That Shakespeare’s plays were not written by the William Shaksper of Stratford, was probably first suggested by the discrepancy between the plays and what we know of the man. That Francis Bacon, the great scholar, profound thinker and literary genius of the Elizabethan era might be their author was first suggested by similarity of philosophy and sentiment, and parallelisms of thought and expression.
That Bacon’s was the greatest mind of his age is incontrovertible. Pope calls him “the greatest genius that England, or perhaps any other country, ever produced.” Lord Macaulay says: “Bacon’s mind was the most exquisitely constructed intellect that has ever been bestowed upon any of the children of men;” while Edmund Burke is even more eulogistic: “Who is there that, hearing the name of Bacon, does not instantly recognize everything; of genius, the most profound; of literature, the most extensive; of discovery, the most penetrating; of observation of human life, the most distinguishing and refined.”
If we can accept Mrs. Elizabeth Wells Gallup’s new book, “The Bi-Literal Cipher of Francis Bacon,” as a genuine discovery and the story it tells for what it purports to be—Bacon’s own—the Bacon-Shakespeare controversy is forever at rest. There can be no further doubt that Bacon wrote not only the plays ascribed to Shakespeare, but also the works appearing under the names of Spenser and Peele, Greene and Marlowe, and Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy. Mrs. Gallup’s discovery of a cipher running through them all explains the remarkable similarities that have perplexed critics by demonstrating beyond a shadow of doubt—if we accept it at all—that Bacon’s genius originated them all.
Some inquiries naturally suggest themselves. The first and most natural question is, Was Bacon a writer of ciphers? The business of statesmanship required skill in ciphers in his day, and little important court and diplomatic business was carried on except under such cover. Bacon’s earliest public experience was with Sir Amyas Paulet for three years in the court of France, and his was one of the brightest intellects of his time.
The next question is, Did he possess the cipher here used? This must be answered in the affirmative, for it is found fully explained and its uses pointed out in his Latin work, “De Augmentis,” the original of which, published in 1624, has been submitted to the writer for examination. It is found also translated in full in the standard Spedding, Ellis & Heath edition of Bacon’s works, found in every library.
A third question is, What is the nature and method of the cipher? We cannot do better than quote directly from Bacon’s “Advancement of Learning,” copied from this volume:
“For by this art a way is opened whereby a man may express and signify the intentions of his mind at any distance of place, by objects which may be presented to the eye and accommodated to the ear, provided those objects be capable of a two-fold difference only—as by bells, by trumpets, by lights and torches, by the reports of muskets, and any instruments of a like nature.
“But to pursue our enterprise, when you address yourself to write resolve your inward infolded letter into this Bi-literarie alphabet, * * * together with this you must have a bi-formed alphabet, as well capital letters as the smaller characters, in a double form, as fits every man’s occasion.”
Bacon calls this the “omnia per omnia,” the all in all cipher, and speaks of it as an invention of his own made while at the Court of France, when he was but 16 or 18 years of age.
This cipher and its obvious adaptations, it is stated, is the basis of nearly every alphabetical cipher code in present general use—the alternating dot and dash of the Morse telegraph code, the long and short exposure of light in the heliographic telegraph and the “wig-wag” signals of flags or lights in the armies and navies of the world.