On Lord Bacon

Not long since the trite and frivolous question following was debated in a very polite and learned company, viz., Who was the greatest man, Cæsar, Alexander, Tamerlane, Cromwell, &c.?

Not long ago, a group of highly cultured and learned people debated a stale and frivolous question. Who was the greatest man: Cæsar, Alexander, Tamerlane, Cromwell, or someone else?

Somebody answered that Sir Isaac Newton excelled them all. The gentleman’s assertion was very just; for if true greatness consists in having received from heaven a mighty genius, and in having employed it to enlighten our own mind and that of others, a man like Sir Isaac Newton, whose equal is hardly found in a thousand years, is the truly great man. And those politicians and conquerors (and all ages produce some) were generally so many illustrious wicked men. That man claims our respect who commands over the minds of the rest of the world by the force of truth, not those who enslave their fellow-creatures: he who is acquainted with the universe, not they who deface it.

Someone answered that Sir Isaac Newton surpassed them all. The gentleman was quite right. For if true greatness means receiving a powerful genius from heaven and using it to enlighten ourselves and others, Newton was truly great. A man like Sir Isaac Newton hardly appears once in a thousand years. And those politicians and conquerors were generally nothing more than famous villains. Every age produces some. The man who deserves our respect rules the minds of others through the power of truth. Those who enslave their fellow human beings do not. We should respect the man who understands the universe, not those who disfigure it.

Since, therefore, you desire me to give you an account of the famous personages whom England has given birth to, I shall begin with Lord Bacon, Mr. Locke, Sir Isaac Newton, &c. Afterwards the warriors and Ministers of State shall come in their order.

Since you want an account of the famous people born in England, I’ll begin with Lord Bacon, Mr. Locke, Sir Isaac Newton, and others. Then I’ll turn to the warriors and government ministers in their order.

I must begin with the celebrated Viscount Verulam, known in Europe by the name of Bacon, which was that of his family. His father had been Lord Keeper, and himself was a great many years Lord Chancellor under King James I. Nevertheless, amidst the intrigues of a Court, and the affairs of his exalted employment, which alone were enough to engross his whole time, he yet found so much leisure for study as to make himself a great philosopher, a good historian, and an elegant writer; and a still more surprising circumstance is that he lived in an age in which the art of writing justly and elegantly was little known, much less true philosophy. Lord Bacon, as is the fate of man, was more esteemed after his death than in his lifetime. His enemies were in the British Court, and his admirers were foreigners.

I must begin with the celebrated Viscount Verulam, known throughout Europe by his family name, Bacon. His father had been Lord Keeper, and Bacon himself served for many years as Lord Chancellor under King James I. Yet despite court intrigues and the duties of his high office, he still found time to study. His official duties alone were enough to take up all his time. Even so, he became a great philosopher, a good historian, and an elegant writer. More surprisingly still, he lived when few knew how to write clearly and elegantly, and fewer still understood true philosophy. Lord Bacon, as so often happens, was more highly regarded after his death than during his lifetime. His enemies were at the British Court, while his admirers were foreigners.

When the Marquis d’Effiat attended in England upon the Princess Henrietta Maria, daughter to Henry IV., whom King Charles I. had married, that Minister went and visited the Lord Bacon, who, being at that time sick in his bed, received him with the curtains shut close. “You resemble the angels,” says the Marquis to him; “we hear those beings spoken of perpetually, and we believe them superior to men, but are never allowed the consolation to see them.”

The Marquis d’Effiat accompanied Princess Henrietta Maria to England. She was the daughter of Henry IV. and had married King Charles I. While in England, the minister visited Lord Bacon. Bacon was ill in bed and received him with the bed curtains tightly closed. “You are like the angels,” the Marquis told him. “We constantly hear those beings spoken of, and we believe they are superior to humans. But we are never allowed the comfort of seeing them.”

You know that this great man was accused of a crime very unbecoming a philosopher: I mean bribery and extortion. You know that he was sentenced by the House of Lords to pay a fine of about four hundred thousand French livres, to lose his peerage and his dignity of Chancellor; but in the present age the English revere his memory to such a degree, that they will scarce allow him to have been guilty. In case you should ask what are my thoughts on this head, I shall answer you in the words which I heard the Lord Bolingbroke use on another occasion. Several gentlemen were speaking, in his company, of the avarice with which the late Duke of Marlborough had been charged, some examples whereof being given, the Lord Bolingbroke was appealed to (who, having been in the opposite party, might perhaps, without the imputation of indecency, have been allowed to clear up that matter): “He was so great a man,” replied his lordship, “that I have forgot his vices.”

You know that this great man was accused of a crime especially unworthy of a philosopher: bribery and extortion. You know that the House of Lords sentenced him to pay a fine of about four hundred thousand French livres. He was also to lose his peerage and his position as Chancellor. But today the English revere his memory so much that they will hardly admit he was guilty. If you ask what I think about this, I will answer with words I heard Lord Bolingbroke use on another occasion. Several gentlemen in his company were discussing the greed of which the late Duke of Marlborough had been accused. After some examples were given, they asked Lord Bolingbroke for his opinion. He had belonged to the opposing party, so perhaps he could have clarified the matter without seeming improper. “He was so great a man,” his lordship replied, “that I have forgotten his vices.”

I shall therefore confine myself to those things which so justly gained Lord Bacon the esteem of all Europe.

So I will focus only on the things that so rightly earned Lord Bacon the respect of all Europe.

The most singular and the best of all his pieces is that which, at this time, is the most useless and the least read, I mean his Novum Scientiarum Organum. This is the scaffold with which the new philosophy was raised; and when the edifice was built, part of it at least, the scaffold was no longer of service.

His most remarkable and best work is now his most useless and least read. I mean his Novum Scientiarum Organum. This work was the scaffolding used to build the new philosophy. Once the building was complete, or at least partly complete, the scaffolding was no longer useful.

The Lord Bacon was not yet acquainted with Nature, but then he knew, and pointed out, the several paths that lead to it. He had despised in his younger years the thing called philosophy in the Universities, and did all that lay in his power to prevent those societies of men instituted to improve human reason from depraving it by their quiddities, their horrors of the vacuum, their substantial forms, and all those impertinent terms which not only ignorance had rendered venerable, but which had been made sacred by their being ridiculously blended with religion.

Lord Bacon did not yet understand Nature, but he knew and pointed out the various paths leading to that understanding. In his youth, he had despised what passed for philosophy in the Universities. He did everything in his power to stop those institutions, founded to improve human reason, from corrupting human reason instead. They did so through their quiddities, their fear of a vacuum, their substantial forms, and all those other pointless terms. Ignorance had made these terms seem worthy of respect. But the terms had also been made sacred by being absurdly mixed with religion.

He is the father of experimental philosophy. It must, indeed, be confessed that very surprising secrets had been found out before his time—the sea-compass, printing, engraving on copper plates, oil-painting, looking-glasses; the art of restoring, in some measure, old men to their sight by spectacles; gunpowder, &c., had been discovered. A new world had been fought for, found, and conquered. Would not one suppose that these sublime discoveries had been made by the greatest philosophers, and in ages much more enlightened than the present? But it was far otherwise; all these great changes happened in the most stupid and barbarous times. Chance only gave birth to most of those inventions; and it is very probable that what is called chance contributed very much to the discovery of America; at least, it has been always thought that Christopher Columbus undertook his voyage merely on the relation of a captain of a ship which a storm had driven as far westward as the Caribbean Islands. Be this as it will, men had sailed round the world, and could destroy cities by an artificial thunder more dreadful than the real one; but, then, they were not acquainted with the circulation of the blood, the weight of the air, the laws of motion, light, the number of our planets, &c. And a man who maintained a thesis on Aristotle’s “Categories,” on the universals a parte rei, or such-like nonsense, was looked upon as a prodigy.

He is the father of experimental philosophy. Admittedly, some very remarkable discoveries had been made before his time. These included the sea compass, printing, copperplate engraving, oil painting, and mirrors. Spectacles had been invented to restore some measure of sight to old men, along with gunpowder and other discoveries. A new world had been sought, found, and conquered. Wouldn't you suppose the greatest philosophers had made these extraordinary discoveries, in ages much more enlightened than our own? But the truth was very different. All these great changes happened in the most ignorant and barbarous times. Chance alone produced most of these inventions. And what we call chance very probably played a large part in the discovery of America. At least, people have always believed that Christopher Columbus undertook his voyage solely on a ship captain's account. A storm had driven the captain's ship as far west as the Caribbean Islands. Whatever the truth, men had sailed around the world. They could destroy cities with artificial thunder more dreadful than real thunder. Yet they knew nothing of the circulation of the blood, the weight of air, or the laws of motion. Nor did they understand light, know the number of our planets, or understand other such matters. Meanwhile, a man who defended a thesis on Aristotle’s “Categories” was considered a marvel. So was anyone who defended a thesis on universals a parte rei, or similar nonsense.

The most astonishing, the most useful inventions, are not those which reflect the greatest honour on the human mind. It is to a mechanical instinct, which is found in many men, and not to true philosophy, that most arts owe their origin.

The most astonishing and useful inventions are not the ones that bring the greatest credit to the human mind. Most practical arts owe their origins to an instinct for making things, common to many people, rather than true philosophy.

The discovery of fire, the art of making bread, of melting and preparing metals, of building houses, and the invention of the shuttle, are infinitely more beneficial to mankind than printing or the sea-compass: and yet these arts were invented by uncultivated, savage men.

People discovered fire and learned to make bread, melt and work metals, build houses, and make weaving shuttles. These advances are infinitely more beneficial to humanity than printing or the compass. Yet these skills were invented by uneducated, uncivilized men.

What a prodigious use the Greeks and Romans made afterwards of mechanics! Nevertheless, they believed that there were crystal heavens, that the stars were small lamps which sometimes fell into the sea, and one of their greatest philosophers, after long researches, found that the stars were so many flints which had been detached from the earth.

What remarkable use the Greeks and Romans later made of mechanics! Yet they believed the heavens were made of crystal. They also believed the stars were little lamps that sometimes fell into the sea. And after years of research, one of their greatest philosophers concluded that the stars were flints broken off the earth.

In a word, no one before the Lord Bacon was acquainted with experimental philosophy, nor with the several physical experiments which have been made since his time. Scarce one of them but is hinted at in his work, and he himself had made several. He made a kind of pneumatic engine, by which he guessed the elasticity of the air. He approached, on all sides as it were, to the discovery of its weight, and had very near attained it, but some time after Torricelli seized upon this truth. In a little time experimental philosophy began to be cultivated on a sudden in most parts of Europe. It was a hidden treasure which the Lord Bacon had some notion of, and which all the philosophers, encouraged by his promises, endeavoured to dig up.

In short, no one before Lord Bacon knew experimental philosophy or the various experiments in physics conducted since his time. His work hints at almost every one of these experiments, and he carried out several himself. He built a kind of air pump, which led him to suspect that air was elastic. He came close, from almost every direction, to discovering that air had weight. He very nearly made the discovery, but some time later Torricelli established this truth. Soon, experimental philosophy suddenly began to flourish across most of Europe. It was a hidden treasure whose existence Lord Bacon had some sense of. Encouraged by his promises, all the philosophers tried to dig up that treasure.

But that which surprised me most was to read in his work, in express terms, the new attraction, the invention of which is ascribed to Sir Isaac Newton.

But what surprised me most was finding the new theory of attraction clearly stated in his work. Sir Isaac Newton is credited with inventing that theory.

We must search, says Lord Bacon, whether there may not be a kind of magnetic power which operates between the earth and heavy bodies, between the moon and the ocean, between the planets, &c. In another place he says either heavy bodies must be carried towards the centre of the earth, or must be reciprocally attracted by it; and in the latter case it is evident that the nearer bodies, in their falling, draw towards the earth, the stronger they will attract one another. We must, says he, make an experiment to see whether the same clock will go faster on the top of a mountain or at the bottom of a mine; whether the strength of the weights decreases on the mountain and increases in the mine. It is probable that the earth has a true attractive power.

Lord Bacon says we must investigate whether some kind of magnetic force acts between the earth and heavy bodies. Such a force may also act between the moon and the ocean, between the planets, and so on. Elsewhere, he says heavy bodies must either be carried toward the earth’s center or be mutually attracted to the earth. In the latter case, clearly, the closer falling bodies come to the earth, the more strongly they attract one another. We must, he says, test whether the same clock runs faster on a mountaintop or at the bottom of a mine. We must see whether the force of the weights decreases on the mountain and increases in the mine. The earth probably has a genuine power of attraction.

This forerunner in philosophy was also an elegant writer, an historian, and a wit.

This pioneer in philosophy was also an elegant writer, a historian, and a witty thinker.

His moral essays are greatly esteemed, but they were drawn up in the view of instructing rather than of pleasing; and, as they are not a satire upon mankind, like Rochefoucauld’s “Maxims,” nor written upon a sceptical plan, like Montaigne’s “Essays,” they are not so much read as those two ingenious authors.

His moral essays are highly regarded, but they were written to instruct rather than to please. They do not satirize humanity, like Rochefoucauld’s “Maxims,” or take a skeptical approach, like Montaigne’s “Essays.” For these reasons, his essays are less widely read than the works of those two brilliant authors.

His History of Henry VII. was looked upon as a masterpiece, but how is it possible that some persons can presume to compare so little a work with the history of our illustrious Thuanus?

His History of Henry VII was considered a masterpiece. But how can some people dare compare such a small work with the history by our distinguished Thuanus?

Speaking about the famous impostor Perkin, son to a converted Jew, who assumed boldly the name and title of Richard IV., King of England, at the instigation of the Duchess of Burgundy, and who disputed the crown with Henry VII., the Lord Bacon writes as follows:—

The famous impostor Perkin was the son of a converted Jew. At the urging of the Duchess of Burgundy, he boldly took the name and title of Richard IV., King of England. He challenged Henry VII. for the crown. Lord Bacon writes about Perkin as follows:

“At this time the King began again to be haunted with sprites, by the magic and curious arts of the Lady Margaret, who raised up the ghost of Richard, Duke of York, second son to King Edward IV., to walk and vex the King.

“At this time, the King began to be haunted by spirits again through Lady Margaret’s magic and occult arts. She summoned the ghost of Richard, Duke of York, the second son of King Edward IV. The ghost was to walk the earth and torment the King.

“After such time as she (Margaret of Burgundy) thought he (Perkin Warbeck) was perfect in his lesson, she began to cast with herself from what coast this blazing star should first appear, and at what time it must be upon the horizon of Ireland; for there had the like meteor strong influence before.”

“Once she (Margaret of Burgundy) thought he (Perkin Warbeck) had learned his lesson perfectly, she began making plans. She considered which coast this blazing star should first appear from, and when it should reach Ireland’s horizon. For a similar meteor had exerted a powerful influence in Ireland before.”

Methinks our sagacious Thuanus does not give in to such fustian, which formerly was looked upon as sublime, but in this age is justly called nonsense.

I think our wise Thuanus avoids such pompous language. Once considered sublime, such language is now rightly called nonsense.