According to many under appreciated scholars, Queen Elizabeth I, had an affair with Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, and produced a son named Francis. Francis was given up at birth to Anne Bacon, Queen Elizabeth's maid in waiting. Francis Bacon grew up under the supervision and care of Anne and her husband. Queen Elizabeth doted on the boy, giving him gifts, providing him with a quality education, and eventually making him the Keeper of the Keys, a member of her Extraordinary Counsel, one of the highest honors in Elizabethan England. He subsequently became known in history as Sir Francis Bacon.
Francis Bacon grew to be a great philosopher, politician and writer. In fact, he wrote beautiful, elaborate plays that satirized British politics. However, if he admitted that he was the author of these plays, he risked being arrested for treason, subject to spend years in the Tower of London, or at worst drawn and quartered.
Hence, dear Francis found a fledging actor named William Shakespeare, and obtained permission to use Shakespeare's name and identity for works in exchange for money and a promise of prominent theatrical roles in the plays.
No one paid attention to the fact that William Shakespeare lived miles outside of London, and had no access to the libraries of information that were used in creating these extraordinary plays. Nor did anyone question the fact that dear William was illiterate, and could only sign his name with an "X."
Nearly a century or more after Francis and Williams' deaths, a woman name Diane Bacon decided to research the life of her ancestor, Sir Francis Bacon. She discovered that in the original works attributed to Shakespeare, there were elaborate cryptograms, similar to those word search puzzles that you probably did as a child, and even as a grown up. Within the phrases of these works, the cryptogram "I AM FRANCES" could be found time and time again, spelled out horizontally, vertically, diagonally, and even backwards. Delving into the original works even further, Diane applied her knowledge of numerology, researching countless numbered pages, and discovering the use of numbers within the dialogue between characters in the plays. Time and time again she discovered and revealed more evidence that Sir Francis did indeed write the works that had been attributed to Shakespeare.
In her determination to set the records of authorship straight on behalf of her beloved ancestor, Diane now had to prove conclusively that Shakespeare's death was feigned. It was purported that Sir Francis paid off Shakespeare to all but disappear from the earth, and then went to elaborate measures to bury the author once and for all. A mock funeral procession passed through the streets lined with mourners.
William Shakespeare was presumed to be buried in the chancel of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Stratford. A stone slab, a reproduction of the original which it replaced in 1830, marks his grave. It bears an inscription; a promised curse against anyone who might exhume his bones:
GOOD FREND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE,
TO DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE.
BLESTE BE YE MAN THAT SPARES THES STONES,
AND CURST BE HE THAT MOVES MY BONES.
After vehemently arguing her case, Diane was eventually granted permission to exhume the grave of Shakespeare, under the condition that she do it herself. After nearly a decade of hard work and research, Diane went to the grave site, but her fear got the best of her, and she was unable to dig up the grave. It is written that she spent the rest of her life in blubbering insanity.
This is a great story, much of which I write from memory. I had obsessively researched the life of Sir Francis Bacon back in the eighties when I learned that he was presumedly an ancestor of mine. If it was true that Sir Francis was the illegitimate son of Queen Elizabeth, then that would make me a descendant of royalty.
It was verified in a session that I had with Dr. Peebles through Thomas Jacobson back in 1989 that Sir Francis Bacon did indeed write the works attributed to Shakespeare. I never did find verification of Sir Francis' connection to Queen Elizabeth, aside from lots of pretty convincing conjecture by scholars. My Professors of English Literature at UCLA laughed (loudly and unappreciatively) at me when I even suggested the Sir Francis/Shakespeare connection.
A few days ago I was reminiscing about the years that I researched the life of Sir Francis Bacon. I remember when my friend, Steve, took me into his grandfather's vault where stacks and stacks of books dedicated to the study of the Sir Francis/Shakespeare connection had been stored. There were so many books, in fact, that Steve directed me to take a seat atop one stack of them. He then showed me velum overlays of portraits of Sir Francis and William, and dozens of books with velum overlays of the cryptograms in Shakespeare's works. The whole experience was surreal and mind boggling.
Yes, it's incredible to think that I am a descendant of Sir Francis Bacon, and possibly of Queen Elizabeth. But, as I thought about this the other day, my heart immediately turned towards another great man who was part of my family. His name was Edward Weeks. He was a janitor at an elementary school in Chagrin Falls, Ohio. He raised chickens, tended to a garden and fruit trees, and was a great bowler. He called my mother "Bub" and took her to the local market for ice cream when she was little. He was magical, and could pull pennies out of my ears. He single handedly dug the cellar underneath the small one bedroom guest house that he shared with my Grandmother, Scottie, and my mother, Lisa. He was financially poor, but rich in love and spirit.
Grandpa Weeks was my hero. Although my mother was adopted by him (passed through a car window during the Great Depression), I never questioned whether Grandpa and Grandma Weeks were my blood relatives. The depth of love that I felt for them was profound, and I knew without a doubt that they truly loved me too. I knew that their blood coursed through my own veins, because I could feel it.
In 1977, my Grandfather, who had died years before, came to my bedside in his angelic form to comfort me. Both he and my Grandma have spoken to me and comforted and encouraged me from the other side ever since.
It's cool to know that Sir Francis was my ancestor. But, my true family has turned out to consist of the many rather than the few who are not of my direct blood line. I feel a tremendous depth of connection to my grandparents, and my cherished friends Bev Scott and her husband Bob, Lorina Merola, Blair Carl, Tom Dongo, and others.
In 1989, in that same session with Dr. Peebles where I asked about Sir Francis, Dr. Peebles told me that I would have more family and friends than I had ever known. At the time I was reclusive, shy, and scared of people in general. In fact, I didn't really like many people. Little did I know how my life would turn around. I have two children, and each has a different father. I have been stepmother to my daughter's half sister, Stephanie, and stepmother to a wonderful young man named Marc. I look forward to the day when I become the legal stepmother to Karl's six beautiful children, some of whom already call me "Mommy."
Little did I know the depth of Dr. Peebles' short statement to me; "...more family and friends than you have ever known before..."
True family to me are the people of like mind and like heart with whom we are compelled to gather. True family are those with whom we resonate. Sir Francis' life was very interesting, but frankly, having channeled him on a few occasions, he's a bit of a stuffed shirt. On the contrary, Grandpa Weeks, to me, was all heart, and pure unabashed love. He was not discouraged by his humble life, but rather cherished every moment of his existence. I resonate with that. I resonate with his sweet demeanor, his humor, and his humility.
When I grow up, I want to be just like him.
I love you Grandpa.
Archives - Summer Bacon & Dr. Peebles
Francis Bacon grew to be a great philosopher, politician and writer. In fact, he wrote beautiful, elaborate plays that satirized British politics. However, if he admitted that he was the author of these plays, he risked being arrested for treason, subject to spend years in the Tower of London, or at worst drawn and quartered.
Hence, dear Francis found a fledging actor named William Shakespeare, and obtained permission to use Shakespeare's name and identity for works in exchange for money and a promise of prominent theatrical roles in the plays.
No one paid attention to the fact that William Shakespeare lived miles outside of London, and had no access to the libraries of information that were used in creating these extraordinary plays. Nor did anyone question the fact that dear William was illiterate, and could only sign his name with an "X."
Nearly a century or more after Francis and Williams' deaths, a woman name Diane Bacon decided to research the life of her ancestor, Sir Francis Bacon. She discovered that in the original works attributed to Shakespeare, there were elaborate cryptograms, similar to those word search puzzles that you probably did as a child, and even as a grown up. Within the phrases of these works, the cryptogram "I AM FRANCES" could be found time and time again, spelled out horizontally, vertically, diagonally, and even backwards. Delving into the original works even further, Diane applied her knowledge of numerology, researching countless numbered pages, and discovering the use of numbers within the dialogue between characters in the plays. Time and time again she discovered and revealed more evidence that Sir Francis did indeed write the works that had been attributed to Shakespeare.
In her determination to set the records of authorship straight on behalf of her beloved ancestor, Diane now had to prove conclusively that Shakespeare's death was feigned. It was purported that Sir Francis paid off Shakespeare to all but disappear from the earth, and then went to elaborate measures to bury the author once and for all. A mock funeral procession passed through the streets lined with mourners.
William Shakespeare was presumed to be buried in the chancel of the Church of the Holy Trinity in Stratford. A stone slab, a reproduction of the original which it replaced in 1830, marks his grave. It bears an inscription; a promised curse against anyone who might exhume his bones:
GOOD FREND FOR JESUS SAKE FORBEARE,
TO DIGG THE DUST ENCLOASED HEARE.
BLESTE BE YE MAN THAT SPARES THES STONES,
AND CURST BE HE THAT MOVES MY BONES.
After vehemently arguing her case, Diane was eventually granted permission to exhume the grave of Shakespeare, under the condition that she do it herself. After nearly a decade of hard work and research, Diane went to the grave site, but her fear got the best of her, and she was unable to dig up the grave. It is written that she spent the rest of her life in blubbering insanity.
This is a great story, much of which I write from memory. I had obsessively researched the life of Sir Francis Bacon back in the eighties when I learned that he was presumedly an ancestor of mine. If it was true that Sir Francis was the illegitimate son of Queen Elizabeth, then that would make me a descendant of royalty.
It was verified in a session that I had with Dr. Peebles through Thomas Jacobson back in 1989 that Sir Francis Bacon did indeed write the works attributed to Shakespeare. I never did find verification of Sir Francis' connection to Queen Elizabeth, aside from lots of pretty convincing conjecture by scholars. My Professors of English Literature at UCLA laughed (loudly and unappreciatively) at me when I even suggested the Sir Francis/Shakespeare connection.
A few days ago I was reminiscing about the years that I researched the life of Sir Francis Bacon. I remember when my friend, Steve, took me into his grandfather's vault where stacks and stacks of books dedicated to the study of the Sir Francis/Shakespeare connection had been stored. There were so many books, in fact, that Steve directed me to take a seat atop one stack of them. He then showed me velum overlays of portraits of Sir Francis and William, and dozens of books with velum overlays of the cryptograms in Shakespeare's works. The whole experience was surreal and mind boggling.
Yes, it's incredible to think that I am a descendant of Sir Francis Bacon, and possibly of Queen Elizabeth. But, as I thought about this the other day, my heart immediately turned towards another great man who was part of my family. His name was Edward Weeks. He was a janitor at an elementary school in Chagrin Falls, Ohio. He raised chickens, tended to a garden and fruit trees, and was a great bowler. He called my mother "Bub" and took her to the local market for ice cream when she was little. He was magical, and could pull pennies out of my ears. He single handedly dug the cellar underneath the small one bedroom guest house that he shared with my Grandmother, Scottie, and my mother, Lisa. He was financially poor, but rich in love and spirit.
Grandpa Weeks was my hero. Although my mother was adopted by him (passed through a car window during the Great Depression), I never questioned whether Grandpa and Grandma Weeks were my blood relatives. The depth of love that I felt for them was profound, and I knew without a doubt that they truly loved me too. I knew that their blood coursed through my own veins, because I could feel it.
In 1977, my Grandfather, who had died years before, came to my bedside in his angelic form to comfort me. Both he and my Grandma have spoken to me and comforted and encouraged me from the other side ever since.
It's cool to know that Sir Francis was my ancestor. But, my true family has turned out to consist of the many rather than the few who are not of my direct blood line. I feel a tremendous depth of connection to my grandparents, and my cherished friends Bev Scott and her husband Bob, Lorina Merola, Blair Carl, Tom Dongo, and others.
In 1989, in that same session with Dr. Peebles where I asked about Sir Francis, Dr. Peebles told me that I would have more family and friends than I had ever known. At the time I was reclusive, shy, and scared of people in general. In fact, I didn't really like many people. Little did I know how my life would turn around. I have two children, and each has a different father. I have been stepmother to my daughter's half sister, Stephanie, and stepmother to a wonderful young man named Marc. I look forward to the day when I become the legal stepmother to Karl's six beautiful children, some of whom already call me "Mommy."
Little did I know the depth of Dr. Peebles' short statement to me; "...more family and friends than you have ever known before..."
True family to me are the people of like mind and like heart with whom we are compelled to gather. True family are those with whom we resonate. Sir Francis' life was very interesting, but frankly, having channeled him on a few occasions, he's a bit of a stuffed shirt. On the contrary, Grandpa Weeks, to me, was all heart, and pure unabashed love. He was not discouraged by his humble life, but rather cherished every moment of his existence. I resonate with that. I resonate with his sweet demeanor, his humor, and his humility.
When I grow up, I want to be just like him.
I love you Grandpa.
Archives - Summer Bacon & Dr. Peebles
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