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make a personage by geometrical proportions; the other, by taking the best parts out of divers faces to make one excellent. Such personages, I think, would please nobody but the painter that made them. Not but I think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excel. lent air in music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if you examine them part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well. If it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it is no marvel though persons in years seem many times more amiable.”

Understanding that Apemantus contemplated the universe, it is herein supposed that Bacon himself did, as the actual thought of a Creative Thinker, and as essentially and to the very bottom Artist-Mind work, and that the highest beauty is in life and motion, there may be discovered in this scene a profound opinion of the true nature of the highest art:

" Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus ?
Apem. The best, for the innocence.
Tim. Wrought he not well, that painted it?

Apem. He wrought better that made the painter ;

And yet he's but a filthy piece of work." . Act I, Sc. 1. This remark, apparently so very cynical, and perhaps intended so to appear on the surface, may find a deeper interpretation by the light of another very cynical philosopher : “ Do you think those who make senseless and motionless statues are more to be wondered at than those who make active and intelligent living animals? No, by Jupiter ; since these are made, not by chance, but by intellect.” 1 Other poets followed the “ customary fashion” and men's opinions: he followed the order of divine providence, the truth of nature, that true art which is always capable of advancing, and his own opinions :

1 Xen. Mem. Socratis, Lib. I. c. 4.

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Apern. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labor: he that loves to be flattered is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord!” Here, too, is his opinion of the mere man of traffic :

Apem. Traffic confound thee, if the gods do not!
Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it.

Apem. Traffic's thy god, and thy god confound thee!” This merchant may remind us of the merchant Jew in the New Atlantis, with this difference, that, here, it is the man whose god is traffic, but there, it is “the good Jew.”

The play continues thus :
Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus ?
Apem. Not so well as plain dealing, which will not cost a man a doit.
Tim. What dost thou think 't is worth?
Apem. Not worth my thinking." -- Act I. Sc. 1.

Timon has not yet emerged from those mines and caves, where gold and jewels are the chief treasure. A pemantus would seem to have reached the uppermost elevations of nature and those “tops of mountains," where the serenity of his contemplations was not to be disturbed by any consideration of such low things. And here, again, we have this philosopher's judgment on ostentatious piety and prayer :

" Apem. Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;

I pray for no man but myself." To some, this might appear to be in the highest degree impious, as Timon thought another saying of the churlish philosopher to be “a lascivious apprehension”; to which Apemantus replies :

“So thou apprehend'st it. Take it for thy labour." Or, by possibility, it might put them in mind of another more modern philosopher, likewise suspected of being somewhat cynical, who seems to have apprehended many things differently from the common way; for, being of the same opinion, doubtless, that this author was, when he made the Duke in the disguise of “power divine” say,

“ there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must

cure it,” so he says: There is no odor so bad as that which arises from goodness tainted. If I knew for a certainty that a man was coming to my house with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life.” 1 So Apemantus seems to have thought a man had enough to do to pray for himself; and perhaps, also, he had that reverence for himself, which is,“ next religion, the chiefest bridle of all vices,” and such chastity as was never seen anywhere else than in the island of Bensalem.

All this is made subservient to the introduction of the main subject of the play, the character of Lord Timon and the changes of fortune, which the poet is made to announce as the subject of that very work which he had come to dedicate to the great lord ; as if the author himself would speak in character. And we may say of this piece as the poet said to the picture,

_" to the dumbness of the gesture,
One might interpret."
It is announced thus :

"Poet. I have in this rough work shap'd out a man,
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug
With amplest entertainment.

Paint. How shall I understand you?

I'll unbolt to you.
You see how all conditions, how all minds
(As well of glib and slippery creatures, as
Of grave and austere quality) tender down
Their services to Lord Timon: his large fortune,
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging,
Subdues and properties to his love and tendance

All sorts of hearts; –
(“A noble man and of much worth,” says Lucian.]

-yea from the glass-fac'd flatterer
To Apemantus, that few things loves better
Than to abhor himself: even he drops down
The knee before him, and returns in peace

Most rich in Timon's nod.". Act 1. Sc. 1.
There is to be some“ steep and rough” work in the

1 Thoreau's Walden, 80.

woods among “thorns and briers," not levelled particularly;
but a survey is to be taken of “ all conditions ”; and even
Apemantus is constrained to drop the knee before the
great lord, as did the other philosopher, who said : “I come
with my pitcher to Jacob's well as others do."
The poet continues :

'Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill,
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: the base o' the mount

Is rank'd with all deserts, all kinds of natures, [that is to say, all “ characters of natures and dispositions,” hitherto too much omitted in Morality and Policy,]

That labour on the bosom of this sphere
To propagate their states: amongst them all,
Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd,
One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame;
Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to her;
Whose present grace to present slaves and servants
Translates his rivals.

'T is conceiv'd to scope.
This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks,
With one man beckon'd from the rest below,
Bowing his head against the steepy mount
To climb his happiness, would be well express'd
In our condition.

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change of mood,
Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants,
Which labour'd after him to the mountain's top,
Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down,
Not one accompanying his declining foot.

'Tis common:
A thousand moral paintings I can show
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune,
More pregnantly than words."

Surely, this “high and pleasant hill,” this “ steepy mount,” ranked with all deserts and all kinds of natures at the base, and “ this mountain's top," which all that labor on the bosom of this sphere seek to climb in search of happiness, can be no other than that same hill of the Muses, and those “ tops of mountains,” which the traveller, on the steep and rough,” or “the even and level,” road of active

life, was to climb by regular succession, with persevering and indefatigable patience," and by the “ several degrees of ascent, as if it had been a Scala Cæli,” before he should reach a serene station on the height of things; and these “paths of contemplation,” placed thus visibly before the eyes in a kind of representative speaking picture, exhibiting “ the whole process of the mind and the continuous frame and order of discovery” in the given subject, may be taken as an example of the new method, which those " types and models” were to illustrate ; and this is that use of poetry that “tendeth to demonstrate and illustrate that which is taught or delivered,” as by a thousand moral paintings."

Timon was not one of those who had reached the mountain's top, but only “a more disengaged and arduous station towards the foot, and was still bowing his head against the steepy mount. But the poet himself had attained that uppermost elevation, and was able to look down upon him from that high cliff and platform, which is more amply sketched in the Essay of Truth, thus :

“ The poet that beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well : It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon

the sea; a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of Truth, (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene,) and to see the errors and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below'; so always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride." And so that it be done by a Solomon of the New Atlantis, who wears an aspect as if he pitied men.”

The scene next shifts upon the marriage of the old Athenian's daughter, a fair maid, bred“ in qualities of the best”; and Lord Timon, like the Tirsan, takes due care that it shall be a chaste marriage, with due consent of

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