Bacon, Shakespeare and the Rosicrucians

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I24C'^.:17

t

HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY

FROM THB BBQUBSr OP

JOHN AMORY LOWELL

OASS OF i8i J

\\

BACON, SHAKESPEARE,

AND THB

ROSICRUCIANS.

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

A NEW STUDY OF SHAKESPEARE.

i^^A REMARKABLE BOOKr\

** Thla * New Stody of Slukespeare * ia certainly tbe most noteworthy and Talnable

of all the works elucidating the inner meaning of the greatest poet of modem times

which hare appeared. We tmat that a new edition will be called for, and also that the

Author will receire sufficient encouragement to giro to the public another volume on

the same subject."— (TV Platonitt, June 1888.)

LONDON :
TR0BNEB & CO., Ludoatb Hill.

1884.

^^

ti

\

BACON SHAKESPEARE

AND THE

ROSICRUCIANS

BY

W. F. C. WIGSTON

AUTHOR OF "a NEW 8TUDT OF SHAKESPEARE "

** Oar «ge doth prodaoe many sach, one of the greatest (Imposton) being a Staqb
PiAnat, a man with snJBclent Ingennity for Impoaitlon."

RoexoBUciAv CoxFBasiov, 161A.

,/

WITH TWO PLATES

LONDON
GEOBGE BEDWAY TOBE STBEET GOVENT OABDEN

iiDcccuzrvm

/g^/^. > 7

<;e.^'^'^'-'"^^^^i>\

jUN 17 188:)

/sRAr^^'j.

c

t

(To

THE STUDENTS

OF

HERMETIC SCIENCE

IN AMERICA

XTbls TISlorft is Bebtcated,

IN GRATEFUL RECOGNITION

OF APPRECIATION,

BY TH£

AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

As this work follows rather closely upon the pablication of Mr
Donnelly's " Great Cryptogram/' it may be as well, in order to
avoid misconception, and any unjust charge of plagiarism (or unlaw-
ful desire to make capital out of the interest excited by the cipher
problem) — to point out that as long ago as 1884, we published
(under the auspices of Messrs Triibner & Co.), a work entitled
'' A New Study of Shakespeare." In it almost all the problems
suggested in the present work are implied, and discussed at
greater or less length. To belief in the Bacon authorship of
the plays we have long been a convert, and a chapter on that
subject may be refound in our first work. The theory that the
plays and poems contain a planned spiritual Bebirth or promise
of Bevelation for posterity is the key-centre of " A New Study
of Shakespeare." In it we attempted to suggest how that has
been done, and representatively reflected in some of the plays.
We therefore think we owe it to ourselves to lay claim to what-
ever originality there may be in that work, seeing that the time is
rapidly approaching when the world must take a greater and
more absorbing interest in these problems. We have no cipher
(alas !) to present the reader, but pending the solution, or further

viii PREFACE,

elaboration of Mr Donnelly's Cryptogram, there are many ways
still left open to the student desirous of a closer and deeper
acquaintanceship with the art called Shakespeare's. Any letters
or communications upon this subject may be addressed to the
Author, through his publishers.

INTRODUCTION.

" But the Idol8 of the Market'pUtce are the most troableeome of all :
idoU which have crept into the undentanding through the alliaDces of
words and names." — Bacon.

Evidence differs as to weight, very much less in accordance with
the evidence itself than with the capacities of the people receiving
it An apple falling is to Newton anticipation, supplying sufficient
faith to discover and toil at the laws of gravitation. We may
depend upon it, Newton not only saw, but believed because he
saw. And how can this sort of evidence, with which the history
of every discovery is replete, be made the vulgar sort of evidence
which the average intellect requires before it is convinced 9 Take
Mr Donnelly's recent work upon the authorship of the plays.
Examine the first volume carefully, where the evidence is simply
overwhelming. Do we think fifty such volumes would convince
some people 1 A thousand times no ! There is a large predomi-
nant class of people, who, to begin with, cannot grasp or seize the
issues of comparative evidence at all. There is another large
class whose minds are so infected with the idols of the Tribe,
Theatre, and Den, as to be totally prepossessed and prejudiced
against any rational weighing of the evidence when given. The
human mind cannot hold two beliefs at the same time, or fairly
examine evidence destructive of established faith, until the work
is already partially accomplished by preparatory criticism. We
see in the history of all great changes in matters of Religion or
Philosophy, that the ground must be first cleared, the mind dis-
abused or shaken in its idols, by a process of criticism, which is,
as it were, a purge to drive out prepossessions. What is the sort
of evidence that inspires men like Columbus, Galileo, or Newton

X INTRODUCTION,

with faith by its anticipation and prevision, to toil and labour
in darkness, to risk danger and bear solitude unrecognised by
their fellow-men % It cannot be the sort of evidence the noisy
world requires, because it would be no evidence at all. Imagine
Newton assuring the world that the laws of gravitation were
prefigured by the fall of an apple I Or Columbus persuading us
now-ardays of hemispheres unseen, from the simple analogy that
fired his mind, that as the Mediterranean had a southern land limit
in Africa, so ought the Atlantic to have some western boundary
or terra firmoL I Yet these men were right, and their prevision
and faith from what to them was conclusive evidence, worth all
the knowing scepticism of the world put together. This, in
short, is the history of discovery and invention, that certain
minds like certain eyes on board a ship at sea, see land before
others.

A great fallacy is that general consensus of opinion and length
of time constitute a prerogative or standard of evidence. As if
any millions or billions of uneducated, unreflecting persons, who
take their opinions from hearsay, and just this fallacy of tradi-
tion, can weigh against one genuine expert, or one person who
reflects, studies, and thinks beyond the general mind. Every
day we hear something to the eflect that three centuries have
passed, and no one has (with a few rare exceptions) questioned
the authorship of the plays.^ Very true, but nobody even exa-
mined, or thought of examining, the evidence for or against this
question, seriously, until lately. Ages have evolved, myriads of
the human race gone below, who never questioned the Mosaic
cosmogony, or the origin of man, as therein set down, until
Darwin came with his theory. There have been thousands of
surface critics of the plays, but no one has plumbed the question
of why this mystery about Shakespeare's life — ^wherefore this
silence — whence came his education — and thousands of other

^ How many more centuries passed between Virgirs age and Warbnrton's
*' Divine Legation" in which, for the first time, the real meaning of the
Vlth book of the i£neid was expounded !

INTRODUCTION, xi

such questions % Because it is of comparatively recent date, that
the profound classical learning, the enormous scholarship,- the
varied attainments, and the vast experience of Law, State, and
Court life have been fully recognised or universally appreciated
in the plays. The world is just commencing to realize that,
joined to this enigma of mystery (which is too deliberate and too
carefully planned to be the result of chance), there is, as it were,
another side to the plays and poems — ^a profound, unrevealed
side, that suggests a possible solution of the riddle. For there is
a striking analogy between these plays and Nature, inasmuch as
both hold the same reserve, the same secrecy, and the same silence,
as if to say that no other revelation, save what they afford of
themselves, shall be given.

Oliver Wendell Holmes, in one of his works, illustrates the
disturbance produced by more light and new theories, by the
picture of an old stone long imbedded in the grass, which in a
moment of mischief we reverse with foot or stick. What a
surprise for all the crawling and vermiculate things who have
long dwelt in the land of darkness, so tranquilly and so comfort-
ably ! How they scurry and hurry away, anything but grateful
for this influx of sunshine ! Yet in a few months the spot is as
green as the rest. And so it is with truth — somebody draws
back the curtains of some old-established fallacy, some association
of names with ideas, and nothing more, and lo, what an outcry is
there at this pulling up the blinds from those who would like to
sleep on for another century or so !

This applies particularly to the problem of the authorship of
the Shakespeare plays, as well as to the art itself. A large class of
people, particularly Englishmen, have taken the poet's works to
themselves, and out of the mere association of the name of
Shakespeare with the plays, not only imagine they are familiar
with the author, but have built up an imaginary idol — a fictitious
Shakespeare of their own who never existed — whom they fall
down, worship, and defend as a person commensurate with the
plays he is supposed to have written. The truth is, that whilst

xii INTRODUCTION.

efndmvcuring to realize the personality of Shakespeare, we are always
thifMng of the uorkSf and thus, out of the association of name and
plajs arises a Godlike being, who certainly does not answer to the
little we know of him. Nothing is more powerful than the
association of ideas. They usurp the place of reason, and become
the ''monster custom that all sense doth eat," for, let us ask
the question, what proof have we (beyond the association of
Shakespeare's name with the plays) that he wrote them 1
Suppose there was a reason for hiding — an object in mystifying
posterity with regard to the real author. Why not? And
granting this, where are your proofs that Shakespeare wrote these
plays and poems 1 If it was not for the association of his name
by tradition with the plays, and we were obliged to use our
judgment or reason to select the real author, he is about the last
person in the world we should light upon, and Bacon the first,
who would stand out as the protagonist of his age, the rightful
heir. The great difficulty is to persuade people that they know
nothing of the personal Shakespeare at all, though they know
certain works that have borne his name.

If it seems extraordinary that Bacon should lay no claim to
his own works, it is far more extraordinary that Shakespeare
should have been perfectly indifferent to the fate of his plays,
or their publication in a collected form before his death ! The
fact that he leaves no personal record of himself, no scrip or
scrap of writing, no manuscripts of the plays, no library, no cor-
respondence, is so out of all power of expression wonderful, that to the
profound thinker it constitutes a species of evidence in itself that
it cannot be the result of indifference or accident, but is the out-
come of deliberately planned intention to leave no trace outside
the works themselves. The entire mystery surrounding the
authorship of the plays and poems bears evidence of the most
careful forethought and calculation. Common-sense will convince
anybody that such complete removal of every trace of literary
record and penmanship concerning an author, who is quite aware
of his transcendent genius and coming fame in the eyes of pos-

INTRODUCTION, xiii

terity, cannot have been accidental ! Bnt suppose Shakespeare
did not write the plays \ Ah, then indeed, the less trace he left
of himself the better ! And perhaps this is just the reason
we know so little abont Shakespeare, inasmuch as there was very
little about him worth knowing, except that, like the Ass in the
comic poet's frogs, " he carries the mysteries" : —

^' Asinus portat mysteria.''

Our theory — a theory we first put forth to the public, in the
"New Study of Shakespeare" — ^is, that the plays and poems
hitherto attributed to Shakespeare, contain decided proofs of a
planned spiritual Rebirth or Revelation through time. An author
planning a Revelation (and by this word we mean, the philo-
sophy underljing the plays, together with the question of author-
ship) in a work of art, would first bethink himself of how to
make this openly secret to another generation. There are certain
symbolical signs which stand for types of Rebirth. Such is the
fabulous bird the Phcenix. Another is the myth of Geres and
Proserpine— that is, the death of the earth life in Winter, and
rebirth in Spring and Summer. In short, the only effective way,
if possible, would be to give depth of meaning, which iwuld be
sdf-refleding of the rebirth aimed at, so as to be as deep as Nature
itself — that is, openly secret This is the reason, we maintain,
we find in plays like The Wintefs Tale, the incorporated myth of
Demdter and Persephone, very slightly disguised, though care-
fully veiled under the forms of Hermione and Perdita, applied
to the art of the plays as art and rebirth of that art. We cannot
enter here into the subject of the poet's works, as now under-
stood. But it has been plain to all profound thinkers, that we
know nothing of this art, but the mere outside — that, as Emerson
put it, we are "still out of doors," and this is abundantly proved
by the endless works which appear upon the plays and poems,
of which not one, as yet, has advanced us one inch, upon any
satisfactory path of discovery. Upon what spiritual and creative
principles were they constructed 9 That they are mere plays.

xiv INTRODUCTION.

after the fashion of the plays of the Elizabethan age, cannot
be for a moment accepted. There are no works upon Ben
Jonson's art, or Beaumont and Fletcher's, after the fashion
that we find upon the so-called Shakespeare plays. Their depth
is so extraordinary, that we must not be surprised to find they
embrace creative principles, which are hugely philosophic, as
profound as Nature itself. The time will come, when all the
world will marvel at the '^ composed wonder" of their frame —
when libraries will be filled with lexicons to illustrate lines even
in these plays — when the great interpreter of Nature's secrets,
her great commentator, will be the " philosophic play systems " of
Lord Bacon ; and when the New World will look back upon the
hitherto critics and commentators, with the pitying good-natured
smile, that we bestow upon Bottom in the Dream, when he holds
up his tiny lantern to illustrate Moonshine, or his bush of thoros
to present the woods or sylva of Nature. To present the world
with the sort of proof that a sceptical generation requires is im-
possible. The only conclusive proof upon a subject of this sort,
is a cipher, beyond dispute^ with a revelation following it of papers
and evidence admitting neither question nor hesitation, and at
once flooding the entire cycle of the plays and authorship with
the splendour of Midsummer light. That this has been done
and will follow at some time, we have no shadow of doubt.
Whether Mr Donnelly will arrive at it, we cannot say, we only
sincerely hope so, having the pleasure of his acquaintance, and
knowing him to be a man as simple as he is true, as earnest and
as laborious as he is conscientious, and above all suspicion of
any sort of trifling or imposture in this matter.

Seeing that there is a poem entitled the Flwenix aivd the Turtle^
(placed at the end of the works), plainly presenting an enigma
and promise of rebirth, both in title and subject matter ; seeing,
again, that the Sonnets are so evidently creative principles or new
life (Nuova Fiia), and iterate a revelation through time so plainly ;
seeing that we have in Prospero a god in art, and in the Duke
iu Measure for Measure^ an ubiquitous Providence presiding and

INTRODUCTION. xv

directing, unseen aiid irmsilde, the ends of this art ; seeing that we
have constantly presented to us separations and reconciliations
with losi children like Marina and Perdita, (who bring about the
reconciliations) — ^how is it, we ask, no one can see what has been
done) The mystery and obscurity that accompany the plays
and their authorship were planned. It is too remarkable to be
the result of chance. And the real author reveals himself in his
favourite quotation, which he repeats at intervals throughout his
works : —

" ' The glory of God is to conceal a thing, but the glory of the
king is to find it out ; ' as if, according to the innocent play of
children, the Divine Majesty took delight to hide His works, to
the end to have them found out; and as if kings could not
obtain a greater honour than to be God's playfellows in that
game, considering the great commandment of wits and means
whereby nothing needeth to be hidden from them."

This is the key-note of Lord Bacon's mind. This is the secret
of the mystery and depth of plays which the God Bacon wrote, but
concealed himself behind, under another name, in order to be
found out through time and through depth of art — A Second
Nature ! See how in these lines Bacon delights in concealment !
It is this reserve of God and Nature which extracts his un-
bounded admiration. To be openly secret, to reserve nothing,
yet to hide everything (like Nature), that indeed is Divine art /
Examine the history of Shakespearian criticism 1 Does it not
reveal just this mystery of concealment, this reserve, yet with the
sense, (which everybody feels), that it is our incapacity alone,
that (like Antony Dull) '' understands nothing " 1 We feel that
this art is as profound as nature, and as philosophical. If it has
a god in Prospero, and in the Duke in Measure for Measure,
depend upon it it is also Godlike in creative principles and aims
subserving its creation. All in it, we are told, is ** hugely
politic" framed on " great bases for eternity," and inspired by a
transcendent self-sacrifice only equalled by Christ's. For the sake
of this end, for the sake of the mystery. Bacon has died in name.

xvi INTRODUCTION,

his glory being, (as he says, in the Sonnets) mostly that he is
silent or dumb. We see this sacrifice hinted at in that strange
work, Chester's "Love's Martyr," in the title, and in the after title,
where the work is metaphorically applied to l^^ature, as imitation
of nature, as " a rare piece of art " challenging Homer's. It is in
this work we find the poem of the Ffuenix and Turtle, It is not
difficult to see that this work is the product of a secret society of
men, contributing and assisting to one common end — the plays of
Lord Bacon. This is our sincere belie£ Everything in that work
hints at secrecy, for fear of envy. We find in it the following
pregnant words : —

" Guide, thou great guider of the Sun aud Mood,
Thou elemental savourer of the night,
My undeserved wit, wit sprung too soon}
To give thy greatness every gracious light."

" Wit sprung too soon " — to be published or made manifest,
evidently genius in advance of his age — which takes the only
alternative left of imbcddiug and perpetuating itself by means of
art We find in the Sonnets evidence that there were associates
or compeers, giving him aid by night in some task. Is it too much
to suggest that we refind them in Chester's "Love's Martyr" 1 —

«

" No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Oimng him aid, my verse astonished.
He, nor that of able familiar ghost
"Which nightly g^Uls him with intelligence."

We know Shakespeare played the part of the Ghost in Hamlet,
and that, as Ben Jonson states, he was of an " affable, open, and
free disposition." Here, then, are two terms to identify him as
the Ghost in Hamlet and as the Ghost behind the plays, who
gulled himself with intelligence that belonged to another.

* Compare —

** As a decrepit father takes delight
To see bis active child do deeds of yonth,
So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite."

— Sonnets.

INTRODUCTION. xvii

We have in this work approached the Bacon - Shakespeare
problem from a totally new point of view. We maintain that
the question of the authorship of the plays is closely allied with
the character and genius of Lord Bacon's life and writings. And
we suggest that in the fact that he belonged to a secret society
prefigured in his ^'l^ew Atlantis," we have a key to the reserve and
profound nature of his mind. Instead of vaguely speculating as
to his motives for concealment, let us ask ourselves whai was the
nature of the secret society he belonged to? This may provide
an answer to the entire problem. For the Rosicrucians called
themselves Invisibles, their teaching was an abnegation or putting
aside of all egotism, vanity, or self-seeking. They covered them-
selves with a cloud, and they professed doctrines which were
dangerous to publish in an open form. Therefore it behoves us
to seriously consider whether Bacon was one of them, or if not,
to ask ourselves what was the society he really did belong tof
We ought also to seriously consider the spiritual side of the
plays and sonnets, and as we are dealing with an extraordinary
Art, and an extraordinary genius, to ask ourselves what is the
extraordinary rebirth, promised and set forth in no ambiguous
terms in the Phoenix and Turtle, Chester's " Love's Martyr" and tfu:
Sonnets — everywhere 1 The greatest difficulty perhaps associated
with this problem, is to persuade others that the plays have
another, as yet, unrevealed side, — and that this side was written
for posterity to discover. The silence, secrecy, mystery, and re-
serve are proofs of a planned system, which, as a whole, was that
of a God in Art, sacrificing himself in order to conceal himself
behind and in his works, whereby after-ages might have their
curiosity and minds whetted to find him out, and give him the
rebirth and glory for which he toiled 9

Our theory, incredulous as it may seem, is that the works
called Shakespeare's, are the product of a learned college of men,
incorporated by one Divine Genius into a system of dramatised
philosophy — an effort to realize Nature in dramatic art, and to
carry down to another age the hermetic science of their society

xviii INTRODUCTION.

and of antiquity in a deliberately planned revelation. The
actual sacrifice of authorship is part of this second story of Christ
in art, for it is just the mystery and silence or reserve which has
stimulated our curiosities, and which is so Godlike. It is written
in the Sonnets over and over again — the sacrifice .which is to be
repaid in other ages ; the glory which is to spring mostly from
the silence. When will the World begin to see it as we do 1
That is our thought, for that the world will all at once see it, and
wonder they never saw it before, is only a question of time. But
how long f

The following propositions are more or less implied in this
work, and may be earnestly commended to the thoughtful student
of this problem.

1. That Bacon was the founder or head of some secret society
is prefigured by his " New Atlantis," and by a further array of
minor evidence, contained in his works, life, and contemporary
literature.

2. That John Heydon, a genuine Eosicrucian Apologist,
identifies Bacon's " New Atlantis " with the '' land of the Eosi-
crucians."

3. That the Sosicrucian manifestoes, fame, and rise correspond
with Bacon's life and death. That four years after his death,
1630, the Rosicrucian literature is already upon the decline.

4. That the learned Nicolai, a great authority, and inquirer
upon the origins of modem Freemasonry, claims Bacon to be its
founder. That at the first authentic Lodge meeting at Warrington
in 1646, Lord Bacon's Atlantis is discussed, his two columns or
pillars (shown upon the Engravings of his Works, folio, Sylva
Sylvarum) are adopted. Nicolai states the members of this meet-
ing were all Rosicrucians, Elias Ashmole being one.

5. That the scheme put forward in some of the Rosicrucian
manifestoes, bears the imprint of Bacon's mind and philosophy,
or object of extending man's knowledge in nature by experi-
ment. The overthrow of Aristotle being one feature.

6. That Modem Masonry is modified Rosicrucianism was the
opinion of the learned De Quincey.

INTRODUCTION, xix

7. That Sosicracianism, though apparently emanating from
abroad, never took root there (t^« De Qaincej), but did iu
England, — a proof of its origin.

8. That it is clearly shown that the antedating of the incep-
tion of the fraternity with Christian Eosenkreutz was a splendid
fiction, and that the real date of the society was coeval with the
end of the sixteenth and commencement of the seventeenth
centuries.

9. That the real authors of the " Universal Reformation " are
stUl unknovm, inasmuch as the supposed author, Johann Valen-
tine Andreas, denied having anything to do with the brother-
hood.

10. That Germany was no more the real centre of the Bosi-
crucians than Italy, seeing that we find a part of the " Universal
Beformation " borrowed from Boccalini

11. That Bacon's writings give hints of profound intimacy
with the Hermetic science, and mysteries of antiquity. That
Bacon studied Egyptian, Persian, and Chaldean lore, which does
net appear in his prose writings.

12. That he speaks of two methods of publishings, or of
writing : one reserved, the other open ; one to select his reader,
the other, oral, which falls in with the oral method of Free-
masonry.

13. That he professes he is going the same road as the ancients,
and compares himself to them in point of wU, which cannot
apply to his prose works.

14. That Bacon's works contain many implied enigmas and
mysteries. That part of his works are wanting,

15. That the plays known as Shakespeare's, contain evidence
of Hermetic and Ancient Mystery sources — Bosicrucian or
Masonic origins.

16. That the Sonnets are full of the promise of rebirth and
revelation in almost extravagant terms.

CONTENTS.

>:o:-

PAOB

CHAPTER I.

John Heydon — ^The Roeicrucian Apologfist — His Family — ^And Character-
Identity of Bacon's "New Atlantis" with Heydon's "Land of the
Rodcracians " — Bacon's Hand to be traced in the famous Rosicruoian
Bfanifestoes — Discovery of his Initials among the Members of the
Fraternity— Proof s that the antedating of the Origins of the Rodcnioian
Brotherhood was a Splendid Fraud ..... 1

^^ CHAPTER n.

The Prophecy of Paracelsus — A Stage Player one of the greatest impostors
of his age, probably Shakespeare — Description of the Rosicrucian
Manifestoes — Lord Bacon as Chancellor of Parnassus — Meeting of the
Rosicrucians in 1646, at Warrington at a Lodge, in order to carry out
Lord Bacon's Ideas — Adoption of his Two PDlars — Origins of Modem
Masonry in England, as modified Rosicrucianism — Bacon's oral method
of Transmission — His familiarity with the Mysteries .30

CHAPTER in.

The Tempea—MasidB of Souls or Spirits — Avalon — "The green grass
Island of Apples " — Identified with Prospero's Island — Avalon identi-
fied with Atlantis— Virgil's Mysteries refound in The Tempest — Sirens
and the Sea — Meaning of the word Tempest, as allied to Creation 48

CHAPTER IV.

VeHV4 arid AdonU — Key or Myth Centre of the Rosicrucian Emblem the
Crucified Rose — Meaning of the Adonis Myth — Its Solar Origin — The
Rose Emblem for Adonis — The Hermetic (>ystal and Rosewater — ^The
Crucified Truth — Light, Life, and Logos — ^As the Crucified Rose — ^The
Secret of Immortality derived from the Conservation of Energy —
The Phoenix and the Palm tree— The Rose Cross the last degree in
Masonry— The Paradise of Dante— The Rose Dante's Divine Word
or Logos .........

xxii CONTENTS,

CHAPTER V.

PAQK

Freemasonry— St Albans, the home of Lord Baoon, and the Origins of
Freemasonry in England — Allusions to St Albans in the Plays — Arms
of St Albans, a St Andrew's Cross — Jobann Valentin Andreas — His
Arms also, a St Andrew's Cross — Curious Facts connected with the
Publication of the Rosiorudan Manifestoes — Andreas, the supposed
Author of the "Fama," denies all connection with the Fraternity —
Antiquity of Masonic Records in Architecture .... 109

CHAPTER VI.

Hermetic and Masonic Origins in the Plays — ^The Phoenicians, the Trans-
mitters of the Hermetic and Masonic Gnosis — Reference to Carthage,
Dido, and iEneas in The Tempest — The Phcsnicians and Tyrians
alluded to by Bacon in the " New Atlantis " — Pericles laid at Tyre
and Ephesus — Rosalind, the Great Diana, or Nature Goddess of the
Ephesians— The Eagle Type of St John— The Knights Templar and
the Rosicrucians ........ 120

CHAPTER Vn.

The Winter's Tale — Incorporation of the Central Myth of Eleusis in this
Play — The meaning of the DemSter and Persephone Allegory — Bacon's
interpretation of the Fable - - Choice of the Poet of Names for his
Characters — Hermione identical with Harmonia — Daughter of Venus
and Mars—Bacon's Strife and Friendship — Perditathe Flower Girl, or
Cinderella — ^The Sleeping Persephone ..... 139

CHAPTER VIIL

Bacon and Antiquity — ^The Anticipations of Modem Science in the New
Atlantis — Bacon credited the Past with Wonders — His profound
Studies of Antiquity — His Declaration of "going the same road as the
Ancients " — Ben Jonson's Lines on Bacon and Shakespeare — Myste-
rious Method of Publishing by Bacon — Public and Reserved — ^Two
Favourite Sayings of Bacon's — Idols of the Theatre . . . 166

CHAPTER IX.

"The History of the Sympathy and Antipathy of Things "—Strife and
Friendship mysteriously entitled by Bacon " the Key of Works " —
These Principles to be rofound in the Sonnets under the disguise of
Love and Hate — ^Taught at Eleusis as Separation and Reconciliation —
Their cosmogonical meaning Gravitation and Repulsion — ^The duality
of the Art called Shakespeare's revealed in the Poems and Dream . 187

CONTENTS, xxiii

CHAPTER X.

FAQB

Midtummer-NigkCt Dream^The Doctrine of Idealism— The Poet's parti-
cular Philosophy — Its application to the Drama — Vizgil and Plato
join Hands in the Mysteries — The Dream a Philosophical Play
System — Reflection of our Relationship to Nature and Art — Platonic
Language used.in the Text— The Dual Unity of Hermia and Helena—
The double Nature of the Plays thus profigurod— The Mysteries and
the Gates of Horn and Ivoiy ...... 200

CHAPTER XI.

ffamUt—The Philosophy of History— Continued Action of Hamlet— The
King the Personified Abstraction of Reigning Eril- Polonius as Tradi-
tion, Infallibility, and Words— The Church and Criticism of Ophelia by
Hamlet — ^The Reformation or Interlude— Rosencranz and Guildenstem
the great Vested Interests of EyU and Abuses— The Play Anticipation
of the Mind and History . .214

CHAPTER XIL
SaniuU—Boih Bacon and Shakespeare beyond their times— Both in league
to cheat Time — Both address an imaginary son — ^The logos or Mind as
heir— Creative prindplee of the Sonnets . . .228

CHAPTER XHL

Baconiana— Parallels between Shakespeare and Bacon- The Rodcrucian
Character of the Stratford Monument— The supposed Violation of
Lord Bacon's Oraye, relatedby Fuller— Further Parallels— The Induc-
tion (Taming of the Mretr)— Sly, a Portrait of Shakespeare — Lord
Bacon's coat-of-arms — Strange after-title of ''Valerius Terminus" —
Antinomies in Bacon's Philosophy — ^Valerius Terminus — Summary of
Shakespeare's Life — Bacon's Deatii — His Character — Further Parallels
— His Monumental Inscription ...... 240

CHAPTER XIV.

Gorhambury— Description of the House, built 1671— The Statue to
Orpheus, with Inscription— Quotation from the folio 1640 (Advance-
ment of Learning) — Expenses of Queen Elizabeth's Entertainment at
Gorhambury— The Kiss Oak — Gray's Inn — Aubrey's Gossip . . 275

CHAPTER I.

bacon's "new ATLANTIS;" OR, "LAND OF THE ROSICRUCIANS."

" To come down hidden amongst crowds is sublime, To come down
hidden amongst crowds from distant generations is doubly sublime." — De

QUINCEY.

If direct proof were necessary, that Bacon belonged, or was at
the head of some secret society, it would seem as if the sort of
proofs the sceptical world require were wanting. Yet just the
sort of proof that the world cannot overlook, or blanch, is fortun-
ately forthcoming in this case, — that is conclusive proof, given
by almost a contemporary, not in a few words, but in an entire
narrative, word for word, and line for line, with a few exceptions
and changes, in names of places and people only. The " New
Atlantis " of Bacon has always figured as a remarkable work, —
but only to a very few minds, has it represented much beyond
an ideal vision of an impossible Utopia or Eepublic. No doubt
Masons have recognized signs of their craft in the College of the
six days, in Solomon's House, and indeed Nicolai (an authority
upon the subject) claims Bacon, not only to be the founder of
modern Freemasonry, but a Rosicrucian. This we point out
elsewhere. Nobody has ventured to deliberately affirm, that in
the " New Atlantis," the society he hints at, is no other than the
Bosicrucians themselves. The " New Atlantis " has been hitherto
read as a visionary dream, but we now propose to place it before
the public in a totally new light, as the secret society of men
known by the name of the Bosicrucians, and of whom Bacon was
probably the head. The discovery, we imagine, is so important,
as to be impossible to over-estimate. For it throws a new light
upon Bacon's life, his aims and his works, to say nothing that the
so-called Shakespeare plays are included in the enigma. In our

2 BACONS " NE W ATLANTIS^

work, " A New Study of Shakespeare," we professed years ago,
to have diseovered the Eosicrucian character of the plajrs and
poems. So keenly did we feel this that it is the real under-
current of the whole book, particularly hinted at in certain
chapters. We propose, therefore, to now present the public with
the proofs. And first as to their source and head.

In a recent work, entitled the " Real History of the Rosicru-
cians," Mr A. E. Waite (the author), presents us with an examina-
tion, of the historical grounds, upon which the society first came
into notice. Amongst the apologists, or defenders of the Kosicru-
cians, appears one John Heydon, whose works are well known to
students of this class of subject. He appears to have been bom
a gentleman, " descended from a noble family of London," and
very far from being a likely person to indulge in imposture or
romance, for the sake of notoriety or unworthy fame. We refer
(for want of space) the reader to Mr Waiters interesting work,
where he will find many curious things about Heydon. We now
propose to give Heydon's " Voyage to the Land of the Rosicru- ,
cians/' side by side with Lord Bacon's "New Atlantis," whereby
the extraordinary discovery will be made, that without an effort
at disguise, these narratives go word for word, line by line, with
each other, as perfect duplicates. The only difference existing,
is that Heydon's Land is the Land of the Rosicru cians, and
that a few names of places are altered.

Our first intention was to have given, the whole of Bacon's
" New Atlantis," side by side with John Heydon's " Voyage to the
Land of the Rosicrucians," and perhaps it had been better, if we
could have effected this. But it would have added formidable
dimensions to the plan of our work, and wearied the reader.
There is no difference of any real importance as to text between
the two narratives. The names are sometimes different — and
the reader, has only to purchase Mr Waites " Real History of the
Rosicrucians " and collate Heydon's narrative with Bacon's '' New
Atlantis," to arrive at the conclusion they are identical narratives.
It may be suggested, and of course will be suggested, that Heydon

BA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTIS. " 3

was an impostor, desiring to give importance, colouring, and
romance, to the society to which he belonged, or pretended to
belong, and seeking notoriety. Everything goes to contradict
such a theory. In the "Life of John Heydon," written by
Frederick Talbot, Esq., and prefixed to the "Wise Man's Crown," ^
we read : —

" John Heydon, the son of Francis and Mary Heydon, now of
Sidmouth in Devonshire, is not basely but nobly descende^^.
Antiquaries derive them from Julius Heydon, King of Hungaiy
iuid Westphalia, that were descended from the noble family of
Caesar Heydon in Eome, and since this royal race the line runs
down to the Hon. Sir Christopher Heydon of Heydon, near
North wick ; Sir John Heydon, late lord-lieutenant of the king's
Tower of London, and the noble Chandlers in Worcestershire of
the mother's side, which line spread by marriage into Devonshire,
among the Collins, Ducks, Drues, and Bears. He had one sister,
named Anne Heydon, who dyed two years since, his father and
mother being yet living. He was born at his father's house in
Green- Arbour, London, and baptized at S. Sepulchre's, and so
was his sister, both in the fifth and seventh years of the reign of
King Charles I, He was educated in Warwickshire, among his
mother's friends, and so careful were they to keep him and his
sister from danger, and to their books, that they had one
continually to wait upon them, both to the school and at home.

" He was commended by Mr John Dennis, his tutor in Tardebick,
to Mr George Linacre, priest of Cougheton, where he learned the
Latine and Greek tongues. The war at this time began to molest
the universities of this nation. He was then articled to Mr
Michael Petty, au attorney at Clifford's Inn, with eighty pound,
that at live years' end he should be sworn before Chief Justice
EolL Being very young, he applyed his minde to learning, and
by his happy wit, obtained great knowledge in all arts and
sciences. Afterwards he followed the armies of the King, and
for his valour commanded in the troops. When he was by these
means famous for learning and arms, he travelled into Spain,

4 BA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTIS. "

Italy, Arabia, -^gypt, and Persia, gave his minde to writing, and
composed, about twenty years since, 'The Harmony of the
World.' "

His character appears to have been a high one, if we can
believe this writer : —

" He writes now from Hermeapolis, a place I was never at. It
seems, by the word, to be the City of Mercury, and truly he hath
been in many strange places, among the Eosie Crucians, and at
their castles, holy houses, temples, sepulchres, sacrifices ; all the
world knows this gentleman studies honourable things, and
faithfully communicates them to others ; yet, if any traduce him
hereafter, they must not expect his vindication. He hath referred
his quarrel to the God of Nature ; it is involved in the concern-
ments of his truths, and he is satisfied with the peace of a good
conscience. He hath been misinterpreted in his writing ; with
studied calumnies, they disparage his person whom they nevir
saw, nor perhaps will see. He is resolved for the future to suffer,
for he says, *God condemns no man for his patience.' His
enemies are forced to praise his vertue, and his friends are sorry
he hath not ten thousand pounds a year. He doth not resent
the common spleen ; and when the world shall submit to the
general tribunal, he will find his advocate where they shall find
their judge. Wh^ I writ this gentleman's life, God can bear
me witness, it was unknown to him, and for no private ends.
I was forced to it by a strong admiration of the mistery and
majesty of Nature written by this servant of God and secretary
of Nature. I began his life some years since, and do set it down
as I do finde it. If any man oppose this I shall answer ; if you
are for peace, peace be with you ; if you are for war, I have been
so too (Mr Heydon doth resolve never to draw sword again in
England, except the King command him). Now, let not him
that puts on the armour boast like him that puts it off. Gaudd
2)atieniia duris is his motto, and thus I present myself a friend to
all artists, and enemy to no man."
We have made no particular selections from the "New Atlantis"

BA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTISr 5

of BacoD, or of Hejdon's narrative. Both the accounts might,
and ought, to stand side by side, from first to last, and our
choice is a random one, falling upon those paragraphs, which
bring in the name of the Eosicrucians or Eosy Cross. It is to
be hoped that the critic,- will at once test the truth of our
statement at its fountain head, and convince himself without
deky. It appears Hey don lived after Bacon. A study of his
narrative in the original, will convince the critic Heydon was a
fellow of the society, and knew what he was writing about. At
least that is our belief

HeYDON's " VOTAOE TO THE

Land of the Eosicrucians."

"The morrow after our three
dayes, tlfere came to us a new
man, cloathed in azure, save that
his turban was white with a small
red crosse at the top. He had
al80 a tippet of fine linnen. He
did bend to us a little, and put
his arms broad ; we saluting him
in a very lowly manner. He de-
sired to speak with some few of
us, whereupon six onely stayed,
and the rest avoided the room.
He said : — * I am by office
governour of this house of
Btrangers, and by vocation a
Christian priest of the Order of
tlie Eosie Crosse, and am come to
offer you my service, as strangers
and chiefly as Christians. The
State, hath given you licence to
stay on land for the space of six
weeks, and let it not trouble you
if your occasions ask further time,
for the law in this point is not
precise. Ye shall also understand
that the strangers' house is at this
time rich and much aforehand,
for it hath laid up revenue these
36000 years — so long it is since

Bacon's *' New Atlantis."

"The morrow after our three
days were past, there came to us
a new man that we had not seen
before, clothed in blue as the
former was, save that his turban
was white, with a small red cross
on the top ; he had also a tippet
of fine linen. At his coming in
he did bend to us a little, and put
his arms abroad. We of our parts
saluted him in a very lowly and
submissive manner, as looking
that from him we should receive
sentence of life or death. He
desired to speak with some few of
us ; whereupon six of us only
stayed, and the rest avoided the
room. He said : * I am by office
governor of this House of
Strangers, and by vocation I am
a Christian priest ; and therefore
am come to you to offer you my
service both as strangers, and
chiefly as Christians. Some things
I may tell you, which I think you
will not be unwilling to hear.
The state hath given you licence
to stay on land for the space of
six weeks. And let it not trouble

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTIS:'

Hetdon's " Voyage to the
Land of the Rosicrucians."

any straDger arrived in this part.
Therefore take ye no care ; the
State will defray you all the time
you stay. As for any merchandize
ye have brought, ye shall be well
used, and have your return either
in merchandize or gold and silver,
for to us it is all one. If you
have any other request to make,
hide it not, onely this I must tell
you that none of you must go
above a juld, or karan (that is
with them a mile and an half),
from the walls of the city without
especial I leave.' "

" * ** Lord Grod of Heaven and
earth. Thou hast vouchsafed of
Thy grace to those of our order to
know Thy works of creation and
the secrets of them, and tx) discern
(as far as appertaineth to the
generation of men) between divine
miracles, works of Nature, works
of art, and impostures and illu-
sions of all sorts. I do here
acknowledge and testifie before
this people, that the thing which

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

you if your occasions ask further
time, for the law in this point is
not precise ; and I do not doubt
but myself shall be able to obtain
for you such further time as shall
be convenient. Ye shall also
understand that the Strangers'-
House is at this time rich and
much aforehand, for it hath laid
up revenue these thirty-seven
years ; for so long it is since any
stranger arrived in this part.
And, therefore, take ye no care,
the state will defray you all the
time you stay, neither shall you
stay one day less for that. As for
any merchandise you have brought,
ye shall be well used, and have
your return either in merchandise,
or in gold and silver ; for to us it
is all one. And if you have any
other request to make, hide it not,
for ye shall find we will not make
your countenance to fall by the
answer ye shall receive. Only
this I must tell you, that none of
you must go above a karan [that
is with them a mile and a half J
from the walls of the city without
special leave.'*'

" * " Lord God of heaven and
earth, thou hast vouchsafed of thy
grace to those of our order to
know thy works of creation, and
true secrets of them, and to discern
(as far as appertaineth to the
generations of men) between
divine miracles, works of Nature,
works of <art, and impostures and
illusions of all sorts ! I do here
acknowledge and testify before
this people, that the thing we now

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTISP

HeTDON'S " VOTAOB TO THE

Land of the Rosicrucians.'' '

we DOW see is Thy finger and a
true miracle. And for as much as
we learn in our books that Thou
never workest miracles but to a
divine and excellent end (for the
laws of Nature are Thine own
laws, and Thou exoeedest them
not but upon great cause), we
most humbly beseech Thee to
prosper this great signe, and to
give us the interpretation and use
of it in mercy, which Thou doest
in some part promise by sending
it unto u&"

" * When he had made his prayer,
he presently found the boat he
was in unbound, whereas the rest
remained still fast Taking that
for leave to approach, he caused
the boat to be softly rowed to-
wards the pillar, but ere he came
near the pillar and crosse of light
brake up, and cast itself abroad
into a firmament of many stars,
which also soon vanished, and
there was nothing left but a small
ark of cedar, not wet at all with
water, though it swam. In the
fore-end of it grew a small green
branch of palme, and when the
Eosie Crucian had taken it with
all reverence into his boat, it
opened of itself, and there were
found a book and letter, both
written in fine parchment, and
wrapped in suidons of linnen, the
book containing all the canonical
books of the Old and New Testa-
ment, according as you have them,
while the Apocalypse itself and
some other books of the New

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

see before our eyes is thy finger
and a true miracle. And foras-
much as we learn in our books
that thou never workest miracles
but to a divine and excellent end
(for the laws of nature are thine
own laws, and thou exceedest them
not but upon good cause), we most
humbly beaeech thee to prosper
this great sign, and to give us the
interpretation and use of it in
mercy, which thou dost in some
part secretly promise by sending
it unto us."

" * When he had made his prayer,
he presently found the boat he
was in moveable and unbound,
whereas all the rest remained still
fast ; and taking that for an assur-
ance of leave to approach, he
caused the boat to be softly and
with silence rowed towards the
pillar : but ere he came near it,
the pillar and cross of light brake
up, and cast itself abroad, as it
were, into a firmament of many
stars ; which also vanished soon
after, and there was nothing left
to be seen but a small ark or chest
of cedar, dry, and not wet at all
with water, though it swam ; and
in the fore-end of it, which was
towards him, grew a small green
branch of palm. And when the
wise man had taken it with all
reverence into his boat, it opened
of itself, and there was found in
it a book and a letter, both written
in fine parchment, and wrapped in
sindons of linen. The book con-
tained all the canonical books of

8

BACON'S '' NEW ATLANTISy

Heydon's Voyaob to the
Land of the Bosicrucians.

Testament) not at that time writ-
ten, were, nevertheless, therein.* "

^* * At the same time, the inhabi-
tants of the Holy Land did flourish.
For though the narration and dis-
cription made by a great man
with you, that the descendants of
Neptune planted there, and of the
magnificent temple, palace, city,
and hill (see my Rosie Crucian In-
fallible Axi'omata), and the mani-
fold navigable rivers (which as so
many chains environed the site
and temple), and the severall de-
grees of ascent whereby men did
climb up to the same as if it had
been a Scala Cceli^ be all poeticall
and fabulous, yet so much is true
that the said country of Judea, as
well as Peru, then called Coy a —
Mexico, then named Tyrambel —
were mighty, proud kingdomes in
arms, shipping, and riches. At
one time both made two great
expeditions, they of Tyrambel
through Judea to the Mediterrane
sea, and they of Coya through the
South Sea upon this our island.' "

Bacon's " New Atlantic"

the Old and New Testament,
according as you have them (for
we know well what the churches
with you receive), and the Apo-
calypse itself ; and some other
books of the New Testament
which were not at that time
written, were nevertheless in the
book."*

" ' At the same time, and an age
after or more, the inhabitants of
the great Atlantis did flourish.
For though the narration and de-
scription which is made by a great
man, with you, of the descendants
of Neptune planted there, and of
the magnificent temple, palace,
city, and hill, and the manifold
streams of goodly navigable rivers,
which, as so many chains, envir-
oned the same site and temple,
and the several degrees of ascent,
whereby men did climb up to the
same, as if it had been a acala cceli^
be all poetical and fabulous ; yet
so much is true, that the said
country of Atlantis, as well as
that of Peru, then called Coya,
as that of Mexico, then named
Tyrambel, were mighty and proud
kingdoms in arms, shipping, and
riches ; so mighty, as at one time,
or at least within the space of ten
years, they both made two great
expeditions : they of Tyrambel
through the Atlantic to the Medi-
terranean Sea, and they of Coya,
through the South Sea, upon this
our island.*"

'* Ye shall understand that among ** You shall understand, my dear

BA coirs ''NEW A TLANTISr

HeYD0N*8 " VoTAaK TO THE

Land of the Rosicrucians."

the excellent acts of that King
one hath the pre-eminence — ^the
erection and institution of an
Order, or Society, which we call
the Temple of the Rosie Crosse,
the noblest foundation that ever
was upon eatth, and the lanthome
of this Kingdome. It is dedi-
cated to the study of the works
and creatures of Grod. Some think
it beareth the founder's name a
little corrupted, as if it should be
F. H. R. C. his house, but the
records write it as it is sp'»ken.
I take it to be denominate of the
King of the Hebrews, which is
famous with you, and no stranger
to us, for we have some parts of
his works which you have lost,
namely, that Rosie Crucian M
which he wrote of all things past,
present, or to come, and of all
things that have life and motion.
This maketh me think that our
King finding himself to symbolize
with that King of the Hebrews,
honoured him with The Title of
this Foundation, and I finde in
ancient records this Order or
Society of the Rosie Crosse is
sometimes called the Holy House,
and sometimes the Colledge of the
Six Days' Works, whereby I am
satisfied that our excellent King
had learned from the Hebrews
that God had created the world
and all therein within six days,
and therefore he instituting that
House for the finding out of the
one nature of things did give it
also that second name. When the
Kiug had forbidden to all his

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

friends, that amongst the excellent
acts of that king, one above all
hath the pre-eminence. It was
the erection and institution of an
order or society, which we call
Solomon's House, the noblest
foundation, as we think, that ever
was upon the earth, and the lan-
tern of this kingdom. It is dedi-
cated to the study of the works
and creatures of God. Some think
it beareth the founder's name a
little corrupted, as if it should be
Solomona's House ; but the records
write it as it is spoken. So as I
take it to be denominate of the
king of the Hebrews, which is
famous with you, and no stranger
to us, for we have some parts of
his works which with you are
lost ; namely, that natural history
which he wrote of all plants,
*• from the cedar of Lebanon to the
moss that groWeth out of the wall,'
and of all things that have life and
motion. This maketh me think
that our king, finding himself to
symbolize in many things with
that king of the Hebrews which
lived many years before him,
honoured him with the title of
this foundation. And I am the
rather induced to be of this
opinion, for that I find in ancient
records this order or society is
sometimes called Solomon's House,
and sometimes the College of the
Six Days' Works ; whereby I am
satisfied that our excellent king
had learned from the Hebrews
that God had created the world,
and all that therein is, within six

lO

BACOJsrs ''NEW Atlantis:'

Hbydox's " Voyage to thb
Land of the Rosicrucians.''

people navigation into any part
not under his crown, he had,
nevertheless, this ordinance, that
every twelve years there should
be set forth two ships appointed
to several! voyages ; that in either
of these ships there should be a
mission of three of the Fellows or
Brethren of the Holy House,
whose errand was to give us know-
ledge of the affaires and state of
those countries to which they were
designed, and especially of the
sciences, arts, manufactures."

" The Father of the fraternity,
whom they call the R C, two
days before the feiist taketh to
him three of such friends as he
liketh to chuse, and is assisted
also by the govemour of the city
where the feast is celebrated, and
all the persons of the family, of
both sexes, are summoned to at-
tend upon him. Then, if there
be any discords or suits, they are
compounded and appeased. Then,
if any of the family be distressed
or decayed, order is taken for their
relief and competent means to
live. Then, if any be subject to

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

days, and therefore he instituting
that house for the finding out of
the true nature of all things,
whereby God might have the more
glory in the workmanship of them,
and men the more fruit in their
use of them, did give it also that
second name. But now, to come
to our present purpose. When
the king had forbidden to all his
people navigation in any part that
was not under his crown, he made
nevertheless this ordinance, that
every twelve years there should
be set forth out of this kingdom
two ships appointed to several
voyages; that in either of these
ships there should be a mission of
three of the fellows or brethren
of Solomon's House, whose errand
was only to give us knowledge of
the affairs and state of tiiose
countries to which they were de-
signed, and especially of the
sciences, arts, manufactures."

'* The father of the family, whom
they call the tirsan, two days be-
fore the feast, taketh to him three
of such friends as he liketh to
choose, and is assisted also by the
governor of the city or place where
the feast is celebrated ; and all
the persons of the family of both
sexes are summoned to attend
hinL These two days the tirsan
sitteth in consultation concerning
the good estate of the family.
There, if there be any discord or
suits between any of the family,
they are compounded and ap-
peased ; there, if any of the famOy

BACOJSrS ''NEW ATLANTIS:'

ir

HeyDON'8 " VOTAOB TO THE
IiAND OF THE ROS I CRUCIANS."

vice, they are reproved and cen-
sured. So, likewise, direction is
given touching marriage and the
courses of life. The govemour
aasisteth to put in execution the
decrees of the Tirsan if they should
be disobeyed, though that seldonie
needeth, such reverence they give
to the order of Nature. The
Tirsan doth also then chuse one
man from amongst his sons to live
in house with him, who is called
ever after the Sonne of the Vine.
On the feast day the father, or
Tirsan, commeth forth after Di-
vine Service in to a large room,
where the feast is celebrated,
which room hath an half -pace at
the upper end."

" As we were thus in conference,
there came one that seemed to be
a messenger ,#& a rich huke, that
spake with the Jew, whereupon
he turned to me and said, 'You
will pardon me, for I am com-
manded away in haste.' The
next morning he came to me
joyfully, and said — 'There is
word come to the Grovemour of
the city that one of the Fathers
of the Temple of the Bosie Crosse,
or Holy House, will be here this

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

be distressed or decayed, order is
taken for their relief, and com-
petent means to live ; there, if
any be subject to vice or take ill
courses, they are reproved and
censured. So likewise, direction
is given touching marriages, and
the courses of life which any of
them should take, with divers
other the like orders and advices.
The governor assisteth to the end,
to put in execution by his public
authority the decrees and orders
of the tirsan, if they should be
disobeyed, though that seldom
needeth, such reverence and obed-
ience they give to the order of
nature. The tirsan doth also then
ever choose one man from amongst
his sons to live in house with him,
who is called ever after the sou of
the vine : the reason will here-
after appear. On the feast-day,
the father or tirsan cometh forth,
after divine service, into a large
room where the feast is celebrated,
which room hath an half-pace at
the upper end."

" And as we were thus in con-
ference, there came one that
seemed to be a messenger, in
a rich huke, that spake with the
Jew ; whereupon, he turned to
me, and said, 'You will pardon
me, for I am commanded away in
haste.'

" The next morning he came to
me again, joyful, as it seemed,
and said, ' There is word come to
the governor of the city, that one
of the fathers of Solomon's House

12

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTISr

Heydon's " Voyage to the
Land of the Rosicrucians."

day seven-night. We have seen
none of them this dozen years.
His oomming is in state, but the
cause is secret. I will provide
you and your fellows of a good
standing to see his entry.' I
thanked him and said I was most
glad of the news. The day being
come, he made his entry. He
was a man of middle stature and
age, comely of person, and had an
aspect as if he pittied men. He
was cloathed in a robe of fine
black cloth, with wide sleeves
and a cape. His under garment
was of excellent white liunen,
down to the foot, with a girdle of
the same, and a sindon or tippet
of the same about his neck. He
had gloves that were curious and
set with stones, and shoes of
peach-coloured velvet. His neck
was bare to the shoulders ; his
hat was like a helmet, or Spanish
montera,^ and his locks, of brown
colour, curled below it decently.
His beard was cut round and of
the same colour with his haire,
somewhat lighter. He was
carried in a rich chariot, without

^ Can we not recognize Bacoa in this portrait, so familiar to us in the
folios of his works (particularly the " Sylva Syl varum "), where he la repre-
sented with a Spanish Monttra? He is described (in Rennet, ii. p. 736)
as follows: — *'He was of a ^ middiimj stature;' his countenance had in-
dented with age before he was old ; his presence grave and * comely,* says
Arthur Wilson." Here are the same words used as in the " New Atlantis,"
*' middle stature " and *' comely." But the portrait is unmistakably meant
for Bacon, inasmuch as he addresses his audience as *' my son," or " sons,"
which is repeated in Bacon's works, wbere one of his titles is adfilios suoa,
Lloyd (in his '* State Worthies," li. p. 121)) says, " His make and port was
stately." "Ho had a delicate lively hazel eye" (Dr Harvey). He was
childless. Bicon i^ evidently presented here as the father or head of the
fraternity.

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

will be here this day seven-night ;
we have seen none of them this
dozen years. His coming is in
state, but the cause of his coming
is secret I will provide you and
your fellows of a good standing to
see his entry.' I thanked him,
and told him, ' I was most glad
of the news.'

" The day being come, he made
his entry. He was a man of
middle stature and age, comely
of person, and had an aspect as
if he pitied men. He was clothed
in a robe of fine black cloth, with
wide sleeves and a cape: his
under-garraent was of excellent
white linen down to the foot,
girt with a girdle of the same,
and a sindon or tippet of the
same about his neck: he had
gloves that were curious, and set
with stone, and shoes of peach-
colouVed velvet; his neck was
bare to the shoulders : his hat
was like a helmet or Spanish
montera, and his locks curled
below it decently, — they were of
colour brown : his beard was cut
round, and of the same ^colour

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTIS^

13

HetDON's " VOTAGB TO THE

Land of thb Rosicrucians."

wheels, litter- wise, with two horses
at either end, richly trapped in
blew velvet embroydered, and
two footmen on each side in the
like attire. The chariot was of
cedar, gilt and adorned with
chry stall, save that the fore-end
had pannells of sapphire, set in
borders of gold, and the hinder-
end the like of emerauds of the
Peru colour."

" * God bless thee, my son ; I
will give thee the greatest jewel
I have ; I will impart unto thee,
for the love of God and men, a
rehition of the true state of the
Rosie Crosse. First, I will set
forth the end of our foundation ;
secondly, the preparations and
instruments we have for our
workes; thirdly, the several
functions whereto our fellows are
assigned; and fourthly, the
ordinances and rights which we
observe. The end of our foun-
dation is the knowledge of causes
and secret motions of things, and
the enlarging of the bounds of
Kingdomes to the effecting of all
things possible. The preparations
and instruments are these. We
have large caves of several depths,
the deepest sunke 36,000 feet.
Some are digged under great hills
and muuntaines, so that, if you
reckon together the depths of the
hill and of the cave, some are
above seven miles deep. Tliese
caves we call the lower region,
and we use them for all coagu-

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

with his hair, somewhat lighter.
He was carried in a rich chariot,
without wheels, litter- wise, with
two horses at either end, richly
trapped in blue velvet, em-
broidered, and two footmen on
either side in the like attire.
The chariot was all of cedar, gilt,
and adorned with crystal, save
that the fore-end had panels of
sapphires set in borders of gold,
and the hinder-end the like of
emeralds of the Peru colour."

" * God bless thee, my son, I will
give thee the greatest jewel I
have ; for I will impart uuto
thee, for the love of God and men,
a relation of the true state of
Solomon's House. Son, to make
you know the true state of
Solomon's House, I will keep this
order :— first, I will set forth unto
you the end of our foundation ;
secondly, the preparations and
instruments we have for our
works ; thirdly, the several em-
ployments and functions whereto
our fellows are assigned ; and
fourthly, the ordinances and rites
which we observe.

"*The end of our foundation
is the knowledge of causes and
secret motions of things, and the
enlarging of the bounds of human
empire, to the effecting of all
things possible.

" * The preparations and instru-
ments are these. We have large
and deep caves of several depths :
the deepest are sunk six hundred
fathoms, and some of them are
digged and made under great hilla

14

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTIS.''

Heydon's ** Voyage to the
Land of the Rosicrucians."

latioDs, indurations, refrigerations,
and conservations of bodies. We
use them likewise for the imitation
of natural mines, and the pro-
duction of new artificial mettalls
by compositions and materials
which we lay there for many
years. We use them also some-
times for cureing some diseases,
and for prolongation of life in
hermits that choose to live there,
well accommodated of all things
necessary, by whom also we learn
many things (read our " Temple
of Wisdome "). We have burialls
in several earths, where we put
diverse cements, as the Chineses
do their borcellane ; but we have
them in greater variety, and some
of them more fine. We have also
great variety of composts and
soyles for the making of the earch
fruitful!. We have towers, the
highest about half a mile in
height, and some of them set
upon high mountaines, so that
the vantage of the hill with the
tower is, in the highest of them,
three miles at least/ "

Bacon's **New Atlantis."

and mountains; so that if you
reckon together the depth of the
hill and the depth of the cave,
they are (some of them) above
three miles deep : for we find
that the depth of a hill and the
depth of a cave from the flat is
the same thing, both remote alike
from the sun and heaven's beams
and from the open air. These
caves we call " the lower region,"
and we use them for all coagu-
lations, indurations, refrigerations,
and conservations of bodies. We
use them likewise for the imitation
of natural mines, and the pro-
ducing also of new artificial
metals, by compositions and
materials which we use and lay
there for many years. We use
them also sometimes (which may
seem strange) for curing of some
diseases, and for prolongation of
life in some hermits that choose
to live there, well accommodated
of all things necessary, and,
indeed, live very long ; by whom
also we learn many things.

" * We have burials in several
earths, where we put divers
cements, as the Chinese do their
porcelain ; but we have them in
greater variety, and some of them
finer. We also have great variety
of composts and soils for making
of the earth fruitful.

" * We have high towers, the
highest about half a mile in
height, and some of them like-
wise set upon high mountains ;
so that the advantage of the hill
with the tower is, in the highest
of them, three miles at least.' "

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTIS:'

15

HeTDON's " VOYAOK TO THE

Land of the Bosicrucians."

*' 'We have sound -hoases, where
we practise and demonstrate all
sounds and their generation. We
have harmonies (read the " Har-
mony of the World") which you
have not, of quarter and lesser
kindes of sounds— divers instru-
ments of musick to you unknown,
some sweeter than any you have,
together with bells and rings that
are dainty and sweet (See my
book of *'Geomancy and Teles-
mes/O We represent small sounds
as great and deep, great sounds as
extenuate and sharpe ; we make
divers tremblings and warblings
of sounds which in their originall
are entire. We represent and
imitate all articulate sounds and
letters (read my " Cabbala, or Art,
by which Moses shewed so many
signs in i£gypt''), and the voices
and notes of many beasts and
birds. We have certain helps
which, set to the ear, do further
the hearing greatly. We have
strange and artiticiall eochos, re-
flecting the voice many times,
and, as it were, to sing it, some
that give back the voice louder
than it came, some shriller, some
deeper, some rendring the voice
differing in the letters, or articular
sound, from that they receive.
We have also means to convey
sounds in trunks and pipes, in
strange lines and distances.' ^ ^

It <

Lastly, we have circuits or

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

*< ' We have also sound-houses,
where we practise and demon-
strate all sounds and their gener-
ation. We have harmonies, which
you have not, of quarter-sounds,
and lesser slides of sounds ; divers
instruments likewise to you un-
known, some sweeter than any
you have ; with bells and rings
that are dainty and sweet. We
represent small sounds as great
and deep, likewise great sounds
extenuate and sharp. We make
divers tremblings and warbling of
sounds, which in their original are
entire ; we represent and imitate
all articulate sounds and letters,
and the voices and notes of beasts
and birds. We have certain helps,
which set to the ear do further
the hearing greatly. We have
also divers strange and artificial
echos reflecting the voice many
times, and as it were tossing it ;
and some that give back the voice
louder than it came, some shriller,
and some deeper ; yea, some ren-
dering the voice differing in the
letters or articulate sound from
that they receive. We have also
means to convey sounds in trunks
and pipes in strange lines and dis-
tances.' " *

« (

Lastly, we have circuits or

' This passage is a remarkable anticipation of the telephone, speaking
tube, and phonograph. .

i6

BACOJSrS '' NEW ATLANTIS:'

Heydon's *' Voyage to the
Land of the Rosicrucians.*'

visits of divers principal cities of
the kingdome, where we doe pub-
lish such news, profitable inven-
tions, as we think good, and we
doe also declare natural divina*
tions of diseases, plagues, swarms
of hurtful! creatures, scarcity,
tempests, earthquakes, gi-eat inun-
dations, comets, temperature of the
year, and divers other things, and
we give counsel thereupon for the
prevention and remedy of them.*

" Whfu he had said this, he de-
sired me to give him an account
of my life, that he might report it
to the Brethren of the Bosie
Crosse, after which he stood up ;
I kneeled down, and he laid his
right hand upon my head, saying,
* God blesse thee, my son, and
God blesse these relations which
we have made ! I give thee leave
to publish them for the good of
other nations, for we are here in
God's bosome, a land unknown.'

*' And so he left me, having as-
signed a value of about two thou-
sand pounds in gold for a bounty
to me and my fellows, for they
give great largesses where they
come upon all occasions."

Bacon's " New Atlantis."

visits of divers principal cities of
the kingdom, where, as it cometh
to pass, we do publish such new
profitable inventions as we think
good. And we do also declare
natural divinations of diseases,
plagues, swarms of hurtful crea-
tures, scarcity, tempests, earth-
quakes, great inundations, comets,
temperature of the year, and
divers other things ; and we give
counsel thereupon what the people
shall do for the prevention and
remedy of them.'

" And when he had said this, he
stood up ; and I, as I had been
taught, kneeled down, and he laid
his right hand upon my head, and
said, ' God bless thee, my son, and
God bless this relation which I
have made ; I give thee leave to
publish it for the good of other
nations, for we here are in God's
bosom, a laud unknown.' And so
he left u)e, having assigned a value
of about two thousand ducats for a
bounty to me and my fellows ; for
they give great largesses where
they come upon all occasions."

Now, either Heydon was an impostor, who borrowed Bacon's
"Atlantis" to give colour to his pretences, or a real Rosicrucian, in
which case he knew the truth. He has always been considered
and classed as a genuine Rosicrucian apologist His other works
and his reputation all go in favour of his being above any trickery.

It seems to us we can find traces of Bacon's mind in the " Fama
Fraternitatis," or "Universal Reformation," which appears to
have been first published in 1614. This is the famous declara-

BA CON'S '*NEIV A TLANTIS:' 1 7

tion, which first revealed to the public, the existence of the
Bosicrucians. The original edition contained a manifesto, with the
title, ''The Fama Fratemitatis, or the meritorious order of the
Rosy Cross, addressed to the learned in general, and the govemours
of Europe." — " It was reprinted," says Mr Waite (in his interesting
history of the Bosicrucians), " with the * Confessio Fratemitatis '
and the ' Allgemeine Reformation der Ganzen Welt,' at Frank-
fort-on-the-Main in 1615." We find the following passage
throwing contempt upon Aristotle and Galen : —

The " Fama Fraiemitatis; or, a Discovery of the FrcUemUy of the
most LaudahU Order of the Rosy Cross"

" Seeing the only wise and merciful God in these latter days
hath poured out so richly His mercy and goodness to mankind,
whereby we do attain more and more to the perfect knowledge
of His Son Jesus Christ, and of Nature, that justly we mSy boast
of the happy time wherein there is not only discovered unto us the
half part of the world,^ which was heretofore unknown and hidden,
but He hath also made manifest unto us many wonderful and
never-heretofore seen works and creatures of Nature, and, more-
over, hath raised men, indued with great wisdom, which might
partly renew and reduce all arts (in this our spotted and imper-
fect age) to perfection, so that finally man might thereby
understand his own nobleness and worth, and why he is called
MicroeasmuSf and how far his knowledge exlendeth in Nature,

'' Although the rude world herewith will be but little pleased,
but rather smile and scoff thereat ; also the pride and covetous-
ness of the learned is so great, it will not suffer them to agree
together; but were they united, they might, out of all those
things which in this our age God doth so richly bestow on us,
collect Librum Natures, or, a Perfect Method of all Arts. But
such is their opposition that they still keep, and are loth to
leave, the old course, esteeming Porphyry, Aristotle, and Galen,

^ The italics are ours.
B

sN

1 8 BA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTIS.""

yesL, and that which hath but a meer show of leamingy more thau
the clear and manifested Light and Tnith."

NoWy there is Bacon's mind very strongly emphasized in three
separate points in this passage. The first is Bacon's master
thought, . that the mind should make discoveries of new
worlds, to parallel the discovery of America. From this idea,
which he gives vent to in words to James I.,^ sprang his ship
device and its motto, plus uttra^ sailing as it is (a precious argosy),
between and beyond the pillars of Hercules. Then, again, the
entire Baconian philosophy, or system, as works applied to Nature,
is comprised in the words, ''how far Ms knowledge exiendeth in
Nature.^* In Bacon's age, there were not many, who like him,
distinctly realized the difference of vain words, from '* knowledge
in Nature." It is the pith of his philosophy, — the progenitor of
the Inductive method, — and its master key is application to
Nature, to realize our knowledge in Nature. We also find in the
above passage, disparagement of Aristotle. To mention this
name is to recall Bacon's early and constant dislike of him and
lus school The first striking record we have of Bacon, is his
falling out, at a ridiculously early age with the stagirite. Thus
we have the three main points of Bacon's mind, coming all
together, for the overthrow of Aristotle, was with him, prepar-
ation only, for new discoveries in a new hemisphere of thought,
that should extend, to experiments in Nature herself. Joined
to all this, which indeed, was part of it, he had an unbounded
love of humanity — a philanthropy so universal that it is almost
unnatural, and incredible, except in a God or Christ. He lives
for after ages — for posterity, " after a little time be passed," in
order to procure the "good of all men." Now this falls in
exactly with the spirit, betrayed in these early manifestoes, which
accompany the first tidings we have of the famous Brotherhood,

' "For how long shall we let a few received authors stand up like
Hercules* columns, beyond which there shall be no sailing or discovery in
science, when we have so bright and benign a star as your Majesty, to
conduct and prosper us ? " — Bacon's Works.

BA coirs " NE W ATLANTIS:' 19

and their scheme of '' Umyersal Reformation." This is entirely
Baconian. And I am sure, that everybody who has read and
studied him lovingly, ivill agree with us, that the whole aim of
his life, and mind, was the good of others, and that in this, he
resembled God, for he saw that it was good. He was prepared
for any sacrifice, for any trouble, for this end. It is writ large,
from the earliest childhood of this marvellous man, who hardly
seemed bom, before he was compassing ways and means, to lift
mankind out of the slough, and the vicious circles, of the school-
men and middle ages. Such a scheme as the '' Universal Be-
formation " required a more than remarkable man to imagine it,
far more to carry it out It wanted place, power, a man of many
tongues, and the refinement of high culture to start the idea,
of a secret society all over Europe, for the bettering of the times.
But it could not be done openly — ^the envy, danger, evil of the
world at that time can hardly be realized to us now. Mr
Waite truly remarks —

'^ Beneath the broad tide of human history there flow the
stealthy undercurrents of the secret societies, which frequently
determine in the depths the changes that take place upon the
surface."

The "undercurrents of secret societies" are most powerful for
good, because they lie in the hearts of men — and make up for
want of open force, by a brotherhood of craft, which tho common
danger binds them to maintain and propagate to others. We
find this constantly hinted at by Bacon. He deplores the
universal insanity, and declares to his son, that it is only in-
creased by resistance, and that Truth ought to be, but cannot be
openly inculcated. Therefore he says " we must conform to the
Universal Insanity." But how 1 We believe the reply is to be
found in what we suggest and in what we have hinted to us in
the " New Atlantis."

20 BA CON'S " NE W ATLANTISr

The Founders of Rosicnuianism,

With regard to the mythical story connected with the founda-
tion of the secret Brotherhood or order of the Bosy Cross — the
story of the death, burial, and opening of Christian Bosencreutz's
tomb — Mr Waite disposes of it summarily in his recent " Eeal
History of the Kosicrucians."

"Taking 1614 as the year when the 'Fama' was published,
and supposing the discovery of the burial-place to have ante-
dated the manifesto by the shortest possible period, we are
brought back to the year 1494, one year after the birth of Para-
celsus, whose books it is supposed so contain. This point is, of
course, conclusive, and it is unnecessary to comment on the
mystery which surrounds the ultimate fate of the corpse of that
'godly and high-illuminated Father, Brother C. B. C

" Thus it is obvious that the history of Christian Eosencreutz
is not historically true, and that the Society did not originate in
the manner which is described by the * Fama.' "

Now here we have at once positive proof of the fraudulent history
and antedating of the origin of the society. This fact goes a long
way to harbour the suspicion, that the real origin of the society was
coeval with the end of the sixteenth, and early part of the seven-
teenth century — Bacon's manhood. Mr Waite says : —

*' The Rosicrucian theorists may be broadly divided into three
bands — I. Those who believe that the history of Christian Rosen-
creutz is true in fact, and that the society originated in the manner
recounted in the 'Fama Fraternitatis.' 11. Those who regard both
the society and its founder as purely mythical, and consider with
Liebnitz, ^qite totU ce que Von a dit des Frhes de la Croix de la
Rose, est une pure inverUion de guelgue personne ingenieuseJ 111.
Those who, without accepting the historical truth of the story of
liosencreutz, believe in the existence of the Bosicrucians as a
secret society, which drew attention to the fact of its existence by
a singular and attractive fiction."

So, taking Mr Waite as our authority, we propose to briefly

JBA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTISr 2 1

ezanune the evidence with him, as to the historical truth of the
myth, around which the founding of the society is associated.

In this history of the '' Fama " we arrive at the first inception
of the society : —

" After this manner began the Fraternity of the Kosie Gross —
first, by four persons onely, and by them was made the magical
language and writing, with a large dictionaxy, which we yet
dayly use to God's praise and glory, and do finde great wisdom
therein. They made also the first part of the Book M, but in
respect that that labour was too heavy, and the unspeakable
concourse of the sick hindred them, and also whilst his new
building (called Sandi ^ritus) was now finished, they concluded
to draw and receive yet others more into their Fraternity. To
this end was chosen Brother R. C, his deceased father's brother's
son; Brother B., a skilful painter; G. G., and P. D., their secre-
tary, all Germains except I. A., so in all they were eight in
number, all batchelors and of vowed virginity, by whom was
collected a book or volumn of all that which man can desire,
wish, or hope for." — (Waite's "Beal History of the Rosi-
crucians.")

Who is this Brother B., a skilful painter or Artist ) B. stands
suspiciously for Bacon. It is perfectly true this history is ante-
dated two centuries prior to Bacon's times. But we shall show
that before 1614, when this "Fama" was published, nothing had
been heard of this brotherhood, or of this mythical history of
Father Rosycross. And Mr Waite seems to incline to the
suspicion, that the entire story was a fabrication manufactured to
give an air of romance, reality, and attraction to the world, in
an age when these things acted powerfully upon the minds of
men in Europe, — and to thus gain credit, authority, and
power. Among the members inscribed in the vault where the
body of Christian Rosenkreutz lay under the altar, are these
names : —

1. Fra, I. A. Fra, C. H. dectione Fraiemitatis caput.

2. Fra, G. V. M. P. C.

22 BACON'S " NE W ATLANTIS."*

3. Fra. F. R. C, Junior hoeru S. Spiriius.

4. Fro, F. B. M. R A., Fidor d Archikcius.

5. Fro. G. G. M. P. I., CaMista,

No. 4. F. B. M. P. A. stands suspiciously for Francis Baeon^
Magister, Fidor d Archiiedus. Note this is Brother B., a " fkilful
painter^ evidently identical with the ^^ Fidor d Archiiedus,*' not
F. B. M. but F. B. only, the M. being either MagisUr, or for
some other title.

To those who believe that Bacon wrote the plays ascribed to
Shakespeare, and who also believe^ like ourselves, that he was the
Master Spirit, who was the founder and the originator of the
Rosicrucians, the words PiCTOR et Architectus are sufficiently
startling. We find plenty of authority in the sonnets to couple
the playwright's art with the painter's. And here it is. (Sonnet
24.)

" Perspective it is best painter's art.
For through the painter must yon see his skill."

*' Like perspectives which show things inward when they are, but
paintings."— (Bacon's "Nat Hist. Cent," i. 98.)

(Sonnet 24.)

" Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelPd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart"

We have supposed that the reader is well acquainted with the
celebrated " Fama FraternitcUis" either through De Quincey, or
through some other source, like Mr Waite's '' Real History of the
Rosicrucians," to which we are deeply indebted. It would be
impossible to reproduce here the whole account, so must beg the
reader to go to the originals, or the works mentioned, and then
return to us.

We now proceed to maintain that the antedating of this
fabulous tale of Christian Rosenkreutz was a splendid fiction, first
for safety's sake; secondly, as we have said, to give romance,
interest, and colour to the origins of the society. Our own con-

BA COJSrS ''NEW A TLANTIS:' 23

viction is that the society in the fonn presented to ns in the
'' Fama Fraiemitaiis" never existed at all, or at least only a few
years hefore its publication. Here are the grounds.

First, that we find John Heydon's narrative of " a voyage to the
land of the Bosicrucians " is a facsimile repetition of Bacon's " New
Atlantis." Secondly, that Johann FcUeniin Andreas^ to whom the
composition of the Bosicrucian manifestoes are attributed, never
viewed them seriously himself, but called the '* Chymical Marriage
of Christian Rosencreutz " (round which the question of author-
ship and founding of the order to a great extent revolves) a
ludibrium or farce, and this is entirely contrary to the spirit of
the publications and earnest character of the '' Universal Refor-
mation." Thirdly, it is stated that Andreas wrote the " Chymical
Marriage " at the early age of sixteen, which Mr Waite considers
quite unacceptable. Indeed, Mr Waite, in the spirit of an
impartial historical judge, seems to think that the "Fama
Fratemitatis " issued from some other source. This is what he
writes : —

"I. The 'Chymical Marriage' is called a ludibrium by its
author, and Professor Buhle describes it as a comic romance, but
those of my readers who are acquainted with alchemical allegories
will discern in this singular narrative by a prepared student or
artist who was supematurally and magically elected to partici-
pate in the accomplishment of the magnum opus, many matters
of grave and occult significance. They will recognise that
the comic episodes are part of a serious design, and that
the work as a whole is in strict accordance with the general
traditions of alchemy. They will question the good faith of
the author in the application of a manifestly incongruous
epithet. Perhaps they will appear to be wise above what is
written, but the position is not really unreasonable, for the
passage in which reference is made by Andreas to the ' Nupiice
ChymioB' ia calculated to raise suspicion. He was a shrewd
and keen observer ; he had gauged the passions and the crazes of
his period ; he was fully aware that the rage for alchemy blinded

24 BA COJSrS ''NEW A TLANTIS, "

the eyes and drained the purses of thousands of credulous indi-
viduals, who were at the mercy of the most wretched impostors,
and that no pretence was too shallow, and no recipe too worth-
less, to find believers. He could not be ignorant that a work like
the 'Chymical Marriage of Christian Rosencreutz' was eminently
liable to impose upon e^Grj class of theosophists. When, there-
fore, he supposes, and, by implication, expresses, astonishment
that his so-called ludibrium became the object of earnest investi-
gation and of high esteem, I freely confess that I, for one, cannot
interpret him seriously ; in other words, that I reject the state-
ment. This, however, is only the initial difficulty. The same
passage of the ' Vita ab ipso Conscripta ' contains another piece
of incredible information, namely, that Andreas wrote the ' Ntiptioe
ChymiccB * before he woe sixteen. This story gives evidence of an
acquaintance with the practice and purposes of alchemy which
was absolutely impossible to the most precocious lad. Moreover,
the boldness of its conception, and the power which is displayed
in its execution, setting aside the debateable question of its
occult philosophical character, are things utterly transcending the
cacoeihes scribendi of a youngster barely attained to the age of
puberty. I appeal to the discrimination of my readers whether
the curious and ingenious perplexities propounded at the supper
on the third day are in any way suggestive of * the light fire in
the veins of a boy.' The romance supposed to have been written
in 1602-8 did not see the light till 1616,^ when it appeared in the
full tide of the Eosicrucian controversy. Why did it remain in
manuscript for the space of thirteen years at a period when every-
thing treating of alchemy was devoured with unexampled avidity)
The ' Ghymical Marriage,' in its original draft, may have been
penned at the age of fifteen, but it must have been subjected to a
searching revision, though I confess that it betrays no trace of
subsequent manipulation. These grave difficulties are enhanced
by a fact which is wholly unknown to most Rosicrucian critics,

1 ShakespeftTO died 1616.

BACON'S " NE W ATLANTIS^ 25

and which was certainly not to be expected in the jest of a
schoolboy, namely, that the barbarous enigmatical writings which
are to be found in several places of ' The Hermetick Wedding/
are not an unmeaning hoax, but contain a decipherable and de-
ciphered sense. The secretary of an English Rosicrucian Society
says that the Supreme Magus of the Metropolitan College can
read all three of the enigmas, and that he himself has deciphered
two. Their secret is not a tradition, but the meaning dawns
upon the student after certain researches. The last point is
curious, and, outside the faculty of clairvoyance, the suggested
method does not seem probable, but I give it to be taken at its
worth, and have no reason to doubt the statement.

" From these facts and considerations the conclusion does not
seem unreasonable, and may certainly be tolerated by an impartial
mind, that, in spite of the statement of Andreas, the ' Chjrmical
Marriage ' is not a ludibrium, that it betrays a serious purpose,
and conceals a recondite meaning.

** II. With this criticism the whole theory practically breaks
down. We know that the 'Fama Fratemitatis ' was pub-
lished in 1615, as a manifesto of the ^ Biiukrschafft des loblichen
Ordens des Rosen Creutses.* We have good reason to suppose that
the original draft of the 'Chymical Marriage' was tampered
with; we do not know that previous to the year 1615 such a
work was in existence as the ' Chymical Marriage of Christian
Bosencreutz.' What we know to have existed was simply the
'NuptisB Chymicse.'' Now, supposing the 'Fama Fratemitatis '
to have emanated from a source independent of Andreas , he would be
naturally struck by the resemblance of the mysterious Eosicrucian
device to his own armorial bearings, and when in the year 1616
he published his so-called comic romance, this analogy may, not
inconceivably, have led him to re-christen his hero, and to intro-
duce those passages which refer to the Rose Cross. This, of
course, is conjectural, but it is to be remarked that so far as can
be possibly ascertained, the acknowledged symbol of the Fra-
ternity never was a St Andrew's Cross with four Boses, but was

26 BACON'S " NE W ATLANTIS:'

a Cross of the ordinary shape, with a Sed Sose in the centre, or
a Cross rising out of a Eose. There is therefore little real war-
rant for the identification of the mystical and the heraldic badge.
It is on this identification, however, that the Andrean claim is
greatly based.

"III. We find the 'Chymical Marriage,' like the 'Fama'
and 'Confessio Fratemitatis,' crusading against the 'vaga-
bond cheaters,' 'runagates and roguish people,' who debased
alchemical experiments in the interest of dishonest speculation ;
yet the one, under a thin veil of fiction, describes the proceedings
in the accomplishment of the magnum opuSy while the other terms
transmutation a great gift of God. These points of resemblance,
however, do not necessarily indicate a common authorship, for a
general belief in the facts of alchemy was held at that period by
many intelligent men, who were well aware, and loud in their
condemnation, of the innumerable frauds which disgraced the
science. On the other hand, it is plain that the history of
C. R C, as it is contained in the ' Fama,' is not the history,
equally fabulous, of that Knight of the Golden Stone, who is the
hero of the ' Chymical Marriage.'

" IV. It is obviously easy to exaggerate the philological argu-
ment, or rather the argument from the identity of literary style,
in the documents under consideration. This point indeed can
only be adequately treated by a Grerman. At present it rests on
a single assertion of Arnold, which is uncorroborated by any
illustrative facts. I think it will also be plain, even to the casual
reader, that the ' Chymical Marriage ' is a work of ' extraordi-
nary talent,' as Buhle justly observes, but that the ' Fama Fra-
temitatis ' is a work of no particular talent, either inventive or
otherwise, while the subsequent ' Confession,' both in matter and
manner, is simply beneath contempt Yet we are required to
believe that the first was produced at the age of fifteen, while the
worthless pamphlets are the work of the same writer from seven
to thirteen years subsequently.

"Y. The connection of the 'Universal Reformation' with the

BACON'S " NE W ATLANTIS:' 27

oiher Sosicracian manifestoes is so unceilaiii, that if Andreas
could be proved its translator, his connection with the society
would still be doabtfoL The appearance of the ' Fama Fratemi-
tatis ' and the ^ Universal Reformation ' in one pamphlet no
more proves them to have emanated from a single source, than
the publication of the ' Confessio ' in the same volume as the
'Secretions Philosophias Consideratio ' proves Philippus ^
Grabella to have been the author of that document. The practice
of issuing unconnected works within the covers of a single
book was common at that period. But the argument which
ascribes the 'Universal Reformation' to Andreas is entirely
conjectural.

" To dispose of the Andrean claim, a third hypothesis must be
briefly considered. If Andreas was a follower of Paracelsus, a
believer in alchemy, an aspirant towards the spiritual side of the
magnus opus, or an adept therein, he would naturally behold with
sorrow and disgust the trickery and imposture with which alchemy
was then surrounded, and by which it has been indelibly dis-
graced, and it is not unreasonable to suppose that he may have
attempted to reform the science by means of a secret society,
whose manifestoes are directed against those very abuses. But in
spite of the statement of Louis Figuier, I can find no warrant in
the life or writings of Andreas for supposing that he was a pro-
found student^ much less a fanatical partisan of Paracelsus, and it
is clear from his ' Turris Babel,' ' Mythologia Christiana,' and
other works, that he considered the Rosicrucian manifestoes a
reprehensible hoax. In the twenty-fifbh chapter of the first of
these books, the author proposes to supply the place of the
fabulous Rosicrucian Society by his own Christian Fraternity.
Indeed, wherever he speaks of it in his known writings, it is
either with contempt or condemnation. NihU cum hoe Fraier
niiaie commune habeOy says Truth in the ' Mythologia Christiana.'
'Listen, ye Mortals,' cries Fama in the 'Turns Babel,' 'you
need not wait any longer for any brotherhood; the comedy is
played out; Fama has put it up, and now destroys it. Fama has
said Yes, and now utters No.'

28 BA CON'S ''NEW A TLANTISr

" My readers are now in possession of the facts of the case, and
must draw their own conclusions. If in spite of the difficulties
which I have impartially stated, Andreas has any claim upon the
authorship of the Bosicrucian manifestoes, it must be viewed in
a different light. According to Herder, his purpose was to make
the secret societies of his time reconsider their position, and to
show them how much of their aims and movements was ridi-
culous, but not to found any society himself. According to
Figuier, he really founded the Bosicrucian Society, but ended by
entire disapproval of its methods, and therefore started his Chris-
tian Fraternity. But the facts of the case are against this hypo-
thesis, for the 'Invitatio Fratemitatis Christi ad Sacri amoris
Candidatos' was published as early as 1617, long before the
Bosicrucian Order could have degenerated from the principles of
its master. It is impossible that Andreas should have projected
two associations at the same time."

Our space does not permit us, nor would it be fair, to borrow
more from Mr Waiters masterly criticism upon the claims of
Andreas. They should be studied in the " Beal History of the
Bosicrucians." It is plain Johann Valentin Andreas had no faith
in the works supposed to be by him, and this is very strong proof
against his authorship.

In Chapter II. of the *' Confession " we find Bacon's great idea
of the " amendment of philosophy," hinted at.

''Concerning the amendment of philosophy, we have (as much as
at this present is needful) declared that the same is altogether
weak and faulty ; nay, whilst many (I know not how) alledge
that she is sound and strong, to us it is certain that she fetches
her last breath."

And in Chapter IV., this : —

" Now concerning the first part, we hold that the meditations of
our Christian father on all subjects which from the creation of
the world have been invented, brought forth, and propagated by
human ingenuity, through God's revelation, or through the
service of Angels or spirits, or through the sagacity of under-

BACON'S ''NEW ATLANTIS:' 29

standing, or through the experience of long observation, are so
great, that if all books should perish, and bj God's almighty
snfirance all writings and all learning should be lost, yd posteriiy
fffill be able Iherehy to lay a new foundation of sciences^ and to erect
a new citadel of truth ; the which perhaps would not be so hard
to do as if one should begin to pull down and destroy the old,
ruinous building, then enlarge the foi-e-court, afterwards bring
light into the private chambers, and then change the doors,
staples, and other things according to our intention."

We see at once that posterity and the sciences are here brought
in in a thoroughly Baconian manner. The striking part of
these manifestoes, is their identity of aim with Bacon's philosophy
and work which meets us everywhere, that is " a new foundation
of the sciences/' together with a '' handing on of the lamps to
posterity." We shall presently quote from the '' Confession of the
Rosicrucian Fraternity " a passage where they speak of one of the
greatest impostors of their age — a stage-player, a man with
sufficient ingenuity for imposition, whom we believe is meant for
Shakespeare.

CHAPTER II.

THE PROFHECT OF PARACELSUS, AND THE UNIVERSAL
REFORliATION OF THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.

" So give Anthora their due as yon give time hie due, which is to
discover trath."— Baoon's 'Promus,' 341.

" Paracelsus, in the eighth chapter of his * Treatise on Metak/
gave utterance to the following prognostication: — Quod uiilius
Deu8 pcdefieri sinet, quod aulem majoris momenii est^ vulgo adhuc laid
usque ad Elice Artistas advenium, quando ia venerU, 'God will
permit a discovery of the highest importance to be made, it must
be hidden till the advent of the artist Elias.' In the first chapter
of the same work, he says : — Hoc item verum est mhil est abacondi-
fum quod non sit retegendum; ideOy post me veniet cujus magnale
nundum vivit qui mv2ta revelahiL ' And it is true, there is nothing
concealed that shall not be discovered ; for which cause a marvel-
lous being shall come after me, who as yet lives not, and who
shall reveal many things.' These passages have been claimed as
referring to the founder of the Eosicrucian order, and as pro-
phecies of this character are usually the outcome of a general
desire rather than of an individual inspiration, they are interesting
evidence that then as now many thoughtful people were looking
for another saviour of society. At the beginning of the seven-
teenth centuiy ' a great and general reformation,' says Buhle —
a reformation far more radical and more directed to the moral
improvement of mankind than that accomplished by Luther, —
' was believed to be impending over the human race.' "^ Louis
Figuier, in his " Alchemy and Alchemists," thinks that Andreas
was filled with a desire to fulfil this prophecy of Paracelsus.
And that out of this arose the idea to found the famous Eosicru-

1 From Waiters '< Real History of the Bosicractaiis."

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS. 31

cian Brotherhood. But this in no way answers the problem of
the prophecy put forward of the advent of an artist. What sort
of artist could this be 1 How answer to it 1 It is indeed striking
that at a time, when thousands are beginning to believe that Lord
Bacon was the author of the plays attributed hitherto to Shake-
speare, and to see that these plays are as profound as Nature, and
are promising an astounding revelation or rebirth of miraculous
character, we should find those strange initials among the chosen
brethren of the Bosy Cross set down in the narrative of the
discovery of the body of Christian Bosencreutz —

4. F. B. M. P. A., PkU/r d Archiiedus.
At any rate, here is an Artist, whose initials answer to those of
Francis Bacon. The letters P. A. seem to be only initials for
Pidar et ArchUedus, and we like to indulge in the theory that
M. stands for Magider or Founder — ^the head of the association.
Now in Bacon's " New Athmtis " we find him presenting us with
a venerable man who is called the *^T%rsar^^* or father. ''The
Father of the Family whom they call the Tirsan" (vide paasim^
''New Atlantis"). This man always addresses the others with
the title of sons.

" ' Gk)d bless thee, my son ; I will give thee the greatest jewel
I have. For I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and
men, a relation of the true state of Solomon's House.

" ' The End of our Foundation is the knowledge of Causes, and
secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of
Human Empire, to the effecting of all things possible.' "

With the last paragraph we see Bacon's philosophy speaking
in disguise, as if Bacon was himself the orator.

" And when he had said this, he stood up ; and I, as I had
been taught, kneeled down ; and he laid his right hand upon my
head, and said; 'God bless thee, my son, and God bless this
relation which I have made.' "

Now, elsewhere in his works,^ Bacon addresses himself to his

1 The heading of the Fxlnm Labyrinthi is enUtled ** Ad FUios ''—to (my)
sons. This is written at the top of the page in Bacon's hand. — Spkddino.

32 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

son, though he had no issue at alL Can we not see in this pro-
tagonist of the "New Adantis'* — who is Cicerone, and who
describes all the discoveries and sciences of the nineteenth century,
anticipating them as the result of his inductive and experimental
method — Bacon himself) All the descriptions of the marvels of
scientific discoveries, Sound Houses, which anticipate the Tele-
phone, Observatories, Zoological and Botanical Gardens, &c., &c.,
are sheer projections of the genius of Bacon's mind, seeing like
Moses from Mount Pisgah, the promised land, which his instru-
ment or ofganum is to realize. It is an ideal Island placed with
true prophetic insight in the west, where new worlds were just
discovered, — ^it is America which is to realize, and has realized
some of these prophecies. But we see more. The Ship de-
vice, is Bacon's precious Argosy bound through the pillars of
Hercules to this ideal Utopia in the west of his imagination.
This is what he calls " Anticipation of the Mind." The *' New
Atlantis " ^ is an ideal vision of the New World of intellectual
discovery, to which Bacon's emblematic ship is sailing through
the pillars of Hercules,^ and which he foresaw would be America.
If Columbus discovered the New World, Bacon discovers an
intellectual New World of wonders — ^the result of his inductive
method, and every description in the " Atlantis " of the scientific
wonders therein described are efforts (and in most cases marvel-
lous successes) to realize the future. For he repeatedly tells us
that there will be much going to and fro,^ that light will come to

1 "The ' New Atlantis ' aeems to have been written in 1624, and, though
not finished, to have been intended for publication as it stande. It was
published aooordingly by Dr Rawley in 1627, at the end of the volume
containing the Sylva Sylvarum; for which place Bacon had himself de-
signed it, the subjects of the two being so near akin ; the one representing
his idea of what bhould be the end of the work whidi in the other he sup-
posed himself to be beginning. For the story of Solomon's House is
nothing more than a vision of the practical results which he anticipated
from the study of natural history diligently and systematically carried on
through successive generations." — Spedding.

* The sciences seem to have their Hercules* pillars, which bound the
desires and hopes of mankind. {Ot. Instaurationf Prrf.)

' *' Nur should the prophecy of Daniel be forgotten, touching the last

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS, 33

men, that mankind would master and conquer Nature — ^making
her his slave.

We take the following from the '' Confession of the Rosicrucian
Fraternity," published 1615 : —

"For conclusion of our Confession we must earnestly admonish
you, that yon cast away, if not all, yet most of the worthless
books of pseudo chjrmists, to whom it is a jest to apply the Most
Holy Trinity to vain thiqgs, or to deceive men with monstrous
symbols and enigmas, or to profit by the curiosity of the credu-
lous ; our age doth produce many such, (mt of ffie greatest being
a STAGE PLATER, a man with sufficient ingenuity for imposition."
(Chapter XII., " Hist. Eosicrucians.")

We know that Shakespeare, who died 1616, was a stage-player
as well as a manager and supposed author of the plays. If
Bacon was a Bosicrucian, we may depend upon it that the real
secret of the authorship was well known to many members of
the brotherhood, as we have sufficient reason to see in the case
of Ben Jonson.

Mr Waite writes (page 35, "Real History of the Rosicru-
cians ") : —

"Somewhere about the year 1614 a pamphlet was published
anonymously in German, called 'Die Reformation der Ganzen
Weiten Welty which, according to De Quincey, contained a
distinct proposition to inaugurate a secret society, having for its
object the general welfare of mankind. This description is
simply untrue ; the ' Universal Reformation ' is an amusing and
satirical account of an abortive attempt made by the god Apollo
to derive assistance towards the improvement of the age from
the wise men of antiquity and modem times. It is a fairly
literal translation of Advertisement 77 of Boccalini's ' Eagguagli
di PaniassOf Centuria Prima ; ' its internal connection with Rosi-

ages of the world : — "Many shall go to and fro, and knowledge shall be
increased ;*' clearly intimating that the thorough passage of the world
(which now by so many distant voyages seems to be accomplished, or in
coarse of accomplishment), and the advancement of the sciences, are
destined by fate, that is, by Divine Providence, to meet in the same age.

C

34 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

cracianism is not clear, but it has been generally reprinted
with the society's manifestos, alchemical interpretations have
been placed on it, and it is cited by various authors as the first
publication of the Fraternity."

The reader is begged to mark that it is the god Apollo who
makes this movement for the improvement and reformation of
the entire world. Now we find Lord Bacon figuring in Oeorge
Withers' '' Qrtai Assizes^ held ai Parnassus" as President repre-
senting the god Apollo, and presiding over all the learning of
his age. Note, these assizes are held at Parnassus, with which
compare Boccalini's title, " Ragguagli di Pamasso.*' Throughout
Boccalini's work, Apollo is presented as protagonist. The con-
nection of the 77th Advertisement of Boccalini's ''Bagguagli
di Pamasso" with the Society may be not yet clear, but the
very fact that it is found in the Brotherhood's manifestoes, and
that it is cited as the first publication of the Bosicrucians, is in
itself the strongest possible evidence in favour of relationship.
The subject-matter speaks for itself, being thoroughly in har-
mony with the Beformation. Apollo summons the seven wise
men of Greece to make an inquiry as to the state of society.
They severally deliver separate remedies for the diBeases of the
age. But the age is found too rotten and corrupt for cure.
Here is the graphic description of the state of the age : —

" At these words the philosophers stript him in a trice, and
found that this miserable wretch was covered all over four inches
thick with a scurf of appearances. They caused ten razors to be
forthwith brought unto them, and fell to shaving it off with great
diligence, but they found it so far eaten into his very bones that
in all the huge colossus there was not one inch of good live flesh,
at which, being struck with horror and despair, they put on the
patient's cloaths again, and dismist him. Then, convinced that the
disease was incurable, they shut themselves up together, and
abandoning the case of publike affairs, they resolved to provide
far the safety of their own rqmtatians.'* (" Universal Reformation.")

In this passage we see as it were, an explanation of the rise

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS. 35

and origin of the society. The age is beyond any sort of radical
core ; and the LUeraH of Apollo must provide for the safety of
their own reputations. Here we have a hint of the danger
accompanying any attempt at an open Reformation. In such an
agOy only one possible way lay clear, and that was just what we
find was aimed at by this society of Kosicrucians. That was, to
form a secret Literary Brotherhood, embracing the highest
intellects and the purest hearts in all Europe. We see that
it was simultaneously put forward, as a general movement
throughout Europe from several different centres or countries.
Boccalini was a Venetian, Andreas was a native of Wirtembirg ;
and we read of Lord Bacon presiding at the '' Oreai Assizes held
by Apollo and his Assessours at Parnassus" How is it we find a
follower of the law, like Lord Bacon, representing Apollo, and
presiding over, not only the learning of the age, but the poetiy of
the age also 1 How is it Shakespeare, whose name figures amongst
the Assessours, is not in his proper place as Apollo 1 Did he
not prefix to the ''first heir of his invention," Venus and
Adonis, these lines, which seem so appropriate for an Apollo of
arti—

" Yilia miretar valgus ; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocola Castalia plena ministret aqua."

Castalia, as everybody knows (and as Shakespeare learnt at the
Stratford Grammar School), takes us to the foot of Mount
Parnassus, to the Temple of ApoUo—to the famous Spring, to the
home of the Muses. We find in the Winters Tale, the Temple
and Oracle of Apollo at Delphi introduced. Delphi was
supposed to be exactly in the middle of the earth, and therefore
called umbilicus orbis terrarum. But how is it we say that Shake-
speare, who commences his poetic career with a Latin quotation,
which plainly indicates his intention to drink at the Castalian
Spring, at the pure fount of the Qolden Apollo itself, does not
preside over the Great Assizes held by Apollo and his Assessours
at Parnassus? Why permit himself to derogate to an in-
significant position, low down on the list, with Ben Jonson,

36 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

Davenant^ Drayton, and others I One thing must, so far, be plain
to the impartial critic, — that is, there is a remarkable double connec-
tion to be traced between Boccalini's Advertisement 77 (out of ihe
''Eagguagli di Pamasso'') and the "Universal Reformation," which
reproduces it literally as a Eosicrucian manifesto. On the other
hand, there is a likeness in the *^6reai Assizes KM by Apollo
and his Assessours cU Parnassus'* to Boccalini's title, which is
remarkable. Boccalini's work furnishes word for word the
" Universal Eeformation,*' with its story of Apollo and the seven
Sages of Greece, as applied to the age.

The title of the " Fama " ran-^" A Universal Reformation of
the Whole Wide World, by order of the God Apollo, is
published by the Seven Sages of Greece." Thales gives his
opinion: — "The true and immediate cure, then, for these
present evils consists in necessitating men to live with
candour of mind and purity of heart, which cannot be better
effected then by making that little window in men's breasts
which his Majesty hath often promised to his most faithful
vertuosi ; for when those who use such art in their proceedings
shall be forced to speak and act, having a window whereby one may
see into their hearts^ they will learn the excellent virtue of being,
and not appearing to be ; they will conform deeds to words, and
their tongues to sincerity of heart ; all men will banish lies and
falsehood, and the diabolical spirit of hypocrisy will abandon
many who are now possest with so foul a fiend."

This idea is repeated in the following sonnet: —

XXIV.

" Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath stell'd
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart ;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held.
And perspective it is best painter's art
For through the painter must you see his skill.
To find where your true image pictured lies ;
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS, 37

Now aee what good tums eyes for eyes have done :
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast^ where-through the sun
Deh'ghts to peep, to gaze therein on thee ;

Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art ;

They draw but what they see, know not the heart.''

Then Solon thus began : — " In my opinion, gentlemen, that
which hath put the present age into so great confusion is the
cruel hatred and spiteful envy which is seen to reign generally
amongst men. All hope then for these present evils is from the
infusion of charity, reciprocal affection, and that sanctified love
of our neighbour which is God's chiefest commandment to
mankind.''

We thus see that the work of Boccalini, of which this is only
the seventy-seventh Advertisement, is a book dealing with the
diseases of the society of its time. Boccalini was a Venetian.
It appears that these works, like the " Fama " in Germany and
Boccalini's in Italy, appeared somewhat contemporaneously, as
if the result of an organised movement. Anthony Bacon, the
devoted brother of Francis Bacon, lived a great number of years
abroad, and some time at Venice. The two brothers seem
always to have been in active correspondence.

Anthony Bacon was lame, and it is possible that he is alluded
to in the Sonnets, where we have the line —

" Speak of my lameness and I straight will halt."

'— Sonnets, 37, 39.

We find also in the Sonnets the poet saying, ''both your
poets," as if there were two.

Here is the Ust of " the Great Assizes holden by Apollo and
his Assessours at Parnassus."

Apollo.

Thx Lord Vebulam, Chancellor of Pamasaus.

Sib Philip Sidnev, High Constable of Pamaasns.

William Budmvs, High TreaBorer.

John Pious, Eabl of Mirandula, High Chamborlaine.

38 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

Julius GiESAB Sgauoer. Isaac Casaubok.

Erasmus Rotssodam. John Seldbn.

Justus Lifsitts. Hugo Gbotius.

John Babcklay. Daniel Heinsius.

John Bodine. Conbadus Vorstius.

Adiuan Turnebus. Augustine Mamgardus.

Tht Jurors.

George Withers. Michael Drayton.

Thomas Cart. Francis Beaumont.

Thomas May. John Fletcher.

William Daysnant. Thomas Haywood.

Joshua Sylvester. William Shakespeare.

George Sanders. Philip Massinqer.

Joseph Scaliger, the Censonr of Manners in Parnassus.
Ben Jonson, Keeper of the Trophonian Denne.
John Taylour, Cryer of the Court.
Edmund Spenser, Clerk of the Assizes.

This was written by George Withers, and whether an account
of what he remembered, or heard, or invented, it is impossible
to say. Withers was a poet, and the position he assigns Shake-
speare and Bacon respectively is evidence of his valae of
Shakespeare.

Nicolai, the friend of Lessing, and the editor of "Moses
Mendelssohn," claimed Lord Bacon as the founder of Free
Masonry. Nicolai had a theory of his own, and sought to
derive everything from the Bosicrucians. In the year 164G the
celebrated philosopher, Elias Ashmole, who founded the museum
at Oxford, was initiated in a Lodge at Warrington, as he has
himself recorded in his diaiy. Now we are going to quote from
Oliver's " Discrepancies of Freemasonry,'' about this meeting at
Warrington, wherein we shall see Nicolai giving his opinion
— a most valuable one — that the persons who met were
Bosicrucians.

" ' Do any of you know that the Ashmolean Masonry is al-
together ignored on the continent of Europe 1' the Surgeon
inquired.

"'Bro. Frederick Nicoki has given it a decided contradic-
tion,' the Skipper replied. 'He says that the object of the

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS. 39

meeting at Warrington, so far from being Masonic, was simplj
for the purpose of carrying out a philosophical idea which had
been promulgated by Lord Bacon in his ' New Atlantis ' of the
model of a perfect society, instituted for the secret purpose of
interpreting nature, and of producing new arts and marvellous
inventions for the benefit of mankind, under the name of
Solomon's House, or the College of the Six Days' Work, which,
in plain language, was intended to be an ideal society for the
study of natural philosophy. Tht persons present at these
meetings are said by Nicdai to have been BosicrucianSy^ and we
know this to be true of Ashmole himself. He asserts, further,
that these men erected, in their Lodge, two Great Pillars, which
they called the Pillars of Hermes, in front of Solomon's House,
and they used a chequered pavement, a ladder of seven staves or
rounds, and many other secret symbols. And as they held their
subsequent meetings in Mason's Hall, London, they adopted the
tools of working masons ; and this, he says conclusively, was the
origin of Sytabolical Masonry. And as it was invented about
the time of the Eestoration, the judicial murder of Charles the
First was introduced as an incidental legend.' " (Page 78).

Everybody acquainted with Bacon's works must call to mind
the two pillars, between which his device of a ship is passing, or
the other of the globe of the intellectual world, flanked by the
two columns. But the '*New Atlantis" of Bacon proves that he
belonged to some secret or Masonic Society, inasmuch as the
College of the Six Days (or creation) and Solomon's Temple,
speak loudly enough for themselves: How is it we find in 1646,
a few years after Bacon's death, a party of persons meeting in a
Lodge to carry out the ideas promulgated in the ''New Atlantis")

^ Profeisor Bnhle affirms as the " maia thesis " of his oonolnding chap-
ter, that " Freemasonry is neither more nor less than Rosicrncianism as
modified by those who transplanted it into England." This is De Quincey's
opinion also : " For I affirm, as the main thesis of my concluding labours,

THAT FREK-HASONBT IS NEITHSB MORE NOB LESS THAN B0SICBUCIANI8M AS
MODIFIED BT THOSE WHO TRANSPLANTED IT UNTO ENGLAND. "—" Hist

Critioo-Inquiry," chap. y.

40 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

This shows the enormous secret influence Bacon exercised over
the minds of men. And we cannot lightly wave aside the
opinion of such a man as Nicolai, that these persons were Hosi-
crucians. It is easy for people to make the assertion that
Masonry and Bosicrucianism were separate and distinct, as has
been said. They may have become so afterwards, but there is
strong evidence to show that about Bacon's time, that is, the
early part of the 17th and end of the 16th century, Bosi-
crucianism made a great sensation and noise in Europe, promis-
ing and setting forth an universal scheme for the reformation of
society, in just such fashion as Bacon puts forth in his '' New
Atlantis." The Rosicrucians called themselves Invisibles. They
said that God covered them with a cloud in order to shelter them
from their enemies. This idea of the cloud we find Bacon re-
peating : — '< As to the heathen antiquities of the world, it is in
vain to note them for deficient : deficient they are no doubt, con-
sisting mostly of fables and fragments, but the deficience cannot
be holpen ; for antiquity is like fame, capti inter nubUa eondit, her
head is muffled from our sight." ^Now this is a remarkable
passage— for first Bacon denies the deficiency of the heathen
antiquities, then cautiously compromises, for fear of saying too
much, and finally takes refuge in a simile, which shows the
estimation that he held, and how he fully appreciated, the heights
of the peaks of antiquity, which he identifies with fame, — too
lofty for common sight or comprehension. There is something
in these words and the comparison of the heathen antiquities
with Fame (hidden in a cloud), that recalls the '^Fama Fra-
temitatis " of the meritorious order of the Rosy Cross. It is just
these heathen antiquities and Pagan rites, which it was the aim
of the Eosicrucians and Free Masons to shelter, preserve, and
hand on as lamps for posterity. Take up any of the thousand
books on Freemasonry, and they take one back at once in their
histories to the Mysteries — and particularly Yirgils. Here is
what a masonic writer writes upon the 'purpose and object of
Freemasonry : —

THE PROPHEC Y OF PARA CELSUS. 4 1

'' In concluding my work, I repeat that the freemasons' society
was founded for the purpose of concealing the rites of the ancient
pagan religion, under the cover of operative masonry ; and that,
although the religion is extinct^ its ceremonials remain, and
clearly develop the origin of the institution."

Between 1613 and 1630 there was an enormous amount of
literature published in Europe about the Eosicrucians. This
period coincides with the best and ripest years of Bacon's life —
including the last thirteen years, during the latter part of which
(the final five years) he lived in continual retirement, study, and
correspondence, which, in itself, is curious enough.^ It is striking
that the period of the rise and decline of Rosicrucianism in
£urope, exactly coincides with Bacon's life ! Four years after his
death in 1630, the Rosicrucian literature is already upon the
decline. In Bawley's ^'life of Bacon" we find he had corres-
pondence with foreigners, and that he possessed an extraordinary
power of raising admiration in others. That this was due only
to his Inductive Philosophy, or prose works, is quite inconceivable.
Even the learned King James declared of Bacon's work, the
" Novum Organum," that " It was like the peace of God — it
passed all understanding." We know that Coke ridiculed his
ship device, as a " Ship of Fools," — that Hervey declared he wrote
*' philosophy like a Lord Chancellor," so that the idea that his
system was understood or appreciated at its full value by his own
age is quite erroneous. What, then, was the secret of his
intimacy and attraction for foreign worthies) Bawley relates
that many came from a great distance merely from curiosity to
see him.

^'Amongst the rest, Marquis Fiat, a French nobleman, who
came ambassador into England, in the beginning of Queen Mary,
wife to King Charles, was taken with an extraordinary desire of

^ *' The last five yean of Yob life, being withdrawn from civil affiiirs, and
from an active life, he en^loyed wholly in contemplation and atndies."
— ^Bawley, " Life," p. 6. " His fame Ui greater and aoonda loader in
foreign parts abroad, than at home in his own nation." — Und., p. 11.

42 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

aeeing him ; for which he made way by a friend ; and when he
came to him, being then through weakness confined to his bed,
the marquis saluted him with this high expression, ' Thai his
lordship had been ever to him like the angeb, of whom he had often
heard, and readmuch of them in hooks, but he never saw them,* After
which they contracted an intimate acquaintance, and the marquis
did so much revere him, that besides his frequent visits, they
wrote letters one to the other, under the titles and appellations
of faiher and son,^ As for his many salutations by letters from
foreign worthies devoted to learning, I forbear to mention them,
because that is a thing common to other men of learning or note,
together with him." {" Life," p. 12.)

If Bacon were the promoter or head of some great secret society
like the Kosicrudans, anxious to promote the welfare of man-
kind and reform society, we can quite understand this influence,
and it is only this sort of influence which could work upon men
in those ages from afar, and be likely to provoke such words as
are quoted in italics above. But what greater proof can we have
than the "New Atlantis," with its Solomon, and Temple, its
College of Creation or the Six Days, and its entire aim and
object !

We find the Eosicrudans putting in a decided appearance
as an association about 1600. A writer ("Mysteries of
Antiquity ") says :— " We see from the account of the Society of
Christian Rosy Cross, that it claims to date from about the year
1490, but we do not read of the associaiian under that name prior to
1600, and the impossibility of the narrative, points out to us that
the name of the founder is mythical, and that its allegory is
derived from the symbols of the order itself, which is no doubt
of antiquity." The date of that extraordinary work, Chester's
"Love's Martyr," is 1601. "At the supposed revival of Bosi-

1 Thk is exactly the fonn of addran used in the " New AtiantiB" by the
man of " middle Btatnre'' and "comely" appearance — (.e., " God bless thee,
my son " (p. 13). The nse of these familiar terms bespeak a secret brother-
hood, the language of a craft.

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS, 43

cracianism at Pans, in March 1623, the Order was said to number
thirty-six members." The date that the collected form of the so-
called Shakespearian plays, appear for the first time (as the first
folio edition, 1623), is the same date as this revival of Kosicru-
cianism at Paris. Yarker writes (" Mysteries of Antiquity '') : —
"Most of their symbols resemble those used in our Masonic
degrees, especially the Arch, and Bossb Crucis, and they trace
their doctrines through the same channel as modem Freemasons,
and assert the derivation of their mysteries through Enoch, the
Patriarchs, and Moses to Solomon." With Solomon we find
ourselves in mysterious touch again with Bacon, who is never
weary of quoting him, and who introduces him ever thus : —
"The glory of God is to conceal a thing, but the glory of the
King is to find it out, as if according to the innocent play of
children, the Divine Majesty took delight to hide his works, to
the end to have them found out." (Posrim, " Works.")

To those who maintain there is no mystery, no reserve, and no
implied privacy of publication hinted at, or suggested by Bacon
in his works, we present the following passage for study and
reflection. It is not this single passage, but many others to the
same effect that might be quoted.

" Now for my plan of publication, it is this. Those parts of
the work which have it for their object to find out, and bring
into correspondence, such minds as are prepared and disposed for
the argument, and to purge the floors of men's understandings, —
I wish to be published to the world and circulate from mouth to
mouth ; the rest I would have passed from hand to hand with
selection and judgment Not but that I know it is an old trick
of impostors to keep a few of their follies back from the public
which are indeed no better than those which they put forward ;
bat in this case it is no imposture at all, but a sound foresight,
which tells me that the formula itself of Interpretation, and
the discoveries made by the same, will thrive better if committed
to the charge of some fit and selected minds, and kept private."

Elsewhere he talks of an mcd method of transmission^ which

44 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS.

reminds us at once of Masonry. But whatever may be objected
to our arguments, one thing is pkin — (that is), Bacon speaks of
two methods belonging to his philosophic system. One is his
Inductive Philosophy — the other Anticipation of the Mind, of
which we have a hint in the prophetic scientific discoveries of his
"New Atlantis.*'
In the " Advancement of Learning," Bacon writes : —
"Another diversity of method there is," [he is speaking
of the different methods of communicating and transmitting
knowledge] which hath some affinity with the former, used
in some cases by the discretion of the ancients, but disgraced
since by the impostures of many vain persons, who have
made it as a false light for their counterfeit merchandises;
and that is, enigmatical and disclosed. The pretence whereof [that
is, of the enigmatical method] is to remove the vulgar capacities
from being admitted to the secrets of knowledges, and to reserve
them to selected auditors, or wits of such sharpness as can pierce the
veil."

We here find Bacon alluding to the ancients and their " enig-
matical and disclosed" — (that is, open and secret) — methods of
writing — methods which have been disgraced by bastard or false
art, which shows us, not only that he understood what " counter-
feit merchandise " meant, but that he understood the ancients
and their secret doctrines sufficiently well to make these compari-
sons and observations. Of course, Bacon is alluding to such art
as, for example, Virgil's Vlth Book, which Warbarton (in his
" Divine Legation ") was the first to show was " enigmatical and
disclosed" — 1.«., " The Mysteries," and nothing else. Mark how
Bacon is down upon false art, which we find paralleled in
Sonnet 68 :—

^* And him as for a map doth Nature store
To show false art what beauty was of yore."

** In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Without all ornament itself and true."

" Making Antiquity for aye his page."

THE PROPHEC Y OF PARA CELSUS, 45

This thoroughly falls in with Bacon's declaration that he is
going ^^ usque ad aras" with the ancients, or "I going the same
road as the ancients," all of which antiquity can be refoond in
the WirUer^s Tale, Tempest, and Midsummer NigJWs Dream.

But since Bacon declares that if all sciences were lost " they
might be found in Virgil," it may be as well to make farther
inquiry into this matter : —

** But the universe to the eye of the human understanding is
framed like a labyrinth ; presenting as it does on every side so
many ambiguities of way, such deceitful resemblances of objects
and signs, natures so irregular in their lines, and so knotted and
entangled. And then the way is still to be made by the un-
certain light of the sense, sometimes shining out, sometimes
clouded over, through the woods of experience and particulars;
while those who offer themselves for guides are (as was said)
themselves also puzzled, and increase the number of errors and
wanderers." (Preface, " Magna Instauratio.")

Compare : —

" Quale per incertam lunam, sub luce maligna,
Est iter in sylvi* ; ubi coelum Jupiter umbrd
Condidit et rebus nox abstulit atra oolorem."

— VirgU's " uEneid,'' Vlth Book.

Bacon goes on :—

" For my own part at least, in obedience to the everlasting love
of truth, I have committed myself to the uncertainties and diffi-
culties and solitudes of the ways, and relying on the divine
assistance have upheld my mind both against the shocks and
embattled ranks of opinion, and against my own private and
inward hesitations and scruples, and against the fogs and clouds
of nature, and the phantoms flitting about on every side."

And then follows, fortunately for us, else the critic would say
we imagine these things : —

"This likewise I humbly pray, that things human may not
interfere with things divine, and that from the opening of the
ways of sense and the increase of natural light there may arise

46 THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS,

in our minds no incredulity or darkness with regard io the divine
mystifies; but rather that the understanding being thereby
purified and purged of fancies and vanity, and yet not the less
subject and entirely submissive to the divine erodes^ may give to
faith that which is faith's."

All these passages are extracts, in sequence, following each
other closely, and so connected in imagery and style, as to
leave the subject-matter and source unmistakable. To those
who recognise in The Tempest and Dream, the art of Vila's Vlth
Book of the '* ^neid," or the "Mysteries,*' this will speak volumes.

Bacon writes : —

" For the end which this science of mine proposes is the inven-
tion not of arguments but of arts ; not of things in accordance
with principles, but of principles themselves; not of probable
reasons, but of designations and directions for works. And as
the intention is different, so accordingly is the effect ; the effect
of the one being to overcome an opponent in argument^ of the
other to command nature in action."

Nature in action is a suspicious term, which suggests plays.
Why does Bacon speak of artsi In another place, he says,
" Life is short and art long." ^

But what indeed is important in this declaration : —

''For if I should profess that /, gaing the same road as the
ancients, have something better to produce, there must needs have
been some comparison or rivalry between us {not to he avoided by any
art of words), in respect of excellency or ability of wU; and though in
this there would be nothing unlawful or new, yet the contest,
however just and allowable, would have been an unequal one
perhaps, in respect of the measure of my own powers."

This is so startling as almost' to take our breath away, and
we must remain lost in bewilderment. Here is the secret
of the Great Restoration. For is this the way Bacon is going,

^ '* It u an ancient saying and complaint, that Lift is ahort and Art
long ; wherefore it behoveth us, who make it our chiefeat aim to perfect
ArU,"" etc.— PfVoce, " Hist of Life and Death."

THE PROPHECY OF PARACELSUS, 47

viz., to return the road of antiquity, and beat .^chylus,
Euripides, Sophocles, at their own art, around their own altars,
usqut ad aras ?

''And to make my meaning clearer and to familiarise the
thing by giving it a name, I have chosen to call one of these
methods or ways, Antidpatian of ihe Mind, the other, Interpretaiion
of Nature,"

Now, we ask the world to tell us, where is the other method
which Bacon entitles so beautifully. Anticipation of the Mind f

CHAPTER III.

THE TEMPEST;

OR,

ONE OF bacon's ANTICIPATIONS.

'* What impoflsible matter will he make easy next ? "

— Tempul.

It will be generally granted that in the phiy of The Tempest we
have a magical, superhuman presentation of the Poet, as Creator,
who, as it were, opens the heavens of his art^ and discloses him-
self upon his enchanted island, whence his soul and spirit, from
the calm and security of his retreat, watches the tempest which
he has himself raised. It is a sort of invisible place or Hades, as
well as a Heaven, for though we see it plainly enough with the
letter of the text, we are not sufficiently initiated as yet into this
art to behold it with the mind's eye as epopts or seers. We are
puzzled — dreadfully perplexed as to the bearing of this island,
and rightly, for if we could only locate it, we might find Prospero
also. Before, therefore, we can thoroughly enjoy the full signifi-
cation of the masque or vision, and enter into the spirit of the
show, we must be initiated. Prospero has always been associated
with the Poet-Creator himself, and seeing that the play stands
first in the Folio Edition of 1623, it is not unreasonable to
suppose that it is a presentation of the Artist in relation to his
own art. As such we propose to study it. Whatever matured
views the author had when he laid down his pen and broke his
rod, should be found here, for it is the last of the plays — ^the last
which stand first in the folio, which is a significant fact After
completing our work, we write our preface or introduction, and
place it in front, or at the commencement of our book. Even so
it may be fairly supposed that there is a like relationship obtaining

THE TEMPEST. 49

between Tht Temped, as introdactory or summary, in relationship
to the entire cycle of this marvellous art. The picture presented
by Prospero bears out this theory. It is that of a god in art.
We, therefore, propose to give reasons for believing that this
play deals with a purely spiritual side of the plays, as a repre-
sentative symbolical portrait of itself. First, we will examine
the background, or setting, of the play, first taking the enchanted
island as a starting-point, and so on to other matters.

Islands of Souls or Spirits,

Islands are constantly found connected with enchantment,
magic, or the ideal, as Utopias, islands of the Blessed, Elysian
Fields, or Heavens. We find this to be the case directly we
recall Homer's Ogygia, the island of Calypso, St Brandons, the
(New) Atlantis of Plato, and Bacon. We have the Elysium of
Homer, the Fortunate Isles of Pindar, and the garden of the
Hesperides. Among islands of Heaven, or Paradise, is the island
of Venus in the ninth book of the "Lusiad." Then there are
several parallel Edens, as the garden of Alcinous in the " Odyssey "
(bk. vii.); the island of Circe, "Odyssey" (x.); the Elysium of
Virgil ("uiEneid," vi.); the island or palace of vice in " Orlando
Furioso" (vi vii) ; the island of Armida in Tasso's "Jerusalem
Delivered ; " and so on. Lambertus Floridus describes Paradise
as **ParadigU3 insula in oceano in oriente" Then we have Avalon,
or the ** Isle of Apples," a name which Mr Baring Gould (" Curious
Myths of the Middle Ages") remarks, "reminds one of the
gardens of the Hesperides." This fair Avalon is the " Island of
the Blessed of the Kelts." This is the land to which King
Arthur's body was borne,

" Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow.
Nor ever winds blow loudly ; but lies
Deep-meadow'd happy fair with orchard lawns,
A nd bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea."

" In the Portuguese legend, the island of the Seven Cities is
nnquestionably the land of departed Spirits of the ancient

D

50 THE TEMPEST.

Reltiberians," writes Mr Gould (" Curious Myths of the Middle
Ages"). We find almost always these islands connected with
the other world — sometimes as places of punishment, sometimes,
and more often, as Elysiums or Heavens. Sometimes these
islands are to be found called the Land of Souls, or the Departed \
but whatever may be the name given to them, they are always
found to be connected with Death. Therefore, no fitter emblem
of the next world, or of the Spiritual World, can be found than a
lone, unknown island like Prospero's, placed, we know not where,
amid the untracked ocean of his art. It is also curious that we
find the idea of these islands connected with Eevelation — that is,
with the hereafter, as abodes of Truth and Light. But we must
quote, in order to support our assertions ; which we will only do
to an extent not prejudicial to our space. The reader is earnestly
referred to the interesting chapters upon this subject in the
work already quoted, where he will find abundance of evidence.

In classical mythology and poetry we find, again, a frequent
mention of the Islands of the Blessed, as the abode of souls.
Thus Pindar : " The lawless souls of those who die here forth-
with suffer punishment : and some one beneath the earth, pro-
nouncing sentence by stern necessity, judges the sinful deeds,
done in this realm of Zeus ; but the good enjoy the sun's light
both by day and by night — while those who, through a threefold
existence in the upper and lower worlds, have kept their souls
pure from all sin, ascend the path of Zeus to the castle of
Chronus, where ocean breezes bloiv round the Islands of the Blessed,
and golden flowers glitter."

We thus see that these islands were spintual islands, or
heavens. Olympiodorus (MSS. Commentary on the " Gorgias " of
Plato) speaks of the Fortunate Islands raised above the sea, — ^the
Islands of the Blessed, — of the emancipated Soul — that is, of
Truth and Light, Now, what we have to propose is this. Is it
not possible — nay, probable, that the island of Prospero is such
an island in relation to the rest of his art — an island of his eman-
cipated soul,— emancipated from his work — the Heaven of his

THE TEMPEST. 51

creative power, a picture of the Spiritual and its origin, in rela-
tion to the TrvJth and Light ? With the completion of The Tem-
pest the plays cease to appear. His rough magic is abjured. And
in the play we have the significant and striking symbol of the
breaking of his wand, — as a sign that his magic is at an end. If
Prospero by common consent has always been considered an
emblem, or portrait of the poet-author himself, have we not right
on our side when we postulate a symbolical interpretation to the
entire play ? It is no reason because we see just this resemblance
of Prospero (as magician, and God) to the poet-creator or maker
(and no more), that the resemblance really terminates here !

Mr Baring Gould relates the following beautiful legend in his
" Curious Myths of the Middle Ages": — "In former days there
lived in Skerr a Druid of renown. He sat with his face to the
west on the shore, his eye following the declining sun. As he sat
musing on a rock, a storm arose on the sea ; a cloud, under whose
squally skirts the foaming waters tossed, rushed suddenly into
the bay, and from its dark womb emerged a ship or boat with
white sails bent to the wind, and banks of gleaming oars on
either side. But it was destitute of Mariners, itself seeming to
live and move. An unusual terror seized on the aged Druid ; he
heard a voice call ' Arise, and see the Green Isle of those who
have passed away ! ' Then he entered the vessel. Immediately
the wind shifted, the cloud enveloped him, and in the bosom of
the vapour he sailed away. Seven days gleamed on him through
the mist; on the eighth the waves rolled violently, the vessel
pitched, and darkness thickened around him, when suddenly he
heard a cry, ' The Isle ! The Isle.' Before his eyes lay the Isle
of the Departed." (" Fortunate Isles" Curious Myths, 553).

Here we have a picture of an Island of Souls — of the Departed,
and it is interesting to see that in this legend we have a Ship, and
evidences of a tempest or storm raging around the Island, on its
approach, "It is curious to note how retentive of ancient
mythologic doctrines relative to death are the memories of the
peoples. This Keltic fable of the ^Land beyond the Sea ' to which

52 THE TEMPEST.

souls are borne after death, has engrafted itself on popular

religion in England."

'* Shall we meet in that blest harbour

When our stormy voyage is o'er ?

Shall we meet and cast the anchor

By the fair celestial shore ? "

— Curious Myths,

Thomas Taylor writes in his "Eleusinian and Bacchic Mys-
teries": — "Let us proceed to consider the description which
Virgil gives us of these fortunate abodes, and the latent significa-
tion which it contains, ^neas and his guide, then, having
passed through Hades, and seen at a distance Tartarus, or the
utmost profundity of a material nature, they next advance to the
Elysian fields : —

'^ ' Devenere locus Isetoe, et amsena vireta
Fortunatorum nemorum, sedeaque beatas.
Largior hie campos aether et lumine vestit
Purpureo ; solemque suum, sua sidera norunt.'

" ' They came to the blissful regions, and delightful green retreats,
and happy abodes in the fortunate groves. A freer and purer sky here
clothes the fields with a purple light ; they recognise their own sun,
their own stars.'

''Now the secret meaning of these joyful places is thus beautifully
unfolded by Olympiodorus in his manuscript Commentary on the
' Gorgias ' of Plato. It is necessary to know," says he, " that the
Fortunate Islands are said to be raised above the sea ; and hence a
condition of being, which transcends this corporeal life and gene-
rated existence, is denominated the islands of the blessed; but
these are the same with the elysian fields." What we are
suggesting, is that the enchanted island of Prospero is consciously
intended to represent such a Fortunate Island raised above the
sea, and that the entire play bears evidence of being in touch
with YirgiPs description of Heaven and Hell in theVIth Book of
the "^neid." Nay, more than this. Have we not in the intro-
duction of the masque a proof that this play, in presenting us with
Ceres, and the Idealism connected with her worship (sunmied up
in the magnificent words of Prospero), is really presenting us

THE TEMPEST, 53

with an altered parable of the Mysteries — ^altered to apply to the
entire cycle of this art, where the poet-author is the Hierophant,
and we the initiates, through Time, of his Divine shows ?

We are now going to present the reader with a very curious
hint which we profess to have discovered in the play of Tht
Tempesif identifying it with the Avalon of King Arthur. But,
very strangely, Mr Baring Gould identifies Avalon with the
Atlantis of Plato, which at once brings us into touch with
Lord Bacon's New Atlantis. Seeing that the question of the
day is who wrote the plays, and that Bacon is the supposed
author, to which we have long been a convert, this is sufficiently
interesting in itself. But first let us examine the name of
Avalon.

Avalon,

This is what we can gather of the name. " Avalon— an ocean
island where Ring Arthur was buried. The word means * Apple
Green Island,* from av<d — apple; and yn — ^island. It has gene-
rally been thought to be Glastonbury, a name derived from the
Saxon glasiri, which means ' green like grass.' " Mr Baring Gould,
as we shall further on see, denies this connection with Glastonbury,
but we shall also see he adheres to the name of '^ Grass Green
Island of Apples,'' which is the important point for our evidence.
Before we proceed to quote his learned authority as to the real origin
and identification of Avalon, which will be found more curious
still, let us bring in the passage from The Tempest in proof : —

" Adr, Though this island seem to be desert, —
Seb. Ha, ha, ha ! So, you're paid.
Adr, Uninhabitable aod almost inaccessible, —
Sd>. Yet,—
Adr. Yet,—

Ant. He could not miss 't.

Adr, It must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance.
Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench.
iS(s6. Ay, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly delivered.
Adr. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly.
Seb, As if it had lungs and rotten ones.
Ant. Or as 'twere perfumed by a fen.

54 THE TEMPEST.

Gon. Here is every thing advantageous to life.

ArU. True ; save means to live.

Seh. Of that there's none, or little.

OoTL How lush and lusty the grass looks I how green !

Ant, The ground indeed is tawny.

Seb, With an eye of green i7i*t.

Ant, He misses not much.

Seh. No ; he doth but mistake the truth totally."

We have placed the lines in italics that we wish to be noticed.

Mark, it is Gonzalo who declares there is life on the island, while

the others disbelieve, and see no signs of life. Whilst he sees signs

of life everywhere on this island of art, the others see none.

How they mock him — even as the critics will scoflF at us !

" Ant. His word is more than the miraculous harp.
Seb. He hath rais'd the wall and houses too.
Ant. What impossible matter will he make easy next?
Seb. I think he will carry this island home in his pockety akd give

IT HIS SON FOR AN APPLE.

Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the sea, bring forth more
islands.
Oon. Ay.**

Now, here are two coincidences — viz., that this island is
compared to an apple, and that Gonzalo sees '* green grass,'*
or signs of life upon it, the others see none ! They only see
death, but he (Gonzalo) sees life. We have already shown that
Avalon derives its name from Apple (aval), or from Glastri^
which means " green like grass." Moreover, mark that Gonzalo,
who is the sport and target of the sceptics (or his disbelieving
critics), not only says " Ay " to the seeming impossibility, but is
otherwise right, when he declares Tunis to be Carthage ! The
others do not believe that even ! Their scepticism is of the nature
of the nineteenth century scepticism — they are agnostics — they
believe nothing. We said just now that Gonzalo's critics only
saw death upon the island. Bead the passage quoted, and it will
be seen that they find the island a hopeless sort of place, and the
air as if it came from rotten lungs. Adrian and Gonzalo are full
of faith, hope, enthusiasm, but the others ridicule them. At
first we feel inclined to laugh at the apparent extravagances of

THE TEMPEST. 55

Oonzalo. But we received a mde check when we find that he
knows more than his critics, in identifying Tunis with Carthage.

^ Ad, Widow Dido said you? You make me study of that; she
was of Carthage, not of Tunis.
Oon. This Tunis, Sir, was Carthage.
Ad, Carthage ?
0<m, I assure you, Carthage.
Ant, His word is more than the miraculous harp.'*

So that we find Gk)nzalo, though apparently a visionary, is a
man of learning, who knows more than his critics were ever
taught. And we have a deep suspicion that the poet is laughing
at us, and that the impossible and improbable is the real and
true in this art, and that when we smile with Sebastian, we are
identifying ourselves with his ignorance. If Gonzalo is right
upon the question of Tunis and Carthage, why not upon the
other points he maintains) Why should not this island be the
Green Grass island of Apples — Avalon % But this is a very
serious and profound subject, and we must seek assistance else-
where. Let us again summon Mr Baring Gould to our aid :— r

Avalon and Atlantis idcfniical,

** The ancients had a floating tradition relative to a vast con-
tinent called Atlantis in the far west, where lay £ax)nos asleep,
guarded by Briareus ; a land of rivers and woods and soft airs,
Columbus declared that the Theologians and Philosophers were
right when they fixed the site of the terrestial Paradise in the
extreme orient^ because it is a most temperaie climate "^ (Navarette
"Coll de documents," i. p. 244). "Tzetze and Procopius attempt
to localize it (Avalon), and suppose that the land of souls is
Britain, but in this they are mistaken ; as also are those who think to
find AvaUm at Glastonbury, Avalon is the Isle of Apples,— a
name reminding one of the Garden of the Hesperides in the far
western seas, with its {ree of golden apples in the midst. When
we are told that in the remote Ogygia sleeps Kronos gently

^ "It must need be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperanct,''^ — Vide
p. 57.

S6 THE TEMPEST.

watched by Briareus till the time come for his awakening, we
have a Grsecized form of the myth of Arthur in Avalon being
cured of his grievous wound. The Ogygia, says Plutarch, lies
dut west beneath the setting sun. It need hardly be said that
the Arthur of Romance is actually a demi-god — ^believed in long
before the birth of the historic Arthur. According to an ancient
poem published by Mons. Yillemarque, it is a place of enchant-
ing beauty. There youths and maidens dance hand in hand on
the dewy grass, green trees are laden with Apples, There all is
plenty, and the golden age ^ ever lasts ; cows give their milk that
they fill large ponds at milking. There too is a palace all of
glass, floating in air, and receiving within its transparent walls
the souls of the blessed : it is to this house of glass that Merdin
Emrys sings and his nine bards voyaga" (Davies' " Mythology
of the Druids," p. 522.) We thus see that Mr Baring Gould
identifies Avalon with the Ogygia mentioned by Plutarch, and
he proceeds to identify this with the Atlantis also. "Ogygia,
according to Plutarch, is five days' sail to the west of Brittia
(Great Britain), and, he adds, the great continent or terra
ftrma is five thousand stadia from Ogygia. This is an observa-
tion made also by Theopompus in his 'Geographical Myth of
Mesopis.*" (-<Elian Var. Hist., iii. 18.) A manuscript in the
British Museum tells us that ** Paradise hangeth between Heaven
and earth wonderfully. There is neither hollow nor hill ; nor is
there frost nor snow, hail nor rain ; but there is fons vUve, that is
the well of life. Therein dwdleth a beautiful bird called Phoenix ;
he is large and grand, as the Mighty One formed him ; he is the
lord over all birds." (MS. Cotton. Vespas. D. xiv., foL 163.)
Compare (Sc. iii. Act 3) : —

" SeK Now I will believe.
That there are unicorns : that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phcsnix throne*: one phoenix
At this hour reigning there."

But of course this is a mythical island, and our only object

^ Compare God sale's Speech, p. 61.

THE TEMPEST. 57

is to connect this " Island of Apples" with the New Atlantis of
Bacon, which is also a visionary Utopia, where impossible ideals
are realised. What we do see by the accounts of Plutarch and
Theopompus is, that this Ogygia or Avalon, was placed in the
Atlantic Ocean, midway between Brittia and the mainland,
America situated beyond. And this is exactly the position the
Atlantis of Plato occupied. The Atlantic Island, as described by
Marcellus, is as follows. We see here that these islands were
sacred to Persephone and to Ammon or Jupiter. We wish this
to be marked, because Miranda asleep under the power of her
father's spell, suggests Persephone sleeping with Time (Kronos)
until the hour comes for her awakening.

" That such and so great an island formerly existed is recorded
by some of the historians who have treated of the concerns of
the outward sea. For they say that in their times there were
seven islands situated in that sea which were sacred to Perse-
phone, and three others of an immense magnitude one of which
was consecrated to Pluto, another to Ammon, and that which
was situated between them to Poseidon ; the size of this last was
no less than a thousand stadia. The inhabitants of this island
preserved a tradition handed down from their ancestors concern-
ing the existence of the Atlantic island of a prodigious magni-
tude, which had really existed in those seas ; and which, during
a long period of time, governed all the islands in the Atlantic
ocean. Such is the relation of Marcellus in his Ethiopian history."
Fr(K. in Tim. (" Cory's Fragments ").

Now we have found a certain hint, faint perhaps, but never-
theless a direction, connecting possibly Prosperous island with
Avalon, Ogygia, or the New Atlantis of Bacon, as to
locality. We have no space to go into further arguments of
this kind. But will produce another from a fresh point of
view, and save being wearisome. It will be acknowledged
that the New Atlantis of Bacon is an Utopia or an
ideal Bepublic. We see very clearly that Bacon's Republic
or Utopia^ is only a reproduction, or at least copied from

S8 THE TEMPEST.

Plato's. It is for that reason that he places his Eepublic

or Utopia, on the Kew Atlantis or the Old Atlantis of the

Greek philosopher. When we examine Bacon's romance, we

find it savours very much of a golden age, of a Heaven rather

than of possible reality. At any rate, it is very curious that

the Eepublic of America has sprung up in the direction (that is,

the west) of his visionary island. This by the way only. Now,

how is it we find Gonzalo in Tht Tempest picturing just such an

impossible {except in heaven) Utopia as we now give, and which

we refind in the " New Atlantis " of Bacon 1 —

" Oon, Had I plantation of this isle, my lord, —
Ant. He'ld sow't with nettle-seed.
JSeb, Or docks, or mallows.

Oon, And were the king on't, what would I do ?
Seb. 'Scape being drunk for want of wine.
Oon. V the commonwealth I would by contraries

Execute all things ; for no kind of traffic

Would I admit ; uo name of magistrate ;

Letters should not be known ; riches, poverty.

And use of service, none ; coDtract, succession.

Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none ;

No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil ;

No occupation ; all men idle, all ;

And women too, but innocent and pure ;

No sovereignty ; —
jSg5. Yet he would be king on't.

Ant. The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the beginning.
Ooru All things in common nature should produce

Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony.

Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine.

Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth.

Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance,

To feed my innocent people."

It is indeed curious to find in these words exactly such a

scheme of reformation, of impossibilities as is to be refound in

Bacon's *' New Atlantis." Such things as these are only possible

in Heaven or Paradise, and let us not be sure the words do

not so apply to this island, as Elysium 1 ^ It seems to us the

^ The opening of the heavens, or masque, is really, in our opinion, a
momentary apocalypse of the other nde, or revealed side of the poet's art,
the celestial vision or final vision of the Mysteries.

THE TEMPEST. 59

poet is again laughing in his sleeve at as. Bacon terms his New
Atlantis sometimes, the College of the Six Days' Work, or
Solomon's Temple. These titles refer us to Creation, as the
work of the six days, and to the *' mansion eternal in the heavens"
of Art or Natora We are introduced to a venerable elder, who
is a sort of Father in the Atlantis, who is called Tvrsa/n^ a
name which is a suspicious approach to an anagram upon the
word Artis(t). We find Prospero in The Tempest^ reverencing
Gonzalo before all the rest. So we must not make light of any-
thing he says — seeing that he is an emblem of faith, belief in
impossibilities — and miracles — a spirit of hopeful persuasion, as
against the incredulity of the others.

" Prospero. Holy Gonzalo, honourable man.

Mine eyes even sociable to the show of thine.
Fall fellowy drops."

Again —

*' O good Gonzalo,
My true preserver and a loyal sir
To him thou follow'st."

Aristotle accepted the notion of there being a new continent in
the west^ and described it from the accounts of the Cartha-
ginians, as a land opposite the Pillars of Hercules (Sts. of Gib-
raltar), fertile, well watered, and covered with forests (Arist.
" De Mirab. Ancult/' c. 84). Diodorus gives the Phoenicians the
credit of having discovered it, and says that the temperature is
not subject to violent changes (Diod. '' Hist. Ed. Wessel," tom. i.
p. 244).

We find Bacon's frontispiece presenting us with a ship sailing
past the pillars of Hercules with the proud motto. Plus ultra.
This idea is strong with him. And we find in the play of The
Temped the following allusions to pillars or columns : —

" Oon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that hia issue
Should become kings of Naples ? O, rejoice
Beyond a common joy, and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars : In one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife

6o THE TEMPEST.

Where he himself was loRt, Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle and all of us ourselves
When no man was his own."

Two pillars form the well-known masonic columns, and are
pictured on the engraving prefacing the '' New Atlantis."

VirffiTs Mysteries.

We now proceed to deal with the play from the point of view
already hinted at. That is, as a Spiritual play, being placed on
an island, which is Heaven from one side (Prosperous), but until
revealed is invisible to us as Hades. In the opening of the
Heavens by Prospero we have undoubtedly, and we write this
advisedly, a hint borrowed from the Mysteries, and particularly
those Mysteries which revolved around the myth of Ceres and her
wanderings in search of her lost child Proserpine. In Greek (their
proper home) the respective names were Demeter and Persephone.
We know that in all the initiations into the Mysteries — ^a sym-
bolical death and a symbolical rebirth, were simulated. Indeed,
they have survived the shipwrecks of Time. Upon the monu-
ment at Stratford we find it stated that the poet had the genius
of Socrates and the art of Virgil. But the art of Virgil, perhaps,
is more emphasised in his Vlth Book of the "^neid " than else-
where. Ever since Warburton explained to the world the mean-
ing of that book as Initiation, as the doctrines of the Mysteries,
it has been accepted, and no one who knows anything of the
subject can doubt that Virgil and Claudian have given us the
best descriptions of what took place on those occasions, extant
Now it is very striking that we find in the play we are discussing
a direct and curious dragging in of the names of ^neas and
Dido, with whose histories every reader of Virgil must be well
acquainted. Besides this, there are other parallels we shall point
out. We now proceed to our task, asking the indulgence of our
readers upon a very difficult subject.

We find the following resemblances between Virgil's description

THE TEMPEST, 61

of Helly or AcheroD, and the circumstances attending the ship-
wrecked king, duke, and followers whilst upon the island.

When Charon calls out to ^neas to desist from entering
farther, he says —

'* Umbrarum hie locus est^ Somni Noctisque Soporse."

'* Here to reside delusive shades delight ;
For nought dwells here hut sleep and drowsy nights

Compare the strange drowsiness which falls upon Alonso and

Gronzalo —

" Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses them.
Ant. It is the qiudity of the climate/*

The introduction of Ariel as Harpy has a direct parallel in
Virgil's description of Hell —

*' Centauri in foribns stabulant, Scyllseque bifonnes,
£t centumgeminus Briareus, ac bellua Lernse,
Horrendum stridens, flammisque armata Cbimiera,
Gorgones ffarpyiceque, et forma tricorpori umbrae.''

''The centaurs harbour at the Gates, and double-formed Scyllas,
the hnndred-fold Briareus, the Snake of Lema, hissing dreadfully,
and Chimsera armed with flames, the Gorgons and the Harpies^ and
the shades of three-bodied form."

We know that it was in the Vestibule in the Temple of Ceres
(Demeter) that the Mystce took the greater oath of secrecy, before
the introduction to the principal ceremonial of the Greater
Mysteries, which took place at midnight of the sixth day of this
magnificent festival.

Plutarch writes : —

"To die is to be initiated into the great mysteries. . . .
Our whole life is but a succession of errors, of painful wander-
ings, and of long journeys by toiiuous ways, without outlet. At
the moment of quitting it, fears, terrors, quiverings, mortal
sweats, and a lethargic stupor come and overwhelm us ; but as
soon as we are out of it we pass into delightful meadows, where
the purest air is breathed, where sacred concerts and discourses
are heard ; where, in short, one is impressed with celestial visions.

62 THE TEMPEST.

It is there that man, having become perfect through his new
initiation, restored to liberty, really master of himself, celebrates,
crowned with myrtle, the most augast mysteries, holds converse
with just and pure souls, and sees with contempt the impure
multitude of the profane or uninitiated, ever plunged and sinking
of itself into the mire and in profound darkness."

The masque introduced in Tht Tempest is indeed a celestial vision /
And we find again, in the words and description of life by Plutarch,
as " a succession of errors, of painful wanderings, and of long
journeys by tortuous ways without outlet," a wonderful parallel
to the wanderings of Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, and
Adrian about the enchanted island. Gonzalo exclaims —

" I can go no further, Sir,
My old bones ache : here's a maze, trod indeed,
Through forth-rights and meanders / " ^

But it is not only in this one point that the parallel holds.
We find, from the date of the Shipwreck, a certain resemblance to
the Mysteries, which cannot be fanciful, and which is strengthened
upon further examination. For example, when Ariel boards the
King's Ship, and '^ flames amazement," the King's son, Ferdinand,
leaps into the sea, exclaiming —

" Hell is empty.
And all the devils are here.*'

We know that in the Mysteries the initiate was led through
darkness and storm (or tempest), with lightning flashing through
the vestibule of the Temple of Dem^ter or Ceres, which was a
figurative descent into Hades. Stobaeus writes —

''The first stage is nothing but errors and uncertainties,
laborious wanderings, a rude and fearful march through night
and darkness. And now arrived on the verge of death and
initiation, everything wears a dreadful aspect, it is all horror,

^ The only Bolemn oath, by which the gods irrevocably obliged them-
selves, is a well-known thing and makes a part of many ancient fables.
To this oath they did not invoke any celestial diviaity, or divine attribute,
but only called to witness the river Styx ; which, with many meandtrst
surrounds the infernal court of Dis. — Bacon's " Wisdom of the Ancients."

THE TEMPEST. 63

trembling, sweating, and affrightment. But this scene once over,
a miracolous and divine light displays itself, and shining plains
and flowery meads open on all hands before them/'

The reader must be struck with the parallel afforded by the
play. Because the Shipwrecked King and his Courtiers go
through exactly these preliminary horrors, of an imaginary death
by drowning, with storm, lightning, and thunder, and are led,
through (their protagonist) Ferdinand, to the sublime spectacle
of the opening Heavens, with the doctrine of Idealism to sum it
all up. This finale proves that we have here not only Idealism,
but the Idealism of the Mysteries, and with the Mysteries them-
selves pourtrayed to us. Yarker writes " Ancient Mysteries " —

'' The principal ceremonial of the Greater Mysteries took place
at midnight of the sixth day of this magnificent festival. The
Herald made the usual proclamation, ' Far hence the profane.'
Then the MystcB took the greater oath of secrecy in the vestibule
of the Temple of Demdter, was clothed in a fawn skin and saluted
with the words, 'May you be happy, may the good Demon
attend you.' At this point the assembly was enveloped in
darkness, lighining flashed, thunder rolled, and monstrous forms
appeared."

Compare this : —

*' Ariel, 1 boarded the King's ship ; now on the beak,
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin,
I flamed amazement : sometimes I'd divide,
And bnrn in many places ; on the topmast,
The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
Then meet and join : Jove's lightnings, the precursors
O' the dreadful thunder claps, more momentary.
And sight out-running were not.: the fire, the cracks
Of sulphurous roaring, the most mighty Neptune
Seem'd to beedege, and make his bold waves tremble."

But it does not end here. The entire description of the
wanderings of the Shipwrecked King and Courtiers about the
island, is replete with amazements, terrors, and enchantments.
In the first scene of the second act, they are affrighted with

64 THE TEMPEST,

strange noises, which they take for the bellowings of bulls, or the

roaring of lions : —

^ Leb, Even now we heard a hollow burst of bellowing
Like bulls, or rather lions ; did it not wake you 7
It struck mine ear most terribly."

It was after this ceremony of the oath-taking in the vestibule,

that at this point the assembly was enveloped in darkness,

lightning flashed, thunder rolled, and monstrous forms appeared.

This, of course, was a dramatic effect, contrived to imitate the

horrors of the infernal regions. Virgil thus describes hell or

Tartarus : —

'* Yestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus Orci
Luctus, et ultrioes posuere cubilia Curae ; —
Pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus,
Et metus, et mala suada Fames, acturpis egestas ;
Terribiles visu formse ; Lethumque Laborque :
Turn consanguineus Lethi Sopor et mala mentis
Gudia, mortiferumque adverse in limine bellum
Ferreique Eumenidum thalami, et Discordia demens,
Yipereum crinem vittis inneza cruentia
In medio ramos annosaque brachia pandit
Ulmus opaca igena : quam sedem somnia yv\^
Yana tenere ferunt, foliisque sub omnibus hserent.

" Before the entrance itself, and in the first jaws of Hell, Grief
and vengeful Cares have placed their couches ; pale Diseases in-
habit there^ and sad Old Age, and Fear, and Want, evil goddess
of persuasion, and unsightly Poverty — ^forms terrible to contem-
plate ! and there, too, are Death and Toil \ then Sleep, akin to
Death, and evil Delights of mind; and upon the opposite
threshold are seen death-bringing War, and the iron marriage-
couches of the Furies, and raving Discord, with her viper-hair
bound with gory wreaths. In the midst, an Elm dark and huge
expands its boughs and aged limbs; making an abode which
vain Dreams are said to haunt, and under whose every leaf they
dwell."

We find in the play discord and fear, with the vain dreams of
Sebastian and Antonio, as to the succession of Naples, even the
toil of Ferdinand in removing logs, together with a plentiful

THE TEMPEST. 65

supply of wanderings, doubts, and disappointments, all highly
typical of life, and particularly of initiation.

In the snatching away of the banquet placed befoie the Ring
and his followers, we have a metaphorical application of the fable
of Tantalus, one of the punishments pourtrayed in the lower
world or hell.

But the most cogent proof that in this play we have the

heavenly side of the poet's art, is the introduction of the masque,

when we see the heavens really opened to us, with a vision of

Juno and Ceres. This is the culminating point of the play. It

is the marriage of Miranda to Ferdinand — the marriage of

Heaven and Earth-— of Spirit to Matter — the reconciliation of

things divine, with things material And as this was the end

and centre round which the Eleusinian Mysteries circled, we can

well understand the introduction of Demdter (Ceres) — the earth

mother (Nature)— to preside over the marriage of her daughter,

Proserpine (who, as Bacon tells us, is Spirit), to Ferdinand.

There can be little doubt (at least to ourselves), that Miranda is

the prototype if not Persephone herself. Like Kronos, she

sleeps until the time of her awakening is at hand.

^ Prop. Here cease more questions.
Thou art inclined to sleep ; 'tis a good dulness,
And give it way : / know thou canst not choose.

[Miranda sleeps."

Here we have Persephone asleep in Hades. Perdita again —

the Briar Bose, who sleeps for hundreds of years (like Cinderella)

as princess : —

" Pros. Now I arise : [Resumes his mantle.
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.
Here in this island we arrived ; and here
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more profit
Than other princesses can that have more time
For vainer hours and tutors not so careful.

Truth (and we mean by this Spiritual Truth) has always been
typified by a Princess brought up in disguise, like Perdita in the
Winiefa Tale, as a lost child.

£

66 THE TEMPEST.

That this introdaction of Ceres as the earth, with Juno in the
heavens (Iris being the rainbow or messenger of light that
reconciles Heaven with Earth), is connected with a spiritual
apotheosis and apocalypse, cannot be doubted. It is a Midsum-
mer revelation.^ It is Paradise opened with a divine reconciliation
of things heavenly and things earthly: Juno with Ceres — ^the
Spiritual with the Material. How can we for a moment be in
doubt as to the protagonists in this marriage of Spirit and
Matter f They are Miranda and Ferdinand ; and it is for them,
and in relation to them, that the masque is introduced and the
blessing song of Juno and Ceres given ! That we have heaven
presented to us cannot be doubted in this scene :—

"Fer, Let me live here ever ;
So rare a wondered father and a wife,
Make this place Paradise"

That this is no metaphorical chance language may be seen
when we compare again certain resemblances obtaining between
the text and the Vlth book of Virgil, which is universally
acknowledged to be a description of initiation, and of the
idealism taught in the Mysteries. For example, in Virgil's
description of the Elysian fields, we have : —

^ Pars in gramineis exercent membra palaestris :
Contendunt ludo, etfulva luctantur arena : "

—Vlth Book *' ^neid."

Compare (Song) : —

'* Come unto these ffeUow sands
And then join hands/' etc., etc.

The exact words employed by Virgil. Then compare the
extraordinary parallel running between the speech of Anchises
and the speech of Prospero. Before we present this striking
parallel, the student is entreated to bear in mind that the speech
Virgil puts into the mouth of Anchises closes and sums up the

^ We recognise in the introdnction of the Reapers in the presentation of
the Masque, the entire Eleasinian myth, of the seed, maiden, or Bununer
child, crowned with the ears of wheaX in heaven-Ceres.

THE TEMPEST. 67

teachings of the Mysteries, just as Prosperous closes the Vision or
Masque.

" Principio coelum ac terras, campoeque liquentes,
Lucentemque globnm lunse, Titaniaque astra,
Spiritus intus alit, totumque infusa per artos,
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet."

What does this declare) That Spirit is the predominant and

ruling element, which is mingled with the entire universe. Now

compare this : —

" These our actors.
As I foretold you, were aU spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air :
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision.
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces.
The solemn temples, the great globe itself.
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ;
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded.
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams ^ are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep."

We have abundance of evidence that idealism was taught in the

Mysteries. . We know that it was round the myth of the

Wanderings of Ceres that these doctrines were taught, and in

her Temple that the initiations and revelations took place. How

is it Prospero is found summing up philosophic idealism in direct

connection with the same Ceres 1 Is this chance 1 But let us

first present the reader with the doctrines that were taught in

the Mysteries. Ficinus says : — *' Lastly, that I may comprehend

the opinion of the ancient theologists, they considered things

divine as the only realities, and that all others were only the

images and ^ladows of truth "^ (Taylor's "Eleusinian Mysteries," 13.)

Life, in short (as Prospero says), is a dream — all we see — " the

cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, the solemn temples,"

are only images — actors, with no reality save reflected reality —

reflection of the spiritual — symbolic — and representative. We

are like the prisoners in Plato's beautiful allegory of the subter-

* The entire teftching of the MyBteries held at EleiuiB, round Geres, was
that life is a dream.

68 THE TEMPES2\

ranean cave, only contemplating shadows. " The earth-life is a
dream rather than a reality. In this state and previous to the
discipline of education and the mystical initiation, the rational
or intellectual element, which Paul denominates the spiritual, is
asleep" (Introduction to Taylor's " Eleusinian and Bacchic
Mysteries," xvii.) Prospero, in disclosing the heavens and in
giving us this sublime speech, is giving us the last sublime
spectacle of the Mysteries and of the Idealism, which was summed
up round that apocalyptic vision, and which we refind unquestion-
ably again in the Platonic Philosophy. The end was to teach
the spiritual nature of existence.

In these few lines, '' We are such stuff as dreams are made on,''
is summed up Plato. For his whole teaching is that life is a
dream. If the author of these lines was not Platonist^ and
idealist, in the most uncompromising sense, then evidence goes
for nothing : —

6pw ykp iifias o6Mv 6yTas AXXo, irXf^v

€t5(a\\ 6ff<nir€p ^(aiicv, if Koi^rju (rmdy. — Ajax, 125-6. Sophocles,

" I see we're nothing else, just as we are,

But dreams : our life is bot a fleeting shadow."

Pindar has a similar expression : —

Eird^poc, ri 5c rtr ; rt 5* 00 rtt ;

iKiai tvap y AyOpdfitoi, — Carm, II. i}. 135.

" What are we, what Dot, but ephemera !
The shadow of a dream is man."

A similar idea comes from the Talmud : — " The life of man is
like a passing shadow; not the shadow of a house, or a tree, but
of the bird that flies: in a moment, both bird and shadow is
gone." The German philosopher, Schopenhauer, has noticed this
resemblance of Shakespeare to Sophocles. He adds : — " Life and
dream are leaves of one and the same book : actual life is a
reading in casual connection, but a dream is only here and there
a leaf, without order or dependence."

Now let us mark again these important facts. We And the
poet introducing a masque into this play, in which the great

THE TEMPEST. 69

Protagonist of the Eleusinian Mysteries is presented to us. It
was the Earth-Mother Dem^ter or (her Latin name) Ceres, round
whom the Mysteries revolved. And it was over the loss and
reawakening of her daughter Persephone, or Proserpine, that the
Drama found its origin, and the doctrine of immortality its focus
and symhol.

The poet does not hring in Ceres without making her speak of
her daughter's abduction by " dusky Dis " or Pluto : —

" Ceres, Since they did plot

The means that dusky Dis my daughter got."

This shows at once that it is the myth of Ceres and Proserpine
that is the undercurrent motive of this masque introduction.

Very strangely, the word Tempest is allied to the word SouL
^ZiUi — the soul, is derived by Plato (Crat. 419) from tfuoi, which
means to rusk on or along, as of a rushing mighty wind, and
generally signifies to storm, to rage. It is employed in the Greek
in the same Qense as the Latin, animiLs (the soul) — as the seat of
anger and wrath, and of the feelings. Again the Greek afi/jkt
means to " breathe hard or blow," and is commonly used as to toss
or wave abont The Latin word, Spiritus, is in the same way
connected with air, or breath, as life. Water has always been
considered the emblem of the soul. And we find in The Tempest
the poet' gives us a curious expression in the words ^^ sea-change*^
In the song that Ariel sings, we find these lines : —

" Full fathoms five thy father lies ;

Of his bones are coral made ;
Those are pearls that were his eyes :

Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,

Into something rich and strange."

This " sea-change into something rich and strange " is doubt-
less used here in the sense of rebirth or metempsychosis. These
lines, we think, are on Shelley's monument. And there is about
the expression '' sea-change," a soul character connected with the
sea and with deaJth — a Protsean power of changing shapes, which

70 THE TEMPEST.

is borne out when we remember that the fabled Proteus was
Neptune's herdsman. Thus we have in the title of the play
Tht Tempest, and in the sea, a double connection with the idea of
spirit and soul, change or death.

Max Miiller deduces the Latin mare (the sea) from a root signi-
fying death. He says, ** If in English we can speak of dead
water, meaning stagnant water, or if the French use eau morte in
the same .sense, why should not the northern Aryans have
divined one of their names for the sea from the root mar to die % "
Littr6 — '' Corssen et Curtius rapprochent mare du Sancrit marUy le
desert, c'est-k-dire, T^l^ment ww?r^, sterile, arpvytrog rovrog.** But as
deserts are not only in appearance, but in origin, beds of dried-up
oceans, or seas, this only shows still more the origin of the word
We find, iu all myths of the dead, a connecting link with the sea
or water. King Arthur, after receiving his wound, departs in a
barge for Avalon. The souls of the departed are often found
taking ship for some distant isle. Thus the sea becomes an
emblem for death, — *' a sea-change into- something rich and
strange," and thus we are led to see that the ocean of this art
may well be a term embracing time and death — ^a separating
medium of re-birth, through which and on which we seek the
enchanted island of discovery, which is that of pure Spirit or
Heaven, — the blessed or fortunate islands of the soul, — where
the dead poet, as a still living spirit, presides as creator, over his
Divine Nature. It is very curious how unconscpusly writers on
the plays have made this comparison. Here is one : —

** The greatest poet of our age has drawn a parallel of elaborate
eloquence between Shakespeare and the sea; and the likeness
holds good in many points of less significance than those which
have been set down by the master-hand. For two hundred
years at least have students of every kind put forth in every sort
of boat on a longer or a shorter voyage of research across the
waters of that unsounded sea."

The sea has always been connected with the idea of generation
or re-birth. It may seem extraordinary, that the great '* Deep "

THE TEMPEST, 71

was held to be the feminine side of things, out of whose womb
all things sprang, even the land At the Eleusinian Mysteries,
one of the days was dedicated to a visit to the sea. Purification
by water has always been the symbol of re-birth. It is through
the watery principle that everything was created. God breathed
on the face of the waters, so that as a separating medium the sea
is a perfect emblem of death. We find the poet telling us that
the sea is to be this separating medium : —

" Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Betum of love, more blest may be the view ;
Else call it winter, which being full of care
Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare."

Here the time of ''this sad interim " is compared to the Ocean,
or to Winter and Summer, which immediately takes u^ to the
Winter's Tale, In Pericles we find an early attempt at the same
subject, the sea playing there the part of a separating medium
as Time — the body of Thaisa being cast adrift on it, to come
miraculously to life again. Indeed, between Marina, the sea-
bom, and Perdita in the Winter's Tale, there is more than a
striking resemblance. Marina is bom of the sea — Time. Per-
dita, likewise, is thrown out to be the argument of Time.

" To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace
Equal with wondering : what of her ensues
I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news
Be known when 'tis brought forth. A shepherd's daughter,
And what to her adheres, which follows after,
Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,
If ever you have spent time worse ere now ;
If never, yet that Time himself doth say
He wishes earnestly you never may.

What and who is Perdita f Answer — the Spirit or Spiritual
in the poet's art, to be re-bom through Time, as yet asleep in the
Hades (invisible place) of this art — Miranda under another name.

Morgan Kavanagh writes (" Origin of Language and Myths,"
pages 46, 47) : —

72 THE TEMPEST.

" That in M and W we have the same sign in different posi-
tions is shown by such a word as Mind, which has under this
form no meaning ; but when we make M take its form W, we
discover the primary sense of Mind an perceiving that it is Wind.
And this etymology cannot be called in question since the
Hebrew mi ruh, the Greek vvtufia, and the Latin Spiritus, each
of which means Mind, are but other words for wind or breath,
and of which the learned have been well aware, though never
suspecting that Mind is the word Wind itself. This etymology
is also confirmed by the word Wit, and the word Mensch in
German giving our word Wench. When years ago I pointed
out the identity of M and W, I was ridiculed for my pains, and
little thought that the truth of my discovery could be made
evident by the Sanskrit language, of which the W is often repre-
sented in Latin by >L Thus in a recent work we find, 'La
naso-labiale M remplace souvent en latin la labiale douce prolong^e
aryaque W ; ainsi nous trouvous Mare^ mer, au lieu du, Sanscrit
Wari;" Etc. (''La Langue Latine 6tadi6e dans Tunit^ Indo-
Europ6ene. Par Am^de6 de Caix de Saint Aymour," p. 77.)
We thus see that it is in perfect accord with the presentation of
Prospero as a God (in relation to his art), that the play bears the
name of Tfie Tempest. It is Prosperous Mind, that is moved to
stir up this storm, which is but a picture of his Divine Art at
war with Time, and separated from us by just those creative
principles spiritually hidden, which are spirit on one side, and on
the other the separating medium of the sea, the symbol of the
external and phenomenal.^

Sirens and the Sea.

Sirens were said by the Greek and Latin poets to entice seamen
by the magic sweetness of their song to such a degree, that the
listeners forgot everything and died of hunger. The Greek
means (oupfiv) the charm of eloquence of persuasion, and is derived

^ In the beginning was first Light, then Water. The latter was the
material.

THE TEMPEST, 73

from seira (osipd)^ the entangling binding.^ Plato says there are
three kinds of Sirens — the cdesticUy the generative, the cathartic.
The first are under the government of Jupiter ; the second under
the government of Neptune; and the third under the govern-
ment of Pluto. When the soul is in heaven the Sirens seek by
harmonic motion to unite it to the divine life of the celestial
host; and when in Hades, to conform them to the infernal
regimen ; but on earth they produce generation of which the sea is
emblematic. (Proclus " On the Theology of Plato," bk. vi)

We have placed the last line in italics. We see that the sea is
emblematic of generation, that is, of re-birth, or what the poet
in the play exquisitely veils under the garb of an immortal
" sea-change." Ariel sings of Ferdinand's father : —

" Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth sufifer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange."

Ariel is disguised as a Sea-nymph. Why does the poet present
us Ariel as a Sea-nymph and not as a mountain-nymph, or a tree-
nymph, or as a Naiad or Spring-nymph ? Is there no profound
connection between this song, in which we have reference to the
sea as generator or transformer and Ariel's disguise) Nymphs
were generally Goddesses of fertilising moisture and powers of
nature. In later poets water is called vvfipn (Latin Lympha, pro-
bably from the water nymphs of Liban, i., 283 ; Wyttenb. Plut.
iL 147; F. Liddell and Scott's Greek Lexicon, 1060). The
chrysalis or pupa of moths, and of young bees with imperfect
wings, carry this name of nymph in Greek, — showing that the
word is clearly connected with the doctrine of metamorphosis.
The sea is the generator, the Protean — the changer — the source

^ These Sirens resided in oertain pleasant islands, and when, from their
watch-tower, they saw any ship approaching, they first detained the
sailors by their mnsic, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed them.
Their singing was not of one and the same kind, bat they adapted their
tones exactly to the nature of each person, in order to captivate and secure
him. And so destructive had they been, that these islands of the Sirens
appeared, to a very great distance, white with the bones of their unburied
capcives. — Bacon's *' Wisdom of the Ancients."

74 THE TEMPEST.

of soals — ^and her nymphs are the magic powers which preside
over generatioiL But there is another way in which we find this
word Kymphs employed, yiz., as Muses — ^hence all persons in a
state of rapture, as seers, poeis, madmen, &c., were said to be
caught by the nymphs {fUfAfoXri^oi, Lat Lymphati — Lymphatic!
1060, Scott and Lidd. Gr. Lex.). It is just in this last sense
that we see Ariel, drawing Ferdinand after him, with his songs
and music —

** Fer, Where should this music be I i' the air or the earth f
It sounds no more : and sure it waits upon
Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank
Weeping again the king my father's wreck,
This music crept by upon the waters,
Allaying both their fury, and my passion,
With its sweet air : thence I have followed it,
Or it hath drawn me rather. But 'tis gone.
No, it begins again."

It is a significant hint that Ariel is set free by Prospero at the
termination of the play, and thai this play is the last the poei
tcriies. The breaking of his wand, seems to us profoundly con-
nected with the emancipation of Ariel. This tricky Spirit is so
evidently the poet's airy genius, that draws all the world after its
divine music, that it seems superogatory to endeavour to adduce
even proofs of it. Ariel is the genius or instrumentality of the
poet's entire art scheme; — the rough magic of art which is
nothing short of a miracle, as yet no miracle, because only half
realised.

For our own part, we have very little doubt that the island of
Prospero is just that island of discovery which we are all seeking
upon the ocean of his art. We mean that it is the art itself in
relation to itself, which, to the shipwrecked mariners, appears
without anybody upon it, without hope, full of meanders and
strange miracles, and divine music leading us on, but apparently
without a God, full of mystery and magic, but without an author
who will reveal himself and lay aside his magic mantle. There
is much resemblance between the nineteenth centuiy and the

THE TEMPEST. 75

play of Tht Tempest. We are the shipwrecked mariners of Faith,
who, like Sebastian and Antonio, have lost all hope and all belief
in everything — and particularly in God. Prospero, be it re-
marked, is a complete parallel as Poetic Creator to a Divine
Creator. We see that the relationship of Prospero to his art,
with his magic mantle and rod, is plainly and intentionally that
of a God in art. Is it not, then, striking that the Wanderers upon
the island are divided into two divisions of opinion — ^the one in
Gonzalo and Adrian, being characterised by the Strongest Faith
and hope, and the others by mocking scepticism and ridicule?
The second act with which the Shipwrecked party is introduced,
opens in Gonzalo's faith, hope, and consolation, which is re-
morselessly scoffed at and turned into utter ridicule by the
others. So lofty is Gonzalo's faith, and belief in impossible things
and miracles, that he seems to us a species of personified religion.
The others are his direct antitheses — they believe in nothing —
not even in the Truth when it is Truth, as in the case where
Gonzalo tells them Tunis is Carthage. As a modern novelist
truly writes : —

" Doubt is the destroyer of beauty — the poison in the sweet
cup of existence — ^the curse which mankind have brought on
themselves. Avoid it as you would the plague. Believe in any-
thing or everything miraculous and glorious — the utmost reach
of your faith can with difficulty grasp, the Majestic reality and
perfection of everything you can see, desire, or imagine.'' ("A
Bomance of Two Worlds." ) What does the nineteenth century
require — a miracle ? No — because we have abundant of miracles
every day, such as the Phonograph of Edison (which beats every-
thing that poet or " Arabian Nights ** could conceive) — ^but this
is no miracle. This is science ! A miracle must be unexplain-
able. But then the nineteenth century (which is almost as
profound in its sceptical knowledge as in its real ignorance),
would exclaim — ^prove this a miracle, and so on. So that our
eyes refuse to see that all is supernatural and nothing is super-
natural, but all Wonder.

76 THE TEMPEST.

There can be no didactic force in this art of the plays, unless

its teaching applies doubly to itself and Nature. We mean that

what we are seeking to have solved for us in life, shall be solved

for us by this art. This may seem difficult to grasp. Let us

endeavour to be clear. This art, according to us, is self-reflecting

— that is, that what we are seeking outside it is already within

it. Suppose a complete revelation is planned, suppose our own

mocking portraits are presented to us everywhere in these plays,

and presented, too, in exactly the relationship that we are to it.

Impossible ! Nay, it has been done, but it is very difficult to

make clear how it has been done, though we can see it very plainly

for ourselves. For example : suppose (or grant) Prospero to be

an ideal portrait of God in relationship to the Divine Art,

Nature, and, at the same time, to be the Author of the Plays in

relationship to the plays (also his Divine Art or Nature) and us.

Cannot the reader at once perceive that the most Divine lessons

could be thus inculcated — that we should be beside ourselves

with utter amazement and admiration ! If the Poet-Creator,

Prospero, can hide and reveal himself by means of art such as

the plays contain (as a God), what a lesson for us towards faith

and hope, and understanding of the higher works of the Diviner

Poet, and his works, the Almighty ! That the author has done

this is clearly shown in the Sonnets to those who, having eyes,

will use them, by shutting them to the external in this Divine

Art, and opening them to the Spiritual For example: when

the poet says he has "laid great bases for eternity," we are

sure that he means he has illustrated, by means of his art,

divine truths and imitated Creation, so as to reconstruct faith

and belief in Miracle. He tells us, in these despised Sonnets

(which constitute the Spiritual Light and New Life of the

Creative Principles, underlying the construction of the plays)

that he bears with his " extern " " the canopy " of Heaven !

CXXV.

" Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy.
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity."

THE TEMPEST, 77

He tells us again^ in Sonnet 124, that this art was built far
from accident, i.e., that plan, intention, govern its inner spiritual
meaning, and that it " stands hugely politic " —

'' No, it was builded far from accident ;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent.
Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls :
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic."

For ourselves, we understand these lines to mean that this art
is as profound, as deep as Creation itself, for it is Creation in a
sense that the world has never dreamt of as within the bounds of
man or art to conceive or execute. He tells us he bears the
" canopy " of the heavens, by means of great bases of creative
truths, which, when revealed, shall stand for eternity. But
until his own judgment arises, which is as surely in the plays as
God is in Nature, he dwells in lovers* eyes —

'* 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room.
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So, till the judgment that yourself arise,
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes."

There are ihrtt themes contained in many of the plays, if not
all, which are not historical. These three themes are first, the
simple theme of beauty, as the plays simply read without further
examination. The other two themes arise from the relation of
this art, to its planned spiritual revelation through time (as to
itself), and to the relationship arising from this plan to Nature,
and ourselves. We see this in the Winter's Tale, where the
separation of this art into Winter (unrevealed), and Summer
(revealedj side, is plainly imaged in the separation of Perdita
from Hermione — Spirit separated from dead life (form) — a
statue Hermione. The restoration of the life of the Spirit —
Perdita (Persephone) restores life to this art, which is so beauti-

78 THE TEMPEST.

fully pictured as a statue (really living), seemiugly dead until
revealed. But the poet himself tells us this — that in each play,
there are three themes : —

" Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, —
Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words ;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.
Fair, kind, and true, have often liv'd alone.
Which three, till now, never kept seat in one."

To prove that this art is something to which the term extra-
ordinary, as usually employed, cannot be applied, we quote the
following Sonnet. We see at once, that the author ignores
Dante, as his inferior, for he goes back five hundred years for a
comparison to vie with the wonder of '^ your frame.''

LIX.

" If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguird.
Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss
The second burden of a former child 1
O, that record could with a backward look.
Even of five hundred courses of the sun.
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done !
That I might see what the old world could say
To this composed wonder of your frame ;
Whether we are mended, or whe'r better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
O, sure I am, the wits of former days
To subjects worse have given admiring praise."

** Since mind at first in character was done/" This is indeed
startling language. This is something "hors de ligne" when it
puts its term of comparison back to five hundred years, and thus
challenges Dante's great work ! In Tk^ Tempest, we find Prospero
saying : —

" My dukedom since you have given me again,
I will requite you with as good a thing ;
At least bring forth a wonder to content ye."

And to further prove that the poet deals iu his plays with a

THE TEMPEST. 79

religions theme, which (mark it) is as yet hidden or unrevealed,
he says, in Sonnet 31 : —

^ How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religions love stol'n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov'd, that hidden in thee lie ! "

Note that these things which move his '' religious love '' are
"hidden/' "remoifd,** in this art. Proof enough, if any were
indeed wanting, to show that we know very little about the plays
at present, and that the great "bases for eternity" are yet to be
explored. Perhaps the ''great bases for eternity" are these
religious truths, hidden in philosophical play systems, as creative
principles !

The despised Sonnets are the true creative principles of the
entire Solar System of this sublime art. We use no extravagant
metaphor, we say seriously, and fully alive to a charge of writing
rubbish, — ^a real Solar System, — a copy of Nature, not only ex-
ternally, but on the profoundest philosophical creative principles
of Light and Darkness, Summer and Winter, Life and Death,
Heaven and Hell, separation and reconciliation. Here, for
example, is the Sun — unmistakably not only here but elsewhere
Light, Life, Truth, — a physical fact and a spiritual emblem at
once.

LIII.

'' What is your substance, whereof are yon made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend ?
Since every one hath, every one, one shade,
And you, but one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you ;
On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,
And you in Grecian tires are painted new :
Speak of the spring, and foison of the year ;
The one doth shadow of your beauty show.
The other as your bounty doth appear ;
And you in every blessed shape we know.
In all external grace you have some paH;,
But you like none, none you, for constant heart"

8o THE TEMPEST..

This is the Sun. Eead Sir George Cox's " Mythology of the
Aryans/' and you will find him identifying Adonis and Helen
with the Sun. This may seem curious to some people, but
every book on mythology and symbol worship gives the same
explanation.^ Let us turn to the poem of Venus and Adonis, the
first heir of the poet's invention, and we find the first opening
lines identifying Adonis with the Sun : —

'* Even 08 the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping mom,
Bose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase ;
Hunting he lov'd, but love he laugh'd to scorn ;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him.
And like a bold-fac'd suitor 'gins to woo him."

'* Even as the sun/ " and to further prove this, take the follow-
ing — a few lines following the passage just quoted : —

** Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.''

Nature would indeed end with the life of the Sun ! And then
the poem proceeds to use the same argument of marriage for
creation's sake, as we find in the opening theme of the Sonnets.
But this is the simile — marriage for the sake of offspring — (im-
mortality), with which Socrates (using the words of Diotima)
illustrates Creation Divine and poetic. With^ Plato the poet's
art is a copy of the Divine act, whence the name of Maker,
Creator, Poet.

" Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,

^ ** Here is what Sir William Jones — a man profoundly acquainted with
as many as twenty languages, and beyond all doubt the most learned
Oriental scholar England has to boast of — says on this subject : ' We
must not be surprised at finding, on a close examination, that the charac-
ters of all the pagan deities, male and female, melt into each other, and at
last into one or two ; for it seems a well-founded opinion that the whole
crowd of gods and goddesses in ancient Rome mean only the powers of
nature, and principally those of the sun, expressed in a variety of ways
and by a multitude of fanciful names." — (** Origin of Lang, and Myth.,"
Kavauagh.)

THE TEMPEST. 8i

Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear ;

Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse :

Seeds spring from seeds, and beauty breedeth beauty,
Thou wast begot, — to get it is thy duty.*'

But to farther prove this apparently strange theory (and of
the difficulty of obtaining a hearing for it we are well aware),
take the following Sonnet : —

xxxvin.

** How can my Muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse ?
O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight ;
For who 's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light ?
Be thou the tenth MvMy ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate ;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forUi
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise."

Here we have the source of the inspiration of the poet's Muse,
which it is most important, the greatest thing of all to remark, is
not one of the nine Muses, nor the Nine Muses. What is it, then,
that overleaps all the Muses and beggars all our conceptions of
art thus? What miracle have we herel What is this Tenth
Muse ? Plato tells us the world was formed in the shape of X.
This number is a perfect number, and various theories have
explained it, which we have no space to enter upon here. But
it is the sign of the World, or of entire Natwre — it signifies life
and light — ihe two triangles of above and below — the universe.

" Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate."

How can we be in error after such words as these : —

" For who 's so dumb that cannot write to thee
When thou thyself dost give invention light f"

F

82 THE TEMPEST,

This is the San. It is not only here, but everywhere, that
we find this Sun in these Sonnets.

XLIIL

" When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,

For all the day they view things iinre8p>ected ;

But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,

How would thy shadow's form form happy show

To the clear day with thy much clearer light.

When to unseeing eyes Uiy shade shines so !

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made

By looking on thee in the living day.

When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay !
All days are nights to see, till I see thee.
And nights bright days, when dreams do show thee me."

It will be difiicult to convince a sceptical world in a scep-
tical century, that the above Sonnet is addressed to San and
Moon, and that both are applied to art. But it is so. It only
requires Gonzalo's faith to see what the poet has done — to believe
in artistic miracles — for here is one, and find Prospero. The
reader may laugh, if we suggest that the Sonnet quoted has par-
ticular reference to the shadows of art. Does he know Plato's
allegory of the subterranean cavern, and the invisible sun pro-
ducing images or shadows 9 I suppose he knows that this image
is Plato's method for explaining the relationship of ideas to
phenomena — reflection. And this is the exact relationship exist-
ing between the ideas of the plays, and their phenomena, shadows,
or actors taken externally.^ The poet is saying — " If the rtfitcr
tion of my spiritual meaning or light (the Sun), can produce such
beauty (which is night — Moonlight to me), what would the day-
light of its revelation be 1 " It will be granted, for the sake of

%

^ The visible world {Kdfffios iparbs, r& ahOrjTa) bears the impress of the
ideal world {fitfn^fiaTa, €Ik6¥€s, ctduXa OfMUttfiara), — (Plato.)

THE TEMPEST. 83

illustration, that if the poet has planned such a revelation, or
rebirth, as we postulate, we only know the night-side or reflected
side of his real spiritual light or meaning. It may seem day-
light to us, but to him (until revealed) it is only Night and
Moonlight. For Moonlight is the reflected light of an invisible
Sun. We maintain the plays, simply taken as plays, are only
half known, and that we gaze upon the moonlight of their real
light. With such a theory we are prepared to apply this Sonnet
to the Midsummer Nighfs Dream particularly. For that deals
with Moonlight, with night, and dreams, and very plainly, as
we have shown elsewhere, with the relationship of this art to
Nature and to itsel£^

" Prospero. A solemn air, and the best comforter
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains,
Now oseleas botVd within thy skull"

" The charm dissolves apace ;
And as the morning steals upon the night,
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle
Their clearer reason."

Such lines as these prove the character and quality of the
relations of Prospero to the shipwrecked wanderers upon his
island. It is their ** clearer reason " which has been befogged and
closed up. There is ''no darkness but ignorance," says the poet
elsewhere. And as the play has gradually led up from the
vicissitude of imaginary death — tempest, lightning, confusion,
wanderings, discord, and error — to the sublime apocalyptic vision
of the Masque or heaven, so do we see in this process the end
and aim of the initiations of the Mysteries of Eleusis pourtrayed
to U8. The end and aim of those Mysteries was to reveal
heavenly things, to enlighten the unenlightened, and to present
the gods in the final scene, as creators and masters of the revels.

^ See chapter xii., on Midsummer Night* 8 Dream, "A new study of
Shakespeare."

84 THE TEMPEST,

So Prospero as creator, as the magician of this enchanted art — as
the great Master-Spirit of his creative cycle — is pourtrayed as
sarrounded by the ocean, on an island, which as an island of
souls, as a mythical Heaven, is invisible except to the Spirit, and
to those Spirits who set out on a voyage of discovery, on the
ocean of his illimitable Wisdom.

CHAPTER IV.

VENUS AND ADONIS.

''Forte est vinum, fortior est rex, fortiores sunt mnliera; super omnia
vincit Veritas."— 1st Bad., ch. ilL, yer. 10, 12.

How is it that the first heir of Shakespeare's inyention (if it was
Shakespeare's 1) is found to be upon the subject of Venus and
Adonis, the latter being the key figure, or myth centre round
which the society of the Eosy Cross and their emblem revolve 1
How is it that these plays and poems still present a like mystery
and question of authorship, that is thoroughly Eosicrucian in its
silence, profundity, and inscrutability f " To come down hidden
through the ages is sublime," writes De Quincey of them ; but
does not the problem of the plays and sonnets, as to meaning and
authorship, thoroughly suggest something of the same sorti
There are parallels of date between the publication of the plays,
the death of Shakespeare, and the society, which seem to stand
out significantly when placed side-by-side with each other. To
this we have ali'eady alluded, but we must allude to it again.
In 1623, when the first folio edition is put forth, there is a great
Bosicrucian meeting held in Paris, which made a great stir for
two years in that capital. The year 1616 (Shakespeare's death),
several of the manifestoes of importance are published. In fact,
the entire rise of Bosicrucianism and the noise it made, com-
mences early in the seventeenth century and expires about 1630,
four years after Bacon's death ; and we hear no more about it,
except through apologists like John Heydon, who borrow Bacon's
•* Atlantis " to illustrate or identify the Society with his College of
the Six Days. Then we have, in 1646, a Masonic meeting at

S6 VENUS AND ADONIS,

WarringtOD, where Bacon is again brought in, according to
Nicolaiy as one of the Kosicrucians, if not the head ! Nicolai, be
it observed, lived a century ago, and was nearer the sources of
oral tradition than we are now.

De Quincey (like Mr Waite, in his " Real History of the Kosi-
crucians ") in his '' Historico-Critical Inquiry into the Origin of
the Kosicrucians and the Freemasons," questions their existence
before the seventeenth century. At any rate they made no stir,
no noise, prior to the publication of the " Fama Fratemitatis."
They may have been a reorganization, a resurrection of older
societies, such as the Templars, or of older sects, but in the form
they startled Europe, they present to us the idea of a total re-
construction and new inception. They seem to have been LUeraii
as well as UluminaH, and in this we see their connection with
literature. It may be as well to remember that Dante, who was
a member of the order of Templars, makes his art a vehicle of
reformation, using the secret language or jargon of his brother-
hood, called the gay-science. We find, in the Sonnets, this secret
language hinted at, in most unmistakable terms. Dante's work
cannot be understood by those who have not seized the Anti-
papal spirit of his times. No better work exists upon the subject
than Kossetti's (father of the late poet) '' Anti-papal Spirit which
preceded the Reformation." Literature indeed, especially alle-
gorical literature like Dante's or Rabelais', was especially fitted
to ridicule, and attack the abuses of an age, in which no other
weapons were possible. We find that Dante's City of Dis, is
nothing but Rome, even to the extent of its walls. Now we
must not imagine that Bacon's and Shakespeare's age was much
beyond Dante's in this matter. We have only to recall a few
facts, to immediately realise the barbarity of the age, which was
a species of world prison. To step out into the air, was to step
into one's *'grave," as Hamlet says to Polonius. The windlace, the
gyves, were ready to torture, the prison or stake to consummate
the martyrdom of Truth. Just take a few examples that come
to memory at once. Bruno burnt, 1600; Ramus massacred, and

VENUS AND ADONIS, 87

Campanella, author of the '< City of the Sun " (a pupil of Telesius,
so much commended by Bacon with whose Atlantis there
are striking parallels), tortured ; John Selden — one of Bacon's
translators, and literary executors — had to apologize ; Des Cartes,
to conceal his book; Spinoza^ excommunicated; Galileo, to
recant upon his knees. — These are only a few. Do we not see
how urgently an universal reformation of society was needed,
and how opportune and profound the scheme of the Rosicruciansi
What was its object! What could it perform? Very little,
apparently, but probably a very great deal more than we can as
yet realise or imagine. And, first of all, we believe its aim was
to make literature the vehicle of its reformation. We have this
hinted in the frequent allusions to Apollo and Parnassus, to
the Muses and the Castalian Spring. We find the Sonneteers
embracing an universal style after the fashion of the love sonnet-
eers of the Renaissance early period, of Petrarch, Boccaccio and
Dante, addressing a lady of their loves, as Dante does Beatrice,
and writing in a language which is profoundly philosophical, and
difficult to clearly understand. We imagine we comprehend it,
but we are mistaken. And this is shown in the incapability of
the modem world to separate the Stella of Sidney from Lady
Rich, or the Black-mistress of the Sonnets, of the supposed
author Shakespeare, from a real person. But these, like Dante's
Beatrice, are metaphysical concepts, personified for art and
safety's sake, — ^they are philosophical abstractions.

" Adonis or Adonai was an Oriental title of the Sun, signifying
Lord ; and the boar supposed to have killed him, was the emblem
of Winter ; during which the productive powers of nature being
suspended, Venus was said to lament the loss of Adonis until he
was again restored to life : whence both the Syrian and Argive
women annually mourned his death and celebrated his resurrec-
tion. Adonis was said to pass six months with Proserpine, and
six with Venus." (Section 120, R. P. Knight's " Inquiry into Symb.
Lang, of Ancient Art and Mythology.") Compare (Hesych. in V.
Macrob. Sat. i. c. xx.) Adonis with Dionysis or Bacchus. Tov hi

88 VENUS AND ADONIS.

Aduttv ovj^ irspcv dkka AiO¥uoo¥ uvai tofu^outfiv. (Platarch Symp.
^ lib. iv. qu. y. ; also Lucian de Dea Syria. Paasan. Corintli c. zz.,
S. 5.)

*' The story of the Phoenix appears to have been an allegory of
the same kind." (Ibid,)

'' The Phrygian Attis, like the Syrian Adonis, was fabled to
have been killed by a boar ; or, according to another tradition, by
Mars in the shape of that animal ; and his death and resurrection
were annually celebrated in the same manner." (Section 121, ibid.)

''In the poetical tales of the ancient Scandinavians, Frey, the
deity of the Sun, was fabled to have been killed by a boar ; which
was therefore annually offered to him at the great feast of luul
during the Winter solstice. Boars of paste were also served on
their tables during that feast ; which being kept till the following
spring, were beaten to pieces and mixed with the seeds to be sown
in the ground." This Boar is Mars or Winter, who is at war
with Venus. We find in the Sonnets that the poet identifies
Adonis with the Sun, — and with the Rose, as we shall show very
clearly.

The story of Venus and Mars circles round the universe, as the
two antagonistic powers of Love and Warfare, or "Strife and
Friendship," as Bacon terms it Harmonia or Hermione, was their
offspring, being the orderly world, or product of the great dualism
everywhere perceptible in Nature, under the physical names of
Heat and Cold, — Eepul^ion and Attraction. These laws govern
the universe, and keep the solar system under law. For what is
Attraction (or what we term Gravitation) but Love, whilst Heat
or Fire produces separation, repulsion, — in other words, warfare or
hate. It is the orderly conflict or antagonism of these two, alter-
nating with Winter or Summer (which is the alternate triumph
of one over the other), that constitutes the year. We see, then,
that the death of Adonis, " the pleasure of the fleeting year," or
Summer, at the tusks of a boar, is merely allegorical for the death
of Summer at the hands of Winter. We can see that the poet
consciously embodies this idea. Because we find him in his first

VENUS AND ADONIS. 89

poem identifying the Sun with Adonis, and again the latter with
Sommer and the rose : —

** How like a Winter hath my absence been

From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year ?

What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen ?

What old Decembers bareness every where 1

And yet this time remoVd was summer's time,

The teeming Autumn big with rich increase.

Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,

Like vndowed wombea ^ after their Lord's decease :

Yet this aboundant issue seem'd to me,

But hope of Orphans, and un- fathered fruit.

For Summer and his pleasures wait on thee,

And thou away, the very birds are mute.
Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer.
That leaves look pale, dreading the Winter's near."

" From you have I been absent in the spring.
When proud pied April (drest in all his trim)
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing :
That heavy Saturn laugh t and leapt with him,
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odour and in hue.
Could make me any summer's story tell :
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew.
Nor did I wonder at the Lilies white.
Nor praise the deep Vermilion in the Bose,
They were but sweet, but fig^ures of delight :
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seem'd it winter still, and you away."

The Lily and the Rose are two purely Bosicrucian flowers par-
ticularly associated with the order. The Fleur-de-lis is connected
with the symbol of Light, as Lux, and the Bose is Adonis.
Study the Sonnets quoted, and you will at once see it is addressed
to the Sun, as the pattern and exemplar of Nature, which is
revealed as the cause of Summer.

* En revenant aux ^poux de V^nus, noos tronvons encore le gnerrier
Mars, dont le mois onvrit long temps Tann^e, k I'^uinoxe du printemps ;
Yalcain on le feu (prinoipalemeDt le fen inf^rieur, le soleil d'en bas, Osiris
enterr^) ; et surtout ^JHK) Adonai' oa Adonis (le seigneur, Tdlev^), dont
VSntu-veuve ordonne k ses enfants la recherche et la vengeance. Compare
** Widow Dido " La Ma^onnerie.

90 VENUS AND ADONIS,

'* For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute."

Here is winter during the sun's absence : —

" How like a Winter hath my absence been
From thee the pleasure of the fleeting year."

Compare —

"" And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth."

— hUK Sonnet.

Dr Alger writes (" Doctrine of a Future Life ") : — " It is a well-
known fact, intimately connected with the different religions of
Greece and Asia-Minor, that during the times of harvest in the
autumn, and again at the season of sowing in the spring, the shep-
herds, the vintagers, and the people in general, were accustomed
to observe certain sacred festivals, — the autumnal sad, — the vernal
joyous. These undoubtedly grew out of the deep sympathy
between man and nature, over the decay and disappearance, the
revival and return of vegetation. When the hot season had
withered the verdure of the fields, plaintive songs were sung,
their wild melancholy notes and snatches borne abroad by the
breeze, and their echoes dying at last in the distance. In every
instance, these mournful strains were the annual lamentation of
the people over the death of some mythical boy of extraordinary beauty
luid promise^ who in the flower of youth, was suddenly drowned,
or torn in pieces by wild beasts.

" * Some Hyacinthine boy, for whom

Mom well might break, and April bloom.'

"Among the Argives it was Linus. With the Arcadians it
was Scephrus. In Phrygia it was Lityerses. On the shore of the
Black Sea it was Bormus. In the country of the Bithynians it
was Hylas. At Pelusium it was Maneros. And in Syria it was
Adonis. The untimely death of these beautiful boys, carried off
in their morning of life, was yearly bewailed ; their names re-echo-
ing over the plains, the fountains, and among the hills. It

VENUS AND ADONIS. 91

is obvious that these cannot have been real persons, whose death
excited a sympathy so general, so recurrent." Now compare
(Sonnet 104) :—

" For fear of which, hear this thou age unhred^
Ere you were born, was beauty's ifiimmer dead/*

This is addressed to us — Posterity. Again compare (Sonnet

97);—

" How like a vrinter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasitre of the fleeting year J"

Compare Sonnets 73, 63, 67 ; equally addressed to Dionysus,
or Adonis.^

With regard to Adonis, we must now draw attention to Shake-
speare's extraordinary forestalment of modern mythographers and
writers upon ancient symbolism in religion. Sir George Cox
says, " Tammuz (or Adonis) became the symbol undei' which the
sun, invoked with a thousand names, has been worshipped." Now
compare Shakespeare, 53 : —

" "What is your substance, whereof are ye made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend 1
Since everyone, hath, everyone, one shade,
And you btU one, can every shadow lend.
Describe Adonis and the counterfeit
Is poorly imitated after you."

This is the sun which Adonis and myriads of other solar
heroes represented. Directly we begin the first poem or heir
of his invention, the poet's Venus and Adonis, we find he is
identifying Adonis with the sun. His opening comparison is
solar : —

" Even as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase."

^ The myth of Adonis links the legends of Aphrodite with those of
Dionysos. Like the Theban wine-god, Adonis is bom only on the death of
his mother : and the two myths are in one verson so far the same that
Dionysos like Adonis is placed in a chest which being cast into the sea is
carried to Brasiai, where the body of his mother is buried.

92 VENUS AND ADONIS.

It is absord to take the poem literally, as if merely a peg to
hang his poetic proclivities upon, and draw attention to himself.
The writer is perfectly acquainted with the entire bearing of the
Adonis myth. To prove this is easy enough. The metaphysical
or purely fabulous parabolical nature of his treatment of the poem
reveals itself in these lines : —

^ By this, the boy that by her side lay kill'd
Was melted like a vapour from her sight.
And in his blood that on the ground lay spill'd,
A purple flower sprung up, cbequer'd with white.
Resembling well his pale cheeks, and the blood
Which in round drops upon their whiteness stood.'' ^

Thus the great Eosicrucian protagonist, Adonis, is changed into
a flower, which we know is the Eose — ^Yenus' own flower, sacred
to her, and which she places in her breast : —

" She bows her head, the new-sprung flower to smell,
Comparing it to her Adonis' breath ;
And says, within her bosom it shall dwell.
Since he himself is reft from her by death :
She crops the stalk, and in the breach appears
Green dropping sap, which she compares to tears.

" * Poor flower,' quoth she, * this was thy father's guise,
(Sweet issue of a more sweet-smelling sire).
For every little grief to wet his eyes :
To grow unto himself was his desire.

And so 't is thine ; but know, it is as good

To wither in my breast as in his blood.

" * Here was thy father's bed, here in my breast ;
Thou art the next of blood, and 't is thy right :
Lo ! in this hollow cradle take thy rest.
My throbbing heart shall rock thee day and night :
There shall not be one minute in an hour
Wherein I will not kiss my sweet love's flower.' "

^ For the story of the Rose springing out of Adonis' blood, see Bion,
_ Idyll i. 66. Pausanias also identifies Adonis with the Rose (v. Eliac ii.,
vi., cap. 24, sectioD 5» ed. Schubart).

VENUS AND ADONIS. 93

But that there shall be no loophole left for the critics to
doubt this, consider this Sonnet : —

LIV.

** O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,

By that sweet orDament that traih doth give !

The raw looks fair, but fairer we it deem,
. For that sweet odour, which doth in it live.

The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye,

As the perfumed tincture of the roses.

Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,

When summer's breath their mask'd bud discloses :

But, for their virtue only is their show,

They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade ;

Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so ;

Of their sweet deaths, are sweetest odours made :
And so of you, beauteous and lovdy youth.
When that shall fade my verse distils your truth"

We see here that this Eose is a '' beauteous and lovely youth,''
Adonis, who is Truth at the same time. For he is the Logos of
the Sun "crucified in the Heavens at the vernal equinox."
(Godfrey Higgins.) Now mark the last line, and, particularly,
the words : —

"My verse distils your truth."

Compare Sonnet 5 : —

" Then were not Summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass."

So that we have in these last lines a hint to Adonis as Summer's
distillation, or Sose-Water pent in Crystal, which we find a
common expression among the Eosicrucians. For example,
Thomas Yaughan, a famous member of the mystic Brotherhood,
writes: —

"In regard of the ashes of the vegetables, although their
weaker exterior elements expire by violence of the fire, yet their
earth cannot be destroyed, but is vitrified. The fusion and
transparency of this substance is occasioned by the Eadicall

94 VENUS AND ADONIS,

moysture, or seminal water of the compound. This water resists
the fury of the fire, and cannot possibly be vanquished. ' In hoc
Agud (Crystal) Rosa latet in hiime' These two principals are
never separated ; for Nature proceeds not so far in her dissolu-
tions. When Death hath done her worst, there is an. union
between these two, and out of them shall God raise us at the last
day, and restore us to a spiritual constitution."

Not only is Yaughan's idea the entire substance of our ailment,
but it is evident Shakespeare borrows this simile from the rose
pent up in the crystal, "Walls of glass" can have but this
reference, and the entire Sonnet deals with this spiritual rebirth
of the flower, out of the seed of its essence, in Spring and
Summer. Sidney employs this simile of Bose- Water in his
" Arcadia." The philosophic expression of Vaughan's theory, is
what in scientific parlance is termed, the conservation of eneigy,
or the indestructibility of matter.

We find Sir Philip Sidney, in his " Arcadia," using the same
language to the same efifect. It is evident this is a symbol of
immortality, of resurrection, of conservation for the- sake of
rebirth.

" Have you ever seen a pure Bosewater kept in a crystal glass?
How fine it looks t How sweet it smells while that beautiful
glass imprisons it ) Break the prison and let the water take his
own course, doth it not embrace dust and lose all its former
sweetness and fairness ? Truly so are we if we have not the stay
rather than the restraint of crystalline marriage."

'' Crystal," writes Hargreave Jennings, " is a hard transparent
stone composed of simple plates, giving fire with steel, not
fermenting with acid meyistrua, calcining in a strong fire, of a
regular angular figure, supposed by some to be formed of dew
coagulated with nitre." (" Bosicrucians," vol. L, p. 180) "But
the Jewel of the Bosicrucians was formed of a transparent red-
stone, with a red cross on one side and a red rose on the other —
thus it is a crucified rose." (Ibid,, vol. ii., p. 65) We thus see that
this is typical of Adonis crucified in the Heavens at the vernal

VENUS AND ADONIS, 95

equinox. Nay, more, it is plain that this connection of Dew
with the Eose, and therefore with Adonis, is purely historical.
For in the Vishnu Purana Wilson (614) relates the story of
Procris in another form : — " The dew becomes visible only when
the blackness of the night is dispelled, and the same sun is reflected
in the thousands of sparkling drops; but the language of the
Purana is in singular accordance with the phraseology in which
Roman Catholic writers delight to speak of nuns as the brides of
Christ." (Cox's "Myth, of Aryans," ii., 139). Do we not here
receive a hint as to the "crystalline marriage" of Sir Philip
Sidney and Vaughan's resurrection (quoted), with this " dewy
question") Can we not further see that the crucified Bose,
mounted on a Calvary, has at bottom the same meaning as the
crucifixion of Christ, who was the Logos, the " corner stone," the
** philosopher's stone " of the Temple 1 In the sonnets quoted
we find the poet connecting the Eose with Truth as sacrificed —
as Winter — as promise of rebirth — as fresh Summer. All this
faUs in with the idea presented us by the Jewel emblem of the
Bosicrucians. Christ was the Light of the world — ^the Divine
Lux, after more of which every true Mason is searching. But
the Sun is the Light of the world — it dies in winter apparently,
to be reborn in the summer. Directly we go deeper into this
question we find corroborating facts. This is what Hargreave
Jennings writes : — *' In regard to the singular name of the Bosi-
crucians, it may be here stated that the Chemists, according to
their arcana, derive the Dew from the Latin Eos, and in the
figure of a cross ( + ) they trace the three letters which compose
the word Lux, Light. Mosheim is positive as to the accuracy of
his information." (" The Bosicrucians, their Bites and Mysteries "
p. 101, vol. i, 3rd edition).

The reader will remember, in Bacon's ** New Atlantis," " the
pillar and Cross of Light, which brake up and cast itself abroad,
as it were, into a firmament of many stars; and which also
vanished soon after, and there was nothing left to be seen but a
small ark or chest of cedar, dry, and not wet at all with water,

96 VENUS AND ADONIS.

though it swam ; and in the fore-end of it, which was towards
him, grew a small ^een branch of pcHmJ*

Now there is in this " pillar and cross of light " an unmistak-
able resemblance to the emblem of the Bosicrucians, the crucified
glory or light, which, as the Rose is disguise for Adonis, the Su)i
or Logos, on the cross. Is there not also, in the breaking " up of
this cross and casting itself abroad into a firmament of many
stars," a hint of the spread of the society and the growth of
individual talent in its service (as stars), which ako vanished
soon after. Eosicrucianism produced a firmament of literary
stars all over Europe, of whom Fludd and Boehmen stand pre-
eminent, but the striking parallel is that the society did vanish
soon after Bacon's death in 1630, in exactly the way he describes
it. But the fame of the fraternity still outlives the shipwrecks of
time, and floats, like the ''cedar chest," upon the waters of
oblivion, immortal 1 Now there can be no doubt, to those who
understand these subjects, that the green branch of palm in the
fore-end of the chest is introduced by Bacon to typify immortality
and rebirth. The palm tree is the Phoenix dadylifera, with which
the fable of the fabulous bird, the Phoenix, is most closely associ-
ated, being supposed to build its nest upon a palm tree. But the
curious growth of the Phoenix dadylifera explains, we think, the
origin of the fable. It throws out branches every year from
the centre, and the old ones dying go to form the bark of the
tree in a remarkable way, suggesting continual death and re-
birth.

Upon three steles in the Berlin Museum, the sacred Tree or
Tree of Life is represented by the date palm — Phosnix dadylifera.

Among the Jews, the date palm would seem to have had a
certain typical signification; it was largely introduced in the
decorations of Solomon's temple, being represented on the walls
along with the cherubim, and also on the furniture and vessels of
the temple (1 Kings vi 29, 32, 35 ; vii. 36).

In the Song of Solomon, which theologians regard as signifi-
cant of the love of the Church for Christ, the Spouse of the

VENUS AND ADONIS, 97

Church is spoken of as the palm tree. " I said, I will go up to
the palm tree, 1 will take hold of the boughs thereof" (Solomon,
Song viL 8).

The palm tree is also in Scripture a favourite simile for the right-
eous, who are said to flourish like the palm tree (Psalm xcii. 12).

The Tree of Life mentioned in the second chapter of Genesis
y. 9, has always been understood as the palm tree— -the date palm
— Phoenix daciylifera.

In the last chapter of the Apocalypse there is a reference to
the palm tree, as the Tree of Life in the heavenly Jerusalem.
St John thus describes the water of life and the Tree of Life :
" And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal,
proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. In the
midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there
the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded
her fruit every month : and the leaves of the tree were for the
healing of the nations " (Hev. xxii. 1, 2).

The palm tree was popularly believed to put forth a shoot
every mouth, and hence became, at the close of the year, a
symbol of it; and was the origin of the Christmas tree, so
popular with the Germans, but derived originally from Egypt.
It is well known the leaves of the palm were at one time used
for writing on (Pliny). In Christian symbolism, the Tree of Life
is the date palm, and souls are represented, commonly, as doves.
On one of these palm trees is very commonly perched a phcenix
with a glory of seven rays. There is a good example of this in
the Church of the SS. Cosma and Damiano; the phoenix with
the glory symbolises the resurrection to eternal life, and is placed
on the palm tree as the symbolical support of that life.

The phoenix was, in this sense, a very ancient mythical symbol.
Dante alludes to it, ** Inferno," xxiv., 106-8 —

'* Coal per li gran savi si confeesa,
Che la Fenice muore e poi rinasce,
Quando al cinquecentesimo anno appressa."

Ovid (" Metamorphoses," lib. xv. v. 392 et eeq,) associates this

o

98 VENUS AND ADONIS.

fabulous bird with the pahn tree, as preparing its funeral nest
among the branches, ''tremulsque cacumine palmsB/'from whence,
on its death, another little phoonix rises up.

It is a doubtful point whether the tree. Phoenix dadylifera, gave
name to the bird, or the mythical bird to the tree ; possibly the
well known fact that, when an aged female palm tree was burnt
down to the roots, a new tree sprang up amid the ashes of the
old one, may have been the origin of the fable. (See C. Plinii,
** Secundi Naturalis Historise," lib. xiii., c. 9.)

In Chester's "Love's Martyr" (published 1601), in which
Shakespeare's supposed poem, the Phumix and Turtle is to be
found, we find Ben Jonson contributing a poem, in which we
find the idea of crystal repeated : —

" Judgement (adorned with Learning)
Doih shine in her discerning,
Cleare as a naked vestall
Closde in an orbe of Christall.*' — Ben Jonson.

In Bacon's " Natural History," we find him giving us an ex-
periment how to make crystal (Century IV. Experiment 364),
and in the next experiment, 365 (the number of days in the
year), telling us how to preserve, or conserve Eoses 1 It is plain
that the thought of the crystal, calls up the thought of the Hose,
and shows intimacy with the crystal and Eose-water idea.

This comparison of the Bose, begins with the first sonnet, in
a sense thoroughly in keeping, with a depth of creation, that is
to conserve for immortality. The rose is ever before the poet's
mind's eye : —

" From fairest creatures we desire increase
That thereby beauties Rose might never die."

This Eose is to be as. immortal as the crucified Rose, and
herein we can see, that the only way such immortality can be
attained, is by just this sacrifice of crucifixion. To preserve the
Jiosey or the rose-water, during the Winter, it must be first im-
prisoned in the crystal.

VENUS AND ADONIS, 99

Compare —

" Why should poore beautie indirectly seeke
B0668 of Shadow, since his Hose is true ? "

^* Then were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauties effect with beautie were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.
But flowers dlstiird, though they with winter meef,
Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet."

This is a most unmistakable application of Sir Philip Sidney's
Rosewater, kept in a crystal glass, or Vaughan's " In hoc Aqud,
(Crystal) Rosa laiet in hieme"

" Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distiird :
Make sweet some vial ; treasure thou some place
With beauties treasure ere it be self kill'd."

How is it Masonry terminates with the grade of Eose Cross
(Rose-Croix), the Paradise of Dante, and, indeed, the entire
Divine Comedy terminates with the Great Rose ? Dante employs
thi? emblem of the Rose to depict the Virgin : —

'* Perchd la faccia mia si t'innamora,
Chd tu non ti rivolgi al bel giardino,
Che sotto i raggi di Cristo s'infiora,
Quivi h la rosa in che'l verbo divine,

Came si f ece.**

«

The Divine Word is the Logos, through which everything was
created. What does the Rose mean] It means secrecy — it
means Love through which everything is created. And as Cruci-
fied Rose, it means Crucified Love or Logos, Light and truth —
immortality — the secret of immortality !

" There is a Silver Rose, called Tamara Pua, in the Paradise
of the Brahmans. 'This Paradise is a garden in heaven, to
which celestial spirits are first admitted on their ascent from the
terrestrial sphere. The Rose contains the images of two women,
as bright and fair as a pearl ; but these two are only one, though

loo VENUS AND ADONIS.

appearing as if distinct according to the medium, celestial or
terrestrial, through which they are viewed. In the first aspect
she is called the Lady of the Mouth, in the other, the Lady of
the Tongue, or the Spirit of Tongues. In the centre of this
Silver Hose, God has his permanent residence."

" A correspondence will be readily recognised between this
divine woman or virgin — two and yet one, who seems to typify
the Logos, the Spirit of Wisdom, and the Spirit of Tnith — and
the two-edged sword of the Spirit in the Apocalypse, the
Sapientia quce ex ore Alti^mii prodtit, as it is called in the sublime
Advent antiphon of the Latin Church. The mystical Hose in
the centre of the allegorical garden is continually met with in
legend. Buddha is said to have been crucified for robbing a
garden of a flower, and after a common fashion of mythology, the
divine Avatar of the Indians is henceforth identified with the
object for which he suffered, and he becomes himself * a flower, a
Rose, a Padma, Lotus, or Lily.' Thus he is the Rose crucified,
and we must look to the far East for the origin of the Rosicrucian
emblem. According to Godfrey Higgins, this is 'the Rose of
Isnren, of Tamul, and of Sharon, crucified for the salvation of
men — crucified,' he continues, *in the heavens at the vernal
equinox.'" (Waite's "Real Hist, of Rosicrucians," /?i/ro(^i/c//o«,
page 11.)

The Rose is also the emblem of Bacchus or Dionysus, whom
the best authorities identify with Adonis : —

** Adonis, be it observed, is with the Hymn- writer only another
name for Dionysos, and so he is Polyonymos, the many-named,
' the best of heavenly beings,' as Zagreus and lao are * the highest
of gods.' So Adonis is Eubouleus, the Wise-counselling, and
Dikeros, the Two-homed, ' nourisher of all,' t.e., vital power of
the world, ' male and female ; ' or, as Shelley says, * a sexless
thing it seemed,' in fact the Hwo-natured lakchos.' Ever fresh
and vigorous, he is, like Dionysos, both solar and kosmogonic.

" * Adonis, ever flourishing and bright ;
At stated periods doom'd to set and rise

VENUS AND ADONIS. loi

With splendid lamp, the glory of the skies.
Tis thine to sink in Tartarus profound,
And shine again thro' heaven's illustrious round.' ''
— Taylor. (Brown's "Great Dionysiak Myth./* vol. i. p. 66.)

Note that he is androgynous, or, as Shelly writes, " a sexless
thing it seemed," which finds its complete reproduction in the
Sonnets, under the title of Master-MistresSy separate yet identical,
— ^Light and Darkness, Heaven and Hell, Summer and Winter,
Idea and Form, Logos and Concealment. It is the marriage of
these two, which constitutes Creation, and whose offspring is
the reappearance of the Light or Logos — Revelation — the child
or son, in which we at once see the mystery of the Trinity pre-
figured. The father contemplates his alter Ego, which is his
Mind, crucified in the act of creation, that is concealed (as mean-
ing or archetypal ideas or principles) in the material or form,
which is feminine. But this is Plato's simile to exemplify Crea-
tion Divine or poetic, i.e., Marriage for the sake of Divine
offspring :—

" A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,
Hast thou, the MajBter-Mistress of my passion,
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion ;
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling :
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth ;
A man in you, all hues in his controlling.
Which steals men's eyes, and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created ;
Till nature as she wrought thee, fell a doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated.
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick't thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love, and thy love's use their treasure."

'*A man in yov^" concealed "in you," identified with " you** in this
** union in partition" ^ of the plays — light concealed in darkness !

^ " So they lov'd, aa love in twam
Had the essence but in one ;
Two distincts, division none :
Number there in love was slain."

— Phoenix and Turtle.

102 VENUS AND ADONIS.

Read the openiDg of the Sonnets. The argument is marriage for
the sake of immortality, — true immortality,— copy (in the second
degree), of divine truths concealed for a planned revelation through
time, that is the secret of the poems. They contain the creative
principles of the plays — are the new life of the poet's art. This
is written so " within and without," so plainly, that we hardly
know how to deal with it, for it is everywhere. The poet is
a god. He divides his art into an external and an internal for
posterity to discover and reveal The unrevealed side (to him)
id darkness, winter — the icy image of death and sleep. We know
that the Winter's Tale embraces this creative separation under the
summer and winter myth of Persephone and Dem^ter (or Pro-
serpine and Ceres) taking the ''Mysteries of Eleusis" as key
centre. Until Perdita is found this Art is but winter; its
summer (Adonis), " the pleasure of the fleeting year " crucified as
the Rose (his emblem), and therefore the ''age unbred" is told
that "beauty's summer" was dead or sacrificed as Love's Martyr: —

" For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred, —
Ere you were bom, was beauty's summer dead."

" But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest j
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade.
When in eternal lines to time thou growest :
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee." ^

" For as the sun is daily new and old.
So is my love still telling what is told."

The Rose crucified is, we believe, nothing short of crucified
Light or glory. For as Hargreave Jennings shows us. Lux is the
Logos by whom all things were made, and the Logos is BasU.
We know that the Red Rose sprang from the blood of Adonis.
Thus from his sacrifice, who, as the sun, is light, we have the
idea, in the crucified Rose, of the Saviour's martyrdom. Pegasus,
the winged steed of the muses, springs from the blood of Medusa,
and from the stroke of the hoof of Pegasus arose the fountain of

VENUS AND ADONIS, 103

Hippocrene. This idea, which is connected with the winged
chariot of Phsedrns, finds its reproduction in the Sonnets. But
we have direct proof of this association of Light or Logos with
the crucified Eose. Khunrath, an adept of the order, in his
** Amphiiheairum SapienicR AStemcB^ gives us in his fifth pan-
tacle a Eose of Light, in whose centre there is a human form
extending its arms in the form of a cross, which puts the matter
out of further doubt. In short, the crucified Eose is the Chris-
tian legend, extracted from Nature {and as universal as Nature)^
applied symbolically to indicate immortality, or the secret of the
creation of the universe, — that is the Logos, or Light, concealed
in darkness, — ^Truth as the Thought of God, hidden yet made
manifest, in the works of the creation. This Truth is the
archetypal Mind, or meaning of the world. It is the creative idea,
or ideas, which are clothed in Nature's art, as a truth may be con-
cealed in a fable, myth, or allegory. As the fly in the amber or
crystal, so is Truth open yet secret, concealed and hidden^
according to our capacities. It is sacrificed in the making, to be
revealed in the unmaking or rebirtL This is the secret of the
poems commonly called Shakespeare's.

We have abundant proof that the Eose is intended to represent
the sun or light. " In the Paradise of Dant^ we find, however,
the emblem whose history we are tracing, placed, and assuredly
not without reason, in the supreme, central heaven amidst the
intolerable manifestation of the Uncreated Light, the Shecinah
of Eabbinical theosophy, the chosen habitation of God — 'a sacred
Eose and Flower of Light, brighter than a million suns, imma-
culate, inaccessible, vast, fiery with magnificence, and surrounding
God as if with a miUion veils. This symbolic Eose is as common
a hierogram throughout the vast temples and palaces of the
Ancient East as it is in the immense ruins of Central America.' "
(Waite's "Eeal Hist. Eosicrucians," Introduction, 17).

The Eose plays a double symbolic part^ according as we take it
physically or metaphysically. In the former sense it is the
secret flower of Venus, the emblem of the mysteries of love, — the

J 04 VENUS AND ADONIS,

sign of creation in a human sense. In the latter sense, it is crea-
tion in the Divine (crucified) meaning. In the solar meaning it
is the crucifixion of the sun at the vernal equinox. Thus we see
what a vast meaning it embraces. If the poet's art has two
complete sides (which is plain to those who can read the Sonnets),
/Aey mud be in opposition. Darkness is the reversed side of
Light Winter is the opposite to Summer, Day to Night,
Heaven to Hell, Male to Female, Love to Hate, Life to Death.
With this key, which is a paradox of identity and separation, a
" union in partition/' we can at once unlock many mysteries of
the poems, and particularly of that strange one, the Phcsnix
and Turtle, — which promises a rebirth in the plainest language.
The art of the plays and poems entitled Shakespeare's is as pro-
found, as full a circle, as all living and complete, as Nature itself.
It is a little Nature, and its creative God was Francis Bacon.

We find Bacon writing : — " It is reported by some, that the
herb called Earn Soils (whereof they make strong waters) will at
the Noonday, when the sun shineth hot and bright, have a great
dew upon it. And therefore that the right name is Ros Solis ^
(or dew of the sun), which they impute to a delight and sympathy
that it hath with the sun." (" Nat. Hist. Cent.," v. 103.)

"Some of the ancients, and likewise divers of the modern
writers, that have laboured in Natural Magick, have noted a
sympathy between the Sun, Moon, and some principal stars, and
certain herbs and plants. And so they have denominated some
herbs. Solar and some Lunar. It is manifest, that there are
some flowers that have respect to the sun in two kinds, the one
by opening and shutting, and the other by bowing and inclining
the head. For Marygolds, Tulippas, Pimpernels, and indeed most
flowers do open or spread their leaves abroad when the sun

^ There has indeed been spread abroad, as well in books as in common
rnmour, the story of a tree in one of the Tercera or Canary Isles (I do not
well remember which) which is constantly dripping ; so as to some extent
to supply the inhabitants with water, ^d Paracelsus says that the herb
called JR08 Solis is at noon and under a burning sun filled with dew, while
all the other herbs round it are dry. — (Natural History.)

VENUS AND ADONIS. 105

shineth serene and fair : and again (in some part) close them, or
gather them inward, either toward night, or when the Sky is
overcast.

" For the bowing and inclining of the head, it is foond in the
great flower of the Son, in Marygolds," &c., &c.

''The Sossi — or Bosy — crucians' ideas, concerning the em-
blematical red cross and red rose, probably came from the fable of
Adonis, who was the sun^ whom we have seen so often crucified —
being changed into a red rose by Venus." (See Drummond,
" Origines," vol. iii. p. 121.) " Bus (which is Ras in Chaldee) in
Irish signifies * tree,' ' knowledge,' ' science,' * magic,' * power.'
This is the Hebrew Ras.^ (Hargreave Jennings' " Rosicrucians,"
vol. ii. p. 66.)

A French writer (anonymous) thus expresses himself: — "Enfin
la Mafonnerie, dont le centre 6tait I'Angleterre, apr^s avoir
triomph6 des terreurs frivoles d'£lizabeth et du parlement, apr^s
avoir obtenu la protection signal6e d'£douard III. et de Henry
VI., qui avaient voulu la connattre, vit le nombre de ses membres
s'accroltre avec les lumidres, quand I'Europe eut re9u Timpulsion
vigoureuse du 16* si^cle. Elle meme propagea toutes les sciences
et les enseigna sous la forme symbolique, jusqu'^ ce que par do
plus grands progr^ cette forme fQt devenue inutile. Comment
se refuser k admettre ce que j'avance, si I'on jette les yeux sur
toutes les allusions au manieau blanc, k la croix rouge, au temple dc
Salomon, que renferment la Nouvelle Atlantis de BUcon, la Noce
chymique, et autres ouvrages du meme temps, si justement attribuis
h la compagnie des Bose-croix" (La Ma9onnerie, ''Po6me en trois
Chants," 1820.)

The Rose is the secret of this Art called Shakespeare's, for
until the World awakes to realize the idea that this art is Christi-
anity dramatized, and that it contains a planned revelation
through time, it will comprehend nothing but folly in all this.
When we use the expression " Christianity," we mean the real
naiure meaning of the divine myth. We mean the Divine
Mind or Logos hidden in this art, as orderly philosophical

io6 VENUS AND ADONIS.

construction underlying its appearance. The Logos from the
earliest times, comprehends the foundation of the world — it is
simply the Wisdom, or Divine Mind underlying creation — as
Truth. The act of creation is its crucifixion. For it is buried
in the Art of Nature,^ in order to rise again through us as we
identify ourselves ivUh U. The Spirit of God is the spirit of
truth, and it is in Nature, half-hidden, half-concealed, as it is in
its divine copy. Bacon's plays* —

** For words like Nature half conceal.
And half reveal the soul within."

We find in the plays and poems a mysterious allusion to fire,
which it is impossible to reconcile with the simple external
meaning of the text. For example (Sonnet 144) : —

*^ The truth shall I ne*er know, but live in doubt
Till my bad angel fire my good one out,**

In the Winter*s Tale we find Leontes saying : —

" Leontes. Say, that she were gone,

Qiven to thefirt^ a moiety of my rest
Might come to me again.**

This is very striking and curious. What is the "moiety** or
lialf, that might come to Leontes again 1

A writer, last century, remarks of the Eosicrucians : — " They
all maintain that the dissolution of bodies by the power of
fire, is the only way by which men can arrive at true wisdom,
and come to discern the first principles of things. They all
acknowledge a certain analogy and harmony between the powers
of nature and the doctrines of religion, and believe that the
Deity governs the kingdom of grace by the same laws with which
ho rules the kingdom of nature: and hence they are led to use
chemical denominations to express the truths of religion,**

^ " Thy unas'd beauty muat be tomb'd with thee,
Which, a8*d, lives thy executor to be."

{Sontiel iv,)

VENUS AND ADONIS. 107

Bacon writes : —

"Therefore this kindling or catching Fire, Heraclitus called
peace ; because it composed nature and made her one ; but genera-
tion he called war, because it multiplied and made her many."
(Bacon's " Works," vol v., p. 473, Spedding.)

In AlVa JVM tluU Ends Wdl, we have a curious plot founded
upon Love and Hate. Helena is married to Bertram against his
desire. Then they are separated, and the play turns upon their
reconciliation. We find Bertram is attended by one called
Parolles, a name which means Words. He is an evil instrument
of separation, persuading Bertram to go to the wars — ^and is a i><
liar. We cannot be mistaken in suspecting that he is an emblem
of Words and their false connotations.^ The first character who
detects and exposes him is Le Feu, a name which translated is >^
simply fire / We see that Bertram is separate yet identical with
Helena (that is, an '* union in partition "), and that ParoUes (or
words — false words) is the separating medium. There is, in the
fact of Bertram's Hate, and Helena's Love, a principle of Strife and
Friendship, or Mars and Venus, which we refind in the Sonnets.
Bertram is associated with Mars as soldier. Helena exchanges
rdle with Diana, whose name recalls her classical prototype, who
was the great reconciler of separated things — Nature. Very few
will believe this, but we are certain of it. The union of Con-
traries is a favourite system of plot construction in the plays.
The poem of Venus and Adonis is one of Love on one side— Hate
on the other. Borneo and Juliet is a play in which Love is.crossed
by family Hate. The poems are philosophically, the expression
of a youth, who is Love and Light, at cross-purposes with a woman
who is Hate— and Darkness.

Take Sonnet 45 : —

'* The other two, slight air and purging fire,
The first my thought, the other my desire."

1 *< It seems to me that Pygmalion's frenzy is a good emblem or por-
traiture of this vanity ; for words art hut the. images o/maUer, and except
they have life of reason and invention to fall in love with them is all one as
to fall in love with a ;>ic^ttre.*'—(*< Advancement of Learning.")

io8 VENUS AND ADONIS.

Or consider this with regard to study : —

" Biron, So etady evermore is overshot,

While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should :
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
T is won as towns with fire ; so won, so lost."

Compare Sonnet 144 : —

" The truth shall I ne'er know but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel ^rc my good one out."

Thomas Taylor tells us in his notes upon Plato's Cratylus, that
air is a symbol of soul or spirit, and fire is an image of intellect,

" Separate the earth from the fire, the subtle from the gross
very carefully and with ingenuity. It ascends &om the earth
into heaven, then again descends into the earth, and receives the
force of above and below." (" Smaragdine Tablet of Hermes.")

CHAPTER V.

FREEMASONRY.

"Non canimua surdia respondent omnia dyvae." — Virg., Ed. x. 3.
( We aing not to dull ears ; the woods re-ecluo to each sound. )

It is very curious to find St Albans associated with the origin or
first importation into England, in the third century, of Free-
masonry, because, whether Bacon was a Eosicrucian or not, no
Mason can read the ** New Atlantis," with its Solomon's Temple,^
College of the Six Day, and entire spirit of brotherly love,
without being convinced he was a member (if no more) of the
brotherhood. We cannot get over the fact, that a profound
student of the origins of Freemasonry, like Nicolai, thought he
was connected with the resuscitation of the Society in its modern
form, which appears to have taken place about the beginning or
middle of the seventeenth century. Therefore, it is a striking
and extraordinary coincidence, or rather a hint for us to ponder
over, that St Alban's Abbey presents, with its Protomartyrs'
history, the cradle, if not the birthplace, of Masonry in England.
Nay, more, the actual stones of Gorhambury House (called very
curiously the Temple) were taken, together with the lime, from
the ruins of the Abbey itself ! So that this house (built 1571), in
which Bacon's youthful genius was nourished, to which he
always returned, and which until 1603 he retained, was con-
structed out of the stones which the " Hond Masons '' of King
Offa erected to the memory of the good St Alban. Can ic
be possible that the history of this newly built house could have
been unknown to Bacon ; nay, did he not see the house growing

1 (* The origin of the Society called Freemasons is said by some to have
been a certain number of persons who formed a resolation to rebuild the
Temple of Solomon.'* — Oliver's *' Discrepancies."

1 10 FREEMASONR K

up under his own eyesi Bacon was bom in 1560-1561; —
the new House completed in 1571.

Though bom at York Place, in the Strand, yet he was often
enough at Gorhambury to realise the fact that a species of
sacrilege was being perpetrated — ^the venerable Abbey robbed
(although, it is true, it was quite a min) to erect his father's man-
sion. The stones themselves were crying out in witness thereof
— those stones (with their mysterious Mason's-marks) were round
him, and it is hardly possible he could have been indifferent to
their dumb history. We find the town arms of St Albans to be
the cross of St Andrew, and we think it is highly probable that
the English Masonry was imported first from Scotland. At
any rate it will be interesting to Masons, for me to give them a
few extracts, as to the early importance of St Albans, and its
Abbey, from a Masonic point of view. It is our belief that
Bacon was associated early in a movement to revivify or re-
suscitate Freemasonry throughout Europe. Whether a Rosicru-
cian or no matters littl& The Templars were the successors of
the Knights of the Round Table, and the Bosicrucians appear
to have been again affiliated with the Templars. The names
change, the rites alter, the philosophy may be different, but the
principles remain affiliating all these societies to Masonry, which
is, in our judgment, the oral method of transmission of which
Bacon hints in his works. We now proceed to give a few quota-
tions, to establish the early associations of the Abbey with the
craft, and which must have been familiar enough to the ubiquitous
and profound mind of Bacon.

^* The original church built by King Offa in the eighth century
was erected by him and the ' Hond Masons ' to the memory of
St Alban, and that according to the Guild legends St Alban
himself was intimately associated with the Masons. In these he
is claimed as the patron of Freemasons. The earliest mention of
St Alban in connection with masonry is to be found in the Prose
Constitutions, among MSS. of the British Museum, of date 1425.
There we read —

FREEMASONR K 1 1 1

* '' ^ And St Alban loved well Masons, and he gave them first their
charges and manners first in England, and he ordained convenient
times to pay for the travail.'

"This tradition is repeated and amplified in numerous other
Guild legends. In the Lansdowne MS., A.D. 1560, we find «
these words : —

'* ' St Alban was a worthy Knight and Steward of the King, his
household, and had government of his realm, and also of the
making of the walls of the said town, and he loved well masons,
and cherished them much, and made their pay right good, for he
gave them 8 and vid. a week and iiid. ; before that time all the
land a mason took but one penny a day and his meat, till St
Alban mended it^ and he gave them a charter of the King and
his '' Councell," for to hold a general assembly, and gave it to
name assembly.'

"In the Antiquity MS., of date 1686, is this further state-^^
ment —

" 'And he gott them a charter from the King and his " Counsell,"
to hold a general " Counsel!," and gave itt to name " Assemblie,''
thereat he was himself, and did help to make Masons and gave
them charges as you shall heare afterwards.'

"The Prince of Wales, the Grand Master of the Order, and
the Duke of Albany were among the subscribers to the pulpit,
which was presented and unveiled with due ceremony on the
16th of July 1883, by the Provincial Grand Master of Hertford-
shire, Brother T. F. Hakey, M.P. The sermon upon the occasion
was preached by the Grand Chaplain of England, the Eev. W.
Oswell Thompson, M.A., Vicar of Hemel Hempstead." (" Guide,
Mason.")

The Abbey is particularly interesting to those who believe that
Bacon wrote the plays attributed to Shakespeare, for it is here we
find the tomb of the ''Good Duke Humphrey," or Duke of Glou-
cester, and it was here that the story repeated in the second part
of Hmry the Sixth was inscribed.

" There was a Latin inscription to the memory of the ' Good

1 1 z FREEMASONR K

Duke Humphrey/ on the east wall (now removed) of the aisle
written by a master of the Grammar School in the seventeenth
century. It contained an allusion to a religious fraud, practised
by a man who pretended he had been miraculously restored to
sight at the shrine of St Alban, and said to have been exposed by
Duke Humphrey. Shakespeare describes the legend in the second
part of Henry the Sixth, act the second, the scene being laid at St
Albans — 'Enter a townsman of St Albans, crying, "A miraclel" * "
(" Guide, Mason.")

It seems only natural that Bacon should have introduced this
story in connection with the Duke in his play, but very un-
natui^al for Shakespeare, a stranger, to bring in a curious episode
of this sort. But there is plenty of subtle evidence of this kind.

" Enter a Townsman of St Alba7i\ crying * A miracle ! '

Glou. What means this noise ?

Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim ?
Towns, A miracle ! a miracle I

Suf. Come to the king and tell him what miracle.

Towns. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine,

Within this half -hour hath received his sight ;

A man that ne'er saw in his life before.
King. Now, God be praised, that to believing souls

Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair 1 "

How well acquainted the author is with the history of the Abbey
— of its foundation, around the shrioe of St Alban, which was
supposed to work miracles. How lovingly he lingers around it I

" Queen. Tell me, good fellow, earnest thou here by chance,
Or of devotion, to this holy shrine ?
Simp. God knows, of pure devotion : being call'd
A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep
By good St Alban ; who said, ' Simpcox, come.
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.* "

If Shakespeare wrote the plays, he must have been very well
acquainted with the Abbey and its history, and purposely have
studied them from the guide books of the period. Probably he
ran down from Saturday to Monday on the " Wonder " coach,

FREEMASONRY, 113

and took notes. How familiar the author is with this Hertford-
shire ! He makes Salisbury say (Henry VL, 2d part, sc. ii., act

ii)-

" Bat William of Hatfield died without an heir."

Hatfield is about five miles from St Albans. The name comes
readily enough to Bacon's pen.

Alexander Lawrie (Sir George Brewer), in his "History of ^
Freemasonry" (published 1804, Edinburgh), writes : —

"It was probably about this time, also, that Freemasonry was
introduced into England; but whether the English received it
from the Scotch masons at Kilwinning, or from other brethren
who had arrived from the Continent, there is no method of deter-
mining. The fraternity in England, however, maintain that St
Allan, the Proto-Martyr, was the first who brought masonry to
Britain ; ^ that the brethren received a charter from King Athel-
stane, and that his brother Edwin summoned all the lodges to
meet at York, which formed the first Grand Lodge of England." >

With regard to Scotland, all the continental societies seem
inclined to associate it with the origins of the craft. It is a trifle
worthy of note that the arms of St Albans are a St Andrew's
Gross.

Edward the Sixth by a charter dated the 12th of May 1553,
ordained that —

" ' The late monastery of St Albans shall be called the parish
church of the borough, for all the inhabitants within the late
parish or chapelry of St Andrew,* and George Wetherall, clerk,
was appointed first rector of the Church of St Alban, for the term
of his natural life. Upon this charter being granted, a coat of
arms was given to the borough — Azure, a saltire Or.

" A new charter, confirming the charter of Edward the Sixth,
was granted by Queen Mary, dated the 10th of December 1553;
and Queen Elizabeth, in a charter dated the 7th of February

^ About the end of the third centnry.

« A.D. 926. *• Preston's Illustration of Masonry," p. 148. Smith's "Use
and Abuse of Free Masonry," p. 51. " Free Mason's Callendar," 1778.

H

1 1 4 FREEMASONR K

1559-60, confirmed both the former charters. On the 24th
March 1569-70, the qaeen granted another charter at Gorham-
bury, upon the petition of Sir Nicholas Bacon, knight, lord
keeper." (" Guide, Mason.")

Curious coincidence, we find a St Andrew's Cross to be the arms
of Johann Valentin, St Andreas (or St Andrew), who is supposed
to be the founder of the Bosicrucians, but who, at any rate, was
the putter out of the famous " Fama Fratemitatis, or Universal
Eeformation addressed to the learned in Europe," 1614 ! This is
what Mr Waite writes (" Real History of the Rosicrucians ") : —

" The * Chymical Marriage ' contains the following passage : —
' Hereupon I prepared myself for the way, put on my white linnen
coat, girded my loyns, with a blood -red ribbon bound cross-ways
over my shoulder : In my hat I stuck /our roses.* Elsewhere, he
describes himself as a ' brother of the Bed-Eosie Cross,' and a
* Knight of the Golden Stone ' — eques aurei lapidas.

'' Now, the armorial bearings of the family of Andreas contain
a St Andrew's Cross with four roses, one in each of its angles,
which interesting piece of internal evidence indicates the author-
ship of this romance independently of the autobiographical state-
ment, and points irresistibly, it is said, to the conclusion that
the founder of the Rose-Cross Society was the man whose heraldic
device was also the Rose and Cross."

From this fact De Quincey concludes that Andrea was the
real author. Now, although we know the emblem of the Rosi-
crucians was not a St Andrew's Cross, yet it seems possible
he adopted his arms from the passage quoted above in ''The
Chymical Marriage." Were the arms of Andrea and of his
family always a St Andrew's Cross ? ^ Can anyone throw
light upon these matters 1 It seems rather suspicious to find
a native of Wirtemberg, in the early part of the seventeenth
century, bearing the name Andreas or Andrew, and at the same

^ It seems to iia that these arms of St Andrew, — the cross and foar
roses, — give us a profound hint as to the £nglish and Scotch origins of the
Rosicrucian manifestoes.

FREEMASONR K 115

time St Andrew's arms — taking us to Scotland, where particularly
the Templars, who were the true predecessors of Eosicrucianism
and Freemasonry, are to be found so abundantly.^ But here is
another suspicious fact De Quincey maintains Andreas to have
been the author of the ^^ Fama^ How is it, then, that the
" Universal Eef ormation " (the iSrst of the three works) " was
borrowed from the *Generale Riforma delP Universo dai sette
Savii della Grecia e da altri Letterati, publicata di ordine di
Apollo,' which occurs in the " Raggtuigli di Famasso " of Boccalini,
which was published 1612 at Venice, and in 1615 at Milan")
This is the curious part: that this "Universal Reformation" is found
to be published in several different countries at the same time.
'^ The earliest edition of these works which I have seen is that of
1614, printed at Cassel, in octavo, which is in the Wolfenbiittel
library ; but in this the ' Confessio ' is wanting. From a passage
in this edition, it appears that the ' Farna Fraternitatis ' had been
received in the Tyrol as early as 1610, in manuscript, as the
passage alleges ; but the words seem to imply that printed copies
were in existence even before 1610. In the year 1615 appeared
'Secretions Philosophise Consideratio k Philippe k Gabella,
Philosophise studioso, conscripta ; et nunc primum wak cum Con-
fessione Fraternitatis Eos. Grucis in lucem edita. Gassellis:
excud G. Wesselius, A. 1615.' In the very same year, at
Frankfurt-on-the-Mayne, was printed by John Bemer, an edition
of all the three works — the * Confessio^ iu a German translation.
In this year also appeared a Dutch translation of all three, a copy
of which is in the Gbttingen library."

Italy is the country where, it appears to us, the inception of the
borrowed idea commences, at Venice, with Boccalini's work. We
here again call notice to the suspicious wanderings of Anthony
Bacon upon the Continent /or deven years, not for amusement only,

1 "We are informed by the Supreme Council of Charleston, Amerioa —
where high-grade Masonry was introduced in 1767 — that, '* Knight of St
Andrew '* is one of the old names of the Rose Croix." — Yarker's " Mysteries
of Antiquity."

1 1 6 FREEMASONR K

we may be sure. We find him a long time at Venice. He is later
on in France, at Bourdeaux, intimate with Montaigne. Was he his
brother's propagandist 1 That a movement of the extent produced
by the " Universal Reformation " should have been the freak of a
youthful genius, which is De Quincey's argument, is absurd ! De
Quincey concludes from the passage in the " Chymical Marriage of
Father Bosycross " that Andrew was the real author, because his
arms are a St Andrew's Cross ! There is something curious in this
coincidence, but the suspicion left is that he was not the author
of the " Fama" For he denied it utterly, and terms himself a
sort of spectator in a theatre.

It is Truth (dk Alethia) who is speaking: '^Planissime nihil
cum hac Fraternitate (sc. Eos. Crucis) commune habeo. Nam,
c&m pauUo ante lusum quendam ingeniosiorem personatus aliquis
in literario foro agere vellet, — nihil mota sum libelis inter se
conflictantibus ; sed velut in scena prodeuntes histriones non sine
voluptate spectavi."

The fact that he published two or three pamphlets to allay the
excitement, and deny the society, of which he is the supposed vehicle,
is proof enough against him. The extract bears the evidence of
truth. What are we to think of an author who denies his own
works 1 But the vitality, width, profundity, and real nature of
the Eosicrucian body is revealed in many ways. And here is a
remarkable fact, which it is very good for us to ponder over again
and again. It is this : Rosycrucianism begins its campaign
ostensibly on the Continent, — in Italy first, then Germany, then
Holland, lastly France, 1623, — but in none of these countries
does it take root. The only place where it takes root is in
England ; and this is, we believe, a strong proof of its origin.
This De Quincey himself points out : '' And hence it has
happened that, whatever numbers there may have been of indi-
vidual mystics calling themselves Eosicrucians, no collective
body of Eosicrucians acting in conjunction, was ever matured
and actually established in Germany. In England, the case was
difierent : for there, as I shall show, the order still subsists under

FREEMASONRY. 117

another name " (" Works," vol. xvL p. 404.) So that the country >t
supposed to have produced the author and founder of the society,
produces no fruit. But the root and the fruit, are intimately
connected — and they are both to be found in England. That
Andrea was nothing but a " merry Andrew," or puppet of some
others, is writ large. That the noise, stir, and final taking
root of the Society, should have emanated from a man who
denies and repudiates his own writings is absurd. Or that for
fifteen years, a mere pamphlet, or a few manifestoes, should have
at periods agitated the learned in Europe, requires no apology.
The fact that it produced men like Fludd, Boehmen, and their
works, answers the question as to its originality, thoroughness,
depth, and reality. The present revival of interest in the
subject (which we see manifested in the literature of the age), is,
if we follow De Quincey's arguments, the result of a young man
of genius' freaks ! As if the rooted interest in the Society, which
men like Lord Lytton have shown, should be grounded on a
myth!

Now, we quite agree with De Quincey, when he says, " that
Free-masonry is neither more nor less than Eosicrucianism as
modified by those who transplanted it into England." This we
think highly probable. It is as well we should reserve the term
" modified," because of the existence of Masonry, under other
names, or secret societies, and going back centuries, there can be
no manner of question or doubt. What are better than written
records, are the Masons' own records, the language of their secret
marks, of their architecture, of their allegories in leaf and flower,
of their own temples. Let anybody in doubt of this, visit (for
example), Rosslyn Chapel, Mid-Lothian, within easy distance from
Edinburgh. He will there light upon a Masonic Temple, dating
from the year 1446 for its inception. Here is the cradle of Scotch
Masonry, if not of something deeper still. He will behold pin-
nacles in pyramid form, buttresses carved with the sunflower,
he will see the rose on the keystone of the east window, the
stars of Heaven on the roof of the west compartment, with the

1 1 8 FREEMASONR K

sun and Creator in the act of blessing. He will behold the
Apprentice's pillar, with a history which repeats itself in the
lodge. He will see allegories in stone of the Dance of Death,
and of many medisBval legenda There are as many as twenty-
three masons' signs engraved on the stones. The predominant
ornaments are the Fleur-de-Lis, the Bose, and the Sanflower.
Upon the roof of the aisles is the engrailed cross of the founders,
the St Clairs, once hereditary Grand Masters of Scotch Masonry.
It is one of the most beautiful, and exquisite temples, of Masonic,
Templar, and Eosicrucian symbolism in the world, associated with
wonderful legend and real romance. Beneath the flagstones, lie
buried twelve barons of the Rosslyn family, laid all in their
armour, as Sir Walter Scott tells us.

One of the family was Sir William St Clair, who was the
warrior friend of King Robert Bruce, and Sir James Douglas,
and joined the latter on his celebrated expedition to convey the
King's heart to the Holy Land. So that they were Templars in
the right good old fashioned way of going to their own Jeru-
salem. John Eobison, in his " Proofs of a Conspiracy against
all the Beligions and Government of Europe, carried on in the
Secret Meetings of Free Masons, Illuminati," &c. (1797), writes
as follows : —

"When the Order of Knights Templars was abolished by
Philip the Fair, and cruelly persecuted, some worthy persons
escaped, and took refuge in the Highlands of Scotland, where
they concealed themselves in caves. These persons possessed the
true secrets of Masonry, which had always been in that Order,
having been acquired by the Knights, during their services in
the East, from the pilgrims whom they occasionally protected or
delivered. The Chevaliers de la Rose-Croix continued to have the
same duties as formerly, though robbed of their emoluments.
In fine, every true Mason is a Knight Templar."

Now, what really is interesting in Bosslyn Chapel and its
neighbourhood, is, that we know Ben Jonson, the friend of Bacon
and Shakespeare, made a journey on foot down to Hawthomden,

FREEMASONR Y. 119

to visit the poet William Drummond, and that he stayed with
him three weeks. Hawthomden is but a mile from Kosslyn
Chapel. And Kilwinning, though considered the fount of Scotch
Masonry, is so connected with the St Glairs of Itosslyn, as to
cause us rather to look for the real origins of Masonry in Scot-
land to the annals of this famous family of Eosslyn. There is
no question in our own minds, that the history of Scottish
Masonry circles around this centre. And as they were Templars,
everything connected with them is interesting. Billings, in his
*' Baronial Antiquities,'' remarks — " An authentic history of this
remarkable family might throw some light upon the history of
Masonry."

CHAPTER VI.

Iffts eyv €lfu rai^a yeywos kol 0¥ kcu €<ro/i€voif icai to (fiop
TcrXoy ovd€is rtav OmiTtap aTCKaXvyf^cp.

HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS IN THE PLAYS.

To do justice to such a subject as this, would, indeed, require
something like the solution of the entire Baconian-Shakespearian
question. But we may indicate a few parallels to point out our
meaning. And first, as to the locality and direction from which
Masonry sprang, viz., Egypt, ChaldsBa, and particularly Phoenicia.
Can we find any indications in the plays called Shakespeare's, to
show us that the same localities are referred to ? If Bacon wrote
the plays, nothing is so probable, or so certain, that we should
find something referring to King Solomon, or to his country, in
these plays. For is not Bacon everlastingly quoting Solomon
throughout his works, certainly oftener than any other authority!
" The glory of God is to conceal a thing, but the glory of the
king is to find it out» as if, according to the innocent play of
children, the Divine Majesty took delight to hide His works, to
the end to have them found out." How many times indeed, does
Bacon iterate this in his works, as if to tell us he meant to take
a like way, and imitate God, presenting us with an enigma for
the ages to solve, and the wisdom of Solomon concealed therein.
But what is the " New Atlantis/' with its Solomon's House, and
its frontispiece of the two pillars (which Hiram of Tyre made of
brass, and set up with pomegranate and lily work on the tops,
and which were set in the porch of the Temple), but Masonry,
from beginning to ehd, without any aid from John Heydon, to
prove it is Rosicrucian. We don't want Heydon's narrative to

HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS. 121

assist us, because the frontispieces of Bacon's own works tell
us exactly what he wants to tell us, and what we want to
know.

Perhaps this fact, that the Phoenicians ^ were the first bold
navigators who dared to go beyond the pillars of Hercules, to the
isles of Britain, and who were at the same time countrymen of
King Solomon and Hiram ; had a peculiar fascination for Bacon.
Perhaps this is why his ship device, and frontispiece with the
two piUars of the temple, or of Hercules, arose in his mind.
But do not let^ us be in a hurry, or speculate too rashly. We
cannot overestimate the importance of Tht Tempest as a play
throwing light upon the entire cycle of this enchanted art.
Because it is first and last, and very clearly relates to a God, in
relationship to his own art. The strangest feature in that play,
is the bringing in, of the names of Dido and ^neas, of Carthage
or Tunis, in connection with the shipwrecked King and his
Courtiers. They speak of being at Carthage, at the marriage of
Claribel to the King of Tunis. As this is quite outside the play,
and without any apparent bearing upon the plays in general, it
is either sheer nonsense, or a hint of the profoundest import.
Nothing, however, is in this art with a purposeless motive. It
is just these strange things which arrest our attention, and which
make us wonder what they mean. And therefore we are bound
to inquire further into their possible signification.

Certainly the most striking and suggestive Masonic hint
offered to us in The Tempest, of its subtle and intimate relation-
ship with YirgiVs Ylth Book,^ and therefore with ^neas, and
the Mysteries, is given us in the references to Carthage or Tunis,
and the bringing in, in quite an apparently purposeless fashion,
of Dido as Widow Dido.

^ Diodorua gives the Phceniciana credit of having first discovered the
Atlantis. Aristotle describes it as a land opposite the Pillars of Hercules.

^ Mark those pregnant words of Bacon : " That if all arts were lost,
they might be recovered from Virgil." Dante has imitated Virgil's
Vlth Book, his work being ** Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven," according to
Templar Mysteries and rites.

122 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

^^Oon. Methinks, our garments are now as fresh as when we pat
them on first in Afric, at the marriage of the King's fair daughter
Claribel to the King of Tunis.

Seb, 'Twas a sweet marriage, and we prosper well in our return.

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with such a paragon to their
queen.

Ooru Not since Widow Dido's time.

Afi, Widow 1 a pox o* that. How came that widow in ? Widow
Dido ] "

To those who ponder deeply, and who have the faculty of per-
ceiving, by the flawing of a straw or feather, the direction the
wind blows, this passage is pregnant with the profoundest signifi-
cance. First, we have Tunis or Carthage, Dido and ^neas,
brought in here in connection with the shipwrecked King and
suite, in a play which is the last written, yet which stands first,
so that, trifle as this reference is, it is full of direction, and opens
a masked door in the otherwise impregnable ramparts of this
art. Directly we hear or read of ^neas we are carried back to
Virgil's "^neid." Directly we read of Dido, our minds go back
to the foundation of Carthage or Tunis, and in doing so we
remember that this is the land of Phoenicia — of the Phoenix —
of Cadmus and Harmonia, or Hermione — Libya, Now, if the
student will recall Perdita, he will find that she is strangely
brought in as coming from Libya, which critics have blanched, or,
at any rate, have never attempted to comprehend or explain —
seeing that the play is laid in Sicily.

" She came from Libya,"— fFiWer'a Tale (Act V. sc. 1).

Here we are at once in touch with Solomon and Hiram, and
therefore with Masonry at once. Hiram was King of Tyre.^
In Pericles we have Tyre again, for Pericles is Prince of Tyre.
Nothing could identify Hermione better than this hint. Because

1 *' The Carthaginians were indebted to the Tyrians, not only for their
origin, bat for their manners, language, cnstoms, laws, religion, and their
great application to commerce. They spoke the same language with the
Tyrians, and these the same with the Canaanites and Israelites, that is,
the Hebrew tongue, or at least a language, which was entirely derived
from it."— Rollin, *' History of the Carthaginians," vol. L 89.

IN THE PLAYS. 123

Harmonia, or Hermione (mother to Perdita), was the daughter of
Venus and Mars, and married the Phoenician Cadmus. But on
this point elsewhere. At present it is indeed striking to find the
plays attributed to Shakespeare profoundly in touch with the
land of Masonry, of Solomon, of Hiram, of Dido ; and we expect
the ship of Lord Bacon, bound through the pillars of Hercules,
comes from Carthage or Tunis — ^from the marriage of Claribel,
and is bound west for the New Atlantis of Prospero's magic
island, and this is very much the history of the rise and journey
or progress west of Masonry — through the Phoenician navigators
who traded beyond the pillars of Hercules to the tin Islands, to
Ireland,^ and Britain, carrying their Masonic lore with them.

Wilkinson, in his " Egypt," writes : — " Strabo, Diodorus, Pliny,
and other writers mention certain Islands, discovered by the
Phofmicians, which, from the quantity of tin they produced,
obtained the name Cassiterides, and are supposed to have been
the cluster now known as the SciUy Isles, and to have included
part of the coast of Cornwall itself. The secret of their discovery
was carefully concealed, says Strabo, from all other persons, and
the Phoenician vessels continued to sail from Gade (Cadiz) in
quest of this commodity, without it being known whence they
obtained it, though many endeavours were made by the Bomans
at a subsequent period to ascertain the secret, and to have the
benefit of this lucrative trade."

'' Spain in early times was to the Phoenicians what America at
a later period was to the Spaniards ; and no one can read the
accounts of the immense wealth derived from the mines of that
country in the writings of Diodorus and others, without being
struck by the relative situation of the Phoenicians and ancient
Spaniards, and the followers of Cortez or Pizarro and the
inhabitants of Mexico or Peru." ^ (Wilkinson's " Egypt")

^ See the derivation of many Irish names from Baal, the deity afterwards
worshipped by the Phoenicians, snoh as Baly-shannon, Baltinglass, Bal-
carras, Belfast, and many more.

' Do we not see in this, the origin of Bacon's bringing in in his '* New
Atlantis," Goya, Tyrambel, Mexico, and Peru?

124 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

" The word Kassiteros used by Homer for tin is the same as
the Arabic Kasdear, by which the metal is still known in the
East, being probably derived from the ancient Phoenicians."

"The intercourse between the Phoenicians, Chaldeans, and
Egyptians necessarily led to an admixture of religious cere-
monies, and the roving colonies of Phoenicia (2 Ghron. viii. 18)
to Carthage in Africa, to new Carthage in Spain, and to the Cassi-
terides, or Scilly Isles, close to Cornwall (in search of xaffffiTipo¥
or tin), will account for the introduction of pure Masonry in
very early days in England, and its corruption afterwards by the
Druids. For its introduction into Greece, we must bear in mind
that the founder of Athens, Cecrops, was an Egyptian^ and Pytha-
girras a Tyrian^ and that the intercourse with Egypt and Greece
was constant." We should like some Mason to tell us if it
is true what Nicolai asserts, viz., that the two pillars were
first adopted in 1646, at a lodge meeting held at Warrington,
where Lord Bacon's " Atlantis '' was evidently discussed. In the
first book of Kings (vii H-22) it is said, " And there stood upon
the pillars as it were Roses " (compare second book of Chron. iiL
1 7). Certain it is Bacon takes these pillars as emblems for his
symbolical engraving prefacing the folio edition of the " Sylva
Sylvarum" where we find them in company with the "New
Atlantis," and, of course, connected with the College of the Six
Days, or of Creation, as we may see by examining the picture.
We have a globe styled Mundus Intdledualis, placed as resting
u[>on the Waters, or ocean, flanked on both sides by the pillars.
Above Light as Creative is issuing forth from amid clouds, whilst
one prolongated ray of Light descends perpendicidarly towards
the globe of the Intellectual earth, floating upon the waters. In
the space between Heaven and Earth is written —

'* Et vidit Deus luceum quod esset bona.''

This is a reference, of course, to Genesis, to Creation, and to the
first created Light Now we know that Bacon carefully planned
and arranged all the details of the pubUshing of his works with

IN THE PLAYS. 125

the greatest forethought. It was his desire that the Katural His-
tory in ten centuries should follow the "Atlantis." We therefore
know that these engravings with the two pillars are due to him.

Bacon gives us, in the " New Atlantis/' a hint in the following
it may be as well to mark : — " You shall understand (that which
perhaps you will scarce think credible) that about Three thousand
years ago, or somewhat more, the Navigation of the World
(specially for remote voyages) was greater than at this day. Do
not think with yourselves, that I know not how much it
is increased with you within these threescore years, I know it
well ; and yet I say, greater than even now. Whether it was,
that the example of the Ark, that saved the remnants of Men
from the universal deluge, gave men confidence to adventure upon
the waters, or what it was, but such is the truth. The Fhosnicians
and specially the Tyrians had great fleets ; so had the Cartha-
ginians their colony which is yet further west : toward the East,
the Shipping of Egypt and of Palestina was likewise great ; China
also, and the Great Atlantis (that you call America) which have
now but junks and canoes, abounded then in tall ships.

" At that time this Land was known, and frequented by the
Ships and Vessels of all the Nations beforenamed, and (as it
cometh to pass) they had many times Men of other Countrys
that were no sailors, that came with them, as Persians, Chaldeans,
Arabians,^ &c.

This is a very important passage. In the first place, it appears
Bacon wrote the "Atlantis" (Spedding) in 1624. That is,
two years before his death, 1626. And we may therefore con-
sider it as his last work — a strange work every way, to issue from
his pen in his old age. Now, here is a strange parallel. Shake-
speare's last play is The Tempest. It presents us with a mythical
island, which we cannot locate, and Bacon's last work is to present
us also with a visionary island. Further, mark that in The Tenv-
pest, we have introduced the names of Dido and ^neas, and that
the King, Antonio, Sebastian, Gonzalo, speak of having been at
Carthage, at the marriage of Claribel to the King of Tunis {Car-

126 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

thage). Now, in the passage we extract, and give from Bacon's
"New Atlantis/' note what he tells us about the Phcsnicians,
Tyriansy and Carthaginians, inasmuch as he is plainly hinting, that
the extensive navigating, and voyaging spirit, of these people
carried with them, the Persian, Chaldean, and Arabian men, " who
were not sailors," — another way of telling us, that the profound
ancieot religions, occult and hermetic science, of Persia, Chaldsea,
and Arabia, found its way west through the Phoenician and Car-
thaginian ships, which we know to be the truth. But to what
land did they sail ? To this New Atlantis, or Land of the Rosi-
cruciansj for in the countries mentioned — Persia, Chaldea, and
Arabia — we have the sources of the three cults which are mostly
associated with what we know of the Rosicrucian doctrines.
Without John Heydon's narrative there is strong internal evidence
in the '* New Atlantis " to associate it with the Bosicrucians.

Miller writes : —

"Phoenicia, which in the time of Solomon, had risen into
great power and opulence by her commerce, comprehended but
a very narrow tract of land between Mount Libanus and the sea,
about one hundred and twenty mUes in length, and not more
than eighteen or twenty in breadth. The Phoenicians did not
aim at foreign conquest, for an acquisition of inland territory
would only have encumbered them ; and we have already seen
that Hiram refused the gift of several towns in the land of Galilee
offered him by Solomon. They extended their power and
dominion, by sending out colonies, who continued their con-
nexion with the parent state; and this tie was always held
inviolably sacred. Their short line of coast was rich in bays and
harbours, and adorned with lofty mountains, whose forests not
only supplied timber for building their ships, but provided an
important article of commerce ; the cedars of Lebanon being in
great request for adorning and beautifying magnificent edifices."
(" The Architecture of the Middle Ages.")

So that the Phoenicians, and Tyre as their protagonist, or
Mother colonising capital, form the centre, source, and vehicle from

IN THE PLAYS. 127

which, and by which, the most ancient Masonic lore, and Her-
metic gnosis found its way to Spain, Ireland, Britain, and it is
thus that the Druids and Celts came by their secret and mystic
cults, that have so struck observers in their obscure resemblances
to Eastern and earlier sources. Now we hold the theory that
Bacon's mind, not only projected forwards into the coming cen-
turies, but cast back also. Of which we have sufficient proof
elsewhere; and that a restoration or '^ handing on of the lamps
for posterity," went hand in hand with his inductive method,
and is part of it. We must therefore doubly examine the plays,
in order to find any references to these Phoenician sites, in touch
with Hiram, and Solomon, and examine them as to indications
of deeper Masonic origins, in touch with the Mysteries and
Gnostic centres of the Ancient World.

From a general review of the poet's art, very much may be
gathered by the profound student in a very short time, and we
propose to say a few words upon this subject First, let us
begin with the commencement of the poetic and creative career,
and we shall see that from the first, he takes myths, or locates
his protagonists of his early plays, at places, which are great
centres of Gnostic^ Hermetic^ or Masonic lore.

For example, the myth of Venus and Adonis is not only
Phoenician in its origin (and therefore an early Masonic centre),
but is Rosicrucian to its backbone, being the subject of their
emblem, a cross and Hose crucified.

Pericles, undoubtedly one of the earliest plays, is laid at Tyre,
Antioch, and chiefly Ephesus. Tyre is the most Masonic city
we can think of, since Hiram Abifif, Solomon's great architect,
was King of it, who plays such an important rdle in the degrees
of Master, and Mark Mason. As for Ephesus, the city of the
Great Diana, it was the centre and origin of all the Gnosis, and
all the Hermetic science, which has been preserved to us, being
the great highway between Europe and the East. It is this

128 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

way that the Persian fire worship of two opposing principles
came, and were embraced by Heraclitus, who dedicated his works
to the Ephesian Diana. We see these principles accepted by
Lord Bacon, as "Strife and Friendship/' reappearing in the
Sonnets, as Light and Darkness — the Rosicrucian philosophy of
two opposing principles.

Ephesus is the most important place introduced in the play of
Ferides. Thaim is finally introduced as high priestess to the God-
dess Diana, in her Temple, And we think that this alone, is a
pretty fair proof of the philosophic proclivities, at the commence-
ment (mark) of the poet author's career : —

*' Scene III. — The Temple of Dias a at Ephesus ; Thaisa standing near
the altar, as high priestess; a number of Virgins on each side;
Cerimon and other Inhabitants of Ephesus attending,

" Enter Pericles with his Train ; Ltsimachus, Helicantts, Marina,

and a Ladt.

*' Per, Hail, Dian ! to perform thy just command,
I here confess myself the king of Tyre ;
Who, frighted from my country, did wed
At Pentapolis the fair Thaisa."

Just think over it. Here we have Pericles as Prince of- Tyre !
Tyre, we repeat ? Why, Tyre was the city of Pythagoras, from
whom the Masonic Historians extract the earliest origins of their
symbols. And Hiram, also, the builder of the Temple— Ring of
Tyre ! And Ephesus, with its Temple, and the wife — the lost
wife (like Hermione), refound with the lost child (or Word 1), like
Perdita again, in the Temple of Ephesus. But this is not all.
We have, in this play, Cerimon introduced, who was the author
of a History of Egypt, and gives us some information upon the
Exodus, Moses, and Joseph. In the Two Noble Kinsmen, Ephesus
is again introduced with altar and priestess in exactly a similar
manner to the above. Here it is : —

''Still music of records. Enter Emilia in white, her hair
about her shoulders, and wearing a wheaten wreath; one in
white holding up her train, her hair stuck with flowers ; one

IN THE PLAYS. 129

before her carrying a silver hind, in which is conveyed incense
and sweet odoars, which, being set down uj^ the altar of Diana,
her maids stand aloof — she sets fire to it ; then they curtsey and
kneel."

Ephesus, by its position, was the great centre or transmitting
medium of Oriental ideas, which came that way into Europe from
the East with caravans, that not only carried merchandise, but
brought Buddhism from India, and the doctrines of the Zend
Avesta with them also. The play of Pericles is as purely a philo-
sophic, dramatized, personified, occult problem, dealing with
centres of secret, or forbidden doctrine, as it is possible to
imagine. At the very commencement of the play, we meet
with the paradox of the trinity. We may here again observe,
that the Bosicrucians, derived their doctrines chiefly from Persia,
Chaldsea, and Egypt; and that in finding an early play like
Pericles, revolving so largely round Ephesus and Diana, we have a
hint to take us to Persia. In writing of the Great Goddess
Mother or Nature (equally Diana of the Ephesians or Isis), Cory
remarks ; —

'* She is not only his consort, but his daughter, as the work of
his own hands and his mother, from whose womb he again
emerged as an infant to a second life." (Page xxxiv., Introduc-
tory Dissertation to his Fragments.)

We can see in the riddle with which the play of Pericles opens,
that the poet is trying his early hand on this paradox, and that
the paradox above enunciated is contained in the following, which
is a trinity riddle : —

THE KIDDLE.

" I am no viper, yet I feed
On mother's flesh which did me breed :
I sought a husband, in which labour,
I foand that kindness in a father.
He 's father, son, and husband mild,
I mother, wife, and yet Lis child.
How they may be, and yet in two,
As you will live, resolve it you."

I

130 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

In Pericles' solution of the riddle, we see the solution of
Theological Mysteries, and Divine Paradoxes, set forth by the
profound learning of the secret societies, and of the danger
of finding a rationalistic answer to the Church's Mysteries.
Pericles has to fly, and marries Thaisa, who is priestess of Diana
—a pretty plain way of hinting Pericles embraces doctrines
belonging to the shrine of the Great Goddess at Ephesu& But
before that point is reached, we have the scene of the Lists, in
which there is one truly Masonic emblem : —

*' Sim, "Who is the first that doth prefer himself 7
Thai, A knight of Sparta, my renowned father :
And the device he bears upon his shield
Is a black ^thiop reaching at the sun ;
The word, Lux tua vita miAt."

Masonry may be termed the science of Lux, or Light.

Rosalind as Diana.

Another early play of undoubted character, which cannot be
said in the same sense of Pericles (Dr Farmer thought the last
act, Shakespeare's), is Lovers Ldbout's Lost, This is one of the pro-
foundest and most difficult of all the plays to understand. In it
we have Eosalind, who is sometimes described by writers on this
play as "a negress of sparkling wit and beauty,'' but who is in
reality the Black Mistress of the Sonnets, and the Rosalind of
Chester's " Love's Martyr." In the latter work she is brought in
on the title page as " Eosalin's complaint metaphorically applied
to Nature " ; ^ that is a type and feature of Nature herselC But
the Great Goddess Mothers, who represented Nature, were, like
Diana of Ephesus, The Indian Bhavani, and the Isis or Virgin of
the World of Hermes Trismegistus — Black or Ethiopians. Why 1
Because they typified the primeval darkness, or matrix, out of

^ The one strikuig feature of this Chester's Love's Martyr, or Kosalin's
Complaint, is that Rosalin metaphorically represents entire Nature, as
** picture J** '* counterfeit,** and "rare peece of art,** Dr Groeart himself
acknowledges the identity of Rosalin with Nature. The importance of
this discovery can hardly be overrated.

IN THE FLA YS. 131

which everything was born. " For Darkness was upon the face
of the Deep/' says (Genesis. And out of this Darkness sprang
forth the Light. All the old Aryan Mythology revolves roand
this conflict of Light and Darkness, as Sir George Cox points out
so fidly in his ''Mythology of the Aryan Nations." But the
black colour of the Great Nature Goddesses is well known,
and to this day has its reproduction in some Black statues of
Madonnas. The Earth, is the Great Mother, with her under-
ground darkness — for it is out of this darkness, that the seed,
the spring, summer, and harvest come forth. So that this colour
is in perfect harmony with the subject, Nature from its female,
passive, and productive side only.

Now Rosalind in Love's Labour's Lost, is introduced with hints
that bespeak her as Diana of Ephesus. We know that the
statue of Diana was made of Ebony Wood from Yitruvius (some-
times of Cedar), and that she personified the earth as we have
stated, and that her opposite or male side (for all these great
goddesses were androgynous), represented Light or the Sun.
The priests of Diana were eunuchs, signifying the sexless charac-
ter of their goddess as ''Master-Mistress;" and if the student
will turn to Love's Labour's Lost, he will find the portrait there
given unmistakable.

First. — She is the Sun.

" Biron, O, but for my love, day would turn to night" ^
Secondly. — She is as black as ebony.

" £i7ig. By heaven, thy love is black as ebony,"

* ** Biron, Is ebony like her? wood divine !
A wife of such wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath ? where ia a book ?

That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack.
If that she learn not of her eye to look :
No face is fair, that is not full so black.
King, O paradox I Black is the badge of hell,

The hue of dungeons, and the scrowl of night :
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.
Biron, Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.*'

132 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

Thirdly. — She is the earth.

'* Ihimain, I never knew man hold vHe atuf so dear.
Long, Looky here's thy love, my foot and her face see.^

Fourthly. — She is related to the underworld through some
hideous and awful attribute.

" Biron, 111 prove her fair, or talk till doomsfiay here.
King, No devil mil fright thee then »o much as she.**

Now, how are we going to reconcile all these contradictions ?
We reply, that (Rosalind) Diana of Ephesus, as — ^light, — and
darkness — (inscribed upon her statue) — made of ebony wood,
the symbol of the black earth, was Mother of all things. The
hint that Shakespeare gives us in the ebony wood, and her black
colour, is quite sufficient to identify her. Now what does Mont-
aucon tell us of the statues of Artemis or Diana of Ephesus 1
" That they were black, or made of ebony wood" (V., p. 578,
\' vol. ii., Edit. IV., Creuzer's " Symbolik.")

''Tectum templi extabulis erat cedrinis, ejusdemque materise
Dianse statua ; alii vero teste Plinio dicebant statuam ex ebeno
esse." (UAntiquit^ Expliqu^, vol. li., p. 86. Bernard de
Montfaucon.)

Yitruvius maintains the statue of Diana was made of Cedar,

Now this doubtful testimony as to whether cedar or ebony were

the materials employed, seems to have found its reflection in J

Shakespeare.

** Enter Dumaim with a paper,

DuMAiN transfomi'd ! four woodcocks in a dish !
Dum, O most divine Kate !
Biron, O most profane coxcomb !
Dum, By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye !
Biron, By earth, she is not, corporal, there yon lie.
Dum, Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted.
Biron, An amber-coloured raven was well noted.
Dum, As upright as the cedar,
Biron, Stoop, I say :

Her shoulder is with child.
Dum, As fair as day.

Biron, Ay, as some days, but then no sun must shine.''

X

I

Hermes
Mercurius Trismecistus.

NATURE

Virgin of the World.

IN THE FLA KS. 133

It is no use the critics blanching,^ or pretending to overlook
these things, which are everywhere in the plays for those
who can recognise them. Again of Sosalind as the sun or
Lux : —

" A withered hermit, five-score winters worn
Might shake off fifty looking in her eye :
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-borriy
And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy,
! His the sun, that maketh all things shine ! "

Creuzer seems to think that everything about the Ephesian
Diana's statue and decoration, bespeak an Egyptian or Ethiopian
origin. And this we think ourselves. We find in the preface of
Chester's "Love Martyr or Rosalind's Complaint," a curious
comparison to an Ethiopian : —

" Honourable Sir, having, according to the directions of some
of my best minded friends, finished my long expected labour ;
knowing this ripe judging world to be full of envy, every one (as
sound reason requireth) thinking his own child to he fairest^ although
an ^thiojnan, 1 am enholdened to put my infant wit to the eye of
the world under your protection, knowing that if absurditie like
these have crept into any part of these poems, your well graced
name will overshadow these defaults, and the knowne character
of your virtues, cause the common back-biting enemies of good
spirits to be silent To the World I put my Child to nurse, at
the expense of your favour, whose glorie will stop the mouthes of
the vulgar, and I hope cause the learned to rocke it asleep (for
your sake) in the bosom of good Will} Thus wishing you all the
blessings of heaven and earth ; I end.

*' Yours in all service,

" Ro. Chester."

* See what Bacon says about ** blanching the obscure pktcts** and " dis^
coursing upon the plain ; " with regard to commentators and emenda-
tors of authors, bo that the most corrected editions are the worst.
Chapter viiL

' This good WiU seems a sly hint for Will Shakespeare.

134 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

We find this same comparison of jSthiope again in context

with the Rosalind of Lafo£% Labour'a Lost ^ —

'* Dumain, To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
Long, And since her time are colliers counted bright.
King, And Etkiopes of their sweet complexion crack.
Dumain, Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light"

In tlus Ethiopian Rosalind we have Mr Rider Haggard's

''She," although his prototype comes from another source in

Moore's Epicurean. Diana is also Ilythia, Latona (primsBval

night) — ^Nature, — ^for they all represent similar concepts.

CXXVII.

" In the old age black was not counted fair,
Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name ;
But now is black beauty's successive heir.
And beauty slauder'd with a bastard shame :
For since each hand hath put on nature's power,
Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face,
Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy hour.
But IB profan'd, if not lives in disgrace.
Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,
Her eyes so suited ; and they mourners seem
For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night."

The Comedy of Ephesvs, again, is partly laid at Ephesus. As

for the name of Diana, it is the Deus ex machind with which

the poet conjures. Take AlVs Well that Ends Welly where we

have the character of Diana, not because, as some shallow critic

would observe, the part played fits the name, but because Helena

and Diana are two names for the same thing, and the exchange of

rdle is the profound symbolism of the paradox of identity and

difference belonging to the principles of this art exemplified in

this play, as opposites and unity. Diana is the reconciler and

the enlightener.

Widow Dido,

In a passage quoted from The Tempest, we have the strange

bringing in of Dido as " Widow Dido."

" Hiram, the widov^s son,
Sent to King Solomon,
The Great Keystone ;

IN THE PLAYS. 13S

On it appears the name,
Which raises high the fame
Of all, to whom the same
Is truly known."

Now, in certaia ceremonies pertaining to certain Masonic
degrees, there is a substitution of the Candidate for Hiram, and
from this, no doubt, is the origin of the expression used sometimes
for Masons, " iht Widow's Sons. " Is there no key hidden in this,
or hint that may throw light upon " Widow Dido " in the pas-
sage quoted from The Tempest f Are there not extraordinary cere-
monies in Masonry — such as ihe " lost word," '^ Hiram's murder"
— ^that seems to have been invented with a purpose and end 9 De
Quincey maintains that Masons called themselves Sons of the
Widow because the Masonic expression, Sons of the Widow, has
the closest possible connection with the building of Solomon's
Temple. In the 1st Book of Kings, vii 13, are these words :
''And King Solomon sent and fetched Hiram of Tyre, a
widow's son of the tribe of Naphtali." Hiram, therefore, the
eldest Mason of whom anything is known, was a widow's son.
Hence, therefore, the Masons of the seventeenth century, who
were familiar with the Bible, styled themselves in memory of the
founder. Sans of the Widow ; and the Freemasons borrowed this
designation from them as they did the rest of their external
constitution. Moreover, the Masonic expression — Sons of the
Widow, has the closest connection with the building of Solomon's
Temple." (De Quincey's " Eosicrucians and Freemasons," 423,

voL xvi. Works.)

Line and Level.

In The Tempest we find Prospero directing Ariel to spread
some of his trumpery upon lines ouieide his cell : —

" Ste. Be you quiet^ monster. Mistress line, is not this my jerkin ?
Now is the jerkin under the line : now, jerkin, you are like to lose
your hair and prove a bald jerkin.

Trin. Do, do : we steal by line and level, an't like your grace.

Ste, 1 thauk thee for that jest ; here's a garment fbr*t : wit shall
not go unrewarded while I am king of this country. ' Steal by line
and level ' is an excellent pass of pate ; there's another garment for't."

136 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS

The '' level " is the symbol of equality in Masonry. It seems
to us that the "stale and trumpery" Prospero hangs upon the lines
outside his cell to catch Trinculo and Stephano, are profoundly
suggestive of the pursuit of mere ornament or externak in Nature
or Art, by a certain class of people.

" The world is still deceived hy ornament.** — Merchant of Venice.

Hiese words come from a play, and are in exquisite harmony with
a plot, whose teaching is, that the right life (or the next life) can
only be won, by utter disregard for mere ornament or external
Upon the selection of Portia's picture, or the choice of the caskets,
hinges and depends Bassanio's happiness. It is not gold, nor
silver, but dull lead, which contains the reward. Heavens, what
a moral 1 What depth, thus to place the reward of all that is
above, by all that is below, under our feet — Death I For there
can be no mistaking the poet's intention in the " meagre lead,"
which rather threatens than dost promise aught to present us
with death ;^ so true it is in life (as in Masonry), that to gain
heaven, man must risk death — " give and hazard all he hath," —
so shall we win or perish. The poet who wrote this was as
profound as the universe, and those who are caught like Stephano
and Trinculo, by the ornament of his art, superficially hung out-
side the lines of the plays, may think themselves lords of the
island, but are very far from it indeed. The Shakespeare com-
mentators and text emendators have stolen by line and level —
that is, brought down a Grod to their own level

Nothing could be more Masonic than the play of The Merchant
of Venice^ with its tale of the three caskets, with Portia's light or
candle burning in her hall, with its faith and brotherly love of
Antonio for Bassanio, whom he helps in difficulty with his purse,
and with that profound hint of the leaden casket, which is as it
were at the very bottom of the poet's art itself. For in this one

^ *' Bat thoa, thou meagre lead.
Which rather threat'nest than dost promise aught,
Thy paleness moves mo more than eloqaenoe,
And here choose I, joy be the consequence ! "

IN THE PLAYS, 137

point we have the symbol of all the Mysteries, comprised in an
allegorical death, in order that the candidate may be reborn to a
better life, with its greater light and judgment.

The Eagle as Type of St John,

Bacon writes of the eagle and St John : —

"St John, an Apostle of our Saviour, and the Beloved
Disciple, lived ninety-three years. He was rightly denoted
under the emblem of the eagle, for his piercing sight into the
Divinity; and was a Seraph among the Apostles in respect of
his burning Love." (** History of Life and Death," 17, 18.)

Compare : —

*' From this session interdict,
Every fowl of tyrant wing
Save the eagle feather'd king, ^
Keepe the obsequy so strict.

" Let the Priest in Surplice whitCy
That defnnctive music can,
Be the death divining Swan,
Lest the requiem lack his right."

— Phoenix and Turtle.

Those who know that the Templars (who are so closely con-
nected with Rosicrucianism, and Freemasonry), were followers or
Knights of St John 2 (as also in the case of the Knights of
Malta, and of St Cross, near Winchester), and remember the
^* surplice white^* of Masoiiry, will appreciate the significance of
the two parallels, and what it signifies. Here is a hint from the
poems : —

^ " A thousand times the unworthy may clamour, a thousand times may
present themselves, yet God hath commanded our ears that they should
hear none of them, and hath so compassed us about with His clouds that
unto us, His servants, no violence can be done ; wherefore now no longer
are we beheld by human eyes, unless they have received strength borrowed
from the eagle." — " Hosicrucian Confession."

^ The Order of St John is recognised as the most ancient system of
Freemasonry ever known, and for that reason ought to be esteemed as the
only true and primitive rite.

138 HERMETIC AND MASONIC ORIGINS.

CVI.

" When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of ladies dead^ and lovely knights^

Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have express'd
Even such a beauty as you master now.''

What is this if it is not a hint to take us to King Arthur's
Knights of the Bound Table, or to the Templars who succeeded
them) In Chester's "Love's Martyr" we have a curious history
of King Arthnr, and Bosicrucianism revolves round all these.
Oliver writes : " * It is believed in Germany,' the Skipper inter-
posed, 'that Freemasonry originated from this sect (the Rosi-
crucians). The Baron de Gleichen says, that the Masons were
united with the Bose Croix in England under King Arthur. I
suppose he considers the Knights of the Bound Table to have
been Masons.' " (265, '* Discrepancies of Masons.")

" The Templars are the successors of the Knights of the Bound
Table." (Hargrave Jenning's " Bosicrucians," vol. ii. p. 227). —
" La Table ronde du roi Arthus, d^gag^e de la c6l6brit6 fabuleuse
qui I'entoure, 6tait un chapitre de chevaliers Bose-Croiz." (La
Ma9onnerie, 317, 1820.)

CHAPTER VII.

THE WINTER'S TALE.

*' The fixture of her eye has luotion in%

Aa wt art moek'd wUh art."

-—Winter's Tale.

** Let this interim Uke the oceaii be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new
Come daily to the hanks, that, when they see
Return of love, more blest may be the view ;
Or ecUl U winter, which being full of care.
Makes summer welcome thrice more wished, more rare.

— Sonnets.

What is the connection between the title of this play and its
subject-matter ) How is it we find in this play of The Winter's
Tale the story of DemSter and her lost child Persephone, not only
in this particular point of loss and recovery, but embracing the
separation and reconciliation that belonged to her worship at the
Eleusinian festival 1 If the myth of Dem^ter or Ceres is incor-
porated, under a slightly disguised form, as the central plot of The
Winter^s Tale, then we have conclusive proof that the poet's art
has a spiritual side, and promise of rebirth, because this myth
was the ancient emblem for revelation and immortality. Kay,
more, we shall have proof that this art is a vehicle for the
mysteries, and that here it touches hands mysteriously with
the oral transmission of Freemasonry. In every book upon the
history of the craft, we find ourselves taken back to these Eleu-
sinian Mysteries, and it will indeed be a significant hint for
Masons to ponder over, that the same great mind that wrote the
" New Atlantis," and founded modem Freemasonry, should be
found embodying in his art the antiquities to which they trace

J40 THE WINTER'S TALE.

their symbols and their history. Bacon writes of his two
methods : one is what he terms his orci transmission ; the other,
anticipation of the mind. It would be curioas if we some day
find these two methods answering and explaining each oiher.
Bat, meanwhile, let us examine this play by the light of oar
theory.

In Tht Wifdei^s Tale we find the prominent feature of the play
to turn upon the separation of Leontes and Hermione, which is
accompanied with the throwing out or loss of Perdita. The
play leads or opens up to this point. Then, as upon the turning-
point of a centre, it descends again to bring about the reconcilia-
tion and harmony of husband and wife, which go hand in hand
with the finding or restoration of Perdita. It is the tatter's
loss and rediscovery, which is really so strikingly made to fit in
with the separation and reconciliation. The finding of Perdita
is one of the conditions of the oracle ; and if the student reflects
upon the play, he will come to the conclusion that the coming to
life of Hermione, of her descent from her pedestal, depends upon
the restoration of Perdita. In the presentation of Hermione,
as a statue awaiting the return of her own child, we have un-
doubtedly — most unquestionably (in spite of all the world's con-
trary criticism even) — a portrait not only of the poet's own art,
but of ^Nature in Winter, and of the Demeter and Persephone
myth, commonly known as the wanderings of Ceres in search of
her lost daughter. It may be disguised, altered, and beautified
in the play, but it is there, "those holy arUigye^ hours" of true

^ *' But makes antiquity for aye his jHige ;

Finding the first conceit of love there bred,

Where time and outward form would show it dead.*'

— Sonnet cvilL
Again —

'* In him those ?ioly antique Jtoura are seen.

Without all ornament, itself, and true,

Making no summer of another's green,

Robbing no old to dress his beauty new ;

And him as for a map doth Nature store,

To show false Art what beauty was of yore."

— Sonnei Ixviii

THE WINTER'S TALE, 141

art— Nature's art, where " antiquity has been made for aye his
page/' and with which he has gone, as he declares "usque ad
aras.** Therefore it is most important for us to examine the
evidence upon which we base our theory. And first, as to the
myth.

The story of Ceres and Proserpine (their Latin names) is uni-
versally admitted to represent a beautiful allegory of the changing
year. It is a personified tale of the earth life, and thus is a
Winter and Summer story. For the loss of Proserpine and her
restoration is but the history of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and
Winter, through which the earth life waxes and wanes as proto-
types of life and death. Summer being ushered in by the Spring,
and being lost in Autumn, was personified by a beautiful maiden
associated always with flowers. She remains six months with
her mother the earth, and then she is carried away by Dis or
Pluto to the underworld where she remains during Winter. She
is in reality the earth life or Spirit, that brings new life to sleep-
ing Nature — her mother. With her advent everything puts on
the glory and vitality of awakened Spring. With her loss the
earth (her mother), falls into the icy image of death, or sleep — as
Winter. The thoughtful reader will at once see, what a splendid
allegoiy this is for an art affecting to imitate Nature, and present
posterity with a rebirth or revelation. Because there is in this
personified allegory of mother and lost child, just that falling
asleep of Nature, which is as death to life, when compared with
the reawakened glory of the restored life and spirit, which would
be the spirit of interpretation as rebirth. Such an allegory not
only holds out a picture of Nature, but as self-reflecting ^ suggests
that the art borrowing the story is presenting us a hint of its
own profound character.

We now have to show that whenever the poet introduces Ceres,

* Compare Sonnet 24 upon this self -reflecting revelation or rebirth.
Also —

*' To give away yourself, keeps yourself still ;
And you must live, draum by your oum aweei skUL"

— Sonnet xvi.

142 THE WINTERS TALE.

he thinks of Proserpiney and introdaces her also, as is shown in
the following passage from The Temped : —

^ Ceres, Tell me, heavenly bow.

If Venus or her son, as thou dost know,
Do now attend the queen 1 Since they did plot
The means that dusky Dis my daughter got.
Her and her blind boy's scandl'd company
I have forsworn."

This is evident proof (if it were needed) to show that the rape
of Proserpine (daughter of Ceres) by Dis, or Pluto, was not only
known to the poet, but is introduced here curiously in company
with Ceres. Now, directly we turn to Perdiia in The JFintei^s
Tale, where she plays the part of (mark it) a lost child (like Pro-
serpine), we find her not only identified with the spring and
flowers, but invoking her prototype Proserpine whom she so
significantly resembles ! Not only is Perdita introduced in the
4th scene of Act IV., as a kind of Flora, but extraordinary
emphasis is given to her speeches, in which she treats of the
seasons of Winter and Summer. If the poet were presenting us
Proserpine herself (whom we know represented allegorically the
Spring), with her new spirit and life, how could he make it more
evident 1 Florizel says of Perdita : —

" These your unusual weeds to each part of you
Do give a life : no shepherdess, but Flora
Peering in April's front."

Note the expression, ''unusual weeds" — for flowers are the
" unusual weeds " that " do give life " to Winter in the Spring 1
She is identified with '' Flora peering in April's front" 1 What^
indeed, is this if it is not Spring itself? and mark the expression,
* do give a life I ' What gives lifel We reply, ^Spirit * only. And
it is as Spirit that Lord Bacon interprets the story of Proserpine
in his "Wisdom of the Ancients," published 1609 — the same
year as this play we are treating of appeared, viz., The WinUffs
Tale, 1609 ! Bacon says :—
" By Proserpina is meant that ethereal Spirit which, being

THE WINTERS TALE. 143

separated from the upper globe, is shut up and detained under
the earth represented by Pluto." Again — " Concerning the six
months' custom (the refinding of Ceres and her rape), it is no other
than an elegant description of the division of the year, 0^ difirii
mixed tcith the earth appears above ground in vegetaile bodies during
the summer months, and in the winter sinks down again."
(" Wisdom of the Ancients," Works, Montagua)

The italics belong to us. We are quite satisfied in holding to
Bacon's interpretation, which in the abstract is life returning to
the apparently dead earth — rebirth — the revelation— of Nature's
immortality — by a return of the Spirit. The separation of the
Spirit from the body is therefore Death, or apparent death. For
such is the condition of Nature during Winter apparent Death.
Now let us note that the poet, in repeatedly making Perdita
allude to Winter and Summer, gives us evidence that he is pre-
senting us with a representative Proserpine of his own, under
the alias of Perdita. First she is compared to a goddess —

** Flarizel. This your Sbeep-shearing

Is as a meeting of the petty gods,
And you the queen on **."

We know that Proserpine was Queen of the Underworld —

" Perdita. And me, poor lowly maid,

Most goddess-like, prank'd up."

That the poet is thinking of the gods is most evident from the
following passage : —

" Flo. Apprehend

Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves,
Humbling their deities to love, have taken
The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter,
Became a bull, and beliow'd ; the green Neptune
A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-robed god^
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain.
As I seem novoP

It indeed seems as if Florizel were but a disguise for Apollo
himself, the sun which awakes the spring. Now let us give the

144 THE WINTERS TALE.

flower scenes^ so well known and so beautiful, where Perdita
presents flowers to suit all her guests : —

" Perdita. Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. Reverend sirs,
For you there 's rosemary and rue ; these keep
Seeming and savour all the winter long.

PoL Shepherdess, —

A fair one are you — well you fit our ages
With flowers of winter.

Perdita, Sir, the year growing ancient,

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers of the season
Are our carnations and streakVl gillyvors,
Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind
Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not
To get slips of them.

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden,

Do you neglect them ?

Perdita. For I have heard it said

There is an art which in their piedness shares
With great creating nature.''

We pause here to point out that if the earth itself were
pictured presenting flowers of all seasons, it would be this lovely
picture of Perdita that would suggest itself. We see that the
poet especially dwells upon Winter and Summer, and their respec-
tive flowers in this scene. And once more we call attention to
tlie parallel — for the myth of Ceres and Proserpine is a Winter
and Summer story. We go so far as to say that it can hardly be
considered an impropriety to call the wanderings of Ceres iu
search of her lost daughter by the same title as this play, viz. :
A Wintei^s Tale. For what is this myth but the apparently dead
personified earth in winter seeking for its immortal spirit or life,
the lost child — rebirth in the Spring ! Let it be remarked that
Perdita is allied with the Spring and Summer, not only as type
of her own vernal beauty, but in a marked way which emphasizes
the glory of full Midsummer. And be it here noted that Proser-
pine is often termed the Summer child of Ceres.

For the present we leave the pregnant passage whereby
Polixenes identifies Nature with Art, and Art with Nature, aside.

THE WINTEI^S TALE, 143

Because though full of signification for our purpose, at present it
only detracts from our main issue. And now we quote Perdita's
speech upon her prototjrpe Proserpine : —

" Perdita, O ProserpiDa !

For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall

From Dis's waggon ! daffodils,

That come before the swallow dares, and take

The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim

But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes.

Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses.

That die unmarried, ere they can behold

Bright Phoebus in his strength — a malady

Most incident to maids ; bold oxlips and

The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds.

The flower-de-luce being one ! "

The flower-de-luce is the fleur-de-lis, a Hosicrucian emblem.
Let us not overlook this pregnant passage. It shows us unmis-
takably by its length and invocation to Proserpine that the poet
is full of thought upon this myth. Every flower he mentions is
a Spring Flower, and therefore in the most perfect harmony with
the address to the goddess who was the personification of Spring
— Proserpine.

We thus see that there is much in this scene to show that the

poet always has the picture of Proserpine in his mind's eye ! At

the point where she returns to her father, and brings life to her

mother, the king exclaims —

** Welcome hither
As is the spring to the earth,**

But the really striking parallel to the myth is that in
the final presentation of Hermione as a statue. We have the
following from Themistius, who tells us, writing in the fourth
century of the Christian era (illustrating his father's exposition of
Philosophy), **the priest throwing open the propylsa of the
Temple at Eleusis, whereupon the statue of the goddess under a
burst of light appeared in full splendour, and the gloom and
darkness in which the spectators have been were dispelled."
(Christie's Disquisitions, 59.)

K

146 THE WINTERS TALE.

For the unclassical reader to understand fully this passage,
and the extraordinary parallel of circumstance, we must
explain that Ceres was the goddess whose statue was thus
shown (in Greek, DemSter). She it was who not only repre-
sented the earth, but, like Hermione, had a daughter who (like
Perdita) was lost. The entire myth, which was the central
doctrine of the Eleusinian Mysteries, was this myth of the
sleeping earth — awaiting the return of its lost Spring child to
restore it to life again. It was the history of the year, dra-
matised and personified to illustrate the immortality of Nature,
and the immortality of the soul. Indeed it is round the altars
of this Dem^ter and of Dionysos (Ceres and Bacchus) that the
drama took its origin. And the protagonists of this drama were
a mother and a lost child, in the same sense of separation
and final reconciliation, that we see reproduced in The fFitUet's
Tale. It is for us now to examine any further facts in the play,
that can reinforce the resemblance. And, first of all, here is one.
Hermione is a name the poet invents and did not borrow, inas-
much as in the original from which The fFinter's Tale is taken,
the original of Hermione is called Bellaria. Bellaria dies in the
middle of Greene's story (" Pandosto, or the triumph of Time,''
1588). Nothing of the original is preserved. The introduction of
the statue is also original, and, most of all, this name Hermione.
Now Hermione was a city on the coast of Argolis, where Ceres
had a famous temple. Aelianus calls the feasts or banquets at
Hermione %^ov/c« ioprfj. And we also know that at Syracuse a
Dem^ter and Kore were honoured under the name of Hermione.
(Heysch., p. 1439.)

But we have another striking parallel to point out. The story
of the rape of Proserpine belongs to Sicily, for it was whilst
Proserpine was gathering flowers upon the plains of Enna, in
Sicily, that Pluto surprised her and carried her off below. We
thus see that there is an important local connection obtaining
between the play and the classical fable we are illustrating.

We must now ask ourselves the question, whether in the selec-

THE WINTERS TALE. i47

tion and inveution of names for his drarnatis persona, the poet has
been guided by rationalism or pure fancy ? It has always seemed
to us one of the characteristics of the profundity of the plays,
that the names are so often found to be in exquisite harmony, with
the parts which they respectively take in the plays.

For example, this name of Perdita is connected uith her loss.
Similarly, Marina, in the play of Fericles, is named after her birth
at sea.

** Pericles, My gentle babe, Marina, whom.

For she was bom at sea, I have named so,"

" Ant, And, for the babe

Is counted lost for ever, Perdita,
I prithee call *t,"

Take the name Autolycus ; we find the poet consciously select-
ing it, with the full knowledge, that the Autolycus of mythology
was a son of Mercury, and a cunning thief : —

" Autolycus, My father named me Autolycus, who being, as I am
littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles,^

Or examine the name of Posthumous in Cymbeline, and we see
that it is in harmony with the facts of his birth. We find there-
fore that there is no haphazard choice of names, but that the
poet likes to connect the names of his characters with something
relating to the part they play. Therefore we are justified in the
conclusion, that a careful examination of the source, connection,
and history of the names which he has himself invented, may lead
to very valuable discoveries. This connection obtaining between
name and rdle, is proof of a spiritual and rationalistic side to the
poet's art. In The Tempest,^ again, we find the name of Miranda
consciously chosen, and adapted for some spiritual revelation.
Ferdinand, on beholding Miranda, exclaims —

" O you wonder /
If you be maid or no ?
Mir. No wonder, sir ;

But certainly a maid."

148 THE WINTER'S TALE.

We see at once that Miranda (which is Latin for " wonderful
things '') is no chance name, but carefully and consciously selected
by the poet.

Or take the name of Borachio in Much Ado About Nothing, It
means a drunkard, (" From the Spanish " harachoe " or " borracho"
a bottle made of pig's skin, with the hair inside, dressed with resin
and pitch to keep the wine sweet." — Minshew.) The proof that
the author of the play knew the meaning of the word, and intro-
duced it on that account, is shown in the way Borachio plays upon
his own name —

" I will like a true drunkard (Borachio) utter all to thee." — (iii. 5).

Here is evidence that the writer was acquainted with Spanish.

Upon a further examination of the name Hermione, we find
that it is strangely connected with Harmonia, and with Dem^ter.
And it is indeed a curious fact that one of the great doctrines
taught at Eleusis round the statue of Demeter (Ceres) was the

SEPARATION OF MATTER AND SPIRIT, AND THEIR RECONCIUATION.

The entire play of The Winter's Tale turns upon separation and
final reconciliation. This is the subject-matter of the play, dis-
cord and separation, to be followed by reconciliation and heavenly
harmony. Let it be noted that Perdita's exposure, loss, and
rediscovery go hand in hand, with the separation of Leontes from
his wife, and their final reunion. The rediscovery of Perdita, in
which she is likened to the Spring, is closely followed by the
discovery of the statue of Hermione, and her return to life. It is
as if the lost Perdita were the instrument bringing new life to her
mother ! In the classical myth it is Proserpine who brings new
life to the apparently sleeping or dead earth. Mark that Her-
mione is not really dead, but is pictured as a statue, devoid of life,
awaiting interpretation, revelation, rebirth, or rediscovery, to be
dead Art no longer, nor winter, but the year come full circle. We
apply the epithet Art to Hermione as a statue. And we do so
advisedly, inasmuch as in this play the poet has identified Art
with Nature and Nature with Art. That is to say that this play

THE WINTER'S TALE. 149

may (from our point of view, or by the light of our theory) apply
indifferently to the poet's particular Art, as an exquisite portrait
of the Eevelation and Rebirth which he has planned, pictured,
and reflected in " philosophical play systems j " or it may apply to
Nature generally. It was indeed a wise precaution of the poet
to identify Nature with Art and Art with Nature, in a play which
itself was reflecting, in its spiritual life, both at once ! The whole
of the Platonic philosophy is the identification of Nature with Art
—God being the Divine Artist, the Divine Poet, — or Maker, —
Creator. Nicetas (or Psellus), in his commentaries (in Gregor. Or
xliL 1731, D.), says, "Si Orpheo credimus et Flatonicis et Lycio
philosopho — Naiura dei ars qucedam est " (960 Aglaophamus.
Lobeck). Indeed, the poet is perfectly conscious that Hermione,
as a statue seemingly dead, yet alive, awaiting rebirth, is a
splendid and astounding image of his unrevealed Art.

" The fixture of her eye hath motion in%
As we are mock'd with art^

And then follows that solemn music, which is so mysteriously and
strikingly brought in at moments like these, and which suggests
a real lost chord which we must find.

Uermvme.

Harmonia, or Harmony, Hermione, was the daughter of Mars
and Venus, Mars and Venus is another expression for War and
Love, or Strife and Friendship. Creuzer writes that Mars and
Venus were always to be found placed together in the Temples of
Antiquity : ^ — " Mars and Venus begot or brought forth Harmonia
(or Hermione), which is, that strife with friendship brought forth
the Jiarmony or order of the universe. These are the well-known
principles of Empedocles and Heraclitus out of the Orphic The-

^ " Die alte Bildnerei stellte Mars und Venos in Tempeln immer
zusammen. Mars und Venas erzeugen die Harmonia, d. L der strtit mit
der Einigung gegattet bringt die Weltordnung hervor. Das sind die
bekannten satze des Empedocles and Heraclitus aus der Orpbischen Theo-
logie, Ton denen aus sie in die spiitesten philosophenschulen sich fort-
pBanzten." (Vol. iii. 41, 3rd edit. Symbolik.)

ISO THE WINTER'S TALE.

ology, from which they developed and transferred themselves to

the latest philosophical schools'' (vol. iii. p. 21, " Symbolik ").

{yide "Die Briefe uber Horn. u. Hes." p. 169); (ride " Plut^e-

Isid.," p. 370) j (" Heraclides Alleg. Horn.," p. 206, Schow) ;

("Proclus in Plat. Tim.," p. 147); (" Eustath ad Odyess," viii.

266 sqq,^ p. 310) ; (compare " Empedocles Fragmn.," v. 203, «^j.

p. 522, ed. Sturz, note, page 598); (Juliani, Orat. iv., 150 B.,

Spanh.).

Now it is very important, that in bringing forward our

argument, we should show that in Chester's '* Love's Martyr "

we find a direct allusion to this phUosophy, and its protagonists,

Mars and Venus : —

*' Upon a day I thought to scale a Fort,
United with a tower of sure defence ;
Uncomfortable thres (tic) did marre my sport,
Unlucky Fortune with my woes expense,
Venus with Man would not sweet war commence ;
Upon an altar would I offer Love,
And sacrifice my soule's poore Turtle-Dove."

— Chester's " Love*s Martyr."

Now here is some curious evidence afforded us, which we may
review in the following order : — Bacon declares, " Strife and
Friendship in Nature are the spurs of motions and the
KEYS OF WORKS.** In another place he connotes these doctrines
with the names of Empedocles and Heraclitus. So that, as we
have seen in our quotation from Creuzer, these are the philo-
sophical principles which, as " Love and Warfare " — (Venus and
Mars) — ^gave birth to Hermione or Harmonia ; in short, the law
and harmony of the orderly universe. Again, it is very clear
that the subject-matter of Chester's "Love's Martyr," round
which the poems mysteriously circle, is connected, not only with
" a rare piece of art" challenging comparison with Homer, but is
connected with these classical principles of ** Strife and Friend-
ship," which sprang from Ephesus, and are the origins of the
Platonic philosophy. Not only this, but we find in a play attri-
buted to Shakespeare (or to the author of the plays that bear his

THE WINTERS TALE, 151

name), a most direct reference and introduction of the pro-
tagonists of these philosophical principles. In the Trco Ndbh
Kinsmen^ we find a scene laid before the altars of Mars and Venus.
Mr Brown tells us -that '' the marriage of Cadmus with Har-
monia (or Hermione), is the union of Thought with the orderly
Material World/' Hermione, we find, was a daughter of Venus
and Mars, or of Love and War, which Bacon terms Friendship
and Strife ! It is these two principles which we recognize running
throughout entire Kature as Gravitation and Bepulsion, centri-
petal and centrifugal— heavy and light, dense and rare, &c It
was these principles which were taught at Eleusis in connection
with Ceres or Dem^ter, as Creuzer has already told us. So that
in these principles of antitheta or opposites, we have the philo-
sophical system of the Mysteries presented to us, as the conflict
.of the du.alism in Nature. The parentage of Hermione carries
with it the conviction that she is only a name to represent the
harmony which is the result of these two principles of Love and
Hate, or Warfara That Shakespeare has Harmonia in his mind
is plain, not only by the music or harmony associated with her
discovery, and restoration to her lost child and husband, but by
the profound hint he gives in the following line : —

" The mantle of Qaeen Hermione, her jewel about the neck of it.**

At the marriage of Hermione to Cadmus, she received as
present a splendid necklace which had been made by Vulcan.
Now, we know that at a town called Hermione, there was a
temple celebrated to Ceres or Demeler. So that there is a com-
pletely established connection in classical history to very closely
identify Hermione with Ceres herself. And this is particularly
apparent in the fact, that the " eternal war of Eleusis " was the
doctrine of the conflict of spirit and matter, or of two opposed
principles, which we see gave birth to Hermione. Mr Brown
writes of Cadmus, " Harmonia, his bride, is a Phoenician personage
with an Hellenik name. The meaning of the translation must,
then, be first obtained. From harma * together ' is derived haiTnos
* any means of joining things,' as a joint or clasp. Hence it is

//

IS 2 THE WINTERS TALE,

used of immaterial clasps as covenants, leagues, laws ; and these
strongly conveying the idea of orderly arrangement, it becomes
connected with proportion, e.^., due proportion in architedure,
sound, or character. Hence it is more specially applied to
cadence and modulation, and so the full meaning of the word is,
That-which-is-fitted-together-in-due-proportion, But in a Phoe-
nician and Kosmogonical connection that which is fitted together
in due proportion is the Kosmos itself. Harmonia, then, repre-
sents the orderly material Kosmos, and so we find her in the
myth as wearing a starry robe. Bunsen observes, ' The wife of
Cadmus, Harmonia dressed in a robe studded with stars, and
wearing a necklace representing the universe — has a palpably
cosmogonical meaning.*" ("Egypt's Place," iv. 231; Brown's
"Great Dionysiak Myth.," ii. 237.)

Perdita, the sleeping beauty in the wood, — briar-rose, sleeps
for hundreds of years until Prince Florizel comes with his glad-
dening rays to wake her from her trance-like sleep. In this case
Perdita is but the awakening of her mother, the earth, from the
deep sleep of winter to the glory of, and life of the spring and
summer. Wilder remarks (in his Introduction to the " Bacchic
and Eleusinian Mysteries of Taylor ") : —

" The veriest dreams of life, pertaining as they do to the minor
mystery of death, have in them more than external fact can
explain or reach j and Myth, however much she is proved to be
a child of earth, is also received among men as the child of
heaven. The Cinder- Wench of the Ashes will become the
Cinderella of the Palace, and be wedded to the King's son."

The reader remembers, perhaps, having read before of Prince
Florizel in some German fairy stories. The union of the wildest
dreams of the imagination with reality, is true miracle. It is the
transformation of the ideal into the real, and if this play deals with
reality, we may understand, perhaps, why Shakespeare has intro-
duced this King's son, and made Perdita a princess brought up in
a sheep cot. Every incident of this play is, perhaps, the union
of reality under the guise of poetry with the ideal, to teach a
lesson that poetry is divine, and is indeed the only real.

THE WINTERS TALE. 153

If we hark back, and contemplate the title of the original from
which the author borrowed, the title will be found allied with
Time.

PANDOSTO,

OR THE

TRIUMPH OF TIME.

We would here insert Sir George Cox's remark about the
story of the " House in the Wood " : —

" The return of Persephone is strangely set forth in the story
of the ' House in the Wood,' which in other stories is the house,
or case of ice, in which the seemingly dead princess is laid ; the
ice at the return of spring. The sides crack, ' the doors were
slammed back against the walls ; the beams groaned as if they
were being riven away from their fastenings \ the stairs fell
down, and at last it seemed as if the whole roof fell in.' On
waking from her sleep the maiden finds herself in a splendid
palace, surrounded by regal luxuries. The maiden has returned
from the dreary abode of Hades to the green couch of the life-
giving mother."

In the tale of '* Cinderella," we have another embodied myth
of death and rebirth, of Summer and Winter. The very name,
Cinderella, — "the cinder-wench of the ashes," — (as A. Wilder
observes), points to close connection u^/& earth and with deaths and
thus with resurrection. We cannot refrain from quoting the
poet's final words, attached to the threne, or death-lamentation,
of the poem of the Fhcmix and Turtle : —

" Beauty, truth, and rarity,
Grace in all simplicity.
Here enclosed in Cinders lie."

Let the parallel be marked. Florizel is a King's Son^ and
he marries the Cinderella of the sheepcote, Perdita, who (like
Cinderella) turns out to be a Princess in disguise, and with whose
rediscovery, reconciliation and new life are given to her mother
— (the earth), — and probably (if all were discovered) a spiritual
new life or rebirth to the poet's entire art also, — of which

154 THE WINTERS TALE,

Hermione (as a statue), aXiv^ but seemingly dead^ is a singular
and exquisite portrait.

Writing of Guzra Bai, the heroine of the story of " Truth's
Triumph," Sir George Cox says (" Mythology of the Axyans ") —

"This beautiful maiden is the Flower Girl, or the Gardener's
daughter, in other words, the child of D^m^t^r playing on the
flowery plain of Nysa or Enna, — the teeming source of life as dis-
tinguished from the dead or inert matter on which it works."

But this is exactly what Perdita is in The Winter's Tale — a
Flower girl — and not only a Flower girl, but the Cinderella of our
childhood, who is always a Princess in disguise, awaiting dis-
covery. " All writers, both ancient and modem, have united in
setting Truth before us under the image of a virgin, described as
a Ring's daughter, and thus called a Princess, always described
as a surpassing beauty " (" Remarks on Shakespeare's Sonnets,"
E. A. Hitchcock). Prince Florizel is the Prince of Fairy
Tales, who comes to wake the sleeping beauty in the wood,
Briar-Eose, after her sleep of hundreds of years. I suppose so
great an authority as Sir George Cox will be entitled to some
weight in this matter. Let the student take up his '' Mythology
of the Aryans," and he will find the author distinctly tracing and
identifying the Cinderella story with the Persephone legend, as
both derived from the resurrectionary powers of Nature, typified
in the return of Spring and Summer after Winter. It is this
Phoenix-like power which is the real secret of the plays hitherto
considered Shakespeare's.

Although the evidence of a monumental inscription is not of
much weight, we read at Stratford that with Shakespeare "Quick
Nature died," ^ which, to our minds, is a very profound reference

* Compare :—

" Why should he live now nature hatihrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood to blnsh through lively veinB ?
For she hath no exchequer now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.
O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had,
In days long since, before these last so bad."

—Sonnet Ixvii.

THE WINTERS TALE. 155

to the entire art of the poet, as perfect copy of Natare wUhin and
toiihoui — that is, a complete system of life and death, summer and
winter, awaiting rehirth — the spring of its spiritual signification,
to give it new life with the light of profoundest inquiry. Do
we seriously mean to imply that this magnificent Art is relatively
unrevealed 1 Our reply is in the words of Leonard Digges'
prophecy —

" Shakespeare, at length thy pious fellowes give
The world thy Workes : thy Workes, by which, out-hve
Thy Tombe, thy name must : when that stone is rent.
And Time dissolves thy Stratford Monument,
Here we alive shall view thee still. This Book,
When Brass and Marble fade, shall make thee look
Fresh to all Ages : when Posteritie
Shall loath what's new, thinke all is prodegie
That is not Shakespeares ; ev'ry Line, each Verse
Here shall revive, redeem thee from thy Hearse."

CHAPTER VIII.

BACON AND ANTIQUITY.

** Crescit occulto yelat Arbor sevo
Fams Baconi." — Manes VenUaminianL

Bacon writes : —

''Now if any one of ripe age, unimpaired senses, and well-
purged mind, apply himself anew to experience and particulars,
better hopes may be entertained of that man. In which point
I promise to myself a like fortune to that of Alexander the
Great; and let no man tax me with vanity till he have heard the
end ; for the thing which I mean tends to the putting off of all vanity.
For of Alexander and his deeds ^schinus spake thus: 'As-
suredly we do not live the life of mortal men ; but to this end
were we bom, that in after ages wonders might be told of us;' as if
what Alexander had done seemed to him miraculous. But in the
next age Titus Livius took a better and a deeper view of the
matter, saying in effect, that Alexander ' had done no more than
take courage to despise vain apprehensions.' And a like judg-
ment I suppose may be passed on myself in future ages : that I
did no great things, but simply made less account of things that
were accounted great."

What is this " putting oflf of all vanity " of Bacon's ? Is he
thinking of his renunciation and self-sacrifice as to the authorship
of the plays ? And what wonders are these that are to be told
of him in after ages ? Surely nobody who knows anything of
Bacon's solid judgment and sober mind, can for an instant believe
that Bacon is only thinking of his inductive method ) The lan-
guage is extraordinary, because nobody knew better than Bacon
that his system, or instrument of scientific discovery, might be

BA CON AND A NTIQ UITY. 157

termed great, but that it would speedily be forgotten by the
generations who would make use of it, just as we cease to think
of the inventor of a tool that we constantly use. No wonders to
after ages can by any stretch of imagination be associated with it.
Every day brings forth, it is true, the wonders of modem dis-
covery. But though, like Hesperus, Bacon led the starry van, he
was only at the head of a new method of natural research, which
had already signalised itself in Torricelli, Galileo, Harvey, and
Newton, who followed later. Does anybody pretend to assert
that Newton's discovery of gravitation and its laws, was owing
to his having studied Bacon 1 No, a thousand times no ! And
nobody knew this better than Bacon. What is '' the thing" then,
that he does not account great ?

That is what we want to know. " Far the thing I mean tends to
the putting off of all vanity *\f What is this "thing"? It is evi-
dently a mystery, something upon which we are to reserve our
judgment till we hear the " end " / What end 1 Is this " end "
that mysterious far-off astronomical finality, that seems connoted
and suggested with the strange title, " Valerius Terminus," and
the annotations of Hermes, Stella ?

Bacon's mind was the profoundest, subtlest intellect the world
has ever seen. We see his imagination anticipating, (in the " New
Atlantis ") the telephone and phonograph, botanical and zoological
gardens, pisciculture, and other inventions of modern days, in a
miraculous manner. They are no shrewd guesses, but really
downright exact prophecies, or anticipations, which the more we
study the more marvellous they seem. And not all of them are
even yet realized, though his prophecy of explosives more power-
ful than gunpowder, his sound-houses and observatories, are to a
certain degree realized. Let no one smile at all this lest they
betray their ignorance. Mr Edison, who dwells upon the Great
Atlantis, has no doubt long recognised his peculiar discoveries as
hinted at^ when Bacon describes his sound-houses. But as people
very often read without thinking, and think without attributing
a serious purpose to the " New Atlantis," it may be not amiss to

I S 8 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY.

enforce a few of these prognostications home by quotation. This
marvellous god-like intellect that refuses to lag one jot behind
our times, can cast hack as deeply into the past as into the future.
Take care we do not find his ship laden with all the knowledge of
the remotest antiquity !

King Solomon's House, described in the "New Atlantis," is
nothing else but the New World, which in Bacon's mind is to be
discovered by his new method. We can see that the discovery of
the New World, had acted so keenly upon his prophetic and
godlike intellect, that he foresaw a new Intellectual World, which
he places likewise in the west, and anticipates in the realms of
imagination. We see in the favourite device and frontispiece, his
typical ship passing beyond, — -plus tUtra, through the pillars of
Hercules to this new Intellectual Kingdom, or House of Science
and discoveries, wherein he almost anticipates, and hints at some
of the modern miracles of science, which have really become
realized. — It would almost seem as if Bacon had seen or heard
Edison's phonograph !

'* We have also sound-houses, where we practise and demon-
strate all sounds, and their generation. We have harmonies
which you have not, of quarter-sounds, and lesser slides of sounds.
Divers instruments of music likewise to you unknown, some
sweeter than any you have ; together with beUs and rings that
are dainty and sweet. We represent small sounds as great and
deep ; likewise great sounds extenuate and sharp ; we make
diverse tremblings and warblings of sounds, which in their
original are entire. /Fe represent and imitale all articukUe sounds
and Utters, and the voices and notes of beasts and birds. We
have certain helps which set to the ear do further the hearing
greatly. We have also diverse strange and artificial echos, re-
flecting the voice many times, and as it were tossing it : and
some that give back the voice louder than it came ; some shriller,
and some deeper; yea, some rendering the voice.**

Or take this, does it not seem as if the writer were striving to
describe the construction of guns and cannon by machinery, of

BACON AND ANTIQUITY. 159

the new explosives, (" new mixtures and compositions/') of gun-
powder,— dynamite, which is indeed " unquenchable " in water,
— ^and the submarine torpedoes : —

" We have also engine-houses, where are prepared engines and
instruments for all sorts of motions. There we imitate and
practise to make swifter motions than any you have, either out
of your musket or any engine that you have; and to make
them and multiply them more easily, and with small force, by
wheels and other means : and to make them stronger, and more
violent than yours are; exceeding your greatest cannons and
basilisks. We represent also ordnance and instruments of war,
and engines of all kinds : and, likewise new mixtures and com-
^positions of gun-powder, wildfires, burning in water, and un-
quenchable. Also fire-works of all variety both for pleasure and
use. We imitate also flights of birds ; we have some degrees of
flying in the air ; 1^6 have ships and boats for going under water, and
brooking of seas ; also swimming-girdles."

Here are zoological gardens and anatomical museums : —
** We have also parks and enclosures of all sorts of beasts and
birds, which we use not only for view or rareness, but likewise
for dissections and trials ; that thereby we may take light what
may be wrought upon the body of man.''

Here are telescopes, microscopes, prisms, &c. : —
" We procure means of seeing objects afar off; as in the heaven
and remote places ; and represent things near as afar off, and
things afar off as near ; making feigned distance& 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 per-
fectly and distinctly ; as the shapes and colours of small flies and
worms, grains and flaws in gems, which cannot otherwise be seen ;
observations in urine and blood, not otherwise to be seen. We
make artificial rain-bows, halos, and circles about light. We
represent also all manner of reflections, refractions, and multipli-
cations of visual beams of objects."

Here are guanos and chemical manures : —

i6o BACON AND ANTIQUITY.

*' We have also great variety of composts, and soils, for the
making of the earth fruitful."

Windmills and Watermills, Generation of Motor Force (not
yet fully realized) : —

" We have likewise violent streams and cataracts, which serve
us for many motions : and likewise engines for multiplying and
enforcing of winds, to set also on going divers motiona"

Observatories, Fish . Culture, Condensing Water, EiffePs
Tower : —

" We have high towers ; the highest about half a mile in
height ; and some of them likewise set upon high mountains ; so
that the vantage of the hill with the tower is in the highest
of them three miles at least. And these places we call the
Upper Region : accounting the air between the high places and
the low, as a Middle Region. We use these towers, according to
their several heights and situations, for insolation, refrigeration,
conservation; and for the view of divers meteors; as winds,
rain, snow, hail ; and some of the fiery meteors also. And upon
them, in some places, are dwellings of hermits, whom we visit
sometimes, and instruct what to observe.

" We have also particular pools, where we make trials upon
fishes, as we have said before of beasts and birds. We have also
pools, of which some do strain fresh water out of salt; and
others by art do turn fresh water into salt."

Antiquity and its Restoration,

So much for the future and present times as anticipated and
placed in the west by Bacon, on his New Atlantis, in the direc-
tion of the New World of America. Now let us examine whether
this glorious intellect, in which poetical imagination is as godlike,
as his sober judgment is solid and profound, does not freight his
emblematic ship, with all that is most worthy to be preserved, and
gathered, from the wrecks of knowledge in the Old World, to be
married to the New 1

BA CON A ND ANTIQ UITY, 1 6 1

The first thing that strikes us in a study of Bacon's works, is his
contempt for much of antiquity, that we have considered worthy
of respect So much is this the case, that Goethe quarrels with
him on this account : —

'' But, on the other hand, most revolting to us is Bacon's in-
sensibility to the merits of his predecessors, his want of reverence
for antiquity. For how can one listen with patience when he
compares the works of Aristotle and Plato to light planks,
which, because they consist of no solid material, may have
floated down to us on the flood of agesl" (Goethe's Works,
vol. xxix. p. 88.)

But although Bacon casts Aristotle overboard, and makes light
of many of the Grsecian philosophers, we find him inclining to
accept, (with implied reservations of his own,) the atomic theory
of Demociitus, the Strife and Friendship of Empedocles, and
the fire philosophy of Heraclitus, (which greatly resembles that of
Empedocles,) and which is connected with the Persian doctrines
of two opposing principles. It is indeed curious to find Bacon
drawing close to the cults representative of dual antagonistical
principles, which philosophy is so conspicuous in the Sonnets
attributed to Shakespeare.

'* But the elder of the Greek philosophers, Empedocles, Anaxa-
goras, Leucippus, Democritus, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Xeno-
phanes, Philolaus, and the rest (I omit Pythagoras as a mystic),
did not, so far as we know, open schools ; but more silently and
severely and simply ; that is, with less affectation and parade,
betook themselves to the inquisition of truth. And, therefore,
they were, in my judgment, more successful; only that their
works were, in the course of time, obscured by those slighter
persons who had more which suits and pleases the capacity and
tastes of the vulgar: time, like a river, bringing down to us
things which are light and puffed up, but letting weighty matters
sink" (Ixxi., Works).

Again —

^'For the Homoeomera of Anaxagoras; the Atoms of Leu-

L

1 62 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY.

cippus and Democritus; the Heaven and Earth of Parmenides;
the Strife and Friendship of Empedodes; Heraclitus*s doctrine
how bodies are resolved into the indifferent nature of fire, and
remoulded into solids; have all of them some taste of the
natural philosopher — some savour of the nature of things and
experience."

We see that Bacon is inclined to look favourably upon these
philosophies. We find Bacon elsewhere commending Telesius of
Cozensa as " the last of the novelists." He was one of the Italian
reformers of philosophy, and he attempts to explain all things, on
the hypothesis of the continuous conflict and reciprocal action of
two formal principles, heat and cold. His other doctrines are
either subordinated to this dualism, or merely complimentary to
such a system. The disciple of Telesius was Gampanella, who
wrote the " City of the Sun," which, like Bacon's *• Atlantis " and
Sir Thomas More's " Utopia," is a visionary ideal of a better state
of society. It is to be noted that Telesius joins hands with
Empedocles and Heraclitus in a system of philosophic dualism.
We have drawn attention to this because, iu his works. Bacon
devotes much space to this philosophy of ** Strife and Friendship,"
or Mars and Venus. He works it out under the forms of heat
and cold, dense and rare, heavy and light, and mysteriously calls
it the Keys of Works.

It is a remarkable coincidence that the Rosicrucians held similar
principles for their philosophic system. They were the recondite
searchers after the Wisdom of Persia and Eg3rpt, searchers after
the hidden mysteries of Art and Nature, and they were anti-papal.
Here let us repeat that the philosophy of Heraclitus is derived
from Persia, and found its exposition at Ephesus, around the
worship of the great Diana, whose temple we find presented to
us in the play of Ferides. Yarker (in his " Ancient Mysteries ")
says, " The English Kosicrucians taught that two original prin-
ciples proceeded in the beginning from the Divine Father — light
and darkness, or form and idea." These, of course, we see are
nothing but the good and bad principles of the Zend-Avesta,

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 63

Ormuzd, and Ahriman. But we will quote from Jacob Boehmen,
who is generally accepted as a genuine member of the mystic
brotherhood, and who happens to be in vogue at the present
moment with occultists —

" The First Principle.

" What God is, considered as without and beyond Nature
and Creature. And what the Great Mystery — Mysterium
Magnum — should be. Showing how God hath, by his ' Breathing
forth,' or 'Speaking,' introduced himself into Nature and
Creature.

** The Second Principle,

"Here beginneth the Great Mystery — Mysterium Magnum,
Namely, the Distinction in the speaking of the ' Word.' Wherein
the ' Word ' through the Wisdom becometh distinct. Also the
evocation of Natural^ Sensible, Perceptible, and Palpable (or
Inventible) Means. Whereby the Two Eternal Principles of
God's Love and Anger— m Light and Darkness, in Good and Evil,
in Reason and Faith, in Heaven and in Hell."

In the dedicatory epistle to James the First, prefacing the
Great Instauration, which we prefer to term the Great Restora-
tion, these words: —

"Most Gracious and Mighty King, — Your Majesty may per-
haps accuse me of larceny, having stolen from your affairs so much
time as was required for this work. I know not what to say for
myself. For of time there can be no restitution, unless it be that
what has been abstracted from your business may perhaps go to
the memory of your name and the honour of your age ; if these
things are indeed worth anything. Certainly they are quite new ;
totally new in their very kind : and yet they are copied from a very
ancient model"

The italics are ours. We have here Bacon's words to describe
his work as " copied from a very ancient model," and directly

1 64 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY,

we open and commence his preface, we find him writing thus,
" That Time is like a river, which has brought down to us things
light and puffed up, while those that are weighty and solid have
sunk" Spedding acknowledges that Bacon looks back as well as
forward, and his own expression, that of " handing on the lamps
to posterity," is a sufficiently ambiguous one, must be confessed.

'* Certain it is that the tendency was strong in Bacon to credit
the past with wonders j to suppose that the world had brought
forth greater things than it remembered, had seen periods of high
civilisation buried in oblivion, gre^it powers and peoples swept
away and extinguished. In the year 1607, he avowed before the
House of Commons a belief that in some forgotten period of her
history (possibly during the Heptarchy) England had been far
better peopled than she was then. In 1609, when he published
the * De Sapientid Veteriim* he inclined to believe that an age
of higher intellectual development than any the world then
knew of had flourished and passed out of memory long before
Homer and Hesiod wrote." (Preface to " New Atlantis.'') TVe
find him in another instance quoting the Egyptians, Persians,
and Culdees as more worthy sources of reliable authority. Thus
we see his mind is equally inclined to go profoundly backwards,
as to forecast the future.

Spedding draws attention to Bacon's " Commeniarius Solutus"
or sort of note-book, in which this passage is to be found : —
" DiscouTMng scornfully of the philosophy of the Grecians, with
some better respect to the -Egyptians, Persians, Caldees, and the
utmost antiquity, and the mysteries of the poets;" and again,
a little farther on, " Talcing a greater confidence and authority in
discourses of this nature, tanqmim sui certus et de alto despiciens."
Now we cannot overestimate this passage. How is it Bacon is
turning to the Egyptians, Persians, and Chaldees, from whom
the Rosicrucians derived their sources of learning? Samuel
Butler writes in his " Hudibras," 1663 : —

" As for the Rosy Cross Philoaophei-s,
Whom you will have to be but sorcerers,

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 65

What they pretend to is no more,
Than Trisraegiatus did before.
Pythagoras, old Zoroaster
And Appolonius, their master,
To wliom they do confess they owe,
All that they do and all they know."

Hermes Trismegistus belongs to Egypt, Zoroaster to Persia, and
Chaldaea especially has always been associated with the mystic
brotherhood, {Vide *' Zanoni," by Bulwer.)

Butler further writes : — " The fraternity of the Rosicnicians
is very like the sect of the Ancient Gnostics, who called them-
selves so from the excellent learning they pretended to." As
Butler lived within a reasonable distance of Bacon's times, and
of the age when Kosicruciauism made itself felt, this is all worthy
of our notice. At any rate. Bacon's own writing is evidence of
his profundity, of the extraordinary far-reaching (back as well as
forwards) propensities of his mind ; and every student of this
remarkable fact will do well to reckon with it, seeing that what
we probably know of Bacon's mind, or of its learning, is but a
fraction of the real truth. We now come to the mysterious con-
fession of his adherence to antiquity, with regard to works.

In the ** Novum Organum^' (p. 41) we find Bacon stating that,
he is going the same road as the ancients. "For if I should
profess that I, going the same road as the ancients, have something
better to produce, there must needs have been some comparison
or rivalry between us (not to be avoided by any art of words) in
respect of excellency or ability of wit."

This comparison of himself with the ancients is most curious,
because there is nothing in his prose works to warrant the com-
parison. Nor can we by any extravagant stretch of fancy,
imagine he is alluding to his ** Wisdom of the Ancients," or his
'* Advancement of Learning." Bacon at the age of sixteen disap-
proved of the Aristotelian philosophy. " Not (as his Chaplain
Rawley writes) for the worthlessness of the author, to whom he
would ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of
the way, being a philosophy (as his lordship used to say), only

1 66 BACON AND ANTIQUITY.

strong for disputations and contentions; but barren for the
production of works, for the benefit of the life of inan« In
which mind he continued to his dying day" (Life of Bacon, Kawley,
ninth edition, " Sylva Sylvarum," 2.) If then, as we see, he re-
pudiated the philosophy of the ancients in Aristotle, in what
other direction can we discover that he accompanies them on the
same road ? In the " Advancement of Learning " he says —

" To me it seemeth best to keep way,
With Antiquity usque ad arcu.^

The Latin quotation is a curious and striking expression^
meaning, " even to the altars " ^ {of Antiquity). But is there no sly
hint here to the drama and its origin 1 For it was round the
altars of the Greek diviaities that the mysterious choruses arose,
and the divine drama of the rape of Proserpine first took shape.
Nor is our belief that he is thus alluding to the Greek drama
lessened by the fact, that in the preceding section he uses the
following quite unnecessary similes connected with the Theatre —
"The play books of philosophical systems ;" again, "The plays
of this philosophical theatre " (Ixi., Ixii.). It is evident his mind
is running upon plays and the theatre. And it is indeed curious
here to call to mind the curious fact that Ben Jonson, in his
"Discoveries" (printed 1640) makes use of the same comparison
for Bacon as he does for Shakespeare. Ben Jonson, after describ-
ing many celebrities of his own and of the preceding age, arrives
at Sir Francis Bacon : —

" Lord Egerton, a grave and great orator, and best when he
was provoked, but his learned and able, but unfortunate, suc-
cessor (Sir Francis Bacon) is he that hath filled up all numbers,
and performed that in our tongue which may be compared or
preferred either to insolent Ch'eece or haughty Borne," Ben Jonson
translated for Bacon his philosophical works. And, moreover,
Ben Jonson was a profound classical scholar himself, not likely

' *' Usque ad aras" is Bometimes translated, "as far as conscience per-
mits," meaning **a8 far as the altars" — to the Gods themselves, — that is,
with the sanction of religion.

BA CON AND ANTJQ UITY. 1 6 7

to bestow such praise unless it were deserved. Bat now comes

the strange but significant fact that Ben Jonson employs the

same words — the same comparison, " insolent Greece or haughty

Rome/' to Shakespeare in the well-known verses addressed to

him: —

'' Or when thy socks were on,
Leave thee alone for the comparison
Of all that itisolerU Greece or haughty Rome
Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come."

Now these sort of parallels produce different effects on different
minds. With some they are cogent proofs, with others they
weigh nothing. To ourselves this is a tremendous piece of pre-
sumptive evidence that Bacon was the author of the plays,
because Ben Jonson would never have applied the same compari-
son to Bacon that he does to Shakespeare — the exact words —
unless he knew the trutL There is nothing in Bacon's prose
works whatever to warrant any comparison of the sort. That
Ben Jonson is alluding to poetry is plain ; *' filled up all numbers,"
is to have written every style of verse, exhausted poetry. And
even if we allow that some of Bacon's prose works could find
favourable comparison with Latin compositions of like character,
how are we to account for the Greek parallel % No ! The truth
is plain. Ben Jonson is alluding to the plays, and he is perfectly
conscious who the real author is. He therefore applies to the
real author (Sir Francis Bacon) the same comparison and words
he employs for the false author. In each case we see he is think-
ing of plays that have surpassed the Greek and Latin dramatic
masterpieces.

It is a remarkable thing to again find Ben Jonson, in his
dedicatory lines prefacing the engraving of Shakespeare (which
stands as frontispiece to the Folio Edition of the Comedies and
Tragedies, 1623), using the same figure, or turn of speech, and idea,
as is to be found in words inscribed round the miniature of Bacon,
painted by Hilliard in 1578.^ Mr Spedding writes : — ** There is

^ ThiB was written before we dUcovered that both these parallels were
broaght forward in Mr Donnelly's "Great Cryptogram." But as they are

i68 BACON AND ANTIQUITY,

an inscription on a miniature painted by Hilliard in 1578, which
indicates the impression made by his conversation upon those
who heard it. There may be seen his face as it was in his
eighteenth year, and round it may be read the significant words
— the natural ejaculation, we may presume, of the artist's own
emotion — Si tabula daretur digna, animum mallem: If one could
but paint his mind ! " (Life, vol. L)

Now in reading the well-known lines of Ben Jonson, this idea
is exactly repeated : —

'^ This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut ;
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature to out do the life :
0, could he hut have drawn his vnt,
As well in brass as he hath hit
His face ; the Print would theu surpasse
All that was ever writ in brass."

The line in italics is nothing but Hilliard's words :— " If one
could but paint (draw) his mind " (wit) ; and there is no question
that Ben Jonson, who was Bacon's translator, and intimate, is
thinking of Bacon. We quite agree with Mr Donnelly about the
sense in which the brass is brought in by Jonson. We can fairly
apply Shakespeare's lines to his own portrait, "Can any face
of brass hold longer out !" (Lovers Labour's Lost, v. 2.) As Mr
Donnelly truly points out, Ben Jonson is fully in the secret, for
he applies the same language to both.

We are accustomed to translate " Magna Insiauraiio " as the
''Great Instauration," but it is forgotten that Instaura-
tion does mean Restoration, or Benewal, also. How is it that
Bacon, who quotes, every other few lines, a Latin or Greek author,
has said that he intends keeping way with the ancients, " usque ad
aras " f What are we to make of this declaration, uttered by a
man who quite understands the expression he is using, which is
''as far as conscience permits ! " We find Bacon saying in his

most important, we again advance them, acknowledging Mr Donnelly's
complete prior claim to their discovery.

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 69

'* Prosemium" — (which he "judged it to be for the interest of the
present and future generations that they should be made
acquainted with his thoughts ") : — " whether that (the) commerce
between the mind of man and the nature of things, which is more
precious than anything on earth, might at any time be restored
to its perfect and original condiiion"

We see from this Bacon is bent upon a restoration, and his
mind is not entirely occupied with only a new philosophy. What
is this Restoration 9 Certainly not Aristotle's philosophy, with
which he disagreed at an early age. Coupled with this we have
to consider the reasons why he distinctly veils his method, not
only in ambiguous language, which has perplexed his commen-
tators and editors like Ellis and Spedding, but directly states his
intention is to write so as to *' choose his reader/^' For what
reason on earth should Bacon, who is apparently orthodox and
profoundly religious, veil and obscure a philosophical new method,
that depends upon clearness for comprehension 1 His philo-
sophical method (ostensibly) pretends to unlock, by means of
induction and experiment, a new system, by means of which man
shall be able to arrive at the secrets of Nature. There is nothing
in such an instrument to suggest the slightest necessity for
obscurity or for mysticism. As we have remarked, such a system
to be understood, must above all things be lucid, plain, and as far
from obscurity as possible. But let us quote to the purpose.
Spedding not only recognizes the fact that he desired to keep
his " system secret" but gives us (in his Notes to the Preface of
the " Novum Organum") extracts from Bacon's own writings upon
this point. Space does not permit us to insert all, but there are
altogether ten selections from his works in which he insists or
hints at the necessity of secrecy.

1. Valerius Terminus. Ch. 18.

"That the discretion anciently observed, though by the pre-
cedent of many vain persons and deceivers abused, of publishing
part and reserving part to a private succession, and of publishing in

1 70 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITlt.

8uch a manner whereby it may not be to the taste or capacity of
all, hui shall as it were single and adopt his reader, is not to be laid
aside ; both for the avoiding of abuse in the excladed, and the
strengthening of affection in the admitted."

And again (Ch. 11), "To ascend farther by scale I do forbear,
partly because it would draw on the example to an over-great
length, but chiefly because it would open that which in this work I
determine to reserve"

Here is something that cannot be too sufficiently studied, ie.,
that Bacon declares that he has " reserved part of his publications
for a * private stLCcession,* " " This system is not to he laid aside"
He determines ''to reserve something — to pyblish part and to
reserve part for a ^private s^iccession,' " This is indeed more
than extraordinary ! Because^ it falls in with all that Mr Sped*
ding remarks upon the plan or " distributio cperis " of his work,
which he divides into a number of parts, of which we have
a large part wanting.^

But we have additional proof that there was some reserved secret
or mystery, some pvhlications not comprised with the acknowledged
works in the following —

'' ' Publicandi autem ista ratio ea est, ut quae ad ingeniorum
correspondentias captandas et mentium areas purgandas per-
tinent, edantur in vulgus et per ora volitent : reiiqua per manus
tradantur cum eledione et judicio: * the ' reiiqua ' being, as appears
a little further on, ' ipsa Interpretationis formtda et inventa per
eandem : ' from which it seems to be inferred that the exposition
of the new method was not only not to be published along with
the rest of the work, but to be excluded from it altogether ; to
be kept as a secret^ and transmitted orally"

What are these ** reiiqua f" Where are theyl Why should
they be necessary 1 What do they treat off And a thousand

^ We have this strange title given us : —

THB TIBST FABT OF THE mSTAUKATIOK,

which comprises the
Divisions of the Sciences,

IS WA19TINO.

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 7 1

such questions suggest themselves. Mr Spedding labours, with
praiseworthy simple-mindedness, to dispose of the mystery
(being, to him, utterly unnecessary and unintelligible on any
grounds whatever) in a thoroughly unsatisfactory manner. Why
does Bacon give us this piece about publishing? Spedding
ingeniously suggests that the " reliqua " is " to be kept as a
secret and transmitted orally,**

Here are facts of declaration on the part of Bacon that there
are two ways of pMishing. One is to acknowledge your works,
the other is not to acknowledge them^ and he pretty plainly hints
that he has adopted both methods. What are the doctrines that
are to fit themselves to the capacities and choose their readers 1
Surely not the Inductive Method with which Bacon's name
stands connected ! Spedding, after giving us everywhere abun-
dant evidence of this kind, goes on to try and explain it, his
lamentable failure doing more to strengthen the case than the
quotations themselves. But he betrays all the time an uncom-
fortable feeling that it is above his ability. What is the oral
transmission 1 Freemasonry is the only solution we can arrive
at of this mystery.

Spedding writes : —

"The part which he proposed to reserve is distinctly defined
in the fourth extract as ' ipsa interpretationis formula et inventa
per eandem;' the part to be published is 'ea qua ad in-
geniorum correspondentias captandas et mentium areas pur-
gandas pertinent.' "

We have given the Latin to avoid errors of translation. Here
is something very curious. To our minds, nothing could more
clearly indicate a double system of publication and of subjects
related, as key to works. What is it Bacon has reserved ) Are
these the missing parts of the Great Restoration, or the plays
known as Shakespeare's % Even Mr S|)edding acknowledges the
reservation. He writes —

" It is true that in both of these Bacon intimates an intention
to reserve the communication of one part of his philosophy — the

172 BA CON AND ANTJQ UITY.

' formula ipsa interpretationis et inventa per eandem ' — to certain
fit and chosen persons. May we infer from the expressions
which he there uses, that his object was to prevent it from be-
coming generally known, as being a treasure which would lose
its value by being divulged ? Such a supposition seems to me
inconsistent, not only with all we know of his proceedings,
purposes, and aspirations, but with the very explanation with
which he himself accompanies the suggestion." (Notes to Preface
of the "Nov. Org.," 112).

Bacon writes :—

" Nay, further, as it was aptly said by one of Plato's school,
the sense of man resembles the sun, which openeth and revealeth the
tenestrial ghhey hut obscureth and concealeth the celestial; so doth
the sense discover natural things, but darken and shut up divine.
And this appeareth sufficiently in that there is no proceeding
in invention of knowledge but by similitude ; and God is only
self-like, having nothing in common with any creature, otherwise
than as in shadow and trope,^^

This passage is remarkable. Because it gives us a sort of
key to Bacon's profoundest innermost thoughts and depths. It
shows us that he regarded Nature as the " shadow and trope " of
the Divine Art — that is, as concealing and hiding the celestial
image. Now we find in Hamlet a play introduced (as interlude)
within the play, representatively, or tropically (that is), as image
or reflection of the King's conscience : —

" King, What do you call the play 1

Ham. The Mouse-trap. Marry, how \ TropicaUy, This play is
the image of a murder done in Vienna."

So we find the expression " trope,'' " tropically " employed in the
plays, and by Bacon in the same sense as image, that is, shadow
or reflection. Bacon seems to us (in the passage quoted from
him), to tell us that Nature is a reflection, shadow, image, of God
—done tropically, which immediately recalls the playwriters'

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY, 1 7 3

art. Indeed, we find him in the Dream terming his actors
" shadows " : —

" Theseus, The best in this kind are but sJiadowsJ^

Again —

" Puck. If we shadows have offended.

Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream."

Have we not (in the passage quoted above from Bacon) a key to
his philosophical view of Nature, as the shadow, and trope or
reflection of God 1 It is just such a view as we should expect of
the author of the plays, which are all shadow and trope, being
figurative and privative, of concealed light from first to last.

Tlie Two Favourite Sayings of Bacon,

'' And it appears worthy of remark in Solomon, that though
mighty in empire and in gold j in the magnificence of his works,
his court, his household, and his fleet ; in the lustre of his name
and the worship of mankind ; yet he took none of these to glory
in, but pronounced that * The glory of God is to conceal a thing ;
the glory of tlie king to search it out,' "

This is Bacon's favourite saying. He repeats it at intervals
over and over again throughout his works. And it is to be
remarked that this is the only thing he does repeat, and that,
therefore, it must have been very much in his mind indeed ! We
see at once that the secrecy or reserve of Nature, is to him the
greatest glory of God. His admiration and reverence for the
Almighty and His works, finds its top note of praise in what he
rightly terms the "glory of God" — i.e., in the immeasurable
silence and concealment which characterises Nature. To be
hidden and revealed — concealed and open — is to Bacon the
greatest of all proofs of the Divine Artist's excellence and
Wisdom. In Bacon's view (as we see by his works). Nature

1 74 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY.

withholds nothing except to the incapable. Nature is " openly
secret/' and, as he says, ^Unfinitely more subtle than the senses
of man" We find Bacon, evidently, and thoroughly, entertain-
ing, and holding fast the belief, that God is in his works as
the Divine Word. And that this is so, is shown in another
variation upon this remark of Solomon's, which Bacon never tires
of, but which is the keynote of his mind and character, so
endlessly reiterated is it : —

" Whereas of the sciences which regard Nature, the divine
philosopher declares that * it is the glory of God to conceal a
thing, but it is the glory of the Ring to find a thing out.' Even
as though the divine nature took pleasure in the innocent and
kindly sport of children playing at hide and seek, and vouchsafed
of his kindness and goodness to admit the human spirit for his
playfellow at that game."

We see that the idea of the Divine Nature, as playing " hide
and seek/* is only to be reconciled with the philosophy which
teaches that the universe is the thought of God.^ The Divine
Artist is in His works, which reveal and conceal Him. Both
Goethe and Jacobi had ideas of this sort. But it is Plato really
who presents us with a world which is as a work of a Divine
Poet, who has through the Word — (his archetypal Idea) — hidden
himself in his works. Is it asking too much to suggest that the
mystery as to the authorship of the plays finds solution in this
admiration of Bacon's for " concealment " or " hide and seek " ?
Much argument and discussion has been carried on as to the
motives which prompted concealment of the authorship of the
plays. As yet the only arguments adduced are to the point that
playwriting was a sort of " despised weed," and harmful to
acknowledge during Bacon's life. This mode of reasoning is not
worth much. But to come down hidden through the ages is
sublime. And we have every reason to believe that the keynote

^ The idea that the univerBe ia the thought of God clothed in the art of
Natare, ia a right one. Both Bruno aod Spinoza were led to the col-
clusion that God ia to be sought for tcithm nature and not without.

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY, 1 7 5

of admiration sounded in the passages so often quoted by Bacon,
was and is the keynote on which the entire cycle of the plays was
founded — i.e., to come down to man after the fashion of Nature
in plays which present an answer to what we are seeking, that,
like Nature, are openly secret, and whose interest is heightened
by the whetstone ^ of mystery, enigma, and profundity. One of
the maxims of the Rosicrucians was concealment and sacrifice —
to be everywhere, and know everything, yet be recognised by
nobody, and to hand on their secrets from generation to genera-
tion in unbroken succession of inefiable silence.

Turn to the play of Measure for Measure^ and we immediately
recognise in the disguised duke, who, whilst supposed to be
absent from his kingdom, is in reality ubiquitous, and watching
and supervising everything, this idea repeated. It completely
realizes the conception of an ubiquitous Providence perfectly con-
cealed, yet directing and supervising His works, so that evil —
even the wickedness of Angelo — is directed into an instrument
of restitution. God affords no revelation of Himself outside
or BEYOND His Works. Nature is the Divine Art, and the
Divine Art, were it interpreted, would reveal the Artist's Miod.
The discipUne of life, of education and science, revolves upon this
mystery of existence, where we are face to face with a mighty
problem, that reserves nothing except the right of illusion through
our limited senses. We have to mine, to work, and dig for truth,
and we are bettered by the process. It seems to us there is much
pregnant argument in all this to suggest (if not prove) that Bacon
has put into practice, that which he so admires in the Divine
Mind and Works — viz., concealment. We find Bacon eager for
new intellectual wonders which shall rival the wonders of dis-
covery of his own age in the New World. We find him invent-
ing a New Atlantis, with Solomon's House, and presenting us
with a frontispiece of a ship sailing beyond the pillars of Hercules
in search of New Worlds, with the proud device, plus ultra, " For

^ **But if a Man be thought Secret, it inviteth discovery." — EUaays,
1625.

176 BA CON AND ANTIQ UIT K

how long shall we let a few received authors stand up like
Hercules' columns, beyond which there shall be no sailing or
discovery in science, when we have so bright and benign a star
as your Majesty to conduct and prosper us % "

Here is an eager mind, on the very tip-toe of expectation,
looking for dawn across the ocean — to new worlds — in the direc-
tion of America — his little ship pointing west to that land from
whence (as if his great mind knew and foresaw it) has first come
X the voice of souls to give him due. " Nor must it go for nothing
that by the distant voyages and travels which have become
frequent in our times, many things in nature have been laid open
and discovered which may let in new light upon philosophy.
And surely it would be disgraceful if, while the regions of the
material globe, — that is, of the earth, of the sea, and of the
stars, — have been in our times laid widely open and revealed,
the intellectual globe should remain shut . up within the narrow
limits of old discoveries."

So that the " ship device" is no mere fancy, but a voyage of
genuine adventure ^ of the intellectual sort, something sent forth
upon the ocean of Time, which Bacon evidently thinks is as great
from an intellectual point of view, as the discovery of the New
World. How is it we find in the Sonnets this idea of a ship or
bark repeated with unmistakable allusion to the ocean, and as
unquestionably relating to the plays and poems ?

LXXX

" O, how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in the praise thereof spends all his might,
To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame !
But since your worth, wide as the ocean is,
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My sauci/ bark, inferior far to his,
On your broad main doth wilfully appear."

^ Compare Dedication of the Sonnets — " To the only begetter of these
ensuing Sonnets, Mr VV. H., all happiness and that eternity promised by
our ever-living poet, wisheth the well-wishing cuiveiUurer in setting forth,
T. T."

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 7 7

The allusion to '*fame" makes the reference or subject-matter
unmistakable. Here is a metaphorical poetical picture of an
intellectual venture, or ship sent forth on the ocean of Time, to
Posterity : — " Seeing now, most excellent king, thai my little hark,
such as it is, has sailed round the whole circumference of the eld
and new world of sciences (with what success and fortune it is
for posterity to decide), what remains but that having at length
finished my course I should pay my vows 1 But there still
remains Sacred or Inspired Divinity; whereof however if I
proceed to treat I shall step out of the hark of human reason, and
enter into the ship of the church** (Book ix., chap. 1, " De Aug-
mentis/')

We thus see that Bacon employs the same image and even
word " bark," we find in the Sonnets. Moreover, we find him
addressing posterity in connection with this bark, which carries
in it the precious argosy of the Old World and the New. So
that we at once perceive that his work contains two parts — that
belonging to antiquity (which he calls ** going the same road as
the ancients '') ; the other, this inductive method, which belongs
to the New World. Miranda, in The Tempest exclaims —

" O, brave New World."

And the imagination cannot be bridled from perhaps as yet, pre-
mature speculation as to the whereabouts of Prosperous island of
souls, to which this ship is bound, plus ultra, across the Atlantic.
Is the island of Prospero the New Atlantis — (Plato's New
Republic), the Ogygia of Homer, or the Avalon of Arthur, for Mr
Baring-Gould, in his " Curious Myths of the Middle Ages," has
declared them all to be the same ? But of this we have discussed
at length in the chapter on the play of The Tempest, One thing
is plain : in Bacon's system and works there is something incom-
plete, something that even his editors, like Ellis and Spedding,
are at a loss to explain ; an air of mystery and enigma (otherwise
unnecessary) ; obscure references to art, to philosophical play
systems, idols of the theatre, joined with a most extravagant

M

178 BA CON AND ANTIQ UIT^ \

faith iu relationship to posterity. He writes as if he were going
to reveal a world to us, and to put his system to a test, upon
some model or exemplar, some copy of the universe.

Once more, and lastly, Bacon declares he is going '* the same
road as the ancients." This is a piece of evidence that it is
impossible to explain or get over. For it cannot be his method
of Philosophy. His method is inductive, and he disclaimed
Aristotle. What is it, then? Does he join hands with the
ancients upon their Mysteries, around their altars, with Heracli-
tus, Empedocles, the creative doctrines of Orpheus, and with the
Platonic Philosophy 1 This, we believe, is the true solution to
the question. It is in the plays that we find these subjects over
and over again more than exhaustively treated. It is the origin
of the Drama, which is his prototype, and which he even goes
beyond, as Ben Jonson well knew when he declared that he had
done and gone beyond "all that Insolent Greece or Haughty
Bome had performed I " We find Bacon too instituting a com-
parison between himself, as a rival to the ancients in what they
had done.

'* Upon these premises two things occur to me, of which, that
they may not be overlooked, I would have men reminded. First,
it falls out fortunately, as I think, for the allaying of contradic-
tions and heart-burnings, that the honour and reverence due to
the ancients remains untouched and undiminished ; while I may
carry out my designs, and at the same time reap the fruit of my
modesty} For if I should profess that I, going the same road as
the ancients, have something better to produce, there must needs
have been some comparison or rivalry between us (not to be
avoided by any art of words) in respect of excellency or ability
of wit; and though in this there would be nothing unlawful or
new (for if there be anything misapprehended by them, or &kely
laid down, why may not I, using a liberty common to all, take
exception to it 1)"

I Will some of the clever sceptics explain to as wherein this moduty of
Baoon*8 consisted, unless in his silence as to the plays ?

BA CON AND ANTIQ UlTY, 1 7 9

Now, nobody can for a moment assert that the method com-
monly known as the Inductive, or the Baconian, has any rivalry,
or is on any parallel lines with anything done by Antiquity.
Bacon's is only a method after all, an instrument, and a system,
which, though having foreshadowed all our modern discoveries
and science, has nothing to place it in any category of comparison
with Antiquity. Where, then, is this rivalry or road that he is
going ? Let us ask ourselves wherein rivalry could exist, so as
to make these words real and comprehensible 7 We reply that
Antiquity has one pre-eminent literary landmark or monument,
wherein it stands discoverer, inventor, and beyond which nobody
(except one) seems hitherto to have gone. We allude to the
Drama, its origin and its source ; the Mysteries, Greece, iBschylus,
Euripides, Sophocles, whose motto might have been ne plus ultra /
The only plays that can be placed in the same line are those
known as Shakespeare's. But the comparison is, in some respects,
disadvantageous to the poet; that is, apparently from certain
points of view, and those points of view must be in every
student's eyes — depth, seriousness as to didactic import ; in short,
a want of purport, to the apparent disadvantage of the English-
man. We say apparently only. It is certain that the Ancient
Drama arose in the service, and around the altars of the Gods.
It was thus religious in its origin, first commencing with creative
hymns, which, as choruses, gradually developed into representa-
tive action and poetry combined. All that was serious, solemn,
awful, pertaining to the creation of the World, its Mysteries, and
the immortality of the soul, was included in it It is philoso-
phical and theological at once. Its serious purport and severe
sense of retribution or justice are quite apart from anything
modem. If Shakespeare instead had used these words to
suggest rivalry with the ancients, on the same road with them, it
would be partly explicable. Yet we should consider the com-
parison (which is undoubtedly one made by Bacon to his own
superiority and advantage) as requiring explanation and develop-
ment. Because {at first sight) the plays seem to have no points of

i8o BACON AND ANTIQUITY.

contact or touch to institute a parallel between themselves and
antiquity. In this work, we pretend to have discovered, the
myth of Dem^ter (Ceres) and Persephone, not only incorporated
in The IFirUer's Tale, but given in its title. Further, we
refind in The Tempest, and in the Midsummer-Nights Dream, un-
mistakable traces of the Mysteries. We mean by the Mysteries
— the Eleusinian Mysteries — ^particularly the Dem^ter and Per-
sephone myth — (which formed its central doctrine), and around
which (together with the worship of Apollo and Bacchus) the
drama takes its origin. If the poet has really done what we
assert, then, indeed, the comparison which Bacon institutes needs
no apology, needs no further explanation. If he has done this,
then indeed he may say with his proud motto, that he has gone
beyond Antiquity and the Old World in point of Art, plus ultra.
Unfortunately our space is limited, else the argument might be
pursued further with even greater interest. We find Ben Jonson
a contributor to.that mysterious work, Chester's " Love's Martyr "
(published 1601), in which Shakespeare's poem. The Phcenix and
Turtle, appears. There again we find the Greek literature
challenged and defied, with some humorous lines suggesting
that " Old Homer " has met his equal : —

'' Arise old Homer, and make no excuses,
Of a rare piece of art must be my song."

What description of Art is this that is going to surpass all
that insolent Greece or haughty Home have performed) It is
Nature's Art, as Plato presents it to us in his Divine Philosophy
— true Art in the second degree of initiation — ^not a copy of a
copy, but of Divine ideas imprinted on matter, — as a stamp, die,
or seal is imprinted on wax.^

LXVIII.

" Thus is his cheek the map of days outwom,
When beauty liv'd and died as flowers do now,
Before these bastard signs of fair were borne,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow ;

^ *' Art," writes Plato, *' is to be regarded as the capacity of creating a
v'holt that is inspired hy an invmble. order; and its aim is to guide the
human soul." — Ph%lehu», pp. 64-67. Phadrus, p. 264.

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 8 1

Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head,
£re beauty's dead fleece made another gay :
In hiin those holy antique hours are seen.
Without all ornament, itself, and true,
Making no summer of another's green.
Bobbing no old to dress his beauty new ;
And him as for a map doth nature store.
To show false art what beauty was of yore."

Compare this —

** So that eternal love in love's fresh case

Weighs not the dust and injury .of age,

Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,

But makes antiquity for aye his page ;

Finding the first conceit of love there bred.
Where time and outward form would show it dead."

Idols of the Theatre,

"But the Idols of the Theatre are not innate, nor do they
steal into the understanding secretly, but are plainly impressed
and received into the mind from the play-books of philosophical
systems and the perverted rules of demonstration. To attempt
refutations in this case would be merely inconsistent with what
I have already said : for since we agree neither upon principles
nor upon demonstrations there is no place for argument. And
this is so far well, inasmuch as it leaves the honour of the
ancients untouched. For they are no wise disparaged — ^the
question between them and me being only as to the way. For
as the saying is, the lame man who keeps the right road outstrips
the runner who takes a wrong one. Nay it is obvious that when
a man runs the wrong way, the more active and swift he is the
further he will go astray." (" Advancement of Learning.")

In all Bacon's works, there is no passage so pregnant with
reference to the plays, and to the ancients, as this. Can we not
at once see that the " Idols of the Theatre " are the Idols of *' the
play-books of the philosophical systems," hitherto known as Shake-

1 82 BACON AND ANTIQUITY,

speare's, but in reality Bacon's 9 Bat first, let us examine what
Bacon means by an IM f An Idol is an imaga But it is the
image of something. It is that something^ which is the 'direct
beam," whilst the image is " the reflected beam."

" For the third vice or disease of learning, which concerneth
deceit or untruth, it is of all the rest the foulest ; as that which
doth destroy the essential form of knowledge ; which is nothing
but a representation of truth ; for the truth of being, and the
truth of knowing are one, differing no more than ilie direct beam,
and the beam reflected^ (" Advancement of Learning.")

Again : —

" It seems to me that Pygmalion's frenzy is a good emblem or
portraiture of this vanity; for u^ords are but the images of matter,
and except they have life of reason and invention, to fall in love
with them is all one as to fall in love with a picture." ("Ad-
vancement of Learning.")

"It is to be remarked that he uses the word idolon in anti-
thesis to idea, the first place where it occurs being the twenty-
third aphorism. ' Kon leve quiddam interest,' it is there said,
'inter humanse mentis idola et divinsd mentis ideas.' He
nowhere refers to the common meaning of the word, namely the
image of a false god. Idols are with him 'placita qu»dam
inania,' or more generally, the false notions which have taken
possession of men's minds." (Spedding.)

We find Bacon's entire theory of Idols, founded upon the
worshipping of the False for the True, particularly these Idoh of
the Theatre, which we do not for a moment doubt, refers to the
plays, and our worship of the mere image or Idol (reflected beam),
which we confound with the " direct beam," taking the shadow
for the reality. Let the reader study the passage in the original
Latin, not in the translation, where, of course, the bias of the
translator, has naturally endeavoured to bring the English into
hannony with the subject^ without any suspicion of ulterior mean-
ing. That there is ulterior meaning — in short, that Bacon is really
covertly alluding to his " philosophical play systems," which are

BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY. 1 83

rivals to the ancients, is most plain.^ In the plays themselves,
we find exactly the same contempt of words, as idols, liars,
personified in the character of Parolles, whose name expresses
his character — Empty Words : —

" I know him a notorious liar,
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward."

—AWb Well That Bnds Well, Act L sc. 1 .

Bacon has presented us with it system of philosophical plays,
which shall exemplify his inductive philosophy. For example,
we are face to face with the Idols of the Theatre, which we take
simply, worshipping dead images, which are only reflections of
inner spiritual truth, philosophically created like Nature to illus-
trate Nature.' . The Idols of the Theatre are nothing unless in
Bacon's own words, *' they have life of reason and invention,
else we fall in love with a picture" All this is repeated so often
in the sonnets and in the plays, that it is marvellous, and will
seem more marvellous to later ages, how determinedly blind the
human mind is where a prejudged opinion shuts up all the alleys
and entrances to the mind against the Truth. Nothing illustrates
better Bacon's Idols of the four kinds than the question of the
authorship of the plays. Take the following double parallel and
continue to doubt the authorship : —

** Thus, in the ' Advancement of Learning :' —
' Poetry ia nothing else but feigned history.'

Twelfth Night, Act i sc. 2 :—

' Vicla, Tis poetical.

Olivia, It is the more likely to be feigned/

Aa You Like It, Act iii. sc. 7 : —

* The truest poetry h the most feigning.'

J We are quite aware that Baoon first wrote in Engliih, and had his
works translated for him.

' "Pygmalion's fnnzy" we see exemplified in Hermione upon her
pedestal — "a picturt** till she descends^ when she will discover a life *' of
reason and invention " — which will show that the idols of this theatre are
living, and not dead, idols.

1 84 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY.

* Natural.Hist/ cent. L 98 : —

' Like perspectives, which show things intcards when they are but
paintings.'

Richard IL, Act iL so. 2 : —

' Like perspectives, which rightly gazed upon
Show nothing but confusion— ey'd awry,
Distinguish form."

— " Bacon and Shakespeare,'' Smith.

Compare Sonnet XXIV. : —

" Perspective it is best painters* art,
For through the painter must you see his skill."

" A natural perspective that is and is not.' "

—Twelfth Night.

It is not the use of the same words which gives point to the
parallels, but the identity of thought presented in the same lan-
guage ; which is striking. Both Bacon and Shakespeare reveal
themselves as artists of the highest order, comprehending the
proper use of perspective in the literary art — that is, in being
openly secret. But to return to the passage quoted from Bacon,
about The Idols of the Theatre; how is it he brings in so curiously
the following : — " And this is so far well, inasmuch as it leaves
the honour of the ancients untouched. For they are nowise dis-
paraged, the question between them and me being only as to the
way." With this compare elsewhere where Bacon declares he is
going Usque ad Aras with the ancients, as ''far as with con-
science," but also literally '' to the altars themselves ! "

" Surely, the advice of the prophet is the true direction in this
matter, ' State super vias antiquas, et videte gucenam sit via recta et
bona, et ambulate in ea* Antiquity deserveth that reverence, that
men should make a stand thereupon, and discover what is
the best way: but when the discovery is well taken, then to
make progression. And to speak truly, ' ArUiquitas seeuli javenfus
mundiJ These times are the ancient times, when the world is
ancient, and not those which we account ancient ordine retrograde,
by a computation backward from ourselves."

But nobody knows or can explain what it is that Bacon means

BACON AND ANTIQUITY, 185

when he declares he is going " the same road as the ancients,"
unless it be the plays and their philosophical systems, which we
maintain are copied from the ancients^ as anyone can see in The
IFinier's Tale, Dream, and Tempest, But we do not expect to
convert a sceptical age. Nevertheless, as the truth must ulti-
mately come out, let us here lay just claim to having forestalled
it. We therefore present the reader mth the following passage,
which in a moment reveals the writer's predilections —

" As to the heathen antiquities of the world, it is in vain to
note them for deficient ; deficient they are, no doubt, consisting
most of fables and fragments, but the deficience cannot be
holpen ; for antiquity is like fame, caput inter nubila condit, her
head is muffled from our sight."

Yes, " Antiquity is like fame " — like Bacon's fame, with which
it is partly identified, but as yet ** muffled from our sight," hidden
in the " region cloud."

" Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day.
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds overtake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke 1 **

— Sonnet xxxiv.

Here is a subtle hint which Bacon gives us —

" To conclude, therefore : as certain critics used to say hyper-
bolically : that if all sciences were lost they might be found in
Virgil." But where particularly 1 We reply, in the sixth book
of the " -^Eneid," tJie science of the Mysteries, which is the key-
stone of the chief plays. But now take the following passage,
addressed to the entire tribe of Shakespearian Editors, Com-
mentators, Emendators, and Correctors, written (as Bacon so
openly and unreservedly puts it), to " prevent the inconveniences
future," clearly seeing that the great army of Mar-texts would so
corrupt, vilify, and destroy the text, by bringing it to a level
with their intelligences, as to cause great ''inconveniences
fixture."

^ 2 \

1 86 BA CON AND ANTIQ UITY.

" A CONCLUSION IN A DEUBBRATIVB.

" Bo may toe redeem the faults passed, and prevent the inconveniences

future,

- " There remain two appendices touching the tradition of know-
ledge, the one critical, the other pedantical ; for all knowledge is
either delivered by teachers, or attained by men's proper en-
deavours : and therefore, as the principal part of tradition of
knowledge concemeth chiefly writing of books, so the relative
part thereof concerneth reading of books : whereunto appertain
incidentally these considerations. The first is concerning the
true correction and edition of authors, wherein nevertheless rash
diligence hath done great prejudice. For these critics have often
presumed that that which they understand not^ is false set down.
As the priest, that where he found it written of St Paul, ' De-
missus esi per sportam,' mended his book, and made it ' Demissus
est per ^offam,' because sporta was an hard word, and out of his
reading : and surely their errors, though they be not so palpable
and ridiculous, yet are of the same kind. And, therefore, as it
hath been wisely noted, the most corrected copies are commonly
the least correct.

*' The second is concerning the exposition and explication of
authors, which resteth in annotations and commentaries, wherein
it is over usual to blanch the obscure places, and discourse upon
the plain."

Do we really think and believe that this was deliberately
written with an eye to the future, with its corrections of what
has been supposed to be a corrupt text, because " obscure " and
brought down by vermiculate intellects to their own plain level 1
We do most unquestionably. Has not Mr Donnelly already proved
this 1 Was he not obliged to obtain a photographed copy of the
Great Folio Edition of 1623, wherein he at once noticed the
irregular paging, bracketing, hyphens, &c., which led to his dis-
covery of the cipher 1 Fortunately those Folios exist ; fortunately
they cannot be corrected, emendated, and otherwise vilified — or
corrupted.

CHAPTER IX.

LORD bacon's "history OF THE SYMPATHY AND
ANTIPATHY OF THINGS."

" Merry and tragical ! Tedious and brief !
That is, hot ice and wondrous strange snow.
How shall we find the concord of this discord ? "

— Mid9ummer-Night*8 Dream,

" Strife and Friendship in Nature are the spurs of motions, and
the Keys of Works " (page 203, vol. v., Lord Bacon's Works).

" In the 63rd section of the Novum Organum he (Bacon) men-
tions very approvingly the philosophers of antiquity who taught
this philosophy, of opposites or contraries, 'The strife and
friendship of Empedocles, Heraclitus's doctrine how bodies are
resolved into the indifferent nature of fire.' " (Spedding.)

These quotations point out that Bacon had accepted and
adopted these philosophic principles, which we shall do well
therefore to study closer. The moet prominent and striking
feature of the Sonnets, is the reiterated appearance of Love (as a
male) in conflict and opposition to Hate (as a female). Some-
times they appear as Light and Darkness, as Truth and False-
hood, Summer and Winter, Spirit and Matter, but always in
opposition or strife. The Friendship is as prominent as the
Strife. For this Friendship is for the friend of the Sonnets to
whom they are addressed, and who is Love, Light, Logos, and
Truth — the poet's alter ego— who is himself and not himself. The
first thing that strikes us is the division of the Sonnets into two
parts, not only by a line, but by the second part opening with
the subject of a Woman, who, whilst being black, is connoted
with the direct opposite characteristics of the male friend of the

1 88 5 VMPA TH Y AND ANTIPA THY OF THINGS.

first division of these poems. And not only are these two
antagonistical principles at War or strife with each other, but
they form a paradox, inasmuch as one is embraced by the other
under the androgynous term, ^^Master-Mistress." The Woman not
only is termed heU,iiate, and termed as ''black as night," but
she is everything the male friend is not. In short, we may say,
whatever the male or friend is by nature of Affirmatives the
Woman is the contrary by Negatives or exclusions. Nevertheless
it is this female that the poet persuades his friend to many for
the sake of begetting offspring. In short, the entire subject-
matter of the Sonnets is from the opening, persuasion that his
friend may marry this seemingly detestable woman (whom many
regard as a real personage), for the sake of immortality.

In the Sonnets we find this idea of Strife and Friendship not
only prominently brought forward by the contrasted attributes
of the male friend and the black mistress, but openly termed a
War .—

" And all in war with time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I eugraft you new."

Sonnet 16—

." But wherefore do not you, a mightier way,
Make voar upon this bloody tyrant time % "

Sonnet 35 —

" Such civil War is in my Love and Hate^
That I, an accessory, needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me."

We see here not only the epithet war applied to this strife, but
its nature is revealed in the words Love and ffaie, or Friendship
and Strife. These were the principles which were taught as the
origin of things in the Mysteries of Eleusis, the eternal War of
Eleusis (vide "Banquet of Plato," cap. 14, p. 30). "For unity
whilst it separates from itself identifies itself" (vide Creuzer's
" Symbolik," vol. i. p. 199). Majian system :— " All things consist
in the mixture of opposites ; disunion, difference gives existence
to things. When this ceases, t.e., when the differences resolve
into their source, so do they cease to exist"

SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS. 189

This is the equivalent of separation^ and of reconcUiaiion,
And it seems to us clearly to be the very basis of an art which is
created for eternity and revelation. For the synthesis or mar-
riage of philosophy (or ideas) to art is at once a separation and a
reconciliation. It is the union of mind to matter, of the spiritual
to the material, of the signification to the vehicle. Thus Creuzer
tells us that " a grand doctrine of the Eleusinian (Mysteries) was
the principle of War and Peace, of the strife of matter with the
spirit, and of the purification of the latter through it. Thus the
doctrine of separation and reconciliation, which in the Pytha-
gorean resembles dualism" (vol. iv. p. 387, ed. iv.). The war of
such an art consists in the mixture of contraries. For the
material outer form of such art is clearly at enmity, as an
obscuring and veiling garb of the inner spiritual signification.

But it is not only in this sense that we would apply it. We

find that a great number of the plays turn upon separation and

final reconciliation in a most phenomenal and striking manner. For

example. The IFinter^s Tale presents us with a structure that turns

upon the separation of Hermione and Leontes as a pivot, and

closes with their reconciliation or unity. Pericles discloses an

identical substructure with other prominent parallels that are

too persistent to be accidental. In Pericles we have, as in The

}Finter*s Tale, a lost child, who is the means of bringing about

the reunion of father and mother. Marina is the counterpart of

Perdita. Hermione and Thaisa, separated from their respective

husbands, are both presented as supposed to be dead, and both

miraculou8ly return to life, and are rejoined to their husbands

through the indirect instrumentality of their lost children.

Again, in Alt's Well that Ends Well we have the separation of

Helena and Bertram as the main plot of Love on one side. Hate

on the other, to be followed by their reconciliation. In this play

the poet actually brings in these contraries or oppositcs into the

text, and evidently intentionally.

^ '* Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one :
80 shall those faults that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone."

I90 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

Helena says of Bertram : —

'* His humble ambitioD, proud humility,
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet,
His faith his sweet disaster."

The entire plot of Romeo and Juliet is Love at civil war, at
cross purposes, with Hate. The lovers are separated to such a
degree in life by the family feud that they can only be united in
death. It is impossible that these reiterated and prominent
principles can be thus brought in by chance.

In the Two Noble Kinsmen, a play attributed to Shakespeare,
we find these principles not only brought forward in the pro-
tagonist characters of Palamon and Arcite, but we have the
introduction of the altars of Mars and Venus, who were the
representative deities of these principles.

Again, in Hermione, which is only another name for Harmonia,
we have a direct reference to Mars and Venus (or this Strife and
Friendship), for she was the daughter of Mars and Venus.

To the general reader it may appear absurd or trifling to
assert, that out of ''Love and Hate" we can trace deliberate
philosophic creative principles. But it must not be forgotten
that these terms embrace the universe. In Love we have the
great attractive force — Gravitation. In Hate we have its direct
opposite — Repulsion, which it is not improper to connote with
heat. These two are centripetal and centrifugal — a unifying
and a separating power. The act of creation, whether physical or
poetical, is a love force, synthetic or attractive, marrying for the
sake of offspring. The poet marries his ideas to his vehicle.
TiOve, according to the Orphic poets, was the gravitating or at-
tractive principle, which brought the universe into shape and gave
birth to the starry spheres. But the other power, the opposite of
Love, was necessary to prevent everything unifying or marrying.
The entire solar system keeps its allotted round through attrac-
tion and repulsion — Love and Hate.

We are not making imaginary parallels, or stretching a fanciful
analogy to breaking point. Call attraction, gravity (or by any

S YMPA THY AND ANTIPA TIIY OF THINGS, 1 9 1

term of Newton's you like), it is simply Love, Desire, the force
that compels one thing to another, whether it be particle to par-
ticle, or man to woman. And it is this power (which is a marry-
ing or sjmthetic act), that Plato terms '^ marriage for the sake of
immortality." It is the opening theme of the Sonnets. But it
must not be taken alone, it must be coupled at the same time
with its opposite, "strife," or war, or hate. For in art this
latter is the obscuring matrix or form, which, whilst receiving the
imprint of the archetypal ideas, transforms them into sensuous
objects or pictures, and is at cross purposes with them as external
to internal, or object to subject. These two in action with each
other exemplify Nature as Strife and Friendship, for, as
Heraclitus declares, "War is the father of all things." These
principles run through all nature, and we call their balance
moderation or temperance. In politics we see them displayed
in the reciprocal play of party against party. No one thing
exists in nature alone, but it has its direct opposite to balance
it, and it is easy to maintain without fear of denial that out
of the conflict of a great dualism, things exist Can this be
applied to art? We think so. And the plays, with ^ their
planned rebirth, will illustrate it.

It is worthy of a second notice to remark that we have this
war described as "a (xM war" (Sonnet 35) —

** Such dvH vxir is in my love and hate
That I am aooessary needs must be
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me."

Now we have here a confession, that the poet takes pari against
himself in this private warfare. He tells us again in Sonnet 46 —

<* Mine eye and heart are at a mortal loar
How to divide the conquest of thy sight ;
My eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar,
My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.
My heart doth plead, that thou in him doth lie,
(A closet never pierced with crystal eyes),
But the defendant doth that plea deny,
And says in him thy fair appearance lies.

192 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

To 'cide this title is impanneled
A quest of thoughts all tenants to the heart ;
And by their verdict is determined
The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part :
As thus : mine eye's due is thy outward party
And my heart's right thy inward love of heart}*

We see here very unmistakably that this "mortal war," or

"civil war," is connected with an " outtmrd" and an '* inward**

part, that belong respectively to the eye, and to something that

is secret, interior, and obscured by the outward eye. This is a

species of perspective or illusion produced by exquisite art.

Let us hear the poet upon this wonderful art : —

" Perspective it is best painter's art,
For through the painter must you see his skill,"

which (being paraphrased) declares "perspective" to be only

(" best ") a trick of art, and if we desire to judge of the painter's

skill or excellence, we must see through the " perspective." ^ That

the poet employs the term " perspective " in the sense of illusion

is clear in Twelfth Night, where we have Viola and Sebastian so

alike that they are " A natural perspective, that is and is not."

But suppose we summon the real author to our assistance

Francis Bacon, who appears as if he had written his prose works

as commentaries, explanations, and keys to his other poetical

creations. In the "Natural History" (Century i 98) we find:

" Like perspectives which show things intoards when they are hid

paintings*^ In the " Advancement of Learning," we have —

" Poetry is nothing else but feigned history."

In Twelfth Night, Act i. sc. 2, we have—

" Viola, 'TIS poetical.
Olivia. It is the more likely to be feigned."

1 Perspective, Perspective meant a onnning picture, which seen directly
seemed in confusion, and seen obliquely became an intelligible composi-
tion ; also a glass so cut as to produce optical illusion. See King Richard
//., Act ii. sc. 2, I. 18. But here does it not simply mean that a painter's
highest art is to produce the illusion of distance, one thing seeming to Hj
behind another ; yon must look through the painter (my eye or myself), to
see your picture, the product of his skill, which lies within him (in my
heart) ? — Dowden,

SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS. 193

In As You Like It, Act iii. sc. 7 —

" The truest poetry is the most feigning."

Or Richard IL^ Act ii. sc. 2 —

" Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon,
Show nothing but confusion— ey'd awry,
Distinguish form."

What does the poet mean by '' rightly gazed upon," unless he
means in the " right or usual way " ? Yet this shows nothing but
confusion ! There are certain pictures with figures in them that
do not appear when we gaze rightly or simply, or in the usual
way at them.

To find a face in a tree, or a figure in a landscape, must be a
familiar form of amusement, in pictorial invention, to everybody.
In order to get at the secret, we have to twist and screw the
picture about, and in the words of the poet, " ey'd awry ; " we
" distinguish form," that is, we arrive at the solution or discovery.
It is so with allegory, and with all high art requiring intense
study to reveal its spiritual archetypal idea or form. Thus we
have the poet telling us in Richard IL, that ''perspective" pro-
duces confusion when rightly gazed upon. Dante writes, in his
Convito —

" By heart I mean the inward secret,"

so that the author of the plays is only using, after all, an estab-
lished form of secret language, and we cannot be charged with
foisting fanciful theories of our own upon the text. Bossetti, in
his " History of the Antipapal Spirit which preceded the Refor-
mation," gives us an elaborate account of the mystic language
which he terms the "Gay Science," which we quote : —

''The mystic language of this society was taught by means of
a vocabulary, called the Grammar of the Gay Science ; founded
chiefly on ideas and words put in opposition to each other. The
antithesis of gay science was sad ignorance ; and, hence, to he gay
and to be sad^ to langh, and to weep, with all their respective syno-
nimes and derivatives, signified to be a sectarian, or to be, on the

N

194 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

contraryy a papalist. Heart meant the hidden secret ; /ace the
outward meaning; and si^A^ the verses in this jargon, &c

" Before Dante livedo this gay science had fixed the foundation
of its language on the two words, love and hatred ; and all their
attendant qualities followed on each side— pleasure and grief,
truth and falsehood, light and darkness, sun and moon, life and
death, good and evil, virtue and vice, courage and cowardice,
mountain and valley, fire and frost, garden and desert, &c."

Nor should we be surprised to find the author of the plays
employing the same secret language as Dante, inasmuch as we
have a very strong hint thrown out to us in Sonnet 86 that
Dante inspired the poet first.

" Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ? **

The expression of "proud full sail" can only be applied to
Dante (or Virgil), inasmuch as we find him comparing his great
work to a ship.

"The 'Purgatorio' opens with the metaphor of Dante's
poetic bark, or sail— a simile continued in the 'Paradiso'
(canto ii, 1)—

" PURGATORIO— CANTO i.

" 0*er the smooth waters of a milder sea

The light bark of my genius hoists her sail,
Leaving behind the flood of misery :
For now that second kingdom claims my song,

Wherein is purified the spirit frail.
And fitted to rejoin the heavenly throng."

— Wrighfs Translation,

In Sonnet 80 we find the author of the plays comparing his
" saucy bark " to another poet's—

" My saucy bark inferior far to his,
On your broad main doth wilfully appear."

5 VMPA THY AND ANTIPA TH Y OF THINGS. 1 95

We find Dante making Beatrice the Admiral who commands
his figurative bark—

*' As to the prow or stern, some admiral
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,
When 'mid the sail-yards all hands plj aloof ;
Thus on the left side of the car, I saw
The virgin stationed, who before appear'd.^'

— (" Purg.» 30.)

We cannot too sufficiently study the creative principles con-
sisting of a Loved One or Beloved, as we find so repeatedly in
the Sonnets.

Analysing Brahma, we find Creuzer thus describes him—

(a.) The first Being before and over all things.

(&.) The Love that the first Being has for himself, and which
he gives away.

(c.) Consequently God divided into a Lover and a Beloved,

(d.) This Separation is the primai origin of Things.

Kot only do the Sonnets deal almost exclusively with a Lover

and a Beloved as alter ego (whom the poet repeatedly tells us is

himself), but the separation, which is the primal orgin of things,

is distinctly enunciated. The poet must beget an heir, a son —

who is his Beloved, his spiritual archetype or wisdom — which

shall be wedded to his art, and be reborn by revelation of that

art. So we find the opening theme deals with marriage for the

sake of immortality. And by this we believe he means the

marriage of pure rationalistic thought to a vehicle which shall at

the same time veil and carry it, as dual unity. We find this

"union in partition" plainly enunciated in the poem of the

Phoenix and Turtle : —

'' So they lov'd, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one :
Two distincts, division none :
Number there in love was slain.

Pi*operty was thus appall'd.
That the self was not the same ;
Single nature's double name
Neither two nor one was call'd.

196 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

fteasoD, in itself confounded,
Saw division grow together,
To themselves yet either-neither,
Simple were so well compounded.

That it cried, How tme a twain
Seemeth this concordant one !
TiOve hath reason, reason none,
If what parts can so remain.''

We find it again brought forward in the relationship of
Hermia to Helena : —

'* We, Hermia, like two artificial gods.
Have with our ueelds created both one flower,
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbling of one song, both in one key ;
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds,
Had been incorporate. So we grew together.
Like to a double cherry, iteming parted ;
But yet a union in partition^
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ;
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ;
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry,
Due but to one, and crownM with one crest"

Hermia is plainly the Hermetic ideas imprinted upon Helena, as
a stamp imprints itself upon wax. This is Plato's simile for the
participation of ideas with Matter (Parmenides).

Fouillde writes {La Philosophie de Platan) : —

''Les Pythagoriciens repr^entaient le sensible comme one
imitation, fJi^t/i^tng, de Tintelligible. Gette image se retrouve
souyent dans Platen. Le Timie^ dont le h^ros est un pythagori-
cien, appelle Tensemble des Id^es ou monde intelligible le module
da monde sensible. Litemel artiste^ les yeuxfixis sur cet exemplaire^
le reproduit en fa^mint la maiihe d Vimage des Iddes, Dans un
autre passage du TinUe^ la maiihe est reprdsentie comme recevant
Vempreinie des Id^s, de mhne que la cire refoit une forme sous la
main qui la pitrit. La Rdpublique appelle les objets sensibles les
reflets, les ombres^ les images du monde intelligible."

5 YMPA TH V AND ANTIPA TH V OF THINGS. 1 97

Bat here is the conclusive proof. The poet uses the same
simile in the Dream : —

" The. What say you, Hermia ? be advis'd, fair maid :
To you, your father should be as a god ;
One that compo^d your beauties ; yea, and one
To whom you are but as a form in was.
By him imprinted, and within his power
To leave the figure, or disfigure if

Here we have the same metaphor. And the comparison of
Hermia's father with a god who *^ composed her beauties" is a
proof of the nature of the relationship of Hermia to Helena, that
is, of the spiritual to the phenomenal, of the idea to the form, of
mind to matter. But the entire play is a proof of it, the mis-
takes in the wood arising from the likeness of Hermia to Helena,
for we cannot recognise Hermia until we can exclaim —

" Transparent ^ Helena ! Mature here shows Art
That through thy bosom makes me see thy heart.''

This heart is the secret Hermia. For the poet has told us, —
that his inward side is his heart side : —

" As thus ; mine eye's due is thine outward part.
And my heart's right thine inward love of heart."

This is the Templar language or jargon of the gay science
which we have already quoted from Dante — where Heart means
the hidden secret, Hermia and Helena have '^ but one heart ; " as
the poet tells us, " they grew in the act of creation together,"
like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet "a union in
partition." This is nothing else but —

" So they lov'd, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one j
Two distincts, division none ;
Number there in love was dain"

Love is the synthetic or marrying power of creation,
whereby two are identified into one. And this is the key of the

^ This simile is borrowed from the Mysteries or the Gate of Horn,
through which transparent substance the reoZ, spiritual ideas or visions
were apprehended. See page 211.

198 SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

Sonnets, marriage for the sake of the immortality, which such
perfect art is sure to bring in the rebirth or discovery of the
ideas married (and buried) in such art. This is why Love plays
such an important part in the Sonnets. For Love, in the
Platonic sense, is the creative power by which two things
are married and made one. Thus the entire proposition of
marriage, set forth in the opening of the Sonnets, is this idea
of creation, for the sake of rebirth or revelation. If the poet
copies a copy (like almost all other art in existence), his art will
not be inmiortal in the sense he aims at. For phenomena are
already images, or idols of spiritual ideas. He must therefore
copy not things, but ideas, and imprint them upon his creations
in the widest philosophic sense possible, so will his plays become
philosophic play systems, which indeed they are with a venge-
ance. We see at once that such a sublime scheme as this,
seemingly impossible, is not only Godlike, but is something
almost superhuman. We see also that it makes the characters
of the plays, idols representative of ideas, whereby the entire
Baconian theory of words, as " Pygmalion's images," as idols of
the theatre, may be brought in to illustrate his inductive method,
and his idols with their four classes particularly. This art
will never be understood until Plato's similes to represent the
relationship of ideas to phenomena or matter are thoroughly
grasped. That is, that phenomena are images, idols, shadows,
reflections of the ideas stamped upon them, as a die or seal
imprints its picture upon wax. The terms he uses express this
in the simplest and plainest way possible. We are told upon the
monument at Stratford that the poet has the genius of Socrates
and the art of Virgil ! What more do we want, considering it is
written everywhere in the Sonnets, over and over again 1. As a
Dream is the reflection of something real, as a Shadow is to the
light, so does the play of the Midsummer-Nighfs Dream deal with
this very subject of the poet's art and its creative principles, being
self-reflective, in irony picturing the cross-purposes, mistakes, and
illusions which arise from our mistaking Helena for Hermia — ^the

SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS. 199

spiritual for the phenomenal. Bat whilst applying to itself, it
applies to Nature also. And this is the miracle of this art, which
the World must awake to realize, that it has risen to an equal
point of height with Nature, and what it reflects of itself, it
reflects always doubly — to Nature at the same time also.

CHAPTER X.

THE midsummer-night's DREAM.*

"Three problems are pat by nature to the mind: What ia matter?
Whence is it ? and whereto ? The first of these questions only, the ideal
theory answers. Idealism saith : matter is a phenomenon, not a substance.
Idealism acquaints us with the total disparity between the evidence of our
own being, and the evidence of the world's being. The one is perfect ; the
other incapable of any assurance ; the mind is a part of the nature of
things ; the world is a divine dream, from which we may presently awake
to the glories and certainties of day." — (Essays, "Spirit^" p. 166, voL ii.,
Emerson.)

In the play of The Tempest, we have (in the speech of Prospero,

which he introduces in connection with the Masque) an epitome

of the poet's philosophical creed or way of looking at life, which

it is impossible to misconstrue. In the words^ " We are such

stuff as dreams are made on," and again, ''Our little life is

rounded with a sleep," we are face to face with the doctrines

taught in the Mysteries, and repeated in the Platonic philosophy.

With Plato, life is a dream, objects are phenomena, shadows, or

images, and we are nearest awakening from the sleep of life

when we dream that we are dreaming ! The Greeks called Sleep

the lesser Mystery, and Death the greater Mystery, the parallel

between Death and his twin brother Sleep, holding out as it

were the promise of immortality — another wakening in another

world! The entire doctrine of IdeaUsm is founded upon the

priority, and real character, of the Rational and Spiritual over

the Irrational and Phenomenal We must reverse common sense

if we would understand this philosophy. For it asserts sense to

be the Apparent and illusive — not a lie, but a half or false truth,

in fact symbolical, and as Emerson would say, representative.

1 This chapter is only a brief summary of what has been already discussed
at greater length in " A New Study of Shakespeare."

MJDSUMMER-NIGHrS DREAM. 201

Let it be here noted, that this is a philosophy of Art It is ^r
excellence the poet's philosophy. Because it asserts the entire
world is a Divine poem — composed by a Divine Poet or Creator,
who like an Artist conceives a beautiful archetypal Idea, and
clothes it in the vehicle of Nature, and of Man. Tlie Drama of
Existence is to God, what the plays are to the author. And we
see at once that it is perfectly possible for Dramatic Art to
embrace this philosophy and be god-like from this point of view.
For the entire Drama may become a means of phenomenal repre-
sentation, giving and withholding its meaning, concealing and
revealing it, after the fashion of Nature itself. And this is what,
we are very certain, the author of the plays has done, viz., em-
braced the entire Platonic philosophy, or rather, we should say,
its fountain head, in the Mysteries of Eleusis, with the origins
of the Drama. Life is a dream, — the masque vanishes, — these
our actors are melted into thin air. But is there not, perhaps,
a lesson still waiting for us to learn 1 Is it not possible, nay, pro-
bable, that the other actors in these plays are shadows, images,
reflections also 1 But let us examine more closely this creed of
Idealism as taught by the Ancients.

Now it is significant for a study of the Midsummer- Nighf 8
Dreamy that we have been finding the poet pronouncing in
The Tempest, that life is a dream, and our life a sleep. This is
word for word the teaching of the Eleusinian Mysteries and of
Socrates. On the poet's monument we find that he had the art of
Virgil and the genius of Socrates. Considering that up to date,
neither Virgil's art nor Socrates' have been found in the plays,
it is sufficiently noteworthy to remark that Virgil and Socrates
join hands upon the subject of the Mysteries. The VI th Book of
Virgil, ever since Warburton pointed it out, has been accepted as
a description of the Mysteries, and we know from Porphyry that
the Platonic philosophy was taught in the Mysteries. With
regard to this, we have no need of authorities. Any student
reading the Banquet, and Diotima's instructions to Socrates
related by the latter, will at once perceive that the subject is

\ w

202 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.

sacred, solemn, guardedly veiled, and that these are Divine
Creative Doctrines pertaining to the Mysteries. What resem-
blance can there be otherwise between Epic poetry like Virgil's,
and Dramatic plays like these? And where, indeed, do we
find the Socratic philosophy ? We reply, it is behind, imbedded,
the framework — the archetypal conception of this entire art. It
crops up in this speech, united with the apocalyptic vision or
masque of Juno and Ceres, wherein for a moment we behold the
other or Heavenly side of this art, revealed symbolically in a
play, where we already are represented in relation to this art, as
its initiates through time !

We elsewhere see that this philosophy, that life is a dream,
produced by the sleep of sense, is not only the Socratic philo-
sophy, but Bacon's also, who describes Socrates as '* having
drawn down philosophy from heaven." And we now propose
to accept this statement seriously, and apply it to this play of the
Midsummer-Nighfs Dream.

Dreams are the result of sleep — sleep of night. Moonlight is
a dream of sunshine or daylight, as if the day were sick, and our
earth-life a mere vision, by which we apprehend something more
real, more lasting, and more sublime than the errors and cross
purposes with which our mortal eyes are blinded. In The Tem-
pest we have the Heaven of this art displayed or opened to us. Is
there no antithesis to this in the Midsummer-Night's Dream f Can
it be possible that we have in this play the night-side^ or reflected
side, of the poet's art in relation to himself and to us, presented
to us ) In The Tempest we have an apocalyptic vision — a recon-
ciliation — a gradual revelation — the god in art, breaking his
wand and disclaiming his magic ; deigning to be human and one
of us. But in the Dream all is confined to Night and to Moon-
light; all is reflected, all is shadow, image, illusive, phenomenal,
and dream-like. How the parallel insists itself upon us that we
are still gropers in the Moonlight of his Divine Theatre, at cross
purposes with his secret meaning, confused by his phenomenal
beauty, and taking this actual moonlight for daylight — the re-

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM, 203

fleeted and phenomenal for the real and spiritual I Whilst many
are questioning themselves, whether some of the plays have not
an inner or deeper philosophic structure than is generally sur-
mised, the plays are mockingly reflecting our relationship to them.

If, as we believe, the entire system of this art revolves around
a spiritual sun, and is a complete solar system, we can quite
understand the philosophical relationship obtaining between the
plays and their creator, contemplating the moonlight of his art
(or its night-side), whilst the great solar Truths, which are its
logos, soul, archetypal source and centre, are unrevealed to us
except by reflection, that is, by idols of the Theatre, by pheno-
mena. Let us study the Dream with such a theory before us.

It will be granted that things in this universe exist and live
through opposition and conflict. We see this in the two great
laws of Attraction and Repulsion, which might be termed cold and
heat We call them Centripetal and Centrifugal — sometimes
but rarely. Love and Hate, though this is no strained or fanciful
parallel. We may boldly declare (for our own belief) that these
two laws govern the universe, the planets being kept in their
spheres by them. It is the balance, or rather the play of these
mutually self-controlling forces which governs the entire solar
system. When we study the ancient Orphic Hymns and find
Love playing a great creative part, we need not be surprised, for
it is only a name for Gravity or Attraction. In the senses, we
find Love or desire to be another term again for attraction, — ^an
attraction that is quite at war or conflict with our rational
faculties. And to such an extent is this accepted, that Love han,
in consideration of his irrationality^ been considered blind. We
shall find that the cross purposes and errors produced by Puck in
the Dream are caused by a double conflict of two principles, which
are Love and Hate. We are going to propose that these are
creative art principles, at once rational and irrational — ^rational
in the undoing, irrational in the making or synthesis.

We desire to propose to the philosophical student of this play
the following theory : — ^First, that the play is a reflection of the

204 MIDSUMMER NIGHTS DREAM.

Night side of Nature (or of the poet's art), dealing with its phe-
nomenal side as at cross purposes with its Hermetic and Spiritual
side. Directly we open the play we find Hermia at cross pur-
poses with her father, in love with Lysander, but forced to
marry with Demetrius. We find her name strangely supporting
the theory we are about to propound. For the name of Hermia
immediately suggests the Hermetic, the interpretation of things
or ideas requiring interpretation. Plato compares the imprint-
ing of ideas upon matter as the stamp of a die upon wax. We
find the text actually employing this comparison. Nor does the
parallel stop here. Her father is compared to a god — a signifi-
cant fact, when we are proposing to deal with Creation Divine
and poetic It is in the choice of names, in the etymology of
the plays, that we shall find their solution : —

" Theseus. What say you, Hermia ? be advised, fair maid :
To you your father should he as a god;
One that composed your beauties ; yea and one
To whom you are as a form in wax
By him imprinted**

The student of Plato will immediately recognize the source of
the imagery. Everywhere Plato conceives the creative power as
imprintiog his archetypal ideas on matter, as a form on wax.
Let us then assume that Hermia is a personified embodiment of
the archetypal ideas, concealed hermetically in Nature or this
art. Grant this for the sake of what is to follow. Now all
ideas, whether (philosophical) as unity or separate, require
interpretation, a setting free. Marriage is synthesis, that is,
identification, harmony. Love is attraction. As Dante says,
Lovers are those who in the rational world identify by harmony
or marriage what they find in themselves, and in objects. It
will be granted that all things in these plays, if resembling
at all Nature, are symbolical. That is, there is an objective and
a subjective side to everything, either separately or universally.
The entire universe is both irrational (and sensual), and rational
(or spiritual) at the same time— both are at conflict, as concealing

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 205

and revealing powers. The mind is always at work interpreting,
discovering philosophically, or scientifically, the rational side
of things— (the Hermetic secrets of Nature), — ^which may be
rightly called the symbolical or subjective side of existence, as
ideas. Now the Subject is never separate, but always existing in
dual unity with the Object World. This Object World, whether
phenomena (or the plays as they stand unrevealed), we beg leave
to term- Helena — a name which suggests beauty, and Matter, as
we abundantly find. If Hermia and Helena are the two sides of
this medal of Jove, they ought to be one, though really two,
according as we take them subjectively or objectively. To make
a somewhat abstruse subject clear, let us take any myth, fable, or
story which contains a meaning to it, or an allegorical picture.

Every fellow of Freemasonry knows that the signs he is shown
have a meaning. The square, the compasses are to him em-
blematic of more than they are to a carpenter. So with things
and so with Nature. For everything speaks a double language
of art and revelation, of ideas and sense at once. Yet these
separate two (sign and meaning) are one, until separated by
thought — the sign only carries the idea, the idea gives birth to
the sign, according to Plato. For that is the Divine Art. Now
to apply this to the play and to Nature. In ourselves we find also
this double power, — ability to interpret, to analyze or set free, or
reveal what we understand, and in default of this — perception of
the object) as existing to the senses. Thus in Objective Nature
(and Art) there are two identical (seemingly) yet separate sides,
one appealing to s^thetic, the other to the rational faculties. On
the other hand, the perceiver, Man, is irrationally drawn towards
objects through attraction or Love, sometimes sensuously, some-
times rationally. We have thus four protagonists of the
purely irrational and rational faculties. Two art tmt o/usin the
outside world. Ttco are tcithin us. The whole of our relationship
to Nature is a conflict and confusion arising from this antinomy.
For existence is of this nature, that they are at cross purposes
with each other. Philosophy has been termed the undoing or

2o6 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.

reversal of common sense. To think deeply or profoundly we
must veil the outward sight — ignore it, and undo what our
outward senses assert as true.

The sun rises apparently in the east (so say our eyes) and sets
in the west, moves across the heavens, yet it is an illusion of the
senses produced by the diurnal movement of the earth. And so
on. We would all marry Hermia, if we were not crossed by
Demetrius. For the earth-life (called Demetrians) is at war with
our rational interpreting faculties — ^Lysander. The senses are
the rivals of the soul. But let us summon the text. We assert
that Hermia is a form imprinted on wax — Helena, as archetypal
ideas (and therefore concealed or Hermetic) are stamped on a
vehicle, as art or beauty of Nature — ^plays otherwise. Now this
relationship of Helena to Hermia is insisted upon in the text in
unmistakable fashion. This identity yet separation is a union
in partition.^

** We, Hermia, like two artificial gods.
Have with our needles created both one flower.
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion,
Both warbliog of one song, both in one key,
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds
Had been incorporate ; so we grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition."

This is creation divine or poetic, which we find again in the
Phamix and the Turtle. It is the keynote of the entire art of
these plays, which are as profound as Nature itsell These two,
Helena and Hermia, are incorporate, ''a union in partition,"
the plays exierius or interius, accordingly as we take them.

Now comes our explanation to those who may deem it worth
particular study. It is this. The confusion, errors, and cross
purposes in the play are due to the identity yet separation of
Hermia from Helena; both are confounded. First we love
Helena, then Hermia, for they can only be separated in thought.
Let us be clear. This art, according to our theory, is equally

1 We repeat this qnotatioii, because, in our opinion, it is one of the keys
to the entire nature of this art, and cannot be too mnch stadied.

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 207

applicable to Nature or to itself. For this is its exhaustive
miracle, that whatever applies to itself applies to Nature also, for
it is a complete parallel, with an external side as embodiment of
its spiritual side. Laugh as the world may, it will be found so ;
not because we say so, but because it is so. And could we by
our pen get others to see what we know and see, the world would
and must see it is so. For three hundred years we have been
Demetrians seeking Hermia in Hdena (m^y— though unknow-
ingly to us the features of Hermia are imprinted on the features
of Helena. What we mean is this in plain language : The real
power, fascination, depth and charm of the plays, hitherto known
under the false name of Shakespeare, is derived from the spiritual
side, which we are as yet unable to recognise, except as a name-
less attraction to the external side Helena. Whilst we are
wooing Helena, we are in reality in love with Hermia. We
feel the Hermetic in this art ; for it is the real force which lifts
it above all other art, and places it on a pedestal inscribed to
Nature, who, as the monumental inscription states, died when it
was bom, but which means in this case, that until the summer
of its rebirth returns, it is in the Winter signs, and like its
protagonist Ceres, awaiting (like Hermione) its lost child — the
Spring of its revelation or new birth I

The errors and cross purposes of our study of this art are as
much the result of our own natures as of the perplexing dual
character of the plays or Nature. Our intellectual faculties and
our earth life (which we owe to Dem6ter, and which makes us
Demetrians), are always at cross purposes, for the creative love in
these plays has made us blind to the rational and spiritual in it.
It is Puck (who like Ariel, is a creative instrument), who as Love,
blindness, has with his creative tricks of the poet's imagination,
squeezed the love juice of his art on our eyes, so that we are for
the night of the misinterpretation of these plays blind to the
Hermetic in this art

Directly we hear the name of Theseus we recall the picture of
Virgil, where we see him seated in the infernal regions : —

2o8 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM.

" Sedet, seternumque sedebit,
iQfelix Theseus.*'

Now, there is a curious passage in the Dream which pictures
Theseus as suffering torture. Theseus says : —

" Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ) "

Theseus and Pirithous we know were placed by Pluto upon an
enchanted rock at the gate of Hell or Tartarus. Theseus is con-
nected with the labyrinth and the Minotaur, both of which are
well known to have represented the labyrinth of existence, and of
the soul immersed in matter. By the labyrinth we have sugges-
tion of the tortuous and crooked ways, cross purposes and errors,
of the soul ; and, indeed, we know that some of these underground
labyrinths were places of initiation, of symbolical death, and
thus of the other side, or night side of the soul, as related to
the other world. The descent of Theseus into Hell is on a level
with that of ^neas, or of Orpheus, who is said to have instituted
the Mysteries. When we study the play of the Dream closely,
we find not only distinct resemblances to YirgiPs sixth book, but
something more than a startling resemblance of the transforma-
tion of Bottom into an Ass, to the like transformation of Apuleuis,
from which it is undoubtedly taken, in the " Golden Ass."

Moordight,

We find the ancients contemplating and holding the Moon
(and Moonlight, of course) as the self-reflecting image of Nature.
At first sight this may seem a little strange and extravagant, but
a very little study reveals the sublimity of the idea. In the first
^lace, Moonlight is boirowed or false light The light of the moon
is the reflected light of the sun, while the sun is quiie invisible to us.
And to the philosophical mind there is a like parallel obtaining
between phenomena and their real signification or ideas,
inasmuch as the former are but reflections of the latter,^ whilst

1 We find Bacon terming this relationship as " the direct beam " and
** the reflected beam."

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 209

invisible to us. This, of course, is the Platonic philosophy,
which is best presented to us in the allegory of the subterranean
cavern in the seventh book of the " Eepublic." In this world we
dwell on the night side of existence. All that we see are but
symbols (produced by the senses) of things spiritual and invisible
to us except by inference or conjecture. As different as daylight
is to moonlight, as different is the night side of the senses to the
sunlight of internal vision and truth. Everything in this world
exists by contrast, by opposition, by dual unity, for everything
has a meaning, and everything has an appearance, which is at
war with it to obscure and hide it at once.

This is Nature's great art, — illusion of the senses; and the
ancients were profoundly right when they made the veiling of
the sight or outward eye the preliminary process towards in-
ward vision. The mind's eye is not the outward eye, but the
soul's eye — the eye of the invisible and spiritual

To those who deny a subjective, philosophical side (or any justi-
fication for the construction of the plays at all), we would ask why
the poet has introduced a mythical classical element into the
Dream, side by side with the rude mechanicals and their modem
names ) Such plays as these plays are half divine, and are not
made in sport, as worlds without meaning, but are as philosophi-
cal as the universe itself, as profound as existence, full of the
minutest symbolic meaning, planned and constructed to teach
divine truths of the highest order, and not mere playthings for the
theatre. But the World will not take the trouble to think, and
must have opinions. Nor will the World consent to any instruc-
tion upon the matter, inasmuch as they know all about it. And
are as positive and conceited as Bottom to hold up their lantern
and bush of thorns in self-sufficient reflection of all that this art
contains. Now, will any one propose seriously that it was
"heads or tails" whether the poet introduced Theseus or any
other mythical hero ) This being the case, we beg to call atten-
tion to the fact that Theseus is presented to us by Virgil as seated

in the infernal regions.

o

2 1 o MTDSUMMER'NIGHTS DREAM.

The introduction of the interlude in this play immediately finds
its parallel in Eandet. And it is well worthy attention that in
the last-named play, the intention of the poet is to hold up the
mirror of reflection to the King's conscience — ^in short, that the
introduction of the play within the play is to reflect the crime
upon which the lai^r play revolves, and thus to play the part of
conscience on one side and reflection on the other. It is, there-
fore, probable that the interlude in the Midsummer-Nighfs Dream
has a similar relationship to the entire play, as a miniature copy
has to its original in the sense of caricature of incapacity. And
this (perhaps to some strange theory) is borne out by certain
parodied resemblances obtaining between the play itself and the
interlude, which we shall point out.

In the first place, the most significant fact in the Dream is that
it is laid entirely by night. There is even in the title something to
enforce our particular attention to this point, inasmuch as the play
deals with confusion, error, cross-purposes, and blindness, which
are companions of darkness and dreams. All this confusion could
not have found a fitting framework or background by daylight ;
so that we perceive a sort of harmony obtains between the title
as a Dream, and the action as one of errors and confusion.
Night is the producer and causer of these cross-purposes.

The most prominent feature in the setting of the play is the
background of Moonlight and Woods (or Nature), which seem to
serve as framework and main philosophical idea in the construc-
tion of it. And it is still more significant that, in the ridiculous
interlude, we have the introduction of a lantern and a bush of
thorns to present Moonshine and Woods, showing that this play
within the play is, as in the case of Hamlet, a reflection of the
larger play or action ; though, of course, in this case, only as a
parody or caricature of infinite, immeasurable incapacity and
distance. The transformation of Bottom into an Ass presents us
with the ne plus ultra point of this caricature. So that we seem
to have here a portrait, perhaps, of Man in relation to Nature,
if not also to the plays themselves.

MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM, 2 1 1

Bacon writes : — " But in the mean while let him remember
that I am in pursuit, as I said at first, not of beauty but of utility
and truth : and let him withal call to mind the ancient parable
of the two gates of sleep : —

* Sunt geminse Somni portse, qoarum altera fertur
Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris ;
Altera candenti perfecta nitena elephanto,
Sed falsa ad coelum mittunt insomnia Manes.' ^

** Great no doubt is the magnificence of the ivory gate, but the
true dreams pass through the gate of horn."

Now, it is very interesting to study Bacon's profound know-
ledge and thorough apprehension of Virgil's recondite meaning
connected with the Mysteries. We see that horn is a transparent
suhsiance, and it is not through this gate that ^neas is
ushered out of the lower regions into the real world again, but
through the gate of ivory. iEneas has been initiated, and he
returns to the world again.

" His ubi tum natum Anckises unaque, Sibyllam
Prosequitur-dictis, portaque emittit ebuma.*'

This shows very clearly that the false dreams were connected in
the Mysteries with life — that is, with phenomenal and material
nature or the senses. The real dreams have been seen in the
initiation below, because the whole end and aim of the Mysteries
was to teach man the reality of the(future life, and of Idealism.
The spiritual was taught to be the only true, and this could only
be apprehended by those who could penetrate the opaque masque
of delusion called matter, and see beyond to the other side, as
through hom.^ But this is proved by Sleep being called the lesser
mysteries of Death. Euripides expresses it : —

1 Virg. iEn. vi. 894 :—

'* 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.''

'"^ In the words of Lysander to Helena (.n the Dream), when he exclaims,
'* Transpartnt Helena," we find this horn alluded to as affording real
vision.

2 1 2 MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM,

"rnXOS rii MIKPA rov eoparov MTSTHPIA
" Sleep * is the lesser mystery of Death."

Whereby we see that what was meant was — that as Dreams seem
to be real whilst they last^ and inasmuch as we only discover their
false nature with awakening (being thoroughly under their
delusive influence), so life compared to the awakening after death,
would prove but a dream also. This is proved by the greater
Mysteries always embracing a symbolical death for the initiated.
With the rebirth were taught heavenly things. The candidate
had died figuratively, and had awakened from the sleep of life to
realize that all he saw in life was but a dream. What sleep is to
the morning's awakening (with which we realize the emptiness
and unreality of all we have dreamt), Death is to the spiritual
reawakening, whereby we see the unreality of existence and its
shadowy nature. Sleep was thus the lesser or small analogy
(Mystery) which illustrated the (greater) sleep of death. The
ancients took their analogies from nature. They saw that things
repeat themselves on a lesser and larger scale. The analogy
between sleep and death is striking — (these twin brothers) — and
from the one they concluded another awakening of the souL
Thus idealism was taught in these initiations. They taught that
life was a dream and the earth life a species of sleep, which we
find repeated in the speech of Prospero in The Tempest, for what
he delivers there is only the teaching of the Mysteries : —

" We are such stuff as dreams are made of,
And our little life is rounded with a sleep.''

These doctrines were taught in the Temple of Geres. And
Prospero sums up his speech in connection with the masque
where Ceres is introduced. Prospero is no doubt a representa-
tive Jupiter, and his speech we have quoted is but the summing
up of Idealism. What do we mean by Idealism 1 We mean the
philosophy that taught that life is a sleep, and phenomena

i Warbnrton translates 'TIIXOZ as a dream — provmg that he only half
apprehended the allusion.

MIDSUMMER'NIGHTS DREAM. 213

dreams or shadows of the spiritual, which is the only real and
true, and which pervades all things.

" Musaeus, therefore, who had been hierophani at Athens, takes
the place of the sibyl (as it was the custom to have different
guides in different parts of the celebration) and is made to
conduct him to the recess, where his father's shade opens
to him the doctrine of truth, in these sublime words : —

* Principio coelum, ac terras, campoBque liquentes,
Lucentemque globum lunse, Titaniaque astra
Spiritus iNTUS ALiT, totamque infusa per artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpora miscet.
Inde hominum pecudumque genus, vitseque volantum,
Et quse marmoreo fert monstra sub sequore pontus.'

This was no other than the doctrine of the old Eg3rptians, as
we are assured by Plato; who says they taught that Jupiter
was the spirit which pervadeth all things." ("Divine
Legation," Warburton.)

It is needless to fill these pages with quotations, which we
could ad nauseam. The thing is so simple. Sleep the lesser
Mystery, Death the greater ! The one standing as the prototype
to the other. Whatever therefore we see as awake is a dream,
for we are (relatively to the spiritual) in a land of dreams,
and thoroughly immersed in those dreams which seem true.
But when we wake after the sleep of death, their true nature and
unreality will appear, and does appear to the philosopher who is
nearest awakening when he dreams that he dreams, as Novalis
puts it. Warburton apprehends the matter in a very lame
and indistinct fashion ; and by a great many writers it is not
apprehended at all. It is a thing which explains itself, and
all the scholarship in the world will not shake the truth of
what we have briefly summed up.

CHAPTEE XL

HAMLET.

Let it be noted that the purpose of the poet seems to have
been to present us, in the characters of Polonius, Guildensteni,
Rosencrantz, and Laertes (if not Osric also), a succession of defences
of the usurping King, who mvst he, and are all killed, or made away
with, before the King himself can be arrived at with the end of
the play. This, it seems to us, is a most significant hint. Be-
cause in each of these we see represented certain historical and,
indeed, worldly characteristics, which are worth particular study
in each case. Hamlet has often been criticised severely by
writers upon his want of action. He broods, he reflects, but he
is apparently lacking in character. But does he not act through-
out the play ? Does he not first hold up the image of truth to
the conscience of usurping falsehood by means of the play intro-
duced within the play) Does he not kill Polonius, outwit
Guildenstem and Bosencrantz, and see through Osric 1 Let us,
then, ponder over the philosophical genius of Hamlet's character.
For this character is one we see reflected in every man whose
mental faculties outweigh his physical ones or his will. Nay,
more, we see that it is an universal truth that can be applied
collectively. For History, past and present, is full of parallels
where thought, discovery, and, therefore, Bight and Truth, are at
war, but always in a minority, against established error, custom,
and infallibility. The entire history of the human race might be
writ large. King Falsewood, who has usurped the rightful heir,
the Prince of Truth. This is the nature, indeed, of human
existence.
If we now take Polonius, Guildenstem, Bosencrantz, and

HAMLET. 215

Xaertes, we shall find that they, each of them, represent respec-
tively much that we can everywhere find in History and man-
kind, as bulwarks, supports, or buttresses of Infallibility, £rrors,
— in short, the vested interests and ignorance that shut out Truth
and light, and keep the Prince of Truth in a prison, though he is
rightful heir and apparently free. We must remember that
when Hamlet was written, Europe was a species of world prison.
Struggles of religion, strangling of free thought, speech, or writ-
ing, were things of common evil then, we cannot imagine now.
But in dealing with a subject of this kind, it is impossible to
enter into particulars or details. The student who requires proof
on such a subject would comprehend nothing of our argument.
It is the nature of existence that Ignorance shall usurp Truth
first, and Darkness precede Light. That being acknowledged,
we have rather to study the particular touches of art, with which
the poet has invested such characters as Polonius, Eosencrantz,
and Guildenstem, all of whom are directly opposed and in
conflict with Hamlet. Their part is to hedge the King, from
Hamlet's revenge or (so-called) madness. Let us therefore take
old Polonius first, as he stands next the Ring in authority,
with his infallibility, empty words, and assurance that he knows
everything, and I think it will be easy to show what he repre*
sents.

Polonius^

It requires very little adduced from the text to sum up
Polonius. He is old, he is doting — he is not true, but although
sure of finding Truth, " though it were hid indeed within the
centre" — he is worldly wise, cunning, and full of bias. His
speech to Reynaldo savours of Popish instructions to ensnare
truth, rather than to unveil it

(C

Pol. See you now ;

Your bait of falsehood, takes this carp of truth ;
And thus do we of wisdom and of reacli,
With wind laces and with assay of bias.
By indirections find directioDS ouf

2i6 HAMLET.

How cautious, how cunniug, how worldly wise this is ! Tlie
'' bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth." Poor truth being
a sort of siUy fish, that is to be angled for, and asphyxiated by
falsehood ! Then what a vast sum of meaning is contained in
the word hias^ which means, force, violence, and against the will,
and, in our reduced rendering of the term, prejudice ! But
that the Author means, force or violence, is plain by the associa-
tion of the word with '' windlaces," which seems a sly hint for
the rack, which really was a frame with \^dndlaces attached to
draw the truth, or tortured truth, out of the unhappy victim !
It is by *' indirection," that is, by false ways and indirect ways,
that the carp of truth is caught or stifled. And lo, five or six
lines after this speech we have a fresh scene presented to us with
Ophelia, who gives us the following portrait of Hamlet : —

'* Oph, My Lord, as I was sewing in my cloBet

Lord Hamlet — with his doublet all unbraced ;

No hat upon his head ; his stockings fouPd,

Ungarter'd and down-gyved to his ancle ;

Pale as his shirt ; hia knees knocking each other ;

And with a look so piteous in purport,

A» if he had been loosed otU of heU,

To speak of horrors — he comes before me."

This is indeed a striking picture, of a man who has been put
to the torture or question. We may depend upon it that the
" windlaces " and " assays of bias " or violence, of which Polonius
has been giving instructions a few lines before, have been applied
to Hamlet. Do we not see in this portrait, 'a man with " gyvts "
on (even on his ancles), — " pale as his shirt," with knees trembling
from the agonies of Hell of the windlaces— the Rack) But who
is Ophelia ? Is she not the daughter of Polonius — the child of
Tradition— of repetition of infallible dogmas — of certainty — of a
dotard past? We must not confound her with Polonius. It
is for the love of the beautiful and true, for the truth's sake that
man has been tortured, has suffered, and has died. But as the
daughter of Polonius, as the Boman Catholic Church was three

HAMLET, 217

and four centaries ago, it was the rack and torture to inspect
her too closely — it was madness to do so — Hamlet's madness !

" Ofih, He took me by the wrist and held me hard ;
Then goes he to the length of all his arm ;
And with his other hand, thus o'er his brow,
He falls to such perusal of my face,
As he would draw it."

This picture is a portrait of inspection, scrutiny, criticism. It was
such a searching examination that Luther gave the Church, and
that led to the Keformation. Hamlet is thinking, reflecting,
doubtingy examining Ophelia critically. He is supposed to be
mad. But madness is the term of reproach which is ever hurled
at those who dare to examine old and established truths, and we
need not dwell upon it. History is full of it ; " his madness is
poor Hamlet's^ enemy." But what has led Hamlet to this scrutiny
(allied to the rashness of madness) of Ophelia 1 It is his father's
ghost (the spiritual in him), which tells him that Truth has been
supplanted by Falsehood, that a corrupt Church has become the
usurper of a true religion, by pouring falsehood into the ears' of
a sleeping and unawakened world, until that poison of false-
hood triumphs and reigns in the stead of the murdered man.
We find Hamlet writing to Ophelia :

*' To the celestial and my sovTs tdoly the most beautified Ophelia."

Let us study the expressions here used. Why " celestial^'* why

" beautified " ? Have we not in these terms a hint of heaven, of the

soul (" my soul's idol"); and mark, in a beautified Ophelia, not a

beautiful one, but one who is got up, or made so by art alone ?

Polonius objects to the phrase —

" P<d, That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ;
Beautified is a vile phrase/'

^ In identifylDg his madness with his enemies, Hamlet is clearly alluding
to the universal insanity which Bacon deplores.

' '* PorcJies of Life and Death," by Bacon. Compare (Ghost's account
of his death) —

" And in the porches of mine ears did pour
The leperous distilment."

2i8 HAMLET,

Why does he object to this phrase ) It seems to us he is object-
ing to the term as implying " iMt true" in the sense of false, for
a '' heauiified" object implies art and not naiure. And it is indeed
curious that the context preceding this speech is as follows : —

*' Pol, My liege, aud madam, to expostulate

What majesty should be, what duty is.

Why day is day, night, night, and time is time,

Were nothing bat to waste night, day, and time.

Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit.

And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes,

I will be brief : Your noble son is mad :

Mad call I it : for, to define true madness,

What is 't, but to be nothing else but mad.

But let that go.
Queen, More matter, with less art

PoL Madam, I swear, I use no art at all.

That he is mad, 't is true : 't is true, 't is pity ;

Aud pity 't is, 't is true : a foolish figure ;

But farewell it, for I will use no art.

Mad let us grant him then : and now remains.

That we find out the cause of this effect ;

Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ;

For this effect, defective, comes by cause :

Thus it remains, and the remainder thus.

Perpend.

I have a daughter ; have, whilst she is mine ;

Who, in her duty and obedience, mark.

Hath given me this : Now gather, and surmise.

— ' To the celestial, and my souPs idol, the most
beautified Ophelia,' —

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase ; beautified is a
vile phrase ; but you shall hear.

* These. In her excellent white bosom, these.'

Qveen. Came this from Hamlet to her ?

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile ; I will be faithful.

' Doubt thou, the stars are fire ;^
Doubt, that the sun doth move ;

^ Bacon held that the sun and stars are true fires (Works, v. 533-8),
which we find repeated elsewhere {Cor, i. 4, 39 ; v. 4, 46 ; Jul, Com, iii.
7, 64, kc). It is exactly a doubt upon this matter which Hamlet at-
tributes to Ophelia, and for which Bmno and others were pat to the stake,
or tortured.

HAMLET, 219

Doubt truth to be a liar ;
But never doubt, I love.

O dear Ophelia^ I am ill at these numbers ; I have not
art to reckon my groans : but that I love thee best, O most
best, believe it. Adieu.

Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this machine \& to him, Hamlet.' "

In this speech, where the Queen says to Polonius, '' more matter
Mo\ih, less art" we have a pretty epitome of the CathoUc Church in
those days j that is, very '' little matter" as regards Truth, and a
very great deal of art ! Polonius sums himself up as a Wind-
bag, one who gives reasons for nothing, but repeats his words,
his dogmas, his creeds or beliefs, without giving explanation or
satisfaction. Whilst denying that he uses art, he employs it to
evade and burk the question of Hamlet's madness. And mark,
he has a daughter, but she is only his whilst she is his, — that is,
obedient and docile.

If we study Hamlet's letter to Ophelia, we find that his love
for her is conditional on the " machine " or rack, and that whilst
upon it he has no art to " reckon his groans." And we find that
Ophelia has betrayed Hamlet, given his letter to her father — that
is, to the Inquisition. Take the following passage, and we find
how Ophelia is beauliJUd by the art of Polonius — ^that is, by his
infallibility : —

^ Ham, 1 have heard of your paintings too, well enough. God hath
given you one face, and yon make yourselves another ; you jig, you
amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your
wantonness yoiu* ignorance : Go to, I'll no more on't ; it hath made
me mad. I say, we will have no more marriages : those that are
married already, all but one, shall live ; the rest shall keep as they
are. To a nunnery, go. [Exit Hamlet."

And what can be more significant than the lines Hamlet addresses

Ophelia : —

" Doubt thou the stars are fire.
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar.
But never doubt, I love."

220 HAMLET,

It was Oalileo and Bruno who were teaching these very doc-
trines which Hamlet tells Ophelia to doubt. " D(aM that the sun
doth move "/ Why, recall the well-known story of Galileo's pitiful
recantation, or the persecution of Bruno and his burning in
1600 for asserting that the stars were worlds! But Hamlet's
signature as Ophelia's is conditional only whilst the rack enforces
his obedience and love : —

" Thine evermore, most dear lady, whilst
this ffiachine is to Aim, Hamlet."

Whilst the machine (or windlace) " is to him," or applied to him
with violence, no doubt he will, like Galileo, recant or pretend
love.

But we by no means say that Ophelia represents the Roman
Catholic Church. She is religion in its highest sense, the
spiritual aspirations of Man as the Soul, Love, (or affection) — all
that is most beautiful in the mind, all that we aspire to through
immortality. It is her relation to her father that makes her the
helpless abject cypher she really is. We can see in the way the
poet has pourtrayed her, the entire Passive Obedience of the Church.
Study her character of submissiveness and entire obedience, her
surrender of Hamlet's letter to her father, her real madness com-
pared with Hamlet's feigned or apparent madness, and one can
kee that in her we have a character entirely dependent upon her
Father's Authority and Infallibility. With his death she be-
comes incoherent, meaningless, foolish, and that this is the his-
tory of the Church there is much about its modem history to
confirm. Nothing is more striking than the aberration of
Ophelia's reason, her annihilation we may say, with her Father's
Death. Without Polonius, without that "certainty" which
would find truth within the centre, — without, in short, doctrinal
infallibility or authority, what is the Church 1 Madness is simply
incohcrency ; it is a state which the Church has for a long time
presented to many j and we fear not only the Church, but some-
thing more precious than a Church, the faiUi which constitutes

HAMLET. 221

all religion has become, like Ophelia, in many cases incoherent —
a quiet, beautiful, dying Church, beautifying the stream of time
and change with the withered flowers of memory.

'' Enter Bosencrantz arkd Gttildensterk.

Pol. Yon go to seek my lord Hamlet ; there he is.

Ro9. God save you, sir ! \To Polonius.

\Exit Polonius.

Quil. Mine honoured lord ! —

Rjos, My most dear lord !

Earn, My excellent good friends! How dost thou. Guild enstem]
Ah, Rosencrantz ! Good lads, how do ye both ?

Ros, As the indifferent children of the earth.

Guil, Happy, in .that we are not overhappy ; On fortune's cap we
are not the very button.

Ham. Nor the soles of her shoe ?

Rob. Neither, my lord.

Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in the middle of her favour ?

OuU. 'Faith her privates we.

Ham, In the secret parts of fortune ? O, most true ; she is a strum-
pet. What's the news ?

Ro9. None, my lord ; but that the world's grown honest.

Ham. Then is dooms-day near : But your news is not true. Let me
question more in particular: What have you, my good friends, de-
served at the hands of fortune, that she sends you to prison hither ?

Guil. Prison, my lord \

Ham. Denmark's a prison.

Rob. Then is the world one.

Ham^ A goodly one ; in which there are many confines, wards, and
dungeons ; Denmark being one of the worst

Ro9. We think not so, my lord.

Ham. Why, then 't is none to you : for there is nothing either good
or bad but thinking makes it so : to me it is a prison."

What a complete revelation we have of the characters of Eosen-
crantz and Guildenstern in this passage ! They live in the secret
parts of Fortune, who Hamlet declares is a Strumpet, that is,
who prostitutes and sells all that is sacred or true, even honour,
for gain — advancement. Elsewhere we have a notable character
of one of the plays, Doll Tearsheet, termed some " common road."
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern live in the very centre of Fortune's
Favours, which are bought and sold to the highest bidder. And

222 HAMLET.

therefore they are indiffererU to Hamlet's ways of thinking, for he
lacks advancement. We see this brought out in the most strik-
ing way in the above passage. He finds the world a prison
which he identifies with Denmark. But they find the world
honest ! And to his assertion that Denmark is one of the worst
of prisons, they reply : —

" We think not so, my lord."

Their way of thinking is not Hamlet's.

But there can be no mistake as to the characters of Guilden-
stern and Rosencrantz; their names betray the favoured, un-
scrupulous throng, who prostitute themselves for power, pleasure,
gain, and who are the " mighty opposites " and " adders fanged,**
whose business is to entrap, entangle, and sophisticate with
Truth, professing it with lip-service, its spies and traitors
withal, — the great vested interests of the world, the courtiers
of profit and power, who find the world no prison, but a
very good place indeed for their traffic. In Bosencrantz we
find a name suggestive of the garlands or wreaths (roses?)
of folly and pleasure. In Ouildenstem, (a name of Teutonic
origin,) the idea of guilders, money, gold, (star of wealth,) is
suggested. Whether these are fanciful derivations or no, their
characters speak loudly enough for them. They go about to
recover the wind of Hamlet, to steal his mystery, his truth from
him, in order to play upon him, in order finally to betray him to
the King, and pluck out the heart of his mystery. They are
those who sell what is most dear — ^honour — ^for gain. They are
the privates of that Strumpet Fortune, who sells Virtue for gold.
Therefore their " thinking " is not Hamlet's " thinking." They
are sponges. They soak up the King's countenance, his rewards,
his authorities. And their defeat does by their own insinuation
grow. They are the baser natures which come between Hamlet
and his work of revenge.

" IJor, So Guildenstern and Rosencrantz go to 't.
I/am. Why, man, th^y did make love to this employment ;

HAMLET. 223

They are not near my conscience ; their defeat
Does bj their own insinuation grow :
T is dangerous, when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites."

There can be no possibility of escaping or mistaking the poet's
intention in these characters. For we recognise them everywhere
in life.

" llam. Do not believe it.

Ros, Believe what ?

Ham. That I can keep your counsel, and not mine own. Besides,
to be demanded of a sponge ! — what replication should be made by the
son of a king ?

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord ?

Ham. Ay, sir ; that soaks up the king's countenance, his rewards,
his authorities. But such officers do the king best service in the end :
He keeps them, like an ape, in the corner of his jaw ; first mouthed,
to be last swallowed : When he needs what you have gleaned, it is but
squeezing you, and, sponge, you shall be dry again."

We find in Bacon's time a great deal of the squeezing opera-
tion going on. Favourites elevated to be disgraced, — an everlasting
process of advancement, promotion, and very much squeezing.
Hamlet is most dreadfully attended with such utterly indifferent
and really antagonistic courtiers whom, it may be seen, whilst
having no way of thinking like him, pretend to flatter him, in
order to stifle or betray him. For this is the character of a
great part of human nature, that where gain, power, or pleasure
is concerned, the love of Truth for Truth's sake is a pretended
courtship, that is in reality veiled hostility. For to such people
the continuance of abuses and evil is a source of revenue and
advancement. The history of the play is a history of society.
The ridding of them by Hamlet is a gradual reforming process.
A process which Dickens immortalised in many of his works.
Upon a subject like this, which is so universal, so written large
in human nature and in all history, it is easy to be impertinent
or foolish.

224 HAMLET,

'' P6L Hath there been such a time (I'd fain know that,)
That I have positively said ^Tiz «o,
When it prov'd otherwise ?
King, Not that I know.

Pol, Take this from this, if this be otherwise :

\Poxnt\ng to his head and shoulder.
If circumstances lead me, I will find
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed
Within the centre."

There seems to us in these words of Polonias, the very essence
of his character, which is belief in his own infallibility upon all
things. He will find truth out " though it were hid indeed
within the centre ! " Kay, his very life and breath depends
upon this infallibility of dogma and authority. But here let
it be noted that he is not honest, as we have had already
sufficient proofs. We see that Hamlet throws doubts upon
his honesty in the scene where he tells Polonius he ''would
he were as honest a man as a fishmonger." Every reply
of Hamlet's is a hit at Polonius. When Hamlet is asked
what he is reading, he replies, ''words, words, words;" and
when further cross-examined as to the subject-matter of the
words, he immediately identifies the " words, words, words," by
presenting Polonius with his own satirical portrait, as an in-
direct way of telling us he is studying Polonius, and finds him
only " words " I Then note that Polonius asks Hamlet to "walk
out of the air," and Hamlet replies, " into my grave 1 " whidi is,
we think, one of the most unmistakable hints of the play. Mark
the clever and cunning of Hamlet's hits at Polonius, which are
all side, or indirect hits, for "he cannot walk out of the air."
There is, indeed, a species of challenge in the words of Polonius
asking Hamlet to leave dreaming, to give o'er his iheories^ to step
out of his philosophic cell and retreat !

" Ham, Well, god-*a-mercy.
Pol, Do you know me, my lord ?
Ham, Excellent well ; you are a fishmonger.
Pol, Not I, my lord.

HAMLET. 225

//am. Then I would you were so honest a man.

P6L, Honest, my lord ?

Ham. Ay, sir ; to be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man
picked out of ten thousand.

P6L, That 's very true, my lord.

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god
kissing carrion, — Have you a daughter ?

Pol. I have, my lord.

Ham^ Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is a blessing ; but not
as your daughter may conceive, — friend, look to 't.

P6L. How say you by that ? [Aside. Still harping on my daughter :
— yet he knew me not at first ; he said I was a fishmonger : He is
far gone, far gone : and truly in my youth I sufiTered much extremity
for love ; very near this. I'll speak to him again.] What do you
read, my lord 1

Ham. "Words, words, words !

Pol. What is the matter, my lord 1

Ham. Between who 7

Pol. I mean the matter that you read, my lord.

Ham. Slanders, sir : for the satirical slave says here, that old men
have grey beards ; that their faces are wrinkled ; their eyes purging
thick amber, or plum-tree gum ; and that they have a plentiful lack
of wit, together with weak hams : All of which, sir, though I most
powerfully and potently believe, yet I hold it not honesty to have it
thus set down ; for you yourself, sir, should be old as I am, if^ like
a crab, you could go backward.

Pol. Though this be madness, yet there is method in it. [Aside."]
Will you walk out of the air, my lord ?

Ham. Into my grave ?

Pol. Indeed, that is out o' the air. — How pregnant sometimes his
replies are ! a happiness that often madness hits on, which reason and
sanity could not so prosperously be delivered of."

" And it may be you shall do posterity good, if, out of the car-
case of dead and rotten greatness (as out of Samson's lion), there
may be honey gathered for the use of future times. ** (Bacon.)

What is carrion ) It is corruption — a corrupted and decayed
Church needs light let in upon it to give it new life, and this is
what Luther effected at the Reformation, but not to the liking of
Authority, Dogma, and Infallibility like old Polonius. Hamlet
tells Polonius that he dare not let his daughter " walk i' the sun."
But this is exactly what the entire Reformation effected, viz.,

p

226 HAMLET,

threw the pure light of reason and truth upon the decayed car-
case of a rotten and thoroughly currupt Church. Luther, whom
we take as the protagonist of the Reformation (for the sake of
example only), scrutinised the Church with that searching inward
criticism, which we have already found Hamlet bestowing upon
Ophelia. The result of that look was to doubt the honesty of
the Papal Infallibility, Authority, and Dogma, already in its
dotage. And we find Hamlet doubting the honesty of FolonioB.
He compares him to a fishmonger — one who barters souls (soles I)
for money, which immediately recalls to us the shameful sale of
indulgences. Nor is Polonius even as honest as a fishmonger.
But what is it Hamlet tells Polonius % He dares and challenges
him to let his daughter walk in the sun. How are we to inter-
pret this 1 The Beformation may truly be compared to a birth
of new light. It was the offspring of the Eenaissance, a word
which sufficiently explains itself. Nothing is more true than the
fact that this movement was one of light — flight producing out
of the Womb of the Dark Ages a new birth or rebirth, to which
we owe modem progress. And so with the Church, which truly
conceived in the sense Hamlet hints at, and brought forth the
child of criticism, inquiry, learning — ^in short, all we term Light
But this very Light was the enemy of the old Infallible Church.
No wonder Hamlet exclaims : —

^ Let her not walk i' the sun : conception is a blessing ; but not
as your daughter may conceive, — friend, look to 't"

To sum up the play of Eamkt, we should describe it as a
gigantic philosophical tragedy of man's relationship to man,
historically prefigured with an undercurrent of action bespeaking
progress. The Eling seems an abstraction of enthroned Wrong
or Evil, who can only be gradually killed through his representa-
tives. We find the King saying : —

" O my dear Gertrude, this,
Like to a murdering-piece, in many places
Gives me superfluous death."

HAMLET. 227

It seems to us that the keynote of the play is given in Hamlet's
words : —

^ The time is ont of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right ! "

We have here an exclamation that applies universally and not
particularly. Hamlet is a personified abstract of the very oppo-
sites of the King. As the philosophic genius of mankind warring
against all the powers that be in possession, Hamlet is no indi-
vidual, but a philosophic personification of the spiritual in man,
fighting for the right, for truth's sake, dying at the stake, tortured
on the rack, epitomised in the lives of such men as Luther, Bruno,
Galileo, Campanella, Telesius, and all those who, like Hamlet,
have assisted to free man from the trammels of State, Church,
and Ring. That the play scene is an epitome of the Reforma-
tion we believe by the reference to Wittemberg. It is plain this
place is dragged in as a hint. For from the moment Luther
burnt the papal bull at that town, the Reformation had begun,
and we see in like manner in the play that the death of Polonius
soon follows the interlude. The Reformation was a complete
and final blow at the infallibility of a dotard Church, and from
that blow it never recovered.

CHAPTER XII.

SONNETS.

" In the midst
Thon 8tand*Bt m though a mystery thoa didst*'

— (Addressed to Bacon. ' ' Underwood's " Ben Jonson.)

That the genius and mind of the author of the plays was
completely beyond the comprehension of his age or times is
proved by his own words : —

" So I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite."

Again repeated in Chester's " Love's Martyr " : —

" My undeserved wit, mt sprung too soon.
To give thy greatnesse every gracious right"

Bacon writes the same thing to his son (the Masculine Birth
of Time) in these words : —

" ' And what/ you will say, * is this legitimate method I Have
done with artifice and circumlocution ; show me the naked truth
of your design, that I may be able to form a judgment for
myself.' I would, my dearest son, that matters were in such a
state with you as to render this possible. Do you suppose that,
when all the entrances and passages to the mind of all men are
infested and obstructed with the darkest idols, and the^e seated
and burned in, as it were, into their substance, that clear and
smooth places can be found for receiving the true and natural
rays of objects 1 A new process must be instituted by which to
insinuate ourselves into minds so entirely obstructed. For, as
the delusions of the insane are removed by ART and ingenuity,
but aggravated by opposition, so must we adapt ourselves to the
universal insanity"

SONNETS. 229

This is a confession that Bacon considered "naked truth** an
impossibility in his age. And, therefore, he says, "a new process**
or "artifice" must be adopted to ''adapt ourselves tothenni-
versal insanity." Now, here (by the way only) is proof that
Bacon concealed his opinions by some process connected with
art I And we should like to know what that "process " was 1

But the greatest proof of all is that Bacon appeals to posterity,
to after ages, to appreciate and comprehend him, so that we find
his entire genius is in league with time ; and this same point we
find endlessly repeated in the Sonnets : —

" And, all in war with Time, for love of you,
As he takes from you, I eograft you new/'

" Bat wherefore do not you a mightier way,
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time ? "

^ And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence,
Save breedy to brave him when he takes thee hence."

" O fearful meditation ! where, alack.
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid ?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back ? "

" Yet, do thy worst, old Time ; despite thy wrong.
My love shall in my verse ever live young."

How is it we find the two foremost minds of the same age
both bent upon cheating time, both addressing far-off ages 9

Here is one of Bacon's titles: — "To the present age and
posterity, greeting." ("Topics of Life and Death.")

How is it we find Bacon (who had no child) addressing him-
self to a son (in the Masculine Birth of Time), and Shakespeare
in his Sonnets proposing the begetting of a son also, who is con-
nected with some extraordinary rebirth associated with time 1 —

" So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son"

" But were some child of yours alive that time.
You should live twice; — ^in it, and in my rhyme."

" O I none but untbrif ts : — Dear my love, you know
You had a father ; let your son say so." — Sonnets,

23© SONNETS.

And mark it, Time ia to surrender this son — ^this Mascoline
Birth of Time : —

"O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour ;
Who has by waning grown, and therein show'st
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st ;
If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill
May time disgrace, and wretched minutes kill.
Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure 1
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure :
Her audit, though delayed, answer' d must be.
And her quietus is to render thee."

" 'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity
Shall you pace forth ; your praise shall still find room,
Even in the eyes of all posterity
That wear this world out to the ending doom.
So till the judgment that yoursdf arue^
You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes."

— SonngU.

The entire theme of the Sonnets is marriage for the sake of
getting this son, who is to be reborn through time. Cannot the
reader see that this is the Logos doctrine ? —

^ Make thee another %eLf^ for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee."

''Bat the Father of all things. The Mind, being Life and
Light, begat (engendered) a Man like to Himself, whom He loved
as His own child, for He was very beautiful, having the image
of His Father. For, in fact, moreover The God loved His
own form, and to this delivered over all His own creations."
(Posmandres L, " Hermes Trismegistus.")

As we cannot quote the entire work, we refer the reader to
Chambers's translation of '' Hermes Trismegistus,'' where he will
find abundance of evidence. Also to Philo, Plato, and St John
for this Logon doctrine.

SONNETS. 231

If, then, Bacon's knowledge was too dangerous to publish
during his age, what other '' artifice " or resource had he 1 We
reply Art. That art, however, if addressed to posterity, must be
provided with a key for its unlocking. Here, in our opinion, his
superhuman genius steps in to assist him. He will imitate
Nature, and provide a key in his own works. And he will
heighten the effect of his art by adding the same mystery, the
same secrecy and reserve as Nature. He will be secretly open.
He will hide himself behind his works, as the Divine Mind (son
or Logos) in those works. He will provide a series of Sonnets
profoundly veiled, as creative principles, in which this scheme is
set forth at length. And he will allow another man to carry the
title of author until he is revealed.

Now a second reason for concealment is, that having allowed
his early works to go to the theatre anonymously, and thus to get
associated with Shakespeare's name, he was forced to continue to
do so, or else confess to the entire fraud. This, in his position
of statesman and grave lawyer, would have added little to his
reputation with Queen Elizabeth or King James, in an age when
the playwright's art was looked down upon as a despised thing.
Had .he confessed to his authorship, his plays would have been
ransacked by his enemies into charges against him of treason (as
in the case of Eichard II.) or of frivolous writing. In Bacon's
age no statesman, or law officer of the crown, could have sustained
his dignity, or his career of ambition, with an acknowledged
reputation as poet or play writer.

We see that what he really valued in his plays and poems was
just what he could not divulge to his age, and that therefore he
was forced to address himself to another age for appreciation.
This is proved by the following Sonnet, — in which he says his
'' tongue-tied muse" is silent, whilst he receives all sorts of
letters of praise for his "dumb thoughts speaking in effect"— ia
action : —

" My tongue-tied muse in maimers holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compil'd.

232 SONNETS.

Eeserve their character with golden quill,

And precious phrase by all the muses fill'd.

I think good thoughts, while others write good words,

And, like unlettered clerk, still cry Attien

To every hymn that able spirit affords,

In polish'd form of well-refined pen.

Hearing you prais'd, I say H is w, His true,

And to the most of praise add something more ;

But that is in my thought, whose love to you.

Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
Then others for the breath of words respect^
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effects"

Nothing can be plainer than the above Sonnet. He is praised
extravagantly for his plays by his friends, but only for the ouitvard
or external— for the " Ireath of words,'* not for the " spirit of the
letter" (for it is the letter that killeth). Therefore he must
address himself to posterity, in this fashion : —

" To give away yourself, keeps yourself still ;
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill."

If he was to " give away himself," nobody would believe him or
understand him, and it would be a barren task — only resulting
in keeping himself.

" Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts ?
Though yet heaven knows, it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half 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 ne'er touched earthly faces."

Therefore, this scheme of rejuvenescence by which he will
appear to after ages as to himself —

/" But here's the joy — my friend and I are one ;
Self (or Sweet flattery ! then she loves but me alone."

Alter Ego), w »Tis thee (myself) that for myself I praise,

as I Painting my age with beauty of thy days.''
Creative ,'

Mind \ '* ^^^^ ^^^^ ^y ^^^ praise to mine own self bring?
Loeos or "^^ what is^t but mine own, when I praise thee 1 "

Son. « Then do thy office, Muse ; I teach thee how

\ To make him seem long hence as he shows now."

SONNETS. 233

Therefore, as he cannot realize his fall glory except in dreams
(and this touches the point of authorship), he writes : —

'' Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking, no such matter."

''^ Farewell ! thou art too dear for my poasessiDg,

* • • • •

Wander a word for shadows like myself,
That take the pain^ btU cannot pluck the pelf J*

What more does the world want than these words of his own !
Does he not tell us that he is tired of life in an age where he
cannot be understood ) —

'' And art made tongue-tied by authority.

• » « •

And simple truth miscall'd simplicity."

Are we not told that we are to take a new acquaintance with
his mind

" The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show,
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory ;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth may'st know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look, what thy memory cannot contain,
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children nurs'd, deliver'd from thy brain.
To take a new acquaintance of thy miiid.
These offices, so oft as thou wilt look.
Shall profit thee, and much enrich thy book."

We utterly despair of rousing the world to the fact that all
this is addressed to us and not to any contemporary. How curious
it is that these poems are read and reread by thousands, and all
are blind as moles to the fact that the whole of the poet's art is
unlocked in them. So true is it that —

*' The jewel that we find, we stop and take it.
Because we see it ; but what we do not see,
We tread upon, and never think of it."

Or as the same author writes in prose : —

" It is evident, that the dullness of men is such and so in*
felicitous, that when things are put before their feet, they do not

234 SONNETS.

see them, unless admonished, bat pass right on.'' No doubt
'' everything is subtle till it be conceiyed," writes the same author.
" What is strange, is the result of ignorance in the case of all/'
says Plato.

After accepting the plays and poems and all that has been
written upon them as final and exhaustive, the world will all at
once catch the true right light for the perspective of this art
picture, and see what is written behind it, and then we shall have
everybody rushing off to explain it. We would give a great deal
to be able to be as clear to the reader, as what we are endeavour-
ing to explain is clear to ourselves. Unhappily it is a difficult
subject, though only apparently so. First it requires faith to
open the understanding and keep it sustained to the point of
interest (which only faith can give), faith being bom of clear
sight. Secondly, such a miracle and seeming impossibility is
suggested in this theory of rebirth that it is difficult to obtain a
moment's serious thought concerning it Thirdly, that directly
one brings in the word Logos, or talks of creative principles, the
reader has a headache, or has to attend to the papering of the
back attic. And we understand all this perfectly, having found
out that words bark oftener than they bite, and«that behind the
everlasting jugglery and legerdemain of philology lays all the
metaphysical impostures of thought oyer which centuries of- sects
and writers have fought and quarrelled often to the death.
Nobody knew this better than Bacon, and our belief is that not
only his entire Inductive Philosophy, but this art of his called
Shakespeare's, was constructed once and for ever to show up by a
pattern or exemplar, the fantastic tricks of theological, metaphy-
sical, and philological mysteries, which have from words produced
idols of Superstition which have enslaved and governed us as the
Frankensteins of our own creation. We are determined not to
fill this work with endless quotations from Plato, Philo, St John,
or any other exponent of the Logos doctrine, to exemplify oar
meaning. And we are sure the critic will thank us. If he does
not understand what we mean, let him lay down tibis book.

SONNETS, 235

because a few quotations would not assist him, and would very
much enlarge our volume to no effect. But we mean to illustrate
the Logos doctrine in a very 'few words by the tfitest possible
imaga It means Thought (Ideas) or Mind. It \b employed to
signify the Creative intellect hidden behind the works of Nature.
And at bottom it is just what the meaning of a myth, fable, or
allegory is in relation to its vehicle— or external art side. This
is certainly an easy way of dismissing it, but what is it we
always find constant at the bottom of this Logos doctrine % We
find that the Son is always the Heir, and at the same time the
Truth, and Mind (Thought, or Wisdom), Life, Light through
which everything was created. This is perfectly logical Because
a man's thought is well pictured by the relationship of Son, inas-
much as it comes forth of him, and is and is not him, at the same
time. Then to become visible it must be united to words (art), or
some material (vehicle) which resembles marriage. Whence from
this marriage arises again the idea of the Svn begetting, because the
Logos (meaning) is hidden and concealed or begot in the vehicle.
Its reappearance is highly suggestive of a rebirth — since it comes
to light again as the Father's Creative Thought. Thus in the
marrying of an idea to art, there are always three factors, the
Thinker (or Father creator) — the Thought (or Son) — the vehicle
(or Woman). The Thought becomes sacrificed (incarnation),
concealed, — and when it is reborn it reveals the father's thought.
It is around these relationships or metaphysical conceits that the
entire Trinity Doctrine revolves ! The student is bound to bear
in mind, that the union of Idea (or Thought) to Matter, is of the
nature of marriage^ since two things become identified as " a union
in partition." Also that all the ancient writers describe this as
male on one side, female on the other, and that the two constitute
when united an androgynous being which we refind in the Sonnets
under the title of Master-Mistress.

Cory writes : — '' By comparing all the varied legends of the
west and east in conjunction, we may obtain the following
outline of the theology of the ancients. It recognises, as the

236 SONNETS.

primary elements of all things, two independent principles, of
the nature of male and female. And these in mystic unum, as soui
and body, constitute the great Hfsrmaphroditic deity, the One, the
universe itself, consisting of two elements of its composition,
modified though combined in one individual, of which all things
were considered but as parts." (Introductory Dissertation to Cory's
" Ancient Fragments," p. xxxiv.)

It will be seen in this ** Hermaphroditic deity " we have
the Master-Mistress of the poet's Sonnets — viz., the union of
the male and the female, of the friend and the mistress.

^'Timseus Locrus says of the causes of all things: — ^Idea
or Form is of the nature of Male and Father; but Matter of
the nature of Female and Mother.' " (Cory's •* Fragments," 302.)
Again: — ^'Matter is the receptacle of Form, the mother
and female principle of the generation of the third essence;
for, by receiving the likeness upon itself, and being stamped
with Form, it perfects all things, jmrtaking of the nature of
generation.'* (Ibid.)

''The world appears to them (the Egyptians) to consist of a
masculine and feminine nature. And they engrave a scarabseus for
Athena, and a vulture for Hephsestus. For these alone of all
the Gods they consider as both male and female in their nature."
(HorapoUo.)

"Plutarch, describing the mysteries, says : — * God is a male and
female intelligence, being both life and light he brought forth another
intelligence, the creator of the world'; Orpheus (who is sup-
posed to have introduced the mysteries into Greece) sings: —
' Jove is a male, Jove is an unspotted virgin.* The Brahminical
doctrine in the Sama Veda says: — ^the will to create exited
wUh the Deity as his bride.' The Yerihad, Aranyaka, and
Upanishad teaches the same : — ' he caused himself to fall in two
and thus became husband and wife.* (' Yarker's Mysteries of Anti--
quities.') A study of the ancient doctrines of creation, will always
discover this symbolism of marriage as expressive of the creative
art For example, in every triad there is a male, a female,

SONNETS. 237

and an androgyne. An acute student of the Sonnets will find
these treated separately, yet commixedly, as a paradox of con-
tradictions. 'Eminent scholars, who have devoted themselves
to the investigation of the ancient cults, have shown to demon-
stration that the most primitive idea of God was that he con-
sisted of a dual nature, masculine and feminine joined in one,
and this androgynous deity gave birth to creation.' (* Great
Dionysiak Myth.,' Brown, vol. ii., p. 302.)"

Heraclitus' conception of the Logos is that it is '' the rational
law apparent in this world."

Why do we introduce all this ? Because the entire opening
theme of the Sonnets is Marriage for the sake of rebirth or
immortal offspring! But this is the actual simile by which
Socrates in the Banquet illustrates Creation Divine or poetic.
And there cannot be a moment's doubt that the Fnend of the
Sonnets \& not Lord Southampton, or any real person at all, but
the poet's alter ego, or Mind, which as creative Logos, is to be
obscured by marriage with art, and be by rebirth his son and
heir, as the spiritual in this art revealed, or again come to light
— through time. This is no ingenious theory in the mazes of
which we have lost ourselves, but the result of a dozen years'
study, and we could fill volumes to prove it, not here and there,
but everywhere in these marvellous Sonnets. Every paradox
melts before it, but its genius is that of Hermetic mystery,
because it is a metaphysical subject highly obscured to avoid
premature discovery. We are told how careful he was when he
took his way to hide each trifie that might reveal him too soon: —

" How careful was I when I took my way,
Each trifie under truest bars to thrust,
That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust ! '

What, then^ is our theory 1 It is that this art is completely
DaiMe. Kot what may be termed allegorical, but like Nature,
and it embraces another side, which is as philosophic as the
" Novum Organumy Many have surmised this before us. Carlyle

238 SONNETS.

wrote (from Donnelly's " Great Cryptogram ") : — " There is an
understanding manifested in the construction of Shakespeare's
plays equal to that in Bacon's * Novum Organum.*"

Hazlit makes the same remark : — " The wisdom displayed in
Shakespeare was equal in profoundness to the great Lord Bacon's
* Novum Organum.* "

'*Novalis, one of the subtlest of German thinkers, remarks
with regard to our poet's Art : —

" ' The latest sharp-minded observer will find new coincidences,
with endless system of the universe, collisions with later ideas,
relationships with the higher powers and senses of humanity.
They are sijmbolical^ full of interpretation, simple and inexhausti-
ble, like the creations of nature, and nothing more unfit can be
said of them, than that they are a work of art in the narrow
mechanical meaning of the word.' — (JFerke.) Novalis only
enunciates what Coleridge endeavoured to enforce, viz., the
organic character of the poet's art. This is only a metajshor, for
dual unity. An organism is the product of an internal, spiritual
force, giving itself outward expression through nature or art.
There must be soul or symbolism where there is organism."

But the world accepts the plays in the light of an unconscious
genius embodying more rationalism than it can itself explain,
as in the case of Faust and Goethe. But this is quite an error.
This art, as he tells us, was planned far from accident^ and is
hugely politic, laying great bases for eternity I It was deliber-
ately planned and constructed for a complete and perfect setfrevela-
ii/m through time. When did this idea first take its inception 1
Not from the beginning, because he tells us in the 20th Sonnet,
that it was first intended to be sin^gle, but that, like Pygmalion,
he fell in love with his own creation, and determined to give it
life. And this idea we can see repeated in the statue of Her-
mione upon her pedestal, who represents his entire sleeping art,
waiting the return of its life or spirit (Perdita) to reveal itself
to us, not as now a speechless statue, but as a thing of rebirth
and revelation — of £Oul and intellect, not as a mere picture, but

SONNETS. 239

as man-woman — that is, dual unity, separated and united as
Hermione is from Leontes through time.

Marcus Antoninus says : — '' The nature of the universe de-
lights not in anything so much as to alter all things and pre-
sent them under another form. This is her conceit, to play one
game and commence another. Nature is placed before her like a
piece of wax, and she shapes it to all forms and figures. Now
she makes a bird, then out of the bird a beast ; now a flower,
then a frog."

Compare —

'* Since I left you, mine eye ia in my minde.
And that which govemes me to goe about,
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seemes seeing, but effectually is out :
For it no forme delivers to the heart
Of birds, or flower, or shape which it doth lack,
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his owne vision holds what it doth catch :
For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour or deformedst creature,
The mountaioe, or the sea, the day, or night :
The Crow, or Dove, it shapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more repleat, with you.
My most true minde thus maketh mine untrue.''

CHAPTER XIII.

BAGONIANA.

"His Lordship was a good Poet,^ but conoeal'd, as appears by
•Letters.*"— -4iiAr«y.

The parallels between Bacon's writings and Shakespeare's are not
only endless, but have been so fully treated by Mrs Henry Pott»
and Mr Donnelly in his recent great work, that it seems super-
fluous to add anything further. It would be easy to fill another
volume of fresh ones, and they will continue to be discovered the
deeper both writers are studied. We therefore have endeavoured
to avoid repetition, and have only added those which we think
are striking as parallels, which we may call (like the following)
double as to identical names, and threefold as to these names
being found connected with the same strain or line of thought.
In Hamlet (graveyard scene) we have the following : —

*' Ham, To what base uses we may return, Horatio ! Why may not
imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till he find it stopping
a bung-hole 1

Hot, *T were to consider too curiously, to consider so.

Hajn, No, faith, not a jot ; but to follow him thither with tnodesty
enough, and likelihood to lead it. As thus ; Alexander died, Alexander
was buried, Alexander returneth into dust ; the dust is earth ; of

1 With regard to the estimation of poets daring Bacon's time, hear his
friend Selden : — " Selden, a scholar of profound erudition, has given as
his opinion concerning poets. ' It is ridiculous for a lord to print verses ;
he may make them to please himself. If a man in a private chamber
twirls his band-strings, or plays with a rush to please himself, it is well
enough ; but if he should go into Fleet Street, and sit apon a stall and
twirl a band-string, or play with a rush, then all the boys in the street
would laugh at him.' "— D'IsraeU's " Curiosities of Literature," L 433.

BACONIANA. 241

earth we make loam : And why of that loam, whereto he was con-
verted, might they not stop a beer-barrel ?

Imperial Coesar, dead, and tum'd to clay.
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away :
O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe,
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ! ''

Note here that Alexandej' and Ccesar (Augustus Ccesar) are
brought in both in sequence ; and now read this from (Century
viiL, 771) Bacon's "Natural History," where we find Augustus
Ccesar (Imperial Caesar) brought in with Alexander as they are
in the passage from Hamlet. What are the odds against two
different writers thus similarly connoting two Emperors (who
lived at different ages), upon the same subject, in the same
manner ? " But I find in Plutarch and others, that when
Augustus CcBsar visited the Sepulchre of Alexander the Great
in Alexandria he found the body to keep his dimension ; but
withal that notwithstanding all the embalming (which no doubt
was of the best), the body was so tender, as Caesar touching but
the nose of it defaced it."

But this is not the end of the parallel. The entire experiment,
which is touching " tlie conservation of dead bodies" is just the
same subject that Hamlet makes inquiry upon of the first Clown
in the scene quoted.

** Ham, How long will a man lie i' the earth ere he rot ?"

This is the entire subject-matter of inquiry that Bacon makes
in this same experiment 771. "It is strange, and well to be
noted, how long carcasses have continued uncorrupt, and in their
former dimensions, as appeareth in the Mummies of Egypt^ having
lasted, as is conceived (some of them) three thousand years."

Then Bacon discusses the three causes of putrefaction. The
remedies are first to exclude the air. Lastly, he says : — " There
is a fourth Remedy also, which is, that if the body to be pre-
served be of bulk, as a Corps is, then the body that incloseth it
must have a virtue to draw forth and dry the moisture of the in-

Q

242 B AC ONI ANA.

ward body; for else the puirefadiofi wiU play within, thoagh
nothing issue forth."

Now these two last lines form the pith of the Clown's reply to
Hamlet's question, as to " How long will a man lie i' the earth
ere he rot 1 "

'* 1 Clo. Taith, if he be not rotten before he die (as we have many
pocky corses Dow-a-days, that will scarce hold the laying in), he will
last you some eight year, or nine year: a tanner will last you nine year.

Ham. Why he more than another?

1 Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with his trade, that he will
keep out water a great while ; and your water is a sore decayer of
your whoreson dead body. Here's a scull now : this scull has lain in
the earth three-and-twenty years."

The Clown gives the same reply or explanation as Bacon, i.e.,
that " moisture" or, in other words, water " is a sore decayer of your
whoreson dead body." Now do we not see from the very com-
mencement of the scene to the end the same inquiry, the same
reply f and Alexander and Caesar brought in at the close of both
quotations ) It is a miracle if two different men wrote these two
passages !

But this is such a curious subject that we must continue it.
Bacon writes (from the same experiment, 771): — " I remember
Livy doth relate, that there were found at a time, two co£Bns of
lead in a tomb, whereof the one contained the body of Ring
Numa^ it being some four hundred years after his death ; and the
other his Books of Sacred Rites and Ceremonies, and the Dis-
cipline of the Pontiffs. And that in the Coffin that had the
body, there was nothing at all to be seen but a little light
Cinders about the sides ; but in the Coffin that had the Books,
they were found as fresh as if they had been but newly written,
being written in Parchment, and covered over with Watch-
candles of Wax three or four-fold." What a close study Bacon
seems to have given this subject, what a subtle, searching, pro-
found Mind is this, and we do not know that he had not perhaps
a purport in making a study of this solemn subject ! In all this
there is a strange resemblance to the history of Christian Eosy-

BACONIANA. 243

cross and his grave, which we now give from the '' Fama Fra-
ternitatis" : —

*' The vault was a heptagon. Every side was five feet broad
and eight feet high. It was illuminated by an artificial sun. In
the centre was placed instead of a grave-stone a circular altar
with a little plate of brass, whereon these words were inscribed :
This grave, an abstract of the whole world, I made for myself
whilst yet living (A. C. R. C. Hoc Universi compendium vivus
mihi sepulchrum feci). About the margin was — To me Jesus is
all in all (Jesus mihi omnia). In the centre were four figures
enclosed in a circle hj this revolving legend : Nequaquam
vacuum legis jugum. Libertas Evangelii. Dei gloria intacta.
(The empty yoke of the law is made void. The liberty of the
gospel. The unsullied glory of God.) Each of the seven sides
of the vault had a door opening into a chest; which chest,
besides the secret books of the order and the Focabularium of
Paracelsus, contained also mirrors — little bells — burning lamps —
marvellous mechanisms of music, &c., all so contrived that after
the lapse of many centuries, if the whole order should have
perished, it might be re-established by means of this vault.
Under the altar, upon raising the brazen tablet, the brothers
found the body of Itosycross, without taint or corruptioTL The right
band held a book written upon vellum with golden letters : this
book, which is called T., has since become the most precious
jewel of the society next after the Bible."

We see that the body of Christian Rosycross was preserved
" without taint or corruption " — ^a subject we have found Bacon
writing upon. And we find books buried with him, after the
same fashion described by Bacon of Numa.

It seems to us as if we could almost trace the hand of Bacon

even to the curse upon Shakespeare's supposed tombstone at

Stratford : —

'* Good friend, for Jesus' sake forbear
To dig the dust encloeed here :
Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.''

244 BACONIANA,

^' Mr F. C. Heaven, alluding to the same epitaph, writes : * I
was struck with the resemhlance of two lines in the quotation
from Bacon's " Eetired Courtier " to those on Shakspere's tomb
at Stratford. Bacon's lines in his " Retired Courtier " to which
I refer are : —

' Blest be the hearts that wiah my Sovereigne weU !
Curst be the soul that thinks her any wrung ! '

While those on Shakspere's tomb read : —

' Blest be the man that spares these stones,
And curst be he that moves my bones.'

Does not this similarity point to Bacon as the author of the
quaint lines in Stratford Church generally attributed to Shak-
spere himself 1*"

There is certainly a certain resemblance in the style, because
we see that in both Bacon's lines, and Shakespeare's epitaph, the
words " Bltsi " and " Cuniy^ begin and follow in the same order,
opening each sentence of the two lines in a striking way. Both
possess the identical '^ Blest be the" and both the same *^Cursi
be" Both again repeat and bring in the word ^*that" at the
same turn in the sentence, and for the same reason. At anyrate
there are deep grounds for supposing Bacon to have been a Bosi-
crucian, and the monument of Shakspeare at Stratford is decidedly
Eosicrucian. The two famous pillars flank the bust, and above
are the two Cupids of life and death, which are well-known
Rosicrucian emblems, as inverse factors. The two Cupids are
seated upon the top of the monument One holds an inverted
torch, and with closed eyes, rests his hand upon a skull. This is
the genius of Death, who with inverted brand typifies the " put
out" or quenched brand (or flame) of existence. But he is a
Cupid nevertheless, as is also his facsimile, who sits on the other
side, with eyes open staring plainly, with his right hand resting
upon a spade / The spade is a Rosicrucian emblem of the phallus.
It is the instrument of sowing, or placing seed in mother-earth,
with the result of new-life, rebirth ! Cupid (as Love) is a seed

BACONIAN A, 245

bearer, for he causes new life to spring out of Death. It is for
this reason that he reclaims from Death — gives immortality — the
immortality of Nature and of the souL His spade is the emblem
of the seed sower, and the seed is the source of the new lifa
We find Shakespeare alluding to the spade, aa arm^^ very pro-
foundly in Hamlet. The original of Spade is Spada,^ a sword,
whence we see the source of its name lies closely connected with
arms. The sword and sheath, even to the name of the latter
( Vagina) y have stood for emblems which the reader will readily
guess. The spade has no sheath, except it be buried in the
earth, when it becomes the means of fertilization.

"Come, my spade. There is no aucieiit gentlemen but gardeners,
ditchers, and grave-makers : they hold up Adam's profession.

Sec, Clo, Was he a gentleman ?

First Clo. A* was the first that ever bore arm».

Sec. Clo. Why, he had none.

First Clo. What, art a heathen? How dost thou understand the
Scripture. The Scripture says * Adam digged : ' could he dig withotU
arms?''

Which recalls —

" When Adam delved and Eve span,
Who was then the gentleman ? *'

There can be no question upon the Kosicrucian character and
symbolism of these two Cupids upon the Stratford monument.
Love and Death as aivtitlieta, yet holding out to each other pro-

^ " Hargreave Jennings writes {RotsicrudanSf their Rites and Mysteries^
p. 244) ; — *Fig. 175 ia a very curious design from Sylvanus Morgan, an
old herald. Above is the spade, signifying here the/>Aa^iM; and below
is the distaff, or instrument of woman's work, meaning the answering
member, or Yoni ; these are united by the snake. We here perceive the
meaning of the rhymed chorus sung by Wat Tyler's mob : *' When Adam
delved " (with his spade), " and Eve span " (contributing her (producing)
part of the work), "where was then the Gentleman?"— or what, under
these ignoble conditions, makes difference or degree? It is supposed that
Shakespeare plays upon this truth when he makes his clown in Hamlet
observe, "They" {i.e., Adam and Eve) "were the first who ever bore
arms." By a reference to the foot of the figure, we shall see what these
arms were, and discover male and female resemblances in the shape of the
man's " escutcheon " and the woman's diamond-shaped " lozenge." ' "

246 BACONIANA.

mise of rebirth and immortality, are emblems belonging to the
Rosicrucians, who give a motto to one of Lord Lytton's chapters
in " Zanoni."

'' From the Sarcophagus and the urn I awake the Genius of
the extinguished Torch, and so closely does its shape resemble
Eros, that at moments I scarcely know which of ye dictate to me,
Love 1 Deaih / " (" Zanoni.")

With regard to Bacon's skull, Dr Ingleby writes ("Shake-
speare's Bones," p. 27) : —

*' Before addressing myself to the principal matter of this
essay, namely the question whether we should not attempt to
recover Shakespeare's skull, I may as well note that the remains
of the great philosopher, whom so many regard as Shakespeare's
very self, or else his aUer ego, were not allowed to remain un-
molested in their grave in St Michael's Church, St Albans.
Thomas Fuller, in his Worthies, relates as follows : ' Since I have
read that his grave being occasionally opened [!] his scull (the
rclique of civil veneration) was by one King, a Doctor of Physick,
made the object of scorn and contempt; but he who then
derided the dead has since become the laughingstock of the
living.' This, being quoted by a correspondent in Notes and
Queries, elicited from Mr C. Le Poer Kennedy, of St Albans, an
account of a search that had been made for Bacon's remains, on
the occasion of the interment of the last Lord Verulam. 'A
partition wall was pulled down, and the search extended into the
part of the vault immediately under the monument, hut no remains
were found,* On the other hand, we have the record of his
express wish to be buried there. I am afraid the doctor, who is
said to have become the laughingstock of the living, has entirely
faded out of men's minds and memories."

We have, however, heard this contradicted by the present
Earl Verulam's lodge-keeper, Simpson, who assured us he had
been in the vault below the chancel of St Michael's Church, and
had seen Lord Bacon's coffin, and read the inscription. He
related an account of the opening of the vault at the time of the

BACONIANA. 247

restoration of St Michaers Church, when the brother of the late
Charles Dickens and others descended and inspected the tomb.
He declares he saw an inscription upon a coffin which identified
the remains of Lord Bacon. But evidence of this sort must be
taken with circumspection, nor does it for a moment prove that
the coffin has not been desecrated. However, we are not in-
clined to attach any weight to Fuller's words.

We find John Warren, in some dedicatory lines to Shake-
speare, vrriting thus (after Shakespeare's death). The original is
in the British Museum. (Republished by A. R Smith, 1885,
250 copies only.)

*< Of Mr William Shakespsarb.

" What, lofty Shake^pearef art againe revived ?
And Vtrlnus^ like now show'st thyself twice liv'd,
Tis love that thus to thee is showne.
The labours kisy the glory still thine owne."

This comparison to Virbius is curious, and the last line seems to
indicate that *' the labours" were another's (his), though Shake-
speare ** still" owns the glory. The third line hints at some
indulgence accorded to Shakespeare through " love" : —

** 'Tis love that thus to thee is showne,
The labours his, the glory still thine owne."

Surely these strange lines hint that Shakespeare is deriving glory
from another's labours, an indulgence that is granted through
love ? Or take this epigram, written by Ben Jonson (Number
51), and please note that this "poor poet ape" is evidently
Shakespeare, inasmuch as he is called " our chief: " —

" Ok Poet Ape.

" * Poor Poet Ape,'* that would be thought our chief.
Whose works are e'en the frippery of wit,

' Virbius, an ancient king of Aricia, and a favourite of Diana, who,
when he had died, called him to life again, and entrusted him to the care
(if Egeria. The fact of his heing a favourite of Diana's seems to have led
the Romans to identify him with Hyppolytus. — " Classical Diet."
' Compare —

'* The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.

248 BACONIAN A.

From brokage has become so bold a thief,
That we, the robVd, have rage and pity it.

At first he made low shifts, would pick and glean,
Buy the reversion of old plays."

This is evidently a dramatist who buys " the reversion of old
plays," and though the " frippery of wit" can hardly be applied
to the so-called Shakespearian plays, we are not certain Shake-
speare did not write something to keep up his false character as
playwright.

We all know that Shakespeare was termed the " Sweet swan
of Avon." Compare the following deep reference by Bacon to
swans as having imperishable immortality : —

*' For Lives ; I do find strange that these times have so little
esteemed the virtues of the times, as that the writing of lives
should be no more frequent. For although there be not many
sovereign princes or absolute commanders, and that states are
most collected into monarchies, yet there are many worthy
personages that deserve better than dispersed report or barren
elegies. For herein the invention of one of the late poets is
proper, and doth well enrich the ancient fiction : for he feigneth
that at the end of the thread or web of every man's life there
was a little medal containing the person's name, and that Time
waited upon the shears ; and so soon as the thread was cut, caught
the medals, and carried them to the river of Lethe ; and about
the bank there were many birds flying up and down, that would
get the medals, and carry ihem in their beak a little while, and
then let them fall into the river : only there were a few swans,

m 9

" Arm, Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four."

" Cost. O marry me to one Frances : — I sn.ell some V envoy ^ some goose
in this. " — (Loves Labour's Lost, Act iii. sc. 2. )

Now in Lovers Labour's Lost, there is no character or person of the name
of Frances at all. Bacon's Christian name was Francis, flmd we have a
shrewd suspicion that the humble- liee (B) may probably be the humble
Bacon, who surrendered tlie fruits of his modesty to the Poet Ape — his
right of authorship.

BACONIANA. 249

which if they got a name^ would carry it to a temple, where it was
consecrated."

Does not Bacon seem to be thinking of the '' Sweet Swan of
Avon" 1 But, according to the clever critics, Bacon had never
heard of Shakespeare or his works ! Yet both are friends —
intimate friends — with Lord Southampton. At any rate, it is
curious Bacon avoids — so carefully avoids — alluding to Shakespeare.
Why does he do so 1 Examine the above passage. We find at once
that " about the bank (of Lethe) there were many birds" fiying up
and down, " that would get the medals," which suggest the pick-
ing up and seizing of another s fame, for each of these medals
carried the " person's name," the titie authors name, which they
carried '* in their beak a lUtle while " / Then comes that curious
conclusion (which immediately recalls, with its swanlike compari-
son, Shakespeare), " only there were a few swans, which if they
got a name," would carry it to a temple, where it was conse-
crated " ! In these words Bacon seems to be hinting at the
difficulty of a right identification of authorship, of the real
swan's poetic rights, carried by other birds for a little while, but
finally, ** if the name could be got at," rescued from the oblivion
and consecrated in a temple. Temple House is the name to this
day by which the old ruins of Bacon's house at Gorhambury are
known. Shakespeare's arms contain a falcon.

The Induction,

{Taming of the Shrew.)

We have a striking hint given to us in the portrait of
Christopher Sly, of somebody outside tlie plays, bearing dignities
and honours that in no wise belong to him. It is worthy of par-
ticular attention that Sly is outside the play, and in nowise con-
tributes to the unity thereof. This Induction has puzzled and
must perplex every profound student of the plays. Because it is
a violation of the unity of dramatic presentation, and if left out
would in no way affect the Taming of the Shrew as a perfect play

2 so BACONIAN A.

in itself. Nor can we believe the author of such art as this to
have been ignorant of the incongruity and apparently purposeless
addition of this induction. It seems to us rather that Sly is
placed outside the play as a false, Lord and master of the players
who present it, and holds this false position just as long as the
play and its outer action lasts. It has never been remarked how
strange it seems that Sly disappears from the play altogether
after the first scene. This is curious, because, as we shall pre-
sently show, in the original story from which the idea of the
induction is borrowed, the joke played upon Sly's original is
brought to a conclusion. There is something singularly striking
in the way Sly is forgotten, yd left to ike ima^natimi always in
the false j>osition of playing Lord, and presiding over plays and
players belonging to another ; and mark it, a Lord. We intend
to present some pregnant parallels which bring the identity of
Shakespeare to Sly suspiciously together. For example, Shake-
speare's wife's maiden name was Anne Hathaway, and we find
Sly exclaiming, " by Saint Anne I "

" Ist Serv, My lord, you nod ; you do not mind the play.
Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne do L A good matter surely.

Comes there any more of it ?
Page, My lord, 't is but begun.
Sly. 'T is a very excellent piece of work, madam lady.

'Would 't were done ! "

After this droll and humorous interlude, or interruption, no
more is heard of Sly, and he disappears from the play as if he
had never been introduced at all. Now in the original story,
from which the incident of the induction is borrowed, we are
presented with the restoration of Sly to his former and real con-
dition of common life, as forming no small part of the especial
point and humour of the joke played him by the Duke Philip.
I speak of The Waking Man's Dream. The dinouemmt of the
trick played Sly concludes as follows : —

"Then the right Duke, who had put himselfe among the
throng of his Officers to have the pleasure of this mummery.

BACONIAN A. 251

commanded that this sleeping man should be stript oat of his
brave cloathes, and cloathed againe in his old ragges, and so
sleeping carried and lajd in the same place where he was taken
up the night before. This was presently done, and there did he
snort all the night long, not taking any hurt either from the
hardnesse of the stones or the night ayre, so well was his
stomacke filled with good preservatives. Being awakened in the
morning by some passenger, or it maye bee by some that the
good Duke Philip had thereto appointed, ha I said he, my
friends, what have you donel you have rob'd mee of a King-
dome, and have taken mee out of the sweetest and happiest
dreame that ever man could have fallen into. Then, very well re-
membring all the particulars of what had passed the day before,
he related unto them, from point to point, all that had happened
unto him, still thinking it assuredly to bee a dreama Being re-
turned home to his house, hee entertaines his wife, neighbours,
and friends, with this his dreame, as hee thought: the truth
whereof being at last published by the mouthes of those Cour-
tiers who had been present at this pleasant recreation, the good
man could not beleeve it, thinking that for sport they had
framed this history upon his dreame; but when Duke Philip,
who would have the full contentment of this pleasant tricke, had
shewed him the bed wherein he lay, the cloathes which he had
wome, the persons who had served him, the Hall wherein he had
eaten, the gardens and galleries wherein he had walked, hardly
could hee be induced to beleeve what hee saw, imagining that all
this was meere inchantment and illusion."

Now why, I ask, have we this amusing termination omitted )
Why is Sly left in the play,- as it were, still in his false position of
Lo7'd over the players ?

Let us examine some other parallels. In the recent corres-
pondence in the newspapers upon the authorship of the plays,
much has been made of the reference made by Sly to Wincot
or (Wilmecdte), a village in the neighbourhood of Stratford, to
show that the author must have been Shakespeare, and

c

I

252 BACONIANA.

acquainted well with Warwickshire. We think this allasion to
Wincot proves conclusively thai Sly is a portrait of Shakespeare^
but it suggests powerfully that he did not write the plays, bat
was set up in Bacon's place by Bacon, in just such a way as Sly
is set up ^ a Lord. Here is another point which seems to as
worthy attention.

" Sly, Ye are a baggage : the Slys are no rogues ; look in the chron-
icles; we came in with Richard Conqueror. Therefore paucas palla-
bris ; let the world slide : sessa !''

Is there no hit implied in these words at Shakespeare's applica-
tion for arms, and his claims to be by descent a gentleman 1 As
Mr Donnelly has well pointed out in his recent work, Shake-
speare put forward all sorts of claims to birth and family, to
which he had about as much real right as Sly. Then, in the
drunkenness of Sly, is there no ironical portrait of the man of
Stratford ? We know that he died from the results of a drink-
ing bout^ and Mr Donnelly certainly accuses him, with some
show of reason, of being a free liver, if no worse. It is hardly
fair to infer that because we have his end associated with revelry
and this tale of a " drinking bout," that he was another Sly.
But the story, which has never been contradicted, leaves a dis-
agreeable impression on the mind that he must have been a hard
drinker.

There must be some truth about a tradition of this sort, which
has handed itself down to us undenied by any contemporary
evidence. But to return to Sly's boast of illustrious descent of
birth; is it not curious that a ^^ peasant" should be made to lay
claim to anything of the sort ?

*' How my men will stay themselves from laughter
When they do homage to this simple peasants*

We find that Sly is only a "simple peasant," and it is very
strange and singular to find the author of the play, thus placing
in his mouth, the sort of speech which a peasant would never
make, and which (nobody knew better than the writer) is quite

B A com ANA. 253

beside the mark in Sly's mouth ! Now it may be objected that
Shakespeare was no peasant, yet we think anybody who has seen
the house he was born in, or the cottage where he lived with his
wife, Anne Hathaway, must be forced to the conclusion that they
both are only peasants' cottages. It seems to us that before
Shakespeare went to London he lived the life of a simple peasant,
poaching and drinking 3 and whatever he became afterwards, he
was no better at Stratford than a peasant in Home and sur-
roundings.

Is there no possible joke of the " Hang, Hog," Bacon style in
the following ? —

*^Lord. O Monstrous beast ! how like a 8wine he lies !

Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image !

Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man.

What think you, if he were conveyed to bed,

Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,

A most delicious banquet by his bed.

And brave attendants near him when he wakes.

Would not the beggar then forget himself ? "

" How like a swine lie lies I " Is there no indirect sly hint here
to take us to Bacon 1 How like Bacon he lies I We admit the
seeming extravagance of the remote parallel, but it is well to note
every trifle in this extraordinary art In Shakespeare's age the
common name for pigs and swine was '' Bacons."

There is something peculiarly adapted to our argument even
in the name Sly. If the dy Shakespeare was guardedly keeping
his tongue silent upon a matter which must touch him so nearly
as the authorship of the plays, there is something in this name
that hits ofif his position as reputed author and false author very
admirably indeed. We find in the induction that he takes very
quickly to his false honours, and believes himself (in a very brief
time) the actual Lord, he is persuaded he is. There is some-
thing unnatural in that. No one could thus be persuaded that
their entire life was a lie, or a dream, unless they had an element
of slyness in them, which we see Sly undoubtedly has. For our-
selves, we cannot imagine a picture better painted to pourtray a

254 B AC ONI ANA,

false authorship in relation to plays than this induction of Sly.
He is brought in in relationship to plays and players or actors.
And that was also Shakespeare's position over actors, ^eho
probably were in the pay of others.

Lord Bacon's coat of arms contains a double star. We should
like to know the history and origin of these arms 1 Every trifle
concerning him is interesting to those who believe that he is
Shakespeare's double, and that to the star he already possesses, he
promises to add another one of even greater lustre still. Over the
house Goethe was bom in at Frankfort^ there was a lyre, a curi-
ous coincidence (if only that), to mark as it were the birthplace
of one who was to take Apollo's lyre as his own. Everything in
connection with Bacon's life is extraordinary. If ever there was
a prophet who prophesied truly, it was him. He foretold the
revolution which was to follow sixteen years after his death.
Spedding writes : —

*^ Another thing in the paper before us, not to be found else-
where in Bacon's writings, is the prophecy of civU wars ; which
he anticipates propter mores guosdam turn ita pridem introductos : a
prediction well worthy of remark, especially as being uttered so
early as the beginning of James the First's reign."

What Dr Rawley relates about the influence of the moon at
her change (passion) or eclipse is curious, and as Sawley was
Bacon's intimate chaplain, we have every reason to believe what
he says : —

*' It may seem the moon had some principal place in the figure
of his nativity : for the moon was never in her passion, or
eclipsed, but he was surprised with a sudden fit of fainting ; and
that though he observed not nor took any previous knowledge of
the eclipse thereof ; and as soon as the eclipse ceased, he was
restored to his former strength again." (" Life.")

It appears that Bacon studied Astronomy, and had an obser-
vatory at Gorhambury, the ruins of which were, not many years
ago, still visible. The British Association, when at St Albans,
were very anxious to excavate, but I was told the proprietor

\

BACONIAN A. 255

would not give the necessary consent. It is evident from some
annotations upon the title page of the original MSS. (Harl.
MSS. 6463) that Bacon studied or helieved in Astrology. This
seems quite incredihle, we admit, from the style and character of
his mind and works, which everywhere denounce Alchemistry,
Astrology, and every non-positive science. At the bottom of the
title page of "Valerius Terminus of the Interpretation by
Nature," with the annotations of Hermes Stella,^ we find in
Bacon's hand : —

There is, no doubt, some connection between the title and
second title, and these astronomical notes. Both are strange
titles, and unexplainable, declares Mr Spedding, who quotes
Bacon's own words as to his manner of publishing. " Whereby
it shall not be to the capacity nor taste of all, but shall as it were
single and adopt his reader." Stella was therefore to throw a
kind of starlight on the subject, enough to prevent the student's
losing his way, but not much more.

Terminus seems to indicate some finality or end connected with
Astrology or a star — Stella. Curiously we find, in the twenty-
sixth Sonnet, reference to a star in reference to some discovery
to be made with regard to the author. We do not adduce these

' Mercury. Called in Assyrian Nabu {Neho\ t.e., ** Proclaimer" (of the
coming Sun) ; and in Akkadian Sdkvxsa^ the 2ex^f of Hesychios, a name
perhaps meaning **Lord (Uead)-of-the-four-qaarter8'' (of the heaven).
The Greeks called it ** the Star sacred to Hermes" (Platon, Timaios)^ be-
cause Hermes in their god-system was regarded as the analogue of the
Euphrtttean Nabu.

256 B A CO NT ANA.

things to excite cariosity, or to suggest we in any way can assist
to solve them, but conscientiously present them to those readers
who are not intimate with Bacon, to show that there is a pro-
found mystery connected with some of his works, which his
editor and lifelong student, Spedding, could not fathom If
there is a mystery around Shakespeare's life, there is also a
mystery around Bacon's, though of another description. It is
believed that Bacon had his works translated into Latin, because
he anticipated the decay of English and a possible return to the
Latin as a vehicle for philosophical writings. But we are not of
that belief. We think that the Latin was of course intended to
serve as a common European medium or means of reading him.
But we think also that the Latin was a cover for less concealed
and more ambiguous language upon subjects which were, in his
own words, " to adopt his reader." The translations are of course
bound to agree with the seemingly simple subject in hand. It
seems to us Bacon's works are often to be found employing a
double language, and at random, or strained from that simplicity
which he never ceases to commend in connection with words and
their meaning. His entire philosophy is written to expose the
idols of words and their false connotations, and to plant them
deep down in Nature itself, yet he does not conform to the spirit
of his teaching. We find Mr Spedding constantly at a loss, and
yet unwilling to confess it, in his work of editorship. Bacon
everywhere shows that his ideas and words are often very badly
mated.

'^ Critics have discovered a multitude of contradictions and
antinomies in the Baconian philosophy, because he denies in one
place what he has affirmed in another. Among these antinomies,
many are certainly so composed that the thesis may be found
in the encyclopsedian works, the antithesis in the 'Novum
Organum.' " (" Francis Bacon," p. 224, by Kuno Fischer.)
Mr Spedding writes (page 2, " Life of Bacon ") : —
'' It seemed that towards the end of the sixteenth century men
neither knew nor aspired to know more than was to be learned

BACONIANA. ^ 257

from Aristotle ; a strange thing at any time ; more strange than
ever just then, when the heavens themselves seemed to be taking
up the argument on their own behalf, and by suddenly lighting
up within the very region of the Unchangeable and Incorruptible,
and presently extinguishing, a new fixed star as bright as Jupiter
— (the new star in Cassiopeia shone with full lustre on Bacon's
freshmanship) — to be protesting by signs and wonders against the
cardinal doctrine of the Aristotelian philosophy."

On this star the author of " Mazzaroth " says : —

'* The new star seen by lycho Brahe, in Cassiopeia, which blazed
for a short time and then disappeared, sufficiently authorises us
to regard this star as no meteor of our earth or sky, but as one
of the heavenly bodies, pre-ordained to the glorious office of
heralding, by an increase of its own brightness, the coming in
splendour of Him, the true light, by whom and for whom all
things were created." (Col. i. 16.)

Upon consulting further " Mazzaroth," we find (on page 3) that
Seth or Shoth or Hermes was the reputed inventor of Astronomy.
'' The Egyptians held that (Hermes) or Shoth — ^the Twice Great —
was the founder of their Astronomy " (page, 3, part iv. " Mazza-
roth ''). So that we find a rational explanation in the title Hermes
Stella, (as Astronomy,) or the Astronomical, or Astrological Star,
an idea which is fully borne out by the notes in ink, (which we
have quoted,) found at the foot of the title-page in the original,
in Bacon's own hand. With regard to the strange title, " Valerius
Terminus," we can suggest no explanation. Terminus needs no
comment ; it clearly means what is already an anglicised word —
finality, a termination, which the second title mysteriously con-
nects with astronomy, as is proved by the additional astro-
logical note. Valerius is a proper name, and there are a great
quantity of them in the dictionaries. Amongst them we find
some artists. One, of Ostia, was the architect of the covered
theatre erected at Rome for the games of Libo (Pliny, H. N.|
xxxvi. 16 8. 24).

We find in " Valerius Terminus" a great deal upon the anticipa-

R

\'

258 BACONIAN A.

tions of the mind, which immediately recalls how Bacon has
anticipated in the '' New Atlantis" the discoveries of the nine-
teenth centuiy. In chapter 13 : — '' Of the error in propoonding
chiefly the search of causes and productions of things conareU^
which are infinite and transitory, and not of abstrad noltcres,
which are few and permanent Thai these naJtures are as ike
alphabet or simple letters^ whereof the variety of things con-
sisteth \ or as the colours mingled in the painter*s sheUy tcherewiih
he is able to make infinite variety of faces or shapes"

This recalls his letter to Sir Tobie Matthew and his works of
the alphabet. In chapter 18 he again mysteriously alludes to
reserving a part in publication to a private succession, which
I think is a pretty good hint to prove that this is what he has
himself done : —

<* That the discretion anciently observed, though by the prece-
dent of many vain persons and deceivers disgraced, of publishing
part, and reserving part to a private succession, and of publishing
in a manner whereby it shall not be to the capacity nor taste of all,
but shall as it were single and adopt his reader, is not to be laid
aside, both for the avoiding of abuse in the excluded, and the
strengthening of affection in the admitted."

What is the " infinite variety of faces or shapes " which he
couples with the painter's art ? Are they the " infinite variety of
faces'* of the Shakespeare Theatre which he has reserved "to
a private succession (and) of publishing," which are to " single
and adopt his reader." We think so, and the world will think
so too ere many years go by. It is sheer nonsense for the de-
fenders of the Shakespeare myth to stand upon their stilts, or,
(like the ostrich,) to hide their heads in the sands of their preju-
dice and ignorance, by blanching such passages as these. Let
the Americans come and take possession, if we do not take
possession ourselves. After all, what are the apologists of
Shakespeare defending ? Merely a name, the traditions around
which are anything but ennobling. All we know of Shake-
speare consists in the knowledge that he was bom in a dirty,

BACONIAN A. 259

squalid house, or cottage with heaps of dirt ('^ sterquinarum"
in front of it. That he distinguished his early and classical
years, no€ in drinking at the Gastalian fount of the golden
Apollo, but by deer stealing, coney catching, drinking bouts,
and immorality. His life begins with the story of the cele-
brated drinking contests, and ends with the same pitiful tale.
His wife presents him with an heir six months after marriage.
He is again heard of supplanting his fellow actor Burbage in
an amour. He lends money, sues for small debts, oppresses the
poor (as to the inclosures of the common land), and dies leaving
neither library, nor manuscript, nor record, except that he brew
beer, and never taught his eldest daughter to read or write.
And this is the man who overreaches three centuries of critics
to understand or exhaust his learning 1 The human mind is a
strange thing, infested with Bacon's idols, which have been more
exemplified in the history of Shakespearian criticism than in
aught else. There is nothing but association, that '' monster cus-
tom that all sense doth eat," that bars the minds of prejudiced
thousands from examining this question of authorship fairly,
rationally, without bias, and in a spirit which Bacon everywhere
inculcates. The less people have read Bacon or Shakespeare the
more positive they are as to the authorship. This is a fact we
find true every day. Others waver, and would believe, if it were
not for the idol of superstition, the false idol or god who usurps
the rightful heir. A curious attitude is momentary conversion
and then falling back. The simple truth is, public opinion is
stronger than reason. The overwhelming collective voice para-
lyses the free judgment But what judge can public opinion be
upon a question of this sort, that lies deeper than the average
of common education, and which few will give themselves the
trouble to study as it requires to be studied 1 Surely the opinion
of experts is more valuable than the opinion of a multitude of
what Garlyle called '' mostly fools ! " Public opinion is sound,
excellent, and invaluable in all questions of common sense. This
is a literary question, embracing the profoundest possible learn-

26o BACONIAN A.

ing, and a peculiar faculty of perceiying, comparing, or collating
and analysing. No donbt it will or may become a subject open
to the judgment of the average common sense. But that point
has hardly been reached yet. What people want to know is why
Bacon allowed another to enjoy his proper rights f The answer
has been given under one head. We will give it under several
others. The general explanation is the low position the stage
and play-writing occupied in those days, and the serious ambi-
tious career of Liw before the real author, Bacon. We think this
is only half the answer. We believe it was the peculiar charac-
ter of Bacon's mind which was at the bottom of it His whole
life was bent upon a revolution of philosophy and the reforma-
of society. Here he joins hands with the Bosicrucians. He
shows in his works his delight with the reserve and concealment
of Nature, and perceives that the education and discipline of
man's apprenticeship in life are owing to the mystery of the
Creator's works. His subtle intellect conceives the idea of
imitating this secrecy, which is also part and parcel of the Bosi-
crucian tenets. Self-sacrifice, abnegation, absence of all personal
seeking or vanity, and to come down hidden through the ages.
Those were their doctrines. The plays commenced early to go to
the theatre anon3rmou8ly, and they had to continue to do so.
But the character of Bacon's mind, as exemplified in his works,
is the subtlest that the World has ever known. It is ubiquitous,
it never wearies, by turns lawyer, statesman, natural scientist^
antiquarian, thoroughly classical, despising the philosophy of the
Greeks and Romans, calling the former children ; overthrowing
Aristotle at sixteen, and going back to the Egyptians, Persians,
and Culdees for original authority. Anything is possible of such
a god-like intellect, whose whole faculties are bent upon Posterity,
and " after Ages," and who lives in thought with the nineteenth
and twentieth century in discoveries. He is not satisfied with
Europe or the old world. He must have a New Atlantis or
America. He won't allow the centuries to outstrip him. For he
is their master, and we are yet far behind him 1

BACONIAN A, 261

To those who object that no one man could find time to com-
pass the plays, besides his already acknowledged works, we reply
thus — How was it he found time to become Lord Keeper, Lord
Chancellor, and write what we already have 9 Most men would
be satisfied to fill a lifetime with one or the other. He did both.
And if he did this, he could do anything.

''He died on the ninth day of April in the year 1626, in the
early morning of the day, Easter Sunday, then celebrated for our
Saviour's resurrection, in the sixty-sixth year of his age, at the
Earl of Arundel's house in Highgate, near London, to which
place he casually repaired about a week before."

Those who believe like ourselves that he was more like Christ
than man, both in end, aims, and sacrifice, and who further believe
that he will come again to us in greater glory, as the Logos of
the plays, will find the above coincidence of his death very
remarkable.

With regard to Montaigne, with whose works there is so much
in Bacon's essays in common, both as to style, solidity, and pro-
foundness, we quote the following from E. Arber's prologue to
" A Harmony of the Essays " of Bacon : —

'' Bacon knew Montaigne, not only as the great French Essayist,
but also as the friend of his only full-brother, Anthony. This
elder son of the Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon, by his second
wife, the Philosopher's mother, was wandering about the con-
tinent, chiefly in France, for eleven years, between 1579 and
February 1592, during all the time England was rising to her
highest efibrt in the struggle with Spain. In November 1582,
within two years of the first appearance of Montaigne's ' Essais,'
and the year of their second edition, both at Bordeaux ; Anthony
Bacon came to that city, and there contracted a friendship with
the Sieur de Montaigne. Without doubt this acquaintanceship
resulted in these French 'Essais' being early brought under
Bacon's notice; and notwithstanding their endless ramblings
from the subject, so utterly distasteful to him, the novelty of the
style of writing no doubt recommended itself to him : and thus

262 BACONIANA.

he came to note down his own observations, after the method of
his own genius. So that on 30 January 1597 h& coidd say thai
he published them 'as they passed long ago from my pen.*

'' Yet it is strange that Bacon ignores his gaide. There is no
allusion by him to Montaigne in these essays before 1625, under
which year he will be found quoted at p. 501. When, in 1612,
he was writing his dedication to Prince Henry of his second and
revised Text, it pleased him to go back to antiquity for a
precedent, and to find in Seneca's 'Epistles to Lucilius' the
prototype of the modern Essay, see p. 158.*'

For those who believe, like ourselves, that Bacon was active in
promoting a general reformation throughout Europe, either in
league with the Bosicrucians, or in favour of Masonry, these
eleven years of foreign travel of his devoted brother Anthony,
are full of significance. Anthony Bacon (like Antonio in the
Merchant of Venice) was ever ready with his purse to help his
brother. We find him working and living with him at Gray's
Inn, and finally leaving Bacon Gorhambury. It is curious to
find Anthony Bacon at Bourdeauz, in communication with Mon-
taigne. It is strange to find Anthony at Venice, whence Bocca-
lini's " Bagguagli di Pamasso" appeared All this time — ^these
eleven years — Anthony is in constant communication with his
brother, and is himself studying deeply Foreign Politics and his
age.

As to Bacon's moral character, enough has already been written
upon it. These are the words of Arber in his introduction to
his " Harmony of the Essays " : —

" It is contrary to human nature, that one in whose mind such
thoughts as these coursed, year after year, only becoming more
excellent as he grew older, could have been a bad man. Do men
gather grapes of thorns ) Be all the facts of his legal career
what they may, and it is that section of his life mostly includes
any discredit to him: (he was also a Philosopher, Historian,
Essayist, Politician, and what not 1) the testimony of this one
work, agreeing as it does with the tenour of all his other writings

BACONIAN A, 263

is irresistible^ that in the general plan of his purposes and acts,
he intended nothing less, nothing else than to be ' Partaker of
God's Theater, and so likewise to be partaker of Grod's Best/ p.
183. Can we accuse one who so scathes Hypocrites and Im-
posters, Cunning and Self-wisdom, of having a corrupted and
depraved nature 1 For strength of Moral Power, there is no
greater work in the English language.

''More than this, (it is notable also as a testimony to his
character,) there runs right through all an unfeigned reverence
for Holy Scripture, not only as a Eevelation of Authority, but as
itself the greatest written Wisdom. Not because it was so easy
to quote, but because it was so fundamentably and everlastingly
true, did this great Intellect search the Bible as a great store-
house of Civil and Moral, as well as Eeligious Truths, and so
Bacon is another illustration, with Socrates, Plato, Dante, Shake-
speare, Milton and others, that a deep religious feeling is a
necessity, to the very highest order of human mind. As he
argues at p. 339, Man^ when he resteth and assureth himself e vpon
diuine Protection and Fauour, gathereth a Force and Faith ; which
Human Nature, in it selfCy could not obtaine,

" Here most reluctantly we must leave off, ere we have hardly
begun. One parting word. We rise from the study of this
work with a higher reverence than ever for its Author; and
with the certain conviction that the Name and Fame of Francis
Bacon will ever increase and extend through successive ages."

In the " New Atlantis " we find the following prayer printed
in capitals : —

" Lord Grod of Heaven and Earth, thou hast vouchsafed of
thy grace to those of our Order (sic), to know thy works of
Creation and true secrets of them, and to discern (as far as ap-
pertaineth to the generation of Men) between Divine Miracles,
Works of Nature, Works of Art, and impostures and illusions of
all sorts. I do here acknowledge and testify before this people,
that the thing we now see before our eyes is thy Finger, and a
true Miracle. And forasmuch as we learn in our books, that

264 BACONIANA,

thou never workest Miracles, but to a divine and excellent End,
(for the laws of Nature are thine own laws, and thou exceedest
them not but upon good cause) we most humbly beseech thee to
prosper this great sign, and to give us the Interpretation, and use
of it in mercy, which thou dost in some part secretly promise, by
sending it unto us."

The word " Order " is printed in large capitals. This shows
that ''those of our Order" refers to some secret brotherhood,
or society, which we believe was no other than the famous
fraternity of the brotherhood of the Eosy Gross — ^in shorty the
Bosicrucians ! It behoves the present generation to solve this
question satisfactorily.

How is it we find Bacon repeatedly alluding to the " Grardens
of the Muses," to the immortality of poetry, in the following
remarkable language? "The Gardens of the Muses keep the
privilege of the golden age ; they ever flourish aikd are in league
with time. The monvments of wit survive the monuments of
power: the verses of a poet endure without a syllable lost^
while states and empires pass many periods. Let him not think
he shall descend, for he is now upon a hill as a ship is mounted
upon the ridge of a wave j but that hill of the Muses is above
tempests, always clear and calm; a hill of the goodliest dis-
covery that man can have, being a prospect upon all the errors
and wanderings of the present and former times. Yea^ in some
cliff it leadeth the eye beyond the horizon of time, and giveth no
obscure divinations of things to come."

We think that this passage is sufficiently pregnant with im-
plied application of all this (with regard to poetry) to Bacon him-
self, as to constitute a confession of faith in itself. For example,
can we not see in that wide survey, which Bacon associates with
the hill of the Muses (Parnassus), the anticipation of Bacon's
mind (in his " New Atlantis ") and his wide survey of " former
times," with his studies of the Persian, Chaldaaan, and Egyptian
antiquity) Do we not see in this hill "above tempests" the
God Prospero watching the wanderings and errors of the ship-

BACONIANA. 265

wrecked Eong and his Courtiers 1 If Bacon was no poet, and had
nothing (o do with the Moses or Parnassus, how does he know
all thisi But compare this, ''The monuments of wit surviye
the monuments of power : " —

" Not marble, nor the gilded monuments
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme.''

Or take the Hermit's speech (Bacon "Device," 1594-95): —
*^Ifhe wUl he in the feast and not in the throng, in the light and
not in the heat; Ut him embrace the life of study and cmdemplor
turn. And if he will accept of no other reason, yet because the
gift of the Muses will enworthy him in his love, and where he
now looks on his mistress's outside with the eyes of sense, which
are dazzled and amazed, he shall 'then behold her high perfec-
tions and heavenly mind with the eyes of judgment, which
grow stronger by more nearly and more directly viewing such
an object."

Nobody but a poet would or could write like this, and cer-
tainly no philosopher would think of harping on the Muses in
this fashion ! Can we not see in this language ('' in the feast")
the author of Lovers Labours Lost, which had appeared a short
time before 1588 : —

" The mind shall banquet, though the body pine :
Fat paunches have lean pates ; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits."

Can we not see, even in the language used, a mind familiar and
at home with the poetical conceits of the Italian sonneteers, who
always identified philosophy and wisdom toiih a mistress, as in
the case of Petrarch, Boccaccio, and Dante t

We find one of the peculiarities of Bacon's mind was to look
upon the past as the true youth of the world, which seems to us an
entirely original conception, and which we find repeated by no
one except Shakespeare. But first as to Bacon, who writes : —

" As for antiquity, the opinion touching it which men enter-
tain is quite a negligent one, and scarcely consonant with the

266 BACONIANA.

word itself. For the old age of the world is to be accoanted the
true antiquity; and this is the tribute of our own iimes^ not of
that ea/rlier age of the world in which the ancients lived ; and which^
though in respect of us it was the elder, yet in respect of the world it
was the younger. And truly as we look for greater knowledge of
human things and a riper judgment in the old man than in the
young, because of his experience and of the number and variety
of the things which he has seen and heard and thought of; so
in like manner from our age, if it but knew its own strength and
chose to essay and exert it, much more might fairly be expected
than from the ancient times, inasmuch as it is a more advanced
age of the world, and stored and stocked with infinite experi-
ments and observations."

Now this is so original, and so entirely without any contempo-
rary parallels, that to find Shakespeare repeating it is assuredly
startling : —

" If that the world and Love were young,
And truth in every shepheaxds tODgue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee and be thy Love."

Mystery about Bacon*s Life.

In his poem of " Underwoods," there is this by Ben Jonson,
addressed to Bacon on his birthday : —

" In the midst
Thou stand'st as though a mystbrt thou did'st."

Considering Ben Jonson translated Bacon's works for him into
Latin, such words coming from an intimate associate who had
opportunities for observation, is a most remarkable thing. Then
we have that remarkable letter of Bacon to Sir Tobie Matthew,
saying (1607-9) :—" Those works of the Alphabet are in my
opinion of less use to you where you now are than at Paria"
Bawley writes in his life of Bacon :— " Several persons of quality

BACONIANA. 267

daring his Lordship's life crossed the seas on purpose to gain an
opportunity of seeing him and discoursing with him ; whereof
one carried his Lordship's Picture from Head to Foot over with
him into France ; as a thing which he foresaw would be much
desired there." (P. 12.)

Many readers will say there is nothing at all extraordinary in
thisy but they forget Bacon's works were little appreciated during
his Ufe, and of a character little likely to arouse in foreigners
this unbounded curiosity and admiration. Mrs Pott says: —
" There are times noted by Mr Spedding when Bacon wrote with
closed doors, and when the subject of his studies is doubtfuL"
Then there is the celebrated letter to Master John Davies, who
was a poet, begging him to use his influence with the new king
in Bacon's favour, and concluding, '< So, desiring you to be good
to all concealed poets," &c.

Bacon writes, in a letter to Sir George Yilliers : — *' Fame hath
swift wings, especially that which hath black feathers."

As Mr Donnelly truly remarks, by " black feathers " are meant
" slanders," that is, that slander is like a bird with black feathers
— a crow I Now compare—

^' That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair ;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crotp that flies in heaven's sweeter air."

A parallel of this sort is worth a million of the ordinary parallels
of the use of the same words, because the latter are external and
might be plagiarisms of style or coincidences, but the above is a
discovery of the internal thought arranged in two utterly different
ways, and yet plainly at bottom the sama Here is another
identical parallel in which the torch is introduced as an emblem
of light.

" I shall perhaps, before my death, have rendered the age a
ligJU unto posterity, by kindling this new torch amid the darkness
of philosophy." (Letter to King James.)

a68 BACONIANA.

Compare —

'' Heaven doth with us as we with iardka do,
Not lighJt them for themselTea."

This is the inscription upon Bacon's monument : —
FRANOISCUS BACON, BARO DE VERULAM, S*. ALBANI

SBU NOTIOBIBUS TITDLIS

8CISKTIART7M LUMKN FACUKDLS LEX

810 SEDEBAT.

QUI P08TQUAM OMNIA NATQRALIS 8APIEXTL£

BT OIYILIS ABCANA SYOLTISSET

NATUILfi DECRETUIC EXPLEV1T

COMPOSITA SOLVANTITB

AN. DNI M.DCXXYI.
.fiTAT** LXVL

TANTI VIRI
KBKs

THOMAS MEAXmJS

8UPERSTITIS CULTOR

DEFUNCTI ADMIRATOB

H. P.

This inscription (below the monument) was written by Sir Henry
Wotton, and the following translation of it is copied from the
" Biographia Britannica " : — ''Francis Bacon, Baron of Yerulam,
Viscount St Albans, or by more conspicuous titles— of Science
the Light; of Eloquence the Law, sat thus: Who after all
natural Wisdom, and Secrets of Civil Life he had unfolded.
Nature's law fulfilled — ^Ld Compounds be dissolved/* In the
year of our Lord 1626 ; of his age, 66. Of such a man that the
memory might remain, Thomas Meautys, living his attendant,
dead his admirer, placed this monument."

The italics are not ours, though we are not surprised at them,
for these four words, ''Let Compounds be dissolved," must
astonish any attentive or thoughtful person. The Latin is '' Com-
jposUa Solvantur" and is capable of other renderings besides the

BACONIAN A. 269

obvious one presented to us above. But why should it not
have some other meaning than a purely physical one ) There is
something very strange about this expression, " Let Compounds
be dissolved," which recalls Hamlet's exclamation —

*' Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt,
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew/'

Let us examine a little the original Latin. Upon turning to
the dictionary, we find '' CamposUa " bearing many meanings be-
sides compounds. We do not mean to allow the bias of the fact
that we are dealing with a monumental inscription to influence
us. There is something sufficiently strange that we find these
words following upon Naturas Decretum EoDplevU, because the
latter completes the necessities of the case, and to add anything
more is to lay the inscription open to the charge of tautology or
pleonasm. Now, it is curious that the Latin word ComposUa has
many meanings, amongst which may be included eompasiH&ns or
works (and in which sense we have the name of a type-setter or
compositor), from the verb to compose. It has also the meaning
sometimes of false, feigned, contrived (Tac., Ann. L 7) : —

" Falsi, ac f estinantes vultuque composite."

Also (Livy, iii 10) : —

" Composita fabola, Volsci belli"

Solvantur comes from a verb which means to set free, unloose^
melt, — thaw, — resolv^^ — explain, — solve; indeed, the English word
solve is directly derived from Solvere (the active verb), mean-
ing to explain or answer. We speak and write of solving
a riddle, in the sense of setting it free or unloosening it So
that Composita Solvantur may be a profound way of saying
other things than the rude and strange ''Let Compounds be
dissolved ! ''

270 BACONIAN A,

Final Remarks.

Our final belief is, that the same mind that took " all knowledge
for its province/' that studied the occult science of Persia^ ^%7P^
and Chaldsea, who was plainly at the head of some secret society
(prefigured in the " New Atlantis"), and whose entire life was
bent upon bettering the condition of man in after ages, by fireeing
him of the impostures and delusions of the schools, composed
these "philosophio-play-systems," in order once and for ever, by
means of a pattern or exemplar of art, to prove to posterity (by
means of a planned revelation) what he considered the true
doctrine and spiritual meaning of the universe. This art is the
brief summing up, the epitome and extract of all that is true and
valuable in the philosophies of antiquity. The plays are the
<< process" or "artifice" by which Bacon conforms himself to
'^ the universal insanity," which he deplores to his son. Their
object is to exemplify the subtlety of Nature by a like subtlety
of construction, seeing that he says : — " The subtlety of Nature
is much deeper that the subtlety of the senses." He saw, we
believe, that his inductive philosophy might be applied and
exemplified by a counterpart of art, embracing Idealism, as
apparently opposed to Bealism and science, his object being to
reconcile the two in one grand art scheme, where both should
hold out hands to each other. He saw that this dramatic poetry
might be applied to purposes of philosophic instruction. Suppose
(for the sake of illustration only) that the plays are profoundly
symbolical, and constructed upon a plan of entire rationalism for
time to reveal. Might he not exemplify in action the four
descriptions of his Idols — of the Tribe, Market-place, Theatre,
and Den. It is remarkable that the actual term employed by
Plato to illustrate the relationship of ideas to signs, is that of
images or idols. An idol is a false image, and if we worship the
external in place of the signification, we are confounding the
false with the real ; and fix>m this confusion of words and of
things has arisen the entire errors of which Bacon's inductive

BACONIAN A. 271

philosophy is the protest. It may seem claiming too much of
any human being to imagine such a superhuman scheme possible ;
but we have to deal with a remarkable age, a more remarkable
man, and the most superhuman evidence of Divine Genius in
plays that are as profound and as spiritual as the universe 1

We find Bacon perfectly understanding the value of secrecy.
He says, '' But if a man be thought semd^ it inviteth discovery."
(Essay on Simulation ..and Dissimulation.) Again, ''Therefore
set it down : Thai an Habit of Secrecy is both Politic and Morai"
This is placed in italics and capitals as we reproduce it. This is
a curious confession to come from a writer who a little before in
his essay upon Truth had written : " The Eaiowledge of TnUh,
which is the presence of it ; and the belief of Truth, which is the
enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature." But
perhaps he had a method for his contradictions. It is as well
also to see that, after approving of secrecy, he shows that Dis-
simulation follows it by necessity. ''For the second, which is
Dissimulation, it followeth many times upon secrecy by a necessity ;
so that he that will be secret must be a dissembler in some
degree." Then he goes on to say, "The three great advantages of
Simulation and Dissimulation are these. First, to lay asleep
opposition, and to surprise. For where a man's intentions are
published it is an Alarum to call up all that are against them.
The second is to reserve to a Manself a fair Betreat" These
passages were written in 1625, when he was sixty-five, and a year
before his death. Coming from a man whose passionate love of
truth was for truth's sake, and whose philosophy aimed at exposing
eveiy sort of imposture or sham (at an age when he had nothing
further to hope or fear in this world), these words ought to
constitute a hint of the deepest significance.

Identity of Art with Nature,

" And we willingly place the history of arts among the species
of natural history, because there have obtained a now inveterate
mode of speaking and notion, as if art were something different from

272 BACONIANA.

nature, so that things artificial ought to be discrimiiiated from
things natural, as if wholly and generieaUy different . . . and
there has insinuated into men's minds a still subtler error —
namely thiSf that art is conceived to be a sort of addUian to nature, the
proper effect of which is mere words and rhetorical oinament(whiGh
is better adapted to disquisition and the talk of literaiy nights
than to establish philosophy)/' {" Intellectual Globe," chap iii)
Now we see here Art identified hj Bacon with Nature. How
is it we find Shakespeare also identifying Art with Nature in like
manner

" Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, —

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter,— the fairest flowers o' the season
Are our carnations, and streaVd gillyflowers.
Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind
Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not
To get slips of them.

FoL Wherefore, gentle maiden,

Do you neglect them ?

Per, For I have heard it said.

There is an art which, in their piedness, shares
With great creating nature.

Pol. Say, there be ;

Yet nature is made better by no mean,
But nature makes that mean : so, over that art
Which you say cuids to nature, is an art
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we many
A gentler scion to the wildest stock,
And make conceive a bark of baser kind
By bud of nobler race : this is an art
Which does mend nature, — change it rather ; but
The art itself is nature.

Per. So it is."

Not only are both passages parallels as to bearing, but the
same language and correction of Perdita's error by Polizenes is
employed by Bacon : —

" And there has insinuated into men's minds a still subtler
error — ^namely this, that art is conceived to be ' a sort of addiOcn to
nature.^"

BACONIANA. 273

Compare : —

' So over that art
Which you say adds to nature is an art
That nature makes."

Both these passages were written by the same hand, because
this is a parallel that springs from within, from so rare a philoso-
phic creed, that it is improbable and unlikely that anybody
besides Bacon even held it. See how both speak of addmg
to Nature — so that we find the thought that Nature is Art
and Art Nature, hehnging to both Bacon and Shakespeare, But
this is Plato's philosophy, and we make bold to conceive
that this is the philosophy of the "play systems," wherein
Nature is identified with art, for philosophic purposes of in-
struction, which will some day indeed astonish the world into
admiration. It seems, then. Bacon had given profound thought
to this question. Does it not seem strange to find this
rigid philosopher of the inductive method, evidently deeply ac-
quainted with the Platonic philosophy as an Art system — a result
which a good many students of Plato hardly arrive at ! Nicetas
(Psellus), in his "Commentaries" (Gregor Or. xlii. 1732 D.),
says, " Si Orpheo credimus et Platonicis et Lydo phUosopho Natura
dei ars qmdam estJ* (960 Aglaophamus Lobeck.) Let us here
remark that Plato's philosophy and the Indian creed connected
with Brahma and Maya, are the only systems that regard Nature
as Oods Art, behind which he has concealed himself, and in which
phenomena play the part of illusion, perspective or idols, as images or
shadows — or symboliail pictures.

With regard to this our work, the critics, and the public, we
have no right to expect a better reception than Bacon himself
received. The gods cannot alter Human Nature.

" In 1620 Bacon published his great work, * Instauratio Magna.'

The geniuses laughed at it, and men of talent and acquirement,

whose studies had narrowed their minds into particular channels,

incapable of understanding its reasonings, and appreciating its

originality, turned wits for the purpose of ridiculing the new

s

274 BACONIANA.

publication of the philosophic Lord Chancellor. Dr Andrews, a
forgotten wit of those days, perpetrated a vile pun upon the
town and title of St Albans, by saying some doggerel verses that
it was on the high road to DwnM tabUf i.e., Dunstable, and there-
fore appropriate to the author of such a book. Mr Secretary
Cuffe said it was " a book which a fool could have written, and a
wise man would not." King James declared it was like the
peace of God — *'it passeth all understanding." Coke wrote,
under a device on the title page, of a ship passing through the
pillars of Hercules —

" It deserveth not to be read in schools
But to be freighted in the ship of fools."

CHAPTER XIV.

GORHAMBURT.

"Ut Rosa flos floram, sio est domus ista domomm." (Over the door.
Chapter House, Yorkminflter.)

GoRHAMBURY, where Bacon passed many years of his yoath,
was built in 1571, as we see by the inscription over the Roman
Portico of the ruins : —

" Hsec cam perfecit Nioolaus tecta BaoonuSy
Elizabeth regni lustra fuere duo.
Factus eques, magni custos fuit ipse sigilli
Gloria sit soli, tota tributa Deo.
Mediocria firma 1571.''^

It appears that upon the outside of the present approach there
was formerly a piazza with a range of pillars of the Tuscan order
in front The walls of the piazza were painted ai fresco, with
the adventures of Ulysses, by Van Koepen. In one piazza a
statue of Henry YIII. stood, the headless trunk of which may
yet be observed. In the other was a figure of Lady Bacon. In
the Orchard there stood an elegant Summer House (no longer
existing), '' dedicated to refined conversation on the liberal arts,
which were deciphered on the walls with the heads of Cicero,
Aristotle, and other illustrious ancients." This room seems to
have answered to the diceia, or favourite summer room, of the
younger Pliny at his beloved Laurentinum (Liber ii., Epist. 17).
'* This building, — ^the porticos suited for both seasons — a cr3rpto-
porticus, or noble galleiy, over the other — and finally, towers
placed at different parts, recall to mind many things of the villa."

There was a statue of Orpheus, which stood at the entrance to

276 GORHAMBURY.

the orchard, and there were the following lines over it, which
seem singularly appropriate for the home of the greatest poet the
world has ever seen !

*' Horrida nuper eram aspectn latebrseque f eramm
Buricolis tantum numinibusque locos
Edomitor fausto hie dum forte supervenit Orpheus
UlteriuB qui me non sinit esse rudem
Convocat avulsis virgulta virentia truncis
Ed sedem quae vol Diis placaisse potest.
Sicque mei cultor, sic est mihi coitus et Orpheus ;
Floreat O noster cultus amorque diu."

In " ThA Wisdom of the Ancienis" Bacon quotes the fable of
Orpheus, which seems to illustrate these Latin lines. " So great
was the power and alluring force of this harmony that he drew
the woods and moved the very stones to come and place them-
selves in an orderly and decent fashion about him."

Compare Shakespeare : —

" Therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and floods ;
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for a time doth change his nature."

{Merchant of Venice^ vi.)

'* But the most excellent remedy, in every temptation, is that
of Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting and resounding the praises
of the gods, confounded the voices, and kept himself from hearing
the music of the Sirens; for divine contemplations exceed the
pleasures of sense, not only in power but also in sweetness."
(" The Sirens" Bacon.)

Considering that Orpheus was the supposed founder of the
Mysteries, and that he seems to be a fit emblem of the most in-
spired poetry, (and particularly the Platonic or Love philosophy,)
nothing could be more appropriate than to thus hear of his statue
at Gk)rhambury. Perhaps Bacon wrote these lines, or they first
implanted in his mind the idea to write philosophical play sys-
tems to illustrate the Orphic theology, for he seems to have taken
the last line for his motto. Certain it is that he has come nearer

GORHAMBURY. 277

Orpheus than Orpheus himself, for he has and will draw all the
world after him with his divine music for ever ! Amongst some
dedicatory verses to the memory of Bacon, prefixed to the '' Ad-
vancement of Learning," 1640 (Oxford), and entitled Manti Venir
laminiani, we find some curious things which we think we ought
to introduce here. We find in these Latin verses addressed to
Bacon's memory, a frequent allusion to the Muses, Apollo,
Castalia, Pegassus, Helicon, and other poetical or classical con-
ceits, that seem strangely out of harmony with the memory of a
rigid philosopher. We suppose the critics will say this was the
extravagant way of writing in those days : —

" Qualis per umbras Ditis Enridice vagaos
Palpare gestiit orphSom, quali Orpheus,
Saliente tandem (vix prius crisp^) Styge,
Alite fibras lyrse titillavit mana ;
Talis plicata PbiloIog<>'n senigmatis
Petiit Baconam vindicem, tali manu
Lactata cristas eztulit Philosopbia :
Hamique soccis repitantem Comicis
Non proprio Ardelionibos molimine
Sarsit, sed Instauravit. Hinc politius
Surgit cothamo celsiore, et Organo
Stagirita virbius reviviscit NovoP

Compare Warburton's "Divine Legation" (book ii. sect, iv),
where he states Orpheus instituted the Mysteries. " So Orpheus
is said to get to hell by the power of his harp : —

Threicia fretos cithara, fidibusque canoris.'' (263.)

'' Orpheus, as we have said, first brought the mysteries from
Egypt into Thrace, and even religion itself: hence it was called
Sprixita, as being supposed the invention of the Thracian."
(" Divine Legation," bk, ii. sect. iv. 232.)

" Had an old poem, under the name of Orpheus, intitled, A
DESCENT INTO HELL^ been now extant, it would, probably, have
shown us, that no more was meant than Orpheus's initiation;
and that the idea of Virgil's sixth book was taken from thence."
(P. 264, "Divine Legation.")

278 GORHAMBURY.

''The verses which go under the name of Orpheus, are, at
least, more ancient than Plato and Herodotus: though since
interpolated. It was the common opinion, that they were
genuine ; and those who doubted of that, yet gave them to the
earliest Pythagorians. The subject of them are the mysteries,
under the several titles of &poyiafi,oi fifirpfoi rsXsra/, hphi \&yog,
and 4 tig ddov xardOaffrg, Pausanias tells us, that Orpheus's
hymns were sung in the rites of Ceres in preference to Homer's."
(" Divine Legation," 233, ibid.)

'* Si potoit mania arcessere conjugis Orpheus,
Threlcia fretua cithara fidibuaque canoria :
Si fratrem Pollux alterna morte redemit,
Itque reditque viam totiea : quid Theaea magnum,
Quid memorem Alciden ? et mi genus ab Jove aunmio.''

Compare : —

" ' Tlie riot of the tipsy Bacchanals^

Tearing the Thracian singer in their rage.* —
That ia an old device ; and it waa play'd
When I from Thebea came last a conqueror." —

— Midsfiimmer-Nigh^s Dream.

Why do we introduce all this, and what bearing can it have
upon Bacon or the plays and poems) Simply this, that we
recognize in the passage quoted, in memory of Bacon (prefixed to
our folio (1640) of the '' Magna Instauratio"), a writer who knows
more of Bacon than can be safely put in plain language, but who
presents us with the most tremendous side hint or parallel in
Orpheus it is possible to imagine, seeing we are at once referred
to the Mysteries and the most inspired poetry.

Gorhambury was the fourth house built upon the estate. It
cost £1898, exclusive of timber and lime, sand and freestone,
brought from the Abbey of St Albans. It was five years build-
ing. The building consisted of a quadrangle seventy feet square,
inside which was the entrance we see now, called the Roman
porch. Elizabeth paid her visit in 1572, and again in May
1577. The cost of the four days' entertainment amounted to

GORHAMBVRY, 279

£577, 68. 7^. The items are curious : Flour, £47, 12& 6d. ; Beer,
£24, 16s. 8d. j Wine, £57, fis. 8d.; Milk, 6d.; Lights, £40, 18s. Id.;
Fowl, £108, 128. lid. The guests or servants stole pewter to
the value of £6, 15s. 6d. In 1601 Bacon succeeded to the
estate ; he found the house, though only thirty-three years old,
very dilapidated, so he set to work to build another near the
Ichabod Ponds.^ In 1665, Yerulam House (of which there is a
detailed accoulit by Aubrey) was pulled down and the materials
sold. The old house was patched up, and in 1778 the present
mansion of the Grimstons' (who took the title of Earls Yerulam
with the estates) was built. The present entrance to the park
is not the original one of Bacon's time, which can, however, still
be traced by a few stately relicts of a once magnificent avenue.
This may be followed in front of the cricket-field, leading at
right angles to the present road, down the park in the direction
of the wooded heights. Everything about Gorhambury is very
beautiful.

The '' Kiss Oak " is not far from Temple House, the old ruins
of Bacon's dwelling-place. It is a magnificent old tree riven
frequently by lightning, perfectly hollow within, yet green and
flourishing outside, as if its immortality, like Bacon's, defied age,
decay, storm, or corruption. We easily got inside it, and found
it wide enough to extend our two arms at full length. Up above
were six large holes showing the sky overhead. The wood was
as rotten as tinder, crumbling under the touch, but the marvel-
lous part of its energy is to be seen in its perfectly green appear-
ance outside. We should say it must be quite twenty-four feet in

^ When Sir Nicholas Bacon, the Lord Keeper, lived, every room in
Gorhambury was served with a pipe of water from the pond distant about
a mile off. In the lifetime of Mr Anthony Bacon the water ceased, and
his Lordship coming to the inheritance, could not recover the water with-
out infinite charge. When he was Lord Chancellor, he built Yerulam
House cLo9t by the pond yard, for a place of privaqf when he was called
upon to despatch any urgent business. And being asked why he built
there, his Lordship answered that, seeing he could not carry the water to
his house, he would carry his hotise to the water.

28o GORHAMB UR V.

circumference, but this is only a rade gaess. It seemed to recall
those lines in The Tempest of Jupiter : —

" To the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire and rifted Jove's stout oak
With his own bolt"

The ruins of the old house Bacon lived in are very lovely, but
in a very neglected condition. They go still by the name of the
Temple ; and what better name could they bear than this^ seeing
that it was for many years the hallowed home of the greatest of
God's inspired representatives 1

Knight writes in his " Pictorial England ": — " In the house
lately occupied by Messrs Roake & Yarty in the Strand, is pre-
served part of an old ceiling, the last remnant of York House,
where Bacon was bom."

'^ The house in which he lived " (says Knight) '^ was burned
down in 1676, but No. 1 of Gray's Inn Square stands upon its
site. The walls of the chambers on the north side of the stair-
case are covered with the wainscot rescued from the fire. In the
gardens, a very few years ago, were some trees that he had
planted. The author of 'London and it Environs described'
(Dodsley, 1761), makes mention (iii 58) of a summer-house which
once stood in the gardens, and bore a Latin inscription to the
effect that Bacon erected it in 1609, in memory of Jeremy
Bettenham, formerly a Reader of Gray's Inn : —

" ' Till lately there was a summer-house erected by the great
Sir Francis Bacon upon a small mount. The inscription in
memory of Bettenham was as follows : —

' Franciscus Bacon

Begis Solicitor GeueraluB

Executor testamenti Jeremiffi Bettenham,

nuper Lectoris hujus hospitii
viri innocentis, abetinentis, et contemplativi *^

hanc sedem in memoriam ejuadem Jeremise extruxit.

An. Dom. 1609.' "

A trifle like this bespeaks more for Bacon's character and
tenderness of heart than volumes of panegyric !

I

GORHAMBURY. 281

Aubrey's Oossip.

" His Lordship was a good Poet, but conceal'd as appears by
his Letters." (Aubrey.)

"John Aubrey, in his MS. notes, the dedication of which to
Anthony Wood is dated 15th June 1680, which are printed at
the end of Letters written by eminent persons^ &c, London. 1813.
gives us the following further information about Lord Bacon.

" In his Lordship's prosperity Sr. Fulke Grevil, Lord Brooke,
was his great friend and acquaintance, but when he was in dis-
grace and want, he was so unworthy as to forbid his butler to
let him have any more small beer, which he had often sent for,
his stomack being nice, and the small beere of Grayes Inne not
liking his pallet. This has done his memorie more dishonour
then Sr Ph. Sydney's friendship engraven on his monument hath
donne him honour.

" Bichard, Earle of Dorset, was a great admirer and friend ot
the Ld. Ch. Bacon, and was wont to have Sr Tho. Ballingsley
along with him to remember and putt downe in writing my
Lord's sayinges at table. Mr. Ben lonson was one of his friends
and acquaintance, as doeth appeare by his excellent verses on his
Lordship's birth day, in his 2nd voL and in his ' Underwoods,'
where he gives him a character, and concludes, That about his
time, and within his view, were borne all the witts that could
honour a nation or help studie. He came often to Sr John
Danvers at Chelsey. Sir John told me that when his Lordship
had wrote the ' Hist, of Hen. 7,' he sent the manuscript copie to
him to desire his opinion of it before it 'twas printed. Qd Sir
John, Your Lordship knowes that I am no scholar. Tis no
matter, said my Lord, I know what a scholar can say ; I would
know what you can say. Sir John read it, and gave his opinion
what he misliked (which I am sorry I have forgott) which my
Lord acknowledged to be true, and mended it. * Why,' said he,
' a schollar would never have told me this.'

T

282 GORHAMBVRY.

*' Mr Tho. Hobbes (Malmesburiensis) was beloved by his Lord-
ship, who was wont to have him waike in his delicate groTes,
when he did meditate : and when a notion darted into his mind,
Mr Hobbes was presently to write it downe, and his Lordship
was wont to say that he did it better than any one els aboat
him ; for that many times, when he read their notes he scarce
understood what they writt, because they understood it not
clearly themselves. In short, all that were qrtai and good loved
and honoured him. Sir Edward Coke, Ld. Chiefe Justice,
alwayes envyed him, and would be undervalueing his lawe. I
knew old lawyers that remembred it.

*' He was Lord Protector during King James' progresse into
Scotland, and gave audience in great state to Ambassadors in
the banquett'ing house at Whitehall. His Lordship would many
time have musique in the next roome where he meditated. The
Aviary at Yorke House was built by his Lordship ; it did cost
300 lib. Every meale, according to the season of the yeare, he
had his table strewed with sweet herbes and flowers, which he
sayd did refresh his spirits and memorie. When his Lordship
was at his country house at Gorhambery, St Alban's seemed as
if the court had been there, so nobly did he live. His servants
had liveries with his crest ; ^ his watermen were more employed
by gentlemen then even the kings.

'' King James sent a buck to him, and he gave the keeper fifty
pounds.

" He was wont to say to his servant, HurU, (who was a notable
thrifty man, and loved this world, and the only servant he had
that he could never gett to become bound for him) * The world
was made for man (Hunt), and not man for the world.' Hunt
left an estate of 1006 lib. per ann., in Somerset

"None of his servants durst appeare before him without
Spanish leather bootes : for he would smell the neates leather,
which offended him.

^ A boare.

GORHAMB UR Y. 283

'' His Lordship being in Yorke House garden looking on Fishers
as they were throwing their nett, asked them what they would
take for their draught ; they answered so much : his Lordship,
would offer them no more but so much. They drew up their
nett, and it were only 2 or 3 little fishes. His Lordship, then told
them, it had been better for them to have taken his offer. They
replied, they hoped to haue a better draught ; but, said his Lord-
ship, ' Hope is a good breakfast^ bui an HI supper.'

''Upon his being in disfavour, his servants suddenly went
away, he compared them to the flying of the vermin when the
house was falling.

'' One told his Lordship it was now time to look about him.
He replyed, ' I doe not looke dboui me, I looke above me.'

'' His Lordship would often drinke a good draught of strong
beer (March beer) to- bed-wards, to lay his working fancy asleep:
which otherwise would keepe him from sleeping great part of the
night

** Three of his Lordship's servants [Sir Tho. Meautys, Mr . . .
Bushell, Mr . . . Idney.] kept their coaches, and some kept race-
horses.

"... His Favourites tooke bribes, but his Lop. alwayes gave
judgement secundem xquvm et bonum. His Decrees in Chancery
stand firme, there are fewer of his decrees reverst, than of any
other Chancellor.

." [Aubrey in his 'Life of Hobbes,' Vol. IL Part ii p. 602 of
the same work, states. ' The Lord Chancellor Bacon loved to
converse with him. He assisted his Lordship in translating
severall of his essayes into Latin, one I well remember is that,
Of the Greatness of Cities : [1 Kingdoms] the rest I haue forgott.
His Lordship was a very contemplative person, and was wont to
contemplate in his delicious walks at Gorhambery, and dictate to
Mr Bushell, or some other of his gentlemen, that attended him
with ink and paper ready to set downe presently his thoughts.']

" Mr Hobbes told me that the cause of his Lordship's death
was trying an experiment. As he was taking an aire in a coach

284 GORHAMB UR V.

with Dr Witherborne (a Scotchman, Physician to the King)
towards Highgate, snow lay on the ground, and it came into m j
Lord's thoughts, why flesh might not be preserved in snoi^ as in
salt. They were resolved they would try the experiment pre-
sently. They alighted out of the coach, and went into a poore
woman's house at the bottome of Highgate hill, and bouglit a
hen, and made the woman exenterate it, and then stufiTed Hie
bodie with snow, and my Lord did help to doe it himselfe. The
snow so chilled him, that he immediately fell so extremely ill,
that he could not retume to his lodgings, (I suppose thej- at
Oraye's Inne,) but went to the Earl of Arundell's house at High-
gate, where they putt him into a good bed warmed with a panne,
but it was a damp bed that had not been layn in about a 7eare
before, which gave him such a cold that in 2 or 3 dayes, as I
remember he [Mr Hobbes] told me, he dyed of suffocation." (Vol.
XL Part i. p. 221-7.)

THE END.

TUBITBULL Aim 8PSAX8, FBIVTBBB, SDIBBCJBOB.

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