sufficed to have said ix axotheu xame. Naught else can be meant by the plural, in others' names, than Dr. John Hayward and William Shakespeare, the one pseudonym for the book and the other for the tragedy. — 220 — A confirmation of the rumours then current is found in another passage in the same writing. Essex had to answer for his acts on the 5tti of June 1600 before the court. Bacon tells us verbatim (X, p. 153): And the Lords falling into distribution of our parts, it was allotted to me, that I should set forth some undutiful carriage of my Lord, in giving occasion and countenance to a seditious pamphlet, as it was termed, which was dedicated unto him, which was the book before-mentioned of King Henry the fourth. Whereupon / replied to that allotment, and said to their Lordships, that it ivas an old matter, and had no manner oj coherence with the rest of the change, being matters of Ireland, and there- fore that I having been wronged by bridts before, this woidd expose 7ne to them more ; and it would be said I gave in evidence mine own tales. It was answered again with good shciv, that because it was considered how I stood tied to my Lord of Essex, therefore that part was thought fittest for me which did him least hurt; for that whereas all the rest was matter of cJiarge and accusation, this only was but matter of caveat and admonition. Let due note be taken of this desire to turn the question aside. The words seditious pamphlet are followed by as it was termed. Let the following expressions also receive due attention, namely: an old matter, and no manner of coJierence and, finally, the repetition of the confirmation of the fact of currents bruits (rumours) and the words mine own tales must be borne in mind. If it was solely a question of the Hayward-book the far more comprehensive word talcs would scarcely have been used for it has a much more poetical colouring and may cover fables, fairy-tales, poesy, narratives and dramas. In short, the rumours anent these tales were very wide-spread and per- sistent. In November 1599, already. Bacon wrote in a letter to the queen (X, p, 160): Envy beating so strongly upon me, and My life hath been threatened, and my name libelled, which I count an lionour. In the charges against Essex of 5th June 1600 Bacon was, never- theless, persuaded or compelled to take upon himself the role of literary prosecutor. He conducted it with great skill and with all possible mildness. But, ever again, in the repeated conferences with the queen, as in undertaking this painful official duty, the tragedy o{ Richard , the Second, which affects the feelings in a far more spell -bound and exciting manner, seems to flash through. And that it is this tragedy which plays the principal part, in contra- distinction to its far more harmless Hayward - sister, is shown to us in A Declaration touching the Treasons of the Late Earl and his complices which Bacon was obliged to write in 1601 by order of the queen. Essex, avoiding for a long while the advice of his friend Bacon, had allowed himself to be carried away into a rebellious state -stroke. On Sunday morning, the 8tli February 1601 , he went through the streets of London with several hundred noblemen and stirred the people up against the queen. The uprising was nipped in the bud and a few weeks afterwards Essex paid for his rashness with his Hfe. Now, on the afternoon before this rising, the friends of Essex had insisted on the performance of Richard the Second in the theatre. Bacon relates in the just-quoted writing (X, pp. 289 and 290J, in bringing forward the charges against Sir Gillie Merricke, one of the participants therein: That the afternoon before the rebellion, Merricke, with a great company of othej's that afterwards ivere all in the action, had procured to be played before them the play of deposing King Richard II. Neither zvas it casual, but a play bespoken by Merricke. And not so only, but zvheti it ivas told him by one of the players, that the play zvas old , and they should have loss in playing it because feiv zvojdd come to it: there luere jor/y s/ullings extraordinary given to play it, and so thereupon played it zvas. So earnest he was to satisfy his eyes zvith the sigJit of that tragedy, zvJiicJi he tJiought soon after Ids Lord should bj-ing from the stage to the state , but that God turned it upon their oivn heads. Thus was Merricke attacked in Bacon's exposition of the charge, whereas the players were excused, the play described as old and per- fectly innocent, and the author thereof passed over in silence. But, just as the friends of Essex' youth, his blood -relations and his brother-in-law Rich, had to sit in court and to give their ver- dict for life or death, so had Bacon, who had been his former friend, literary adviser and helper , compelled thereto by the force of circum- stances, to appear as one of the prosecuting-counsel at the table. Now, if he whose name appeared on the title-page of the story, which was certainly only read by hundreds, was cast into the Tower, why should not the same fate befall him whose name was printed on the Tragedie which was seen by thousands and which was used by the Essex - followers as the direct means of inciting the populace.^ The Stojy only played a role in the more harmless trial of the 5th of June 1600, while the Tragedie was closely interwoven with the trial for life and death of the 19th of February 1601. Dr. Hayward barely escaped torture, Merricke was punished with death — but not one single word was said during the whole of the trial about a William Shakespeare ! The name William Shakespeare does not appear even once in any of the numerous works or in one of the hundreds of letters of Francis Bacon. Now , it is certainly in this suppression of the name and in the evident immunity from punishment of the tragedy -poet that a key for the strictness of the continued secrecy is to be sought for. At this moment we can only deal with inferences. Had, for instance, Francis Bacon confessed to the queen and she, in turn, suppressed the literary part of the enquiry? Had he confided in his cousin Cecil Burghley (there is a veiled letter in Vol. X, pp. 2 and 3J and had the latter screened his near relative.? Or had one actually searched after the player who, according to the title-page of 1598, might be assumed to be the author of the tragedy , and had this player taken flight to Scotland or to Germany — where English comedians sojourned much in the 17th Century — .- All these queries are but based on supposi- tions in respect of which English libraries and collections of autographs may possibly yet furnish us with solutions, but will scarcely ever succeed in providing us with a complete elucidation of the whole matter , for it is just as possible that all documents relating to this matter of the tragedy were subsequently removed from the state-files. Bacon relates in his Historic of King Henry the Seventh (VI, 38) that soon after this king ascended to the throne all the documents which tended to taint the formerly exiled Henry Richmond and actual King of England were defaced, cancelled and taken off the file, that is to say, they were totally destroyed. One may well imagine that if anything similar, affecting a William Shakespeare-affair, existed on the court-files of Queen Elizabeth, the Lord Chancellor Francis Bacon , whose friend and protector was King James the First, would be able to find means to eradicate every trace of unpleasant recollections , even down to the smallest stroke of the pen. Let us return from these suppositions to the field of substantial facts ! It was not only the tragedy of Richard the Second which appeared in 1598 under the name of William Shakespeare. There appeared in the same year a new comedy. Love's Labours lost and, moreover, a kind of modern literary history which described no less than twelve comedies and tragedies which had previously appeared anonymously as emanating from the pen of William Shakespeare. These were : Tzuo Gentlemen of Verona, The Comedy of Errors, Love's Labours lost, Love's L.abours zvon (?), A Midsummer Nights Dream, The Merchant of Venice, Richard IL, Richard Hf., Henry IV., King John, Titus Andronicus, Romeo and Juliet and the work, moreover, mentions Venus and Adonis, Lucrece and Manuscript-Sonnets. As author of this book of literary history stands the name of Fra)icis Meres while the title of the book is Palladis Tamia (the Handmaid of Science) a title invented quite in Bacon's way of thinking, which latter describes a good repute as tlie Handmaid of Virtue and calls note -books Handmaids. But, in the year 1600 there appeared no less than six new books with the name William Shakespeare on the frontispiece. These were: Much Ado about Nothing, The Second Part of King Henry the Fourth, two editions of — 223 — The Merchant of Venice, and two editions of A Midsuiiimer Nighfs Dream. The poet-name which had kept itself entirely concealed from the world until 1 59(S stept suddenly into the front rank of literature with a hastiness which, when taken in connexion with the political occurrences of the years 1598 to 1601, presents itself in a most peculiar light. No less than nine books appeared in the course of from two to three years and these were intended to proclaim to the world the name of a dramatic poet, one William Shakespeare, while Francis Bacon was, at the self-same time, being harrassed in respect of literary-political rumours and forced into the tragical position of being compelled to condemn to death a man with whom he had once been on close terms of friendship. 6. SHAKESPEARE OR SHAKSPERE? The name William Shakespeare was not altogether new in the field of literature. As early as 1593 a little book had appeared which told in skilful , flowing verse the history of Venus and Adonis. There appeared in 1594 a second, somewhat longer narrative, Lucrece , in verse. Neither of the two books bore a poet-name on the title-page; both were dedicated to the Earl of Southampton and both contained a short preface bearing the signature William Shakespeare. But , after what we have gathered from the preceding sections, such a dedicatory signature in an English book had not much importance about the year 1600. Just as little as the History of the Dethronement of Richard the Second emanated from Dr. Hayward's brain, just so little did Venus and Adonis and Lucrece emanate from the cranium of a man who had received the name of William Shakespeare at the baptismal font. The young Earl of Southampton was numbered with Essex among the circle of young noblemen who were recognised as lovers and regular frequenters of the theatre and with whom Anthony and Francis Bacon had associated themselves. Tradition has it that Southampton contributed £ looo for the building of a public theatre. The company of players and also the poet whose dramas were best represented by this company must all have been thankful to the art -loving donor. The poet wrote a book which the player was required to dedicate to the Earl. This served everybody's turn and it is in such wise that the dedications of Venus and Adonis and Lucrece probably arose. As internal evidence of the fact that the author of these poetical narra- tives could not have been a man who had only come a few years before from the distant country-town of Stratford-on-Avon to London, provided with very moderate school - education, and who had at first undertaken the lowest form of theatre - service, it will suffice to record — 224 — the fact that both these tales are told in extraordinarily skilful, faultless verse and that the language used therein is throughout that of the London court and free from every sign of provincial dialect. When further proofs are added to the above, such as that Venus philo- sophises just as much anent the effects and the number of the senses as we have already seen in Bacon, our inferences must necessarily in- crease more and more in the certainty of being justified. Let us hear in what language of natural science this Venus makes love to her Adonis (Tauchnitz- Edition VII, p. 301) '• Had I no eyes but ears, my ears zvoi/ld love That inward beauty and invisible; Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move Each part in vie that were but sensible: Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear or see, Yet should I be in love by toucJiing thee. Say that the sense of feeling ivere bereft me. And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch. And nothing but the very smell were left me, Yet would my love to thee be still as much; For from the stiWtory of thy face excelling Comes breath perfum'd, that breedeth love by smelling. But, 0, what banquet tvert thou to the taste, Being nurse and feeder of the other four I . . . In short, the name William Shakespeare, which had served for the dedications of the verses of Venus and Adonis and Lucrece, was looked up again four years later and printed on the title-pages of the dramas. And in this fashion ended the namelessness of the great anonymity observed from 1591 to 1598 by the putting- forward of the pseudonym William Shakespeare! — But who was the man thus put forward as mask.f* He was born in the little country-town of Stratford-on-Avon in the county of Warwick and is entered in the baptismal-register of that place under date of 26th April 1564 as Gulielmus filius Johannes (sic) Shak- spere (William, the son of John Shakspere). Concerning his childhood, education and early youth we know nothing which can be proved from any existing source. But we do know from the evidence of exact church- entries that he, at the age of 18^0 years, married a country-lass aged 26, became the father of a daughter at 19 and the father of twins before his 2 1 St birthday. His circumstances were unfavorable and the young father, presumedly soon afterwards, left his family and went to London. Tradition tells us that he minded the horses of the well-to-do theatre-goers during the performances and afterwards became a menial — 225 — of the theatre. Documentary evidence establishes the fact that in i 593 he was a member of the pubHc theatrical company which was in the service or under the patronage of the Lord Chamberlain. One part which we know for a certainty to have been played by him was that of the gJiost in Hamlet. Beginning with the year 1597, he repeatedly bought houses and land in Stratford-on-Avon , his native town, and sometimes stayed there for a while until, some years before his death, he finally settled down there as a well-to-do man. When this definite settlement in Stratford-on-Avon actually took place is a question on which the inferences vary between 1597 and 1613. Only one point is indubitably certain, and that is that he spent the last three years of his hfe, namely from 1613 to 1616 entirely in his native town. He had his will drawn up on the 251^1 March 1616 and signed it in three different places. He died on the 23rd April of the same year at the age of 52 and was buried in the parish church of Stratford- on-Avon. Such was the career of the man whom the world has hitherto regarded as the author of the most learned and intellectual dramas of the whole earth. And this is all that can be gathered anent his persona- lity from all known sources. What he has left to the world in the shape of handwriting is con- fined to the three above-mentioned signatures to his will and to two other signatures to documents of little importance. Beyond these there is not one line, not one word, far less a letter, a verse, a sheet of manuscript, or a piece of dramatic writing of his extant. The most important fact connected with these five signatures is, that they, as well as the church-register-entries, all show the form SJiakspere, whereas the poet-name is regularly printed SJiakespcarc and now-and-then even Shake-speare ; that is to say that, whereas the one name has the vowel- sounds a (as in way) and e (as in mere) the other has the vowel-sounds a (as in hat) and e (as in her) ; while the vowel-sounds are long in the one they are short in the other; whereas the one name is derived from SiLVKE and Speak the other appears to owe its origin to Jacques and PiERPxE, thus : Shakespeake pronounced Shake-spear = lance-shaker. Shakspeke pronounced Shakspr. = Jacques' Pierre, or Jack's Peter. Nothing whatsoever is known as to whether or not the retired player had any literary intercourse either in Stratford or elsewhere, neither is it traceable in any known source that he had any exchange of letters with players, booksellers, poets or any London intellectual notabilities. He left neither library nor manuscripts behind him, but he did dispose of his second best bedstead in his will. One of his daughters, 15 Judith, signed a legal instrument with a hieroglyph — it can hardly be called a scrawl. — But the penmenship of the player WilUam Shak- spere is not much better. Whereas the learned men and poets of that time were in the habit of writing their signatures in distinct , straight Roman characters , and whereas the signatures of Francis Bacon and Ben Jonson (as those of others) left nothing to be desired in respect of distinctness, all the five signatures of the player of Stratford-on-Avon give evidence of childish , helpless scratch-work. The letters are for the most part disconnected and imitations of printed letters in vogue at that period. How must one pity the poor compositor who would have had to set up one single sheet of copy from such a handwriting! This was the Man William Shakspere. Everything else that is found in contemporary literature with reference to William Sh. is directed to the Poet William Shakespea^-e. But that this poet evidenced himself, not in printed form only, but also in handwriting, as William Shakespeare, is proved from the peculiar, but, unfortunately, only partially preserved manuscript which Spedding, the Editor of Bacon , found among papers in the possession of the Duke of Northumberland. It is that piece of manuscript in which is contained the complete version of A Conference of Pleasure which was performed in 1 592 as Mylord Essex his device. On the cover stands an index of all that was once contained in the book, but the latter is no longer complete, for a large majority of the hinder pages has been removed. But this list of contents tells us that , in addition to the Conference of Pleasure and many incidental stories and essays which we know to have been written by Bacon, both Richard II. and Richard III were contained therein. These manuscripts date from the years 1592 to 1597. The tragedy o{ Richard II. was, therefore, to have been found before it was printed, namely under a cover which contained in- disputable Bacon-manuscripts , or , if we assume that the tragedy had already appeared in 1597, consequently before the manuscript-sheets were written, why was the tragedy not bought in book-form and placed in the book-case instead of being copied by a Bacon-copyist.^ But the point is not disposed of by a consideration of the tale-telling index of contents alone! The other, free side of the page is covered with all sorts of scribblings on the part of the copyist to whom Bacon had entrusted the work. We find Bacon's name several times thereunder in its more antiquated form of Frauncis Bacon and the name, William Shakespeare, seven or eight times written exactly as the poet-name is printed on the title-pages of the dramas. This page is the only piece of paper out of the i6tli and 171^1 cen- turies which shows the names of Bacon and Shakespeare in close juxta- position. And this sheet is the beginning of a book which contained, — 227 — in addition to sundry other dramatic works of Bacon, the manuscripts of the tragedies of Richard II. and Ricliard III I It is true that from 1598, or say 1600, the name IVilliaiii Shake- speare is printed on nearly every new work of the dramatic master but that does not prevent these poems from sounding to the ear, as they did before, as emanating from Francis Bacon's pen. Four works appeared in the year 1 600, but within the next follow- ing twenty years there only appears a total of five new books bearing the name William Shakespeare on the title-page. These were: 1602. TJie Merry Wives of Windsor, 1603. Hamlet, 1608. King Lear (which first appeared, anonymously, in 1605; both editions are of an older form), 1609. Troilus and Cress ida and 1609. The Sonnets. The player William Shakspere died in 1616 at Stratford-on-Avon. In 1622 the first edition of William Shakespeare's Othello appeared (like the others in quarto-form) and in 1623 the large Complete FoUo-Edition with a number of entirely new, thoroughly revised and partly revised dramas. Only about one fourth of the 36 dramas show the earlier form as known in the quarto-editions. 7. THE ISSUE OF BOOKS OF THE BACON - SHAKESPEARE - PERIOD. A tabulated illustration of the issue of books of the Bacon-Shake- speare-Period, from 1 591 to 1627, is given on the interpolated two coloured sheet. Black denotes anonymous , blue those issued with Shakespeare on them, and red those bearing Bacon's name. One glance at the illustration, which is made so clear by the various colours used, teaches us what a large number of the dramas which subsequently became so celebrated at first appeared anonymously. A number of them appeared twice, thrice and five times and still without a name on them. Several appeared after having been printed anonymously once or twice with the name Shakespeare. Nine dramas came to the light on their first appearance with the name Shakespeare thereon. Three others of the celebrated dramas appeared anonymously in their first issue at the same time. The first appearance of the name Shakespeare , as we see from the table, is that on the dedications of Venus and Adonis and Lucrece, in 1593 and 1594. Then the name enjoyed a rest until 1598 when the title-pages of the 2nd Edition of 15* — 228 — KicJiard the Second , the 3rd Edition of Richard the Third and the I St Edition oi Loves Laboiirs lost brought the name Shakespeare into connexion with the drama. We see, therefore, that up to the year 16 16 there appeared in all 21 editions of the dramas bearing the name William Shakespeare and 26 anonymous editions. As is shown by the preponderance of the blank spaces, the ap- pearance of dramas was totally suspended from the year 1605 onwards; the Sonnets and Troiliis and Cressida went to press in 1609; what else appeared were only almost unaltered re-prints of the older pieces. William Shakspere, the player, died in 16 16, far from London and without caring even by one single word for his literary property; he left nothing behind him. Years passed by, and suddenly, in 1622, there appeared the tragedy of Othello and, in 1623, the Folio-Edition, with 36 dramas, followed. Bacon's fall occured in 162 1. The many spaces marked with red of the years 1622 to 1627 show us lucidly with what diligence the learned sexagenarian must have worked. And in the same year with the Ency- clopedy and the History of Life and Death came the great Shakespeare- Edition ! The blue zig-zag-line denotes the death-year of the player (1616) the red one that of the sage. Years before the death of the former nothing whatever happened, whereas the years before Bacon's decease, notably those from 1622 to 1625, are probably the most brilliant in the literature of all the nations upon earth. The squares of the table show us these facts in the most penetrating manner. The second table shows us the connexion between the issue of editions and Bacon's free time in a still more drastic fashion. From 1 591 to 1605 Bacon had much time at his disposal. There appeared during these years: 12 new, anonymous dramas, 9 new Shakespeare-books, 5 material improvements of dramas, and only 2 books with Bacon's name thereon. From 1606 to 162 1 Bacon was fully occupied with his official duties. The appearance of Shakespeare-dramas at once became halting. During I 5 years only 2 new books bearing the name Shakespeare were issued ! Bacon, then freed from all official activity, devoted the years 1622 to 1626 entirely to science and literature; 5 new books ai)i)eared under his own name and also two materially revised and improved. And the appearance of Shakespeare -pieces began again simultaneously, namely: in 1622 Othello in quarto, in 1623 the Folio-Edition with 15 new and 12 materially altered dramas. 15] 1591 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 ( K. JohnH M Venus a. Adonis U^ Tamln7U_ • Henry V. ■_^ • i 2. Henry VI. H^ Richard III. H~~ ♦ • Errors ■ 3. Henry VI. g t Richard II. Romeo Essays Love's Ubfl 1. Henry ■ ^ ■ ♦ i ur IV. t IHuoh A Ore Merohi 2. Henry TH do im int IV. IIS Ti SHOWING ALL THE W BACON-SHAK viz. from Black Red Blue ♦ • show auth< A ^ shovel ^ nam* ♦ • S 1j New booii New edill important New editi material a Both the works of 1637 are The 36 dramas of the year 1623 ai Moreover each sign denotes an II ♦ ♦ ♦ Ridiard tJie Second , the 3rd Edition of Richard the Third and the I St Edition o{ Loves Labours lost brought the name Shakespeare into connexion with the drama. We see, therefore, that up to the year 16 16 there appeared in all 21 editions of the dramas bearing the name William Shakespeare and 26 anonymous editions. As is shown by the preponderance of the blank spaces, the ap- pearance of dramas was totally suspended from the year 1605 onwards; the Sonnets and Troiliis and Cressida went to press in 1 609; what else appeared were only almost unaltered re-prints of the older pieces. William Shakspere, the player, died in 1616, far from London and without caring even by one single word for his literary property; he left nothing behind him. Years passed by, and suddenly, in 1622, there appeared the tragedy of Othello and, in 1623, the Folio-Edition, with 36 dramas, followed. Bacon's fall occured in 1621. The many spaces marked with red of the years 1622 to 1627 show us lucidly with what diligence the learned sexagenarian must have worked. And in the same year with the Ency- clopedy and the History of Life and Death came the great Shakespeare- Edition ! The blue zig-zag-line denotes the death-year of the player (1616) the red one that of the sage. Years before the death of the former nothing whatever happened, whereas the years before Bacon's decease, notably those from 1622 to 1625, are probably the most brilliant in the literature of all the nations upon earth. The squares of the table show us these facts in the most penetrating manner. The second table shows us the connexion between the issue of editions and Bacon's free time in a still more drastic fashion. From 1 591 to 1605 Bacon had much time at his disposal. There appeared during these years: 12 new, anonymous dramas, 9 new Shakespeare-books, 5 material improvements of dramas, and only ^ 2 books with Bacon's name thereon. From 1606 to 1621 Bacon was fully occupied with his official duties. The appearance of Shakespeare-dramas at once became halting. During I 5 years only 2 new books bearing the name Shakespeare were issued ! Bacon, then freed from all official activity, devoted the years 1622 to 1626 entirely to science and literature; 5 new books appeared under his own name and also two materially revised and improved. And the appearance of Shakespeare -pieces began again simultaneously, namely: in 1622 Othello in quarto, in 1623 the Folio-Edition with 15 new and 12 materially altered dramas. 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 U 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 21 25 26 27 K. John||[_ Venus a. Adonis Merchant Henry IV. THUS I TrolliK im of A. I TABLE SHOWING ALL THE WORKS ISSUED DURING THE BACON-SHAKESPEARE-PERIOD, viz. from 1591 to 1627. Black shows Editions without any author's name, shows Editions with Bacon's name as author, shows Editions with the name of Shakespeare as author. ♦ ♦ ♦ New books. New editions of older works with important improvements, New editions of older works without material alterations. jrks of i6j7 are bound up In ONE QUARTO-VOLUME. *de''n"W'.'nS°JfDTv?S'5'A'L°''EL".T°.SS.™'-'°-^°'-""=- 1. Henry VI. Henry VIII. Caesar Macbeth Antonlus Cymbellne Apophthegma Wood ofwTli Ltlantia || — 229 — A year after Bacon's death Syha Sylvanmi and the New Atlantis appeared in one quarto-volume. — Let us recall to memory the year 1616 as that of the player, Shakspere's death and we shall then see that the appearance of the dramas was far less dependent on the life and death of the player than on the external circumstances connected with the life of Francis Bacon. 8. MUTUAL HINTS AT EACH OTHER. A. BACON HINTS AT SHAKESPEARE. No learned author, of whatsoever age or of whatsoever nation, was so filled with thoughts of the theatre and the drama as Bacon ; in no other writer's works do hints at the stage and dramatic art so often crop up, none other so often borrows his comparisons from this gentle world of seeming; none other speaks with more technical knowledge of all that relates to representative art. Beginning with the pithy saying : Dramatic Poesy is as History made visible, one may follow this preference through the Encyclopedy, the Oi'ganon , the Natural History, the literary works, the letters, — in short, through all Bacon's intellectual utterances. At the close of the fifth book of the Encyclopedy it is a question of the art of memory. A sportsman who follows a hare , an apo- thecary arranging his boxes, a schoolmaster who gives a lecture, a boy who repeats verses by heart, an actor playing on the stage, all these pictures, quoth Bacon, remain more easily in remembrance than the bare ideas of invention, disposition, elocution, memory and action. With the idea of action the first thing that strikes him, the philosopher, lawyer and statesman, the historian, naturalist and essayist, is the stage! Again, at the close of the sixth book he recommends the dramatic art as an excellent educational means , as an art zvhick stroigtJicns the vieniory, regulates the tone and effect of the voice and pronunciation, teaches a decent carriage of the countenance and gesture , gives not a little assurance and accustoms young men to bear being looked at (quae mentor iam roborat; vocis et pronunciationis tonum atque efficaciam temperat; Vultum et gestum ad decorum componit , Fiduciam non parvam conciliat , denique oculis liomimtni juvenes assuefacit). Thereon follows the example , that is so similar to the well known Hamlet-passage where the declaiming player weeps for Hecuba. And, a few pages farther on, in the seventh book, Bacon repeatedly reverts to the stage and to dramatic art. In the Nezv Organon one of the errors to which the human mind is especially subject bears the name Idols of the Theatre : Bacon com- pares the philosophers' systems with theatrical performances, which take ~ 230 — the audience prisoners in advance. • — In Sylva Sylvarum we find under the heading of: impressions which the passions of the mind make upon the body a section four pages long which offers the stage-player more profit than many a bulky work on facial play and gesture. The views expounded agree thoroughly with those developed in Hamlet. At the end of the History of the Winds and at the end of the History of Dense and Rare reference is made to dramatic plays and popular pieces. Were one only to mechanically enumerate how often the words stage, play, theatre, player, playing, poesy and dramatic occur in the principal sections of The great Instauration of Sciences a stately array of figures would be the result. But the most striking and, as one may venture to say, unmistakeably intentional purpose is found in the allusions to the theatre and to dramatic art which are found in The Histoi^ie of King Henry the Seventh, in the work which was the first one issued after Bacon's fall and which appeared a year before De Augmcntis Scientiarum ., in 1622. One can hardly have read a few pages before coming again and again across one of the following expression, namely : instruct the player, play the part, hold the prompters hook, disguise, stage, farce, mask, tragedy. Even such a sentence as the following appears in the middle of the historical description, viz. : Therefore nozv, like the end of a play, a gjrat number came upon the stage at once. The most striking of the theatrical expressions contained in Henry VH. which were found by the author of the present work amount to near upon one hundred. The principal of these have been already quoted singly. Even in the much-read Essays, too, the theatre plays an important part. In the Essay Of Building the greater portion thereof is taken up with the description of an ideal-palace. A large festival hall is de- manded therein as the principal room ; thereunder a similar one is mentioned which shall serve as robing- and preparatory-room for times of festivity. What stress Bacon laid on this point may be seen by the form taken by this passage in the Latin translation of the Essays which appeared in 1638: Sermones fideles, sive Interior a rerum. (True saytngs, or The Interior of T Jungs.) The Latin of this edition , although it did not appear until twelve years after its author's decease , was mainly written by Bacon himself. The passage runs verbatim : Et subter eam Camerajn item alteram, similis longitudinis et latitudinis: quae apparatum et insiructionein. ad f est a, ludos, et ejus modi magnijicentias ; actores etiam, diim se ornent et parent, commode recipiat. (Thereunder Just s//ch another room, similar in length and breadth ivhich can conveniently hold liuwdrobe and wings, for the processions, plays and similar magnificences together with, the actors zvhile arraying and orna?nenting themselves.) It must be repeated that in the last English lulition (of 1625) this sentence does — 231 - not appear, and that it is first contained in the Latin one of 1638. A certain amount of mystery therefore surrounds it. But EHzabeth, James and Charles did not only see the masks and festival - plays in the hall of their palace ; they also saw the theatrical performances given by the same players who acted before the people under the open sky. King and court frequently saw two Shakespeare -plays in one week in the hall of the palace. One of the longest Essays treats Of Friendship. It first appeared in the Edition of 1 62 5 and is, as Bacon emphatically states, dedicated to his friend Toby Matthews, the son of the Bishop of York, to a man who had long lived in France, Italy and Spain; who had translated the Essays into Italian (Saggi Morali) and who, as a young man, had played a part at court in one of the Bacon -Essex festival plays. In the Essay o{ I'^riendsliip it runs that, just as a man can only have one physician, so can he only have oxi: friend; that he who has a true friend possess two souls. This Essay is specifically dedicated to Toby Matthews. Toby Matthews was, therefore, the oxe friend, the second soul of Bacon. And this Essay, which is so glowing and so personal in its praise of friendship, closes with the words: / Jiave given the ride, -cchcre a man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage. Bacon was not one of those who pour out the feelings of the heart with a vulgar gush or a theatrical phrase. As these words stand at the end of pages so fully of import they must be regarded as having been fully weighed. Toby Matthews was , as is evi- denced by many passages in the interchange of letters, the principal adviser in elegant literary matters. Now he had a work of recreation, then one of in-ccntion , as Bacon expressed himself, sent to him in manuscript. But the titles are never mentioned in the letters, or, when they were possibly mentioned they had been destroyed by Toby Matthews himself before the publication of the letters, which publication took place many years later on, for the cautious, perhaps over-cautious friend struck out many passages, omitted many names or rendered them undecipherable before having the correspondence printed. We shall soon see that if anybody knew anything at all about the pseudonjmic activity of Bacon as an author it was Toby Matthews. One might expect to find the greatest elucidation from the Essay Of Masks and Triumphs. Well , it does throw a certain amount of light on the matter, but only in a negative way, namely by silence and expurgation. We know from the still -extant account-books of the court-festivals how often the Shakespeare-Tragedies and -Comedies were performed in the presence of Elizabeth and in that of King James; that, for instance. The Merchant of Venice was given shortly in succession by distinct command of the king, consequenth' at court and in the same — 232 — hall where the masks and triumphs were held. But, just as the name WiUiani Shakespeare is not found once in the whole of Bacon's printed works , so are the words comedy and tragedy not once forthcoming in this Essay on Court -Festivals. The man who knew how to give players such excellent rules respecting mimics and gestures, who recommended the dramatic art as a means of education , who in the seventh book of his De Augmentis Scientiarujii relates things which count among the most pertinent that have ever been thought and written on human passion, — such an one only speaks herein of masks and triumphs. But alongside of this silence is clearly shown a desire to efface facts. The short essay, which is written with extra- ordinary freshness and technical knowledge, begins with the words : These things are but toys, to come amongst such serious observations, and closes with the words : But enough of these toys. We have already learnt , from that which has gone before , to know that passage of the Encyclopedy wherein Bacon, after his glorious words about dramatic poetry, tells us those three parables and then closes with the cold phrase: But it is not good to stay too long in the theatre. Such a repetition of depreciatory remarks anent a matter which Bacon ever and ever again approaches in his writings is just what must strike as a remarkably suspicious act on his part. We know that nothing was too remote for his giant -mind, that nothing seemed too small to be drawn into the circle of his observation. He discusses the highest duties of philosophy and the preparation of an aperient with the same degree of earnestness ; he works out a theory of the heavens but he does not pass by the smallest insect without thought; he writes voluminous scientific works and relates hundreds of short, merry anec- dotes — why then should the theatre be the only object at which he now and then turns up a haughty nose in the most noticeable manner.!* Either his own art of dissimulation played him a naughty trick or else the unveiling and re -veiling was intentional. That this depreciation was not seriously meant is shown by one single fact which says more than words can tell. Ben Jonson, the man who had won the reputation of being the second dramatist of the times of Elizabeth and James through his comedies , tragedies and festival - plays , this self- same Ben Jonson lived and sojourned for five long years with Francis Bacon. — — — Let us now turn from the hints directed towards the theatre to the hints directed towards certain books which are regularl}' enveloped under and in a veil. — Bacon very rarely mentions the writings of others. So much the more must it cause us to wonder that he speaks so often in his Encyclopedy of books of which he docs not name — 233 — either title or author and which he in fact treats, with the same stroke of the pen, as not worthy of mention. Bacon, the man with the terse expressive style of writing in his science-system, which treats of more individual parts of science than the work has folio-pages, finds time to talk of matters which are scarcely worthy of being mentioned ! ■ — Let us hear a few examples! In Book II, Ch. 2 of De AugJiwntis Scientiaruvi Bacon speaks of the dividing of Natural History into three sections , namely into the History of Generations , the History of Intermediate Forms and the History of the Arts. The first he declares to have been discussed enough ; the second and third he, on the contrary, classes among those matters which are desirable {in desideratoruin classe). Then it runs : Non negaverim, inveniri libros jiimio plures, fabulosis experimentis , coni- nicntitiis secretis, et frivolis iniposiuris, ad voliLptatem, et novilatem, reftrtos: Caeteriun narrationevi gravem et severam de Heteroclilis et niirabilibus naturae, diligenter examinatam, ac fidelitei' descriptam, non, inqiiain invemo. (It is true, I find books more than enough filled zvith fabulous experiments, idle secrets, and frivolous impostures, for pleasure and novelty ; but a sub- stantial and methodical collection of the Heteroclitcs or Irregularis of nature xvell examined and described I find not.) The sentence is already contained in the English tongue in the i*t edition of the Encycloped}', 1 he AdTancemcnt of Learning (1605). The Bacon-Editions have given us no explanation up till now as to what is meant with regard to these books. But the words, Intermediate Forms, Human Arts, Fabulous, Experiments , invented. Pleasure, give us no bad idea of what he meant if we direct them towards Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies. Bacon speaks in Book III , Ch. 5 of the Encyclopedy of Natural Magic. He then goes on : Nam quantum ad Naturalem Magiam (quae in libris plurimorum volitat) credulas quasdam et superstitiosas traditiones, et observationes, de Sympathiis et Antipathiis rerum, atque de Occultis et specificis proprietatibus complectentem , cum frivolis ut plurimum experi- mentis, potius occultandi artificio , et larva, quam re ipsa admirandis etc. (For as for that natural magic which flutters about so many books, em- bracing certain credulous and superstitions traditions and observations con- cerning sympathies and atitipathies, and hidden ajid specific properties with experiments for the most fart frivolous, and zvonderfull rather for the skill zvith zvhich the thing is concealed and masked than for the thing itself etc.) Here, again, no Bacon -editor has endeavoured to find out what books were meant. But the words, experimentis, Sympathiis et Anti- pathiis, Occidtandi artificio, larva, seem once more to point to Mr. Wil- liam Shakespeare's Comedies. In both instances the same disparaging word, frivolis, is used to veil that which is actually meant. — 234 — In the Chapter on the Passions we read : So likewise I find some particula)' tvritings of an elegant nature (libellos quosdam elegantes), touching some of the affections, as of tenderness^ of countenance, and some few others. And then follows the glorious passage about poets being the principal teachers of the science of soul-storms. As a fourth passage wherein books are similarly referred to, let us recall that one of which we already know from the introduction to the Chapter Of Business (De Aiigmentis Scientiarum VIII , 2) which runs : De prudentia autem negotiandi nnlli omnino libri conscripti habentur: praeter pauca quaedam mo nit a civ Hi a in fascicuhim ununi aut alterum collecta, quae amplitudini hjtjus siibjccti nnllo modo respondent. (But for the zvisdom of business there are no books at all written of it, except some few civil advertisements collected in one or two little volumes, whicJi have no proportion to the magnitude of the siibject.) The editors once more fail to ask what little volumes are meant by this. But, if we remember that immediately following thereon, as examples of what it meant, come the 34 Proverbs of Solomon with Bacon's explanations thereof, which point clearly to Kitig Lear, we are justified in.assuming that one of the fascicula referred to is Mr. William Shakespeare's Tragedy of King Lear. 9. MUTUAL HINTS AT EACH OTHER. B. SHAKESPEARE HINTS AT BACON. The name Francis Bacon suggests to us the succulent, smoked sides of the porker. That the Bacons knew that their family-name was open to be so understood and that they did not prudishly strive to conceal it is shown by the merry, little pig which serves as crest to the Bacon-coat-of-arms. The Frankfort Folio-Edition shows us this coat-of-arms over the bust-portrait of its author on its title-page. The little animal stands on the helmet with one fore-leg stretched out (in heraldry passant) with a merrily curled-up tail. — 235 — On its side, whence the bacon comes, it is ornamented with a half-moon. Now, in the supplement to the Bacon-Collection of Anecdotes there is a little story which is also based on the meaning of the word Bacon. — Sir Nicholas Bacon, the father, had, as judge, to sentence a criminal. When all his pleadings were in vain the condemned one appealed to the mercy of Sir Nicholas on account of kindred. — „Prithee", said my lord judge, Jiozv came that in .-" „ Why, if it please yon, my Lord, your name is Bacon, and mine is Hog, and in all ages Hog and Bacon have been so near kindred, that they are not to be separated „Ay, but", replied judge Bacon, ,,you and I cannot be kindred, except you be hanged; for Hog is not Bacon until it be well hanged." And this H ange d - Ho g- Bac on-]dk& is found again in The Merry Wives of Windsor; yet not in the Quarto-Edition of 1602, neither in that of 1619, but, for the first time, in the Folio-Edition of 1623. The fist scene of Act IV is interpolated and quite new. Mistress Page and her little son William, Mistress Quickly and Parson Evans, the Welshman, appear. Evans examines the boy in the Latin language and Dame Quickly constantly interpolates her scraps of most venturesome, comparative linguistic science, and without any to-do , giving to the sounds of the strange tongue their English equivalents. Evans speaks with a dialect pronunciation. He declines the Latin pronoun hic, Jucc, hoc {this in the masculine, feminine and neuter genders) pronouncing the words : Jug, hccg, hog. Evans. Nominativo hig, haeg, hog: pray you marke : genetivo huius ; Well: what is your Accusative-case . - William. Accusativo hinc. Evans. I pray you have your ronembrance (childe) Accusativo hing, hang, hog. Quickly. Hang-Jiog. is latten for Bacon, I warrant you. The word Bacox is printed with a Capital-B ; the whole scene is interpolated, and more, the figure of the boy William is only introduced on account of this scene, i. e. evidently only in order to introduce this play upon words. The boy William does not appear again in the whole of the play and is non-existent in the earlier editions. The scene which has just been described is printed on page 53 of the Folio-Edition of the Comedies, and the word Bacon crops up a second time in the Histories and, strange to say, again on page 53 thereof. In the ist Part of Henry IV., Act 11, sc. 2, are the words: a Gammon of Bacon*) and a third and a fourth time is the last *) Bormann states in this work that he has passed over many other confirmatory in- stances. There is one, however, which is so pertinent to the question at issue that leave is — 236 — word found on the next page (54) of the Histories: Bacon-fed Knaves and Bacons'. — as a term of contempt. The word Bacon does not occur more than four times in the whole of the Shakespeare- Volume, but in each of these passages it begins with a Capital-letter. Then we find two pages farther on (in Scene 4 of the same Act — p. 56 of the Histories) the word Francis printed 35 times, sir 8 times, and mostly in the combination, auon, anon, sir. This is the scene where Prince Hal and Pointz play off a joke on the cellar-lad Francis. The joke would, in all probability, not have been spun out so long unless something was hidden behind it. Let us consider: Page 53 of The Comedies The Hang-hog-Bacon-]oke. Page 53 of The Histories Once Bacon. Page 54 of The Histories Twice '^acon. Page 56 of The Histories 8 times 3 5 times Sir Francis. And we must think of still *one other proper name. If the man of Stratford-on-Avon was the poet of the Folio-Edition how did it happen that the word Stratford does not occur once in the whole of the 36 dramas ? It is not to be found on even one of the 900 gigantic pages of the book. But so much the more often do we meet with the words St. Albans. Let us remember that Gorhambury near St. Albans, northwards from London, the seat of Sir Nicholas Bacon, the sum- mer-residence of the widowed Lady Ann Bacon and, with impor- tant additions thereto and magnificent improvements to the grounds, was the country-seat of Francis Bacon and that this Francis Bacon, in 1 62 1, when he had reached the summit of his power, was created Viscount of St. Albans {Vice-Couics Sancti Albani). Now three scenes of the Histories (more particularly the long Scene, 2nd Henry VI., Act I, sc. 2, with the fine unmasking of the simulator by natural scientific means) are laid in St. Albanes and the place St. Albans is mentioned in quite a number of other pieces and scenes. Moreover, there is a great similarity in respect of one point between the characters in the Histories and that of Bacon. We know that when Bacon fell from the height of his fame he silently bowed to the king's will; no word of defence, no word of grumbling passed his lips. So, too, in the Shakespeare Histories is many a high statesman taken to append it. In Act 2, Scene l, Line 26, of the i^t Part of lUnry IV., the second carrier is made to say : / have a Gammon of Bacon and two Racks {roots or measures) of GiNGiiR to be de- livered as far as ciiARiNC, Cross. Bacon was born at Yorke House, Charing Cross. The whole scene is „well spiced" (racy and ginger-like) and the carrier is made to take ,, Bacon's gammon" (his mystification) to its author's birth-place. Tiiii Translator. — 237 — cast down from liis height and one might well imagine that the poet who had so many colours on his palette would have treated each individual case in a different manner. But no I Whoever falls, be it Gloster, Buckingham, Aburgany or Wolsey, he falls Hke Bacon, i^roudly and silently, almost without a single word of defence, anger or complaint. Catherine of Arragon, too, falls without a word of grumbling against King Henry, her husband, and the dethroned Richard II. also suppresses every outburst of anger. In the 2nd Henry VI., Act II, sc. 3, the king and queen demand the regent's staff of office from their uncle, the Duke of Gloster: Gloster. My Stajfe? Here, Noble Hemy, is my Staff e : As zvillingly do I the same resigne, As ere they Father Henij made it mine. In Henry VIII, A. I, sc. i, the Duke of Buckingham is suddenly arrested by command of the king: Buckingham, It will helpe me nothing To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whifst part., black. The zvill of Heavn Be done in this and all things: I obey. And immediately thereupon when Aburgany is arrested: Abnrgany. As the Dnke said. The zvill of Heaven be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obeyd. Cardinal Wolsey falls in the same Historical Drama. His last words (A. Ill, sc. 2) are: Car di nail. Cromzvel, Cromwel, Had I but servd my God, zvith halfe the Zeale I servd my King: he zjuoiild not in mine Age Have left me naked to mine Enemies. Cromzvel. Good Sir, have patience. Cardinall. So I have. Farezvell The Hopes of Court, my Hopes in Heaven do dzvell. In Act IV, sc. 2 of the same drama the scene of the dying, fallen Queen Catherine counts among the noblest and most lovable that ever human heart reduced to verse. Let it be re-read. The fall of King Richard II. may be noted in conclusion. Boling- broke, with the sanction of parliament, dethroned his cousin Richard and caused him to be arrested — at the end of Act IV: Btdlingbrooke. Goc some of you, convey him to the Tozvcr. Richard. Oh good: convey : Conveyers are you all, That rise thus nimbly by a true Kings fall. — 238 — But, as the conduct of all these figures in the dramas is individually like that of Bacon at his fall, so does the last-mentioned scene present us with a remarkable similarity. When Bacon returned from the eventful session of parliament in 1 62 1 and put his foot down in the entrance-hall of his dwelling the whole of the assembled servants rose. He, however, felt that the fate of the dethroned Richard was upon him and the first words that passed his lips were : sit doivn, my friciuis, your rise has been my fall. Richard II. That rise thus nimbly by a true King's fall. Bacon. Sit down, my friends, your rise has been my fall. K_J Vw' \^ v^ \.^ Both are in faultless blank-verse ; both are governed by the leading thought, rise and fall. Let us take one more comedy-scene in which an event out of Bacon's own life is reproduced so clearly by facts and names that truth and fiction almost merge into one. This is the similarity between Bacon's monetary difficulties and the story of the bond in The Merchant of Venice. Numerous letters out of the ninth decade of the 16A century tell us of the repeated money-troubles of Francis Bacon. It was his brother Anthony who had helped him with a considerable sum. But in 1598 the difficulties were greater than ever. We gather from two letters (Vol. IX, 106 to 108) as follows: Bacon had borrowed money in Lombard Street by one Sympson, a goldsmith, a man noted much, as I have heard, for extremities and stoutness upon his purse. He had borrowed from this Lombard, as Bacon jocularly called him because he lived in Lombard Street, £ 300 (having vie in bond for £ joo principal). Bacon was suddenly stopped by this Sympson on the way home from a trial in the Tower and was about to be cast into prison. These two letters, which have come down to us, were addressed, the one to his cousin Cecil and the other to Egerton, the Keeper of the Great Seal, from a neighbouring House and they saved him from this extremity. The situation agrees almo.st point for point with that contained in The Merchant of Venice. The Merchant of Venice is named Anthonio. — Bacon's brother's name is Anthony and, as we know, he had been in Venice. Anthonio, the merchant, lends money to his friend and kinsman, Bassanio. ~ Anthony Bacon lends money to his friend and brother, Francis Bacon. But the Merchant had, in turn, borrowed the money from the Jew Shylocke. We, thus, find the following i)arallels: — 239 — The Merchant of Venice borrowed on a bond. — Francis Bacon did the same. The hard-hearted creditor of the Merchant is named Shylocke. — The hard-hearted creditor of Bacon bore the name of Sympson. (The initial letter and two vowels of these proper names are alike, viz., S — y-o.) Shylocke is an usurer and deals in diamonds and jewels. Sympson is an usurer and goldsmith. Shylocke lives in Venice. — Sympson lives in the Street of the Lombards and is especially dubbed Lombard by Bacon. The amount of the loan in the Comedy is 3000 ducats. — The actual loan is £ 300. And — to cap the whole — : Shylocke arrests his debtor in the open street and causes him to be thrown into prison (Act III). — Sympson arrests his debtor in the open street in order to have him cast into prison. The first print of the comedy of The Merchant of Venice followed two years after the just narrated adventure of Bacon. This so advan- tageous pseudonym, William Shakespeare, which stood on the title-page was useful not only from the political but also from the legal and personal stand-point. 10. THE EXTERNAL FEATURES OF THE SHAKESPEARE-FOLIO-EDITION OF 1623. The player Shakspere had died in 16 16 at Stratford -on -Avon. The first complete edition of the Dramas of William Shakespeare, the so oft-named Folio-Edition, appeared in 1623. This work is now numbered among the greatest rarities. One copy of the Folio-Edition of the Dramas was sold some decades back for £714; Quaritch, a London bookseller, is now offering a copy for sale at the price of 30,000 francs. An original copy is not in the possession of the author of this work, but there lies at his disposal a facsimile copy thereof which, by a photo-lithographic process, reproduces the whole of the valuable work page for page, letter for letter and comma for comma. Now, when this book, the most glorious of all the works written in the English tongue, appeared, Francis Bacon had been engaged for two years in pubUshing all his works in improved and enlarged editions and, just as the Encyclopedy, De Augmentis Scientiarum, which appeared in the self-same year (1623), is an enlargement of and improvement upon the earlier and only half-as-large Advancement of Learning just so is the Shakespeare-Foho-Edition an enlargement of and improvement — 240 — upon the whole of all the former separate editions— to the extent of nearly the double! All that had been printed previously appeared in better form and with better contents. The dialogue is altered here and there ; here and there a new scene is interpolated ; Henry V. is en- larged to the extent of more than 1500 Hnes of verse. A number of pieces of which we should otherwise have known nothing but the titles appeared in print for the first time. These are: The Tempest, Two Gentlemen of Verona, Measure for Measiu-e, As you like it, AWs zvell, that ends zvell. What you zvill. The Winter's Tale, Henry VIII., Timon of Athens, Macbeth, and Anthony and Cleopatra. And four plays in the Folio-Edition had neither been printed before nor mentioned anywhere. These are : The First Part of Henry VI., Coriolanus, Jidiiis Caesar, and Cynibcline, the closing-piece of the volume. The Complete Edition of 1623 therefore gave us 15 new dramas in addition to the 21 which were already known from previous quarto-editions. Moreover, of the 21 already known dramas at least the half of them had been more or less thoroughly improved and revised. Othello had appeared in the preceding year (1622) in quarto-form and for the first time. Now just as Bacon's Historie of Henry VII, which appeared in 1622, filled up the gap in the Shakespeare-Histories between Richard HI. and Henry VIII so also did The First Part of Henry VI, which appeared in 1623, fill up the wide space of time between the dramas of Henry V. and The Second Part of Henry VI. (which had borne the name of fikst part until then). The player Shakspere had been dead between six and seven years when all this happened. Had he really been the poet-author of the dramas they must have arisen, at the latest, between 1600 and 161 3 or 16 1 6 and therefore have been 10 to 20 years old at the date of their first publication. How could a player and theatrical manager have ever brought his heart to concur in the locking-away in a desk of such master-works of the very first rank, instead of reaping fame and money therefrom } And yet it looks as if it was desired to make the Folio-volume persuade us that the player of Stratford-on-Avon was the author of the 36 dramas. It is true that the signatures of the player all take the one form, Shakspere, whereas the Folio-Edition prints the poet-name as Shakespeare and once even as Shakespeare. But the two players who signed the dedication of and the preface to the book called Shakespeare their colleague ; in the Catalogue of the plays the name Shakespeare stands at the head thereof and — on the title-page is seen a mighty copper-plate bust-picture of the player. This last mentioned is the only reliable portrait of the player which has come down to us. Let us examine the first few pages of the Folio-Edition ! — 241 -~ Two players, Heminge and Condell, former colleagues of Siiakspere, signed the dedication and the preface. We know what the value of such dedications was at that period. Young Dr. Hayward signed the preface to tJic story of the first yccxr of Kim^ Henry the fourth and yet Bacon was the author thereof. It does not follow, because the names of both i)layers stand under dedication and preface , that they were the authors of these two writings. By a wonderful irony of fate — or was it not, rather, a joke on the part of him from whom the matter emanated .-^ — these two actors, upon whom the difficult duty devolved of supervising the correction of the 910 pages of this thick volume with their hundreds of thousands of words, these two actors, be it noted, did not even take the trouble to hand down their names in correct and certain form to posterity. One of them allows his name to be printed first twice as Heminge and shortly afterwards as Hcviuiings. The other, Condell, wrote his christian name, in two signatures which stand close to each other, on the left side as Henry and on the right as Henrie. The work is dedicated to the Earls of Pembroke and Montgomery. Both were participants with Bacon in the Colonisation- Adventure, the ship of which association was wrecked on the Bermudas, a circumstance which is treated of in the first comedy. Pembroke, the nephew of Sir Philipp Sidney, was Lord Chamberlain and the highest leader of the Court- festivals and -plays. Montgomery, Pembroke's brother-in- law, was described by Bacon as tJie most Jionorable man at court. The dedication itself is quite in Bacon's way of thinking and in his style. The principal thought contained in the first sentence is to be found in the Essays ; in the second one the imperishable dramas are called trifles — ^just as if Bacon were speaking of masks and stage-plays (trifles., toys); in the third sentence stands the ambiguous expression, their author liihng (which may be taken to mean when tiieii; authok STILL LIVED, or, THEIR sTii,L - LI vi\(f Ai'TiioK, — was hc Still alive or already dead in 1623? — j and it runs on in this strain. It is the tone in ^which one lord writes to another, but not the style in which a ])layer ever addressed a Lord Chamberlain. The dedication is followed by the preface. To the great Variety of Readers, which is also signed with the actors' names. The first sen- tence contains a thought which is found again in the dedication of the Essays. Next comes, quite in legal style, the statement that these pieces have already stood their triall. We are aware that they had stood their triall both before the tribunal of the theatre-going-public and before the Essex -judges. And in the preface there soon follows another ambiguous statement with regard to the author to whom one might have wished that it had been given to him to publish his own 16 — 242 — works. But since it had been ordain d otJiertvise , and he by death de- parted from that right. We are involuntarily let to ask : Who ordained otherwise; God or Elizabeth? By death? By whose death? Through the author's death, or that of Essex ? Moreover, these apparently prose- words are in reality a couple of flowing lines of blank-verse, and exactly as they are to be found in the Shakespeare -Histories and in Bacon's History of Henry VII. : But since it hath been ordain d otherzvise, And he by death departed from that right . . . The attempt is next made to (jammox the great variety of readers (presumedly those to whose description Thomas Carlyle prefixed the word Mostly) by assuring them that the author had worked with astonishing ease and had scarse made a blot in his papers] Let one but think back upon the many and repeated revisions and rearrange- ments of all the Shakespeare-Dramas and then try to imagine to one's self an author shaking Hamlet out of his sleeve without any corrections ! The witty author of this preface did well, forsooth, in addressing his readers in the first sentence with : From the most able, to him that can but spell! The abecedarian may think in this fashion of a Hamlet-poet, but the man who really thinks and himself writes verse knows better. The evidence of Ben Jonson contained on the next page but one actually proves the contrary. He who would write a living line, he says, must siveat and he calls the Shakespeare-verses true-fled. But let us return to the preface of our Heminge and Condell ! They assert therein that we have scarse received from him a blot in his papers. But not a single word is said about the original manuscripts from which the book was, as they suggest, printed. Were they prompter's books ? Were they rolls of manuscripts? Did they all lie in one place? Did the author himself give directions with regard to them ? Did they come from Stratford - on - Avon ? When and how did the new plays reach them? Not one single word is said about all this. The players state that all which preceded this was pirated. Now, as a matter of fact, all these Quarto-editions which are alleged to have been so irregularly issued were very regularly entered, and that often a long while before they appeared in the registers of the Booksellers Guild, a proof that the publisher knew very well how to emphasise the legal position of his editions. But we read at the end of this address to the readers, which is written in such a droll and contradictory manner: Reade him, there- fore; and againe, and againe: And if then you do not like him, surely you are in some manifest danger, not to understand him. And so we leave you to other of his Friends, zvhom if you need, can bee your guides: if you neede them not, yon. can leade your selves and others. And such — :!43 — Readiis we wish /lini. What docs this mean other than : thi-: uKAiuxf; n|- THESK DRAMAS IS NO EASY MATTi:!!, DUT MAXY WILL KNOW WHAT IS MKANT TIIEREBV AM) OTHERS WILL l-l.M) IT OUT BY THEIR OWX IXTKLLIi iKXri:. We are strengthened in the conclusion that such is what is meant by the close of the Bacon-Encyclopedy which appeared simultaneously therewith. In the 1623 issue we find in one of the last sentences of this same work: ut si in prima lectione eniergat scrupidiis , aiit objectio, at 211 lectione iterata responsum se ultra sit exJiibitiiriun. And in the issue of 1605: Advancement of Learning, this same sentence runs: that if the first reading move an objection , the second reading will make an answer. — This therefore is just the same in sense as the Shakespeare Reade him therefore; and againc and againel And in the same Enc}- clopedy Bacon tells us that much may be said which it would, other- wise , not be easy to express by interwoven sub-sentences , final , and prefatory words , which are like unto the entrance-halls , galeries and back-stairs of the temple of speech. Next follows verse undersigned by Ben Jonson. When he places the activity of Shakespeare above that which insolent Greece and haughty Rome have given us Ben Jonson is repeating closely that which he has al- ready said of Bacon in another place — to which we will revert presently. And Bacon himself, at the end of the eighth book of his Encyclopedy, asserts that this third period of science (literaruin comprises the idea of literature) will far surpass the two former ones of the Greeks and Romans. At that passage where the verse refers to the death of the poet the words glitter and buzz so that we cannot seriousl}' believe in his death. Does this verse really emanate from Ben Jonson.^ It is not contained in the seven- volumed complete edition of his works which appeared at the beginning of the last century. Would not Ben Jonson, or his editor, have taken particular care to incorporate this homage to the genius of Shakespeare in a complete collection of his works if this verse had really flowed from his pen } The case may be similar to that of the preface to the natural history, Sylva Sylvarum. Bacon wrote, or at least inspired the whole of it himself, and Rawley signed it — Rawley it is who tells us so. If Bacon asked his tried friend and helper , Ben Jonson , to write verse in such and such a sense or to put his name under a poem which Bacon himself had written, Ben Jonson would have refused just as little as Chaplain Rawley did. The three following dedicatory verses also introduce plays upon words anent the death of the poet or player. In the third of these it is said that he is not dead but that he has only gone to G ran es -Tyring- roome and that he will return, as placers do, to receive his apj)lause. Now in those days Francis Bacon was again living in his old chambers in Gray's Inn, or as it was then written Graues Inne (the inn or tavern 16® — 244 — of the grave). The conformation of these Graues-Tyi'ing-roovie (dressing- room), Graues Inne and their meaning has great affinity. Bacon was Hving in Gray's Inn, deprived of his robes of office and sent out book after book to deUght the world. But it may be argued that the whole of these prosaic and poetical prefaces and dedications are preceded by the pictured confirmation, that the poet was the man of Stratford-on-Avon ! We refer to the large bust-portrait of the player Shakspere. Well, it is that of the player! But is it likewise that of the poet.^ The author of this present work has repeatedly made the following experiment. Without in any way alluding to the subject beforehand, because the person to pronounce judgment thereon must be perfectly free from prejudice, he has shown the head of the player, taking care to hide all printed matter. Not one single person could say whom it was intended to represent. — Then he took the reproduction of Van Somer's portrait of Bacon , also so covered up that no letter-press but only the head and breast remained visible (see also the title-page of this work) and the word SnAKESPE.AJiE escaped forthwith from the lips of the unbiassed inspector. The experiment is truly not a vain, a futile one. No modern edition of the dramas , no wall-painting of the poet, no Shakespeare- monument ventures to reproduce the features of the portrait contained in the Folio-Edition. The naive world will not believe in this picture. But all other portraits more or less resemble the real, the actual Poet Shakespeake = Francis Bacox. The reason for this may possibly be that at some time or another a friend who was in the secret put a Bacon- portrait or, at least, a portrait that resembled Bacon into circulation with the name William Shakespeare appended thereto. One believes in the one face at the first glance and says : that is he, that is the poet! But the more we look at the other the more we shake our heads. The publisher of the Folio-Edition seems to have experienced the same feeling. On the left page opposite to the large picture of the player (6^4 ins. wide x 7'/., ins. high) stands a ten-Hned verse printed in gigantic type. It is headed: to the reader and closes with Reader, looke Not on his Picture, l^ut his Booke. The verse is initialed B. I. but is not to be found in the comi)lete edition of Ben Jonson's works, of which mention has already been made. — 245 - The thoughts contained in the verse are reflected again in laius and Adonis and in the writing round Bacon's Paris-portrait as a youth. hi fact , the large face of the Shakspere of Stratford-on-Avon is evidently a mask which the William Shakespeare of London , Francis Bacon, put on the face of his book. At times the poems and dedi- cations raise this mask; at other times they make it seem still heavier. Let us consider this book from the printer's technical point of view ! The pages are large and closely printed; each has 2 columns of 66 lines. It would take a compositor about i day to set up 1 page = for 900 pages 900 working-days, i man would , therefore, require, exactly 3 years, after allowing for holy-days and holidays, to set up the type; 3 compositors would require i year; 12 compositors '/^ year. But, to do this, the printer would need to have a mighty stock of type at his disposal and the presses would not have to be idle, for it was a question of printing 75 large sheets of 12 pages each, every one of which would require very careful arrangement before a good, clean pull could be obtained. The book could not be bound until the last sheet was dry. Let us add to the above the difficult proof-reading and subsidiary labours and then one may conclude that, in order to bring out the book as rapidly as possible, 20 to 24 men would have to be kept hard at work for at least 3 months, or 10 to 12 men for '/., a year. And, as a matter of fact, the printing proceeded rapidly. We gather from the final page of the work that several London printing- firms were engaged thereon and the composing was also begun at several places at the same time. Each of the three sections begins with page I. The sheets of the separate parts bear the following distinguishing marks, viz. : Comedies — large Capitals A B C D . . . Histories — small letters abed... Tragedies — double small do. aa bb cc dd . . . The setting up of the type could therefore be begun on Sheet A Page 1 of the Comedies (The Tempest) a ,, I ,, ,, Histories (King John) aa ,, I ,, ,, Tragedies (Coriolamis) at the same time and without any fear of confusion arising. But this is not all. It is evident that each of the sections was also begun simultaneously in the middle, thus : of Sheet N at page 145 of the Comedies (Midsummer Sights Dreame) „ h „ ,, 69 ,, ,, Histories (Henry I'.j and ,, ,, kk „ ,, 109 „ ,, Tragedies (Julius Cesar). - 246 - They must, therefore, have calculated how much space the prece- ding pieces would occupy. The calculation was right for the Comedies. Page 145 fits on to p. 144. But it was not so with the Histories and Tragedies for the last page of the Second Part of Henry IV. eiids with p. 102 while Henry V. begins with p. 69 and the last page of Timon of Athens ends with 1 00, whereas Julius Caesar begins with 109. In the one case there was a surplus of 34 and the other a deficit of 8 pages. Both of these facts proves the correctness of the inference drawn. But it is not enough to show that the book could be begun simultaneously at five or six places so that 6 to 12 compositors and several printing-works could be engaged thereon at the same time — the descriptive marks to the pages and sheets betray still more. Until a book is finished the Index and page-numbers cannot be compiled. The title-pages, prefaces and dedications are brought on to one sheet with this index and printed simultaneously. Well , the Folio-Edition was finished, the Index with the exact page-numbers was set up and pulled; the latter showed 35 Dramas, consisting of/./ Comedies, 10 Histories and // Tragedies. But the book contains not 35, but 36 Dramas! After everything was cut and dried the Tragedie of Troylus and Cressida was interpolated between the last pages of History (Henry VHl.) and the first pages of Tragedy (Coriolanus). To all appearances it was intended for another place , for its third and fourth pages show the numbers 79 and 80 but from this point all numbering ceases and we find, through the peculiar descriptive-marks on the sheets, a confirmation of the fact that the 30 pages of Troylus and Cressida were, in reality, only printed after the completion of the whole book and interpolated therein shortly before the binding of the same took place. The type-setting and print of the edition is good; the height of the printed surface is exactly the same as that of the Frankfort-Bacon- Edition. The form that was then customary was foolscap, such as is still used for law-papers and many of our account-books. Taking all these typographical observations together, we are led to the following conclusions, namely : 1. The editor was a man who supervised the correctness of the letter-press most minutely. 2. The editor understood how to expedite the printing of the work as much as possible. 3. The editor had the power to interpolate a piece when the whole work was printed — an act which, in all ])robabilit>-, simi)ly horrified the worthy printers. And hereto must be appended a (luestion with regard to a matter which is of no scientific value but which, in practical life, is a primary con- dition for the existence of this, as of an> other book. — Who paid for it .!^ 247 — It may be assumed that the production of the work (composition, paper, printing and binding), even if only a few hundred copies were made, must have cost, at the least, £ 250 to £ 500, and, in all proba- bility, much more. But the field of demand for such an edition of luxury is not large and it may be believed that in 1623 it would have been difficult to have found any bookseller or association of booksellers in London who would embark their money in such an adventure. One may go farther and say that, even at the present day, it would be hard to find a bookselling firm who would venture to launch such a book, and so got-up, forth into the world. Let one consider the fact. — 36 Dramas in Folio-Form without pictorial ornamentation and external attractions! Dramas, and especially modern dramas (and these were modern at that time) are more gladl\' seen on the stage than read. And, if they are read, the hand\- quarto-edition is preferred to the in- convenient folio-volume. And when one is even asked to buy such iT AT HOME a heavy and expensive folio-book the general answer is: N( In short, we will not make any assertions, neither need we lay too much stress on this point, but one can scarcely avoid the personal con- viction that this stately Folio-Edition was paid for by none other than the author thereof himself and that such author must certainly (although, doubtless, secretly) have given away more copies than he sold. II. BACON'S LITERARY CONFIDANTS: RAWLEY, JONSON AND MATTHEWS. If anybody knew anything more precise about Bacon's concealed poetical activity it must have been Rawley, Ben Jonson and Matthews. Rawley was Bacon's Chaplain and Secretary, the editor of the Natural History and other posthumous writings and the author of the first Biography of Bacon. Ben Jonson, the dramatist, lived together with Bacon for five years. And Matthews was the friem) to whom the Essay Of Friendship w^as dedicated. All three had, presumedly, sworn to keep silence, and all three, like Bacon himself, have faithfully kept silence, but all three have, also like Bacon, occasionally Ufted the veil a little. Rawle>-'s Mta Fraiicisci Bacon i (The Life of Francis Bacon) is printed on the first pages of the Frankfort Folio-Edition. We have alread>- quoted verbatim what is said therein as to the conversational powers of Bacon, namely, that he was in the habit of so reproducing the speech of others that they appeared to be clad in new garbs. And exactly so do we find it to be the case with the dramas. Rawley goes on to say that Bacon was like the Roman poet Ovid, who sang of himself: - 248 - Et quod foitahain scriberc, vcrsits rraf. (Whatever I tried to 7vrite always came out iu verse.) But this passage in Ovid would better have suited for this com- parison if it had been quoted correctly and not falsely, for the verse, which is known by heart to the majority of our Latin-scholars of the present day, (it is contained in the Autobiography of Ovid, Tristium lib. IV., lo,) runs: Et quad tentabam die ere, versus erat. (Whatever I tried to say, always came out in verse.) Rawley speaks of Bacon's powers of speech ; Ovid uses the word dicere (to say, to tell). The comparison would, therefore, have been most perfect. But no ! the quotation made in connexion with Bacon's name is: Whatsoever I tried to write always became verse. And shortly before this passage Rawley had personified speech, spoken of its newer, better vestments and ornaments (vestih?is, ornatu) ! And with all this the only quotation from a poet's writings in the whole of this biography (about six pages long) is this single line from Ovid ! Is this scribe re really an unintentional error!.?" But the two others were as faithful to the master in his fall as Rawley himself As soon as the Lord Chancellor fell one of the first things which he did was to call his friend Matthews to him by letter and to warmly revive his old relations with Ben Jonson. Now, we know three different facts from and of Ben Jonson, namely: (i) that he associated personally with Bacon, (2) that he signed the first dedi- catory poem of the Shakespeare-Folio-Edition and (3) that he must have personally known the player Shakspere, because the latter had acted in Ben Jonson's plays. The threefold distinction here is clearly made with intent, viz. : the personaUty of Bacon, that of the poet and that of the player. There is no doubt that a Francis Bacon did exist and that he lies buried in St. Michaels Church near St. Albans. There is no doubt that a player named William Shakspere or Shakespeare did exist and lies buried in the parish-church of Stratford-on-Avon. And there is, thirdh', no doubt, that a man did live who wrote the Dramas of the FoUo-Edition. Either the player or the Lord Chancellor must have been this man. Which of them was the one } That is the question at issue ! The portrait of the Folio-Edition and the complete or nearly complete similaritx' of sound in the names point to the player as being the poet, but all internal reasons and hundreds of hints point to the Lord Chancellor. Well, Ben Jonson knew the dramas, the paternity of which is now being discussed; Ben Jonson knew the Lord Chancellor; Ben Jonson — 249 — knew the player and Ben Jonson has had something to say in writing about all three. He praises the poems in the verse signed with his name. He speaks of the player and of the Lord Chancellor in his Discoveries upon Men and Matter, a book which was first printed after his death and is contained in the last volume of his Complete Works (1716). Let us, then, note the following! Ben Jonson says of the dramatic poet that he has surpassed all which insolent Greece or JuuigJitie Rome had created. Ben Jonson says of the player : Would lie Jiad blotted a thousand, (sc. lines.) And of the Lord Chancellor Ben Jonson says that he has completed in the English tongue that which may be preferred to what had been produced by insolent Greece or Jiauglity Rome. He uses the identical form of highest praise for the dramatic poet and for Francis Bacon, employing for the same four weighty, characteristic and like-sounding words, whereas, with regard to the player, he expresses the wish that he had l)lotted a tJwiisand. It will be well to become acquainted with the respective passages, uncurtailed, in the Discoveries. Let us turn to pages 244 to 256 of the Edition of 17 16 and hear what Ben Jonson has to say: 1. About lawyers and theologians who arc at the same time poets. 2. About the countryman Shakespeare. 3. About the speaker Bacon. 4. About the English author Bacon. 5. About the scientist Bacon. 6. About the man Bacon. Ben Jonson's Discoveries, pp. 244, 245 : Poetry in tJiis latter Age, hat/i prov'd but a mean Mist r is, to sncii as have ivholly addicted themselves to her ; or give?/ their Xames uf> to her Family. They ivho have but saluted her on the l)y ; and noiv and tlien roidefd their Visits, she had done much /or, and ad- vanced in the ivay of their oivn Professions (both the Larv, and the Gospel) beyond, all they could have hoped, or done for themselves, ivitJwut her Favour. — It is not asserted that these two sentences were written with direct reference to Ben Jonson and Francis Bacon. But they fit both, down to the finest stroke of the pen. Ben Jonson had dedicated both — 250 — himself and his name entire!}' to poetry; he had signed his verse with his own name and remained a poor devil until the end of the chapter. Francis Bacon remained a lawyer; he did not devote himself exclu- sively to poetry, neither did he give thereto his family name. He wrote as a concealed poet for Essex and hoped for advancement in his career as a statesman; he w'rote sonnets to Queen Elizabeth as a concealed poet and compiled all documents and proclamations in which power and beauty of diction are specially important and it is as a concealed poet that he desires to be recommended to King James I. His principal avocation is that first named by Ben Jonson, namely the law. His brilliant additional qualities— speaking thereof in a business-like manner— helped him to advance from a barrister's position to that of Lord Chancellor of England. — On the self-same page Ben Jonson speaks oi Shakespeare. In the margin stands a note: About our Countryman Shakespeare: I remember , the Players have often mentioned it as an Honour to Shakespeare, that in his Writi^ig (whatsoever he penn'dj, he never blotted out a Line. My answer hath been, Would he had blotted a thousand. Which they thought a malevolent Speech. I had not told Posterity this, but for their ignorance, who chose that Circumstance to comjnend their Friend by, -wherein he most faulted. And to justifie mine own Candor (for I lov'd the Man, and do honour his Memory (on this side Idolatry) as much as any). He was (ifideedj honest, and of an open and free Nature; had an excellent Phantasie ; brave Notions, and gentle Expressions ; -wherein he flo-w'd with that Facility, that sometime it was necessary he should be sfop'd: S uffla n/ ina n d u s erat: as Atigustus said of Hater ins. His Wit was in his oimi Pozver; xvould the Rule of it had been so too. Many times he fell into those things, could not escape Laughter: As when he said in the Person of Caesar, one speaking to him; Caesar thou dost me wrong. He reply'd; Caesar did never wrong but with just Cause, and such like; -which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his Vices -with his l^ertues. Tliere -was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned. The whole paragraph is veiled. One hundred commentators would give one hundred different explanations thereof. Of our countryman Shakespeare. Why countryman .? Why not Poet.? Player.? Author.? The next handwriting is mentioned; the wish is expressed that he had blotted out much and this wish is defended in veiled words. Love and honour of his memory are spoken of, but a damper is at once placed on this esteem. His Nature, his rhanfasie. his Fv/^ressions are praised and then, again, he is found fault with on acccnmt of his — 251 — ridiculous manner of speech and venturesome jokes. Praise and blame are weighed and the scale of praise sinks. At the beginning we find such clear, transparent words with reference to authors by profession and to such as pursue authorship as a subsidiary avocation ; wc find remarks anent authors who disclose their family-name and touching those who are concealed poets — and then this veiled jumble ! Three points must strike us : 1. The countryman Shakespeare is not once alluded to in this paragraph as an author or poet ; nowhere is one of his poems referred to. Only his mechanical skill in writing, his blotting and non-blotting, is mentioned. 2. The words: rvr scarce received from him a blot, which is the first that Ben Jonson writes about the countryman Shakespeare stands m direct contradiction to that which Ben Jonson says anent the poet Shakespeare, namely, that he did S7veat and that his were triic-filed lines. (See the dedicatory poem in the Folio-Edition.) 3. That which Ben Jonson says anent the countryman Shakespeare, as orator, stands in very sharp contradiction to what Ben Jonson (as we shall soon hear) states with regard to Francis Bacon. Ben Jonson's Discoveries, pp. 253, 254: — — — — — — — (on orators in general) — — — — — — — De Claris Oratoribus. Yet there happen' d in my time one noble Speaker, ivho ivas veruiamin full of gravity in his speaking. His Language (where he could spare, or pass by a fcst) was nobly c e n so r io7t s. No Man ever spake more neatly , more prcstly , more weightily , or suffer' d less emptiness, less idleness, in 7vhat lie utter' d. No Alember of his Speech, but consisted of his own Graces. His Hearers could not cough, or look aside from him 7vithout loss. He connimnded where lie spoke; and had his Judges angry and pleased at his Devotion. No Man had their Affectio7is more in his pozver. The fear of every Man that heard him , was, lest he should make an end. Bacon had reached the zenith of his oratorical art and power as Baron Verulam. Ben Jonson therefore adopts this name for his mar- ginal note. But does the close of this warm praise of Bacon , as orator, not stand in such striking contrast to that which is said con- cerning the countryman- Shakespeare that one can clearly recognise the intention thereof? It was necessary to stop the countryman Shake- speare when he spoke , whereas when Bacon spoke the fear of every man was lest he should make an end. Bacon understood how to interweave a charming joke into the noblest speech. The countvrman Shakespeare made such risky jokes that one would have liked to gag him. — 252 — Immediately following on the words quoted above comes a para- graph bearing as marginal note the words Scriptorum Catalogus (Cntnloguc of Aiif/wrs). After mentioning Cicero, the English authors of the i6tli and i/^h centuries are enumerated in short sentences. These are : Sir Thomas Moore, Sir Thomas Wiat, Henry Earl of Surrey, Sir Thomas Chaloner, Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Thomas Cliot , Bishop Gardiner, Sir Nicolas Bacon, L. K. (Lord Keeper), Sir Philipp Sidney, Mr. Richard Hooker, Robert Earl of Essex, Sir Walter Rawleigh , Sir Henry Savile, Sir Edwin Sands, Sir Thomas Egerton, L. C. (the prede- cessor of Bacon as Lord Chancellor). Then it goes on: But his learned and able (though unfortunate) Successor, is he who hath fill' d up all Numbers, and perform' d that in our Tongue 7vhich may be compard, or prefer r'd, either to insolent Greece, or^ haughty R o i/i e. In short, ivithin his viezv, and about his times, ivere all the JJ7ts born, fhat could honor Language, or help Study. Now things daily fall: Wits grow downward, and Eloquence grows back- ward: So that he may be nam'd, and stand as the mark and axfiij (acme, or perfection) of our Language. That which is said herein is already contained in the already quoted words which Ben Jonson also used concerning the Poet Shake- speare namely that he excelled Greece and Rome. Jonson specially emphasises the English language (our Tongue, our Language). He is not speaking of Bacon as orator, for he has already discussed him; he does not speak of Bacon as scientist, of whom he treats immediately afterwards; he is discussing the Scrip for (author), the ex(;ush author, Bacon. Now, if Bacon had only written the Essays, the History of Henry VII., the Psalms and the Anecdotes, how could Ben Jonson, who was himself such an excellent and many-sided English poet and author and who took part in the publishing of the Folio-Edition of the im- perishable dramas, call Bacon the highest point, the best flower (for such is the meaning of uKfxij), the mark of the English language.? More- over, all the catch-words of this paragraph apply to the poetic art ; the word Numbers is not confined in meaning solely to numerals: it means also rhythm, verse-measure, writings of all kinds, and Bacon had A//V /// all jXumbers. The word //7/ is specially used in connection with poets. Eloquence is the charming persuasiveness of poetry, the elegance of diction; oratory, as such and for itself, had already been mentioned above. — In short, Ben Jonson, at this passage, praises Bacon as a poet and author of the English language and places him as such unconditionally above all others. There is an ai)parent contradiction in writing the words De . lugmeut/s Scientiarum in the margin. The title and contents of this work are exclusively Latin. But this contradiction is only apparent, as has Horat. de Art. Poetic.i - 253 - already been said. It disappears when we recall to mind that the A dv a )i c f )}i (- II f of Learning , the Augmentation of the Sciences^ that all those dkfkcts to which reference is made in Bacon's Encyclofjedy, that all these are found again in poetic form in the Dramas of the Folio-Edition, so that the Shakespeare-Folio-Edition is, in reality, en- titled to be described as the sciences of the future which Bacon imagined and dreamt of and which, clothed in manifold forms of verse, constitute the acme, the perfection of the English tongue. Ben Jonson mentions the Novum Organuiii of Lord St. Alban's on the same page and calls it a book : Qui longuiii iioto scriptori porriget cevuin. f Which ivill Jinrkc the name of its author celebrated for alt time.) As marginal note stands Horat. de Art. Poetica. Ben Jonson cannot leave the description of Bacon's literary activit)' without the words of a genuine poet. Immediately following thereon there appear several sentences con- cerning the character of the man he is praising : My conceit of his person 7vas never increased toivard him t'v his ^e comip- . J \ tela moriiiti Place, or Honours: But I have, and do reverence him, for the dreat- ness, that was only proper to hiniself, in that he seem'd to vie ever, by his Worl^' , one of the greatest Men, and most worthy of Admi- ration, that had been in many Ages. Ln his adversity L ever prayed, that God would give him Strength; for Greatness he could not want. Neither could / condole in a Word or Syllable for him ; as knowing no Accident could do harm to l^ertue, but rather help to malce it manifest. This sounds very different to that which Ben Jonson says anent the countryman Shakespeare. — In the margin stands the mournful remark, De corruptela morum (On the corruption of manners). This is a reproach to the age which trod its Francis Bacon under foot. Excessive Puritanism soon began to gain the mastery in England ; revolution broke out; the head of King Charles I. fell; the theatres were closed for years by order of the state. Bacon's friends, therefore, kept silence because they must have feared to injure his memory still more if they should proclaim from the house-top that he had written stage-plays. The appearance of the great Shakespeare-Edition marks the last flaming-up of merry old England. In a very short time the great Briton was no longer understood b>- his compatriots. My name to the next ages, and to foreign nations, so he says prophetically in his last will, which he wrote in the days of his fall. — The summary of all Ben Jonson's observations anent that which is, for us, the main question gives the following results: — 254 — Concealed poets, lawyers, for instance, succeed better than open (professed) ones. The player Shakespeare never blotted out a line although so much deserved to be blotted out (possibly because he could not write ?). — The POET Shakespeare filed away at his verse with great diUgence just as did Francis Bacon, who improved all scientific works. The player Shakespeare was beloved and esteemed by Ben Jonson, but with certain restrictions, while Francis Bacon was the most wonderful man of many ages. The PLAYER Shakespeare made many jokes of a vulgar nature. — Francis Bacon understood how to work charming jokes into the most serious speeches. One would often have wished to gag the player Shakespeare when he was speaking. — Of Francis Bacon it was wished that he would never end. The PLAYER Shakespeare had rather more virtues than vices. Francis Bacon had so many virtues that no fate could affect him. The POET Shakespeare excelled Greece and Rome. — Francis Bacon excelled Greece and Rome. The player Shakespeare was also compared to a Roman, but to one to whom one must often forbid speech. The PLAYER Shakespeare had an open nature, excellent phantasy and agreeable expressions. Whether and what he wrote, of that there is not one word said. — Francis Bacon was declared to be the mark and acme of the English tongue. As evidence thereof his Latin (!) work De Augmentis Scientiaruni is named. In mentioning the player Shakespeare no quotation is made. — In writing of the scientist Bacon a quotation is made from Horace's work On the Poetic- Art. As touching the player, or countryman Shakespeare there is no word about immortality. — The poet Shakespeare and Francis Bacon will live for all lnin\ Thus much from Ben Jonson. — — — All that which is said about the poet Shakespeare corresponds, and for the greater part word for word, exactly with what is said concerning Francis Bacon, whereas all that which is said about the countryman and player Shakespeare deviates therefrom and is, for the most part, quite to the contrary. It might still be objected that the difference between the two Shakespeare-opinions arose from the fact that Ben Jonson employed verse in the dedication whereas he used prose in his Discoveries and that he was more than ten years younger when he wrote the former. But, and how remarkable is the fact— when he wrote in prose and was more than ten years older his pen glowed and sparkled in writing about Francis Bacon as if it were writing verse and his whole heart — 255 - were in the work, but, when he wrote about the countryman Shake- speare the result proved veiled and halting and the words sound as if they never came from his full heart. And now one post-scrij)! to a letter of Toby Matthews. Matthews wrote from the other side of the Channel, from France, and the letter in question dates from the year 1623 which was so eventful in respect of literature. The word tiHt was, as we have already heard with Ben Jonson, used principally to denote poet's qualities of mind — : P. S. The most prodigious wit that ever I knc7v of my nation, and of this side (f the sea, is of your Lordship's name, though he be known, by another."^) Let this though he be kuowii by another, which says so much, ay, in truth, says everything, be followed by the closing words of Bacon's Essay Of Simulation and Dissinmlation : The best composition and temperature is, to have Op enne ss in fame and opinion. Secrecy in habit, Diss im 2tla t ion in seasonable use, and a power of feign facultatem Sim ula t ionis — says the Latin Edition), if there be no remedy. That Bacon left no trace of memories or autobiography is charac- teristic of the fact that he knew how to keep silence and shows, more- over, with what intense modesty he was endowed. *) Not in Spedding's Edition yet it is in that of Montagu (Vol. XII, p. 468) and in older works. IX. POETISED SCIENCE. I. A SHORT REVIEW OF ALL HITHERTO DISCOVERED. |ET us proceed to a general survey and thereupon to a sum- ming-up of the facts. — Bacon and Shakespeare — neither mentions the other's name. Bacon numbers Poesy among the sciciicfs. He holds the highest form of poesy to be the parabolic (the poesy of symbols) when presenting natural history, civil history and philosophy in dramatic form to the eye. The whole comedy of The Tempest is a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's riatural-philosophy and corresponds with the ideas con- tained in The Great In sta it ration of Se/enees. (The History of the Winds, Intermediate Forms, Circulation of Matter, Sound, Senses, Bermudas.) Hamlet is a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's anthropology and agrees with the ideas expounded in The Great Instaiiration of Sciences. (The History of Life and Death , the Spirit of all Things, the Animal Soul, the Human Soul, Circulation of Matter, the Science of the Human Body and Soul in the Encyclopedy, the four sections of the Science of the Human Body, all the defects in Medicine expressed in poetical form; the personification of names, more particularly in Hamlet, Horatio, Marcellus, Bernardo, Francisco ; the art of playing.) Kij/g Lear is a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's doctrine 0/ Businesse as treated of especially in the eighth book of De Auginentis Scientiantiii. (The 34 Proverbs of Solomon — Parables — and Bacon's explanation thereof show, in tangible form, the most salient actions in the tragedy and in the most effective manner by means of living aims.) "- 257 — The comedy of Loves Labour's lost is a dramatic parable in the sense of Bacon's doctrine of Light and LMmuioiis Matter. (More than 500 words relating to light and lighting, to the generation of light, strength, colour, reflection, overcoming, duration, ways, transparency, affinities and opposites ; Berowne.) The three divisions of the Shakespeare-dramas, namely: Comedies, Histories and Tragedies, agree in their contents with the three parables told by Bacon, wherein he speaks of dramatic-parabolic poetr>-, viz. : Pan (natural-science), Perseus (civil history) and Dionysus (passion, philosophy). One half of the scenes of the comedies are laid in the open air, the personal names appearing therein are, for the most part, borrowed direct from natural history. Bacon's expositions of Protnis, or mutable matter, are found again in the like-named Proteus of the Two Gen tie me }i of J^erona and in L^alstaff (falling stuff or matter). The three experiments with matter (stuffj referred to in The Llistory of Dense and Rare correspond with the three Falstaff-experi- ments in The Merry Wives of Windsor. Bacon's thoughts concerning sympathy and antipathy, the magnet, heavy and light, the serious and the merry, are mirrored in ^i Mid- soininer Xights Dreame and in Mueli adoe about Xothing. The thoughts relating to usury and loans on security contained in 77ie Merclunit of l^enice agree with those contained in the essay Of Usury ; ideal justice as handled by Portia is, even to the senators and writers, exactly pourtrayed in the eighth volume of De ^lugmen- tis Seientiarnin. The five last comedies treat parabolically of that which Bacon discusses under Melioration of Species (by Grafting) , Alteration of Species (by seed-crossings) and of the Sympathy and Antipath>- of Plaftts. (Bound hands in The Taming of the Shrew; legs crossed and bound in the person ofMalvolio.) The flower-names recorded in TJie ]]lnteys Tale accord with those in the essa>' Of Gardens. Astronomy, meteorology, geology and geograph>- are parabolised in the Histories (the personal names). The moral contained in the Shakespeare-tragedies stands in relation to the Baconian ethics as practice does to theory. The Chapter on Passion in Bac6n's De .iugmentis Seientiarum seems to be a weighty preface to the Shakespeare-tragedies. Note the direct allusions to the madness-scene in Maebeth and to cave (den\ gate ; note the education of princes in Cymbeline. The only gap in the Shakespeare-Histories is filled up by the first work written by Bacon after his fall, namely The Historie of 1/0)1 ry VIL. 17 — 258 — The prose in The Historic of Henry J^H. contains a great number of interspersed English blank-verses. The Historic of Henry VH. is full of theatrical allusions and in- direct references to Shakespeare's RicJiard HI. It even fables of astronomical -parabolic poesy one hundred years before the Bacon- Shakespeare era. Francis Bacon descended from literary and highly educated parents. His aim was to frame human knowledge and to advance it. Juris- prudence was a secondary matter with him. The scheme for the Great Instauration of Sciences was formed in his very young days and occupied him throughout his life. The contemporaries who really knew him accorded him the highest praise and that in all respects. Bacon wrote a large number of works which either appeared anonymously or under other names, such as letters, proclamations, memorials, and plays for the festivities at Gray's Inn and Essex-Palace. These plays contain excellent verse in sonnet-form and also such as is hidden among the prose. Bacon spoke with double meaning as to his poetical work : TJiougJi I prefess not to be a poet and calls himself a concealed poet. A large number of dramas which subsequently bore the name of Shakespeare on the title-page at first appeared without any author's name. Thereunder was Romeo and Juliet. A full, large page of Bacon's notes, which he made before Romeo and Juliet was printed, points indubitably to a number of scenes and expressions in the tragedy. A second page of the same collection of notes points in like manner to Hamlet. Reports were circulated in London to the effect that Bacon was the author of a story of the first year of Henry IV. and, presumedly, as *to the authorship of the Tragedy of Richard II. Bacon admitted himself that the matter grew f'otn me and then came before the world /;/ otlnrs' names. The breach between Essex and the Queen was constantly widening. The formerly anonymous theatrical pieces suddenly appeared in the most noticeable manner under the name of W. Shakespeare. (One of the first, if not the very first, of these was the new edition of Richard II.) The literary feature also played a part in the condemnation of the Earl of Essex. The player Shakespeare has not left one single manuscrii)t. His signatures show a very faulty skill in writing. His daughters probably could not write at all. Already at the age of from 40 to 50 years he returned to his native place, lived and died there and has left no evidence whatsoever of having taken any interest in literary work. The names of Francis Bacon and William Shakespeare, written several times close together, are found on one- of the pages of Bacon's manuscripts and these were written at a time when the name of Shake- speare first began to appear on the title-page of books. A manuscript of the tragedy of Richard II. was also found in the same bundle of manuscripts. The plan of the issue of the Bacon-Shakespeare books shows that the appearance of Shakespearean dramas was independent of the life or death of the player, whereas the matter was most intimately connected with the external life of Francis Bacon. No other author is so imbued with thoughts of the theatrical world as Bacon. Moreover, all his scientific prose-writings contain repeated comparisons and phrases from the stage-world. Noteworthy are his essays Of Building, 0/ Friendship), Of Masks and TriuinpJis and the intentional endeavours to efface his preference for the theatre. That which is mentioned in Dr ^iugnicntis Scirnfianon as missing in the science of the period and which is partly, and often ver\- fully, described as being things of the future, finds its counterpart in the dramas of William Shakespeare. Bacon repeatedly hints, but without naming them, at certain books that are neither more nor less than Shakespearean dramas (Lear). The hang-hog joke is found in Bacon's Anecdotes as in Shake- speare — in the scene which was subsequently interpolated in TJie Merry Wives of Windsor. Compare these with the pig on Bacon's Coat-of-arms. Again, there is the peculiar and frequent repetition of the words Bacon, Francis, and St. Albajis in the Shakespeare-dramas. All that refers to falling greatness is written in the Baconian sense. The similarity of circumstances connected with the arrest on account of an overdue bond in Tlic MercJiant of Jl'nice and the arrest of Bacon's brother Anthon\-. Thus: ShylocJc — S>'mpson; ^inthonio — Anthony; jooo ducats — 300 Pounds. The Shakespeare -Folio -Edition appeared seven years after the player's death, at a time when Bacon lived solely for science and literature. Most of the plays are materially revised ; some are quite new. Not one of the manuscripts thereof has come down to us. The portrait of the player, the preface and the dedications appear to us like a mask and a masked joke on the part of the learned author of the dramas. The portrait of the poet Shakespeare as it lives in our memory is absolutely and exacth- like Van Somer's portrait of Bacon and absolutely and emphatically unlike the Shakespeare-portrait of the Folio-Edition. I7« — 26o — The Folio-Edition was printed very quickly and nevertheless care- fully corrected. A new. play was interpolated subsequently. — All this points to the active and powerful interposition of the author thereof. Who paid the expenses of the issue .'' Note, again, Rawley's alteration of a widely-known verse of Ovid in favour of Bacon : Wliatcvcr I tried to ivrite always came out in vrrse. Ben Jonson lived five years with Francis Bacon and associated much with him after his fall. Ben Jonson uses the same words of praise for Bacon and Shake- speare collectively ; but what he says of Shakespeare, the player, alone, is most strikingly in opposition thereto. Francis Bacon is the standard and represents the highest pinnacle of the EngUsh language. Toby Matthews' postscript: T/ic most prodigious 7vit is of your Lords/lip's name, thougJi he be known by anotJier. — — — — — — And now to the summing-up of these facts ! 2. THE SIX PARTS {SEX PARTES) OF THE 'GREAT INSTAURATION OF SCIENCES'. Certain critics have said in their exuberance : If all sciences were lost, t/iey might be found in Virgil. These words are found in the first volume of the first edition of the Encyclopedy, The Advancement of Learning. They are far more applicable to our English poet than to the Roman one. If all sciences "were lost, they might be found again in Shakespeare. And they are found therein in the sense of Bacon's saying : Poesy is as a dream of learning. The dramas present to eye and ear the science of the future in the form of dramatic parables, — vividly and nevertheless veiled. In rough and troublous times, when the world would reject new sciences, truths are gladly presented in the form of parables and similes and the most precious things have often the most pernicious keepers (perniciosissimi custodes), so says Bacon in the sixth book of De Augmentis Scientiariim, wherein he discusses the methods of secretly conveying scientific facts. The keeper of Bacon's scientific secrets is named Shakespeare. That Bacon, while thinking of the sex i>aktes (6 Parts) of his Great Instauration of Sciences, persistently kept the idea of Mr William Shakespeare's Dramas*) before him is seen in the following remarks about dramatic poetry and about the main plan of his life's labour. *) In the enumeration of the Court-festivities the name is repeatedly found in a form whereunder the KS is represented by an X: siiaxukkd — which contains a soft D-sound — 26l — Where Bacon, in I)r ^{iig)itnitis Sciiiitianiiit, speaks of dramatic- parabolic poesy, there appear the following sentences concerning stage- plays (actio fh rat rails ) : Qiiiiirtiani V/'ris pritdn/tibiis , rt uiaguis Philosof^his , 7'clufi aiiinioniiii plrclnnii quod dam cnisrhatnr. Atgnr sa/ir vcyissiiiiUDi est, cf taiiqiiaiii Socrctuiu quoddaiii Xatiirac, ho/ninnm aiiiiiios, cinii cougrcgafi siiit , iiiagis quaiii cum soli siiif, affectihis et iiiiprcssioiiihns patcrc. (Nay, stage-playing has been regarded even by wise men and great philosophers as a kind of Plectrum*) of the soul. And it is certainly right, and at the same time one of the great secrets of nature, that the minds of men when many are assembled together are much more open to influence and impression than when they are alone. j The Plectrum , originally the plucker of the Greek zither-players, is here regarded as the tool of the poet and more particularh' of the dramatic, the theatre-poet. Let us note, furthermore, that when the word plectrum recurs in the same work it is in a passage full of deep meaning and is given in a most impressive manner. Bacon closes his reflections upon human science at the end of the eighth book in order to devote the short ninth book to a discussion on theology. But, before proceeding to theology, he says that this review of the sciences seems to him like a strumming and tuning of instruments and that others should come who can strike the strings with better fingers or pluck them with a better plectrum. (Quo ab a His postea piilsent7ir cJiordae, meliore digito, aut plectra.} After the man of strict science has performed his share others ought to come and labour further with the plectrum , the tool of the dramatic poet , with the instrument which works best in the theatre, where many souls are gathered together. These words went forth to the world in 1623 and in the Latin tongue. And in the same year appeared , possibly on the same day, the Folio-Edition of the Dramas, which preach the science of the future and the supplementing of the Encyclopedy, — dramas which are written by a poet who handled the plectrum as none other has done. And it is Bacon himself who shows us the way to dovetail the Shakespeare-dramas into, the Great lustauratioii of Sciences. — We have so often seen that what Bacon describes as missing is found in Shakespeare. But now we come to a point where that which is missing in Bacon most painfully affects us. His Great lustauration in its ending. One may thus sec that the word w.as subject to very clitTcrent orthograjihy and pronunciation. ■•■) Plectrum (n'Ki^Axqav) is the little thumb-ring used by the Cithara- (and Mandoline-) player to strike the strings. Were it not important to adhere to tlic original word, one might translate it in the sense of the bow that makes the fiddle speak. — 262 — of Sciences was to have consisted of six parts. The first part is De ^hignicnfis Scic7itiarum (System), the second is TJw Xciv Organon (logic) , the third Natural History , of which some finished treatises, many preparatory labours and tables for use in further work are forth- coming. The fourth, fifth and six parts are entirely missing. There are no beginnings, no tables, as in the N'atural History. And yet the sixth part was to have contained Bacon's particular and real philo- sophy! Can one imagine, with respect to this sixth part, that the author of T/ic Great Iiistaiiratio]i could have spoken so at haphazard and without having made the trace of a beginning.^ What a peculiar science that must be wherein the author comes to a full stop before he has reached half-way! We are not accustomed to such jugglery as the leaving-out of these fourth , fifth and sixth parts by so precise a man as Bacon must seem to be. Neither in his scientific prose-works nor in his Shakespeare-poems do we meet with anything similar. And, truly, we do not deceive ourselses with regard to the reliability of the mighty thinker. As in every individual case , so also in this leading instance, or rather let us say in this triad of leading instances, that which is missing in Bacon is found in Shakespeare. The fourth, fifth and sixth parts of The Great Instauration of Sciences are : 17ie Comedies, Histories and Tragedies of the Folio -Edition. In 1620 the second part of the Great Instauration appeared. In 1622 and 1623 the first and certain portions of the third parts were published. In the same year (1623) the fourth, fifth and sixth parts appeared. These parts, as being of equal importance, appeared, like the first and second parts , in stately folio-form. Thus it is evident that the only incomplete part is the third one, that on Natural History, which was printed in smaller form. Our contention that the connexion of the Shakespeare-dramas with the six parts is absolute and direct is thoroughly confirmed by the few words which Bacon himself devoted to these fourth , fifth and sixth parts. It is only now, at the close of our examination and after we have absorbed into the mind the great number of all sorts of poetical, scientific comparisons , that we are capable of correctly understanding the meaning of the words devoted by Bacon to these fourth, fifth and sixth parts of his Great Instauration of Sciences. Let us first of all recall to mind the passage in the second book of De Augrnentis Scientianun wherein he says, with reference to parabolic poesy : Parabolica vero est Jiistoria cum typo quae In- tellectualia deducit ad sensnm. (Parabolic poetry is history with types. It brings ideas to a perception through the senses.) Let us specially note the words parabolica and f/is/oria cum typo. - 263 " In the .vi{i!A.\(ii:.MK.\T of The Great histauratioit (Iiisfauratio)iis Magnac DisTiiuuTio), which, in the natural order of things, fills the first folio -pages of the Complete Frankfort Edition, the six parts are briefly characterised. The contents of the first three are known to us. Anent the fourth is said that it is to work with Types and Modulations of Voice (there- fore with figures and voices, in short, with speaking characters). Exactly as we found hereinbefore the word plectriim twice, so do we find here the word typus, and used twice in the same sense. When the passage runs to the effect that the fourth part is to work with types this means that it shall be parabolic. And where it says that the fourth part shall present everything to the eye, it means that it is to be dramatic. The passage runs verbatim: Plane Typos iiitelliginms et Plasmata , quae Huivers2ini Mentis processum, atque inveniendi continuatam fabricam et ordinem. in certis siibjectis , Usque variis et insignibns, tanquam sub ociilos ponant. Et enim nobis in mentem venit , in Mathematicis, astaiite niae/iind, sequi Demonstrationem facilem et perspicuam. (Btit I mean actual types and modulations of voice, by -which the entire process of the mind and the zvhole fabric and order of invention from the beginning to the end , in certain subjects , and those various and remarkable, should be set as it ivere before the eyes. For I remember that ill the mathematics it is easy to follo7V the demonstration whoi you Jiavr a machine beside you.) The fourth part, therefore, presents the scientific facts to our sight with t\-pes in exactly the same manner as the drawings and models of a mathematician, as the apparatuses and machinery of an exponent of physics present things, or, in other words, it is para- bolic-dramatic poesy, the fourth part of TJie Great Instau ration of Sciences is, in short, that which is contained in the dramas of William Shakespeare. But, if the dramas of William Shakespeare are classed under three headings, and it is three parts that are missing in Bacon, namely the fourth, fifth and sixth parts, it becomes essential to search out whether the three sections o{ Shakespeare correspond with the fourth, fifth and sixth parts of The Great Instauration of Sciences. Bacon does not, however, positively say of the fifth and sixth parts that they are to work with Types and Plasmata. But that which is said of both these parts accords pointedly with the contents of the Shakespeare - Histories and - Tragedies. Just as the three parables (on Natural Science, Politics and INIorals, as represented respectively by Pan, Perseus and Dionysus) are made by Bacon to follow on his praise of dramatic and parabolic poesy , just so do the explanations of the - 264 - fourth, fifth and sixth parts of liis work correspond witli the Comedies, Histories and Tragedies. The fifth part was intended to discuss in unfettered style all sorts of useful matters suited to the period, and simply to form the con- necting-link betw^een the fourth and sixth parts. Tliese things may serve for a time liixe uuiy-side inns. ( Tum potenint ista veliiti taber- nacnlonim in via positonim viee fungi.) The Shakespeare - ///V/c^r/Vi- are in touch with the Comedies through their natural science and Falstaff (who is of the same name and nature in both), and they are connected with the Tragedies through the passions and morals ; they consequently constitute the transition-stage. The startling comparison between 7vay-side inns (tabernacula in- via posita) leads us, moreover, direct on to the stage, where we find Prince Hal carrying on his pranks with Falstaff and the rest of the merry rabble in doubtful slums and taverns. The sixth part is described in the heading which shows the nature of this section as : Sexta; PJtilosophia secunda, sive Scientia ^ictiva. SIXTH PART : Second (new) Philosophy or Active Science. The expression Scientia Activa , active, busy science, of itself reminds us vividly of moving types, apparatuses, machines, plays, of actually living, busy men and prepares us for what we are to expect. The explanation begins with the sentences : Sexta tandem pars Operis nostri (citi reliquae inserviunt ae ministrant) ea demum recludit et proponit Pliilosophiam, quae ex hujus modi (qualem ante docuimus et paravimus) inquisitione legitima et casta, et severa, edueitur et con- stituitur. Hanc verb postremam Partem perficere et exitum perducere, res est et supra vires , et ttltra spes nostras collocata. Nos ci initia (7it speramtts) non contemnenda, exitum generis JiunuDii fortuna da hit. (The sixth part of my work [to iviiicJi the rest is subservient and ministrant] disctoses and sets forth that philosophy ivJiicli by tlie legiti- mate, chaste, and severe course of inquiry 7vhich I have explained and provided is at length developed and established. The completion hoivever of this last part is a thing both above my strength and beyond my hopes. I have made a beginning of the work -a beginning, as J hope, not unimportant: the fortune of the human race will gi'-i'c the issue.) All the other (five) parts were intended to serve the sixth. It is, therefore, by far the weightiest. All the others arc onl\- preparatory works in comparison therewith. Bacon went about with the plan of his gigantic work for fifty years. And can we believe that during - 265 - these fifty years such principal part was only a dream r Shall we assume, simply because no portion of this principal part is to be found in the Opera Omnia Bacoii, that no part of it was ever actually written? Why, Bacon himself says : I have made beginnings that are not to be despised — /// sprraiiius (as I hope) he modestly adds. Where, then, should all these beginnings be?- Bacon's explanation continues with a phrase which is found almost verbatim at the head of the Nerv Organon : Homo enim niinistcr ct iiitrrprcs taiihim facit et intelligit, quantum de Naturae ordine, Opere, vel Meiite, observaverit: ncc amplius scit, ant potest. (For man is but the servant and interpreter of 7iature : 7vhat he does and zvhat he kjiows is only 7i/inia, si quis oculos Mentis a Rebus ipsis nunquam dejiciens , earum imagines plane , ut sunt , excipiat. Xeque enim hoc siverit Deus, nt Phantasiae nostrae somnium pro Exemplari Mundi edamus : sed potius benigne faveat, ut Apocalypsim, ac veram visionem vestigiorum et sigillorum Creatoris super Creaturas, scribamus. (And all depends on keeping the eye steadily fixed upon the facts of nature and so receiving their images simply as they are. For God forbid that we should give out a dream of our own imagination for a pattern of the world ; rather may he graciously grant us to write an apocalypse or true vision of the footsteps of the Creator imprinted on his creatures.) But in what way is philosophy represented by the creatures them- selves ? By creatures who are so closely watched by the most zealous servant and interpreter of nature that they appear like nature itself? Where does this active philosophy exist and create more thoroughly than in the Shakespeare-Tragedies? Has not each one of us felt in reading Lear, in reading Hamlet, that it is poetised philosophy, the highest degree of poesy and science, a grade which no mortal has hitherto surpassed ? And the truth of this impression we find confirmed herein by Bacon himself, who con- jured forth this world so full of life and truth. Bacon wrote an apocalypse in this sixth part, a Revelatiox [ajio- y.fdv7TTO) = l discover, I reveal). The word guarantees the belief that this sixth part was intended to be equally parabolic, for, according to Bacon, the art of parabolising serves to conceal and to veil as well as to enlighten and reveal. The total result of this present work, stated shortly, therefore runs as follows : — 266 — Francis Bacon's Great Instauration of Sciences is composed of two halves. He wrote the one half in form of scientific prose and under his own name; he wrote the other, the parabolic half, which was intended for the future of humanity, in the form of dramas under the pseudonym of William Shakespeare. This is the solution of the Shakespeare-Secret. A FINAL WORD. OW many — and among them were wise and learned men — have asked: What is the use of the whole Bacon- Shakespeare- Question? and added: Let us be thankful to have these glorious master-works of poetry. Whether their author's name was this or that, whether he was born at Stratford-on-Avon or in London, may remain a matter of indifference to us ! It is a fact that the what remains for ever the main point and the WHO (the means thereto) of secondary importance. And the question as to the who could only be of small interest if we learnt that the poet was not the player from Stratford-on-Avon, but an otherwise absolutely unknown individual and that his name was not Shakespeare but, say. Smith or Thompson. The matter, however, stands otherwise. We find as the true poet, not an unknown cipher, but a well-known celebrity, a genius, namely Francis Bacon. Whereas we hitherto knew little more than nothing about the poet's hfe, that Ufe now lies before us in clear outlines. We had formerly only a series of fancy portraits ; now we have the indubitable portraits of the beloved poet at various ages before us. Whereas we had hitherto a knowledge of the Shake- speare-PoEMs we have now, in addition thereto, whole volumes of deeply thought-out Shakespeare -Pkose. We have, moreover, the reassuring satisfaction of knowing that such unsurpassable works did not emanate from the brain of an indifferently educated man, but that, on the con- trary, their author required, in addition to the poetic gift, extensive study and tremendous industry in order to produce such glorious work. Finally, and that is the most important point of all , we have found a Shakespeare-interpreter such as could not possibly be improved upon. Nobody will henceforth be comi)ctent to say anything of scientific validity until he has studied all the other works of their author. When the writer of the present work approached the great question seriously some years back, the task at first appeared to be a single one, namely, to prove that Francis Bacon was the author of the Shake- — 268 — speare-dramas. However , it turned out to be , in fact , a four-fold question. Bacon is only studied now-a-days by a few learned men. The first point, therefore, was to ascertain shortly who Bacon was and what he had written. The second point was to throw light on the Shakespeare-poems from an entirely different side to that from which the theatre-going and reading public is accustomed to regard them. The third point was to prove that Bacon was the author of the dramas. And, fourthly, there arose the need of proving the parabolic connection between the poesy and the prose. This fourth section of the task is, as every one must admit who has read this book up to this point, the kernel of the whole matter. This fourth question, moreover, puts the seal of certainty to the third point, to that which was originally the main question, namely, as to whether Bacon was the Shakespeare- poet, — and it is this certainty, as set forth herein, that is presented for the first time. The original Bacon-Shakespeare-Ouestion is now about forty years old. The first work on the subject bears the title The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakespeare unfolded by Delia Bacon. It appeared in 1857. To the American, Miss Delia Bacon, is for ever due the merit of having first thought and given expression to the idea that Bacon was the actual poet. The authoritative men of science would either know nothing of the matter or else combatted it most zealously. And so it went on for more than thirty years, although authors came before the public again and again with diligently worked-out attempts to prove that Bacon was in truth the poet. The book through which the present investigator's attention was first drawn to the question is The Shake- spearean Myth by the American, Appleton-Morgan. It appeared in 1 88 1 and was translated into German in 1885 by MiiUer-Mylius. The work makes a survey of the then position of the investigation and is disposed to assume that the paternity of the poems is divisible among several authors. It contains many contradictions and superficialities, but is nevertheless very interesting and incitant. The two-volume-work The Great Cryptogra)ii, written by the American, Ignatius Donnelh', which appeared in 1888 created a wide-spread sensation. He claimed to have discovered the key to a secret writing in the Shakespeare- FoHo-Edition ; he does not disclose his secret, however, but only gives a number of solutions. The secrets that are disclosed have reference to Elizabeth, Burghley, Cecil, to the player Shakspere . . . but, as before .stated, the actual key is kept secret and the immense mass of figures presented- let one study them as long as one may — are but the muddle of an unmathcmatical head. It is true that Bacon occupied himself with c>pher-writing and decyphering from an early age onwards and it is by no means im])ossible that he secreted much in ^ 269 - the plays in this external manner. But of what interest can the state- secrets of Queen Elizabeth or Cecil be to us now in comparison with the wonderful secret connexion between the science of Bacon and the poetic art as contained in the dramas? The most valuable part of Donnelly's book seems to be the industrious compilation of individual comparisons in the first volume, the exposition of the Essex-episode and the hints concerning other pseudonyms, such as Marlowe, &c. Count Vitzthum von Eckstadt's book, bearing the title Shakespeare and SiiAKsPKKE (issued in 1888), is largely based on Donnelly's work. It is a fine, clear representation of the matter and will certainly have caused many to hesitate, while it will have convinced many others. And another, an investigatrix, the exceedingly diligent M's Henry Pott, must also be borne in mind. She is the authoress of the oft-named Prouius of Foniiularies and Elegancies. She has sought for and found in Shakespeare several parallels to each individual note of Bacon. This book, however, to the study of which the author hereof also devoted some weeks, serves in reality to characterise the whole of the previous investigations into the Bacon -Shakespeare theory. All the evidence hitherto collected consisted of a mosaic of proofs , some ma- terial and some unimportant. The whole of the active life of Bacon is brought, in the present work, into connexion with the dramas for the first time. Complete scientific books are compared with entire plays; whole branches of science are shown to be in harmony with the entirety of various kinds of poesy. The Shakespeare-dramas find, for the very first time, their place in 77ie Great lusfauratioii of Sciences. For many important features (for instance the Essex-episode), the present author admits his indebtedness to the earlier investigators; he claims only to have given thereto the form most suited to this book. On the other hand, highly important points have been noticed by nobody but himself, p. e: the number of euphonious verses in the prose oi Henry VII., the quantity of references to theatricals in the same work, the comparison of the page treating of play in the Prouius with Hamlet, among others. To the thousands of individual facts which others had previously found out he has discovered and added hundreds, ay thousands, of others which are often of equal value and frequently more applicable. The scientific proof is carried out systematically and for the first time in the present work. It is long since Shakespeare ceased to be simply an English poet and became the poet of all the German race. For upwards of a hundred years the Germans on this side of the sea vie with their brothers across The Channel in love and veneration for the grand dramatist. r)ur Lessing, our Goethe folded him to their hearts ; the translations of von Schlegel, Tieck and Baudissin made a German folks-poet of him. That these translations could only rarely be quoted in the present book lies in the nature of the investigation. Every translator who does not know that Bacon is the author of the dramas will necessarily consider that much which the poet regarded as of great value is immaterial. Herein, where it is essential to show the accord between thought and language of B. a. S., it was necessary to make the translations as true to sense and to word as possible. Beauty of diction could only be regarded as of secondary importance. Hence it is that not only the translations of all the Bacon-passages but also more than nine-tenths of the translations of the Shakespeare-quotations emanate from the pen of the author of this work. Of the many, let two examples suffice. It is a question of natural-scientific proof Now, with all veneration for von Schlegel, of what help is his translation to the in- vestigator when he converts the English /w/ inte a German s7vallow? The hat must retake its place, even though it causes an offence against German rhythm. Or one wants the translation of the passage in Hamlet (Act III, sc. 4) where the spirit (ghost) appears and the mother says to her son : Yvur bedded haire, like life in excrements, Start lip, and stand an end. Of what use is von Schlegel in this instance, when he simply leaves the words /// excrements untranslated, either because he thought them untranslateable or because he regarded them as a barbarism.^ But, that the Germans, and this at a period when the Bacon-Shake- speare-Question had not even been raised, had a wholesome prescience of much that now lies clear before our eyes is evidence by three ex- cellent investigators, and poets, namely : Tieck, Simrock and Gervinus. Tieck says in the preface of his work S/iakespeare's l^orsclnite (Pre- paratory School), which appeared in 1823 (in opposition to the view then generally held in Germany, that the first dramas were written about the year i 590), that the poet probably 7vrote for the sta»r niuch earlier than is generally believed of him and that he apparently belonged to the earliest dramatists of that neiv period. Bacon , the true Shake- speare did in fact write stage-plays already prior to 1 580. Tieck's remark about the many Quarto-editions and the improved issues thereof, of which he says : / believe that he himself rvas glad to see his writings circulated through the press is equally to the point. Does not this agree entirely \\itli our experience touching the ])rinting of the Folio- edition.? Moreover, all the editions were promptl}- advertised in the book-sellers lists in order to protect them from piracy. In like manner Tieck, in opposition to the views of the EngHsh scientists, asserts that King John, King Lear, The laming of the Shrew and Henry 1 '. also emanated in their old form from the poet himself The ICnglish, for — 271 — instance , call a piece like the old , anonymous King Jolui quite an ordinary piece of patch-work. Tieck, the German poet, read with more understanding than the English scientists. He felt the genuineness of this youthful poetry of the great master. And the present author asserts that he was, in truth, enabled to copy dozens of glorious sentences out of the old King John (The Tronblrsoine Rnignc of King John) which is so despised on the other side of the water. Karl Simrock, too, had similar views. His works Die Qucllni dcs Shnkfsprarr (The Sources oj Shakespeare) will ever remain of value. That which Gervinus says in the fourth volume of his Shakespeare, which was issued in 1 8 50, affects us peculiarly. Before the authorship of the player from Stratford-on-Avon had been questioned, before any Bacon-Shakespeare-Question had arisen and without the faintest idea being even suggested as to the possibility of both names covering one and the same person, Gervinus (in 1850) drew parallels between Bacon and Shakespeare that cover long pages. Gervinus says that Bacon showed us inanimate, and Shakespeare human nature. The whole con- clusion of the enquiry by Gervinus is that both of them have nothing conventional; they do not seek applause, but the truth; that the one leads intelUgence and the other the powers of imagination back to nature. Both of them dispense with all formulas of ancient art; both feel themselves independent; both combine deep modesty with proper self- respect; both despise the applause of the multitude; both are free from prejudice; both are impartial; both leave religion aside and follow the secular path in matters of morals; both despise blind authority. Shakespeare is at times a philosopher. Bacon occasionally a poet. Thus quoth Gervinus. And, nevertheless, there is not the faintest idea ex- pressed of these two highly-extolled persons having been, in fact, a unity. How full of understanding and yet again how one-sided seems to us, on closer inspection, his assertion that Bacon shozvs 7is inanimate, and Shakespeare human nature/ Do we not know how Shakespeare, too, is full of all sorts of wisdom relating to so-called inanimate nature? Do we not see that the comedies, in .spite of their human characters, are parables directed to ii/animnte nature } And do we not perceive, on the other hand , that glorious references are made in Bacon to human nature.'' It is impossible that Gervinus could have had the splendid chapter written by Bacon about human passions in his mind when he wrote about this imaginary distinction of persons. Kuno Fischer holds the same views as Gervinus in his celebrated work Francis Bacon ujid seine Nachfolger (Francis Bacon and his Successors). But he speaks in warm terms of the accord between the Baconian moral-philosophy and doctrine of the passion and the Shake- spearean poems. Moreover, he lays special stress on the understanding that both had for Roman affairs and on how they both completely ignored the Grecian world. How peculiarly it effects us to see, in the face of such clearness, the reproach that Bacon was devoid of poetical feeling and that, like a narrow-minded pedant, he placed parabolic poesy above all else — and such -like things. This and much more must necessarily be altered in a third edition of Kuno Fischer's other- wise valuable book. Whereas the average philosophers occupy them- selves for the most part solely with Bacon's AVrt' Organ on , — ay, many even regard it as Bacon's Philosophy, while it is but a portion of the whole, namely The new Logic, Kuno Fischer gives to the Ency- clopedy its proper place again. He applies appropriate words to this book and, nevertheless, has not an idea that De Augmcntis Scicn- tiarttvi, made visible by figures and voices, or, as it were, by puppets or machinery, is reproduced in Shakespeare. Another good deed per- formed by Fischer's work is that it refutes the superficial Bacon-Treatise by Justus von Liebig. It seems hardly possible that the chemist, whom we all esteem so highly, could so cruelly misunderstand the great natural-philosopher as he has done in his writing Uher Francis Bacon von Vei'tilain und die Methode der XatnrforscJning (Concerning Francis Bacon of Vcrnlani and the Alethod of Investigating N^atnre). He runs down Bacon, the investigator of nature, most frightfully and — im- mediately afterwards praises Shakespeare , the investigator of nature ! How droll it seems to us when Liebig violently reproaches the scientist Bacon for not mentioning the player Shakespeare in his History of Life and Death. How comical! And, yet again, what a flash of truth. It is as if the scolding Liebig, who, in the depths of his soul, is of kindred mind, had felt that Bacon and Shakespeare belong together. So much as regards the Germans. And the English } With them James Spedding, the editor of the Baconian works, counts as the first authority. Whatever hk had not found in Bacon , so thought people , no other mortal could ever discover. However Spedding did not handle the complete edition alone. Ellis was to have undertaken the philosophical part. Heath the juridical, and Spedding the literar>". Ellis fell ill after several years and Spedding took over the remainder of his work. The facts lie thus, however, that p. e. Spedding edited the Essays and Henry VII., Ellis the Organon and Sylva Sylvarnni while Heath edited the juridical writings. In short, neither handled the whole material. Moreover, these industrious scientists had to do with proof- corrections, with all sorts of scientific marginal notes, with the super- vision of the printing, and their hands were, consequent!)-, so full that they can have had no time to cast side-glances at and make comparisons with the Shakespeare -[)oems. It is doubtless for this reason that we find the following peculiar fact. Si)cdding remarks in /)e A//g/n(i/tis — 273 — Sc'u-iitiarniii: Shakespeare's plays ; of wide Ji, though they Jiad been filing the theatres for the last thirty years, T very iniieh doubt whether Bacon had ever heard. The reader of the present book, who well knows how inti- mate and general the connexion is between Bacon -science and Shake- speare-poesy will, from these few Unes, see to conviction that Spedding, great as are his services with regard to Bacon, is anything but autho- ritative in respect of the Bacon -Shakespeare -Question. He mentions the poet a second time in a comment on the Essay Of Gardens. He repeats therein a remark that others had already made , namely : that Perdita, in TJie Winters Tale, enumerates the flowers exactly in the sense of Bacon and adds the following , lines , which must appear very remarkable to us, namely: TJiis scene has some expressions ivJtich, if this Essay had been contained in the earlier edition, 7V0uld have made me suspect that Shakespeare had been reading it. Spedding had no idea of the deeper connexion of this passage with grafting and variegating, with the improvement and alteration of species, because he is evidently too little equipped with the natural science necessary to such recognition. Moreover, the editing of Sylva Sylvarum, wherein the parallels are to be found, was entrusted to his colleague Ellis. We must remember one other peculiar circumstance. The English do not seem to known any- thing of the first complete edition which was published by us ix germ.\xv i.\ 1665 and which served the present author, as well as Kuno Fischer before him, as chief source of proof. Neither do they, to all appearance, know of the second complete edition which came out in Leipzig in 1694. Spedding, the pubUsher of the latest-edition, mentions neither the Frank- fort nor the Leipzig issue ; not with one single syllable. Far from it, he names as the oldest complete edition of Bacon's works : Francisci Baconi Opera Omnia, published by Blackbourne , London in 1730! (Vol. I, P. III.) To put it shortly, the reason why the question as to the authorship of the dramas remained so long undecided is explained to a very material extent by the fact that some read Shakespeare only, others only Bacon, and bClt very few read either with care. Moreover, those who occupied themselves with the Bacon-Shakespeare-Question thought they had done enough when they had brought isolated points together in succession; but they did not take the trouble to study and grasp Bacon as a scientific whole. But how man)- opponents of the views herein expounded have allowed themselves the use of terms, often very sharp terms, in treating of the matter, whereas they have, in truth, only read about Bacon and barely a few pages of Bacon. In Germany Bacon is almost entirely unknown to the present age. The celebrated Tauch- nitz-Edition (which now numbers over 3000 volumes) has not yet de- termined upon publishing one single volume of Bacon's works. In Eng- 18 land the multitude enjoy their Bacon in the shape of Rays of Light and therefore by the spoonful , while many a learned man has only read the Essays, which are written by their author in such wonderful (Shakespearean) English, in the Latin tongue as Scrmones Jidelcs. — Although it was the task of the present book to prove the scientific parabolism, the close, the indissolvable connexion between the Shake- speare-dramas and the Great Instauration of Sciences , and in so doing to prove that the true authorship rests with Francis Bacon , it still remains the duty of the future to establish the connexion in each and every detail. In performing this task very many most important side-issues come to light and furnish all sorts of matters desirable in the future. That which must be brought to light is what Bacon has written further, either anonymously or under pseudonymns. New trans- lations into foreign tongues become necessary, for it is only with the aid of Bacon-writings that this can be done correctly and scientifically. One must, moreover, now be fully convinced that contemporary science may still learn much from Bacon's parabolisms. The influence on the poetic art is so intimate that no stage will be in a position to present Shakespeare without taking lessons from Bacon. Let the English search in their libraries and collections of manuscripts as to whether, somewhere or other, external evidence does not exist by means of which the internal (circumstantial) proofs set forth herein may be incontrovertably established ! The final solution of this question may, possibly, have a tragi-comical sequence. What will the world do with all the pseudo- pictures, the pseudo-busts, the pseudo-monuments.^ And the autogram- collectors — will they not in future pay still higher sums for leaves of Bacon's handwriting .^ And how low the signatures of the Shakspere of Stratford-on-Avon must sink in their imaginary worth ! The world has been busy with the dramas of William Shakespeare for the last three hundred years without becoming tired of the occu- pation , and the world still admires and wonders at the greatness of scientific thought and the universality of Francis Bacon. And now both flow into one and the same. Hitherto when we heard the name of Shakespeare, it caused us to think of a most exalted personage; at least nobody ventured to rank another above him. A Shakespeare ranked in our minds as high as a Homer, a Sophocles, a Michael Angelo, a Raffael, a Moliere, a Goethe, a Mozart or a Beethoven. But now, when we know, that the spirit, the mind whom we call Shakespeare thought out and also wrote all that bears the name of Francis Bacon, we are compelled to learn to venerate in him a genius such as the world has never known before or after him. A LIST OF THE WORKS CHIEFLY REFERRED TO. Francisci Baconi Opera Omnia. Francofiirti ad Mocmim i66^. Folio. Francisci Baconi Opera Omnia. Lipsiae i6g^. Folio. Francisci Baronis de Verulamio Vice-Coniitis Sancti Alhani Historia Vitae et Mortis. Londini 162J. Francisci de Veridamio Historia Naturalis et Expej'imentalis. De Ventis etc. Lugd. Batav. 16 j8. Franc. Baconi Novum Organum Scicntiariim. Fditio seen n da. ^im- sfelaedami 1660. Opuscitla Varia Post/in ina Fra?icisci Baconi. Nunc prinnim Edita. C/ira et Fide Gnilelmi Rawley. Amstelodami 166 j. Tlie Essays of Sir Francis Bacon. With a Table of the Colours of Good and Evil. Whereiinto is added The Wisdom of the /Uitients. London 16 (So. Francisci Baronis de Verulamio Vicc-Comitis Sancti Albani, De Digni- tate et Augmentis Scientiarnm. Ad Regem simm. Libri IX. Argentorati 168^. The Works of Francis Bacon. A neiv edition by Basil Montagu. 16 Vol. London 182^. TJie Works of Francis Bacon. Collected and edited by Spedding, Ellis, and Heath. 14 Vol. London i8^y — iSyy. (I — TV/ The Works , VILL — AYT" The Letters and the Lif' of Francis Bacon , inchiding all his occasional JJ^orks. By fanies Spedding.) Francis Bacon's Promus of Formularies and Elegancies. Illustrated and elucidated by passages from Shakespeare, by Mrs. Henry Pott. London 1883. Shakespeare. Jlic first colleeted edition of the dramatic worths of ]] 'it- Ham Shakespeare. A. Reproduction in exact facsimile of The Famous First Folio, 1623, by the newly-discovered pro- cess of photo-lithography. At the suggestion, and under the superi7itendence of H. Staunton. London 1866. — Afr. Wil- liam Shakespeares Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies. Pii- hlished according to the Trite Originall Copies. London Printed by Isaac faggard, and Ed. Bloimt. 162J. The same work in smaller form : The Works of William Shakespeare. In reduced facsimile from the famous first folio edition, of 1623. With an Introduction by f. O. Halliivell-Phillipps. London i8y6.—: Mr. William Shakespeares etc. r62j. The same work as reprint : Shakespeare. A Reprint of his Collected JVorks as put forth in 162 j. J Vol. London 18 6 j. The Works of William Shakespeare. From the text of the Rev. Ale- xander Dyce's second edition, "j Vol. Leipzig , Bernhard Tauchnitz. 1868. Shakspere's Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Englischer Text berichtigt und erklart von Dr. Benno Tschischwitz. Halle 1869. Shakespeare's dramatische Werke iibersetzt von Aug. Wilh. v. Schlegel und Ludwig Tieck. 12 Bande. Berlin 1839, 1840. Doubtful Plays of Shakespeare. WitJi Introductory Remarks by Max Moltke. Leipzig, Bernhard Tauchnitz. i86g. .1 Supplement to the Plays of VI' t Ham Shakespeare. Philadel- phia /8ss- Six old plays, on which Shakespeare founded his Measure for Measure. Comedy of Errors , Taming the Shrew , King John , K. Henry IV. and K. Henry V., King Lear. By J. Xichols. 2 Vol. London ly/Q. 7he JJWks of Christopher Marhrwe. Edited ly A. TL Bnllen. 3 Vol. London 188^. The Works of Ben fohnson. 7 J^ol. Lou do)/ iyi6. TJie Origin of the English Drama. By Hawkins, j J^ol. Oxford ///j. Old Plays. Edited by Dodsley. 12 J H. 1823. Shakespeare's Vorschule. Von Ludwig Tieck. 2 Bande. Leipzig 1823. Die Schauspiele der englischen Komodiantcn. Herausgegcbcn von Prof. Dr. W. Creiznach. Berlin und Stuttgart, — 277 — fdca Mcdicinac Philosof^liicar ^inthorc Pcfro Srvcriiio /)a//n. I'liila- sopJio ef Medico. Basilcac i ^7'- Bcniardiiii Telesii Consentini De Rcrnm Nahira iuxta propria priii- cipia. Libri IX. N^capoli i$86. Folio. Aurcoli Philippi Theophrasti Bombasts von Hohenheim Paracelsi, dess Edlen , Hochgelehrten , Fiirtrefflichsten , Weitberiimbtestcn Philosophi und Medici Opera Biicher und Schrifften. 2 Bandc. Strassburg 16 16. Folio. Sir Pliilipp Sidney's Complete Poetieal Works, j J^ol. Lojidou. A Defence of Poesie. By Sir Philipp Sidney. London. Rcliques of Ajicient English Poetry. By Thomas Percy, j J'^ol. 176^. Leipzig, Bernhard Tauchnitz 1866. Publications of the Shakespeare Society, Publications of the New Shak- spere Society. Many Volumes. Personal History of Lord Bacon. By William Hepworth Dixon. Leipzig, Bernhard Tanchnitz 1861. Franz Baco von Veriilam. Von Kuno Fischer. Leipzig 1856. Francis Bacon und seine Nachfolger. Von Kuno Fischer. Zweite vollig umgearbeitete Auflage. Leipzig 1875. Memoirs of the Court of King fames the First. By Lucy ^likin. 2 Vol. London 1822. Die Ouellen des Shakespeare in Novellen, Marchen und Sagen. Von Karl Simrock. 2. Aufl. 2 Bande. Bonn 1870. Shakespeare von G. G. Gervinus. 4 Bande. Leipzig 1850. Geschichte des neueren Dramas von Robert Prolss. 3 Bande. Leipzig 1882. Das Ende des Zeitalters der Alchemie und der Beginn der iatro- chemischen Periode. Von Dr. W. Luzi. Berlin 1892. The Bacon-Shakespeare Question answered. By C. Slopes. London r88g. Cber Francis Bacon von Verulam und die Methode der Naturforschung. Von Justus von Liebig. Miinchen 1863. Der Shakespeare-Mythus. Von Appleton Morgan. Deutsch von Karl Miiller-Mylius. Leipzig 1885. 77ie Great Cryptogram. By Ignatius Donnelly. 2 J^ol. London /(SWA'. Shakespeare und Stjafspcre. Von K. F. Graf Vitzthum von Eckstadt. Stuttgart 1888. Francis Bacon and his Secret Society. By Airs. Henry Pott. London 18 9 1. By Thomas W. White. London 18 p 2. - 278 - Catalogue of Books in tJic Library of the British Museiini printed in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and of books in English printed abroad, to the 'year 1640. j Vol. London 1884. In addition to the above recourse was had (with conviction on the one side and amusement on the other) to a number of encyclopedic works and dictionaries on natural science, philosophy, literary history, poetry and language, a number of old and modern editions and trans- lations and to a number of pamphlets (large and small) both for and against the authorship of Bacon. The illustrations contained in this book are taken partly from books and partly from single sheets. 42 of the originals are in Edwin Bor- mann's possession, 24 are copies from books owned by the Leipzig- City-Library, 8 are from books belonging to the Leipzig-Uni- versity-Library. Messrs. Longmans, Green & Co. of London kindly per- mitted the author hereof to copy the ist, 4th and S^H of the Bacon- portraits. The originals are contained in the Complete Edition of Bacon's Works edited by James Spedding. Herr Ernst Arnold of Dresden (Kunstverlag) kindly sanctioned the reproduction of Mandel's copper- plate -engraving of Van Dyck's Charles I. Similar permission was kindly granted : for the copy of the Shakspere-Tomb and the Title-page to the Essays by the G. Grote'sche Verlags- B u c h h a n d 1 u n g o f B e r 1 i n ; for the copy of the Shakspere-Facsimiles by the J. G. Cotta'sche Buchhandlung of Stuttgart and for the copy of the Gray's Inn Theatre-Ticket by the firm of Chap- man & Hall ofLondon. M c s s r s. S a m p s o n , Low, M a r s t o n «& C o. ofLondon kindl\- gave their sanction to the publication of the 3rd of the Bacon-, the Essex-, the Queen Elizabeth-, and the (Oliver) Ben Jonson-portraits. The picture of the Swan-Theatre (after Johannes de Witt) is copied b>- kind permission of the author from the work of the Royal Librarian, Dr. K. Th. Gaedertz of Berlin, entitled Zur Kenntniss der alt- engliscJien Biihne nebst anderen Beitrdgen Z7ir Shakespeare-Literatur (A description of the Old-English stage together with other contributions to Shakespeare-Literature) published by C. Ed. Miiller, Bremen 1888. BY EDWIN BORMANN reb. Liederhort. Prachtwerk. Reich illiistr Liederhort. Textausgabc. geb. Klingilisland. Prachtwerk . . Schelmenlieder. In Prachtband Das Buch des Herzens. geb. Das BiJchlein von der schwarzen Kunst. geb. . Biichlein Komm mit mir! Cart., in Metallkapsel Ein jedes Thierchen hat sein Plasirchen. geb. Ballfreuden Reineke Fuchs. Kinderbuch. geb Der Gouverneur von Tours. Textbuch zu C. Reinecke's Oper. geh Mei Leibzig low' ich mir! geb Leibz'ger Allerlei. geb. Leibz'ger Lerchen. geb. Von Gamerun bis zun Schwandelche. geb De Saci('sche Schweiz un das geiiebde Drasen. geb S Buch von Klabberstorche. geb. IVIei Franl(fort low' ich mir! . . Herr Engemann. geb I nu heern Se mal! geb. . . Allerlei Liebenswiirdigkeiten. geb. Johann Sebastian Bach. Photogravure Das Shakespeare -Geheimniss. geb. . Der Anekdotenschatz Bacon -Shakespeare's, geb Neue Shakespeare -Enthiillungen. Meft i. cart. Neue Shakespeare -Enthiillungen. Ilett 2. cart. kom Mark 10. 2.50 ;o 50 .50 50 .50 .50 50 50 Poetische Papierausstattungen : Briefe, Posfkarten, Tischkarten, Menus, Janskarfen, Universalkarten. I. PORTRAITS. Francis Bacon as a boy. After a coloured bust in the possession of Earl Verulam. Francis Bacon as a youth. 1578. After a miniature by Ililliard. Francis Bacon about the year i6i{ After a painting by Van Somer. Francis Bacon in the year 1620. After a miniature liy Peter Oliver. Francis Bacon about the year 1618. After a copper - plate - engravin<^ by Simon Pass. Francis Bacon. After a copper - plate - engraving,' by J. Iloubraken, 1 738. Francis Bacon's Monument in the Church of St. Michael's near St. Albans. Nicolas Bacon, Keeper of the Great Seal to (Jueen Elizabeth, Francis Bacon's Father. After a painting by Adrian van der Werff. (Copper -plate -engraving by V. h. Cmnst De Larrey's Histoirc d'Anglcterre, d'Ecosse, et d'Irlande, Rotterdam 169S.) Elizabeth, Queen of England. After a painting by N. Hilliard. Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. Alter the paintinj^ in the collection of Earl Verulani. Elizabeth, Queen of England. After the painting in the collection of the Marquis of Salisbury. James 1st, King of England. (The Son of Maria Stuart.) After a painting by Van Somer. Bacon dedicated to him both Editions of the Encyclopedy and also the New Organon. Charles 1st as Prince of Wales. (Son of James I.) From a copper-plate-engraving in King James's Works (Principis Jacobi Opera; Londini 1619). Bacon dedicated to him the History of Henry VH. and the History of the Winds. Rawley dedicated to him Bacon's Sylva Sylvarum; and it is known that Charles, as Prince and also as King, counted the Shakespeare -plays among his favorite studies. Charles 1st with Wife and Child. From a painting by D. Mytens. The Masks and theatrical plays were held in the Great Hall of the Royal Palace. That the King and those belonging to him should have had the picture taken, with the Royal Crown upon the tabic, before the Theatre -curtain, shows how much the Court and the Royal Family were favorably disposed towards all theatrical performances. Charles 1st. After Van Dyck's portrait in the Dresden Gallerj'. '* (By permission of the Kunstverlag Ernst Arnold in Dresden the copper - plate - engraving by Mandel was made the basis of the reproduction of this portrait.) George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. Inoni a family portrait by Cornelius Janscn. Bacon dedicated to him tlie last Edition of liis Essays (1625). Inigo Jones. After a painting by Van Dyck. Inigo Jones (1573— 1652) was the architect wlio sketched the genial and costly arrangements for the Masks and Court-festivals and who specially co-operated with Ben Jonson. 3* Ben Jonson. Alter a ])oitrait by Oliver. Ben Jonson. After a copper - plate - engraving by Vertue in the 1st Volume of the Complete Edition of Jonson's works, issued in the year 1 716. The Player William Shakspere. After Martin Droeshout's copper- plate - engraving in the Complete Drama - Edition of 1623. This portrait and the bust on the opposite page are the only likenesses which can be seriously considered when it is question of forming an opinion as to the actual features of the player. 1^1 ' ' ^^^^i^kjiii^ The Monument of the Player William Shakspere in the Church of Stratford-on-Avon. The copy of the Monument at Stratford-on-Avon as printed on the title-page of each volume of the Old Shakespeare Society. This funeral monument was erected a few years after the death of the player and during tlie life-time of Francis Bacon. The mouth and bearded parts are particularly striking. William Winter describes the face in his work .SHAKESPEARE'S ENGLAND, as follows: One of the cheeks is a little swollen and THE TONGUE IS LIGHTLY PUSHED FORWARD AND HELD FIRMLY BETWEEN THE TEETH. n. Facsimiles of Handwritings, Title-pages, Single pages and Other Matters. c t**n "V^ . . mn (cmtehA:wc^ \ J^t €ai^&m^ cub ?jj^er\eiA/lrtci -t 1 • £>C '%- . t4^Q X/ \y Copy of a letter (reduced in size) of Francis Bacon, then Lord Chancellor Baron Verulam. This is the letter to the Cambridge -University which accompanied a copy of his New Organon intended for the University -Library. ^. The five Signatures of the Player William Shakspere. These represent the only autographs which we possess of him. The letters, and more particularly the S appear to be imitated from the Gothic type (blackletters) at that time so much in vogue in England; The formation of the letters stands in complete opposition to that of all the educated people who lived in the i6th to 17th century. The signatures given on the opposite page all show distinct (and well-written) Roman characters. /^ It was thus that Judith, the daughter of the player Shakspere, she being then 27 years old, signed a document in 161 1. iJ^TlZiovm, /cwm' The Signatures of Queen Elizabeth, Francis Bacon (as Bacon and Verulam\ Ben Jonson, John Milton, Oliver Cromwell, the architect Inigo Jones, the Philosopher John Locke and of the French comedy-poet Moliere. Let these be compared with the writing on the opjiosite page. Effayes. Religious Meditations. Places of perfwafion and difTwafion. Sccfie and allowed* At L o s d o w. Printed for Humfrcy Hooper , amf arc IQ be iold at the blacke Beaio ia Chauncery jLane. Title-page to the i st Edition of Bacon's Essays. [Original Size.] It is true tliat the name of the author does not appear on this title-page, but it stands under dedication to liis brother Anthony. F RANG I S C 1 BACONl EQVITIS A V R A T I, Magni Anglic Sigilli Cuftodis De Sapientia VflTiavM, Liber, Adinclyram Acadcmiam Cantabriqienfeni^y lam recufus. L O N D I N J, Apud I O H A N N E M B ILLI VM, tAmo M.Dc.x V I I. Title-page to the 2nd Edition of Bacon's Wisdom of the Ancients. [Original Size.] Ty i^-T^^^^^ ^^^'-"^^^^^^^ DE "VEKULAMIO^ SummiQ^nglidb^^ Title-page to Francis Bacon's Magna Instauratio Scientiarum, printed as title-page of the Folio-Edition of the New Organon of 1620. [Reduced.] FRANClSCr BARONIS VERVLAMIO, VICE-COMITIS Sancti Alban[, Hiftoria ViU 6c -SMortis. S I V £, TITVLVS SECVNDVS inHiftona Nacur^li ^ Expcrimentali adcondend^m Philofophiarn : Quy ell PARS TERTIA, ^?^ ^^^ L O N D 1 N 1, In Officina I o. H a v i l a n d, impenfis Matt h aet Lowne s. 162^. Title-page to the ist Edition of Bacon's History of Life and Death. (London, 1623.) [Original Size] 5 Hiftoria P'U^ O- Mortis. 407 C A N O N E S mobiles de Durationc Vitae, & Forma Mortis* C A N O M. 1. "^^TO/j y&Confumptio, X^ nifi cjuod deperdmm fitde Qorpore, tranjmigret in Corpus Aliud. ExPLICATIO. "^[^TVUmeft ^rtm Inrehtus: J^^l Itaque quod abjumitur, ant euolat in Acrcm, aut red- pitur Page 407 of the i st Edition of Bacon's History of Life and Death. (London, 1623.) [Original Size.] Embodying the ist Rule: There is no annihilation; what is lost in one body, trans- migrates into anotlicr l)ody. Title-page to Bacon's Natural History, from the Complete Edition of Matagu. An imitation borrowed from an older title-page of the same work (1661). [Original Size.] OPUSCULA Varia Pofthuma, PHILOSOPHICA, C 1 V 1 L I A, THEOLOGICA, Francisci Bacoki, Baronis de Verttlamio , Vice-ComitiG S(tn£ii Albaniy Nunc pnmum Edita- Cura & Fide Guilielmi Raw ley Sacra Theologise Doftoris, primoDo- minaiioni fua , poneaSereniffi- mse MajeftatiRegia, a Sacris. Vna cum Nobilijfimi AuBorU Vtia. AccelFit 5c eiufdem Aucfloris Dialogus de Bcllo Sacio. AMSTELODAMI, Apud Jobannem T\a\)eYieimwn f Anno m. ]^o. txin-, Title-page of one of the oldest editions of Bacon's History of the Winds. (Leyden, 1638.) [Ori<^inal Size.] Title-page of the i st Edition of Bacon's Posthumous Works. (Amsterdam, 1663.) [()ri{,nnal Size.] Title-page of an old Amsterdam Edition of Bacon's History of Henry VII. [Original Size.] Chief Title-page of the i^t Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (Frankfort o/M., 1665, Folio.) Left page. [Reduced.] FRANCISCI Baronis de Verulamio , Vice- Comltis S. Albani, Summj Angliae Cancdlaru, OPERA OMNIA, Qui exiMt: PHI LO SOPH rCA , J^O R ALIy^, POLITICA, HISTORICA. TroQDtUf >7empt di Dtgnttaii (^ Ang>nin:ii Scien. i Hfionc Regm Henrici t^ll. Regii tyfuglU: Of tianim. I vcre Pcliticum. Novum Organum Sctentmrum , Parafcevc n HtfloriAm NaturaUm ^ Exferimcntalcm Hiflfia t^t'itorum. Hifloru: !^'ii & Motlu. Scriptade NatMrali <:^ VniverfttU Phikfophut, S^lva Svlv.trum ,fwe Hifiona NaiRraks, NtvaAtlaii:u. I Sermones ftdeUi, five Interiont %vrHm. Ilraitatiu de Sapiemia f'cterum. Dtnlagui dt Bella Sacro. I Opm llltH'e m felicem memormm fUfadiih* j Regint ! Imago Civtlu lulij Ctfau. Imago Qvilu AugtijifOifiru, IN QUIBUS COMPLURES ALH TRACTATUi , QUOS BREVITATIs CAUSA pr2ieraiittefe vifumefl. c^mpcohenE (unc, HACrENUS NUNQUAM CONjUNCTIM EDITA, Jam "Vera 'SUMMO STUDIO COLLECTA , UNO VOLUMINE COMPHEHENSA. & abinnumeris Mendisrepurgata: OtmlndjceRerum ac l/erl/orum Uni'verpitiaifolutiJJirrx). His prahia i%x ALTCTORIS VJTA. ImpcnfispANNIS BAPTIST^E SCHONWETTERI. ■' TypjsMATTH^I KEMPFFERI. ANNO M DC LXV Chief Title-page of the ist Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (Frankfort o,M., 1665. Folio.) Right page. [Reduced.] To what extent the Germany of the 17 th Century understood how to appreciate the greatness of Francis Bacon is most clearly evidenced by the fact that two Complete Editions of his Works were published here before England had produced a single Complete Edition. 1. Opera Omnia. Frankfort o/M., 1665. 2. Opera Omnia. Leipzig, 1694. 3. Opera Omnia. London, 1730. Thus we see that the First English Complete Edition of Bacon did not appear until 36 years after the issue of the Second German one. The tail-piece of the Second Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (Leipzig, 1694. Folio.) [Original Size.] FRANCISCl B ACONL BARON IS DE VERULAMIO, VICE COMITIS S. ALBANl. SUMMl ANGLIC CANCELLARII, OPERA OMNIA, cum Novo eoque infigni AUGMENTO Traftatuum haflenus itKdkorumj EX IDIOMATE ANGLICANO LATINUM SERMONEM translatorumj Opera SIMONIS JOHANNIS ARNOLDI, Ecclefise Sonnenburgenfis Infpedons, "Mm LIPSIM, ImpenflsJOHANNISJuSTlERYTHROPILX, excudebat Christianus Goezi u 3. A. M DC XCIV. Title-page of the 2"^ Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (Leipzig. 1694. Folio.) [Reduced.] THE WORKS OF FRANCIS BACON, HorDf ei^ancellor of <5tt0lanDrt A NEW EDITION: BY BASIL MONTAGU, ESQ. VOL. I. LONDON: WILLIAM PICKERING. MDCCCXXV. Title-page of the i^t Volume of the Montagu Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (i6 Volumes.) [Original Size] IHB WORKS 07 FEANCIS BACON", BARON OP VERULAM. VISCOUNT ST. ALBAN, AND LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OP ENGLAND. COLLECTED 4.ND EDITED B? JAMES SPEDDING, M.A. OF TRINITY COLLEGE. CAMBRIDGE; ROBERT LESLIE ELLIS, M.A. LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE; DOUGLAS DENON HEATH, BARRISTER-AT-LAW ; LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDOB. VOL. f. PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS. VOL. I. NHW EDITION. LONDON : Longmans & Co. ; Simpkin, Marshall, & Co. ; Hamilton & Co. ; Whittaker & Co. ; J. Bain ; Hodgson & Co. ; Richardson & Co. ; HouLSTON & Sons ; Bickers & Son ; H. Sotheran " & Co. ; J. Cornish & Sons ; Snow & Co. ; and A. Hall. 1889. Title-page of the i^t Volume of the Spedding Complete Edition of the Works of Francis Bacon. (14 Volumes.) [Original Size.] 6* Pleafant Conceited Hiftorie, called The taming of a Shrew. Asitwasfutidry times adedby the Jlt^^t honor ahle the Earle of Pembrookhis fcruants. •printed at London by Peter Sbortand i/reto hfoldhj Cuthert Burbie^ at hts (hopattheRoyallExchangc. Title-page of the i st Edition of the Taming of a Shrew. [Ori^nnal Size.] Neither on this title-page nor anywhere else in the book is the name of a poet mentioned. A N EXCELLENT concei ted Traged ie OF Romeo and luliet. As it hath heen often (with great applaufe) plaid pubhquely, by the right Ho- nourable the L. of Huvjdon his Seruants. LONDON, Printed by lohn Danter. 15 9 7' Title-page of the i^t Edition of Romeo and Juliet. [Original Size.) Neither on this title-page nor anywhere else in the book is the name of a poet mentioned. THE MOST E X^ cellent and lamentable Tragedle, of Romeo and luUet. Neivly corrected, augmented, and amended : As it hath bene fundry times publiquely acted, by the right Honourable the Lord Chamberlaine his Seruants. .LONDON Printed by Thomas Creede, for Cuthbert Burby, and are to be fold at his fhop neare the Exchange. 15 99- Title-page to the 2nd Edition of Romeo and Juliet. [Original Size.] Neither on this title-page nor anywhere else in the book is the name of a poet mentioned. THE CRONICLE Hiftory of Henry the fift, With his battcll fought at /Igin Court in France. Tognher wiib Aut'lient Pi.to'lt As it hath bene fundry tiynes playdiij t/)e Right honorable the Lord Chawifi lai/ie hisjeruants. LONDON Printed by Thomas Creede, for Tho. Milling- ton,and John Busby And are to be fold at his houfe in Carter Lane, next the Powle head. 1600. Title-page to the 2"^ Edition of Henry the Fifth. [()ri<,^nal Size.] Neither on this title-page nor anywhere else in the book is the name of a poet mentioned. To the Reader. This Figure, that thou here feeft put, It was for gentle Shakefpeare cut; Wherein the Grauer had a ftrife with Nature, to out-doo the life : O,could he but haue dra wne his wit As well in brafle, as he hath hit Hisfac^e ,- the Print would thenfurpaffe All, that was euer writ in braffe. But, fince he cannot. Reader, looke Not on his Pi6ture, but his Booke. B.L The left counterpart of the Title-page to the ist Complete Edition of the Shakespeare -Dramas. (London, 1623. Folio.) [Original .Size] JVlRrWILLIAM SHAKESPEARES COMEDIES, HISTORIES, & TRAGEDIES. Publirtied according fothc True Originall Copies. Printedby llaac [aggard,and Ed. Blount, i dzj. Title-page of the i« Complete Edition of the Shakespeare -Dramas. (London, 1623. Folio.) [Reduced.] 7 A C ATALOGVE of the feuerall Comedies, Hiftories, and Tra- gedies contained in this Volume. COMEDIES. \HeTetnpeJ}. Fo^io \. \The f^o Gentlemen ofVcrom. 20 The Merry Wines ofWlndfor. Meafurefor Meufurx:. The Comedy ofEnotirs. Muchadoo ahut Nothing. LouesLahourlofi. Midfommer Nights Vreame. TIpe Merchant ofVenice. Js you Like it. The Taming of the Shrete. AUis IP til, that Ends veil. Tu>elfe=Ni^ht,onphatjou will. The Winters Tale. 3S 61 ^5 101 122 208 230 255 304 HISTORIES. The Firjipart ofI\J!;^ Henry the fourth. 46 The Second part ofI\. Henry thefoHrth. 74 The Life ofKtng Henry the Fift. 69 The Ftrftpa) t ofK^in^ Henry the Sixt. 96 The Second part of I^ing Hen. the Sixt. 120 The Third part ofKjng Henry the Sixt. 1 47 The Life O- 'Death of -T^chard the Third.lj^ The Life ofK^in^ Henry the Eight. 205 TRAGEDIES. The Life and Death oflQng John. Fol. i . The Life C^ death ofT^chard thefecond. 2 j The Tragedy ofQarlolanus. Fol.y. Titus Jndronicus. 3' T\omeo and Juliet. 5? Timon of Athens. 83 The Life and death of Julius Qdfar, 109 The Tragedy ojMacheth. 131 The Tragedy of Hamlet. 152 Kjng Lear. »8j Othello, the Moore ofVenice, JIO Anthony and Qleopater. 54<5 Qmleline iQng oj 'Britaine, ^69 Catalogue of the i st Complete Edition of the Shakespeare -Dramas. (London, 1C23. Folio.) [Reduced.] Cualogus m ^I'lc^cnibiVrfg I., Tomi <5a]>.7.v^oiti(Sc?)ft?cfc(. 104 ^ .8.»cm53itriol. lop Sap.9. vcniArfenico. ;oj<5 Clip. 10. dc TirtMo, &c. defidcratur. incercura arhocVoluraenabfoIvenc. 1060 ExC^Unup:r[ftis D.^eh.'JMontat.t. 3wn om Autore etr*ri{bni/iicmlicf)»om'Jcr>)ciuin/ /oiSo fpn/)oni3. ,0(54 DeXyloheberuprxparatione & uTu, Tradta- mctvJ\i(8fcn/!c. tt)fl5 4)ratIl;»n^fvn^I^in^tc Xr^r.cyict). k)88 Ex auiographii Ihophrafli, Frsgraenta aJiquot dcRa Hersaiiia.- I. Prologus in Lib. de Herbis, ad Medicos ur- ''"• <09+ 2- Schedula de prima tq aterit. 1096 J LibfipnmidevirtuubusReruin.Krsgnicntum. 4. InErroresMicri.&sficsHcrbanos. (icj y. Schedulx aLquot de virujfibus qutrundini Herbarum.nempcConfolidjt surest, Hypcncc- UecurationeRuprurxOompendium. 1069 ^ .»,.. vi.w- De Miunix prxpiratione & ufu Tra^atus. Ex nis, Perficarw,Serpentinx,Confolidi,8cc.''^)iro ' '" ^ 9070 PsPlaniigmfc^ tx manufcnpio aUenw.) jioi 6. De ViniNacur»,fr»gractituin. looi Fkraj.ex M.f Oporini,rnatibn-i;S< IJ^ Mo- <''f/-i?f«^,&Tempeftivusepmin,qiiar indmu Spiri- tthut CaIol■cmRo^uftum,ut Croct,Naflurtti,Allit, EnHhiOpiatortim Cornpofilorum. CANON XXXI. STiritHt vtvui hterttum patitur immediate, cum deftitoituiau: MotuyMiRefrtgeno •, aut ^limenta. EXPLICATIO. SUnt hccfcilicetiUatna, qiia:.riipenils vocavi- O.WS y^inoLt Alonii ; Suiltque Paffiones Spnittu propdi , & immediate. Etenim Organa omnia pacdum Priiicipalium ferviunt , ut hsc tria Officii priftenlur : Et rurfus, Omnis DefirHHw Organo- ■nimi qu.-^eft Lethifera,eorcmdcducic,utuniim, nucplLii-acxhisi:ri'ous4eficiaiu. Itaque alia omnia flint divcrfe VII ad Mortem; fed in ha;cdefinunc. Fabrica autem Partmrn Organum Spirittu eft ; quemadmodum &ille, jinim-fwgignaf,tar..envetus .-r^frnihilomiDusmanet ; undc ftt Sxper-oneraiio iila^fr«;dequodiximusin TitHlodeFcmn. Ac Spirtm utriufque Natura: particeps eft , & Flam. Pne£, 6c^eru; quemadmodum &Fomites ejus funt 0/f«w , quod eft Homogeneum/7-jwmtf , & yiir , qui eft Homogen^s s^^«*. Spmtw enini non nutriturcxO/w/SSimplici. nequeex^^ww Simplici, redexutcoque:atqueIicetnec^f>-c.um Fkmma , nee Olenm CMmA^uei bene componan- tur.tamen fatis conveniuntiu Mifto.Etiam,Jc;>-/- rwj habet ex Aere Facil^s fuas & deHcaus ImpreJJio. ttes, ScReceptiones;AFlamr>}aa\nem, Nobilcs fuos,&: Potentes Afotw , ^^(3;t//Mfw.Similiter euam Duraiio Spirim Res compofita eft . iiec tarn momentanea,quam/y^'^e»gi^!j*i, - ,,^ - (iorhainl)ury in 1568. Gorhaiiil)iiiy in I 795. 'torhanibiirv in iS: Gorhambury near St. Alban's, the country-seat of the Bacon Family. St. Michaels -Church near St. Alban's. Francis Bacon's last resting-place. Extract i'roin Fra 1!; last Wii: For my Imrial, I desire it niriy be in St. Micliacl's cliurch, near St. .-Mb-Tn'si: tlicrc was my motlier buried, and it is the parisli cliurcli of my nian.sion house of Gorhamlniry , and it is the only cliristian church vvitliin tlic walls of ol