As a rich jewel in an Ethiop’s ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!”
All this is well calculated to repel dispassionate investigation of Mrs. Gallup’s claims because it so far offends the common sense and judgment of the reader that he must be tempted to throw the whole thing overboard at once. If the alleged discovery can ever be rendered acceptable to unprejudiced investigation, it must be on the basis of the Bi-literal Cipher alone. Let Mrs. Gallup successfully meet Mr. Mallock’s challenge by taking, as he suggests, the epistle from Macbeth to Lady Macbeth (Macbeth, Act. I, Scene 5), which is one of the passages in the first Folio printed in Italics, and indicating under each letter the font to which, according to her interpretation, it belongs. Then let Mr. Mallock have the passage photographically enlarged, so that the dullest eye can detect the smallest differences in the letters, and when the result is printed the public will have a fair chance to judge for itself.
But, whatever the outcome of the discussion aroused by Mrs. Gallup’s book may be, the story that Francis Bacon appears to tell in its pages does not fail in interest. The well-known fact that historical rumor has long whispered hints touching many of his alleged revelations serves to draw attention to them. Some of Mrs. Gallup’s critics intimate that those rumors may really be the sole foundation of her decipherings. But they do not accuse her of wilful invention, and if she has dreamed these things it must be admitted that she dreams interestingly.
Listen to Bacon’s complaint of the injustice done him, as Mrs. Gallup says she reads it in the double types of the “Advancement of Learning”:
“Queen Elizabeth, the late soveraigne, wedded, secretly, th’ Earle, my father, at th’ Tower of London, and afterwards at th’ house of Lord P—— this ceremony was repeated, but not with any of the pompe and ceremonie that sorteth wel with queenly espousals, yet with a sufficient number of witnesses.
“I therfore, being the first borne sonne of this union should sit upon the throne, ruling the people over whom the Supreame Soveraigne doth shewe my right, as hath beene said, whilst suff’ring others to keepe the royall power.
“A foxe, seen oft at our Court in th’ forme and outward appearance of a man, named Robert Cecill—the hunchback—must answer at th’ Divine Araignment to my charge agains’ him, for he despoyled me ruthlessly. Th’ Queene, my mother, might in course of events which follow’d their revelations regarding my birth and parentage, without doubt having some naturall pride in her offspring, often have shewne us no little attenntion had not the crafty foxe aroused in that tiger-like spiritt th’ jealousy that did so tormente the Queene [that] neyther night nor day brought her respite from such suggestio’s about my hope that I might bee England’s King.
“He told her my endeavours were all for sov’raigntie and honour, a perpetuall intending and constant hourlie practising some one thing urged or imposed, it should seeme, by that absolute, inhere’t, honorably deriv’d necessitie of a conservation of roiail dignity.
“He bade her observe the strength, breadth and compasse, at an early age, of th’ intellectual powers I displaied, and ev’n deprecated th’ gen’rous disposition or graces of speech which wonne me manie friends, implying that my gifts would thus, no doubt, uproot her, because I would, like Absalom, steale awaie th’ people’s harts and usurp the throne whilst my mother was yet alive.”