don, Sandys made a strong appeal to his father in behalf of Hooker, the result of which was the appointment of the meek divine, in 1585, to the office of master of the Temple. He accordingly removed to London, and commenced his labours as forenoon preacher. It happened that the office of afternoon lecturer at the Temple was at this period filled by Walter Travers, a man of great learning and eloquence, but highly_Calvinistical in his opinions, while the views of Hooker, on the other hand, both on church government and on points of theology, were of a moderate cast. The consequence was, that the doctrines delivered from the pulpit varied very much in their character, according to the preacher from whom they proceeded. Indeed, the two orators sometimes preached avowedly in opposition to each other-a circumstance which gave occasion to the remark, that the forenoon sermons spoke Canterbury, and the afternoon Geneva.' This disputation, though conducted with good temper, excited so much attention, that Archbishop Whitgift suspended Travers from preaching. There ensued between him and Hooker a printed controversy, which was found so disagreeable by the latter, that he strongly expressed to the archbishop his wish to retire into the country, where he might be permitted to live in peace, and have leisure to finish his treatise Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity, already begun. A letter which he wrote to the archbishop on this occasion deserves to be quoted, as showing not only that peacefulness of temper which adhered to him through life, but likewise the object that his great work was intended to accomplish. It is as follows:'My lord-When I lost the freedom of my cell, which was my college, yet I found some degree of it in my quiet country parsonage. But I am weary of the noise and oppositions of this place; and, indeed, God and nature did not intend me for contentions, but for study and quietness. And, my lord, my particular contests here with Mr Travers have proved the more unpleasant to me, because I believe him to be a good man; and that belief hath occasioned me to examine mine own conscience concerning his opinions. And to satisfy that, I have consulted the holy Scripture, and other laws, both human and divine, whether the conscience of him and others of his judgment ought to be so far complied with by us as to alter our frame of church government, our manner of God's worship, our praising and praying to him, and our established ceremonies, as often as their tender consciences shall require us. And in this examination I have not only satisfied myself, but have begun a treatise in which I intend the satisfaction of others, by a demonstration of the reasonableness of our laws of ecclesiastical polity. But, my lord, I shall never be able to finish what I have begun, unless I be removed into some quiet parsonage, where I may see God's blessings spring out of my mother earth, and eat my own bread in peace and privacy: a place where I may, without disturbance, meditate my ap: proaching mortality, and that great account which all Hesh must give at the last day to the God of all spirits.' Hooker's treatise on 'Ecclesiastical Polity' displays an astonishing amount of learning, sagacity, and industry; and is so excellently written, that, according to the judgment of Lowth, the author has, in correctness, propriety, and purity of English style, hardly been surpassed, or even equalled, by any of his successors. This praise is unquestionably too high; for, as Dr Drake has observed, though the words, for the most part, are well chosen and pure, the arrangement of them into sentences is intricate and harsh, and formed almost exclusively on the idiom and construction of the Latin. Much strength and vigour are derived from this adoption, but perspicuity, sweetness, and ease, are too generally sacrificed. There is, notwithstanding these usual features of his composition, an occasional simplicity in his pages, both of style and sentiment, which truly charms.'* Dr Drake refers to the following sentence, with which the preface to the Ecclesiastical Polity' is opened, as a striking instance of that elaborate collocation which, founded on the structure of a language widely different from our own, was the fashion of the age of Elizabeth. Though for no other cause, yet for this, that posterity may know we have not loosely, through silence, permitted things to pass away as in a dream, there shall be, for men's information, extant this much concerning the preus, and their careful endeavours which would have sent state of the church of God established amongst upheld the same.' The argument against the Puritans is conducted by Hooker with rare moderation and candour, and certainly the church of England has never had a more powerful defender. The work is not to be regarded simply as a theological treatise; it is still referred to as a great authority upon the whole range of moral and political principles. It also bears a value as the first publication in the English language which observed a strict methodical arrangement, and presented a train of clear logical reasoning. As specimens of the body of the work, several extracts are here subjoined : [Scripture and the Law of Nature.] points it doth perform. Howbeit, that here we swerve What the Scripture purposeth, the same in all not in judgment, one thing especially we must obis seen by relation unto that end whereto it tendeth. serve; namely, that the absolute perfection of Scripture imagine the general and main drift of the body of And even hereby it cometh to pass, that, first, such as sacred Scripture not to be so large as it is, nor that God did thereby intend to deliver, as in truth he doth, a full instruction in all things unto salvation necessary, the knowledge whereof man by nature could not otherwise in this life attain unto; they are by this very mean induced, either still to look for new revelations from heaven, or else dangerously to add to the of man's salvation may be complete; which doctrine things added, to be so complete, that we utterly refuse we constantly hold in all respects, without any such further. Whatsoever, to make up the doctrine of as much as once to acquaint ourselves with anything man's salvation, is added as in supply of the Scripture's insufficiency, we reject it; Scripture, purposing this, hath perfectly and fully done it. Again, the In consequence of this appeal, Hooker was presented, in 1591, to the rectory of Boscomb, in Wilt-word of God uncertain tradition, that so the doctrine shire, where he finished four books of his treatise, which were printed in 1594. Queen Elizabeth having in the following year presented him to the rectory of Bishop's-Bourne, in Kent, he removed to that place, where the remainder of his life was spent in the faithful discharge of the duties of his office. Here he wrote the fifth book, published in 1597; and finished other three, which did not appear till after his death. This event took place in Novem * Essays Illustrative of the Tatler, &c, i. 10. the faithful sedulity of friendship. Zeal, except it be ordered aright, when it bendeth itself unto conflict with all things either indeed, or but imagined to be, opposite unto religion, useth the razor many times with such eagerness, that the very life of religion itself is thereby hazarded; through hatred of tares the corn in the field of God is plucked up. So that zeal needeth both ways a sober guide. Fear, on the other side, if it have not the light of true understanding concerning God, wherewith to be moderated, breedeth likewise superstition. It is therefore dangerous that, in things divine, we should work too much upon the spur either of zeal or fear. Fear is a good solicitor to devotion. Howbeit, sith fear in this kind doth grow from an apprehension of Deity endued with irresistible power to hurt, and is, of all affections (anger excepted), the unaptest to admit any conference with reason, for which cause the wise man doth say of fear, that it is a betrayer of the forces of reasonable understanding; therefore, except men know beforehand what manner of service pleaseth God, while they are fearful they try all things which fancy offereth. Many there are who never think on God but when they are in extremity of fear; and then, because what to think, or what to do, they are uncertain; perplexity not suffering them to be idle, they think and do, as it were in a phrensy, they know not what. Superstition neither knoweth the right kind, nor observeth the due measure, of actions belonging to the service of God, but is always joined with a wrong opinion touching things divine. Superstition is, when things are either abhorred or observed, with a zealous or fearful, but erroneous relation to God. By means whereof, the superstitious do sometimes serve, though the true God, yet with needless offices, and defraud him of duties necessary, sometimes load others than him with such honours as properly are his. scope and purpose of God in delivering the holy Scrip- please him not. For which cause, if they who this ture, such as do take more largely than behoveth, way swerve be compared with such sincere, sound, and they, on the contrary, side-racking and stretching it discreet as Abraham was in matter of religion, the further than by him was meant, are drawn into sun-service of the one is like unto flattery, the other like dry as great inconveniences. They, pretending the Scripture's perfection, infer thereupon, that in Scripture all things lawful to be done must needs be contained. We count those things perfect which want nothing requisite for the end whereto they were instituted. As, therefore, God created every part and particle of man exactly perfect-that is to say, in all points sufficient unto that use for which he appointed it so the Scripture, yea, every sentence thereof, is perfect, and wanteth nothing requisite unto that purpose for which God delivered the same. So that, if hereupon we conclude, that because the Scripture is perfect, therefore all things lawful to be done are comprehended in the Scripture; we may even as well conclude so of every sentence, as of the whole sum and body thereof, unless we first of all prove that it was the drift, scope, and purpose of Almighty God in holy Scripture to comprise all things which man may practise. But admit this, and mark, I beseech you, what would follow. God, in delivering Scripture to his church, should clean have abrogated among them the Law of Nature, which is an infallible knowledge imprinted in the minds of all the children of men, whereby both general principles for directing of human actions are comprehended, and conclusions derived from them; upon which conclusions groweth in particularity the choice of good and evil in the daily affairs of this life. Admit this, and what shall the Scripture be but a snare and a torment to weak consciences, filling them with infinite perplexities, scrupulosities, doubts insoluble, and extreme despairs? Not that the Scripture itself doth cause any such thing (for it tendeth to the clean contrary, and the fruit thereof is resolute assurance and certainty in that it teacheth); but the necessities of this life urging men to do that which the light of nature, common discretion, and judgment of itself directeth them unto; on the other side, this doctrine teaching them that so to do were to sin against their own souls, and that they put forth their hands to iniquity, whatsoever they go about, and have not first the sacred Scripture of God for direction; how can it choose but bring the simple a thousand times to their wits' end; how can it choose but vex and amaze them? For in every action of common life, to find out some sentence clearly and infallibly setting before our eyes what we ought to do (seem we in Scripture never so expert), would trouble us more than we are aware. In weak and tender minds, we little know what misery this strict opinion would breed, besides the stops it would make in the whole course of all men's lives and actions. Make all things sin which we do by direction of nature's light, and by the rule of common discretion, without thinking at all upon Scripture; admit this position, and parents shall cause their children to sin, as oft as they cause them to do anything, before they come to years of capacity, and be ripe for knowledge in the Scripture. Admit this, and it shall not be with masters as it was with him in the gospel; but servants being commanded to go, shall stand still till they have their errand warranted unto them by Scripture. Which, as it standeth with Christian duty in some cases, so in common affairs to require it were most unfit. [Zeal and Fear in Religion.] Two affections there are, the forces whereof, as they bear the greater or lesser sway in man's heart, frame accordingly to the stamp and character of his religionthe one zeal, the other fear. Zeal, unless it be rightly guided, when it endeavoureth most busily to please God, forceth upon him those unseasonable offices which [Defence of Reason.] But so it is, the name of the light of nature is made hateful with men; the star of reason and learning, and all other such like helps, beginneth no otherwise to be thought of, than if it were an unlucky comet; or as if God had so accursed it, that it should never shine or give light in things concerning our duty any way towards him, but be esteemed as that star in the revelation, called Wormwood, which, being fallen from heaven, maketh rivers and waters in which it falleth so bitter, that men tasting them die thereof. A number there are who think they cannot admire as they ought the power and authority of the word of God, if in things divine they should attribute any force to man's reason; for which cause they never use reason so willingly as to disgrace reason. Their usual and common discourses are unto this effect. First, 'the natural man perceiveth not the things of the spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned,' &c. &c. By these and the like disputes, an opinion hath spread itself very far in the world; as if the way to be ripe in faith, were to be raw in wit and judgment; as if reason were an enemy unto religion, childish simplicity the mother of ghostly and divine wisdom. To our purpose, it is sufficient that whosoever doth serve, honour, and obey God, whosoever believeth in him, that man would no more do this than innocents and infants do but for the light of natural reason that shineth in him, and maketh him apt to apprehend those things of God, which being by grace discovered, are effectual to persuade reasonable minds, and none other, that honour, obedience, and credit, belong aright unto God. No man cometh unto God to offer him sacrifice, to pour out supplications and prayers before him, or to do him any service, which doth not first believe him both to be, and to be a rewarder of them who in such sort seek unto him. Let men be taught this, either by revelation from heaven, or by instruction upon earth; by labour, study, and meditation, or by the only secret inspiration of the Holy Ghost; whatsoever the mean be they know it by, if the knowledge thereof were possible without discourse of natural reason, why should none be found capable thereof but only men; nor men till such time as they come unto ripe and full ability to work by reasonable understanding? The whole drift of the Scripture of God, what is it, but only to teach theology? Theology, what is it, but the science of things divine? What science can be attained unto, without the help of natural discourse and reason? Judge you of that which I speak, saith the apostle. In vain it were to speak anything of God, but that by reason men are able somewhat to judge of that they hear, and by discourse to discern how consonant it is to truth. Scripture, indeed, teacheth things above nature, things which our reason by itself could not reach unto. Yet those also we believe, knowing by reason that the Scripture is the word of God. The thing we have handled according to the question moved about it, which question is, whether the light of reason be so pernicious, that, in devising laws for the church, men ought not by it to search what may be fit and convenient? For this cause, therefore, we have endeavoured to make it appear, how, in the nature of reason itself, there is no impediment, but that the self-same spirit which revealeth the things that God hath set down in his law, may also be thought to aid and direct men in finding out, by the light of reason, what laws are expedient to be made for the guiding of his church, over and besides them that are in Scripture. * [Church Music.] Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent, being added unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible mean, the very standing, rising, and falling, the very steps and inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that, whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more strong and potent unto good. And that there is such a difference of one kind from another, we need no proof but our own experience, inasmuch as we are at the hearing of some more inclined unto sorrow and heaviness, of some more mollified and softened in mind; one kind apter to stay and settle us, another to move and stir our affections; there is that draweth to a marvellous grave and sober mediocrity; there is also that carrieth, as it were, into ecstacies, filling the mind with a heavenly joy, and for the time in a manner severing it from the body; eo that, although we lay altogether aside the consideration of ditty or matter, the very harmony of sounds being framed in due sort, and carried from the ear to the spiritual faculties of our souls, is, by a native puissance and efficacy, greatly available to bring to a perfect temper whatsoever is there troubled; apt as well to quicken the spirits as to allay that which is too eager; sovereign against melancholy and despair; forcible to draw forth tears of devotion, if the mind be such as can yield them; able both to move and to moderate all affections. The prophet David having, therefore, singular knowledge, not in poetry alone, but in music also, judged them both to be things most necessary for the house of God, left behind him to that purpose a number of divinely-indited poems, and was further the author of adding unto poetry melody in public prayer; melody, both vocal and instrumental, for the raising up of men's hearts, and the sweetening of their affections towards God. In which considerations the church of Christ doth likewise at this present day retain it as an ornament to God's service, and an help to our own devotion. They which, under pretence of the law ceremonial abrogated, require the abrogation of instrumental music, approving, nevertheless, the use of vocal melody to remain, must show some reason wherefore the one should be thought a legal ceremony, and not the other. In church music, curiosity or ostentation of art, wanton, or light, or unsuitable harmony, such as only pleaseth the ear, and doth not naturally serve to the very kind and degree of those impressions which the matter that goeth with it leaveth, or is apt to leave, in men's minds, doth rather blemish and disgrace that we do, than add either beauty or furtherance unto it. On the other side, the faults prevented, the force and efficacy of the thing itself, when it drowneth not utterly, but fitly suiteth with matter altogether sounding to the praise of God, is in truth most admirable, and doth much edify, if not the understanding, because it teacheth not, yet surely the affection, because therein it worketh much. They must have hearts very dry and tough, from whom the melody of the psalms doth not sometime draw that wherein a mind religiously affected delighteth. LORD BACON. But the fame of Hooker, as indeed of all his contemporaries, is outshone by that of the illustrious LORD BACON. Francis Bacon, son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the great seal, was born in London on the 22d of January 1561, and in childhood displayed such vivacity of intellect and sedateness of behaviour, that Queen Elizabeth used to call him her young lord-keeper. At the age of thirteen, he was sent to Cambridge, where, so early as his sixteenth year, he became disgusted with the Aristotelian philosophy, which then held unquestioned sway in the great English schools of learning. This dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle, as Bacon himself declared to his secretary Dr Rawley, he fell into not for the worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way; being a philosophy, as his lordship used to say, only strong for disputations and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the benefit of the life of man. After spending about four years at Cambridge, he travelled in France, his acute observations in which country were afterwards published in a work entitled Of the State of Europe. By the sudden death of his father in 1579, he was compelled to return hastily to England, and engage *Rawley's Life of Bacon. in some profitable occupation. After in vain soliciting his uncle, Lord Burleigh, to procure for him such a provision from government as might allow him to devote his time to literature and philosophy, he spent several years in the study of the law. While engaged in practice as a barrister, however, he did not forget philosophy, as it appears that he fr Bacon Bacon was in some measure led by pecuniary difficulties, into which his improvident and ostentatious habits, coupled with the relative inadequacy of his revenues, had plunged him. By maintaining himself in the good graces of the court, he hoped to secure that professional advancement which would not only fill his empty coffers, but gratify those ambitious longings which had arisen in his mind. But temptations of this sort, though they may palliate, can never excuse such immoralities as those which Bacon on this and future occasions showed himself capable of. After the accession of James, the fortunes of Bacon began to improve. He was knighted in 1603, and, in subsequent years, obtained successively the offices of king's counsel, solicitor-general, judge of the Marshalsea court, and attorney-general. This last appointment he received in 1613. In the execution of his duties, he did not scruple to lend himself to the most arbitrary measures of the court, and even assisted in an attempt to extort from an old clergyman, of the name of Peacham, a confession of treason, by torturing him on the rack. Although his income had now been greatly enlarged by the emoluments of office and a marriage with the daughter of a wealthy alderman, his extravagance, and that of his servants, which he seems to have been too good-natured to check, continued to keep him in difficulties. He cringed before the king and his favourite Villiers; and at length, in 1619, reached the summit of his ambition, by being created Lord High Chancellor of England, and Baron Verulam. This latter title gave place in the following year to that of Viscount St Albans. As chancellor, it cannot be concealed that, both in his political and judicial capacities, he grossly deserted his duty. Not only did he suffer Villiers to interfere with his decisions as a judge, but, by accepting numerous presents or bribes from suitors, gave occasion, in 1621, to a parliamentary inquiry, which ended in his condemnation and disgrace. He fully confessed the twenty-three articles of corruption which were laid to his charge; and when waited on by a committee of the House of Lords, appointed to inquire whether the confession was subscribed by himself, he answered, 'It is my act, my hand, my heart: I beseech your lordships to be merciful to a broken reed.' Banished from public life, he had now ample leisure to attend to his philosophical and literary pursuits. Yet, even while he was engaged in business, these had not been neglected. In 1597, he published the first edition of his Essays, which were afterwards greatly enlarged. These, as he himself says of them, come home to men's business and bosoms; and, like the late new halfpence, the pieces are small, and the silver is good.' From the generally interesting nature of the subjects of the Essays,' and the excellence of their style, this work immediately acquired great popularity, and to the present day continues the most generally read of all the author's productions. "It is also,' to use the words of Mr Dugald Stewart, one of those where the superiority of his genius appears to the greatest advantage, the novelty and depth of his reflections often receiving a strong relief from the triteness of his subject. It may be read from beginning to end in a few hours, and yet, after the twentieth perusal, one seldom fails to remark in it something overlooked before. This, indeed, is a characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and is only to be accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish to our own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity they impart to our torpid faculties."* In *First Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopædia Britannica, p. 36, seventh edition. sketched at an early period of life his great work called The Instauration of the Sciences. In 1590, he obtained the post of Counsel Extraordinary to the queen; and three years afterwards, sat in parliament for the county of Middlesex. As an orator, he is highly extolled by Ben Jonson. In one of his speeches, he distinguished himself by taking the popular side in a question respecting some large subsidies demanded by the court; but finding that he had given great offence to her majesty, he at once altered his tone, and condescended to apologise with that servility which unhappily appeared in too many of his subsequent actions. To Lord Burleigh and his son Robert Cecil, Bacon continued to crouch in the hope of advancement, till at length, finding himself disappointed in that quarter, he attached himself to Burleigh's rival, Essex, who, with the utmost ardour of a generous friendship, endeavoured to procure for him, in 1594, the vacant office of attorney-general. In this attempt he was defeated, through the influence of the Cecils, who were jealous of both him and his friend; but he in some degree soothed Bacon's disappointment by presenting to him an estate at Twickenham, worth two thousand pounds. It is painful to relate in what manner Bacon repaid such benefits. When Essex was brought to trial for a conspiracy against the queen, the friend whom he had so largely obliged and confided in, not only deserted him in the hour of need, but unnecessarily appeared as counsel against him, and by every art and distorting ingenuity of a pleader, endeavoured to magnify his crimes. He complied, moreover, after the earl's execution, with the queen's request that he would write A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons Attempted and Committed by Robert, Earl of Essex, which was printed by authority. Into this conduct, which indicates a lamentable want of high moral principle, courage, and self-respect, 1605, he published another work, which still continues to be extensively perused; it is entitled Of the Proficience and Advancement of Learning, Divine and Human. This volume, which was afterwards enlarged and published in the Latin language, with the title De Augmentis Scientiarum, constitutes the first part of his great work called Instauratio Scientiarum, or the Instauration of the Sciences. The second part, entitled Novum Organum, is that on which, chiefly, his high reputation as a philosopher is grounded, and on the composition of which he bestowed most labour. It is written in Latin, and appeared in 1620. In the first part of the Advancement of Learning,' after considering the excellence of knowledge and the means of disseminating it, together with what had already been done for its advancement, and what omitted, he proceeds to divide it into the three branches of history, poetry, and philosophy; these having reference to what he considers the three parts of man's understanding' memory, imagination, and reason. The concluding portion of the volume relates to revealed religion. The Novum Organum,' which, as already mentioned, is the second and most important part of the Instauration of the Sciences,' consists of aphorisms, the first of which furnishes a key to the author's leading doctrines: Man, who is the servant and interpreter of nature, can act and understand no further than he has, either in operation or in contemplation, observed of the method and order of nature.' His new method-novum organum-of employing the understanding in adding to human knowledge, is fully expounded in this work, the following translated extracts from which will make manifest what the reformation was which he sought to accomplish. After alluding to the little aid which the useful arts had derived from science, and the small improvement which science had received from practical men, he proceeds- But whence can arise such vagueness and sterility in all the physical systems which have hitherto existed in the world? It is not certainly from anything in nature itself; for the steadiness and regularity of the laws by which it is governed, clearly mark them out as objects of certain and precise knowledge. Neither can it arise from any want of ability in those who have pursued such inquiries, many of whom have been men of the highest talent and genius of the ages in which they lived; and it can therefore arise from nothing else but the perverseness and insufficiency of the methods that have been pursued. Men have sought to make a world from their own conceptions, and to draw from their own minds all the materials which they employed; but if, instead of doing so, they had consulted experience and observation, they would have had facts, and not opinions, to reason about, and might have ultimately arrived at the knowledge of the laws which govern the material world.' As things are at present conducted, a sudden transition is made from sensible objects and particular facts to general propositions, which are accounted principles, and round which, as round so many fixed poles, disputation and argument continually revolve. From the propositions thus hastily assumed, all things are derived, by a process compendious and precipitate, ill suited to discovery, but wonderfully accommodated to debate. The way that promises success is the reverse of this. It requires that we should generalise slowly, going from particular things to those which are but one step more general; from those to others of still greater extent, and so on to such as are universal. By such means we may hope to arrive at principles, not vague and obscure, but luminous and well-defined, such as nature herself will not refuse to acknowledge.' After describing the causes which lead the understanding astray in the search after knowledge--the idols, as he figuratively terms them, before which it is apt to bow--Bacon, in the second book of the 'Novum Organum,' goes on systematically to expound and exemplify his method of philosophising, indicated in the foregoing extracts, and to which the appellation of the inductive method is applied. This he does in so masterly a way, that he has earned with posterity the title of the father of experimental science. The power and compass,' says Professor Playfair, of a mind which could form such a plan beforehand, and trace not merely the outline, but many of the most minute ramifications, of sciences which did not yet exist, must be an object of admiration to all succeeding ages.' It is true that the inductive method had been both practised and even cursorily recommended by more than one philosopher prior to Bacon; but unquestionably he was the first to unfold it completely, to show its infinite importance, and to induce the great body of scientific inquirers to place themselves under its guidance. In another respect, the benefit conferred by Bacon upon mankind was perhaps still greater. He turned the attention of philosophers from speculations and disputes upon questions remote from use, and fixed it upon inquiries 'productive of works for the benefit of the life of man.' The Aristotelian philosophy was barren; the object of Bacon was the amplification of the power and kingdom of mankind over the world'— the enlargement of the bounds of human empire to the effecting all things possible'-the augmentation, by means of science, of the sum of human happiness, and the alleviation of human suffering. In a word, he was eminently a utilitarian. The third part of the 'Instauration of the Sciences,' entitled Sylva Sylvarum, or History of Nature, is devoted to the facts and phenomena of natural science, including original observations made by Bacon himself, which, though sometimes incorrect, are useful in exemplifying the inductive method of searching for truth. The fourth part is called Scala Intellectus, from its pointing out a succession of steps by which the understanding may ascend in such investigations. Other two parts, which the author projected, were never executed. Another celebrated publication of Lord Bacon is his treatise, Of the Wisdom of the Ancients, 1610; wherein he attempts, generally with more ingenuity than success, to discover secret meanings in the mythological fables of antiquity. He wrote also Felicities of Queen Elizabeth's Reign, a History of King Henry VII., a philosophical romance called the New Atlantis, and several minor productions which it is needless to specify. His letters, too, have been published. After retiring from public life, Bacon, though enjoying an annual income of £2500, continued to live in so ostentatious and prodigal a style, that, at his death, in 1626, his debts amounted to upwards of £22,000. His devotion to science appears to have been the immediate occasion of bringing his earthly existence to a close. While travelling in his carriage at a time when there was snow on the ground, he began to consider whether flesh might not be preserved by snow as well as by salt. In order to niake the experiment, he alighted at a cottage near Highgate, bought a hen, and stuffed it with snow. This so chilled him, that he was unable to return home, but went to the Earl of Arundel's house in the neighbourhood, where his illness was so much increased by the dampness of a bed into which he was put, that he died in a few days. In a letter to the earl, the last * This account is given by Aubrey, who probably obtained it from Hobbes, one of Bacon's intimate friends, and afterwards an acquaintance of Aubrey.-See Aubrey's Lives of Eminent |