I
FRANCIS BACON AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY.
TO THE
t
" SONS OF THE MORNING, "
I dedicate this Book,
Confident that they will not disappoint the prophetic hope of
FRANCIS BACON
that, in the " .ZVew Btri/t o/ Time," 7s " Filii Scientiarum"
tvould accomplish his ivork, and " hand
down the Lamp " to the Next Ages.
CONTENTS.
Page.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY ... 9
CHAPTER II.
FRANCIS BACON: SOME DOUBTS CONNECTED WITH HIS
PERSONAL HISTORY, AND ACTUAL WORKS AND AIMS 25
CHAPTER III.
FRANCIS BACON : A MYSTERY SURROUNDS HIS PRIVATE
LIFE AND CHARACTER - - , - - - 40
CHAPTER IV.
FRANCIS BACON: AN OUTLINE OF HIS LIFE AND AIMS 88
CHAPTER V.
PLAYWRIGHT AND POET-PHILOSOPHER - 117
CHAPTER VI.
.DEFICIENCIES OF LEARNING IN THE TIMES OF ELIZA
BETH AND JAMES I. - - 158
CHAPTER VII.
THE ROSICRUCIANS : THEIR RULES, AIMS, AND METHOD
OF WORKING ... 197
CHAPTER VIII.
THE VITAL SPIRITS OF NATURE - - 230
CHAPTER IX.
MASONRY - 256
CHAPTER X.
PAPER-MARKS USED UNTIL THE TIME OF SIR NICHOLAS
BACON - - 298
CHAPTER XI.
PAPER- MARKS IN AND AFTER THE TIME OF FRANCIS
BACON - 335
PLATES - - 375
LIST OF PAPER-MARKS - - - - - - ~ - 403
FRAICIS BACOH AHD HIS SECRET SOCIETY.
CHAPTER I.
INTRODUCTORY.
" Read, not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted,
nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider."
THE object with which this book has been written is to invite
attention and help in clearing some obscurities, and answer
ing some difficult questions, which have lately presented them
selves, in the course of a close investigation into the works and
aims of Francis Bacon and his friends.
Although, for the sake of brevity, propositions are here stated
rather than argued, it must not be thought that such statements
are dogmatic, or that the conclusions drawn by the writer are
intended to be forced upon others.
So far as is possible, facts have been distinguished from con
jectures, suggestions, or inferences. Nevertheless, since, to most
minds, it is helpful to learn what general conclusions have re
sulted from certain disconnected items of evidence, such con
clusions as have been reached are frankly offered, and will
readily be withdrawn, if proof or stronger evidence should be
forthcoming on the contrary side.
Let those who peruse these pages regard them only as the
faint rays of a lamp of inquiry, which may guide others, stronger
and more capable, to come forward and work, till this mine of
truth shall be thoroughly explored, and its treasures brought to
the surface.
(9)
10 FRANCIS BACON
The chain of argument which has been formed is of 'the fol
lowing kind:
1. There is a mystery about the life, aims, and actual work of
Francis Bacon. Ben Jonson (whose accuracy is never ques
tioned) acknowledges this in his verses to Bacon:
"Thou stand'st as though a mystery thou didst."
And Jonson's testimony to Bacon's immense and poetic genius,
" filling up all numbers," etc., would be unintelligible if we were
to maintain that all is known which could be known about Bacon
and his works.
The more we study these, the more we weigh his utterances,
his fragmentary papers, his letters, his ambiguous or enigmatic
notes, his wills, and the dedications and prefaces to many of his
acknowledged or suspected works, the more closely we com
pare the opinions expressed on any of these subjects, so much
the more clearly do we perceive the mystery, the apparent con
tradictions which exist in his life and writings, and which em
broil and confuse the statements of his innumerable critics and
biographers. The apparent u contraries of good and evil " are,
in Bacon's case, so many and so strong, that there is hardly an
opinion expressed concerning him by one " great authority"
which is not absolutely contradicted by another equally great.
2. In spite of Bacon's distinct and repeated statements as
to the deep and prevailing darkness, the ignorant grossness of
his own era; in spite of his catalogue of the " deficiencies" of
learning, deficiencies which, commencing with lack of words,
extend through some forty distinct departments of learning;
and not only to "knowledges," but to everything requisite to
form a fine and polished style, or to express noble thoughts :
in spite of all this, we are taught to believe in an outburst of
literary genius and of "giant minds," simultaneously all over
the world, during the age in which he lived. Yet we are com
pelled to confess that Bacon's statements have never been chal
lenged or refuted.
Philology shows a marvellous correspondence in the English
literature of the Elizabethan and Jacobean period. True, some
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 11
works are superior to others, as are the first efforts of a clever
boy to the compositions of his mature manhood still, a very
decided resemblance in thought, opinion, knowledge, and dic
tion is perceptible, when the works of the time are exhaustively
compared.
This likeness extends even to foreign works, especially when
they are divested of their Latin, French, German, Italian, or
Spanish mantles, and appear as " translations" in very Baconian
diction. In many cases the translations appear to be the orig
inals.
3. It is manifestly impossible that any one man, however
gigantic his power, could have performed, single-handed, all
that we believe to have been done and written by Francis Bacon.
But many entries in his private notes, many hints in his let
ters and acknowledged works, indicate his faith in the efficacy
of united efforts, and that, besides the mystery which surrounded
himself, there was also a mystery concerning many of his near
est relations and friends, who seemed to have worked for the
same ends as he did, and perfectly to have understood the am
biguous language in which he expressed himself. Secret socie
ties were common in the Middle Ages, and Bacon, we believe,
was the centre of a secret league for the advancement of learn
ing. This revival of learning was the " New Birth of Time"
the " Kenaissance. "
4. Examination into the history of the secret societies of the
Middle Ages shows the Rosicrucian fraternity as the one of all
others which would have been best fitted to promote Bacon's
lofty aims; its very constitution and mode of procedure seeming
to be the result of his own scheme or " method."
5. It further appears that no sharply defined line could be
drawn between the method and objects of the Rosicrucians and
those of the Freemasons; and that, in fact, although the pro
phetic imagination of Bacon carried him into the highest flights
of poetic and religious aspiration, and into the sublimest regions
whither the Rosicrucian brethren strove to follow him, yet he was
observant and practical enough -to see that there were things in
heaven and earth unheard of in ordinary philosophy ; that only
12 FEANGIS BACON
a few in his own times would be able to comprehend them, and
that, even in the ages to come, such things must be " caviare to
the general, " and quite beyond the reaches of their souls.
Consequently, whoso would set about a " universal reforma
tion of the whole wide world, " such as the Kosicrucians dreamed
of, must begin in a very humble way, and on the low level, but
the very broad basis, which is the first stage or platform of Free
masonry.
6. A secret society implies and involves secret means of com
munication and mutual recognition ciphers or secret writing.
Mr. Donnelly's great discovery of cipher in the Shakespeare Folio
of 1623 has been the cause of much investigation, not only into
the typography of old books, but also into the art of cryptog
raphy, which, in and after Bacon's time, forms an important
element of education in the higher schools of learning, especially
in the seminaries and Jesuits' colleges on the Continent. " Every
prince has his cipher. " 1 It is certain that, in those dark and
dangerous days, no correspondence of importance was conducted
without the use of some secret writing or cipher.
So numerous are the works on cryptography published in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that they form a small bib
liography of themselves. The most important of these is a large
octavo volume, published with a pseudonym (and under the aus
pices of the Duke of Brunswick, who is said to have patronized
Shakespeare and his company) at Luneberg in 1623 (1624 New
Style) in the same year, namely, as that of the publication of
Bacon's DeAugmentis, in which his own cipher is described, and
of the Shakespeare Folio, in which Mr. Donnelly has found a
cipher narrative.
7. Inquiry as to cipher systems and their wide-spread use,
and immensely varied forms, led to the observation that the use
of stenography, or short-hand, though used as a method of" swift"
writing, is, in some of the old books, found to be intimately con
nected with cryptography. The results of this research, so far
as it goes, tend to show Bacon again as the introducer and great
1 Promus.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 13
encourager of this short-hand cipher. It even appears probable
that he taught it to his young assistants and secretaries, and
that by this means a great deal of his wonderful conversation,
and the contents of many small treatises, tracts, sermons, etc.,
were taken from his lips, such discourses being at leisure written
out, sometimes revised by himself, and published at various
places and under various names, when the opportunity arose or
when the time seemed ripe.
8. With regard to the peculiar typography and the " typo
graphical errors " which were tabulated from the Shakespeare
Folio of 1623. it is found that the same peculiarities, the same
" errors, " the same variations in type, exist throughout the
whole circle of Baconian (or " Rosicrucian " ) publications of a
certain period. Such errors and peculiarities predominate in
the most important works, especially in the head-lines, prefaces,
indexes, tables of contents; and " accidents " in printing, when
very frequent in such places, or in the pagination of the book,
are, as a rule, not to be found in the text of the book itself.
Usually one edition only contains these " errors and accidents; "
often this is the " second edition, carefully revised and aug
mented. " Such books have every condition requisite for cipher.
9. In books where there are other distinct signs of Baconian
origin, the wood-cuts are found to have a strange connection
and affinity. The collation of a large number of tracings and
photographs from a certain class of books reveals a complete
chain- work, linking one book to another. This chain invari
ably leads up to Francis Bacon and his friends, as the authors,
" producers, " or patrons of those works.
10. The same system of mutual connection is found to be
kept up by " water-marks, " or paper-marks, in these same
books. These paper-marks are extremely numerous and vary
very much. From three to twenty-four different patterns have
been found in one volume.
11. The tooling of the binding forms another chain of con
nection amongst these books.
12. Further examination discloses other secret marks, chiefly
made, we think, to take the place of paper- marks, and inserted
14 FBANCIS BACON
during the last stage of perfecting the book. They tally with
each other, and also form a complete chain of evidence as to
the workings of a secret society. Say that they are printers'
marks ; yet they are secret marks produced with cunning, skill,
and forethought, and not without expense as well as trouble.
13. All these secret signs are traceable, variously modified,
and ingeniously introduced to suit the exigencies of modern
printing and publishing, from the time of Bacon to the present
day. The chain of connection seems to be complete. Inquiries
amongst notable printing-firms and printers, and researches into
books, supposed authorities on the subject, fail to produce defi
nite information j but the facts are not denied nor these statements
refuted. The impossibility of getting a straightforward answer
to the questions, "Are these things true?" or "Are these
things untrue ? " confirms the long-growing conviction that the
same system which was set going in the time of Bacon is at the
present time in full working order ; and that the Freemasons
form the Arts and Crafts, the later-established and lower degrees
of the society which, at the eighteenth degree, rises into the
literary and religious society of "Rose Croix," or the " Rosi
crucians, " as they were called by Andreas.
14. The Rosicrucians and the Freemasons speak in their books
of the necessity for a " universal language. " This language is to
be partly by signs, but also largely by symbols or emblems. It
is the language of the " Renaissance." A collation of passages
shows that all the metaphors, similes, symbols, and emblems of
the Rosicrucians and Masons, and of all the works which we
connect with them, are included in the works of Bacon. The
greater contains the less, and the language is his. No one has
since improved upon it, although many have paraphrased and
diluted his words, as well as his original thoughts.
15. Bacon's most intimate friends, relations, and correspond
ents seem to have been all either Rosicrucians, Freemasons, or
Uluminati, as, in Italy and parts of Germany, they were some
times called. Their names continually appear in connection
with the works produced under the auspices of these societies;
their portraits often include the recognized marks of distinction;
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 15
their very graves comply with the rules of the section of the
society to which they belonged.
16. It is not concluded, from the evidence which has been
collected, that Bacon originated secret societies, or that there
were no religious fraternities or trade guilds, before his time,
possessing secrets which they kept for mutual help and pro
tection.
On the contrary, all evidence goes to show that such institu
tions did exist, in a rude and inefficient condition; that in all
probability Sir Nicholas Bacon and others had conceived a
thought of attempting to consolidate or erect some such society,
for the purpose of reviving learning, and of promoting unity in
religion. But it remained for the genius, energy, and untiring
devotion of Francis Bacon to accomplish these things, and he
seems to have been peculiarly educated for thejmrpose.
Throwing the whole weight of his gigantic intellect and the
enthusiasm of " that great heart of his " l into the work of
methodising and perfecting previous weak and disjointed
schemes, he built up, step by step, stone by stone, the great
fabric of learning, the " Solomon's House " which his descend
ants have kept in repair, and to which the " future ages " have
made additions in some departments.
It was Bacon who designed the exquisite machinery or
" engine " which still exists for the reception, arrangement,
digestion, and wide-spread distribution of knowledge. It was
he who, finding the new truth in vain trying to struggle up in a
thankless soil, and the learning of the ancients smothered and
buried in the dust of oblivion, set himself the task of raking and
digging up and setting it forth again, polished and glorified
with all the lustre of his radiant mind. The organisation or
" method of transmission " which he established was such as to
ensure that never again, so long as the world endured, should
the lamp of tradition, the light of truth, be darkened or extin
guished ; but that, continually trimmed and replenished with
the oil of learning, it should be kept alight, a little candle in a
1 Dr. Rawler's Life of Bacon.
16 FRANCIS BACON
dark place, or a beacon set on a hill, burning with undimmed
and perpetual brightness.
Many questions arise in the course of the inquiries with which
the following pages are concerned doubts and knotty points
which cannot yet be definitely settled, but which must be con
sidered open questions, fair subjects for discussion and further
research. Present knowledge is not equal to the task of solving
many such enigmas, and doubtless these will for a while con
tinue to obtrude themselves. But we say "present knowledge,"
speaking in regard to the world and readers in general. There
is little room for doubt that the difficulties and obstacles which
we have met with, and the obscurity which enshrouds so much
of the history of Bacon and his friends, are neither dark nor
difficult to a certain clique of learned men, still representing the
brethren of the Rosie Cross. As to the lower degrees of Mason
ry, the Arts and Crafts (or the mysteries of handiworks), there
are, doubtless, a limited number of personages, presiding over
some of the Freemason lodges, to whom all these details are
perfectly well understood.
It is by no means so sure that even the high initiates in any
branch of the society are informed of all or of the same particu
lars. Probably the supreme head, or Imperator, and two or
three of his subordinates, are acquainted with the whole history
of the society, and with every detail of its method and present
work. But with regard to the lower orders of the fraternity, it
does not appear, from the evidence we have collected, that they
possess any true knowledge or idea of their origin. Perhaps
they believe the fictitious histories which we shall presently have
occasion to glance at. But, at all events, so far as observation
and inquiry have enabled us to ascertain, every craft or mechanical
art, connected with Freemasonry, still keeps up the old secret
signs, which, though now perhaps useless anachronisms, were,
at the time of their invention and institution excellent and
ready means for the transmission of information and mutual
intelligence, not only from man to man, in a living generation,
but from man to posterity, and to " the future ages. "
Masons mark the stones they chisel with marks which they do
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 1?
not understand; but the architect who decorates his building,
externally and internally, with the symbolic ornamentation of
the Renaissance, is a Freemason of higher rank, and we do not
suppose, from the specimens which we see of recent workman
ship, that he, like the mechanics in his employ, works or designs
in mere " base imitation " of his predecessors. The very nature,
position, or circumstances of the buildings thus decorated pro
hibit the belief that their ornaments are casually or aimlessly
applied.
In like manner, craftsmen, employed in the arts and trades of'
paper-making, printing, engraving, and book-binding, continue
to reproduce, under certain circumstances, not only the old secret
marks, but the old hieroglyphic or symbolic pictures, modified to
suit modern requirements.
Here, again, it is plain that the simple craftsman is the mere
tool, obediently performing, he knows not precisely what, or
wherefore. But who orders and guides that workman? Who
dictates the style of the peculiar designs which we see repeating
the same story, handing down the same lamp of tradition which
was lighted in the days of Queen Elizabeth? Whosoever he
may be who dictates or designs, he is not, like the workman,
ignorant of the what or the wherefore. When you meet with
him and question him, he will not tell you that he " does not
know;" he will reply that he "cannot tell." To this is often
added some suggestion as to the improbability of such a method
being now in existence : " Is it likely that this system should
continue ? Of what use could it be at the present time ? " To
the latter question we can only reply that, if this system was
established in connection with a society bound by repeated vows
of secresy and constancy to continue it from one generation to
another, we cannot see at what point they could ever break it
off, except by discovery. It is precisely because of its apparent
inutility in the present day, and because it seems that such
secresy now hinders and confounds knowledge (without any
compensating advantages), that we desire to aid in lifting that
curtain which Bacon intended should be one day raised; and
which we have good reason for knowing that many of his
18 FRANCIS BACON
followers desire to see withdrawn, though they may not move
one finger for the purpose.
At the present hour it does indeed appear as if such marks
and symbols were practically useless anachronisms, in free
England at least. Yet neither can we truly say that they are
totally valueless, seeing that, little as we understand their pur
port, we have been able to use them as guides through a strange
and unmapped region.
The very.nature of the case makes it impossible to be accu
rate in describing these occult signs. Many of them, doubtless,
are mere blinds, the puzzling dust of which we shall read, cast
in our eyes with intent to deceive and mislead us. This is right,
and as it should be ; for it would be but a poor secret which
could easily be discovered; and from Bacon, and in anything
which he devised, we should expect the utmost ingenuity and
subtlety combined with the greatest power and the wisest fore
thought; a scheme planned by Prospero, with mischievous
improvements by Puck, and carried out by him in conjunction
with Ariel.
We are armed and well prepared for a volley of perhaps good-
natured abuse and derision from those, on the one hand, who
wish to discourage others from following up the lines of research
which are here indicated ; on the other hand, from that very
numerous class which so often attracted Bacon's notice those,
namely, who, never having studied a subject, are the more posi
tive, either that it is a delusion, or that it is not worthy of study.
His remarks on such critics are so satisfactory and exhaustive,
that this prospect in no way troubles us.
There is yet a third class which has been before us throughout
the process of collecting the particulars included in the following
pages students not too easily satisfied, but willing to take
some personal trouble to reach the bottom of things, and to get
at the truth. To these we need not say, as to the former class
of readers:
"Before you judge, be pleased to understand."
But we do entreat that, accepting nothing at second-hand,
taking nothing for granted, they will contribute some personal
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 19
help in testing, disproving, or confirming the statements and
suggestions made in this book, for, the sooner error is confuted
and truth established, the better for all.
If these statements be incorrect, those especially connected with
trades and crafts, it must be easy for those at the head of great
houses connected with such crafts plainly and unreservedly to
confute them. Men are not usually found to be backward in
contradicting other men's assertions when they consider their
own knowledge superior. And to the simple question, " Am I
wrong? " the answer " Yes" would be at once conclusive and
satisfactory, if delivered by a competent authority and an
honorable man.
Such an answer has hitherto been withheld, and it cannot be
thought unreasonable if for the present we continue in the faith
that the statements and theories here set forth are approximately
correct. When those who have it in their power absolutely to
confirm or refute our observations will do neither the one nor the
other; when published books are found invariably to stop short
at the point where full information is required, and which must
be in the possession of those who, having written up to that
point, know so well where to stop and what to omit, then we are
assured that the questions remain unanswered, the books incom
plete, because those who have in their possession the informa
tion which we need are bound by vows to withhold it. In Free
masons' language, they "cannot tell" an expression which
recurs with remarkable frequency in correspondence on these
subjects, and which is judiciously or graciously varied and para
phrased: " I regret to be unable to give you the information you
seek " " I am sorry that I can tell you nothing which will assist
your researches" "These inquiries are most interesting I
wish it were in my power to help you, " etc.
In vain have we endeavored to extract the answer, " I do not
know." Such a phrase does not seem to exist amongst the for
mulae of Freemason or Rosicrucian language.
It has been our effort, throughout this work, to keep each
subject distinct from every other; at the same time showing
how all are inseparably linked a,nd bound together; how every
20 Fit AN CIS BACOtf
clue pursued in this argument leads to the same point; how all
lines converge to the centre.
In attempting this, all effort at a pleasing composition in our
book has had to be renounced, for it is better to be understood
than applauded; and frequent repetitions are needful in order
to spare the reader from puzzling and from the worry of per
petual foot-notes -or references. He may often be disappointed
at the slight and sketchy treatment which very interesting and
important matters have received. But since the present object
it to rouse inquiry, rather than to clinch any argument, or to
silence objectors, it seems the wisest plan first to state and sug
gest, not stopping at every turn in order to prove each statement.
This appears to be especially desirable since it is notorious that,
in such matters as are here brought forward, judgment will and
must be delivered according to each man's light and knowledge.
Those who know most will understand most, inquire most, and
be the most interested and sympathetic. But we cannot " go
beyond Aristotle in the light of Aristotle. "
And surely our sympathies should rather be with those " who
seek to make doubtful things certain" than with those others
" who labor to make certain things doubtful." If so, let us be
ware of forming opinions positive and stereotyped upon matters
of which we have but little knowledge, and which are only now
beginning to be duly weighed and sifted. It is in vain to assume
a knowledge if we have it not; and judgments delivered under
the wig of Folly are sure to be soon reversed. Bacon underwent
such mock trials in his own life-time, and he has told us how
lightly he regarded them. " We decline," he says, "to be
judged by a tribunal which is itself upon its trial."
To the end that this investigation may be the more easily and
swiftly performed, we append a few notes, but for brevity's sake
(and to avoid the deterring appearance of erudition which, to
some minds, is produced by an array of quotations and refer
ences) these have been curtailed to a minimum. They will not
satisfy the real lover of truth, but such a one will pursue the
subject for himself, and dig to the very roots of matters which
can be here merely noted or pointed out.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 21
Before concluding these preliminary remarks, we would ask
leave to say a few words respecting an idea which has lately
become the fashion. This idea finds expression in the statement
that it is impossible to credit the Baconian theories because they
are contrary to common sense.
Common sense, we are assured, tells, or should tell us, that the
notion is absurd that a great secret society exists in the present
day; that there are ciphers introduced into many Baconian
books ; that Bacon wrote all that philology declares him to have
written ; or that he inaugurated the vast amount of works of all
kinds which evidence seems to show that he did inaugurate. On
the whole no one with any common sense can suppose that things
are true which the speaker (whose common sense is always
excellent) does not understand.
Such remarks, from those who have never studied the matter
in question, invariably suggest the inquiry, What is this
omniscient common sense, which is supposed capable of deciding
without effort, and by some mysterious short cut, many hard and
knotty points which have cost the investigator so much pains
and labor?
Surely common sense is not, as many seem to imagine, a kind
of intuitive genius, or even a penetrative insight. Kather it
should be defined as the power of reasoning upon experience.
For example, suppose a man never to have seen or heard of
an egg; could any amount of sense, common or uncommon, lead
him to expect that some day the shell would be cracked from
within, and that a living ball of fluff and feathers would step
forth ? Yet, having seen one such egg, and the chicken which
issued from it, the man would, on finding another egg, expect a
like result. If, after watching a hen roost for many days or
weeks, seeing the same phenomenon frequently repeated, he
still remains doubtful as to what might come out of an egg, think
ing it equally probable that, instead of a chicken, a mouse, a
frog, or a swarm of bees might appear, we should consider him
a fool, entirely without common sense, incapable of reasoning
by analogy or experience. And so with all cases in which com
mon sense is exercised.
22 FRANCIS BACON
Now, it is plain that things which are entirely new to us,
things of which we have never had any previous experience, are
not matters upon which we can successfully decide by common
sense. On the contrary, we must use some sense out of the com
mon if we would attain to the knowledge and comprehension of
totally new sciences or branches of learning j and to learn new
things, as Shakespeare tells us, is the end of study :
Biron. "What is the end of study ? Let me know.
Long. Why, that to know which else we should not know.
Biron. Things hid and barr'd, you know, from common sense.
King. Aye, mat is study's glorious recompense.
Those who, without any experience in the questions involved,
pronounce that Bacon could not have written Shakespeare, or
that there is no cipher in the Plays, or that Bacon did not found
Freemasonry and Eosicrucianism, or that, although the former
society exists, the latter does not, are going in direct opposition
to common sense, or to reason based upon experience.
For experience has shown that the philology, science, ethics,
and many other particulars in the Plays prove them, by inter
nal evidence, to be the products of Bacon's heart, brain, and hand ;
and hundreds of other pieces of evidence, connected with the
circumstances of their publication, confirm the doctrines which
are founded upon internal evidence. The evidence is precisely
of the same kind as that which has been held good in examining
the claims of many authors to their accredited works; and the
same rules of criticism which are employed in one case should
hold good in another, where the same similarities are seen in
infinitely greater numbers.
From the Promus 1 we gather the elements of a new
phraseology, newly coined words, turns of expression, met
aphors, proberbial sayings, and quotations from five or six
languages; from the Natural History and the History of Life and
Death, a mass of scientific facts, new and curious in the days
when they were recorded and published. From the Novum
Organum and the Advancement of Learning, a mass of new
1 Bacon's private MS. notes, in the Harleian collection, British Museum.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 23
ideas, theories, aphorisms, and philosophical reflections. From
the Wisdom of the Ancients ', parables " new " and " deep," and
mythological interpretations different from any previously
offered.
Now, when all these things are seen reflected in the poetry of
Shakespeare and other supposed authors, in days when we have
the authority of the great Verulam himself for pronouncing
knowledge " deficient " in nearly every branch of polite learn
ing, common sense tells us that the author who wrote the notes,
and the author who used them in his prose and poetry, was one
and the same.
Again, when we find Shakespeare writing in many different
styles; when we find his styles so varied that his warmest
admirers differ and wrangle over them, and assign bits of his
plays first to one author, and then to another, calling some plays
" spurious, " others " doubtful; " when we find some of his
poetry very prosy, and some of his prose to be finest poetry; and
then, when the same observations recur with Bacon's acknowl
edged works, Ben Jonson praising both authors in the same
words, but saying that Bacon alone filled all numbers; when we
find the analogies between the two groups of works made
patent by thousands of extracts and passages, on all conceiv
able subjects, and notably by a harmony of about forty thousand
metaphors and similes, common sense is forced to declare that
here again the author is one and the same.
When experience shows that Freemasonry exists, exercising
the same functions, rules, and system as it did nearly three
hundred years ago, reason tells us that what is a fact concern
ing the lower grades of a society is likely to be equally a fact
concerning the upper grades of the same society; and when we
see the Freemasons exhibiting and proclaiming themselves, in
their meetings, dresses, and ceremonials, much as they did at
their first institution, we find it contrary to common sense to
maintain that the retiring and silent Rosicrucians, whose rules
from the first enforced concealment and silence, cannot now be in
existence, because they are not seen or generally recognised.
With regard to the use of ciphers, it is true that modern society
24 FRANCIS BACON
has little or no experience of their use; but since the art of cryp
tography constituted in Bacon's time an important part of a
learned education, it is contrary to common sense to say that the
introduction of ciphers into printed books is either impossible or
improbable; or that, though the societies which used them may
still exist, working on their original lines, yet it is absurd to sup
pose that they know of the ciphers or use them still. If the
society exists, its ciphers exist also.
There are some drawbacks to the delight of pursuing these
many and various questions. One is the conviction which
presses upon us, that all the information which we seek is per
fectly well known to certain living persons; that the particulars
which, with painful slowness, we rake for and sift from the
dust of time, from books whose titles are generally forgotten,
from manuscripts whose very existence is generally unknown,
are all formally recorded, or have been verbally transmitted to
those certain few; so that, in the endeavors now made toward
reaching absolute truth in these particulars, we are doing what
Bacon would call actum agere doing the dee^ done a process
always unsatisfactory, and one from which we seek to deliver
others who may follow in our footsteps.
It is, moreover, disheartening to know that this book must be,
of its very nature, imperfect. It must go forth unfledged,
" flying," as Bacon says, " out of its feathers." Hardly will it
have flown, when the u dogs, " Bacon's cynics, and his critics,
the " birds of prey, " will be after it, and hunt it down, and peck
it to pieces. Yet if, perchance, it may be fortunate enough to
attract the attention of some dozen students in our great libra
ries, ivorkers in any department of knowledge, this little work
will have fulfilled its mission. Perhaps some fresh streams of
information may flow in to assist the subsequent portions of this
book. At all events, even common criticism, hostile though it
may be, will, we trust, lend further aid to the clearing-up of
errors or misapprehensions, and to the " finding out Truth,
though she be hid indeed within the center. "
CHAPTER II.
FRANCIS BACON: SOME DOUBTS CONNECTED WITH HIS PER
SONAL HISTORY, AND ACTUAL WORKS AND AIMS.
" I have been induced to think that if there were a beam of knowledge de
rived from. God upon any man in these modern times, it was upon him."
Dr. Raw ley.
IT is certain that, although much is known about Francis
Bacon in some parts or phases of his chequered life, yet there
is a great deal more which is obscure, or very inadequately
treated of by his biographers.
So little has, until recently, been generally thought about him,
that the doubts and discrepancies, and even the blanks which
are to be found in all the narratives which concern him, have
usually passed unnoticed, or have been accepted as matters of
course. Yet there are points which it would be well to inquire
into.
For instance, what was he doing or where was he travelling
during certain unchronicled years? Why do we hear so little in
modern books of that beloved brother Anthony, who was his
" comfort," and his " second self " ? And where was Anthony
when he died? Where was he buried? And why are no par
ticulars of his eventful life, his last illness, death, or burial,
recorded in ordinary books f
Where is the correspondence which passed for years between
the brothers t Sixteen folio volumes at Lambeth inclose a large
portion of Anthony's correspondence. Letters important, and
apparently unimportant, have been carefully preserved, but
amongst them hardly one from Francis. And where is any cor
respondence of the same kind either from or to him letters,
that is, full . of cipher, and containing secret communications,
information concerning persons and politics, such as Anthony
26 FRANCIS BACON
was engaged in collecting for his especial use ? The letters to
Anthony are preserved. Where are those from him ? Then,
again, of his chief friends and confidants why do his published
letters and biographies pass over lightly, or entirely ignore, his
intimate acquaintance with many remarkable men; as, for
instance, with Michel de Montaigne, John Florio, Father Ful-
gentius, and Pierre DaMoulin, with John Beaumont and Edward
Alleyn, with Giordano Bruno, Theodore Beza and Ben Jonson?
Or, turning to more general inquiries, how came there to be
such an outburst of learning and wit in the immediate society of
the very man who repeatedly pronounced learning and true liter
ary power to be deficient ? How was it that, although from the
first moment when he began to publish all authors adopted his
words, his expressions and his ideas; though they continually
echoed, paraphrased, or curtailed his utterances, and set up his
judgment as a standard, working, thenceforward, on his lines,
his NAME was seldom mentioned, and that, even to this day,
the tremendous debts cwed to him by the whole civilized world are
practically ignored? Seeing the prodigious difficulty which now
meets any attempt to eradicate an old error, or to gain acceptance
for a new idea, why, we would ask, did Bacon contrive so to impress,
not only his new diction, but his new ideas, upon the literature
and upon the very life of whole nations I
In the process of collecting material for a harmony between
the scientific works of Bacon, Shakespeare, and others, it became
apparent that many of Bacon's works, especially the fragmentary
works, Valerius Terminus, Thema Cceli, the Histories of Dense
and Rare, or Scdt t Sulphur and Mercury, etc., still more notably
the Sylva Sylvarum, the New Atlantis, and the History of
Life and Death (published together, after Bacon's death, by his
secretary, Dr. Eawley), as well as the Praise of the Queen (for
the publication of which Bacon left special instructions), were
not that alone which they pretended to be. They profess to be
works on science or history; they prove, when more closely
examined and collated with the rest of Bacon's acknowledged
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 27
works, to be parables, or figurative pieces, conveying a double
meaning to those who had knowledge enough to receive it.
These works (like the Shakespeare sonnets) are all more or less
obscure and incomprehensible in aim or form. They are,
apparently, full of allusions to other parts of his works, where
similar expressions are applied to quite different purposes.
Sometimes they are to outward appearance fragmentary, imper
fect, manifestly inaccurate or incomplete, in matters with which
Bacon was acquainted, yet permitted, nay, ordered, by him to be
so published.
It is well known that Bacon's great desire was to be clear,
perspicuous, and easily understood. Obscurity in his writing
was, therefore, not caused by disregard of the limited compre
hensions of his readers, or by inadvertence in the choice of words,
for he was an absolute master of language and could write or
speak in any style or to any pitch, high or low, which suited his
subject. The obscurity, then, was, we are sure, intentional.
He admits as much in many places, where he confesses that he
finds it desirable " to keep some state " concerning himself and
his works, and where he, over and over again, commends the
use of reserve, secresy, ambiguous or parabolic language, of
allegory, metaphor, simile, and allusion, which are (as he says in
the preface to the Wisdom of the Ancients) a veil to hide from the
eyes of the vulgar things too deep and difficult for their compre
hension. It is desirable that this system or method, of Bacon,
should be clearly recognised and understood; it forms a very
important element in the matters which are presently to be dis
cussed, and since there are many persons ready to enter into
arguments connected with Bacon, but who have never read his
works, no apology is needed for reproducing passages from
various places where he speaks for himself and in no uncertain
tones:
" Parabolic poesy is of a higher character than others (narra
tive or dramatic), and appears to be something sacred arfd ven
erable; especially as religion itself commonly uses its aid as a
means of communication between divinity and humanity. But
this, too, is corrupted by the levity and idleness of wit in deal
ing with allegory. It is of double use and serves for contrary
28 FRANCIS BACON
purposes ; for Jt serves for an infoldment, and it likewise serves
for illustration. In the latter case, the object is a certain method
of teaching; in the former, an artifice for concealment. Now,
this method of teaching, used for illustration, was very much in
use in thef ancient times. For, the inventions and conclusions
of human reason (even those that are now common and trite)
being then new and strange, the minds of men were hardly
subtle enough to conceive them, unless they were brought nearer
to the sense by this kind of resemblances and examples. And
hence the ancient times are full of all kinds of fables, parables,
enigmas, and similitudes; as may appear by the numbers of
Pythagoras, the enigmas of the Sphinx, the fables of ^Esop, and
the like. The apophthegms, too, of the ancient sages, com
monly explained the matter by similitudes. Thus Menenius
Agrippa, among the Romans (a nation at that time by no means
learned), quelled a sedition by a fable. In a word, as hiero
glyphics were before letters, so parables were before arguments.
And even now, and at all times, the force of parables is and has
been excellent; because arguments cannot be made so perspicu
ous, nor true examples so apt.
" But there remains yet another use of poesy parabolical,
opposite to the former; wherein it serves (as I said) for an
infoldment ; for such things, I mean, the dignity whereof requires
that they should be seen, as it were, through a veil; that is,
when the secrets and mysteries of religion, policy, and philosophy
are involved in fables or parables. Now, whether any mystic
meaning be concealed beneath the fables of the ancient poets is a
matter of some doubt. For my own part I must confess that I am
inclined to think that a mystery is involved in no small number of
them. Nor does the fact that they are commonly left to boys and
grammarians, and held in slight repute, make me despise them;
but rather, since it is evident that the writings in which these
fables are related are, next to sacred story, the most ancient of
human writings, and the fables themselves still more ancient, I
take them to be a kind Of breath, from the traditions of more
ancient nations, which fell into the pipes of the Greeks. But
since that which has hitherto been done in the interpretation of
these parables, being the work of unskillful men, not learned
beyond commonplaces, does not by any means satisfy me, I think
to set down Philosophy according to the ancient parables among
the desiderata, of which work I will subjoin one or two exam
ples ; not so much, perhaps, for the value of the thing, as for the
sake of carrying out my principle, which is this : whenever I set
down a work among the desiderata (if there be anything obscure
about it) I intend always to set forth either instructions for the
execution of it, or an example of the thing; else it might be
AND fflS SEC&ET SOCIETY. 29
thought that it was merely some light notion that had glanced
through my mind ; or that I am like an augur measuring coun
tries in thought, without knowing the way to enter them. "
He then gives three examples (to which we will by and by
return), " one taken from things natural, one from things
political, and one from things moral. "
From this notable passage we learn, (1) that Bacon regarded
parabolic poetry as a means of communication between Divinity
and Humanity, consequently as of greater importance than any
other; (2) of double use, for infoldment and illustration; (3) that
the use of parables was sanctioned by religion and Divinity itself;
(4) that it was largely employed in the philosophy of the ancients,
and that, although this was a matter of doubt with others, there
was no doubt in the mind of Bacon that the philosophical inter
pretation of the ancient myths was deficient, left to boys and
incapable persons; and that (5) according to his custom, he was
prepared to set forth instructions for the purpose of meeting this
deficiency.
The examples given in the Advancement of Learning are but
solitary instances. In the Wisdom of the Ancients (now too lit
tle read), thirty-one essays disclose to us the matured opinions
of Bacon on this subject. The preface to that delightful book
repeats at greater length, and in more poetic language, the sen
timents expressed in the Advancement of Learning, that " para
bles serve as well to instruct and illustrate as to wrap up and
envelope, and every man of learning must readily allow that this
method is grave, sober, or exceedingly useful, and sometimes
necessary in the. sciences, as it opens an easy and familiar pas
sage to the human understanding in all discoveries that are
abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the human
reason as are now trite and common were new and little
known, all things 1 abounded with fables, parables, similes, com
parisons, and illustrations, which are not intended to conceal,
but to inform and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude
1 "For there's figures in all things." (Henry V. iv. 7.)
30 F&ANC1S BACON
and unpractised in matters of subtlety and speculation, or were
impatient, and in a manner incapable, of receiving such things
as did not directly fall under and strike the senses. And
even to this day, if any man would let new light in upon the
human understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising
contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, lie must still go
on in the same path, and have recourse to the like method of alle
gory, metaphor, and allusion. " Bacon had said in the Advance
ment of Learning and he repeated in the De Augmentisin
1623 that such parabolic teaching and method of interpreta
tion was deficient, and that he was about to set forth examples
for the instruction of others. His assertions and conclusions
were never challenged or contradicted. On the contrary, his
contemporaries tacitly acquiesced in his statements, and pos
terity has endorsed the estimate given by the great men of his
time as to his vast and profound learning and his excellent judg
ment. When, therefore, we meet with other works of his time,
not published under Ms name, but abounding in " the like
method " and use of allegory, metaphor, and allusion, we may
with reason question the origin of such works; we may even
consider it to be a matter of considerable doubt. In any case
we shall be prepared to find Bacon's own works abounding with
metaphors and similes, and his new and subtle ideas and theo
ries " wrapped or delivered " in a veil of parable, and allegory,
and symbolic language.
Having regard to such considerations as the foregoing, it was
thought necessary to test the matter by forming a kind of dic
tionary or harmony of the metaphors, similes, and figurative ex
pressions in the acknowledged works of Bacon and in Shake
speare. About forty thousand of such figurative passages have
been brought together from the two groups of works, and it is
thus made clear that the metaphors and figures used are to a
marvellous extent the same. They exhibit everywhere the same
knowledge, the same opinions and tastes, and often the same
choice of words; they mutually elucidate and interchange ideas;
they are found to be connected by innumerable small links and
chains with certain fixed ideas which reappear throughout the
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 31
whole of Bacon's works, and which are indissolubly bound up
with the system or method by which he was endeavoring to
educate and reform the world. It will be observed that Bacon
bases his teaching, in the first instance, upon the figures used in
the Bible and by the ancient philosophers, but that he beautifies
and expands every symbol, transmuting stones into gold, and
making dry bones live. It is impossible to follow up the many
questions which grow out of this subject without perceiving that
Bacon must in his early youth have deeply studied and mastered
the philosophy, not only of the Greeks and Romans (with whom
he often compares himself), but also of the learned men of Asia
and Africa. The works of Claudius Galen, Porphyry, Diogenes
of Babylon. Constantinus Porphyrogenitus, and Confucius seem
toj^ive been as well known to him as those of the Africans,
Origen, Diophantus, Athena3us, Athanasius, Euclid, St. Augus
tine, or Mohammed Rhazi. Many of the allegories and fanciful
symbols or emblems which Bacon introduces into his writings,
and which are also abundant in Shakespeare, seem derivable
from such studies.
We shall presently have to consider the use which Bacon
intended to make of this symbolic language and the manner
in which it may be interpreted. Let it be said, in passing, that,
although Bacon seems to have made an unwearied and exhaust
ive research into all the ancient philosophies attainable in his
time, and although, in his early youth, he seems to have been
strongly attracted by the study, extracting from it many beau
tiful and poetic ideas, yet there is in his works no trace of his
mind having undergone the upsetting which is perceptible in so
many modern students who have " puzzled their intellects" over
the origin of religion. There is no indication of his having ever
tried to persuade himself, or others, that Paganism or Buddhism
itself was 'the pure and primitive form of religion from which
Christianity derives all that is most good and elevating in its
teaching or doctrine.
He observes the errors and corruptions of these old cults,
although at the same time appreciating all that is worthy of
praise j and in his effort to mingle heaven and earth, metaphys-
32 FHANCIS BACON
ics and science, the abstract and the concrete, he never indulges
in the ecstasies of mysticism or occultism, which modern stu
dents of these subjects, following the questionable guidance of
the mediaeval orientalists and mystics, have allowed themselves.
The symbols which these ancient religions are said to have
adopted were in many cases connected with ideas and cere
monies gross and repulsive, the natural product of coarse and
ignorant minds. And these seem to have grown even more
coarse and injurious when the world no longer in its infancy,
but assuming the airs and speaking with the authority of man
hood proceeded, several hundred years after the death of
Christ, to erect an elaborate fabric of philosophy upon the
original rough-hewn foundations; endeavoring to blend the
pure morality of Christianity, and the most sublime attributes
of Christ Himself, with the worship of Buddha, and then to
make it appear that the " Light of the World" is but a reflected
light from the " Light of Asia. "
There is no trace of such a result from Bacon's researches into
the philosophies of antiquity, and it will be seen that, even in
adopting the emblems and symbols of the ancient religions, he
modified them, refined them, and separated from the dross of
base matter all that was pure, good, and bright, for the use of
man.
Doubts as to authorship, though intensified by examination of
the metaphors, etc., were not satisfied, and quickly gave rise to
others.
An attempt was next made to trace the notes of Bacon's
Promus, as well as his figures and peculiar terms of speech,
his opinions, scientific statements, and philosophic aphorisms,
into other works not Shakespeare. So few Promus notes of
this kind were found, when compared with the multitude of
them which are easily perceptible in Shakespeare, that, at the
time of the publication of the Promus, we were disposed to reject
as non- Baconian most of the Elizabethan dramatists excepting
" Marlowe, " in whose works at least five hundred points of sim
ilarity to Baconian notes and diction are to be found. A closer
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 33
(or perhaps a more enlightened) study obliges us to modify
these views. For it is observed that, although, in many of
these works, the Promus notes are scarce, and the entries in
certain folios of that collection altogether absent, yet, wherever
any Promus notes are discovered in the works of Bacon's time,
or for some years later, there also will almost surely be found a
number of metaphors of the same kind as those mentioned above.
The majority of these will be found traceable to the ancient
philosophers and to the Bible, and are always used in 'the same
characteristic and graphic manner in Bacon's works; the form
of the metaphor being modified to suit the style and subject of
the piece in which it is set.
This perceptible connection bet ween the metaphors, the Promus
notes, and the use of texts from the Bible, throughout the works
of Bacon, and the school which he seems to have created,
strengthened still further the growing conviction tbat he was the
centre of a powerful and learned secret society, and that the
whole of the literature contemporaneous with him was bound
together by chains and links, cords and threads, forged, woven,
and spun by himself.
With regard to the Promus, edited with passages from
Shakespeare, and published in 1883, we would say that further
study has thrown new light upon many of the entries. Some,
which appeared very obscure, seem to be intimately connected
with Bacon's plans for the establishment of his secret society.
There are also many errors in the arrangement of the notes,
some being divided which should have been treated as a whole,
and the sheets themselves, as arranged in the Harleian collection,
are not, in the editor's opinion, correctly placed. We make no
apologies for deficiencies in carrying out a work which was, in
the then stage of knowledge, a much more difficult business than
it now appears. Ill health must have its share of blame, the
editor being rendered incapable of revising proofs with the
manuscript at the British Museum. A future edition shall be
much more perfect.
Still prosecuting the work of comparative philology and
science, the present writer was irresistibly drawn to the con-
3
34 FRANCIS BACON
elusion that the works actually written by Bacon himself are far
in excess of those ascribed to him by the majority even of his
most enthusiastic admirers. It became evident that it would
have been beyond human power for any single individual to
have observed, experimented, travelled, read, written, to the
extent which we find Bacon to have done, unless he had been
aided in the mechanical parts of his work by an army of
amanuenses, transcribers, collators, translators, and publishers,
and even by powerful friends in high places, and by the control
of the leading printing-presses.
An examination into Bacon's own repeated statements as to
the ignorance, incapacity, and miseries of the age in which he
lived, shows him pointing out, amongst other things, the
" poverty " of language, the lack of words, the necessity for a
mutual exchange of words through many countries, in order to
perform that nuble and much needed work of building up a fine
model of language. He notes the absence of graceful forms of
speech; of commencements, continuations, and conclusions of
sentences; of a scientific grammar of philology, in default of
which he has been obliged to make " a kind of" grammar for
himself. He shows that there were, in his time, no good col
lections of antitheta, sophisms, and arguments, and that the
good sayings of the ancients were lost, or choked in the dust of
ages; also the ancient and scriptural use of parables, figures,
metaphors, similes, and so forth, was extinct; the sciences were
"weak things" weakly handled; the learning had become
" words, not matter;" " the muses were barren virgins:" poetry
and the theatre at the lowest level.
So Bacon found things when he conceived his magnificent idea
of the " Universal Reformation of the whole wide world. " He
was at that time a lad of fifteen, and there is reason to be
lieve that he had already written, or was in process of writing,
poetry and other works which passed then, and at later periods,
as the productions of men of mature years, u authors " of an
earlier or later date than is generally ascribed to the works of
Francis Bacon.
And, as in his boyhood he found the world of science and litera-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 35
ture, not in this country only, but also on the continent (for he
makes no exceptions or qualifications to his statement as to the.gen-
eralignorance ivhich prevailed), so, excluding his own work from
the inquiry, he found it still, when, in his old age, he for the
last time summed up the wants and deficiencies of the world in
all these matters. In youth, enthusiasm had led him to hope
and believe in a speedy regeneration and quickening of the
minds and spirits of men. In old age he had learned that " the
dull ass will not mend his pace, " and that such advance could
only be by slow degrees, and in the future ages. " Of myself, "
he says. " I am silent," but he repeats his former opinions and
statements with undiminished emphasis in 1623.
In the face of such facts as these, it appears monstrous to
believe that there could really have been in Bacon's time that
"galaxy of wits," that extraordinary blaze and outburst of
light from many suns, and from a heaven full of stars of the
first magnitude, such as we have been taught in our child
hood not only to discern, but to distinguish. It is more reason
able to suppose that one sun, one supreme spirit, the great nat
ural magician and natural philosopher, like Prospero, with
many " meaner ministers" to do his biddings, should have
planned and carried out, by a method to be transmitted through
the whole century, that Great Reformation of the whole world
which had been his boyish dream, his fixed idea at the age of
fifteen. Bacon's chief biographer lays stress upon this fact, and
as it is one which is intimately connected with the history of
the Secret Society which is the subject of the following pages,
it is desirable that it should be firmly established. Again, there
fore, we draw attention to the eloquent and beautiful chapter
with which Mr. Spedding opens his " Letters and Life of Bacon. "
After telling of the brilliant career of the youthful Francis at
Trinity College, Cambridge, of the disappointment which he
experienced in that university where he hoped to have learned
all that men knew, but where, as he declared, they taught
"words, not matter," Mr. Spedding says: "It was then a
thought struck him, the date of which deserves to be recorded,
not for anything extraordinary in the thought itself, but for its
36 FEANCIS BACON
influence upon his after life. If our study of nature be thus
barren, he thought, our method of study must be wrong ; might
not a better method be found ? In him the gift of seeing in
prophetic vision what might be, and ought to be, was united
with the practical talent of devising means and handling minute
details. He could at once imagine like a poet, and execute like
a clerk of the works. Upon the conviction, This may be done,
followed at once the question, How can it be done ? Upon that
question followed the resolution to try and do it."
Of the degrees by which the suggestion ripened into a project,
the project into an undertaking, and the undertaking unfolded
itself into distinct propositions and the full grandeur of its total
dimensions, I can say nothing. But that the thought first
occurred to him during his residence at Cambridge, therefore
before he had completed his fifteenth year, we know on the best
authority his own statement and that of Dr. Eawley. "I
believe," says Mr. Spedding, " that it ought to be regarded as
the most important event of his life; the event which had a
greater influence than any other upon his character and future
course. From that moment there was awakened within his
breast the appetite which cannot be satiated, and the passion
which cannot commit excess. From that moment he had a
vocation which employed and stimulated all the energies of his
mind, gave a value to every vacant interval of time, an interest
and significance to every random thought and casual accession
of knowledge ; an object to live for, as wide as humanity, as
immortal as the human race; an idea to live in, vast and lofty
enough to fill the soul forever with religious and heroic aspira
tions. From that moment, though still subject to interruptions,
disappointments, errors, regrets, he never could be without either
work, or hope, or consolation."
The biographer then shows how the circumstances of Bacon's
early life tended to enlist him on the side of reform, religious,
scientific, literary, and philanthropic, and to nourish in him high
and loyal aspirations.
"Assuming, then," continues he, "that a deep interest in
these three great causes the cause of reformed religion, of his
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 37
native country, and of the human race through all their genera
tions was thus early implanted in that vigorous and virgin
soil, we must leave it to struggle up as it may, according to the
accidents of time and weather. ... Of Bacon's life I am per
suaded that no man will ever form a correct idea, unless he bear
in mind that from very early youth his heart was divided by
these three objects, distinct but not discordant. " 1
In the preface to the De Interpretations Natures Prozmium
(circa 1603) Spedding describes that paper as of " peculiar
interest for us, on account of the passage in which Bacon
explains the plans and purposes of his life, and the estimate he
had formed of his own character and abilities; a passage which
was replaced in the days of his greatness by a simple De nobis
ipsis silemus. It is the only piece of autobiography in which he
ever indulged, 2 and deserves on several accounts to be carefully
considered. The biographer goes on to say that Bacon's own
account, written when he was between forty and fifty, of the
plan upon which his life had been laid out, the objects which he
mainly aimed at, and the motives which guided him, will be
found, when compared with the courses which he actually
followed in his varied life, to present a very remarkable example
of constancy to an original design. He began by conceiving
that a wiser method of studying nature would give man the key
to all her secrets, but the work would be long and arduous, and
the event remote ; in the meanwhile, he would not neglect the
immediate and peculiar services which, as an Englishman, he
owed to his country and his religion. With regard to the last
two he found, as life wore away, that the means and opportuni
ties which he had hoped for did not present themselves; and he
resolved to fall back upon the first, as an enterprise which
depended upon himself alone. "
Perhaps it may be found that Bacon's reason for throwing his
chief weight into the work which none could execute except
himself, was that he did find means and opportunities, through
1 Spedding, Letters and Life of Bacon, i. 4, 5.
2 This observation will, we think, require modification. !t It is the only
piece of autobiography which he acknowledges."
38 FRANCIS BACON
others, to advance not only politics and statesmanship, but relig
ion and the cause of the church. It will, however, be easily
seen that if Bacon would carry forward such work, in times so
" dark and dangerous/ 7 he must do it secretly, and by the aid
of powerful friends and assistants. We, therefore, find ourselves
engaged in tracing the workings of a great secret society;
and since, so far as we have discovered, that work depended
mainly upon Bacon himself, it is necessary to regard his life and
actions from a totally new point of view, and to acknowledge at
the outset that, excepting in the capacity of lawyer, which he
disliked and shrank from; of courtier, for which he felt himself
" unapt;" and of statesman, for which he pronounced himself
to be " least fit," very little is really known about Francis Baccn.
This lack of satisfactory information has probably led modern
writers too much to copy from each other, without duly weigh
ing and examining statements made hastily, to turn a phrase,
or of malice prepense. It is usual, in other cases, to lay great
store by the evidence of respectable contemporary authority.
(Need we remind any one of the eagerness with which such pieces
of evidence, even the weakest, have been snatched at and en
shrined as gems of priceless value, when they seemed to affect Wil
liam Shakspere ?) But, with Francis Bacon, the case is altered.
Evidence of contemporary writers, such as Ben Jonson, or Dr.
Sprat, president of the Eoyal Society, or of Bacon's secretary,
afterwards the Queen's chaplain, Dr. Kawley, or of his intimate
friend and life-long correspondent, Sir Tobie Matthew, is waived
aside, when they pour out, in eloquent language, their witness as
to his greatness, his genius, his sweetness, and devoutness of
disposition and mind. Aubrey is " a gossip " when he echoes
the tale, and says, emphasising the words, that " all who were
good and great loved him." The rest were "prejudiced," or
" partial," or did not mean what they said.
Why are such records of Bacon's closest friends, secretaries,
coadjutors, and contemporaries, as well as those of his most
painstaking biographers, and of his most appreciative disciples
and followers, to be rejected in favor of two lines of poetry
penned more than a hundred years after his death, and of a hos-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 39
tile review of Basil Montagu's edition of Bacon's works ? For
many years those two lines of Pope, and that review of Macau -
lay, together with Lord Campbell's odious little " Life of Bacon"
(based upon Macaulay's essay), were nearly all that the English
public read with regard to " Francis Bacon, the glory of his age
and nation, the adorner and ornament of learning," " the most
prodigious wit" that the world has seen, " the benefactor of the
human race in all ages. "
Let us forget the foolish and cruel things which modern igno
rance and prejudice have said of him, things which must be ex
cused and partly justified by our theory that he was, throughout
his life, a "concealed man" not only a "concealed poet,"
but a concealed theologian and religious reformer or revivalist ;
and that, by the very rules of his own secret society, not only
was he bound, in these capacities, to efface himself, to allow him
self to be, to any extent, maligned and disgraced, rather than
declare his real vocation and aims, but, also (and this is very
important), his own friends must ignore him, as hs must likewise
ignore them, in all relations excepting those which he " pro
fessed" as a public character and a philosopher.
In the following chapters we shall not attempt to give a'
" life "of Bacon in his accepter! characters of statesman, lawyer,
or scientist, all of which has been faithfully, and, perhaps, ex
haustively, treated of by Spedding and others. Our efforts will
be directed to selecting, from the writings of his contemporaries
and later biographers and critics, some passages which seem to
throw light upon the obscure or private recesses of his life
passages which are sometimes introduced in such a manner as
to favour the belief that they were intended to be passed over
by the general reader, whilst, to the initiated observer, they
were full of suggestion and information.
CHAPTER III.
FRANCIS BACON : A MYSTERY SURROUNDS HIS PRIVATE LIFE
AND CHARACTER.
" I prefer to keep state in these matters. 11
" Be kind to concealed poets "
THE more closely we peer into Bacon's history, the more par
ticularly we follow up inquiries about him, his private life,
his habits, his travels, his friends, his will, his death, the more
mysterious a personage does he appear. His public or super
ficial life seems easy enough to understand, but whenever we
endeavour to go beyond this we find ourselves continually con
fronted with puzzles and enigmas, and we feel that Ben Jonsou
was justified in saying, in his ode on Bacon's birthday,
" Thou stand's! as though a mystery thou didst."
This mystery is felt in many ways. Several times we find him
writing with locked doors, the subject of his labours not known,
his friends offended by his secresy and reticence. We find collec
tions of his letters, distinctly his, and with nothing in them which
could apparently injure the writer, or anyone else, published
with names and dates cancelled, and with everything possible
done to conceal their aim or their author. We find him writing
in ambiguous terms (which only knowledge derived from other
sources enables us to interpret), and using feigned names, ini
tials, and pass-words in his private letters. The cipher which
he invented when he was eighteen or nineteen years old, he has
used and tested, and finds to be superior to all others, when he
is sixty -two. How, when, and wherefore, did he use or require
this extensive knowledge and use of ciphers? And, in describ
ing the ciphers, he speaks of other concealed means of com-
(4)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY, 11
inunication, of short-hand writing, of hieroglyphic pictures and
designs. Since he tells us that what he recommends he always
endeavours to practice or achieve, we seek for these things in
his own books, and find them there.
He enumerates the thirty or forty great deficiencies of learn
ing in his time, and shows how he has endeavoured to supply
them; we take much pains to master these, to understand them
thoroughly, and to trace them in his works. Thus armed and well
prepared, we set forth to mark their deficiency, or to compare
their use in works by other contemporary authors. We are al
most appalled to meet with them there, too, sometimes fewer in
number, but the same in nature and quality. What is to be thought
of this? That Bacon did not know what he was talking about?
or that there was a general conspiracy of the wits of his age to
gull the public as to the authorship of these works? If they
were Bacon's works, why did he not acknowledge them ? Yet, if
they were not his, how could he persist that all the chief flow
ers of language were uncultivated, when the works in question
were overrun by them ?
There are many knotty points connected with this branch of
the subject. Why, for instance, did Bacou, notably so kind, so
large-hearted, so just in acknowledging merit in others, and in
" giving authors their due, as he gave Time his due, which is to
discover Truth" why, wo say, did he ignore the existence of
nearly every great contemporary author? How came it that
this bright man, who so pre-eminently shone in his power of
drawing out the best parts of those with whom he conversed,
who delighted, when quoting from others, to set an additional
sparkle on their words, and to make them appear cleverer or
more learned than they really were how did such a man con
trive to avoid all allusion to the mass of great literature of all
kinds which was poured out unremittingly during nearly fifty
years of his life, and which continued .tor some years after his
death?
Bacon spoke of parabolic poetry as deficient, and the use of it
lost or misunderstood; and he ignores the Arcadia, the Faerie
Queene, and the Shepherd's Calendar.
42 FRANCIS BACON
In 1623 he. mourns the degradation of the theatre, and the
contempt with which the noble arts of rhetoric and stage
playing were treated, ignoring the Shakespeare plays, which
had at that time been played upon the stage for a quar
ter of a century, and of which the first collected edition
had just been (almost simultaneously with the publica
tion of the De Augmentis) published, heralded into the
world with a great flourish of trumpets by Ben Jonson.
He equally ignores Ben Jonson, although Every Man in
his Humour was acted at the Blackfriar's Theatre in 1598 (two
or three years after the first appearance of the Shakespeare
plays), and although, too, William Shakspere acted on this
occasion.
It is remarkable that it should have ever been, for an instant,
credited that Francis Bacon never saw the Shakespeare plays
performed, or even that he should not have known all about the
plays, and the man who was passing with the public as their
author. For thirty years Shakspere lived in London. Duriug
those years Bacon was continually assisting, and promoting, and
joyfully witnessing the performances of these and other plays, at
Gray's Inn and Whitehall, and at the private houses of his
friends the Earls of Leicester, Pembroke, Montgomery, and
others. Why did he never, in any acknowledged work, allude
to Shakespeare or to Sen Jonson, who, as has been shown, was
at one time resident in his house ?
Essays were a -new form of writing, and the very word
" essay, " Bacon tells us, was new. One would suppose that in
saying this he would allude to the " Essays of Montaigne, " pub
lished long before Bacon's "Moral Essays." All the more he
might be expected to allude to Montaigne, because, at the time
of the publication of the first edition of Montaigne's Essays, ,
Francis and Anthony Bacon were living in the South of France,
and on very intimate terms with the good mayor, " the kind
patron of learned men, " as we learn from Anthony Bacon's cor
respondence. But, although the friendship between these men
continued to the end of Montaigne's life, and although the old
man made a pilgrimage to Verulam to visit his younger friend,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 43
, yet Bacon, in his enumeration of deficiencies, makes no allusion
to him as tbe author of essays which were in their day most
famous, and which ran through a surprising number of editions
within a few years.
John Florio is supposed to have translated these French essays
into English. Now, we have documentary evidence that Florio
translated " all the ivorks of Bacon " into foreign languages (we
suppose French and Italian), and "published them beyond the
seas." Bacon, then, must have been intimately acquainted
with Florio. Yet he never mentions him. James I. gave Florio
an annuity of 50 per annum, because he had " translated the
King's work, and all the works of Viscount St. Albans." So
James, also, was deeply interested in Bacon's proceedings. It
might have been supposed that the circumstance of his having
pensioned Florio because the latter translated Bacon's works,
would have been noted by Bacon's biographers, and that more in
quiries would have been made concerning Florio and some remark
able works in English which are attributed to him. But no; the
whole matter seems to have been studiously kept in the back
ground. The documents which record the fact of the transla-
fion and subsequent pensioning have been printed by the His
torical Manuscripts Commission. But, although the editors and
publishers must know of them, their purport lies unheeded,
uncoinmeuted on. A paragraph inserted in Notes and Queries,
in which the inquiry was made as to any book or books of Bacon's
known to have been translated by Florio, and published on the
continent, has never been answered. Yet, amongst the tran
scribers, editors, and publishers of the " Pembroke Papers " by
the Historical Commission, there must have been men who are
acquainted with the current history of Bacon, and who must
have seen something strange in the fact that James I. granted
an annuity to the supposed translator of Montaigne's Essays, on
the ground of his being the translator of all Bacon's works.
Then, again, the sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's
correspondence which rest under the dust of oblivion on the
shelves of the library at Lambeth Palace how comes it that
these, too, have been so much kept in the background that, on
44 FRANCIS BACON
tracing a letter of Nicholas Faunt to Anthony Bacon, which is
the first alluded to by Mr. Spedding (and this in a foot-note), we
find it to be one of a large and important collection which throws
great light upon the position and aims of the Bacons? Two or
three references are all that can be found to this voluminous
correspondence.
The sense of mystery is again perceptible in the explanations
given by Bacon's biographers of his system of philosophy, or
" methods," which are, of course, treated of as applying merely
to the science which is their ostensible aim. This evident and
intentional obscurity has been rightly attributed to two causes.
First, he hoped, by his method of teaching by means of parables,
similitudes, and analogies, to avoid all occasion of dispute and
controversy, things always abhorrent to his nature. Next, his
doctrine was to be veiled in an abrupt and obscure style, such
as, to use his own expression, would " choose its reader " that
is, would remain unread excepting by worthy recipients of its
hidden meaning. This affected obscurity appears in the De
Interpretations Naturae Prcemium, where he speaks of his
peculiar method as a thing not to be published, but to be commu
nicated orally to certain persons. The same veil of mystic lan
guage is thrown over Valerius Terminus, the Temporis Partus
MasculuSj and, as we now know, over the New Atlantis. The
whole of the notes in the Sylva Sylvarum, the Histories of Dense
and Bare, of Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt, of Principles and
Origins according to the Tables of Cupid and Ccelam, and even,
we believe, the Thema Cozli, the History of the Winds, the
Interpretation of Nature, the History of Life and Death, the New
Atlantis, are written with a double meaning and for a double
purpose, and the same ambiguity pervades the collections of
letters to and from Anthony Bacon and Francis himself.
There are upwards of sixty letters from Anthony Stauden to
Anthony Bacon previous to the one from which Spedding ex
tracts his first quotation ; and there are other correspondents
whose lettejs will, undoubtedly, at some future date, be held of
great value and interest. The drift of theso letters must have
been understood by the compilers of the printed catalogue of
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 45
the Tenison manuscripts, and by biographers who havt quoted
from some of these letters. What satisfactory reason can be
given for the fact that a hint of the existence of this corre
spondence is here and there given, and letters are published
which bear directly upon politics or the passing history of the
day, but that the true purport of the collective correspondence
is everywhere concealed? For these letters, taken collectively,
have a distinct and harmonious aim and drift. They teach us that
Francis Bacon was the recognised head of a secret society bound
together to advance learning and to uphold religion, and that
Anthony Bacon was his brother's propagandist and correspond
ing manager on the continent.
It seems very probable that future research will prove Anthony
Bacon to have been "a concealed poet," as well as his
brother. If this was not the case, then Anthony must have been
another of the many masks behind which Francis screened his own
personality; but the former seems to be the more probable conjec
ture. Amongst the " Tenison manuscripts " at Lambeth Palace,
there is a large sheet covered on three sides with French verses,
headed " Au Seigneur Antoine Bacon Elegie," and signed La
Tessee. These verses described " Bacon " as the flower of
Englishmen, the honour of the nine Muses, who, without his aid,
wandered sad and confused in the wilderness, without guide,
support, or voice. The writer laments the want of more
Mecenases who should value the favourites of Phoebus, Mercury,
and Themis, and " lend a shoulder " to help poets; in future, he
trusts that the number of these will be glorified not less beyond
the seas than in these islands, remembering a time " when our
swans surpassed those of the Thames "alluding to the loss of
Bonsard, Gamier, Aurat, Bayf, and Saluste. Himself, the sur
viving poet, sees a new Age of Iron after their Age of Gold. He
alludes to " Bacon " as " a brilliant star seen in tranquil nights
as through a thick veil ; " so a man of honour, virtue, and wit
shines amongst these "milords," and so does "Bacon," the
" oracle of his isle," one whom to praise is an honour.
Such a man, continues the poet, is the hope and ornament of
his country. To him Themis, the wise (by the messenger Mer-
46 FRANCIS BACON
cury, who expounds her message), entreats heaven, earth, andthe
infernal regions to forward his steps. To him " devout Piety,
the pillar of the church, offers her most precious gifts, that he
may rank with immortal heroes, "for "so rare a spirit, con
tinually bent upon safely steering the helm of the state in the
stormiest times, is not unworthy that the state should care for his
interests. Baccon [sic], the eye of wisdom, in whom goodness
abounds, raises men above themselves and above the world. He
retiresinto himself a perfect and holy place his soul wrapped
in his reason, and his reason wrapped in God." * *
Surely, though the poetry is poor, the matter of these verses
is sufficiently remarkable for them to have been commented
upon by some biographer or antiquarian ? We note, then, as a
remarkable fact, that these verses (numbered folio 175, in vol.
xv. 661) are not included in the printed catalogue. Nos. 174 and
176 are duly registered, but 175 is omitted. Could this omis
sion be accidental f
In the Harleian MSS. there is the collection of notes described
as the " Promus of Formularies and Elegancies." These papers
consist of fifty sheets, numbered from 83 to 132, and the collec
tion is marked No. 7017. It is omitted in the catalogued Yet,
within the last few years, these MSS. have been frequently seen
and studied by various inquirers.
By and by there will be occasion to return to these ques
tions; they involve a great many others which we must not, at
present, stop to consider. But the list of inquiries in other
directions is still a long one, and should incline those who
heartily desire to get at the pith and truth of these matters, to
be very humble as to their own knowledge, very cautious about
adopting ready-made opinions or assertions, which, when tested,
are found incapable of supporting themselves.
What was the cause of Bacon's great poverty at times when he
was living very quietly, and at small personal expense ? Why
did his elder brother Anthony never remonstrate or disapprove
l Rather it was omitted until June, 1890, when a gentleman, who became
aware of the omission, requested that the MSS. No. 7017 should be duly regis
tered in the catalogue.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 47
of his unexplained expenditure, or of the straits to which he
himself was sometimes put, in order to meet the claims upon
Francis? Did the brothers' money go chiefly in publishing?
And again we say, what share did Anthony Bacon take in his
brother's works ? If, as Dr. Rawley declared, his learning was
not so profound, but his wit was as high as Francis's, did he,
perhaps, frame the plots of many of the plays which Francis
polished and finished ? Where did Anthony die? Where is he
buried? The absence of knowledge on this point draws our
attention to the number of " great writers" and personal friends
of Francis Bacon who died and were buried without notice or
epitaph ; a plain slab sometimes marking the grave, but no
mention being made of any works of which they were the
authors. Yet " monuments of brass and stone" were then, as
now, the rule, rather than the exception. On comparing the
tombs of Bacon's friends, certain singular resemblances strike
the eye, and are peculiar (so we think) to them and to their
descendants.
Such coincidences ought, one would think, to be easily ex
plained where such a man is concerned; but search the records
of the time which are, up to the present date, published, and
see how far you can enlighten yourselves as to any particulars
of Bacon's domestic life. It becomes, after long search, impos
sible to resist the idea that Bacon had some great purpose to
serve by keeping himself always in the background behind the
curtain. Whenever you catch a glimpse of him " he goes away
in a cloud. "
It likewise seems that the whole of his most dear and loving
friends combined to conceal his true personality, to assist him to
enact the part of Proteus, and to ensure that when he should
appear here, there, and everywhere, he should be able to pass
unrecognised. Amongst Anthony's correspondents, he is rarely
mentioned, but often alluded to as " the Hermit," the character
which perhaps he himself undertook in the Gesta Grayorum.
There are also some short poems, especially one adorned with a
device of a hermit spurning a globe, which seem to apply to
Francis Bacon, and to have bean written by him.
48 FRANCIS BACON
When the French ambassador, the Marquis Fiat, visited him
during an illness, he said that his lordship had ever been to
him like the angels, of whom he had often heard and read, but
never seen. " After which visit they contracted an intimate ac
quaintance, and the Marquis did so much revere him, that
besides his frequent visits [of which history tells us nothing]
they wrote letters under the appellations of father and son.' 7 1
With regard to Bacon's life, it is impossible to study it with
any degree of care, without observing how often in his biog
raphies we come upon questions or doubts such as these : " Was
he the autJwr of Notes on the present state of Christendom ? ' " 2
" Reasons for suspecting him to be author of a 1 Letter of Advice to
the Queen.' " 3 " This alleged authorship of 'A Discourse touching
the Low Countries, etc.' " 4 " Resemblance between Bacon's style
and that of writings imputed to Essex," 5 etc.
We read of his reluctance to devote himself to the practice of
a lawyer, and of the difficulty of understanding what else he
proposed to himself, or to what course he actually betook him
self in the year 1595-6. 6 " I do not find, " says his biographer,
any letter of his that can be assigned to the winter of 1596,
nor have I met, among his brother's papers, with anything
which indicates what he was about. I presume, however, that
he betook himself to his studies." He then gives a list of a
few fragments written at this time. " But there are," he con
tinues, " some other compositions with which (though they do
not pass under his name) there is reason to believe he had
something to do, and which, considering the possibility that
they are entirely his work, and the probability that they have some
of his work in them, and their intrinsic value, I have deter
mined to lay before the reader in this chapter. " 7 The biog
rapher then enumerates the contents of a box of letters and
other papers which dated from this time, and which were in
charge of Dr. Tenison in 1682. Amongst these, one of the most
important was " The Earl of Essex's advice to the Earl of Rut-
1 Rawley's Life of Bacon. 2 Let. Life, i. 16, 17. 3 Ib. 43, 56, etc.
4 Ib. 67. 5 lb. 391. Ib. ii. 1. 1 1b. ii. 2.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 49
land on his journey, " of which three versions seem to exist, 1
and which Spedding shows to be written so much in Bacon's
style as to be undistinguishable from it. " If Essex wrote a
letter of grave advice to a young relative going on his travels, it
would, no doubt, have a good deal of Bacon in it; if Bacon
drew up a letter for Essex to sign, it would be such a one as
Essex might naturally have written. Still, there is a charac
ter in language as in handwriting, which it is hardly possible
to disguise. Little tricks of thought, like tricks of the hand,
peculiarities of which the writer is unconscious, are percept
ible to the reader. " 2 Presently a similar question of author
ship arises with regard to a " Letter of advice from the Earl of
Essex to Foulke Greville; " 3 and again the true author seems to
be Bacon.
Then we find a " Letter of advice to the Earl of Essex, " which,
" like several others we shall meet with, has been preserved
through two independent channels, and in two different forms;
one in the collection kept by himself, and printed by Rawley in
the Resuscitatio, the other in a collection made, we do not know
by whom, and printed very incorrectly in the 'Remains' 1 (1648),
and afterward in the l Cabala' (1654). " *
There is a mystery about Sir Tobie Matthew's collection of let
ters to and from Bacon. These letters are, as a rule, not only
without a date, but likewise they appear to have been " strip
ped of all particulars that might serve to fit the occasion" for
which they were penned; sometimes, even, the person to whom
they were addressed. One of these letters, " Desiring a friend
to do him a service, " is remarkable, as showing that, although
the matter which it concerns was of some importance, and might
bring serious consequences to Bacon (he says that it will prob
ably " fall and seize on" him), yet it had been put out of his
mind by some great " invention" or work of imagination,
i One is in the Harleian MSS. (6265, p. 428). Sped. Let. Life, i. 4.
2/6.5.
8/6.21.
4 Spedding, Let. Life, ii. 94. This letter is suspected of cipher and should be
examined.
50 FRANCIS BACON
which at the time wholly engrossed him. What was the par
ticular occasion upon which ttils letter was written, it is, says
Spedrting, " probably impossible to guess," but it was as fol
lows:
" SIR: The report of this act, which I hope may prove the last of
thisbusiness, will, probably, by the weight it carries, fall on and seize
me. And, therefore, not at will, but upon necessity, it will become
me to call to mind ivhat passed; and, my head being then ivholly
employed upon invention, I may the worse put things upon the ac
count of mine own memory. I shall take physic to-day, upon
this change of weather and vantage of leisure; and I pray you not
to allow yourself so much business, but that you may have time
to bring me your friendly aid before night," etc. 1
Another letter, dateless, but which has *been referred to
1605-6, is all written in a tone of mystery and double entente
there seems to be no good reason why Bacon should plainly
mention by name one work which he had accomplished, and
carefully omit the name of another, or others, in which it is clear
that his friend was interested :
" SIR: I perceive you have some time when you can be content
to think of your friends, from whom, since you have borrowed your
self, you do well, not paying the principal, to send the interest at
six months day. The relation which here I send you inclosed
carries the truth of that which is public; and though my little
leisure might have required a briefer, yet the matter would have
endured and asked a larger.
" I have now at last taught that child to go, at the swadling
whereof you were. My work touching the Advancement of Learn
ing I have put into two books; whereof the former, which you
saw, I count but as a page to the latter, " etc. 2
In another ambiguous letter to Sir Tobie Matthew (circa 1609),
Bacon says: " I have sent you some copies of the Advancement
which you desired; and a little work of my recreation, which you
desired not. My Instauration I reserve for our conference it
1 See Sir Tobie Matthew's collection of letters, p. 20, or Spedding, Let. and
Life, iii. 216.
2 Spedding, iii. 255; Sir T. M.'s coll. p. 11.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 51
sleeps not. Those works of the alphabet are in my opinion of less
use to you where you are now, than at Paris, and therefore I con
ceived that you had sent me a kind of tacit countermand of your
former request. But, in regard that some friends of yours
have still insisted here, I send them to you; and for my part I
value your reading more than your publishing them to others.
Thus, in extreme haste, I have scribbled to you I know not what, "
etc.i
" What these works of the alphabet may have been, I cannot
guess," says Spedding, in commenting upon this letter, " unless
they related to Bacon's cipher, in which, by means of two alpha
bets, one having only two letters, the other having two forms
for each of the twenty- four letters, any words you please may
be so written as to signify any other words, provided only that
the open writing contains at least five times as many letters as
the concealed." 2
In the Promus, the mysterious letter has been connected with
an entry in which Bacon seems to connect the plays with an
alphabet: Ijsdem e'literis efficitur tragcedia et comedia (Trag
edies and comedies are made of one alphabet] , 3 and the first im
pression conveyed by this entry was that the alphabet was a
secret term to express the comedies and tragedies, since Bacon
quotes Aristotle to the effect that "Words are the images of
cogitations, and letters are the images of words. " The recent
discoveries of Mr. Donnelly and others seem to enhance the
probability that the entry in question refers to the plays contain
ing a cipher, the word alphabet bearing in this case abifold allusion,
to the nature of the tragedies and comedies, and a double fitness.
And how are we to interpret the following passage from a
letter of March 27, 1621-2, to Mr. Tobie Matthew? " If upon
your repair to the court (whereof I am right glad) you have any
speech with the Marquis [of Buckingham] of me, I pray place
the alphabet, as you can do it right well, in a frame, to express
my love, faithful and ardent, to him. ' ;
1 Spedding, i. 134, and Sir T. M. p. 14.
2 Let. Life, iv. 134.
3 Promus, 516. The Latin quotation from Erasmus' Adagia, 725.
52 FRANCIS BACON
It has been suggested that this was a proposal (not carried
out) that Sir Tobie should collect and edit the plays, and fit
them to be presented as a tribute to the* Marquis. Or it is pos
sible that the mysterious words express a wish that some mes
sage should be introduced in the alphabet cipher, which the
Marquis would, supposing him to be a member of the secret
society, be able to interpret. If so, this letter gives a hint of
the system which the present writer believes to have been pur
sued with regard to nearly all these cipher notes or narratives,
namely, that Bacon provided the materials or substance of the
information to be conveyed, but that his " sons, " or disciples, did
the mechanical work of fitting type, and other particulars, for
the Deception of the matter.
We turn to a consideration of Bacon's character, his motives
and aims in life, about which one would suppose that at this
hour there could be no difficulty in arriving at a definite con
clusion. How many distinguished pens have been busy with
lives, treatises, and essays on Francis Bacon ! Here, at least,
it may be expected that the mists of doubt and darkness shall
have been cleared away, and that we may rest upon positive
authority. We are prepared to receive many shocks to our
feelings, to find flaws in the character which we would wish to
be an entire and perfect chrysolite ; still, it will be at least satis
factory to know that the whole truth is laid out before us, even
if the contraries of good and evil must appear in this as in all
things human.
But here the confusion is worse than ever; the contradictions,
the divergencies of opinion, are as extraordinary amongst those
who have read much or something about Bacon as they are
amongst those who have read little or nothing. Who has been
more admired, more shamed, more spitefully or conscientiously
abused, more revered and loved than Francis Bacon ? A ,
strange and wonderful man surely, who can be the subject of so'
many opposed opinions ! Somebody is right and somebody is
wrong, that is clear, and we proceed to relieve the oppression
produced by this cloud of witnesses, by putting down on paper
the verdicts delivered by the numerous self-constituted judges
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 53
who are the great authorities of the present day. To these we
will add the utterances of Bacon's friends and contemporaries,
who surely have an equal right to be heard.
The startling result is this : That it is hardly possible to pro
duce a single statement concerning Bacon's character, disposi
tion, motives or aims, made by one " great authority, " which is
not contradicted by another authority, equally great. The fol
lowing are specimens of this kind of comparison they might
be trebled in volume but they are enough to show that in
this, as in other particulars, there is a mystery, and a want of
accurate knowledge concerning our great subject.
THE CHARACTER AND GENIUS OF FRANCIS BACON AS DESCRIBED
BY GREAT AUTHORITIES.
He was mean, narrow, and wanting in moral courage.
u The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." (Pope, Essay
on Man.)
" A serenity bordering on meanness ... his fault was mean
ness of spirit. The mind of Waller coincided with that of
Bacon ... a narrowness to the lowest degree, an abjectness and
want of courage to support him in any virtuous undertaking.
... Sir Anthony Weldon ... is likely enough to have exag
gerated the meanness of Bacon. " (Macaulay. )
" He was anything rather than mean. "
" On the other hand, he was generous, open-hearted, affec
tionate, peculiarly sensitive to kindness, and equally forgetful of
injuries. The epithet of ' great/ which has been so ungrudgingly
accorded to him as a writer, might, without any singular impro
priety, be applied to him as a man. " (Prof. Fowler's Bacon, p. 28.)
" Greatness he could not want." (Ben Jonson, Discoveries.)
" A man splendid in his expenses." (Sir Tobie Matthew.)
" Weighted by the magnificence of his character." (Dr. Ab
bott's introduction to Bacon's Essays.)
64 FE A N CIS BA CON
Servile A flatterer, fawning on the great A courtier by choice.
" Fearful to a fault of offending the powerful, ... his sup
plications almost servile. ... A servile advocate, that he might
be a corrupt judge. ... He excused himself in terms which
. . . must be considered as shamefully servile. " (Macaulay.)
" Mixed up with servile entreaties for place. " (Sortaine, Life
of Lord Bacon, 40, etc. Followed by Lord Campbell, pp. 3,
12, 26, etc.)
" For his want of leisure he was himself to blame, because he
deliberately preferred the life of a courtier and a politician to
the life of a seeker after truth. ;; (Abbott, Francis Bacon, 413.
See infra.)
Neither servile nor a flatterer.
" He must have been most of all a stranger amid the alien ser
vility imposed upon him by the court of James I. ... He was
altogether too vast and grand for an easy flatterer." (Dr. Ab
bott, introduction to the Essays.)
Bacon seems to have been several times in disgrace with his
relations and others for not sufficiently cultivating the courtly sub
servience which was required in those days. See his letter to
his uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Burghley, who have
reproached him with this. (Spedding, L. L. i. 12-59, and Sped-
ding's Evenings with a Ke viewer, i. 69.)
Intriguing, selfish, money-loving Hunting after place and
power from vanity and ambition.
11 The boldest and most useful of innovators ... the most obsti
nate champion of the foulest abuses ... a heart set on things
which no man ought to suffer to be necessary to his happiness,
on things which can be obtained only by the sacrifice of integ
rity and honour. . . . All availed him nothing, while some quib
bling special pleader was promoted before him to the bench,
while some heavy country gentleman took precedence of him,
by virtue of a purchased coronet, . . . could obtain a more cor
dial salute from Buckingham; or while some buffoon, versed in all
the latest scandal of the court, could draw a louder laugh from
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 55
James." (Macaulay, 336, 317, 429; Campbell, pp. 3, 5, 25, etc.;
Sortaine, 93, etc.)
Generous, open-hearted Regardless of money , place or pomp,
for their own sakes.
11 1 will hereafter write to your lordship what I think of that
supply; to the end that you may, as you have begun, to your
great honour, despise money where it crosseth reason of state or
virtue." (Francis Bacon to Villiers, Nov. 29, 1616.) 1
" Money is like muck not good except it be spread. " (Essay
of Seditions. See Essays, Riches, Expense, etc.)
" To his easy liberality in the spending, was added a careless
ness in the keeping, which would be hardly credible, " etc. (See
Spedding, L. L. vii. 563, etc.)
Basil Montagu, Prof. Fowler, Hepworth Dixon, Storr, all
bear the same witness.
l He was most desirous to obtain a provision which might
enable him to devote himself to literature and politics. . . . His
wishes were moderate." (Maeaulay, 298.)
He strove for money, position, etc., that by their means he
might advance learning, science, and religion. (Anthony Bacon's
correspondence. Dr. Ilawley, Basil Montagu, Spedding, Fowler,
Craik, Abbott, Wigston, etc.)
u Having all the thoughts of that large heart of his set upon
adorning the age in which he lives, and benefiting, as far as pos
sible, the whole human race. " (Sir T. Matthew's preface to an
Italian translation of the Essays.)
He ivas successful in his endeavours after wealth and place.
11 During a long course of years Bacon's unworthy ambition
was crowned with success. . . . He was elated if not intoxicated
by greatness." (Macaulay, 336, 347, etc.) "Bacon deliber
ately sat down to build his fortunes . . . and, as we shall see,
succeeded." The truth is, admiration for place and power had
dazzled his intellect and confounded his judgment. (Dr. Ab
bott's introduction to Essays.)
1 Compare Coriolanus, ii. 2. Money or wealth " the muck of the world."
5G FEANCIS BACON
He was singularly unsuccessful There must have been some
unexplained cause which kept him back.
11 He stood long at a stay in the days of his mistress Eliza
beth." (Dr. Rawley, Life.) "But though Bacon's reputation
rose, his fortunes were still depressed. He was still in great
pecuniary difficulties. " (Macaulay, 309. ) '* Countenance, en
courage and advance men in all kinds, degrees and professions,
for in the time of the Cecils, the father and the son, able men
were, by design, and of purpose, suppressed." (Letter from
Bacon to Villiers ; see, also, Dr. Church's Bacon, pp. 33, 58-9,
100.)
He married for money.
11 He made a bold attempt to restore his position by matri
mony. Instead of offering incense to Venus he was considering
a scheme to make his pot boil." (Campbell, Bacon, p. 40.)
" He had some thoughts of making his fortune by marriage. . . .
Blacon was disposed to overlook her faults for the sake of her
ample fortune. " (Macaulay, 310.) " Just at this period he was
offering his heart to the daughter of a rich alderman. " (Devey's
ed. of Essays, introduction, xix.)
He married a lady on whom he settled double the amount of her
dowry.
(See Carleton to Chamberlain, May 11, 1606 ; Spedding's L.
L. i. 8 j Hepworth Dixon's Story of Bacon's Life, pp. 218, 219,
and same in Personal Life ; Bacon's Will, Dec. 19th, 1624.)
His patient, conciliating, pliable nature blamed as weakness
and servility.
11 He bore with a patience and serenity which, we fear, bor
dered on meanness, the morose humours of his uncle . . . the
sneering reflections . . . cast on him " [as a " speculative "
man]. (Macaulay, p. 301.)
" There was in Bacon an invariable pliancy, in the presence of
great persons, which disqualified him for the task of giving wise
and effectual counsel. In part this obsequiousness arose from his
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 57
mental and moral constitution, in part it was a habit deliberately
adopted, as one among many means by which a man may make his
way in the world . . . that he must ' avoid repulse.' " (Abbott,
Life of Bacon, p. 21. Compare the passage quoted before on
Bacon as " no flatterer " from the same author's introduction to
the Essays.)
His patient, conciliating, pliable nature praised as excellent and
admirable.
11 A man most sweet in his conversation and ways; an enemy
to no man. " (Sir Tobie Matthew's character of Bacon.)
" He was no dashing man, . . . but ever a countenancer and
fosterer of other men's parts. ... He contemned- no man's
observations, but would light his candle at every man's torch. "
(Dr. Rawley's character of Bacon.)
" Retiring, nervous, sensitive, unconventional, modest, " etc.
(Spedding, L. L. vii. 567-8.)
" The habit of self-assertion was not at his command. . . .
When a man who is naturally modest attempts to put on the air
of audacity, he only makes himself offensive. The pliancy or
submissive attitude toward his official superiors ... is generally
blamed in him as an unworthy condescension, . . . but I am not
so sure that he would have acknowledged it as a fault. As the
world was in Bacon's time, and as it still is, if you want a man
to help you in your work, you must beware of affronting him,
and must show him the respect to which he thinks himself
entitled." (Ib. 368-9.)
His faith in his own cause, his self -confidence, and his sanguine,
hopeful spirit, blamed as arrogance and pride.
11 To an application to his uncle, Lord Burleigh, to entitle him
to come within bars, " " he received a churlish answer; the old
Lord taking the opportunity to read Francis a sharp lecture
on his ' arrogancy and overweening. ,' " (Campbell, 15; and
Macaulay,301.)
Campbell, throughout his " Life of Bacon, " clings to the " evil
opinion of them that do misaffect " Bacon ; and treats his natural
58 FRANCIS BACON
gentleness as mere hyprocrisy. " A touch of vanity, even, is to
be found in this composition a quality he hardly ever betrays
elsewhere, although he had an inward consciousness of his extraor
dinary powers. Boasting of his great influence, etc., ... in
three days Bacon was obliged hypocritically to write, " etc. . . .
" The following is Bacon's boastful account," etc. (Campbell's
Bacon, pp. Ill, 152.)
" Bacon's overweening self-confidence/' etc. (Storr, Essays,
introd.)
His self-confidence, fixed purposes, and hopeful spirit praised.
" I find thafr such persons as are of nature bashful as myself
is ... are often mistaken for proud. But I know well . . . that
arrogancy and overweening is so far from my nature, as if I
think well of myself in anything, it is this, that I am free from
that vice." (Reply by F. B. to Ld. B.'s letter.)
" A hopeful, sensitive, bashful, amiable boy . . . glowing with
noble aspirations." (Spedding, L, L. i. 6.)
" Even as a philosopher ... he thought that he had struck Into
the right path by accident, and that his merit lay in endeavouring
to keep in it. The qualities for which he gave himself credit were
only patience and faith, and love of truth, carrying with it con
fidence in the power of truth. . . . Bacon had by nature a large
faculty of hope ; but it was hope from things that lay out of and
beyond himself; ... he attached little importance to himself ex
cept as an instrument for their accomplishment. No correct
notion can be formed of Bacon's character till this suspicion of
self-conceit is scattered to the winds. " (Abbott, introduction
to Essays, xxxvi.) (Ib. vii. 568.)
Averse to details.
"A nature indifferent to details." (Abbott, int. to Essays,
xix.)
" Lord Macaulay speaks in admiration of the versatility of
Bacon's mind as equally well adapted for exploring the heights
of philosophy, or for the minute inspection of the pettiest detail.
But he has been imposed upon by Bacon's parade of detail," etc,
(Ib. Ixxxvii.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 59
Careful about details.
" The secret of Bacon's proficiency was that, in the smallest
matters, n3 less than in the greatest, he took a great deal of pains. "
(Spedding, Works, vii. 197.) See the evidence of this in Bacon's
Promus of Formularies and Elegancies, his collections of Prov
erbs and Quotations, the Sylva Sylvarum, the History of Winds,
and other collections of minute particulars and jottings. See,
also, an excellent page in Macaulay's Essay, 417.
Without elevation of sentiment His philosophy low and utili
tarian.
" The moral qualities of Bacon were not of a high order. We
do not say that he was a bad man; ... his faults were . . .
coldness of heart, and meanness of spirit. He seems to have
been incapable of feeling strong affection, of facing great dan
gers, of making great sacrifices. His desires were set on things
below," etc. (Macaulay, pp. 320-327, etc.)
" There is nothing that savours of the divine in Bacon's
philosophy; ... it began in observation, and ending in arts;
... a low object." (See Ib. 373-396.)
Lofty in sentiment Truly great.
" Greatness he could not want. " (Ben Jons^n, Dominus
Verulamius.)
" That mind lofty and discursive ... as a politician no less
grand and lofty in theory, than as a philosopher." (Dr. Abbott,
int. to Essays.)
" In his magnificent day-dreams there was nothing wild; . . .
he loved to picture to himself the world. . . . Cowley, in one of
his finest poems, compared Bacon to Moses standing on Mount
Pisgah, . . . the great lawgiver looking round from his lonely
elevation on an infinite expanse, " etc. (Macaulay, 423, 429.)
Commenting on Bacon's observation that " assuredly the very
contemplation of things ... is more worthy than the fruits of
inventions," etc. '(Nov. Org. i. 129), Spedding says, in a foot
note to the Latin edition: " This is one of the passages which
show how far Bacon was from what is now called a utili
tarian." (Spedding's Works, i. 222.)
60 FRANCIS BACON
His statements about himself not to be credited.
" We have this account only from himself, and it is to be re
garded with great suspicion." (Campbell, p. 53.)
His statements, even against himself, always candid and ac
curate.
" Never was a man franker in committing to paper his defects
and infirmities. " ( ( Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 317.) Dr. Abbott
enters at some length into Bacon's " habit of thinking with a
pen in his hand, " and reviews the Essays as being document
ary evidence of Bacon's own mental experiences. " Perhaps no
man ever made such a confidant of paper as he did," and, note,
he compares him to Montaigne. (See Essays, pp. xvii-xxi.)
He was cold, calculating, without any strong affections or feel
ings.
" His fault . . . coldness of heart . . . not malignant, but
wanted warmth of affection and elevation of sentiment."
(Macaulay, p. 321.) " It was as the ministers or tools of science
that Bacon regarded his friends ; ... it was an affection of a
subdued kind, kept well under control, and duly subordinated
to the interests of the Kingdom of Man. Bacon could not
easily love friends or hate enemies, though he himself was loved
by many of his inferiors with the true love of friendship. . . . He
liked almost everybody with whom he was brought into close
intercourse, . . : but he loved and could love no one. " (Abbott's
int. to Essays, xxviii.) "Instinct and emotion were in him
unduly subordinated to reason. . . . No one of ordinary moral
instinct would accept Bacon's oft-repeated precept of Bias
1 Love as if you were sometime to hate, and hate as if you were
sometime to love.' " (Abbott's Francis Bacon, 326.)
Affectionate A firm friend Peculiarly sensitive to kindnesses.
"But little do men perceive what solitude 'is, and how far it
extendeth ; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a
gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal where there
is no love; ... it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 61
friends, without which the world is but a wilderness. . . . Who
soever, in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for
friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
... It was a sparing speech of the ancients to say that a friend
is another himself, for that a friend is far more than himself," etc.
(Bacon's Ess. of Friendship.) Bacon places the love of friends,
or true sympathy of souls, far above the mere love or passion of
" the Ancient Cupid. " The " more close sympathy of the younger
Cupid" . . . depends upon deeper, more necessitating and more
uncontrollable principles, as if they proceeded from the Ancient
Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies depend." (Wisdom of
the Ancient Cupid.) " A very sensitive man, who felt acutely
both kindness and unkindness." (Spedding, L. L. vii. 567.)
A faithless, time-serving friend Ungrateful. (Chiefly regard
ing Essex.)
" The person on whom, during the decline of [Essex's] influ
ence, he chiefly depended, to whom he confided his perplexities,
. . . whose intercession he employed, was his friend Bacon.
. . . This friend, so loved, so trusted, bore a principal part in
ruining the Earl's fortunes, in shedding his blood, and in black
ening his memory. But let us be just to Bacon; ... to the last
he had no wish to injure Essex. Nay, we believe that he sin
cerely exerted himself to save Essex, as long as he thought that
he could serve Essex without injuring himself," etc. (Macau-
lay, p. 311.) This miserable view, exhibiting Francis Bacon as
an utterly selfish creature, is repeated by Campbell and others.
" No one who reads his anxious letters about preferment and
the Queen's favour, about his disappointed hopes, about his strait
ened means and distress for money, . . . can doubt that the
question was between his own prospects and his friend; and
that to his own interest he sacrificed his friend and his own
honour." (Dr. Church, Bacon, p. 57.)
See also Dr. Abbott's Francis Bacon, p. 277, of Yelverton's
trial : " Bacon's behaviour was peculiarly cold-blooded and un
grateful. "
62 FRANCIS BACON
11 A friend unalterable to his friends. " (Sir Tobie Matthew's
character of Bacon. )
No man knew better, or felt more deeply, the duties of friend
ship. (Basil Montagu.)
See also the whole subject argued in Spedding's Evenings with
a Reviewer, vol. i., and Letters and Life, i. 104-106, 250-254,
295, 370-375; ii. 69-105, 123-102, 105, 367.
" The fictitious biography paints him as bound by the sacred
ties of gratitude and affection to the Earl of Essex, who, after
striving, in the most disinterested spirit, to procure for him a
great office and a wealthy wife, had, failing in these efforts, gen
erously bestowed upon him Twickenham Park; as helping and
advising that Earl, so long as he could do it safely and with
profit, but as going over to his enemies when the hour of danger
came; and when the Earl's rash enterprise gave those enemies a
legal advantage over him, as straining his utmost skill as an
advocate and a writer, to take away the life and to damn the
memory of a noble and confiding friend. A plain story of the
times will show that the connexion of Bacon with Essex was
one of politics and business; that this connexion was in the high
est degree injurious to Bacon and to Bacon's family; that Essex
caused him to lose for fourteen years the post of Solicitor; that
Twickenham Park had never been the property of Essex, and
was not given by him to Bacon; that the connexion between
them ceased with Essex's own acts; . . . that ' the rash enterprise'
for which Essex suffered on the block was treason of so black a
shade, so odious in the conception, so revolting in the details,
as to arm against him every honest man; . . . that, while Essex
was yet free from overt and unpardonable crimes, Bacon went
beyond the extremest bounds of chivalry to save him. That in
acting against Essex, when Essex had stained his hands with
blood and his soul with treason, Bacon did no more than he was
bound to do as a public man; that, though he could not save
the guilty chief, he strove, and not in vain, to rescue from the
gallows his misled accomplices; finally, that to the generous
suppressions of the State Paper, which he drew up under her
Majesty's command, was due the fact that Essex's name should
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 63
be pronounced without a curse, and that his son could one day
be restored in blood." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, i. 6. See
the same book ; pp. 46-186.)
Unloved as he was unloving, he had but few friends and was
little reverenced.
This is the impression conveyed by most of Bacon's anti
pathetic biographers a view of his character which Dr. Abboit
tries hard to reconcile with" the spirit of genuine affection which
breathes " through the records of his friends and contemporaries,
and, we may add, through all the letters which refer to him,
written to him or of him, where his personal relations with inti
mate friends and acquaintances are touched upon. (See infra.) It
is difficult, sometimes, to decide whether to place the criticisms
upon Bacon's character on the side of the goats or of the sheep.
They are often so self-contradictory and neutralising that the
writers appear to be writing against their own convictions
rejecting the evidence patent and unchallenged of eye-witnesses,
in favour of theories and personal antipathies found long after
their great subject had passed away. As to forming a judgment
upon detached expressions, notes or sentiments, culled from
Bacon's works witn a special purpose, and with special glosses
attached, to suit certain theories, we protest that no author's pri
vate character can be rightly so judged; and with regard to
Bacon, in particular, passages to prove the exact opposite to
everything so advanced could be produced.
" All who were good and great loved and honoured Mm." (John
Aubrey.)
" My conceit of his person was never increased towards him by
his place or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the
greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to
me ever, by his work, one of the greatest of men, and most
worthy of admiration, that hath been in many ages. In his
adversity I ever prayed God would give him strength, for great
ness he could not want. Neither could I condole a word or
syllable for him, as knowing no accident can happen to virtue,
64 FEANCIS BACON
but rather help to make it manifest. " (Ben Jonson, Dominus
Verulamius.)
The same is echoed by Dr. Rawley, Osborne, Peter Boener,
and Sir Tobie Matthew, all personal friends. (See Spedding,
L. L. .vii. 576; Hepworth Dixon, Story, 482, etc.)
The following rather grinding version is from a usually hostile
critic of Francis Bacon: " Bacon's better traits have to be in
ferred from the brief testimony of one or two of his most
intimate friends, whose disinterested eulogies, after his disgrace
and death, prove that, to them, at least, he seemed not only
genial, kindly, and affectionate, but also a bright example of
lofty virtue. There seems something in the nature of a problem
in the contradiction between Bacon as he appeared to his
friends, and Bacon as he appears to us. 1 We have noted
already the spirit of genuine affection which breathes through
the short memoir of him written by his chaplain, Rawley. His
domestic apothecary and secretary, Peter Boener, expresses a
wish that a statue of him may be erected, not for his learning
and researches, but 'as a memorable example to all of virtue,
kindness, peacefulness, and patience.' Ben Jonson speaks in the
same strain of his ' virtue.' . . . To the same effect writes Sir Tobie
Matthew, one of his most intimate friends, who was in the secret
of his philosophic projects, and to whom he dedicated his
Essay on Friendship. 'It is not his greatness that I admire,
but his virtue. It is not the favours that I have received of
him that have enthralled and enchained my heart, but his
whole life and character ; which are such that, if he were of an
inferior condition, I could not honour him the less, and if he
were mine enemy, I could not the less love, and endeavour to
serve him.' With all his faults . . . neither his formal works nor
his private letters convey more than a fraction of the singular
charm with which his suavity of manner and gracious dignity
fascinated his contemporaries and riveted the affections of some
l This must depend upon who the "us," the modern reporter and critic,
may be. The "us" at present writing sees nothing inharmonious in the char
acter of Bacon, but "we" do perceive that, as a rule, very little is known of his
real life and character, and that accounts of him have been intentionally "dis
guised and veiled"
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 65
whom it must have been hardest to deceive. . . . His enthusiasm
for truth in Nature ennobled his intercourse with his associates,
and placed them on a footing of such cordial fellowship with
his brother workers that he really loved them. At least it is
certain that he made them love him. " (Abbott, Francis Bacon,
319, 33, etc.)
His cruelty Want of feeling for animals Vivisection.
" He seems to have no liking for birds or beasts, wild or tame.
The torture of a long-billed fowl by a waggish Christian, who
called down on himself the resentment of the Turks by his
cruelty, inspires him with no deeper feeling than amuse
ment. " (See the passage quoted below, of which this is the ex
position, in the introduction to Dr. Abbott's edition of the Es
says.)
" The restrictions on aviaries have been treated as an indication
that Bacon had a strong love for animals; but it would seem he
did not object to cages, provided the want of 'nestling' and
'foulness ' do not obtrude themselves on the spectator. " (Abbott,
notes to Ess. of Gardens.)
" While condemning vivisection of men, he assumes its law
fulness when applied to animals, without restriction or justifica
tion." (Abbott, notes to Ess. of Goodness.)
Macaulay, Campbell, and others, charge Bacon with aiding
and abetting the torturing of Peacham.
His kindness and tenderness of heart Love of animals, flow
ers Vivisection.
Bacon is showing that " The inclination to goodness is im
printed deeply in the nature of man; insomuch that, if it issue not
towards men, it will take unto other living creatures: as it is
seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to
beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Bus-
bechius reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople had like
to have been stoned for gagging, in a waggishness, a long-billed
fowl. " (Essay of Goodness and Goodness of Nature.)
" I love the birds as the French king doth. " (Spedding, L. L.
v. 444. Bacon's Notes.)
66 FRANCIS BACON
11 In his face a thought for the bird on the tree, the insect on
the stream, ... he pursued his studies, sniffing at a flower or
listening, to a bird. In the bright country air, among his books,
fish, flowers, collections, and experiments, with his horse, his
dog, Bacon slowly regained some part of his lost health. "
" Sure, yet subtle, were the tests by which Bacon judged of
men. Seeing Winwood strike a dog for having leaped upon a
stool, he very justly set him down as of ungentle nature. ' Every
gentleman,' he said loudly, 'loves a dog.'" (H. Dixon, Story,
pp. 23, 29, 331.)
" And now," in Bacon's account, " we see the lover of birds
and fowls:
" To the -washerwoman for sending after the crane that flew into the Thames,
five shillings.
" The Lord Chancellor was as fond of birds as of dress, and
he built in the gardens of York House a magnificent aviary at a
cost of three hundred pounds. From this aviary the poor crane
had flown into the Thames," etc. (Ib. p. 355.)
" Then, again, the accounts make visible, as he lived in the
flesh, the tender and compassionate man." (Ib. 355-357.)
" He was not inhuman or tyrannical." (Macaulay, 320.)
" For aviaries, J like them not, except they be of that largeness
as they may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in
them, that the birds may have more scope and natural nestling,
and that no foulness appear on the floor of the aviary." (Ess. of
Gardens.)
In the New Atlantis the Father of Solomon's House (who had
" an aspect as though he pitied men") is explaining the " prepa
rations and instruments" for study and experiment at the
" House. " " We have, " he says, " also parks and inclosures for
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 ;
wherein we find many strange effects : as continuing life in them,
though divers parts which you account vital be perished and
taken forth; resuscitating of some that seem dead in appear-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 67
ance, and the like. We try also poisons and other medicines
upon them, as well as surgery and physic." (New Atlantis.)
11 Of that other defect in anatomy, that it has not been prac
tised on human bodies, what need to speak? For it is a thing
hateful and inhuman, and has been justly reproved by Celsus. . . .
Wherefore, that utility may be considered, as ivell as humanity,
the anatomy of the living subject . . . may well be discharged by
beasts alive, 77 etc. (De Aug. iv. 2.)
Montagu, Spedding, Abbott, Anton, and others, show that
Bacon was in no way responsible for the torturing of Peacham.
He did not study human nature.
11 Human nature and the human passions were not sciences in
which Bacon was versed. He wanted that pliancy and con
genial feeling which identifies itself with the pains and pleas
ures, the cares and solicitudes, the frailties and imperfections,
whims and caprices, sympathies, passions, emotions, and affec
tions which variously agitate and disturb, rouse and irritate,
terrify and calm, enrapture, moderate, suspend, and enchain all
the faculties of our nature, and all the cravings and desires of
the human heart for it is only in the delineation of the heart
and its affections that we can expect to discover the soul and
spirit of poetry." (Ess. by S. N. Carvalho, in New York
Herald, Oct. 5, 1874.)
He was a profound student of human nature.
" So, then, the first article of this knowledge is to set down
sound and true distributions and descriptions of the several
characters and tempers of men's natures and dispositions,
specially having regard to those differences which are most rad
ical in being the fountains and causes of the rest, " etc. " I can
not sufficiently marvel that this part of knowledge, touching the
several characters of natures and dispositions, should be omitted
both in morality and policy, considering it is of so great minis-
tery and suppeditation to them both. (Advancement of Learn--
ing, ii.; Spedding, Works, iii. pp. 432^73.) See, also, Zte Aug-
mentis, viii. 2 " of procuring information of persons; their
68 FRANCIS BACON
natures, their desires and ends, their customs and fashions, their
helps and ad vantages," etc., etc. (Spedding, Works, v. pp. 59-78.)
See " The Essays, " which, Bacon says, " of all ray other works
have been most current; for that, as it seems, they come home
to men's business and bosoms." They are all, more or less,
studies of human nature and character.
See, also, " Experiments touching the impressions which the
passions of the mind make upon the body." (Sylva Sylvarum,
cent. viii. 713-722), and of the effect of mind on body, and
body on mind, etc.
" His style, ... for the most part, describes men's minds as
well as pictures do their bodies: so it did his above all men
living. The course of it is vigorous and majestical ... in
all expressing a soul equally skilled in men and nature."
(See A Character of the Lord Bacon Dr. Sprat's History of the
Koyal Society, part I. sec. 16, pages 35-36.)
See, also, Cowley's poem on Bacon, addressed to the Royal
Society, for evidence that Bacon painted human nature " to the
life."
Wanting in boldness and independence of character.
" He had no political back-bone, no power of adhering to his
convictions and pressing them on unwilling ears. "
" Young or old, from twenty to sixty, he was always the same;
. . . from the beginning to the end of his career his wiser coun
sels were neglected, and he was little better than an instrument
in the hands of the unwise." (Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 22.)
" He had no moral courage, and no power of self-sacrifice or
self-denial." (Campbell, Bacon, p. 220.)
A patriot Politically lold and independent in matters zvhich
lie esteemed important.
11 It is creditable alike to his statesmanship and to his inde
pendence of character that, at a time when all deviations from
the forms of the prayer-book were known to ba distasteful t3
the Queen, Bacon should have pleaded for elasticity, and that
'the contentious retention of custom is a turbulent thing. 7 "
(Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 26.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 69
" Bacon, who now sat for Middlesex, barred his own path by
a speech in the House of Commons . . . upon subsidies, which
he considered too burdensome for a people overlaid with taxes.
... It was, therefore, in entire good faith that Bacon protested
against the subsidies, declaring that the gentlemen must sell
their plate and the farmers their brass pots before this should
bo paid. The House was unanimously against him. . . . But
the speech, though made in manifest sincerity, did not, on that
account, conciliate the Queen; and Bacon's conscientious opposi
tion brought on him the penalty of exclusion from the royal pres
ence." (Ib. p. 35.)
" Bacon's fame as a patriot was fixed in these transactions.
The breadth of his views, the comprehensiveness of his politics,
the solidity of his understanding were observed by his contempor
aries." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, p. 37.)
" The House had not sat a week . . . before he hinted at his
scheme for amending the whole body of English law. . . .
Keform the code! Bacon tells a House full of Queen's Serjeants
and utter barristers that laws are made to guard the rights of
the people, not to feed the lawyers. ... So runs his speech . . .
a noble thought ... a plan developed in his maxims of the law
. . . universally read . . . the Code Napoleon is the sole embodi
ment of Bacon's thought. Ten days later he gave a check to
the government, which brought down on his head the censures
of Burghley and Puckering, which are said to have represented
the personal anger of the Queen. . . . Burghley asked the Peers to
confer on a grant of money for the Queen's service, and Cecil
reported to the Commons that the Peers had decided for them
what they were to give. . . . Who rose to warn the minister of
this grave mistake? . . . Bacon stood up. A few clear words
declared that . . . to give was the prerogative of tbe people to
dictate what they should give was not the duty of the Peers. "
(Ib. 65-66.)
Bacon compared unfavourably with Coke.
Bacon as Attorney- General " holding up to posterity for ever
the contrast between his courtier-like servility, and Coke's
manly independence." (Abbott, int. to Essays, Ivi.)
70 FRANCIS BACON
Bacon compared favourably with Coke.
" Some of the judges, and amongst them Egerton, wished to
make Bacon Attorney-General, for the great common-lawyer, if
a giant in legal erudition, had the manners of a bully, and the
spirit of a slave. In the long succession of English judges, it is
doubtful whether any one has left on the bench so distinct an
impression of having been a cold, harsh, brawling, ungenerous
man as Coke," etc., etc. (Hepworth Dixon, 79-80.)
" Wanting the warmth of heart, the large round of sympathies,
which enabled his rival at the bar to see into political questions
with the eye of a poet and a statesman, Coke could only treat a
constituted court as a thing of words, dates, readings, and
decisions, not as a living fact in close relation to other living
facts, and having in itself the germs of growth and change."
(Ib. 231.) See Speddicg, Let. and Life, i. 232.
An inequitable judge His judgments questioned.
" Unhappily he was employed in perverting laws to the vilest
purposes of tyranny. " (Macaulay, 330. )
" He did worse than nothing in politics. He degraded him
self, he injured his country and posterity by tarnishing the hon
ourable traditions of the bench." (Abbott, int. to Essays,
xcvi. Andsee, bythesame, " Francis Bacon, " pp. xx, xxi, xxix.)
An equitable judge His judgments neither questioned nor
reversed.
" His favourites took bribes, but his Lordship always gave
judgment secundum 'cequum et bonum. His decrees in chancery
stand firme; there are fewer of his decrees reverst than of any
other Chancellor." (John Aubrey, Sped. L. L. vii. 557.)
" A most indefatigable servant to the King, and a most
earnest lover of the public. " (Sir Tobie Matthew.)
" Bacon was the first of a new order of public men. . . . Bad men
kill offices and good men found them." (See Hepworth Dixon's
Story, p. 210, etc. See also Lord Chief Justice Hale on the
Jurisdiction of the Lords' House, 1716.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 71
Apologises abjectly to the Queen about Ms speech on the subsidy.
" The young patriot condescended to make the most abject apolo
gies; . . . he bemoaned himself to the Lord Keeper, in a letter which
may keep in countenance the most unmanly of the epistles which
Cicero wrote during his banishment. The lesson was not thrown
away. Bacon never offended in the same manner again. " (Ma-
caulay, Essays, pp. 303^.)
" The Queen was deeply incensed, and desired it to be inti
mated to the delinquent . . . that he must never look to her
for favour of" promotion. An eloquent eulogist says that l he
heard them with the calmness of a philosopher,' but his answers
show that he ivas struck with repentance and remorse, and that, in
the hope of obtaining pardon, he plainly intimated that he should
never repeat the offence.' 11 (Campbell, p. 23.)
" His compunction for his opposition to the subsidy. " (Ib. 24.)
Does not offer any apology to the Queen about his speech on the
subsidy.
The letter is extant and contains not a word of apology.
" This letter is a justification and no apology." (Spedding, L.
L. i. 233.)
11 It is worthy of note that, among the many expressions of
regret at the royal displeasure, there is no record of any apology
tendered by Bacon for his speech." (Abbott, int. to Essays, i.
xxix.)
See also the polite but independent letter which Bacon wrote
not long afterwards to the Queen herself, ignoring the obnoxious
matter of the speech, and applying directly to be employed in
the Queen's service. (Spedding, L. L. i. p. 240.)
His speech charging Essex, and his connection with the trial,
condemned as perfidious and unpardonable.
" The lamentable truth must be told. This friend, so loved,
so trusted, bore a principal part in ruining the Earls fortunes, in
shedding his blood, and in blackening his character," etc. (Ma-
caulay's Essay.)
72 FRANCIS BACON
" To deprive him of all chance of mercy . . . Bacon com
pared him to the Duke of Guise. . . . The Queen wished a
pamphlet to be written to prove that Essex was properly
put to death, and she selected Francis Bacon to write it. He,
without hesitation, undertook the task. . . . No honourable man
would purchase Bacon's subsequent elevation at the price of being
the author of this publication," etc. (Campbell, p. 64.)
His speech charging Essex commended as lenient His con
ducting of the trial explained as being obligatory; an official
duty, etc.
Basil Montagu. Spedding, ii. 367.
" Bacon closed the case in an eloquent and memorable speech.
His own relations with the Earl of Essex, he said, were at an end.
Yet, in spite of this avowal, he spoke as the Earl's advocate, rather
than as the Queen's; charging him with hasty expressions, but
distinctly freeing him from the charge of disloyalty. Bacon's speech
at York House saved Essex in his fortunes and his fame. " (Hep-
worth Dixon's Story of Bacon, p. 162, quoting from Chamber
lain to Carleton, July 1-26, 1600, Record Office ; Confessions of
D. Hayward, July 11, 1600, R. 0. ; Abstract of Evidence against
Essex, July 22, 1600 ; Examination of Thos. Wright, July 24,
1600, R. 0. ; Moryson, pt. ii. 68; Sydney Papers, ii. 200; and
see Personal Life.)
" Yet, even when it was made thus sternly and just by the
Queen, the t Declaration of the practises and treasons at
tempted committed by Robt. Devereux, late Earl of Essex, and
his complices,' was, perhaps, the most gentle and moderate state
paper ever published in any kingdom," etc. (Hepworth Dixon's
Story, pp. 186-7 ; see, also, Prof. Fowler's Bacon, pp. 8, 9.)
He incurred the indignation and contempt of his contemporaries
on account of the part which he took in Essex's trial.
" The base ingratitude and the slavish meanness manifested
by Bacon on this occasion called fortji the indignation of his
contemporaries. ... For some time after Essex's execution,
Bacon was looked upon with aversion, " etc. (Campbell, pp.
66, 68.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 73
" It is certain that his conduct excited great and general
disapprobation." (Macaulay, p. 323.)
" The multitude loudly condemned him." (Ib. 325 and 326.)
No indignation was exhibited against Mm on account of the
part which he took in Essex's trial. He was now honoured more
highly than before.
" That the lofty and gentle course which Bacon pursued
through these memorable events commanded the admiration of
all his contemporaries, save a faction of the defeated band, is a
fact of which the proofs are incontestible. ... If he were thought
of with aversion, here were the means, the opportunities for
condign revenge. . . . Did the friends of Loijd Essex rise on his
adversaries? Was the . . . stone flung at Bacon? Just the
reverse. (Hepworth Dixon, " Story," p. 183.)
" The world had not been with the rebellious Earl, either in
his treason at Temple Bar or in his suffering at Tower Hill, and
those who had struck down the Papist plot were foremost in the
ranks of the new Parliament. Four years ago Bacon had been
chosen to represent Ipswich, and the chief town of Suffolk again
ratified its choice. But his public acts now won for him a sec
ond constituency in St. Albans. Such a double return, always
rare in the House of Commons, was the highest compliment that
could be paid to his political life." (Hep. Dixon, " Story," p.
183. See 184-5, of the Queen revising Bacon's " Declaration"
as being too lenient to Essex; and notes, part iii. 149.)
Struck to the earth by the discovery of his corruption Confess
ing the truth of the charges brought against him Treated as a
degraded man.
" Overwhelmed with shame and remorse." (Macaulay, p. 353.)
Lord Campbell quotes passages from Bacon's letter to the
King and Buckingham (where Bacon expresses his resolution to
indulge in no excuses if he has " partaken of the abuses of the
times " ) as a clear negative pregnant, admitting that the bribes
had been received. (See Campbell's Bacon, p. 172.)
See also his straightforward, modest appeal to the King, repudi
ating the idea that he had " the troubled fountain of a corrupt
74 FEANCIS BACON
heart in a depraved' habit of taking rewards to pervert justice,
. . . howsoever I be frail and partake of the abuses of the times. "
Kesolving to defend nothing in himself, and praying God that
" no hardness of heart steal upon me under show of more neatness
of conscience than is cause. " (Montagu, Spedding, and others.)
Overwhelmed with horror and surprise at the charges brought
against him Acknowledges carelessness Utterly repudiates
the charge of bribery Never shows any remorse for guilt, but
even in his "prayer " regrets that he had wasted and misspent
his life in trying to follow the profession of the law and the
pursuits of a politician, for which by nature he was least fit
Not treated as degraded, but as one who would return to power.
11 The law of nature teaches me to speak in my own defence.
With respect to this charge of bribery I am as innocent as any
born upon St. Innocents' day. I never had bribe or reward in
my eye or thought when pronouncing sentence or order. " (B.
Montagu, Works, v. 549.)
Montagu, xii. 457-459; xvi. part ii. 426. See also Spedding's
Evenings with a Reviewer, vol. ii. Abbott, Francis Bacon, pp.
306, 320. Hepworth Dixon, " Story, pp. 410-411, 412-447, 466,
482; and "Personal Life." Council Registers, Dec, 30, 1617;
Mar. 17-27, 1618; June 19, 1619; Jan. 20, 1620. Bacon Memo
randa, Lambeth MSS., 936, fol. 146.
Without a sense of humour Never made a pun or a quibble.
" What is said by Dr. Rawley [see below] of Bacon's avoid
ance of all mere verbal conceits is true, and the fact merits
especial attention as notably discriminating the wit of Bacon
from that of every other English writer eminent for that quality
in his age. Probably nothing resembling a pun, or any quib
ble of that class, is to be found in all that he has written."
(Craik, i.30.)
" The idea of robbing the world of Shakespeare for such a stiff,
legal-headed old jack-ass as Bacon, is a modern invention of
fools. " (Essay on " The Humbug of Bacon, " signed B. J. A., in
the New York Herald, Oct. 5, 1874.) This extract is given as a
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 75
good specimen of the kind of knowledge and criticism displayed
by the press articles of this date.
The most prodigious wit that ever lived Fond of quibbles
Could not pass by a jest.
" His speech, when he could pass by a jest, was nobly censo
rious." (Ben Jonson, Dominus Verulamius.)
Bacon's paradoxical manner of turning a sentence so as to
read two ways has been the frequent subject of comment. A
large number of puns and quibbles are to be found even in his
graver works, and Ben Jonson's remark shows that, however
much he might try to exclude these plays upon words from
his writings, the habit of punning was so confirmed in him as to
be, in Jonson's opinion, a disfigurement to his oratory.
" The most prodigious wit that ever I knew ... is of your
Lordship's name, albeit he is known by another." (Sir Tobie
Matthew, letter to Bacon.)
Want of imagination of the higher type.
" Of looks conversing with the skies, df beauty born of mur
muring sound that passes into the face, he takes no account. It
is the exclusion of the higher type that leads him to doubt
whether beauty is a hindrance or a help in running the race of
life." (Storr of Ess. of Beauty.)
" There is hardly a trace in Bacon of that transfusing and
transforming imagination which creates a new heaven and a
new earth ; which reveals the elemental secrets of things, and
thrills us with a shock of surprise and delight as a new revela
tion. . . . There is more of poetry in Browne's Hydriotaphia
than of poetry in Bacon's collected works. Yet of poetry, in all
but the strictest and highest sense of the word, Bacon is fall. "
(Storr, int. Ixxxiii. See below.)
Imagination of the highest type.
" Bacon, whose vast contemplative ends embraced the image
of the universal world." (Storr.)
" His life of mind was never exceeded, perhaps never equalled.
The extent of his views was immense. . . . His powers were
I
76 FEANCIS BACON
varied and in great perfection, his senses exquisitely acute. . . .
His imagination was most vivid and fruitful, " etc., etc. (Basil
Montagu, vol. xvi. 451-463.)
" He was a man of strong, clear, and powerful imaginations.
His genius was searching and inimitable, and of this I need give
no other proof than his style itself, which, as for the most part
it describes men's minds as well as pictures do their bodies :
so it did his above all men living. The course of it is vigorous
and majestical : the wit bold and familiar. The comparisons
fetched out of the way, and yet the most easy : in all expressing
a soul equally skilled in men and nature. ... He seems to take
all that comes, and to heap together rather than to register.
But I hope this accusation of mine can be no great injury to his
memory ; seeing at the same timg that I say he had not the
strength of a thousand men. I do also allow him to have had
as much as twenty." (See Character of Lord Bacon, by Dr.
Sprat; History of the Royal Society, part I. sec. 16, pp. 35-36.)
Highly poetical Possessing every faculty and gift of the true
poet.
"It is he that filled up all numbers, and performed that which
may be compared or preferred to insolent Greece or haughty
Rome." (Ben Jonson.)
" His Lordship was a good poet, but concealed, as appears by
his letters." (John Aubrey.)
The author of " The Great Assises Holden in Parnassus"
ranks Lord Verulam next to Apollo.
" The poetic faculty was strong in Bacon's mind. No im
agination was ever at once so strong and so subjugated. In
truth, much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world
. . . magnificent day-dreams . . . analogies of all sorts," etc.,
etc. (Macaulay.)
" Few poets deal in finer imagery than is to be found in Bacon.
. . . His prtijfee is poetry. " (Campbell.) .
" The varieties and sprightliness of Bacon's imagination, an
imagination piercing almost into futurity, conjectures improv
ing even to prophecy. . . . The greatest felicity of expression,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 77
and the most splendid imagery," etc., etc. (Basil Montagu.)
" The Wisdom of the Ancients, . . a kind of parabolical
poetry. The fables abounding with the deepest thought and
beauty. ... To the Advancement of Learning he brings every
species of poetry by which imagination can elevate the mind
from the dungeon of the bjdy to the enjoying of its own essence.
. . . Metaphors, similitudes, and analogies make up a great part
of his reasoning. . . . Ingenuity, poetic fancy, and the highest
imagination and fertility cannot be denied-him. " (Craik.)
" The creative fancy of a Dante or Milton never called up
more gorgeous images than those suggested by Bacon, and we
question much whether their worlds surpass his in affording
scope for the imagination. His extended over all time. His
mind brooded over all nature, . . . unfolding to the gaze of the
spectator the order of the universe as exhibited to angelic in
telligences. " (Devey.)
" The tendency of Bacon to see analogies ... is characteris
tic of him, the result of ... that mind not truly philosophic,
but truly poetic, which will find similitudes everywhere in
heaven and earth." (Dr. Abbott.)
" He had the liveliest fancy and most active imagination.
But that he wanted the sense of poetic fitness and melody, he
might be almost supposed, with his reach and play of thought,
to have been capable, as is maintained in some eccentric mod
ern theories, of writing Shakespeare's plays. No man ever had a
more imaginative power of illustration drawn from the most re
mote and most unlikely analogies ; analogies often of the quaint
est and mo^t unexpected kind, but often, also, not only felicitous
in application, but profound and true." (Church, pp. 21, 22;
see, also, pp. 19, 24, 173, 197, 200, 204, 217, 171, 201 ; and note
that Dr. Church here gives Bacon every attribute of the poet
excepting the power to write poetry.)
" Gentle and susceptible in genius. . . . A mind susceptible of
all impressions. . . . Trott, a lover of poetry and wit, advanced
him money. ... As a bencher Bacon became the light and
genius ... of Gray's Inn; . . . dressed the dumb show, led
78 FRANCIS BACON
off' the dances, invented the masques; a genial and original
nature." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, 21, 23, 33, etc.)
" I infer from this sample that Bacon had all the natural
faculties which a poet wants : a fine ear for metre, a fine feeling
for imaginative effect in words, and a vein of poetic passion.
. . . The truth is that Bacon was not without the * fine phrensy '
of a poet," etc. (Spedding, Works, vii. 267-272.)
Sir Francis Bacon is also enumerated, by Edmund Howes,
amongst a list of " Our modern and present excellent poets,
which worthily flourish in their owne works; and who, accord
ing to their priorities as neere as I could, I have orderly set
downe. " In this curious list Bacon stands eighth and Shake
speare fifteenth in order.
See, also, Sir Tobie Matthew's account of Bacon's " sprout
ing invention; " his " ravishing way of words, metaphors, aud
allusions as perhaps the world hath not seen since it was a
world;" his pre-eminence as the " Genius of England."
See Halliwell Phillips's Outlines, p. 512.
Dr. Fischer, of Heidelberg, endorses these opinions in his work
on Bacon.
He had little or no religion.
" Bacon's zeal against persecution and intolerance arose prob
ably in no small measure from vagueness, uncertainty, or indif
ference in his own religious beliefs." (Fowler's Bacon, p. 185,
and see p. 182.)
" He was guarded by every sentinel but those of virtue and
God's favour. . . . May we not humbly, but urgently, say,
'Remember Lord Bacon' . . . whenever any effort or com
bination of human faculties awakes your admiration and
applause. . . . Let such qualities be found in union with ' repent
ance toward God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.' We
cannot but believe that all that was low, . . . degrading, . . .
treacherous, . . . subservient, . . . and dishonest ... in
the life of Lord Bacon could never have blotted his noble
escutcheon if he had walked humbly with his God, . . . with a
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 79
confidence in God as a Father; . . . a jealousy for the honour of
his Saviour, and an hourly reference ... to the guidance of
the Holy Ghost," etc. (Life of Bacon, by the Rev. J.
Sortain, 1790.)
It is science that makes him in any sense a religious man
non-religious in conduct, etc. (Abbott, introd'n. to Essays,
p. xl.) Many other writers and critics have adopted such views.
He was truly religious.
11 This lord was religious; for though the world be apt to sus
pect and prejudge great wits and politiques to have somewhat
of the atheist, yet he ivas conversant with God, as appeareth
throughout the whole current of his writings. . . . No man will
deny him ... to have been a deep philosopher. And not only
so, but he was able to render a reason for the hope which was in
him, which that writing of his of the Confession of Faith doth
abundantly testify. He repaired frequently (when his health
would permit him) to the services of the church to hear sermons,
to the administration of the sacrament of the blessed body and
blood of Christ; and died in the true faith, established in the
Church of England. " (Dr. Rawley's Life of Bacon, 1670.)
His toleration in religious matters blamed.
Bacon's toleration showed a fatal want of religious enthusiasm.
(Storr, intn. to Essays.)
His toleration applauded.
We do not pretend that he ever became a violent partisan
against the Church of Rome; . . . neither, on the other hand,
was he an exclusive advocate for the Church of England in
opposition to the Puritans. ... In the whole range of ecclesi
astical history we can recall no one whose mind looked down
upon church controversies with more anxious concern. His
was not the latitudinarianism of indifference. ... We should
feel that we were performing a high duty to the Church of
Christ, at the present times, to transcribe the whole of
80 FRANCIS BACON
Bacon's enlarged view of church controversies. ... In
thus stating his comprehensiveness of charity, we must again
add that it was most remote from indifferentism." (Rev. J. Sor-
tain. ) This is the same author who shows in the same book (Life
of Francis Bacon) that Bacon's weak point was want of religion
and earnest faith.
AMOXGST the many proofs of the intense admiration and
affection, esteem and reverence, which Francis Bacon inspired
in those who were personally intimate with him, none are more
satisfactory than those contained in the voluminous, but still
unpublished, correspondence of Anthony Bacon, in the library at
Lambeth Palace.
Here we find him spoken of as " Monsieur le Doux, " and
" Signor Dolce;" his extreme kindness, sweetness of disposition
and heavenly-mindedness being continual subjects of comment.
His followers and disciples vow fidelity to him from simple love
of him and his cause ; they are willing to go through the great
est perils and sufferings, as indeed we find them doing, in order
to aid in the objects and plans which are most dear to him
the propagation of Christian truth and of a wide-spread and
liberal education. 1
" For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable
speeches, and to foreign nations and the next ages; " or, as in
another copy of his will, " and to mine own countrymen, after
some time be past."
These prophetic words seem now to be in process of fulfil
ment. Englishmen must regret that with " foreign nations"
lies the honour of first and fully appreciating the genius
of Francis Bacon, and of being the first willing or eager
to hear, and to investigate the claims which have been
brought forward with regard to his authorship of the " Shake
speare Plays. " What Dr. Rawley said in 1657 is true even now:
" His fame is greater and sounds louder in foreign parts abroad,
than at home in his own nation ; thereby verifying that divine
l The following is reprinted from a little pamphlet published by the present
writer in 1884.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 81
sentence, A prophet is not without honour, save in his own coun
try and in his own house." Yet Bacon had a just confidence
" in that old arbitrator, Time, " and in the verdict of the " next
ages. ' ; He had assured himself, long before he made his will,
that " the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than
the monuments of power, or of the hands ; " that learning, " by
which man ascendeth to the heavens, is immortal, " for " the
images of men's wits and knowledges remain in books, exempted
from the wrong of time, and capable of perpetual renovation. "
We appeal to those into whose hands this outline of a great
and wonderful life may fall, to lay aside prejudice acquired at
second hand, and to study for themselves the life and character
of Francis Bacon, as displayed, not in any one or two question
able transactions, not from a few picked passages of his volumi
nous works, or in a few letters written under exceptional cir-.
cumstances, but as the characters and lives of other great
men are studied, and as we humbler individuals would wish pos
terity to study and to judge our own. Let Bacon be judged by
the whole general tenour of his life, and works, and letters; and
by their influence on his contemporaries and on posterity for
good or for evil.
It has unhappily become habitual to Englishmen to criticise
and represent this " glory of his age and nation" in such a man
ner that the few blemishes which dim that glory are magnified
and intensified so as to obscure the picture itself. The result is
that, perhaps, no other great man has been so much talked of,
and so little generally known or understood, as Bacon. Prob
ably, also, there are few men of any kind of whom, whilst con
temporary biographers agree in recording so much that is great
and good, writers of 150 years later date have delighted in
ignoring the good, and in bringing to the front and dwelling
upon every circumstance, or action, or word, which can admit
of a base or evil interpretation. Eather let us consider first his
many great virtues, his amiability, gentleness, sweetness of tem
per, and consideration for others, his readiness to forgive injuries
and to acknowledge any error in himself, his generosity and lib'
erality as soon as he had any means at his disoosal, his magna-
6
82 FRANCIS BACON
nimity and fortitude under calamity, his ardour in pursuit of truth,
his endless perseverance and patience, (an acquired virtue, since
he felt that by nature he was impatient and over-zealous), his
bright, hopeful spirit and large-hearted toleration, his modesty,
and absence of self-importance or self-assertion. This last virtue
has been held by his biographers to have been almost a weak
ness, and in some respects a disadvantage to him, as well as to
the world at large, since the pliancy of his disposition and the
submissive attitude which he maintained toward his official supe
riors, and which were part of his nature, have been brought against
him as proofs of " cringing "and" servility." Let us also remem
ber the threefold aims which he had set before him as the object of
his life " an object to live for as wide as humanity and as im
mortal as the human race; an idea vast and lofty enough to fill
the soul for ever with religious and heroic aspirations. ... Of
Bacon's life no man will ever form a correct idea unless he
bear in mind that, from very early youth, his heart was divided
between these three objects, distinct but not discordant the
cause of reformed religion, the cause of his Queen and country,
and of the human race through all their generations. " 1
If we also bear in mind that not only was he profoundly
learned, laboriously hard-working, and painstaking in search
of truth, 'but that he was intensely sensitive and highly imagin
ative; his mind, as he said, " nimble and versatile, quick to per
ceive analogies " (the poet's faculty), and ingenious in their
application, we shall acknowledge that such a character is not
one to be harshly judged in the portion of his carreer for which
he repeatedly confesses himself" unfit, " as a lawyer and a chan
cellor. For our own sakes, for justice' sake, let us first contem
plate and know him at his best, as " the pioneer of truth," the
" patriot born, " the poet-philosopher, the man who wished to
spend and be spent for the advancement of learning and the
benefit of the human race.
Theobald, in the preface to his edition of "Shakespeare,"
says kindly: " The genius that gives us the greatest pleasure
1 Condensed from Spedding, L. L. i. 5.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 83
sometimes stands in need of our indulgence. Whenever this
happens with regard to Shakespeare, I would willingly impute
it to a vice in Ms times."
So said Bacon of himself (though it was never his manner to
excuse himself): u This is all I can say for the present concern
ing my charge. . . I do not fly to say that these things are
vitia temporis, and not vitia hominis." But may not the same
indulgence which has been accorded to " Shakespeare " be
accorded equally to Bacon t
Of Shakespeare we know nothing creditable; he was vulgar,
jovial, and money-loving. Of Bacon we have the testimony of
contemporaries whose opinion is above all suspicion of interested
motives, and we know that those who saw him nearest, and
those who knew him longest, give him the best character.
Sir Tobie Matthew, writing (1618) to the Grand Duke of Tus
cany, gives some account of his career and position, and a de
scription of his immense intellectual powers. He goes on to say
that the praise applies not only to the qualities of the intellect,
but as well to those " which are rather of the heart, the will, and
the moral virtue; being a man .most sweet in his conversation
and ways, grave in his judgments, invariable in his fortunes,
splendid in his expenses; a friend unalterable to his friends; an
enemy to no man; a most hearty and indefatigable servant to
the King, and a most earnest lover of the public having all
the thoughts of that large heart of his set upon adorning the age
in which he lives, and benefiting, as far as possible, the whole
human race. "
" And I can truly say," he adds, " having had the honour to
know him for many years, as well when he was in his lesser for
tunes as now that he stands at the top and in the full flower of his
greatness, that I never yet saw any trace in him of a vindictive
mind, whatever injury were done him, nor ever heard him utter
a word to any man's disadvantage which seemed to proceed from
personal feeling against the man, but only (and that too very
seldom) from judgment made of him in cold blood. It is not his
greatness that I admire, but his virtue: it is not the favours I
have received from him (infinite though they be) that have thus
84 FRANCIS BACON
enthralled and enchained my heart, but his whole life and char
acter; which are such that if he were of an inferior condition I
could not honour him the less, and if he were mine enemy I
should not the less love and endeavour to serve him. "
Dr. Rawley's short Life of Bacon deals more with his circum
stances and works than with his character, yet his opinion is
the same as Sir Tobie's. During his residence in Gray's Inn,
Bacon " carried himself," says Dr. Rawley, " with such sweet
ness, comity, and generosity, that he was much revered and
loved by the Eeaders and Gentlemen of the House " (or Inn).
Again, " When his office called him, as he was the King's Coun
cil Learned, to charge any offenders, . . . he was never insulting
or dcmineering over them, but always tender-hearted, and car
rying himself decently towards the parties (though it was his
duty to charge them home), as one that looked upon the example
with the eye of severity, but upon the person with the eye of
pity and compassion. And in civil business, as he was Councillor
of State, he had the best way of advising, . . . the King giving
him this testimony, * That he ever dealt in business suavibusmodis,
which was the way that was most according to his heart.'"
Having borne testimony to his " prime and observable parts,
. . . abilities which commonly go singly in other men, but
which in him were conjoined" sharpness of wit, memory,
judgment, and elocution, together with extraordinary celerity
in writing, facility in inventing and " caution in venting the
imagination or fancy of his brain " Dr. Rawley records his
industry, his anxiety to write so as to be easily understood, the
charm of his conversation, and his power of " drawing a man on
so as to lure him to speak on such a subject as wherein he was
peculiarly skilful, and would delight to speak, contemning no
man's observation, but lighting his torch at every man's candle-
. . . His opinions and assertions were, for the most part, bind
ing, and not contradicted by any. ... As he was a good serv
ant to his master" (being never in nineteen years' service
rebuked by the King for anything), " so he was a good master to
his servants, . . . and if he were abused by any of them in their
places, it was not only the error of the goodness of his nature,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 85
but the badge of their indiscretions and intemperances. " After
speaking of Bacon as a " religious " man, able to give a reason
of the hope which was in him, " and observant of the services
and sacraments of the Church of England, Dr. Rawley continues:
" This is most true. He was free from malice, no revenger of
injuries, which, if he had minded, he had both opportunity and
high place enough to have done it. He was no hearer of men
out of their places. . He was no defamer of any man to his
Prince, . . . which I reckon not among his moral but his Chris
tian virtues. "
John Aubrey, in his MS. notes, jotting down several pleasant
anecdotes of Bacon and his friends, adds: " In short, all that
were great and good loved and honoured him [the italics are
Aubrey's own] 5 his favourites took bribes, but his Lordship
always gave judgment secundem cequum et bonum. His decrees in
Chancery stand firm : there are fewer of his decrees reversed than
of any other Chancellor. "
The tributes to Bacon's personal worth by his physician,
Peter Boe'ner and by Sir Thomas Meautys, have already been
noticed. We conclude this brief sketch with the last clause in
the posthumous record which Ben Jonson wrote, under the
title of Dominus Verulamius, in his notes on " Discoveries upon
Men and Matter " :
" My conceit of his person was never increased toward him
by his place, or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the
greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed
to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most
worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his
adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for
greatness he could not want, neither could I condole in a word
or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to
virtue, but rather help to make it manifest. "
If, as we have been told, such heartfelt words as these are
merely the effusions of personal attachment, or of " partial "
and " admiring " friendship; what can any of us desire better
ourselves than that we may so live as to win such admiration
and to attach and retain such devoted friends? And yet the
friendship of those who lived in the presence of Bacon, who
86 FEANCIS BACON
worked with and for him, who knew him in his struggles and in
his triumphs, in his greatness and in his fall, is not the only
friendship which he has secured. Those still revere and love
him best who, like Basil Montagu, James Spedding, and Hep-
worth Dixon, have devoted years of their lives to the study of
his works and the contemplation of his life and character.
Lord Macaulay , who wrote one essay on Bacon, is astonished at
the enthusiasm with which a prolonged intimacy with the works
and life of that great man had inspired his biographer, Basil
Montagu. " The writer," says Macaulay, " is enamoured of his
subject. It constantly overflows from his lips and .his pen."
But this is the impression made upon most thoughtful persons
who read and read again (without previous prejudice or the aid
of a commentator) the works and letters of Bacon, until they
come to know not only the matter, but the man himself.
There can, we think, be but one issue to such a study:
admiration deepening into esteem, sympathy, and a feeling of
personal friendship, which no hostile or piecemeal criticism will
avail to shake.
The admiring warmth with which " Shakespeare " scholars
have justly extolled the character of their ideal author is precisely
that which creeps over and possesses the soul of the earnest
disciple of the " myriad-minded " Bacon. We may be incapable
of following, even in imagination, " the vast contemplative
ends " which he proposed to himself, and to the accomplishment
of which his life was actually consecrated. But no one who can
apprehend, however dimly, the plan and purpose of such a life,
can withhold from it a tribute of admiration, or can remain
insensible of the influence for good which that man must by
personal example have shed around him, and which through
his works he still diffuses. And, says Ben Jonson at the
conclusion of his sketch of Bacon's genius, " There is not
one color of the mind and another of the works." Such as
works are as a whole, such on the whole is their author.
Goodness, as well as greatness, is impressed upon the writings
of Bacon. We may be awe- struck in the contemplation of his
magnificent powers of mind, enchanted with his language, and
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 87
with the consummate ability with which he treats of all subjects,
great or small; but we feel that this is not all. Mere intellect
may attract attention and admiration, but it does not win es
teem. Kunning through the whole of his works there is a thread
of genuine goodness. It is a thread rather underlying the sub
stance than superficially exhibited, but it is inextricably inter
woven. Every where from Bacon's works there radiates this good
ness, kindness of heart, large-minded toleration, " enthusiasm of
humanity, " respect for authority, reverence for, and trust in, a
great and good God. This it is which " enthralled " his personal
friends and " enamoured " his later biographer. This it is which
prompts us to exclaim of him as Holofernes did of Virgil:
"Who understandeth thee not, loveth. thee'not."
CHAPTER IV.
FRANCIS BACON: AN OUTLINE OF HIS LIFE AND AIMS.
" All is not in years to me ; somewhat is in hours well spent."
. Promus.
"Yet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name,
Made use and fair advantage of his days;
His head unmellow'd, Jmt his judgment ripe."
Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 4.
MANY and various opinions have been expressed in modern
times concerning Francis Bacon, and the motives and
aims supposed to have influenced his course and actions in
public capacities. We may safely pass by these phases of his
wonderful career, so carefully and devotedly recorded in the
calm pages of James Speddiug, 1 and will for the present consider
the personality and life of Bacon from two different aspects:
first, as the poet; secondly, as the most ardent promoter, if not
the founder, of a vast secret society, destined to create a com
plete reformation in learning, science, literature, and religion
itself, throughout the whole wide world. In the lively works of
Hepworth Dixon, and in scattered episodes in Spedding's Life
of Bacon, we get occasional peeps behind the scene. But, in
the last named work especially, it appears as if we were not
meant to do so. The facts that Bacon in his youth " masked
and mummed," and led the revels at Gray's Inn; that through
out his life he was appealed to on all great occasions to write
witty speeches for others to deliver at the gorgeous " enter
tainments " which were the fashion of the day (and in which,
doubtless, he took a leading part, in the background) ; that he
and his brother Anthony, who was living with him in 1594,
l See "Letters and Life of Bacon," seven vols., 8vo, or the abridgment of
them, "Life and Times of Bacon," and especially " Evenings with a Reviewer,"
2 vols., 8vo James Spedding.
(88)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 89
actually removed from their lodgings in Gray's Inn to a house in
Bishopsgate Street, in the immediate neighborhood of The Bull Inn,
ivhere plays and interludes were acted. These and many such
important factors in his private history are slipped over, or alto
gether omitted in most accounts of him. They should not be so
passed by, for Bacon's theatrical proclivities were no mere boy
ish or youthful taste ; they grew with him and formed a very
important part of his " method of discourse," a means by which
he could inform those who could not read, instilling through the
eyes and ears of the body sound teaching on all sorts of subjects.
The stern morality which was often thus inculcated would not for
one instant have been listened to, with patience, from the pulpit
or the professed teacher, by the class of persons for whose benefit
we believe that Francis Bacon wrote his earliest (and unac
knowledged) plays. It will be seen that this love and respect
for the theatre was with him to the end of his life. Nearly
fifty metaphors and figures based upon stage-playing are to be
found in his grave scientific works, and in the Latin edition of
the Advancement of Learning, published simultaneously with
the collected edition or " Folio " of the Shakespeare plays in
1623, he inserts a brave defence of stage-playing and a lament
for the degradation of the theatre in his day.
Most persons who peruse these pages are probably acquainted
with the outlines of Bacon's life. We therefore merely piece
together particulars extracted from the works of his most
painstaking and sympathetic biographer, James Spedding, and
fro'm the shorter " lives" aud biographies of his secretary, Dr.
Rawley, Hep worth Dixon, Prof. Fowler, and others.
Francis Bacon was born on the 22d of January, 1561, at York
House, in the Strand. His father, Sir Nicholas (counsellor to
Queen Elizabeth, and second prop in the kingdom), was a lord
of known prudence, sufficiency, moderation, and integrity. His
mother, Lady Anne Cooke, a choice lady, was eminent for piety
and learning, being exquisitely skilled, for a woman, in the
Greek and Latin languages. " These being the parents, " says
Dr. Rawley, " you may easily imagine what the issue was like
90 FRANCIS
to be, having had whatsoever nature or breeding could put
in him. "
Sir Nicholas is described as " a stout, easy man, full of con
trivance, with an original and project! ve mind. " The grounds
laid out by him at G-orhambury suggested to his son those ideas
of gardening which he himself afterwards put into practice,
and which, developed in his essays and other writings, 1 have
led to the foundation of an English style of gardening. 2
So with regard to cultivation of another kind. The scheme
which Sir Nicholas presented to Henry VIII. for the endowment
of a school of law and languages in London, is thougnt to have
been, perhaps, the original germ of the New Atlantis, the
idea being transferred from statecraft to nature. In politics
the Lord Keeper held to the English party; that party which set
its face against Rome, and those who represented Rome; against
the Jesuits, the Spaniards, and the Queen of Scots. If he felt
warm against any one, it was against the latter, whom he de
tested, not only as a wicked woman, but as a political tool in
the hands of France and Spain. By the help of his clear head
and resolute tongue, the great change of religion, which had
recently taken place, had been accomplished, and it may easily
be believed that " Burghley himself was scarcely more honoured
by invective from Jesuit pens. " But on the bench he had
neither an equal nor an enemy. Calm, slow, cautious in his
dealings, he was at the same time merry, witty, and overflowing
with humour and repartee ; qualities which recommended him
very highly to the irritable, clever Queen, who loved a jest
as well as he, and who seems to have appreciated the value of a
faithful minister imbued with so much strong common sense,
and with no dangerous qualities. Francis Bacon records a say
ing concerning his father, which was, doubtless, to the point, or
he would not have entered it amongst his apophthegms: " Some
men look wiser than they are, the Lord Keeper is wiser than
he looks."
1 There seein to be many books of gardening and kindred subjects which
will some day be traced to Bacon.
2 Hepworth Dixon's Stoiy of Bacon's Life, p. 17, from which we shall make
large extracts, the book being out of print.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 91
So many circumstances and little particulars crop up as these
things are looked into, allusions and hints about Sir Nicholas as
well as doubts and obscurities concerning his early life and
doings, and such particulars all tend toward making us regard
with more attention, and to attach more importance to this note
of Francis Bacon. The thought suggests itself, Was it, perhaps,
this wise, witty, cautious man, " full of contrivance, and with an
original, protective mind, " who first contrived and projected a
scheme for the accumulation, transmission, and advancement
of learning, which it was left to his two sons, Anthony and
Francis, to develop and perfect ?
This is amongst the problems which at present we cannot
answer, because so little is known or perhaps it should be
said, so little is published concerning Sir Nicholas and
Anthony. Later on we hope to contribute to the general stock
all the information about Anthony which we have been able to
collect from unprinted MSS., and to show that there can be no
doubt of his having been a poet and a considerable author, as
well as an active propagandist for the secret society of which
he seems always to acknowledge his still more talented and
versatile brother, Francis, to have been the head.
For the full and satisfactory elucidation of many difficulties
and obscurities which will arise in the course of this study, it is
of imperative importance that the histories and private life of Sir
Nicholas and Anthony Bacon shall be submitted to a searching
and exhaustive investigation; l for the present we must pass on.
iThe notices of Anthony in ordinary books, such as Spedding, Hepwprth
Dixon, etc., are quite brief and imperfect. A good summary of all these is to
be found in the Dictionary of National Biography, edited by Leslie Stephen
(Smith, Elder & Co., 1885). See vol. ii., Nicholas Bacon and Anthony Bacon.
See also Memoirs of the .Reign of Qtieen, Elizabeth, yols. i. and ii. (A. Miller,
Strand, 1754), and Historical View of the Negotiations between the Courts of
England, France, and Brussels from the year 1592-1617. (London, 1749.) Both
of these by Thomas Birch. They are out of print and should be republished.
The hard worker will also find plenty of material in the 16 folio vols. of
Anthony Bacon's unpublished correspondence Tenison MSS.. Lambeth Pal
ace, and" in the British Museum the following: ffarleian MSS. No. 286, art. 144,
145. 146, 147, 148. Cotton Lib., Calig. E, vii. 205; Nero, B, vi. 290, 291,
293-303, 337, 371. 330. 383-395, 398, 403, 413 b. Lansdown MSS. No. 38, 53, 87,
29, 44, 74, 87, 107, 11, 12.
92 FRANCIS BACON
The mother of Anthony and Francis was an important and
interesting personage. She was the second wife of Sir Nicholas.
The first wife seems to have been a quiet, ordinary woman, of
whom there is little or nothing to say excepting that she left
three sons and three daughters. Of these half-brothers and
sisters, not one appears to have been in any way " brotherly,"
kind, or useful to Francis, excepting the second son, Nathaniel,
who took to the arts, and painted a portrait of his mother stand
ing in a pantry, habited as a cook. It is probable that Nathan
iel assisted his younger brother by making some of the designs
and pictures which will be ex-plained further on.
Lady Anne Bacon was a woman of higher birth, of loftier
character, than her husband. If the three life-like terra cotta
busts at Gorhambury and other existing portraits are compared,
it will be seen that it is from the mother that the boy derived
the chiseled features and the fine development of the brow.
'From the father came the softer expression, the side-long look,
the humourous twinkle in the eye. Lady Anne, though we
know her to have been a tender mother and a woman of strong
affections, was yet a somewhat stern, masterful and managing
head of the house, and so she appears in her portraits. The
daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke of Geddy Hall in Essex, scholar
and tutor to Edward VI., she inherited the whole of her
father's religious creed, and not a little of his accomplishments
in Greek. That religion was to fear God and hate the Pope.
For a papist she had no tolerance, for this indiscriminating re
pugnance had been born in her blood and bred in her bone.
The importance of these particulars can hardly be over-esti
mated when taken in connection with what we know of the
development of Francis Bacon's character, and with the aims
and aspirations which he set up for himself. There never was
a period in his life when judgment seems to have been lacking
to him. His earliest and most childish recorded speeches are
as wise, witty, and judgmatical in their way as his latest.
"His first and childish years," says Dr. Rawley, "were not
without some mark of eminency; at which time he was enslaved
with that pregnancy and towardness of wit, as they were pre-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 93
sages of that deep and universal apprehension which was mani
fest in him afterwards. "
Having, then, this excellent gift of discernment or "judg
ment, " Francis Bacon was never intolerant, for intolerance is a
sign of want of judgment, of that power or desire to grasp both
sides of a question and to judge between them which was a pre
eminent faculty and characteristic of Bacon's mind. The ten
dency to turn every question inside out, hind-side before and
wrong side upwards, is perceptible, not only in his argu
ments, theories, and beliefs, but it pervades the whole of his
language, and is the cause of that antithetical style which is so
peculiarly characteristic in his writings.
Although he must, from his earliest infancy, have been influ
enced by the mother whom he esteemed as a " saint of God,"
with a deep interest in the condition of the church, Francis
Bacon never allowed fervour to degenerate into the " over- ween
ing zeal or extremes " in religion which " do dissolve and
deface the laws of charity and of human society." Lady
Anne perfectly believed that the cause of the Non-Conformists
was the whole cause of Christ. 1 Francis never believed that;
and it seems to be a reasonable explanation of much that took
place between niDther and son, that he was forever putting in
practice his own injunctions regarding the necessity for great
tenderness and delicacy in matters of religion, and urging that
unity could only be hoped for in the church when men should
learn that " fundamental points are to be truly discerned and
distinguished from matters not merely of faith, but of opinion,
order, or good intention. " On fundamental points, on all that
is " of substance," they were of one accord; but Francis
Bacon's religion was built 'upon a far wider and broader basis
than that of his pious, Calvinistic mother, or of many of her
relations. For the Greys, 2 the Burleighs, Russells, Hobys, and
Nevilles, in short, the whole kindred of Francis Bacon by the
male and female lines, professed the severest principles of the
1 Speckling, Let. and L. i. 3.
2 The wife of William Cooke (Lady Anne's brother) was cousin to Lady
Jane Grey.
94 FRANCIS BACON
Keformation. Some of them had been exiled (amongst them
Lady Anne's father, Sir Anthony Cooke), some even sent to the
block in the time of Queen Mary. " In her own fierce repug
nance to the Italian creed she trained her sons," says Hep-
worth Dixon. She may have made them intolerant to the errors
of the Roman creed, but she certainly did not make them so to
the believers themselves; for in after years Francis Bacon's
intercourse with and kindness to members of the Roman Cath
olic church was a great cause of anxiety to his mothur, yet his
intimacy and correspondence with these friends continued to
the end of his life.
Little Francis was ten years old when he attracted the atten
tion of the Queen, and paid her his pretty compliment : " How
old are you, my child? 1 ' " I am just two years younger than
your Majesty's happy reign. " We see him in these early days,
a man amongst boys; now playing with the daisies and speed
wells, and now with the mace and seals ; cutting posies with
the gardener, or crowing after the pigeons, of which, his mother
tells us, he was fond, roast or in a pie. Every tale told of him
wins upon the imagination, whether he hunts for the echo in
St. James' Park, or eyes the jugglers and detects their tricks,
or lisps wise words to the Queen. 1
" At twelve years of age he was sent to Cambridge and en
tered with his brother Anthony as fellow-commoner of Trinity
College, of which John Whitgift, afterwards Archibishop of Can
terbury, was then master. Repeated entries in Whitgift's
accounts prove the brothers to have been delicate children, and
the state of their health a continual cause of anxiety to their
mother, Lady Anne. Many of her letters are extant, and show
her, even to the end of her life, feeding them from her cellars
and her poultry yard, looking sharp after their pills and
' confections/ sending them game from her own larder, and beer
from her own vats, lecturing them soundly on what they should
eat and drink, on their physic and blood-lettings, on how far
they might ride or walk, when safely take supper, and at what
1 Rawley's Life of Bacon. Hep worth Dixon's Story of Bacon's Life.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 95
hour of the morning rise from bed. From notices, scant but clear,
of tlie Lord Keeper's household, we may see the two boys grow
ing up together; both gentle and susceptible in genius; as strong
in character as they were frail in health. 1 One sees Francis by
the light of Hilyard's portrait, as he strolled along the lawn or
reclined under tha elms, with his fat round face, his blue-grey
eyes, his fall of brown curls, and his rips, jesting mouth; in his
face a thought for the bird on the tree, the fragance in the air, the
insect in the stream; a mind susceptible to all impressions. " a
" Brief and barren as the record of his childhood appears, it
may yet help us, " says Spedding, " when studied in the light
which his subsequent history throws back upon it, to under
stand in what manner, and in what degree, the accidents of his
birth had prepared him for the scene on which he was entering.
When the temperament is quick and sensitive, the desire of
knowledge strong, and the faculties so vigorous, obedient, and
equally developed, that they find almost all things easy, the
mind will commonly fasten upon the first object of interest that
presents itself, with the ardour of a first love. " The same sym
pathetic writer goes on to describe the learned, eloquent,
religious mother trying to imbue her little son with her own
Puritanic fervour in church matters ; the affectionate father, the
Lord Keeper, taking him to see and hear the opening of Parlia
ment, and instilling into him a reverence for the mysteries of
statesmanship, and a deep sense of the dignity, responsibility,
and importance of the statesman's calling. Everything that he
saw and heard, the alarms, the hopes, the triumphs of the
time, the magnitude of the interests that depended upon the
Queen's government; the high flow of loyalty which buoyed
her up and urged her forward ; the imposing character of her
council, must have contributed to excite in the boy's heart a
devotion for her person and cause, and aspirations after the
civil dignities in the midst of which he was bred up. For the
1 Ib. From WhitgifCs Accounts, in Brit. Mag. xxxii. 365. Hey wood's Univer
sity Transactions, i.' 123-156. Athenae Cantabrigienses, ii. 314. Lambeth MSS.
650, fol. 54.
2 Dixon. Spedding, Letters and Life, 1, 2, 3.
96 FRANCIS 3 AGON
present, however, his field of ambition was in the school-room
and library, where, perhaps, from the delicacy of his constitu
tion, but still more from the bent of his genius, he was more at
home than in the playground. His career there was victorious ;
new prospects of boundless extent opening on every side, 1 until
at length, just about the age at which an intellect of quick
growth begins to be conscious of original power, he was sent to
the university, where he hoped to learn all that men knew.
By the time, however, that he had gone through the usual course,
he was conscious of a disappointment, and came out of college at
fifteen, l)y his own desire apparently, and, without waiting to
take a degree, in precisely the same opinion as Montaigne when he
left college, as he says, " having run through my whole course,
as they call it, and, in truth, without any advantage that I can
honestly brag of. "
Francis stayed at Cambridge only for three years, being more
than once driven away by outbreaks of the plague; once for so long
as eight or nine months. Yet he had made such progress in his .
studies that he seems to have begged his father to remove him,
because he had already found that the academical course which
he was pursuing was " barren of the production of fruits for
the life of man. " Leaving the university before he was sixteen
and without taking a degree, he yet carried with him the germs
of his plan for reconstituting the whole round of the arts and
sciences, a plan from which he never departed, and upon which
he was still working at the time of his death.
That this should have been possible, argues an unusually
extensive reading, and an acquaintance with branches of learn
ing far beyond the subjects prescribed by the university author
ities, and taking together all the facts concerning his great
schemes, and the indications which he gives as to the origin of
one of them, it is probable that during his sixteenth year, and
perhaps earlier, he embarked in the study of the Indian, Arabian,
l It seems probable that in these early days the ideas and schemes of Sir
Nicholas regarding an improved system of education and learning were dis
coursed of to his little son, and that the germs of his own great plans were thus
planted.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 97
Egyptian, and other ancient philosophers and religious writers,
who gained such an influence over his imagination, and from
whom he seems to have derived many hints for the symbolism
employed in the teaching of his secret society.
However this may be, it is certain that Francis Bacon was, in
very early'childhood, possessed with an extraordinary clear-head
edness, and with a maturity of judgment which caused him to
form, when he was but a mere boy, those " fixed and unalterable
and universal opinions " upon which the whole of his after life- work
and philosophy were based opinions as characteristic as they
were in advance of his age ; theories and ideas which we shall
presently find claimed for others, but which, wherever they make
themselves heard, echo to our ears the voice of the " Great
Master."
During his three years' stay at the university, Francis fell, says
Dr. Rawley, " into the dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle, not
for the unworthiness of the author, to whom lie would ascribe all
high attributes , but for the unfruitf illness of the way, being a
philosophy (his lordship used to say) only strong for disputations
and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the
benefit of the life of man, in which mind he continued to his
dying day. "
It seems not a little strange that this " dislike " of Bacon,
which has been even made the subject of reproach to him, and
which is decidedly treated as an unreasonable prejudice pecul
iar to himself, should not have been equally observed in the
writings of nearly every contemporary author who makes men
tion of Aristotle. Let this point be noted. To cite passages would
fill too much space, but readers are invited to observe for them
selves, and to say if it is not true that every distinguished " au
thor " of Bacon's day, and for some years afterwards, even whilst
ascribing to Aristotle " all high attributes, " decries his system
of philosophy, and for the same reasons which Bacon gives,
namely, that it was" fruitless" that it consisted more of words
than of matter, and that it did not enable followers of Aristotle
to rise above the level of Aristotle. Yet this had not hitherto
been the general opinion.
7
98 FRANCIS BACON
" It seemed that toward the end of the sixteenth century,
men neither knew nor desired to know more than was to
be learned 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 behalf, and by suddenly
lighting up within the region of ' the unchangeable and incor
ruptible,' and presently extinguishing a fixed star 1 as bright
as Jupiter, to be protesting by signs and wonders against the
cardinal doctrine of the Aristotelian philosophy.
" It was then that a thought struck Mm, the date of which de
serves to be recorded, not for anything extraordinary in the
thought itself, which had perhaps occurred to others before him,
but for its influence upon his after life. If our study of nature be
thus barren, he thought, our method of study must be wrong:
might not a better method be found? The suggestion was simple
and obvious, and the singularity was in the way he took hold of
it. With most men such a thought would have come and gone
in a passing regret. . . . But with him the gift of seeing in pro
phetic vision what might be and ought to be was united with the
practical talent oft devising means and handling minute details.
He could at once imagine like*n, poet, and execute like a clerk of
the works. Upon the conviction, This may be done, followed at
once the question, How may it be done? Upon that question
answered, followed the resolution to try to do it. " 2
We earnestly request the reader to observe that the subject of
this paragraph is a little boy twelve or thirteen years old. The
biographer continues:
iThe new star in Cassiopeia which shone with full lustre on the youthful
Bacon's freshmanship (and to which he is said to have attached great importance
as an augury of his own future) was the same star or, as some think,
comet which guided the' wise men of the East, the Chaldean astronomers and
astrologers to the birth-place of our blessed Saviour. This star of Bethlehem
has since appeared thrice, at intervals varying slightly in length. According to
astronomical calculations, it might have re-entered Cassiopeia in 1887, but its
uninterrupted movements will correspond with those previously recorded if it
appears again in 1891. We should then say truly that Bacon's star is still in the
ascendant.
2 Let. and Life, i. 4. Again we would remind the reader of the great probabil
ity that Sir Nicholas Bacon had implanted this idea in the mind of his brilliant
little son.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 99
" Of the degrees by which the suggestion ripened into a pro
ject, the project into an undertaking, and the undertaking un
folded itself into distinct proportions and the full grandeur of
its total dimensions, I can say nothing. But that the thought
first occurred to him at Cambridge, therefore before he had com
pleted his fifteenth year, we know upon the best authority his
own statement to Dr. Eawley. I believe it ought to be regarded
as the most important event of his life; the event which had a
greater influence than any other upon his character and future
course."
This passage seems, at first sight, rather to contradict the
former, which says that the thought came to Bacon when first
he went to Cambridge. But the discrepancy appears to have
been caused by the difficulty experienced, as well by biographer
as reader, in conceiving that such thoughts, such practical
schemes, could have been the product of a child's mind.
All evidence which we shall have to bring forward goes to
confirm the original statement, that Francis conceived his plan
of reformation soon after going up to the university; that he
matured and organised a system of working it by means of a
secret society, before he was fifteen years old, by which time
he had already written much which he afterwards disdained as
poor stuff, but which was published, and which has all found a
respectable or distinguished place in literature.
It is not difficult to imagine what would have been the effect
upon such a mind as this of grafting on to the teaching received
in a strict Puritan home the study, by turns, of every kind of
ancient and pagan philosophy. And it is clear that Francis Bacon
plunged with delight into these occult branches of learning, his
poetic mind finding a strong attraction in the figurative language
and curious erudition of the old alchemists and mystics. Did
such studies for awhile unsettle his religious ideas, and prepare
him to shake off the bands of a narrow sectarianism? If so,
they certainly never shook his faith in God, or in the Bible as
the expression of " God's will. " Such researches only increased
his anxiety and aspiration after light and truth. He never wrote
without some reference to the Divine Wisdom and Goodness,
100 FRANCIS SA CON
some " laud and thanks to God for his marvellous works, with
prayers imploring His ayde and blessing for the illumination of
our labours, and the turning of them to good and holy uses. "
Bright, witty, and humourous as Francis naturally was, san
guine and hopeful as was his disposition, there is yet a strain of
melancholy in most of his writings. " A gravity beyond his
years " in youth -in mature age a look " as though he pitied
men. " And he did pity them; he grieved and was oppressed at
the thought that " man, the most excellent and noble, the prin
cipal and mighty work of God, wonder of nature, created in
God's image, put into paradise to know him and glorify him, and
to do his will that this most noble creature, pitiful change!
is fallen from his first estate, and must eat his meat in sorrow,
subject to death and all manner of infirmities, all kinds of
calamities which befall him in this life, and perad venture eternal
misery in the life to come. ' 71
The more he cogitated, the more he was assured that the
cause of all this sin and misery is ignorance. " Ignorance is the
curse of God, but knowledge is the wing by which we fly to
heaven." 2
He reflected that " God created man in His own image, in a
reasonable soul, in innocency, in free-will, in sovereignty. That
He gave him a law and commandment which was in his power
to keep, but he kept it not; but made a total defection from
God. . . . That upon the fall of man, death and vanity en
tered by the justice of God, and the image of God was defaced,
and heaven and earth, which were made for man's use, were
subdued to corruption by his fall, . . . but that the law of
nature was first imprinted in that remnant of light of nature
which was left after the fall; . . . that the sufferings and
merits of Christ, as they are sufficient to do away the sins of
the whole world, so they are only effectual to those who are
regenerate by the Holy Ghost, who breatheth where He
will, of free grace which quickeneth the spirit of a man.
1 Anatomy of Melancholy, i, 174.
2 3 Heniy VI. iv, 7,
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 101
That the work of the Spirit, though it be not tied to any
means in heaven or earth, yet is ordinarily dispensed by the
preaching of the word, . . . prayer and reading, by God's bene
fits, His judgments and the contemplation of His creatures."
Since most of these means are cut off from those who are
plunged in dark, gross ignorance, an improved- method of study
must precede the universal reformation which Bacon contem
plated in literature, science, philosophy, and in religion itself.
To bring about such a reformation would be the greatest boon
which could be conferred upon suffering humanity. By G od's
help he could and would bring it about.
It would be almost unreasonable to suppose that the boy-
philosopher did not communicate the germs of such thoughts
and aspirations to the father to whom he was deeply attached,
| and whose ideas are known to have been in close sympathy with
! those of his favourite son. Dr. Rawley says, significantly:
" Though he was the youngest son in years, he was not the low
est in his father 's affection; " and, as has been said in a previous
chapter, the visions of Francis seem to have been in some de
gree foreshadowed by or based upon earlier plans of the old
Treasurer. At all events, the sagacious father seconded the
plans, and perceived the growing genius of his favourite son, and
when Francis complained that he was being taught at Cam
bridge mere words and not matter, Sir Nicholas allowed him to
quit the university, and Francis, after lingering a year or more
at home, at his own desire, and, most probably, in accordance
with a conviction which he afterwards expressed, that " travel
is in the younger sort a part of education, "was sent in the train
of Sir Amias Paulet, the Queen's Ambassador to France, " to
see the wonders of the world abroad. "
Hitherto we have scarcely mentioned Anthony Bacon, the
elder of the two sons of Sir Nicholas by his second wife, Lady
Anne ; and, indeed, very little is known to the world in general
of this man, who yet, we have reason to believe, was a very
remarkable person, and who, although he rarely appeared upon
the scene, yet played a very important part behind the curtain,
where by and by we will try to peep. Anthony was two years
102 FRANCIS BACON
older than Francis, and the brothers were deeply attached to
each other. They never address or speak of each other but in
words of devoted affection " My deerest brother," " Antonie
my comforte. " As they went together to Cambridge, so prob
ably they left at the same time, but even of this we are not
sure. What next bofell Anthony is unknown to his biographers,
and there is a strange obscurity and mystery about the life of
this young man, who, nevertheless, is described by Dr. Rawley as
" a gentleman of as high a wit, though not of such profound
learning, as his brother. " That he was a generous, unselfish,
and admiring brother, who thought no sacrifice great which
could be made for the benefit of Francis, and for the forwarding
of his enterprises, we know, and there is abundant proof of the
affection and reverence which he had for his younger and more
gifted brother. The mystery connected with Anthony appears
to be consequent upon his having acted as the propagandist on
the continent of Francis Bacon's secret society and new phi
losophy. He conducted an enormous correspondence with
people of all kinds who could be useful to the cause for which
the brothers were laboring. He seems to have received and
answered the large proportion of letters connected with the
business part of the society; he collected and forwarded to
Francis all important books and intelligence which could be of
use, and devoted to his service not only his life, but all his
worldly wealth, which we see mysteriously melting away, but
which, no doubt, went, like that of Francis, into the common
fund which was destined, as one of the correspondents expresses
it, to " keep alight this fire " so recently kindled.
Sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's letters lie, almost
unknown, in the library at Lambeth Palace. These leave no
loophole for doubt as to his real mission and purpose in living
abroad. We hope to return to them by and- by, in a chapter
devoted to these letters alone. For the present they are only
mentioned to indicate the source of much of our information
as to Anthony's life and aims.
Neither of the brothers was strong in health. Anthony,
especially, soon became a martyr to gout and other ailments
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 103
which were supposed to explain the fact of the comparative re
tirement in which he lived at home and abroad. Francis seems
chiefly to have suffered from those nervous disorders tooth
ache, sleeplessness, and " vapours, " " clouds and melancholy "
which too often beset the body where the spirit over-crows" it.
In later life, looking back, he speaks of having had good health
in his youth; so the " puddering with the potigarie " was proba
bly entailed by the overstrain of such unremitting and exciting
work as he undertook. His natural constitution must have been
singularly good, and his strength unusual, for to the labours of
Hercules he added those of Atlas, cleansing and restoring the
world, and bearing the weight of the whole tremendous work
upon his own shoulders.
But for the present we may look on Francis Bacon as free from
care or anxiety. " We must picture him as in the season of all-
embracing hope, dreaming on things to come, and rehearsing
his life to himself in that imaginary theatre where all things go
right; for such was his case when hopeful, sensitive, bash
ful, amiable, wise and well-informed for his age, and glowing
with noble aspirations he put forth into the world with happy
auspices in his sixteenth year. " 1
What a change of scene, ,what a revulsion of ideas, what an
upsetting of habits, opinions and prejudices, for a boy to be sent
forth from the quiet college life under the supervision of Whitgift,
and from the still more strict routine of a Puritan home, into the
gaiety, frivolity, dissipation of the life of courts and camps!
True, Sir Amias and Lady Margaret Paulet, in whose suite
Francis was to travel, were kind and good, and, if young in
years, Francis was old in judgment. But all the more, let us
picture to ourselves the effect on that lively imagination, and
keenly observant mind, of the scenes into which he was now
precipitated. For the English Ambassador was going on a mis
sion to the court of Henri III. at Paris, and from thence with the
throng of nobles who attended the King of France and the Queen
Mother. The English embassy, with Francis in its train, went in
1 Spedding, Letters and Life, i. 6.
104 FRANCIS BACON
royal progress down to Blois, Tours and Poictiers, in the midst
of alarms, intrigues, and disturbances, intermixed with festivi
ties and license, such as he could never have dreamed of. The
French historian of the war, though a witness of and actor in
this comedy, turned from it in disgust. 1 " When two courts
which rivalled each other in gallantry were brought together
the consequence may be guessed. Every one gave himself up to
pleasure; feasts and ballets followed each other, and love became
the serious business of life. " 2
At Poictiers, which he reached in 1577, Francis Bacon set up
headquarters for three years. Yet we are quite sure, from re
marks dropped here and there, that, during these three years,
he made various excursions into Spain and Italy, learning to
speak, or, at least, to understand, both Spanish and Italian.
He also made acquaintance with Michel de Montaigne, then
Mayor of Bordeaux, and perhaps he travelled with him, and kept
his little record of the travels. 3 For during the time of Francis
Bacon's sojourn in France we still hear of him as studying and
writing. Plunged for the first time into the midst of riotous
courtly dissipation, the record of him still is, that he was
observing, drawing up a paper on the state of Europe and
what else? We think also that he was writing essays on the
society which was spread out before him, and which he regarded
as a scene in a play. He wrote as the thoughts ran into his
pen, with never-failing judgment and perception, with the
naivete of youth, with much enjoyment, but with mistrust of
himself, and with profound dissatisfaction, not only with the
state of society, but with his own enjoyment. Society, he knew,
would neither relish nor be improved by essays which were
known to be written by a youth of eighteen or nineteen ; he
would, therefore, borrow the robe of respected eld, and the
essays should come forth with authority, fathered by no less
a person than the Mayor of Bordeaux. 4
l Hepworth Dixon. 2 Sully's Memoirs.
3 The Journal du Yoyage de Michel de Montaigne en Italie, par la Suisse
et I'Allemagne, 1579 (Old Style), is written in the third person: "JJe, M. de
Montaigne, reported," etc.
4 Of course it will be understood Ibat the first edition only of the Essays is sup-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 105
These are by no means the only works which were (in our
opinion) the products of those light-hearted, exciting days,
when with youth, health, genius, keen powers of enjoyment, of
observation, and of imagination, with endless energy and indus
try, and ample means at his disposal, " Wealth, honour, troops of
friends, " he caught the first glimpses of a dazzling phase of
life, and of the " brave new world that hath such people in it. " We
may judge, from the inscription on a miniature painted by
Billiard in 1578, of the impression made by his conversation upon
those who heard it. There is his face, as it appeared in his
eighteenth year, and round it may be read the graphic 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 !
He was still at Paris, and wishing to be at home again, when,
on February 17, 1579, Francis dreamed that his father's coun
try house, G-orhambury, was plastered over with black mortar.
About that time, Sir Nicholas, having accidentally fallen asleep
at an open window, during the thaw which followed a great fall
of snow, was seized with a sudden and fatal illness of which he
died in two days. The question whether in future Francis
"might live to study" or must "study to live, " was then
trembling in the balance. This accident turned the scale
against him. Sir Nicholas, having provided for the rest of his
family, had laid by a considerable sum of money, which he
meant to employ in purchasing an estate for his youngest son.
His sudden death prevented the purchase, and left Francis with
only a fraction of the fortune intended for him, the remainder
being divided amongst his brothers and sisters.
Thenceforward, for several years, we find him making strenuous
efforts to avoid the necessity of following the law as a profession,
and endeavouring to procure some service under the Queen, more
fitted to his tastes and abilities. But the Cecils, now in power,
not only refused to help their kinsman (of whom it is said they
posed to have been written at this time. The large and unexplained additions
and alterations are of a much later period, and the enlarged edition did not ap
pear in England till long after Bacon's death.
106 FRANCIS BACON
were jealous), but, that he might receive no effectual assistance
from higher quarters, they spread reports that he was a vain
speculator, unfit for real business. Bacon was thus driven,
" against the bent of his genius, " to the law as his only resource.
Meanwhile he lived with his mother at Gorhambury, St. Albans.
Any one who will be at the jpains to study the Shakespeare
plays, in the order in which Dr. Delius has arranged them (and
which he considered to be the most correct chronological order),
will see that they agree curiously with the leading events of
Bacon's external life. So closely indeed do the events coincide
with the plots of the plays, that a complete story of Bacon's true
life has been drawn from them. The following notes may be
suggestive:
1st Henry VI. The plot is laid in France, and the scenes
occur in the very provinces and districts of Maine, Anjou, Or
leans, Poictiers, etc., through which Bacon travelled in the
w&ke of the French court.
2nd Henry VI. The battle of St. Albans. The incident
recorded on the tomb of Duke Humphrey, in an epitaph written
circa 1621 (when Bacon was living at St. Albans), of the impostor
who pretended to have recovered his sight at St. Alban's shrine,
is the same as in the play. See 2 Henry VI. ii. 1.
The Taming of the Shrew, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, etc.,
Romeo and Juliet, and The Merchant of Venice, all reflecting
Francis Bacon's studies as a lawyer, combined with his corre
spondence with his brother Anthony, then living in Italy.
When Francis fell into great poverty and debt, he was forced
to get help from the Jews and Lombards, and was actually cast
into a sponging-house by a " hard Jew," on account of a bond
which was not to fall due for two months. Meanwhile Anthony,
returning from abroad, mortgaged his property to pay his
brother's debts, taking his own credit and that of his friends, in
order to relieve Francis, precisely as the generous and unselfish
Antonio is represented to do in The Merchant of Venice. This
play appeared in the following year, and the hard Jew was
immortalised as Shylock. The brothers spent the summer and
autumn of 1592 at Twickenham,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 107
The Midsummer Night's Dream appears shortly afterwards.
In this piece Bacon seems, whilst creating his fairies, to have
called to his help his new researches into the history of the
winds, and of heat and cold.
The plays and their various editions and additions enable us
to trace Bacon's progress in science and ethical and metaphysical
studies. The politics of the time also make their mark.
Richard II. was a cause of dire offence to the Queen, since it
alluded to troubles in Ireland, and Elizabeth considered that it
conveyed rebukes to herself, of which Essex made use to stir up
sedition. The whole history of this matter is very curious, and
intimately connected with Bacon, but it is too long for repeti
tion here. 1
Hamlet and Lear contain graphic descriptions of melancholia
and raving madness. They appeared after Lady Anne Bacon
died, having lost the use of her faculties, and " being, " said
Bishop Goodman, " little better than frantic in her age." She
Fell into a sadness, then into a fast,
Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness,
Thence to a lightness, and by this declension
Into the madness wherein,
like Hamlet, she raved, and which her children wailed for.
The particulars of the death of Queen Elizabeth, which Bacon
learned from her physician, bear a striking resemblance to pass-
ages in King Lear.
Macbeth appears to reflect a combination of circumstances
connected with Bacon. About 1605-6 an act of Parliament was
passed against witches, James implicitly believing in their
existence and power, and Bacon, in part, at least, sharing that
belief. James, too, had been much offended by the remarks
passed upon his book on demonology, and by the contemptuous
jokes in which the players had indulged against the Scots.
Mixed up with Bacon's legal and scientific inquiries into witch-
ISee Bacon's Apophthegms, Devey, p. 166, and the Apologia of Essex.
2 See Did Francis Bacon write Shakespeare, part ii. p. 26, and Bacon's Apo
logia and Apophthegms, *
108 FRANCIS BACON
craft, we find, in Macbeth, much that exhibits his acquaintance
with the History of the Winds, of his experiments on Dense
and Rare, and his observations on the Union of Mind and
Body.
A Winter's Tale is notably fall of Bacon's observations on
horticulture, hybridising, grafting, etc., and on the virtues of
plants medicinal, and other matters connected with his notes
on the Regimen of Health.
Cymbeline, and Antony and Cleopatra, show him studying
vivisection, and the effects of various poisons on the human
body. The effects of mineral and vegetable poisons are also
illustrated in Hamlet, and if these plays were written so early
as some commentators suppose, then we may believe that cer
tain portions were interpolated after Bacon's investigations
into the great poisoning cases which he was, later on, called
upon to conduct.
The Tempest describes a wreck on the Bermudas, and Cali
ban, the man-monster or devil. It was published soon after
the loss of the ship Admiral, in which Bacon had embarked
money to aid Southampton, Pembroke, and Montgomery in the
colonisation of Virginia. The ship was wrecked on the Ber
mudas, tbe " Isle of Divils." About tjiis time the History of
the Winds and of the Sailing of Ships was said to be written.
Timon of Athens, showing the folly of a large-hearted and
over-generous patron in trusting to " time's flies " and " mouth-
friends, " who desert him in the time of need, seems to have
been written by Bacon after his fall and retirement, to satirise
his own too sanguine trust in parasites, who lived upon him so
long as he was prosperous, but who, on his reverse of fortune,
deserted, and left him to the kindness of the few true friends
and followers on whom he was absolutely dependent.
Henry VIII. completes the picture. In a letter from Bacon to
the King, in 1622, he quotes (in the original draft) the words
which Wolsey utters in the play of Henry VIII. , iii. 2, 451-457,
though Bacon adds: " My conscience says no such thing; for I
know not but in serving you I have served God in one. But it
may be if I had pleased men as I have pleased you, it would
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 109
have been better with me. " This passage was cut out of the
fair copy of the letter; its original idea appeared next year in
the play of Henry VIII.
Ben Jonson describes, in well-known lines, the labour and
artistic skill necessary for the production of mighty verse so
richly spun and woven so fit as Shakespeare 1 s. To a profound
study of Nature, which is exalted by, " made proud of his de
signs, " must be added the art which arrays Nature in "lines
so richly spun and woven so fit:"
"For though the poet's matter Nature be,
His art must give the fashion ; and that he
Who casts to write a living line must sweat
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat
Upon the Muses' anvil ; turn the same
And himself with it, that ho thinks to frame ,
Or for the laurel ho may gain a scorn ;
For a good poet's made as well as born.
And such wert thou."
But, as a mere child, he seems to have written, not words
without matter, but matter without art, and we can well imagine
him saying to himself in after years :
" Why did I write 1 What sin to me unknown
Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own 1
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame,
I lisped in numbers, and the numbers came."
There is not one, not even the j^oorest, amongst the Shake-
speare plays, which could possibly have been the first or nearly
the earliest of its author's efforts in that kind. A careless peru
sal of some of the " mysteries " or play interludes which were
in favour previous to the year 1579 will enable any one to per
ceive the wide chasm which lies between such pieces and say
Titus Andronicus and the plays of Henry VI. There are
passages in these plays which no tyro in the arts of poetry and of
playwriting could have penned, and for our own part we look,
not backward, but forward, to the crowd of " minor Elizabethan
dramatists" in order to find the crude, juvenile effusions which,
110 FRANCIS BACON
we believe, will prove to have been struck off by Francis Bacon 1
at the first heat upon the Muses' anvil. These light and un
labored pieces were probably written, at first", chiefly for his own
amusement, or to be played (as they often were) in the Inns of
Court, or by the private a servants" of his friends, and in their
own houses. ,
Later on, we know that he took a serious view of the impor
tant influence for good or for bad which is easily produced by
shows and " stage-plays, " set before the eyes of the public. As
has been said, he always, and from the first, regarded the stage,
not as a mere " toy," but as a powerful means of good as a
glass in which the whole world should be reflected " a mirror
held up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her
own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and
pressure. "
" Men, " he said, " had too long l adored the deceiving and
deformed imagery which the unequal mirrors of their own minds
had presented to them/ " the 4< deformities " of ignorance, su
perstition, affectation, and coarseness. They should see these
deformities of vice and ignorance reflected so truly, so life-like,
that virtue should charm, whilst vice should appear so repulsive
that men should shrink from it with loathing.
Many of the plays which we attribute to Francis Bacon and
his brother Anthony treat of low life, and contain not a few
coarse passages. But the age was coarse and gross, and it must
be observed that, even in such passages, vice is never attrac
tive; on the contrary, it is invariably made repelling and con
temptible, sometimes disgusting, and in every case good and the
right are triumphant. It is a matter for serious consideration
whether the pieces which are exhibited before our lower and
middle classes possess any of the merits which are conspicuous
in the plays (taken as a whole) of the time of Elizabeth. We
see them, we admire or laugh, and we come away, for the most
part, without having heard a single phrase worthy of repetition
or record. We remember little of the play twenty-four hours
l Again we add a saving clause in favour of the little known Anthony, also
" a concealed poet."
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. Ill
after we have seen it,, and we are no whit the wiser, though at
the time we may have been the merrier, and that is not a bad
thing.
Bacon perceived, doubtless by his own youthful experience,
that men are far more readily impressed by what they see than
by what they hear or read. That, moreover, they must be
amused, and that the manner and means of their recreation are
matters of no slight importance. For the bow cannot always
be bent, and to make times of leisure truly recreative and
profitable to mind as well as body, was, he thought, a thing
much to be wished, and too long neglected. The lowest and
poorest, as well as the most dissipated or the most cultivated,
love shows and stage plays. He loved them himself. Would it
not be possible to make the drama a complete (though unrecog
nised) school of instruction in morals, manners, and politics,
and at the same time so highly entertaining and attractive
that men should unconsciously be receiving good and wholesome
doctrines, whilst they sought merely to amuse themselves I
There is no question that such things were to him true recre
ation and delight. Sports and pastimes have for one object
" to drive away the heavy thoughts of care, " and to refresh the
spirits dulled by overwork, and by harping on one string. Idle
ness, especially enforced idleness, is no rest to such a mind as
Bacon's; and we know that he was always weariest and least
well in " the dead long vacation. " So we are sure that he often
exclaimed, like Theseus, in the Midsummer Night 1 s Dream:
"Come, now; what masques, what dances shall we have,
To wear away this long age of three hours
Between our after-supper and bedtime ?
"Where is our usual manager of mirth ?
"What revels are in hand? Is there no play
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour ?
Say, what abridgment have you for this evening?
What masque ? what music ? How shall we beguile
The lazy time, if not with some delight?"
Like Theseus and his friends, he finds little satisfaction in
the performance of the ancient play which is proposed, and
112 FRANCIS BACON
which he knows by heart, or in the modern one, in which
"there is not one word apt or one word fitted." He mourns
the degradation of the stage in ancient times so noble, and
even in the hands of the Jesuits wisely used, as a discipline for
the actor, and a means of wide instruction for the spectators.
There is reason to think that Francis, in childhood, showed
great talent for acting, and that he took leading parts in the
Latin plays which were performed at college. At home, such
doings were checked by Lady Anne's Puritan prejudices. The
strong tendency which Anthony and Francis evinced for the
theatre, and for " mumming and inasquiug " with their compan
ions, was a source of great anxiety and displeasure to this good
lady. She bewailed it as a falling-off from grace, and prayed
yet that it might not be accounted a sin that she should permit
her dear son Francis to amuse himself at home in getting up
such entertainments, with the help of the domestics. All this
renders it improbable that he ever had the opportunity of going
to a public theatre until he went abroad , and perhaps the very
coarseness and stupidity of what he then saw put on the stage
may have 'disgusted him, acting as an incentive to him to attempt
someting better.
At all events, hardly had he settled down in Gray's Inn, before
the plays began to appear. From this time there are frequent
allusions, in the records of the Gray's Inn Revels, to the assist
ance which he gave, and which seems, in most cases, to have
consisted in writing, as well as managing, the whole entertain
ment. If. any names are mentioned in connection with such
revels, or with the masques and devices which were performed
at court, these names almost always include that of Francis
Bacon. Sometimes he is the only person named in connection
with these festivities.
All this might be taken as a matter of course, so long as
Bacon was but a youth, though even at that time the fact of
his being a playwright, or stage-manager, would seem to be
remarkable, considering the horror with which his mother, and
no doubt many others of his near and dear Puritan relatives,
regarded the performance of stage-plays and masques.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 113
Lady Anne, in a letter written to Anthony, just before the
Revels and the first performance of the Comedy of Errors, at
Gray's Inn, in 1594, exhorts him and Francis that they may
" not mum, nor mask, nor sinfully revel. Who were sometime
counted first, God grant they wane not daily, and deserve to be
named last. " 1
Considering the low estimation in which the degraded stage of
that date was held by all respectable people, it is not astonish
ing that during Bacon's lifetime (if there were no more potent
motive than this) his friends should combine to screen his repu
tation from the terrible accusation of being concerned with such
base and despised matters. But it is long since this feeling
against the stage has passed away; and, moreover, in some
cases, we find Bacon actually instrumental in producing the
works of " Shakespeare, "not to mention those which have become
classical and of much esteem. It is, therefore, not a little sur
prising to find that particulars and records, which would have
been reckoned as of the greatest interest and importance, if they
had concerned Shakspere or Ben Jonson, should be hushed up,
or passed over, when they are found closely to connect Francis
Bacon with theatrical topics. As an illustration of our meaning,
it may be mentioned that in the voluminous " Life" of Spedding
the index, at the end of each of the five volumes, does not enable the
uninitiated reader to trace the fact that Bacon wrote either devices,
masques, interludes, entertainments, or sonnets; none of these
words appear in any index. Moreover, although the device of
the Order of the Helmet, and the masques of the Indian Boy, and
the Conference of Pleasure, are partly printed and all described
in that work, we seek in vain for the pieces under these or any
other titles, and they are only to be found by looking under
Grafs Inn revels. Evidently there has been no great desire to
enlighten the world in general as to Bacon's connection with the
theatrical world of his day perhaps it was thought that such a
connection was derogatory to his position and reputation as a
great philosopher.
l Lambeth MSS. 650, 222, quoted by Dixon. So here again we see Anthony
also mixed up with play- writing.
8
114 FUANCIS BA CON
Hepworth Dixon goes into the opposite extreme when he
speaks of Lady Anne, in letters written as late as 1592 ; " loving
and counselling her two careless boys. " Francis was at that
date thirty, and Anthony thirty-two years of age. A year later
Francis wrote to his uncle, Lord Burleigh: " I wax somewhat
ancient. One and thirty years is a good deal of sand in a man's
hour-glass. My health, I thank God. I find confirmed; and I do
not fear that action shall impair it, because I account my ordi
nary course of study and meditation to be more painful than
most parts of action are." He goes on to say that he always
hoped to take some " middle place" in which he could serve her
Majesty, not for the love either of honour or business, " for the
contemplative planet carrieth me away wholly, " but because it
was his duty to devote his abilities to his sovereign, and also
necessary for him to earn money, because, though he could not
excuse himself of sloth or extravagance, " yet my health is not
to spend, nor my course to get. " Then he makes that remark
able declaration which further explains his perpetual need of
money: " I confess that Ihave as vast contemplative ends as I have
moderate civil ends; for I have taken all knowledge to be my
province. This, whether it be curiosity or vainglory, or,-if one
may take it favorably, pliilanthropia, is so fixed in my mind that
it cannot be removed. "
That the biographer should have thought fit to use such an
expression as " careless boy " in regard to the indefatigable
philosopher, " the most prodigious wit," who in childhood had a
gravity beyond his years, and who at thirty felt " ancient,"
speaks volumes as to the impression made on the mind of a sym-
1 pathetic reader by the various small particulars which shed light
on the gay and sprightly side of Francis Bacon's many-sided
character.
In the letter to his uncle Bacon goes on to say, " I do easily
see that place of any reasonable countenance doth bring com
mandment of more wits than a man's own, which is the thing I
greatly affect. " Here is a reason, the only reason, why he desired
to gain a good position in the world. With place and wealth
would come power to carry out his vast contemplative ends.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 115
Without money or position he could have no such hope, and he
adds, " If your lordship will not carry me on, I will not do as
Anaxagoras did, who reduced himself with contemplation unto
voluntary poverty; but this I will do: I will sell the inheritance
that I have, and purchase some lease of quick revenue, or some
office of gain that shall be executed by deputy, and so give over
all care of service, and become some sorry book-maker, or a true
pioneer in that mine of truth which he said lay so deep. This
which I have writ unto your Lordship is rather thoughts than
words, being set down without art, l disguising, or reservation,
wherein I have done honour, both to your Lordship's wisdom, in
judging that that will best be believed by your Lordship which is
truest, and to your Lordship's good nature, in retaining nothing
from you."
Bacon wrote this letter from his lodging at Gray's Inn at the
beginning of the year 1592. He was now just entering his thirty-
second year, and, on the surface, little had appeared of his real
life and action. But still waters run deep. He had already
accomplished enough to have filled the measure of a dozen ordi
nary lives, and apart from his own actual writings we have now
abundant evidence to show how his vast plans for universal cult
ure and reformation were spreading more abroad than at
home, but everywhere, manifesting themselves in the revival,
the " renaissance " of literature and science.
The rearing of the new " Solomon's House " was begun. Poor
as he was, almost solitary on the heights of thought, but yet with
many willing minds struggling to approach and relieve him, he
knew with prophetic prescience that his work was growing, im
perishable, neither " subject to Time's love nor to Time's hate."
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 feels not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-numbered hours;
But all alone stands hugely politic. 2
l Spedding, L. L., i. 109. Comp. Hamlet, ii. 2, 95-99, etc. 2 Sonnets cxxiv, cxxv.
116 FRANCIS BA CON
To witness this he calls the fools of time. What was it to him that
he had " borne the canopy, with his externe the outward honour
ing' 7 ? Whilst living thus externally, as fortune forced him to
do, as mere servant to greatness, a brilliant but reluctanUianger-
on at the court, he was meanwhile collecting materials, digging
the foundations, calling in helpers to " lay great bases for eter
nity. "
CHAPTER V.
PLAYWRIGHT AND POET-PHILOSOPHER.
"Playing, whoso end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere,
the mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image,
and the very ago and body of the time his form and pressure."
Hamlet.
ABOUT the year 1592 Bacon wrote a device entitled The
Conference of Pleasure. 1 It was evidently prepared for
some festive occasion, but whether or not it was ever performed
in the shape in which it is seen in the existing manuscript, is
not known.
The paper book which contained this device bore on its out
side leaf a list of its original contents, but the stitches which
fastened the sheets together have given way, or were intention
ally severed, and the central pages are gone a great loss,
when we know that these pages included copies of the plays of
Richard II. and Eichard III., of which it would have been inter
esting to have seen the manuscript.
The Conference of Pleasure represents four friends meeting
for intellectual amusement, when each in turn delivers a speech
in praise of whatever he holds " most worthy. " This explains
the not very significant title given to this work in the catalogue
which is found upon the fly-leaf of the paper book: " Mr. Fr.
Bacon Of Giving Tribute, or that which is due. "
The speeches delivered by the four friends are described as
The Praise of the Worthiest Virtue, or Fortitude, " The Worthi
est Affection, '' Love ; " The Worthiest Power, " Knowledge;
and the fourth and last, " The Worthiest Person. " This is
the same that was afterwards printed, and published under
l This device was edited by Mr. Spedding (1867) from the manuscript, which
he found amongst a quantity of paper belonging to the Duke of Northumberland.
("7)
118 FBAN&S EA CON
the title of " Mr. Bacon in Praise of his Soveraigne." It bears
many points of resemblance to Cranmer's speech in the last
scene of Henrg VIII. ^ and is ostensibly a praise of Queen Eliza
beth. Covertly it is a praise of Bacon's sovereign lady, the
Crowned Truth. The editor of the Conference observes, as so
many others have done, that there is in the style of this piece a
certain affectation and rhetorical cadence, traceable in Bacon's
other compositions of this kind, and agreeable to the taste of
the time. He does not, however, follow other critics in saying
that this courtly affectation was Bacon's style, or that the
fact of -his having written such a piece is sufficient to disprove
him the author of other compositions written more naturally
and easily. On the contrary, he describes this stilted language as
so alien to his individual taste and natural manner, that there
is no single feature by which his own style is more specially dis
tinguished, wherever he speaks in his own person, whether form
ally or familiarly, whether in the way of narrative, argument,
or oration, than the total absence of it. "
The truth is that the style of Francis Bacon was the best
method, whatever that might be, for conveying to men's minds the
knowledge or ideas which he was desirous of imparting. There
should, he says, be " a diversity of methods according to the
subject or matter which is handled. " This part of knowledge of
method in writing he considers to have been so weakly inquired
into as, in fact, to be deficient. He explains that there must be,
in this " method of tradition, " first the invention or idea of that
which is to be imparted ; next, judgment upon the thing thought
or imagined, and lastly, delivery, or imparting of the thought or
idea. Then he shows that knowledge is not only for present use,
but also for its own advancement and increase. With regard
especially to present use, he points out that there are times and
seasons for knowledges, as for other things. How to begin, to
insinuate knowledge, and how to refrain from seeming to attempt
to teach? . " It is an inquiry of great, wisdom, what kinds of wits
1 Further on we shall have occasion to show how in many of Bacon's poems,
sonnets, etc., where "the Queen" is praised, the allusion is ambiguous, referring
chiefly, though covertly, to Bacon's Sovereign Mistress, Truth.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 119
arid natures are most apt and proper for most sciences. " He is
actually speaking of the use of mathematics in steadying the
mind, " if a child be bird-witted and hath not the faculty of
attention ; " but he leads this argument into another which again
brings before us his ideas about the immense importance of the
stage. " It is not amiss to observe, also, how small and mean
faculties, gotten by education, yet when they fall into great men
and great matters, do work great and important effects; whereof
we see a notable example in Tacitus, of two stage players, Per-
cennius and Vibulenus, who, by their talent for acting, put the
Pannonian armies into extreme tumult and combustion. For,
there arising a mutiny amongst them upon the death of Au
gustus Caesar, Bteas, the lieutenant, had committed some of
the mutineers, which were suddenly rescued ; whereupon Vibu
lenus got to be heard speak (and charged Blcesas, in pathetic
terms, with having caused his brother to be murdered) with
which speech he put the army into an infinite fury and uproar;
whereas, truth was, he had no brother, neither was there any such
matter; but he played it merely as if he had been on the stage. "
This anecdote is partly an illustration of what Bacon has
previously been saying, that the duty of rhetoric is " to apply
reason to imagination, for the better moving of the will."
Rhetoric, therefore, may be made an aid to the morality whose
end is to persuade the affections and passions to obey reason.
He shows that " the vulgar capacities " are not to be taught by
the same scientific methods which are useful in the delivery of
knowledge " as a thread to be spun upon, and which should, if
possible, be insinuated" in the same method wherein it was
invented. In short, matter, and not words, is the important
thing; for words are the images of cogitations, and proper
thought will bring proper words. It may in some cases be well
to speak like the Vulgar and think like the wise. This was an
art in which Bacon himself is recorded to have been espe
cially skilful: he could imitate and adopt the language of the
person with whom he was conversing and speak in any style.
If so, could he not equally well write in any style which best
suited the matter in hand, which would most readily convey his
120 FEANCIS BACON
meaning to educated or uneducated ears, to minds prosaic or
poetical, dull in spirit, and only to be impressed by plain and
homely words, or not impressed at all, except the words were
accompanied by gesture and action as if the speaker were
" upon the stage " 1
And so Bacon was " content to tune the instruments of the
muses," that they should be fit to give out melodies and har
monies of any pitch, and suited to every frame of mind. In his
acknowledged writings (which seein to be an ingenious map of,
or clue to, his whole body of works) we find, as it were,
samples of many and varied styles of writing which he desires
to 'see studied and more perfectly used; and although in his
greatest productions he has built up a noble model of language
which the least observant reader must recognise as Baconian,
yet there are amongst his writings some so unlike what might
be expected from his pen, and so very unlike each other, as to
dispel the idea that his many-sided mind required, like ordinary
men, merely a one-sided language and " style " in which to
utter itself.
The manner of speaking or writing which pleases him best
was plain and simple, "a method as wholesome as sweet."
But, just as in the poems and plays which we attribute to him the
styles are so various as to raise doubts, not only of the identity
of the author, but even as to various portions of the same work,
so the style of writing of the Gesta Grayorum or the Conference
of Pleasure is totally unlike the New Atlantis or the Con
fession of Faith. Neither is there, at first sight, anything which
would cause the casual reader to identify the author of any of
these with the Wisdom of the Ancients, or Life's a Bubble, or
the History of the Winds, or the Essay of Friendship, or
many more widely different works or portions of works known
to have been written by Bacon. Because this is known, no one
is so bold or so foolish as to point to the immense differences in
style as proof that one man could not have written all. One man
did write them; no one can challenge the statement, and conse
quently no question has arisen about this particular group of
works; yet they differ amongst themselves more than, individ-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 121
ually, they differ with a vast number of works not yet generally
acknowledged to be Bacon's. They differ more essentially from
each other than do the works of many dramatists and poets of
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Their style is sometimes
indistinguishable from treatises by various " authors. " In short,
nothing but a complete comparative anatomy of Bacon's writings
at different periods and on different topics would enable any
one (without evidence of some other sort) to assert of every work
of Bacon's that it was or was not of his composition; so varied is
his style.
To return to the paper book. Besides the pieces which are
still contained in it, eight more appear to have farmed part of
the contents of this and another small volume of the same kind,
now lost. According to the list on the cover the lost sheets
should contain:
1. The conclusion of Leycester's Commonwealth.
2. The speeches of the six councillors to the Prince of Pur-
poole, at the Gray's Inn Revels^ 1594. The exterior sheet of the
book has in the list, Orations at Gray's Inn Revels.
3. Something of Mr. Frauncis Bacon's about the Queen's Mats.
4. Essaies by the same author.
5. Richard II. The editor calls these " Copies of Shakespeare's
Plays. " The list does not say so.
6. Richard III.
7. Asmund and Cornelia, (a piece of which nothing is known).
8. A play called The Isle of Dogs. The induction and first act
of this play are said to have been written by Thomas Nashe, and
the rest by " the players. " No copy has been found of The Isle
of Dogs; and after the title in the list appears the abbreviated
word frmnt. 1
In a line beneath, " Thomas Nashe, inferior plates."
It is curious and interesting to observe the pains which are
taken to explain away the simplest and most patent docu
mentary evidence which tends to prove Bacon's connection with
plays or poetry. The following is an instance : Commenting
i This seems to have puzzled the editor, but can it mean more or less than
" fragment"?
122 FEANCIS BACON
upon the startling but undeniable fact of the two Shakespeare
plays being found enumerated, with other plays not known, in a
list of Bacon's works amongst his papers, the careful editor pro
ceeds to make easy things difficult by explanation and com
mentary :
" That Richard II. and Eichard III. are meant for the titles of
Shakespeare's plays, so named, I infer from the fact of which
the evidence maybe seen in the fac-simile that, the list of
contents being now complete, the writer (or, more probably,
another into wh >se possession the volume passed) has amused
himself with writing down promiscuously the names and
phrases that most ran in his head; and that among these the
name of William Shakespeare was the most prominent, being
written eight or nine times over for no other reason that can be
discerned. That the name of Mr. Frauncis Bacon, which is also
repeated several times, should have been used for the same
kind of recreation, requires no explanation. ... In the upper
corner . . . may be seen the words ne vile veils, the motto of
the Nevilles, twice repeated, and there are other traces of the
name of Neville. Other exercises of the same kind are merely
repetitions of the titles which stand opposite, or ordinary words
of compliment, familiar in the beginnings and endings of let
ters, with here and there a scrap of verse, such as :
Revealing day through every cranie peepes,
"Or,
Multis annis jam transactis,
Nulla fides est in pactis,
Mel in ore, verba Icictis;
Fell in corde, fraus in factis.
" And most of the rest appear to be merely exercises in writing
th or sh; . . . but the only thing, so far as I can see, which
requires any particular notice is the occurrence, in this way, of
the name of William Shakespeare; and the value of that depends,
in a great degree, upon the date of the writing, which, I fear,
cannot be determined with any approach to exactness. All I
can say is that I find nothing ... to indicate a date later than
the reign of Elizabeth; and if so, it is probably one of the ear
liest evidences of the growth of Shakspere's personal fame as
a dramatic author, the beginning of which cannot be dated
much earlier than 1598. It was not till 1597 that any of his
plays appeared in print ; and though the earliest editions of
Eichard II. , Eichard IIL, and Eomeo and Juliet all bear that
date, his name is not on the title-page of any of them. They
were set forth as plays which had been 'lately,' or l publicly/ or
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 123
' often with great applause/ acted by the Lord Chamberlain's
servants. Their title to favour was their popularity as acting
plays at the Globe; and it was not till they came to be read as
books that it occurred to people unconnected with the theatre
to ask who wrote them. It seems, however, that curiosity was
speedily and effectually excited by the publication, for in the
very next year a second edition of both the Richards appeared,
with the name of William Shakespeare on the title page; and
the practice was almost invariably followed by all publishers on
like occasions afterwards. We may conclude, therefore, that it
was about 1597 that play-goers and readers of plays began to
talk about him, and that his name would naturally present
itself to an idle penman in want of something to use his pen
upon. What other inferences will be drawn from its appearance
on the cover of this manuscript by those who start with the
conviction that Bacon, and not Shakespeare, was the real author
of Richard II. and Richard III., I cannot say; but to myself
the fact which I have mentioned seems quite sufficient to account
for the phenomenon. " 1
The phenomenon does not seem to require any explanation.
Everything in the list, excepting the plays, is known to be
Bacon's. Essays, orations, complimentary speeches for festivals,
letters written for, and in the names of, the Earls of Arundel,
Sussex, and Essex. Only the plays are called " copies, " because
in their second editions, when men first began to be curious as
to the " concealed poet," and Hay ward, or some other, was to
be " racked to produce the author, " the name Shakespeare was
printed on the hitherto anonymous title-page. The practice
was so common at that date as to cause much bewilderment
and confusion to the literary historian; and this confusion was,
probably, the very effect which that cause was intended to
produce.
It is worthy of note that in the writing-case, or portfolio,
which belonged to Bacon (and which is in the possession of
the Howard family at Arundel) a sheet is found similarly
scribbled over with the name William Shakespeare. Consider
ing the amount of argument which has been expended upon
the subject of the scribbled names on the fly-leaf of the Con
ference of Pleasure, it would appear too strange for credibility
1 Introduction to the Conference of Pleasure, p. xxiv.
124 FEANCIS BA CON
that this witness of Bacon's own portfolio should be ignored,
were it not that we now have other and such strong proofs of a
combination to suppress particulars of this kind.
Besides the name of Shakespeare, there are, on the outer leaf
of the manuscript book, some other curious jottings which are to
our point. The amanuensis, or whosoever he may have been, who
beguiled an hour of waiting by trying his pen, scribbles, with
the name Shakespeare, some allusions to other plays besides
Richard II. and Richard III.
Love's Labour's Lost satirises "the diseases of style," and
" errors and vanities, " which Bacon complains were intermixed
with the studies of learned men, and which " caused learning
itself to be traduced." The utterances of Holofernes, Na
thaniel, Biron, and Armado, respectively, illustrate the " vain
affections, disputes, and imaginations, the effeminate and fantas
tical learning, " which infected all the teaching and the books
of the period.
Making fun of the pedantic talk of Holofernes and his
friends, the pert page Moth declares that " they have been
at a feast of languages and stolen the scraps. "
Costard answers : " Oh ! they have lived long on the alms-
basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a
word; for thou art not so long by the head as HonorificaUlitudi-
nitatibus."
This alarming polysyllable was in the mind of the amanuensis,
though his memory failed before he got through the thirteen
articulations, and he curtails it to " Honor ificabilitudino. " yet
cannot we doubt that this amanuensis had seen in or about the
year 1592 the play of Love's Labour's Lost, which was not pub
lished or acted until 1598.
The scrap of English verse, in like manner, shows the aman
uensis to have been acquainted with the poem of Lucrece, pub
lished for the first time in 1594, or two years after the supposed
date of the scribble. Writing from memory, the copyist makes
a misquotation. In the poem is the line :
" Revealing day through every cranie spies."
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 125
But he writes :
"Revealing day through every cranie peepes."
A confusion, doubtless, between this line and one which fol
lows, where the word peeping is used.
In Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2, the whole scene turns upon the
ideas involved in the Latin lines which are also written on this
communicative fly-leaf :
Mel in ore, verla lactis;
Fell in corde, fraus in factis.
Biron's way of talking is, throughout the scene, compared,
for its ultra suavity, to honey and milk :
Biron. "White-handed mistress, one sweet word with you.
Princess. Honey and milk and sugar there are three .
After a quibble or two on Biron's part, the Princess begs
that the word which he wishes to have with her may not be sweet :
Biron. Thou griev'st my gall.
Princess. Gall? bitter.
Presently, in the same scene, the affectations of another young
courtier are satirised, and he is called " Honey-tongued Boyet."
Perhaps the scribe knew from whence his employer derived the
metaphors of talk, as sweet, honied, sugared, and smoother than
milk, and, antithetically, the gall of Utter words. l
There are many proofs that Bacon utilised his talents by writ
ing speeches for his friends, to deliver on important occasions,
and for public festivities.
1 It is observable that the name Shakespeare on the fly-leaf of the Conference,
though written some dozen times, is invariably spelt as it was printed on the title-
pages of the plays, and not as he, or any of his family, in any known instance,
wrote it during his lifetime. The family of Shakspere, Shakspeyr, Shakspurre,
Shakespere,or Shaxpeare never could make up their minds how to spell their
names. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that their friends never
could decide for them. There are at least fourteen different spellings, of which
Shaxpeare is the most frequent, and appears sixty -nine times in the Stratford
records. It seems as if the author of the plays must have made some compact
with the family, which prevented them from adopting, till long after Shaks-
pere's death, the spelling of the pseudonym. The doctrine of chances, one
would think, must have caused one or more to hit upon the printed variety, in
some signature or register. See, for excellent information on this matter,
" The Shakespeare Myth," p. 170, etc. Appleton Morgan.
126 FRANCIS BACON
"As Essex aspired to distinction in many ways, so Bacon
studied many ways to help him, among the rest by contribut
ing to those fanciful pageants or l devices,' as they were called,
with which it was the fashion of the time to entertain the Queen
on festive occasions. On the anniversary of her coronation in
1595, we happen to know positively (though only by the concur
rence of two accidents) that certain speeches, unquestionably
written by Bacon, were delivered iu a device presented by Essex;
and I strongly suspect that two of the most interesting among
his smaller pieces were drawn up for some similar performance
in the year 1592. I mean those which are entitled " Mr. Bacon
in Praise of Knowledge," and " Mr. Bacon's Discourse in Praise
of his Sovereign." 1
" My reason for suspecting they were composed for some
masque, or show, or other fictitious occasion, is partly that the
speech in praise of knowledge professes to have been spoken in a
Conference of Pleasure, and the speech in praise of Elizabeth
appears by the opening sentence to have been preceded by three
others, one of which was in praise of knowledge. "
The writer goes on to say that he has little doubt about this
device having been written by Bacon for performance on the
Queen's day, though, unfortunately, no detailed account remains
of the celebration of that day in 1592 ; we only know that it was
" more solemnised than ever, and that through my Lord of Essex
his device. " 2 The reporter Nicholas Faunt, " being a strict Puri
tan, and having no taste for devices, " adds no particulars, but
an incidental expression in a letter from Henry Gosnold, a young
lawyer in Gray's Inn, tells us that Francis was at this time
attending the court:" Mr. Fr. Bacon i^maulgre the court, your
kind brother and mine especial friend. "
The Praise of Knowledge, which sums up many of Bacon's
most daring philosophical speculations, as to the revival, spread,
1 These were found among the papers submitted to Stephens by Lord Oxford,
and printed by Locker in the supplement to his second collection in 1734. TheA
MSS. are still to be seen in the British Museum, fair copies in an old hand. I
with the titles given above, but no further explanation.
2 Nich. Faunt to A. Bacon, Xov. 20, 1592 Lambeth MSS. 648, 176.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 127
and ultimate catholicity of learning, the happy match which
shall be made between the mind of man and the nature of things,
and the ultimate " mingling of heaven and earth," is printed
in Spedding's Letters and Life of Bacon, 1 and should be read
and considered by all who care to understand what Dr. Rawley
describes as certain " grounds and notions within himself, " or,
as it is elsewhere said, " fixed and universal ideas " which came
to him in his youth, and abode with him to the end of his life.
This speech is succeeded by the far longer Discourse in Praise
of the Queen " an oration which for spirit, eloquence, and sub
stantial worth may bear a comparison with the greatest pane
gyrical orations of modern times. " 2 The biographer explains
that, although this oration seems too long and elaborate to have
been used as part of a court entertainment, yet it might have
been (and probably was) worked upon and enlarged afterwards,
and that the circumstances under which it was delivered caused
it to be received as something of much greater importance than
a mere court compliment.
Probably no one who has read the life and works of Bacon is
so foolish and unsympathetic as to believe that such a man, in
exalting the theatre, writing for it, interesting others in its
behalf, had no higher aim than to amuse himself and his friends,
still less to profit by it, or even to make himself a name as a
mere playwright.
Considering merely the position which he held as a man of
letters and a philosopher, it is impossible to conceive that for
such purposes he would have risked his reputation and pros
pectsrunning in the face of public opinion, which was strong
against stage-playing, and risking the displeasure of most of the
members of his own Puritan family, some of whom would surely
hear reports of what he was doing.
1 i. 123-126.
2 See the remarks in Spedding, Letters and Ifife, i. 143, on this piece. The
editor shows its fitness for the occasion when it was delivered. Yet we are
convinced that it had a second and still more important aim than that which at
first sight appears. There was no need to answer an invective against the Govern
ment, when Bacon ordered the printing and publication of this speech to he
done after his death.
123 FRANCIS 3 A CON
In 1594 Anthony Bacon, that " dearest brother," " Antonie
my comforte," had lately returned from Italy and had joined
Francis in Gray's Inn; but he did not stay there long. Soon
afterwards, to the alarm and displeasure of his mother, Lady
Anne, he removed from these lodgings to a house in Bishop's Gate
Street, close to the Bull Inn. Here there was a theatre at which
several of the Shakespeare plays were performed, and from this
date the plays of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and " twenty more
such names and men as these " pour on to the stages of this and
other theatres. What share had Anthony in the writing and
" producing " of these plays?
The Christmas revels in which the students of Gray's Inn had
formerly prided themselves were for some cause intermitted for
three of four years. In the winter of 1594 they resolved to re
deem the time by producing "something out of the common
way. " As usual, Francis Bacon is called in to assist in " recov
ering the lost honour of Gray's Inn. " The result was a device,
or elaborate burlesque, which turned Gray's Inn into a mimic
court for which a Prince of Purpoole and a Master of the Revels
were chosen, and the sports were to last for twelve days.
The Prince, with all his state, proceeded to the Great Hall of
Gray's Inn on December 20th, and the entertainment was so
gorgeous, so skilfully managed, and so hit off the tastes of the
times, that the players were encouraged to enlarge their plan,
and to raise their style. They resolved, therefore (besides all
this court pomp, and their daily sport amongst themselves), to
have certain " grand nights, " in which something special should
be performed for the entertainment of strangers. But the ex
citement produced on the first grand night, and the throng,
which was beyond everything which had been expected,
crowded the hall so that the actors were driven from the stage.
They had to retire, and when the tumult partly subsided, they
were obliged, in default of " those very good inventions and
conceits " which had been intended, to content themselves with
dancing and revelling, and when that was over, with A Comedy
of Errors, like to Plautus Ms Mencechmus, which was played by
AND HIS SECHET SOCIETY. 129
the players. As this was, according to Dr. Delias, the first allu
sion to the Comedy of Errors in other words, since this comedy
was, for the first time, heard of and acted in Gray's Inn, at the
revels of December, 1594 we may well suppose that this play
was the very " invention and conceit 7> arranged by Francis
Bacon for the occasion; and that, whilst the dancing went on,
he took the opportunity of getting things set straight which
were disordered by the unexpected throng of guests, after
which the comedy was " played by the players," according, to
the original plan. This waS on December 28th.
The next night was taken up with a mock-legal inquiry into
the causes of these disorders, and after this, (which was a broad
parody upon the administration of justice by the Crown in Coun
cil), they held a grand consultation for the recovery of their lost
honour, which ended in a resolution " that the Prince's Council
should be reformed, and some graver conceits should have their
places. " . Again Bacon is to the front, and it is a striking proof
of the rapidity with which he was able to devise and accomplish
any new thing, that in four or five days he had written and
" produced " an entertainment which is described as " one of the
most elegant that was ever presented to an audience of states
men and courtiers. " It was performed on Friday, January 3,
1595, and was called The Order of the Helmet. This entertain
ment (which is in many ways suggestive of the Masonic cere
monies) includes nineteen articles, which the knights of the
order vowed to keep; they are written in Bacon's playful,
satirical style, and full from beginning to end of his ideas,
theories, doctrines, antitheta, allusions, and metaphors. To
these follow seven speeches. The first, by the Prince of Pur-
poole, gives a sly hit at other princes, who, like Prince Hal,
"conclude their own ends out of their own humours," and
abuse the wisdom of their counsellors to set them in the right
way to the wrong place. The prince gives his subjects free leave
to set before us " to what port, as it were, the ship of our govern
ment should be bounden. "
" The first counsellor, " then evidently having Bacon's notes
130 FRANCIS BACON
on the subject ready to hand, 1 delivers a speech, " advising the
exercise of war; " the second counsellor extols the study of
philosophy. This counsellor is very well read in Shakespeare.
He describes witches, whose power is in destruction, not in preser
vation, 2 and advises the Prince not to be like them or like some
comet or Mazing star 3 which should threaten and portend nothing
tut death and dearth, combustions and troubles of the ivorld. He
begs him to be not as a lamp that shineth not to others, and yet
seeth not itself, but as the eye of the world, that both carrieth
and useth light. To this purpose he commends to him the col
lecting of a perfect library of books, ancient and modern, and of
MSS. in all languages; of a spacious, wonderful garden (botanic
and zoological gardens in one), " built about with rooms to
stable all rare beasts and to cage all rare birds, " and with lakes,
salt and fresh, " for like variety of fishes. And so you may have
in small compass a model of universal nature made private." *<
Thirdly, he proposes " a goodly huge cabinet, " a museum of all
the rarities and treasures of nature and art, wherein shall be
collected " whatsoever singularity chance and the shuffle of
things hath produced." The fourth " monument " which is to
perpetuate the fame of the Prince is to be " so furnished with
mills, instruments, furnaces, and vessels as may be a palace fit
for a philosopher's stone." Laboratories for experimental
science are here indicated; they are, we see, the same as are
more fully described in the Rosicrucian journey, New Atlantis,
and it appears probable that they expressed in the device, as in the
Rosicrucian document, a meaning and aim which tended to unite
the works of Vulcan (art) with those of Minerva (wisdom or
nature). 5
1 See Spedding Military arts compatible with learning, iii. 269 ; promoted
by it, iii. 307-314 ; when just, successful, iv. 28, 29 ; warlike disposition the
strength of a nation, v. 81; injured by the sedentary arts, v. 84 ; healthful,
x. 85 ; the history of war, proposed, as deficient, iv. 270.
2 See Macb. i. 3, 18-29; iii. 5, 24-34; iv. 1, 48-60.
3 Jul. Cees. ii. 2, 25-30. All's W. i. 3, 81-85. Macb. ii. 3, 55-60.
4 " A small model of the barren earth." Richard II. iii. 2.
5 See Essay of Erichthonius. Spedding, "Works, vi. 736.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 131
Then follows the third counsellor, advising eternizement and
fame by buildings and foundations. This speech is written with
the same metaphors and emblems which we find elsewhere in
Bacon's acknowledged works and in the documents of the
Eosicrucians and Freemasons. Wars, it is agreed, often offer
immoderate hopes which issue only in tragedies of calamities
and distresses. Philosophies equally disappoint expectation,
by turning mystical philosophy into comedies of ridiculous
frustration, conceits and curiosities. But the day for a monarch
to " win fame and eternize his name " is "in the visible memory
of himself in the magnificence of goodly and royal buildings
and foundations, and the new institution of orders, ordinances, and
societies; that as your coin be stamped with your own image, so
in every part of your state there may be something new, which,
by continuance, may make the founder and author remem
bered." 1 The desire " to cure mortality by fame " " caused men
to build the Tower of Babel, which, as it was a sin in the im
moderate appetite for fame, so it was punished in kind; for the
diversities of languages have imprisoned fame ever since. " He
goes on to show that the fame of Alexander, Caesar, Constantine,
and Trajan was thought by themselves to rest not so much upon
their conquests as in their buildings. " And surely they had
reason; for the fame of great actions is like to a landflood tvhich
hath no certain head or spring; but the memory and fame of
buildings and foundations hath, as it were, a fountain in a hill
which continually refresheth andfeedeth the other waters. " 2
The fourth counsellor advises absoluteness of state and
treasure. His speech will be found paraphrased and more
gravely and earnestly traced in Bacon's essays of Empire and of
The Greatness of Kingdoms, and in other places which deal with
similar subjects.
The fifth counsellor advises the Prince to virtue and a gra
cious government. If he would " make golden times " he must be
1 This passage aptly describes the principle upon which Bacon established
his orders and societies. See chapters of the Rosierucians and Freemasons.
2 See Emblems Hill, Water, etc.
132 FEANCIS BACON
" a natural parent to the state. " The former speakers have, says
this counsellor, handled their own propositions too formally.
" My Lords have taught you to refer all things to yourself, your
greatness, memory, and advantage, but whereunto shall yourself
be referred? If you will be heavenly, you must have influence.
Will you be as a standing pool, that spendeth and choketh his
spring within itself, and hath no streams nor current to Hess and
make fruitful whole tracts of countries whereby it cometh f . . .
Assure yourself of an inward peace, that the storms without do
not disturb any of your repairs within; . . . visit all the parts of
your state, and let the balm distill everywhere from your sovereign
hands, to the medicining of any part that complaineth; . . .' have
a care that your intelligence, which is the light of your state, do not
burn dim; . . . advance men of virtue, not of mercenary minds;
. . . purge out multiplicity of laws; . . . repeal those that are
snaring, and press the execution of those that are wholesome and
necessary; . . . think not that the bridle and spur will make the
horse go alone without time and custom; . . . ^vhen you have
confirmed the noble and vital parts of your realm of state, proceed
to take care of the blood, and flesh, and good habit of the body.
Remedy all cankers and causes of consumption. " 1 The speaker
ends by saying that, if he wished to commend the beauty of
some excelling lady, he could best do it by showing her picture;
so it is in commending a virtuous government, though he fears
that his " pencil may disgrace it, " and therefore leaves the
prince to fill in the picture for himself.
He is succeeded by the sixth and last counsellor, who
" persuades to pastimes and sports. " The speeches of his
predecessors were, he thought, " as if a man should come to
some young prince, and, immediately after his coronation, be in
hand with him to make himself a sumptuous and stately tomb,
and, to speak out of my soul, I muse how any of your servants
can endure to think of you as of a prince past ; . . . their lessons
were so cumbersome, as if they would make you a king in a play,
who, when one -would think he standeth in great majesty and
1 Compare Emblems and Metaphors of Bacon.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 133
felicity, he is troubled to say Us part. What! nothing but tasks;
nothing but working days f No feasting, no music, no dancing,
no triumphs, no comedies, no love, no ladies f Let other men's
lives be as pilgrimages; . . . princes' lives are, as progresses,
dedicated only to variety and solace."
(Again an echo of the speeches of Theseus and Philostra-
tus in A Midsummer Night's Dream, quoted before. 1 )
This lively counsellor entreats his prince to leave the work to
other people, and to attend only to that which cannot be done
by deputy. " Use the advantage of your youth; . . . in a
word, sweet> sovereign, dismiss your five counsellors, and only take
counsel of your five senses."
The prince briefly thanks them all for their good opinions,
which being so various, it is difficult to choose between them.
" Meantime it should not be amiss to choose the last, and upon
more deliberation to determine of the rest; and what time we
spend in long consulting, in the end we gain by prompt and
speedy executing." Thereupon he takes a partner, and the
dance begins. The rest of the night was spent in this pastime,
and the nobles and other auditory, says the narrator, were so
delighted with their entertainment, that " thereby Gray's Inn
did not only recover their lost credit, but got instead so much
honour and applause as either the good reports of our friends
that were present or we ourselves could desire. "
In this same year, 1595, Lucrece was published, and dedicated,
as the poem of Venus and Adonis had been also dedicated in
1593, to Francis Bacon's young friend, Lord Southampton, who
is said to have given a large sum of money toward the erection
of the " Globe " theatre, which was in this year opened on
Bankside with William Shakspere -as its manager. 2
Until Anthony Bacon's return from Italy Francis was
very poor, and often in debt, and, although he lived frugally
1 See Mid. K Dream, v. 1, and Rich. II. iii. 4. L. L. L. iv. 3, 370-380, etc.
2 This gift was held by Shakspereans to be an evidence of Southampton's
friendship for Shakspere. Baconians see in it an evidence of the young Earl's
desire to assist in the production of the dramatic works of his friend and asso
ciate, Francis Bacon.
134 FEANCIS BACON
and temperately, he was at one time forced to get help from the
Jews. Though Anthony was better off and able to help him,
Francis could hardly contrive to live as a gentleman and at the
same time to publish and carry forward scientific researches as we
find him doing. Anthony was performing the part of secretary
to the Earl of Essex, a work in which his brother shared, Anthony
writing his letters and drafting his despatches to secret agents
in foreign lands ; Francis aiding him in getting information, and
in steering his course through the shifting sands of the political
stream. He drew up for Essex that remarkable paper on his
conduct at court, which should have been the rule, and would
certainly have been the salvation, of his life. 1 These services,
occasional on the part of Francis, daily on the part of Anthony,
led them into expenses which they ought to have been repaid.
No salary had been fixed for Francis, but Anthony was to have
received a thousand pounds a year, none of which was ever
paid him. 2 It was probably on account of the large outstanding
debt to the brothers that Essex sued to the Queen for the places
of Solicitor-General or Attorney-General for Francis Bacon. Itis
probable that, had it not been for his interference, Bacon would at
this time have been appointed to the former of these offices. But
the injudicious and arrogant behaviour of Essex, which was a
constant subject of remonstrance from Bacon, now again de
stroyed Bacon's hopes of obtaining a substantial position and
means of livelihood. The Queen would not be driven, nor sus
pected of bestowing offices at the bidding of her fascinating but
troublesome kinsman. Bacon was again passed over, and re
tired much hurt, and feeling disgraced in the eyes of the world,
to Twickenham, where, perhaps, he employed himself in writ
ing some of his comedies. For in consequence, perhaps, of this
episode, or in part payment of his large debt to the brothers, Essex
granted Francis a piece of land worth about 1,800, adjoining
the estate of his half-brother, Edward Bacon, at Twickenham.
1 Hop worth Dixon, Story, p. 53. Ath. Cant. ii. 315. Devereux, Lives of
the Earls of Essex, i. 277. Sydney Papers, i. 360.
2 It is very probable in view of the Rosicrucian rules, which we shall con
sider further on, that the Bacons would not be paid for this work,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 135
To this year, when Bacon was in retirement at Twickenham,
The Merchant of Venice, and A Midsummer Night's Dream are
attributed. In the first of these " the hard Jew " who persecuted
Francis Bacon is immortalised in the person of Shylock, whilst
in Antonio we recognise the generous brother, Anthony
Bacon, who sacrificed himself and " taxed his credit " in order
to relieve Francis. l
A Midsummer Night's Dream is the first piece in which Bacon,
whilst creating his fairies from " the vital spirits of nature, "
brings his studies of the winds to his help.2 This play,
as has been said, bears points of strong resemblance to the
Device of an Indian Prince, which Bacon had written a few
months previously, when the stormy passages between the
Queen and Essex had passed away, and when the Earl had ap
parently applied to him for a device which should be performed
on the " Queen's Day."
January 27, 1595, is the latest date on any sheet in Bacon's
Promus of Formularies and Elegancies. Judged by the hand
writing, it appears to be the latest sheet, although it is not
placed .last in the collection of MSS. One entry is sug
gestive 3 "Law at Twickenham for ye merry tales." The
merry tales for which Bacon" was thus preparing Law, are sup
posed to be those already named, with The Taming of the Shrew,
King John, two parts of Henry IV. and AWs Well that Ends Well,
soon to appear, and full of abstruse points of law, such as after
wards exercised the mind of Lord Campbell. The play of
Richard III. is attributed to 1594 by Dr. Delius, but the list of
Bacon's MSS. on the outside leaf of the Conference of Pleas--
ure seems to show that Richard II. and III. were sketched to
gether, though .apparently the former was not heard of till the
year 1596.
Very little is known for some years of the private proceedings
of Bacon. He had no public business of importance, and it is
1 Note, Antonio, in Twelfth Night, is another impersonation of the same gen
erous and unselfish character.
2 See Of Yital Spirits of Nature.
3 Promus, 1165. The Promus is a MS. collection of Bacon's private notes.
136 FRANCIS BACON
evident that the published records of his work are not by any
means adequate. With his tremendous energy and powers, the
scanty information concerning him assures us that at this time
he was either travelling or most busy upon his secret and unac
knowledged works. In 1596-7 he wrote the Colours of Good
and Evil, and the Meditationes Sacrce, for which preparations
are found amongst the Promus notes j a speech in Parliament
against enclosures, and a general statement that he continued
his scientific studies, are all that is recorded as to his labours at
that time. No doubt, however, that, amongst other matters, he
was preparing the first edition of his essays, which were pub
lished in the following year (with a dedication " to Mr. . Anthony
Bacon, his deare brother, you that are next myself"). Money
troubles still continued, which may be explained in the same
manner as before. All his money, and Anthony's as well, was
going in the expense of publishing, in getting up plays, and in
other enterprises connected with his great schemes.
In a letter of October 15, 1597, written to the Earl of Shrews
bury from Gray's Inn, Francis Bacon requests the loan of a
horse and armour for some public show. In another letter to
Lord Mountjoy, he says that " it is now his manner and rule to
keep state in contemplative matters.'' Clearly much trouble
was taken to obscure his history and his private proceedings
about this period.
In letters to Sir Tobie Matthew, 1 with dates and other partic
ulars mysteriously obliterated or garbled, Bacon, whilst alluding
by name to several of his acknowledged works, which Sir Tobie
had been reading and criticising, speaks (without naming them)
of his " other works, " "works of his recreation." Elsewhere
he refers t<^ other works, but does not specify .them. They are
l Sir Tobie Matthew, son of the Bishop of Durham, afterwards Archbishop
of York, was an early friend of Bacon, and one whom he calls his "kind in
quisitor," since he was in the habit of sending his works for Matthew's perusal
and criticism. A collection of his letters (London, 1660) is extant. These
letters are without dates. Tobie Matthew appears to have purposely obliterated
or disguised names and particulars. If the " headings were inserted by him
self, he had either forgotten the dates or intended to confuse and conceal
them." (Spedding, Letters and Life, iv. 132.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 137
" deeds without a name, " which, in this correspondence, are re
ferred to as the Alphabet, a pass- word, perhaps, for his Trage
dies and Comedies, since, in his private notes, or Promus, there
is this entry (before 1594) :
" lisdem e 1 litcris effidtur tragcedia et comedia."
" Tragedies and comedies are made of one alphabet. 11
In 1598 the Queen, who had again quarrelled with Essex, was
greatly offended by the play of Richard II., which plainly
alluded to the troubles in Ireland, with which he was concerned.
Not only had this new play drawn crowds of courtiers and cit
izens to the Globe Theatre, when first it appeared, but it had a
long and splendid run, being played not only in the theatre,
but in the open street and in the court-yards of inns. The
Earl of Essex (who, before his voyage, had been a constant
auditor at the Globe) lent the play his countenance; it is even
said that he ordered it to be played at his own expense, when
Phillips, the manager, declared that the piece had been so long
before the public that another performance could not pay. No
wonder, then, that the Queen was angry and disturbed by this
play, which, she thought, was part of a plot to teach her sub
jects how to murder kings. " I am Richard, " she said; " know
you not that?"
A pamphlet by a young doctor of civil law, John Hayward,
published almost simultaneously with the play, increased the
Queen's wrath and apprehension. Taking as its basis the story
of the play, this pamphlet drew from it morals which were sup
posed to be seditious. In one place it even affirmed the exist
ence of a title superior to the Queen. 1 This book proved too
much for Elizabeth's patience, and, sending the scribe to prison,
she summoned Francis Bacon " to draw up articles against
him," says the biographer; but, perhaps, also, because she had
reason to think that Bacon would know more than others about
the matter. Bacon, in his Apophthegms, or witty sayings, and
again in his Apologia concerning Essex, relates this episode.
1 See EmUejtis and Metaphors, Queen. We think that time may alter
judgment and interpretation of this pamphlet.
\
138 FRANCIS BACON
But he, apparently, intentionally and ingeniously confuses his
story, in the same manner of which examples will be given in
the chapter on " Feigned Histories'," in the same way, too, as
the accounts of the origin of Freemasonry are garbled and
mixed up, in order to puzzle the uninitiated reader.
He remembers (he says in the Apologia) an answer of his " in
a matter which had some affinity with my Lord of Essex's cause,
which, though it grew from me, went after about in others' names. 1
For her Majesty, being mightily incensed with that book which
was dedicated to my Lord (being a story of the first year of King
Henry IV.), thinking it a seditious prelude to put into the
people's heads boldness and faction, said she had a good
opinion there was treason in it, and asked me if I could not find
any places in it that might be drawn within case of treason ;
whereunto I answered, for treason surely found I none, but for
felony very many. And when her Majesty hastily asked me
wherein? I told her the author had committed very apparent
theft, for he had taken most of the sentences of Cornelius
Tacitus and translated them into English, and put them into his
text."
This we see is of the play; but the story continues : " Another
time, when the Queen would not be persuaded that it was his
writing whose name was to it, but that it had some more mis
chievous author, and said, with great indignation, that she
would have him racked to produce his author, I replied, l Nay,
Madame, he is a doctor [Bacon, therefore, had now turned the
argument on to Dr. Hay ward's pamphlet] ; never rack his person,
rack his stile; let him have pens, ink, and paper, and help of
books, and be enjoined to continue the story where it leaves off,
and I will undertake, by collecting the stiles, to judge whether
he were the author or no.' " It should be observed that Bacon
does not propose to " collect " or collate the style of the pam
phlet with that of the play, which would be the obvious thing
to do if the author of the obnoxious play and the author of the
equally obnoxious pamphlet were supposed to be in collusion.
l Does this enigmatical sentence mean that the play in question was his,
although it passed under the name of another?
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 139
His object, evidently, is to get the young doctor of law (prob
ably a member of his secret society) oat of the difficulties into
which he had fallen through his complicity in the publication of
a political squib against tyranny, which Bacon was well aware
that Dr. Hayward did not write.
Does no one think it strange that Francis Bacon should have
told the Queen that the finest passages in Richard II. are taken
from Cornelius Tacitus and translated into English in that text,
and yet that no commentator on Shakespeare, no student of Taci
tus, should have been at the pains of pointing out these passages?
They must be cleverly used, to be so indistinguishable to these
learned readers, for they are there.
And is it to be taken as a mere matter of course that Bacon,
who as a rule mentions himself so little, should have recorded
this scene and his own speech amongst his collection of witty
sayings, when that speech (which is not very witty) would have
had no point if it had not been true?
And we ask again, Did it not appear strange to Queen Eliza
beth that Bacon should show such intimate knowledge of the
sources from which some of the chief passages in Richard II.
were derived a knowledge beyond any which has been dis
played by the most learned and authentic Shakespeare societies
which have existed until now?
These episodes about Dr. Hayward's tract and the play of
Richard II. incline us to a conviction, which is strengthened by
other evidence, that Queen Elizabeth had a very shrewd suspi
cion, if not an absolute knowledge, that Francis Bacon was inti
mately connected with the revival of the stage in her times.
Sometimes it almost seems as if she had a still deeper acquaint
ance with the aims and objects of his life; that sometimes she
disapproved, and was only kept from venting upon him all the
vials of her wrath, first by her strong esteem and regard for his
father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, and secondly, by her admiration of
Francis Bacon himself. It seems not impossible that the Queen's
reverence for Sir Nicholas may have been increased by her
knowledge of his schemes for the revival of learning, and she
may have known, probably did know, that it was the aim of the
140 FRANCIS BA CON
son to carry out the plans of his father. All this is conjectured,
though based upon observation of small particulars. Yet it does
not appear that the Queen, although she admired Francis, ever
valued him as equal to his father. On the contrary, she often
thwarted him, or publicly passed him over in a manner which
was very painful to him. Probably, as is so often the case with
old people, she could not comprehend that the son, whom she
looked on as a boy, would so far outshine the father that the
latter should hereafter be chiefly known as " Francis Bacon's
father."
On the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth
with the Count Palatine, February 14, 1612-13, the usual rejoic
ings took place: triumphs, fire-works, sham fights upon the water,
masques, running at the ring, and the rest of it, " concerning
which," says Spedding, 1 " it would not have been necessary to
say anything were it not that Bacon took a principal part in the
preparation of one of the masques. " This was the joint masque
presented by the gentlemen of Gray's Inn and the Inner Tem
ple, " written by Francis Beaumont, " and printed shortly after
with the following dedication :
" TO THE WORTHY SlR FRANCIS BACON, HIS MAJESTY'S SOLIC
ITOR-GENERAL, AND THE GRAVE AND LEARNED BENCH OF
THE ANCIENTLY ALLIED HOUSES OF GRAY'S INN AND THE
INNER TEMPLE, THE INNER TEMPLE AND GRAY'S INN.
" Ye that spared no pain nor travail in the setting forth, or
dering, and furnishing of this masque (being the first fruits of
honour in this kind which these two societies have offered to
His Majesty), will not think much now to look back upon the
effects of your own care and work; for that, whereof the success
was then doubtful, is now happily performed, and graciously
accepted; and that which you were then to think of in straits of
time, you may now peruse at leisure. And you, Sir Francis
Bacon, especially, as you did then by your countenance and
loving affections advance it, so let your good word grace it and
defend it, which is able to add value to the greatest and least
matters."
I Life and Letters, iv. 343.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 141
There we perceive that the gentlemen (exclusive of Bacon)
who had taken so much pains in the setting forth of this impor
tant and almost national tribute of respect to the royal family
are thanked for their aid in the " ordering and furnishing " of a
masque with which, clearly, they were not as a whole well
acquainted. They helped, as modern phrase has it, to " get
up " the masque, but of its drift they had so little knowledge
that what they could only think of in " straits of time,' 7 perhaps
during the performance, they could now enjoy by reading it at
leisure. None of these busy helpers, then, had contributed to
the writing of the masque, and the wording of the dedication,
although it does not say that Bacon was the author, yet seems
to indicate as much; for it skilfully brings him to the front, and
entirely ignores Beaumont, who, however, doubtless did " write "
the masque fair, with a pen and ink.
" It is easy to believe, " says the biographer, " that if Bacon
took an active part in the preparations of a thing of this kind, in
the success of which he felt an interest, he would have a good
deal to say about all the arrangements. But as we have no
means of knowing what he did say, and thereby learning some
thing as to his taste in this department, 1 it will be well to give
a general account of the performance as described by an eye
witness."
" On Tuesday," writes Chamberlain, February 18, 1612-13, " it
came to Gray's Inn and the Inner Temple's turn to come with their
masque, whereof Sir Francis Bacon was the chief contriver; and
because the former came on horseback and in open chariots,
they made choice to come by water from Winchester Place, in
Southwark; which suited well with their device, which was the
marriage of the River Thames to the Rhine ; and their show by
water was very gallant, by reason of infinite store of lights, very
curiously set and placed, and many boats and barges with devices
1 Why the writer should say this we know not, for two pages farther on he
Bays: " For what Bacon had to say about such things, see his essay of Masques and
Triumphs, which was very likely suggested by the consideration he had to bestow
on this." This essay was never published until one year before Bacon's death,
i. e., 1625. It shows us that Bacon's love of the stage and of masquing was as
keen in his old age as in his youth. In the posthumous edition of the Essays,
published in 1638, the essay is suppressed.
142 F&ANC1S BACON
of lights and lamps, with three peals of ordnance, one at their
taking water, another in the Temple Garden, and the last at
their landing; which passage by water cost them better than
300. They were received at the privy stairs, and great expecta
tion there was that they should every way excel their competi
tors that went before them, both in device, daintiness of apparel,
and above all in dancing, wherein they are held excellent, and
esteemed for the properer men.
u But by what ill planet it fell out I know not, they came home
as they went, without doing anything; the reason whereof I
cannot yet learn .thoroughly, but only that the hall was so full
that it was not possible to avoid 1 it, or make room for them;
besides that, most of the ladies were in the galleries to see them
land, and could not get in. But the worst of all was that the
King was so wearied and sleepy with sitting almost two whole
nights before, that he had no edge to it. Whereupon Sir Fran
cis Bacon adventured to entreat of his Majesty that by this dif
ference he would not, as it were, bury them quick; 2 and I hear
the King should answer that then they must bury Mm quick, for
he could last no longer; but withal gave them very good words,
and appointed them to come again on Saturday.
" But the grace of their masque is quite gone, when their
apparel hath been already showed, and their devices vented, so
that how it will fall out, God knows, for they are much dis
couraged and out of countenance, and the world says, it comes
to pass after the old proverb, the properer man, the worse
luck. "3
Their devices, however, went much beyond the mere exhibi
tion of themselves and their apparel, and there was novelty
enough behind the curtain to make a sufficient entertainment
by itself, without the water business for overture. Chamberlain
writes again on the 25th:
" Our Gray's Inn men and the Inner Templars were nothing
discouraged for all the first dodge, but on Saturday last per
formed their part exceeding well, and with great applause and
approbation, both from the King and all the company. The
1 " Clear it." 2 Alive." 3 Court and Times of James I. i. 227.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 143
next night the King invited thr, masquers, with their assistants,
to the number of forty, to a solemn supper in the new Carriage-
room, where they were well treated, and much graced with kiss
ing his majesty's hand, and everyone having a particular accog-
lienza with him." 1
None of Bacon's biographers or critics have expressed the
smallest surprise that, in days when Shakspere and Ben Jonson
were at the height of their fame, it was neither the one nor the
other of them, but the Solicitor- General, who was employed to
" contrive," and ultimately to manage, the first masque which
had been " presented" to the King. Under similar circum
stances we should expect that Mr. Beerbohm Tree or Mr. Irving
would be invited to undertake such a management; it would not
have occurred to us to apply for help to Sir Edward Clarke,
Q. C., M. P.
In 1613 Francis Bacon was appointed Attorney-General. This
happened just before the marriage of the Earl of Somerset with
Lady Essex, on December 26th. There were very unpleasant
circumstances connected with this marriage, which are now
known to historians, but which it is unnecessary here to enter
upon. As Spedding says, it is but fair to the world of rank,
wealth, fashion, and business, which hastened to congratulate
the bride and bridegroom with gifts unprecedented in number
and value, to remember that it does not follow that they would
have done the same if they had known what we know. 2 It was
proposed that during the week of festivities which celebrated this
marriage the four Inns of Court (the Middle and Inner Temple,
Gray's Inn and Lincoln's Inn) should join in getting up a masque,
but they could not manage it, and once more we find Bacon
called upon to supply their dramatic deficiencies.
It appears that Bacon considered that he owed Somerset some
complimentary offering, because Somerset claimed (though Bacon
doubted it) to have used his influence with the King to secure
Bacon's promotion. The approaching marriage gave the latter
an opportunity for discharging an obligation to a man for whom
1 Ib. 229.
2 Letters and Life, iv. 392. The following passages are nearly all extracted
from this volume of Spedding.
144 FRANCIS BACON
he had no esteem, whom, indeed, he disliked too much to be
willing to owe even a seeming and pretended obligation.
The offering was well chosen for this purpose, although, as
Spedding allows, it was " so costly (considering 'how little he
owed to Rochester, and how superficial their intercourse had
"been), and at the same time so peculiar, that it requires expla
nation." i While all the world were making presents one of
plate, another of furniture, a third of horses, a fourth of gold
he chose a masque, for which an accident supplied him with an ex
cellent opportunity. When the united efforts of the four inns of
court failed to produce the required entertainment, Bacon of
fered, on the part of Gray's Inn, to supply the place of it by a
masque of their own.
The letter, in Bacon's own hand, which was at first supposed
to be addressed to Burghley, but which, upon close examination,
Spedding believed to be written to Somerset, acquires a new
value and significance from the latter circumstance, giving fresh
evidence both as to the tone of Bacon's intercourse with the
favourite, and as to the style in which he did this kind of thing.
" The fly-leaf being gone, the address is lost, and the docket
does not supply it; there is no date." (Just as we should expect
when the record has anything to connect Bacon with plays or
masques.) " The catalogue assumes that it is addressed to Lord
Burghley, " and this erroneous assumption adds one more little
obstruction to the discovery or recognition of the letter, which
is a single leaf, and contains only the following words :
" It may please your good L.:
" I am sorry the masque from the four Inns of Court faileth;
wherein I conceive there is no other ground of that event but
impossibility. Nevertheless, because it faileth out that at this
time Gray's Inn is well furnished of gallant young gentlemen,
your L. may be pleased to know that, rather than this occasion
shall pass without some demonstration of affection from the
four Inns of Court, there are a dozen gentlemen that, out of
the honour which they bear to your Lordship and my Lord
Chamberlain (to whom at their last masque they were so
bounden), will be ready to furnish a masque; wishing it were in
1 Let. and Life, iv. 392.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 145
their powers to perform it according to their minds. And so for
the present I humbly take my leave, resting
" Your L.'s very humbly
" and much bounden
"FR. BACON."
The Lord Chamberlain was the Earl of Suffolk, who was the
bride's father; so that everything seems to fit. But though
Bacon speaks of it as a compliment from Gray's Inn, Gray's
Inn was in reality to furnish only the performers and the com
posers. The care and the charges were to be undertaken by
himself, as we learn from a news letter of Chamberlain's, whose
information is almost always to be relied upon. Writing on the
23d of December, 1613, he says:
" Sir Francis Bacon prepares a masque to honour this mar
riage, which will stand him in above 2,000; and though he have
been offered some help by the House, and especially by Mr.
Solicitor, Sir Henry Yelverton, who would have sent him 500,
yet he would not accept it, but offers them the whole charge
with the honour. Marry! his obligations are such, as well to
his Majesty as to the great Lord, and to the whole house of
Howards, as he can admit no partner."
The nature of the obligation considered, there was judgment
as well as magnificence in the choice of the retribution. The
obligation (whether real or not) being for assistance in obtain
ing an office, to repay it by any present which could be turned
into money would have been objectionable, as tending to coun
tenance the great abuse of the times (from which Bacon stands
clear) the sale of offices for money. There was no such objec
tion to a masque. As a compliment, it was splendid, according
to the taste and magnificence of the time; costly to the giver,
not negotiable to the receiver; valuable as a compliment, but as
nothing else. Nor was its value in that kind limited to the par
ties in whose honour it was given. It conferred great distinc
tion upon Gray's Inn, in a field in which Gray's Inn was ambi
tious and accustomed to shine.
The piece performed was published shortly after, with a dedi
cation to Bacon, as " the principal, and in effect the only per
son that doth encourage and warrant the gentlemen to shew
their good affection in a time of such magnificence; wherein"
146 FRANCIS BACON
(they add) " we conceive, without giving you false atributes,
which little need where so many are true, that you have graced
in general the societies of the Inns of Court, in continuing them
still as third persons with the nobility and court, in doing the
King honour; and particularly Gray's Inn, which, as you have
formerly brought to flourish, both in the ancienter and younger sort,
by countenancing virtue in every quality, so now you have made
a notable demonstration thereof in the lighter and less serious
kind, by tjiis, that one Inn of Court by itself, in time of a vaca
tion, and in the space of three weeks, could perform that which
hath been performed; which could not have been done but that
every man's exceeding love and respect to you gave him wings to
overtake time, which is the swiftest of things. "
The words which we print in italics seem to show that the
true object of this celebrated masque was to do the King honour;
and, probably, we shall one day find that it was at some ex
pressed desire or regret of his that Francis Bacon was moved to
undertake this work, which had proved (as he said in his letters
to Rochester) an " impossibility" when attempted by the whole
of the four Inns of Court in conjunction.
Observe, too, the unexplained debt which Gray's Inn is said
to owe to Bacon for its flourishing condition, and the exceeding
love which the members bore to him, and which alone enabled
them to carry out his elaborate devices in the short space of
three weeks. We would like to ascertain who were J. G., W. D.
and T. B., who signed the dedication. Spedding says that,
from an allusion to their " graver studies," they appear to have
been members of the society. The allusion, coupled with the
description of the masque as a show or " demonstration, in the
lighter and less serious kind, " made to please the King, again
carries our minds to the opening words of the Essay of Masques:
" These things are but toys to come amongst such serious mat
ters; but since princes will have them," etc., they should be
properly done.
This piece, entitled The Masque of Flowers, may be seen
at full length in NichoPs Progresses: " A very splendid trifle,
and answering very well to the description in Bacon's Essays of
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 147
what a masque should be, with its loud and cheerful music,
abundance of light and colour, graceful motions and forms, and
such things as do naturally take the sense, but having no
personal reference to the occasion beyond being an entertain
ment given in honour of a marriage, and ending with an offering
of flowers to the bride and bridegroom. " 1
In March, 1617, Bacon was installed as Lord Chancellor upon
the death of Egerton. On May 7th he rode from Gray's Inn to
Westminster Hall to open the courts in state. " All London
turned out to do him honour, and every one who could borrow a
horse and a foot-cloth fell into the train; so that more than two
hundred horsemen rode behind him. Through crowds of citizens
. . . of players from Bankside, of the Puritan hearers of Burgess,
of the Roman Catholic friends of Danvers and Armstrong, he
rode, as popular in the streets as he had been in the House of
Commons, down Chancery Lane and the Strand, past Charing
Cross, through the open courts of Whitehall, and by King Street
into Palace yard. " 2
The Bankside players, then, came in a bevy, sufficiently numer
ous to be conspicuous and registered in history, and all the way
from Southwark, in order to olo honour to the newly made Chan
cellor. " My friends, chew upon this. "
The Essay of Masques and Triumphs would suffice to show any
unbiased reader that the author was intimately acquainted with
the practical management of a theatre. There is something
particularly graphic in this little essay, which we commend to,
the consideration of those who interest themselves in private
theatricals. It should be remembered that Bacon would not
insert amongst his most polished and well filed essays two
pages of small particulars with which every one was acquainted.
He is clearly instructing those who do not know so much of the
matter as he does.
True, he takes a high ground, and prefaces his remarks with
the reflection that " these things are but toys to come amongst
such serious considerations; but yet, since princes will have such
1 Spedding, Letters and Life, iv. 394-5. 2 Story of Bacon's Life, 317.
148 FRANCIS BACON
things, it is better they should be graced with elegancy than
daubed with cost, " and he tells us how to ensure this, giving
many suggestions which have been adopted until this day.
" Acting in song hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not
dancing, for that is a mean and vulgar thing. " The things he
sets down are such as " take the sense, not petty wonderments,"
though he considers that change of scene, so it be quietly and
without noise, is a thing of beauty. The scenes are to abound
with light, but varied and coloured the masquers when appear
ing on the scene from above are to " make motions " which will
draw the eye strangely and excite desire to see that which it
cannot perfectly discern. The songs are to be loud and cheer
ful, " not chirpings andpulings," and the music sharp and well-
placed. The colours that show best by candle-light are " white,
carnation, and a kind of seawater-green." Short and pithy as
this essay is, we wonder that it had never struck Shakspereans
how wonderfully well Mrs. Page, in her little device to frighten
and confuse Falstaff, carried out the instructions here conveyed.
The music placed in the saw-pit; the many rounds of waxen
tapers on the heads of the fairies; the rush out of the saw-pit
with songs and rattles " to take the sense. " The fairies in
green and white t singing a scornful rhyme as they trip and pinch
Falstaff. Although the masque is intended to frighten him,
there is in it nothing frightful, for " anything that is hideous,
as devils and giants, is unfit." Satires, antics, sprites and pig
mies Bacon allows; so Mrs. Page introduces " my little son and
those of the same growth," dressed " like urchins, ouphes and
fairies. "
Even the " diffused " song which they sing seems to be
arranged with care and intention, for, says Bacon, " I under
stand it, that the song be in quire, with some broken music."
But he concludes, " Enough of these toys," and perhaps when
the Bankside players came to see him ride in state as Chancel
lor, there may have been some amongst them who knew that
indeed he would no more be able to indulge in meddling with
such toys as these.
Public and political business now increased with Bacon so that,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 149
without even taking other enterprises into consideration, no one
will find it strange that from this time no more is heard of his
performing the part of stage-manager or master of the revels on
any occasion later than that of the marriage of the King's
favourite. Probably, however, want of time had very little to
do with the matter, for Bacon seems always to have found time
for doing all that it was desirable should be done. It is more
likely that he felt the incongruity which wo aid appear between
the trivialities of such " toys " and the dignity of his position
as Attorney-General and prospective Chancellor. Nevertheless,
even in the published records of his later years hints drop out
here and there as to his continued devotion to theatrical per
formances, and his unfading interest in playwrights and all con
cerning them. He knew that the stage was a great engine for
good, and for teaching and moving the masses, who would never
read books or hear lectures.
In January, 1617, Bacon " dined at Gray's Inn to give counte
nance to their Lord and Prince of Purpoole, and to see their
revels. " 1 At this time, according to a letter from Buckingham
to the King, a masque was performed; but we know not what it
was. A masque appears also to have been in preparation for
Shrove Tuesday, though it could not be performed till Tuesday,
owing to the occupation of the banqueting hall by an improved
edition of the " Prince's Masque " a piece of Ben Jonson's, which
had been acted on Twelfth Night with little applause. " The
poet, " says Nathaniel Brent, " is grown dull, that his device is not
thought worth the relating, much less the copying out. Divers
think fit he should return to his old trade of bricklaying again. " 2
Nevertheless, " their fashion and device were well approved " on
the second occasion, when the " dull " device must have under
gone a good deal of alteration, since Chamberlain adds, " I can
not call it a masque, seeing they were not disguised nor had
vizards. "
" Ben Jonson had seen something of Bacon off the stage,
though we do not know how much, " says Spedding, writing of
the last years of Bacon's life. Tradition is persistent in repeat-
1 Chamberlain to Carleton. 2 To Carleton, February 7, 1617-18.
150 FRANCIS BACON
ing that Ben Jonson was one of Bacon's " able pens, "an assist
ant in his writings, superior to an ordinary amanuensis. Drum-
mond of Hawthornden records that Ben Jonson mentioned having
writteri^n " apology" for the play of Bartholomew Fair, " in
my Lord St. Aubanie's house," in 1604.
Jonson " bursts into song, " says one biographer, when poli
tics or events favour Bacon's view, and in 1620 he " celebrates
his birthday, " says another, "in words breathing nothing but
reverence and honour. Since these lines, often alluded to, are
little known, it may be worth while to quote them here:
" Hail, happy genius of this ancient pile !
How comes it all things so about thee smile 1
The fire, the wine, the men ! and in the midst
Thou stand'st as if a mystery thou didst !
Pardon, I read it in thy face, the day
For whose returns, and many, all these pray ;
And so do I. This is the sixtieth year ,
Since Bacon and thy lord was born, and here ;
Son to the grave, wise keeper of the seal,
Fame and foundation of the English weal.
What then his father was, that since is he,
Now with a little more to the degree ;
England's High Chancellor, the destin'd heir
In his soft cradle to his father's chair:
Whose even threads the Fates spun round and full
Out of their choicest and their whitest wool.
'Tis a brave cause of joy, let it be known,
For 'twere a narrow gladness, kept thine own.
Give me a deep-bowl'd crown, that I may sing,
In raising him, the wisdom of my King."
However much or little Bacon may have known of Ben Jonson
" off the stage, " it is certain that Ben Jonson formed a very
accurate estimate of Bacon's abilities as a writer and a poet. It
is impossible so to wrest the ordinary and accepted meaning of
words as to insist that Ben Jonson did not mean what he so
plainly says (and in connection with the poetic writings of
Greece and Rome, as in the eulogy of Shakespeare), namely,
that he "filled up all numbers," or wrote poetry in all styles
and metres. Enumerating the learned and eloquent men of the
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 151
early days of Elizabeth, when " Sir Nicholas Bacon was singu
lar and almost alone, he mentions Sir Philip Sydney, Master
Kichard Hooker, Kobert, Earl of Essex, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir
Henry Savile, Sir Edwin Sandys, and Sir Thomas Egerton, " a
grave and great orator, and best when he was provoked. But
his learned and able, though unfortunate successor, is he who
hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in our tongue
which may be compared or preferred to insolent Greece and
haughty Home. "
It will be observed that Shakespeare and the whole of the
Elizabethan poets and dramatists, excepting Sir Philip Sydney,
are here omitted, and that Jonson considers that with Bacon's
death the main prop of learning, wit, eloquence, and poetry had
been taken away.
" In short, within his view, and about his time, were all the
wits born that could honour a language or help study. Now
things daily fall, wits go backward; so that he may be named
and stand as the mark or dxptf of our language."
Jonson is not here speaking of Bacon's scientific works. He
comes to them in a subsequent paragraph, wherein he again
shows his intimate knowledge of Bacon's powers, aims, and char
acter. " The Novum Organum, " he says, is a book "which,
though by the most superficial of men, who cannot get beyond
the title of nominals, it is not penetrated nor understood, it
really openeth all defects of learning whatsoever, and is a book,
Qui longem. noto scrip tori proroget cevum."l
In connection with Bacon's acquaintance with actors and
his interest in the theatre, we must add a few words about one
distinguished member of the profession. Edward Allen, or
Alleyn, was the founder of Dulwich College, a munificent en
dowment which has been the subject of much wonder and of
a considerable amount of unrewarded inquiry. How Alleyn
became possessed of the means to enter upon and carry through
so large and costly an enterprise has not yet been satisfactorily
explained to the public at large, but the facts are clear that in
l Horat. de Art. Poetica.
1 52 FRANCIS BA CON
1606 he began to acquire land at Dulwich, and the most
important of the valuable estates which now collectively form
the endowment of the college ; that in 1613 he contracted with
a certain John Benson for the erection of a school-house and
twelve alms-houses, and that in the course of the years of 1616
and 1617 the first members of his foundation were admitted to
the college. Alleyn now endeavoured to obtain from the King a
patent for the permanent establishment of his college by its
endowment by the King of lands to the value of 800. Ba
con opposed this, not because he objected to the charity, in
which he was interested, bat because he considered that the
crown property would suffer if the King once began the system
of " amortizing his tenures " for charitable purposes. More
over, alms-houses, he thought, were not unmixed blessings,
whereas endowments for educational purposes were much
needed. The King had lately rejected the applications of Sir
Henry Savile and Sir Edward Sandys for grants of money for
such purposes j why, then, should he give such a large sum to
Alleyn ?
Bacon's good judgment in preferring educational institutions
to alms-houses has been vindicated by the action of the Charity
Commission. By an act of Parliament passed in 1857 the almsmen
of the " hospital " were all pensioned off, and the foundation
completely reconstructed, simply as a collegiate institution,
with upper and lower schools.
Since, even in this matter, it has been attempted to put Bacon
in the wrong, by representing that " the impediments which
Alleyn experienced proceeded from the Lord Chancellor," and
by the implication that these impediments were needlessly vex
atious. Here is the letter which Bacon wrote on this occasion
to the Marquis of Buckingham. It has been truly described as
characteristic in point and quaintness :
" MY VERY GOOD LORD :
" I thank your lordship for your last loving letter. I now write
to give the King an account of a patent I have stayed at the
seal. It is of licence to give in mortmain eight hundred pound
land, though it be of tenure in chief, to Allen, that was the
player, for an hospital.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 153
" I like well that Allen playeth the last act of his life so well;
but if his Majesty give way thus to amortize his tenures, his
courts of wards shall decay, which I had well hoped should
improve.
" But that which moveth me chiefly is, that his Majesty did
now lately absolutely deny Sir Henry Savile for 200, and Sir
Edwin Sandys for 100 to the perpetuating of two lectures, the
one in Oxford, the other in Cambridge, foundations of singular
honour to his Majesty (the best of learned kings), and of which
there is a great want ; whereas hospitals abound, and beggars
abound never a whit the less.
" If his Majesty do like to pass the book at all ; yet if he would
be pleased to abridge the 800 to 500, and then give way- to
the other two books for the university, it were a princely work.
And I make an humble suit to the King, and desire your lordship
to join in it, that it mought be so. God ever preserve and pros
per you.
" Your lordship's most obliged friend
" and faithful servant,
" FK. VEKTJLAM, Cane.
" YOEK HOUSE, this 18th of August, 1616. "
Whether or no the money for the lectures at the university
was granted by the King, deponents say not, but on June 21st,
1619, Bacon affixed the great seal of England to letters patent
from James I. giving license to Edward Alleyn " to found and
establish a college in Dulwich, to endure and remain forever,
and to be called The College of God's Gift in Dulwich, in the
County of Surrey. "
On September 13th of the same year the college was com
pleted, " and so, in the quaint words of Fuller" 1 words which
strangely echo those in Bacon's letter to the Duke of Bucking
ham " he tvho out- acted others in Ms life, outdid himself before
his death. "
Amongst the distinguished guests at the opening of the col
lege Bacon and his friends are conspicuous. Alleyn gives a list
of them, beginning with " The Lord Chancellor (Bacon), the
Lord of Arondell, Lord Ciecill (Cecil), Sir John Howland, High
Shreve, and Inigo Jones, the King's Surveyor."
Perhaps the latest, as it is the greatest tribute openly paid by
l Old and New London, vi. 298.
154 FRANCIS BACON
Bacon to the value of the theatre as a means of popular educa
tion, is the passage which he omitted from the Advancement
of Learning in its early form, but inserted in the De Augmentis
in 1623, when that work, the crowning work of his scientific and
philosophical labours, appeared simultaneously with the first
collected edition of the Shakespeare plays. The passage was
not intended to be read by the " profane vulgar," who might
have scorned the Chancellor for praising the much-despised stage.
It was, therefore, reserved for the Latin, and thus rendered, for
the time, accessible only to the learned for the most part
Bacon's friends:
" Dramatic poesy, which has the theatre for its world, would
be of excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable
of no small influence, both of discipline and of corruption. Now,
of corruptions in this kind we have enough; but the discipline
has, in our times, been plainly neglected. And though in
modern states play-acting is esteemed but as a toy, except when
it is too satirical and biting, yet among the ancients it was used
as a means of educating men's minds to virtue. Nay, it has
been regarded by learned men and great philosophers as a kind
of musician's bow, by which men's minds may be played upon.
And certainly it is most true, and one of the greatest secrets of
nature, that the minds of men are more open to impressions
and affections when many are gathered together, than when
they are alone, "i
The brief records which are published of Bacon's last days
show him, still in sickness and poverty, possessing the same
sweet, gentle, patient, and generous spirit which had been with
him in the brilliant and exciting days of prosperity; even in his
misfortune and ruin making himself happy with his books and
his experiments, trying to leave his work in such a condition
that others could readily take up and complete that which life
was too short and fortune too adverse for him to accomplish
before his death.
His will is brief, but touching in its thought for everybody con
nected with him, and for the sanguine spirit which it displays. 2
" My name and memory I leave to men's charitable speeches,
1 De Aug. ii. 13.
2 The following is from Hepworth Dixon's Story, p. 479.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 155
and to foreign nations, and to the next ages. " He desired to be
laid near the mother he so dearly loved and so closely resembled,
in St Michael's Church, near Grorharnbury. Sir John Constable,
his brother-in-law, was to have the chief care of his books. 1
Bequests were made to the poor of all the parishes in which he
had chiefly resided. An ample income, beyond the terms of her
marriage settlement, was secured to his wife; though, for rea
sons only darkly hinted in his will, a subsequent clause or
codicil revoked these bequests, and left the Viscountess to her
legal rights. Legacies were left to his friends and servants;
to the Marquis d'Effiat "my book of orisons, curiously
rhymed;" to the Earl of Dorset " my ring with the crushed
diamond, which the King gave me when Prince;" to Lord Cav
endish " my casting bottle of gold."
Where are these relics? Surely the recipients' must have
valued such gifts, and handed them down to their posterity as
curiosities, if not as precious treasures. The book of orisons,
especially, we should expect to find carefully preserved. Can
no one produce this most interesting prayer-book?
The lease of Bacon's rooms in Gray's Inn, valued at three
hundred pounds, was to be sold, and the money given to poor
scholars. The residue of his estate, he believed, would be suf
ficient to found two lectureships on natural history and the
physical sciences at the universities. " It was a beautiful,
beneficent dream, " but not to be realized, for the property and
personalty left by Bacon hardly sufficed to pay his debts; yet in
the last clause, which has just been quoted, we see a repetition
of the earnest expression of his opinion as to the " great want"
of foundations for the perpetuating of lectures, which he men
tioned in his letter to Buckingham. As usual, he endeavours,
poor as he now is, to supply the necessary funds, which the
King had " denied." Probably, had the grant been denied to
Alleyn, Bacon intended himself to raise the money for the com
pletion of Dulwich College and its alms-houses.
The winter of 1625-6 was the most dismal he had known;
l Another copy of his will consigns the charge of his "cabinet and presses
full of papers" to thjee trustees, Constable, Selden, and Herbert.
156 FRANCIS BACON
the cold intense, the city blighted with plague, the war abroad
disastrous: Bacon remained at Grorhambury, " hard at work
on his Sylva Sylvarum. " But that work is merely a newly-
arranged collection of old notes, and its construction would not
have been nearly sufficient occupation for such a mind. It
seems probable that Bacon was now engaged in putting together,
arranging, or polishing the works which he was about to leave
behind, to be brought out in due season by the faithful friends
to whom he entrusted them, and to whom he must, at this
time, have given instructions as to their future disposition and
publication.
A Parliament was called at Westminster, for February, to
which he received the usual summons, for he had been restored
to his legal rights, and reinstated amongst his peers. But he
was too ill to obey the writ. He rode once to Gray's Inn, but it
was in April, and the severity of the winter had not yet passed.
He caught the cold of which he died. Taking the air one day
with his physician, Dr. Witherbourne, towards Highgate, the
snow lying deep, it occurred to Bacon to inquire if flesh might
not be preserved in snow 1 as well as in salt. Pulling up at a
small cottage near the foot of Higbgate Hill, he bought a hen
from an old woman, plucked and drew it; gathered up snow in
his hands, and stuffed it into the fowl. Smitten with a sudden
chill, but doubting the nature of his attack, Bacon drove to the
house of his friend Lord Arundel, close by, where Witherbourne
had him put into the bed from whence he rose no more.
It is hardly possible to keep patient on reading that the sheets
between which the invalid was laid " were damp, as no one
had slept in them for a year, " and, although the servants warmed
the bed with a pan of coals, the damp inflamed his cold.
From the first a gentle fever set in ; he lingered just a week;
and then, on the 9th of April, 1626, expired of congestion of
the lungs. 2
1 This idea was the original thought which has since given rise to the various
systems of preserving and transporting frozen meat from distant countries.
2 H. Dixon, from Court and Times of Charles, i. 74 ; Lord's Journal, iii. 492;
Aubrey, ii. 227.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 157
He was buried, as directed, near his, mother, in the parish
church of St. Michael, near St. Albans. This picturesque and
lonely little church became a place of pilgrimage, and will, we
believe, become so once more. The obligations of the world
are, as his biographer says, of a kind not to be overlooked.
There is no department in literature or science or philanthropy,
no organization for the promulgation of religious knowledge,
which does not owe something to Francis Bacon.
To him the patriot, the statesman, the law reformer, the
scientific jurist, the historian, are also indebted, and, apart from
all debatable works, the collector of anecdote, the lover of
good wit, of humourous wisdom, and of noble writing, must all
find that he has laid them under obligations far greater than
they may be aware of. It is hard, indeed, to say who amongst
us is not the easier in circumstances, the brighter in intellect,
the purer in morals, the worthier in conduct, through the teach
ings and the labours of Francis Bacon. The principles of his
philosophy are of universal application, and they will endure as
long as the world itself.
To this conclusion must those come who contemplate his life
and works from the standpoint which we have been occupying.
But not all will care to take the same view. Let us, therefore,
shift our position and take a more particular observation of
some circumstances connected with Bacon which seem to be
mysterious, or at least not thoroughly explained.
CHAPTER VI.
DEFICIENCIES OF LEAKNING IN THE TIMES OF ELIZABETH
AND JAMES I.
"Defect is a reptile that basely crawls upon the earth." Bacon.
" What a piece of work is man ! how noble in reason ! how infinite in fac
ulty ! . . . Yet man delights not me. . . "What should such fellows as I do,
crawling between heaven and earth 1 " Hamlet.
OEFOEE trying to follow Bacon in his inquiries as to the
D deficiencies of learning, let us reflect upon the herculean
nature of the work which he was proposing to himself. He
might satirise his own vast speculations; he may even have been
perfectly well aware that his enthusiastic visions could never be
realised, but a universal reformation was his aim, and who will
say that he failed to achieve it ?
Those " good old times " in which Bacon lived were anything
but good ; they were coarse, ignorant, violent, " dark and
dangerous." The church, Bacon said, "which should be the
chief band of religion, was turned to superstition, or made- the
matter of quarrelling and execrable actions; of murdering
princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and govern
ments. The land full of oppression, taxation, privileges broken,
factions desperate, poverty great, knowledge at a standstill;
learning barren, discredited by the errors, contentions, conceit,
and fantastical pedantry of so-called learned men. The literary
spirit of the ancients dead. At the universities and schools
words were taught, but not matter. He even questions whether
it would not be well to abolish the scholastic system altogether,-
and to set up a new form of teaching. The list of sciences
taught, and which he finds to be full of follies and errors, or
totally deficient, forbids any wonder at his verdict, that, whereas
present methods were rotten and useless to advance learning,
(158)
AND HIS SECtiET SOCIETY. 159
the old fabric should be rased to the ground, and a new Solomon's
House erected.
But is it not a little surprising that, even if Bacon could thus
speak in his early days of the ignorance, the folly, the futility
of the learning of his time, the dullness, apathy, or ignorant
bigotry of his contemporaries, the degradation of the stage, the
decay of the wisdom of the ancients, the barrenness of the modern
muse, yet that we should find him reiterating, with even more
forcible expressions, these same opinions at the very end of his
life ? In his crowning work, the De Aitgmentis, published in 1623,
he is as earnest in his strictures on the prevailing learning (or
the want of it) as he was in the days of his youth. Was he a
detractor, or a boastful, self-satisfied man, who could see no good
in any works but his own? Or was he a rash and inconsiderate
speaker, uttering words which do not bear the test of time, or
which were confuted and rejected by his contemporaries? We
turn to the short life of Bacon by his secretary, Dr. Kawley, a
man who does not waste words, and whose statements have
become classical as they are unassailably accurate:
" He was no dashing 1 man, as some men are, but ever a
countenancer and fosterer of another man's parts. Neither was
he one that would appropriate the speech wholly to himself, or
delight to outvie others. He contemned no man's observations,
but would light his torch at every man's candle. His opinions
were for the most part binding, and not contradicted by any,
which may ivell be imputed either to tJie well- weighing of his sen
tences by the scales of truth and reason, or else to the reverence
and estimation in which he was held. I have often observed,
and so have other men of great account, that if he had occasion
to repeat another man j s words after him, he had an use and
faculty to dress them in better vestments and apparel than they
had before, so that the author should find his own speech much
amended, and yet the substance of it still retained, as if it had
been natural to him to use good forms, as Ovid spake of his
faculty of versifying:
1 Rawley means, not a man who used his wit to put others out of coun
tenance. See Costard in Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2 : " An honest man, look you,
and soon dashed." Spedding, Works, ii. 12.
160 FKANCIS BACON
l Et quod ientabam scribere, versus erat.' "1
Bacon's most malicious enemies have not attempted to con
tradict or disprove these statements of one of his most intimate
friends and faithful " servants. " Why, then, does Bacon entirely
ignore the unparalleled outburst of learning, the prodigious strides
made in every department of science, the spirit of inquiry and
of longing after truth, the galaxy of wits and poets, the " giant
minds " with whom, so we are told, the age was teeming? We
might read Bacon's acknowledged works from cover to cover
without suspecting that such persons as Hooker or Ben Jonson,
Burton, Spenser, or Shakspere, ever existed. Comprehensive
as are his works, summing up the deficiencies of knowledge in
all its departments, we find no allusion to that marvellous
phenomenon patent apparently to all eyes but those of Bacon
himself of the sudden and simultaneous revival of learning
which began to take place immediately after he left Cambridge
at the age of fifteen
The great impediments of knowledge, and the points which,
in Bacon's judgment, rendered his times so unfavourable for its
advance, were, in the first place, the scattering or " diversion "
of clever men, the want of " a collection of wits of several parts
or nations, " and of any system by which wits could contribute
to help one another, and mutually to correct errors and "cus
tomary conceits."
This deficiency was the cause of another impediment to knowl
edge, the lack, namely, of any means for keeping " a succession
of wits of several times, whereby one might refine the other. "
There was no system by which newly acquired knowledge could
be handed down, for the manner of the traditions of learned
men " was utterly unfit for the amplification of knowledge. "
The result of such impediments in and before Bacon's time
was, he said, such as to lead men to conclude, either that knowl
edge is but a task for one man's life (and then vain was the
complaint that life is short and art is long); or else that the
knowledge that now is, is but a shrub and not that tree which is
1 " He lisped in numbers, for the numbers came." (Pope's Epistle to Dr.
Arbuthnot.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 161
never dangerous but where it is to the purpose of knowing good
and evil in order that man may choose the evil. A desire which
rises into a desire rather to follow one's own will than to obey,
contains, he says, a manifest " defection " or imperfection.
He is also of opinion that " the pretended succession of wits, "
such as it is, has been ill-placed, and that too much absolute*
reliance was put upon the philosophy of one or two men to
the exclusion of others. Also that the system of handling phi
losophy by parts, and not as a whole, was very injurious, and
a great impediment to knowledge. He deprecates " the slip-
ping-off particular sciences from the root and stock of univer
sal knowledge," quoting the opinion of Cicero, that eloquence is
not merely " a shop of good words and elegancies, 1 but a treas
ury and receipt of all knowledges; " and the example of Socrates,
who, instead of teaching " an universal sapience and knowledge,
both of words and matter, divorced them, and withdrew philos
ophy, leaving rhetoric to itself, which thereby became a barren
and unnoble science. "
Bacon argues that a specialist in any branch of science,
" whether he be an oculist in physic, or perfect in some one
tittle of the law, may prove ready and subtile, but not deep or
sufficient, even in the one special subject which is his province ;
because it is a matter of common discourse of the chain of scien
ces, how they are linked together," inasmuch as the Grecians,
who had terms at will, have fitted it of a name of circle learning.
Although Bacon speaks of this chain of sciences as a matter
of common discourse, it seems to have been so only in the circle
of his own friends. To forge such links and to weld such a chain
was, it would seem, one part of his method, and the conventional
design which represents this linking together of universal knowl -
edge, both earthly and heavenly, is to be seen on a vast number
of the title-pages and ornamental designs of the books which
emanated from Bacon's great society for the advancement of
learning. As a rule these chains will be found in combination
with a figure of Pan, or universal nature, with the head of Truth,
1 Compare Bacon's own Promus of Formularies and Elegancies.
11
162 FRANCIS BACON
or universal philosophy or religion, and with the peculiar wooden
scroll or frame-work which we interpret as figuring " the uni
versal frame of the world."
Since then the end and scope of knowledge had been so gen
erally mistaken that men were not even well-advised as to what
it was that they sought, but wandered up and down in the way,
making no advance, but setting themselves at last " in the right
way to the wrong place," Bacon takes in hand the business of
demonstrating " what is the true end, scope, or office of knowl
edge, and to make, as it were, a calendar or inventory of the
wealth, furniture, or means of man, according to his present
estate, as far as it is known. " By this means, he adds, " I may,
at the best, give some awaking note, both of the wants in man's
present condition, and the nature of the supplies to be wished';
though, for mine own part, neither do I much build upon my
present anticipations, neither do I think ourselves yet learned or
wise enough to wish reasonably ; for, as it asks some knowledge
to demand a question not impertinent, so it asketh some sense
to make a wish not absurd. "
TJie Interpretation of Nature, from which these passages are
taken, includes only a fragment of the " inventory," which is to
be found in the form of a separate " catalogue " of one hundred
and thirty histories which are required for the equipment of
philosophy. It is also in the De Augmentis, which is in truth an
Exposition of the Deficiencies which Bacon noted in every con
ceived branch of science and literature, and of the practical
means which he proposed to adopt for the supply of these tre
mendous gaps in the chain of universal knowledge.
The " Catalogue of Histories " was published at the end of the
Novum Organum in 1620, but it appears to have been written
much earlier; for a few lines at the end show that at the time
when he penned this list he was looking forward to the accom
plishment of all that is included in it. It seems improbable that
he would, so late in life, have published this catalogue, had it
been merely the airy fabric of a vision. On the other hand,
there are works extant which were first published anonymously
during his life-time, and which answer admirably to the titles of
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 163
many of these " particular histories, " which, we observe, are
not necessarily to be original works, but " collections " or " con
tributions to the equipment of philosophy." In other words,
they were to be the furniture and household stuff of the new
Solomon's House.
It will be profitable to spend a few minutes in noting with
Bacon some of the departments of knowledge which he found
to be either totally uncultivated, or so weakly handled as to be
unproductive. In so doing we must not overlook the fact that,
in every case where he notes such deficiencies, he makes, as he
says, some effort toward supplying them.
Unless we take some pains to follow Bacon's meaning and
line of argument, it is impossible to realize what is meant by
his statement that truth was barren of fruits fit for the use of
man. Modern teaching and traditions as to the marvellous
revival of learning in the time of Elizabeth have blinded us to
the fact that knowledge was at the very lowest ebb. The first
attempt made by William Grocyn, in the end of the fifteenth
century, to introduce the study of Greek into the University of
Oxford, was regarded as an alarming innovation, and roused
strong opposition. His distinguished pupil John Colet, after
wards Dean of St. Paul's, and founder of St. Paul's School, was
exposed to the persecution of the clergy through his promotion
of a spirit of inquiry and freedom of thought and speech. We
read that in Paris, about the same time, 1 " The Juris Consult,
Conrad Heresbach, affirms that he heard a monk announce
from the pulpit, <A new language, called Greek, has been found,
against which strict precautions are requisite, as it propagates
all kinds of heresie. A number of persons have already pro
cured a work in that tongue called the New Testament a book
full of briars and vipers. As to Hebrew, all those who learn it
turn Jews at once.' "
These dense prejudices were about to be dissipated by the
creation, by Francis I., of the Royal College. Its professors
were to be nominated by the King, regardless of university
i Francis I. and Hia Times. C. Coiguet. Translated by F. Twemlow Bent-
ley. London, 1888.
164
FEANCIS BACON
degrees, and the college was to be the refuge of free-thinkers of
all countries. Such an innovation was reprobated by the
pedants of the old school, and a tempest of wrath and indigna
tion greeted the enterprise. Beda, syndic of the theological
faculty, who later on headed a religious persecution, was a
leader in this contest, and in this curious struggle we trace the
germ of the conflict between Faith and Science, between Church
and State, a conflict which Bacon spent his life in trying to
appease and terminate.
Beda pretended that religion would be lost if Greek and He
brew were taught by others than theologians. Were not all
Bibles brought from that heretical nest, Germany, or from the
Jews ? The royal professors replied : We are not theologians,
but grammarians and scholars. If you understand Greek and
Hebrew, attend our classes and denounce our heresies ; but if
you do not understand these languages, why interfere with us I
Parliament was puzzled what to do. Theology and Hebrew
were dead letters to it. King Francis was in fits of laughter at
its evident embarrassment. Finally it decided to wash its hands
of the affair, and to leave the disputants to settle it amongst
themselves. Francis now completed the discomfiture of his
adversaries by nominating as royal printer of Hebrew and
Latin classics Eobert Estienne, the distinguished editor and
typographer. Theologians detested Estienne, because his
translations of Holy Writ corrected their falsifications and mis
representations, and exposed their ignorance and insincerity.
His first translation of the Hebrew Bible appeared in 1532. It
was denounced as sacrilegious, and its author as meriting the
stake. During the King's absence from Paris, Estienne's house
was ransacked, and he was forced to fly. But on the King's re
turn Estienne was reinstated. Search was made throughout
Europe and Asia for the old manuscripts, and these Estienue
reproduced, the King superintending, with great interest, the
beauty and perfection of type, destined, as these books were, to
enrich his magnificent library at Fontainebleau.
Amongst the distinguished men who, in these early days, were
connected with the Royal College of Francis I. are the names
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 165
of men whose works were afterwards studied and quoted by
Bacon and his own school, and whose successors seem to have
become some of the most able and earnest workers on behalf of
his far more liberal and far-reaching secret society. It is easy
to see that Bacon, during his residence in the French court,
must almost certainly have been drawn into the society of many
members of this Royal College, whose duty it was to bring be
fore the notice of the King " all men of the greatest learning,
whether French or foreigners. "
But, in spite of this Royal College, learning had not made
much advance, even in France. Although Bacon must have
witnessed the working of the college when he was in Paris, yet
he says nothing in its praise. The method was as faulty as ever,
although speech, and consequently thought, had become freer.
Bacon's chief complaint against the " schoolmen," and against
the ancient philosophies, was not so much regarding their mat
ter as their method. The matter had become mere words, and
the continual repetition of the same words made even " truth
itself tired of iteration. " He rightly complained that the writers
of his timer only looked out for facts in support of preconceived
theories, or else, where authority and prejudice did not lead the
way, constructed their theories on a hasty and unmethodical
examination of a few facts collected at random. 1 In either case
they neglected to test or verify their generalizations, whilst they
wasted time and study in drawing out, by logical arguments,
long trains of elaborate conclusions, which, for aught they
knew, might start from erroneous theories.
The whole of Bacon's teaching, then, goes to enforce upon
his disciples the necessity of examining and proving every state
ment, trusting to no " authority, " however great, whose asser
tions or axioms cannot stand the test of microscopic inspection,
or which are not seen to be " drawn from the very centre of
the sciences."
" How long," he asks, " shall we let a few received authors
stand up like Hercules' Columns, beyond which there shall be no
l See an excellent and very clear exposition of this in " Francis Bacon? by
Prof. Fowler.
166
FRANCIS BACON
sailing or discovery in science?" He proceeds to indicate the
various parts of his method by which learning was to be col
lected, rectified, % and finally stored up in the " receptacles "
which he would have provided in " places of learning, in books,
and in the persons of the learned." In other words, he would
provide schools, colleges, and libraries; he would facilitate
printing, the publication of good books, and the institution of
lectures, with paid professors of all arts and sciences. We look
around, and are overwhelmed with admiration of all that has
been accomplished upon Bacon's method. But he did not live
to see it. Doubtless his life was one long series of disappoint
ments, lightened only by his joyous, hopeful spirit, and by the
absolute conviction which possessed him that he had truth on
his side, and that " Time, that great arbitrator, would decide " in
his favour.
" For myself," he says, " I may truly say that, both in this
present work, and in those I intend to publish hereafter, I often
advisedly and deliberately throw aside tJie dignity of my name
and wit (if suck thing be) in my endeavour to advance human
interests; and being one that should properly, perhaps, be an archi
tect in philosophy and the sciences, I turn common labourer, hod
man, anything that is wanted; taking upon myself the burden
and execution of many things which must needs be done,
and which others, through an inborn pride, shrink from and
decline. " 1
Dr. Rawley records Bacon's gentle regret that he that should
be an architect in this erecting and building of the new phi
losophy " should be forced to be a workman and a labourer, to
dig the clay and make the brick, and, like the Israelites, to
gather the stubble and straw over all the fields, to burn the
bricks withal. But he knoweth that, except he do it, nothing
will be done : men are so set to despise the means of their own
good. And as for the baseness of many of the experiments, as
long as they be God's works, they are honourable enough ; true
axioms must be drawn from plain experience, and not from
1 De Aug. vii. 1.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 167
doubtful, and his course is, to make wonders plain, and not
plain things wonders. "
So, in the thousand paragraphs of the Natural History, or
Sylya Sylvarum, we find each paragraph recording, not mere
speculations, or repetitions of theories or conclusions supposed
to have been established by former philosophers, but reports of
experiments (sometimes very strange and original) made always
with a definite object, and generally accompanied by some
remarks explaining the causes of the phenomena observed.
Bacon is never ashamed to admit his own ignorance of causes,
and nothing which tends to their recovery is, in his eyes, insig
nificant or unimportant.
" It is," he says, " esteemed a kind of dishonour to learning,
to descend into inquiries about common and familiar things,
except they be such as are considered secrets, or very rare. "
Plato, he says, ridiculed this " supercilious arrogancy; " and " the
truth' is that the best information is not always derived from
the greatest examples, but it often comes to pass that mean and
small things discover great, better than great can discover the
small, as that secret of nature, the turning of iron touched with
the loadstone to the earth, was found out in needles, and not in
bars of iron."
The collector of facts he compares to the ant heaping up its
store for future use. He does not despise the ant, but com
mends its intelligence, as superior to that of the grasshopper,
which, like the mere talker, keeps up a chirping noise, but does
no work. The notes which he collects in such a store as the
Sylva Sylvarum (although, as we firmly believe, ambiguous in
meaning, and in their more important bearings symbolical or
parabolic) give a good idea of the want of observation and gen
eral ignorance in Bacon's times on matters with which children
in the poorest schools are now made familiar. Whatever double
purpose this work on Natural History may have had, these sim
ple notes were offered to the public as interesting and instruct
ive information, and as such were received by the learned in the
seventeenth century.
For instance, we read that alkali or potash is used in making
168 FRANCIS BACON
glass; that airs may be wholesome or unwholesome; that some
flowers are sweeter than others; that some, but not all, can be
distilled into perfumes; that some have the scent in the leaf, as
sweetbriar, 1 others in the flower, as violets and roses; that
most odours smell best crushed or broken; that excess in nourish
ment is hurtful if a child be extremely fat it seldom grows very
tall; all mouldiness is a beginning of decay or putrefaction; heat
dries and shrivels things, damp rots; some parts of vegetables and
plants are more nourishing than others; yolks of eggs are more
nourishing than the whites; -soup made of bones and sinews
would probably be very nourishing ; bubbles are in the form of a
sphere, 2 air within and a little skin of water without. No beast has
azure, carnation or green hair; 3 mustard provoketh sneezing, and
a sharp thing to the eyes, tears. Sleep nourishes after-dinner
sleep is good for old people. Boiling gives a bubbling sound;
mincing meat makes it easier for old teeth; Indian maize when
boiled is good to eat; flax and white of eggs are good for wounds.
Now, although it is true that here is hardly one particular
which is not turned to excellent account in the Shakespeare
plays, and in many minor works of Bacon's time, it is impossible
to ignore the fact that Bacon makes notes of these as things not
generally known; that the book in which he registered them was
not published until after his death, and then, as we are espe
cially told, with the notes revised, or not arranged in the order
in which they were written.
Amongst the commonplaces which we have enumerated, there
are other statements incorrect as they are picturesque and
poetical. Probably Bacon did not believe them himself; they
are often introduced with some such modification as " It may
be that," or " It is said that.' 7 Thus we are told that gums
and rock crystals are the exudations of stones ; that air can be
turned into water, water into oil ; that the celestial bodies are
1 "The leaf of eglantine out-sweetened not thy breath." Cymb. iv. 2.
2 See Emblems of a Bubble, in reference to the world.
3 This is alluded to in Troilus and Cressida, i. 2, where Pandanis says that
they are laughing at the white hair on Troilus' chin, and Cressida answers : " An't
had been a, green hair, I should have laughed too."
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 169
most of them true fire or flames ; that flame and air do not min
gle except for an instant, or in the vital spirits of vegetables
and living creatures. Everywhere the Paracelsiau and very
poetical idea of the vital spirits of nature is perceptible, and the
whole of these notions are resolved into poetry in Shakespeare
and elsewhere. It is not too much to say that there is in
the plays hardly an allusion to any subject connected with sci
ence or natural history which is not traceable to some note in
these commonplace books, the apparently dry records of dis
jointed facts or experiments.
Not only arts and arguments, but demonstrations and proofs
according to analogies, he also " notes as deficient." And here
is a point in which his observations are distinctly in touch with
the Rosicrucian doctrines, or, to put it more accurately, a point
in which the Rosicrucians are seen to have followed Baconian
doctrines. For they made it a rule to accept nothing as scien
tific truth which did not admit of such proof and demonstration
by experiment or analogy.
As an example of the deficiency in this quarter, Bacon gives
the form and nature of light. 1 That no due investigation should
have been made of light, he considers " an astonishing piece of
negligence. " Let inquiry be made of it, and, meanwhile, let it
be set down as deficient. So of heat and cold, of flame, of dense
things and rare, of the nature of sulphur, mercury, salt, and
metals, the nature of air, of its conversion into water, and of
water into oil; almost everything, in fact, which we now call
natural science, he either marks among the deficients, or as
being handled in a manner of which he " prefers to make no
judgment."
Since doubts are better than false conclusions, Bacon sets
down a calendar of doubts or problems in nature as wanting,
and probably few students of works of the class here indicated
will find much difficulty in identifying the works written to
supply these needs.
l Here, wo think, is the customary double allusion, light being, in his sym
bolic language, synonymous with pure truth.
170
FEANCIS BACON
In short, Bacon shows that the sciences, whether of natural
philosophy, physics, or chemistry, were in a parlous state, full
of barren doctrines, empty theories, and bootless inquisitions;
that if ever they were to be revived and made to bring forth
fruits for the food of man, they must be " proyned " about the
roots, nourished and watered, lopped of an infinite number of
excrescences and useless branches, and grafted anew.
So with all the allied sciences of husbandry, horticulture,
distillation, fermentation, germination, putrefaction, etc., we
have but to consider the " experiments," proposed or explained,
in the Sylva Sylvarum (for the special use, as we believe, of
Bacon's learned brotherhood or " Illumiuati " ), to realise the
fact that the world (even the learned world) was indeed very
ignorant, and that these scientific studies were part of the great
" birth of time, " the Renaissance, the seeds and weak begin
nings which time should bring to ripeness. Many of these
observations are repeated in the Anatomy of Melancholy, which
seems to be another " collection, " this time the sweepings of
Bacon's commonplace books on subjects medical and metaphys
ical; a detailed examination of the mutual relations between
mind and body, which are briefly treated of in the Advance
ment of Learning, and other places.
The History of Winds supplies particulars for all the poetic
allusions to meteorological or nautical matters which are met
with in the plays, poems, and emblem books of the time. Here
it will be seen how weirdly and exquisitely these studies of
meteorological facts are interwoven with metaphysical sub
tleties, such as are met with in Macbeth and The Tempest.
Meteorology and the " sane astrology " which Bacon finds to be
a desideratum, mix themselves up with the science of medicine
in his time " forsaken by philosophy, " " a weak thing, not
much better than an empirical art," " a science more practised
than laboured, more laboured than advanced; the labours spent
on it being rather in a circle than in progression. "
As for the art of prolonging life, he " sets it down as deficient,"
and writes a book (apparently with a double meaning) on the
subject. The History of Life and Death is bound up with the
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 171
Rosicrucian New Atlantis and the Natural History, which we
believe correspond with the Librum Natarce of the fraternity,
and the simple remedies and recipes which Bacon prescribes
and publishes stand as records of the elementary state of
knowledge in his time. Metaphysics lead to the consideration of
the doctrine of dreams " a thing which has been laboriously
handled and full of follies." It is connected with the " doctrine
of the sensible soul, which is a fit subject of inquiries, even as
regards its substance, but such inquiries appear to me
deficient " l
The knowledge of human nature, of men's wants, thoughts,
characters, is also entirely neglected yet. " The nature and state
of man is a subject which deserves to be emancipated and made
a knowledge of itself. " In the Sylva Sylvarum he devotes many
paragraphs to preparations for advancing this much-neglected
art, noting even the small gestures and tokens by which the
body of man reflects and betrays the mind. These notes
furnish a compendium of hints not only for the metaphysician,
but also for the artist, the orator, and the actor; there is hardly
one which is not sure to be used with effect in the Shakespeare
plays.
Let us sum up briefly the deficiencies in knowledge which, so
far, we have learnt from Bacon to observe in the works of his
predecessors, but which were being rapidly supplied during his
life and in the succeeding generation:
Natural Science? or Physics and Chemistry, with experiments
and demonstrations deficient.
Natural History? excepting a few books of subtleties, varie
ties, catalogues, etc. deficient.
Horticulture and Husbandry totally or partially deficient.
Meteorology 5 in all its branches deficient.
1 De Aug. iv. Spedding, iv. 372-379.
2 See Advancement of Learning and De Augmentis ; Nov. Organum ; Nf w
Atlantis; Sylva Sylvarum.
3 Sylva Sylvarum; New Ailantis; Parasceve.
4 Sylva Sylvarum; Ess. Of Gardens; Plantations.
5 Nov. Org.; Hist, of Winds; Ebb and Flow of the Sea, etc.
172 FRANCIS BACON
Astronomy, 1 weak, with good foundations, but by no means
sound.
Astrology, 2 not to be despised, but not practised so as to be
useful or sane.
Medicine? Pathology and the Art of Prolonging Life defic
ient.
Metaphysics,* or the Doctrine of the Human Soul, and of the
influence of mind on body deficient.
Physiognomy and Gestures, 5 study of them deficient.
In order to minister to the extreme poverty of science in all
these departments, Bacon, as has been said, drew up a catalogue
of 130 " Histories " which he found wanting, and which he
strove, by his own exertions, and with help from friends, to
furnish, or at least to sketch out.
Those who nourish the belief that, in the sixteenth century,
the ordinary scribe or author could pick from casual reading, by
intercourse in general society, or by his penny-worth of obser
vation, such a knowledge of scientific facts as is exhibited (though
in a simple form) in the best plays of the time, will do well to
consider this catalogue, and to reflect that the particulars in it
are, for the most part, discussed as new and fruitful branches of
information, or food for speculation, in the works of Bacon. To
this consideration it would be well to add a study of the works
of a similar description current before Bacon began to publish, and
to see how much of the " popular science " which we connect with
Bacon was known, say, in the year 1575, beyond the walls of the
monastery or the cell of the philosopher. Then see how far
such knowledge reappears in any pre-Baconian poetry.
Bacon's method, says Spedding, in his dialogue with Ellis,
" presupposed a History (or dictionary as you call it) of universal
nature, as a storehouse of facts to work on. " 6 In these words
1 Thema Coeli.
2 De Aug.; Sylva Sylvarum.
3 Hist. Life and Death, etc.; Ess. Regimen of Health, Recipes, etc.
4 Doctrine of the Human Soul; De Aug., etc., etc.
5De Aug.; Sylv. Sylv.
6 Spedding, Works, Preface to Parasceye.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 173
the speaker uses the term expressing the idea of Promus et
Condus the idea of a store from which things new and old
should be drawn, of a store of rough material from which perfect
pieces should be produced. Such a store he was himself en
gaged in making.
To Spedding's inquiry his interlocutor replies : " Bacon wanted
a collection large enough to give him the command of all the
avenues to the secrets of nature. " It almost seems as if Mr.
Ellis were quoting from the Promus itself, where many hints
seern to be given of Bacon's proposals for working his secret
society, and where we find these entries : " Avenues Secrett
de Dieu; Secrett de Dieu." Are not these secrets of God cor
respondent to the secrets of nature to which Bacon would open
avenues'? Are they not the " things " known to the soothsayer
who confesses, when taxed with his unusual knowledge:
" In nature's infinite book of secresy
A little I can read." 1
And we cannot fail to observe that the study of such things
was attended with some perils to the student whose object was
to keep them as much as possible out of sight and screened
from hostile observation. The catalogue, instead of being in
corporated,-^* one would naturally expect, with the treatise
itself, is detached from it, and sometimes omitted from the pub
lication. Some of the entries, moreover, are incomprehensible,
excepting on the assumption that they, again, moralise two
meanings in one word of which more anon.
But, we hear it said, " Grant that science, in modern accepta
tion of the term, was a new thing in Bacon's time, and that he
held nearly every department in it to be deficient; what of that?
Grant that there was then no such thing as popular teaching on
these subjects, and that all branches of science have made
tremendous strides during the past century. The same argu
ments cannot apply to the literature of the sixteenth and seven
teenth centuries. Have we not all been taught that those were
the times when Spenser and Shakespeare grew to their full
1 Ant. and Cleo. i. 2.
174 FRANCIS BACON
powers, Spenser representing England with its religious sense of
duty combative; Shakespeare, enabled by that English earnest
ness to speak through the highest poetry the highest truth?
That the depths were stirred, and the spirit of the time drew
from the souls of men the sweetest music, ennobling and elevat
ing rough soldiers, mechanics, and country louts into poets of
the highest degree? "
But in truth Bacon condemned the literary part of the
knowledge of his own time before he touched upon ttie scientific
part, although, for convenience, the order is here reversed. The
second book of the Advancement treats of " the Divisions of the
Sciences. " There " all human learning " is divided into History,
Poesy, and Philosophy, with reference to the three intellectual
faculties, Memory, Imagination, Reason, and we are shown that
the same holds good in theology or divinity.
History he again divides into natural and civil (which last
includes ecclesiastical and literary history), and natural history
is subdivided into histories of generations and arts, and into
natural history, narrative and inductive. So we see that the
science comes last in Bacon's contemplations and method,
although, in the chair of sciences, it connects itself with the first
part of human learning history. But here at once he discovers
a deficiency. "The history of learning without which the
history of the world seems to me as the statue of Polyphemus
without the eye, that very feature being left out which marks
the spirit and life of the person I set down as wanting.' 7 As
usual he gives a summary of the requisites for this work, and
the best method of compiling such a history from the principal
works written in each century from the earliest ages, " that by
tasting them here and there, and observing their argument,
style, and method, the literary spirit of each age may be
charmed, as it were, from the dead. "
Such a history would, he considers, greatly assist the skill of
learned men. " It would exhibit the movements and pertur
bations which take place no less in intellectual than in civil
jnatters. In short, it would be a step toward the true study
of human nature, " which was his aim.
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 175
Civil history, though pre-eminent amongst modern writings,
he finds to be " beset on all sides by faults," and that there is
nothing rarer than a true civil history, which he subdivides into
Memorials, Commentaries, Perfect History, and Antiquities.
" For memorials are the rough drafts of history, and antiquities
are history defaced, or remnants of history, which, like the spars
of a shipwreck, have recovered somewhat from the deluge of
time. "
No defects need be noticed in the annals, chronologies, registers,
and collections of antiquities, which he classes with " imperfect
histories." They are of their very nature imperfect, but they
are not to be condemned like epitomes, " things which have
fretted and corroded the bodies of most excellent histories, and
wrought them into unprofitable dregs. " There are many collec
tions, annals, chronologies, chronicles, commentaries , registers,
etc., which began to appear in Bacon's time, in accordance with
his instructions and suggestions, if not with direct help from
him.
" Just and perfect history is of three kinds, according to the
object which it propoundeth or pretendeth to present; for it pre-
senteth either a time or a person or an action. The first of these
we call Chronicles, the second Lives, and the third Narratives.
Though the first be the most complete, and hath most glory, yet
the second excelleth it in use, and the third in truth. For history
of times representeth the greatness of actions, and the public faces
and behaviour of persons; it passeth over in silence the smaller
events and actions of men and matter's. But such being the
workmanship of God, that He doth hang the greatest weight
upon the smallest wires, 1 it comes to pass that such histories cfo
rather set forth the pomp of 'business than the true and inward
resorts (or springs) thereof. Insomuch that you may find a truer
picture of human life in some satires than in such histories. "
But well-written " lives and histories are likely to be more
purely true, because their argument is within the knowledge
and observation of the writer. 2 All three kinds of history are,
1 " Thus hast thou hang'd our life on brittle pins." Translation of Psl. xc.
"The whole frame stands upon pins." 2d Henry IV. iii. 2.
2 Adrt. ii. 1.
176 FEANCIS 3 A CON
nevertheless, " so full of many and great deficiencies," that he
says: " Even to mention them would take too much time." He
would himself have undertaken the business iu good earnest
if James had given him any encouragement. But in this, as in
many other things, he failed to rouse the dull King, whom he
vainly tried to make as wise as he thought himself. The frag
ment of the " History of Great Britain " hints at Bacon's efforts
in this direction, and there are several large books which will
probably some day be acknowledged as part of the " collections"
made by Bacon, or under his direction, to this end. 1
For lives, he thinks it most strange that they have been so
neglected, and counts them among the deficients.
Narrations and relations are also to be wished, since a good
collection of small particulars would be as a nursery-ground,
raising seedlings to plant when time will serve a fair and stately
garden. 2
Other parts of learning, as appendices to history, as orations,
letters, brief speeches or sayings and letters, he considers an im
portant branch of history. " Letters are according to the variety
of occasions, advertisements, advices, directions, propositions,
petitions, commendatory, expostulatory, satisfactory, of com
pliment, of pleasure, of discourse, and all other passages of action.
And such as are written from wise men are, of all the words of
man, in my judgment, the best, for they are more natural than
orations and public speeches, and more advised than conferences
or present speeches. So, again, letters of affairs, from such as
manage them or are privy to them, are, of all others, the best
instructions for history and, to a diligent reader, the best his
tories in themselves. " 3
Bacon's own letters are, of themselves, a good illustration of
his doctrine; but there are other collections of letters, such as
Sir Tobie Matthew's correspondence, with names and dates can-
1 See "The Chronicles of the Kings of England from the Time of the Romans
Government to the Death of King James." By Sir Samuel Baker. On the front
ispiece of the third edition is a vignette of Yerulam.
2 De Aug. ii. 7. See, also, " The Collection of the History of England,"
Samuel Daniel, 3d edn. 1636.
SAdvt. ii. 1.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 177
celled, and the collection by Howell, entitled HorceEliance, which
seem as if they had been written with a further purpose than
that of mere correspondence between friend and friend. The
vast chasm, in point of dictioo, between these and the letters
written by ordinary persons of good breeding and education in
Bacon's time, may be well gauged by a comparison with them of
the sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's correspondence at
the library belonging to Lambeth Palace, or the letters in the
Cottonian and Hatton Finch collections at the British Museum.
Next, Baccn commends the collecting of apophthegms or witty
sayings. " The loss of that book of Caesar's " is, he thinks, a
misfortune, since no subsequent collection has been happy in the
choice. His own collection, with the supplementary anecdotes,
which are sometimes ranked as " spurious," still remain to us;
the former, we think, possessing a double value, inasmuch as it
seems probable that, in one edition at least, it forms a kind of
cipher or key to the meaning of other works.
As to the heathen antiquities of the world, " it is in vain to
note them as deficient, " for, although they undoubtedly are so,
consisting mostly of fables and fragments, " the deficiency can
not be holpen ; for antiquity is like fame caput inter nubile
condit her head is muffled from our sight." 1 He does not
allude to his own Wisdom of the Ancients, or to other kindred
works, which, although they seem to have b^en published later,
yet bear traces of having been ihe more diffuse and cruder studies
which were the early products of Bacon's youthful studies. 2
He draws attention to the history which Cornelius Tacitus
made, coupling this with annals and journals, which again he
finds to be in his own day deficient.
We observe that no hint is dropped about Camden's Annals.
The omission is the more significant, seeing that in that work we
have before us Bacon's own notes and additions.
Now he passes on to " Memorials, commentaries, and regis
ters, which set down a bare continuance and tissue of actions
1 Advt. iii. 1.
2 See particularly Mystagogus Poeticus, or the Muses' Interpreter, 2nd edn.,
much enlarged by Alexander Ross, 1648.
12
178 FRANCIS BA CON
and events, without the causes and pretexts, and other passages
of action ; for this is the true nature of a commentary, though
Ca3sar, in modesty mixed with greatness, chose to apply the
name of commentary to the best history extant." 1 There are
some " Observations on Caesar's Commentaries " 2 which are de
serving of notice in connection with this subject, although they
bear on the title-page the name of Clement Edmundes, yet that
very title-page is adorned with a portrait which strikingly resem
bles portraits of Francis Bacon. Here he is as a lad of about
sixteen years old, and the internal evidence of the work renders
it highly probable that this was merely one of his many juvenile
productions. Several other works of a similar nature, with
some geographical manuals, such as " Microcosmus, or a
Little Picture of a Great World, " and large works, such as the
" Discovery of Guiana " and " A History of the World " (in
which history, politics, and personal adventure are largely inter
mixed with geography), began to make their appearance
about this time, and assisted in completing Bacon's great plan
for the dissemination of universal knowledge. He affirms, " to
the honour of his times andin a virtuous emulation with antiquity,
that this great Building of the World never had through lights
made in it till the age of us and our fathers. For, although they
had knowledge of the antipodes, yet that might be by demon
stration and not by fact, and if by travel, ic requireth the voy
age but of half the globe. But to circle the earth, as the
heavenly bodies do, was not done nor attempted till these later
times, and therefore these times may justly bear in their word
not only plus ultra in precedence of the ancient non ultra, and
imltdbile fulmen in precedence of the ancient non imltabile ful-
men, etc., but, likewise, imitabile c&lum, in respect of the many
memorable voyages, after the manner of heaven, about the globe
of the earth."
He never loses sight of the great object which he has at heart,
of bringing lights into the darkness in which the world is lying;
never for an instant forgets his darling hope that the advance-
1 De Aug. ii. 6.
2 Published, Lowndes, 1609.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 179
ment of geographical knowledge may be made a means of
" mingling heaven and earth. " When considering the deficien
cies not only of knowledge, but of language in which to express
knowledge, it will not be amiss to draw attention to the words
of Hallam concerning the works of Sir Walter Ealeigh, 1 especially
" The History of the World. " The reader should reflect whether
it is more probable that the adventurous soldier and busy man
of the world should have been capable of writing such a book as
the one in question (filled as it is with Baconian beauties of dic
tion and sentiment), or that Bacon, visiting his interesting friend
in the Tower, should have induced him to beguile the tedious
day and drive away the heavy thoughts of care by writing or
compiling, with his help, the work to which Sir Walter con
tributed the experience of his own travels, but for which Bacon
himself furnished the plan, the erudition, and the diction.
" We should," says Hallam, " expect from the prison-hours
of a soldier, a courtier, a busy intriguer in state affairs, a poet,
and a man of genius, something well worth our notice; but
hardly a prolix history of the ancient world, hardly disquisitions
on the site of Paradise and the travels of Cain. The Greek
and Roman story is told more fully and exactly than by any
earlier English author, and with a plain eloquence which has
given this book a classical reputation in our language. Raleigh
has intermingled political reflections and illustrated his history
by episodes from modern times, which perhaps are now the most
interesting passages. It descends only to the second Macedonian
war. There is little now obsolete in the words of Raleigh, nor
to any great degree in his turn of phrase; . . . he is less pedantic
than most of his contemporaries, seldom low, never affected. "
Not science only, or natural history, or the history of the
world and of individuals, but arts and inventions of all kinds
were, in Bacon's opinion, equally "at a standstill." "As to
philosophy, men worship idols, false appearances, shadows, not
1 It is not unworthy of inquiry, Was Raleigh (whose name is variously spelt)
any relation of the Dr. Rawley who was Bacon's chaplain and confidential sec
retary ?
180 FRANCIS BA CON
substance; 1 they satisfy their minds with the deepest fallacies.
The methods and frameworks which I have hitherto seen, there
is none of any worth, all of them carry in their titles the face
of a school and not of a world, having vulgar and pedantical
divisions, not such as pierce the heart of things. "
Then, for the art of memory, " the inquiry seems hitherto to
have been pursued weakly and languidly enough ; ... it is a
barren thing, as now applied for human uses. The feats of
memory now taught, I do esteem no more than I do the tricks and
antics of clowns and rope-dancers' matters, 2 perhaps of strange
ness, but not of worth. "
Passing from natural and physical science to philology, or, as
Bacon calls it, " philosophic grammar," we again find it "set
down as wanting." " Grammar," he says, " is the harbinger of
other sciences an office not indeed very noble, but very
necessary, especially as sciences, in our age, are principally
drawn from the learned languages, and are not learned in our
mother's tongue. . . . Grammar, likewise, is of two sorts the
one being literary, the other philosophical. " The first of these
is used chiefly in the study of foreign tongues, especially in the
dead languages, but " the other ministers to philosophy." This
reminds him that Caesar wrote some books on " analogy," and
a doubt occurs whether they treated of this kind of philosophical
grammar. Suspecting, however, that they did not contain any
thing subtle or lofty, he takes the hint as to another deficiency,
and thinks " of a kind of grammar which should diligently
inquire, not the analogy of words with one another, but the
analogy between words and things, or reason, not going so far
as that interpretation which belongs to logic. Certainly words
are the footsteps of reason, and the footsteps tell something
about the body. . . . The noblest kind of grammar, as I think,
would be this: If some one well seen in a number of tongues,
1 Compare: "He takes false shadows for true substances." (Tit And. iii. 2.)
" Your falsehood shall become you well to worship shadows and adore false
shapes: 1 (Tu>. G. Ver. iv. 1, 123-131.) Mer. Wiv. ii. 2, 215. Her. Yen. hi. 2,
126-130; and comp. 1. 73-80. Richard II. ii. 2, 14. 1 Henry VI. ii. 3, 62, 63.
2 This line seems to throw light upon Petrucio's powers of vituperative
rhetoric " He'll rail in his rope tricks." (Tarn. Sh. i. 2.)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 181
*
learned as well as common, would handle the various properties
of languages, showing in what points each excelled, in what it
failed. For so, not only may languages be enriched by mutual
exchanges, but the several beauties of each may be combined,
as in the Venus of Apelles, into a most beautiful image and
excellent model of speech itself, for the right expression of the
meanings of the mind."
As in everything else which Bacon noted as unattempted or
unachieved, we find him endeavoring to supply the deficiencies
in language which were universal in his day. He does not hint
that Ben Jonson, Shakespeare, and others had been for years
pouring Latin words into our language, trying experiments in
words which had never been tried before, coining, testing, and
rejecting, in the same manner, precisely, in which Bacon himself
was coining, testing, rejecting, or making" current, the new
words which he entered in his Promus. That he was coining,
intentionally r , we*know from his habit of supplementing his new
word with its nearest synonym, and also from the frequent
.recurrence of such expressions as: " So I call it, " " As it were, "
" As I term it," etc.
Bacon suggests l the making of " a store " of forms of speech,
prefaces, conclusions, digressions, transitions, excusations, and
a number of the kind, as likewise deficient. He subjoins
specimens of these. " Such parts of speech answer to the
vestibules, back-doors, ante-chambers, withdrawing-chambers,
passages, etc., of a house, and may s^rve, indiscriminately, for all
subjects. For as, in buildings, it is a great matter, both for
pleasure and use, that the fronts, doors, windows, approaches,
passages, and the like, be conveniently arranged, so, also, in
a speech, such accessories and passages, if handsomely and
skilfully placed, add a great deal, being both of ornament and
effect to the entire structure. " Surely he is here thinking of
the construction of his Solomon's House. He then gives a few
instances from Demosthenes and Cicero, having " nothing of his
own to add to this part. " Nothing, he means, which he chose
to publish at that time, as a store of the kind. That he had it,
1 DeAug. vi. 3, 492.
182 FEANCIS BA CON
and had used it in all his works for thirty or forty years, and
with marvellous effect, we now know well from the internal
evidence of those works. In the Promus is a consecutive list
of one hundred and twenty-six short expressions of single
words, and farther on eighty more, which are all to be found in
the early Shakespeare plays, and more rarely elsewhere. Some of
these, such as " my L. S. r (the " Lord, Sir, " of Love's Labour's
Lost and AWs Well), are dropped in later plays. But by far
the larger number, as "Believe me," "What else?" "Is it
possible ? " " For the rest," " You put me in mind," " Nothing
less," " Say that," etc., are met with throughout all the works
which will hereafter be claimed as Bacon's. Most of these
expressions are now such familiar and household terms that it
seems strange to imagine that three hundred years ago they
were not in everybody's mouth. What would be thought if it
were found that any great orator of our own time had written
down, intermixed with literary notes, which were carefully
preserved, such notes as these : " Will you see? " " You take it
right," "All this while," "As is," "I object," "I demand,"
" Well," " More or less," " Prima facie," " If that be so," " Is
it because? " " What else? " " And how now? " " Best of all,"
" I was thinking, " " Say, then, " " You put me in mind, " " Good
morning," " Good night "?
Yet these are amongst the private notes " for store of forms
and elegancies of speech." They are of the kind which Bacon,
in his learned works, describes as deficient; which, even in his
last great work, the De Augmentis, he still pronounces to be
deficient and much needed for the building-up of a noble model
of language. Can we doubt that in such collections as this we
see Bacon in labourer's clothes, digging the clay and gathering
the stubble from all over the desolate fields of learning, to burn
the bricks wherewith he would rebuild the temple of wisdom?
Careful study and examination of these questions will surely
prove that to Francis Bacon we owe, not only the grand specu
lative philosophy and the experimental science which are associ
ated with his name, and a vast number of works unacknowledged
by him, though published during the sixteenth and seventeenth
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 183
centuries, but also the very language in which those books
are written, the u noble model of language " which has never
been surpassed, and which constitutes the finest part of the
finest writing of the present day.
Now, to return to our hasty sketch of deficiencies in gram
mar and philology, we find, as might be expected, that, inas
much as words and graceful forms of speech were lacking, and
the very machinery or organs of discourse imperfect, so " the
proper rational method of discourse, l or rhetoric, for the trans
mission of knowledge, has been so handled as to defeat its
object. " Logicians, by their artificial methods, have " so forced
the kernels and grains of the sciences to leap out, that they are
left with nothing in their grasp but the dry and barren husks. "
Changing the metaphor, Bacon declares that he finds the road
to knowledge abandoned and stopped up, and, setting himself
to the task of clearing the way, he quotes Solomon as to the use
of eloquence, and again enforces the necessity of making collec
tions. This time they are to be collections of " illustrations "
which shall consider the opposite sides of every question, and
show that there is a good as well as a bad side to every proposi
tion. " It is the business of rhetoric to make pictures of virtue
and goodness that they may be seen. And a store of sophisms,
or the colours of good and evil, should be made, so that when
men's natural inclinations mutiny, reason may, upon such a
revolt of imagination, hold her own, and in the end prevail."
These " points and stings of things " are by no means to be
neglected ; yet they, like the rest, are deficient.
Bacon wishes it to be plainly understood that the object of all
this " provision of discourse" is to enable men readily to make
use of their acquired knowledge. The system of noting, tabu
lation, and indexing which he enjoined, practised, and developed
into a perfect system in his secret society is, he says, rather an
exercise of patience, a matter of diligence, than of erudition.
" Aristotle derided the sophists who practised it, saying that
they did as if a shoemaker should not teach how to make
a shoe, but should only exhibit a number of shoes of all fashions
1 " Aa honest method, as wholesome as sweet." (Ham. ii. 2.)
184 FEANCIS BACON
and sizes. Far otherwise said our Saviour, speaking of divine
knowledge : Every scribe that is instructed in the Kingdom of
Heaven is like a householder that bringeth forth old and new
store. " His own notes were to him the store or Promus from
which he drew. They correspond to the last collection, which
he specially recommends, namely, " a store of commonplaces, in
which all kinds of questions and studies, prepared beforehand,
are argued on either side, and not only so, but the case exag
gerated both ways with the utmost force of wit, and urged
unfairly, and, as it were, beyond the truth." For the. sake of
brevity and convenience, these commonplaces should be con
tracted into concise sentences, " to be like reels of thread, easily
unwound when they are wanted." These he calls the " an
titheses of things, " and, having a great many by him, he gives,
>l by way of example, " forty -se ven antitheta, which, " although
perhaps of no great value, yet as I long ago prepared them, I
was loth to let the fruit of my youthful industry perish the
rather (if they be carefully examined) they are seeds only, and
not flowers."
These antitheta, which pervade the whole of Bacon's works,
and which indeed tend to the formation of the most remarkable
points in his style, may equally well be seen in the Shakespeare
plays and poetry, whose " highly antithetical style" is the sub
ject of comment by nearly every critic of the varied resources
of his expressive diction.
From the discussion of words, phrases, life, and rhetoric (all
of which he finds to be fundamentally defective), Bacon passes
on to sound, measure, and accent; explaining, as to novices in
the art, the most elementary principles of elocution, rhythm,
and prosody. " The sound belonging to sweetnesses and harsh
nesses, the hiatus caused by vowels coming together," the dif
ference in the use of diphthongs in Greek and Latin, and some
peculiarities in various languages of these things he has soon
" had more than enough," and he gladly turns to his congenial
subject, poesy.
Now on this score, at least, one might expect that he could
congratulate his countrymen. But all that he is able to say is
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 185
that " Poesy has produced a vast body of art, considered, not to
the matter of it, but to the form of words. " All words, no matter,
nothing from the heart ! l Is this all that can be said for the
poetry of an age which produced the Faerie Queene, The Shep
herd's Calendar, the Shakespeare plays, poems and sonnets, the
works of Ben Jonson, Marlowe, Middleton, Chapman, Webster,
the hymns and spiritual songs of Herbert, Quarles, Withers,
Cowley, Crashaw, and a host of " minor poets " ? Are we to
believe that Bacon included these in his vast body of art
considered, not in regard to the matter, but to the words of it?
Poetry to be lovely must have matter as well as art. It should
be the spontaneous overflow of a full mind, stored to the brim
with " true history," with a knowledge of nature, and especially
of human nature; for " by Poesy," says Bacon, " / mean here
nothing else than feigned history."' 2 ' Shakespeare formed the same
estimate of true poetry:
Audrey. I do not know what poetical is ; ... is it a true thing?
Touchstone. No, truly, for the truest poetry is the most feigning, and what they
swear in poetry may be said, as lovers, they do feign. ... If thou wert a poet,
I might have some hope thou didst feign ? 3
Bacon reminds us more than once of all that poets feign* in
their histories, but he fails not to show that "all invention " or
imaginative power " is but memory," and that " a man is only
what he knows. " In vain would weaker wits endeavour to per
suade us that " reading and writing come by nature," or that a
man can -write well about matters concerning which he can
never have had the opportunity of duly informing himself.
Poesy, indeed, being " free and licensed, may at pleasure make
unlawful matches and divorces of things," but the poet must be
acquainted with those things before he can either match or
divorce them.
1 Compare: " Who will for a tricksy word defy the matter" (Merchant of
Venice, iii. 5 ) " More rich in matter than in words" (Romeo and Juliet, ii. 6.)
"Words, words, mere words, nothing from the heart." (Troihis and Cressida,
v. 3.) " More matter with less art." (Hamlet, ii. 2.) "This nothing's more than
matter." (Ibid. iv. 5.) "When priests are more in words than matter,"
(Lear, iii. 2 and iv. 6.)
2De Augmentis. 3 As You Like It, iii. 5.
4 3 Henry VI. i. 2. Merchant of Venice, v. 1, etc.
186 FRANCIS BACON
The first study of the poet should be history, u which is prop
erly concerned with individuals, 1 and whose impressions are
the first and most ancient guests of the human mind, and are
as the primary material of knowledge." This is no passing
thought of Bacon's, but a firm conviction, of which he set forth
a visible illustration on the title-page of the Advancement oj
Learning. Here we see two pyramids, that on the right based
upon Divinity, and rising into the study of human nature; that
on the left based on Philosophy, and issuing in History and Poe
try. Bacon describes the process of poetic evolution :
" The images of individuals are received into the sense, and
fixed in the memory. They pass into the memory whole, just as
they present themselves. Then the mind recalls and reviews
them, and, which is its proper office, compounds or divides the
parts of which they consist. For individuals have something
in common with each other, and again something different, and
the composition of one characteristic with another is either
according to the pleasure of the mind or according to the
nature of things as it exists in fact. If it be according
to the pleasure of the mind of the composer, and that the
various characteristics of one person are mixed or compounded
with those of another, then the work is a work of imagination;
which, not being bound by any law or necessity of nature, may
join things which are never found together in nature, and sepa
rate things which in nature are never found apart."
Now, truly, Bacon realised the " tricks of strong imagination, "
" Shaping fantasies that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends,"
bodying forth the forms of things unknown, whilst the poet's
pen
" Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name." 2
The antithetical view of the question is best seen in Antony
and Cleopatra, where Cleopatra, recalling the memory of Antony,
" whole as it presents itself," is yet struck by the inadequacy of
her efforts to combine so many noble features in one image:
1 " The proper study of mankind is man."
2 See M. N. D. v. 1, 1-28.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 187
" Nature wants stuff
To vio strange forms with fancy, yet to imagine
An Antony were nature's peace 'gainst fancy,
Condemning shadows quite, l
" If, on the other hand, these same parts or characteristics of
individuals are compounded or divided, as they really show them
selves in nature, this is the business and duty of Reason. From
these three fountains of Memory, Imagination, and Reason How
three emanations of History, Poesy, and Philosophy, and there
cannot be more or other than these ; they even include Theology.
For whether information enters or is conveyed into the mind by
revelation or by sense, the human spirit is one and the same, and
it is but as if different liquors were poured through different fun
nels into one and the same vessel. "
He goes on to show that Poesy is to be taken in two senses, in
regard to words or matter. " In the first sense it is but a kind of
speech, verse being only a kind of style and having nothing to do
with the matter or subject; for true history may be written in
verse, and feigned history or fiction may be written in prose." 2
Bacon adds, in the De Augmentis, that in the " style and form of
words, that is to say, metre and verse, the art we have is a very
small thing, though the examples are large and innumerable. "
" The art which grammarians call Prosody should not be con
fined to teaching the kinds and measures of verse, but precepts
should be added as to the kinds of verse which best suit each
matter os^subject." He shows how the ancients used hexame
ters, elegiacs, iambic and lyric verse, with this view. Modern
imitation fell short, because, with too great zeal for antiquity,
the writers tried to train the modern languages into ancient
measures, incompatible with the structure of the languages, and
no less offensive to the ear. " But for poesy, whether in stories or
metre, it is like a luxuriant plant that cometh of the lust of the
earth and without any formal seed. Wherefore it spreads every
where, and is scattered far and wide, so that it would be vain to take
thought about the defects of it. " Yet he levels a parting shaft
at these defects, observing that, although accents in words have
been carefully attended to, the accentuation of sentences has not
been observed at all.
l Ant. and CL v. 2. 2 Intellectual Globe.
188 FEANCIS BACON
Narrative Poesy is a mere imitation of History, such as might
pass for real, only that it commonly exaggerates things beyond
probability.
Dramatic Poesy is History made visible, for it represents
actions as if they were present, whereas History represents them
as past.
Parabolic Poesy is typical history, by which ideas that are ob
jects of the intellect are represented in forms that are objects
of the sense.
As for Narrative or Her oical Poesy, " the foundation of it is truly
noble, and has a special relation to the dignity of human nature.
For as the sensible world is inferior in dignity to the rational
soul, poesy seems to bestow upon human nature those things
which history denies to it, and to satisfy the mind with the
shadows of things when the substance cannot be obtained."
So, in his Device ofPhilautia, the soldier is made to say : " The
shadows of games are but counterfeits and shadows, when in a
lively tragedy a man's enemies are sacrificed before his eyes, " etc.
Theseus has the same thought that poetry is the shadow of
things. He does not despise the shadow when the substance
cannot be obtained, although Hippolyta pronounces the rural
play to be the silliest stuff that e'er she heard. He replies:
" The best in this kind are but shadows, and the worst are no
worse, if imagination mend them. " 1
Puck, too, in his apology for himself and his fellow -players,
calls them shadows.
" And the reason why poesy is so agreeable to the spirit of man
is that he has a craving for a more perfect order and more
beautiful variety than can be found in nature since the fall.
Therefore, since the acts and events of real history are not grand
enough to satisfy the human mind, poesy is at hand to feign
acts more heroical ; since the issues of actions in real life are
far from agreeing with the merits of virtue and vice, poesy cor
rects history, exhibiting events and fortunes as according to merit
and the law of Providence. Since true history wearies the mind
with common events, poetry refreshes it by reciting things un
expected and various. So that this poesy conduces not only to
i M. N. D. v. 2.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 189
delight, but to magnanimity and morality. Whence it may
fairly be thought to partake somewhat of a divine nature, be
cause it raises the mind aloft, accommodating the shows of
things to the desires of the mind, not (like reason and history)
buckling and bowing down the mind to the nature of things. " *
" By these charms and that agreeable congruity which it has
with man's nature, accompanied also with music, to gain more
sweet access, poesy has so won its way as to have been held in
honour even in the rudest ages and among barbarous people,
when other kinds of learning were utterly excluded. " 2
Can it be doubted that he intended so to use it in.hisown age,
still so rude, though so self-satisfied? In a previous chapter
he has described Minerva as " forsaken," and he proposes " to
make a hymn to the muses, because it is long since their rites
were duly celebrated. " 3 Years before this he said the same in
the Device of Philautia, which was performed before the Queen
A hermit is introduced, who, in his speech, exhorts the squire
to persuade his master to offer his services to the muses. " It is
long since they received any into their court. They give alms
continually at their gate, that many come to live upon, but few
have they ever admitted into their palace." Elsewhere he
speaks of " the poverty of experiences and knowledge," 4 " the
poverty and scantiness" of the subjects which till now have
occupied the minds of men. " 5
And so in the Midsummer Nights Dream (v. 1) we finds
" The thrice-three muses mourning for the death
Of Learning, late deceas'd in beggary."
And the Princess in Love's Labour's Lost (v. 2), exclaims,
when the King and his masque and musicians depart :
" Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?
Well-liking wits they have ; gross, gross ; fat fat.
O poverty in wit, Tci'ngly-poor flout ! "
And Biron says the study of
" Slow arts entirely keep the brain-,
And, therefore, finding barren practisers,
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil."
1 De Aug. ii. 13.
2 De Aug. ii. 13. "Aye, much is the force of heaven-bred poesy." Tw G
Ver. iii. 2. 3 Advt. L. i. 4 Int. Nat. 10. 5 Nov. Org. i. 85.
190 FRANCIS BACON
In the Anatomy of Melancholy, the author (Bacon, as we
believe) says that " poetry and beggary are Gemini, twin- born
brats, inseparable companions.
"And to this day is every scholar poor:
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor.''
And now we come to dramatic poesy, a section which Bacon
seems carefully to have omitted in the English edition of the
Advancement of Learning. That edition would, during his own
lifetime, be chiefly read by his own countrymen, and might
draw attention to his connection with the drarr.a and stage
plays, arts which, as we have seen, he held to be of the highest
value and importance, although in his time corrupt, degraded,
plainly neglected, and esteemed but as toys.
" Dramatic poesy, which has the theatre for its world, would
be of excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable of
no small influence, both of discipline and of corruption. Now.
of corruptions in this kind we have had enough; but the disci
pline has, in our times, been plainly neglected. And though
in modern states play-acting is esteemed but as a toy, except
when ifis too satirical and biting, yet among the ancients it was
used as a means of educating men's minds to virtue. Nay, it
has been regarded by learned men and great philosophers as a
kind of musician's bow, by which men's minds may be pla\ ed
upon. And certainly it is most true, and one of the great
secrets of nature, that the minds of men are more open to
impressions and affections when many are gathered together,
than when they are alone." l
He returns to the subject later on, in connection with rhetoric
and other arts of transmitting knowledge :
" It will not be amiss,' 7 he says, " to observe that even mean
faculties, when they fall into great men or great matters, work
great and important effects. Of this I will bring forward an
example worthy to be remembered, the more so because the
Jesuits appear not to despise this kind of discipline, therein
judging, as I think, well. It is a thing indeed, if practised pro
fessionally, of low repute; but if it be made a part of discipline
it is of excellent use. I mean stage playing an art which
ft lengthens the memory, regulates the tone and effect of the
IDeAug. ii. 13.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 191
voice and pronunciation, teaches a decent carriage of the coun
tenance and gesture, gives not a little assurance, and accustoms
young men to bear being looked at. "
He then gives an example from Tacitus (not from Hamlet) of
a player who
" in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
Could force his soul so to his whole conceit
That, from her working, all his visage wann'd.
Tears in kis eyes, distraction in 's aspect,
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
To his conceit ,
and who so moved and excited his fellow-soldiers with a fictitious
account of the murder of his brother that, had it not shortly
afterward appeared that nothing of the sort had happened, or,
as Hamlet says, that it was " all for nothing " " nay, that he
never had a brother, would hardly have kept their hands oft' the
prefect; but the fact was, that he played the whole thing as if it
had been a piece on the stage. " l
Highly as Bacon extols Poetry in all its branches, but especially
in the narrative and dramatic forms, he yet gives to Parabolic
Poetry a still more distinguished place, and this would certainly
strike us as strange if it were not that this parabolic method is
found to be so intimately connected with the whole question
of secret societies, their symbols, ciphers, and hieroglyphics.
In the De Augmentls we cannot fail to see that he is every
where leading up to a secret description of his own system of
conveying covert or hidden information and of moralising two
meanings in one word.
" Parabolic Poesy is of a higher character than the others,
and appears to be something sacred and venerable, especially
as religion itself commonly uses its aid as a means of communi
cation between divinity and humanity. But this, too, is corrupted
by the levity and idleness of wits in dealing with allegory. It
is of double use, and serves for contrary purposes, for it serves
for an infoldment, and it likewise serves for illustration. In the
latter case the object is a method of teaching, in the former an
1 De Aug. vi. 9.
192 FEANCIS BA CON
artifice for concealment." He goes on to show how, in days
when men's minds were not prepared for the reception of new
ideas, they were made more capable of receiving them by means
of examples; and hence the ancient times are full of parables,
riddles, and similitudes.
That this was Bacon's strong and well considered opinion
appears from its frequent repetition in his works. The admirable
preface to The Wisdom of the Ancients enters into this subject
with considerable detail, and is peculiarly interesting on account
of the indisputable evidence which it affords that these things
were new in Bacon's day; that it was he who revived the use of
trope and metaphor; who taught men, in days when this
knowledge of the ancients had been all but extinguished, to
light up or illustrate, " not only antiquity, but the things
themselves. "
Again, repeating that there are two contrary ends to be
answered by the use of parable, which may serve as well to
wrap up and envelop secret teaching, as openly to instruct, he
points out that, even if we drop the concealed use, and consider
the ancient fables only as stories intended for amusement.
" Still the other use must remain, and can never be given up.
And every man of any learning must allow that this method of
instructing is grave, sober, or exceedingly useful, and sometimes
necessary in the sciences, as it opens an easy and familiar pass
age to the human understanding in all new discoveries that are
abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the human
reason as are now trite and common were new and little known,
all things l abounded with fables, parables, similes, comparisons,
and allusions, which were not intended to conceal, but to inform
and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude and unprac
tised in matters of subtlety and speculation, or even impatient,
and in a manner uncapable of receiving such things as did not
directly fall under and strike the senses. For, as hieroglyphics
were in use before writing, so were parables in use before
arguments. And even to this day, if any man would let new
l "If you look in the maps of the 'orld, you shall find in the comparisons
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is both alike. . . .
For there? sfigures in alt things. ... I speak but in t/te figures and comparisons
of it." Henry V. iv. 8.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 193
light in upon the human understanding, and conquer prejudice,
without raising contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance,
he must still go on in the same path, and have recourse to the
like method of allegory, metaphor, and allusion.
" Now, whether any mystic meaning be concealed beneath the
fables of the ancient poets is a matter of some doubt. For my
own part I must confess that I am inclined to think that a
mystery is involved in no small number of them. ... I take
them to be a kind of breath from the traditions of more ancient
nations, which fell into the pipes of the Greeks. But since that
which has hitherto been done in the interpretation of these
parables, being the work of skilful men, not learned beyond
commonplaces, does not by any means satisfy me, I think fit
to set down philosophy according to the ancient parables among
the desiderata. "
He then selects, as examples of his own interpretation of the
ancient myths, Pan interpreted of the Universe and Natural
Philosophy ; Perseus, of War and Political Philosophy; Dionysus,
of Desire and Moral Philosophy.
Who can read the scientific works of Bacon, or try really to
.understand his philosophy, without perceiving that, whatever he
may have discovered, revived, instilled, or openly taught, his
main object was to teach men to teach themselves? His" method"
everywhere tends to this point. To get at general principles, to
find out first causes, and to invent the art of inventing arts,
and of handing down as well as of advancing the knowledge
acquired these were his aims. He is fully conscious that life is
short and art is long, and therefore does not attempt to perfect
any one department of science. He gives the keys and expects
others to decipher the problems by means of those keys. He
had very small respect for mere accumulations of detached facts,
but he knew that generalisations could only be properly based
upon such accumulations, classified and reduced to order, and
that axioms to be true must be " drawn from the very centre of
the sciences. " That he organised and supervised the making of
such stores of facts and scraps of knowledge as fill the ponder
ous volumes of the encyclopedists of the sixteenth century, we
do not for an instant doubt. Modern science, in its pride or
conceit, has too often been inclined to disown its vast debts to
194 FRANCIS BA CON
Bacon, because, forsooth, having worked with the whole mass
of his accumulated knowledge to begin upon, whereas he began
upon nothing, they now find short cuts to the invention of sciences
for which he laboured when science was an empty name, and
the art of invention unknown excepting by Bacon himself. That
his works are ostensibly and intentionally left unfinished, and
that the book-lore of his time was to his mind thoroughly unsat
isfactory, and the store of knowledge acquired inadequate for
the invention and advancement of arts and sciences, is made
very plain in the " FUum Labyrinth! sive Formula Inquisitionis, "
in which he relates to his sons 1 (the Eosicrucian Fraternity, of
which he was the father) the thoughts which passed through
his mind on this subject: w
" Francis Bacon thought in this manner. The knowledge
whereof the world is now possessed, especially that of nature,
extendeth not to magnitude and certainty of works. . . . When
men did set before themselves the variety and perfection of works
produced by mechanical arts, they are apt rather to admire
the provisions of man than to apprehend his wants, not consid
ering that the original intentions and conclusions of nature,
which are the life of all that variety, are not many nor deeply
fetched, and that the rest is but the subtle and ruled motion
of the instrument and hand, and that the shop therein is not
unlike the library, which in such number of books containeth,
for the far greater part, nothing but iterations, varied some
times in form, but not new in substance. So he saw plainly that
opinion of store was a cause of want, and that both books and
doctrines appear many and are few. He thought, also, that
knowledge is uttered to men in a form as if everything were fin
ished, for it is reduced into arts and methods, which in their
divisions do seem to include all that may be. And how weakly
soever the parts are filled, yet they carry the shew and reason
total, and thereby the writings of some received authors go
for the very art; whereas antiquity used to deliver the knowl
edge which the mind of man had gathered in observations,
aphorisms, or short and dispersed sentences, or small tractates
of some parts that they had diligently meditated and laboured,
which did invite men to ponder that which was invented, and to
add and supply further."
l In the left-hand corner of the MS., in the British Museum (Harl. MSS. 6797,
fo. 139), there is written in Bacon's hand- Ad Filios.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 195
A vast number of such " small tractatss " as Bacon here men
tions will be found amongst the works which sprang up in his
time and immediately after his death. They seem to be the
result, for the most part, of diligent pondering upon the works
which Bacon himself had " invented;" they reproduce his say
ings, paraphrasing, diluting, abridging, or delivering them in
short and dispersed aphorisms, according to the method which
he advocates as one means for the advancement of learning.
The method is still extant, and Bacon continues, like evergreen
history, to repeat himself. Often when unexpectedly we come
upon his own words and apparently original thoughts, familiarly
used as household words, or calmly appropriated by subsequent^
writers, we think how true it is that one man labours and others
enter into his labours.
Once more, a brief summary of the deficiencies which Bacon
found in the literature and arts of discourse of his own times :
1. A history of learning (anything in fact corresponding to
Prof. H. Morley's Tables of English Literature).
2. Civil history, biographies, commentaries, antiquities,
chronicles, perfect histories.
3. Appendices to history, orations, letters, apophthegms or
brief sayings, etc.
4. Kegisters, journals, memorials, etc.
5. Helps to the art of memory.
6. Philosophic grammar (a.) Words new -coined. (5.)
Words from foreign sources, (c.) A true grammar of language.
7. A store or provision for discourse, forms of speech, elegan
cies, prefaces, conclusions, digressions, etc.
8. A method of discourse and for the transmission of
knowledge.
9. " Collections, " dictionaries, encyclopedias, books of refer
ence.
10. Store of sophisms.
11. Store of antitheta, or arguments on all sides; common
places.
12 C Treatises on elocution and prosody, on sound, measure,
and accent in poetry.
196
FEANCI8 BACON
13. Dramatic poesy and the art of stage-playing.
14. Parabolic poetry; the use of symbols, emblems, hiero
glyphics, metaphors; the power of using analogies, etc.; fables,
parables, allegories.
Not one word does Bacon say about the prodigious increase in
the richness of language which had taken place during his own
life. As he wrote in the prime of his manhood, so he writes in
the complete edition of the Advancement of Learning, published
simultaneously with the Shakespeare plays in 1623. Ending
where he began, and disregarding the mass of splendid literature
which filled up all numbers and surpassed the finest efforts of
Greece and Rome, he calmly sets down philosophic grammar
and the art of using beautiful language as " wanting."
CHAPTER VII.
THE ROSICRTJCIANS : THEIR RULES, AIMS, AND METHOD OF
WORKING.
" Woorke when God woorkcs." Promus.
" To see how God in all His creatures works ! " 2cZ Henry VI.
" Ripening would seem to be the proper work of the sun, . . . which operates
by gentle action through long spaces of time, whereas the operations of fire,
urged on by the impatience of man, are made to hasten their work." Nowim
Oryanum.
BRIEF and incomplete as are the previous chapters, it is hoped
that they may serve their purpose of unsettling the minds
of those who suppose that the history, character, aims, and work
of Bacon are thoroughly understood, and that, all is known that
is ever likely to be known concerning him.
The discrepancies of opinion, the tremendous gaps in parts of
the story, the unexpected facts which persistent research and
collation of passages have continued to unearth, the vast
amount of matter of every description which (unless philology
be an empty word and the study of it froth and vanity)
must, in future years, be ascribed to Bacon, are such as to force
the explorer to pause, and serrously to ask himself, Are these
things possible? Could any one man, however gigantic his
powers, however long his literary life, have produced all the works
which we are forced by evidence, internal and, sometimes, also,
external, to believe Bacon's his in conception, in substance, in
diction, even though often apparently paraphrased, interpolated,
or altered by other hands?
The mind of the inquirer turns readily toward the history of
the great secret societies which were formed during the Middle
Ages, and which became, in troublous times of church or state,
(197)
198 FRANCIS BACON
such tremendous engines for good and evil. A consequent study
of these secret societies, their true origin, their aims, and, so far
as they can be traced, their leaders, agents, and organs, renders
it evident that, although, single-handed, such self-imposed
labours as Bacon proposed and undertook would . be manifestly
impracticable, yet, with the aid of such an organisation as that
of the Rosicrucian Fraternity, the thing could be done, for this
society, whether in its principles, its objects, its proceedings, or
in the very obscurity and mystery which surrounds it, is, of all
others, the one best calculated to promote Bacon's aims, its very
constitution seeming to be the result of his own scheme and
method.
So much interest has lately been roused on the subject of the
Rosicruciaus, that we shall curtail our own observations as much
as possible, trusting that readers will procure the books which,
in these later days, have made the study of this formerly
obscure and difficult subject so pleasant and easy. 1
Is it still needful to say that the Rosicrucians were certainly
not, as has been thought, atheists or infidels, alchemists, or
sorcerers? So far as we could find, when investigating this sub
ject some years ago (and as seems to be fully confirmed by the
recent researches of others), there is no real ground for believ
ing that the society was an ancient one, or that it existed before
1575, or that it issued any publication in its own name before
1580. All the legends concerning the supposititious monk
Christian Rosenkreuz, and the still more shadowy stories which
pretend that the Rosy Cross Brethren "traced their origin to
remote antiquity, and to the Indians or Egyptians, melt into thin
air, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, dissolve away, when
we approach them with spectacles on nose and pen in hand.
" A halo of poetic splendour surrounds the order of the Rosi
crucians; the magic lights of fancy play round their graceful
day-dreams, while the mystery in which they shrouded them
selves lends additional attraction to their history. But their
brilliancy was that of a meteor. It just flashed across the
ISee especially The Real History of the Rosicrucians, A. E. Waite, 1887.
Redway (Kegan, Paul & Co.). Bacon and the Rosicrucians, 1889, and Francis
Bacon, etc., 1890; both by W. F. C. Wigston (Kegan, Paul, Trubner & Co.).
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. ,199
realms of imagination and intellect, and vanished forever ; not,
however, without leaving behind some permanent and lovely
traces of its hasty passage. . . . Poetry and romance are deeply
indebted to the Rosicrucians for many a fascinating creation.
The literature of every European country ^contains hundreds of
pleasing fictions whose machinery has been borrowed from their
system of philosophy, though that itself has passed away." 1
As will be seen, there is strong reason to doubt whether the words
which we have rendered in italics are correct. The philosophy,
the work of the Rosy Cross Brethren, has never passed away; it
is, we feel sure, still green and growing, and possessing all the
earth.
It is only just to readers to whom this subject is new, to say
that there is still a wide divergence of opinion concerning the
origin and true aims of the secret society of the Rosicrucians.
Bailey gives the following account:
" Their chief was a German gentleman, educated in a mon
astery, where, having learned the languages, he travelled to the
Holy Laud, anno 1378; and, being at Damascus, and falling sick,
he had heard the conversation of some Arabs and other Oriental
philosophers, by whom he is supposed to have been initiated
into this mysterious art. At his return into Germany he formed
a society, and communicated to them the secrets he had brought
with him out of the East, and died in 1484.
" They were a sect or cabal of hermetical philosophers, who
bound themselves by a solemn secret, which they swore inviola
bly to observe, and obliged themselves, at their admission into
the order, to a strict observance of certain established rules.
" They pretended to know all sciences, and especially medi
cine, of which they published themselves the restorers; they
also pretended to be masters of abundance of important secrets,
and, among others, that of the philosopher's stone ; all which,
they affirmed, they had received by tradition from the ancient
^Egyptians, Chaldeans, the Magi, and Gymnosophists.
" They pretended to protract the period of human life by
means of certain nostrums, and even to restore youth. They
pretended to know all things. They are also called the Invisi
ble Brothers, because they have made no appearance, but have
kept themselves incog, for several years."
As will be seen, we cannot agree with the opinions of Bailey and
1 Hecketkorn, Secret Societies of all Ages and Countries,
200 FRANCIS BACON
others, wh have claimed for the society a very great antiquity,
finding no evidence whatever that the hermetical philosophers
last described, the supposed alchemists and sorcerers, were ever
heard of until the end of the sixteenth century. That a secret
religious society did exist for mutual protection amongst the
Christians of the early church and all through the darkest ages
until the stormy times of persecution at the Reformation and
Counter-reformation, there can be no doubt. Probably the rude
and imperfect organisation of the early religious society was
taken as a basis on which to rear the complete and highly finished
edifice as we find it in the time of James I. But, in honest
truth, all statements regarding Rosicrucians as a society of men
of letters existing before the year 1575 must be regarded as
highly doubtful, and the stories of the Rosicrucians themselves,
as fictions, or parabolical " feigned histories," devised in order
to puzzle and astonish the uninitiated hearer.
In the Royal Masonic Cyclopaedia there is an article on the
Rosicrucians which seems in no way to run counter to these
opinions. The article begins with the statement that in times
long ago there existed men of various races, religions, and climes,
who bound themselves by solemn obligations of mutual succor,
of impenetrable secresy, and of humility, to labour for the pres
ervation of human life by the exercise of the healing art. But
no date is assigned for the first appearance of this society in any
form, or under any name. And the title Rosicrucian was, we
know, never given or adopted until after the publication of the
Chymical Marriage of Christian Rosencreutz, in 1616. The
writer in the cyclopaedia seems to acknowledge that the truth
about the origin of the Rosicrucian Fraternity is known, though
known only to a few, and we have strong reasons for believing
that, in Germany at least, a certain select number of the learned
members of the " Catholic" (not the Papal) Church are fully
aware of how, when, and where this society was formed, which,
after awhile, assumed the name of Rosicrucian, but which the
initiates in Germany call by its true name " Baconian." It is
very difficult, in all Masonic writings, for the uninitiated to sift
1 Bailey's Dictionary Rosicrucians.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 201
the true from the false; or, rather, fact from disguised history,
prosaic statements from figurative language, genuine informa
tion from garbled statements framed expressly to mislead. Yet,
in spite of these things, which must never be lost sight of, the
Article in question gives such a good summary of some of the
chief facts and theories about the Rosy Cross brethren, that, for
the benefit of those who cannot easily procure the cyclopaedia,
we transcribe some portions :
" Men of the most opposite worldly creeds, of diverse habits,
and even of apparently remote ideas, have ever joined together,
consciously or unconsciously, to glorify the good, and despise,
although with pity, the evil that might be reconciled to the good.
But in the centuries of unrest which accompanied the evolution
of any kind of civilisation, either ancient or modern, how was
this laudable principle to be maintained! 1 This was done by a
body of the learned, existing in all ages under peculiar restric
tions, and 'at one time known as the Rosicrucian Fraternity.
The Fraternity of the Rosy Cross, unlike the lower orders of
Freemasons, seldom had gatherings together. The brethren
were isolated from each other, although aware of their mu
tual existence, and corresponding by secret and mysterious
writings, and books, after the introduction of printing. They
courted solitude and obscurity, and sought, in the contemplation
of the divine qualities of the Creator, that beatitude which the
rude outside world despised or feared. In this manner, how
ever, they also became the discoverers and conservators of
important physical secrets, which, by slow degrees, they gradu
ally communicated to the world, with which, in another sense,
they had so little to do. It is not, at the same time, to be sup
posed that these occult philosophers either despised the pleasures
or discouraged the pursuits of their active contemporaries; but,
as we ever find some innermost sanctuary in each noble and
sacred fane, so they retired to constitute a body apart, and
more peculiarly devoted to those mystical studies for which the
great mass of mankind were unfitted by taste or character.
Mildness and beneficence marked such courteous intercourse as
their studious habits permitted them to have with their fellow-
men; and in times of danger, in centuries of great physical
suffering, they emerged from their retreats with the benevolent
object of vanquishing and alleviating the calamities of mankind.
In' a rude period of turmoil, of battle, and of political change,
1 This, it is seen, was the very question which Francis Bacon, at the age of
fifteen, proposed to himself. See Spedding's Life, i. 3 ; and ante, chap. iy.
202 FRANCIS BACON
they placidly pursued their way, the custodians of human learn
ing, and thus acquired the respect, and even the reverence,
their less cultivated contemporaries. . . . The very fact of their
limited number led to their further elevation in the public
esteem, and there grew up around them somewhat of 'the
divinity that doth hedge a king. 7 . . .
" It is easy at the present day to see that which is held up
before every one in the broad light of a tolerant century; but it
was not so in the days of the Rosicrucians and other fraternities.
There was a dread, amongst the masses of society in bygone
days, of the unseen a dread, as recent events and phenomena
show very clearly, not yet overcome in its entirety. Hence,
students of nature and mind were forced into an obscurity not
altogether unwelcome or irksome, but in this obscurity they paved
the way for a vast revolution ir mental science. . . . The patient
labours of Trittenheim produced the modern system of diplo
matic cipher- writing. Even the apparently aimless wanderings
of the monks and friars were associated with practical life, and
the numerous missals and books of prayer, carried from camp to
camp, conveyed, to the initiated, secret messages and intelli
gence dangerous to be communicated in other ways. The sphere
of human intelligence was thus enlarged, and the freedom of
mankind from a pitiless priesthood, or perhaps, rather, a system
of tyranny under which that priesthood equally suffered, was
ensured.
" It was a fact not even disputed by Roman Catholic writers
of the most Papal ideas, that the evils of society, ecclesiastical
and lay, were materially increased by the growing worldliness
of each successive pontiff. Hence we may see why the origin
of Rosicrucianism was veiled by symbols, and even its founder,
Andrea, was not the only philosophical romancer Plato,
Apuleius, Heliodorus, Lucian, and others had preceded him in
this path.
" It is worthy of remark that one particular century, and
that in which the Rosicrucians first showed themselves, is dis
tinguished in history as the era in which most; of these efforts at
throwing off the trammels of the past occurred. Hence the
opposition of the losing party, and their virulence against any
thing mysterious or unknown. They freely organised pseudo-
Rosicrucian and Masonic societies in return, and these societies
were instructed to irregularly entrap the weaker brethren of
the True and Invisible Order, and then triumphantly betray
anything they might be so inconsiderate as to communicate to
the superiors of these transitory and unmeaning associations.
" Modern times have eagerly accepted, in the full light of
, of
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 203
science, the precious inheritance of knowledge bequeathed by
the Rosicrucians, and that body lias disappeared from the visible
knowledge of mankind, and re-entered that invisible fraternity of
which mention was made in the opening of this article. . . . It is
not desirable, in a work of this kind, to make disclosures of an
indiscreet nature. The Brethren of the Rosy Cross will never,
and should not, at peril and under alarm, give up their secrets.
This ancient body has apparently disappeared from the field of
human activity, but its labours are being carried on with alacrity,
and with a sure delight in an ultimate success. " 1
Although, during our search for information, experience has
made us increasingly cautious about believing anything which
we read in printed books concerning the Rosicrucians or the
Freemasons, still it seems almost impossible to discredit the
statements which have just been quoted; at least it will be
granted that the writer is intending to tell the t'ruth. He seems
also to speak with knowledge, if not with authority, and such a
passage as has been last quoted must, we think, shake the opin
ion of those who would maintain that the Rosicrucians, if ever
they really existed and worked for any good purpose, have cer
tainly disappeared, and that there is no such secret organisation
at the present time. The facts of the case, so far as we have
been able to trace them, are entirely in accordance with the
assertion that the non-existence of the Rosicrucian Society is
only apparent ; true, they work quietly and unrecognised, but
their labours are unremitting, and the beneficial results patent
in our very midst.
A great light has been shed upon our subject by the publica
tion in 1837 of Mr. Waite's remarkable little book, which has, for
the first time, laid before the public several tracts and manu
scripts whose existence, if known to previous investigators, had
certainly been ignored, including different copies and accounts
of the "' Universal Reformation of the Whole Wide World " (the
title of one of the chief Rosicrucian documents), as well as
original editions of the " Chymical Marriage of Christian Rosy
l From the Royal Masonic Cyclopaedia, edited by Kenneth R, H. Mackenzie,
IX , pub. Bro. John Hogg, 1877.
204 FEANCIS BACON
Cross, " which are not in the Library Catalogue. 1 It is true, as
Mr. Waite says, that he is thus enabled to offer for the first time
in the literature of the subject the Rosicrucians represented by
themselves. 2
This in valuable book should be read in connection with another
important volume which has since been published, and which
follows the subject into recesses whither it is impossible now to
attempt to penetrate. 3 Mr. Wigston enters boldly and learnedly
upon the connection perceivable between Bacon's philosophy
and Rosicruciauism, and the whole book goes to prove, on very
substantial grounds, that Bacon was probably the founder and
certainly the mainstay of the society.
For those who have not the time or opportunity for much
reading, it may be well again, briefly, to summarize the aims of
the Rosicrucians, as shown by their professed publications, and
the rules and system of work by which they hoped to secure
those aims.* We gather from the evidence collected that the
objects of the fraternity were threefold :
1. To purify religion and to stimulate reform in the church.
2. To promote and advance learning and science.
3. To mitigate the miseries of humanity, and to restore man to
the original state of purity and happiness from which, by sin, he
has fallen.
On comparing the utterances of the supposed authors of the
Rosicrucian manifestoes witty Bacon's reiterated statements as
to his own views and aspirations, we find them to be identical in
thought and sentiment, sometimes identical in expression. It
is only necessary to refer to the eloquent and beautiful chapter
with which Spedding opens his Letters and Life of Bacon, and
1 Note how often this is found to be the case where particulars throwing
fresh light on Bacon or on matters connected with him are found in old books
or libraries.
2 See The Real History of the Rosicrucians, by A. S. Waite, London, Red-
way, 1887.
3 Bacon, Shakespeare, and the Rosicrucians, by W. F. C. Wigston, London,
Red way, 1889.
4 The following is chiefly extracted from, an article in the Bacon Journal,
January, 1889 (Redway).
AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 205
from which some portions have been already quoted, in order to
perceive how striking is the general resemblance in aim, how
early the aspirations of Bacon formed themselves into a project,
and with what rapidity the project became a great fact.
" Assuming, then, " concludes the biographer, " that a deep
interest in these three causes the cause of reformed religion, of
his native country, and of the human race through all their gener
ations was thus early implanted in that vigorous and virgin soil,
we must leave it to struggle up as it may, according to the acci
dents of time and weather. ... Of Bacon's life I am persuaded
that no man will ever form a correct idea, unless he bear in
mind that from very early youth his heart was divided by these
three objects, distinct, but not discordant."
Bacon, as we have seen, was not fifteen years old when he con
ceived the thought of founding a new system for the advance
ment of knowledge, and for the benefit of humanity. The Ros-
icrucian manifestoes inform us that the founder of the society, and
the writer of one of the most important documents, The
Chymical M-arriage, was a boy of fifteen.
Mr. Waite observes, naturally enough, that the knowledge
evinced by the writer of the paper in question, of the practices
and purposes of alchemy, must be impossible to the most pre
cocious boy. But in mind Francis Bacon never was a boy.
Some men, he said, were always boys, their minds never grew
with their bodies, but he reflected, evidently thinking of him
self in relation to others, that " All is not in yeares, somewhat
also is in houres well spent. " 1 Never had he been " idle truant,
omitting the sweet benefit of time, " but rather had, like Proteus,
" for that's his name,"
"Made use and fair advantage of his days,
His years but young, but his experience old;
His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe ! "2
Wonderful as it is, improbable as it would appear, did we not
know it to be the case, the fact remains, that at the age of fif-
1 Promus.
2 Two Gentlemen of Terona, ii. 4.
206 FRANCIS BACON
teen Francis Bacon had run thro ugh the whole round of the
arts and sciences at Cambridge, had outstripped his tutors, and
had left Cambridge in disappointment and disgust, finding
nothing more to learn there. He did not wait to pass a degree,
but, practically, it was acknowledged that he had' more than
deserved it, for the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon
him some time afterward.
Plow he spent the next year is not recorded by his biographer,
but another K. C. document, the Fama Fraternitatis, throws a
side-light upon the matter. In this paper, full as all these
Rosicrucian manifestoes are of Bacon's ideas and peculiarities
of expression, we read that " the high and noble spirit of one
of the fraternity was stirred up to enter into the scheme for a
general reformation, and to travel away to the wise men of
Arabia." This we interpret to mean that, at this time, the
young philosopher was entering his studies of Rhazis, Aveuzoar,
Averroes, Avicenna, and other Arabic physicians and
" Hermetic " writers, from whom we find him quoting in his
acknowledged, as well as in his unacknowledged, writings.
At this time, the Fama informs us, this young member was
sixteen years old, and for one year lie had pursued Ms course
alone.
What is this likely to mean but that, having left college, he
was pursuing his advanced studies by himself? It seems almost
a certainty that at this period he was endeavouring, as so many
other ardent minds have done, to get at a knowledge of the first
causes of things. How could he better attempt to achieve this
than by going back to the most ancient philosophies in order to
trace the history of learning and thought from the earliest
recorded period to his own times ?
We shall presently have occasion to show the immense
influence which the study of the occult philosophies of India,
Persia, Arabia, and Egypt had upon the mind and writings of
Francis Bacon, and how he drew from them the most elementary
and universal symbols and emblems which are the foundations
of Freemason language and hieroglyphics. But there is another
particular which especially links Bacon with the whole system
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 207
of Rosicrucianism, and this is that very matter of making
collections or dictionaries which we spoke of in the last chapter.
Now, this was not only one of the ostensible objects of the
fraternity, but also the ostensible object of Francis Bacon.
He claims the idea as his own, and declares that neither Aristotle
nor Theophrastus, Dioscorides or Pliny, and much less any of
the modern writers, have hitherto proposed such a thing to
themselves. Spedding says Bacon would have found that such
a dictionary or index of nature as he contemplated in the
Novum Organum must be nearly as voluminous as nature her
self, and he gives the impression that such a dictionary was not
attempted by Bacon. Here, as will be seen, we differ from this
admirable biographer, and believe that Bacon did organise,
and himself commence, such a system of note-taking, alphabet
ising, collating, "transporting," etc., as by the help of " his
twenty young gentlemen, " his able pens, devoted friends in every
corner of the civilised world, and especially from the Illuminati,
Rosy Cross brethren, and skilled Freemasons, to produce, within a
few years, that truly cyclopedian mass of books of reference,
which later writers have merely digested or added to.
Bacon claims as his own the method by which this great de
ficiency is to be supplied.
Behold, then, the author of the Fama Fraternitatis making a
precisely similar claim :
" After this manner began the Fraternity of the Rosie Cross
first by four persons only, and by them was made the Magical
Lannage and Writing with a large Dictionary."
May not the sentence just quoted help somewhat to account
for the extraordinary likeness, not only in ideas, but in words,
of books, scientific and historical, which appeared before the
publication of the great collections'? Is it possible that copies
or transcripts may have been made from Bacon's great manu
script dictionaries by those who would, with his ever-ready help,
proceed to " make" or " produce" a book? Were such budding
authors (Rosicrucians) allowed to come under his roof to write
their books, and use his library and his brains? questions at
present unanswerable, but to be answered. Visions of Ben
208 FRANCIS BA CON
Jonson writing his " Apology for Bartholomew Fair atfche house
of my Lord St. Albans;" of Bacon visiting Raleigh in prison;
of the young Hobbes pacing the alleys at Gorhambury with the
Sage of Verulam these and many other suggestive images
rise and dissolve before the eyes of one who has tried to live in
imagination the life of Francis Bacon, and to realize the way in
which his faithful followers endeavoured to fulfil his wishes. .
Dictionary is a dry, prosaic word to modern ears; the very
idea of having to use one damps enthusiasm, and drops us
" when several yards above the earth" into the study or the
class-room. But
" It so falls out
That what we have, we prize not to the worth
"Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost,
Why, then, we rack the value. " l
Now think, if we had no dictionaries, how we should lack
them, and having made even one poor little note-book on any
subject which closely concerns us, how we prize it, and rack its
value! So did Bacon. The making of dictionaries was to him
a sacred duty, one of the first and most needful steps toward
the accomplishment of his great ends.
" I want this primary history to be compiled with a religious
care, as if every particular were stated on oath; seeing that is the
book of God's works, and (so far as the majesty of the heavenly
may be compared with the humbleness of earthly things) a kind
of second Scripture. "
He sees that such a vast and difficult work is only to be ac
complished by means of co-operation, and by co-operation on a
methodical plan. These convictions are most clearly seen in
Bacon's most Rosicrucian works, the New Atlantis, Parasceve,
Natural and Experimental History, and other "fragmentary"
pieces. " If," he says, " all the wits of all ages, which hitherto
have been, or hereafter shall be, were clubbed together ; if all
mankind had given, or should hereafter give, their minds wholly
to philosophy, and if the whole world were, or should be, com
posed of nothing but academies, colleges, and schools of learned
l M. Ado, iv. 1.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 209
men; yet, without such a natural and experimental history as
we shall now prescribe, we deny that there could be, or can be,
any progress in philosophy and other sciences worthy of man
kind."
The author of Fama reflects in precisely the same fashion,
writing the 'thought of the sacred nature of such a work, and
the thought that it is a kind of second Scripture, with that
other most important reflection as to the necessity for unity,
and a combination of wits, if real progress is to be made and a
book of nature or a perfect method of all arts be achieved.
" Seeing the only wise and merciful God in these latter days
hath poured so richly His mercy and goodness to mankind,
whereby we do attain more and more to the knowledge of His
Son Jesus Christ, and of nature, . . . He hath also made manifest
unto us many wonderful and never-heretofore-seen works and
creatures of nature; . . so that finally man might thereby
understand his own nobleness and worth, and why he is called
Microcosmus, and how far his knowledge extendeth in nature.
" Although the rude world herewith will be but little pleased,
but rather smile and scon thereat ; also the pride and covet-
ousness 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 upon us, collect
Librum Naturae, or a perfect method of all arts." 1
" The College of the Six Days," which Bacon described, is,
we know, the College of the Rosicrucians, who accept the New
Atlantis, in its old form, as a Rosicrucian document, and
allow it to be circulated under a changed title.
The hopelessness and impossibility of attempting to perform
single-handed all that his enthusiasm for humanity prompted,
and that his prophetic soul foresaw for distant ages, often
oppressed his mind, and as often he summoned his energies, his
philosophy, and his faith in God, to comfort and encourage him
to the work. This is all very distinctly traceable in the Promus
notes, which are so frequently quoted in the Shakespeare plays.
Amongst the early entries, in the sprawling Anglo-Saxon hand
writing of his youth, he records his intention to use " Ingenuous
honesty, and yet with opposition and strength. Good means
1 Fama Fraternitatis Real History of the Rosicnicians ; A. S. TVaite.
14
210 FRANCIS EA CON
against badd, homes to crosses." 1 w The ungodly/' he next
reflects, " walk around on every side. " " I was silent from
good words, and my grief was renewed, " but " I believed and
therefore have I spoken ; " and he is resolute in trying to do what
he feels to be his duty, for " The memory of the just lives with
praise, but the name of the wicked shall rot. " Here we find
him registering his resolves to do good to others, regardless of
private advantage or profit. This, it will be seen, is one of the
cardinal rules of the Rosy Cross Brethren. They were tl to cure
the sick gratis," to seek for no pecuniary profit or reward for the
works which they produced for the benefit of others. " Buy the
truth, " say Bacon's notes, " and sell it not. " " He who hast-
eth to be rich shall not be innocent," but " Give not tbat which
is holy unto dogs. " He foresaw, or had already experienced in
his own short life, the manner in which the " dogs " or cynics of
public opinion and of common ignorance would quarrel over
and tear to pieces every scrap of new knowledge which he pre
sented to them. " The devil," he says farther on, " hath cast
a bone to set strife." But this should not hinder him. "We
ought to obey God rather than man," " and the fire shall try
every man's work, of what sort it is; " " for we can do nothing
against the truth, but much for the truth." And then he seems
to prepare his mind to suffer on account of the efforts which he
was making on mankind's behalf. He remembers that our
Blessed Lord Himself suffered in the same way, and writes a
memorandum from this verse: " Many good works have I showed
you of my Father j for which of those works do ye stone me? "
Whatever might be the judgment upon him and his works, he
would rest in the assurance of St. Paul: " I have fought a good
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." We
hardly think that he stopped here in the quotation. Although
he does not write down the other half of the passage, his ardent
soul treasured, and his works reflect in a thousand different ways
the inspiring and triumphant hope of recognition in that future
life to which he was always looking: " Henceforward there is
1 See in the chapter on Paper Marks the Symbols of Horns and Crosses, to
which, perhaps, the entry alludes.
AND Hlti SECRET SOCIETY. 211
laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the
righteous Judge, shall give ine at that day, and not to me only,
but to all that love His appearing. " 1
But meanwhile, how to do all that he felt and knew to be
necessary, and yet which could only be done by himself, we see
him again in the notes reflecting that victory can be gained by
means of numbers; that " things united are more powerful or bet
ter than things not united; " that " two eyes are better than one; "
" So many heades so many wits; " " Friends have all things in
common; " " Many things taken together are helpful, which taken
singly are of no use; " " One must take men as they are, and
times as they are; " but, on the whole, he seems to think that
most men are serviceable for something, that every properly
instructed tongue may be made to bear witness, and that it must
be one part of his work to draw together so great a cloud of wit
nesses as may perform the part of a chorus, endorsing, echoing,
or capping the doctrines of the new philosophy as they were
uttered, and giving a support, as of public opinion, both at home
and abroad.
We now know that many of Bacon's works were transmitted
" beyond the seas/' to France, Spain, Italy, Germany,aud Holland,
where they were translated and surreptitiously published,
usually under other names than his own. There are, wheu we
come to collect them, many indications in the Promus of a secret
to be kept, and of a system planned for the keeping of it.
" The glory of God," we read, is " to conceal a tiling" and
there are many " secrets of God." " Woorke as God woorkes "
quietly, persistently, secretly unheeded, except by those who
read in His infinite book of secresy. " Plutoe's helmet " is said to
have produced " invisibility." " The gods have woollen feet"
i. e., steal on us unawares. " Triceps Mercurius, great runying,"
alludes, perhaps, to the little anonymous book of cipher called
" Mercury, the Secret and Swift Messenger," which reproduces so
accurately (and without acknowledging him) Bacon's biliteral
cipher, and many other particulars told precisely after his
manner, that we believe it to be the brief summary by himself
1 2 Tiin. iv. 7, 8.
212 FRANCIS EACON
of some much larger works. But he also notes that " a Mercury
cannot be made of every word," that is, a dull fellow will never'
be made a clever one; nevertheless "a true servant may be
made of an unlikely piece of wood," l and he had a faculty for
attaching people to him and for bringing out all that was best
and most serviceable in their natures.
The next note says that " Princes have a cypher. 77 Was he
thinking that he, the prince of writers, would use one for his
royal purposes? A few lines earlier is this entry:
" lisdem e' literis efficitur tragoedia et comedia"
(Tragedies and comedies arc made of one alphabet),
which we now know refers to the cipher narrative for which the
pass-word was the alphabet, and which is found running through
the Shakespeare tragedies and comedies. 2
Such entries as these, suggestive of some mystery, are inter
esting when taken in connection with other evidence derivable
from Bacon's manuscript books, where the jottings have been
more methodised or reduced from other notes. In the Com
mentaries or Transportata, which can be seen in MS. at the
British Museum, we find him maturing his plans for depreciating
" the philosophy of the Grecians, with some better respect to ye
^Egiptians, Persians, and Chaldees, and the utmost antiquity,
and the mysteries of the poets. " " To cousyder what opynions
are fltt to nourish Tanquam Ansce, so as to graft the new upon
the old, ut religiones solent, " of the " ordinary cours of incompe-
1 See letter to Lord Pickering, 1594.
2 " I have sent you some copies of the Advancement, which you desired; and a
little work of my recreation, which you desired not. My Instauration 1 reserve
for our conference it sleeps not. Those works of the alphabet are, in my
opinion, of less use to you where you are now, than at Paris, and, therefore, I
conceived that you had sent me a kind of tacit countermand of your former
request. But in regard that some friends of yours have still insisted here, I
send them to you ; and for my part I value your own reading more than your
publishing them to others. Thus, in extreme haste, I have scribbled to you I
know not what. " (Letter from, Bacon to Sir Tobie Matthew, 1609.)
"What these works o/ tlie alpliabet may have been, I cannot guess; unless
they related to Bacon's cipher," etc. (S (tedding 1 s comment on the above icords,
i. 659.)
See also the Advancement of Learning, ii. ; Speddiug, iii. 399, where Bacon
quotes Aristotle to show that words are the images of cogitations, and letters
are the images of words.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 213
tency of reason for natural philosophy and invention of woorks. "
" Also of means to procure ' histories' of all things natural and
mechanical, lists of errors, observations, axioms, &c." 'fhen
follow entries from which we abridge :
" Layeing for a place to command wytts and pennes, West
minster, Eton, Wynchester; spec(ially) Trinity Coll., Cam.; St.
John's, Cam.; Maudlin Coll., Oxford.
" Qu. Of young schollars in ye universities. It must be the
post nati. Giving pensions to four, to compile the two histories,
ut supra. Foundac : Of a college for inventors, Library, Ingi-
nary.
" Qu. Of the order and discipline, the rules and prescripts of
their studyes and inquyries, allowances lor travailing, intelli
gence, and correspondence with ye universities abroad.
" Qu. Of the maner and prescripts touching secresy, tradi
tions, and publication. "
Here we have a complete sketch of the elaborate design which
was to be worked out ; and we wonder yes, we wonder, with
an astonishment which increases as we approach the matter
how these remarkable jottings, so pregnant with suggestion,
speaking to us in every line of a vast and deeply-laid scheme,
should have been so lightly (or can it be so purposely) passed
over in every life or biography of Bacon. Here he was laying
his plans to " command wits and pens " in all the great public
schools, and especially in the principal colleges of the univer
sities. He was endeavouring to secure the services of the cleverest
scholars to assist him in working out a scheme of his own. They
were especially to be young scholars, who should have imbibed,
or who were capable of imbibing, the advanced ideas produced by
the " new birth of time, " which he had himself inaugurated. To
work out new ideas, one must have fresh and supple material; and
minds belonging to bodies which have existed for nearly half a
century are rarely either supple or easily receptive of new ideas.
Bacon, therefore, did not choose, for the main stuff and fibre of
his great reforming society, men of his own age (he was now
forty- seven); he wisely sought out the brightest and freshest of
the sons of the morning, the cream of youthful talent, wher
ever it was to be discovered. *
Would it not be a pursuit as exciting as profitable to hunt
214 FRANCIS BACON
out and track the footsteps of those choice young wits and pens
of the new school, of the Temporis Partus Masculus, and Partis
Secundo Delineatio, of which Bacon thought and wrote so much,
and to see what various aids these " young schollars " were able
to afford for his great work? One line of work is clearly indi
cated: they were, under his own instructions, to collect materials
for compiling " histories" on natural philosophy and on inven
tions in the mechanical arts as we should now say, the applied
sciences. One work is specified, as to its contents and nature.
It is to be a "history of marvailes" with "all the popular
errors detected." Such a book was published shortly after
Bacon's death by a $oung Oxford man, of whom we shall by-
and-by have occasion to speak. Another history is of " Mech-
anique;"it is to be compiled with care and diligence, and a
school of science is to be established for the special study of the
art of invention. " A college, furnished with all necessary
scientific apparatus, workshops and materials for experiments. "
Not only so, but Bacon proposes to give pensions to four of his
young men, in order that they might freely devote themselves
to scientific or philosophic research. Some were also to have
"allowances for travelling," which proves that their field of
research and for the gleaning of materials was not to be confined
only to their own country, but " inquiries and correspondence with
ye universities abroad" were to form an important element in
the scheme.
The works which were the product of this wise and liberal
scheme of Bacon's will not be difficult of identification. 'They
belong to the class of which the author said that they did not
pretend to 9riginality, but that they were flowers culled from
every man's garden and tied together by a thread of his own.
It is clear that the wits and pens of the " young schollars"
(who, we learn from the Kosicrucian documents, were to be
sixty -three in number) were chartered and secured under the
seal of secresy. The last of the manifestoes in Mr. Waite's
book contains this passage, in which few who have read much
of Bacon will fail to recognise his sentiments, his intentions
nay, his very words:
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 215
" I was twenty when this book was finished; but methinks I
have outlived myself; I begin to be weary of the sun. 1 ... I
have shaken hands with delight, and know all is vanity, and I
think no man can live well once but he that could live twice.
For my part I would not live over my hours past, or begin again
the minutes of my days; 2 not because I have lived well, but for
fear that I should live them worse. At my death I mean to
make a total adieu of the world, not caring for the burthen of
a tombstone and epitaph, but in the universal Register of God
I fix my contemplations on Heaven. I writ the Rosicrucian
Infallible Axiomata in four books, and study,- not for my own
sake only, but for theirs that study not for themselves. In the
law I began to be a perfect clerk; I writ the Idea of the Law,
etc., for the benefit of my friends, and practice in King's Bench. 3
I envy no man that knows more than myself, but pity them that
know less. . . . Now, in the midst of all my endeavours there
is but one thought that dejects me, that my acquired oarts must
perish with myself, nor can be legacied amongst my dearly be
loved and honoured friends. "
This is the very sentiment which caused Bacon to contrive
some method of handing down, by means of those very friends,
the Lamp of Tradition, which he could not legacy, but which,
wherever forthcoming and by whomsoever rubbed, brings up on
the spot the spirit of the Lamp, Francis Bacon himself.
Let us glance for a few minutes at " the order and discipline,
the rules and prescripts, " which were instituted for the use of
the Rosicrucian Fraternity, or may we not safely say, for the use
of Bacon's " young schollars " and friends? The original rules
were fifty-two in number, but only the leading features of them
can be noted, numbers being placed against them for the sake
of brevity in reference :
1. The society was tc consist of sixty-three members, of
various grades of initiation, apprentices, brethren, and an
" imperator. "
2. These were all sworn to secresy for a period of one hundred
years.
1 "I 'gin to be aweary of tJie sun." Macb. v. 5. "Cassius is aweary of the
world." Jul. Cces. iv. 3.
2 Compare Bacon's posthumous or second Essay Of Death.
3 See Bacon's Tracts of the Law, Spedding, Works, vii.
216 FRANCIS BACON
3. They were to have secret names, but to pass in public by
their own names.
4. To wear the dress of the country in which they resided.
5. To profess ignorance, if interrogated, on all subjects con
nected with the society, except the Art of Healing.
6. To cure the sick gratis (sickness and healing seem to have
been terms used, metaphorically, for ignorance, and instruction
or knowledge).
7. In all ways and places to oppose the aggressions and un
mask the impositions of the Romish church the Papacy.
8. To aid in the dissemination of truth and knowledge
throughout all countries.
9. Writings, if carried about, were to be written in ambiguous
language, or in " secret writing." (Query, in cipher?)
10. Rosicrucian works were, as a rule, not to be published
under the real name of their author. Pseudonyms, mottoes, or
initials (not the author's own) were to be adopted.
11. These feigned names and signatures were to be frequently
changed. The " imperator " to change his name not less
frequently than once in ten years.
12. The places of publication for. the " secret writings " to be
also periodically changed.
13. .Each jpember was to have at least one " apprentice " to
succeed him and to take over bis work. (By which means the
secret writings could be passed down from one hand to another
until the time was ripe for their disclosure.)
14. The Brethren must suffer any punishment, even to death
itself, sooner than disclose the secrets specially confided to them.
15. They must apply themselves to making friends with the
powerful and the learned of all countries.
16. They must strive to become rich, not for the sake of mone^
itself, for they must spend it broadcast for the good of others,
but for the sake of the advantages afforded by wealth and posi
tion for pushing forward the beneficent objects of the society. 1
1 The working of this rule is observable throughout the whole of Bacon's life
and writings. It accounts for the diametrically opposite accusations which have
been levelled against him and which his enemies have delighted to magnify, of
meanness and lavishness. "Riches," he says, "are for spending, and spending
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 217
17. They were to promote the building of " fair houses " for
the advancement of learning, and for the relief of sickness, dis
tress, age, or p9verty.
18. When a Rosicrucian died he was to be quietly and unos
tentatiously buried. His grave was either to be left without a
tombstone, or, if his friends chose to erect a monument in his
honour, the inscription upon it was to be ambiguous.
It is needless to show what an engine such a society would be,
driven by such a motive power as Bacon, one original mind,
endowed in almost equally balanced proportions with every in
tellectual faculty; equally capable of the quick perception of
ideas, as of their prompt acquisition and application to useful
purposes. With all this, Bacon possessed the still rarer faculty
of being able to communicate his ideas, to impress them upon
the dull, dead minds of the many;, as well as upon the more
receptive apprehensions of the few. Where opposition to direct
teaching or advance in any kind of knowledge existed, there his
versatile genius, the " nimbleness of mind," of which he was
conscious, enabled him to devise methods " to let new light in
upon the understanding, and conquer prejudice without raising
contests, animosities, opposition or disturbance," 1 to speak
truth with a laughing face. 2
We are disposed to shrink from the facts which stare us in the
face, and to say : Is it possible that one man can have dared
and accomplished so much? Is it possible that any one brain
could have been capable enough, any life long enough, to enable
one man to have not only planned, but carried through, the
for honour and good actions. ... I cannot call riches better than the baggage of
virtue; the Roman word is better, ' impedimenta,' for as the baggage is to an
army, so is riches to virtue; it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth
the march. . . . Of great riches there is no real use except it be in the distribution;
the rest is but conceit." "Money is like muck, not good except it be spread.' 1 ' 1 In
the same spirit, and with the same metaphor, Coriolanusis said to have regarded
riches. " Our spoils he kicked at, and looked upon things precious as they
were the common muck o' the world." Cor. ii. 3. Compare Essays Of Expense
and Of Riches with the speeches of the fallen Wolsey, Henry VIII. iii. 2, 106, etc.,
and with Timon of Athens, i. 2, 90, etc., ii. 1, etc.
1 Pref. to Wisdom of the Ancients.
SPromus, 10 il.
218 FRANCIS BACON
amount of works of infinitely varied kinds in which we find
Bacon engaged? Is it possible that he could have, found time
to read, cogitate, write, and publish this enormous quantity of
valuable works, each pre-eminent in its own way; to have filled
some of them with elaborate ciphers, and to have made many of
them means of conveying information secret as well as ostensi
ble ? With all this can we conceive him also experimenting to
the extent which we know he did in every branch of natural
philosophy, breaking a gap into every fresh matter, noting de
ficiencies in old studies, and setting to work to supply them; in
each case originating and inaugurating new ideas a very, dif
ferent affair from merely imitating, or following where another
has gone before ?
In truth, a hasty judgment would pronounce these things to
be impossible and contrary to common sense. But this merely
means unparalleled in the speaker's experience. No other man
has ever been known to perform such work as we claim for
Francis Bacon.
But Bacon was no ordinary man. He was an intellectual
giant, born into a world which seemed to him to be chiefly peo
pled with pigmies; the spiritual and intellectual life of the
world stunted, deformed, diseased, and sick unto death through
ignorance and the sins which ignorance nourishes and strength
ens. With his herculean powers and eagle-sighted faculties of
imagination, keen to perceive, subtle to devise, prompt to act,
skilful in practical details, what might he not do with four
"pensioned" able pens continually at his "command," and
sixty-three of the choicest scholars of the universities to assist
in the more mechanical parts of the work ; to transcribe, collate,
and reduce into orderly form the " collections," historical, scien
tific, ethical,- or phraseological, which, during his lifie, were to
stand for him and for them in the place of modern books of
reference, and which, after his death, were to be published as
" histories," " dictionaries," " collections, "etc., under the names
of those who were the ostensible editors or " producers" of
works which they would have been incapable of originating?
Whilst these men were thus writing under his eye, or accord-
AND HIS SECEET SOCIRTY. 219
ing to his prescripts, " Bacon himself, in the quiet of his library
or tower, sometimes in his " full poor cell" in Gray's Inn, was
cogitating, note-taking, dreaming, experimenting, composing,
or " inventing."
" Out of 's self-drawing web lie gives us note;
The force of his own merit makes his way:
A gift that Heaven gives for him." l
The credibility of such assumptions is increased when we
endeavour to realise how things would stand with ourselves if,
from our earliest childhood, everything that we had lisped had
been noticeable; if our earlioet writings had been worthy of
preservation; if every letter, every word we wrote had been
religiously stored, revised, and by and by published. " I add,
but I never alter; " that seems to have been part of Bacon's
method, and thus edition after edition, each time improved
and augmented, was produced, the same material being utilised
in various ways over and over again.
Bacon was never idle. Recreation with him was not idleness,
but merely a change of occupation. He never plodded upon
books, but read, taking notes, or perhaps marking extracts for
others to write out. Thus he wasted no moment of time, nor
allowed one drop of his freshly distilled knowledge to evaporate
or be lost, but carefully treasured and stored it up in " vases "
or note-books, where he could at any moment draw it out
afresh.
There is good reason for thinking that he largely encouraged
the use of stenography or shorthand writing ; that his friends
sat round him as the disciples of the ancient philosophers sat
round their masters, listening to his words, and often writing
down his utterances, or his entire discourses. The facility with
'which he expressed himself, the grace and sweetness of his
language, and the marvellous fulness of his conversation were
perpetual themes of admiration and wonder. " His meals, "
says Dr. Rawley, " were refections of the ear as well as of the
stomach, like the Noctes Atticce, or ConviviaDeipus-Sophistarum,
wherein a man might be refreshed in his mind and understand-
1 Henry ^m. i. i.
220 FEANCIS BACON
ing, no less than in his body. And I have known some, of no
mean parts,, that have professed to make use of their note-books
when they have risen from table. " l
Both the matter and the manner of John Selden's " Table
Talk " assure us that this and several other similar books are
merely transcripts of such hasty notes of words which dropped
from Bacon's lips, reproduced as accurately as possible, and
treasured up for the benefit of posterity by his loving friends.
To look a little into the rules of the Rosicross brethren, Bacon's
" Sons of Science, " and of whom we believe him to have been
the " Imperator " or supreme head :
Rules 1, 13 and 15 help us to grasp the possibility of Bacon's
having produced the enormous quantity of books which will
surely, in the future ages, be claimed for him, and which can b3
proved, by all that has hitherto passed as conclusive evidence
with regard to other works, to be the work of one author.
Rules 2, 10, 11, 12 and 14 suffice to answer the oft-repeated
query: Why did not Bacon acknowledge his own works? or why
did not his friends vindicate his claim to them ? He, as well as his
friends, had sworn solemnly to keep the secrets of the society
for a period of one hundred years.
Rules 3, 10 and 11 enable us to reconcile many difficulties as
to the authorship of certain works. For instance, in the anthol
ogy entitled "England's Helicon," there are poems which
have, at different times, borne two, three or even four different
signatures. If the Rosicrucian publications were not, as a rule*, to
bear the name of the author, and if the feigned names of the
brethren were to be frequently changed, confusion and mys
tification as to the true author would inevitably be produced.
It would be impossible to draw any irrefutable conclusions as to
the date and sometimes as to the aim of the works in question,
and this, doubtless, was precisely what the secret society
desired.
l It seems possible that traditions of such delightful meals as Dr. Rawley
here records, and in which Bacon delighted ." to draw a man on, and allure him
to speak upon such a subject at wherein he w-ia peculiarly skilful" may have taken
place at the " Mermaid," where the chief wits of the day are said to have
enjoyed their " wit combats."
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 221
Rules 8 and 13, especially when taken together with the pre
ceding, throw great light on the publication of such works as
" Montaigne's Essays " in France, of its supposed translation, in
1603, from French into pure Baconian English, by the Italian
Florio, tutor to the English royal family, and of the large addi
tions and alterations, such as none but the author could have
presumed to make, in the later edition published by Cotton in
1685-6.
Rule 8 seems also to explain the fact of many of Bacon's most
intimate friends having passed so much of their time abroad, in
days when to travel was a distinction, but not an e very-day occur
rence, and when, indeed, it required the royal sanction to leave
the country. So Anthony Bacon lived for many years in Italy
and the south of France, very little being absolutely known
about his proceedings. Mr. Doyly, Bacon's first recorded cor
respondent, was at Paris when he received a mysterious letter
explaining something in an ambiguous manner. Bacon's answer
is equally misty: " he studiously avoids particulars, and means
to be intelligible only to the person he is addressing." 1
This Mr. Doyly had travelled with Anthony Bacon, and after
residing in Paris, went to Flanders, where " he was of long time
dependent on Mr. Norris. " What his business was is unknown;
he returned to England in 1583. The letter from Mr. Doyly to
Francis Bacon shows great intimacy: it begins, " To my verye
deare friend, Mr. Doylie. "
Then there was Anthony Bacon's very intimate friend Nicho
las Faunt, at one time Walsingham's secretary, a gentleman at
tached to the Puritan party. From 1580 to 1582 we findhim trav
eling, with no ostensible object, through France and Germany,
spending seven months between Geneva and the north of Italy,
back to Paris, and home to London in 1582. He is described as
an "able intelligencer," and is just such a man as we should
expect to find Bacon making good use of.
The young Earl of Kutland receives in 1595 a licence to pass
over the seas, and (although they pass for awhile as the writing
of Essex) it is Bacon who writes for him those " Letters of
1 Spe'dding, Letters and Life, ii. 9.
222 FRANCIS BA CON
Advice " which were published anonymously nearly fifty years
later.
Then we find another of his most intimate friends, Tobie Mat
thew, abroad, wandering, and sometimes, perhaps, rather myste
riously occupied. Although, to Bacon's deep regret, he joined the
Koman branch of the Church, the correspondence and intimacy
between the two never ceases, and we think that it will transpire
that Sir Tobie, having become a priest in the Jesuit college at
Douai, continued to serve Bacon in many ways by aiding in the
translation and dissemination of his works, and especially in the
production of the Douai 6ible. The proceedings and writings
of other travellers and writers, or supposed authors, of Bacon's
time, should be examined and reviewed in this connection. They
are too numerous to speak of here, but we would remind the
reader of his life-long friends, the Sidneys, Herberts, Nevilles,
Howards, Careys, Sandys, Cottons, of Lord Arundel, Sir Thos.
Bodley, Camden, and the Shirleys; of John Selden, his trusted
friend and one of his executors; Sir Henry Wotton, his cousin;
of Sir Walter Raleigh, whom, during his imprisonment, he is
known to have visited in the Tower, whilst he was engaged in
writing The History of the World; of Ben Jonson, who, ac
cording to Drummond of Hawthornden, wrote from under Bacon's
roof; of Sir Kenelm Digby, Montaigne, Florio, Davies. andotber
foreigners, as well as Englishmen, whose names and works are
found to be so curiously interwoven with the lives and writings
of Anthony and Francis Bacon.
By and by we shall have to return to the subject of Bacon's
friends and collaborators, and to the light which is let in upon
their agency through the large collection of Anthony Bacon's
correspondence, preserved in the library at Lambeth Palace.
To return to the Rosicrucian ordinances:
Rule 5 shows that the incognito maintained by the brethren
was to extend, not merely to their names and authorships, but
also to their knowledge and mental acquirements. The very
fact of their belonging to a secret society was to be concealed ;
they were to pass through tbe world as ordinary members of
society, wearing the dress of the country in which they lived,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 223
and doing nothing to draw upon them the special notice of
others. They were even to conceal any special or superior
knowledge ivhich they might have acquired, 1 actually professing
ignorance when interrogated, the only science of which they
were allowed to show any knowledge being " the science of
healing." Perhaps this is to be taken partly in its literal
sense, and the rule may have been made with the benevolent
intention of encouraging the study of medicine and surgery,
which Bacon found to be terribly deficient ; also, this permis
sion would enable the experts in these subjects to come to
the rescue on emergency^ and to help to alleviate the bodily
sufferings of their fellow-creatures. Still, a comparison of the
Rosicrucian works obliges us to see that it was to remedy
the deformities of the age, to heal the sores and cankers of
miserable souls, to minister to the mind diseased, that the Eosy
Cross brethren were really labouring j and this fifth rule gives
a good hint as to the raason why Bacon did not "profess to be a
poet, " why " Burton " should not profess to l)e a theologian, or
Montaigne "profess to be a philosopher."
The thought arises: What could be the object of this rule?
Even if it were desirable, for the safety of ttie author of danger
ous or advanced publications, that his name should be concealed,
what reason could there be for obliging the man himself to feign
ignorance of subjects which he had specially studied, and this,
too, in days when the revival of learning was a subject of dis
cussion and pride, and when to be supposed learned was a
feather in a man's cap ?
There seems to be only one really satisfactory explanation of
this and other rules, namely, that the so-called authors were not
the true authors of the books which passed under their names;
that at the best they were translators, revisors, or editors, often
mere transcribers and media for publication. Under these cir
cumstances it would not only have been false, had they claimed
the authorship of works which they did not write, but it would
have been fatal and foolish in the extreme had they gone about
professing to talk of matters which they did not understand.
l We wonder if this rule is still in force. Experience persuades us that it is.
224 FEANCIS BACON
Rosicruciaiis were to heal the sick, gratis. This seems to mean
that their work was, throughout, to be a labour of love. Not
for the sake of profit or of fame did they labour, but simply for
the love of God, and of man created in God's image. Truly
we believe that for this end the brothers Anthony and Francis
lived poor for many years, flinging into the common fund, for
publishing, etc., every penny which they could spare, after
defraying the most necessary expenses for themselves, and to
keep up appearances. We equally believe that their work has
never died out, but has been taken up in the same spirit by
numberless individuals and societies now in full activity, and
recently mightily on the increase.
Rule 17 would account for the extraordinary impetus given in
Bacon's time to the building and endowing of libraries, schools,
colleges, hospitals, almshouses, theatres, etc. The names of many
such " fair houses, " munificently endowed, will rise to the minds of
all who are well acquainted with London and the two great uni
versities. Let the reader inquire into the history of Gresham
College, Sion College, and the splendid library attached to it;
Dulwich College, with its school, almshouses, and library, origi
nally intended to benefit poor actors; the Bancroft Hospital and
many other similar establishments; the library and other build
ings at Trinity College, Cambridge; the additions to the Bodleian
Library, Oxford, the library at Lambeth Palace, and the great
printing-houses established at both universities he will find
that be can never get away from Bacon and his friends. Either
we find Bacon suggesting the need or encouraging the performers,
or inspecting and approving the work, but himself, as a rule,
unrecognised in public documents; so with the societies. Hispor-
trait alone hangs in the great library of the Royal Society. His
friends are all closely associated with the founding of the Arun-
del Society, the Society of Antiquaries, the Camden Society, the
Ray Society, and, we think, with the Colleges of Surgeons and
Physicians; but, as usual, although the names appear, in con
nection with these and other institutions, of his intimate friends.
Bacon, the great instigator and promoter or them all, remains in
the background. It is sufficient to read of such institutions that
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 225
their origin is " veiled " or " obscure " for us to feel tolerably
well assured that behind the veil is Francis Bacon.
In Rosicrucian books not included amongst the short pieces
in MS. published by Mr. Waite, it is shown that one
great work of the society was the publication and dissemination
of Bibles. There are, says Bacon, two books of God, the Book
of the Bible, expressing His will, and the Book of Nature, setting
forth His works. Neither can be fully understood or interpreted
without the other, and men should be made equally acquainted
with either. The revised Bibles of 1594, 1611, and 1613 bear wit
ness to his personal efforts in this direction. The commentary
published at Geneva, by "John Diodati," the Messenger
Given by God (or the Messenger of God's Gift, which Bacon
says was the gift of reason with speech), should be examined in
connection with this part of the subject. It will surely transpire
that Francis Bacon played no minor part in promoting the
knowledge of God's first book, and that his faithful followers
have nobly fulfilled their vows and duty of carrying on his great
work.
For the Second Book of God, it is easier at once to make plain
the enormous services which he rendered. He founded the
Eoyal Society. In these words we sum up the fact that he
planned and set going the vast machinery which has produced
such wonderful results upon science, and upon almost every
department of human knowledge.
The history of the origin of the Royal Society, which, accord
ing to its chief chroniclers, is, like so many other matters con
nected with Bacon, "veiled in obscurity," appears to be this:
A few choice spirits met first in Bacon's private room, then at
various places in Oxford and Cambridge, until the friends formed
themselves into a small philosophical society, under Dr.
Wilkins, in Wadham College. Meetings were sometimes held in
taverns. When too large for these, they adjourned to the
parlour of Gresham College. Lord Arundel " offered the Royal
Society an asylum in his own palace when the most fierce and
merciless of the elements subverted her first abodes," all of
which is printed with many italics and very large type in the
V .
226 FRANCIS BACON
dedication " to the illustrious Henry Howard, Earl of Norfolk,
at the beginning of a curious little book " written in French
by Roland Freart, Sieur de Cambraye," and " rendered English "
by John Evelyn, Fellow of the Royal Society. 1
Evelyn obtained a charter for the society from Charles II.,
and named it The Royal Society. The rare literary accumula
tions of the noble family of the Howards were contributed to the
library. 2
The rules which forbid the publication of names would, of
course, prohibit the Rosicrucians from writing their names in
books which were likely to reveal the course of their studies, or
their connection with a certain clique of persons ; and so, in ef
fect, we find. They must adopt feigned initials, or mottoes, in
order to identify themselves amongst their initiated friends
alone. This again explains the disfigurement which so often dis
tresses the purchaser of good old books of a certain class, and
which is caused by the cutting out of large pieces of the title-
pages, or frontispieces, or fly-leaves, or the cancelling, by scrib
bling with pen and ink, sometimes six or eight names on the
page. It is the exception and not the rule, in books professedly
Rosicrucian, and previous to the eighteenth century, to find in
them the name of any owner, although they may, apparently,
have passed through many hands.
The same circumstance explains the mystery as to the disap
pearance of Bacon's library which is a mystery, although the
world has been content to take it very apathetically. Bacon's
library must have been something quite remarkable for his day.
Like Prospero, we know that his books were dearer to him far
than state or public life, which was always a toil and burden to
his nature.
1 This little work is entitled An Idea of Painting. We commend the con
sideration of it to Baconian readers, believing that Evelyn merely "rendered
English " that which had first appeared in France, by publishing the original
English of Bacon, written when he was a young man living and travelling in
the south of France, and perhaps in Italy.
2 See Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature.
AND fflS SECRET SOCIETY. 227
" Being so reputed
In dignity, and for the liberal arts,
Without a parallel ; those being all my study, ...
I to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies."
Prospero, in his fall and banishment, is represented as most
highly commending the kindness of the noble Gonzalo, who
" Of his gentleness,
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me
From my own library with volumes that
I prize above my dukedom."
Without trespassing on the domain of the novelist, we may
fairly believe that Bacon's feelings were the same, even if he did
not actually experience a similar episode in the days of his cruel
ruination and banishment from the home of his youth.
Where is Bacon's library? Undoubtedly the books exist and
are traceable. We should expect them to be recognisable by
marginal notes; yet these notes, whether in pencil or in ink,
may have been effaced. If annotated, Bacon and his friends
would not wish his books to attract public attention. Yet not
only their intrinsic worth, but their priceless value as belonging
to their beloved master, would have made the friends and fol
lowers of Bacon more than commonly anxious to ensure the
safety of these books. Bacon himself, we feel sure, would have
taken steps to this end. Yet it is observable that in neither of
his wills (elaborate and detailed in particulars though they be)
does he mention his library. Copies of all his writings, " fair
bound," were to be placed in the King's library, and in the
university libraries at Cambridge and Oxford, in Trinity College,
Cambridge, and " Bennet College, where my father was bred,"
and in the libraries of Lambeth and Eton.
The MSS. in his "cabinets, boxes, and presses" (think of
the quantity of papers suggested by these words) were to be
taken possession of by three trustees, Constable, Selden, and
Herbert, and to be by them perused and by degrees published.
But of books there is not a word, and observation has led the
present writer to the conclusion that during his life Bacon
assigned his books to certain of his friends for life, or for use,
228 FEA NCIS BA CON
and that eventually these books were to find their way into the
great libraries where they now repose, and where future research
will oblige them to yield up their secret, and to say what
hand first turned their pages, whose eyes first mined into them
to extract the precious ore so long buried beneath the dust of
oblivion? Where, in what books, do we find this gold of knowl
edge, seven times tried in the crucible of poetic philosophy,
cast into living lines, and hammered upon the muses' anvil into
the " well-tuned and true-filed lines " which are not of an age
but for all time ?
We earnestly exhort young and able scholars, whose lives lie
before them, to follow up this subject.' Think of the new worlds
of knowledge that remain to be explored and conquered. Who
can tell the contents of the library at Eton, in which Bacon
took such a lively interest? Who has ever thoroughly examined
the hoards of manuscripts of Bacon's time at Lambeth Palace,
at the Record Office, at Dulwich, or at the British Museum?
Baconians, reading with modern search-lights rather than by the
dim rays shed from even the best lamp of the last century, can
not fail in future to perceive many things which escaped the
notice of previous observers, however diligent.
The Selden and Pembroke collections of books at the Bodleian
Library, the Cotton Library at the British Museum, the libraries
of the Royal Society, the Antiquaries, and others directly con
nected with Bacon, the theological library at Sion College,
Gresham College, the collection of Bacon's works in the Uni
versity Library, Cambridge, and at Trinity College, should be
examined, and every collection, public or private, which was
commenced or much enlarged between 1580 and 1680, should
be most thoroughly ransacked with a special eye to records,
direct and indirect, of the working of Bacon and his friends,
and with a view to tracing his books. It is probable that the
latter will seldom or never be found to bear his name or signa
ture. Rather we should expect, in accordance with Rosicrucian-
rules, that no name, but only a motto, an enigmatic inscription,
or the initials of the title by which he passed amongst the
brethren, would be found in these books. Yet it may reason-
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 229
ably be anticipated that some at least are " noted in the margin, "
or that some will be found with traces of marks which were
guides to the transcriber or amanuensis, as to the portions which
were to be copied for future use in Bacon's collections or book
of " commonplaces."
One word more, before quitting these rules of the Rosicru-
cians. The eighteenth rule shows that on the death of a brother
nothing should be done which should reveal his connection with
the fraternity. His tomb was to be either without epitaph or
the inscription must be ambiguous. It is remarkable how many
of the tombs of Bacon's friends and of the distinguished names
of bis time come under one or the other of these descriptions.
Some of these will be noticed in their proper place. Meanwhile,
let us remark that there seems to be only one satisfactory way of
accounting for this apparently unnecessary rule. The explana
tion is of the same kind as that given with regard to rule 5,
which prohibits the members of the society from professing a
knowledge which they did not possess.
For suppose that the friends of deceased Eosicrucians had
inscribed upon their tombs epitaphs claiming for them the author
ship of works which had passed current as their writings, but
which they did not really originate. The monuments would, in
many cases, have been found guilty doing positive dishonour,
not only to the sacred place in which they were erected, but
even to the dead, whose memory they were to preserve, for they
would actually declare and perpetuate untruths, or at the best
half-truths, certain in the end to be discovered.
It is 1 rare to find any epitaph by way of eulogium over the
grave of any person who seems to have collaborated with Bacon,
or to have been accredited with the authorship of any work which
is suspiciously Baconian. Rarer still do we find on such tombs
any hint that the so-called poet or philosopher ever wrote any
thing. In the few cases where this is asserted or suggested,
there are reasons for believing, or actual proof, that the inscrip
tion, perhaps the. monument itself, was put up by descendants or
admirers some years after the death of the individual to whom
the memorial was erected.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE VITAL SPIRITS OF NATURE.
"In Nature's infinite book of secresj, a little I can read."
Antony and Cleopatra.
BACON seems to have been strongly influenced and stimu
lated by the study of the works of the celebrated theos-
ophist, physician, and chemist, Paracelsus, whom he often cites
(not always with approval), and from whose doctrine of the
" Vital Spirits of Nature " it is clear that he must have derived
the original germ of those lovely ideas of all-pervading life
which reappear throughout his writings, and preeminently in the
Midsummer Night's Dream, Macbeth, and The Tempest.
When the comet or new star suddenly shone forth in 1572,
in the constellation of Cassiopeia, it was marked as a por
tent or harbinger of success for the boy Francis, who in that year
went up for the first time to Cambridge, and who even at that
early age was manifesting signs of future greatness.
Now it is worthy of note that this same portent was observed
by Paracelsus as heralding the advent of " the artist Elias," by
whose means a revelation was to be made which would be of the
highest importance to the human race; and, again, this proph
ecy of Paracelsus was accepted by the Rosicrucians as true, and
as finding its fulfilment in the fact that in the year 1572 the
wonderful boy did make his appearance, and became the founder
of their society.
" Paracelsus, in the eighth chapter of his Treatise on Metals,
gives utterance to the following prognostication : * God will per
mit 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: l And it is
true, there is nothing concealed which shall not be discovered; for
(230)
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 231
which cause a marvelous being shall come after me, who as yet
lives not, and who shall reveal many things. 11
" These passages 1 have been claimed as referring to the
founder of the Rosicrucian order; and as prophecies 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 century 'a great and general reformation,' says Buhle,
1 a reformation 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, as a neces
sary forerunner to the day of judgment. 7 The comet of 1572
was declared by Paracelsus to be ' the sign and harbinger of the
cdming revolution,' 1 and it will readily be believed that his
innumerable disciples would welcome a secret society whose vast
claims were founded on the philosophy of the Master whom
they also venerated as a supreme factor in the approaching
reformation. Paracelsus, however, had recorded a still more
precise prediction, namely, that 'soon after the decease of the
Emperor Rudolph, there would be found three treasures that had
never been revealed before that time.' "
The author then claims that these are the three great Rosi
crucian documents which were issued at the time appointed,
and which he has recently published for the first time in English,
under the titles of " The Universal Reformation of the Whole
Wide World, " " Fama Fraternitatis ; or, a Discovery of the Fra
ternity of the Most Laudable Order of the Rosy Cross, " and
" The Confession of the Rosicrucian Fraternity, addressed to
the Learned of Europe."
It is easy to picture to ourselves the effect of these prognosti
cations of Taracelsus, joined to the fact that the wonderful star
did appear at the very time when the youthful philosopher was
himself sent forth to shine as a prodigy and portent it is easy
to imagine the impression produced upon a highly-strung, sen
sitive boy by such a combination of circumstances, to which,
doubtless, his admiring friends and tutors were not slow in
drawing his attention. Years afterward we find him making
1 The Real History of the Rosicrucians, A. E. Waite, pp. 34-5. Published by
Redway.
232 FEANCIS BACON
" experiments," " touching emission of immateriate virtues from
the minds and spirits of men, either by affections, or by imagi
nations, or by other impressions. " He speaks of the force of
imagination, and of the means to exalt it, and endeavours to
solve this problem : Whether a man constantly and strongly
believing that such a thing shall be, it doth help anything to the
effecting of the thing itself. He decides that it is certain that
such effects result; but that the help is, for one man to work by
means of another, in whom he may create belief, and not by him
self, and we think it by no means improbable that in childhood
his own imagination was thus wrought upon and kindled into
enthusiasm concerning the work to which he was called, and
which he regarded as sacred.
Bacor does not, in his scientific works, often quote Paracelsus;
in some points he entirely differs from him, disapproving of his
doctrines, and of their effects upon popular belief. He protests
against the excessive freedom in the interpretation of Scripture,
which either explains " the divinely-inspired Scriptures as
human writings," or else " which presupposes such perfection in
Scripture that all philosophy likewise should be derived from
its sources, as if all other philosophy were something profane
and heathen. This distemper has principally grown up in the
school of Paracelsus and some others, but the beginnings thereof
came from the rabbis and Cabalists. " 1 He shows the error of
Paracelsus and his school, who, " seeking a place for its three
principles even in the temple of Juno, that is, the air, established
three winds, and for the east found no place. " 2 He reproves
the intemperate extremes of these " disciples of pretended nat
ural magic," who exalted " fascination," or " the power and ap
prehension of the imagination, to be much one with the power
of miracle-working faith." 3 He laughs at the "prodigious
follies" of those who aim at making Paracelsus' pigmies. *
" Vast and bottomless follies which ascribe to imagination ex
alted the power of wonder-working faith, 5 fancies as wild as
l De Aug. ix. 2 Hist, of Winds. 3 De Aug. iv. (It is curious to see how-
fashions and delusions return. Note the present "faith-healing" fancies.) 4 Nat.
Hist i. 99, and Hist. Dense and Bare. 5 Nat. Hist. i. J,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 233
that by which Paracelsus was to have it that nutrition is
caused only by separation, and that in bread and meat lie eye,
nose, brain, liver, and in the moisture of the ground root, leaf,
and flower." 1 Neither does he share the " idle notion of Para
celsus that there are parts and correspondences between man's
body and all the species of stars, plants, and minerals; misap
plying the emblem of man as a microcosm or epitome of the
world in support of this fancy of theirs." 2
Bacon differed on many points from Paracelsus, and, as we
see, did not wish to be supposed a disciple of his; yet he studied
very closely all that he had to say, and quoted him by name as
if to lead others to the consideration of his works, from which
he drew so much, although, perhaps, not of the kind, or after
the fashion, which the alchemist philosopher might have desired
and expected. The notion which is prominent in the writings
of Paracelsus concerning the " Vital Spirits of Nature" fell in
perfectly with Bacon's own ideas, and this poetical and beautiful
fancy pervades his writings to such a degree as to be insepar
able from them. The method in which he handles the subject
is also so peculiar as to form another touchstone by which the
authorship of certain works may be tested, since the thought of
any two men, forming the same fanciful theories, and deriving
from them the same subtle thoughts and conclusions, is too
improbable to be seriously entertained.
In the preface to the History of Life and Death, the editor
says:
" The idea on which Bacon's idea of longevity is founded,
namely, that the principle of life resides in a subtle fluid or
spirit, which permeates the tangible parts of the organisation of
plants and animals, seems to be coeval with the first origin of
speculative physiology. Bacon was one of those by whom this
idea was extended from organised to inorganised bodies. In all
substances, according to him, resides a portion of spirit which
manifests itself only in its operations, being altogether intangi
ble and without weight. This doctrine appeared to be to him
of most certain truth, but he has nowhere stated the grounds of
his conviction, nor even indicated the kind of evidence by which
1 Nov. Org. i. 48. 2 D e Aug. jv. 2,
234 FEANCIS BACON
the existence of the spirltus is to be established. In living bod
ies he conceived that two kinds of spirits exist: a crude or mor
tuary spirit, such as is present in other substances, and the
animal or vital spirit, to which the phenomena of life are to be
referred. To keep this vital spirit, the wine of life, from oozing
away ought to be the aim of the physician who attempts to in
crease the number of our few and evil days. " 1
The writer is here treating chiefly of the body, but wherever
Bacon speaks of inorganic matter, or of organised forms of
plants, etc., he uses language which expresses that they are
more or less living and sentient, having vital spirits which act
somewhat as in the bodies of living creatures. Doubtless his
poetical nature led him always into metaphoric language ; his
" nimbleness to perceive analogies," his sense of beauty and of
the wonderful harmony in which the world was created tended
to make him speak and write thus; but a deeper feeling still
moved him continually to connect the " crude, " " gross, " and
" earthy " with the " rare, " " airy and flamy " of the sensitive soul.
He was forever mentally endeavouring to bring about a union or
marriage between things natural and things spiritual, to " min
gle earth with heaven. " " I am labouring with all my might to
make the mind of man a match for the nature of things. " 2
It is, therefore, to be expected, as a single outcome of his
cogitations and philosophy, that we shall read of " Motion
which invites an excited body;" " Materials which refuse to be
heated; " Master spirits which, in any body, curb, tame, subdue,
and regulate other parts, " etc. " Bodies which delight in mo
tion and enjoy their own nature," and which, in spontaneous
rotation, "follow themselves, and court, so to speak, their own
embraces." Other " bodies abhor motion, and remain at rest. "
Others " move by the shortest path, to consort with bodies of their
own nature. " " By this appetite for motion all bodies of con
siderable density abhor motion; indeed, the desire of not moving
is the only appetite they have ; and though, in countless ways,
they be enticed and challenged to motion, they yet, as far as they
i Pref. Hist, Vitce el Mortis, by Eobert Leslie Ellis. Spedding, Bacon's Works,
ii. f . 91.
i Oe Aug. v. 2,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 235
can, maintain their proper nature; and if compelled to move,
they, nevertheless, seem always intent on recovering their state
of rest, and moving no more. While thus engaged, indeed, they
shotv themselves active, and struggle for it with agility and swift
ness enough, as weary and impatient of all delay. . . . Of the mo
tions I have set forth, some are invincible, some are stronger than
others, fettering, curbing, arranging them; some carry further
thanothers; some outstrip others in speed; some cherish, strengthen,
enlarge, and accelerate others. " l
How lifelike all this is ! Surely, it might be supposed that we
were reading of two-legged or four-legged creatures instead of
particles of matter. In the same vein the philosopher-poet tells
of opiates and kindred medicaments, which put the spirits utterly
to flight by their malignant and hostile nature. 2 How, if taken
internally, their fumes, ascending to the head, disperse in all
directions the spirits contained in the ventricles of the brain, and
these spirits, thus withdrawing themselves, and unable to escape
into any other part, are ... sometimes utterly choked and extin
guished. Eosewater, on the other hand, " cherishes " the spirits.
We read, too, of Continuance as the steward or almoner of
Nature; 3 of Heat and Cold as the hands by which she works.
Cold as an enemy to growth, and bad air an enemy to health; of
the west wind friendly to plants, and of strife and friendship in
nature. Bodies, [at the touch of a body that is friendly, . . .
1 Nov. Org. i. 47. Compare with the preceding sentences "Passion invites me."
Twelfth Night, ii. 2. "A spirit too delicate . . . refusing [the foul witch's]
grand hests." Temp. i. 2. "All hail, great master." 2b. "Her more potent
ministers. Ib. "My potent master." Ib. iv. 1. " Curb this cruel devil of his
will" Mer. Yen. iv. 1, and Ham. iii. 4. "Tame the savage spirit of wild war."
John, v. 2. " The delighted spirit to bathe in fiery floods." Meas.for Meas. iii. 1.
*' More spirit chased than enjoyed.' 1 ' 1 Mer. Yen. ii. 6. "The air smells wooing ly
here." Macb. i. 6. "Nature doth abhor to make his bed," etc. Cy-riib. iv. 4. "Night's
swift dragons cut clouds full fast . . . ' damned spirits, all . . . all gone, and must
for aye consort with black-browed night." Midsummer Night's Dream, iii. 2., etc.
2 See Nov. Org. ii. 48, 50. Hist. Winds, Qualities, 27. Hist. Heavy and Light,
Cog. Naturae, vi., etc.
3 " The gifts of Nature." Twelfth Night, i. 3; Ham. i. 5, etc. " Frugal na
ture." iv. i. " Our foster nurse of nature is repose." " Poison and treason
are the hands of sin." Pericles, i. 1. "Care's an enemy to life." Twelfth Night,
i. 2. " Nature is thy friend" Merry Wives, iii. 3.
236 FRANCIS BACON
open themselves; but, at the touch of an unfriendly body, they
shrink up." i
In the Anatomy of Melanclwly ( which, as has been said, seems
to be the sweepings of Bacon's note-books on all subjects con
nected with the Doctrine of the Union, of Mind and Body] all
these ideas are reproduced and expanded.
The chapter containing the passages of the Digression of
Spirits is particularly interesting and instructive, forming, as it
does, a connecting link between the science and the poetry of
the plays. Who that reads such sentences as the following,
which catch the eye as it travels hastily down those pages, but
must be reminded of the scenes and lines in the Tempest, Mac
beth, Lear, and the Midsummer Nights Dream, and other plays,
which are familiar in our mouths as household words?
" Fiery spirits 2 are such as commonly work by blazing-stars,
fire-drakes, 3 or ignis fatui; * which lead men oft infiumina aut
prcecipitia, saith Bocline, lib. 2, Theat. Natures, fol. 221; . . . like
wise they counterfeit suns and moons, 5 stars oftentimes, and sit
on ship-masts, ... or which never appear, saith Cardan, but
they signify some mischief or other to come unto men, though
some again will have them to pretend good and victory; . . . and
they do likely come after a sea-storm. . . .
" Aerial spirits, or devils, are such as keep quarter most
part in the air, cause many tempests, thunder and lightnings,
tear oaks, fire steeples, houses, strike men 6 and beasts, make it
rain stones, 7 . . . counterfeit armies in the air, strange noises,
1 " A south win& friendly" Winter's Tale, v. i. " Friendly drop " (of poison).
Romeo and Juliet, v. 3. "A huge infectious troop of pale distemperatures and
>e* to life." M. M. v. 1. *
2 Comp. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 1, 21-38, and with " That fire-drake did I hit. . . .
The devil was amongst them/' Henry VIII. v. 3.
3 Fierce, fiery warriors fight upon the clouds. The heavens blaze forth the death
of princes. JuL Cces, ii. 2.
4 The willo 1 the wisp. Lob. "Thou Lob of Spirits" of Puck. M. N. D. ii. 1.
See Puck's behaviour, ib. iii. 1. " Sometimes a horse I'll be ; ... sometime a
fire." See also the Fool of the Walking Fire and Flibbertigibbet, Lear, iii. 2, and
Ariel's tricks upon Stephano and his fellows in The Tempest, iv. i.
5 Comp. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 1, 25-31.
6 Compare Prospero's account of his own performances in his speech to the
elves (Temp. v. 1), and Macb. iv. 1, 44-61.
7 "The gods throw stones of sulphur." Cymb. v. 5. "Are there no stones
in heaven ? " Qth,. y. 2. " Let the sky rain potatoes." Mer, Wiv, v, 5,
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 237
sivords, 1 etc. . . . They cause whirlwinds on a sudden, and tem
pestuous storms, which, though our meteorologists generally refer
to natural causes, yet I am of Bodine's mind (Theat. Nat. i. 2),
they are more often caused by those aerial devils, 2 for Tempestatibus
se ingerunt, saith Rich. Argentine, as when a desperate man
makes away with himself, which by hanging or drowning they
frequently do. 3 . . : These can corrupt the air and cause
plagues, sickness, storms, shipwrecks, fires, inundations."
Such devils or aerial spirits can " sell winds to mariners* and
cause tempests; they consort with witches and serve magicians. 5
. . . Cardan's father had one of them (as he is not ashamed to
relate), an aerial devil, bound to him for twenty-eight years."
Many other instances are given of men who employed such
familiar spirits ; Paracelsus being suppose 1 to have one confined
to his sword pummel, others who wore them in rings.
" Water-devils are those naiads or water-nymphs conversant
with waters and rivers. 6 The water (as Paracelsus thinks) is
their chaos, wherein they live; some call them fairies, and say
that Habundia is their queen; these cause inundations, many
times shipwrecks, and deceive men divers ways, as succuba, or
otherwise, appearing most part (saith Tritemius) in women's
shape. 7 Paracelsus hath several stories of them that have lived
and been married to mortal men, and so continued for certain
years with them; and after, upon some dislike, have forsaken
them. 8 Such a one as ^Egaria, . . . Diana, Ceres, etc. Olaus
Magnus hath a narration of a King of Sweden, that, having
lost his company one day, as he was hunting, met with these
water-nymphs, or fairies, and was feasted by them; and Hector
Boetlr.us tells of Macbeth and Ban&uo, two Scottish lords, that,
' //
1 See of the portents before the ymnrdor of Caesar. " The noise of battle
hurtled in the air."Jul. Ocas. ii. 2. /
2 " Away ! the foul fiend follows mo ! ... Who gives anything to poor Tom ?
whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and through flame, througn ford and
whirlpool, over bog and quagmire. . . . Bless t/tee from whirlwinds, star-blasting,
and taking." Lear, iii. 4.
3 See how the murder of Macbeth is accompanied and foreshadowed by
tempests (Macb. i. 1). This has been well accentuated in Mr. Irving's repro
duction of the play.
4 Note the witches and the mariners (Macb. i. 3), and especially the giving
of a wind. 5 Ariel and Prospero.
6 Prospero summons them, through Ariel, the most perfect impersonation of
a Paracelsian nymph. Tempest, v. 1.
1 1b. i. 2. Macb. i. 3.
8 Such is Undine in the lovely story of La Motte-Fouque.
238 FRANCIS BACON
as they were wandering in the woods, had their fortunes told
them by three strange women.
" Terrestrial devils are those Lares, Genii, Fauns, Satyrs,
Wood-Nymphs, Foliots, Fairies, * Robin Good-fellows, 2 etc.,
which, as they are most conversant with men, so they do them
most harm. Some think it was they alone that kept the heathen
people in awe of old, and had so many idols and temples erected
to them. Of this range was Dagon among the Philistines, Bel
among the Babylonians, Astarte among the Sidonians, Baal
among the Samaritans, Isis and Osiris among the Egyptians,
etc. Some put our fairies into this rank, which have been in
former times adored with much superstition, with sweeping their
houses, and setting of a pail of clear water, good victuals, and the
like, and then they should not be pinched,^ but find money in their
shoes, 4 and be fortunate in their enterprises. 5 These are they
that dance'on heaths and greens, 6 as Lavater thinks with Triten-
nius, and, asOlaus Magnus adds, leaving that green circle 1 which
we commonly find in plain fields, which others hold to proceed
from a meteor falling, or some accidental rankness of the ground,
so nature sports herself. . . . Paracelsus reckons up many places
in Germany where they do usually walk in little coats, some
two feet long. A bigger kind of them is called with us liobgob-
lins and Robin Goodfellows, that would, in those superstitious
times, grind corn for a mess of milk, cut wood, or do any manner
of drudgery work. . . . Cardan holds, 8 they will make strange
noises in the night, howl sometimes pitifully, and then laugh
again, cause great flame and sudden lights, fling stones, rattle
1 See M. N. D. ii. 1. The fairies of Shakespeare are always Bacon's vital
spirits of nature, and this seems to be now recognized. The sprites and fairies
in Mr. Benson's recent representation of the Midsummer NighCs Dream were
properly attired as flowers, insects, bullrushes, river weeds, etc., and not. as
formerly, in ballet skirts and satin shoes. In Macbeth Mr. Irving not only de-<
parts from the old idea of witches as hags in red cloaks and poke bonnets, but
the witches are distinctly arrayed to imitate the winds, and a scene in dumb
show is interpolated where these wind-witches tilled the sails which are to
carry Macdufi' to England.
2M.N. D. ii. 1.
3 "Let the supposed fairies pinch him." Mer. Wiv. iy. 4 ''Pinch the maids
blue; . . . pinch them, arms and legs and backs; . . , still pinch him, fairies, pinch
Lim to your time." Ib. v. 5, and Temp. i. 2, 328, and iv. 1, 233.
4 "It was told me I should be rich by the fairies." W. T. iii. 3.
5 "Fairies and gods prosper it with thee." Lear. iv. 6.
6 "Dance our ringlets to the whistling winds." M. N. D. ii. 2.
7 "You deini-puppets, that by moonshine do the sour-green ringlets make,
whereof the sheep bites. 1 ' Temp. v. 1.
8 See of Ariel, who makes music in the air. Twanging instruments, voices
humming, or howling and thunder.
AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 239
chains, shave men, open doors and shut them, fling down plat
ters, stools, chests, l sometimes appear in likeness of hares, crows,
black clogs. 2 etc., of which read Pit. Thyraeus the Jesuit, in his
tract, de locis infestis, i. 4, who will have them to be devils, or
the souls of damned men that seek revenge, or else souls out of
purgatory that seek ease. . . . These spirits often foretell men's
deaths by several signs, as knockings, groanings, 3 etc. Near
Rapes Nova, in Finland, in the Kingdom of Sweden, there is a
lake in which, before the Governor of the Castle dies, a spec
trum, in the habit of Arion with his harp, appears and makes
excellent music. . . . Many families in Europe are so put in
mind of their last by such predictions, and many men are fore
warned, (if we may believe Paracelsus), by familiar spirits in di
vers shapes, as cocks, crows, owls, which often hover about sick
men's chambers, . . . forthat(asBernardinusdeBustisthinketh)
God permits the devil to appear in the form of crows, and such
like creatures, to scare such as live wickedly here on earth.' 7
Farther on, when discoursing of idleness as a cause of melan
choly, the Anatomist describes the men who allow themselves to
become a prey to vain and fantastical contemplation, as unable
" to go about their necessary business, or to stave off and extri
cate themselves," but as " ever "musing, melancholising, and
carried along as he that is led round about a heath with Puck in
the night, they run earnestly on in this labyrinth of anxious and
solicitous meditation."
Such notes and studies as these appear most conspicuously in
the Shakespeare and other plays of Bacon. It is hard to believe
that he could have created the fairy world of the Midsummer
Night 1 s Dream without some such preparation as is recorded ia
*lhe scientific notes. Let us give a few minutes' consideration to
this play, with the view of showing how dry facts, business
like notes, and commonplace observation were distilled into
1 See how this is illustrated in M. N. D. ii. 1. Puck takes the form of a stool.
2 "In likeness of a filly foal." M. N. D. ii. 1.
"Sometime a horse I'll be, sometimes a hound,
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire;
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and burn,
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, and fire, at every turn."
M. N. D. iii. 1.
3 Compare the sounds, etc., before the deaths of Duncan, Macbeth, and Julius
Csesar.
* "It was the owl that shrieked, that fearful bellman." Mad. ii 3.
240 FRANCIS ZACON
poetry in that wonderful mind of which John Beaumont said
tnat it was able " to lend a charm to the greatest as well as to
the meanest of matters. " l
To begin with Puck's well-known speech. Oberon desires him
to fetch a certain herb and to return " ere Leviathan can swim
a league." Puck answers:
" I'll put a girdle round about the earth
In forty minutes."
Bacon, in studying the winds, made many inquiries as to the
parts of the globe in which the winds chiefly occur, and where
they blow with the greatest swiftness. He finds this to be the
case at the tropics. " In Peru, and divers parts of the West
Indies, though under the line, t 
