
Bernard Capes’s “The Lost Notes” is narrated by a man estranged from his musical uncle over the uncle’s passionate belief in Baconian cryptograms. Though the narrator is his uncle’s expected heir, he refuses to accept that Shakespeare’s works conceal Bacon’s authorship, even while his uncle and their friend Chaunt press the case. Their dispute ends in an open quarrel, and the narrator is forbidden to visit. After the uncle dies, the narrator expects nothing from the will. His uncle’s lawyers report that the old man had turned most of his money into five Bank of England notes and apparently disposed of them, while the housekeeper receives the residue. The narrator’s own legacy seems insulting: Baconian books, a Chippendale tea-caddy he admired, a cone of foolscap, a penny for a cracker mourning ring, and a sealed envelope. Hoping the envelope may contain money, he opens it in private and finds only a sheet of music-paper bearing a short sequence of notes and a strange musical device. Unable to play or interpret it, he regards the sheet as one final, cruel joke. Chaunt examines it, sends the narrator out, and remains alone with the piano and the bequeathed objects. When the narrator returns, Chaunt gives him a crackling bundle: the five thousand-pound notes. He explains that the musical notation is a cryptogram. Read as letters, the principal notes form “b a c e f d e c a d e c,” which, divided differently, reads “Back of the caddy see.” Five notes drawn beyond the musical lines signify “five notes,” directing Chaunt to find the money behind a false back in the tea-caddy. The curious figure at the top supplies the uncle’s final message. It is read as “On my demise mi q u av er,” yielding, through the same wordplay, “On my demise, my cue you have here.” The uncle had not disinherited his nephew: he had designed a cryptographic inheritance and trusted Chaunt to help solve it. Though he mocks the contrivance as suited to the narrator’s limited capacities, the narrator must concede that cryptograms possess at least one real value.
By Bernard Capes · First published 1911 · Genre: Mystery, Literary Fiction, Humor · 3,456 words
The faculty of music is generally, I believe, inimical to the development of all the other faculties. Sufficient to itself is the composing gift. There was scarcely ever yet a born musician, I do declare, who, outside his birthright, was not a born ass. I say it with the less irreverence, because my uncle was patently one of the rare exceptions which prove the rule. He knew his Shakespeare as well as his musical-glasses-better than, in fact; for he was a staunch Baconian. This was all the odder because-as was both early and late impressed upon me-he had a strong sense of humour. Perhaps an eternal study of the hieroglyphics of the leger lines was responsible for his craze; for craze I still insist it was, in spite of the way he took to convince me of the value of cryptograms. I was an obstinate pupil, I confess, and withstood to the end the fire of all the big guns which he-together with my friend, Chaunt, who was in the same line-brought to bear upon me.
Edwardian fiction · comic short story · inheritance plot · cryptograms · musical notation · Baconian theory · Shakespeare authorship controversy · eccentric uncle · estranged relatives · posthumous message · hidden money · Bank of England notes
The Lost Notes is listed on Textopian as a short story by Bernard Capes, dated 1911 CE.
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