In order to form even an approximative notion respecting the nature and importance of the immense revolution produced in science by the writings of Bacon, it is indispensable to have some general idea of the state of science when he wrote. Vague, general, and superficial eulogiums have done real injury to the fame of this great man; for they have propagated very false notions respecting the nature of the revolution he effected, and respecting the means by which that revolution was brought about. Among other vulgar errors of this nature, one of the most dangerous is that which consists in considering Bacon as a discoverer, and attributing to him the invention of analysis. This is degrading a great man to the level of a quack. "Bacon's philosophy," as D'Alembert profoundly says, 66 was too wise to astonish ;" and as to the inductive method of discovering truth, that is as old as Aristotle, or rather as old as human reason itself. State of in the sixteenth cen tury. The simple account of the great Baconian innovation will be substantially as follows. The Aristotelian method had reigned in all the schools and uni- philosophy versities of Europe from the period of the revival of letters in the fourteenth century; nay, it may be considered as having existed during the whole period of the dark ages; and thus to have continued in action, with various degrees, it is true, of cultivation and extension, uninterruptedly from the time of Aristotle himself. The acute and disputatious spirit of the ancient Greeks, so ingenious, so inquisitive, so paradoxical, was calculated to abuse the opportunity for idle and fruitless speculation afforded by the general tone of the Aristotelian logic; and this word-catching and quibbling-in short, this habit of arguing to abstract conclusions on insufficient premises-was not likely to diminish among the schools of Alexandria and Byzantium. The perverted ingenuity of the Lower Empire was still further sharpened by the part which the Orientals now began to play in philosophy. The wildest fantasies and irregularities of Eastern subtlety were thus added to the Greek passion for paradox and sophistry, and it was in this state, debased with these admixtures, that the schools of the middle ages received the philosophy of the Stagyrite. Now the monastic spirit was characterised by all the various peculiarities together. It was as dreamy and fantastical as the Oriental genius, as subtle and disputative as the Greek, and as sophistical in its tone as the Alexandrian speculations: and to all these sources of corruption was added another, more dangerous than any we have mentioned, in the circumstance of the Aristotelian philosophy being made part of the ecclesiastical system-that is to say, the alliance between the theology of Rome and the philosophy of the Lycæum. Orthodoxy having once taken under her fatal protection a particular system of philosophy, the consequences were equally injurious to the one and the other; for the Church of Rome was thus not only compelled to recognise by her adherence, and protect by her authority, the most false conclusions of the sophical system, but deprived herself (through her assumption of infallibility) of the power of ever renouncing any conclusion, however absurd, which she had once sanctioned. On the other hand, the philosophical system, thus unnaturally connected with religious orthodoxy, became at once timid and extravagant, appealing not to sense and reason for the support of its deductions, but to tradition and authority, and maintaining its supremacy, not by arguments, but by persecution and violence, by the sword, the dungeon, and the stake. There are few episodes in the great drama of past ages more wonderful, and at the same time more melancholy, than the spectacle afforded by the intense mental activity of the middle ages. What laborious and powerful intellects were there, wasting their energies on the vainest of empty speculations! Incessantly they argued and concluded-but their arguments proved nothing, and their conclusions were but idle phrases: "They found no end, in wandering mazes lost." We are not, however, to suppose that, at a period of such profound and universal agitation as that which preceded the Reformation, the Aristotelian philosophy, though defended by all the thunders of orthodoxy, could pass unquestioned, and meet with universal adhesion. No; there were bold spirits who dared to question the soundness of its principles, and examine their reasonableness on grounds of common sense. The great dispute between the Nominalists and Realists, by accustoming men to hear the boldest speculations upon abstract subjects, prepared the way for the ultimate overthrow of the system which had so long reigned triumphant over the mind. Luther, in attacking the Romish Church, most undoubtedly struck a heavy though indirect blow against the system of philosophy supported by that Church; and in the enormous outburst of activity which characterises that wonderful epoch many speculators had revolted against the tyranny exercised on human thought under the usurped and much-abused name of Aristotle. In the sciences particularly, there were many great men, who, 'falling upon evil days and evil tongues," have come down to posterity as mountebanks, as visionaries, or as impostors, but who, had they lived at a more auspicious time, would probably command our veneration as lights of science and benefactors to their kind :-Cornelius Agrippa, Paracelsus, Roger Bacon, Giordano Bruno, Cardan, and Campanella. 66 A vain reliance on the supposed adequate power of human ratiocination kept the philosophers of the Middle Ages reasoning incessantly in a circle, or diverting their attention from the only rational object in philosophy; that is, as the very word implies, "a love for, or search after, truth." They knew not, or they despised, the immense practical and physical benefits which might flow from a well-directed inquiry into the laws of nature; and it was reserved for the intellect of an Englishman-" divini ingenii vir, Franciscus Bacon de Verulamio," as he is styled by Leibnitz-to show that science is only valuable in proportion as it is practical and productive. The principal defect of the Aristotelian method was the habit which it encouraged of generalising too rapidly upon insufficient grounds: that is, of applying some principle or law of nature to phenomena of similar, but not identical, conditions. In short, its essential vice was a neglect of the great rule which teaches us to observe with particular care the points of resemblance and dissimilitude existing between individual phenomena, or classes of phenomena. The knowledge possessed by the ancients with respect to the true properties of bodies and the nature of physical operations was vague and limited enough; though we cannot be surprised at this imperfection of knowledge at a period when the mechanical aids to observation were in so primitive a state. For want of instruments they transferred to pure reason those duties which can only be effectually performed by accurate observation and patient experiment. These remarks will perhaps appear to possess more weight when we reflect that in those sciences independent of experiment, and whose deductions are to be arrived at by the sole exercise of the ratiocinative faculty unaided by practical trials, the intellect of the ancient world had advanced so far that modern ages have made little or no additions to the mass of human knowledge. In geometry, for example, a science which investigates abstract properties of space, and which consequently is independent of experiment, modern times have hardly, if at all, extended the frontiers beyond the limits reached by the schools of Alexandria. But we have hitherto spoken of the ancient philosophy in its pure and normal state; we must not forget the corruptions to which it was in its very nature exposed, and under which it ultimately succumbed. The grand and sublime speculations of Aristotle, exhibiting, as we have seen, a noble but misplaced confidence in the omnipotence of human reason, degenerated in the Middle Ages, and under the influences which we have essayed to indicate, into a mere spirit of empty subtlety and ingenious trifling; a system at once of timid servility to precedent and prescription, and rash and illogical generalization it was still "Uncertain and unsettled, Deep versed in books, and shallow in itself, And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge, As children gathering pebbles on the shore." The old philosophy, which in its youth and vigour had never been fruitful, gradually fell into dotage as its age advanced, and its latest period of existence was characterized by the same weakness which accompanies in man extreme old age-a senile and senseless garrulity, a perpetual recurrence of the same worn-out topics, and a stiff and obstinate assertion of its own infallibility :— "Everlasting dictates crowd her tongue, Perversely grave, or positively wrong." Bacon has most profoundly and acutely compared old systems to children: "quippe qui," he says, "ad garriendum prompti sint, generare non possint." Our great philosopher was the first to perceive clearly the two predominant vices of the older method-its sterility and its stationary character; and he was the first to discover a remedy for these defects. His own system is characterized above all its other merits by the qualities of utility and capability of progressive development. It is, in short, eminently and essentially practical; the great reformer rightly considering that utility is the only measure of excellence in any science. He never pretended to be a discoverer, and as invariably disclaimed that title, rendering ample justice to the merits of the great men who had devoted themselves to science, and expressing his conviction that the unproductive state of science was not to be attributed to any want of intellect in the philosophers who had preceded him, but simply and solely to a radical defect in their method. "Francis Bacon thought in this manner: The knowledge whereof the world is possessed, especially that of nature, extendeth not to magnitude and certainty of works." This is the key to Bacon's whole system, and this must excite our gratitude for the eminently practical character of his mind. It is this circumstance which has given value and vitality to what he has produced. How fortunate is it for the destinies of science that Bacon was a man of active life, occupied during his whole existence with. real interests! it was thus that he, not only saw, with the clear and steady eye of common sense, the exact state of the disease which it was his aim to cure, but was enabled to avoid pedantry and vain speculations in the administering of the remedy. "There is not anything in being or action," to use his own comprehensive words, "which could not be drawn and collected into contemplation and doctrine." It now remains to examine the means which he adopted to bring about this immense revolution in the empire of human |