The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded

by Delia Salter Bacon

'This part, therefore,' having thus defined his position, he continues, 'because of the excellency thereof, I cannot but find it EXCEEDING STRANGE that it is not reduced to written inquiry; the rather because it consisteth of much matter, wherein both speech and action is often conversant, and such wherein the common talk of men, which is rare, but yet cometh sometimes to pass, is wiser than their books. It is reasonable, therefore, that we propound it with the more particularity, both for the worthiness, and because we may acquit ourselves for reporting it deficient' [with such 'iteration and fulness,' with all his discrimination, does he contrive to make this point]; 'which seemeth almost incredible, and is otherwise conceived—[note it]—and is otherwise conceived and presupposed by those themselves that have written.' [They do not see that they have missed it.] 'We will, therefore, enumerate some HEADS or POINTS thereof, that it may appear the better what it is, and __whether it be extant_.'

A momentous question, truly, for the human race. That was a point, indeed, for this reporter to dare to make, and insist on and demonstrate. Doctrines of THE FRUIT of LIFE—doctrines of its perfection, exemplars of it; but no science—no science of the Culture or the Husbandry thereunto—though it is otherwise conceived and presupposed by those who have written! Yes, that is the position; and not taken in the general only, for he will proceed to propound it with more particularity—he will give us the HEADS of it—he will proceed to the articulation of that which is wanting—he will put down, before our eyes, the points and outlines of the new human science, the science of the husbandry thereto, both for the worthiness thereof, and that it may appear the better WHAT IT IS, and whether—WHETHER IT BE EXTANT. For who knows but it may be? Who knows, after all, but the points and outlines here, may prove but the track of that argument which the new Georgics will be able to hide in the play of their illustration, as Periander hid his? Who knows but the Naturalist in this field was then already on the ground, making his collections? Who knows but this new Virgil, who thought little of that resplendent and lustrous mass of matter, that old poets had taken for their glory, who seized the common life of men, and not the ideal life only, for his theme—who made the relief of the human estate, and not glory, his end, but knew that he might promise himself a fame which would make the old heroic poets' crowns grow dim,—who knows but that he—he himself—is extant, contemplating his theme, and composing its Index—claiming as yet its INDEX only? Truly, if the propounder of this argument can in any measure supply the defects which he outlines, and opens here,—if he can point out to us any new and worthy collections in that science for which he claims to break the ground—if he can, in any measure, constitute it, he will deserve that name which he aspired to, and for which he was willing to renounce his own, 'Benefactor of men,' and not of an age or nation.

But let us see where this new science, and scientific art of human culture begins,—this science and art which is to differ from those which have preceded it, as the other Baconian arts and sciences which began in the new doctrine of nature, differed from those which preceded them.

'FIRST, therefore, in this, as in all things which are practical, we ought to cast up our account, WHAT is IN OUR POWER, AND WHAT NOT? FOR the one may be dealt with by way of ALTERATION, but the other by way of APPLICATION only. The husbandman cannot command either the nature of the earth or the seasons of the weather, no more can the physician the constitution of the patient, and the variety of accidents. So in the CULTURE and CURE of THE MIND of MAN two things are without our command, POINTS OF NATURE, and POINTS of FORTUNE: for to the basis of the one, and the conditions of the other, our work is limited and tied.' That is the first step: that is where the NEW begins. There is no science or art till that step is taken.

'In these things, therefore, it is left unto us to proceed by APPLICATION. Vincenda est omnis fortuna ferendo: and so likewise—Vincenda est omnis natura ferendo. But when we speak of suffering, we do not speak of a dull neglected suffering, but of a wise and industrious suffering, which draweth and contriveth use and advantage out of that which seemeth adverse and contrary, which is that properly which we call accommodating or applying. ["Sweet are the uses of it," and "blest" indeed are they who can translate the stubbornness of fortune into so quiet and so sweet a style.]

'Now the wisdom of APPLICATION resteth principally in the exact and distinct knowledge of the precedent state or disposition, unto which we do apply.'—[This is the process which the Novum Organum sets forth with so much care], 'for we cannot fit a garment, except we first take the measure of the body.'

So then THE FIRST ARTICLE OF THIS KNOWLEDGE is—what?—'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 radical, in being the fountains and causes of the rest, or most frequent in concurrence or commixture (not simple differences merely, but the most frequent conjunctions), wherein it is not the handling of a few of them, in passage, the better to describe the mediocrities of virtues, that can satisfy this intention'; and he proceeds to introduce a few points, casually, as it were, and by way of illustration, but the rule of interpretation for this digest of learning, in this press of method is, that such points are never casual, and usually of primal, and not secondary import; 'for if it deserve to be considered that there are minds which are proportioned to great matters, and others to small, which Aristotle handleth, or ought to have handled, by the name of magnanimity, doth it not deserve as well to be considered, that there are minds proportioned to intend many matters, and others to few?' So that some can divide themselves, others can perchance do exactly well, but it must be in few things at once; and so there cometh to be a narrowness of mind, as well as a PUSILLANIMITY. And again, 'that some minds are proportioned to that which may be despatched at once, or within a short return of time; others to that which begins afar off, and is to be won with length of pursuit.

Jam tum tenditque fovetque.

'So that there may be fitly said to be a longanimity, which is commonly also ascribed to God as a magnanimity.' Undoubtedly, he considers this one of those differences in the natures and dispositions of men, that it is most important to note, otherwise it would not be inserted here. 'So farther deserved it to be considered by Aristotle that there is a disposition in conversation, supposing it in things which do in no sort touch or concern a man's self, to soothe and please; and a disposition contrary to contradict and cross; and deserveth it not much better to be considered that there is a disposition, not in conversation, or talk, but in matter of more serious nature, and supposing it still in things merely indifferent, to take pleasure in the good of another, and a disposition contrariwise to take distaste at the good of another, which is that properly which we call good-nature, or ill-nature, benignity or malignity.' Is not this a field for science, then, with such differences as these lying on the surface of it,—does not it begin to open up with a somewhat inviting aspect? This so remarkable product of nature, with such extraordinary 'differences' in him as these, is he the only thing that is to go without a scientific history, all wild and unbooked, while our philosophers are weeping because 'there are no more worlds to conquer,' because every stone and shell and flower and bird and insect and animal has been dragged into the day and had its portrait taken, and all its history to its secretest points scientifically detected?

'And therefore,' says this organizer of the science of nature, who keeps an eye on practice, in his speculations, and recommends to his followers to observe his lead in that respect, at least, until the affairs of the world get a little straighter than they were in his time, and there is leisure for mere speculation,—'And, therefore,' he resumes, having noted these remarkable differences in the natural and original dispositions of men,—and certainly there is no more curious thing in science than the points noted, though the careful reader will observe that they are not curious merely, but that they slant in one direction very much, and towards a certain kind of practice. 'And, therefore,' he resumes, noticing that fact, 'I cannot sufficiently marvel, that this part of knowledge, touching the several characters of natures and dispositions should be omitted both in MORALITY and POLICY, considering that it is of so great ministry and suppeditation to them BOTH.' ['The several characters.' The range of difference is limited. They are comprehensible within a science, as the differences in other species are. No wonder, then, 'that he cannot sufficiently marvel that this part of knowledge should be omitted.'] But in neither of these two departments, which he here marks out, as the ultimate field of the naturalist, and his arts, in neither of them unfortunately, lies the practice of mankind, as yet so wholly recovered from that 'lameness,' which this critical observer remarked in it in his own time, that these observations have ceased to have a practical interest.