But the road, in this model, is to come out "even and level" at the end, being the one of "the two moral ways of the old parable, beginning with incertainty and difficulty and ending in plainness and certainty" (Valer. Term. ch. 19); and so, all terminates in perfect smoothness by the skill of the great magician :

"Ros. I have promised to make all this matter even.
Keep you your word, O Duke, to give your daughter; -
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter:-
Keep you your word, Phebe, that you 'll marry me,

Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd:

Keep your word, Silvius, that yeu 'll marry her,
If she refuse me:- and from hence I go,
To make these doubts all even. . . . . .

Hymen. Then is there mirth in Heaven,
When earthly things made even

"hath put on a religious life,

And thrown into neglect the pompous Court.

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites

There is much matter to be heard and learned." — Act V. Sc. 4.

This final disposition of the melancholy Jaques, whose prospect had become so sadly humorous and so serenely delightful, is in fair keeping with Bacon's vision of the highest state of things in the island of Bensalem, in the New Atlantis, on beholding which the Strangers, who had arrived there, imagined they saw before their eyes "a picture of their own salvation in heaven"; and his betaking himself, at last, to "these convertites," and devoting himself to a religious life, may recall to mind what has been reported of one of the rarest and most humorously sad men of learning of our time, that now, in his later days, he finds his chiefest solace in the "Acta Sanctorum."

§ 3. THE TIMON OF ATHENS A MODEL.

Of the "Timon of Athens," nothing appears to be known, until it was printed in the Folio of 1623. The story of

Timon was one of the traditional popular tales of ancient times. It is briefly alluded to, in Plutarch's Life of Antony; but scarcely anything more than the circumstance of the inscription upon the tomb of Timon and the bare names of Alcibiades and Apemantus, which are not found in Lucian, appear to have been taken from Plutarch; while the character of Apemantus was evidently founded upon the Thrasycles of Lucian's dialogue. Shakespeare could have derived but little help from North's Plutarch, and Bacon was undoubtedly well acquainted with both Plutarch and Lucian in the original Greek. In the Essay of Goodness, he alludes to the anecdote of the tree as told in Plutarch, and speaks of "misanthropi, that make it their practice to bring men to the bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose in their gardens, as Timon had." Plutarch refers to the comedies of Aristophanes and to Plato for the story of Timon; but the larger part of the borrowed materials for this play was certainly drawn from Lucian. In Aristophanes,' as in Plato, there is no more than a bare allusion to the story. Bacon is known to have been familiar with these authors, neither of which had been translated (so far as known at this day) until after the time of Shakespeare. The similitudes with his writings are most apparent in those parts of the story which vary from the account of Plutarch, or were not derived from him. The circumstance of Timon's finding great sums of gold, while digging with a spade, must have been taken from Lucian. It is pretty certain that the play never made any figure upon the stage, in the lifetime of Shakespeare, if indeed it had ever appeared at all before it was printed; for there is no certain mention of it on record prior to that date. Yet it is one of the most masterly works of the great poet, not so much for display upon the stage, but as implying the largest wisdom, a matured experience, and a most profound philosophy of human life. Even on the supposition that the old play of

Η Λυσιστράτη, 805-828.

that name was an early sketch of this author, it would necessarily follow, that it had been taken up again at a later period of his life, and had been carefully re-written in the maturity of his powers. This play, more strongly than almost any other in the series, bears upon its face the impress and character of Bacon's mind. It is even probable that, in respect of the sentiments and feeling exhibited in some parts of it, something may have been derived from the later experience and fortunes of his own life; when he was himself a fallen lord, abandoned by troops of trencherfriends, yet attended by faithful stewards even in his worst misfortunes; when he had gone to a cell, and become a cloistered friar in Gray's Inn, and was gathering up the wrecks and remnants of his ruined estates, but when he appeared in public, still showing a handsome equipage and a numerous retinue, "scorning to go out in a snuff,” said Prince Charles, when he met him in full trim on the road; when he had been fleeced (according to Mr. Meautys), first, of York House, and then of one valuable estate after another; but to a proposal for the sale of his forest at Gorhambury, indignantly answering, "I will not be stript of my feathers," — like another Lear, insisting upon his full hundred,

when he had himself become an experienced witness of the vanities of great place, the iniquities of "the yellow slave," gold, the hollowness of all outward show of worldly greatness, and the essential worthlessness of all these to a great soul, as Lucian says: "Nothing of all this being at all necessary to a good man and one able to see the wealth of philosophy " ; and when he had become still more profoundly sensible of the dark clouds of error and superstition and all manner of false opinion and belief, which like that

old incubus, "the brooding wing of Night," hung lowering as ever over society and all human affairs. He had been a learned critic in literature, a scientific student of nature, and a comprehensive and very profound philosopher, and he had now become a wise man, a seer, a prophet, and certainly one of the greatest of poets.

Still bearing in mind what has been said of these illustrative examples, we shall have occasion, also, to remember that pattern of a natural story, and model of an institution "for the interpreting of nature, and the production of great and marvellous works for the benefit of men," in the New Atlantis. Solomon's House, which was instituted "for the finding out of the true nature of all things, whereby God might have the more glory in the workmanship of them," and which was to be "the noblest foundation that ever was upon the earth," and "the eye" and "the lantern of this kingdom," is introduced with an allusion to the poetical fable of "the inhabitants of the great Atlantis," who were "the descendants of Neptune," with their "magnificent temple, palace, city, and hill; and the manifold streams of goodly navigable rivers, which, as so many chains, environed. the same site and temple; and the several degrees of ascent, whereby men did climb up the same, as if it had been a Scala Cœli." This island, moreover, was 66 a land of magicians." There was in it, too, "something supernatural, but yet rather as angelical than magical." And it is further said: "God surely is manifested in this land." Said the Strangers, on arriving there, "It seemed to us, that we were come into a land of angels."

Let it be observed, also, that there was, in this island, "a most natural, pious, and reverend custom of the feast of the family," showing the nation to be "compounded of all goodness." The strangers who had arrived there, went abroad to see "the city and places adjacent," and made the acquaintance of many "not of the meanest quality." The people were full of "piety and humanity," and for

"chastity," this nation was "the virgin of the world." In their own country, "such humanity" was never seen. There was no "confusion" among this people. Their "manners and conditions" were well-ordered. Indeed, "if there be a mirrour of the world worthy to hold men's eyes, it is that country." It was granted to the father of a family of thirty persons, called the Tirsan, to make "a feast" at the cost of the state. He is assisted by "the governor," and also "taketh three of such friends as he liketh to choose." The persons of the family are summoned to attend. Two days the Tirsan sits in "consultation concerning the good estate of the family." Order is taken for the relief of the distressed and decayed, and "competent means to live" are provided for them. Vice and ill-courses are censured. They have no stews, no dissolute houses, no courtezans, nor anything of that kind." Direction is given "touching marriages." Marriage, "without consent of parents," they "mulct in the inheritors." There is not "such chastity in any people" and they say, "That whosoever is unchaste cannot reverence himself”: and they say, "That the reverence of a man's self is, next religion, the chiefest bridle of all vices." The "orders and decrees" of the Tirsan are obeyed: "such reverence and obedience they give to the order of nature."

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At the feast, the Tirsan comes forth from divine service into "the large room where the feast is celebrated," and takes his chair of state on a raised "half-pace," at the upper end. All the lineage place themselves around "against the wall," and the room below the half-pace is full of company, "the friends of the family." On the sides are tables for the guests that are bidden. A herald takes in his hand a scroll, which is the king's charter containing gift of revenue, and many privileges, exemptions, and points of honor, directed "To such a one our well beloved friend and creditor." And there is an acclamation, "Happy are the people of Bensalem!" Toward the end of dinner, hymns of "excellent