Chapter VI: Preface (3)

“Only thus can I banish from my thoughts my beloved brother’s untimely cutting off and my wrongfull part in his tryale. O, had I then one thought of th’ great change his death would cause--how life’s worth would shrinke, and this world’s little golden sunshine be but as collied night’s swifte lightning--this had never come as a hound of th’ hunt to my idle thoughts.” Mrs. Gallup’s claim to have discovered the existence of Francis Bacon’s Biliteral Cipher in many of the works of his time is one which, in view of the story deciphered, will, if substantiated, oblige us to rewrite a page of history and to tear a mask from many an idol before which we have bowed for three centuries. We shall, therefore, require the most convincing proofs of the _bona fides_ of the discovery. The discussion of this question, however, we leave to a future article.

THE BACONIAN CIPHER.--II.

BY FLEMING FULCHER.

Last week we reviewed the subject matter of “The Biliteral Cipher of Sir Francis Bacon” by Mrs. Gallup. This week we have to redeem the promise then made to discuss the claims which the discovery embodied in it has on our credence. Let us first clearly define what that discovery claims to be. It is not that Francis Bacon invented a cipher which he calls “Biliteral.” That is a fact which has been known to the world for three centuries. What the authoress claims to have discovered is that this cipher is used in all the original editions of Bacon’s printed works, and that she has deciphered the hidden story by means of it. If this claim can be substantiated, it will decide once for all the Bacon _v._ Shakespeare controversy in favor of the former, for in the deciphered story Bacon claims the authorship of the Shakespeare plays and poems, as well as of other works which we have been accustomed to attribute, in some cases on little or no evidence, to others of his “masques.”

Some fifty years ago the theory was started, independently on both sides of the Atlantic, that “Shakespeare” was in reality only a pen-name of Francis Bacon, and that it is to that great genius, not to the actor of Stratford-on-Avon, that the world owes its finest dramas. A storm of derision, of course, greeted the theory, as it does every theory that attacks a generally accepted belief, however erroneous; and it was only necessary to hold the theory to be at once classed with the inmates of a lunatic asylum--though one would hardly have supposed such an institution a suitable residence (_exempli gratia_) for Lord Palmerston. Just such a storm of ridicule, coupled with persecution, happily for “Baconians” impossible in the nineteenth century, greeted Galileo’s discovery that the earth moves round the sun. “E puo si muove,” and during the past fifty years the Baconian theory, under the influence of careful and patient investigation of internal and external evidence, has been steadily gaining ground. A fair example of the way in which the Baconian theory is met by its adversaries is the reply which was given to a friend of the present writer by a well-known scholar and “Shakespearian” authority: “If Shakespeare were to rise from the grave and tell me that Bacon was the author of the plays, I would not believe him.” Take another typical specimen; it is a criticism (save the mark!) on the work we are now considering that appeared recently in a daily contemporary:--“A fresh campaign by the Baconian zealots is threatened. Mrs. Elizabeth Wells Gallup claims to have discovered and deciphered the mysterious secrets which Bacon, she would have us believe, buried in his writings. In the 'Biliteral Cipher of Sir Francis Bacon,’ Greene, Peele, and Marlowe, as well as Shakespeare, all go by the board; Sir Francis explains to Mrs. Gallup that their dramatic works were written by him alone. The proofs, she says, are 'overwhelming and irresistible.’ The day will come when Macaulay’s New Zealander will debate whether Bacon was a solar myth or a sort of Homer, who gathered together all Elizabethan literature in a--cipher.” But ridicule and invective are not argument, prejudice is not proof. “Some of our friends,” we used to be told in our childhood, “are for warning, others for example.” Taking those we have quoted for warning, let us give a fair and open-minded consideration to Mrs. Gallup’s claims.

To do this it will be necessary to describe Bacon’s Biliteral Cipher. His own description of it may be seen in any edition of his _De Augmentis_. Its principle is extremely simple, being, in fact, that of the Morse Code at present used in telegraphy--namely, various combinations of two differences. Thus, if we have two dissimilar things or sets of things, represented, let us suppose, by _a_ and _b_ respectively, there are thirty-two different ways in which we can arrange them in sets of five; as, for example, _aaaaa_, _aaaab_, _aaaba_, and so on. (It should be noted that in these groups _a_ and _b_ are merely used as symbols to represent two differences which might be equally well represented by dots and dashes or any other convenient symbols.) Now, by using twenty-four such groups, out of the possible thirty-two, and letting each stand for a different letter of the alphabet (in Bacon’s day I and J counted as one letter, as did also U and V), we can communicate by means of two differences with anyone who knows what letter each group stands for. Bacon’s method, the advantage of which lies in being able to insert anything in anything--_omnia per omnia_, as he says--is to have two complete sets, or “founts” as they are called, of type, which he designates the _a_ and _b_ fount respectively. All that is then necessary is to write out the secret message in its biliteral form letter for letter over or under the matter to be printed, and, as each letter is required, to take it from the _a_ or _b_ fount according as the one or the other letter appears against it. For example, suppose the words to be printed are “The Court Journal,” and that we want to “infold” in this the signature “Fr. B.,” and suppose our _a_ fount to consist of Latin and our _b_ fount of Italic letters. Now, in Bacon’s biliteral alphabet F is represented by a a b a b, R by b a a a a, and B by a a a a b. Our MS. would, therefore, appear thus:

THE COURT JOURNAL,

aab abbaa aaaaaab

In printing we should take the T and H from the _a_ fount, the E from the _b_ fount, and so on. The words would then appear thus:

TH_E_ _COU_RT JOURNA_L_.

The decipherer would mark the letters according to their respective founts, divide it into groups of five, and, knowing what letter each group stands for, would read “Fr. B.”

In these days of publicity we find it hard to accept anything that savors of mystery, and tolerance of opinion and freedom of speech have made it difficult to credit that a man should have had motive sufficient for putting a cipher in his books. Yet, at the present day all internal state correspondence is carried on in cipher. Why? Because every other state is a potential enemy. And this same reason made cipher writing common among individuals in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, for in those days when “a man’s head stood tickle on his shoulders” every other individual, with perhaps the exception of a few intimates, was a potential enemy. But in the case of Francis Bacon there are special reasons why we should not wonder at his putting a cipher, and that his own Biliteral Cipher, into his published works; and we shall be able to show that so far from its being strange that he should do so, it would be strange had he not. He invented this cipher at the age of about sixteen or seventeen, when he was in Paris. Nearly thirty years later, in 1605, he published his great philosophical work _Of the Advancement of Learning_. It is significant that he should have thought ciphers of sufficient importance to be touched on in his work, and that he should have alluded to this particular cipher as “the highest degree of cyphers which is to write OMNIA PER OMNIA.”

In 1623 he published a Latin version of _The Advancement_ under the title _De Augmentis Scientiarum_. This is not even a mere translation. The book has been entirely rewritten and greatly enlarged, and is translated into Latin professedly because he feared that the English language wanted stability, while he believed that Latin would be the language of the learned for all time. Surely now, after nearly two crowded decades of Statecraft, of Law, of Philosophy, in which he has “sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,” the eminent statesman, the learned lawyer, the profound philosopher will find no room in his immortal work for what we are apt to consider an ingenious amusement for a schoolboy. Far from being omitted, however, the paragraph on ciphers is enlarged to some pages, the greater part devoted to a detailed description and examples of the cipher alluded to by him nearly a score of years before, invented by him nearly half a century earlier. But before we can realize the full force of these facts it will be necessary to glance at some of the leading traits of Bacon’s character. It is not too much to say that most people’s knowledge of this great man is derived--directly or indirectly--almost exclusively from one essay and one line of poetry; while few have read anything of his writings except his essays. Macaulay’s essay, as far as it deals with the moral side of Bacon’s character, is probably the greatest libel on a great man that ever masqueraded in the “weed” of criticism, and Pope’s line is the text of Macaulay’s essay in half a dozen words. Both have painted as the portrait of Bacon a figure impossible in human nature, “a vast idol,” as Hepworth Dixon well expresses it, “the head of gold and feet of clay.” But this writer and Spedding have dipped deep into the well of Truth, and with her waters have washed away the mud which had been flung by the envious hands of the pigmy contemporaries over whom Francis Bacon towered, and have shown the whole figure to be sterling gold from head to foot. Even Macaulay and Pope, however, while they mistake Bacon’s moral nature, acknowledge the vastness and exquisiteness of his intellect, though again on this side they fail to appreciate fully his “infinite capacity for taking pains.” “His understanding,” says the brilliant essayist, “with great minuteness of observation had an aptitude of comprehension such as has never yet been vouchsafed to any other human being. The small fine mind of Labruyere had not a more delicate tact than the large intellect of Bacon. * * * His understanding resembled the tent which the fairy Paribanov gave to Prince Ahmed. Fold it; and it seemed a toy for the hand of a lady. Spread it; and the armies of powerful Sultans might repose beneath its shade.”

Bacon’s, then, was just such a temperament as would have delighted in the continual application of his cipher; one to which the great labor involved--a labor which to most would be insufferable drudgery--would have been a congenial exercise or might have proved a welcome distraction from painful memories. There is one more point which has an important bearing in this connection. The guiding star of Bacon’s life was utility. Everything he studied--and what did he not study?--he studied with a view to the use that could be made of it. And utility was the mainspring of his least actions no less than of his loftiest philosophy. If this be granted, and we believe no one will for a moment dispute it, we have the strongest probability, nay, the absolute certainty, that he used the cipher which he invented and published. But where? Only one answer is possible--“In his printed works.” For we have seen that it is to be performed by means of two founts of type. One more question naturally suggests itself. “Had he adequate motives for imposing on himself the labor which the extensive use of the cipher involves?” This can only be answered when the secret is no longer a secret, when the cipher is deciphered. The story as deciphered by Mrs. Gallup gives an emphatic answer in the affirmative. The statements unfolded by her are such that, while their publication during his lifetime would have been productive of no good, it would have cost him his life. But in the interests of truth and for his own justification he wished them to be given to a future age. It was with this object that he began to use the cipher, and he continued its use as a distraction from the agonies of retrospection. We have now established, as we think, beyond contradiction, the fact that so far from being incredulous as to the existence of the biliteral cipher in Bacon’s works, we ought to expect it. How is it, then, the reader will say, that it has remained undiscovered for so long? It is the old story once more of Columbus and the egg, or, as Mrs. Gallup aptly quotes from Bacon himself, “in which sort of things it is the manner of men, first to wonder that such a thing should be possible, and after it is found out, to wonder again how the world should miss it so long.”

THE BACONIAN CIPHER.--III.

BY FLEMING FULCHER.

Our discussion of this question last week led us by _à priori_ argument to the conclusion that Francis Bacon had put a cipher story into his printed works.

Now, either this long-neglected cipher has at last been discovered and deciphered or it has not. That is a truism. In the latter case two, and only two, hypotheses are possible; if they can be shown to be false, the affirmative proposition is established. These two hypotheses are--(1) that a deliberate fraud is being perpetrated; (2) that with perfectly honest intentions our authoress has, to use a familiar expression, “cooked” the cipher, and consequently the story is in reality the creation of her own brain. It would be a wonderful brain, indeed, that could have devised and executed such a work. The first supposition, we do not hesitate to say, will be at once dismissed by anyone who has even a slight acquaintance with the authoress. But as this is a privilege necessarily denied to the great majority of our readers, let us examine the question impersonally and impartially on its own merits. The “fraud” hypothesis would mean this--that the author had deliberately invented the whole story, and stated without the slightest foundation in fact that when resolved into Francis Bacon’s biliteral alphabet it would be found to correspond, letter by letter, with the two founts of Italic type which occur in such profusion in the works deciphered--for it is through the Italics that the cipher runs. Of the existence of different founts of Italic type in these works there is no question. It has long been known, though never hitherto explained; and anyone can verify this assertion by a glance at the original editions, or at the facsimiles in _The Biliteral Cipher of Sir Francis Bacon_.

Now, to ensure this correspondence between the cipher story and the Italic print it would be necessary to count the letters in the latter--in itself a task almost as great as the genuine deciphering. And this would be but a small part of the labor required. It would be far surpassed by the immense amount of literary, linguistic, and historical knowledge and research indispensable for the avoidance of errors which would soon be detected by the critics, and which would at once expose the fraud. Again, we might easily conceive that the author of our hypothetical fraud would pretend to find a secret history of Bacon’s time, with all its tragic interest, but it would be hard indeed to imagine that the idea would suggest itself of pretending to find summaries of and poetical translations from the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_, or that the author would be capable of expressing them with such true Baconian intuition and freedom as they display. Still less is it likely that the author would run the risk of wearying his readers with directions for working out another cipher, which would also, presumably, be non-existent, or with frequent repetitions, which, however, will be seen to be necessary if the cipher is genuine. These considerations, we are aware, though they amount to a moral certainty of the impossibility of the “fraud” hypothesis, do not constitute a mathematical proof of it. There is, however, one which seems to us to do so. In the case of some of the letters the differences between the two founts are so slight that it would be difficult, without more study than most people would be prepared to give, to pronounce with certainty to which fount these letters belonged. But, on the other hand, in the case of many of the letters--most of the capitals and some of the small letters--the differences are “so plaine as thou canst not erre therein.” Now, as these letters stand in fixed places and must be marked always _a_ or _b_ according to their respective founts, the fraud would at once be detected, for it is a mathematical impossibility that the _a_'s and _b_'s of the biliteral form of a story not composed with reference to the actual letters could always fall in the right place. So much for the fraud hypothesis. The hypothesis of unintentional “cooking” may be very briefly dismissed. We had intended to give some rough calculations which would have demonstrated the untenability of this theory, but space and our readers’ patience, or rather the certain want of the one and the probable exhaustion of the other, forbid. When, however, it is considered that the cipher story has to be got out letter by letter from the printed matter; that it takes five letters of the latter to make one of the former; and that if one letter were got out it would give no assistance in extracting the next; unless there were a cipher there, it will be seen that no assistance would be obtained from the doubtful letters, and that it would be impossible to obtain any sense in this way. We have now fairly examined the only two hypotheses on which it is possible that Mrs. Gallup’s claim can be a “bogus” one, and proved them false. Thus we are driven by the inexorable force of logic to the only remaining conclusion: That Francis Bacon did put a cipher into his printed works; that Mrs. Gallup has discovered it and has translated it.

We had intended to produce much corroborative evidence which, though we now find it superfluous, we believe would have been interesting. The exigencies of space again prevent us. One piece, however, is so curious that we feel sure our readers will pardon us if we produce it. We can vouch for the fact that it was unknown to our authoress when the statement it corroborates was deciphered. In the north of London there is still standing a square building of red brick, dating from the reign of Henry VIII., which is known as Canonbury Tower. That in no history of the tower, nor in any life of Bacon is mention made of its being connected with him, is only one of the numerous instances of the mystery which always meets us when we try to search deeper into the life of Francis Bacon. Yet research at one of the public libraries has recently elicited the fact that he took a lease of it for ninety-nine years, that he lived there for some time, apparently in charge of the Princes Henry and Charles, sons of James I., and that he was actually living there at the time he received the seals.

Close under the ceiling, on the wall, in a dark corner of a passage in the Tower, is painted an inscription consisting of the Sovereigns of England from the Conquest. The names are mostly abbreviated, and with one exception follow each other in the recognized order. But between Elizabeth and James stands, in the same way as the other abbreviations, Fr. No explanation of this interpolation appeared until the deciphered story brought to light the facts that Queen Elizabeth was secretly married to the Earl of Leicester, and that the great man whom we have known as Francis Bacon was in reality her first-born son, and therefore the true, though unacknowledged, heir to the throne.

We must not conclude without a slight tribute, not the less sincere that it must of necessity be brief, to the merits of Mrs. Gallup’s brilliant discovery, and the patient diligence with which she has gradually unrolled the cerements and brought to light one by one truths so long buried. We feel almost tempted to envy the feelings which must have swept over her as the first sentence came to light from its cipher tomb. They must have been such as stirred the soul of Columbus when, after the long night of impatient expectation, the light of morning broke and revealed to his triumphant gaze the shores of the new continent. Let us frankly confess our gratitude to our authoress, who has enabled us to feel once more the “touch of a vanished hand,” to hear once more “the sound of a voice that is still”--a hand that was ever stretched down from lofty height to help and raise humanity, a voice that will ring trumpet-tongued through all ages--the hand and voice of one who “had an aspect as if he pitied men.”

The reference to Canonbury Tower, by Mr. Fulcher, renders the
following quotations from a late number of “Baconiana” of
especial interest, as tracing the history of this ancient and
historic pile. The building is in a good state of preservation.
The lines are in an obscure part of the building but are
plainly observable, as was verified by a personal examination
on the part of Mrs. Gallup, in November last. It is one of the
interesting corroborations which are accumulating, and now
being understood in the light of the cipher disclosures, going
to show that Francis was entitled to a place in the line of
England’s kings.

A NEW LIGHT.

ON THE BACON--SHAKESPEARE CYPHER.

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY AND AFTER.--LONDON.

Of all the critical paradoxes that have ever been seriously advocated, few have been received with such general and derisive indifference as that which declares Bacon to have been the author of the dramas ascribed to Shakespeare, and which couples this declaration with another--more startling still--that these dramas are not dramas only, but are besides a series of writings in cypher, whose inner meaning bears no relation whatever to their ostensible meaning as dramas, but which consist of memoranda or memoirs concerning Bacon himself, and secrets of Queen Elizabeth. The mere theory that Bacon was the real author of the plays, though the mass of Shakespeare’s readers still set it down as an illusion, does not, indeed, contain anything essentially shocking to common sense. On the contrary, it is generally recognised that on purely _à priori_ grounds there is less to shock common sense in the idea that those wonderful compositions were the work of a scholar, a philosopher, a statesman, and a profound man of the world, than there is in the idea that they were the work of a notoriously ill-educated actor, who seems to have found some difficulty in signing his own name. This latter idea, which is still generally accepted, has little evidence to support it beyond tradition, which is strong, and strong only, in the absence of evidence to the contrary; and were such evidence forthcoming, it would be impossible for the candid mind to reject it on the grounds that it pointed to any improbable conclusion.

But with regard to the theory of the cypher the case is different. This is generally rejected or neglected both by scholars and the reading public, not on the ground that the evidence for it is insufficient, but on the ground that it is in itself so unlikely, so fantastic, so impossible that it is not worth a sane man’s while to consider the misguided ingenuities by which a few literary monomaniacs have endeavoured to make it plausible. How is it possible, the ordinary man asks, to believe that the finest and profoundest poetry in the world--that the verses which give us in music the love of Romeo and Juliet, the torture of Hamlet’s philosophy, the majestic calm of Prospero’s--was composed, or rather constructed, as an elaborate verbal puzzle, the object of which was to preserve for some future decipherer a collection of political and mainly personal information, which the author was too timid to confide himself to his contemporaries? We might just as well believe that _Paradise Lost_ is in reality a kind of _Pepys’ Diary_, in which the poet has recorded for posterity the curtain-lectures of Mrs. Milton. Such is the argument which the ordinary man uses; and if he consents to consider the matter a little farther, and finds, as he will find, that the advocates of the cypher theory maintain that Bacon, in the Shakespearian plays, has hidden away not one cypher but six, his dismissal of their theory will be yet more curt and contemptuous. Of this attitude of mind I am able to speak with sympathy, for the excellent reason that it was till lately my own. A remarkable volume, however, known at present to surprisingly few readers, has been recently published, dealing with the subject before us--a volume which at first I glanced at with apathetic distrust, but which has caused me, when I read it carefully, to reconsider the question. The contents of this volume I shall here briefly summarise, leaving the reader to escape from its conclusions if he can. The volume is called _The Bi-literal Cypher of Francis Bacon_. It was first, I believe, printed privately, less than two years ago; and a small second edition was issued last year to the public. I will begin with describing its exact scope, which is limited. Of the six Baconian cyphers alleged to exist in _Shakespeare_, this volume deals only with one; and it is with this one only that I shall ask the reader to concern himself.

The biliteral cypher possesses two remarkable characteristics, which it is desirable to mention at starting, because they at once dispose of all those _à priori_ objections which suggest themselves, as we have just seen, against the cypher theory generally. In the first place this cypher, whether it exists in the Shakespearian plays or not, is demonstrably not the invention of any modern literary lunatic. It was invented by Bacon himself; and an elaborate account of it, together with examples of its use, is to be found, as will be shown presently, in one of his most celebrated works. In the second place--and this is a point which it is still more important to urge on the _à priori_ sceptic--the biliteral cypher has nothing whatever to do with the composition or the wording of the works into which it is introduced. There might be a biliteral cypher in _Hamlet_ from end to end, without any thought of a cypher having been present to the author when he was writing it. It is, in other words, altogether a matter of typography. It depends not on what the author writes, but on the manner in which he is printed. Accordingly, when what we may call the Baconian party informs the world that they have discovered a biliteral cypher, of which the author is Bacon, running through the plays of Shakespeare, they are really indulging in a gross inaccuracy of language, which does much to prevent a fair hearing being accorded to them. What they really mean is that this biliteral cypher runs not through the plays themselves, but through one particular edition of them--that is to say, the celebrated first folio. This edition, as every student knows, is remarkable for many extraordinary anomalies in its typography. Of these anomalies an explanation is now for the first time offered to us. They are presented to us--and it is claimed that they are thus explained completely--as part and parcel of the newly discovered typographical cypher. If we take these devices away the cypher disappears with them. If we resort, with the aid of the printer, to devices of the same kind, we could embody the cypher anew, and every sentence that Bacon committed to it, in any book we might choose to reprint, so far as its length permitted--in _Pickwick_, in _Vanity Fair_, in Tupper’s _Proverbial Philosophy_, in the _Apocalypse of St. John_, or in the advertisement-sheet of the _Times_.

I will now proceed to describe what the nature of the cypher is; and it shall first be introduced to the reader in the words of Bacon himself. In the _De Augmentis Scientiarum_ Bacon writes thus:[7]

Let us come to Cyphars. Their kinds are many, as Cyphars
simple, Cyphars intermixt with Nulloes, or Non-significant
characters; Cyphars of double letters under one character;
Wheele-cyphars, Kay-cyphars, Cyphars of Words, Others.... But
that jealousies may be taken away, we will annexe one other
invention, which, in truth, we devised in our own youth, when
we were in Paris: and it is a thing which yet seemeth to us
not worthy to be lost. It containeth _the highest degree of
Cypher_, which is to signify _omnia per omnia_, yet so as
the writng _infolding_ may bear a quintuple relation to the
writing infolded. No other condition or restriction whatsoever
is required. It shall be performed thus. First, let all the
letters of the alphabet, by transposition, be resolved into two
letters onely; for the transposition of two letters by five
placings will be sufficient for thirty-two differences, much
more for twenty-four, which is the number of the alphabet. The
example of such an alphabet is in this wise:

A aaaaa I abaaa R baaaa
B aaaab K abaab S baaab
C aaaba L ababa T baaba
D aaabb M ababb V baabb
E aabaa N abbaa W babaa
F aabab O abbab X babab
G aabba P abbba Y babba
H aabbb Q abbbb Z babbb

... When you addresse yourself to write, resolve your inward
infolded letter into this Bi-literarie Alphabet. Say the
interior letter be 'Fuge.’

_Example of Solution_

F U G E
aabab baabb aabba aabaa

Together with this you must have ready at hand a bi-formed
Alphabet, which may represent all the letters of the _Common
Alphabet_, as well Capitall Letters as the Smaller Characters,
in _a double forme_, as may fit every man’s occasion.

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _A_ ~A~ _a_ ~a~ _B_ ~B~ _b_ ~b~ _C_ ~C~ _c_ ~c~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _D_ ~D~ _d_ ~d~ _E_ ~E~ _e_ ~e~ _F_ ~F~ _f_ ~f~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _G_ ~G~ _g_ ~g~ _H_ ~H~ _h_ ~h~ _I_ ~I~ _i_ ~i~ _j_ ~j~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _K_ ~K~ _k_ ~k~ _L_ ~L~ _l_ ~l~ _M_ ~M~ _m_ ~m~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _N_ ~N~ _n_ ~n~ _O_ ~O~ _o_ ~o~ _P_ ~P~ _p_ ~p~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _Q_ ~Q~ _q_ ~q~ _R_ ~R~ _r_ ~r~ _S_ ~S~ _s_ ~s~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _T_ ~T~ _t_ ~t~ _V_ ~V~ _v_ ~v~ _u_ ~u~ _W_ ~W~ _w_ ~w~

{ a b a b a b a b a b a b
{ _X_ ~X~ _x_ ~x~ _Y_ ~Y~ _y_ ~y~ _Z_ ~Z~ _z_ ~z~

Now to the interior letter which is bi-literate, you shall fit
a bi-formed exterior letter, which shall answer the other,
letter for letter, and afterwards set it downe. Let the
_exterior_ example be, _Manere te volo, donec Venero_.

_An Example of Accommodation._

F U G E
a a b a b . b a a b b . a a b b a . a a b a a
_Ma ~n~ e ~r e~ te ~vo~ lo ~do~ n ec ~v~ en [ero]_

From this short example Bacon then proceeds to a longer one. He takes an entire page from one of Cicero’s letters, and so prints it in italics from two founts, similar to those in the alphabet just given, that it infolds an interior letter from a Spartan general, 'Sent once in a _scytale_, or round cypher’d staffe.’ The quotation from Cicero it is unnecessary to give here. It is sufficient to say that, as printed by Bacon, the ordinary reader would detect nothing out of the common in it; but when once his eye is made alert by the knowledge that its characters are drawn from two different founts of type, he can, by the aid of the alphabets supplied by Bacon, easily decipher for himself the Spartan message infolded in it.

It is the above passage, occurring in Bacon’s own work, which has led to the alleged discovery set forth in the volume with which we are now dealing; and the history of the discovery, as we there find it, is curious. For a considerable time an American student, Dr. Owen, had been working at the elucidation of another cypher altogether, also alleged to be Bacon’s, and to exist in the Shakespearian plays. This is the word-cypher. With its details we need not here concern ourselves. It is enough to say that an American lady, Mrs. Gallup, was his assistant. The above passage from Bacon arrested her attention, and she became convinced that the Bi-literal Cypher had been described by its inventor with special ulterior purpose and might possibly be found co-existing in Shakespearian plays with the others. She was fortified in this idea by the well known and unexplained peculiarities in the printing of the first folio to which I have already alluded, and she claims that on examining this volume she found her suspicions correct. The result has been the book under review. After its publication Mrs. Gallup came to England, her sole object being to examine certain rare old books which could not be procured in America and find if possible the first inception of the cypher writings, and in this she claims to have been successful.[8] Before going farther I will direct the reader’s attention once again to the bi-literal cypher itself, and endeavor to make the nature of it clearer to him than it will probably have been made by Bacon’s own, somewhat clumsy, exposition of it.

In the first place it should be observed that Bacon’s own name for it--'bi-literal’--is essentially inaccurate and misleading. He means by the word 'bi-literal’ that the letters of his second alphabet are all formed out of two--that is to say, 'a’ and 'b,’ by arranging them variously in so many groups of five. But the letters 'a’ and 'b,’ when used for this purpose, are properly speaking not letters at all. They have no phonetic value, they are simply arbitrary signs. Their function would be fulfilled equally well or better by dots and dashes (. and --), or else by the longs and shorts (- and °) which are familiar to every schoolboy as symbols of prosodical quantity. The cypher is a cypher of two signs, not of two letters. It is, in fact, merely a species of Morse Code. Let the reader look back to the bi-literal code or alphabet, as formulated by Bacon himself; and, for an example, let him take four letters--a, b, e, and l--which I choose merely because several different words can be spelt with them. He will see that for 'a’ the symbol is five 'a’s (a a a a a), for 'b’ four 'a’s and a 'b’ (a a a a b), for 'e’ two 'a’s, a 'b’, and two 'a’s (a a b a a), and for 'l’ two consecutive 'a b’s and one 'a’ (a b a b a). Let him rid himself of these 'a’s and 'b’s, and substitute dots and dashes; let every 'b’ be a dash, and every 'a’ a dot. The result will be just the same, and his mind will most likely be clearer. His code signs for these four letters will be as follows: A .....; B ....--; E ..--..; L.--.--. Now let him write, in this code, 'ale,’ 'all,’ 'ball,’ 'bell,’ 'Abel.’ No exercise could be easier. 'Ale’ will be ......--.--. ..--..; 'All’ will be ......--.--..--.--.; 'Ball’ will be ....-- ..... .--.--..--.--.; 'Bell’ will be ....-- ..--...--.--. .--.--.; and 'Abel’ will be ..... ....-- ..--...--.--. Now we come to the next part of our problem. Having written 'ale,’ 'all,’ 'ball,’ 'bell,’ and 'Abel’ in dots and dashes--which constitutes, we will suppose, some message which we wish to convey--our next task is to hide this in a series of words with which, seemingly, our message shall have no connection. For the moment, instead of adopting the precise method of Bacon, let us take a much cruder one, which will be at once grasped by everybody. Let us make every capital letter signify a dot in our code, and every small letter a dash; and let us arrange the code symbols of our five words in a line, thus:

· · · · · | · - · - · | · · - · · | · · · · · | · - · - · | · - · - ·

· · · · - | · · · · · | · - · - · | · - · - · | · · · · - | · · - · ·

· - · - · | · - · - · | · · · · · | · · · · - | · · - · · | · - · - ·

We have here a series of ninety dots and dashes, and all we need now do is to take any sentence we please--any chance fragment, whether of prose or poetry--which contains not less than ninety letters, and ignoring the ordinary use of small letters and capitals, write it in such a way as to put a capital for every dot and a small letter for every dash. Let us take, for example, the first verses of Gray’s 'Elegy,’ and write it in this manner. What we shall get is as follows:

THECU RfEwT OLlST HEKNE LlOfP ArTiN GDAYt
HELOW InGhE RdWiN DSSLo WLyOE RtHeL EaThE
PLOUG HMANh OMeWA RdPlO &c.

All the five words with which we started are here contained in our cypher; and the decipherer has only to perform the childishly simple task of putting a dot under each capital and a dash under each small letter, and he has them back again in the form given above. To illustrate the complete independence of what Bacon calls the 'infolding’ document from the 'infolded,’ let us set, one under the other, one of Gray’s lines, and some different sets of words altogether.

THECU RfEwT OLlST HEKNE LlOfP ArTiN GDAY
OFMAN SfIrS TDiSO BEDIE NcEaN DtHeF RUIT
SINGA SoNgO FSiXP ENCEA BABfU LlOfR YEFO (ur) &c.

Every one of these lines, when resolved into dots and dashes, will be the same, and will read thus:

· · · · · | · - · - · | · · - · · | · · · · · | · - · - · | · - · - ·
a | l | e | a | |

( · · · · - &c.)
( (b) &c.)

Bacon’s system differs from this merely in the fact that, instead of using the capitals and the small letters of one ordinary alphabet as the equivalents respectively of his 'a’s and 'b’s--that is to say, of his dots and dashes--he uses two italic alphabets, of capitals and small letters, complete; both the capitals and small letters of one meaning dots or 'a’s, and the capitals and small letters of the other meaning dashes or 'b’s. Let us now proceed to adopt his system a little more nearly ourselves, diverging from it only in the fact that our two complete alphabets, instead of being two slightly different varieties of italics, shall consist, the one of italics and the other of ordinary type, the italics representing the 'a’s or dots, the ordinary letters the 'b’s or dashes; and we will, as preliminary examples, imagine two cases, parallel to that which is alleged to be Bacon’s own. The following lines are Byron’s, which I quote from memory; and they are printed in accordance with the principles just laid down:

_S_a_int_ P_e_t_er s_a_t at t_h_e_ c_el_e_s_t_ia_l _gate_;
_The ke_y_s_ wer_e rusty_, a_n_d t_he lock w_as d_ull_,
So _l_i_ttl_e t_rouble h_a_d b_e_en g_ive_n of lat_e.
_No_t t_ha_t _the_ pla_ce_ by _any mea_n_s was_ f_ul_l,
_But_ sin_c_e t_h_e G_allic_ er_a_ E_ig_h_t_y-e_ig_h_t_
_Th_e de_vi_l_s had ta_'en _a_ lo_n_g_er, str_on_ger_ pu_ll_,
_A_nd a _pu_ll _a_l_l t_o_get_her, as _they say_
At _s_ea, _w_h_i_ch _dre_w _mos_t _sou_l_s the ot_he_r way_.

_T_he _a_ng_e_l_s_ al_l w_e_re singing o_u_t of t_un_e_,
_A_n_d ho_a_r_s_e_ wit_h_ ha_vi_ng l_i_t_tle el_s_e to_ d_o_,
_E_xc_eptin_g _to_ w_ind_ u_p th_e su_n_ a_nd moon_,
_And_ c_u_rb _a ru_n_aw_a_y yo_u_ng st_a[r or two, &c.]

To this passage, before examining it, let us add some others from Milton, printed in the same manner; and let us imagine, for reasons which will appear presently, that we have an edition of Milton in which certain passages, and certain passages only--those which we shall quote being among them--are printed in these two characters, and are consequently at once distinguishable from the rest of the text.

_O_f _man_'s _fir_s_t_ dis_obe_d_ien_ce, a_n_d _t_he _f_r_uit_
O_f_ t_hat f_o_r_bid_de_n _tre_e, wh_o_s_e mo_r_tal_ t_aste_
B_r_o_u_gh_t de_at_h_ in_t_o t_he_ w_orl_d and _all ou_r wo_e_,
_W_it_h_ l_os_s _of E_d_e_n, ti_ll_ on_e_ g_r_ea_t_er _m_an
_R_e_st_o_re_ u_s, a_nd _r_e_g_a_i_n th_o_se _b_l_iss_f_ul seat_s,
_S_ing _Hea_v_e_n_l_y Muse.

* * * * *

_A l_itt_l_e _onward_ le_nd_ t_hy g_ui_di_ng ha_n_d
_To t_h_es_e _dark s_t_e_p_s--a li_t_tl_e _far_t_h_er _on,_
_For yonde_r _bank_ h_a_s _c_ho_i_c_e o_f _sun an_d _sh_a_de_.

* * * * *

_T_h_e_ su_n to_ me _i_s d_a_r_k_
_A_n_d s_i_le_nt _a_s _t_h_e_ m_o_o_n_
Wh_en sh_e _de_s_erts th_e n_ight,_
_H_i_d in_ h_e_r _v_a_can_t _in_t_erl_un_ar_ c_av_e.

* * * * *

Y_et_ o_n_ce _m_o_r_e, _oh y_e _lau_r_el_s, _and_ o_nce_ mor_e_
_Y_e m_y_r_t_le_s_ br_own, and_ i_v_y _n_ev_e_r _s_er_e_,
I _c_o_m_e _t_o _plu_c_k y_our _b_er_r_ie_s h_ar_s_h _a_n_d cru_de,
_A_n_d wit_h f_orc_ed _f_in_g_e_rs_ rude
Shatter your leaves, &c., &c.

Now in the above passages, if we except only the fact that the dots and dashes of the cypher are represented in these by italics and ordinary letters, whereas Bacon employs two slightly different forms of italics, we have the biliteral cypher exemplified completely, though with extreme simplicity. But we have not this only. As the reader will see presently, we have exemplified in them also another of the claims now made for Bacon in relation to works published under another name. It may amuse some readers to extract the cypher in these passages for themselves. They will begin thus, putting dots under the italics and dashes under the ordinary letters:

_S_a_int_ P_e_t_er s_a_t at_.
.-... -.-.. .-. ..

They will then divide these dots and dashes into groups of five, thus:.--..., --.--..,.--...; and on turning to Bacon’s code, already given, they will find that these three groups mean I. W. I. Pursuing this method, they will find that in the passage from Byron the following meaning is 'infolded:’

'I, William Wordsworth, am the author of the Byron poems. Don Juan contains my private prayers.’

In the passages from Milton, the 'infolded’ meaning is this:

'I, S. Pepys, in this and oth’r poems [Now to my Sams’n] hide my secret frailties [Now to Lycidas] lest my wife, poor fool, should know.’

The reader will see from these examples how easily, if it were not for the existence of copyright, any author might republish the works of any other, introducing a cypher into them, in which he claimed them as his own composition, and deposited in them any secrets which he wished both to record and hide. The passages taken from Milton illustrate certain farther points. The bi-literal cypher of Bacon exists, it is alleged, in the first folio of Shakespeare, in those parts only which are printed in italics, the end of one fragment of the secret writing often breaking off in the middle of a letter, which is completed at the beginning of another italic passage farther on, and sometimes in another play; and parentheses occur like those in our imagined cypher by Pepys, directing the decipherer where to look for the continuations.

The general character, then, of this biliteral cypher, and the manner in which it is alleged to have been inserted in one edition of the Shakespearian plays, must now be perfectly clear to even the most careless reader; and we may therefore pass on to another portion of our subject; for the claim of the Baconian theorists does not by any means end with what they declare they have proved with regard to the first folio of Shakespeare. They claim that the same cypher has been introduced by Bacon into early or first editions of a number of other works, some bearing his own name, and admittedly written by himself, others bearing the name of well known persons, his contemporaries. These include his own _Advancement of Learning_, 1605, his _Novum Organum_, 1620, and his _History of Henry VII._, 1622; the _Complaints_, 1591, and the _Colin Clout_, 1595, published under the name of Spenser, and the edition of the _Faerie Queen_, 1596; certain editions of certain plays ascribed to the four dramatists, Peele, Greene, Marlowe, and Ben Jonson; and the edition published in 1628 of _The Anatomy of Melancholy_. Some of these works, in spite of the presence of the cypher in them, it is not even claimed that Bacon wrote himself. For example, so we are told, he expressly says in his cypher that he used certain plays of Ben Jonson, with Ben Jonson’s own permission, as a vehicle for his secret writing, having had, with the exception of a few short masques, no part in the composition of any of them. Bacon does claim, however, unless his cypher is altogether an illusion, that of many of the works into which the cypher was printed, he was himself the actual author--notably _The Anatomy of Melancholy_, and the whole of the plays called Shakespeare’s. On this latter point he insists over and over again, declaring that he borrowed Shakespeare’s name as a pseudonym, and describing him as being nothing more than the most accomplished actor of his time.

I say this, let me repeat, on the supposition that the cypher is not altogether an illusion. Before considering whether this supposition is correct, let us accept it for the moment as being so, and see what are the conclusions which it forces on us. Of the four hundred and fifty pages of which Mrs. Gallup’s volume, _The Bi-literal Cypher of Francis Bacon_, consists, about three hundred and fifty are occupied with what purport to be secret writings of Bacon’s, deciphered letter by letter, from the passages printed in italics, in certain specified editions of certain works, some published under other names, some admittedly his own. Of these three hundred and fifty pages of secret writings, about fifteen have been extracted from Spenser, Greene, Peele, and Marlowe, and twenty-three from Ben Jonson; about a hundred and twenty-five from writings admittedly his own, such as the _Novum Organum_ and _The New Atlantis_, more than ninety from Burton, and more than fifty from the first folio of Shakespeare. Much more, however, it is averred, remains to be deciphered still.

And now let us ask what, continuing to suppose them genuine, these secret writings contain, and why the author wrote them in such a way. Described generally, they are a species of diary, comparable to that of Pepys, also written in cypher--a diary to which the author confides thoughts and hopes and feelings too intimate to be revealed to contemporaries, and secrets the mere hinting of which would have placed his life in danger. Of these it is enough for our present purpose to mention a few.

Bacon declares in his cypher over and over again that he was not what he appeared to be. He was not, as the world supposed, the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, but the son of the Queen of England by a private marriage with Leicester--her eldest son and rightful heir to the throne. He was ignorant of the fact till he reached his sixteenth year, when he heard the story hinted by one of the ladies of the Court. The Queen, in a fit of anger, admitted to him that it was true, the marriage having taken place secretly in the Tower of London, when the Queen, before her accession, and Leicester were both confined there. For political reasons it was necessary to keep this a profound secret, and the child was confided to Anne and Nicholas Bacon, to be brought up as their own and educated as a private person, the Queen being determined never, under any circumstances, to acknowledge him. To reveal the truth himself would, he believed, be to forfeit his life; and hence, smarting under an obstinate sense of wrong, he confided his history to the keeping of elaborate cyphers, trusting that future students would unravel them for a future age. The moment the Queen found that the boy had discovered his parentage he was sent to France under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet, and did not come back to England till the death of his foster-father. When in France he conceived an absorbing and romantic passion for Marguerite, wife of Henry of Navarre, who returned or pretended to return it. Expectations were rife at the time that she and her husband were to be divorced; and Sir Amyas Paulet attempted to arrange with Queen Elizabeth that, should the divorce take place, Marguerite and Bacon should be married. The divorce, however, was not obtained, nor would Queen Elizabeth listen to the proposal. This early romance made a profound impression on Bacon, and he wrote, long afterwards, _Romeo and Juliet_ in commemoration of it.

Another part of the story which he tells is this. He was not, he says, the Queen’s only child by Leicester. He had a brother, and this brother was Essex; and of all the incidents of his life with regard to which he is most anxious to set forth the truth and with regard to which he fears that his memory is most likely to be wronged, those connected with his conduct towards his unfortunate brother stand foremost.

That he does not venture openly to give even a hint of the truth with regard to this matter, or his parentage and rightful position, he declares with an almost wearisome and not very dignified persistence; and he is, he says, driven to hide himself in tortuous cyphers, which will keep him safe as a coney hiding in a valley of rocks.