The Mystery of Francis Bacon
By William T. Smedley


Part 7



Chapter XX
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS

"SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS never before Imprinted," have afforded commentators material for many volumes filled with theories which to the ordinary critical mind appear to have no foundation in fact. Chapters have been written to prove that Mr. W. H., the only begetter of the Sonnets, was Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, and chapters have been written to prove that he was no such person, but that William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, was the man intended to be designated. Theories have been elaborated to identify the individuals represented by the Rival Poet and the dark Lady. Not one of these theories is supported by the vestige of a shred of testimony that would stand investigation. There has not come down any evidence that Shakspur, of Stratford, knew either the Earl of Southampton, the Earl of Pembroke or Marie Fitton. The truth is that Mr. W. H. was Shakespeare, who was the only begetter of the Sonnets, and the proof of this statement will in due time be forthcoming. It may be well to try and read some of the Sonnets as they stand and endeavour to realise what is the obvious meaning of the printed words.

The key to the Sonnets will be found in No. 62. The language in which it is written is explicit and capable of being understood by any ordinary intellect.

"Sinne of selfe-love possesseth al mine eie
And all my soule, and al my every part;
And for this sinne there is no remedie,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Me thinkes no face so gratious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account,
And for my selfe mine owne worth do define,
As I all other in all worth's surmount
But when my glasse shewes me my selfe indeed
Beated and chopt with tand antiquitie,
Mine one selfe love quite contrary I read
Selfe, so selfe loving were iniquity.
Tis thee (my-selfe) that for myself I praise
Painting my age with beauty of thy daies."

The writer here states definitely that he is dominated by the sin of self-love; it possesseth his eye, his soul, and every part of him. There can be found no remedy for it; it is so grounded in his heart. No face is so gracious as is his, no shape so true, no truth of such account. He defines his worth as surmounting that of all others. This is the frank expression of a man who not only believed that he was, but knew that he was superior to all his contemporaries, not only in intellectual power, but in personal appearance. Then comes an arrest in the thought, and he realises that time has been at work. He has been picturing himself as he was when a young man. He turns to his glass and sees himself beated and chopt with tanned antiquity; forty summers have passed over his brow.*

* Sonnet No. 2.

Francis Bacon at forty years of age, or thereabouts, unmarried, childless, sits down to his table. Hilliard's portrait before him, with pen in hand, full of self-love, full of admiration for that beautiful youth on whose counterfeit presentment he is gazing. His intellectual triumphs pass in review before him, most of them known only to himself and that youth--his companion through life. That was the Francis Bacon who controlled him in all his comings and goings--his ideal whom he worshipped. If he could have a son like that boy! His pen begins to move on the paper--

"From fairest creatures we desire increase
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decrease
_____

His tender heire might bear his memory."
The pen stops and the writer's eye wanders to the miniature:--
"But thou* contracted to thine own bright eyes."

And so the Sonnets flow on, without effort, without the need of reference to authorities, for the great, fixed and methodical memory needs none.

How natural are the allusions--

"Thou art thy mother's glasse and she in thee
Calls backe the lovely Aprill of her prime."

_____

"Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyselfe at least kind hearted prove.
Make thee another self, for love of me
That beauty may still live in thine or thee."

_____

"Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless and rude, barrenly perish;
Look, whom she best indow'd she gave the more;
Which bountious guift thou shouldst in bounty cherrish;
She carv'd thee for her seale, and ment therby
Thou shouldst print more, not let that coppy die."

_____

"O that you were yourselfe, but love you are
No longer yours, then you yourselfe here live,
Against this cunning end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give

. . . .

Who lets so faire a house fall to decay

. . . .

O none but unthrifts, deare my love you know
You had a Father, let your Son say so."

_____

"But wherefore do not you a mightier waie
Make warre uppon this bloodie tirant Time?
And fortifie your selfe in your decay

___

With meanes more blessed, then my barren rime?
Now stand you on the top of happie houres
And many maiden gardens, yet onset,
With virtuous wish would beare you living flowers
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

_____



Who will beleeve my verses in time to come
If it were fil'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows, it is but as a tombe
Which hides your life, and shewes not halfe your parts:
If I could write the beauty of your eyes
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say this Poet lies,
Such heavenly touches nere toucht earthly faces.
So should my papers (yellowed with their age)
Be scorn'd, like old men of lesse truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termd a Poets rage
And stretched miter of an Antique song.
But were some childe of yours alive that time,
You should live twise, in it and in my rime."

_____

"Yet doe thy worst, ould Time, dispight thy wrong
My love shall in my verse ever live young."

He realises that he no longer answers Ophelia's description:

"The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's eye, tongue, sword:
The expectancy and rose of the fair state
The glass of fashion and the mould of form,
The observed of all observers. . . .
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth."

* 'Tis thee myselfe, Sonnet 62.

But he cannot forget what he has been, he cannot realise that he is no longer the brilliant youth whose miniature he has before him, with the words inscribed around, "Si tabula daretur digna animum mallem"--If materials could be found worthy to paint his mind ("O could he but have drawn his wit") and then with a burst of poetic enthusiasm he exclaims:--

"'Tis thee (myselfe) that for myselfe I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy daies."

This is the common experience of a man as he advances in life. So long as he does not see his reflection in a glass, if he tries to visualize himself, he sees the youth or young man. Only in his most pessimistic moments does he realise his age.

There is no longer any difficulty in understanding Shakespeare's Sonnets. They were addressed by "Shakespeare," the poet, to the marvellous youth who was known under the name of Francis Bacon, and they were written, with Hilliard's portrait placed on his table before him.

In that age (please God it may be the present age), which is known only to God and to the fates when the finishing touch shall be given to Bacon's fame,* it will be found that the period of his life from twelve to thirty-five years of age surpassed all others, not only in brilliant intellectual achievements, but for the enduring wealth with which he endowed his countrymen. And yet it was part of his scheme of life that his connection with the great renaissance in English literature should lie hidden until posterity should recognise that work as the fruit of his brain:--"Mente Videbor"--"by the mind I shall be seen."

* See Rawley's Introduction to "Manes Verulamiana."

How lacking all his modern biographers have been in perception!

Every difficulty in those which are termed the procreation Sonnets disappears with the application of this key. Only by it can Sonnet 22 be made intelligible:--

"My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
As long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrow I behold,
Then look, I death my days would expirate
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the steady raiment of my heart.
Which in my breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be older than thou art?

___

O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gavest me thine, not to give back again."

But nearly every Sonnet might be quoted in support of this view. Especially is it of value in bringing an intelligent and allowable explanation to Sonnets 40, 41, and 42, which now no longer have an unsavoury flavour.

Sonnet No. 59 is most noteworthy, because it implies a belief in re-incarnation. Shakespeare expresses his longing to know what the ancients would have said of his marvellous intellect. If he could find his picture in some antique book over 500 years old, see an image of himself as he then was, and learn what men thought of him!

"If their bee nothing new, but that which is
Hath beene before, how are our braines begulld,
Which laboring for invention, beare amisse
The second burthen of a former child?
Oh that record could with a back-ward looke,
Even of five hundreth courses of the Sunne,
Show me your image in some antique booke,
Since minde at first in carrecter was done,
That I might see what the old world could say
To this composed wonder of your frame;
Whether we are mended, or where better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
Oh sure I am, the wits of former daies,
To subjects worse have given admiring praise."

There is the same idea in Sonnet 71, which suggests that in some future re-incarnation Bacon might read Shakespeare's praises of him.

Conjectures as to who was the rival poet may be dispensed with. The following rendering of Sonnet No. 80 makes this perfectly clear:--

"Oh how I (the poet) faint when I of you (F.B.) do write,
Knowing a better spirit (that of the philosopher) doth use your name
And in the praise thereof spends all his might
To make me tongue tied, speaking of your fame!
(Shakespeare never refers to Bacon or vice versa)
But since your (F.B.'s) worth wide as the ocean is,
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy bark (that of the poet) inferior far to his (that of the philosopher),
On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your shallowest help will hold me (the poet) up afloat

Whilst he (the philosopher) upon your soundless deep doth ride."

It is impossible to do justice to this subject in the space here available. By the aid of this key every line becomes intelligible. The charm and beauty of the Sonnets are increased tenfold. Every unpleasant association of them is removed. No longer need Browning say, "If so the less Shakespeare he."

These are not "Shakespeare's sug'rd* Sonnets amongst his private friends" to which Meres makes reference. They are to be found elsewhere.

* The expression "sug'rd Sonnets" refers to verses which were written with coloured ink to which sugar had been added. When dry the writing shone brightly.

If there had been an intelligent study of Elizabethan literature from original sources the authorship of the Sonnets would have been revealed long ago. It was a habit of Bacon to speak of himself as some one apart from the speaker. The opening sentence of Filum Labyrinthi, Sivo Forma Inquisitiones is an example. Ad Filios--"Francis Bacon thought in this manner." Prefixed to the preface to Gilbert Wats' interpretation of the "Advancement of Learning" is a chapter commencing, "Francis Lo Verulam consulted thus: and thus concluded with himselfe. The publication whereof he conceived did concern the present and future age."

Nothing that has been written is more perfectly Baconian in style and temperament than are the Sonnets. They breathe out his hopes, his aspirations, his ideals, his fears, in every line. He knew he was not for his time. He knew future generations only would render him the fame to which his incomparable powers entitled him. He knew how far he towered above his contemporaries, aye, and his predecessors, in intellectual power. His hopes were fixed on that day in the distant future--to-day--when for the first time the meshes which he wove, behind which his life's work is obscured, are beginning to be unravelled.

The most sanguine Baconian, in his most enthusiastic moments, must fail adequately to appreciate the achievements of Francis Bacon and the obligations under which he has placed posterity. But Bacon knew--and he alone knew--their full value. It was fitting that the greatest poet which the world had produced should in matchless verse do honour to the world's greatest intellect. It was a pretty conceit. Only a master mind would dare to make the attempt. The result has afforded another example of how his great wit, in being concealed, was revealed.



Chapter XXI
BACON'S LIBRARY

IN his "Advancement of Learning" Bacon refers to the annotations of books as being deficient. There was living at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century a scholar through whose hands at least several thousand books passed. He appears to have made a practice of annotating in the margins every book he read. The chief purpose, however, of the notes, apparently, was to aid the memory, for in some books nearly every name occurring in the text is carried into the margin without comment. The notes are also accompanied by scrolls, marks, and brackets, which support the contention that they are the work of one man. The annotation of books was not a common practice then, nor has it been since. If a reader takes up a hundred books in a second-hand book shop he will probably not find more than one containing manuscript notes, and not one in five hundred in which the annotations have been systematically carried through. There does not appear to have been any other scholar living at that time, with the exception of this one, who was persistently making marginal notes on the books he read.

Spedding writes: "What became of his (Bacon's) books, which were left to Sir John Constable and must have contained traces of his reading, we do not know; but very few appear to have survived."

Mrs. Pott, in "Francis Bacon and his Secret Society," draws attention to the mystery as to the disappearance of Bacon's library. "Which is a mystery," she adds, "although the world has been content to take it very apathetically. Where is Bacon's library? Undoubtedly the books exist and are traceable. We should expect them to be recognisable by marginal notes; yet those notes, whether in pencil or in ink, may have been effaced. If annotated, Bacon and his friends would not wish his books to attract public attention." And further on: "It is probable that the latter (i.e., the books) will seldom or never be found to bear his name or signature." And again: "Yet it may reasonably be anticipated that some at least are 'noted in the margin,' or that some will be found with traces of marks which were guides to the transcriber or amanuensis as to the portions which were to be copied for future use in Bacon's collections or books of commonplaces." Mrs. Pott's words were written in a spirit of true prophecy.

The collecting together of these books originated with that distinguished Baconian scholar, Mr. W. M. Safford. For years past he has been steadily engaged in reconstituting Bacon's Library. The writer has had the privilege of being associated with him in this work during the past three years. A collection of nearly two thousand volumes has been gathered together. The annotations on the margins of these books are unquestionably the work of one man, and that man, or rather boy and man, was undoubtedly Francis Bacon. The books bear date from 1470 to 1620. It is impossible to enumerate them all here, but they include the works of Seneca, Aristotle, Plato, Horace, Alciat, Lucanus, Dionysius, Catullus, Lactinius, Plutarch, Pliny, Aristophanes, Plautus, Cornelius Agrippa, Cicero, Vitruvius, Euclid, Virgil, Ovid, Lucretius, Apuleius, Salust, Tibullus, Isocrates, and hundreds of other classical writers; St. Augustine, St. Jerome, Calvin, Beza, Beda, Erasmus, Martin Luther, J. Cammerarius, Sir Thomas Moore, Machiavelli, and other more modern writers.

The handwriting varies,* but there is a particular hand which is found accompanied by a boy's sketches. There are drawings of full-length figures, heads of men and women, animals, birds, reptiles, ships, castles, cathedrals, cities, battles, storms, etc. The writing is a strong, clerkly student's hand. There is a passage in "Hamlet," Act V., scene ii., which is noteworthy. Hamlet, speaking to Horatio, says:--

"I sat me down
Devised a new commission; wrote it fair;
I once did hold it, as our statists do,
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much
How to forget that learning; but, Sir, now
It did me yeomans service."

* Edwin A. Abbot, in his work, "Francis Bacon," p. 447, writes, "Bacon's style (as a writer) varied almost as much as his handwriting."

The nature of this statement is so personal that it could only have been written as the result of experience. Hamlet had been taught, when young, to write a hand so fair that he was capable of producing a fresh commission which would pass muster as the work of a Court copyist. The annotation of these books possessed the same qualification. In the margins of these books are abundant references in handwriting to the whole range of classical authors.

A copy of the "Grammatice Compendium" of Lactus Pomponius, a very rare book printed by De Fortis in Venice in 1484, contains on the margins the boy's scribble and drawings, besides a number of manuscript notes. It bears traces of his reading probably at eight years of age. A large folio volume entitled "T. Livii Palvini Latinę Historię Principis Decades Tres," published by Frobenius in 1535, is a treasure. It is most copiously annotated and embellished with sketches. The notes are usually in Latin, but interspersed with Greek and sometimes with English. Obviously the writer thought in Latin, and the character of the drawings justifies the assumption that, at the time, his age would be from ten to fourteen years.

The most remarkable reference to these annotations is to be found in the "Rape of Lucrece." The fifteenth stanza is as follows:--

"But she that never cop't with straunger eies,
Could picke no meaning from their parling lookes,
Nor read the subtle shining secrecies
Writ in the glassie margents of such bookes,
Shee toucht no unknown baits, nor feared no hooks,
Nor could shee moralize his wanton sight
More than his eies were opend to the light."

It would be difficult to conceive a more inappropriate simile for the lustful looks in Tarquin's eyes than "the subtle shining secrecies, writ in the glassie margents of such books." That this is lugged in for a purpose outside the object of the poem is manifest. How many readers of "Lucrece" would know of such a practice? Nay. If it did exist, was not its use very rare?

But the margin of the verse itself yields a subtle shining secret! The initial letters of the lines are B, C, N, W, Sh, N M. It is only necessary to supply the vowels--BaCoN, W. Sh., NaMe. Sh is on line 103, which is the numerical value of the word Shakespeare. The numerical value of Bacon is 33. In view of this the line 33 is significant:--"Why is Colatine the publisher?" The use of the word publisher here is quite inappropriate. It is introduced for some reason outside the purpose of the text.

The "Rape of Lucrece" commences with Bacon's monogram and, as the late Rev. Walter Begley pointed out, ends with his signature.

The theory now advanced is that when Bacon read a book he made marginal notes in it--the object being mainly to assist his memory, but the critical notes are numerous. It does not follow that all these books constituted his library. He would read a book and it having served his purpose he would dispose of it. Some books no doubt he would retain and these would form his library.

The annotations are chiefly in Latin, but some are in Greek, some in Hebrew, French and Spanish. When these have been examined and translated the meaning of the phrase that he had taken all knowledge to be his province will be better understood. Rawley says: "He read much and that with great judgment and rejection of impertinences incident to many authors."

The writer having examined annotations, many and varied, of books in his library, and having enjoyed the privilege of free access to those collected by Mr. Safford, ventures to assert that much of the ripe learning of the Shakespeare plays can be traced therein to its proper origin. Amongst the former is a copy of Alciat's Emblems, 1577, in the early part profusely annotated. Ben Jonson in his "Discoveries" has incorporated the translation of a portion of one of the Emblems and has also incorporated a portion of the annotations from this very book.



Chapter XXII
TWO GERMAN OPINIONS ON SHAKESPEARE
AND BACON

DR. G. G. GERVINUS, the eminent German Historian and Professor Extraordinary at Heidelberg, published in 1849 his work, "Shakespeare Commentaries." This was years before any suggestion had been made that Bacon was in any way connected with the authorship of the Shakespearean dramas.

In the Prospectus of "The New Shakespeare Society," written in 1873, Dr. F. J. Furnivall says:--

"The profound and generous 'Commentaries' of Gervinus--an honour to a German to have written, a pleasure to an Englishman to read--is still the only book known to me that comes near the true treatment and the dignity of its subject, or can be put into the hands of the student who wants to know the mind of Shakespeare."

The book abounds with references to Bacon. From the Preface to the last chapter Gervinus appears to have Bacon continually suggested to him by the thoughts and words of Shakespeare.

In the Preface, after speaking of the value accruing to German literature by naturalizing Shakespeare "even at the risk of casting our own poets still further in the shade," he says:--

"A similar benefit would it be to our intellectual life if his famed contemporary, Bacon, were revived in a suitable manner, in order to counterbalance the idealistic philosophy of Germany. For both these, the poet and politics of their people, stand upon the level ground of reality, notwithstanding the high art of the one and the speculative notions of the other. By the healthfulness of their own mind they influence the healthfulness of others, while in their most ideal and most abstract representations they aim at a preparation for life as it is--for that life which forms the exclusive subject of all political action."

In the chapter on "His Age," written prior to 1849, the Professor pours out the results of a profound study of the writings attributed to both men in the following remarkable sentences:--

"Judge then how natural it was that England, if not the birthplace of the drama, should be that of dramatic legislature. Yet even this instance of favourable concentration is not the last. Both in philosophy and poetry everything conspired, as it were, throughout this prosperous period, in favour of two great minds, Shakespeare and Bacon; all competitors vanished from their side, and they could give forth laws for art and science which it is incumbent even upon present ages to fulfil. As the revived philosophy, which in the former century in Germany was divided among many, but in England at that time was the possession of a single man, so poetry also found one exclusive heir, compared with whom those later born could claim but little.

"That Shakespeare's appearance upon a soil so admirably prepared was neither marvellous nor accidental is evidenced even by the corresponding appearance of such a contemporary as Bacon. Scarcely can anything be said of Shakespeare's position generally with regard to medięval poetry which does not also bear upon the position of the renovator Bacon with regard to medięval philosophy. Neither knew nor mentioned the other, although Bacon was almost called upon to have done so in his remarks upon the theatre of his day. It may be presumed that Shakespeare liked Bacon but little, if he knew his writings and life; that he liked not the fault-finding which his ill-health might have caused, nor the narrow-mindedness with which he pronounced the histrionic art to be infamous, although he allowed that the ancients regarded the drama as a school for virtue; nor the theoretic precepts of worldly wisdom which he gave forth; nor, lastly, the practical career which he lived. Before his mind, however, if he had fathomed it, he must have bent in reverence. For just as Shakespeare was an interpreter of the secrets of history and of human nature, Bacon was an interpreter of lifeless nature. Just as Shakespeare went from instance to instance in his judgment of moral actions, and never founded a law on single experience, so did Bacon in natural science avoid leaping from one experience of the senses to general principles; he spoke of this with blame as anticipating nature; and Shakespeare, in the same way, would have called the conventionalities in the poetry of the Southern races an anticipation of human nature. In the scholastic science of the middle ages, as in the chivalric poetry of the romantic period, approbation and not truth was sought for, and with one accord Shakespeare's poetry and Bacon's science were equally opposed to this. As Shakespeare balanced the one-sided errors of the imagination by reason, reality, and nature, so Bacon led philosophy away from one-sided errors of reason to experience; both with one stroke, renovated the two branches of science and poetry by this renewed bond with nature; both, disregarding all by-ways, staked everything upon this 'victory in the race between art and nature.' Just as Bacon with his new philosophy is linked with the natural science of Greece and Rome, and then with the latter period of philosophy in western Europe, so Shakespeare's drama stands in relation to the comedies of Plautus and to the stage of his own day; between the two there lay a vast wilderness of time, as unfruitful for the drama as for philosophy. But while they thus led back to nature, Bacon was yet as little of an empiric, in the common sense, as Shakespeare was a poet of nature. Bacon prophesied that if hereafter his commendation of experience should prevail, great danger to science would arise from the other extreme, and Shakespeare even in his own day could perceive the same with respect to his poetry; Bacon, therefore, insisted on the closest union between reality and imagination. While they thus bid adieu to the formalities of ancient art and science, Shakespeare to conceits and taffeta-phrases, Bacon to logic and syllogisms, yet at times it occurred that the one fell back into the subtleties of the old school, and the other into the constrained wit of the Italian style. Bacon felt himself quite an original in that which was his peculiar merit, and so was Shakespeare; the one in the method of science he had laid down, and in his suggestions for its execution, the other in the poetical works he had executed, and in the suggestions of their new law. Bacon, looking back to the waymarks he had left for others, said with pride that his words required a century for their demonstration and several for their execution; and so too it has demanded two centuries to understand Shakespeare, but very little has ever been executed in his sense. And at the same time we have mentioned what deep modesty was interwoven in both with their self-reliance, so that the words which Bacon liked to quote hold good for the two works:--'The kingdom of God cometh not with observation.' Both reached this height from the one starting point, that Shakespeare despised the million, and Bacon feared with Phocion the applause of the multitude. Both are alike in the rare impartiality with which they avoided everything one-sided; in Bacon we find, indeed, youthful exercises in which he endeavoured in severe contrasts to contemplate a series of things from two points of view. Both, therefore, have an equal hatred of sects and parties; Bacon of sophists and dogmatic philosophers, Shakespeare of Puritans and zealots. Both, therefore, are equally free from prejudices, and from astrological superstition in dreams and omens. Bacon says of the alchemists and magicians in natural science that they stand in similar relation to true knowledge as the deeds of Amadis to those of Cęsar, and so does Shakespeare's true poetry stand in relation to the fantastic romance of Amadis. Just as Bacon banished religion from science, so did Shakespeare from Art; and when the former complained that the teachers of religion were against natural philosophy, they were equally against the stage. From Bacon's example it seems clear that Shakespeare left religious matters unnoticed on the same grounds as himself, and took the path of morality in worldly things; in both this has been equally misconstrued, and Le Maistre has proved Bacon's lack of Christianity, as Birch has done that of Shakespeare. Shakespeare would, perhaps, have looked down just as contemptuously on the ancients and their arts as Bacon did on their philosophy and natural science, and both on the same grounds; they boasted of the greater age of the world, of more enlarged knowledge of heaven, earth, and mankind. Neither stooped before authorities, and an injustice similar to that which Bacon committed against Aristotle, Shakespeare perhaps has done to Homer. In both a similar combination of different mental powers was at work; and as Shakespeare was often involuntarily philosophical in his profoundness, Bacon was not seldom surprised into the imagination of the poet. Just as Bacon, although he declared knowledge in itself to be much more valuable than the use of invention, insisted throughout generally and dispassionately upon the practical use of philosophy, so Shakespeare's poetry, independent as was his sense of art, aimed throughout at bearing upon the moral life. Bacon himself was of the same opinion; he was not far from declaring history to be the best teacher of politics, and poetry the best instructor in morals. Both were alike deeply moved by the picture of a ruling Nemesis, whom they saw, grand and powerful, striding through history and life, dragging the mightiest and most prosperous as a sacrifice to her altar, as the victims of their own inward nature and destiny. In Bacon's works we find a multitude of moral sayings and maxims of experience, from which the most striking mottoes might be drawn for every Shakespearian play, aye, for every one of his principal characters (we have already brought forward not a few proofs of this), testifying to a remarkable harmony in their mutual comprehension of human nature. Both, in their systems of morality rendering homage to Aristotle, whose ethics Shakespeare, from a passage in Troilus, may have read, arrived at the same end as he did--that virtue lies in a just medium between two extremes. Shakespeare would also have agreed with him in this, that Bacon declared excess to be 'the fault of youth, as defect is of age;' he accounted 'defect the worst, because excess contains some sparks of magnanimity, and, like a bird, claims kindred of the heavens, while defect, only like a base worm, crawls upon the earth.' In these maxims lie at once, as it were, the whole theory of Shakespeare's dramatic forms and of his moral philosophy."

DR. KUNO FISCHER, the distinguished German critic and historian of philosophy, in a volume on Bacon, published in 1856, writes:--

The same affinity for the Roman mind, and the same want of sympathy with the Greek, we again find in Bacon's greatest contemporary, whose imagination took as broad and comprehensive a view as Bacon's intellect. Indeed, how could a Bacon attain that position with respect to Greek poetry that was unattainable by the mighty imagination of a Shakespeare? For in Shakespeare, at any rate, the imagination of the Greek antiquity could be met by a homogenous power of the same rank as itself; and, as the old adage says, "like comes to like." But the age, the spirit of the nation--in a word, all those forces of which the genius of an individual man is composed, and which, moreover, genius is least able to resist--had here placed an obstacle, impenetrable both to the poet and the philosopher. Shakespeare was no more able to exhibit Greek characters than Bacon to expound Greek poetry. Like Bacon, Shakespeare had in his turn of mind something that was Roman, and not at all akin to the Greek. He could appropriate to himself a Coriolanus and Brutus, a Cęsar and an Antony; he could succeed with the Roman heroes of Plutarch, but not with the Greek heroes of Homer. The latter he could only parody, but his parody was as infelicitous as Bacon's explanation of the "Wisdom of the Ancients." Those must be dazzled critics indeed who can persuade themselves that the heroes of the Iliad are excelled by the caricatures in "Troilus and Cressida." The success of such a parody was poetically impossible; indeed, he that attempts to parody Homer shows thereby that he has not understood him. For the simple and the naļve do not admit of a parody, and these have found in Homer their eternal and inimitable expression. Just as well might caricatures be made of the statues of Phidias. Where the creative imagination never ceases to be simple and naļve, where it never distorts itself by the affected or the unnatural, there is the consecrated land of poetry, in which there is no place for the parodist. On the other hand, where there is a palpable want of simplicity and nature, parody is perfectly conceivable; nay, may even be felt as a poetical necessity. Thus Euripides, who, often enough, was neither simple nor naļve, could be parodied, and Aristophanes has shown us with what felicity. Even Ęschylus, who was not always as simple as he was grand, does not completely escape the parodising test. But Homer is safe. To parody Homer is to mistake him, and to stand so far beyond his scope that the truth and magic of his poetry can no longer be felt; and this is the position of Shakespeare and Bacon. The imagination of Homer, and all that could be contemplated and felt by that imagination, namely, the classical antiquity of the Greeks, are to them utterly foreign. We cannot understand Aristotle without Plato; nay, I maintain that we cannot contemplate with a sympathetic mind the Platonic world of ideas, if we have not previously sympathised with the world of the Homeric gods. Be it understood, I speak of the form of the Platonic mind, not of its logical matter; in point of doctrine, the Homeric faith was no more that of Plato than of Phidias. But these doctrinal or logical differences are far less than the formal and ęsthetical affinity. The conceptions of Plato are of Homeric origin.

This want of ability to take an historical survey of the world is to be found alike in Bacon and Shakespeare, together with many excellencies likewise common to them both. To the parallel between them--which Gervinus, with his peculiar talent for combination, has drawn in the concluding remarks to his "Shakespeare," and has illustrated by a series of appropriate instances--belongs the similar relation of both to antiquity, their affinity to the Roman mind, and their diversity from the Greek. Both possessed to an eminent degree that faculty for a knowledge of human nature that at once pre-supposes and calls forth an interest in practical life and historical reality. To this interest corresponds the stage, on which the Roman characters moved; and here Bacon and Shakespeare met, brought together by a common interest in these objects, and the attempt to depict and copy them. This point of agreement, more than any other argument, explains their affinity. At the same time there is no evidence that one ever came into actual contact with the other. Bacon does not even mention Shakespeare when he discourses of dramatic poetry, but passes over this department of poetry with a general and superficial remark that relates less to the subject itself than to the stage and its uses. As far as his own age is concerned, he sets down the moral value of the stage as exceedingly trifling. But the affinity of Bacon to Shakespeare is to be sought in his moral and psychological, not in his ęsthetical views, which are too much regulated by material interests and utilitarian prepossessions to be applicable to art itself, considered with reference to its own independent value. However, even in these there is nothing to prevent Bacon's manner of judging mankind, and apprehending characters from agreeing perfectly with that of Shakespeare; so that human life, the subject-matter of all dramatic art, appeared to him much as it appeared to the great artist himself, who, in giving form to this matter, excelled all others. Is not the inexhaustible theme of Shakespeare's poetry the history and course of human passion? In the treatment of this especial theme is not Shakespeare the greatest of all poets--nay, is he not unique among them all? And it is this very theme that is proposed by Bacon as the chief problem of moral philosophy. He blames Aristotle for treating of the passions in his rhetoric rather than his ethics; for regarding the artificial means of exciting them rather than their natural history. It is to the natural history of the human passions that Bacon directs the attention of philosophy. He does not find any knowledge of them among the sciences of his time. "The poets and writers of histories," he says, "are the best doctors of this knowledge; where we may find painted forth with great life how passions are kindled and incited; and how pacified and refrained; and how again contained from act and further degree; how they disclose themselves; how they work; how they vary; how they gather and fortify; how they are inwrapped one within another; and how they do fight and encounter one with another; and other the like particularities."* Such a lively description is required by Bacon from moral philosophy. That is to say, he desired nothing less than a natural history of the passions--the very thing that Shakespeare has produced. Indeed, what poet could have excelled Shakespeare in this respect? Who, to use a Baconian expression, could have depicted man and all his passions more ad vivum? According to Bacon, the poets and historians give us copies of characters; and the outlines of these images--the simple strokes that determine characters--are the proper objects of ethical science. Just as physical science requires a dissection of bodies, that their hidden qualities and parts may be discovered, so should ethics penetrate the various minds of men, in order to find out the eternal basis of them all. And not only this foundation, but likewise those external conditions which give a stamp to human character--all those peculiarities that "are imposed upon the mind by the sex, by the age, by the region, by health and sickness, by beauty and deformity, and the like, which are inherent and not external; and, again, those which are caused by external fortune"†--should come within the scope of ethical philosophy. In a word, Bacon would have man studied in his individuality as a product of nature and historical influences, by internal and external conditions. And exactly in the same spirit has Shakespeare understood man and his destiny; regarding character as the result of a certain natural temperament and a certain historical position, and destiny as a result of character.

* "Advancement of Learning," II. "De Augment. Scient.," VII. 3.
† "Advancement of Learning," II. For the whole passage compare "De Augment.," VII. 3.

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