Concerning the bi-literal cypher of Francis Bacon discovered in his works

by Elizabeth Wells Gallup

In the first place, there is nothing which particularly invites the decipherer to discriminate between the two forms of Italic letters which are essential to this typographical cipher; or, if differences or deformities in letters are observed, we have been required to believe them “errors,” defects in printing, carelessness of the compositor, or anything else which may explain them away. Be not deceived; there is no error, but consummate skill and subtle contrivance, all helping towards the cryptographer’s great ends.

Before beginning the work of deciphering, it is needful thoroughly to learn by heart the Biliteral Alphabet given by its Inventor in the De Augmentis. Here we see that the letters of the common Alphabet are formed by the combination of the letters A and B in five places, these two letters (A and B) being represented by two distinct “founts” of Italic type. To discriminate between these two founts, is the initial difficulty; but observing that, in the Biliteral Alphabet, A’s preponderate, and that no combination begins with two B’s, we judge that the most frequent forms of Italic letters are almost certain to be A’s. A decision is best arrived at by repeatedly tracing and drawing out the various letters; and the decipherer must have keen eyes and powers of observation to detect the minute differences. For our Francis would not make things too easy. He speaks of “marks” and “signs” to be heeded, and Roman letters are often interspersed. It is also patent (and was found by Mrs. Gallup, and independently by others) that, in every biliteral alphabet, letters are here and there intentionally exchanged, as a device to confuse and confound the would-be decipherer.

In many cases we find alphabets suddenly reversed—A becoming B, and B, A, a change hinted by some “mark” or “sign,” as a tiny dot. These changes seem to occur most frequently in very small books, where the limited space makes it the more needful to set snares and stumbling-blocks at every turn. Such things show that, besides the good eyes and keen wits required for successful deciphering, there must be no small amount of that “eternal patience” which Michael Angelo honored with the title of “genius.”

Let us contemplate the goodly volume presented to us by Mrs. Gallup, and try to realize the fact that every one of those 350 pages of deciphered matter was worked out letter by letter; that each ONE letter in this deciphered work represents FIVE letters extracted from the deciphered book—say, Shakespeare, or Spenser, Burton, or any of the eight groups of works indicated in the cipher. Not only should such reflections cause us highly to respect the “endless patience,” perseverance, and skill of the cryptographer to whose labors we are so deeply indebted, but they should warn us from depreciating or discrediting statements or methods which we ourselves are incapable of testing. “Disparage not the faith thou dost not know,” is a good, sound principle to begin upon, and Francis (“cunyng in the humours of persons”) had evidently observed the tendency of the human mind to fly from things troublesome, or to take refuge in disparagement and ridicule. His notes teem with reflections on this matter. “Things above us are nothing to us”—“just nothing.” “Many things are thought impossible until they are discovered, then men wonder that they had not been seen long before.” On the other hand, he continually encourages himself with thoughts, texts and proverbial philosophy, which we find him instilling into his disciples. “Everything is subtile till it is conceived.” “By trying, men gained Troy,” and so forth. But we must “woorke as God woorkes,” wisely, quietly, with persistent patience and unremitting care, and “from a good beginning cometh a good ending.”

So much, then, for the “biliteral” itself. Another crop of inquiries springs up when we attempt briefly to rehearse the wonderful revelations now before us, and which it is within our power to examine and essay to prove.

Elizabeth, when princess, and prisoner in the hands of Mary, secretly married Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Of this secret marriage two sons were born. Francis the elder would have been “put away privilie” by the wicked woman whom he never could bring himself to think of as “mother.” Lady Anne Bacon, however, saved his life, and under an oath of secrecy adopted him as her own son. The scene when these facts came to his knowledge, and again when they were tearfully confirmed by his “deare,” “sweete mother,” Lady Anne, are graphically described in the cipher narrative extracted from the “History of Henry VII.” (Ed. 1622). Further details of the same extraordinary episode are, as may be remembered, introduced in the “word cipher,” discovered, and in part published, by Dr. Owen, some seven years ago. From the disclosures made in the books deciphered, “it is evident,” says Mrs. Gallup, “that Bacon expected the biliteral cipher to be the first discovered, and that it would lead to the finding of his principal or word cipher which it fully explains, and to which is intrusted the larger subjects he desired to have preserved. This order has been reversed, in fact, and the earlier discovery by Dr. Owen becomes a more remarkable achievement, being entirely evolved without the aids which Bacon had prepared in this for its elucidation.”

But to return to our story.

Francis was now sent abroad by Elizabeth’s orders (not, as has been declared by his biographers, because Sir Nicholas Bacon wished him to see the wonders of the world abroad, but) in order to get him out of the way at the time when he had been the unwitting cause of a Court scandal. He left England in the suite of Sir Amyas Paulet, the English Ambassador. We know a little, and surmise more, concerning his travels, and the places which he visited, or where he stayed studying and writing. The sad story of his ill-fated love for “My Marguerite” is briefly touched upon, rather as a thing understood to the reader than as a record, and of this more will be related in a future volume. The present extracts are from the undated 4to. of Romeo and Juliet, where we may read:

“This stage-play, in part, will tell our real love-tale. A part is in the Play previously nam’d or mention’d as having therein one pretty scene acted by the two. So rare and most briefe the hard-won happinesse, it affords us great content to re-live in the Play all that as mist, in summer morning did roule away. It hath place in the dramas containing a scene and theame of this nature, since our fond love interpreted th’ harts o’ others, and in this joy, th’ joy of heaven was faintlie guessed.”

In the closing lines of King John are these instructions: