question is discussed at length in the third and tenth books of the Republic of Plato, where it is concluded that the habit of imitating the bad as well as the good (in which the writers of tragedy and comedy are particularly referred to), and being concerned in everything rather than keeping to one thing, cannot but react unfavourably on a man's character. Plato's ideal of a State is not ours, being conceived under conditions of physical danger and violence from without which are no longer present from day to day. On the other hand, in the modern State, owing to the absence of a caste of slaves, and the greater pressure and complexity of life, the internal conditions are much more strenuous. Under the conditions present in the mind of Plato the individual is regarded as existing for the State instead of the State existing for the individual, and there is very little room for the idea of individual self-development. But though the considerations which lead Plato to banish the imitative poet (Sidney's "right poet") from his ideal Republic are felt to rest upon a view of social life which is no longer applicable, psychologically his observations on this subject are weighty, and especially deserve attention from those who are interested in the nature of what is called the "artistic temperament." The peculiarities of Bacon's character, and the so-called “impersonality" of Shakespeare, are probably closely connected. My own view is that the writer of the plays had no strong personality, but was capable of assuming any in the processes of invention and imitation. It seems to me quite certain that a man of strong character, whose emotions run in a deep and consistent channel, is incapable of expressing the feelings of other people, and indeed has no desire to do so, being engrossed in his own. I should extend this explanation also to the absence of "passion" which has been noted in Spenser, and the still more marked "bloodlessness" of the semi-narrative work of the same writer, as, for instance, the Arcadia, which I attribute to him. The nearer he gets to speech in his own person the more the detachment of his nature from

human passions makes itself felt; whereas, at the other extreme, where the author is entirely immersed in a "projected personality" he displays all its qualities in just proportion. It is noticeable that even the most intense plays of Shakespeare, such as Macbeth and Lear, appear to leave the author's serenity quite undisturbed. The play of Hamlet seems to me to present an exception, perhaps more apparent than real, to this; but that play is, in the main, concerned, through the person of "Hamlet," with the author's own complaints. Spenser's work is full of similar complaints, and they appear to arise out of two causes-frustrated ambition, and want of harmony between the writer's spirit and the mundane conditions in which it finds itself.

As regards Bacon's habit of quotation and reference, viewed as part of a system of art deliberately adopted, the explanation of it is to be found in his theory of poetic art, first announced by him, in my belief, in the Apologie for Poetrie published under the name of Sidney1 in 1595 (though written much earlier), and re-stated more summarily in the Advancement of Learning, published in 1605, and later (with an important addition) in the De Augmentis, published in 1623. From the extracts from these works which I proceed to give, the reader can form his own opinion as to the identity of authorship, and in any case he will see the relevance of the theory to the features of inaccuracy which are found, in varying degrees (in my opinion depending largely on the nature of the audience addressed), in the works alike of Spenser, Shakespeare and Bacon.

Extracts in illustration of the foregoing paragraph from An Apologie for Poetrie:

There is no Arte deliuered to mankinde, that hath not the

1 Some writers have suggested (I think with reason) that this work was based on the supposed lost work of Spenser referred to by "E. K." in the argument to the "October" Eclogue of the Shepheards Calender as "The English Poete," which, he says, "being lately come into my hands, I mynde also. to publish." See p. 14 above.

workes of Nature for his principall obiect, without which they could not consist, and on which they so depend, as they become Actors and Players as it were, of what Nature will haue set foorth.

The writer runs through various arts by way of example, and continues as follows:

And the Metaphisick, though it be in the seconde and abstract notions, and therefore be counted supernaturall: yet doth hee indeede builde vpon the depth of Nature: onely the Poet, disdayning to be tied to any such subiection, lifted vp with the vigor of his owne inuention, dooth growe in effect, another nature, in making things either better then Nature bringeth forth, or quite a newe formes such as neuer were in Nature, as the Heroes, Demigods, Cyclops, Chimeras, Furies, and such like: so as hee goeth hand in hand with Nature, not inclosed within the narrow warrant of her guifts, but freely ranging onely within the Zodiack of his owne wit.

Nature neuer set forth the earth in so rich tapistry, as diuers Poets haue done, neither with plesant riuers, fruitful trees, sweet smelling flowers: nor whatsoeuer els may make the too much loued earth more louely. Her world is brasen, the Poets only deliuer a golden: but let those things alone and goe to man, for whom as the other things are, so it seemeth in him her vttermost cunning is imployed, and knowe whether shee haue brought foorth so true a louer as Theagines, so constant a friende as Pilades, so valiant a man as Orlando, so right a Prince as Xenophons Cyrus1: so excellent a man euery way, as Virgils Aeneas: neither let this be iestingly conceiued, because the works of the one be essensiall: the other, in imitation or fiction, for any vnderstanding knoweth the skil of the Artificer: standeth in that Idea or fore-conceite of the work, and not in the work it selfe. And that the Poet hath that Idea, is manifest, by deliuering them forth in such excellencie as hee hath imagined them. VVhich deliuering forth also, is not wholie imaginatiue, as we are wont to say by them that build Castles in the ayre : but so farre substantially it worketh, not onely to make a Cyrus, which had been but a particuler excellencie, as Nature might haue done, but to bestow a Cyrus vpon the worlde, to make many Cyrus's, if they wil learne aright, why, and how that Maker made him.

Neyther let it be deemed too sawcie a comparison to ballance the highest poynt of mans wit with the efficacie of Nature: but

1 This example (Xenophon's Cyrus) is used by Spenser to illustrate the same doctrine in the introductory epistle to the Faerie Queene. Cf. p. 105 n. 2.

rather giue right honor to the heauenly Maker of that maker: who hauing made man to his owne likenes, set him beyond and ouer all the workes of that second nature, which in nothing hee sheweth so much as in Poetrie: when with the force of a diuine breath, he bringeth things forth far surpassing her dooings, with no small argument to the incredulous of that first accursed fall of Adam: sith our erected wit, maketh vs know what perfection is, and yet our infected will, keepeth vs from reaching vnto it. But these arguments wil by fewe be vnderstood, and by fewer granted. . . .

Poesie therefore is an arte of imitation, for so Aristotle termeth it in his word Mimesis, that is to say, a representing, counterfetting, or figuring foorth: to speake metaphorically, a speaking picture: with this end, to teach and delight; of this haue beene three seuerall kindes. The chiefe both in antiquitie and excellencie, were they that did imitate the inconceiuable excellencies of GOD. Such were, Dauid in his Psalmes.

In this kinde, though in a full wrong diuinitie, were Orpheus, Amphion, Homer in his hymes, and many other, both Greekes and Romaines. .

The second kinde, is of them that deale with matters Philosophicall; eyther morrall, as Tirteus, Phocilides and Cato, or naturall, as Lucretius and Virgils Georgicks: or Astronomicall, as Manilius, and Pontanus: or historical, as Lucan: which who mislike, the faulte is in their iudgements quite out of taste, and not in the sweet foode of sweetly vttered knowledge. But because thys second sorte is wrapped within the folde of the proposed subiect, and takes not the course of his owne inuention, whether they properly be Poets or no, let Gramarians dispute: and goe to the thyrd, indeed right Poets, of whom chiefly this question ariseth; betwixt whom, and these second is such a kinde of difference, as betwixt the meaner sort of Painters, (who counterfet onely such faces as are sette before them) and the more excellent: who hauing no law but wit, bestow that in cullours vpon you which is fittest for the eye to see: as the constant, though lamenting looke of Lucrecia, when she punished in her selfe an others fault.

VVherein he painteth not Lucrecia whom he neuer sawe, but painteth the outwarde beauty of such a vertue: for these third be they which most properly do imitate to teach and delight, and to imitate, borrow nothing of what is, hath been, or shall be but range onely rayned with learned discretion, into the diuine consideration of what may be, and should be. . . .

Nowe therefore it shall not bee amisse first to waigh this latter sort of Poetrie by his works, and then by his partes; and

if in neyther of these Anatomies hee be condemnable, I hope wee shall obtaine a more fauourable sentence. This purifing of wit, this enritching of memory, enabling of iudgment, and enlarging of conceyt, which commonly we call learning, vnder what name soeuer it com forth, or to what immediat end soeuer it be directed, the final end is, to lead and draw vs to as high a perfection, as our degenerate soules made worse by theyr clayey lodgings, can be capable of.

But now may it be alledged, that if this imagining of matters be so fitte for the imagination, then must the Historian needs surpasse, who bringeth you images of true matters, such as indeede were doone, and not such as fantastically or falsely may be suggested to haue been doone. Truely Aristotle himselfe in his discourse of Poesie, plainely determineth this question, saying, that Poetry is Philosophoteron and Spoudaioteron, that is to say, it is more Philosophicall, and more studiously serious, then history. His reason is, because Poesie dealeth with Katholou, that is to say, with the vniuersall consideration; and the history with Kathekaston, the perticuler; nowe sayth he, the vniuersall wayes what is fit to bee sayd or done, eyther in likelihood or necessity, (which the Poesie considereth in his imposed names,) and the perticuler, onely mark's, whether Alcibiades did, or suffered, this or that. Thus farre Aristotle: which reason of his, (as all his) is most full of reason. For indeed, if the question were whether it were better to haue a perticular acte truly or falsly set down: there is no doubt which is to be chosen, no more then whether you had rather haue Vespasians picture right as hee was, or at the Painters pleasure nothing resembling. But if the question be for your owne vse and learning, whether it be better to haue it set downe as it should be, or as it was: then certainely is more doctrinable the fained Cirus of Xenophon then the true Cyrus in Iustine: and the fayned Aeneas in Virgil, then the right Aeneas in Dares Phrigius. . .

So then the best of the Historian, is subiect to the Poet; for whatsoeuer action, or faction, whatsoeuer counsell, pollicy, or warre stratagem, the Historian is bound to recite, that may the Poet (if he list) with his imitation make his own; beautifying it both for further teaching, and more delighting, as it pleaseth him hauing all, from Dante his heauen, to hys hell, vnder the authoritie of his penne. VVhich if I be asked what Poets haue done so, as I might well name some, yet say I, and say againe, I speak of the Arte, and not of the Artificer.

Extract from the Advancement of Learning (written in English), 1605: