Poesy is a part of learning in measure of words for the most part restrained, but in all other points extremely licensed, and doth truly refer to the Imagination; which, being not tied to the laws of matter, may at pleasure join that which nature hath severed, and sever that which nature hath joined, and so make unlawful matches and divorces of things: Pictoribus atque poetis, &c. [Painters and Poets have always been allowed to take what liberties they would.] It is taken in two senses, in respect of words or matter. In the first sense it is but a character of style, and belongeth to arts of speech, and is not pertinent for the present. In the later, it is (as hath been said) one of the principal portions of learning, and is nothing else but Feigned History, which may be styled as well in prose as in verse.2

The use of this Feigned History hath been to give some shadow of satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature of things doth deny it; the world being in proportion inferior to the soul; by reason whereof there is agreeable to the spirit of man a more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety, than can be found in the nature of things. Therefore, because the acts or events of true history have not that magnitude which satisfieth the mind of mind, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical; because true history propoundeth the successes and issues of actions not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just in retribution, and more according to revealed providence; because true history representeth actions and events more ordinary and less interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness, and more unexpected and alternative variations. So as it appeareth that poesy serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality, and to delectation. And therefore it was ever thought to have some participation of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shews of things to the desires of the mind; whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind into the nature of things. And we see that by these insinuations and congruities with man's nature and pleasure, joined also with the agreement and consort it hath with music, it hath had access

1 "De Aug. ii. 13. The arrangement is partly altered in the translation, and much new matter introduced: among the rest, a whole paragraph concerning the true use and dignity of dramatic poetry, as a vehicle of moral instruction; which is connected in a striking manner with the remark that men in bodies are more open to impressions than when alone." (Note by Spedding.)

2 The doctrine that poetry is not necessarily confined to verse is also enunciated in Sidney's Apologie.

and estimation in rude times and barbarous regions, where other learning stood excluded.—Works, iii. 343-4.

Extract from Spedding's translation of the Latin De Augmentis, which itself is a translation, made under Bacon's supervision (with sundry additions and alterations), of the Advancement:

Now Poesy (as I have already observed) is taken in two senses; in respect of words or matter. In the first sense it is but a character of speech; for verse is only a kind of style and a certain form of elocution, and has nothing to do with the matter; for both true history may be written in verse and feigned history in prose. But in the latter sense, I have set it down from the first as one of the principal branches of learning, and placed it by the side of history; being indeed nothing else but an imitation of history at pleasure. And therefore, endeavouring as I do in these divisions to trace out and pursue the true veins of learning, without (in many points) following custom and the divisions which are received, I dismiss from the present discourse Satires, Elegies, Epigrams, Odes, and the like; and refer them to philosophy and arts of speech. And under the name of Poesy, I treat only of feigned history.

The division of Poesy which is aptest and most according to the propriety thereof, besides those divisions which it has in common with History (for there are feigned Chronicles, feigned Lives, and feigned Relations), is into Poesy Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolical. Narrative Poesy is a mere imitation of History, such as might pass for real, only that it commonly exaggerates things beyond probability. Dramatic Poesy is as History made visible; for it represents actions as if they were present, whereas History represents them as past. Parabolical Poesy is typical History, by which ideas that are objects of the intellect are represented in forms that are objects of the sense.

As for Narrative Poesy,-or Heroical, if you like so to call it (understanding it of the matter, not of the verse)-the foundation of it is truly noble, and has a special relation to the dignity of human nature. For as the sensible world is inferior in dignity to the rational soul, Poesy seems to bestow upon human nature those things which history denies to it; and to satisfy the mind with the shadows of things when the substance cannot be obtained. For if the matter be attentively considered, a sound argument may be drawn from Poesy, to show that there is agreeable to the spirit of man a more ample greatness, a more perfect order, and a more beautiful variety than it can anywhere

(since the Fall) find in nature. And therefore, since the acts and events which are the subjects of real history are not of sufficient grandeur to satisfy the human mind, Poesy is at hand to feign acts more heroical; since the successes and issues of actions as related in true history are far from being agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, Poesy corrects it, exhibiting events and fortunes as according to merit and the law of providence ; since true history wearies the mind with satiety of ordinary events, one like another, Poesy refreshes it, by reciting things unexpected and various and full of vicissitudes. So that this Poesy conduces not only to delight but also to magnanimity and morality. Whence it may be fairly thought to partake somewhat of a divine nature; because it raises the mind and carries it aloft, accommodating the shows of things to the desires of the mind, not (like reason and history) buckling and bowing down the mind to the nature of things. And by these charms, and that agreeable congruity which it has with man's nature, accompanied also with music, to gain more sweet access, it has so won its way as to have been held in honour even in the rudest ages and among barbarous peoples, when other kinds of learning were utterly excluded.

Dramatic Poesy, which has the theatre for its world, would be of excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable of no small influence both of discipline and of corruption. Now of corruptions in this kind we have enough; but the discipline has in our times been plainly neglected. And though in modern states play-acting is esteemed but as a toy, except when it is too satirical and biting; yet among the ancients it was used as a means of educating men's minds to virtue. Nay, it has been regarded by learned men and great philosophers as a kind of musician's bow by which men's minds may be played upon. And certainly it is most true, and one of the great secrets of nature, that the minds of men are more open to impressions and affections when many are gathered together than when they are alone.-Works, iv. 315-16.

The last paragraph is the new one to which Spedding refers in his note (given on p. 152 above), and under the Latin original of it (De Augmentis, ii. 13) he has a further note beginning as follows:

There is nothing in the Advancement of Learning corresponding to this paragraph.

It is a curious fact that these remarks on the character of the modern drama were probably written, and were certainly first

published, in the same year which saw the first collection of Shakespeare's plays; of which, though they had been filling the theatre for the last thirty years, I very much doubt whether Bacon had ever heard.-Works, i. 519.

This extraordinary conclusion is based on the paucity of contemporary notices as to the publication or acting of the plays, and the general indifference of the public as to the authorship of a successful drama.

Another very significant allusion to the practical uses of poetry occurs in the Advancement, where the writer is discussing the diseases of the mind of man and the methods to be sought for curing them. For this purpose he says we must first distinguish the various dispositions of men, and he adds:

For the distinctions are found (many of them), but we conclude no precepts upon them: wherein our fault is the greater, because both history, poesy, and daily experience, are as goodly fields where these observations grow; whereof we make a few posies to hold in our hands, but no man bringeth them to the confectionary, that receits might be made of them for the use of life.-Works, iii. 435.

This passage was dropped out of the De Augmentis, and in place of it there is a passage recommending the drawing up of a sort of analysis of the characters of historical personages found in "the wiser sort of historians." These are preferred for this purpose to the poets on the ground that the representations of character by the latter are generally "exaggerated and surpassing the truth." 1 What was the cause of the modification of the complaint made in 1605 and the emendation of 1623? It would be entirely in accordance with Bacon's character that he should consider no one capable of again taking up the ground occupied by the Shakespeare plays, and should wish the world to be content with them, and for further illustrations of character confine themselves to actuality.

The last extract which I need give in illustration of Bacon's method of handling material is the address 1 Works, v. 21-22 (Spedding's translation).

accompanying a fragment entitled Of the Colours of Good and Evil. The passage is not only interesting as showing Bacon's habit of mind in regard to the work of his predecessors, but is characteristic in other ways:

To the LORD MOUNTJOYE

I send you the last part of the best book of Aristotle of Stagira, who, as your Lordship knoweth, goeth for the best author. But saving the civil respect which is due to a received estimation, the man, being a Grecian, and of a hasty wit, having hardly a discerning patience, much less a teaching patience, hath so delivered the matter, as I am glad to do the part of a good house-hen, which without any strangeness will sit upon pheasant's eggs. And yet, perchance, some that shall compare my lines with Aristotle's lines will muse by what art, or rather by what revelation, I could draw these conceits out of that place. But I, that should know best, do freely acknowledge that I had my light from him; for where he gave me not matter to perfect, at the least he gave me occasion to invent. Wherein as I do him right, being myself a man that am as free from envying the dead in contemplation as from envying the living in action or fortune: so yet nevertheless still I say, and I speak it more largely than before, that in perusing the writings of this person so much celebrated, whether it were the impediment of his wit, or that he did it upon glory and affectation to be subtile, as one that, if he had seen his own conceits clearly and perspicuously delivered, perhaps would have been out of love with them himself; or else upon policy, to keep himself close, as one that had been a challenger of all the world, and had raised infinite contradiction: to what cause soever it is to be ascribed, I do not find him to deliver and unwrap himself well of that he seemeth to conceive, nor to be a master of his own knowledge. Neither do I for my part also, though I have brought in a new manner of handling this argument, to make it pleasant and lightsome, pretend so to have overcome the nature of the subject, but that the full understanding and use of it will be somewhat dark, and best pleasing the taste of such wits as are patient to stay the digesting and soluting unto themselves of that which is sharp and subtile. Which was the cause, joined with the love and honour which I bear your lordship, as the person I know to have many virtues, and an excellent order of them, which moved me to dedicate this writing to your lordship after the ancient manner; choosing both a friend, and one to whom I conceived the argument was agreeable.-Works, vii. 70.