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FRANCIS BACON
: OF VERULAM.,
, ey «
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eTRISF las . Eo 3
FRANCES BACON
OF VERULAM.
REALISTIC PHILOSOPHY AND ITS AGE.
BY
KUNO FISCHER.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY
JOHN OXENFORD.
** Veritas Temporis filia.’’ Nov, Ora. I. 84.
LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, & ROBERTS.
1857.
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE,
My chief object in translating Dr. Fischer’s excellent work on Bacon and the realistic phi- losophy, was to lay before English readers a brief but complete digest of two books, which, all- | important as they are in the history of science, are most assuredly commended much oftener than they are read. Whatever veneration may be paid in England to the treatise “De Augmentis Sci- entiarum” and to the ‘“ Novum Organum,” few indeed are the students who would elaborate for themselves so perfect a summary of the doctrines contained in those celebrated productions as is presented by Dr. Fischer within the space of a few brief chapters. Whether his estimate of the English philosopher merits approval or not, the value of the descriptive part of his book
A3
vl TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE.
remains indubitable. To heighten this value, and to bring Bacon more immediately before the reader than he is in the original German, I have given extracts in the margin, where Dr. Fischer has only given references; and wherever it has been possible, I have introduced the Baconian words into the text.
In performing the work of translation, I have endeavoured, as much as possible, to make my version readable. Dr. Fischer does not, it is true, indulge in those technicalities which have been introduced into the German language by the suc- cessors of Kant; indeed, with the exception of a few Kantisms, generally explained by the context, his book is free from technicalities altogether. Nevertheless, the German language, indepen- dently of the influence of philosophical schools, contains expressions which cannot be verbally rendered without producing a result totally unin- telligible to any one but a German scholar. I have, therefore, endeavoured to render sentence for sentence rather than word for word, certain
that I should thus render a greater service to the
TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. Vil
generality of readers than by encumbering the text with a number of strange compounds, utterly at variance with the genius of the English language. Some readers, perhaps, will think I might have gone farther in this respect, and adopted more familiar expressions than (for instance) “ realistic” and “naturalistic.” To these I reply, that the abolition of all apparently pedantic expressions would produce ambiguity. To ordinary ears, “real philosophy ”’ would sound as the antithesis to sham philosophy, rather than to any form of idealism.
Where Dr. Fischer’s marginal references have obviously been made for a German public only, I have taken the liberty to omit them, and in some cases, where I thought further elucidation neces- sary, I have added a note, signed with my own initials. "With the same view, I have inserted two
appendices,
J. O.
London: September, 1857.
A4
“ i panels:
bss
2a
AUTHOR’S PREFACE.
Tue theatre of modern philosophy is a field of battle, wherein two opposite and hostile ten- dencies— Realism and Idealism—contend with each other in asserting claims to truth. These tendencies are not merely systems, but hinds of philosophy that in no age but a modern one could become so conscious of their mutual differ- ence, or so definitely and clearly express it. If we were to compare scientific with dramatic op- position, the realists and idealists would be the two adverse choruses in the drama of modern philosophy. The opposite parties will not be silent until their union is effected, until the modes of thought, now strained against each other, be- come so interpenetrated, that both are saturated alike. For each lives only in the weaknesses and defects of its adversary. The boundaries between them will be passed when they are clearly under- stood; that is to say, when each party recognises the strength of its adversary, and appropriates it to
x AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
itself. Many attempts to produce this result have been made during the first period of our philo- sophy. If we accurately consider the matter, we shall find that realism and idealism, from the time of their modern origin, have described not parallel but convergent paths, which, at the same time, have met at one common point. This point at which the idealistic and realistic ten- dencies crossed, as at a common vertex, was the Kantian philosophy, which has taken account of them both and united them in their elements. In this, as indeed in every respect, it has set up a standard, which must serve as a polar star to all subsequent philosophy. If, at the present day, we are asked, how we shall follow the right track in philosophy, we must answer, by a most ac- curate study of Kant. Since his time there has not been a philosopher of importance, who has not desired to be at once a realist and an idealist. If the name had been sufficient, the gre.‘ and all-pervading problem that occupies the mind of modern philosophy would have already been solved more than once. All these self- called ideal-reai. -ic, or real-idealistic, attempts do not, indeed, prove that they have solved the problem, but they prove that it is recognised and admitted. It is sufficient for us to establish the fact that the problem exists, and, without opposi- tion worthy of note, is everywhere regarded as all-
AUTHOR'S PREFACE. xi important.* Nevertheless the contest continues, and the idealistic systems of the Germans, however realistic they would appear, have always found realism arrayed against them. The two tenden- cies are again divergent, and the divergency is not to be got rid of by any new name or formula.
German idealism would have been much bene- fited if it had made itself thoroughly acquainted with its adversary, and learned to appropriate the strength of that adversary to itself, in order to shun the more securely the accompanying defects. Our German idealists have no right to treat the English empirical philosophers with so much su- perciliousness ; and with a few words to consign them to the contempt of their disciples, as mere “unspeculative ” intellects, more especially as Leibnitz by no means thought it beneath him to honour Locke with a close examination, but by his “Nouveaux Essais sur ’Entendement Humain,” did greater service to German philosophy than alt the philosophical writings that appeared amos us prior to Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason.” His example has not been followed. If German philosophy is looked upon in Engiand and France as German dreaming, we oug't not to repay one wrong with another, but are bound to deprive the
»
* “ Giiltig,” literally “valid ;” but the word would hardly be forcible enough in this place. —J. O.
xil AUTHOR’S PREFACE.
reproach of its force, by showing that, without dreaming and without prejudice, we recognise foreign philosophers, and appreciate them to the extent of their deserts, especially as in matters of science every act of injustice betokens ignorance. Francis Bacon is still regarded by his country- men as the greatest philosopher of England; and in this opinion they are perfectly right. He is the founder of that philosophy which is called the — realistic, which exercised so powerful an influence _ upon even Leibnitz and Kant, to which Kant especially was indebted for the last impulses to his epoch-making works, and to which France
paid homage in the eighteenth century. Now this very philosopher, of the first rank among the realists, is not only still without that acknow- ledgment in Germany, which is his due, but he has never even been treated of by any German in a thorough and satisfactory manner. In our histories and compendia of modern philosophy, Bacon plays either no part at all, or at best but a very insignificant and subordinate part, as one among others who made his appearance during the strange transition from medieval to modern philosophy. Some rank him with the natural philosophers of Italy, with whom Bacon, if we regard the principal point, has scarcely more in common than the expression “natural philoso-
3)
pher;” and from whom he is distinguished not
AUTHOR’S PREFACE. xii
only by his mode of thought, which is entirely different, but also by his relation to antiquity, which in this case offers a fitting standard. Others express his relation to modern philosophy by placing him by the side of the German mystic, Jacob Béhme, with whom he has nothing in common but the first letter of his name. Ina word, most of the opinions respecting Bacon, which are uttered among the Germans, especially those most prominent, are as superficial as they are unsatisfactory and incorrect. If this had not been the case I should have had some reasons the less for writing this book, in which I endeavour to do justice to the importance of Bacon.
It may be objected that the points of contact between the German and English philosophy— between Idealism and Realism—are less to be found in Bacon himself, than in some of his suc- cessors ; that it was not Bacon, but Hume, who influenced Kant, not Bacon, but Locke, who in- fluenced Leibnitz; that Spinoza, if he was affected by the English at all, was influenced not by Bacon but by Hobbes; and (as is well known) invariably spoke of Bacon in terms of contempt. To this I shall answer that it was Bacon who was opposed by Descartes, the acknowledged founder of dogmatical idealism. As for those realists, who have come into contact with the op- posite philosophy, as represented by Spinoza,
+)
XIV AUTHOR’S PREFACE,
Leibnitz, and Kant, this work is intended to prove that the Hobbes, Lockes and Humes, are all descendants from Bacon ; that in him they all took root, and that without him they cannot be truly explained and accounted for, but merely be un- derstood in a fragmentary and cursory manner. _ Bacon con is the < creator of the realistic philosophy, the period of which is throughout a . development of Baconian genius, so that every one of its forma-
tions is a metamorphosis of the Baconian philo-
sophy. To this day yealism has had on its side who | en ae the true realistic ey ex- ulting in all its fulness of life, so broadly and at the same time so characteristically ; so circum- spectly, and at the same time under such an ideal aspect, and so high in its aspirations; no one in whom the lhmits of this mind are so definitely and naturally exhibited. Bacon’s phi- losophy is the liveliest est_ expression of realism, and
After the systems of a ‘Spincaa and a Lailnita had long influenced me, filled my thoughts, and, as it were, absorbed me into themselves, the occupa- tion with the works of Bacon seemed to me like a new life, the fruits of which I collected in this volume. If I resign myself to the impression which is made by the Baconian philosophy as a whole, and which ever enlists the imagination on
AUTHOR’S PREFACE. XV
its side, I feel that there is something in it that in a most peculiar, and at the same time natural manner, distinguishes it from other works of European philosophy. In its orderly and vi- gorous fulness of life, that excludes all artificial regularity, this philosophy, like an English park, is totally free from all formal trimming ; or, to ex- press myself more cogently, it has, like the mighty island that gives it birth, nothing inland about it. I.can easily understand that Bacon is re- garded as the national English philosopher par excellence.
Bacon stands in the same relation to Realism as that in which Descartes stands to dogmatic Idealism, Leibnitz to German “ enlightenment,” Kant to modern philosophy. He opens the path which others pursue, by following his traces. Hence I have treated him as much in detail, the others as concisely as possible, having adopted a similar plan in another work with respect to Leibnitz and the German philosophers of the eighteenth century. The scientific importance which I attach to Bacon, and the limits set by the plan of my work, may justify this mode of treatment. My purpose was to exhibit the Baconian philosophy, : and from this basis to deduce the theories of the philosophers who suc- ceeded him. If the English philosophy is depen- dent on B: Bacon, and the French philosophy of the eighteenth century dependent upon that, I could
~-s
Pet
XVi AUTHORS PREFACE.
do no more with respect to the latter, than desig- nate the philosophical position which it occupies, especially as it is my design in another mono- graphy to review more closely the group of these French philosophers.
While this book constitutes an independent work in itself, distinct from my general work on the history of modern philosophy, I will own that it is so far related to it that the subject treated there is not treated here. This is in accordance with the object of the book; for Bacon and his successors, although they form a necessary supple- ment to modern philosophy, and are not without influence on the idealistic branch of it, neverthe- less, have a separate and independent direction of their own, which does not decline towards the op- posite side. For the fact that both tendencies meet in Kant, is a result of the power of attraction that was exercised upon Kant by realism. :
The relation of Bacon to antiquity, and that of his philosophy to Kant, were the first points of my subject to which I directed my glance, and which I made clear to myself. In the explana- tion of these points consisted my first attempts at the present work. This proved of practical im- portance to myself, as it was in a public lecture on the relation of Bacon to the ancients, that for the first time, after a lapse of seven years, I once
AUTHOR’S PREFACE, . XvVil
more discoursed from an academical chair. The philosophical faculty of Berlin, to whom I am in- debted for that memorable honour, will allow me, in remembrance of it, to dedicate to them this
book with silent gratitude.
Kuno FIiscuer.
Heidelberg : 27th January, 1856.
+ &»
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Bacon of Verulam as a Moral and Scientific Character
CHAP. II.
Invention as the Problem of the Baconian Philosophy x I. The Baconian Point of View.— Discovery and Invention : . ;
II. The Dominion of Man pens Hominis) III. The Interpretation of Nature (Interpretatio Na- ture) . , ° , . .
CHAP. III.
Experience as the Means of Invention 7> I. The Idols * II. The Baconian euctichenn. ei ere and Deseletes a III, The Experimentalising Perception _1, Conviction opposed to Authority "2. Real opposed to Verbal Knowledge “3 Natural Analogy opposed to Human Analogy 4. Experiment opposed to the Delusion of the Senses. —Sense and Instrument . - 5. Efficient opposed to Final Causes .
PAGE
XxX
CONTENTS.
CHAP. IV.
~ True Induction as the Method of Experience
I, The Comparison of several Instances Il. The Import of Negative Instances. —
Experience
Critical
Il. Induction and imedaction in ye Bacohien
Prerogative Instances as Aids to Induction. — Natural
Science
CHAP. ‘VY.
Analogies as Prerogative Instances
L The Defects of the Baconian Method
II. The Prerogative Instances . Til. Natural Analogies
CHAP. VI.
The Philosophy of Bacon in its Relation to the Philosophy preceding it : I. The Practical ene Beenie and secpiciant
II. The Physical Foundation :
III. The Antiformal Tendency . :
> 1. Bacon’s Antagonism to Aristotle .
\
Syllogism ‘ Experience Syllogism and eperionee
2, Bacon’s Opposition and Affinity to Plato.— His Opinion of Plato and Aristotle
The Platonic Idealism . The Platonic Method .
3. The Affinity of Bacon to Democritus aa
the Atomists
PAGE 96 97
101
112
116 119 121 125
140 143 146 156 152 154 157 161
163 166 169
172
CONTENTS.
\ CHAP. VIL The Baconian Philosophy in its Relation to Poetry : I. The Baconian Poetics . °
II. The Baconian Interpretation of the ‘Kelas Myths.—The Fable of Eros . III. Greek and Roman EL Hadon and
Shakspeare . ° é . CHAP. VIII. “ The Baconian Philosophy as the “ Instauratio Magna” of Science. — Organon and Encyclopedia . , ° CHAP. IX.
The Baconian nee as an Encyclopedia of the Sciences . ° ° ‘ ‘ ° History ‘ : ° ° ‘ . Science ‘ ‘ I, Fundamental Philosophy. Bay eee i , Il. Natural Theology : ; é ; III. Natural Philosophy , : . 1, Theoretical Natural Philosophy ‘ . Physics . . , ‘ . Metaphysics . ‘ . 2. Practical Natural Philosophy : . 3. Mathematics ‘ é ° IV. Anthropology . : R ° :
| 1. Physiology . : . ‘
2. Psychology . , ‘
Vv 3. Logic ° é . , ‘ $4. Ethics J 5. Politics . . é ; ‘
PAGE 181 182 191
200
214
XxXil CONTENTS.
CHAP. X.
PAGE The Baconian Philosophy in its Relation to Religion . 290 I. The Separation between Reason and the Faith
in Revelation. — Bacon and Tertullian eS) Il. Bacon’s Position with regard to Religion. — Contradiction and Solution . : . 298 1. The Theoretical View : : . 3802 2. The Practical View : : - O07 3. The Political View. ° é eg Bt 4. The Negative View ° : - 16 + 5. Bacon’s own Religious Sentiments . . 320
III. Diversity of Opinion respecting the Religious Views of Bacon. —Bacon and De Maistre . 324
CHAP. XI.
The Baconian Principle of Faith in its Development . 84)
J. Bacon and Bayle é : . 347 Il. The Anglo-Gallic “ Bnlightenmeut aes ae ay! Ill. The German “ Enlightenment ” : . 364 \ CHAP. XIL The Baconian Philosophy considered in its Relation to History and the Present Ps Ye I. Bacon’s Unhistorical Mode of Thought . . 374
II. Bacon and Macaulay. . ; oe
CONTENTS. CHAP. XIIL*«
The Progress of the Baconian Philosophy . - ‘ Empiria and Empirism : ; ° ‘ Empirism . ° ,
The Degrees of Development j in Empitien ‘ ° % I. The Atomism of Hobbes ‘ . 1. The State as an absolute Power
2. Morality and Religion as a Product of the
State 3. The State as a Dene of wide II. The Sensualism of Locke : A 1. The Mind as a Tabula Rasa ; - 2. The Origin of Knowledge . : °
8. Knowledge as a Product of Perception. — Sensation and Reflection . Iil. The French “Enlightenment” . IV. The so-called Idealism of Berkeley 1. Things as Perceptions 2. Perceptions as Things 3. The Deity is the Originator or our Pa ceptions . / ° ° V. The Scepticism of Wine. 1. The Objects of Knowledge . 2. Mathematics and Experience ° 8. Experience as a Product of Causality ; 4, Causality as a Product of Experience.—
Custom and Faith ; 5. Custom as a Political Point of View VI. Hume’s Contradiction, and Kant’s Solution ° VIL. Bacon and Kant . A Pn ‘ . .. APPENDICES. Appendix A. (Referred to at p. 87) ‘ x °
Appendix B. (Referred to at p. 125) . “ ‘
XxX1l1
PAGE 406 408 411 414 416 418
420 425 435 437 440
442 451 454 456 460
463 468 469 470 473
476 483 494 497
503 505
FRANCIS BACON
OF VERULAM.
CHAPTER I.
BACON OF VERULAM AS A MORAL AND SCIENTIFIC CHARACTER,
THE great intellectual achievements of a man are never so utterly distinct and separable from his life that he can be one person in his worldly career, and entirely another in the emanations of his mind. There is always a certain corre- spondence between the moral and the scientific character, and a mistake has been made when the character of Bacon has been excepted from the law of such an analogy. On the other hand, this law would be very wrongly applied if we attributed certain moral blemishes and delin- quencies affecting the life of Bacon to his scientific B
2 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
tendency, or from this tendency explained his moral course. Such a relation would be more than analogy, it would be a relation of cause and effect. Of such an immediate influence of the scientific upon the moral character, we can only speak with great caution, inasmuch as the moral character precedes the scientific in order of time, and human characters generally do not form themselves before the mirror of science. Nevertheless, there is between the two modes of expressing the mental individuality a natural homogeneity, which does not consist in the one following the other, but proceeds from this: that the genius of the man directs both to the same ends; for the genius of a great individual remains the same in all its utterances. Leibnitz, with his per- sonal character, could never have become a phi- losopher like Spinoza, nor Bacon like Descartes. The scientific direction pursued by Bacon fully corresponded to the peculiarity of his nature, to his wants and inclinations; and this direction was ereatly favoured by his moral disposition. Indeed, without such a cooperation of the mental powers, no great intellectual achievement is possible.
It is wrong to blame or pity Bacon because, being a scientific character of the first rank, he was at the same time too ambitious to prefer the repose of a scientific life to the charms of high
SCIENTIFIC AMBITION. 3
and influential office. Bacon himself, in his old age, has lamented this as a misfortune, but not as a weakness. The misfortune was his destiny, and likewise the destiny of his science. Not only he, but his science also, was too ambitious, too practical*, too much open to the world, to bury itself in seclusion. To advance the power of man is, On one occasion, called by Bacon himself the highest degree of ambition.f And this ambition belonged to his science; this effort was its first and last thought ; on account of this very ambition Bacon became a scientific character. His science was of a kind that could not endure a life of quiet retirement; it would rather float along the stream of the world than remain in a state of tranquil and secluded contemplation. «A \ talent is cultivated in seclusion, —a character — in the stream of the world.”{ To adopt these - words of Géthe, the home of Baconian science was the school, not of talent, but of character, — that is to say, it was worldly life on a grand scale. To this his philosophy and all his efforts were inclined. He decided early in life that a
* “ Thatenlustig,” literally “delighting in action.”—J. O. t Compare Nov. Org. i. 129.; also vide Chap. IIL. of this work, t “ Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Sich ein Character in dem Strom der Welt.”
4 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
science secluded from the world must be narrow and sterile, and that the wretched phght from | which he wished to rescue philosophy was partly to be explained by the life of retirement usually | adopted by learned men. He judged that the knowledge of these persons was as narrow as their cells, as the convents and cloisters in which they were secluded, mm ignorance of the world, nature, and their own times. So diametrically—both from inclination and on principle —was the scientific mind of Bacon opposed to the condition of learn- ing that had continued down to his own time, that he necessarily felt an impulse to alter even its outward form of existence, and to exchange the life of the cloister for the life of the world. The student of the cell was transformed into a man of the world, who, both in science and in practical life, aimed at the same lofty goal of influential power. Doubtless his practical career demanded a heavy expenditure of time and labour; and thus there was so much less to bestow on scientific labour. But are we, on that account, to wish that Bacon had devoted his whole life, or the greater portion of it, to secluded science? This would be neither more nor less than wishing that Bacon had been endowed with another sort of scientific mind; that he had been another philo- sopher than he actually was; —this would be over-
APPARENT CONTRADICTIONS. 5
looking the peculiar character of Baconian science. If we take this peculiar character into consi- deration, we find there is no contradiction implied in the fact that Bacon at the same time directed his energies both to science and to the acquisition of office. Even in the name of his science he could require the scholar to learn practical life from his own experience,—not merely theo- retically, as by a bird’s-eye view, but by actual participation. This, indeed, was what Bacon desired. In a scientific spirit he reproached the learned for their ordinary deficiency in a virtue of the understanding that could only be acquired in practical life,— namely, a knowledge of business and political prudence.*
However, the manner in which Bacon displayed himself as a political character,— his own especial acts in this capacity seem diametrically opposed to his scientific greatness. This opposition has often been pointed out and lamented. Bacon has even been set up as an example to show how widely distinct from each other are the scientific
* De Dign. et Augm. Scientiarum, lib. viii. cap. 2, (near the beginning). —“ Doctrinam de Negotiis pro rei momento tractavit adhuec nemo, cum magna tam litterarum quam litteratorum ex- istimationis jactura. Ab hac enim radice pullulet illud malum, quod notam eruditis inussit; nimirum, eruditionem et pru- dentiam civilem rard admodum conjungi.”
B 3
6 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and moral tendencies of a man—to how high a degree of internal contradiction the variance between these two characters can be brought. Mr. Macaulay, especially, has of late pushed this contradiction to such an extreme point that it seems insoluble, and the character of Bacon appears inexplicable. Macaulay pleads against Montagu on the subject of Bacon’s moral worth ; and it is well so to compare the two biographers (of whom the second is the panegyrist), that one may serve as a corrective to the other. For our own part, we shall neither defend nor attack Bacon’s character, but simply explain it, and hence we look here for that intrinsic harmony which belongs to every important character. Taking everything into consideration, we must confess that the contradiction between Bacon the philosopher and Bacon the political character does not appear to us so violent as it is represented by Macaulay. Neither was the one (to use the expression of Macaulay, who infelicitously cites a Baconian figure of speech),— neither was the one a “soaring angel,” nor the other a “ creeping snake.” Neither on the one side is there pure light, nor on the other is there mere shade, but on both sides is a compound of both. Of all the images that could be selected, none could be more unhappy than one which suggests a com-
THE **CREEPING SNAKE.” 7
parison between Bacon’s philosophy and a winged angel. On the contrary, it was Bacon’s express and repeatedly avowed intention to make philo- sophy leave off her habit of flying; to pluck off her wings, and to put leaden weights in their place ; to hold her firmly down upon the ground, among earthly things, where Bacon himself lived, with all his inclinations. Bacon wished to transform philosophy, from a roving spirit that looks down- wards from above, into a human being, that cautiously ascends by the toilsome road of expe- rience. When Bacon, as a political character, takes the same road, and stumbles so often on this steep, rugged, intricate path of life, he does not, therefore, become a creeping snake. If every- thing that crept was necessarily a snake, it would be bad indeed; and I verily believe that whoever, under similar circumstances, pursues the same course as Bacon, will often find himself in such a strait that he will be compelled to creep. I well know the objections that will be made here. The blemishes of Bacon’s life are not mere human errors and weaknesses, but debased sentiments and political crimes. This I do not pretend to deny ; much less would I defend delinquencies which are proved beyond the possibility of doubt. The un- worthy sentiments are open to view; the crimes are acknowledged by Bacon himself; they have B 4
8 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
sullied his public name, and if they are designated in the hardest terms, I offer no objection ; only to me these single traits are not all the indices of his character. As far as I see, the character would have been precisely the same if the unworthy sentiments had not been so obviously manifest; if the crimes had not been committed. I could well imagine that with greater prudence Bacon might have avoided either the crimes themselves, or the whole weight of responsibility attached to them; but in that case I should not think a whit the better of him, or a whit the worse. He would then have been a more cunning, but not a better man. Indeed, a thorough-paced scoundrel, an accomplished plotter, would never have fallen into such open guilt. A human character should indeed be judged by its actions; but then the whole of these should be taken into the account. We should consider not only how a man deports himself in isolated cases, under the combined influence of all sorts of circum- stances, but how his moral elements are blended with each other. That which, in the natural dis- position of a character, is a mere weakness, may easily, through the force of circumstances, give rise to a bad action, or even a crime. By this the mode of action is certainly not improved, but neither does the element of the character become worse. When bad actions are equally base in their
POLITICAL AMBITION. 9
outward appearance, the psychological connoisseur of the human may still detect an important dif- ference in the fundamental character of the de- linquents. If we pay no regard to the mixture of moral elements, we form a one-sided, abstract, and therefore incorrect judgment on the subject of character.
Let the experiment be made with Bacon. Had he not been entangled in the affairs of Essex and Buckingham, we should have known none of those traits, on the strength of which Macaulay opposes the baseness of his moral personality to his scientific greatness, and Macaulay would have passed a more favourable judgment. But he would not have been right in so doing; for Bacon’s moral nature would still have been the same. We do not say this to excuse or defend, but simply to explain his character, which remains inexplicable if the apparent con- tradiction be admitted. What attached Bacon to Essex and Buckingham ?—not friendship, not ‘sympathy, but motives of self-interest. They were men of the most powerful influence; the former was the favourite of Elizabeth, the latter of James I. To rise in the offices of the state, Bacon desired and sought court favour; and this could not be obtained and preserved without such mediators. If he would become a man of
10 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
consequence, and accelerate his career, the favour of others was unfortunately a. more effective expedient than his own intrinsic talent. Now, ought Bacon to have avoided a practical career altogether? He was forced to pursue it by his inclinations, by his temperament, by the force of circumstances. At first he had to contend with the greatest obstacles; even his nearest rela- tives, the powerful Burleighs, threw impedi- ments in his way, and long held him down in a dependent position. If Bacon would not give up his practical aims, and vanish into a life of seclusion, repugnant to his nature, he must seek for assistance,—totally distinct from his own talents,—in the influence, protection, and patronage of others, and these he could not secure without courtly pliability,—without becoming a serviceable tool in the hands of the powerful.
Here Bacon entered upon that hazardous and slippery path, which, though it brought him to the highest posts of honour, led him also into a multitude of perplexities and embarrassments, and at last caused his precipitate fall from the summit of prosperity to the depth of destruction. It was a hard and steep road that Bacon had to travel, as he rose from the poor barrister to the Keeper of the Seals and Lord Chancellor of
MORAL LAXITY,. Il
England ; from the unwearied suppliant to Baron Verulam and Viscount St. Alban. Nor did he find any difficulty in accommodating himself to the windings of the path, and in sacrificing so much of his moral independence as circumstances required. Nature had not formed him of stub- born material. He was easy and pliant to the highest degree,—made on purpose to guide himself by the course of circumstances, of which he took a very clear view. The temporibus servire cor- responded to his natural temperament, and to the tone of his philosophy, of which the fun- damental principle was to follow the times by a mode of thought really conformable to the times. Altogether, Bacon did not regard life with the conviction that it was a problem of eternal import, to be solved according to a moral rule, but rather as a game that could only be won by quickly-devised and judicious tactics. There are characters who affect to be easy, pliable, and subservient to the will of others, that they have the greater chance of becoming the reverse of all this; who apparently allow themselves to be governed, that their own rule may be rendered the more secure, and like the cunning pope seek the keys of power with stoop- ing heads. Among these hypocritical and really arbitrary characters Bacon is not to be enume-
12 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rated. His ambition was of a yielding kind, and his natural honesty came often into collision with his political shrewdness. To-day, in conformity with his own convictions, he delivered a patriotic speech in Parliament against the subsidies*, and having thus offended the queen he did all he could to appease her wrath. He repented that he had made the speech; and we may be fully convinced that he felt- unfeigned sorrow on account of an impolitic act that was so much in the way of his plans. On another occasion he toiled to save the man who had been his benefactor; but when he saw that the queen’s good graces were at stake, he allowed his friend to fall, having only sought his favour because he had been the favourite of the queen. He always stooped as soon as he saw that he might knock his head by keeping it upright. ‘This spectacle of so great a mind in such a wavering and undignified condition is far from edifying; but even here we may find a trait that accompanies Bacon’s character through all his wanderings, that belongs to his peculiarities, and has its foundation in his inmost nature ;—I mean an extraordinary facility in helping himself, under
* The speech referred to was made by Bacon in 1593 (1592 ? J. O.), as representative of Middlesex.— Author's note.
ELASTICITY OF CHARACTER. 13
any circumstances, in passing over the difficulties of a route, and hurrying on as if nothing of any moment had occurred, as if no mark of evil were left in his track. In him every unpleasant sensa- tion was easily smoothed down, every loss, even moral loss,—nay, even that last of losses, the loss of a good name, was easily compensated. His life and his writings make upon us the same impression, that this man could find nothing difficult either to endure or to execute. In such a mind, even this facility is a species of strength, a proof of indestructible energy and vital power; a natural elasticity, which indeed appears like a weakness, whenever it encounters opposition. David Hume was right when he missed in Bacon that firmness of character which we ‘call the moral power of resistance. We know of no philosopher more elastic than Bacon. He possessed to the highest degree the power and the impulse to expand himself beyond all bounds, but the power of resistance he lacked ; he yielded to a pressure, and allowed himself to be driven into a corner by the overwhelming force of circumstances. He could augment and diminish, with the same natural facility, without being affected, either in his higher or his lower posi- tion, by an excessive sensibility, which in the one case would have stimulated his pride, in the
aS
14 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
other would have too painfully depressed him. Hence it was that the man, who excelled all
. others in intellectual power, and imprinted a - new form of mind upon his age, at the same time
presented a soft material capable of receiving the impression from any hand that happened to be powerful. This elastic power constitutes, as it were, the type of his individuality, in which all his politics, his virtues as well as his foibles, harmonise with each other. Here we can perceive that his character is consistent with itself. From this point we explain the peculiar turns of his life, his vicissitudes, even his extremest aberrations.
It is perfectly evident to us that such an intellec- tual power, fitted as it was to strive towards a great end, and at the same time to penetrate into minutia, could not fail to produce extraordinary results in the region of science; that it was especially made to awaken a new life in this region, and that, above all, it corresponded to Bacon’s own scientific tendency, namely, the progression from parti- culars to general laws. If we imagine the same power placed in the midst of social intercourse, we find that this rich, versatile mind, affable to every person, accessible to every form of life, con- tains within itself all the talents that constitute the agreeable companion. Bacon possessed by nature
INTRINSIC HARMONY. 15
all those qualities which have a right to shine in society; he united the weighty with the light, not by deliberate art, but by dint of natural grace. His command over words was perfect, both in public orations and in private converse. According to the testimony of Ben Jonson, Bacon was an orator whom one never grew weary of hearing. But this very power, which in science and in social life finds so brilliant and lofty an expression, acquires quite another aspect when its acts are of a moral kind; the moral element is for such a form of individuality the most uncon- genial and the most dangerous. There is zo elastic morality ; and Bacon’s moral nature was as elastic, as facile, as completely directed towards practical ends, and as compliant with circumstances, as his intellect. It quite accorded with the key-note of his individuality. Here is the perceptible har- mony of his character, which has often escaped notice, or (as in the case of Mr. Macaulay) has been missed altogether. We see in Bacon’s moral character, as compared with his intellect, not a distinct being, but only the shadow of his indi- viduality, which grew larger as its substance increased in power and importance. Elastic morality is lax. Moral virtue demands, above everything, a firm, tough, obstinate power of resistance, for it consists in a victorious struggle
16 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
with the allurements and temptations of life. If this power of resistance has its fulcrum in the natural disposition of the individual, it is a talent. Now this moral talent was wanting in Bacon’s nature; and the virtue that corresponds to it was therefore wanting in his life. All the moral blemishes that disfigure his life have their real foundation in this absence of virtue; in this natural want of resisting power; in that mental facility which gave such extraordinary animation to his scientific, and so grievously crippled his moral energies. Bacon’s life has always appeared to me the strongest proof of the correctness of Leibnitz’s definition, according to which evil is the absence of good, and vice therefore is a moral weakness. Bacon was not vicious by nature. His moral disposition was the reverse of diabolical. It was in the highest degree facile, and therefore frail; through all the windings of his life it became no worse than it was by nature ;—1it was easily corrupt- ible. Indeed, when we see the general cor- ruption by which such a character was surrounded, we can scarcely wonder that it fell into sad perplexities and aberrations. There was no melancholy element in his disposition to render him more sensitive to the pressure of life; he could bear his lot easily; and even from that terrible blow that gave a mortal wound
COOLNESS OF TEMPERAMENT. 17
to his honour, he recovered with astounding rapidity, and thenceforward, in voluntary seclu- sion, devoted all his powers to science. His feelings corresponded to his temperament. He had none of those violent and deep emotions that excite the soul, and carry it forcibly along; never did love or hatred wholly overpower him; his love was a cool inclination, his hatred a cool dislike. No mark of friendship or devotion could move him to give his whole heart; and, on the other hand, he was just as little roused by enmity. It was easy for him to abandon and even to persecute a fallen friend, for the sake of gaining the royal favour, or to contract a marriage, which offered no charm but wealth. Violent passions were as alien from his heart as the fallacies, which he termed “ idols,” were alien from his intellect. His was not a cold, but a cool nature, whose likes and dislikes kept themselves within the limits of equanimity. Thus, without love or devotion, he could be benevolent, affable, and forgiving; and, without hatred or malice, he could act as an enemy. To do him justice, we must say, regarding him from both sides, that his friendship was indeed without fidelity, but that, on the other hand, his enmity was without bitterness; that he took up and wielded both with equal facility; and that Cc
18 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the very characteristic of his mind which ap- peared like infidelity and ingratitude where a friend was concerned, looked like magnanimity and clemency where an enemy was the party in question. He could be ungrateful to his bene- factors, but he could not be vindictive to his foes. He had none of those passions that belong to the genus of love, but he was equally free from the opposite emotions of hatred. Instances might be cited where Bacon acted without feeling, but it cannot be proved that he was ever prompted by envy. He could as easily close his heart to the ingratitude, as he could open it to acknowledge the merit of others. So right was Spinoza, when he called envy the converse of sympathy. If there were a thermometer to measure the intrinsic force of human passions, we should find, in the case of Bacon, that the degree of warmth belonging to his heart stood very close to zero. His practical ends were to him of more value than the dictates of his own feelings. When both were in harmony, we might be certain to find in Bacon one of the most amiable of men; but the least collision would at once destroy the equilibrium of his natural benevolence. If he were compelled to make a choice between the practical objects of his life and the promptings of his heart,— between his interest and his friend,
INFIDELITY TO ESSEX. 19
—we may be perfectly sure that Bacon would always have given the preference to the former. He attempted, indeed, to effect a reconciliation between them, and would have been much pleased if his experiment had succeeded; but as soon as it had failed, and Bacon saw the impossibility of success, he made up his mind to sacrifice his friend, and this sacrifice was made with small compunction.
We thus have a thorough explanation of the saddest episode of Bacon’s life,—of the part which he played as counsel for the Crown against the Earl of Essex. Here was the hardest collision into which his interests could be brought. It was a collision not between duty and inclination, but between selfishness and friendship. Essex had loved him with passionate affection, and had loaded him with a multitude of favours, which he had repaid with as much devotion as was com- patible with his passionless temperament. What he loved in Essex was not so much the friend as the powerful favourite, who was of service to him. The favourite fell, and Bacon’s friendship was put to a test that it could not stand. It failed in a manner that unhappily was as much in accord- ance with Bacon’s character as it is repulsive to our feelings, notwithstanding its consistency with
our explanation of his moral disposition. He c 2
20 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
really made every effort to save Essex without danger to himself. The attempt failed; the pas- sionate and unlawful acts which the reckless Essex allowed himself to commit made this abso- lutely impossible. Bacon was forced to make a choice between him and the queen. He made such a choice as was consonant to his nature. It was the queen’s will that he should himself support the prosecution and publicly defend the execution of Essex after it had taken place. He did support the prosecution, he did write the defence; in both cases plainly showing that he did not act in accordance with his feelings, but had still only one motive, that of pleasing the queen. When she desired him to defend, by a written statement, the execution that had taken place, Bacon expressed his gratification that Her Majesty had “ taken a liking of his pen.” When under the government of James I. the friends of Essex regained their influence, Bacon did every- thing to obliterate the memory of this proceeding. He heartily congratulated the Earl of South- ampton on his liberation from the confinement to which friendship for Essex and participation in his fortunes had brought him; and the written avowal of Bacon on this occasion was very cha- racteristic and very true. He assured the Earl that the change of the throne had wrought in
SUBSERVIENCE TO BUCKINGHAM. 21
him no other change than this, “that he could be safely that to him now which he had ¢éruly been before.” In these few lines Bacon has de- | picted himself with the most naive candour.
We see how much this moral character was subject to external influences, how fitted it was to conform itself to every change of circum- stance. This moral pliability is not far removed from venality, which, indeed, it becomes as soon as motives are derived not from the conscience, but from the force of external relations: Devoid of rigid conscientiousness, and also devoid of those strong passions which rule the mind after a fashion of their own, such characters constantly succumb to the corrupting influences from with- out. On these alone does it depend what form the venality will take, and to what a degree it will mount. And the circumstances amid which Bacon lived as a powerful and likewise complaisant tool caused his natural venality to take the grossest form of bribery, and to be heightened to actual crime. There was nothing in his moral disposition that he could oppose to such pernicious agencies. He subjected himself and his high position as Lord Keeper of the Great Seal of England to the power and in- fluence of a courtier. Because Buckingham
exercised the strongest influence over the king, © 3
22 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
so was his influence irresistible to Bacon. It was impossible to renounce the support of the influential courtier, and as little could Bacon guide the inconsiderate man by his own superior views. He therefore yielded to him, and became an accomplice in the wrongful acts by which Buckingham enriched himself, allowing him to grant patents for hard cash and sell monopolies, which did manifest injury to the country. What was still worse, he tolerated the interference of the royal favourite in his own judicial acts, and the decisions which he subscribed often emanated from Buckingham. Bacon knew well enough that corruption of the legal tribunals is one of the worst evils that can befal a state; nevertheless he allowed the Crown and its officers to interfere in suits, and to secure the favour of the judges for itself or its clients; he actually did that which, with his own correct views, he never should have permitted ; he allowed himself to be bribed, and sold his decisions. By these illegal means he is said to have gained a rich booty; his enemies estimated his spoils at 100,000 pounds. This rapacity did not arise from grovelling avarice, but from a reckless love of magnificence. Bacon, as far as his own person was concerned, was moderate and abstemious;. but he liked to keep up a magnificent establishment and make a bril-
TASTE FOR LUXURY. 23
liant figure in society. Luxury offered fas- cinations which he could not resist; his rash expenditure exceeded his means, and thus he loaded himself with a weight of debt which he could only lighten by means of unlawful and unjustifiable gains. Here Bacon and his fortunes appear in a truly pitiful light, namely, with the stamp of mere vulgar recklessness upon them. To a life in which luxury, debt, and dishonesty, always logically enough connected, appear in inti- mate union, we attach, according to the laws of analogy and experience, a character that has nothing in common with greatness and independ- ence of mind. Nor did the pecuniary difficulties of Bacon begin with the lustre of his official posi- tion. It appears that he always had a taste for immoderate luxury. At any rate, we know that before the episode with Essex, a goldsmith caused him to be arrested in the street for debt.
The fate of Bacon came upon him as the Ne- mesis of some hero of antiquity. It allowed him to rise to the highest pinnacle of felicity, that it might thence strike him down with rapid and ter- rific blows. In a few moments the proud edifice of his fortune, the edifice which he had carefully constructed with the toil of years, lay before him a disgraceful ruin.
Under James I. he had, by the favour of that c4
24 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
monarch, mounted the highest steps of the state ladder. Knighted on James’s accession to the throne, Bacon became, in 1604, King’s Counsel with a salary, in 1607 Solicitor-General, in 1613 Attorney-General, in 1616 (through the influence of Buckingham) Counsellor of State, in 1617 Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and in 1618 Lord High Chancellor of England.* While in London he led a brilliant life at York House. His vaca- tions he devoted to a Tusculan leisure at Gor- hambury, where he occupied himself with literary Jabours and gardening. Here he kept up a scientific intercourse with several persons, in- cluding Thomas Hobbes, whose vocation it was further to carry out the Baconian philosophy, and whom Mr. Macaulay terms the most “ vigorous and acute of human intellects.” When on the summit of his political career he was further elevated, with great ceremony on the part of the Court, to the dignities of Baron of Verulam and Viscount St. Alban. He held the highest state office in England; and the publication of his chef-@auvre, the “ Novum Organum,” in 1620, stamped him as the first philosophical writer of Europe. This was the moment when Bacon
* The above dates are from the note to Dr. Rawley’s life, in Mr. Spedding’s edition. Dr. Fischer’s dates are not quite the same.
CHARGE OF CORRUPTION. 25
stood upon the culminating point of power and felicity, and was justly respected and admired by the whole world.
Three days after his investment with the title of Viscount St. Alban had taken place with all solemnity, a new parliament assembled. The public grievances were discussed,— the selfish and mischievous grants of monopolies and patents, and above all the abuses in the law-courts. The House of Commons elected a Committee to investigate these abuses. On the 15th of March, 1621, the president of the Committee* reported that the person against whom the charges were brought was no less a person than the Lord Chancellor himself, “a man,” he added, “so endued with all parts of nature and art, as that I will say no more of him, being not able to say enough.” The prosecution was carried on; the cases of bribery became more and more numerous; the articles of the charge were twenty-three in number. A copy of them was sent to Bacon that he might defend himself; and at last, all evasion being impossible, he sent to the House of Lords a written answer, which opened thus :— ‘“ Upon advised consideration of the charge, descending into my own conscience, and calling my memory
* Sir Robert Phillips. —J. O.
26 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
to account so far as I am able, I do plainly and ingenuously confess that I am guilty of cor- ruption, and do renounce all defence, and put myself upon the grace and mercy of your lord- ships.” Overwhelmed with shame, the unhappy man shut himself up in his room, and when a deputation of the lords waited upon him, he be- sought them “to be merciful to a broken reed.” His confession of guilt was dictated not so much by contrition as by policy, for the king, who could not save him, advised him to declare him- self guilty. He was sentenced to imprisonment during the king’s pleasure, to a fine of 40,0002, with the additional punishment that he was to ‘be for ever incapable of any office, place, or employment in the state or commonwealth ; and never sit in parliament, nor come within the verge of the court.”* The sentence was more severe than the judges, who felt both admiration and pity for-the offender, and indeed it was only carried into execution so far as form required. After an imprisonment of no more than two days he was liberated by the king, the other penalties were also remitted, and he might even have re- sumed his seat in the House of Lords in the next session of parliament. However, he did not again
* In the original this addition is briefly expressed by the words: “ Biirgerlicher Tod.”— J. O.
LIFE AND SCIENCE. 27
make his appearance in public life, but passed the remainder of his days in solitary devotion to science among the woods of Gorhambury.
If we now compare Bacon’s moral disposition with his scientific character, we shall find between the two not a puzzling contradiction, but, on the contrary, a natural analogy; only the very pe- culiarities that were injurious and perilous with respect to his practical life were advantageous to his scientific pursuits. As the elements of science and life are distinct from each other, the expres- sions of the scientific and the moral character must be likewise different, even where they both agree in their common source. To certain tempta- tions the mind that seeks after truth is never ex- posed. Certain rewards are beyond the power of science to bestow, and for such rewards the scien- tific character cannot think of acting. It is easy to understand that an excessively practical intellect, a mind that thirsts after power and distinction, will become selfish in the affairs of worldly life, and that such a mind, if endowed largely with pliability, scantily with power of resistance, will not shun crooked paths in order to attain its end, and will at last purchase worldly gain at any amount of moral loss. But put such a mind, with the intellectual force belonging to it, on the path of science; here also it will exhibit the same
28 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
traits of character that generally determine the form of its individuality, but without the dross with which it becomes sullied in the impure ele- ment of worldly life. The element of science is in itself pure. In science there are no such vices as selfishness and venality. To transplant a cha- racter from the moral into the scientific element, we must leave out all that will not admit of this operation,— every merely moral phenomenon. Such a phenomenon, in the case of Bacon, is the selfish and feeble character of his will. How could this peculiarity find a scientific expression ? What aliment could it derive from science? Mr. Macaulay says correctly enough:—* In his library all his rare powers were under the guidance of an honest ambition, of an enlarged philanthropy, of a sincere love of truth. There no temptation drew him away from the right course. Thomas Aquinas could pay no fees; Duns Scotus could confer no peerages. The Master of the Sentences had no rich reversions in his gift.” If we set aside the difference of the elements in which Bacon’s sci- entific and moral character move, the conformity between them strikes us at once. Even science itself is embraced by Bacon in a sense that in- dubitably expresses his whole moral peculiarity. The harmony is obvious. ‘To prove the assertion of an original philosopher of our own country,
PRACTICAL VIEW OF SCIENCE. 29
that it is the will that produces the understand- ing*, I would cite Bacon as an example. His science harmonises altogether with the key-note of his individuality and his will. He directs it, as he directs his life, to practical ends; would bring it into a new and fruitful combination with worldly life, from which it has hitherto been se- parated. All his philosophical plans are designed to enrich science; to render it mighty, respected, influential, generally useful. It is to be a power among men,—a beneficent power, and therefore universally reverenced. But science can only enrich itself with knowledge; can only become powerful when this knowledge is useful, prac- tical, efficacious. Let us, then, imagine the idea of Bacon’s life transplanted into the region of sci- ence: to what could it direct its efforts but to the acquisition of a vast store of useful and potent knowledge? How can this treasure be acquired but by a dexterous intellect, with an eye to real life, and an aptitude for worldly experience? In- stead of the riches which he seeks, Bacon finds in the science that exists its very opposite; the deep- est poverty, scanty knowledge, and that empty and unserviceable, while, to complete the gene- ral wretchedness, there is an infatuated belief
* Arthur Schopenhauer must be the philosopher here in- / tended.— J. O.
30 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
that all this is marvellous wealth. If Bacon, therefore, is to carry out his own will in science, no other course is left, but to deprive the science that already exists of its idle conceit, and, since it cannot become richer than it is, to erect a new profitable science in its place. Thus arises in his mind the idea of a scientific Instauratio Magna. ‘To enrich science he must reform it, open new sources to it, thoroughly change the mode of thought to which it has hitherto been accustomed. The tree of knowledge, which Bacon found, had ceased to bear fruit; nothing but dry leaves could be shaken from its branches, and with this occupation, as Bacon saw, the learned by profession employed themselves to their own infinite satisfaction. Bacon had made himself acquainted with scholastic learning, and to the question, as to what he had found in the books of the schools, he replied with the answer of Hamlet to Polonius : —“ Words — words— words.” This dead, antiquated word- learning was, if he could carry out his intent, to be suc- ceeded by a new, fruitful science, springing up with youthful life.
From the character of Bacon we may infer in
'what sense, and in what sense only, he could
reform science. Open to the world, greedy for honour and distinction, full of interest for pub-
&
COOLNESS OF TEMPERAMENT. 31
lic life, as he himself was, he wished to make sci- | ence think practically, to direct her understanding | to realities alone, at the same time rendering this understanding so calm and subtle that it could contemplate things without prejudice, and investi- — gate them properly. For this purpose science — required a guiding method. Such a method Bacon laid down. It required a number of expedients to overcome the difficulties of the un- wonted route. Bacon discovered these expedients with his own peculiar adroitness; he gave his theory the movable, pliable form that could en- tirely accommodate itself to circumstances, al- ways discover the assailable side, find the proper handle for every case. This scientific tendency and the genius of Bacon were completely made for each other. I say again: the science, which Bacon proposed to himself, was highly favoured by his moral constitution. With respect to the pas- sions he was in a position of natural and therefore happy neutrality. His mind, never misled, never dazzled, never abandoned to the sway of ex- clusive affections, never chained to objects of the heart, could, with all the deeper interest and with all the greater clearness, direct itself to a com- prehensive whole. His cool heart supported his penetrating intellect. The science that Bacon contemplated required above everything a sober,
32 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
cold intellect, to which the coolness of his affec- ‘tions was highly favourable. In science he would only allow the anatomical analysis of things; the operation of the understanding, that armed with an instrument palpably enters into the interior of / asubject.* On this account he necessarily smo- | thered all feelings connected with the tastes or the affections. It may be remarked, by the way, that Bacon even desired vivisection for the in- terests of science.
In a word, Bacon’s character was as practical, as cool, as supple as the science which he desired and E prescribed for his age. All those personal pecu- " liarities which cast so many shadows upon his
life appear as so many bright places in his science, for which he was exactly fitted, not only by his head, but by his heart. A man’s merit must never be judged without his brains, nor the brains without the man. The lines which in Bacon mark the direction of his practical life and his science are not divergent, but parallel. The same man who, being at first a poor barrister, could make himself a powerful Lord Chancellor, also made
* The German word is “ object,” but this is one of the cases in which that word is best rendered in English by “subject,” to which it generally stands in direct contradiction.—J. O.
HOSTILITY TO SCHOLASTICISM. aa
at first, a disciple of the Aristotelian philosophy as taught by the schoolmen. In the spheres both of politics and of science his aspiring genius was early manifested. When in 1577*, a boy of six- teen, he quitted the University of Cambridge, he already felt disgusted with the scholastic philo- sophy. We do not mean to maintain that he then saw his way plainly before him, and had clearly apprehended his plans of reform. A paper which might have furnished information on the subject is, unfortunately, lost. The later writings with which we are acquainted show that Bacon, at least to outward appearance, used great caution in abandoning the scholastic philosophy. In his “ Cogitata et Visat,” which was the first sketch of his “ Novum Organum,” Bacon ap- peared, for the first time, as the open and decided adversary of the scholastic philosophy, while the spirit that appears in the first sketch of his second great work, “De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientia-
* According to Mr. Spedding, Bacon left Cambridge 1575,.— J. O.
+ Published in 1612. The work “ De Sapientia Veterum ” appeared in the same year. The chronology of Bacon’s works is sometimes uncertain, and is so in this case. We take Lord Campbell for our guide—Author’s note. [The “ Cogitata et Visa” was sent to Bodley in 1607, as can be proved by a letter of Bodley’s now extant —J. O.]
D
34 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rum,”* although foreign to the system of the schools, is not so unequivocally hostile. Even this trait is truly Baconian. He approached his goal step by step, looking far, and expressing himself cautiously. The part that Bacon in- tended to play in science, and the strong feeling he entertained of his own scientific power long before he boldly expressed his views, may be gathered from one of his letters to his uncle, Lord Burleigh, who probably, from selfish mo- tives, did not assist him in his political career. He writes in the year 1591: “I confess that I have as vast contemplative ends as I have moderate civil ends, for I have taken all knowledge to be my providence (province ?); and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivo- lous disputations, confutations, and verbosities ; the other, with blind experiments and auricular traditions and impostures, hath committed so many spoils; I hope I should bring in industrious ob- servations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries, the best state of that
* The first outline of this work bears the title, “ The Two Books of Francis Bacon of the Proficience and Advancement of Learning, Divine and Human,” and was published in 1605. The Latin translation, in which the work was considerably enlarged, appeared in nine books, under the title given in the text, in the year 1623.— Author’s note.
PROGRESS IN LIFE AND SCIENCE. 35
providence (province ?).” What Bacon always desired in science is here expressed in a few words. His plans were as sober and practical as was possible in the region of science. But what thinker to this day can escape the imputation of being a dreamer? In such a light did Bacon, who wished to awaken science from her long dream, appear to the Burleighs; in such a light they represented him to Queen Elizabeth. Bacon’s political career exactly corresponded to his progress in science. His efforts in both were directed to great ends; in both he started with far-seeing projects, and achieved brilliant results. During a tour in France, whither, after leaving Cambridge, he accompanied the English ambassador*, he wrote, at the early age of nine- teen, a treatise on the state of Europe (“ De Statu Europe”). In 1580f the death of his father called him back; and soon afterwards he drew up his first philosophical sketch, which has not been preserved, and which bears the pompous title, “Temporis partum Maximum.” By his “ Essays,” published in 1597, he became one of the most widely read and popular authors in England. In the reign of James I. he rose in
* Sir Amyas Paulet.—J. O. + According to Mr. Spedding, in February, 1578-9.
D 2
36 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
philosophical importance as he rose in office. The sketch of his “ Novum Organum,” entitled ‘ Co-
’ appeared in the year when he
gitata et Visa,’ was made Attorney-General, and the “ Novum Organum ” itself crowned his philosophical career at the very moment when his political career had ended with the dignity of Chancellor.
If Bacon had a passion which sincerely and powerfully occupied his mind, it was the passion for science alone. Science was the only friend to whom he remained true; she accompanied him through his restless and busy life, and to her did the ever-active man return in the hours of his leisure. The thirst for science was his greatest ambition ; this alone he could never satisfy ; and its gratification constituted the real purpose and the purest felicity of his life. This passion con- soled and elevated the fallen man in his misfortunes after all his other ambitious efforts were hope- lessly thwarted, and it remained faithful to him till death. Science was Bacon’s last destiny, and even death bore witness to her fidelity. He died on the morning of Easter Sunday (April 9th) 1626, in consequence of a physical experiment * ;
* Thinking that flesh might possibly be preserved as well in snow as in salt, he alighted from his coach at the bottom of Highgate Hill, while snow was lying on the ground, and buying
SCIENCE HIS LAST DESTINY. 37
and one of the first sentences which, with his dying hand, he wrote to a friend, was this: “'The experiment succeeded excellently well.”
a hen at the house of a poor woman, made the experiment on the spot. The snow chilled him, and not being able to return to Gray’s Inn, where he then resided, he was taken to the Earl of Arundel’s house, where he was put into a damp bed. The letter cited above was addressed to Lord Arundel, at whose house he died.—J. O,
38
CHAP. 3i,
INVENTION AS THE PROBLEM OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY.
We hasten to protest against an error respect- ing the Baconian philosophy that is widely diffused, and has taken deep root in Germany especially. The judgment formed of Bacon by the majority is to this effect, that he was a very fertile and suggestive, but by no means a consistent* thinker ; that the constitution of his philosophy is deficient in rigidly scientific connection and in logical se- quence of its different parts, and that, perhaps, this deficiency arises from internal causes. If by consistency they mean systematic form, they are quite right in denying it to the Baconian philosophy. There are philosophies that neither can nor are intended to be systems; and the Baconian is one of them. But system and econ- sistency are by no means identical. The syste- matic course of ideas is confined within narrow
* “Kein consequenter Denker.” The word “consistent” is too strong to be an equivalent for “consequent,” but its exact force in this place will, I trust, be apparent from the context. —J. O.
THE TWO MODES OF THOUGHT. 39
limits, and may be compared to a movement in a circular track; the (merely) consistent course, while it admits of logical deduction from its premises, can as well return upon itself, as admit of continuance in an infinite line. And this last is the course designedly taken by the Baconian philosophy ; it purposely avoids the systematic circle; but on the path it has chosen it pursues a logical and well-connected chain of thought. The very fact that this consistency in the Baconian philosophy has been so little under- stood and appreciated, renders it our especial duty to remove all doubts respecting its logical sound- ness. Two faults, that have been commonly committed in forming notions respecting Bacon, have led to the errors against which we are now contending. One fault consists in that hasty knowledge which ever dwells on the surface of the Baconian philosophy, and does not penetrate to its centre. This surface presents, indeed, a motley aspect. The second fault consists in beginning with a wrong point of view when following out Bacon’s course of ideas. Thus con- templated, the sequence certainly looks arbitrary enough. But of what sort is the contemplation ?
Every rigid course of thought is determined by two points, that from which it proceeds, and that to which it tends; the former is the starting-
D 4
40 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
point, the latter is the goal. The question is, which of these two points is first given, first apprehended in the mind; whether the thought first settles its starting-point, and then by a logical progress seeks its goal, or whether it first takes a clear view of its goal, and then con- siders which road it must pursue, and from what point it must set out? Logical thought is possible in both cases; but in the former case the mode of thought is different from that in the latter. There, my first thought is the premiss, and the further course of ideas consists solely of legiti- mate conclusions. Here, my first thought is the goal, and with respect to that my premiss 1s framed. Here I reason thus: this is my goal which stands as something necessary, and to be attained at all events; now such and such are the means which will bring me to that end, and these means themselves form a chain, the first link of which is my starting-point, and in this sense my premiss. Thus I reason from the goal to the starting-point. If my conclusions are rightly drawn, the course of my ideas is unquestionably logical (consequent), but its order and its direction are diametrically opposite to those of the other course of ideas, which from the given starting- point proceeds to the not-given goal. Both modes of thought are legitimate, but they differ
ANALYTICAL MODE OF THOUGHT. 41
both in course and in tendency. Each has it: own point of view, and a method depending upon it. If the thought tends to a principle, its» guiding-point is an aziom*; if it tends to a goal that is to be attained, its guiding-point is a problem. Axioms suggest deductions; problems require solution. In the one case, I ask, what will follow from this principle? In the other, how shall I solve this problem? In both cases logical and methodical thought is required. The first method may be called that of deductions, the
second that of solutions; the former is the synthetic, © =
the latter the analytic method. For every de- duction is a synthesis, every solution is an analysis. | Now I maintain that a mind whose first thought is not a principle, but a problem to be solved, and which begins by proposing to itself a goal that is to be reached, —I maintain, I say, that its natural course of ideas must be followed and represented by us. First, it apprehends the pro- blem,—the goal that hovers before it in the dis- tance, —then the means of solution in a regular sequence down to the first link, which offers the scientific starting-point for the solution itself. Such a mind was the mind of Bacon. Nota
* “ Grundsatz,.” Literally, “ fundamental proposition.” —J. O.
42 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
principle, but a problem constitutes the first thought and guiding-point of his whole philosophy. He first clearly apprehends his goal, then he reflects on the right means for infallibly attaining it. Through the whole course of his ideas he never turns his eyes from this goal, but always keeps it steadily in view. This setting up of goals belonged to the nature of his thought, which was therefore thoroughly analytical in its method. Bacon himself thought as he wished science in general to think; that is to say, he analysed things. His mind was made not to deduce from principles, but to solve problems ; and as Bacon thought, and indeed could alone think, in consequence of the peculiarity of his mind, so will he be regarded and represented by us,—as an analytical thinker. Every other mode of representing him is erroneous. His analytical reasoning is in the highest degree close and con- sistent. To discover in Bacon this character of a logical thinker, we must first suppose the problem with and in his mind, then seek the means of solution; first set up the goal, then discover and smooth the road to it. He is wrongly understood when, as is commonly the case, his thoughts are set forth synthetically, just as though the mode of his thinking resembled that of Descartes or Spinoza. We cannot give a synthe-
SPIRIT OF BACON’S AGE. 43
tical representation of an analytical thinker without perverting his close and logical sequence of ideas into one that is arbitrary and unconnected, and thus greatly diminishing his philosophical worth ; for it is obvious that the analytical reasoning from such and such a proposed end to such and such means of attaining it is perfectly close and legitimate ; while, on the other hand, the synthetical reasoning from the means to the end will always appear loose and doubtful. The end despotically demands the appropriate means; on the other hand, the means can lead to many ends, and why should I infer one in particular? Such an inference would be arbitrary. If we assume that Bacon proposed to himself a problem that he could only solve by experience, and indeed only by one kind of experience, we must concede that he was per- fectly justified in elevating this to a principle. But if, on the other hand, Bacon had set out from experience as a first principle, innumerable roads might have led him from this point to innumerable ends. Why, then, did he choose this one parti- cular road, and this one particular end? Here what has just now appeared a necessary thought becomes a mere arbitrary caprice; and it is asa necessary sequence of thought that the Baconian philosophy is to be comprehended and exhibited. This is impossible, so long as it is synthetically
44 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
treated ; and that which to Bacon himself was an inference or an intermediate proposition is laid down as a fundamental principle. It is useless to repeat over and over again that Bacon set out from experience. We may just as well say that Columbus was a navigator, while the principal point is that he discovered America. Mere navigation was as little the leading thought of Columbus as mere experience was the leading thought of Bacon.
l.
I. Tue BaconrAn Point oF VIEW.
DISCOVERY AND INVENTION.
What is the point of view that commands the Baconian philosophy from the beginning to the end? Bacon found this point of view by com- prehending the problem of his age, and appro- priating it to himself. This age was shaken to its very vitals by those reformatory forces that, had been awakened in the preceding centuries. A revolution had made its appearance, which brought with it a change, both internal and external, in human affairs, and introduced a crisis in civilisation, through which tendencies and aims. were set before man totally different from those which he had previously followed. With his
oy
SPIRIT OF BACON’S AGR. 45
penetrating intellect, Bacon comprehended the altered physiognomy of his age; he sought for the ultimate causes of the change, and wished to make philosophy accord with it. For the new life and its impulses he wished to find a new cor- responding logic. Philosophy professes to be the love of truth. Bacon would suit this truth to the times. “It is the greatest weakness,” he says, **to attribute infinite credit to authors; but to refuse to Time, the author of all authors, and there- fore of all authority, its own prerogative. For
-truth is rightly called the daughter of Time, not
of authority.”* Again: “The opinion which men cherish of antiquity is altogether idle, and scarcely agrees with the term. For the old age and increasing years of the world should in truth be regarded as antiquity, and these are to be attri- buted to our times, not to that younger period of the world, such as it was in the days of the (so-called) ancients. For that period, with respect to ourselves, was ancient and older; with respect to the world itself, modern and younger.”+
* “Summz pusillanimitatis est authoribus infinita tribuere, authori autem authorum atque adeo omnis authoritatis, Tempori, jus suum denegare. Recte enim Veritas Temporis filia dicitur, non Authoritatis.”—Nov. Org. I. Aph. 84.
Tt “De antiquitate autem, opinio quam homines de ipsa fovent negligens omnino est, et vix verbo ipsi congrua. Mundi enim
senium et grandevitas pro antiquitate vere habenda sunt 3 que temporibus nostris tribui debent, non juniori xtati mundi, qualis
—
46 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
The world in course of time has become older, richer, more comprehensive; science should be raised to suit this advanced state of the world. The limits of the material world are extended, and the intellectual world should not remain within its former boundaries. Thus the problem lproposed by Bacon is this:—So to extend the intellectual world (globus intellectualis) that it may be able to comprehend the material world,
/such as the latter has become. “ It would be dis- ‘honourable to man if the regions of the material \ globe, viz. the lands, the seas, and the stars, should
be so immensely revealed in our age, and yet the boundaries of the intellectual world should be confined to the discoveries and straits of the ancients.” * What now were the powers that set this new life | in motion, and put the middle ages “out of joint?” What were the mighty changes that stamped Bacon’s age as new, and fundamentally different from all that had preceded it? The political, sci- entific, and geographical conditions of the world
apud antiquos fuit. Illa enim extas, respectu nostri antiqua et major, respectu mundi ipsius nova et minor fuit.”—Vov. Org. I. A ph. 84.
* « Quin et turpe hominibus foret, si globi materialis tractus, terrarum videlicet, marium, astrorum, nostris temporibus im-
mensum aperti et illustrati sint ; globi autem intellectualis fines |
inter veterum inventa et angustias cohibeantur.”— Ibid.
ii THE AGE OF REFORMS. 47
had one after another experienced a thorough reform. The material and intellectual position of mankind had become quite different since new expedients had removed the ancient limits of war, science, and navigation. The reform in the art of war was based upon the invention of gunpowder ; in science upon the invention of printing; in navigation upon the invention of the compass,
without which the discovery of the new world,
would have been impossible. Discovery, there-|
fore, which was itself dependent upon invention, {,,(»
constituted the civilising impulse of that new
epoch, the spirit of which had penetrated Bacon. |
Here Bacon discovers the secret of his time, its essential difference from antiquity and the middle ages — the goal to which science must henceforth be directed, and which philosophy should alone consider.*
The inventive spirit of man had fashioned the new age. Hitherto this had been kept down, either because it was lightly esteemed, or because the means of liberating it had been wanting —
because there was no intellect to comprehend and -
regulate it. This, then, was the problem appre- hended by Bacon and proposed to his age: — The! subjection of science to the spirit of invention, and the liberation of this spirit from the chance
* Compare “ De Augment. Scient.,” Lib, V., Cap. 2.
PONE aban
pn emtamiatii
—
48 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
by which human inventions had previously been
' governed. He would establish a new logic, corre-
sponding to the spirit of invention, by which man might deliberately and therefore more frequently achieve what he had previously achieved, as it were, by a mere chance, and therefore but seldom; that he might no longer find, but invent.* Exactly thus _ does Bacon formulise the problem_of his philo- sophy ; thus does he define it in his “ Cogitata. et Visa,” the concise programme to his “ Novum Organum.” Chance, which has hitherto been the cause_of inventions, is to be changed into design ; art (ars) is to take the place of luck (casus). “He thought that if many discoveries chance to men not seeking them, but otherwise employed, no one could doubt that if the same men were to seek discoveries, and that not by fits and starts, but by rule and order, many more things would neces- sarily be discovered. For though it may happen once or twice that some one by chance hits upon what has hitherto escaped him, while making every effort in the inquiry, yet without doubt the con- trary will happen in the long run. For chance works rarely, and tardily, and without order; but art constantly, rapidly, and in an orderly manner.
* « Nicht finden, sondern erfinden.” There is an antithesis in the German words which cannot be reproduced in English.
—J. O.
BACON THE PHILOSOPHER OF INVENTION. 49
From those inventions also which have already been brought to light, he thought it might be . most truly conjectured respecting those that are yet hidden. But of these, that some were of such a kind that before they were discovered surmises concerning them would not readily occur to any one’s mind. For men commonly guess at new things by the example of the old, and the fancies they have derived from the latter; which mode of conjecture is most fallacious, since those things that are sought from the fountain-head do not necessarily flow through the accustomed channels. Thus, if some one before the invention of cannon had described it and its effects, and had said that a certain thing had been discovered by means of. which walls and the strongest fortifications might be shaken and battered down from a long dis- tance, men would certainly have formed many and various conjectures as to how the power of missive engines and machines might be multiplied _ by weights, wheels, and the like ; but the notion of a fiery wind would scarcely have occurred to any one, inasmuch as none of them could have seen an example of the sort, except perhaps in an earthquake or thunder-storm, which they would have rejected from consideration, as things not to be imitated. In the same manner, if before the invention of silken thread some one had talked in E
50 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
this fashion, affirming that there was a certain thread useful for dress and furniture, which far surpassed linen and woollen thread in fineness, and at the same time in strength, and also in gloss and softness, men would at once have begun to guess some sort of vegetable silk, or the more delicate hair of some animal, or the feathers and down of birds; whereas if any one had dropped a hint about a worm, he would certainly have been laughed to scorn for dreaming of some new webs of spiders. . . . . So awkward and ill-con- ditioned is the human mind in this case of in- vention, that in some things it is first diffident, and ever afterwards despises itself; so that first it seems incredible that such and such a thing could be invented, but after it has been invented it then seems incredible that it could have escaped the notice of man so long.”*
Herein, then, consists Bacon’s principle, which is not defined with sufficient accuracy when, as is
+ commonly the case, he is called the “ Philosopher
of Experience.” This expression is too vague and broad. Bacon is the philosopher of Invention; at least his only endeavour is philosophically to com- ‘ prehend and fortify the inventive spirit of man. From this point alone is his opposition to anti-
* Cogitata et Visa, towards the end.
THE THREE INVENTIONS. 51
quity and his new philosophy to be explained. This philosophy is as boundless as the region of invention. It is a movable instrument, not a fixed edifice of dogmas. It will not endure the confinement of system, the fetters of the school, the universality and completeness of theory. “Our determination is,” says Bacon, “ to try whether _ we can really lay firmer foundations and extend to a greater distance the limits of human power and dignity. And although, here and there, upon some special points we hold (as we think) more ~ true, more certain, and even more profitable tenets than those hitherto adopted, yet we offer no uni- versal or complete theory.” *
Just as Plato detected, and, we may say, gave
\| a logical expression to the spirit that dwelt in the
poetry and art of the Greeks, so does Bacon direct his glance to the spirit of invention by which those discoveries were made that lie at the foun- dation of his age. The two philosophers bear the same relation to each other, and are as much dis- tinguished from each other as the ages in which
* “Nobis constitutum est, experiri, an revera potentie et am- plitudinis humane firmiora fundamenta jacere ac fines in latius proferre possimus, Atque licet sparsim, et in aliquibus subjectis specialibus, longe veriora habeamus et certiora (ut arbi- tramur), atque etiam magis fructuosa, quam quibus homines adhue utuntur, tamen theoriam nullam universalem, aut inte. gram proponimus,”—Nov. Org. I. 116,
E 2
52 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
they lived. Both direct their thoughts to human art. But the art to which the Greek philosopher | corresponds is the theoretic, self-sufficient art of
& [rarer beauty in form; whereas that which finds its \representative in Bacon is the practical, inven- “tion-seeking art of human utility. Bacon himself declares, at the end of the first book of his « Novum Organum:” “ Let any one consider how . great is the difference between the life of man in the more polished countries of Europe, and that in some wild and barbarous region of the New Indies. He will deem the difference so great, that man may be rightly called a god unto man, not only on account of assistance and benefits, but also by a comparison of moral conditions. And this is the result not of the soil, not of the climate, not of any material body, but of the arts. It is profitable to note the force, effect, and con- sequences of things invented, which are nowhere more manifest than in these three, which were unknown to the ancients, and the beginnings of which, though recent, are obscure and without glory, viz., the art of printing, gunpowder, and the mariner’s compass. For these three have changed the aspect and condition of the whole earth; first, in literature; secondly, in warfare ; thirdly, in navigation. Whence innumerable changes have been derived, so that no empire,
THE THREE INVENTIONS. 53
sect, or star seems to have exercised greater power or influence over human affairs than these mechanical inventions.” *
We need only apprehend the idea of invention | Jf ; with analytical clearness to perceive the peculiar he Sa character of the Baconian philosophy, its object, ola a , its constitution, and its opposition to antiquity.
Its sole object is to effect such a reform and extension of human science that this may turn to invention as its chief end, and to furnish science
with an instrument which is as well fitted to
make inventions, as a thermometer to measur heat. This instrument is the Logic of Inventio (ratio inveniendi), which makes the human under standing think in such a manner that it invent by necessity. Bacon explains inventive thought ; he seeks the method of invention. While he \
exhibits this, he formulises the spirit, and hits the central point of his age, more especially fortifying the peculiar talent and impulse of his own nation. The method of invention is the instrument with which Bacon would equip science, and render it capable of conquering the world. This in- strument is the “* Novum Organum,” which Bacon opposes to the “ Organon” of Aristotle. He bears the same relation to antiquity as his “ Organum”
* “Rursus (si placet) reputet quispiam, quantum intersit,” &e.— Nov, Org. I. 129,
E 3
wn if Pe a
lad
54 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
to that of Aristotle. Bacon analyses invention as Aristotle analyses the form of propositions.
Yl. Tue Dominion or Man.
(REGNUM HOMINIS.)
Invention is the aim of science; but what is the aim of invention? Usefulness to man, which consists in this, that the wants of his life are satisfied, his pleasures multiplied, and his power
_gincreased. In one word, the dominion of man |
over things is the highest and indeed the sole end of science; an end which can only be attained by means of inventions. Science should serve man,—should make him powerful. We cannot be made powerful otherwise than by science, for our power over things is solely based on our knowledge of their nature. Power consists in being able; but ability presupposes knowledge. Man can only act so far as he knows; his capa-. bility reaches only so far as his knowledge; or, as Bacon expresses himself at the commencement of the “ Novum Organum:” “ Human science and human power coincide.” *
Science is, with Bacon, not the sole all-sufficient end in itself, but the means to a further end. This
* “Scientia et potentia humana in idem coincidunt.”—Nov. Org. I. 3.
THE DOMINION OF MAN. 55 re,
Chine absolute end is the reign of man; the means to ios FB attain this end are given by invention; the means h ao vs of invention are furnished by science. Thus, in “| Bacon’s eyes, science is eminently practical ; its f Be measure is human life, its value consists in its © utility to man. The further the utility extends the greater is the invention, and the greater also are the value and power of the science that belongs to it. A science that is not practically useful is, in Bacon’s eyes, worth nothing. To his practical mind there is no self-sufficient theory estranged from life, and, on the other hand, there is nothing in human life that is to be deemed unworthy o investigation, or despised as an object for the understanding. Science no more distinguishes anything as low and vulgar, than the sun over our heads: ‘“ With regard to the meanness or even filthiness of those things, which, as Pliny says, are not to be mentioned without an apology, they must be admitted into Natural History, no less than those which are most magnificent and precious. Nor is Natural History polluted thereby; for the sun equally enters palaces and sewers, nor is he therefore polluted. We neither dedicate nor raise a capitol or pyramid to human pride, but we found a holy temple in the human mind, on the model of the universe. * This model, therefore, we follow. Whatever is worthy of
E 4
56 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
being, is likewise worthy of knowledge, which is the image of being. Now the mean and splendid alike exist.” *
Ill. Tue INTERPRETATION OF NATURE.
(INTERPRETATIO NATURZ.)
}
{ Karewlid’s é
mvceet The reign of man is the aim of invention. But
4
g I . what are its means? What are the conditions ae “ander which alone invention is possible? We te ioe “cannot govern things without knowing them, and this knowledge, which at once renders objects
transparent and subservient to us, can only be
attained by long intercourse,—by intimate ac- quaintance. ‘To understand things we must asso- ciate with them, as with men,—live in the midst of them. “ We must,” says Bacon, “ bring men to particulars themselves, and their series and orders, and men must for awhile prevail upon themselves
* “Quod vero ad rerum vilitatem attinet, vel etiam turpitudi- nem, quibus (ut ait Plinius) honos prefandus est ; ez res, non minus quam lautissimz et pretiosissime, in Historiam Natu- ralem recipiende sunt. Neque propterea polluitur Naturalis Historia ; sol enim szque palatia et cloacas ingreditur, neque tamen polluitur, Nos autem non Capitolium aliquod aut pyra- midem hominum superbiz dedicamus aut condimus, sed templum sanctum ad exemplar mundi in intellectu humano fundamus. Itaque exemplar sequimur. Nam quicquid essentia dignum est, id etiam scientia dignum, que est essentia imago. At vilia eque subsistunt atque lauta.”—Vov. Org. I. 120.
THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 57
to cast aside their (pre-conceived) notions, and to form an acquaintance with the things them- selves.”* This acquaintance or intercourse with things consists in experience. Just as a know- ledge of man is not to be obtained by construction from abstract notions ; so is it with the knowledge of things. Science should be the correct image of the world; this it can only become by an ex- perience of the world, that sojourns amid things and their movements and contemplates them all with a free, unprejudiced interest. In this sense/ Bacon makes experience the beginning of science. Science should invent, and the road to invention is shown by experience. In this sense is Bacon the philosopher of experience. Invention is the | end, and experience gives the means to that end. But mere experience is far from being invention in itself. Men have always had experiences, and have them every day. Why do they not invent in the same proportion? Simply because that is wanting which renders experience in- ventive? And by what means is experience rendered inventive? How must it be so ordered that invention is its involuntary and necessary
* “Restat nobis modus tradendi unus et simplex, ut homines ad ipsa particularia et eorum series et ordines adducamus ; et ut illi rursus imperent sibi ad tempus abnegationem notionum, et cum rebus ipsis consuescere incipiant.”— Nov. Org. I. 36.
58 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
result? Under this definite formula does Bacon conceive his problem. )
Invention is an art which differs from esthetic art in this: that th Seems by means of the imagination uces something beautiful; the ; by means of the understanding, produces something useful. That which serves mankind,
augments his power, subjects to him the power of things, is useful. The dangerous forces of nature are brought under our dominion, and rendered sub- servient to our uses, whether as rulers we employ them, or as victors ward them off. Lightning is a manifestation of natural force that threatens us; the lightning-conductor secures us against the threatened danger. Now to make an inven- tion of this kind,—in fact, to produce anything whatever by means of the understanding,—I must know all the requisite conditions. Every inven- tion is an application_of natural laws; and_to
apply them it is necessary to know them. We must know what are the conditions of warmth to
invent an instrument by which warmth may be produced. We must know the natural laws of lightning to present the conducting point to the destructive spark. And so in every case. Our. power over nature is based upon our knowledge of nature and her operative forces. If I am ignorant of the cause, how can I produce the
KNOWLEDGE AND POWER. &9
effect? “ Knowledge and power,” says Bacon, ** coincide, since the ignorance of the cause frus- trates the effect. Nature can only be conquered by obedience ; and that which stands as the cause in contemplation becomes the rule in practice.” * Thus the right understanding of nature is the means by which experience leads to invention. If science is the foundation of all invention, so is the right understanding of nature, or natural scrence, the foundation of all knowledge. <« Al- though,” says Bacon, “in those very ages .in which the wit of men and literature flourished greatly or even moderately, the smallest part of human labour was bestowed upon Natural Philo- sophy, this very philosophy is nevertheless to be re- garded as the great mother of the sciences.”+ But natural science requires a correct explanation of nature,—a knowledge not only of her phenomena,
* “Scientia et potentia humana in idem coincidunt, quia igno- ratio cause destituit effectum. Natura enim non nisi parendo vincitur ; et quod in contemplatione instar cause est, id in opera- tione instar regule est.”—Nov. Org. I. 3.
t The above is rather a condensation than a translation of the passage (ov. Org. I. 79.) referred to, which is this : — “ At secundo loco se offert causa illa magni certe per omnia momenti: ea videlicet, quod per illas ipsas states, quibus hominum ingenia et liters maxime yel etiam mediocriter floru- erint, Naturalis Philosophia minimam partem humane opers sortita sit. Atque hee ipsa nihilominus pro magna scientiarum matre haberi debet.”—J. O,
60 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
but also of her laws; that is to say, a real inter- pretation. Here is the decisive point at which theory becomes practical, contemplative science becomes operative, knowledge becomes produc- tive, experience becomes inventive. And inven- tion itself forms the transition from the interpre- tation of nature to the dominion of man. Through science experience becomes invention, through invention science becomes human dominion. Our power rests upon our invention, and this upon our knowledge of things. In Bacon’s mind, power and knowledge, the dominion of man, and the scientific interpretation of nature, belong so essentially to each other, that he treats them as synonymous, and connects them with an “or” (sive). His “ Novum Organum” treats “ De Interpretatione Nature sive de Regno Hominis.”
Our power consists in knowledge: in this truly philosophical proposition Bacon and Spinoza are agreed. According to Bacon, knowledge makes us inventive, and therefore powerful. According to Spinoza, knowledge makes us free by destroying the dominion of the passions, and the power of external things over ourselves. Here appears the difference of the directions taken by the two minds. With Spinoza, our power consists in free thought, which remains calmly contemplating the world, and is satisfied _
KNOWLEDGE AND POWER. 61
with that condition. With Bacon, our power consists in inventive thought, which exerts a practical influence over the state of the world, cul- tivating it and modifying it. The aim of Spinoza is attained when things cease to govern us; that of Bacon, when we govern the things. Bacon uses the power of knowledge practically, Spinoza theoretically ; both in the widest sense of the be wat term. Spinoza’s aim is contemplation ; culture A, i , is the aim of Bacon. as
62
CHAP. He
EXPERIENCE AS THE MEANS OF INVENTION.
Tue leading points in the Baconian philosophy stand thus:—Its ultimate purpose is the foun- dation and augmentation of human dominion ; the nearest means to that end are supplied by culture, which converts physical forces into in- struments fitted for man. Now there is no culture without invention, which produces the means of culture; no invention without science, which makes us acquainted with the laws of oe things; no science without natural philosophy ; no natural philosophy without an interpretation of nature that perfects itself according to the standard of experience. From every one of these as so many points of view Bacon may be characterised, for each gives an essential characteristic of his philosophy. He aims at the culture of humanity by a skilful application of natural science; he seeks to attain natural science by a right use of experience. By a correct method he would convert experience into science; by application in the form of invention,
DEVOTION TO THE CAUSE OF SCIENCE. 63
he would convert science into art ; and this he would convert into a practical and general civilisation, designed for the whole race of man. What single name will suffice adequately to denote such a mind? By connecting his points of view in such logical order, Bacon becomes a great thinker. By opening the widest prospects into the realm of science, and into the whole sphere of human civilisation, from these points of view, by indicating goals and setting up problems in every direction, so that his system is nowhere brought to a conclusion and dogmatically hedged
| round, the great thinker becomes an epoch-making
=
thinker. For it is the peculiarity of epoch-making gainds that they are open to the future. Bacon designed no finished system, but a living work, that should be continued in the progress of time. He sowed the seed for a future crop, which was to ripen slowly, and not to attain its perfection till centuries had elapsed. Bacon was well aware of this; he was satisfied to be the sower, and to begin a work which time alone could complete. This feeling with regard to himself was neither more nor less than a correct consciousness of his cause. At the conclusion of his preface to the “ Novum Organum ”* he says thus:— «Of our-
* More cofrectly, the general preface to the “ Instauratia
Magna,”— J, O,
64 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
selves we say nothing; but for the matter which is treated, we desire that men should regard it not as an opinion, but as a work, and should be assured that we are laying the foundation not of any sect or theory, but of that which conduces to the use and dignity of man. Next, we desire that, laying aside their jealousies and prejudices, they may fairly consult their own common advantage, and having been rescued by us from the errors and obstacles of their road and furnished with our defence and assistance, they may themselves par- ticipate in the labours that yet remain. More- over, that they may be strong in hope, and not imagine that our Instauratio is something infinite and beyond the reach of man, when it is really an end and legitimate termination to infinite error, and is so far mindful of the mortal lot of man that it does not hope to accomplish its work within the period of a single life, but leaves this to succeeding times; when, moreover, it does not arrogantly search for science in the narrow cells of human wit, but humbly in the greater world.”* In the
* «De nobis ipsis silemus: de re autem que agitur petimus, ut homines eam non opinionem, sed opus esse cogitent, ac pro certo habeant, non secte nos alicujus aut placiti sed utilitatis et amplitudinis humanz fundamenta moliri. Deinde ut suis com- modis squi, exutis opinionum zelis et prejudiciis, in commune consulant, ac ab erroribus viarum atque impedimentis, nostris presidiis et auxillis, liberati et muniti laborum qui restant et
DEGREES OF HUMAN AMBITION. 65
same spirit is the following passage, which occurs towards the end of the first book of the “ Novum Organum:”— “ It will not be amiss to distinguish three kinds, and, as it were, degrees of human ambition ; first, that of those who desire to enlarge their own power in their country, which is a vulgar and degenerate kind; next, that of those who strive to enlarge the power and dominion of their country among the human race, which is certainly more dignified, but no less covetous. But if one should endeavour to renew and enlarge the power and dominion of the human race itself over the universe, this ambition (if so it may be called) is, beyond a doubt, more sane and noble than the other two. Now the dominion of men over things depends alone on arts and sciences; for nature is only governed by obeying her,”*
ipsi in partem veniant. Preeterea ut bene sperent, neque Instau- rationem nostram, ut quiddam infinitum et ultra mortale fingant et animo concipiant ; quum revera sit infiniti erroris finis et terminus legitimus ; mortalitatis autem et humanitatis non sit immemor ; quum rem non intra unius etatis curriculum omnino perfici posse confidat sed successioni destinet; denique scientias non per arrogantiam in humani ingenii cellulis, sed submisse in mundo majore queerat.”
* “Preeterea, non abs re fuerit, tria hominum ambitionis genera et quasi gradus distinguere. Primum eorum, qui propriam po- tentiam in patria sua amplificare cupiunt ; quod genus vulgare est et degener. Secundum eorum, qui patrie potentiam et imperium inter humanum genus amplificare nituntur ; illud plus certe habet dignitatis, cupiditatis haud minus. Quod si quis
K
tot, | Vitae
vppuded t
—
66 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.,
It is obvious that human culture depends upon experience, and the latter upon natural science in , the sense of an interpretation of nature. The question remains: How does experience become natural science? For at first it is nothing but a perception of single facts, a collecting together of manifold instances, an enumeration of the things perceived, and their properties; and the experi- ence of common minds scarcely ever rises above this ordinary level. By what means, then, does ordinary experience become scientific (and thus, consequently, inventive) experience? By what means does * Natural History ” (thus, with Bacon, we designate the narration of particulars) become Natural Science ?—how does historia naturalis become scientia naturalis? By what means does the description of nature (descriptio nature) be- come the interpretation of nature (interpretatio nature)? To these questions we are brought back by the problem which Bacon negatively proposes in the first book of the ‘* Novum Orga- num,” and positively solves in the second.*
humani generis ipsius potentiam et imperium in rerum univer- sitatem instaurare et amplificare conetur, ea proculdubio ambitio (si modo ita vocanda sit) reliquis et sanior est et augustior. Hominis autem imperium in res, in solis artibus et scientiis ponitur. Nature enim non imperatur, nisi parendo.”— Nov, Urq. I, 329.
* Bacon himself calls the first part of his “ Novum Organum”
THE “IDOLS.” 67
I. Tue Ipots.
Nature is to be interpreted like a book. The best interpretation is that which explains an author out of himself, and imputes to him no other sense than his own. The reader should not force his own sense upon the author, as he will thus render a correct understanding im- possible, and arrive at an imaginary interpretation, which, in truth, is none at all. As the reader who makes his comments is to the book, so should human experience be with regard to nature. Ac- ‘cording to Bacon, science is the edifice of the world in the human mind ; hence he calls it a temple after the example of the world. The understanding should copy nature, and nothing but nature, without idealising her, without abridging her; it should add nothing of itself, neither take away nor overlook anything belong- ing to the object, under the misleading influence of a childish and effeminate disgust at that which is foolishly termed mean or filthy." It should copy nature by imitating her details, and not from
“ Pars destruens.” It is intended to refute adverse views, and to cleanse the human mind, like a threshing-floor, that this may be rendered capable and susceptible of a new kind of knowledge. Compare “ Noy, Org.” I. 115.—Author’s note. * Compare “ Noy. Org.” I. 120. F 2
CR.
68 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
pelio its own authority sketch a picture without caring for the original. Such a self-created picture is
ms Fs Ky
ted OS
> not taken from the nature of things, but is antic?-
pated by the human understanding. Considered in relation to the understanding, it is an antictpatio mentis; considered in relation to nature, it is an anticipatio nature ; compared with the original external to ourselves, it 1s no true copy, but a mere empty unreal image, that has no existence save in our own fancy ;—a creation of the brain (Hirngespinnst) or “ Idol.” Hence the first negative condition, without which a knowledge of nature is altogether impossible, is that idols may not be set in the place of real things — that in no case may there be an anticipatio mentis. Nothing should be anticipated, but all should be experienced, that is, derived from the things themselves. There should be no general con- ceptions (Begriffe) that are not preceded by actual observations; no judgments that are not preceded by actual experience; no anticipatio mentis, but only an interpretatio nature.* “ For the sake of distinction,” says Bacon, “we are wont to call human reasoning, as applied to nature, the anticipation of nature, because it is rash and premature; but that which is properly
* Compare “ Nov. Org.,” pref. (towards the end).
THE “IDOLS.” 69
deduced from things, the interpretation of nature.” * Here Bacon discovers the fundamental defect of all the science that has preceded him. Nature, instead of being interpreted, has been anticipated, inasmuch as explanations have been based either upon preconceived notions, or upon too scanty experience. Either the experience was made under the influence of an anticipatio mentis, or is interrupted by such an anticipation; in both cases something is assumed which has been in- sufficiently proved or not proved at all by experience. Thus there has been no correct and penetrating knowledge of nature, and thus orderly and deliberate invention has been im- possible. Invention has been left to chance ; — hence its excessive rarity; and science has re- mained occupied with idle speculations ; — hence its sterility. A want of experience, or a too credulous experience, lies at the foundation of all these deficiencies.
The human understanding must henceforward become the perfectly pure and willing organ of experience. It must first get rid of all those notions, which it has deduced from its own
* “Rationem humanam qua utimur ad naturam, Anticipa- tiones Nature (quia res temeraria est et prematura), at illam rationem que debitis modis elicitur a rebus, Interpretationem Nature, docendi gratia vocare consuevimus.”—Nov. Org. I. 26.
Compare also to 33, inclusive. a F3
pn Prhne ,
“
70 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
‘p~*mature, not from that of things. These notions
Aagpt are not found, but anticipated. Such “ Idols”
belong to human nature, either as a natural or an
historical inheritance. The natural idols are
the peculiarities of the human species or of par- ticular individuals; and thus comprise errors common to the whole race (¢dola tribus), and accidental individual errors (idola specus). The historical idols depend upon manners, usages,
and customs, such as arise from -the inter-
course between man and man (7dola fori), or upon general traditions which on the great the- atre of humanity are handed down from gene- ration to generation (idola theatri). These idols obscure the human understanding, and hide from it the face of nature; they must be discarded for ever on the very threshold of science. “ The idols and false notions which have hitherto oc- cupied the human understanding and are deeply rooted in it, not only so beset the minds of men that the access of truth is rendered difficult, but even when access is given they will again meet and trouble us in the very restoration of the sciences; unless men, being forewarned, guard
themselves as much as possible against them.” *
* “ Tdola et notiones falsee quee intellectum humanum jam oc- cuparunt atque in eo alte herent, non solum mentes hominum ita obsident ut veritati aditus difficilis pateat ; sed etiam dato et
ENUMERATION OF IDOLS. 71
The “idols,” according to Bacon, are the “ duties of omission” * in the world of science. They re- semble ignes futui, which the traveller ought to know in order to avoid them. Bacon would make us acquainted with these ignes fatui of science, that direct us from the true path of
we f
experience; therefore he treats first of the de-
lusions, then of the method of knowledge. Whoever seeks real copies of things must beware of false semblances, just as the logical thinker must be on his guard against sophisms. ‘ The doctrine of “Idols,” says Bacon, “bears to the interpretation of nature a relation similar to that
which the doctrine of sophisms bears to ordinary
dialectic.” ¢
Il. Tue Bacontan Scepticism. BACON AND DESCARTES,
To oppose idols and prejudices, whencesoever they may come, science begins with doubt —with
concesso aditu, illa rursus in ipsa instauratione scientiarum occurrent et molesta erunt, nisi homines premoniti adversus ea se quantum fieri potest muniant.”—NVov. Org. I. 38. For the doctrine of “Idols,” compare the following Aphorisms to 68. inclusive.
* “ Unterlassungspflichten.”
t “Doetrina enim de Idolis similiter se habet ad Interpreta- tionem Nature, sicut doctrina de Sophisticis Elenchis ad Dia- lecticam yulgerem.”—WNov. Org. I. 40.
Fr4
oly. av &
72 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
-_
is “utter uncertainty. Doubt is the starting-point, i m e
not the goal of science; the goal is certain and well-grounded knowledge. Science, according to Bacon, should begin with “ Acatalepsia,” to ter- minate in “ Kueatalepsia.” The Baconian doubt seeks to shake not the foundations, but only | the false foundations of science, that a firm edifice after the pattern of the world may be raised in the human mind. Bacon agrees with the sceptics in his starting-point, not in his result. The views of those who adhered to Acatalepsia and
our own method agree, to some extent, at the
commencement; but in the end they differ im- mensely, and are completely opposed to each other. For the sceptics roundly assert that nothing can be known at all; we, that only a small part of nature can be known by the method now in use. They proceed next to destroy the au- thority of the senses and the understanding, for which we, on the contrary, invent and sup- 99 &
ply assistance. And in the same spirit Bacon declares, towards the end of the first book of
* «Ratio eorum qui acatalepsiam tenuerunt, et via nostra, | initiis suis quodammodo consentiunt ; exitu immensum disjun- guntur et opponuntur. Illi enim nihil sciri posse simpliciter asserunt ; nos non multum sciri posse in natura, ea que nunc in usu est via: verum illi exinde authoritatem sensus et intel- lectus destruunt ; nos auxilia iisdem excogitamus et submini- stramus.”—Nov. Org. I. 37. With respect to Bacon’s rela- tion to the Ancient Sceptics, compare the “ Scala Intellectus,”
ACATALEPSIA AND EUCATALEPSIA, 73
the “ Noyum Organum:” “We do not con- template and propose Acatalepsia, but Euca- talepsia; for we do not derogate from, but assist the senses; and we do not despise, but direct the understanding. And it is better to know what is necessary, and at the same time to think that we do not know it thoroughly, than to think that we know thoroughly, and at the same time to know nothing of that which is required.” *
Hence we may compare the Baconian doubt with the Cartesian; for these two, by effecting the revival of philosophy, divide the epoch of that revival between them. Both of them have the same origin and the same tendency, both have the same goal before them, and are actuated by the same internal conviction, that all the knowledge hitherto acquired is but uncertain, and that a new kind of knowledge is required. The cause of science must once more be under- taken from its very commencement; the work of the understanding must be performed anew. Thus alike think Bacon and Descartes. Therefore, by means of doubt, they withhold their assent from
* “Nos vero non Acatalepsiam, sed Eucatalepsiam meditamur et proponimus; sensui enim non derogamus, sed ministramus ; et intellectum non contemnimus, sed regimus, Atque melius est scire quantum Opus sit et tamen nos non penitus scire pu- tare, quam penitus scire nos putare, et tamen nil eorum aac opus est scire.” — Nov. Org. I. 126.
.) 74 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. uw VeNocartig
oa the knowledge that has hitherto been deemed Pa th lath
owt Cf. : a : vitllet jthe reformatory kind; it is a purification of the
unquestionable, in order to obtain a clear field © for their labour of renovation. Their doubt is of
_ (> understanding, with a view to a perfect renewal ytodhevcof science. But now, what is to be effected by = “\ the understanding thus purified, and therefore, in ““<'“ the first instance, vacant? Here the two re- formers of science part from each other in the opposite directions that are followed by after ages; here, from a common stock, spring the two trunks of modern philosophy. Descartes says, the pure understanding must be left wholly to itself, that from itself alone it may derive all its judgments. Bacon on the other hand de- clares, in the very preface to the “ Novum Or- ganum:” “ The only remaining hope and salva- tion is to begin over again the whole work of the mind, so that from the very first the mind may not be trusted to itself, but continually directed.”* The common root of modern philosophy is the doubt which is alike Baconian and Cartesian. : From this doubt springs the pure intellect, which | is left to itself by Descartes; while, on the other hand, it is fastened by Bacon to the leading- strings of nature. From these different, and, we
* « Restat unica salus ac sanitas, ut opus universum mentis de integro resumatur ; ac mens, jam ab ipso principio, nullo modo sibi permittatur, sed perpetuo regatur.”—Vov. Org., pref.
BACON AND DESCARTES. 75
may say, opposite dispositions of the philosophical understanding, arise the different directions taken by modern philosophy in the progress of its de- velopment. One series follows the self-sufficient _ intellect of Descartes, the other the intellect in the leading-strings of nature, to which it has been attached by Bacon. The representatives of the | former tendency are necessarily metaphysicians and idealists; those of the latter (necessarily — likewise) are empiricists and sensualists. The | Cartesian soil could not do otherwise than bring | forth a Spinoza and a Leibnitz; the Baconian naturally produced a Hobbes and a Locke, Leibnitz originates the German, Locke the An- glo-Gallic enlightenment (Aufkidrung), both of which lead to a new epoch in philosophy, in which they are merged at last. However, we need not here follow this yet distant prospect. We return to that doubt by means of which Bacon and Descartes purify the understanding from all prejudices. The understanding so puri- fied is directed by Descartes to itself, by Bacon to nature; the former makes it at once self- dependent, the latter makes it completely de- pendent on nature; or, to express ourselves figuratively, the pure understanding, just newly born, is at once matured to manhood with Des- cartes ; while with Bacon it is first in a state of childhood, and is treated asa child. This treat-
76 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
ment is less bold, but more judicious, because more conformable to nature. Bacon treats the understanding like a trainer; the child ought to grow and develop itself gradually. In a child-. like mind, which stands open, without reserve or prejudice, to the impressions of the world, must science be renewed, for thus it literally becomes _ once more young. According to the Baconian philosophy, the human understanding has a_ Natural History; while, according to the Car- . tesian, it is alike devoid of history and nature.*_ Bacon bids science meet the “Idols” with annihilating doubt, but nature with pure sus- ceptibility | (Empfanglichkeit). The human un- derstanding must resign itself wholly to nature with child-like confidence, that it may really feel domesticated with nature. Bacon loves to com- pare the dominion of man, which consists in knowledge, with the kingdom of Heaven, of which the Bible says: — ‘‘ Except ye become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of Heaven.” “ The idols of every kind,” says Bacon, “ must be abjured and renounced with a firm and solemn resolution, and the understanding must be wholly freed and cleared from them, that the access to the kingdom of man, which is
* “ Natur- und Geschichtslos.” t Or “receptivity."—J. O.
BACON AND DESCARTES. 77
founded in science, may be same as that to the kingdom of Heaven, where no entrance is possible, save by assuming the character of children.” *
II. Tae Exrermentarisina Perception.
In the spirit of Bacon, we may designate that view of things as alone correct which remains to us after the removal of all idols. These, Idols are the peculiarities of human nature and of individuals, the conventionalities of social intercourse, and the authorities confirmed by history. All these varieties may incontestibly have their value in their proper place, but they have nothing in common with the nature and quality of things, and therefore our observation of things ought not to be influenced by them. It is only with respect to science, which they should not affect, that they are idols. Of the classes above enumerated we omit that of individual peculiarity, as leading too much into the obscure and indefinite. The others are more manifestly
* “Que omnia (idola) constanti et solenni decreto sunt ab- neganda et renuncianda, et intellectus ab iis omnino liberandus est et expurgandus; ut non alius fere sit aditus ad regnum
hominis, quod fundatur in scientiis, quam ad regnum ccelorum, »
in quod, nisi sub persona infantis, intrare non datur.?— Nov, Org. I. 68. -
shee us
4 te é + 9 Or LAE AAU
pln one bvees $ M
ae onek Bont - é
78 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and generally important; they are, therefore, worthy of a clear and accurate description.*
1, CONVICTION OPPOSED TO AUTHORITY.
What results from our contemplation of things after the removal of all the systems and traditions supported by historical authority (édola theatri)? On authority, things are considered not as they appear to ourselves, but as they appear to public opinion, which clothes itself with the dignity of a traditional religion or philosophy. Thus they are contemplated without any judgment or ex- perience of our own. On the other hand, our contemplation, when it becomes independent, is converted into autopsy, into observation actually made by ourselves, so that we no longer take upon trust and repeat that which is said or reputed true by others, but only adhere, by virtue of our own convictions, to that which we have ourselves perceived and experienced. Thus, in astronomy, for example, the Ptolemzan system,
* In the omission of the “Idola specus,” and in the order in which we have ranged the three other Idols, we have followed not our own choice, but the Baconian prescription, Bacon him- self calls the negative part of his logic (that is to say, the refu- tation of the Idols) “triplex,” and designates the three parts : « redargutio philosophiarum ” (idola theatri), “red. demonstra- tionum ” (id. fori), and “red. rationis humane nature (id. tri- bus).—Vide the tract “Partis instaurationis secunda delineatio.”
IDOLS OF THE THEATRE. 79
supported by a certain interpretation of Scripture, was an “ Idolum theatri,” which science, in the person of Copernicus, solemnly and for ever aban- doned. Here for the first time she has used her own faculties in observing, with perfect indepen- dence, whether the sun really moves and the earth really stands still, and arrives at a result opposed to the belief entertained by public opinion. The exclusion from science of the “ Idola theatri,” as decisive grounds, amounts to a declaration that science is independent of all belief based on authority, and that man is to be referred to his own convictions alone.
2. REAL OPPOSED TO VERBAL KNOWLEDGE,
After the remoyal of the first class of idols, nothing remains but a personal acquaintance with the things themselves. But now in most cases we fancy that we know things, without having seriously learned to know them. We think we are certain as to their value, because we possess the symbols of it, and circulate them with facility, These symbols are names or words, which we BAR. sooner than the nature of the things themselves, and with the assistance of which men communicate their notions to each other. Accustomed from childhood to put words in the place of things,
ey
80 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and with these words to be perfectly intelligible to everybody, we involuntarily take them, mere signs as they are, for the things signified,—the nominal for the real value. Words are, as it were, the current coin, by means of which we put forth and take in our notions of things; they constitute, like money in trade, not the real and natural, but the conventional value of things, as ‘settled by the relations of human intercourse. We must not take this market-price for the thing itself, with respect to which it is completely extrinsic and indifferent. So little are words guided by the nature of things, that (for instance), in common parlance*, the sun still moves round the earth, though in truth this never was the case, and though we have long been convinced of. the contrary. Words do not say what things are, but what they denote to us; they represent our own notions, and generally are as uncertain as_ our notions are obscure. Because words and the. usages of language designate things not as they are in their own nature, but as they are considered in the intercourse between man and man, Bacon reckons the delusion, through which we cling to words, and fancy we grasp the things them-
* As in expressions that refer to the rising or setting of the sun.—J. O.
IDOLS OF THE TRIBE. 81
selves, among the Idola Fori.* Hence Bacon
—
* faata ve beh
loves so much to oppose the wisdom of words to “Pp
the knowledge of things; an opposition that fur~ a
nished a watchword to hissuccessors. His remarks on the subject of words, while treating of the Idola Fori, contain a brief programme of all the inquiries about language that have been made in accordance with his views. In these investigations both the ** Forum ” itself and the “ Idols” play their part: the Forum, because language appears as~a result of human invention, that is to say, a mere arbi- trary piece of bungling workmanship; the Idols, because words represent general conceptions,-and . therefore unreal notions.
3. NATURAL ANALOGY OPPOSED TO HUMAN ANALOGY.
The Idola Theatri consist in this: that we take things not as they appear to ourselves, but as they are declared to be on the authority of another; that we see them with the eyes of others instead of our own. The Idola Fori consist in this: that we take things not as they are, but as they appear to us through the medium of human intercourse. What view of things is left after the removal of the Idola Fori? Our own knowledge is directed from the signs to the things signified,
* Compare Noy. Org. 59, 60. G
+t
82 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and these can only be learned by our own per- ception and investigation.
But then, is even our own perception correct ? Are things really what we take them to be,—as they are reflected in our senses? Are the sen- sible impressions true copies of things themselves —an expression corresponding to their nature, and not rather an expression corresponding to our own? Our own perception and conception of things is, as it were, a translation of them from physical into human nature, from the universe into our own individuality; a translation in which the original loses its own peculiarity, and arbi- trarily assumes an human peculiarity in its stead. Thus, even in our own immediate perception of things,—apart from the doctrines enforced by authority and the notions current in social inter- course —there is something foreign to the things themselves ; something superadded by us; some- thing that lies in the conditions of our nature, so that we fail to make true copies of things, and produce distorted images instead. Our own notion of nature presents delusive phantoms to. our_gaze, deceives us with false representations. These are, to use Bacon’s words, the Jdola Tribus, which are the most potent of all, for they govern the entire human race; and their government is the hardest to overthrow, inasmuch as they have been
IDOLS OF THE TRIBE. a nist founded not by historical authority in the course ff. | of time, but by nature itself. The human soul is, indeed, a mirror of things, but this mirror is so cut by nature that, while it reflects things, it at+ as Rs the same time alters them, and does not exhibit [Give one without blending with it an human element, aes a —without, by a certain magic, transferring it we into something human. What is there in common
between things themselves and human forms ?
What has the sun to do with the fact that to the
eyes of an inhabitant of the earth he appears to
move? This is an illusion, the cause of which
lies not in the motion of the sun, but in our own
eyes, to which our own planet is the point of
view. If I assert that the sun moves, because we }
are taught so by Ptolemy, I judge by an Jdolum
Theatri. If I make the same assertion, on the
ground that everybody says so likewise, I judge
by an Idolum Fori. If I say: “ The sun moves,
because I see it move with my own eyes,” I.
judge by an Idolum Tribus. I feel, for instance,’
the warmth of the water, and determine the
degree of warmth by my. sensations. But the
same water appears first cold and a few mo-
ments afterwards warm, without any change
having taken place in the degree of its warmth.
The warmth of my body has changed, and this
body when heated feels the water cold, when G2
84. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
cooled feels the water warm. Thus is it with all our perceptions,—with our entire contem- plation of things. We measure and judge them by our own standard, we view them from a point that lies in our own nature, which is indeed the nearest and most natural as far as we are concerned, but with respect to the things is per- fectly foreign and indifferent. We apprehend \them not as they are in themselves, but as they stand in relation to us; not according to their
f , i ° vprees own analogy, but according to ours; or to use the
Tie V
»- Baconian language, we consider things ex analogia
2OV “4 hominis, not ex analogia univers. Under this
m5 8
formula the Idola Tribus may best be noted. “‘ These Idols,” says Bacon, “are founded in human nature itself,—in the very tribe or race of men. It is falsely asserted that human sense is the standard of things, since, on the contrary, all the perceptions both of the senses and of the mind are according to the analogy of man, not that of the universe, and the human intellect is like an uneven mirror to the rays of things, — blending its own nature with the nature of the object, so as to distort and disfigure the latter.”*
* “Tdola Tribus sunt fandata in ipsa natura humana, atque in ipsa tribu seu gente hominum. Falso enim asseritur, sensum humanum esse mensuram rerum; quin contra, omnes percep- tiones tam sensus quam mentis sunt ex analogia hominis, non
SPINOZA AND BACON. 85
This passage is mentioned in very contemptuous terms by Spinoza in his letter to Oldenburg. He treats Bacon as a confused babbler, who talks at random about the cause of error and the nature of the mind. But, far from refuting Bacon, he does not clearly show the point that constitutes the utter difference between Bacon and himself, It is worth while to give prominence to this point, for there is manifestly a great deal in the passage above cited that Spinoza himself might have said. In the first place, Man is not the measure (or standard) of things: this proposition is in the very spirit of Spinoza. In the second place, all those notions are false that are formed according to the analogy of man, and not according to that of nature, and herein lies the ground of error, — Error consists in the inadequate representation of things: this sentence is no less Spinozistic. In the third place, all our representations, both sen- suous and logical, are according to human analogy, and therefore inadequate; the human understanding is by nature an inadequate mirror of things. In this third proposition alone lies that difference between the two that Spinoza should have shown more clearly. For, according to him, truth is naturally
ex analogia universi, Estque intellectus humanus instar speculi inequalis ad radios rerum, qui suam naturam nature rerum immiscet, eamque distorquet et inficit.”—Vov, Org. I. 41.
@ 3
86 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
immanent in the human mind, only it is, at first, veiled and obscured by inadequate (sensuous) ideas. Hence, with Spinoza, true knowledge solely consists in the clearing up of obscure ideas, in the emendation of the understanding. With him the understanding is corrected from its own resources; while, on the other hand, with Bacon it is brought to right knowledge by the leading- strings of nature through continued experience. This contrast between Spinoza and Bacon is the same that is to be found between Bacon and Descartes; between Locke and Leibnitz; between empiricism and idealism generally. That Spinoza will make no concession to his adversary, lies in the character of his point of view. Perhaps it was displeasing to him to find, from an opposite point of view, so much that was kmdred to his own thoughts ; perhaps this very affinity in Bacon especially revolted him. With him the will was a consequence of knowledge, and could never, therefore, be a ground of error. Now of Bacon he says: “ Whatever further causes he may as- sign to error are easily reducible to the one cause of Descartes, namely, that the human will is free and more comprehensive than the understanding ; or as Bacon himself (Aph. 49.) more confusedly expresses himself, because the understanding has not the quality of a dry light, but receives an
CORRECTIONS FOR THE MIND. 87
infusion from the will.” This passage is not
accurately quoted.* It stands thus: “The human
understanding has not the quality of a dry light,
but receives an infusion from the will and the
passions, whence science is generated in accord-
ance with the wish; for that which man desires
should be true he the more readily believes.”
Now what does Bacon say? That desire perplexes the understanding. And what says Spinoza? That
desire is a perplexed understanding. In point of fact, the two propositions declare the same thing,
namely, the perplexity of desire.
4, EXPERIMENT OPPOSED TO THE DELUSION OF THE SENSES,
Sense and Instrument.
What then remains for us, when the under- standing and the senses deceive us, and the human mind is by nature a deceptive mirror of things? The understanding and the senses must not be left as they are; they must be cultivated, corrected, assisted, that they may correspond to things; the magic mirror of the
* More properly, the quotation is too abruptly terminated,
t Vide Appendix A. G4
88 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
mind must be made smooth, and polished bright, that the speculum inequale may become a specu- lum equale. And how can this be effected ?— not by nature, but only by art. What is im- possible for the mere senses and the unassisted understanding, — namely, a correct perception of things, —is attainable both by senses and understanding with the aid of an instrument. Equipped with a fitting instrument, human perception becomes correct; without one it 1s fallacious. What is invisible or obscure to the naked eye, becomes visible and clear to the eye armed with a microscope or telescope. The human hand ean, indeed, feel the warmth of the water, but cannot arrive at a right judgment respecting it; for it feels its own warmth at the same time, and accordingly as this is greater or less than_ the warmth of the water, the latter appears cooler or warmer. The actual warmth of the water is only ascertained by the thermo- meter, which reveals to the eye what the hand is unable to perceive. We will call perception (Wahrnehmung), when aided by an instrument, “ observation” (Beobachtung); and the process by which we exhibit a natural phenomenon in its purity, without any heterogeneous element, an experiment. In this spirit, Bacon himself declares : ‘Neither the bare hand nor the understanding,
ANTHROPOMORPHIC VIEW OF NATURE. 89
left to itself, can effect much; effects are produced by means of instruments and helps.”* And in another place: All true interpretation of nature consists in accurate experiments, whereby the senses pronounce judgment only upon the ex- periment, but the experiment upon the object itself,
5. EFFICIENT OPPOSED TO FINAL CAUSES. f
However, not only in the nature of the senses, but also in that of the human understanding, are iliusive phantoms that destroy the true know- ledge of things. And there is one notion, espe- cially, that most easily and mischievously misleads. the human understanding, most effectually falsifies the interpretation of nature, and is the chief cause of the ignorance and sterility that has hitherto prevailed in science. We have a propensity to transfer to things our own nature and its attri- butes, thus accommodating things to ourselves, and not ourselves to things, and apprehending the phenomena of nature according to human analogy.. Thus we interpret nature falsely ; endowing her with human attributes, and conceiving her not
* “Nec manus nuda nec intellectus sibi permissus multum valet ; instrumentis et auxiliis res perficitur.”—Nov. Org. I, 2. t “ Causalitat gegen Teleologie.”
g Cans te’
ie a/
“a 7) gle
90 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
something physical, but something anthropo- morphic. It belongs to the very constitution
«+g, Of our understanding to form generic ideas; and RAG ' “Ag
; 2' AH, f t
rans 3. bikean 06
=
‘ek et 4 pwbag .
to that of our will to act with certain ends in view. ‘These generic ideas and ends (or goals) are forms that belong essentially to man, but explain nothing in the nature of things. Never- theless, these very ideas that explain nothing have hitherto constituted the principles of what is called Natural Philosophy. Bacon reckons Final Causes among the Jdola Tribus, and in the region of physics finds them not only useless, but injurious. He deduces them in the following manner from the propensity of the human under- standing: “The human understanding, being restless and unable to halt or rest, ever presses forward, but in vain. ‘Thus it appears incon- ceivable that there is any final boundary to the world, but it always seems necessarily to occur to us that there must be something beyond. Nor, indeed, can we imagine how eternity has flowed down to the present day ; for the ordinary distinction of an infinity, a parte ante and a parte post, cannot hold good, inasmuch as it would necessarily follow that one infinity is greater than another, and also that infinity is wasting. away and verging toanend. There is a similar subtilty with regard to the infinite divisibility of
TENDENCY TO SEEK FINAL CAUSES. 91
lines arising from the weakness of our own faculty of thought. But still greater mischief arises from this mental impotency in the discovery of causes. For though the greatest generalities in nature should be positive just as they are found, and in point of fact are not causable; nevertheless the ¥ human understanding, incapable of rest, seeks for ¥ something better known. Thus, however, whilst aiming at what is more remote, it falls back to | what is nearer, namely, to final causes, which clearly belong more to the nature of man than to that of the universe; and from this souxee philo- sophy has been marvellously corrupted. Indeed, it is the part of an inexperienced and shallow | philosopher to seek for causes in the greatest ,, generalities, and not to require a cause for sub-
‘ ordinate objects.” *
* “Gliscit intellectus humanus, neque consistere aut acquiescere potis est, sed ulterius petit ; at frustra. Itaque incogitabile est ut sit aliquid extremum aut extimum mundi, sed semper quasi necessario occurrit ut sit aliquid ulterius : neque rursus cogitari potest quomodo externitas defluxerit ad hunc diem; cum dis- tinctio illa que recipi consuevit, quod sit infinitum a parte ante et a parte post, nullo modo constare possit ; quia inde sequeretur quod sit unum infinitum aiio infinito majus, atque ut con- sumatur infinitum, et vergat ad finitum. Similis est subtilitas de lineis semper divisibilibus, ex impotentia cogitationis. At majore cum pernicie intervenit hec impotentia mentis in inventione causarum ; nam cum maxime universalia in natura positiva esse debeant, quaemadmodum inveniuntur, neque sunt revera causa- bilia ; tamen intellectus humanus, nescius acquiescere, adhuc
* 92 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. th PRM KH | |
bly Bete By the idea of a final cause, metaphysics are a pdeyns distinguished from physics. An interpretation of hat A ~yature by final causes is a mixture of metaphysics with physics, which renders the latter confused and sterile. Sterility in a science is, to Bacon’s mind, something deplorable; and as he has proposed to free science from its wretched con- dition, he is bent upon clearing up perplexities, separating what has wrongly mixed, parting the heterogeneous. He would exhibit physics in all their purity, and therefore he assigns to meta- physics the forms and final causes that are of no service to physics. Physics are occupied not with the forms, but with the matter of things; they explain individual phenomena, are satisfied with secondary causes, with which they inter- pret everything in nature, and interpreting no- thing by final causes, leave the primary origin of | things to metaphysics. The efficient are, in fact, the physical causes. Thus, in his work “ De Augmentis Scientiarum,” Bacon designates the theory of final causes as a portion of meta-
appetit notiora. Tum vero ad ulteriora tendens ad proximiora recidit, videlicet ad causas finales, que sunt plane ex natura hominis potius quam universi ; atque ex hoc fonte philosophiam miris modis corruperunt. Est autem esque imperiti et leviter philosophantis, in maxime universalibus causam requirere, ac in subordinatis et subalternis causa non desiderare.”—Vov. Org. I. 48.
EVIL OF FINAL CAUSES. 93
physics that has hitherto not been overlooked, but assigned to a wrong department. “The > inquiry of final causes,” he says, “I am moved to report not as omitted, but as misplaced; and yet if it were but a fault in order, I could not speak of it, for order is matter of illustration, but pertaineth not to the substance of sciences. But this misplacing hath caused a deficience, or at least a great improficience in the sciences them- selves. For the handling of final causes, mixed with the rest in physical inquiries, hath inter- cepted the severe and diligent inquiry of all real and physical causes. . . . And therefore the natural philosophy of Democritus and some others _ (who did not suppose a mind or reason in_the power of things, but attributed the form thereof, able to maintain itself, to infinite essays or proofs of nature, which they term fortune,) seemeth to me, as far as I can judge by the recital and frag- ments which remain unto us, in particularities of physical causes, more real and better inquired than that of Aristotle or Plato.” *
Thus, the position of Bacon among philoso- phical minds is determined. He would establish the dominion of man over nature, by means of
* “ Advancement of Learning.” The parallel passage in
“De Aug. Scient.” to which Dr, Fischer refers, will be found in lib. iii. cap. iy.
94 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
invention; he would arrive at invention by the interpretation of nature, without idols. Do not, in your view of things, allow yourself to be swayed by any authority or doctrine whatever, but observe for yourself. Learn to know things themselves; not through the medium of words, but as they are in reality, — not according to current notions, but as they are in nature. Make experiments and observations for yourself; but do not let your observations be affected by ana- logies drawn from the nature of man (analogia | hominis); do not be misled by the senses, which present you with illusions, nor by the hasty understanding that rapidly flies over details and involuntarily substitutes itself for the physical forces; that is to say, rest your observations upon experiment, set out with the exclusion of final causes from your interpretation of nature, nowhere seek for anything beyond the efficient causes of natural phenomena.
Thus that which remains after the removal of all the idols, is experimentalising perception from the point of view taken by mechanical or physical causality. By this course alone can the human mind attain a real copy of nature, which according to Bacon is the true object. of science. ‘The world is not to be confined
EXPERIMENT THE ONLY ROAD TO SCIENCE, 95
(as hitherto) within the straits of the intellect,
but the intellect is to be enlarged to receive the
image of the world, such as it is.” *
* «“Neque enim arctandus est mundus ad angustias intellectus (quod adhuc factum est), sed expandendus intellectus et lax- andus ad mundi imaginem recipiendam, qualis invenitur.”—- Parasceve, IV.
96 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. IV.
TRUE INDUCTION AS THE METHOD OF EXPERIENCE.
Tue only true and fruitful mode of contem- plating nature is experimentalising perception, directed solely to the efficient causes of things. The perception thus attained, after the removal of all Idols, —this perfectly objective view of things we will, with Bacon, call “pure experience ” (mera experientia). The end of experience is obvious enough ;—it proceeds from the facts of nature, and directs itself to their causes. A way, therefore, is to be found that will lead from one point to another,—not by a mere happy chance, but of necessity, —and this way is the method of experience. The first task it proposes is to ascer- tain facts, that is, to establish what really hap- pens, with the circumstances of the event, and thus to collect materials, which will form the elementary substance —as it were, the capital of science. Let us suppose this task — this guestio facti—performed to the greatest possible perfec- tion, and we have a series of cases, a collection of facts, which when they are once establishéd
COMPARISON OF INSTANCES. 97
can at first merely be enumerated. Thus, the performance of the first task consists in the ; simple enumeration (enumeratio simplex) of per- ceived facts, which, properly arranged, consti- tute the description of nature or “ Natural History.” Now how from such a description do
we get ascience of nature? How from this expe-
rience do we obtain knowledge; or, what is the same thing, how do we ascend from the experienc. of facts to the experience of causes? There is no
(zeal knowledge before the experience of causes,
-w¥ e.
r,as Bacon says: “To know truly is to know
from causes.”* How then am I to learn the
causes, the effective conditions, on which the
phenomenon in question is to be found?
I. Tue CoMPARISON OF SEVERAL INSTANCES.
Every natural phenomenon is presented to me |
under certain conditions. ‘The point therefore
is, among the various data to ascertain those that | are absolutely necessary and essential to the phe- _
nomenon in question ; so that it would not be possible without them, ‘‘ How shall I find the essential conditions ?”—that is the question, and | the answer is: ‘‘ By setting aside whatever is Sacestiet or contingent.” The residue of the
* “Recte ponitur ; vere scire esse per causas scire.”— lov. Org. Lib. IL. Aph. 2. H
98 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
data, after this operation, will manifestly consist
of those that are essential and true. As the
necessary conditions in all instances consist of
the data that are left after this deduction, Bacon \ terms these the “true difference” (differentia vera); which he further designates as the fountain of things, operative nature, the form of a given phenomenon.* As the true contemplation of things is the perception of them by man after the removal of all idols, the true conditions of a pheno- menon are those that remain after the deduction of contingencies. Now arises the question: “ How shall I know what is contingent?” The dis- covery of contingencies, and the separation of them from the other data, is the real purpose and. aim of the Baconian experience. If this problem is solved, we have arrived at the discernment of the essential conditions of a phenomenon, conse- quently at the knowledge of the natural law itself, or the interpretatio nature.
There is only one way of obtaining the solution, viz., the comparison of a number of similar instances. This comparison must be of a two- fold kind. In the first place we should compare several instances in which the same phenomenon
* “Date autem nature Formam, sive differentiam veram, sive naturam naturantem, sive fontem emanationis invenire, opus et intentio est Humane Scientiz.”—Vov. Org. I. 1.
SEPARATION OF CONTINGENCIES, 99
(heat, for instance) occurs under various condi- tions, then with these instargpes we should com- pare others, where, under similar conditions, the same phenomenon does noé occur. The former instances, which Bacon calls “ positive” (instan- tie positive sive convenientes) are similar with respect to the phenomenon under consideration ; the latter, which he calls “negative” (enstantie negative vel contradictive) are similar with respect to the conditions. What is required, therefore, is a comparison of the positive instances with each other, and also with the negative. Thus if, for instance, heat is the phenomenon under consideration, the sun that gives warmth is a positive instance; while, on the other hand, the moon and stars that give no warmth are negative. From the comparison of these it is clear that a celestial luminary is by no means an essential condition of light.* Those conditions alone are necessary that are connected with the phenomenon in every instance ; those that are not are merely contingent. There is heat connected with phenomena of light, but there is also heat without light, and light without heat ; hence light is not an essential factor of heat.t
* Or rather, light is not a necessary consequence of a celes- tial luminary.—J. O. Tt Compare Nov. Org. II. 11—20. H 2
190 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. hadi on
mali Thus, by accurate and frequent comparison, : on 9 fave non-essential conditions are detected, and by their ato as, exclusion (reectio) the essential conditions are - wi : attained. Thus experience proceeds from fact to a fact till it arrives at a law—from the singular to
high oe : the universal. It confirms fact by experiment;
m= discovers, by a fitting comparison of facts, the
universal law, principle, or axiom by which the ‘operation of nature is guided. Thus, to speak in '\the manner of Bacon, experience ascends from the experiment to the axiom. This is the me- }thod of Induction, which Bacon therefore calls ‘the true key to natural philosophy. To deduce
‘axioms from experiments, ‘‘ we must first prepare a complete and accurate natural and experimental history. This constitutes our foundation, for we must not imagine or invent, but discover the operations of nature. But natural and expe- rimental history is so varied and diffuse in its material that it confounds and distracts the human understanding, unless it be fixed and exhibited in due order. ‘Therefore tables and co-ordinations of instances must be framed in such a manner and order that the understanding may be able to act upon them. Even when this is done, the understanding, left to itself and its own operation, is incompetent and unfit to form axioms, without direction and support. Hence we must, in the
NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 101
third place, apply a true and legitimate Induction, which is the very key of interpretation.”*
Il. Tue Imrvort or NEGATIVE INSTANCES.
CRITICAL EXPERIENCE.
Bacon calls his own induction “ legitimate” and “true” to distinguish it from another that is neither legitimate nor true, that proceeds without rule, and arrives at false results. Experience and induction are in themselves so far from new, that, on the contrary, they form the daily sus- tenance of our knowledge. Every day makes an addition to our experience; and at last, by summing up our daily experiences, we arrive at a total result, which has, for us, the force of an axiom. ‘This inference of a supposed axiom from a fact is also of the inductive kind; and by means
* “Primo enim paranda est Historia Naturalis et Experi- mentalis, sufficiens et bona ; quod fundamentum rei est; neque enim fingendum aut excogitandum, sed inveniendum, quid natura faciat aut ferat. Historia vero Naturalis et Experi- mentalis tam varia est et sparsa, ut intellectum confundat et disgreget, nisi sistatur et compareat ordine idoneo. Itaque formandz sunt Tabulze et Coordinationes Instantiarum, tali modo et instructione ut in eas agere possit intellectus. Id quoque licet fiat, tamen intellectus sibi permissus et sponte movens inecompetens est et inhabilis ad opificium axiomatum, nisi regatur et muniatur. Itaque tertio, adhibenda est Induc- tio legitima et vera, que ipsa Clavis est Interpretationis.”— Nov. Org. II. 10,
H 3
102 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
LAA Oe
ag of this sort of induction is found that wisdom of
. ,, ordinary life of which we have an instance in the
ey * weather-wisdom” of a peasant. But just in
ania the same manner we are convinced every day
-S. uli that our experiences thus formed are insecure,—
bet ‘hat our inferences are incorrect. A new expe-
alee rience, on which we did not reckon in summing up those preceding, shows that our rule was false; and a single instance is sufficient to refute the validity of a supposed law. If that which, according to our rule, ought to occur, fails to occur on one occasion only, this is a proof that ithe rule was no better than an “idol.” Sucha isingle case, in opposition toa rule, is a negative — ‘instance. And in the course of our ordinary ex- perience we constantly meet with such negative instances that annihilate the results based upon our previous experience, and, on that account, re- ceived by us with implicit faith. Rules for the weather are constantly made ridiculous by nega- tive instances; and ordinary experience is not, more certain than the almanac. Experience does not become certain till it has no more to appre- hend from negative instances; till its results are no longer exposed to the risk of being over- thrown every moment by some unexpected occur- rence; till, in a word, there are no unforeseen cases by which it can be opposed. How is this
NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 103
security to be attained? In one way alone. Experience must, as far as it is possible, foresee , every case; must guard itself betimes against the. danger of negative instances, by taking them into consideration ; nay, before it draws an inference it must itself seek for the negative instances, that. these may not afterwards rise in opposition and, overthrow premature results. To distinguish this’ course from that of ordinary experience, Bacon calls it “ methodical ;” to distinguish it from or- dinary induction, he calls it “true.” An expe- rience can only be refuted by the testimony of opposing facts ; and if there is no fact left to bear Witness against it, it is altogether irrefutable, — stands perfectly firm. The only defence which experience can provide against such a testimony is by seeking it out, and eliminating it, before a final decision is made. As in a lawsuit it should, as it were, confront the positive. with the negative instances, and after the hearing pronounce a sentence, according to the approved maxim of every fair judge: Audiatur et altera pars ! Negative instances render experience difficult, and, in a sciegtific sense, legitimate. With- out them it is easy and uncritical. Thus Bacon assigns the highest importance to negative instances ; they are with him the criterion of em- pirical truth, -— its only voucher. We can vouch | H 4
104 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
(£4 . for atruth when it cannot be contradicted ; we can
tet ®§ vouch for empirical truth when experience does not sonal pronounceany one of its judgments, without taking into consideration, elucidating and solving all con- tradictory cases. This can only be effected by means of negative instances, which compel expe- rience to pause at every step, and provide it with a clue by which it slowly and surely approaches a fixed goal, instead of prematurely hurrying towards one that is merely illusive. Thus is ex- perience placed beyond the reach of contradiction. «J think,” says Bacon, “that a form of in- duction should be introduced, which from certain instances should draw general conclusions, so that the impossibility of finding a contrary in- stance might be clearly proved.”* By an unre- mitting comparison of positive with negative in- stances, necessary conditions are separated from contingencies. Hence Bacon calls the com- parative understanding, the “ divine fire” by which nature is sifted, and the laws of her pheno- mena are brought to light. “A solution and separation of nature must be effected, not indeed *
* “Visum est ei talem inductionis formam introduci, que ex aliquibus generaliter concludat ; ita ut instantiam contradic- toriam inveniri non posse demonstretur.”—Cogitata et Visa. It is scarcely necessary to state that throughout this treatise Bacon speaks of himself in the third person.—J. O.
USE OF DOUBT. 105
by fire, but by the understanding, which is, as it were, a divine fire.”* Man is only per- mitted to proceed first by negatives, and then to arrive at affirmatives, after every kind of ex- clusion.” ¢
We have already seen how the Baconian science takes its origin from doubt, which leaves it no- thing but pure experience. It does not adhere to doubt like the sceptics, but strives after certain knowledge, though still taking doubt as a con- stant guide through all its investigations, and concluding none till this guide has been heard and satisfied. That first doubt, which precedes all science, makes this science purely empirical. The second doubt, that accompanies science at every step, renders experience critical. Without the first, experience, even in its first origin, would be encumbered with idols, and never attain a clear result; without the second, it would grasp idols instead of truths in its path, and thus become credulous and superstitious. Against this con- tingency it is protected by unremitting doubt, by
* “Nature facienda est prorsus solutio et separatio, non per ignem certe, sed per mentem, tanquam ignem divinum.”—Vov. Org. Il. 16.
¢ “(Homini) tantum conceditur, procedere primo per nega- tivas et postremo loco desinere in affirmativas post omnimodam exclusionem,”—Vov. Org. IL 15.
106 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the critical understanding, that against every posi- tive instance invokes a negative. Whence, then, do credulity and superstition derive their origin ? Only from the want of critical understanding, — from the disregard of negative instances, — from an easy and indolent contentment with a few positive instances picked up at pleasure. If the negative instances had obtained a fair hearing, there would not have been so many rules about the weather; and the many marvels that have been ascribed to inexplicable and demoniac powers would never have been believed. Thus, for in- stance, we are told of somnambulists who predict / Oe the future. The credulous understanding is satisfied with one (perhaps doubtful) instance, spreads it about, becomes superstitious, and renders others superstitious likewise. The cri- tical understanding asks, Where are the som- nambulists who do not prophesy, or whose pre- dictions are not fulfilled? Without doubt they might be found if they were only sought; and one single negative instance would be sufficient to banish from the whole world a belief in the infallibility of such prophecies,—to convince the whole world that in these cases other powers are at work than the demoniac or the divine. If every belief of the kind that appeals to certain cases, to
NEGATIVE INSTANCES. 107
certain experiences, were forced to undergo ex- perimentally the ordeal of negative instances, how few would endure the test! What would be- come of Swedenborg and Cagliostro? “It was well answered by him,” says Bacon, “ who, being shown in a temple the votive tablets of those who had escaped the peril of shipwreck, and being, moreover, pressed whether he would then acknow- ledge the power of the gods, asked where were the portraits of those who had perished after making their vows. The same may be said of nearly every kind of superstition, as that of astro- logy, dreams, omens, retributive judgments, and the like, in which men, delighted with vanities of the sort, observe the events when they are fulfilled, but neglect or pass them by, though much more numerous, whenever a failure occurs. But with much more subtilty does this evil in- sinuate itself into philosophy and the sciences, in which a maxim that has once been accepted infects and governs all others, though much more worthy of confidence. Besides, even if that eagerness and vanity, to which we have referred, did not exist, there is still this peculiar and per- petual error in the human mind, that it is swayed and excited more by affirmatives than by nega- tives; whereas it ought duly and regularly to regard both with impartiality; nay, in establish-
108 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
ing any true axiom there is greater force in the
| negative than in the positive instance.”* For | manifestly that which is refuted by a single in- |
stance cannot be proved by an hundred.
' The negative instances, of which Bacon would make methodical use, stand in his philosophy as a security against too credulous reliance on indi- vidual experience; against all hasty assumption ; in a word, against “idols.” They constitute, in the philosophical understanding, the spirit of contra- diction ; the logical goad of that “ enlightenment” (Aufklirung) that the successors of Bacon have diffused over the earth. The Anglo-Gallic “ en-
lightenment,” in every case, directs this weapon
* “Recte respondit ille, qui, cum suspensa tabula in templo ei monstraretur eorum qui vota solverant quod naufragii periculo elapsi sint, atque interrogando premeretur anne tum quidem deorum numen agnosceret, quesivit denuo, At ubi sint ill depicti qui post vota nuncupata perierint ? Eadem ratio est fere omnis superstitionis, ut in astrologicis, in somniis, ominibus, nemesibus, et hujusmodi; in quibus homines delectati hujus- modi vanitatibus advertunt eventus ubi implentur, ast ubi fal- lunt (licet multo frequentius) tamen negligunt et preetereunt. At longe subtilius serpit hoc malum in philosophiis et scientiis ; in quibus quod semel placuit reliqua (licet multo firmiora et potiora) inficit et in ordinem redigit. Quinetiam licet abfuerit ea quam diximus delectatio et vanitas, is tamen humano intel- lectui error est proprius et perpetuus, ut magis moveatur et excitetur affirmativis quam negativis ; cum rite et ordine equum se utrique praebere debeat; quin contra, in omni axiomate vero constituendo, major est vis instantiz negative.”—JVov.
Org. I. 46.
CRITICAL EXPERIENCE. 109
against the Idola Theatri, with which it con- tends, and batters down authorised systems by advancing facts in opposition; that is to say, negative instances. When Locke, for example, opposes the Cartesian theory of “ Innate Ideas,” by citing the cases of individuals who are des- titute of the ideas that have been called “ ine nate,” it is in a truly Baconian spirit that, while attacking the assumed doctrine, he appeals to the negative instance. And with this negative in- stance he is satisfied that he has completely re- futed Descartes.
Mere experience will not guard us against idols, much less the unassisted understanding. Critical experience can alone defend science against illusion. For mere experience does not observe negative instances, but collects cases, and from them hastily derives axioms; while as for the unassisted under- standing, it derives its knowledge solely from itself, without observing any external instances at all. Thus neither attain true copies of things. On the other hand, critical experience combines the wealth of experience with the force of the understanding, thus avoiding the one-sidedness and consequently the errors of both. It collects by sifting, and is thus both experimental and in- tellectual; is a rational thinking experience. Here alone does Bacon find the salvation of science ; in
110 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the union of reason and experience, while the de- plorable condition of science he attributes to their separation. ‘“ We think,” he says, “that we have established for ever a real and legitimate union between the empirical and rational faculties, whose morose and inauspicious divorces and repudiations have brought so much disturbance to the human family.”
Thus does Bacon oppose his own point of view to that of the past, as new and more elevated, reconciling as it does the stubborn differences that have hitherto existed. This opposition of facul- ties was necessarily unfruitful in its results, and it is only from their union that a fruitful and in- ventive science can take its beginning. In that happily figurative language, which constitutes one of the great qualities of his style, Bacon com- pares mere experience to the ants, that can do nothing but collect; the unaided understanding to spiders, that spin webs from themselves; the thinking experience (which is his own) to the bees, that collect and separate at the same time. He says: “ Those who have hitherto treated of the sciences have been either empiricists or dog- matists. The former, like ants, only heap up, and use what they have collected; the latter, like spiders, spin webs out of themselves; the method of the bee is between these, it collects matter
THE ANT, THE SPIDER, AND THE BEE, 11]
from the gardens and the fields, but converts and digests it through its own faculty. Nor does the true labour of philosophy differ from that of the bee; for it relies neither solely nor principally on the powers of the mind, nor does it store up un- digested in the memory the matter derived from Natural History and mechanical experiments, but it stores such matter in the understanding, after first modifying and subduing it. Therefore, from a closer and purer alliance of these faculties (the experimental and the rational) than has yet been accomplished, we have much to hope.”* The matter collected by experience is wrought into science by methodic treatment; that is to say, by true induction, in relation to which it stands as an utensil to be employed, or as a wood to be cleared. f
* “Qui tractaverunt scientias aut Empirici aut Dogmatici fuerunt. Empirici, formice more, congerunt tantum et utuntur ; Rationales, aranearum more, telas ex se conficiunt : apis vero ratio media est, que materiam ex floribus horti et agri elicit, sed tamen eam propria facultate vertit et digerit. Neque absimile philosophiz verum opificium est; quod nec mentis viribus tantum aut preecipue nititur, neque ex historia naturali et mechanicis experimentis prebitam materiam, in memoria in- tegram, sed in intellectu mutatam et subactam, reponit. Itaque ex harum facultatum (experimentalis scilicet et rationalis) arctiore et sanctiore foedere (quod adhuc factum non est) bene sperandum est.”—Vov. Org. I. 95. Compare also Cogitata et Visa.
+ Thus in the “ Parasceve” Bacon describes the “ Historia Naturalis” as “ vere: inductionis supellex sui silva.”
1b’. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Ill. InpvuctTion AND DEDUCTION IN THE BACONIAN SCIENCE.
Thus the first problem is solved. It is shown how
pure experience proceeds from doubt or the des- truction of idols, and how this experience results in science. It is shown what road leads from observation to law, from experiment to axiom. The sensuous perception with which experience sets out frees itself from z¢s idols (delusions of the senses) by rectifying experiments. ‘The inference of the law from the fact, with which experience ends, frees itself from zs idols (fallacious conclu- sions) by a careful consideration of negative in- stances and a comparison of them with the positive. This comparison is the second experiment. I, as it were, ask nature whether the law that is found is true, and will stand every test. “ An expe-
Bees
a
riment,” says a modern writer, “is a question .) lod, a which nature gives the reply.” This propositio
is so correct that we may also assert its converse. Every question put to nature is an experiment; and I question nature by directing myself to her instances, and compelling them to render an account of themselves. Nature is compared by Bacon to Proteus, who only answers when he is
EXPERIMENT THE MEANS OF INVENTION. 113
compelled and bound.* The first experiment rectifies the perception, the second rectifies the inference.
The question, then, that remains is this: how can knowledge, attained by the way of experience, become invention? For invention is the goal which is steadily kept in view by the Baconian philo- sophy. ‘The simple answer is: by the applica- tion of the discovered laws. If this application is possible, invention cannot fail. If I know the forces by which lightning is guided and attract- ed, I am certain of my lightning-conductor as soon as the required forces are at my disposal. This application of known natural forces is a new question to nature, practically put, —a new experiment, Therefore experiment is not only the means by which experience becomes science, but also the means by which science becomes in-
j vention. Making experiments, I proceed from
observation to axiom, from axiom to invention. “There is left for us,” says Bacon, “ pure expe- rience, which, if it offers itself, is called chance ; if it is sought, is called experiment. But this kind of experience is nothing but a broom without a band (as the saying is), a mere groping in the dark, as of men who, at night, try all means of
* Compare “De Augm. Scient.” II. 2. Also the “ Wisdom of
the Ancients,” 13. I
114 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
discovering the right road, when it would be much more expedient to wait for the dawn of day, or to kindle a light and then proceed. On the contrary, the true order of experience first kindles the light, then shows the way by means of this light; beginning with a regulated and digested, not a misplaced and erratic course of experiment, thence deducing axioms, and then, from the axioms thus established, making new ex- periments. Not even the Divine Word operated on the mass of things without order. Let men, therefore, cease to wonder, if the whole course of science be not run, when they have altogether wandered from the path; quitting and deserting experience entirely, or entangling themselves and roaming about in it, as in a labyrinth; when a true orderly method would lead them by a sure path through the woods of experience to the open daylight of axioms.” *
* «*Restat experientia mera, que, si occurrat, casus; Si quesita sit, experimentum nominatur. Hoc autem experientie genus nihil aliud est, quam (quod aiunt) scope dissolute, et mera palpatio, quali homines noctu utuntur, omnia pertentando, si forte in rectam viam incidere detur ; quibus multo satius et consultius foret diem prestolari, aut lumen accendere, et dein- ceps viam inire. At contra, verus experientie ordo primo lumen accendit, deinde per lumen iter demonstrat, incipiendo ab experientia ordinata et digesta, et minime prepostera aut erratica, atque ex ea educendo axiomata, atque ex axiomatibus constitutis rursus experimenta nova ; quum nec verbum divyinum
INDUCTION AND DEDUCTION. 115
The Baconian Induction proceeds from expe- riment to axiom; the Baconian deduction from axiom to experiment.* ‘The former is the me- thod of interpretation, the latter that of appli- cation. The former ends with the discovery of a law, the latter with an invention. Thus does Bacon’s philosophy, like his life, terminate with the triumph of experiment.
in rerum massam absque ordine operatum sit. Itaque desinant homines mirari si spatium scientiarum non confectum sit, cum a via omnino aberraverint; relicta prorsus et deserta experientia, aut in ipsa (tanquam in labyrintho) se intricando et circumcur- sando ; cum rite institutus ordo per experientix sylvas ad aperta axiomatum tramite constanti ducat.” — Nov. Org. I. 82.
(With respect to the curious expression, “ Scope dissolute,” which occurs in this passage, and which is rendered above, “a broom without a band,” Mr. Spedding remarks: “I do not remember any proverbial expression which answers to this in English ; but the allusion is to the want of combination and coherency in these experiments.”—J. O.)
* Compare these words: “ Indicia de Interpretatione Natura complectuntur partes in genere duas ; primam de educendis aut excitandis axiomatibus ab experientia; secundam de deducen- dis aut derivandis experimentis novis ab axiomatibus.” — ov, Org. II. 10. (In the places marked by italics, Dr. Fischer respectively reads “ Judicia” and “ experimentis.” — J. O.)
12
116 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,
CHAT ON
PREROGATIVE INSTANCES AS AIDS TO INDUCTION.—NATURAL ANALOGIES AS PREROGATIVE INSTANCES.
Tue difficulties to which the method of induction is exposed from a scientific point of view are obvious; and Bacon was not the man to conceal from himself the difficulties of his subject, either through fear or negligence. Indeed, difficulties that terrify others are to him no more than in- citements that stimulate his enterprising and cir- cumspect mind. He seeks them out, and makes them conspicuous in order to remove them by as many expedients as he can discover. In such expedients, when he has found them, Bacon really triumphs. Here he is in his proper element ;— endowed, not with a systematic, but with an in- ventive intellect. To judge him as a system- maker (a character to which he does not aspire), is simply to misunderstand him; he is not to be in the least confuted by the proof that his method is fragmentary, and leads to no final result. Such a proof would be as easy as it would be value- less. Bacon himself would willingly bear the
EXPEDIENTS AGAINST DIFFICULTIES. 117
reproach, and would convert it into a defence. “It is the very nature of my method,” he would say, “that it neither seeks nor desires a final result. If I have indicated the necessary goals, shown the right way, travelled part of this way myself, removed difficulties, and devised expedi- ents, I have done enough, and may leave the rest to future generations. They will go further than I; but it is to be hoped they will not arrive at an absolute conclusion. It is sufficient, to guide men into the path of progressive cultivation, to fur- nish them with means for the extension of their knowledge, and consequently of their dominion. On this path every point affords a triumph, and constitutes a goal in itself. As for the last goal, —the conclusion of all toil,—those alone can reach it who take no part in the great race of human faculties.” Thoroughly to understand such
“eo
minds as that of Bacon, we must look for them where their own method leaves them in the lurch; where they are forced to exert their own per- sonal faculties; where they are compelled to fill up the gaps in their theory by means of their genius, of their individual tact, of that something which I may call the generalship of philosophy. If Bacon’s historical importance is most con-
spicuous when he formulises his problem, and
propounds his method, his personal peculiarity, rs
118 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
his own especial talent is most visibly shown when, with expedients of his own invention, he defends himself against the difficulties by which his method is impeded. Here we can see who is master and who is disciple; for it commonly happens that a gap in the master’s method is also a gap in the head of the scholar, but none at all in the head of the master. Thus, even at the present day, the disciples of Bacon boast much of Bacon’s method when they oppose the contrary tendency, which is its complement. They do not know how much this tendency was akin to the mind of Bacon; how he grasped it involuntarily and instinctively when his method abandoned him. They do not know that he, the master, clearly pereeived those defects in his method which they, the disciples, would willingly ignore. When Bacon can proceed no further as an expe- rimental investigator of nature, he becomes, in spite of his method, a speculative natural philo- -sopher. We have designedly pointed out the affinity between Bacon and his intellectual anti- podes, that we may show how comprehensively he thought, and how he could complete himself from his own resources. ‘Thus, in the founda- tion of philosophy, he agreed with Descartes ; in his physical views, with Spinoza; and even in the auxiliary forces (Hiilfstruppen) of his
DEFECTS OF THE BACONIAN METHOD. 119
philosophy a similarity to the speculative ideas of Leibnitz, Herder, and Schelling may be dis- covered,
I. Tue Derects or tar BaconrAn MErTuHOp.
What is the purpose of the inductive method in Bacon’s sense of the word? It would reduce natural science to axioms as indisputable as those of mathematics, and these axioms it would discover on the path of critical experience by an unre- mitting observation of negative instances. Now here arises a double difficulty :
1, The observation of negative instances by no means implies their exhaustion; and yet they must be exhausted if an axiom is to be established. Against the axiom it must no longer be possible to oppose a single negative instance; and this impossibility must be capable of demonstration.* That we cease to find negative instances is not enough; we must also be able to prove that there are really no more. Now this proof can never be furnished by experience, which cannot even assert, much less prove, that a contradictory instance is impossible; for nature is richer than experience. Bacon rightly desires that science
* Vide p. 104, 14
120 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
should seek after axioms in that sense of thorough universality and necessity that prohibits any exception. But this very universality, in all its strictness, is never to be completely attained by
the way of experience, but can only be approached, By the method of induction, the negative instances can never be drained to the lees.
2. But the very observation of negative in- stances, consisting as it does of a careful com- parison between positive and contradictory cases, is attended with difficulty. So long as these cases balance each other, very many of them must be collected, and an accurate comparison must be continued through a long series of them, before we can so much as attempt to deduce an axiom from the facts before us. iverything depends on the exclusion of contingencies; and to effect this purpose many cases, much time, and much labour, are required. An inference drawn from a few cases has manifestly more to fear from negative instances than one that has been drawn from many. In the number, therefore, of cases compared, lies the only possible guarantee against the existence of negative instances.
PREROGATIVE INSTANCES, 121
II. Tue PREROGATIVE INSTANCES.
The difficulties are manifest. Means are to be sought for removing, or at least lightening them. Such means are the auzilia mentis, enumerated by Bacon, who, moreover, expatiates fully on one of them in the second book of his “ Novum Organum.” *
This one expedient is the chief of them all; its use is to support the method by completing it on the one hand, and facilitating it on the other. The method consists in the separation of contingent from necessary conditions, and its difficulty lies in the breadth of the required material,— in the tediousness, minuteness, and insecurity of the comparison. By facilitating the work of separation, we likewise shorten it, rendering the contingent conditions more easily discernible, the essential more capable of super- vision. This can only be effected by reducing the many cases to a few, so that a few will serve me in the place of many. But by what right can I do this? So long as one case is as worthy
* Compare Nov. Org. II. 21—52. The second vol. of the “Novum Organum” is unfinished, as well as the “ Instauratio Magna,” of which the whole “ Novum Organum” was to have formed the second part.
122 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of attention as another, so long as in this respect opposite cases are equally balanced, we must obviously have many of them before we can make any efficient comparison at all. But if there are certain cases, one of which is equal in value to a series of others, we shall then rightly consider one of the former, instead of many of the latter, and thus the more speedily obtain our result. Such cases are more worthy of our observation than the rest, and have, by their very nature, a sort of prerogative. Hence they are called “ prerogative instances” by Bacon. » Without doubt there are cases in which a given natural phenomenon is exhibited more purely and free from mixture than in others; in which the contingent circumstances, being fewer, may be more rapidly excluded, and therefore the essential conditions more easily and clearly ascer- tained. A prerogative instance facilitates the work of separation, inasmuch as it shows me, almost at a single glance, the true difference (vera differentia), the operative nature, the law of the phenomenon. What I should otherwise be forced to seek with great toil, and by a tedious comparison from a multitude of instances, I here find at once presented in a single phenomenon. Thus, for example, if the question is of specific eravity, the mere fact that quicksilver is so much
THEORY OF COLOUR. 123
heavier than gold is sufficient to show that the specific gravity of a body is regulated by its mass, not by the cohesion of its parts. This one observation will save me many others.* Or if the question is respecting a phenomenon that is to be found in all bodies, I shall find the purest specimen in such bodies that have little or nothing in common with others. Such “ solitary in- stances,” as Bacon calls them, save us the trouble y of future comparison. Thus, for example, the phenomenon of colour is discovered most readily, and with the least heterogeneous admixture, in prisms, crystals, and dewdrops; for these have little or nothing in common with other coloured bodies, such as flowers, stones, metals, varieties of wood, &c. They are, in this respect, single instances (instantie solitarie); and from observing them we easily arrive at the result, that “colour is nothing but a modification of the image of the incident and absorbed light; in the former case, by the different degrees of incidence; in the
latter, by the textures and various forms of bodies.” f
* Such prerogative instances are called by Bacon: Ostensive, Liberatx, Preedominantes, and Elucescentis, Nov. Org. IT. 24.
T “Facile colligitur quod color nil aliud sit quam modificatio imaginis lucis immisse et recepte ; in priore genere per gradus diversos incidentix, in posteriore per texturas et varios schema- tismos corporis.”
124 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Géothe, in his “ Materials towards the History of the Theory of Colours,” has made mention of Bacon ; but, strangely enough, he has not cited this remarkable passage. Evidently he was not aware of it; for, if he had been, he would cer- tainly have referred to it, inasmuch as it confirms his own view. In fact, it contains the principle of Gdéthe’s theory before Newton. Gidthe is altogether ignorant of the Baconian theory of Prerogative Instances, otherwise he would not have said that to Bacon, in the broad region of phenomena, all things were alike. Indeed, he treats the general method of Bacon with too much contempt, ranking it no higher than ordinary ex- perience, and accusing it of leading mankind to a boundless empiricism, “ whereby they acquired such a horror of all method, that they regarded chaotic disorder as the only soil in which science could really thrive.” This reproach applies to most of those who, at the present day, profess to be followers of Bacon, but not to Bacon himself, whose intellect was not only methodical, but even speculative. His explanation of the phenomenon of colour, which is merely given by way of ex- ample, while he is treating of another subject, expresses the same fundamental thought that Gothe sought to establish,—as he believed, for the first time,—against Newton. Gothe says of
NATURAL ANALOGIES. 125
Newton’s Theory of Colours: —“ By his desire to keep light alone in view, Newton seems to set out from a simple principle, but he imposes con- ditions upon it, as we do; while, however, he denies their integrating part in producing the result.” These conditions are bodies transparent and opaque, and the share that they take in the pro- duction of colour is clearly and definitely declared by Bacon in the passage cited above. *
Ill. Naturat ANALOGIEs.
Prerogative Instances, of which Bacon enu- »
merates twenty-seven, are phenomena that pre- eminently rivet, and, moreover, merit our atten- tion. “They are pregnant instances from which much may be inferred by an accelerated induc-
tion, by a rapid separation of the contingent from .
the necessary.| But, according to Bacon, all induction, all methodical experience is directed towards real natural philosophy, which, like every earnest science, necessarily strives after perfection, and, from a knowledge of the individual, seeks a knowledge of the universal. To this truly scien- tific impulse Bacon was by no means foreign. Like every other great thinker, he possessed it;
* Vide Appendix B.
a
nee
126 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the knowledge of the whole was ever before his eyes, as the last point to which natural science should tend; only, according to his view, it should be attained by the labour of bees, not by that of spiders. Induction proceeds from observation to axiom, from fact to law ; when it has explained a few facts, it is naturally impelled to explain more, to extend the compass of its laws, and to progress continually in the generalisation of its axioms. The most universal axiom is that of entire nature; the highest law is that which explains a// phenomena. As every law expresses the unity of certain phe- nomena, so does this highest law express the unity of nature as a whole; the unitas nature. This is the goal which Bacon proposes to science ; to this his method is expressly directed. He did not lay down the unity of nature as a principle, but would learn it from nature herself, would infer it from her phenomena. Like Spinoza, he sees in things a natura naturata, at the basis of which, as an operative power, lies the natura naturans, which, in his eyes, .is also a common source of all things, —a unitas nature. However, while Spinoza, from the xatura naturans would deduce the naturata, Bacon, on the other hand, would fem the naturata induce the naturans.
He therefore seeks phenomena in nature, that point to the unity of the whole, open a view into
NATURAL ANALOGIES. 127
the unity of entire nature, and thus assist the inferences of induction. If there are certain phenomena which, more than others, lead us to surmise the unity of the whole, they rivet our at- tention, when directed to the whole, as so many prerogative instances. Of what kind these preg- nant instances must be, is obvious enough. They are the prominent resemblances in the various formations of nature, the significant analogies that announce to us a unanimity in the operative forces. Here Bacon regards induction in the light of analogy, that is, he leads the investiga-_ tions of physical science to the affinity of things, by directing them to the unity of the whole.* He shows as it were nature’s family likenesses, and we have now to find the pedigree of things, together with its roots.
In the exhibition of analogies, Bacon displays a characteristic peculiarity of his mind. ‘To re- gard induction in the light of analogy, the things analogous must be discovered and correctly ob- served. Now the discovery is made not by the method, but by the eye of the investigator; the method follows the discovery, when the latter is ii a “eleteepet
* Compare Nor. Org. I. 27: “Inter Prerogativas Instan- tiarum ponemus sexto loco Instantias conformes, sive propor- tionatas ; quas etiam parallelas, sive similitudines physicas, appel- lare consuevimus.”
128 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
already made. Moreover, it is not by mere sen- suous perception, though aided by artificial in- struments, that analogies are detected, but by the further penetration of the mind. “The important _ analogies are those internal, secret resemblances, . that are not to be found on the surface of things, —not to be apprehended at a glance by the senses. A speculative spirit, a genius for investigation, must seek them out; the tact that accompanies genius must light upon them. Both these may be methodically cultivated, but neither can be given. Every true analogy is a correct combination made by a judicious intellect. Dexterous as Bacon is in supporting his method by means of striking combinations, he still cautiously restrains the readily combining intellect by the aid of his methodical spirit. I will not assert that Bacon himself never transcended these bounds, that all his analogies were as felicitous as they are bold and ingenious; but with respect to the scope and scientific value of analogy, he was _ perfectly clear. He sought an equilibrium between his genius and his method; by which, alternately, his mind was ever influenced. yen before he adduces his analogies —(as mere examples, which he scatters about heedlessly as he goes along, but which would afford an ample sus- tenance to many a natural philosopher of modern
USE OF ANALOGIES. 129
times), he sets judicious limits to their importance, and the use that is to be made of them. To him they appear rather as suggestive than as sources of exact knowledge, and serve more to direct the , contemplative understanding to the whole than — to instruct it in details. The analogies are, as it were, the first chords that we hear of the harmony of the universe. -* They are, as it were,” says Bacon, “the first and truest steps towards the union of nature. They do not at once establish an axiom, but only indicate and observe a certain conformity of bodies to each other. But although they do not conduce much to the discovery of general laws (or forms), they are, nevertheless, of great service in disclosing the fabrication of parts of the universe, and practise a sort of anatomy upon its members. Thence they sometimes lead us, as if by hand, to sublime and noble axioms, espe- cially those that relate to the configuration of the world rather than to simple natures and forms.
* “Sunt tanquam primi et infimi gradus ad unionem Nature. Neque constituunt aliquod axioma statim ab initio, sed indicant et observant tantum quendam consensum corporum, Attamen licet non multum promoveant ad inveniendas formas, nihilo- minus magna cum utilitate revelant partium universi fabricam, et in membris ejus exercent veluti anatomiam quandam ; atque proinde veluti manu-ducunt interdum ad axiomata sublimia et nobilia, presertim illa que ad mundi configurationem perti- nent, potius quam ad naturas et formas simplices.” — JVov. Org. IL. 27.
<
Wx K
9* |
130 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
And even while Bacon is occupied in setting forth his analogies, which rush through the world with the boldest combinations, he interrupts him- self, remarks anew the use of analogy to science, and also the danger to which this sort of combina- tion is exposed. This is quite right. It is only with the aid of analogy that induction can bring real unity into natural science, and discover that spiritual connection of things that can never be found through a mere description of parts, and is at last lost sight of altogether. ‘It is especially to be recommended, and more frequently to be suggested, that the diligence of man in the in- vestigation and compilation of natural history be henceforward entirely changed and converted to the contrary of that which has been hitherto in use. Hitherto the industry of man has been great and curious in noting the variety of things, and in ex- plaining the accurate differences of animals, vege- tables, and minerals, many of which are rather the sport of nature than of any real utility to science. Things of this sort are amusing, and sometimes not without practical use, but they con- tribute little or nothing towards the investigation of nature. Our labour, therefore, must be re- versed, and directed to the inquiry and notation
of the resemblances and analogies of things, both
in the whole and in part. For these analogies
UNITY MORE IMPORTANT THAN VARIETY. 131
unite nature, and lay the foundation of science.” * “It seems of no great utility to recount or know the marvellous varieties of flowers, whether of iris or tulip, of shells, dogs, or hawks. For things of this sort are nothing but the sports and wanton- ness of nature, and nearly approach the nature of individuals. By means of these we have a minute knowledge of things, but scanty and often unpro- fitable information with respect to science. Yet these are the things of which common natural history makes a boast.” Nevertheless, analogies must be cautiously and critically sought; for if,
* “Tilud omnino precipiendum est et sepius monendum, ut diligentia hominum in inquisitione et congerie Naturalis Histo- riz deinceps mutetur plane, et vertatur in contrarium ejus quod nunc in usu est. Magna enim hucusque atque adeo curiosa fuit hominum industria in notanda rerum varietate atque expli- candis accuratis animalium, herbarum, et fossilium differentiis; quarum plereeque magis sunt lusus nature quam serie alicujus utilitatis versus scientias. Faciunt certe hujusmodi res ad delectationem, atque etiam quandoque ad praxin; verum ad introspiciendam naturam parum aut nihil. Itaque convertenda plane est opera ad inquirendas et notandas rerum similitudines et analoga, tam in integralibus quam partibus. Illx enim sunt que naturam uniunt, et constituere scientias incipiunt.” — Nov. Org. IL. 27.
T “Non multum ad rem faciunt memorare aut nosse florum, iris aut tulips, aut etiam concharum aut canum aut accipitrum eximias varietates. Hee enim hujusmodi nil aliud sunt quam nature lusus quidem et lascivia ; et prope ad naturam indivi- duorum accedunt. Itaque habent cognitionem in rebus ipsis exquisitam; informationem vero ad scientias tenuem et fere supervacuam. Atque hee sunt tamen illa in quibus naturalis
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132 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
on the one hand, the endless varieties of things are often a mere sport of nature, so may the analogies, discovered by our own combinations, easily prove. to be a mere sport of the under- standing or the imagination. We make analogies that are not in nature; find analogies that in truth are none; fix our attention on casual, non- essential points of resemblance, and thus infer much from that which says nothing. Sports of this sort, to which a speculative and heedless imagination or a dreamy intellect willingly aban- dons itself, have peopled the region of natural science with a multitude of idols. If analogies are to be fruitful in results, they must embrace ¢ essential resemblances ; they must be, as it were, learned by listening at the secret workshop of nature. Hence Bacon proceeds to insist : * That in all these (analogies) a severe and rigorous caution be observed, that we only accept, as simi- lar and proportionate instances, those that denote natural resemblances, — that is to say, real, sub- stantial, and immersed_in_nature; not merely
casual and superficial, much less superstitious or exceptional, like those always brought forward by
historia vulgaris se jactat.”— Descript. Globi Intellectualis, cap. iii. [This citation is added to the note in the original, but it accords so well with the language of the text, that I have ventured to place it there. —J. O.]
BOLDNESS OF BACON’S ANALOGIES. 133
the writers on natural magic (men of the least account, and scarcely worthy of mention in serious matters, such as those of which we now treat), who with much vanity and folly describe, and some-
times invent, idle resemblances and sympathies.”*
The analogies themselves, that Bacon cites as examples, are of the boldest kind, seeing far and anticipating much, — attractive points of view, affording a rich and fertile prospect. With a few strokes he sketches the great pedigree of things, and shows by themost comprehensive combinations how everything in the world belongs to one family. Never, perhaps, was such a promising view into the connection of the universe afforded in the
form of concise aphorism and cursory example.
Bacon begins by comparing the mirror with the eye; the ear with the echo. The mirror and the eye reflect rays of light; the ear and the echo reflect the undulations of sound. Bacon concludes that there is a general analogy between the organs
* “Verum in his omnino est adhibenda cautio gravis et severa, ut accipiantur pro instantiis conformibus et propor- tionatis, ille que denotant similitudines physicas; id est, rea- les et substantiales et immersas in natura, non fortuitas et ad speciem; multo minus superstitiosas aut curiosas, quales naturalis magi scriptores (homines levissimi, et in rebus tam seriis quales nune agimus vix nominandi) ubique ostentant; magna cum vanitate et desipientia, inanes similitudines et sym- pathias rerum describentes atque etiam quandoque affingentes.” — Lib. II. 27,
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134 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of sense and reflecting bodies; between organic and inorganic nature. The idea of an analogy pervading all natural phenomena is clearly before his mind. All the relations and moods of inani- mate nature are perceptible, and when they are not perceived by us, this is owing to the nature of our own bodies, to which so many senses are wanting ; however, there are more (or at least as many) movements in inanimate than senses in animated bodies. Thus, for example, as many kinds of painful sensation as are possible to the human frame, so many kinds of motion, such as squeezing, pricking, contraction, extension, &c., are there in inanimate bodies; only these, through the want of vitality, do not feel them.” *
The comparison between organic and inorga- nic nature in general is carried by Bacon into analogies between details. He remarks similar formations between plants and stones, and by way of example compares gum with certain gems. These, according to him, are exudations and filterings (percolationes) of juices, the sap of trees exuding in the shape of gum; the moisture of rocks, after the same fashion, as a transparent gem. Hence the brightness and clearness of the vegetable and mineral formations, both of which
* These analogies are all to be found in ov. Org. lib.
\ IL 27.
INSTANCES OF ANALOGY. 135
are, as it were, filtered juices. Thus, among animals, the wings of birds are more beautiful and more vividly coloured than the hair of beasts, because the juices are not so delicately filtered through the thick skin as through the quills. In the formation of plants Bacon remarks a similar structure in the different parts, and in the spirit of modern morphology (which arose so long after him) calls attention to the fact, that in vegetable growth the constituent parts, both above and below, spread out towards the circumference. In their position, at opposite extremities of the plant, Bacon finds the only distinction between the branches and the roots. The roots are branches working their way downwards into the earth; the branches are roots striving upwards towards the air and sun. In the animal kingdom Bacon compares the fins of fishes with the feet of qua- drupeds, and the feet and wings of birds; and the formation of teeth with that of beaks.
The structure of the plant he compares with that of man, saying that the latter is, as it were, a plant inverted (planta inversa). The brain in man, whence the nerves take their origin, to spread in countless ramifications through the entire frame, corresponds to the root in plants. To no one were the analogies between man and plant more attractive than to Herder, who was never
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136 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
weary of spinning out and repeating this simile with every possible variation. It was a fault in him that he used this planta inversa as a characteristic of man, which he could interpret as a symbol of universal history. Herder’s intel- lect was made for analogies. Every analogy was a theme, on which he could compose a fantasia, and indeed what he called his “ Ideas” were mere analogies after all. From such points of view he derived his theories of the history of mankind. His combinations were generally sug- gestive, seldom accurate, and he might serve as an eminent example to illustrate the genius of analogy, with all its aberrations and its blunders. To this point especially did Kant direct his shafts in his critique of Herder’s “ Ideas,” show- ing how frequently his analogies were uncertain, and the conclusions drawn from them false. Bacon treats the analogies which he introduces into natural science with great tact; he does not play with them, but contents himself with noting the point of resemblance, and explaining it in a few words; after which he hastens on to new comparisons. From definite imstances he infers universal analogies, which ultimately com- prehend all nature, and these axioms he confirms anew by fresh definite instances, —by special com- ‘parisons between minerals and plants, plants and
u
GEOGRAPHICAL ANALOGY. 137
animals, &c. Beginning with individual instances, he at last directs his glance to the relations of the whole world, and already anticipating the speculative geography of our own time, observes the analogies in the formation of the quarters of the globe. Thus he is struck by the re- semblance between Africa and South America, both of which extend over the Southern Hemi- sphere, while there is a further analogy between the isthmus and promontory of both. “ This is no mere accident ” (non temere accidit), he signifi- cantly adds. He embraces both the Old and the New World in one comparative view, and remarks that these two huge masses of land become broad as they approach the north, narrow and pointed as they approach the south. There is something great and striking in the very fact of these re- marks; in the fact that here also Bacon has discovered an analogy, which, without difficulty, can be followed into its details. In a few short hints, given in a cursory manner, he has recognised a most interesting point in geogra- phical science, namely, the importance to be attached to the variations of the line of coast. By way of conclusion, Bacon essays his compa- rative glance on arts and sciences, and here also seeks for analogies. He takes for his examples rhetoric and music, mathematics and logic; find-
138 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
ing in the former similar tropes, in the latter similar forms of reasoning. To the rhetorical figure called preter expectationem, the musical declinatio cadentie perfectly corresponds. In ma- thematics there is the axiom that “things equal to the same are equal to one another.” To this there is a complete analogy in the logical form of syllogism, which connects two terms by means of a third.
We do not pronounce a judgment on the scientific value and scope of all these analogies which Bacon uses as examples. To us they are important for the assistance they afford us, both by their subject-matter, and by the manner of their introduction, in arriving at a right know- ledge of Bacon himself. They show a mind of the most comprehensive vision, with a corre- sponding acuteness in observing combinations. | Bacon does not use an analogy as an object, but as an instrument in aid of his method. Of this ~ Gnstrument he makes lavish use, according to the dictates of his own inclination and abundant power; he extends his grasp beyond the limits of his method, and, in spite of all his caution, there is imminent danger that he will not only abandon this method, but act in direct opposition to it; for, in truth, every analogy is an anticipatio mentis. The very design of Bacon’s analogies shows that
ANALOGY SUPPLEMENTARY TO INDUCTION. 139 |
he sought more than can be afforded by experience. He sought by this road what he could not discover by that of induction alone, namely, the unity of nature as manifested in the affinity of all things, or the harmony of the universe. Here we find Bacon in alliance with Leibnitz and his fol- lowers, as we found him before with Spinoza and Descartes. It will be but fair if we take that comparative view of Bacon himself which he took of all nature, pointing out his own mental affinities, his own analogies, and aiding our ob- servation by his “parallel instances,” which do nothing to diminish his originality, but throw a light on his comprehensive mind. What was fundamental tendency in Leibnitz was supple- mentary in Bacon, so that the axiom of the for- mer was the auxiliary expedient of the latter. Leibnitz as much needed induction as Bacon needed analogy.
The mind of Bacon extends further than his method; but in this very circumstance lies his epoch-making power, and it imposes upon us the necessity of comprehending his antagonism to antiquity and the philosophy derived from it. Thus we shall place ourselves in Bacon’s own mental sphere and picture to ourselves that an- tagonism, just as Bacon himself conceived it.
140 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. VI.
THE PHILOSOPHY OF BACON IN ITS RELATION TO THE PHILOSOPHY PRECEDING IT.
THE result of the Baconian philosophy, and the logical order of its ideas, may be thus stated in its principal features : —
1. Science should serve man by being use- ful to him. Its use consists in inventions; the object of which is the dominion of the human race.
2. Science can only become inventive through an exact knowledge of things, and this is only to be obtained by an interpretation of nature.
3. A correct interpretation of nature is only possible through pure and methodical experience. Experience is pure when it does not judge ac- cording to “idols” and human analogies, when it does not anthropomorphise things, when it is, mere experimentalising perception. LExpe- rience is methodical as true induction. Induction is true when, by an accurate and critical com- parison, it infers laws from a number of particular instances. Comparison is critical when it opposes
OPPOSITION TO ANTIQUITY. 141
negative to positive instances. Moreover, the process of inductive reasoning is accelerated by the investigation of prerogative instances. Ex- perience, thus disciplined, avoids from first to last all uncertain and premature hypotheses.
Thus Bacon sets up his principle and himself in opposition to the past. He sees that his own principles comprise all the conditions requisite for a thorough renovation of science, such as no one before him had the courage or the vigour to effect ; he feels that he is himself the bearer of the renovating spirit, — the scientific reformer. ** No one,” he says, “ has as yet been found en- dowed with sufficient firmness and vigour to re- solve upon and undertake the thorough abolition of common theories and notions, and the fresh application of the intellect, thus cleared and rendered impartial, to the study of particulars, Hence human reason, such as we have it now, is a mere farrago and crude mass made up of much credulity, much accident, and, withal, of those puerile notions which are imbibed early in life, But if some one of mature age, sound senses, and a disabused mind, should apply himself anew to experience and the study of particulars, we might have better hope of him.”* « Some hope might,
* “Nemo adhuc tanta mentis constantia et rigore inventus est, ut dicaverit et sibi imposuerit theorias et notiones communes
142 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
we think, be afforded by my own example; and we do not say this for the sake of boasting, but because it may be useful. If any feel a want of confidence, let them look at me,—a man who, among his contemporaries, has been most en- gaged in public affairs, who is of somewhat infirm health (which of itself occasions great loss of time), and who, in this matter, is assuredly the first explorer, neither following in the steps of another, nor communicating his own thoughts to a single individual; but who, nevertheless, having once firmly entered upon the right way, and submitted his mind to things, has (I think) made some advance.” *
If we now compare Bacon’s philosophy with
penitus abolere, et intellectum abrasum et equum ad particularia de integro applicare. Itaque ratio illa humana quam habemus, ex multa fide et multo etiam casu, nec non ex puerilibus quas primo hausimus notionibus, farrago quedam est et congeries. Quod si quis state matura et sensibus integris et mente repur- gata se ad experientiam et ad particularia de integro applicet, de eo melius sperandum est.” — Nov. Org. I. 97.
* «Etiam nonnihil hominibus spei fieri posse putamus ab exemplo nostro proprio; neque jactantize causa hoc dicimus sed quod utile dictu sit. Si qui diffidant, me videant, hominem inter homines eetatis mez civilibus negotiis occupatissimum, nec firma admodum valetudine (quod magnum habet temporis dispen- dium), atque in hac re plane protopirum, et vestigia nullius secutum, neque hec ipsa cum ullo mortalium communicantem, et tamen veram viam constanter ingressum et ingenium rebus submittentem, heec ipsa aliquatenus (ut existimamus) provexisse.” — Nov. Org. I. 113.
BACON AND KANT. 143
that which preceded it, we find, in all those points that bear upon the reformation of science, a de- cided antagonism. Bacon gives science another purpose, another foundation, another tendency.
I. Tue Practicat Enp.
DOGMATISM AND SCEPTICISM.
Bacon immediately directs science to the use of mankind, and to invention as the agent for promoting it; he would make science practical and generally useful, and from this point of view opposes the scientific character previously recognised, which was theoretic and only acces- sible to the few. From an affair of the schools, which it had hitherto been, Bacon would make of science an affair of life, not merely because it suited his inclination so to do, but as a necessary consequence of his principles. Bacon’s plan of renovation stands in an opposition to the an- tique, similar to that of the Kantian philosophy, Kant would make philosophy critical; Bacon would make it practical. Preceding systems appear uncritical to Kant, unpractical to Bacon. In the summary judgment which both, from opposite points of view, pronounce upon their predecessors, both are alike incapable of doing
144 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
justice in any particular to the philosophical culture of the past. They both agree that all preceding philosophy has been mere fruitless spe- culation, that the systems of the past fall into the opposite extremes of dogmatism and scepticism, and thus reciprocally annul each other’s results. To Kant the representatives of dogmatic and sceptical philosophy were Wolf and Hume; to Bacon they were the dogmatic Aristotelians and the academical sceptics, of whom he said that the former came to false and rash conclusions, the latter to none at all.* To embrace both these epochs of modern philosophy in one common expression, we may assert that Bacon and Kant, convinced of the fruitlessness of all preceding speculation, both desired to render philosophy fruitful, and therefore practical. Bacon directed it to a practical knowledge of nature, Kant to a practical knowledge of self. The ripest fruit of the Baconian philosophy is invention, so far as it conduces to the dominion of man; that of the Kantian is morality as based upon human free- dom and autonomy.
Bacon is never weary of reproaching the past with unfruitfulness, as a necessary consequence of theoretical philosophy. People fancy that they know a great deal, through this traditional system;
* Compare Nov. Org. 1. 67.
STERILITY OF ANCIENT SCIENCE. 145
nevertheless they make no advance, but remain stationary and inactive. The belief in their wealth is the cause of their poverty.* “ That philosophy, which we have chiefly derived from the Greeks, appears to be, as it were, the childhood of science, being fertile in controversy, barren of effect. Moreover, if sciences of this sort had not been a dead letter, it seems highly improbable that they would have remained, as they have, almost im- movable on their ancient footing without acquiring growth worthy of the human race; and this to such an extent that frequently not only does an assertion remain an assertion, but even a question remains a question, and instead of being solved by discus-. sion is fixed and maintained, so that the whole tradition and succession of instruction exhibits as on a stage the characters of master and scholar, but not that of the inventor, or of him who has added anything excellent to inventions. In mechanical arts we find that the contrary is the case. These, as if they partook of some vivifying air, are daily increased and brought to perfection. On the contrary, philosophy and the intellectual sciences, like statues, are adored and celebrated like sta- tues, but are not moved from the spot whereon they stand.” f
* Opinio copisz =Causa inopise. — Cogit. Visa. t “Et de utilitate aperte dicendum est, sapientiam istam L
146 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Tl. Tue PuysicaAL FOUNDATION.
Bacon, having decided that invention is the end of science, takes physics as its foundation.
Thus he is in direct opposition to the philosophies of every preceding age; to scholasticism, which, at bottom, was nothing but theology, to the Roman philosophy, which was chiefly occupied with ethics, and to the Graco-classic, which based physics upon metaphysics. Bacon first shows that philosophy has hitherto been unfruit- ful; then he investigates the causes of this sci- entific poverty. The first of these causes he finds in the fact that of the whole period recorded in the history of mankind an extremely small portion
quam a Grecis potissimum hausimus pueritiam quandam scientis videri. . . - Controversiarum enim ferax, operum effocta est. . - . Praterea, si hujusmodi scientiz plane res mortuz non essent, id minime videtur eventurum fuisse quod per multa jam secula usu venit, ut ille suis immote fere hereant vestigiis, nec incrementa genere humano digna sumant: eo usque, ut sepenumero non solum assertio maneat assertio sed etiam quzstio maneat questio, et per disputationes non solvatur sed figatur et alatur, omnisque traditio et successio discipli- narum representet et exhibeat personas magistri et auditoris, non inventoris et ejus qui inventis aliquid eximium adjiciat. In artibus autem mechanicis contrarium evenire videmus ; que, ac si aure cujusdam vitalis forent participes, quotidie crescunt et perficiuntur. . . . Philosophia contra et scientie intellec- tuales, statuarum more, adorantur et celebrantur, sed non pro- moventur.” — Pref. Inst. Magna,
THE THREE EPOCHS OF LEARNING. 147
has been devoted to science, and the second in the fact that the smallest portion eyen of scientific labour has been bestowed upon the natural sciences. “ Of the five and twenty cen- turies, which nearly comprise all the memory and learning of man, scarcely six can be selected and set apart as fertile in science and favourable to its advancement. For deserts and wildernesses are no less in times than in countries, and we can rightly enumerate no more than three revolutions and epochs of learning, namely, first the Greek ; secondly, the Roman; and lastly, our own (that is to say, the learning of the Western nations of Europe); and to each of these scarcely two cen- turies can be justly assigned. Even in those ages, in which men’s wit and literature flourished greatly, or even moderately, the smallest part of human labour was bestowed upon Natural Phi- losophy, which ought nevertheless to be regarded as the great mother of all the sciences. For all the arts and sciences torn from this root may perhaps be polished and fitted for use, but they will scarcely grow. It is well known that after the Christian religion had been adopted and had reached maturity, by far the greater number of excellent wits devoted themselves to theology ; that to this science the highest rewards were offered, and all means of assistance were abun- L 2
148 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
dantly supplied; and that thus. the study of theology almost entirely occupied that third period which has been given as that of the Western Europeans; the rather because about the same time when literature began to flourish, religious contro- versies also began to bud forth. In the preceding age, during that second or Roman period, the me- ditation and labour of philosophers were chiefly occupied and consumed by moral philosophy, which held the place of theology among the heathens. Moreover, in those times the greatest minds applied themselves as much as possible to civil affairs, on account of the magnitude of the Roman Empire, which required the labour of many men. But that age, during which Natural Philosophy appeared to flourish chiefly among the Greeks, was exceedingly short, since, in the more ancient times, the seven wise men, as they were called, all (with the exception of Thales), devoted themselves to Moral Philosophy and Politics; and in the times succeeding, after So- crates had brought down philosophy from heaven to earth, moral philosophy became still more prevalent, and diverted the minds of men from natural science. In the meanwhile let no one expect great progress in the sciences (especially their operative part) unless Natural Philosophy be applied to particular sciences, and particular —
THE THREE EPOCHS OF LEARNING. 149
sciences again referred to Natural Philosophy. Hence it arises that astronomy, optics, music, many mechanical arts, medicine itself (and what seems more wonderful) moral and political phi- losophy, have no depth, but only glide over the surface and variety of things; because these sciences, having been once partitioned out and established, are no longer nourished by Natural Philosophy. Thus, there is little cause for wonder that the sciences do not grow, when they are separated from their roots.” *
* “Ex viginti quinque annorum centuriis, in quibus memoria et doctrina hominum fere versatur, vix sex centuriz seponi et excerpi possunt, que scientiarum feraces earumve proventui utiles fuerunt. Sunt enim non minus temporum quam regionum eremi et vastitates. Tres enim tantum doctrinarum revolutiones et periodi recte numerari possunt: una, apud Grecos ; altera, apud Romanos; ultima, apud nos, occidentales scilicet Europese nationes: quibus singulis vix due centuries annorum merito attribui possunt. . . . Per illas ipsas «tates quibus hominum ingenia et liter maxime vel etiam mediocriter floruerint, Naturalis Philosophia minimam partem humane opere sortita sit. Atque hee ipsa nihilominus pro magna scientiarum matre haberi debet. Omnes enim artes et scientise ab hac stirpe revulse, poliuntur fortasse et in usum effinguntur, sed nil admodum crescunt. At manifestum est, postquam Christiana fides recepta fuisset et adolevisset, longe maximam ingeniorum prestantis- simorum partem ad Theologiam se contulisse ; atque huic rei et amplissima premia proposita, et omnis generis adjumenta co- piosissime subministrata fuisse: atque hoc Thelogiz studium pracipue occupasse tertiam illam partem sive periodum temporis apud nos Europsos occidentales ; eo magis, quod sub idem fere tempus et litere florere et controversix circa religionem pul-
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Ill. THe ANTIFORMAL TENDENCY.
That he may arrive at a proper explanation of nature, Bacon rejects all idols, including final causes, generic notions and forms, as human analogies that do not belong to the things them- selves. To final he opposes efficient causes ; to generic notions, individual things; to abstract
julare coeperint. At evo superiori, durante periodo illa secunda apud Romanos, potissime philosophorum meditationes et indus- trie in Morali Philosophia (que Ethnicis vice Theologie erat) occupate et consumpte fuerunt: etiam summa ingenia illis temporibus ut plurimum ad res civiles se applicuerunt, propter magnitudinem imperii Romani, quod plurimorum hominum opera indigebat. At illa estas, qua Naturalis Philosophia apud Gracos maxime florere visa est, particula fuit temporis minime diuturna; cum et antiquioribus temporibus septem illi qui sapientes nominabantur, omnes (preter Thaletem) ad Moralem Philosophiam et civilia se applicuerint ; et posterio- ribus temporibus postquam Socrates philosophiam de ccelo in terras deduxisset, adhuc magis invaluerit Moralis Philosophia, et ingenia hominum a Naturali averterit. . . . Interimnemo expectet magnum progressum in scientiis (preesertim in parte earum operativa), nisi Philosophia Naturalis ad scientias parti- culares producta fuerit, et scientiz particulares rursus ad Natu- ralem Philosophiam reducte. Hine enim fit, ut astronomia, optica, musica, plurime artes mechanice, atque ipsa medicina, atque (quod quis magis miretur) philosophia moralis et civilis, et scientiz logice, nil fere habeant altitudinis in profundo ; sed per superficiem et varietatem rerum tantum labantur: quia postquam particulares ists scientiz dispertite ef constitute fuerint, a Philosophia Naturali non amplius alantur. . . . Itaque minime mirum est si scientiz non crescant, cum a radi- cibus suis sint separate.” — ov. Org. I. 78, 79, 80.
POINTS OF OPPOSITION TO ANTIQUITY. 151
| forms, material qualities; and thus he denies
I everything that would render an interpretation of ~ox--anatural, teleological, idealistic, or, in a word,
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abstract. We may say, to combine these several oppositions in one single expression, that he em- ployed his whole weight to counterbalance that formal philosophy that had, down to his own time, so vastly preponderated, whether we consider the
\ extent or the duration of its reign... Under.this-
formal philosophy, which he regards as his an- tagonist, Bacon comprises Aristotelian Scholas- ticism, Platonic Aristotelism, Pythagorean Pla- tonism. In all these systems, that doctrine of final causes, that is regarded by Bacon as an *¢Tdolon Tribus,” predominates as the leading idea. The creations of formal philosophy are so many historical developments of this one fallacy. They are the idols that in the field of philosophy take possession of the human mind; that is to say, they are, in the eyes of Bacon, “ Idola Theatri.” *
Such, accurately expressed, are the points of opposition that give an historical character to the Baconian philosophy. To theoretic it opposes practical philosophy as an instrument of useful cultivation; to metaphysics and theology, which have hitherto constituted the basis of science, it
* The consideration of the “ Idola Theatri” occupies Apho-
risms 61—68 of Nov. Org. lib. I. L4
152 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
opposes physics; to formal it opposes material philosophy ; to common experience it opposes scientific experience.
1. BACON’S ANTAGONISM TO ARISTOTLE.
All these points of opposition were, as Bacon thought, concentrated in Aristotle, who, to his time, had held a dictatorship in the region of philosophy. Aristotle had ecanonised theory as the highest aspiration of the mind; rendering us similar to the gods. He had systematically ela- borated metaphysics, and upon this foundation had based his interpretation of nature. He was the real scientific representative of formal philo- sophy, and the creator of its logic; he regarded physics from the teleological point of view, after establishing that point of view metaphysically ; he brought the whole formal philosophy of the Greeks into a system, by which the middle ages were governed. Lastly, in Bacon’s eyes, that un- methodical and uncritical kind of experience that had hitherto prevailed was to be laid to the charge of Aristotle, for he brought induction into philo- sophy without sifting it critically, or arranging it in logical order. By the side of a fruitless logic Aristotle had upheld an illogical experience. What great end, then, could be attained by the philosophy that followed him, provided as it
BACON AS AN ANTI-ARISTOTELIAN. 153
was with such inefficient weapons? Thus, in Bacon’s eyes, all the “ Idola Theatri” that occupy the field of science are combined under the name of Aristotle. To this point, therefore, he directs all the attacks which he intends for antiquity in general. The name of Aristotle is, as it were, the extremity of a rod that must conduct all the lightnings darted by Bacon against the earlier phi- losophy. That Bacon may not appear unjust to Aristotle, we must consider the name of the latter, when used by the former, as a nomen appe- lativum rather than a nomen proprium. How far he apprehended the veritable Aristotle we shall not pause to inquire, for our inquiry here is not what Aristotle really was, but what he ap- peared in the eyes of Bacon, who attacked in him the theorist, the metaphysician, the formalist, and the empirist — making of himself an anti- Aristotle incarnate.
To the Aristotelian “ Organon,” Bacon, in his own “ Organum,” offers a double opposition. He combats the Aristotelian logic with experience, and the Aristotelian experience (which he con- siders the same as the common) with methodical experience. ‘To syllogism he opposes induction ; to Aristotelian induction true induction. His tactics in both cases are the same. He would prove that both syllogism and Aristotelian expe-
154 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rience are, with respect to physics, equally un- practical and unfruitful.
SyLLOGISM
is unfruitful, inasmuch as it cannot discover any- thing new, cannot find anything unknown, but can only exhibit, arranged in a consequent order, notions that are already familiar. It is a mere form of thought, that presupposes a given mate- rial to fill it up. But the aim of genuine science is the discovery of a material, not the mere arrange- ment of that which has already been given or handed down. From the known, science would infer the unknown. ‘Thus syllogism, which only arranges what is known, is an useless instrument in the hand of science; that is, of no assistance to her in her investigations, and does not advance her interests in the slightest degree. From syllogistic logic no science can be derived, since, as Bacon observes, it is of no service in the discovery of scientific truth.* Of what does syllogism consist ? Of judgments or premises. And of what do these consist? Of words. But words are mere symbols of notions that are in themselves obscure and
* “ Sicut scientiee que nunc habentur inutiles sunt ad inven- tionem operum ; ita et logica que nunc habetur inutilis est ad inventionem scientiarum.”— Nov. Org. I. 11.
USELESSNESS OF FORMAL LOGIC. 155
abstract representations of things, made and taken upon trust without due investigation, and circu- lated in the same fashion. Thus, if we reduce syllogism to its ultimate elements, we find that it rests upon obscure and uncertain notions.* These are turned into current coin by Formal logic, and as such are circulated. Thus, this kind of logie, far from conducing to the investigation of truth, rather serves to establish error; so that it is not merely useless, but even injurious. Syllogistie science lives on words alone; encourages not action, but talking; rendering men not inventive, but loquacious, and mere disputation leads to nothing. The art of words does not promote the “regnum hominis,” but merely the “ munus pro- Sessorium.”
Experience proceeds differently from this kind of logic, proving not by words, but by deeds; demonstrating ad oculos, experimentalising instead of talking. With the aid of an instrument, it
* “Syllogismus ex propositionibus constat, propositiones ex verbis, verba notionum tessere sunt. Itaque si notiones ipsx (id quod basis rei est) confuse sint et temere a rebus abs- tractee, nihil in iis que superstruuntur est firmitudinis.” — Nov. Org. I. 14.
T “ Logica que in usu est ad errores (qui in notionibus vul- garibus fundantur) stabiliendos et figendos valet, potius quam ad inquisitionem veritatis ; ut magis damnosa sit quam utilis.” — Nov, Org. I, 12.
156 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rectifies our sensuous perception, and fits it for the observation of things. ‘“ We must fly to art,” says Bacon, “and must look to demonstration that is governed by art. As for syllogism, which is regarded by Aristotle as an oracle, sentence may be passed on it ina few words. It is, doubtless, useful to the understanding, as a sort of helping hand, in those sciences that are founded on human opinions, as the moral and political, but it is unequal and incompetent to the subtlety and obscurity of natural things. Thus, induction remains our last and only aid in the acquisition of real knowledge. Nor do we, without cause, rest our hopes upon it, since it is able to collect laborious works and the faithful suffrages of things, and present them to the intellect.”* Therefore away with syllogism; let us have
* “ (Cogitavit) sequi igitur ut ad artem confugiendum, et de demonstratione que per artem regitur, videndum sit. Atque de syllogismo qui Aristoteli oraculi loco est, paucis sententiam claudendam. Rem esse nimirum in doctrinis que in opinionibus hominum posite sunt, veluti moralibus et politicis, utilem et intellectui manum quandam auxiliarem ; rerum vero naturalium subtilitati et obscuritati imparem et incompetentem. Restare inductionem, tanquam ultimum et unicum rebus subsidium et perfugium ; neque immerito in ea spes sitas esse, ut que opera laboriosa et fida rerum suffragia colligere, et ad intellectum per- ferre possit.”—Cogit. et Visa.
ARISTOTELIAN EXPERIENCE. 157
EXPERIENCE.
Not, however, Aristotelian experience, for this is just as sterile as syllogism, and no less misses the ultimate object of all scientific research. In a natural state of things, logic ought to discover truths, and experience invent works; the former procuring for us new knowledge, the latter aiding us to new inventions. But the Aris- totelian logic contributes nothing ‘ad inventionem scientiarum ;” the Aristotelian experience contri- butes nothing “ad inventionem operum.” Both are incapable of invention, and therefore both are useless. The Aristotelian experience is sterile from a double cause ; that is to say, it is either a mere description involving an expanse of matter without form (just as the syllogism was an empty form without matter), or “asimple and childish kind of induction, that proceeds by enumeration alone, and therefore arrives not at necessary, but at uncertain conclusions.”* Hence it does not lead to any knowledge of laws, to any interpreta- tion of nature, to any invention, but remains dry and sterile. Or, on the other hand, this Aristo-
* “Formam ejusdem (inductionis) meditati sunt admodum simplicem et plane puerilem que per enumerationem tantum procedat, atque propterea precario non necessario concludat.”— Cog. et Visa,
158 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
telian experience at once infers the most general laws from the consideration of a few particular cases, without regarding the negative instances, — without extending its path by a careful com- parison of various cases, or shortening it by the discovery of prerogative instances. It does not discover, but merely abstracts laws, and is thus unmethodical and uncritical,—not investi- gating, but anticipating nature. From single facts to general laws it proceeds as if by flight, not step by step. Its fault is an impatience of delay, which, not allowing any pause to the work of experience, forces it to fly upwards, instead of climbing; so that it misses the goal that it is in such a hurry to reach. It grasps immediately at the highest laws, — determines the primary before it has ascertained the intermediate causes,— hoping by syllogistic art to supply the links wanting in the chain of existence.* An expe- rience of this kind can lead to no experiment properly called,—to no invention; it is therefore as sterile as the syllogism.
* The whole of the above passage is an expansion of the following :—‘‘ More impatientes et compendia viarum undique lustrantes, et quedam in certe ponere, circa que, tanquam circa polos, disputationes verterentur, properantes, eam (induc- tionem) tantum ad generalia scientiarum principia adhibuerunt, media per syllogismorum derivationes expedire temere sperantes.”
— Cog. et Visa.—J. O.
INVENTIVE EXPERIENCE. 159
In the place of this kind of experience, Bacon puts the inventive, which proceeds by another path. “There are, and can be,” he says, “ only two ways for the investigation and discovery of truth. One flies from the senses and particulars to the most general axioms, and from these principles, and their infallible truth, determines and discovers intermediate axioms. And this is the way now p in use. The other constructs axioms from the #* senses and particulars, by ascending continually and gradually, so as to reach the most general axioms last of all, This is the true way, but is yet untried.”* The right way from the par- ticular phenomena to the highest laws of nature is by a series of steps, and this series constitutes the characteristic difference between the Baconian experience and that which had pre- viously prevailed. “The human understanding must not jump and fly from particulars to remote and most general axioms (such as the so-called principles of acts and things), and then, by the infal-
* “Due vie sunt, atque esse possunt, ad inquirendam et in- veniendam yeritatem. Altera a sensu et particularibus advolat ad axiomata maxime generalia, atque ex iis principiis eoramque immota veritate judicat et invenit axiomata media ; atque heec via in usu est: altera a sensu et particularibus excitat axiomata, ascendendo continenter et gradatim, ut ultimo loco perveniatur ad maxime generalia; que via vera est, sed intentata,” — Nov, Org. I. 19.
160 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
lible truth of these, test and make out the inter- mediate axioms. This, however, has hitherto been done from the natural bent of the understanding, which has, moreover, been trained and accustomed to this course by the syllogistic form of demon- stration. But we can then only hope well for science, when the ascent shall be made by a true scale, and successive steps, without gap or inter- ruption, first from particulars to minor axioms, then to the intermediate (one above the other), and finally to the most general. For the lowest axioms do not much differ from bare experience; but those which are now deemed the highest and most general are notional and abstract, with nothing solid about them. But the intermediate are those true, solid, and living axioms, upon which depend the affairs and fortunes of mankind. Hence we must not add wings, but rather lead and weights to the human understanding, in order to prevent all jumping and flying.”*
* “ Neque tamen permittendum est, ut intellectus a particulari- bus ad axiomata remota et quasi generalissima (qualia sunt principia, que vocant, artium et rerum) saliat et volet; et ad eorum immotam veritatem axiomata media probet et expediat : quod adhuc factum est, prono ad hoc impetu naturali intellectus, atque etiam ad hoc ipsum, per demonstrationes qu fiunt per syllogismum, jampridem edocto et assuefacto. Sed de scientiis tum demum bene sperandum est, quando per scalam veram, et per gradus continuos et non intermissos aut hiulcos, a parti- cularibus ascendetur ad axiomata minora, et deinde ad media,
SYLLOGISM AND EXPERIENCE. 161
SYLLoGismM AND EXPpERIENce.
These two instruments :of the Aristotelian philosophy stand, as Bacon remarks, in a reci- procal relation; the one supporting, and acting as a supplement to the other. Syllogistie art requires the lower kind of experience, to give a material upon which it may imprint its logical form. Experience requires syllogism, to find intermediate links between phenomena and uni- versal laws. Without experience, syllogism would be devoid of life and motion; without syllogistic art, experience would be aphoristic, and unable even to assume the appearance of systematic order.
The mind that is desirous of invention has nothing to expect from either. Its mode of knowledge is logical experience, or inventive logic. Logical experience is distinguished, as experience, from formal logic, which has nothing to do with experience ; and, as logic, from the ordinary expe-
alia aliis superiora, et postremo demum ad generalissima. Etet.im axiomata infima non multum ab experientia nuda discrepant. Suprema vero illa et generalissima (que habentur) notionalia Sunt et abstracta, et nil habent solidi. At media sunt axiomata illa vera et solida et viva, in quibus humane res et fortune sites sunt. .... Itaque hominum intellectui non plume addenda, sed plumbum potius et pondera; ut cohibeant omnem saltum et volatum.”—Nov. Org. I. 104.
M
162 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rience, in which there is nothing logical. “ We must apply to ourselves,” says Bacon, “the joke of him who said that wine-drinkers and water- drinkers cannot think alike; especially as it hits the point so well. Now other men, both ancient and modern, have drunk in science, a crude liquor, like water, which has either flowed spontaneously out of the understanding, or has been drawn up by dialectics, as by a wheel from a well. But we drink and pledge others with a liquor made from an infinite number of grapes, and those well ripened, plucked, and collected in picked clusters, then crushed in the winepress, and at last purified
and clarified in a vessel. Therefore it is not
wonderful that we do not agree with others.” *
* «Ttaque dicendum de nobis ipsis quod ille per jocum dixit, presertim cum tam bene rem secet: fieri non potest ut idem sentiant, qui aquam et qui vinum bibant. At ceteri homines, tam veteres quam novi, liquorem biberunt crudum in scientiis, tanquam aquam vel sponte ex intellectu manantem, vel per dialecticam, tanquam per rotas ex puteo haustam. At nos liquorem bibimus et propinamus ex infinitis confectam uvis, iisque maturis et tempestivis, et per racemos quosdam collectis ac decerptis, et subinde in torculari pressis, ac postremo in vase re- purgatis et clarificatis. Itaque nil mirum si nobis cum aliis non conveniat.”—Vov. Org. I. 123. By “ aquam sponte ex intellectu manantem,” Bacon manifestly means syllogism; by “aquam per rotas ex puteo, haustam,” that kind of experience that from a few facts leaps at once to the most general axioms. In the parallel passage of “ Cogitata et Visa,” he expresses the same thought by the words, “ Industria quadam haustum (liquorem).” —Author’s Note.
SYMPATHY WITH PLATO. 163
2. BACON’S OPPOSITION AND AFFINITY TO PLATO. — HIS OPINION OF PLATO AND ARISTOTLE,
Within the limits of formal philosophy, to which as a whole he is diametrically opposed, Bacon, nevertheless, makes a remarkable distinction be- tween Aristotle and Plato. Of the two, Plato appears to him as belonging to the higher order of mind, as the greater genius. The systems of these philosophical chiefs of classical antiquity are, indeed, both equally removed from a true semblance of nature; the minds of both are prepossessed by “ idols,” but those of Plato are as poetical as those of Aristotle are sophistical.* Little as Bacon participates in the errors of Plato, they appear to him more amiable and natural than those of the other. The imagination, when it errs, is more readily pardoned than the under- standing. Bacon’s philosophical views were far removed from anything like poetry, but he had a lively imagination, and a ready susceptibility for the charms of poetry; and this side of his character was attracted by the poetical Plato. Indeed, this element of poetry in Bacon, which is displayed not only in his preference for Plato, but not unfrequently influences his style, and guides
* “ Platonem, tam prope ad poet, quam illum (Aristotelem), ad sophiste partes accedere.”— Cogitata et Visa.
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164 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
him in the choice of his examples, proves anew the truth of the felicitous remark once made by Humboldt on the subject of Columbus, that a poetical imagination expresses itself in every great specimen of human character.*
Bacon draws a distinction between Plato and Aristotle, precisely the same as that which, by many of the present day, is drawn between Schel- ling and Hegel. In opposition to both of them, he puts correct investigation, which, he asserts, Plato has spoiled by imagination, Aristotle by dialectics. The great example of sophistical phi- losophy, according to Bacon, is Aristotle, who, by his dialectics, spoiled natural science, inas- much as he produced a world from categories. Thus, Bacon reproaches Aristotle with a resolu- tion of all reality into categories ; Plato, with a conversion of reality into imaginary forms; the one setting logical abstraction, the other poeti- cal images, and both alike setting “idols” in the place of things. Plato is mystical and poetical ; Aristotle, dialectical and sophistical. Thus, in his day, did Bacon judge the classical philosophers of antiquity ; and, at the present time, the same judgment is passed by almost everybody upon Schelling and Hegel. We say this without par- tiality; our only interest being in the fact that
* « Ansichten der Natur,” Vol. I. p. 256.
SCHELLING AND HEGEL. 165
we maintain, namely, that the judgment passed on Schelling and Hegel, at the present day, is not only similar, but literally the same as that formerly pronounced by Bacon on Plato and Aristotle. It is not without reason that many have called atten- tion to the affinity between Hegel and Aristotle, Schelling and Plato. We may even state a ratio: — as the two German idealists are to our own age, so are the two Greeks to the ageof Bacon. We are not speaking here of a distance in point of time, but of scientific magnitude. If nearly everybody now judges of the two German philosophers, just as Bacon judged of kindred spirits among the ancient Greeks, we may regard this identity as an important sign, showing how near the present age has brought itself to the Baconian point of view. It bears witness to an affinity between Bacon’s mode of thought, and that now prevailing. We think too highly of Bacon to construe this sign unfavourably for the present age. Still, there is one thing it does not prove ; namely, that the tendency of our own times to pronounce a verdict against the last systems of philosophy is at all new or original. One thing it does not proclaim (although this is presumed by many, who are ignorant of history), namely, a new epoch! Much more is this turn of thought to be regarded as a mere emanation of that broad, intellectual flood that. M3
166 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
originated with Bacon. On this account, do we examine so carefully, and with such deep interest, the great source itself; on this account do we strive to exhibit to the present generation, as In a clear mirror, the image of Bacon, which it has imitated for the most part unconsciously, but, on the whole, certainly not without cause.
Tue PLATonic IDEALISM.
Bacon rejects alike the Platonic ideas and the Aristotelian categories ; both are to him abstract, sterile forms, that explain nothing in nature. But the Platonic philosophy regards its Ideas, which, in truth, are merely idols, as the divine originals of the things themselves. It deifies these idols; and thus, to the realistic thinker, appears an apotheosis of error, bribing the understanding through the imagination. Such a thinker must naturally regard it as a science of logical corrup- tion, as a fantastic philosophy. “ For the human understanding,” says Bacon, “is no less exposed to the impressions of fancy, than to those of vulgar notions. For the disputatious and sophistical kind of philosophy ensnares the understanding ; while that other fanciful, bombastic, and, as it were, poetical sort, rather flatters it. There is in man a certain ambition of the intellect, no less than of the will, especially among lofty and
FANTASTIC PHILOSOPHY. 167
elevated minds. Of this better kind we have, among the Greeks, a most conspicuous example in Pythagoras, though combined with a coarser and more burdensome superstition; but it appears more subtle and dangerous in Plato and his school. This kind of evil is found also in branches of other systems, where it introduces abstract forms, final and primary causes, frequently omitting the inter- mediate, and the like. Against it, the greatest caution must be used; for the apotheosis of error is the greatest of evils, and the worship of folly may be regarded as the pestilence of the intellect. But in this vanity some of the moderns, with consummate recklessness, have indulged to such an extent, that they have endeavoured to found a natural philosophy on the first book of Genesis, the book of Job, and other sacred writings; thus seeking the dead among the living. And this folly is the more to be checked and restrained, because not only fantastical philosophy, but here- tical religion, results from such an absurd mix- ture of the divine and human. It is, therefore, most wholesome soberly to render unto faith only the things that are faith’s.” *
* “Humanus enim intellectus non minus impressionibus phan- tasize est obnoxius, quam impressionibus vulgarium notionum. Pugnax enim genus philosophize et Sophisticum illaqueat intel- lectum: at illud alterum phantasticum et tumidum, et quasi
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168 FRANCIS BACON € VERULAM.
- Aiming at the purity of science, Bacon would, above all, preserve its foundation, physics, from every heterogeneous admixture. ‘“ Natural phi- losophy has not yet been found in a pure state, but corrupt and infected :—in the school of Ari- stotle, by logic; in the school of Plato, by natural theology; in the second school of Plato (that of Proclus and others), by mathematics, which ought to limit natural philosophy, not to generate or create it. But from a pure and unmixed natural philosophy better results are to be hoped.” *
Poeticum, magis blanditur intellectui. Inest enim homini qux- dam intellectus ambitio, non minor quam voluntatis; preesertim in ingeniis altis et elevatis. Hujus autem generis exemplum inter Grecos illucescit, preecipue in Pythagora, sed cum super- stitione magis crassa et onerosa conjunctum ; at periculosius et subtilius in Platone, atque ejus schola. Invenitur etiam hoc genus mali in partibus philosophiarum reliquarum, introducendo formas abstractas, et causas finales, et causas primas ; omittendo seepissime medias, et hujusmodi. Huic autem rei summa adbi- benda est cautio. Pessima enim res est errorum Apotheosis, et pro peste intellectus habenda est, si vanis accedat veneratio. Huic autem vanitati nonnulli ex modernis summa levitate ita in- dulserunt, ut in primo capitulo Geneseos et in libro Job et aliis scripturis sacris, philosophiam naturalem fundare conati sint ; inter viva querentes mortua. 'Tantoque magis hxc vanitas in- hibenda venit et coercenda, quia ex divinorum et humanorum malesana admistione non solum educitur philosophia phantastica, sed etiam religio heretica. Itaque salutare admodum est, si mente sobria fidei tantum dentur que fidei sunt.”—Vov. Org. I. 65.
* «Naturalis Philosophia adhuc sincera non invenitur, sed infecta et corrupta: in Aristotelis schola per logicam, in Platonis schola per theologiam naturalem; in secunda schola Platonis,
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SIMILARITY TO PLATONISM. 169
Still, notwithstanding this diametrical oppo- sition of principles and tendencies, there is still a philosophical point of contact to be found between
_ the greatest idealist of antiquity and the greatest \realist of modern times.
caer
Tue PLatonic Metuop
is akin or homogeneous to the Baconian. In much the same manner does Plato find his ideas; Bacon, the laws of things. The Socratico-Pla- tonic method derives the mental conception from immediate representations; Bacon, from natural phenomena, derives a law. In both cases the course of reasoning is inductive, beginning with particulars, and ascending to the universal. In both cases the induction is of a kind that pro- ceeds slowly and gradually (per gradus con- tinuos) to the universal:— with Plato, to Ideas ; with Bacon, to laws: with Plato, to the original ; with Bacon, to the copy of nature: with Plato, to the final; with Bacon, to the efficient causes of things. And what is the chief point of all, the course of induction is in both cases pursued
Procli et aliorum, per mathematicam ; que philosophiam natu- ralem terminare, non generare aut procreare debet. At ex phi- losophia naturali pura et impermista meliora speranda sunt,”— Nov. Org. I. 96.
Sn ae eR CR RE
170 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
through negative instances. Following the ex- ample of Socrates, Plato applies the test of a negative instance to all definitions, so that these are continually rectified and purified by con- tradictory instances, which here are not natural phenomena, but definitions or propositions. In the “ Republic,” the idea of justice is under dis- cussion, and it appears to Cephalus that the just man should give to every one his own, and should therefore return what he has borrowed, when he is asked for it. “Is it then just,” asks Socrates, “to return borrowed weapons, where the lender is mad when he asks for them?” Manifestly not. Here is the negative instance ; it shows that the first definition of justice was too broad, and therefore does not meet the point. What Cephalus imagines to be just, is not so in every case. To collect all the examples of the negative instances to be found in Plato, it would be neces- sary to copy out the whole of his dialogues. In the same manner, Bacon uses the negative instance as a test, to discover whether the conditions of natural phenomena that present themselves are essential or not. Plato makes experiments with ideas, as Bacon with things. With both of them, the mode of proof consists in so testing that which is to be proved, as to ascertain whether, in every respect, it will agree with their hypothesis;
THE PLATONIC INDUCTION. 171
in other words, whether it will endure the ordeal of negative instances. Thus, both make experi- ments; one logically, the other physically ; one to discover the true idea among our notions, the other to find out the true laws in nature. They proceed by similar roads, viz., per veram inductionem, to opposite goals. Bacon himself perceived this affinity, and it made him prefer Plato to Aristotle. ‘ An induction that is to be useful for the discovery and demonstration of the sciences and arts, should separate nature by proper rejections and exclusions, and then, after a suf- ficient number of negatives, come to an affirma- tive conclusion. This has not yet been done, nor even tried, except by Plato, who certainly makes use of this form of induction to some extent, for the purpose of sifting definitions and ideas.” * The Platonic induction leads to a world of ideas, which is formed by the way of continued abstraction; the Baconian induction leads to a copy of the real world, by the way of continued experience. From Plato’s point of view the real
* “At inductio que ad inventionem et demonstrationem scientiarum et artium erit utilis naturam separare debet, per re- jectiones et exclusiones debitas; ac deinde, post negativas tot quot sufficiunt, super affirmativas concludere ; quod adhue factum non est, nec tentatum certe, nisi tantummodo a Platone, qui ad excutiendas definitiones et ideas, hac certe forma inductionis aliquatenus utitur.”— Nov. Org. L 105.
172 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
world itself appears a copy, of which philosophy is to find the original. From the Baconian point of view, on the contrary, the real world appears — as the original, of which philosophy must make a copy. The Platonic abstraction consists in the analysis of ideas; the Baconian, in the analysis of things,—an anatomical dissection of bodies, the *‘dissectio nature,” the “anatomia corporum,” which Bacon requires in lieu of the Platonic abs- traction. “ For we are establishing in the human intellect a true model of the world, such as it is found to be, not such as any one’s reason may have suggested ; but this cannot be effected with- out performing a most diligent dissection and anatomy of the world.” *
3. THE AFFINITY OF BACON TO DEMOCRITUS AND THE ATOMISTS.
We now come to the last relation between Bacon and the Greek philosophy, and here we find an indubitable point of contact. Bacon opposes Aristotle on every point, and with all his might. He will have nothing in common with him, deeming that his method is as useless and as
* « Etenim verum exemplar mundi in intellectu humano fun- damus; quale invenitur, non quale cuipiam sua propria ratio dictaverit. Hoc autem perfici non potest, nisi facta mundi dis- sectione atque anatomia diligentissima.”—Vov. Org. I. 124.
AFFINITY TO THE ATOMISTS. 173
sterile as his doctrines. His affinity to Plato is merely of the formal kind; he finds here his own method, the ¢rue induction, but it is employed for futile ends or useless devices. For the Platonic ideas or imaginations have nothing in common with human life, and therefore cannot have any practical influence upon it.
However, there is one doctrine of antiquity which has a material affinity to Bacon, namely, Materialism itself, or, as the ancients called it, the Physiology of the Pra-Socratic period, which stands as the opposite pole to formal philosophy generally. To the Atomistic philosophy of De- mocritus and his disciples, sometimes involun- tarily, sometimes intentionally, Bacon is inclined above all other systems. ‘That earliest philoso- phical age was devoted to a lively contemplation of nature, to the matter of things themselves, not to forms abstracted from them. The principles here laid down for the foundation of things were of a corporeal nature, and coincided with the elements. Bacon’s dislike to formal philosophy occasions and explains his inclination to Ma- terialism. His opposition to Aristotle occasions and explains his affinity to Democritus. Bacon and Democritus form, as it were, two opposite poles to that formal philosophy that governed classical antiquity, and afterwards the scholastic
174 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
middle ages. Democritus is the pole beyond it, Bacon the pole on this side. “It is better to dissect nature than to abstract,” says Bacon, “and this has been done by the school of Demo- critus, which penetrated more deeply into nature than the rest.”* Among all the Greek philoso- phers Bacon distinguishes the Atomists as the most sagacious, observing that they possessed and propagated a sense for true natural science, and were only obscured and, as it were, outshone by the philosophy of Aristotle and Plato, after the Genserics and Attilas—the barbarians of the irruption — had annihilated the scientific sense of the world altogether. For in the days of civilised antiquity the influence of Democritus never ceased. He and the whole age of Pra-Socratic philosophy are opposed by Bacon to the authority of Aristotle. The tendency of Aristotle to busy himself with words, rather than with the living truth of things, is best shown, according to Bacon, by a com- parison of his philosophy with that of others, who were in repute among the Greeks. “ For the homoiomera of Anaxagoras, the atoms of Leu- cippus and Democritus, the heaven and earth of Parmenides, the discord and concord of [Kmpe- docles, the resolution of bodies into the common
* +‘ Melius est naturam secare, quam abstrahere, id quod Demo- criti schola fecit, quee magis penetravit in naturam, quam relique.”
DEMOCRITUS. 175
nature of fire, and their recondensation, as taught by Heraclitus, have about them somewhat of natural philosophy, and savour of the nature of things, of experience, and of corporeal reality ; while for the most part the physics of Aristotle are nothing but logical terms, and are afterwards treated in his metaphysics under a more imposing name, and as if he were dealing rather with things than with words.” *
Among all these natural philosophers of the Greeks Bacon gives the preference to the Atomists, with Democritus at their head. Their theory is the most natural; it penetrates corporeal things in the proper sense of the word, for it traces them to their ultimate particles, and is therefore more materialistic than any other. Democritus laid down the correct principle that matter was eternal, and that, far from being destitute of all shape and form, it was determined from the beginning by motive and forming powers; that matter and form
* “Habent enim Homoiomera Anaxagore, Atomi Leucippi et Democriti, Calum et Terra Parmenidis, Lis et Amicitia Empedoclis, Resolutio corporum in adiaphoram naturam ignis et Replicatio eorundem ad densum Heracliti, aliquid ex philo- sopho naturali, et rerum naturam et experientiam et corpora sapiunt; ubi Aristotelis Physica nihil aliud quam dialectics voces plerunque sonet; quam etiam in Metaphysicis sub solen- niore nomine, et ut magis scilicet realis, non nominalis, re- tractavit.”— lVov. Org. I. 63.
176 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
were absolutely inseparable, had never been parted from each other in the nature of things, and therefore were not to be separated, though they might be distinguished in the interpretation of nature. That formless matter, of which Plato, Aristotle, and their disciples talk so much, is not the matter of things, but only the matter of that vague and obscure discourse which is the boast of word-philosophy. The only fault of Democritus ‘consists in this, that he did not arrive at his correct and irrefutable principles by a methodical interpretation of nature, but anticipated them by the mere operation of the unassisted intellect; that is to say, he maintained them metaphysically, instead of proving them physically, by the way of experiment.* This fault of Democritus belongs to
* This is the reason why Bacon did not identify his philo- sophy with that of the Atomists. He desired physical, not metaphysical atoms. Physical atoms are corpuscles or particles, i.e. the ultimate and smallest parts of body that we can perceive and exhibit, The atoms, in the metaphysical or strict sense of the word, are mere thoughts, or entia rationis (Gedankendinge), that no investigator of nature has ever yet discovered. ‘This was clearly perceived by Bacon, who therefore says that his method will not lead to a theory of atoms, that presupposes a vacuum, and an immutable matter (both of which are false), but to real particles, such as are discovered to be. [“ Neque prop- terea res deducetur ad Atomum, qui preesupponit vacuum et materiam non fluxam (quorum utrumque falsum est), sed ad particulas veras, quales inveniuntur.”— Nov. Org. Il. 8.] — Author’s Note.
DISAGREEMENT WITH THE ATOMISTS. 177
the Greek philosophy in general, the character of which is most distinctly imprinted on the Atomists. Of all the ages of philosophy this earliest age of Greek physiology was most akin to nature and truth, at least so it appeared in the eyes of Bacon, who regarded it as the only one engaged in the serious pursuit of natural science. The follow- ing ages, from Socrates down to Bacon himself, corrupted natural philosophy, and thus brought science in general into a state of ever-increasing degeneracy. All genuine natural philosophy was | spoiled and thrust back, first by the Platonic | doctrine of ideas, which put abstract thoughts | in the place of things; then, further, by the | Aristotelian logic, which for both things and thoughts substituted words; afterwards by the moral philosophy of the Romans; and, last of all, by that mixture of Aristotelian philosophy with Christian theology, which brought barbarism and
the perversion of intellect to perfection. That | earliest age, not yet vitiated by false philoso- phy, nor much perplexed by idola theatri, had alone the right instinct, and was alone directed to the right purpose. To carry out this purpose nothing was wanting but scientific means. Without instruments, without method, these earliest na- tural philosophers could not think conformably to experience, or in a truly physical spirit. What N
178 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
could they do but anticipate nature, when they were unable to interpret her in a scientific manner ? Their physics became metaphysics from the very first. They were right in seeking for the prin- ciple of things in the elements, in real natural forces, but these were at once converted, in their view, to general axioms. ‘They discovered their principles rather by a divining glance than by deep investigation, and, being without a secure method of experience, were directed to the un- assisted intellect. They had not a false method, —they had no method at all. The intellect left to itself cannot know anything, it can only fabricate. Thus in Bacon’s eyes the oldest philo- sophy seems, as far as its subject-matter is con- cerned, to be akin to nature and truth, but, with respect to its form, to belong more to imagination than to science. Nature and truth are to be found in it, not as objects of clear knowledge based upon experience, but as a myth projected by the poetical intellect. Here Bacon discovers the affinity between Greek physiology and mytho- logy, and here we have the origin of his views respecting the “ Wisdom of the Ancients.” Physi- ology appears to him as poetry, which indeed it was in the earliest times, and mythology as wisdom in the garb of poetical narrative, that is to say, as a fable or allegory of nature and her
ALLEGORICAL INTERPRETATION. 179
powers, — of men and their manners; for what can poetry do but copy reality? In this, there- fore, the oldest poetry and the oldest wisdom agree with each other, that they stand nearest the simple truth, from which they have not been seduced by a false culture, and express, by imagery, the. sense of nature, with which they are inspired. Thus Bacon could only regard the myths of antiquity as allegories, and attempted an allegorical explanation of them in his book on the “* Wisdom of the Ancients.” And at this point of view he arrived, it seems, by two paths. By one he finds in the earliest age scientific myths, — fables that appear as important theories, and, when stripped of their poetical veil, are converted into physiological propositions, that more accord with his own views than all the systems of a later period. But if, in some cases, the myths have evidently an allegorical signifi- cance, why not in many other cases also? If there are scientific why not also moral and political myths? Thus could Bacon reason, and thus, in accordance with such reasoning, could he attempt to apply the allegorical mode of interpretation, that in some cases seemed to be imperatively en- joined, by the nature of things, to many similar cases. Nay, it is not enough to say that he could
do this. After the discovery that he thought he N 2
180 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
had made in reviewing the earliest age of the philosophy that had preceded him, he could not do otherwise than prefer the allegoric interpreta- tion of ancient poetry to every other. He was further impelled in this direction by the view which he took of poetry itself; and here we have the other path, to which we have already alluded. The one path leads by induction from a historical fact, which Bacon generalises by applying it to many cases; the other leads by deduction from a general theory to an experiment, which is to confirm the presupposed theory, and exemplify it in a series of instances. Both meet at one point, and this point is Bacon’s “ Wisdom of the Ancients.” The shorter of the two paths, — the one which leads to the goal in a straight line, — is the second, which is the immediate result of Bacon’s theory of poetry.
181
CHAP. VII.
THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS RELATION TO POETRY.
WHILE critically reviewing the preceding systems of philosophy, Bacon at last finds himself in the presence of poetry. The only point of contact between his own philosophy and the past is in that earliest age, when science and poetry were still identical. The Baconian mind is most remote from the Aristotelian scholasticism ; in a certain sense it approaches the Platonic, and most of all it accords with the atomistic view of Democritus. Here the Baconian philosophy, and that which preceded it, begin to diverge. They converge as they approach mythology, the poetical age of science, when philosophy and poetry still held intercourse with each other. Hence the interest which Bacon takes in the myths of antiquity. This interest has, in the Baconian philosophy itself, a deeper foundation than is commonly supposed. It is supported by the affinity which Bacon dis- covers between himself and the philosophy of the pre-Socratic age. His interpretation of the
ancient myths, and his relation to this kind of N 3
182 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
poetry, may partly, at least, be explained by the position taken by the Baconian with reference to the earlier philosophy ; for this interpretation is, partly, at least, a translation of mythology into Baconian physiology, and is therefore one of the ex- ponents by which Bacon’s relation to his predeces- sors is made clear to us. But his interpretation of the myths may also be immediately deduced from Bacon’s view of poetry in general; and we are the more justified in making this deduction, inas- much as it was made by Bacon himself. His poetical principles preceded and foreshadowed his interpretation of the myths.
I. Toe BaconraAn POETICS.
The purpose of the Baconian philosophy is to direct the theoretical to the practical mind. The common aim of both should be such a cultivation of man, as will generally be useful in increasing his dominion and promoting his happiness. The practical mind, by means of invention, should remodel the world; the theoretic, conformably to experience, should copy it.* What can this copying of the world be but a description and
* In the original there is an antithesis between “ umbilden” and “ abbilden,” which vanishes in translation. — J QO.
OFFICE OF POETRY. 183
interpretation? The description of the world is the history of nature and humanity. The inter- pretation of the world is science, by which the information given by history is duly apprehended. History belongs to the memory, which collects and preserves our experiences; science to reason, which reflects on these experiences, and reduces them to general laws. But, besides memory and reason, the theoretic mind has another faculty, — imagination. Hence there is a possibility of a copy of the world made by the imagination, less accurate in detail than the copy in the memory; less regulated by law than the copy in the reason; and distinguished from them both by the circum- stance that it is not found, but invented. Percep- tion and reason should be faithful mirrors, which reflect things unaltered. Imagination, on the other hand, is a magic glass that alters while it reflects. The imaginary copy of the world which it invents is poetry, which, in the realm of the theoretic mind, holds the middle province between history and science.
In its operation poetry is akin to the practical mind, for it is inventive; but its end is only theoretical, as it consists in a mere representation of the world. In the mode of representation
poetry differs from both science and history ; for nN 4
184 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
these must represent the world as it is, whereas poetry may represent it such as the human heart would desire it to be; these bring the human mind to the level of external things; poetry brings the things to the level of the mind. Therefore poetry was ever thought to have some participa- tion of divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind, whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the nature of things.”* What then is poetry from the Baconian point of view? <A copy of the world, not only in, but after our own mind; a copy of the world, exhibited among the idols of the ima- gination. Here, then, we have poetry as a mere mirror of the worid, not as a mirror of the human soul; as a mere copy of history, not as a copy of our own hearts. In other words, lyrical poetry is not recognised by Bacon. This follows as a necessary consequence from his point of view; according to which, the theoretic mind in general merely copies the world, while the particular copy that exists in poetry is of the imaginary sort. Bacon himself says: “ We exclude satires, elegies, epigrams, odes, and the like, from our dis- course, and class them with philosophy and the
* “Advancement of Learning,” Book II. Compare “ De Augment.” II, 13, where “ history” is added to “reason.” — J. O,
PREDILECTION FOR ALLEGORY. 185
arts of oratory.”* Here, then, is the peculiar limit of the Baconian theory of poetry ; it denies lyrical poetry, and is, indeed, unable to explain it. Thus it not only overlooks a whole mass of poetry that certainly exists, by whatever name it may be called, but what is more, it overlooks the in- exhaustible source of all poetry whatever, —all that renders the human imagination inventive, and gives it a poetical turn. Lyrical poetry is the expression of that which inspires the imagina- tion, and thus makes it capable and desirous of poetry, -——the expression of that which is the con- dition precedent, and the stimulus of poetical and artistic activity in general. There is no artistic creation without imagination; there is no creative imagination without a deep internal emotion, and what the heartf suffers from this emotion is revealed by lyrical poetry. He who so explains poetry as to exclude the lyrical kind, conceives poetry and art in general without creative imagi- nation or internal emotion (Gemuthsbewegung), and therefore naturally retains the mere prose of both. This will appear plainly enough in the case of Bacon, whose views of poetry are far
* “Satiras et Elegias et Epigrammata et Odas et hujusmodi ab instituto sermone removemus, atque ad philosophiam et artes orationis rejicimus.”— De Augment. IL. 13.
} The original word is the untranslatable * Gemiith.”— J, O,
186 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
more prosaic than he is himself. He begins by classing the essentially ultra-poetical under rhe- toric, —that is to say, prose; and he winds up by ranking the essentially prosaic, that is to say, allegorical poetry, as the highest order of the poetical. His view of poetry is the exact con- verse of the truth. Where it derives everything from its primary and natural source, he does not recognise it at all; where it is just on the point of turning into prose, but has not quite thrown aside the veil, it appears to him at the very summit of its power and dignity. But what is left in poetry if the lyrical kind is excluded? Nothing but a copy of history, in which events are exhibited in the narrative form, as belonging to the past; in the dramatic form, as actions of the present time; in the allegoric form, as if pregnant with significance. The poetical copy of history is either narrative, dramatic, or parabolic. Of epic poetry, Bacon says, it is a “ mere imita- tion of history,” of dramatic (or representative*), that it is “a visible history,—an imitation of actions as if they were present; the parabolic is «a history with a type, presenting the intelligible to the senses.”
* “Dramatic” is the word used in “De Aug.;” ‘ Repre- sentative” the word in the “ Advancement.” Compare De Aug. II. 13.— J. O.
PREDILECTION FOR ALLEGORY. 187
Epic poetry borders on history, parabolic poetry on science. The former exhibits history, and presupposes tradition; the latter interprets history, and seeks explanation. Since the whole purpose of Bacon is to convert history (or the description of the world) into science (or the interpretation of the world), it may easily be understood why, among all the kinds of poetry, that is most attractive to him which stands nearest to science. The parabolic kind is, with him, the most important; “it stands pre-eminent above the rest.” It rivets the imagination by its images, and the significance of these incites the understanding. Thus it forms, as it were, the introduction, the preparatory school, the first, child-like, fanciful expression of science, — and its didactic value is, in Bacon’s eyes, its poetical value also. It is not for the sake of art, but for the sake of science, that the importance of allegorical poetry is thus magnified. This kind of poetry appears more poetical than the rest, inasmuch as it is more useful and more serviceable to science. It converts history into an allegory or type, either to veil mysteries, or to give a sensible form to truths. In the former ease it is mystical, in the latter didactic. Mystical symbolism is subser- vient to religion, didactic to science. The sacred mysteries of religion are veiled by symbols from
188 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the eyes of the multitude, while the truths of nature are, by the very same means, rendered comprehensible and accessible to all. Menenius Agrippa, by his fable, convinced the Roman people of the justice of political distinctions, and in a similar spirit science approached mankind in the earliest ages: “ For when the devices and conclusions of human reason (even those that are now trite and common) were new and unfamiliar, their subtilty surpassed the capacity of the hu- man mind, unless they were brought nearer to the senses by images and examples of this kind. Hence, in the early ages, fables of all sorts, para- bles, enigmas, and similes everywhere abounded. Hence the symbols of Pythagoras, the enigmas of the Sphinx, the fables of A®sop, and the like. Even the apophthegms of the ancient wise were often expressed in the form of similitudes. As hieroglyphics were more ancient than letters, so were parables more ancient than arguments. Even to the present day, their force is (as it always was) pre-eminent, since no argument can be so perspicuous, nor can any example, however true, be equally apt.”*
* “Cum enim rationis humane inventa et conclusiones (etiam es que nunc trite et vulgate sunt) tune temporis nove et insuete essent, vix illam subtilitatem capiebant ingenia humana, nisi propius es ad sensum per hujusmodi simulachra et exempla.
INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS. 189
This is the point of view from which Bacon understands the fables of antiquity. These stories of gods and wonders are copies of the world (of nature, and of man), executed by the imagination. But they are not natural copies. What, then, can they be but copies with a special signification ? They are neither epic nor dramatic; what, then, can they be but parabolic? They are not so much copies as symbols * of the world, which were re- quired by the earliest philosophy to give its truths a sensible form. It is to the interest of science to explain the sense, which these fables express by images —as it were, by hieroglyphics. This interpretation of myths, which can only be al- legorical, is reckoned by Bacon among the sci- entific problems yet to be solved; and he himself attempts a solution by way of example. “ Inas- much as the attempts that have been made to the present time to interpret these parables (made as they have been by men unskilled, and without
deducerentur. Quare omnia apud illos fabularum omnigenarum et parabolarum et xnigmatum et similitudinum plena fuerunt. Hine tessere Pythagore, senigmata Sphingis, sopi fabule, et similia. Quinetiam apophthegmata veterum Sapientum fere per similitudines rem demonstrabant. .. . . Denique ut hierogly- phica literis, ita parabole argumentis erant antiquiores, Atque hodie etiam, et semper, eximius est et fuit parabolarum vigor ; cum nec argumenta tam perspicua nec vera exempla tam apta esse possint.”— De Aug. II. 13. * “ Weniger Abbilder als Sinnbilder.”—_J Ox
190 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM..
more than common-place learning,) are by no means satisfactory to us, it appears that a philo- sophy, according to the ancient parables, is to be classed among desiderata. Of such a work we will add an example or two; not, perhaps, because the matter is of great moment, but that we may adhere consistently to the principle we have laid down, which is to this effect, that whenever we class any work among the desiderata (and our meaning might otherwise be somewhat obscure), we shall invariably give precepts or proper ex- amples for preparing the work desired, lest any one may think that we have merely taken a super- ficial glance at such objects, and that, like augurs, we have measured regions in our mind, without learning by what road to enter them. That any thing else is wanting, with respect to poetry, we do not find.” *
* “Cum vero que circa harum parabolarum interpretationem adhuc tentata sint, per homines scilicet imperitos nec ultra locos communes doctos, nobis nullo modo satisfaciant ; Philosophiam secundum Parabolas Antiquas inter Desiderata referre visum est. Ejus autem operis exemplum unum aut alterum subjungemus. Non quod res sit fortasse tanti, sed ut institutum nostrum serve- mus. Id hujusmodi est, ut de operibus illis que inter Desiderata ponimus (si quid sit paulo obscurius) perpetuo aut preecepta ad opus illud instruendum, aut exempla proponamus; ne quis forte existimet levem aliquam tantum notionem de illis mentem nos- tram perstrinxisse, nosque regiones sicut augures animo tantum metiri, neque eas ingrediendi vias nosse. Aliam aliquam partem in Poési desiderari non invenimus.”— De Aug. II. 13,
INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS, 191
Thus, the poetics of Bacon lead directly to his work “ On the Wisdom of the Ancients.” Here, by a series of examples, the solution of the pro- blem is prefigured. Towards this solution, Bacon’s poetics furnish not only precepts, but also illus- trative cases, that are also to be found in the treatise “ On the Wisdom of the Ancients.” The myths of Pan, Perseus, and Dionysus here serve him as so many prerogative instances. In the first, we have a specimen of a Cosmic or physical truth; in the second, of a political truth; in the third, of a moral truth, —all expressed in symbols.
If. Tue Baconran INTERPRETATION OF THE ANCIENT Myrus.
THE FABLE OF EROS,
What Bacon terms “ philosophy according to the ancient parables,” signifies the resolution of myths into philosophemes, of poetry into “wisdom,” of sensible images into pure thought. An at tempt of the sort was made by Bacon in a very remarkable treatise, which forms, as it were, the transition from his Democritic views to that interpretation of myths, by which he connects an antique fiction with his own physiological principles. If his theory of poetry allowed of no interpretation of myths but the allegorical, nothing could be more opportune to
192 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
his purpose than the simultaneous discovery of the same myth in the mouths both of ancient poets and philosophers, — the discovery that both employed the same symbol for a like end. Now there was no myth that more riveted his attention than that which was connected with natural philosophy, and was based on cosmogonic theories ; and among all cosmogonic theories there was none that to him appeared more correct than the atomic doctrine of Democritus, — that system of physiology that laid eternal matter, with its operative and forming forces, at the foundation of all natural pheno- mena. Conformably to this theory, Bacon endea- voured to solve the symbol, in which poets and philosophers had explained and embodied the origin of the world. This is the fable of Eros, not the son of Aphrodite, but the oldest of the gods, the fashioner of the world, of whom some say that he was without origin or parent (sine parente, sine causa), others that he was the offspring of Night and Chaos. This Eros, with his attributes, is to Bacon the symbol of that original matter, with its forces, which to him was the truest of all ancient hypotheses. This theme is the subject of Bacon’s treatise On the Principles and Origins of Things, according to the fables of Cupid and Heaven; or the philosophy of Parmenides, Telesius, and more particularly of Democritus, treated in the fable of
INTERPRETATION OF ANCIENT MYTHS. 193
Cupid.” * To this interpretation Bacon seems to have attached the greatest value. He repeats it as often as he can. In his treatise on the “ Wis- dom of the Ancients,” it returns again, under the heads, “Ccelum, or beginnings,” and “ Cupid, or an atom.”
Throughout all the thirty-one instances with which Bacon makes his experiments in the “Wis- dom of the Ancients,” we are less interested in the interpretation itself than in the interpreter’s point of view; and in the latter only because, on the one hand, it shows the relation of the Baconian philosophy to antiquity, and, on the other, it ex- hibits to us a very striking peculiarity of the Baconian mind. Bacon presupposes that the myths are parables, without in the least troubling himself about their history, without investigating their origin, or their popular and religious ele- ments, without distinguishing their earlier from their later forms, their epic from their allegorical side. Parables are equations, of which one mem- ber is given, and the other is to be discovered. What is given is the image, what is to be dis- covered is the sense. Bacon would convert myths, which he regards as parables, into similes ;
* “De principiis atque originibus secundum fabulas Cupidinis et Ceeli sive Parmenidis et Telesii, et precipue Democriti philo- sophia, tractata in fabula de Cupidine.”
oO
194 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and therefore he writes at the head of each solution the equation * which is its subject. The legends which follow each other without critical order are to him so many riddles, which he solves with inven- tive tact, but for the most part in the most arbitrary manner. As the fictions of antiquity are only equal to themselves, and do not require a second member, the discovery of the latter is the mere sport of Bacon’s unfettered imagination. His treatment of myths is like A‘sop’s treatment of animals; he puts into them the truth that he means them to signify, so that he alone is, in this case, the alle- gorical poet. He isno more an interpreter of the myths than sop is a zoologist.
Nevertheless, the manner in which Bacon plays with the myths, while he seriously purposes to explain them, is, in many respects, highly charac- teristic. We see here as plainly as possible how inappropriate the Baconian mode of thought be- comes when applied to the poetry of antiquity, or, indeed, to history in general; we see how small is its ability to apprehend the peculiar and original elements in historical processes, while it endeavours, with so much zeal and circumspection, to explain natural processes in accordance with their own objective properties, apart from all
* Dr, Fischer supposes the sign of equality substituted for the “or” of Bacon’s titles, thus :—‘“ Proteus = matter.”—J.O.
FABLE OF PAN. 195
human analogies. Moreover, Bacon’s inclination and talent for the discovery of analogies nowhere appears more unfettered and arbitrary than here, where he is without that serviceable polar-star on which his spirit of combination could rely in the region of nature. His interpretation of the myths, on which he wastes so much profundity, with as much recklessness, is a striking example of those fallacious analogies, against which he himself has warned us in his “Organum.” One example will serve us in the place of many. He regards the god Pan as the symbol of nature, who is made to embody herself in this image, just as she appears to him. With this intention must antiquity, as he thinks, have devised the myth of this deity. Pan represents the aggregate of earthly things, which are doomed to be transient, and to which a definite period of duration is assigned by nature; and therefore the Parce are his sisters. The horns of Pan are pointed upwards; and, in the same manner, nature ascends from individuals to species, and from species to genera, after the fashion of a pyramid. The horns, in which the pyramidal form is retained, reach to the sky; thus the highest generic ideas lead from physics to metaphysics, and speculative theology. The body of Pan is covered with hair, symbolising the rays
of light that emanate from shining bodies, and is, 02
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moreover, composed of the human and the brute forms, to correspond to that transition from a lower to a higher grade,—to that combination that every- where appears in nature. The goat’s feet of Pan denote the upward tendency of terrestrial bodies ; the pipe symbolises the harmony of the world; the seven reeds signify the seven planets; the crooked staff represents the “ circular” operations of Providence; lastly, Echo, who is married to Pan, is a symbol of science, which should be the echo and copy of the world.
In this spirit does Bacon interpret the myths of antiquity. His explanations are travesties, in which the comic intention is wanting, and are therefore all the more glaring parodies of serious interpretation. Considered with respect to the myths, they are so utterly worthless, that no one could desire a serious refutation of them; but so far as they throw a light on Bacon himself, they are important. It is their importance in this latter respect that we alone have to demonstrate. We have to show our readers how, by the path of his own philosophy, Bacon arrived at his peculiar interpre- tation of the ancient myths; for this was by no means, aS many suppose, and, indeed, as every one must think at the first glance, — a mere idle pastime.
There are, of course, here and there, a few
FABLE OF NARCISSUS. 197
instances of happy and judicious interpretation. Some myths are imprinted with characters proper to the human species, and therefore rivet our attention as types of mankind, as if they were mirrors of our own dispositions. Thus Prome- theus has become the involuntary type of a mind that strives upwards, confident and rejoicing in its own independent strength; and in this type have Bacon and Géthe seen themselves prefigured. Bacon sees in the mythical Titans the inventive mind of man, that makes nature subservient to its own ends, establishes the dominion of man over the world, and exalts human power to an un- limited degree, by setting it up against the gods,
As Bacon sees in Prometheus the type of the aspiring mind, rendered powerful by invention, so does Narcissus appear to him the type of human self-love. He makes use of the fiction, that by means of its several features he may describe this quality; and we must admit that, much as Bacon distorts the poet’s details, and little as his interpretation accords with the cha- racter of the mythus, it proves that he himself had a subtle knowledge of human nature. He has missed the poet’s meaning, but he has so happily characterised self-love that we cite his description in his own words : —
“ They say that Narcissus was exceeding fair 0 3
198 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and beautiful, but wonderful proud and disdain- ful; wherefore, despising all others in respect of himself, he leads a solitary life in the woods and chases with a few followers, to whom he alone was all in all; amongst the rest there follows him the nymph Echo. During his course of life it fatally so chanced that he came toa clear foun- tain, upon the brink whereof he lay down to repose himself in the heat of the day; and having espied the shadow of his own face in the water, was so besotted and ravished with the contem- plation and admiration thereof, that he by no means possibly could be drawn from beholding his image in this glass; insomuch that by con- tinual gazing thereupon he pined away to nothing, and was at last turned into a flower of his own name, which appears in the beginning of the spring, and is sacred to the infernal powers, Pluto, Proserpine, and the Furies. This fable seems to show the dispositions and fortunes of those who, in respect of their beauty or other gift wherewith they are adorned and graced by nature without the help of industry, are so far besotted in themselves as that they prove the cause of their own destruction. For it is the property of men infected with this humour not to come much abroad or to be conversant in civil affairs; specially seeing those that are in public
FABLE OF NARCISSUS. 199
places must of necessity encounter with many contempts and scorns which may much deject and trouble their minds; and therefore they lead for the most part a solitary, private, and obscure life, attended on with a few followers, and those such as will adore and admire them, like an echo, flatter them in all their sayings, and applaud them in all their words; so that, being by this custom seduced and puffed up, and, as it were, stupified with the admiration of themselves, they are possessed with so strange a sloth and idleness that they grow in a manner benumbed and defective of all vigour and alacrity. Elegantly doth this flower, appearing in the beginning of the spring, represent the likeness of these men’s dispositions, who in their youth do flourish and wax famous; but, being come to ripeness of years, they deceive and frustrate the good hope that is conceived of them. Neither is it imper- tinent that this flower is said to be consecrated to the infernal deities, because men of this disposition become unprofitable to all human things, For whatever produceth no fruit of itself, but passeth and vanisheth as if it had never been, like the way of a ship in the sea, that the ancients were wont to dedicate to the ghosts and powers below.” *
* “ Wisdom of the Ancients. Narcissus or Self-love,” o 4
200 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
It may be seen from this example, which we have purposely selected, how recklessly Bacon proceeds with the different features of the fable- His Narcissus is a different person from the Narcissus of Ovid, and the chief poetical trait of the whole story is precisely the one that, Bacon has most perverted. In the myth Narcissus de- spises Echo, who pursues him; in Bacon’s inter- pretation he seeks Echo, as the only person whose society he can endure. Of the devoted nymph Bacon makes a parasite, and of Narcissus a generally human type, which he delineates with masterly success.
Ill Greek AND Roman ANTIQUITY.
BACON AND SHAKSPEARE.
For the historical and religious foundation of mythology Bacon has neither sense nor standard. He takes the myths as airy creations of an arbitrary imagination, as poetical vehicles for instruction, which he explains and modifies after the form of his own mind. But mythology remains the foundation of antiquity ; andas Bacon is not aware of this fact he is equally unable to judge and understand the particular world that rests upon that foundation. He judges of anti- quity as a critical spectator with an uncongenial mind. He was without sense for the historical
WANT OF SENSE FOR ANTIQUITY. 201
peculiarity of antiquity, he was wanting in that sympathetic appreciation of the antique, which here, if anywhere, is requisite for a thorough know- ledge. Throughout the whole of that “ enlighten- ment” (Aufhlérung*) which owes its origin to Bacon, this deficiency continues. In the German “enlightenment” there was the same deficiency, but it was supplied by Winckelmann and his suc- cessors. On the English and French side, on the other hand, the void has never been filled up, and it seems as if the ruling mind of these nations lacks the foundation which is necessary for such a purpose, and cannot be acquired, much less compensated by any empirical knowledge. This foundation rests upon an affinity to the antique which distinguishes the German from the other intellectual nations of the modern world, and perhaps serves as a compensation for so many defects. We are here speaking of Greek an- tiquity, which Bacon could not distinguish from the Roman. Nevertheless the distinction is so
* Although the word “ Aufklairung” really means the same as the English “enlightenment,” it is used by all German authors in a manner that appears harsh in translation. It generally signifies a triumph of the intellect over prejudice and superstition, and is sometimes almost identical with the English “ free-thinking.” The 18th century (before the French revolution) is especially the age of “ Aufklirung,” and hence, when used by certain critics,
the word conveys censure rather than praise. Here it signifies the series of “ enlightened ” persons.—J. O.
202 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
great that the two kinds of antiquity should scarcely be called by a common name. Classical antiquity, then, in a specific sense, is the Greek upon a Homeric basis. Bacon, on the other hand, consistently with the spirit of his nation and his age, only saw Greek antiquity through the medium of the Roman. In his own manner of thought and feeling there was something kindred to the Roman mind, something that held the same relation to the Greek mind that prose does to poetry. As the mythological fictions of the Greeks appeared to the Roman intellect, so, or - nearly so, did they appear to that of Bacon. The Roman explained the ancient fictions in that allegorical manner that came into vogue among the later philosophers after Aristotle, especially the Stoics, and was first established by Chry- sippus. These later philosophers were already in a state of transition from the Greek to the Roman world. Notwithstanding the endeavours of Bacon, in his preface to the “ Wisdom of the Ancients,” to repudiate the Stoics, more especially Chrysippus, he has no right whatever to regard their mode of interpreting myths as more vain and arbitrary than his own. The whole age in which he lived only knew the Greek antiquity in the spirit of the Roman, with which the national mind of the English in general (as a consequence
BACON AND THE ROMANS. 203
of their position in the world), and the Baconian thought in particular, both sympathised. The affinity between the Roman and Baconian mind consists in the preponderance of that prac- tical sense which considers everything in re- ference to man’s utility, and the chief and ultimate object of which is the extension of human dominion. This parallel may be pur- sued through several points. The Romans aim at dominion over nations, Bacon at dominion over nature. Both employ invention as the means to this end. With the Romans invention is military, with Bacon it is physical; and the victorious wars in the one case correspond to the victorious experiments in the other. That their wars may have a secure foundation*, the Romans devise civic laws, by which internal relations are esta- blished and regulated. To obtain a firm basis for his experiments, Bacon seeks natural laws, which determine the internal conditions on which the success of the experiments depends. Both frame their laws under the guidance of experience, one in the interest of politics, the other in that of natural science. Practical ends determine the direction both of the Roman and Baconian mind, and produce in both a certain affinity of thought.
* Literally, “ Hintergrund” (background).—J,. O,
204 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. ©
In accordance with that view of practical utility, which was a result of their national and political aims, the Romans appropriated to themselves the whole world of Grecian gods, giving it a civic position, and driving imagination out of it. Thus, the Roman mind was naturally inclined to that allegorical interpretation of myths, by which a naive fiction is made an affair of the reflective understanding, and is thus converted from a free creation of the fancy into an expedient devised for some purpose, didactic or otherwise. An allegorical interpretation of poetry is not possible at all, except on the supposition of the question : “What is the intention of the poem? what purpose does it serve?” To this question we have a conceivable answer in allegorical inter- pretation, —an answer that is just as prosaic, and as much opposed to the spirit of poetry, as the question itself. To the artist who employs them, allegories are only means, not ends,— never objects, but mere instruments, which he only uses when he cannot express his object without their aid. Allegory in poetry, as in art generally, is an expedient that proves a defect either in the natural means of the art itself, or in those of the artist. Poetry cannot be interpreted allegorically, until it is itself regarded as an alle- gory; that is to say, not as an end, but as the
“BACON AND SHAKSPEARE. 205
means toanend. This was the Roman manner of apprehending the creations of Greek imagina- tion, and the Baconian manner agreed with it. The same affinity for the Roman mind, and the same want of sympathy with the Greek, we again find in Bacon’s greatest contemporary, whose imagination took as broad and compre- hensive a view as Bacon’s intellect. Indeed, how could a Bacon attain that position with respect to Greek poetry that was unattainable by the mighty imagination of a Shakspeare? For in Shakspeare, at any rate, the imagination of the Greek antiquity could be met by a homo- geneous power of the same rank as itself; and, as the old adage says, “like comes to like.” But the age, the spirit of the nation,—in a word, all those forces of which the genius of an indi- vidual man is composed, and which, moreover, genius is least able to resist, —had here placed an obstacle, impenetrable both to the poet and the philosopher. Shakspeare was no more able to exhibit Greek characters than Bacon to ex- pound Greek poetry. Like Bacon, Shakspeare had in his turn of mind something that was Roman, and not at all akin to the Greek. He could appropriate to himself a Coriolanus and a Brutus, a Cesar and an Antony; he could suc- ceed with the Roman heroes of Plutarch, but not
206 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
with the Greek heroes of Homer. The latter he could only parody, but his parody was as infe- licitous as Bacon’s explanation of the “ Wisdom of the Ancients.” Those must be dazzled critics indeed who can persuade themselves that the heroes of the Iliad are excelled by the caricatures in “ Troilus and Cressida.” The success of such a parody was poetically impossible; indeed, he that attempts to parody Homer shows thereby that he has not understood him. For the simple and the naive do not admit of a parody, and these have found in Homer their eternal and inimitable expression. Just as well might caricatures be made of the statues of Phidias. Where the creative imagination never ceases to be simple and naive, where it never distorts itself by the affected or the unnatural, there is the consecrated land of poetry, in which there is no place for the parodist. On the other hand, where there is a palpable want of simplicity and nature, parody is perfectly con- ceivable, nay, may even be felt as a poetical necessity. Thus Euripides, who, often enough, was neither simple nor naif, could be parodied, and Aristophanes has shown us with what felicity. Even Auschylus, who was not always as simple as he was grand, does not completely escape the parodising test. But Homer is safe. To parody Homer is to mistake him, and to stand so far
BACON AND SHAKSPEARE. 207
beyond his scope that the truth and magic of his poetry can no longer be felt; and this is the position of Shakspeare and Bacon. The imagina- tion of Homer, and all that could be contem- plated and felt by that imagination, namely the classical antiquity of the Greeks, are to them utterly foreign. We cannot understand Aristotle without Plato; nay, I maintain that we cannot contemplate with a sympathetic mind the Platonic world of ideas, if we have not previously sympa- thised with the world of the Homeric gods. Be it understood I speak of the form of the Platonic mind, not of its logical matter; in point of doc- trine, the Homeric faith was no more that of Plato than of Phidias. But these doctrinal or logical differences are far less than the formal and esthetical affinity. The conceptions of Plato are of Homeric origin.
This want of ability to take an historical survey of the world is to be found alike in Bacon and Shakspeare, together with many excellencies likewise common to them both. To the parallel between them — which Gervinus, with his pecu- liar talent for combination, has drawn in the concluding remarks to his “ Shakspeare,” and has illustrated by a series of appropriate instances — belongs the similar relation of both to antiquity, their affinity to the Roman mind, and their
208 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
diversity from the Greek. Both possessed to an eminent degree that faculty for a knowledge of human nature that at once presupposes and calls forth an interest in practical life and historical reality. To this interest corresponds the stage, on which the Roman characters moved; and here Bacon and Shakspeare met, brought together by a common interest in these objects, and the attempt to depict and copy them. This point of argreement, more than any other argument, ex- plains their affinity. At the same time there is no evidence that one ever came into actual con- tact with the other. Bacon does not even men- tion Shakspeare when he discourses of dramatic poetry, but passes over this department of poetry with a general and superficial remark that relates less to the subject itself than to the stage and its uses. As far as his own age is concerned, he sets down the moral value of the stage as exceedingly trifling. But the affinity of Bacon to Shak- speare is to be sought in his moral and psycho- logical, not in his esthetical views, which are too much regulated by material interests and utili- tarian prepossessions to be applicable to art itself, considered with reference to its own independent value. However, even in these there is nothing to prevent Bacon’s manner of judging mankind, and apprehending characters from agreeing per-
STUDY OF HUMAN NATURE. 209
fectly with that of Shakspeare; so that human life, the subject-matter of all dramatic art, ap- peared to him much as it appeared to the great artist himself, who, in giving form to this mat- ter, excelled all others. Is not the inexhaustible theme of Shakspeare’s poetry the history and course of human passion? In the treatment of this especial theme is not Shakspeare the greatest of all poets—nay, is he not unique among them all? And it is this very theme that is proposed by Bacon as the chief problem of moral philosophy. He blames Aristotle for treating of the passions in his Rhetoric rather than his Ethics; for regarding the artificial means of exciting them rather than their natural history. It is to the natural history of the human passions that Bacon directs the attention of philosophy. He does not find any knowledge of them among the sciences of his time. The poets and writers of histories,” he says, “are the best doctors of this knowledge ; where we may find painted forth with great life how passions are kindled and incited ; and how pacified and refrained; and how again contained from act and further degree; how they disclose themselves; how they work; how they vary ; how they gather and fortify ; how they are inwrapped one within another; and how they do fight and encounter one with another ; and P
210 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
other the like particularities.”* Such a lively description is required by Bacon from moral philosophy. That is to say, he desires nothing less than a natural history of the passions ; — the very thing that Shakspeare has produced. Indeed, what poet could have excelled Shakspeare in this respect? Who, to use a Baconian expression, could have depicted man and his passions more “ad vivum”? According to Bacon, the poets and historians give us copies of characters; and the outlines of these images — the simple strokes that determine characters—are the proper objects of ethical science. Just as physical science requires a dissection of bodies, that their hidden qualities and parts may be discovered; so should ethies pe- netrate the various minds of men, in order to find out the internal basis of them all. And not only this foundation, but likewise those external con- ditions which give a stamp to human character —all those peculiarities that “are imposed upon the mind by the sex, by the age, by the region, by health and sickness, by beauty and deformity, and the like, which are inherent and not external ; and, again, those which are caused by external fortune,” t— should come within the scope of
* « Advancement of Learning,” ii. “De Augment. Scient.” vii. 3.
+ “Advancement of Learning,” ii. For the whole passage compare “ De Augment. Scient.” vii, 3.
CHARACTER OF JULIUS CASAR. 211
ethical philosophy. Ina word, Bacon would have man studied in his individuality as a product of nature and history, in every respect determined by natural and historical influences, by internal and external conditions. And exactly in the same spirit has Shakspeare understood man and his destiny; regarding character as the result of a certain natural temperament and a certain his- torical position, and destiny as a result of cha- racter. The great interest that Bacon took in portraits of character, is proved by the fact that he attempted to draw them himself. With a few felicitous touches he sketched the characters of Julius and Augustus Cwsar, and his view of both was similar to that of Shakspeare. In Ju- lius Cxsar he saw combined all that the Roman genius had to bestow in the shape of greatness, nobility, culture, and fascination, and regarded his character as the most formidable that the Roman world could encounter. And giving what always serves as the proof of the calculation in the analysis of a character; Bacon so explains the character of Cesar, as to explain his fate also. He saw, like Shakspeare, that Cesar was natu- rally inclined to a despotic feeling, that governed his great qualities and also their aberrations, ren- dering him dangerous to the Republic and blind
with respect to his enemies. He wished says P 2
212 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Bacon, “not to be eminent amongst great and deserving men, but to be chief amongst inferiors and vassals.”* He was so much dazzled by his own greatness that he no longer knew what danger was. ‘This is the same Cesar into whose mouth Shakspeare puts the words —
“ Danger knows full well
That Cesar is more dangerous than he.
We were two lions litter’d in one day,
And I the elder and more terrible.”
Julius Cesar, Act II. Se. 2.
When Bacon, at last, attributes the fate of Cesar to his forgiveness of enemies, that by this magnanimity he might impose upon the multitude, he still shows the dazzled man, who heightens the expression of his greatness at the expense of his security. |
It is very characteristic that among human passions Bacon best understands avarice and am- bition, and least understands love, which he ranks very low. Love was as foreign to his nature as lyrical poetry ; but in one single case he perceived its tragic importance, and this very case was developed by Shakspeare into a tragedy. ‘ You may observe,” says Bacon, “that amongst all
* Compare Bacon’s “ Civil Character of Julius Cxsar,” which, as well as the ‘‘ Civil Character of Augustus,” exists both in English and Latin,
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 213
the great and worthy persons, there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree of love, which shows that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius.” * He has already said that love is “ sometimes like a siren, sometimes like a fury,” and it may be truly observed with respect to Cleopatra, as con- ceived by Shakspeare, that she appears to Mare Antony in both these capacities,
* Essay “ On Love.”
gi4 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAE. Vis
THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY AS THE “INSTAURATIO MAGNA” OF SCIENCE. — ORGANON AND ENCYCLOPZDIA.
Havine fully ascertained the point of view which Bacon opposes to all preceding Philosophy, and which he establishes as his own, we now describe from the same point the scientific horizon of the Baconian mind. His philosophy is a com- pletely new edifice, raised on foundations and directed towards ends totally different from those of all theories that have gone before. With these he has so little in common that he does not even build upon their ruins. Bacon leaves the old edifices of philosophy standing, when he has shown how insecure they are, and how little suited for the habitation of man. On a soil that has hitherto been unoccupied, and with instruments that have never yet been used, he will build altogether anew. The instrument that he employs is the “ Novum Organum ;” the ground-plan, according to which he proceeds,
“ INSTAURATIO MAGNA.” 215
is composed of the books “ De Dignitate et Aug- mentis Scientiarum,” * which form, as it were, the new map of the “ Globus Intellectualis ;” the whole edifice itself he calls the “ Instauratio Magna.” This edifice is not to be restored, but to be entirely new. We know already the plan and the instrument; we have now only to learn the arrangement in detail. The harmonious plan which is visible through the whole, is formed by a mind directed to new discoveries and inventions, that finds it cannot reside in any philosophical edifice, except a science based upon experience of the world, and using no means but experiment; a mind, whose experience and science are directed to nature above everything. The “ Instauratio Magna,” therefore, consists of four principal parts: the ground-plan, the Organum, the ex- perimental history of nature (Historia Naturalis et Experimentalis), the objects of which are the phenomena of the universe (Phenomena Universi), and the science raised on these foundations. To adhere to our simile, we may call the two last portions the upper stories in the pyramid of phi- losophy, of which the description of the world is the lowest, and science is the highest. These
* And more briefly set forth in the English treatise, “ On the Advancement of Learning.”—J. O. P 4
216 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
two stories are connected by the “ladder of the understanding,” which leads upwards from expe- rience to science (Scala Intellectus sive Filum La- byrinthi), and by certain anticipations, deduced not from Idols, but from sound experience,— precursory theories (Prodromi sive Anticipationes Philosophie Secunde), to which the investigator is impelled by experience, and which have only a provisional value, being always subject to the corrections of science. They are distinguished from objectionable anticipations by the perfect consciousness that they are only precursory, not conclusive. The following, therefore, are the divisions of the “‘ Instauratio Magna :” —
De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum. Novum Organum.
Historia Naturalis et Experimentalis. Scala Intellectus.
Se et te
Prodromi sive Anticipationes Philosophie Secunde. 6. Scientia Activa.
Of these divisions, the first, which forms the ground plan of the whole, is alone complete ; the rest are mere sketches or fragments. Even of the ‘“ Novum Organum,” the first part alone is exe- cuted; the second was to comprise the aids to the understanding, but of these he has only specified
‘* INSTAURATIO MAGNA.” 217
one*, with which we are already acquainted, and has given a mere prospective view of the rest. The most complete work belonging to the third division is the “ Silva Silvarum; or, Natural His- tory in Ten Centuries.” It would, however, be very unreasonable to make the fragmentary condi- tion of his philosophy a cause of reproach against Bacon,—as this would be reproaching him for not living several hundred years. Separate parts of the edifice might doubtless have been more thoroughly completed if Bacon could have be- stowed more time upon them. But the whole could not remain otherwise than unfinished, consistently with the plan of the founder, whose design was to make not a system, but a beginning. And this beginning, so rich in consequences, Bacon did make ; in this sense he has completed his work, and would have completed it, even if he had not written nearly so much as now lies before us. The power that was to break open a new path, lay in the new outline and the new instrument (Organum), and to increase this power there was no need of a “ Silva Silvarum.” He himself was but too well aware that time, in its progress, destroys systems of philosophy, to all appear- ance firmly established and hermetically closed.
* The “ Prerogative Instance,” with its subdivisions.—J. O.
218 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Hence, from the beginning, it was his intention to produce a philosophy which would progress with time, not endure in spite of it; and, perhaps, among all philosophers, Bacon has been the only one who, far from endeavouring to resist the stream of time, has designed a work so light that the stream will always carry it along. Such a work could not be a system, a concluded whole, an unwieldy edifice; it could not remain other- wise than a fragment,—an attempt that had scarcely proceeded beyond the plan and the in- strument. The fragment was to be enlarged, the attempt was to be pursued, the plan was to be carried out, the instrument was to be used and improved, ‘This fragmentary appearance of his philosophy appears quite consistent—nay, the necessary result of its own internal condition, as soon as it is regarded from the Baconian point of view. Through these very gaps in the philo- sophy, which the depreciators of Bacon’s philo- sophy point out, comes a wholesome current of air, for which he has purposely left room. There are many contradictions in his theories—though not so many, by far, as our pretended critics would fain discover;—there are many inaccu- racies in point of fact, and many physical errors, which Bacon shared in common with his age, but we may make allowance for all these contradic-
THE “ INSTAURATIO” A FRAGMENT, 219
tions, inaccuracies, and errors, without diminish- ing by so much as a hair’s breadth the force and power of the Baconian philosophy. This power has been proved by history. The incompleteness of the work was perceived,—nay, intended, by Bacon himself. At the conclusion of his ground- plan*, which we may appropriately call a “ New Encyclopedia of the Sciences,” he says: “I call to mind that reply of Themistocles, who, when the ambassador from a petty town had spoken very largely, rebuked him with the remark, ‘ Friend, your words require a state.’ In the same manner I think it may be most rightly objected to me that my words require an age for their fulfilment, and I answer again, ‘Yes, perhaps a whole age to prove them; but many ages to fulfil them.’” + By its very nature the Baconian philosophy could take no other form than that of a sketch, could express itself in no other mode than that of the Encyclopedia and the Aphorism. All the parts of his great “ Instauratio” have remained sketches; the two that he most thoroughly per-
* The treatise “ De Augmentis,”—J. O.
T “Interim in mentem mihi venit responsum illud The- mistoclis, qui cum ex oppido parvo legatus quidam magna nonnulla perorasset, hominem perstrinxit ; Amice, verba tua civitatem desiderant. Certe objici mihi rectissime posse exis- timo, quod mea verba seculum desiderent ; seculum forte ad probandum; complura autem secula ad perficiendum,” —De Augment. Scient. ix.
220 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
fected and elaborated are the chief of them all, —the outline and the Organum; of which the former consists of an encyclopedian and _pro- spective view of human knowledge, the latter of aphorisms. Altogether Bacon has less necessity for a finished than for a comprehensive mode of expression. His larger works, such as those on the “ Advancement of Learning” and the * Novum Organum,” were not completed but only enlarged outlines. The two books of his ** Kneyclopedia,” which first appeared in the English language*, were extended by Bacon into nine, * De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum.” His treatise entitled “ Cogitata et Visa,” was en- larged into the “ Novum Organum.” Far from filling up or completing these enlarged outlines, Bacon much more sought to reduce them to a smaller compass. Thus his “ Descriptio Globi Intellectualis” is an encyclopedia on a diminished scale; and in the “ Delineatio et Argumentum ” we have the most compressed form of the ** Novum Organum.”
Unquestionably the “ Novum Organum” is the ripest and most peculiar fruit of the Baconian mind. If that treatise, which Bacon entitled
«* Temporis partus maximus,” 2.
was really the first sketch of it, more than twenty years elapsed
* The ‘* Advancement of Learning.”—J. O.
DEVELOPMENT OF THE “ ORGANUM.” 22]
before the programme of the “ Organum” ap- peared in the “ Cogitata et Visa,” and it was not till after an interval of eight years that the pro- gramme was followed by the “ Organum ” itself, Thus the “ Organum” of Bacon was developed as slowly as Locke’s “Essay on the Human Understanding,” and with as much circumspection as Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason.” Not merely the contents, but also the form in which the book is composed, required a long and thorough preparation. We have already said that the form is aphoristic, and Bacon himself in his Encyclopedia, when, in connection with rhetoric, he is treating of the art of scientific exposition, declares that the aphoristic form of instruction, if it is not altogether artificial, must be drawn from the very depth and marrow of the sciences, and presupposes a store of the pro- foundest knowledge. When Bacon wrote thus, he had, doubtless, his “ Organum” in his mind, though he did not, as on other occasions, expressly cite it.
Those who have endeavoured to convey an idea of Bacon have all disregarded one point, which is important in forming a judgment respecting this philosopher ; they have neglected to draw a critical comparison between his Encyclopedia and his “Organum.” Such an inquiry would contribute
222 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,
much towards the solution or explanation of those contradictions which are too readily heaped upon Bacon. The expressions of a philosopher are not to be taken and thrown together at random, but to be judged according to the place in which they are found. A difference as to the time when, and the purpose for which, certain works were composed, may often explain a difference of opinion. As for the Encyclopedia and the * Novum Organum,” they differ as to time, form, and tendency. ‘The first sketch of the Encyclo- pedia appeared several years earlier than the first sketch of the “ Organum,” and fifteen Jefore the “ Organum” itself; the enlarged Encyclo- pedia appeared two years after the “ Organum.” In the mind of Bacon both works proceed, as it were, side by side, and there is a reciprocal rela- tion between them; the “ Organum” in many points manifestly relying on the Encyclopedia, and the Encyclopedia referring to the “ Or- ganum” as the new logic which it requires. We must here distinguish accurately between the time of conception and that of execution. Doubt- less the conception of the “ Organum” was in Bacon’s mind before that of the Encyclopedia; on the other hand, the execution of the “ Or- ganum” was slower and more elaborate, and there- fore appeared later, than the first encyclopedical
THE “NOVUM ORGANUM.” 223
sketch. The “ Organum,” in the shape in which it comes down to us, bears the purest and most dis- tinct impress of the Baconian philosophy. The in- strument which Bacon long possessed, and which, undoubtedly, he first sought, here appears sharp- ened and pointed to the highest degree. The whole destructive side (pars destruens) of the Baconian philosophy is, therefore, most conspi- cuous in the “ Organum,” — far less cloaked than in the Encyclopedia. It may also be remarked that the second form of the Encyclopedia (the nine books “De Augmentis”), in many respects (as for example, in the estimation of the mathematics), passes far more negative judgments than the first English sketch (“On the Advancement of Learning”), the later work being nearer to the “‘Organum” than the earlier one. Hence, we may conclude that, at the time of the first sketch of the Encyclopedia, the Baconian “ Organum” was far less highly elaborated; and hence, ge- nerally, we may regard the whole Baconian phi- losophy in reference to the “ Organum ;” for it is preceded by the conception, governed by the execution, and guided by the rule, of this one work. By this principle our own exposition of Bacon is determined.
If we compare the Encyclopedia with the “Organum,” we find in the two the same
224 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Baconian mind at different periods of time, and occupied with different problems. ‘The purpose of an Encyclopedia is to build up; a doctrine of method has to sweep away obstacles. In the former, the magazine of the human mind is to be filled; by the latter, the threshing-floor is to be swept out. In the one case the problem is material, in the other it is formal. Critics have discovered a multitude of contradictions and anti- nomies* in the Baconian philosophy, because he denies in one place what he has affirmed in another. Among these antinomies, many are certainly so composed that the thesis may be found in the encyclopedian works, the antithesis in the “ Novum Organum.” <A com- parative criticism would, however, easily explain these contradictions, that are not so stubborn to the quick and supple mind of Bacon, as they appear to others. He often merely tolerates what he seems to affirm. He would not always anni- hilate what he denies. Indeed, it may be said of the Baconian expressions generally, that they are never so unconditional and unyielding as to render all retractation impossible, whether affirmative
* The word “ antinomy” has been commonly used by German philosophers since the time of Kant to denote the contradiction between two propositions, of which one affirms what the other denies.—J. O.
ORGANUM AND ENCYCLOPAEDIA. 225
or negative. I cannot here enter into a very minute comparison of the two chief works, but I will, in a few words, indicate the chief points of difference. Taken altogether, the “ Novum Organum” ex- presses the negative side of the Baconian philo- sophy more clearly and decisively than the work “De Augmentis.” All these negatives may be traced back to one principle; they are all results of the physical point of view which occupies the centre of the Baconian philosophy, and would hold the hegemonia in the region of science. From this point of view the Baconian philosophy opposes, in the most uncompromising manner, Aristotle, scholasticism, metaphysics, and the- ology. Now in the “Novum Organum” the phy- sical view prevails far more exclusively, — makes itself much more prominent than in the books on the advancement of science, where it is satisfied with a single province. In these, therefore, the anti-Aristotelian and anti-scholastic tendency, as well as the opposition to religion and theology, are kept more in the background. In the work “De Augmentis” may be found several instances of respect for Aristotle; there is scarcely one in the “ Novum Organum.” In the latter the asser- tion is frequently and always emphatically made, that physics are the foundation of all the sciences. In the Encyclopedia, on the other hand, phy- Q
226 FRANCIS BACSN OF VERULAM.
sical science acknowledges metaphysics as some- thing above itself and below itself, as a foundation of all the sciences, a so-called “ First Philosophy” (philosophia prima), of which, as of metaphysics, the “ Novum Organum” scarcely says a word. The opposition between religion and philosophy is expressed clearly enough in many passages of the “ Novum Organum,” whereas, in the work ‘De Augmentis,” science with all humility pro- fesses its subservience to religion. Thus within the limits of philosophy there is a so-called “ na- tural theology,” for which a certain scientific rank is claimed; whereas the ‘‘ Organum” makes it the reproach of the Platonic philosophy, that it perverts science by natural theology. If Ba- conism were strictly a system, these contradic- tions and antinomies would be of more weight than they are where no system is contemplated, but merely the commencement of a new and broadly planned cultivation,—-an instrument, a guide. From its genetic development, which is ever progressive, the contradictory expressions may be easily explained. Bacon’s development was different from that which we are accustomed to find in German philosophers. His view gradually became not more positive, but more negative, and attained its culminating point in the “ No- vum Organum.” At this point Bacon could
EXPLANATION OF CONTRADICTIONS, 227
say, “I stand alone;” whereas in his encyclopx- dian works he departed more cautiously from the Aristotelian traditions, although the will to abandon them altogether is to be plainly seen even there. That this caution partly arose from a regard to the theologically minded king to whom Bacon dedicated his work, I will not venture to deny, for Bacon was exactly the man to be influenced by considerations of the kind. However, such explanations are at best supple- mentary, and of only secondary value; nay, they are not even satisfactory as far as they go, since the “ Novum Organum” was published during the reign of the same sovereign. Bacon’s French adversaries would especially like to exhibit him as a mere courtier, even in philosophy, —conceal- ing his own views to suit those of the king. But, in spite of many contradictions, Bacon has ex- pressed his own ideas so plainly and unreservedly that no thinking person could feel any doubt as to his intentions.
Admitting the points of difference between Bacon’s two principal works, we still find that, above them both, the “ Instauratio Magna” stands as a high point from which both may be surveyed in common. Wherever contradictions occur, they are never too absurd to admit of an explana- tion, never so difficult as to render the discovery
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(
228 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of Bacon’s real thought impossible. Nor are the differences so great as to destroy the unity of his philosophy. The renovation of science ;—this is the one object of his Encyclopedia and_ his ‘ Organum ;” and contemplating this he describes, in the latter, a new method of scientific investi- gation, while in the former he surveys and sorts his scientific material. He arranges the depart- ments, connects them with each other, and points out those regions in the realm of human science which still lhe fallow, and are now to be cultivated. As Columbus, by his discoveries, altered the map of the earth, so does Bacon alter the map of science, by dividing, and at the same time extend- ing its dominion. Finding new arrangements and new problems for science, he becomes at once its geographer and discoverer. In both these innovations the principal characteristics of his mind are apparent, namely, the tendency after a complete whole, and the impulse to new disco- veries, which constitutes, in fact, the real impulse of his philosophy. The tendency towards a whole seeks a science that comprises and copies the world; and with this intention Bacon seeks a complete division of human science, an ency- clopedian outline. The impulse towards new dis- coveries makes him look out everywhere for the unsolved problems of science; that same impulse
ORDER OF BACON’S REFORMATION. 229
that caused Columbus to miss a portion of the earth, and therefore carried him across the ocean, also takes possession of the mind of Bacon, and compels him to miss and discover so many por- tions of the globus intellectualis. Thus his en- cyclopedian outline becomes at the same. time a book of desiderata in science.
It is perfectly clear to us how this aspiring mind, so athirst for knowledge, first conceived the formal, and first solved the material problems among those which he had proposed. What Bacon first beheld was the material condition of the sciences, in which he missed so much; and, above all, connection, completeness, and a right disposition of parts. It is clear to him that science ought to be a copy of the real world ; and, compared with this real world, the copy which Bacon saw before him in the actual science of his day was most dissimilar, frag- mentary, and defective. The fragments were to be united, the gaps to be filled, and the copy of the world thus rendered complete. This task was first to be accomplished, and Bacon made the attempt in his treatise on the “ Advancement of Learning.” Here, indeed, a new method, a new scientific path was requisite, and this could be no other than experience conformed to nature. But Bacon had to make a practical trial of this path
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230 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
himself before he could describe it, and show it to others. We can easily understand that Bacon employed his method before he revealed it, that it was his instrument before it was his object, but that this instrument was not brought to its highest degree of elaboration till Bacon made it the ob- ject of a special exhibition — which he did in the « Novum Organum.”
With Bacon, missing and seeking are identical. In order to find, we must seek rightly. In his Encyclopedia, Bacon sought for all that he missed in the actual state of science, and in the “ Novum Organum” he described the right man- ner of search. What he first missed was a con- nection between the individual sciences; what he first sought, therefore, was science as a whole, the parts of which should be continuously connected, so that none of them should exist sundered and separate from the rest. Bacon wished to awaken life in science. Hence, above all, he had to fashion a body capable of life; that is to say, an organisation in which no part should be wanting, and all the parts of which should be properly connected. That sterility of all previous science, which had made so painful an impression on the mind of Bacon, was greatly caused by the isolated condition in which the individual sciences were placed, barred from all communication and inter-
CONNECTION OF SCIENCES. 231
course with each other. Combination must be as fruitful as isolation is sterile. Even a survey of the sciences advances scientific culture, and facili- tates communication. A perfect division shows wherein science, as a whole, is yet defective, — indicates what is not yet known, and then incites the scientific mind to new achievements. Lastly, an encyclopedian arrangement brings the indi- vidual sciences into contact, so that they may be compared together, and rectify and fertilise each other. On this point Bacon makes a remarkable declaration: “Generally let this be a rule, that all partitions of knowledges be accepted rather for lines and veins, than for sections and separa- tions; and that the continuance and entireness of knowledge be preserved. For the contrary hereof hath made particular sciences to become barren, shallow, and erroneous, while they have not been nourished or maintained from the common fountain.”*
Bacon’s design was to have exhibited the sciences connected into one whole. His Ency- clopedia is an attempted system, but to be appreciated it should be inspected by the eyes, not of a system-builder, but of an encyclopeedist. The man of system will often make the correct
* “ Advancement of Learning,” Book II. There isa parallel passage in “De Augmentis,” IV. 1. Q4
232 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
objection that Bacon’s divisions are not very accurate, and that the connection he would establish is often loose and arbitrary. The principle of division is new, but the rules by which it is effected are those of ordinary logic. If we distinguish the man of system from the encyclopedist, we find that the latter will be satisfied with a mere co-ordination of scientific material, while the former desires an internal connection. The encyclopedist seeks, above all, to make his materials complete, and therefore he chooses that form which most favours and ensures completeness. If this form neither is nor can be systematic, he chooses the aggregative, and no ageregative form so well ensures completeness of material as the alphabetic. Now an alphabetic encyclopedia is a dictionary, and if an encyclo- pedia cannot or will not be a real system, it must become adictionary. The Baconian Encyclopedia was not a system, in the strict sense of the word, but a mere logical aggregate. “Like the Baco- nian philosophy generally, it had no aptitude or propensity to become a system. Hence, as it progressed it became a dictionary, and the alpha- betical form was substituted for the logical. The further progression is to be found first in Bayle’s Critico-historical Dictionary, and afterwards in
the French Encyclopedia of Diderot and d’Alem-
TNE “ ENCYCLOPZEDISTS.” 233
bert, who in their preface refer to Bacon, espe- cially to his treatise on the “ Advancement of Learning.” The French Encyclopedia—that magazine of the so-called ‘“ enlightenment” (Auf- klérung)— may be traced back to Bacon, not only as the founder of realistic philosophy in general, but also as the first encyclopadist of this tendency. However, the distinction between Bacon and the French encyclopedists consists not merely in the circumstance that one employs the logical form, the other the alphabetical, but likewise in the different relation in which the two parties stood with respect to science. Diderot and d’Alem- bert reaped where Bacon had sown. The former renovated philosophy, the latter collected what the new philosophy had produced. Bacon had chiefly to do with problems; the French encyclo- pedists with results; they registered the acts (acta) of philosophy, whereas Bacon had discovered in his time what was yet to be done. His books on the advancement of science were, as d’Alembert says, a “catalogue immense de ce qui reste 4 découvrir.”
234 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. IX.
THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY AS AN ENCYCLOPZDIA OF THE SCIENCES.
THE principle according to which Bacon divides the intellectual world (globus intellectualis) is psychological. He distinguishes the scientific, as Plato does the political classes, according to the faculties of the human soul. As many faculties as we have to copy, and reproduce the real world, ,, a8 many various images of the world as are possible _ to the human mind, into so many parts may the total intellectual image of the world be divided. Our faculties in this respect are memory (as a re- _taining perception), imagination, and reason ; con- sequently there is a copy of the world referable to memory (or experience); an imaginary copy, and a rational copy; the purely empirical copy is History, the imaginary is Poetry, the rational is Science, in the confined sense of the word. Of poetry — which compared with history is “ fiction,” compared with science a “ dream”— we have already treated.
-
HISTORY. 235
which bear the same relation to each other that memory bears to reason, still remain to be dis- cussed. The human mind rises from sensuous perception to rational thought; here the method and the Encyclopedia of Bacon follow the same course.
HIsTorRY
Contains the copy of the events of the world, collected by experience and preserved in the memory. Since the world comprises the king- doms of nature and of man, so may the history of the world be divided into natural (historia na- turalis) and civil history (historia civilis). The works of nature are either free, when they are produced by natural forces alone, or they are unfree, when they likewise depend on human industry. The free product may be either regular or anomalous; the former are called by Bacon “ generationes,” the latter “ pretergenera- tiones.” ‘The artificial works of nature are me- chanical. Hence natural history may be divided into the * historia generationum, pretergenera- tionum,” and ‘ mechanica.” The last would be a history of Technology, which Bacon misses, and therefore requires, as well as a history of natural malformations. The series of regular natural
236 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
products is followed by Bacon (after the model of the ancients) from the highest down to sublunary regions. He begins with the heavenly bodies, and from them descends to meteors and atmo- spherical phenomena, such as winds, rain, weather, temperature, &c.; from these he descends fur- ther to earth and sea, the elements or general constituents of matter*, and finally to specific bodies.
The description of these objects may be either merely narrative or methodical. The latter is regarded even here with attentive interest by Bacon; even here he commends the inductive description of nature as the path by which the materials of natural history are brought to philo- sophy. “The merely narrative description is less to be esteemed than induction, which offers the first breast to philosophy.”* This proposition sufficiently proves our assertion, that the notion of a new method and the wish to realise it were in Bacon’s mind before his encyclopedian attempts. But a natural history so composed as to be con- ducive to science is the very thing that is missed by Bacon, and he endeavours to fill up the gap by a number of separate treatises.
* « Allgemeine materien.”—J. O. This is an abbreviated form of a proposition that occurs in “ De Augmentis,” IL. 3.
+ Comprising “ Parasceve ad Historiam Naturalem et Experi- mentalem ; Historia Ventorum ; Historia Vite et Mortis ; Thema
HISTORY OF LITERATURE. 237
Human communities may be divided into state and church; the history of mankind is conse- quently divided into historia ecclesiastica et civilis— the latter in the narrow sense of the word. Between the two, however, Bacon ob+ serves a gap, which to him is, of course, a problem, There is not yet a history of literature and art. For the solution of this problem Bacon cannot, indeed, cite any example; but, by way of pre- scribing for the deficiency, he has written a few’ words, which could not be properly appreciated before the present day, as it is only of late that we have begun to supply it. His prescription is as valuable now as at the time when it was written. The mere desire for a history of litera- ture and art, expressed by the lips of newly awakened philosophy among the innovating plans of a Bacon, is of itself surprising; still more so is the exactness with which he states how he would have his plan carried out. What is literature but a copy of the state of the world in the human mind? What, then, is the history of literature but a copy of this copy of the world? For this very reason we are sur- prised at the postulate in the mouth of Bacon. That realistic intellect was so exclusively directed
Ceeli ; De Fluxu et Refluxu Maris ; Silva Silvarum, sive Historia Naturalis.”
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238 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
to the copy of the world, that we are astonished to find him regarding a copy of that copy as a desideratum. This can alone be explained from the extremely realistic view which Bacon took of human affairs. He prized literature according to its real* worth, he remarked its real connection with human life as a whole, and wished therefore ‘to see it exhibited as a matter of universal and political history. He regarded literature and art as the members most full of soul} throughout the entire organisation of human culture; these show the image of the world as it is reflected in the eye of the human mind. Thus, speaking of literary history, he says: “ Without this the history of the world seemeth to me to be as the statue of Polyphemus with his eye out.” Literature is always the mirror of its age, and in this sense forms a part of universal histo- ry. Now there is not as yet the universal his- tory of literature; and in this sense he sets it down as a scientific destderatum. Respecting the separate departments of science, as mathe- matics, philosophy, rhetoric, &c., there are, in- deed, some historical notices, but there is no tie to connect these detached and scattered fragments
* As opposed to ideal—J.O. “ Advancement of Learning,’ IL Also “De Augment.” II. 4. + “Seelenvoll.”"—J. O.
HISTORY OF LITERATURE. 239
into one whole, no general historical picture of human science and art. It is not enough to know the antecedents of each science separately. There is a connection between all the literary works of an age, and also a pragmatic connection between the successive ages of a series. ‘“ The sciences,” Bacon happily says, ‘‘ migrate like nations.”* Literary history should describe successive ages, observe epochs, pursue the course of the sciences from their first beginning to their bloom and their decadence; show how they have been first called forth, cultivated, then gradually suf- fered to wither, and finally animated anew. In this course the destinies of literature are closely combined with those of nations. There is a causal connection, — a reciprocal action between literary and political life,—and to this important point Bacon urgently directs the attention of the his- torian. Literature is to be shown in its natural character, as affected by the peculiarities of the people whose life it is to represent. Works of literature are always influenced by the climate, the natural peculiarities and dispositions, the good and evil fortunes, the moral, religious, and poli- tical condition of the people among whom they are produced. Hence the theme of literary his- tory is the general state of literature at different
* “ Migrant scientie non secus ac populi.”—De Avg. II. 4,
240 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
periods, viewed in connection with that of politics and religion. In other words, Bacon regards literature as a portion of the aggregate culture of humanity; would have the history of literature and art treated as a history of cultivation.* And in what spirit, in what form does he desire that this history should be written? “ The themes of history,” he says, “ should not be so treated that time is lost in praise and blame, after the fashion of the critics, but events themselves should be narrated just as they occurred, with a more sparing introduction of opinion. With respect to the manner of preparing such a history, we recommend above all that its matter should not be sought exclusively from historians and critics, but that through successive centuries (or shorter periods), beginning from the remotest antiquity, the principal works composed in the course of each should be consulted; and that, though these works could not be read through (for that would be an infinite labour), they should be so tasted, and their argument, style, and method should be so observed, that the genius of their age should be waked from the dead as if by some incan- tation.” ft
* Dr. Fischer refers to Gervinus’s “ History of German Litera- ture,” as a specimen of a history composed after this model. —J. O. Tt “At hee omnia tractari precipimus, ut non criticorum more in laude et censura tempus teratur ; sed plane historice res ips
UNIVERSAL HISTORY. 241
To political history also does Bacon, in the fertile spirit of his philosophy, propose new problems and prescribe new objects. History, like all science, is based upon experience; and
to experience the nearest objects are particulars, |
the nearest field is its own intuition. Hence Bacon rightly attaches so much importance to particular histories, memoirs, and biographies, as
LORRI OO 66 he nn oe oe
opposed to universal histories, which, in most |
cases, are without the guidance of experience,
and are less easily comprehensible as to subject- matter, while they are proportionably deficient in liveliness and fidelity. Most just is Bacon’s remark on the subject of universal history: “If we more accurately weigh the matter, we shall find that the laws of proper history are so severe that it is hardly possible to apply them in treating of so vast an argument; so that the majesty of history is rather diminished than in-
narrentur, judicium parcius interponatur. De modo autem hujusmodi histori conficiends, illud inprimis monemus ; ut materia et copia ejus non tantum ab historiis et criticis petatur, verum etiam ut per singulas annorum centurias, aut etiam minora intervalla, seriatim (ab ultima antiquitate facto principio) libri precipui qui per ea temporis spatia conscripti sunt in consilium adhibeantur ; ut ex eorum non perlectione (id enim infinitum quiddam esset) sed degustatione, et observatione argumenti, stili, methodi, Genius illius temporis Literarius veluti incantatione quadam a mortuis evocetur.”—De Augm. II. 4.
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242 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
creased by the magnitude of its material. For it will naturally happen that he who pursues such various subjects in every direction, becoming less and less scrupulous in the research, and his diligence being weakened as to details by the variety to which it is extended, will eagerly catch at popular rumour and compose history from traditions of no great authenticity, and such like flimsy material. Moreover, he will find it ne- cessary (if he would have his work increase to an infinite extent) deliberately to pass over many things worthy of record, and frequently to fall into the manner of epitomes. There is also an- other danger by no means trifling, and directly opposed to the utility of history ; namely this, that whereas universal history preserves some narra- tives that otherwise, perchance, would perish, it frequently, for the sake of that popular com- pendiousness, destroys others of great profit that might otherwise have lived.”* On the other
* «“ Veruntamen, si quis rem rectius perpendat, animadvertet tam severas esse Historie Juste leges, ut eas in tanta argumenti vastitate exercere vix liceat; adeo ut minuatur potius historiz majestas molis granditate, quam amplificetur. Fiet enim, ut qui tam varia undequaque persequitur, is informationis religione paulatim remissa, et diligentia sua, que ad tot res extenditur, in singulis elanguescente, auras populares et rumores captet; et ex relationibus non admodum authenticis, aut hujusmodi aliqua levidensi materia, historiam conficiet. Quinetiam necesse ei erit (ne opus in immensum excrescat) plurima relatu digna consulto
SPECIAL HISTORY. 243
hand, the biographies of important persons, spe- cial histories, such as those of the Campaign of Cyrus, the Peloponnesian War, Catiline’s Con- spiracy, &c., admit of a lively, true, and artisti- cal form of narration, because the subjects are thoroughly defined and rounded off. All genuine historians, all who know what historical writing should be, will agree with Bacon. A mind that is truly and artistically historical chooses of its own accord only such subjects as it can thoroughly master and can distinctly characterise in all their parts. Universal history can only result from well-grounded special histories, just as, accord- ing to Bacon, philosophy can only result from experience, and metaphysics from physics. Great historians usually begin with monographies and special histories, the subjects of which they prefer to take from the sphere of their own immediate observation. With such thoroughly definite and comprehensible materials, the his- toriographer can at once display and exercise his talent. The historian and the artist are here
pretermittere, atque ad epitomarum rationes sepius delabi. Incumbit etiam aliud periculum non parvum, atque utilitati illi Historie Universalis ex diametro oppositum; quemadmodum enim Universalis Historia narrationes aliquas, que alias forte fuissent periturse, conservat ; ita contra sepenumero narrationes alias satis fructuosas, que aliter victure fuissent, propter grata mortalibus rerum compendia perimit.”—-De Augm. II. 8.
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244 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
alike. The more indefinite and general the subject chosen by the artist, the more lifeless and ineffective is his performance. As the subject lacks natural vitality, so will the work be with- out poetical charm. Now within the sphere of historical life nothing is nearer to the historian than his own nation. Here he finds a source not - only in a history conformable to experience, but also in his own habitual experience. Hence Ba- con recommends the history of the writer’s own nation as the most lively and interesting theme, and his recommendation is not only for the benefit of history, but also in conformity with his age. It corresponds to the spirit of that reformatory principle which in opposition to the middle ages, had called forth a national church, a national policy, a national literature, and had victoriously maintained those powers in England more than in any other country. Bacon chose the history of his own nation in the newly completed period of its national restoration, — the history of England from the union of the Roses under Henry VII. to the union of the kingdoms under James I.* In his history of the reign of Henry VII. he has performed the first part of the task.
Bacon would have political history as pure
* Compare “De Augment.” II. 7., and “ Advancement of Learning.”
SPECIAL HISTORY. 245
an exhibition of facts as literary history. As the latter should be free from perpetual criticism, so should the former from a perpetual display of poli tical views. He points to that class of historian who write history for the sake of some parti- cular doctrine, and are always returning to cer- tain events in order to demonstrate their theory. They compare every fact with the doctrine that is already in their mind, and their judgment is the result of the comparison. If their heads are filled with some modern ideal of a constitution, they will pronounce judgment on Alexander and Cesar accordingly, and inform us that these were not constitutional monarchs. We need not look far for examples. This intolerable manner of writing history is happily termed by Bacon “chewing the cud of history,” which, he says, is allowable to a politician that only uses history as a voucher for his doctrines, but not to the real historian. “It is ill-timed and tiresome,” he con- tinues, “ to throw in political remarks on every occasion, and thus to interrupt the thread of the narrative. For although every history of the wiser kind is, as it were, impregnated with political admonitions and precepts, nevertheless the author ought not to be his own midwife.” *
* “Historiam autem Justam ex professo scribenti politica ubique ingerere, atque per illa filum historiz interrumpere, in-
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246 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
SCIENCE.
History occupies itself with facts, science with causes. The former, according to Bacon, crawls upon the ground, but of the fountains of science
vw, fet .
“t\ ~) some are situated above, some beneath. For the
ein Tire
Vn Lo AIMAGX, . a y causes of things are either supernatural or natural; . a
oe len wiithe former can only be revealed, the latter must
. i f ¥ e e e
wea’ © be investigated. The science of supernatural g
causes is revealed theology, that of natural causes
is science in a peculiar and more limited sense, — or philosophy. Thus is a boundary mark set up -between theology and philosophy, to which we shall afterwards return, and which we shall con- sider more completely.*
Philosophy, then, is the knowledge of things from natural causes. The possible objects of our knowledge, are God, nature, and our own internal essence (Wesen). We represent to ourselves all these objects, but each in a different way,— nature alone immediately, God through nature, and ourselves through reflection; or to use the expression of Bacon, who compares knowledge
tempestivum quiddam et molestum est. Licet enim Historia quseque prudentior politicis preeceptis et monitis veluti impreg- nata sit, tamen scriptor ipse sibi obstetricari non debet.”— De Augm. II. 10.
* Compare Chap. X. 1. of this work.
PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 247
with sight, we perceive ourselves radio reflexo, nature radio directo, and God radio refracto.* Conformably to these several objects, philosophy may be divided into natural theology, natural
philosophy, and anthropology in the widest sense of the word.
I, FUNDAMENTAL PHILOSOPHY.
PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA.
All the knowledge pertaining to philosophy is based upon natural causes. very proposition embodying such knowledge is an axiom.f Now, are there not certain axioms that are common to all sciences, and are equally valid in theology, physics, and ethics? Or, what is the same thing, are there not certain attributes that may be pre- dicated of everything that falls within the sphere of cognition, without asingle exception? If there are such axioms, the sum of them manifestly constitutes a science, which, though distinguished from all the others, is not isolated, for it contains
* Compare “ De Augment,” IIL 1,
t The original cannot be literally rendered, through the absence of a plural to the word “knowledge:” “ Alle Erkenntnisse der Philosophie griinden sich auf natiirlichen Ursachen. Jede Erkenntniss aus natiirlichen Ursachen bildet ein Axiom.”— J.O.
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248 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the principles applicable to all alike. It is con- sequently the foundation of the others,— Funda- mental Philosophy, or, to use the words of Bacon, the “‘ common parent” of the sciences. After the precedent of the ancients he calls it “ philosophia prima,” adding that it is “the wisdom, which was formerly defined as the science of things di- vine and human.”* This science is not meta- physics, such as are to be found with Aristotle. Bacon has merely proposed a problem, by way of example, without any solution. A systema- tic solution he did not even attempt, but he regarded the science as something new, and far from being in an advanced state, not even dis- covered. We must ask ourselves a question, the answer to which we find nowhere: “ What did Bacon intend with his Fundamental Philosophy, what did he mean by his philosophia prima?” He calls it the parent of all the other sciences ; whereas in the “ Novum Organum” he gives this name to natural philosophy. Here then we find most dis- tinctly one of those prominent differences to which we have already alluded in our comparison of the Organum with the Encyclopedia. In the « Novum Organum” the Fundamental Philosophy is scarcely mentioned in the sense attached to it
* “Que olim rerum divinarum atque humanarum scientia definiebatur.”—— De Augm, III. 1,
PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 949
in the Encyclopedia*, and only a slight trace is left to remind the attentive reader of the earlier notion. This is to be found in the remarkable passage in the second book, where Bacon, treating of natural analogies, touches cursorily upon the analogies between the sciences, and uses the very examples by which he previously sought to illus- trate his idea of the philosophia prima. This fact will serve as an index to the truth. Fundamental Philosophy, in Bacon’s sense of the word, is nothing but the idea of analogy applied to the sciences. Now, what are natural analogies? The first. steps that lead to the unity of nature. What, in Bacon’s sense, is the proposed Fundamental Philosophy? The unity of all the sciences. Ba- con seeks this unity by the same method of ana- logy. Not on dialectical, but on real grounds, should the universal predicates of things (such as much and little, like and different, possible and impossible, essential and contingent, &c.) be determined. And here he unquestionably desig- nates analogy as the guiding point of view. For it is only by the idea of analogy that the oppositions in nature can be reconciled, and things regarded as belonging to a graduated series. Only under the guidance of this idea, could Bacon determine the universal predicates. “There has been
* Both in the “ Advancement” and “ De Augmentis.”—J. QO.
250 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
much talk about the similar and the different, but it has not been sufficiently considered how nature combines both, always uniting different species by means of intermediate formations, such as, for instances, he introduces between plants and fishes, fishes and birds, birds and quadrupeds,” &c.*
If now we consider the matter closely, and — what is necessary in all cases, especially with Bacon—compare the philosopher with himself, we arrive at the following explanation of the Fundamental Philosophy projected by Bacon. From natural causes there is in all things a harmony or a conformity, and therefore a science in which all sciences agree. From the point of view afforded by analogy the things in their infinite variety will appear as degrees of a scale. That the aggregate of things, from the humblest of creatures to the Deity himself forms a regular ascending scale,—this is the profound thought that Bacon without doubt entertained, that lay at the basis of his Fundamental Philosophy, and that im- pelled him to seek analogies everywhere, both in things and sciences. Had Bacon more clearly seen the import of this thought, reduced it to a principle, and pursued it to its consequences; he would have been the English Leibnitz, and not
* This is not a quotation, but a condensation of a passage that occurs in “ De Augmentis,” IIL. 1.
ee
PHILOSOPHIA PRIMA. 251
the antipode of Aristotle. For both Aristotle and Leibnitz regarded the world as a scale of natural formations or entelechies. Nor could even Bacon have wished to carry out any other thought in a science which he called the parent of the rest. It may, too, be repeatedly remarked that his opposition to Aristotle recedes more into the background, where the idea of a Fundamental Philosophy is brought prominently forward, as in the books on the advancement of science*, whereas this same opposition is most sharply pro- minent where the idea of analogy only takes a secondary place among the expedients of the Baconian method, as in the “ Novum Organum.” It is therefore certain that in the mind of Bacon this idea preceded the elaboration of his method ; it is certain that the same thought, which, in the Encyclopedia, is to originate a fundamental sci- ence, and form an axiom of axioms, was satisfied in the “Organum” with the subordinate part of an expedient. If Bacon says here that the analogies form the first and lowest step towards the unity of all things, what other idea could he lay at the foundation of a science which, accord-
ing to his view, was to constitute the trunk of the
others, —the “ first philosophy?”
* That is, the “ Advancement” and the “De Augmentis.”— J. O.
0A. aks (, re i AL AA Fyre i tad We | 5 ; ¥ ‘“ onle y } pbte lA A Cube ak ol
252 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
II, NATuRAL THEOLOGY
Seeks to deduce the knowledge of God from natural causes; contemplates him through the medium of things, and thus receives but an im- “ perfect and obscure semblance of his true essence, seeing his image broken, as we see our own
when it is reflected in water. Not by the laws
of nature, but only by the miracles of revelation, can God be made manifest in his true preter- natural essence. Hence the true knowledge of God is not possible by natural, but only by revealed
») theology. Since, then, religion and faith can only ‘e be based on the true copy of God in man, it fol-
lows that they completely coincide with revealed theology, and have nothing in common with the natural. The boundary between revealed and natural theology is, with Bacon, a boundary like- wise between revelation and nature, religion and philosophy, faith and science. This boundary science must never oyerstep, but must remain mindful of the words: “Give unto faith what is faith’s;” by which Bacon once for all gets rid of every possibility of a border-war, and comes to a final settlement with faith.* Science can do
* There is a refinement in the original which can scarcely be
followed in English. “Sich mit dem Glauben weniger auseinander- setzt als abfindet.”—J. O.
NATURAL THEOLOGY. 253
religion no positive, but only negative service ; it can neither prove nor make religion, but only prevent its opposite. Natural philosophy cannot found faith, but merely refute infidelity. So far does it extend; no further. It perceives the image of God in nature; which will suffice against atheism, but not for religion. If the boundary line between religion and philosophy is obliterated, if one encroaches on the other, both will go astray. Religion, when it dabbles with | science, becomes heterodox ; science, when it | mixes itself up with religion, becomes fantastical, | so that, on the one hand, there is a heretical religion, and, on the other, a fantastical philo- sophy, as inevitable consequences when faith
and science, revealed and natural theology flow into each other. They should be kept apart; for every union leads to confusion on both sides. When therefore Bacon, in the first book of his work “De Augmentis,” tells the king that a slight taste from the cup of philosophy may per- haps lead to atheism, but that a fuller draught will bring back to religion, certainly no such virtue lies in the cup of the Baconian philosophy. Indeed, Bacon himself was very far from fulfilling, in the last of his books, “* De Augmentis,” what he had promised by that assertion. The maxim, |
* In the “ Advancement” it stands thus: —*“ It is an assumed
254 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
which has been quoted over and over again, may be set down among those figures of speech that always halt, and that should never be quoted in earnest, when, as in this case, they are supported by nothing deeper.
III. NaturaL PHILOsopuy
Seeks the knowledge of things from natural “causes, and an apprehension of the effective
-, ( .¢power of nature makes us capable of producing «dios gdsimilar effects ourselves as soon as the material Sx J. of conditions are at our command. The knowledge
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“ative natural philosophy ; the production of ef- _ fects by our own exertions, practical or operative. The former of these is the basis of the latter. The former leads from experience to axioms, the latter from axioms to inventions; the direction of the former is upwards, that of the latter down- wards. In this sense Bacon calls the theoretical
truth and a conclusion of experience, that a little or superficial knowledge of philosophy may incline the mind of man to atheism ; but a further proceeding therein doth bring the mind back again to religion.” In “ De Augmentis,” thus :— Quin potius certissimum ‘est, atque experientia comprobatum, leves gustus in philosophia movere fortasse ad Atheismum, sed pleniores haustus ad religionem reducere.” The figurative mode of expression, it will be observed, belongs to the latter only.— J. O.
Ld
PHYSICS AND METAPHYSICS. 255
natural philosophy, the ascending (ascensoria) ; the practical, the descending (descensoria.)*
i THNORMTICAL NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
Investigated Me teataral) causes of things; but ; these causes may be of two kinds, either blind Taya (mechanical), efficient causes (cause efficientes), ore whi y , final causes (cause finales). The former are ro-ee ferable to (natural or mechanical) causality, the ;~ latter to teleology, as their respective points of boss view. The former is called by Bacon, “ Physique,”
the latter, “ Metaphysique.” Thus, with Bacon,
physics and metaphysics do not differ as to their
objects, but as to the points of view from which
they are regarded. Both are natural philosophy ;
the objects of both are the same natural pheno-
mena contemplated from different points of view.
Physics investigate the material of things and
their efficient forces, Metaphysics the forms of © things and their fitness to an end.t They con- template different sides of the same nature; the
former, matter and force; the latter, form and purpose.
* Compare “ De Augment.” III. 3. Tt “Physica est que inquirit de efficiente et materia ; Meta- physica que de forma et fine."— De Augm. III. 4.
256 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Puysics
Investigate bodies ;—the objects of this science are inherent in matter, and therefore transitory. Nevertheless the corporeal world is a compound whole, and this whole consists of an infinite variety of individual formations. Unity and variety are therefore the two great aspects under which nature presents herself as a whole. Her unity consists of those elements that are common to all bodies, and in the fabric of the universe which comprises all bodies; her unity is un- folded in individuals,—in the different bodies and their peculiarities. Thus Physics are divided into three parts, containing the doctrines of ele- ments, of the fabric of the universe, and of the various bodies. These last are again susceptible of a twofold division. They are concrete indivi- duals that may be ranged in genera, species, &c., and at the same time we find among them certain qualities common to many or all of them, such as figure, motion, weight, warmth, light, and so on. Hence Bacon divides Physics, as the special science _ of bodies, into the concrete and the abstract. — Conerete physics investigate individual concrete bodies, such as plants, animals, &c.; and abstract physics the general physical qualities, such as heat, gravity, &c.
PHYSICAL ASTRONOMY. 257
Physics, as such, form a medium between natural history and metaphysics. Concrete phy- sics border more closely upon natural history, abstract physics upon metaphysics. Moreover, Physics is subject to the same division* as na- tural history, explaining the objects which the latter merely describes. Here Bacon misses, above all, the Physics of the heavenly bodies, There is only a mathematical sketch of their out- ward form, no physical theory of their causes and effects. We want a physical Astronomy, which Bacon, in distinction from the mathematical, calls “ living .” a physical Astrology, which, in distinc tion from superstitious Astrology, he calls sane.” By living Astronomy (Astronomia viva) Bacon denotes a right understanding of the grounds of the celestial phenomena, the causes of their form and motion; by sane Astrology (Astrologia sana), a right understanding of the effects and influences of the stars upon the earth and earthly bodies. These effects are in all cases natural, never fatalistic. The heavenly bodies do not determine the destinies of the world ;—in this superstition consists the folly of Astrology, as it
* That is to say, with regard to the matters treated. “ Physica autem concreta eandem subit divisionem, quam historia naturalis ; ut sit vel cirea Ccelestia, vel circa Meteora, vel circa globum terre et maris.”— De Augm. III. 4.—J. O,
8
———_
258 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
has hitherto existed; — but they exercise, as in the case of the sun and moon, a physical influence
upon the earth, which is manifested in change of season, the tides, &c. Such influences should be
explained; we should learn what is the nature of their power, what bodies are affected by them, and how far their operation extends.
METAPHYSICS
Investigate the final causes of things, and there- fore consist in a teleological interpretation of nature. Bacon likes to compare sciences with pyramids; they rise from the broad plain of history and experience to laws, which ascend higher and higher, until they reach their summit in the highest law, as the unity of the whole. Natural philosophy may be regarded under this image. Its broad base is natural history; then come physics, gradually ascending, and the sum- mit is formed by metaphysics*, as the science of formal and final causes.
The Baconian metaphysics so far agree with the Platonic that they regard the forms of things, and so far with the Aristotelian that they give a teleological interpretation of nature; but are dis- tinguished from both, inasmuch as they are meant
‘
* Compare “ De Augment.” IIT. 4. ; also “ Advancement,” II.
BACONIAN METAPHYSICS. 259
for nothing more than speculative physics. They are not the “fundamental philosophy.” In the
structure of the pyramids Bacon finds a symbol |
for the scale of things: ‘Everything ascends to |
unity according to a certain scale.” This thought, | which Bacon considers profound and excellent, even in the mouths of Parmenides and Plato, is’ the basis of his “ fundamental philosophy,” which | contemplates the scale of a// things, whereas meta- physics comprehend only that part of it that is | occupied by the scale of natural things. If sciences |
form scales like things, metaphysics stand at the highest degree of physics.
Bacon draws a distinction between the forms and the ends of nature, and makes the explana- tion of them the subject of the two departments of metaphysics. By “forms” he means nothing more than permanent causes. They are efficient causes, elevated into the form of universality. That which produces heat, in every case, is called by Bacon the form of heat. The form of white is that which, in every case, causes bodies to appear white. Thus the forms of nature, to use the lan- guage of Bacon, are the last true differences to which the conditions of natural phenomena may be reduced; the factors absolutely necessary for the qualities of bodies. These qualities are in-
vestigated by abstract physics, which therefore 8 2
—_
' }
260 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
border on the region of metaphysics. To speak accurately, abstract physics necessarily merge into metaphysics; for they seek the conditions under which, in every case, physical qualities are exhi- bited. If these conditions are shown, physical science has abstracted from the individual bodies, and has set up a law without a material substra- tum; that is to say, an incorporeal form. Thus it passes into the region of metaphysics.
But, in the explanation of natural ends, the metaphysical is distinguished from the physical point of view. The distinction must, according to Bacon, be made with the utmost accuracy, and most vigorously preserved. That this distinction between the metaphysical and physical modes of interpretation was not considered before his time is, in his eyes, the first indication of scientific confusion, which, as he rightly thinks, is the same thing as scientific calamity (philosophica calamitas). On this account there was no genuine and fertile philosophy of nature. As science generally be- comes fantastical when it is mingled with theo- logy, so do physics become sterile and impure by a mixture with metaphysics. ‘ The excursions of final causes,” says Bacon, “into the limits of physical causes hath bred a vastness and solitude in that track.”* The purification of physics con-
* “ Advancement.” Also “De Augmentis,” III. 4,
EFFICIENT AND FINAL CAUSES, 261 |
: Fur ch Cas sists in the banishment of final causes to the fur. k. region of metaphysics. The teleological point of ?v view is not to be rejected altogether, but merely buecs restricted in its application; it is not even to be opposed to the physical point of view, but merely
kept distinct from it. Neither absolutely excludes
the other; indeed they are quite capable of recon- eiliation. That which, from one point of view, appears as the mere effect of blind powers, —why
should it not, from another point, appear useful
and conducive to an end? No one will deny
that, in point of fact, the eyelids with their lashes
serve to protect the eye; that the hides of beasts,
by their firmness, act as a guard against heat and
cold; that the legs serve to support the body.
But every one can see that explanations of this
kind are quite out of place in physics; for the physical question is not “ What is the use of eyelashes?” but “Why do hairs grow on this particular spot?” ‘ Pilosity is incident to the ori-
fices of moisture” — such is the physical answer. Manifestly it is not the end or aim of moisture to provide an expedient for the protection of the
eyes. Just as little does cold, when it contracts
the pores of the skin, and then causes its hard-
ness, purpose to protect animals against the in- fluences of temperature. The physical explana-
tions are yery different from the teleological. But 83
262 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
are they therefore contradictory? Does the cause prevent its effect from being useful for some pur- pose foreign to the cause? ‘Till we convert the use of the effect into its cause, no confusion arises. It is against this confusion that Bacon directs his efforts; to throw a light upon the subject, he separates (what should not have been combined) the causa efficiens from the causa finalis, the me- chanical from the teleological interpretation of things, physics from metaphysics. The former show a nature conformed to laws, the latter a nature conformed to certain ends. The latter ultimately points to a fore-seeing intelligence that with wise economy guides and orders the blind operation of the natural powers; and thus meta- physics afford a prospect, the further pursuit of which is left to natural theology. Thus is natural theology based upon metaphysics, as metaphysics upon physics, and physics upon natural history.
2. PRACTICAL NATURAL PHILOSOPHY
Is divided into mechanics and natural magic. The former are practical physics, the latter prac- tical metaphysics or the applied theory of natural forms. Bacon under this head misses both theory and practice; he mentions a natural magic, as he has already mentioned a “sane astrology,” as a desideratum. He wished to distinguish the latter
7
NATURAL MAGIC. — 263
from superstitious astrology, and in the same manner he distinguishes natural magic from the ordinary and frivolous sort, with which he classes alchemy and other dreams that have amused mankind from the earliest ages. Bacon very often speaks of the alchemists, especially when he means to give an example of the ordinary empirists with their uncritical and unmethodical way of proceeding. Without having themselves pursued a scientific object, they have paved the way to physics and chemistry by means of their researches. Bacon ingeniously compares them with those sons in the fable, whose father be- queathed them a treasure in the vineyard for which they had to seek. They dug round the vineyard without finding the gold, but by their researches they had tilled the fertile soil, and the harvest proved to be the promised treasure. Natural magic, in Bacon’s sense of the word,
|
|
:
is the application of the knowledge of nature. |
Granted that we have learned the forms of nature, the qualities of bodies and their ultimate conditions, the possibility arises, as far as theory is concerned, of producing these qualities our- selves, and operating creatively like nature. If now to the theoretic is added the practical possi- bility—namely, material means—as the necessary
vehicles of effectiveness, natural miracles, as it s4
264 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
were, will be the result. We need not decide (according to Bacon) whether what the alchemists sought was attainable or not; at all events their method was wrong. Before we try to make gold we must become acquainted with the natural forms of gold, and all the conditions upon which these qualities infallibly appear. The triumphs of mechanical and chemical invention in our own times accomplish and at the same time explain the problems which Bacon conceived under the name of natural magic, and recommended to the future. “ When magic,” says Bacon, “ is com- bined with science, this natural magic will ac- complish deeds that will bear to the earlier super- stitious experiments the same relation that the real acts of Cesar bear to the imaginary ex- ploits of King Arthur; that is to say, they will be as deeds to tales, where more is done by the former than dreamed in the latter.” *
As aids to inventive natural science, Bacon desires a history of human discoveries, which shall render especially prominent all that has appeared impossible to man; and also, for con-~ venient survey, a list of useful experiments (ca- talogus polychrestorum).
* This passage is not to be found in Bacon as it stands here, but it is formed from expressions in “ De Augmentis,” IIT. 5., which also occur in the “ Advancement.”—J. Q.
MATHEMATICS. 265
38. MATHEMATICS,
With Bacon, do not form an independent but a supplementary science ; they are an aid to natural philosophy. Pure mathematics consist of geo- metry and arithmetic, the knowledge of figures and numbers, of continuous and discrete quan- tities, —in a word, they are the knowledge of nature or of abstract quantity. But quantity is among the forms of nature; therefore mathe- matics (in Bacon’s sense of the word) belong to the knowledge of natural forms, that is, to metaphysics. Their scientific value lies in their contribution to the interpretation of nature. Their position is similar to that which Bacon assigns to logic. Both are subordinate to natural philosophy, from which both have unjustifiably separated themselves, so as to assume an inde- pendent rank of their own. Both, therefore, must be so connected anew with the physical sciences as to become mere aids to the latter. Thus we have a striking illustration of the difference between the Baconian and the Greek mode of thought. The forms of the Platonic metaphysics were ideals or antitypes, those of the Baconian metaphysics are powers. Plato con- sidered mathematics the portico of metaphysics 5
aad
266 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Bacon regarded them as a mere aid and ap- pendix.
IV. ANTHROPOLOGY,
As the science of man, in the more extended sense of the word, embraces everything human. It treats of human nature and human society, whence it may be divided into psychology and politics. Before it enters upon the separate divisions of human nature, it regards their un- divided unity from two points of view.
In the first place it estimates the condition of humanity, with respect to its dignity and indignity, its greatness and its wretchedness, its bright and shadowy sides. A description of the latter is not set down by Bacon among his desiderata ; on the contrary, he finds that human misery is sufficiently illustrated by a copious literature of philosophical and theological writings, and, as it seems, has no desire to increase such “ sweet and wholesome ” * recreation. He would rather, like Hiero (accord- ing to Pindar) pluck the blossoms of human virtue, and introduce the science of man with a description of what is great in humanity, con- firmed by examples from history. He would decorate the porch of anthropology with statues
* “ Res et dulcis simul et salubris.”— De Augm. IV. 1., p. 581.
PHYSIOGNOMY. | 267
of the “summities” of the human race. Every great deed effected by the power of the human mind and the human will, as manifested in the heroes of every time and tendency, should here be brought before us by abundant examples.
The second point of view, which is more inti- mately connected with anthropology, refers to the unity of the human individual, to the relation between the soul and the body, as a consequence of which the soul expresses itself by means of the body, while the body reacts by impressions upon the soul. With reference to the body, considered as an expression of the soul, Bacon here gives the idea of a physiognomy—a science that, towards the end of the following century, was elaborated in such a surprising manner by Lavater. Bacon approximates closely to La- vater’s system. He desires a new physiognomy, based upon real facts and observations, without chiromantic dreams or anything of the sort. Aristotle’s notion of physiognomy was very im- perfect. Not only are the peculiarities of the soul expressed in the fixed lineaments of the body, but still more are the’ inclinations and passions expressed by the gestures, by the mov- able parts of the human face, especially the mouth. ‘Thus expressions that have become habi- tual and permanent in the countenance furnish
268 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the plainest index of the soul and its inclina- tions, being, as it were, the involuntary language of the soul. This language, according to Bacon, it is the office of true physiognomy to decipher and to solve. In dreams, too, Bacon discovered a secret correspondence between the soul and the body; he despises the pretensions of ordinary interpreters of dreams, but he shows how cer- tain states of the body correspond to certain dreams, and vice versa.*
1. PHYSIOLOGY,
Applied to human life, appears to Bacon less a science than an art, the object of which is cor- poreal well-being, with respect to health, beauty, strength, and enjoyment. This technical or prac- tical science of the human body may be divided accordingly into medicine, “ cosmetique,” ‘ ath- letique,” and “art voluptuary.” Among the means of producing sensual gratification Bacon enumerates the arts that delight the eye and the ear, as painting and music. This view of the fine arts was as unsatisfactory and unexalted as his view of poetry; and the esthetical theories that followed in the same direction merely elaborated the view, so as to render it clear and better defined, but scarcely elevated it at all.
* “De Augmentis,” [V. 1., p. 584.
MEDICAL SCIENCE. 269
Bacon is chiefly interested about medicine, as the science that most contributes or ought to contribute to the corporeal benefit of man. He sees plainly enough that the sister of this useful science is quackery, just as Circe was the sister of Aisculapius. From this relationship he would free medicine. With respect to all the sciences he reflects how they are to be purified from their vain and superstitious dross, and by the removal of the morbid material be rendered intellectually sound. This was his purpose in the cases of astrology, magic, and physiology, and now he has the same design with regard to medicine. This science should preserve health, heal sickness, lengthen life, and is therefore to be divided into diztetics, pathology, and macrobiotics. To the last, which he misses among the medical sciences of his day, he attaches the greatest importance, proposing the problem which, among the Germans, Hufeland endeavoured to solve. For the ad- vancement of pathology Bacon desires an accurate history of diseases, comparative anatomy, and — in the interests of science — vivisection. It seems to him a great mark of over-precipitancy and care- lessness that science has, without further inquiry, pronounced so many diseases incurable. If death is not to be prevented, physicians should never- theless take pains to render it easier. The allevia-
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270 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
tion of the pains of death, that gentle decease, which Bacon styles our “ external euthanasia,” * is proposed by him as a special problem for medical science.
2. PSYCHOLOGY
Refers to the human soul considered apart, and isyoceupied with its nature and powers. Bacon
ef snudistinguishes the soul, with respect to its sub- » adn stances, into the sensible and rational. The
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former is naturally produced, the latter’ super- ‘naturally inspired, imparted to man from without by the Divine breath. In a similar manner Aristotle made a distinction between the passive
and active intellect (vods ra@ntixos and trointuKos),
making the latter enter from without (Iv’paézv)
into man. Hence, with Bacon, the mind cannot be explained on natural grounds, and conse- quently the science of the mind does not belong to psychology, but to theology, which, through revelation, apprehends supernatural causes. Bacon himself makes an admission, which is of the highest importance to those who would form a judgment of his philosophy; namely, that it is incapable of explaining the mind. We may add that this incapability, which is here rightly attributed to
* “Euthanasia exterior.”— De Augm. IV. 1., p. 595.
DUALISM OF BACON. | 271
the Baconian philosophy, may be extended to realistic philosophy in general. Bacon does not deny the mind.* To deny the mind dogmatically, Bacon had too much mind himself, and too little self-denial. But, in a few words, he declares that the mind is incomprehensible; he transfers the idea of mind from the sphere of science into that
of religion, with which science holds no com-_
munication; he makes between the sensible and rational soul a hiatus, which, by his own avowal,
he is compelled to make. Thus with Bacon the
mind is an inexplicable, and the soulf is a corporeal substance, which has its local seat in the brain, and is only invisible on account of its subtlety; the mind is referred to the Deity, the soul to the body. Thus, as far as spirit (or mind) and body —the Deity and the world — are concerned, Bacon entertains a dualism similar to that of Descartes. But science, which is ever impelled to search for explanations, and everywhere endeavours to find the con- nection and unity of phenomena, instinctively resists dualism in whatever shape it may appear. Hence the following philosophy, which was
* i.e, as a spiritual substance. —J. O.
+ The words ‘‘ mind ” (geist) and “soul” (seele) are here used as equivalents for the “ Anima rationalis” and “ Anima irra- tionalis” of Bacon.—J. O.
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based upon Bacon, sought to get rid of that dualism which Bacon had bequeathed. To remain trife to the principles of Bacon, and to avoid dualism in the interests of realistic thought, it
.was necessary either to deny the existence of that | mind that could not be explained, or — what is
the same thing —to declare that it was a cor- poreal substance together with the soul. Thus the Baconian philosophy, as soon as it revolted against its original dualism, necessarily took a direction towards materialism, analogous to the movement of Cartesianism towards Spinozism. Even Locke admitted that the mind was perhaps a corporeal substance; and others, who followed him (especially in France), made of that “ per- haps” an exclusive dogma. As soon as the Baconian philosophy resigned itself to the limits of a narrow dogmatic system, and, for the sake of consistency, contracted its sphere of vision, it necessarily hastened nearer to materialism at every step. As the Cartesian philosophy, when it abandons its dualism, is compelled to become pantheistic, so, with equal necessity, does the Baconian philosophy, when it abandons its dualism become materialistic.
The Baconian philosophy investigates the facul- ties of the sensible soul, and divides its functions into voluntary motion and sensation. But Bacon
BACON AND LEIBNITZ. 273
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distinguishes the faculty of sense from that offs... =
perception, which he ascribes to all bodies, and’)
which is a power similar to the soul, and inherent; ie in every nature. Bacon is manifestly thinking of the analogy between the animate and inani- mate phenomena of nature, when he regards perception as a faculty everywhere present as distinguished from psychic sensation. On no other occasion does Bacon seem to speak so much in the spirit of Leibnitz. For Leibnitz has placed the analogy of all beings,—that funda- mental thought of his philosophy,—in the “ Prin- cipium Perceptivum,” and distinguished this om- nipresent power of perception from sensation and consciousness. However, Leibnitz’s idea of perception is much more elaborated and more thoroughly carried out than Bacon’s. Leibnitz referred to that energy directed towards a certain end* (and therefore including the faculty of representation), which is inherent in every indi- viduality, while Bacon by the word “ perceptio” merely meant what is left of perception after the deduction of sensation—that is to say, mere recep- tivity — that disposition of a body that renders it
* This long periphrasis represents “Zweckthitige Kraft.” Though the teleological view of science is eminently popular in England, our language is strangely deficient in words having reference to final causes.—J. O.
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274 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
capable of definite impressions, the peculiar faculty of attraction and repulsion. A _percep- tion of this kind is found, for example, in the magnet that attracts the iron, in the flame that darts toward the naphtha, in the air that is toa far higher degree susceptible of warmth and cold than the human organisation, in chemical affini- ties, &c. To all these peculiar utterances of body Bacon saw analogies in the phenomena of life, and therefore he designated their receptivity asa species of perception. His intuitive view of nature was more lively than his philosophy and the physical ideas belonging to it. The tendency of the latter was rather to give a mechanical explanation of the living than to perceive powers either living or resembling life in the mechanical phenomena of nature. In Bacon’s intuitive views it is obvious that his mind does not rigidly follow the course prescribed by the compass of his method, but declines in another and an earlier direction, which had for him an involuntary power of attraction. This direc- tion was that of the Italian philosophy of na- ture, which had revived hylozoism, — the living view of nature taken by the Greeks. In the idea of an eternally living matter, the Italian philosophers, as Bacon thought, came into con- tact with the Greeks — Telesius with Parme-
THE ITALIAN PHILOSOPHERS. 275
nides and Democritus. Here also Bacon him- self was in contact with the physical spirit of his immediate predecessors. Everywhere open to the future, his philosophy was not entirely closed against the past. In some passages the natural philosophy of the Italians shines with its poetical twilight into that of Bacon; and an accurate knowledge of the relation of Bacon to his Italian predecessors would amply repay a special investi- gation. But for this purpose the point of view must be taken within the sphere of the Italian natural philosophy, upon which we cannot enlarge here. We content ourselves with the cursory remark that a congenial description of the transi- tion period between the scholastic age and modern times is yet a desideratum. What has hitherto been written on this subject scarcely reaches the surface of the matter,
The faculties of the human soul are the under- standing and the will, with their different species. Would we know the use and objects of these faculties, our instructor with regard to the un- derstanding is logic, —with regard to the will, ethics. Logic and ethics are therefore branches of psychology.*
* De Augment. Scient. IV. 3.
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3. LOGIC,
As the science that teaches the right use of the understanding, has as many parts as the under- standing has functions. Its office is so to under- stand and represent things, that they become intelligible to others. We learn to understand things when we discern what is previously un- known, retain and judge what is known. Thus invention, judgment, retention, and “tradition” are the functions of the understanding, and into so many parts is logic divided. Invention and judgment belong to the understanding, properly so called, retention to the memory, “ tradition” to discourse oral and written. The art of thinking —that is, of inventing and judging—is logic, properly so called; the art of memory is termed mnemonics, the art of discourse rhetoric.
The inventive understanding is the proper or-
-gan of science. On the right use of this faculty _rests all the weal, and on its neglect all the woe, of science. Inventive logic is, therefore, in the
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and therefore places above all others among the desiderata of his new philosophy. Here is the point where his “ Encyclopedia” and his * Novum Organum” come into the closest contact; for
the “ Novum Organum” is, in fact, neither more kee
THE “HUNT OF PAN.” 277
nor less than the new logic, which is here men- tioned as a desideratum. Invention presupposes ex- perience or induction, but the experience which had been in vogue till Bacon’s time, and which he calls dialectical, was unfitted for this pur- pose, inasmuch as it neither investigated things thoroughly, nor carefully noted negative in- stances. Experimental experience is alone fruit- , ful, and this is twofold; either it confines itself to experimental details, or it ascends from the experiment to general laws. In the former case) he calls it “ Experientia literata;” in the latter, “ Interpretatio nature.” The ‘ Experientia lite- rata” consists in this:—that a number of experi- ments are made, that every one of them is varied in every possible way, sometimes with additions, sometimes with omissions; and that, in the case of every modification, the new results are observed and described. Such a mode of ex- perience is neither regular in its course, nor is it directed to any definite end; it takes various directions, and everywhere searches out natural phenomena like a hunter in. pursuit of game, not like a scientific investigator engaged in the deduction of general laws. ‘This searching and describing experience is therefore termed by Bacon the “hunt of Pan;” the other kind,
which makes use of experiments for the disco- Tt 3
278 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
very of laws, he terms the “Interpretatio na- ture.” And this latter kind he thinks he has set forth in his “ Novum Organum.”
The form of the judging understanding is either induction or syllogism. The inductive judgment belongs to inventive logic, syllogism is the form of proof. Syllogistic science comprises the arts of proving and refuting; of which the former teaches the correct form of argument, the latter the means to be employed against sophistry. The first part of scientific art consists of “ Ana- lyties,” the other treats of “ Elenchi.” Under the latter head Bacon includes false proofs or sophisms — ambiguous definitions — and the fal- lacies or idols, the refutation of which is the first problem of the “ Novum Organum.”
Mnemonic art is the discipline of the memory. To retain transient notions, certain points must be found of which the memory can, as it were, lay hold, and the discovery of these is the object of this particular art. To discern such artificial means we have only to observe what means we involuntarily apply to strengthen and retain the impressions we have received. We write down the matter in question, and thus fix it in space for our external contemplation, placing it before our eyes in a tabular form easy of survey, and so endowing it with visible shape. Such an image
ART OF MEMORY. 279
is well fitted to make an impression on the memory, and to guide the understanding.* Con- formably to this natural point of view he treats mnemonic art. He would assist the memory by means of the imagination, or — what is the same thing — he would convert notions into emblems, and in this shape consign them to the memory, in the same manner.as, according to his view, the wisdom of the ancients was impressed upon the ordinary understanding by means of myths and parables, — that is to say, of emblems; he would consign intellectual notions generally to the memory in the shape of sensible images. But images belong to the imagination, not to the memory, which only retains notions in the ab- stract symbols of words and numbers. If, for instance, as Bacon suggests, we endeavour to retain the notion of invention by connecting it with the image of a hunter, or that of order by means of the figure of an apothecary arranging his boxes, these notions are presented not through the memory, but through the imagination. In
* A passage occurs here, which, as it can be intelligible to German readers only, referring, as it does, to a German idiom, I have omitted from the text. It is as follows :—‘* Wir sagen sehr gut vom Gediichtnisse, dass es die Dinge awswendig wisse, d. h. es besitzt die Begriffe in Zeichen, denn das Zeichen ist der auswendige (aiisserlich gemachte) Begriff.’ As the English equivalent to “ auswendig wissen ” is “ to know by heart,” trans-
lation is impossible-—J. O. T 4
280 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
a similar manner mnemonic art was cultivated by the ancients, and also in the last century by Kistner.
The objects of rhetoric are merely indicated by Bacon, who points out the structure of discourse, the science of language and comparative grammar, the method of teaching, and the art of speaking. Its appendices are criticism and pedagogy.*
4. ETHICS
Treat of the human will, as logic of the human thought, and from the same practical point of view. If the latter taught the art of judgment and invention, the former teachsthe art of ac- jtion. Ancient ethics regarded the object of action more than action itself, teaching what was good, and in what the highest good and human happiness consist; but less explaining how an action is good, and how by a good action happi- ness is attained. In this kind of ethics there was more of rhetoric than of moral instruction, and it was of no more use than a writing-master who sets us copies, but does not guide our hand or teach us how to imitate them. The Baconian ethics are to stand in the same relation to those that preceded, as an able teacher of writing to
* For the subjects of the above section compare De Augm. Scient. V., VI.
PRACTICAL ETHICS. 281
a mere calligrapher. Their object is practical utility, —the good, in the practical sense of the word. This practical moral doctrine will not, indeed, appear nearly so dazzling and so sublime as the preceding moral systems, with their high- flying reflections on the highest good and the highest happiness, but it will be much more useful, and approximate more closely to human nature ; for it will treat of the materials of human action, and penetrate them as corporeal matter is penetrated by physics. Here Bacon makes the noble confession, that in what he leaves to pos- terity he will purposely disregard the lustre of his name and of his knowledge, and contemplate the good of humanity alone. The useful should be conjoined with the sublime, just as Virgil* not only describes the deeds of A®neas, but incul- cates the precepts of agriculture. True science must be able to say with Demosthenes: “If you do these things you will not merely praise the orator, but yourselves also through the speedy improvement of your affairs.” +
What is good? Let us be content to give a
* Bacon illustrates this remark with the quotation — “Nec sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere magnum Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem.” Georg. III. 289.— J. O. t At the conclusion of the Second Olynthiac.— J. O.
282 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM. RW, Ue ta hes tia cy au
hte
relative answer to this question. That is good which is useful to man,—both to individuals ‘and to humanity in general. There is an indi- ner vidual and a common good, ‘That which benefits eal society is generally useful, and on this Bacon lays especial stress. Inasmuch as the whole is
greater than a part, and society more powerful
than an individual, the generally useful deserves
the preference above individual interests. In
Bacon’s opinion the Greek philosophers, more
| particulary Aristotle, did not sufficiently appre-
\ciate the worth of general utility, and therefore
placed theoretical above practical life. A life ‘devoted to the common welfare must be prac-
tical, and so direct all its theoretical efforts as to make them generally useful. Action of general utility is the highest of human duties, which, according to the different spheres of life to which they belong, and the extent of them, may be divided into universal and_ particular. To the latter belong the duties of one’s office or vocation, those connected with family, friend- ship, &c. From this diversity of duties cases of collision or opposition may arise, which Bacon would solve by making the particular subordinate to the general duty ; so that in all cases the final decision may be given by the generally useful. Virtue consists of the exercise of duty, for which
ABSTRACT ETHICS, 283
the soul should be fitted, and it is this training of the soul that is the true purpose of ethics.
But to effect this purpose, one thing, in which moral science has hitherto been deficient, is re- quisite—a practical knowledge of man. We cannot render man moral at a single blow, by rhe- torical exhortation and diffuse praises of virtue, nor can we make every one moral in the same manner. The ethical teacher must make him- self acquainted with mankind, and study the peculiarities of the soul as carefully as physi- cians study those of the body. Neither in morals nor in medicine is there any panacea. ‘The landowner ought to know the different qualities of the soil, inasmuch as it is impossible to plant everything everywhere; and, in like manner, the physician ought to be informed of the different constitutions of the human body, which are as many, and as various as the individuals themselves; and the ethical teacher must learn the different mental qualities, which are just as numerous as bodily constitutions. In the ethics hitherto taught Bacon misses this foundation of practical know- ledge, without which moral science is vague and sterile, composed of mere abstract principles, and suited to—not a real but—an abstract man. Such ethics produce idols, that are only fitted for idols. They apply their remedies to all persons
284 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
alike, without distinguishing their peculiarities, and are therefore guilty of the same quackery as those physicians who prescribe the same drugs for all their patients, whatever difference of con- stitution may exist among them.*
Ethical science cannot make men of a nature different from that of which they are made already, any more than physical science can make nature or alter the elementary matter of bodies. Physics require a knowledge of nature, ethics a knowledge of mankind. Physics, on the basis of a knowledge of nature, seek the means of making new inven- tions and of advancing the physical welfare of mankind; ethics, on the basis of a knowledge of mankind, seek to promote moral welfare and to cultivate virtue in the sense of general utility. Ethics, therefore, may be divided into the doc- trine of characters, and the doctrine of remedies or moral expedients. Ethical science may make a choice among the latter, but men and their peculiarities are given to it as objects of contem- plation and study. In every individual specimen of humanity there is an original disposition ( Gemiithsart) or tendency of the will, and certain motive powers that impel the will, and (to make use of a Baconian expression) are to the human mind what tempests are to the sea. The original
* Compare De Augm. Scient. VII. 3.
CHARACTER. 285
disposition is called by Bacon the “ character ;” the motive powers that act like storms upon the soul, are the passions and affections. To learn mankind is to study the characters and passions of men. Here Bacon takes the same view of ethics that Shakspeare takes of dramatic poetry. That we may become acquainted with human character Bacon directs us to the source. from which Shakspeare has derived his dramas — to the historians and the poets, especially the Roman, one of whom he especially upholds as the greatest of all historians and describers of character, namely, Tacitus, as represented by his description of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero.
Every human character is a product of the internal natural foundation and of external cir- cumstances, and there is as great a diversity among characters as there is variety in their factors. Every individual is sui generis. The passions stir the soul and drive it out of the routine of generally useful and temperate action. Here is presented that great spectacle of human vicissitudes which is grasped by the imagination of the dramatic poet, and which no one has more deeply studied or more faithfully represented than Shakspeare. Here, too, does ethical science find its practical task. It should bring passions so under the dominion of reason that they may
a
286 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
not go astray; and this task is accomplished by restraining the passions and reducing them to a condition of natural equilibrium, in which they operate as checks upon each other. Like a cau- tious physician it seeks to approach nature by a natural path, opposing the unfettered with a restraining force, and, as it were, the first with asecond nature. This second nature is custom (consuetudo), the power of which, in opposition to the opinion of Aristotle, is especially extolled by Bacon. The most potent moral remedy is to be
» ¢ found in custom. To attain a natural equilibrium
the soul should incline to the side that is adverse to its ruling passions, and pursue this tendency till it has become a habit. Thus a crooked stick, if bent with caution, will become straight.
The moral state contemplated by Bacon is to be found, as with Aristotle, in the medium or point of indifference between opposite passions. It is mental calmness reduced to a habit, an ac~ quired indifference to the power of the affections.* This ethical state appears to be a copy of Bacon’s own moral disposition, which did not require to be weaned from violent passions, but had received at first from the hand of nature that, equilibrium
* Of course this word is to be understood rather in the sense of the Latin “affectus” than according to its conventional acceptation.— J. O.
POLITICAL SCIENCE. 287
which most persons can only acquire by force of habit. It is, however, obvious enough that the Baconian ethics are sketched altogether in the spirit of modern philosophy, contemplating man- kind as the Baconian professor of physical science contemplates natural bodies. They are based upon knowledge of mankind, which is wholly derived from the observation of individuals, at- tained by experience and confirmed by in- duction.
5. POLITICS
Are ethics applied to state affairs. If ethics, strictly so called, teach the art of morally culti- vating mankind, political science teaches that
of guiding the state or the multitude to ends of general utility. It is, in fact, the art of govern- ment. Bacon considers the task of politics lighter than that of ethics, inasmuch as it is harder to lead an individual than a multitude. Herein he agrees with Cato, the censor*, who used to say of the Romans, that they were like sheep, of which a whole flock can more easily be driven than a single one; for, if only a few are brought into the right path, the rest will follow of their own accord. Prudence is in politics what virtue is in ethics. However, Bacon refrains inten-
* Vide “ Plutarch.”—J. O.
288 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
tionally from conducting us into the arcana of poli- tical art, and even declares to us, at the beginning of his first chapter on this subject*, that he has overlooked one art, which he will now show by his own example; and that is the art of silence. Here he follows the precedent of Cicero, who once wrote to Atticus—‘“On this occasion I have borrowed somewhat of your eloquence, for I have kept silent.”t Nay, it becomes him espe- cially, as a statesman high in office, to be silent on political affairs. This declaration proves that Bacon does not regard politics with the eye of a savant, as a doctrine to be taught, but contem- plates it with the eye of a statesman, as a prac- tical art that must adapt itself to circumstances. He only teaches it externally. In his doctrine concerning prudence in ordinary affairs (Prudentia Negotiandi), and in what he says respecting the extension of dominion (De Proferendis Finibus Imperit), he teaches the policy of every-day life, and the means of extending the national power.t From these few remarks we plainly see that his political models were the Romans and Macchia- velli. With respect to the latter Bacon was of opinion that he was the first among the moderns
* De Augm. Scient. VIIL 1.
t “Hoc loco ego sumsi quiddam de tua eloquentia, nam
tacui.”— Epist. ad Att, xiii. 42. { Compare De Augm. Scient. VILL 3.
POLITICS. 289
who had once more begun to think and to write politically. However he himself did not wish to exhibit politics as they appear on the eminence contemplated by the statesman, but as they appear on the broad plain of ordinary life; he did not wish to show how the king and the statesman, but how everybody must be politic. Thus he treated only of prudence in politics, of the policy of all the world, not of rulers in particular. Occasionally, indeed, he made reference to the great Florentine ; but, for his own part, he rather chose to interpret the Proverbs of Solomon for the behoof of every-day wisdom than to reveal
the secrets of high policy and the royal art of government.
290 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. X.
THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY IN ITS RELATION TO RELIGION.
PHILOSOPHY, in Bacon’s sense of the word, was the knowledge of things from natural causes, which causes were distinguished by Bacon him- self into efficient and final. Thus natural philo- sophy was divided into physics and metaphysics ; the latter forming, as it were, the foundation of natural theology. For the perception of final causes in nature shows us a world regulated for certain ends, and such a world cannot be con- ceived without a regulating Intelligence. Now natural theology is the image of the Deity as the creative Regulator of the world, and faith in such a Deity is a scientific necessity. That disbelief which is in opposition to it—or Atheism — is scientifically impossible. “It is easier,” says Ba- con, “to believe the most absurd fables of the Koran, the Talmud, and the Legends, than to believe that the world was made without under- standing. Hence God has wrought no miracles for the refutation of Atheism, because, to this end, his regular works in nature are sufficient.” * * Essay “On Atheism,”
NATURAL THEOLOGY. 291
Thus, natural theology in the sense of Bacon, is but the faith that there is a Divine Intelli- gence in the world,—that the Deity is manifest in the regulated course of nature. This theology does not transcend the horizon of natural causes; the boundary of this horizon is likewise the limit of philosophy. Within this sphere nothing is known of the supernatural essence of the Deity, of His decrees for the benefit of man; consequently nothing of religion, the science of which lies beyond nature, — nothing of the kingdom of grace, the science of which must be sought in religion. Religion is based on the superna- tural revelation of the Deity, and the knowledge pertaining to it consists in revealed theology. Natural theology belongs to philosophy, revealed theology to religion. As the limit of natural causes is likewise the limit of the human under- standing, there is an insurmountable barrier be- tween philosophy and religion. Hence natural theology affects no mediation, but stands alto- gether within the region of philosophy. It cer- tainly affords no support to religion, according to Bacon; nay, it is doubtful how far it is it- self really supported by philosophy, for passages occur in which mention is made of natural phi- losophy as an element foreign to philosophy.
Two points therefore are established. First, - U2
292 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Religion — such as alone is worthy of the name —is not based upon natural knowledge; in this sense there is no such thing as natural religion. Secondly, a scientific knowledge of religious truths is impossible; in this sense there is no such thing as a philosophy of religion.* To pass from philosophy into religion, we must step out of the boat of science, in which we have circum- navigated the old and new world, into the ship of the Church, and there receive the divine revela- tions as positively as they are given.t Bacon has said that a drop from the cup of philosophy leads to Atheism, but a full draught to religion. By this expression he could only refer to natural religion, which in fact forms merely a section of philosophy (if, indeed, it has any firm basis at all), and has nothing to do with revelation. As for the latter, Bacon does not tell us that the boat of science takes us into the ship of the Church, but that we must get out of one and into the other, if we would participate in religious truth. <As between mind and body, so is there between the Deity and the World — according to Bacon—an insoluble Dualism.
. Theology and religion are with Bacon synonymous, Hence he gives the name of natural religion to natural theology. To avoid ambiguity of expression we shall only use the word
religion in the sense of revealed religion.— Author’s Note, _ JT Compare “De Augm.” IX.
-REASON AND FAITH, 293
I. Tue SEPARATION BETWEEN REASON AND THE FaitH In ReveLation.
BACON AND TERTULLIAN,
Tus Dualism establishes a separation between religion and philosophy, that excludes all inter- communication and reciprocal influence. Philo- sophy within the sphere of religion is infidelity ; religion within the sphere of philosophy is fan- tastic. From the Baconian point of view reli- gious faith can neither be self-appropriated nor believed by human reason; it will not tole- rate any rational criticism, but demands a blind acceptance of the divine decrees that have been revealed. To human reason, these revelations, divine in their origin, are impenetrable mysteries. The opposition of our own will does not weaken the stringency of the divine decrees; neither does the contradiction of our reason lessen the credi- bility of the divine revelations. Rather, indeed, does this very contradiction confirm the divinity of their origin. We are the more bound to accept the divine revelations the less they are com- prehensible by our reason; the “ more the divine mystery is contrary to reason, the more must it be believed for the honour of God.”* Repugnance
* Compare “De Augm.” IX. 1, u3
294 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
to reason, far from being a “ negative instance,” with respect to faith, is, on the contrary, a “ posi- tive instance ”—a, criterion of credibility. A divine revelation must be believed, not although, but because it is, in opposition to human reason. Religious faith is not to stand behind, but be- yond science, on a totally different basis; it must be unconditional, without rational ground, with- out logical aid, and therefore to all intents and purposes a blind faith. Thus, even in the sphere of theology, Bacon is thoroughly anti-scholastic. Scholasticism is a speculative theology, a con- struction of the articles of faith according to the laws of the understanding, a logical bulwark of the Church. This bulwark is destroyed by Ba- con in the case both of philosophy and of reli- gion. Philosophy must not raise it, theology must not seek to fortify itself by such expe- dients ; and by separating the two Bacon destroys the scholastic spirit which had united them, or, if we prefer the expression, jumbled them to- gether. Indeed, he seems to revert to the pre- scholastic faith, and to revive the maxim of Ter- tullian—‘ Credo quia absurdum.” ‘* Christ, the Son of God,” said Tertullian, “died; this I believe, because it is repugnant to reason: he was buried and rose from the dead; this is certain, for it is impossible.” But between Tertullian and
BACON AND TERTULLIAN. 295
Bacon intervene the systems of Scholasticism, and they are as different from each other as the ages to which they belong. To the English philo- sopher human reason did not appear so impotent as to the Latin Father of the Church. The same expression bears one meaning in the mouth of a reformer of science, another in that of a teacher of the early Church. The declaration of Bacon in the last book, “ De Dignitate et Aug- mentatione Scientiarum,” has manifestly another sense from that of the same proposition when uttered by Tertullian in his treatise “* De Carne Christi.” Bacon has in the background the “ Dig- nitas Scientiarum,” which he has defended with so much zeal, and enriched with so many treasures. But this “ Dignitas Scientiarum” is far from being acknowledged by Tertullian; or, we may rather say, he acknowledges the direct contrary —namely, the worthlessness of science and the impotence of human reason. Tertullian’s proposition is simple; Bacon’s conveys two meanings. They have one interest in common; they wish to have no ra- tionalising faith, no intermixture of faith and reason, of religion and philosophy, of revelation and nature. For the sake of this interest both grasp the paradox which declares that, in religion, repugnance to reason increases credibility. In the
relation between faith and reason only three cases U4
296 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
are possible, and of these one alone belongs to the purists of faith, Either faith contradicts or does not contradict reason; and, in the event of contradiction, it contradicts with or without the consent of reason. The first case is expressed by the declaration, “I believe, because it is in accordance with reason.” Here faith becomes a rational dogma, for it has the testimony of reason. The second case is expressed thus: “I believe, although it is repugnant to reason.” Here faith is a concession of the reason, by which it is granted, and, as it were, permitted. Here reason performs an act of self-denial for the sake of faith. It resolves to believe with a heavy heart, saying, “TI believe, Lord, help thou my unbelief.” From this point of view faith would greatly prefer its articles to be rational, as it would then deem them all the more credible. Lastly, the third case is expressed thus: ‘I believe, because it is impossible.” Here faith not only renounces all subservience to reason, but all alliance with it, openly taking the opposite ground. and allowing no objection. If, with Tertullian and Bacon, we oppose faith to reason, and make repugnance to reason a positive criterion of faith, this third case remains alone possible. No other formula can be applied by purism in faith to reason and philosophy, Nevertheless, even this formula
BACON AND TERTULLIAN. ~ 297
is involuntarily allied with reason, and herein consists the contradiction that produces its in- trinsic impossibility. It cs an argument of the reason ; it gives a ground for faith which, although the opposite of reason, is a ground notwithstand- ing; it cannot get rid of the “ quia,” but is itself logic, while it precludes all logic! However, we will be satisfied with the good intention, and merely inquire whether the “Credo quia ab- surdum” is as piously meant by Bacon as by Tertullian.
Tertullian, when he made his declaration, had only one purpose in view —the purity of faith. He did not intend to confer a benefit on science, for to him science was valueless. His proposition was simple and had but one meaning. On the other hand, Bacon, by his separation of faith and reason, wished to secure the independence of both; he wished to preserve doth from inter- mixture, intending the independence of science, no less than that of religion. Nay, we will go further. Bacon desired the independence of faith, because he preferred that of science; he acted more for the sake of science than for that of faith. His declaration carried with it a double meaning. It can be interpreted to the advantage of both faith and science, but it must be interpreted more to the advantage of the latter. Science was
298 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Bacon’s treasure, and where the treasure is there will the heart be also. Did not he himself call the dominion of man, based upon science, the heavenly kingdom that he would open? His interest in faith and science was divided; it had two sides; if there was a preponderance any- where, it was undoubtedly on the side of science. And, in fact, there was such a preponderance. No one who has made himself acquainted with this knowledge-craving mind can doubt that its true and involuntary interest was in science alone; to science Bacon devoted the best portion of his life, while the other portion was devoted not to religion, but to state affairs. As far as his inclinations were concerned, faith was of just as much value to him as science to Tertullian. His mind was no more theological than Tertullian’s was physical. Now in this two-sided position what is the relation of Bacon himself to religion ?
II. Bacon’s POSITION WITH REGARD TO RELIGION.
CONTRADICTION AND SOLUTION.
In solving this difficult and much-contested ques- tion we take one fact as our guide — the har- mony between the character and the philosophy of Bacon. His own relation to religion is also
BACON AND RELIGION. 299
that of his philosophy. If it was once resolved that religion and philosophy were to be com- pletely separated, no other formula was left but that which Bacon adopted in common with Ter- tullian, and he was obliged to lay the stress of faith upon repugnance to reason. Now, from Bacon’s point of view, was this separation neces- sary? There are three cases which express the possible relation of philosophy to religion. Phi- losophy, while acknowledging religion, has to explain it,—this is the first and natural problem. If it is unable to solve this problem, nothing is left but a simple assertion that religion is incom- prehensible: and here two ways are possible; either philosophy must absolutely deny or abso- lutely acknowledge the incomprehensible object ; — either overthrow it altogether or leave it utterly untouched. This is never done by scientific ex- planation, which at once vindicates and criticises its object.
The Baconian philosophy is incapable of ex- plaining religion. It could neither comprehend the creative imagination in art nor the essential nature of the human mind. It is deficient in all the organs required for an apprehension of re- ligion -— that connection between the Divine and the human mind. Religion is, in every case, a relation, the two members of which are the
300 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Deity and the mind of man. How can a rela~ tion be comprehended where there is no com- prehension of its members? How can a_phi- losophy, which admits of no knowledge except through the medium of experimentalising ex- perience, fathom the mind either in the Divine or the human nature? To what experiment, to what mechanical investigation, is the mind re- vealed ? With respect to this point the Ba- conian philosophy is aware of its own limit; it is fully conscious that within its own sphere the mind, God, and religion, are unfathomable ob- jects. This clear and express conviction shows that the Baconian philosophy understood itself rightly in the person of its founder, and knew how to restrain experience within due limits. Thus the only choice left was between the rejection and the acknowledgment of religion, and whichever side it took, it was forced to embrace uncondi- tionally ; it could not do otherwise than either reject religion or allow it to remain just as it was. To this inevitable dilemma is the Baconian phi- losophy reduced through inevitable causes, and in conformity with its scientific character it decides in favour of unconditional acknowledgment. But it is difficult, if not utterly impossible, to escape from a necessary dilemma without any oscillation, and to remain immovably on one side, especially
FALSE POSITION OF BACONISM. 301
with such a mobile philosophy as the Baconian. Once involved in the dilemma between the un- conditional acknowledgment and unconditional rejection of religion, it involuntarily falls into a sort of perpendicular movement which from the positive resting-place of acknowledgment which Bacon has seized, not unfrequently oscillates in a negative direction. The contradictions that are found in Bacon’s position with respect to religion are nothing but movements within the sphere of this dilemma, involuntary oscillations in a situation that is in itself dubious. If we would accurately define Bacon’s position with regard to religion, we must formulise the contradiction in which it was involved. The Baconian philosophy acknowledged and affirmed the positive system of faith, while it pursued its own course in an in- dependent extra-religious direction; it restrained an impulse to deny, but could not altogether suppress it. Why then, it may be asked, did not the Baconian philosophy express its Opposition to religion without reserve, as was actually done by most of Bacon’s successors? Why did it embrace the side of acknowledgment, to which it could scarcely adhere without internal repugnance and open contradiction? In the negative position it would have been more firm and more itself ; why, then, did it choose the positive? The first
302 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and likewise the common answer is, that Bacon, from personal considerations, yielded to the autho- rity of religion; that, under the show of apparent acknowledgment, he concealed the anti-religious character of his philosophy; that, in a word, his position with regard to religion was hypocritical. The first answer is not always the best; in this case it is the worst that can be given, and like- wise the least intelligible. It is worth while to at- tempt a scientific explanation of the matter before we unhesitatingly pronounce a moral condemna- tion. One thing is obvious, that, if Bacon’s ac- knowledgment of religion was mere hypocrisy, he was one of the most silly and bungling of hypocrites; for, that which the cloak should have covered — namely, the discrepancy of his philo- sophy to religion—was plainly revealed in many places. Hypocrisy is the sign of a dishonest man; hypocritical bungling is the sign of a fool. If one of these characters can be associated with the mind of Bacon, surely we cannot say the same of the other.
1. THE THEORETICAL VIEW.
Bacon, forsooth, ought to have rejected reli- gion, because he could not explain it! On the same grounds he would have been compelled to
REASONS FOR THEISM. 303
deny the human mind and the existence of a Deity ; for he himself acknowledges that his philo- sophy is unable to explain even these. On the same grounds he would have been compelled to deny metaphysics and natural theology, for neither of them is in accordance with the strictly physical spirit of his philosophy. If Bacon would not allow final causes — the mind and the Deity —to be taken into consideration in the physical interpretation of things, was he bound therefore to deny them? Or if he affirmed the existence of those powers which do not admit a physical explanation, was this affirmation mere hypocrisy? If it was not, why should the term be applied to his acknow- ledgment of religion ?
Indeed, Bacon had in his natural, if not alto- gether physical, explanation of the world, suffi- cient grounds to acknowledge the existence of a Deity. Here he discerned final causes of which he could give no physical explanation, and of which he could make no physical use, but which on any empirical ground were just as little to be denied. Physical science explains things as the effects of blindly operating forces; it knows of no laws but those of mechanical causality, but it can- not deny that in their effects an arrangement made for some final purpose is likewise manifest. It leaves to metaphysics the task of finding forces
304. FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
that operate with a purpose for effects conform- able to an end*, and to natural theology the task of tracing back these forces to an Original Power as the Creator of the universe. Bacon himself has repeatedly declared that, in his eyes, a thoroughly mechanical and atomistic philo- sophy of nature, like the systems of Leucippus, Democritus, and Epicurus, not only affords room for a natural theology, but even requires and con- firms one more than any other system, Atomism rejects final causes from the explanation of nature, but does not deny that there are ends in na- ture itself. It is forced to acknowledge orderly arrangements in nature which could not possibly be deduced from the fortuitous motions of innu- merable atoms. Rather is it compelled to re- cognise an Intelligent Originator of the world, to whom such arrangements are to be attributed. So natural does this assumption appear to the understanding of Bacon, that, rather than reject it, he will agree to every possible superstition. ‘‘Even that school which is most accused of atheism doth most demonstrate religion; that is the school of Leucippus, and Democritus, and Epicurus; for it is a thousand times more credible that four mutable elements and one immutable
* “Fir die zweckmissigen Wirkungen die zweckthitigen Krafte.”"—J. O.
NATURAL THEOLOGY. 305
fifth essence, duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of infinite small portions or seeds unplaced, should have produced this order and beauty without a Divine Marshal.”*
Thus even the natural explanation leads (through metaphysics to natural theology, and thus) to the discovery of a Divine power, that cannot be con- ceived destitute of intellect and will. The Divine power reveals itself in nature, the Divine will in the ordinances of religion. And the acts of this will are despotic ; that is to say, without explana-~ tory motive.t Ifthe many natural manifestations of the Divine power transcend the explanations of human reason, how much more incompre- hensible are the ordinances and decrees of the Divine will (Willkiihr), and how much more inexplicable, therefore, is religion! But is it, therefore, less worthy of acknowledgment? If natural philosophy finds itself compelled to ac- knowledge the Divine power, will it venture to deny the Divine will (Willen) in religion? Since in the Deity there can be no contradic- tion between power and will, a disagreement be- tween religion and philosophy seems, in the eyes
* Essay XVI. “ Of Atheism.”
Tt “Aus blosser grundloser Willkiihr.” I have allowed myself a somewhat violent periphrasis in dealing with this untranslatable expression.— J. O.
x
306 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of Bacon, equally impossible.* At all events, natural philosophy does not bring man into con- tradiction with Divine revelation. ‘ It was not that pure and immaculate natural science by virtue of which Adam bestowed on things their appropriate names, that gave occasion to the fall of man; but that ambitious and imperious appetite of moral science, judging of good and evil, with the intent that man might revolt from God and govern himself, was both the cause and means of temptation.” f
I have thus merely proved that Bacon’s theore- tical point of view did not prevent him from acknowledging religion. I shall show, further, that his practical point of view prevented him from rejecting or assailing religion. Thus, by the action of both sides, his position with regard to religion is brought exactly to the level at which we find it.
* Compare “ Noy. Org.” I. 89.
+ “ Neque enim pura illa et immaculata scientia naturalis, per quam Adam nomina ex proprietate rebus imposuit, principium aut occasionem lapsui dedit. Sed ambitiosa illa et imperativa scientiz moralis, de bono et malo dijudicantis, cupiditas, ad hoc ut Homo a Deo deficeret et sibi ipsi leges daret, ea demum ratio atque modus tentationis fuit.”— General Pref. to the Inst. Mag.
DISLIKE OF CONTROVERSY. 307
2. THE PRACTICAL VIEW.
Let the case be supposed (which, however, was not the fact) that Bacon took a hostile position with regard to religion, and made natural truth the criterion of religious truth; what would have been the consequence? Manifestly a war with religion, a war with dogmas — that is to say, in the eyes of Bacon, a war of words; one of those useless disputations that had desolated the human mind for ages, and alienated it from a healthy contemplation of the world. Instead of aug menting science Bacon would have augmented religious controversy, and increased the poverty of science, by a new instalment. Whoever has become acquainted with the mind of Bacon must know how much he was averse from all disputations of the kind; how his whole nature was, in every way, instinctively opposed to verbal discussions, This one reason is sufficient to explain and vin- dicate Bacon’s position with respect to religion. He would not, at any price, be a religious con- troversialist, and therefore, at any price, he was compelled to take a pacific position with respect to religion. He had to choose between a faith sans phrase and the phrases of controversy. Hence in his preference of the former there was
no hypocrisy, since on all accounts and on every x 2
308 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
ground he wished to avoid the latter. We draw our conclusion from the peculiar mind of Bacon; in this the necessity of his pacific position with regard to religion results from the impossibility of its opposite. Those who are so ready with the reproach of hypocrisy have not taken this into consideration. Bacon wished to avoid all border wars between faith and science; not only because they would have been hazardous and incon- venient, but because he did not see any utility, any practical advantage to be derived from such disputes. His great object was to preserve science from all useless controversies, that time, instead of being lost in them, might be gained for better and more profitable investigations. In order to attain this end, Bacon did not scruple to sacrifice somewhat of the formal authority of philosophy, which could thus the more uninter- ruptedly secure and extend its real dominion. Even this one consideration is sufficient to pre- serve Bacon’s conduct from the charge of hypo- crisy and dissimulation. He was not one of those systematic thinkers who are rightly censured if, in any respect, they abandon their principles. Moreover, his theoretic principles— at least, as he understood them — did not exclude religion ; and he had the further principle to be practical in all cases — to have an eye to the advantage of
PRUDENCE OF BACON. 309
science under all circumstances. And he found that the interests of science were better served by keeping peace with religion than by waging war with it. This prudential course he could adopt without hypocrisy. By avoiding hostility on the one side, he obtained security on the other, and this security was necessary. The less philo- sophy— which Bacon sought to reform, and above all to render serviceable —the less philosophy encroached upon the region of theology, the more cautiously it confined itself within certain limits, the less reason had it to dread a hostile aggression on the other side, and the more time it acquired for its own undisturbed progress. For this purpose Bacon treated the relation of science to theology, as a sort of “ foreign affair,” with practical circum- spection, with politic tact, with more prudence than boldness. The inoffensive and subordinate position which Bacon took with regard to religion was not a cloak of infidelity, but an expedient for the protection of his philosophy.
Let us suppose the impossible case, that Bacon had denied and assailed religion, and had thus begun a new religious controversy; what would have been the practical result, if, indeed, there had been any such result at all? The foundatiou of a new religious party — of a sect — which would
x 8
310 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
have increased the divisions in the church. And Bacon, forsooth, should have been the man to aim at a practical result like this! A deter- mined foe to the spirit of sectarianism, he should have encouraged that spirit! He did not wish to found a school even in philosophy, and yet he should have founded a sect in religion! Surely he cannot be fairly censured because he did not employ means repugnant to himself towards an equally repugnant end. The repugnant means would have been verbal disputations about dogmas, the repugnant end would have been a religious sect. For the sake of science his heart was on the side of peace. He considered his own epoch favourable for science, because after long conten- tions and wars a moment of peace had returned, and therefore the works of peace, to which, above all, art and science belong, could now hope for a new and flourishing era. For the sake of peace he decided unconditionally in favour of the Unity of the church, which he advocated in his cele- brated essays. ‘‘ Religion being the chief bond of human society, it is a happy thing when itself is well contained within the true bond of unity. The quarrels and divisions about religion were things unknown to the heathen.” Again, “ The fruit (of unity) towards those that are within the church is peace, which containeth
PRUDENCE OF BACON. 311
infinite blessings.”* To secure peace he favoured ecclesiastical unity, based upon the decrees of religion; and thus he less than any would attempt to peril this unity by an attack. He fully re- cognised the maxim, which perfectly expresses his position —‘*‘ He who is not against us is with us.”
Let us suppose, further, that Bacon, by em- ploying the repugnant means of religious con- troversy, had obtained the repugnant end, and established a new religious sect, what would have been the consequence? A new and zealous sec- tarian spirit — that is to say, a new fanaticism — that would have been the greatest impediment to the philosophical thinker. Fanaticism is blind religious zeal, and thus appeared in the eyes of Bacon as the most venomous degeneracy in religion—as a leprosy to which he openly and boldly opposed the principle of toleration.
3. THE POLITICAL VIEW.
If Bacon, for the sake of peace, avoided all religious controversy, and shunned every step that might disturb ecclesiastical unity, he could not do otherwise than require a similar pacific disposition on the side of religion and the church. For what is gained by a peaceful acknowledg-
* Essay III. “ Of Unity in Religion.” x4
312 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
ment of the church, if the church itself desires war? Here Bacon sets a defined impassable limit to the authority of religion and the church. He would have the spirit of turbulence sup- pressed and restrained within the church itself. Within the church an interruption to peace arises from a blind religious zeal, which is always in- clined to violent outbreaks. Its practical form is fanaticism in the cause of propagandism, its theoretical form is superstition; and to these forms Bacon respectively sets a restraining and nega- tive limit. The practical check to that fanatical propaganda, which we may appropriately call the ecclesiastical spirit of conquest, or the passion for religious supremacy, is to be found in the state and in policy. The theoretical check to supersti- tion is to be found in science, more especially in natural philosophy. Superstition is the internal ground of religious fanaticism, which, in its turn, is the ground of religious wars. The latter should be prevented by the state, the former by science. In the eyes of Bacon it is a false unity in religion that is based upon superstition ; for superstition is ignorance, mental darkness, and “in the dark all colours are alike.” And equally false is that ecclesiastical unity which seeks to extend itself by violent expedients, and in religious wars gives rise to those horrors that
HATRED OF FANATICISM. 313
have always had a tendency (and justly too) to awake a dislike to the church. To prevent these, Bacon makes the church subordinate to the secular authority, that it may never disturb civil peace or attack the power of the state, which, of all human powers is the highest. It must never wield the sword of Mahomet. In a word, Bacon disarms the church in the name of the state. If religion attacks the state, “ that is but to dash the first table against the second, and so to connect men as Christians, as we forget that they are men. Lucretius, the poet, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed: Yantum religio potuit suadere malorum. What would he have said if he had known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason of England? He would have been seven times more an epicure and atheist than he was.” *
Against the fanatical propagation of religion, the authority of the state opposes a secure barrier. This severe discipline and surveillance of the state is above all things necessary, that religion may not kindle the torch of political revolution. To this danger, which was imminent in his own age, Bacon calls especial attention. It is partly to be apprehended that religion by its affinity to
* Essay ITIL. “ Of Unity in Religion,”
814 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
fanaticism, and fanaticism by its affinity to—or more correctly speaking, its accordance with—bar- barism, may let loose the rabble, and array all the wilful feelings with which it is connected against the state. Thus arise religious civil wars, the most terrible of all political evils. If a reform in the church is requisite, it should be effected, not by the people, but by the state. Thus Bacon’s position with respect to religion is com- pletely in accordance with the example set by the English reformation, — by the age of Henry the Eighth and Elizabeth. .« As the temporal sword is to be drawn with great circumspection in cases of religion, so it is a thing monstrous to put it in the hands of the common people; let that be left to the Anabaptists and other furies. It was great blasphemy when the devil said, ‘I will ascend and be like the Highest;’ but it is greater blasphemy to personate God and bring him in saying, ‘I will descend and be like the prince of darkness;’ and what is it better, to make the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and execrable actions of murdering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and govern- ments! Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven, and to set out of the bark of a Christian church a flag of a bark of
HATRED OF FANATICISM. 315
pirates and assassins. Therefore it is most neces- sary that the church by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell for ever those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same, as hath been already in good part done.” *
Thus is Bacon’s position with regard to religion most clearly indicated by himself. He carries the staff of the herald, who proclaims an armistice. He desires peace, and therefore he professes an uncon- ditional acknowledgment of that revealed reli- gion which is likewise adopted by the state, at the same time requiring an equally pacific disposition on the side of the church, which is no longer to wield secular power, but to leave this wholly in the hands of the state; thus removing all those means of coercion by which it oppresses consciences and disturbs peace. Every coercion of conscience attempted by the church unequivocally betrays a design to grasp secular authority. Bacon con- cludes his essay “ Of the Unity of the Church,” with the following words:—<“It was a suitable observation of a wise father, and no less ingeni- ously composed, that those which held and per- suaded pressure of consciences, were commonly interested therein themselves for their own ends.”
* Essay III. “ Of Unity in Religion.”
316 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
4, THE NEGATIVE VIEW.
What Bacon unconditionally acknowledges is that pacific and peace-promoting religion which alone proceeds from the Deity; what he uncon- ditionally rejects is that peace-destroying and be- nighted religion which is based on human super- stitions. Revealed religion is opposed to the reason, but never to the good of man. This point of view, which regards practical utility, was so firmly established in Bacon, that he ever made it a standard of the Divine will. But while he is so respectful and submissive towards positive
revealed religion, he is equally uncompromising and critical with regard to superstition, to which, when it expresses itself practically, he opposes the secular power as a public institution; and to which, when it expresses itself theoretically, he opposes science as a remedy. In this sense he must be understood, when he says of natural philosophy that it is the sweet medicine of su- perstition, and the most faithful handmaid of religion.*
Superstition, in the eyes of Bacon, is the ex- ageerated, degenerate, and really selfish religion, which to him appears far worse than degenerate
* “ Certissima superstitionis medicina.” “ Religioni fidissima ancilla.”"— Vov. Org. I. 89.
SUPERSTITION AND ATHEISM. 317
philosophy. The degeneracy of philosophy is
infidelity or atheism, which Bacon refutes by
means of ne natural theology. _ This is opposed to infidelity, as revealed theology is opposed to superstition. If there was no choice possible beside that between atheism and _ superstition, Bacon would declare unconditionally in favour of atheism, because it does not appear to him so bad as the other. Whether theoretically or practically considered, superstition appears to
him the more mischievous of the two; for theo- retically it is an unworthy notion of the Deity, which it perverts into an idol; practically, it is dangerous to man, because it favours im- morality and fanaticism, and therefore diffuses a peace-destroying venom through human society. Atheism _has_zno_notion of the Deity; this is better than a notion that is absurd and opposed to His true nature. It is better, he thinks, to pass over or deny the existence ofa —Deity, than to dishonour it by the unworthiest notions. This is done by superstition, which is, in truth, a “ pasquill against the Divine Being. Plutarch sayeth well to that purpose: ‘ Surely,’ saith he, ‘I had rather a great deal men should say there was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say that there was one Plutarch that would eat his children as soon as they were
318 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
born,’ as the poets speak of Saturn.”* Supersti- tion tyrannises over men, produces discord among them, and corrupts all the healthy powers of the mind; nothing of the sort is done by atheism. _{f Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation; all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, though religion were not; but super- stition dismounts all these, and seeketh an ab- solute monarchy in the minds of men; therefore atheism did never perturb states; for it makes men wary of themselves, as looking no further; and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time of Augustus Cesar) were civil times.”t Superstition, on the contrary, leads to political aberrations. ‘* Superstition hath been the con- fusion of many states, and bringeth ina ‘ primum
* Essay XVII. “ Of Superstition.” Here is a specimen of the contradictions, of which, if we will, we may find many in the works of Bacon. He has previously said that he prefers super- stition to atheism; he now says that he prefers atheism to superstition. With the former declaration he begins his discourse against atheism ; with the latter his discourse against super- stition. Which of the two did Bacon really prefer to the other ? Let the reasons be examined which he opposes to each, and it will be found that they are more numerous and stronger against superstition than against atheism. Thus the contradiction which exists in his words is solved in his own mind. Indeed, it only exists in the eyes of superficial readers, and I should like to know an author who to such readers is without contradiction. —Author’s Note.
t Essay XVII. “Of Superstition.”
CAUSES OF SUPERSTITION. 319
mobile’ that ravisheth all the spheres of govern- ment. ‘The master of superstition is the people, and in all superstition wise men follow fools; and arguments are fitted to practice in a reversed order.”* If we look for the causes of superstition, we shall find them to be “ Pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies; excess of outward and Pharisaical holiness; ever great reverence of tradition, which cannot but bind the church; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition and honour ; the proving too much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties ; the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations; and, lastly, barbarous times, especially joined with calamities and disasters.”+ We must not allow ourselves to be deceived by the similarity of superstition to religion. This very similarity renders it the more hideous. “As it addeth deformity to an ape to be like a man, so the simi- litude of superstition to religion makes it the more deformed.” Bacon prudently adds, how- ever: “ There is a superstition in avoiding super- stition, when men think to do best if they go furthest from the superstition formerly received ; therefore care would be had (as it fareth in ill-purgings) the good be not taken away with
* Essay XVII. “ Of Superstition.” t Ibid.
320 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer.”
Superstition, tyrannical and selfish as it is, hates its adversary, and brands every one that opposes it with the name of atheist. How great caution must be observed in the use of this name! Atheism is “ Godlessness (Gottlosigheit). True atheism is that practical godlessness which, under the appearance of religion, favours selfish interests, and conduces to private advantages.” Theore- tical godlessness — speculative atheism — is alto- gether very rare. “ The great atheists, indeed, are hypocrites, which are ever handling holy things, but without feeling; so as they must needs be cauterised in the end.”
5. BACON’S OWN RELIGIOUS SENTIMENTS.
The religious character of Bacon is in accord- ance with his philosophy. Even with respect to this extremely recondite point (for a man’s own religious views belong to his own heart) we can pronounce a definite judgment. He was utterly averse to superstition, as the deformed religion of human conceit, and attacked it with scientific (more particularly physical) ‘ enlightenment ;” to atheism he opposed scientific reasons, but with- out any feeling of animosity whatever. Revealed
POSITION WITH REGARD TO RELIGION. 32]
religion and the church that is based upon it, he acknowledged for reasons with which his theo- retical views did not interfere; while with his practical and political views they were fully in accordance. He desired to see revealed religion purified, like natural science, from all human idols. On this point he was as thoroughly anti- catholic as became a genuine follower of the age of the Reformation. He wished to adopt revealed religion without any logical form of proof; and on this point he thought antischo- lastically as the founder of a new philosophy. This philosophy could furnish no arguments to prove the articles of revealed religion, and Bacon’s mind was exactly fitted to perceive this incapacity in his philosophy. All that it could offer to reli- gion was a formal, unconditional acknowledgment. I am willing to concede that Bacon’s personal position at the Court of James L, his regard for the king, and the exigencies of the time generally, together with many collateral motives, may have greatly influenced and confirmed him in the ex- pression of this acknowledgment. With a merely formal acknowledgment it is easy to speak in any key; and Bacon sometimes employed the lan- guage of simple piety. Human authority in religion he desired to attack; Divine authority he desired unconditionally to acknowledge. It may,
P
322 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
indeed, be asked what Bacon assumed as the decisive test of Divine authority. If he had pro- posed this question to himself he would have been compelled to answer it with “the Scriptures,” and thus have fallen into contradiction with some of his own scientific notions. But it belonged to the religious character of his age not to inves- tigate seriously the question of Biblical authority. Bacon’s formal acknowledgment of revealed reli- gion did not exclude an internal acknowledgment, though I will not say that it proved one. At all events, a mind like his was too wide and compre- hensive for that species of “ enlightenment” which absolutely denies everything that it is unable to explain. This kind of enlightenment he left to later philosophers, who could think more nar- rowly, and therefore more systematically, than himself. However, the internal acknowledgment of religion, for which his intellect, occupied as it was with worldly interests, both scientific and practical, still found room, was neither a jealous nor a profound emotion. Like all his other incli- nations, it was cool. Bacon’s belief rested upon a suppressed doubt, with respect to which it main- tained a constant equilibrium. His real interest was centred in the world, in nature, and in expe- rience ; religious faith was not, and never became, the treasure of his heart. For this he lacked the
NEGATIVE POSITION OF BACON. 323
simple and childish mind — the fitting vessel for faith. In religion, as in everything else, he had begun with doubt, and his treatise on the ‘ Chris- tian Paradoxes” (1645), which belonged to an early period of his life, and did not appear till after his death, proves his theological scepticism. He knew the points of opposition between reli- gious revelation and human reason, before he set them aside by an arbitrary decision. The religious disposition of Bacon is best character- ised by negative predicates. We can distinctly say what it was not. It was not hypocrisy, for his acknowledgment was meant sincerely; neither was it piety, for worldly interests lay nearest to his heart, and he was naturally deficient in those qualities that constitute the essence — not to say the genius—of religion; namely, an unsophisti- cated readiness to believe, and a child-like need of faith. « If we conceive his religious views nearer to infidelity than to superstition, and equally re- moved from both genuine piety and hypocrisy, we shall hit upon the right place—a cool medium, which may closely border on religious indifference, if it does not exactly correspond to it. Consi- dered with respect to his-own feelings, his ac- knowledgment of religion did not cost him so much as a disguise. His views on this subject did not proceed from the fulness of his heart, but x2
324 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
amounted to a well-considered and well-guided deportment; they were not a mask, but a dress suited to the age, which we find perfectly natural; still, strictly speaking, they were scarcely more than his garments.
ILI. Diversity OF OPINION RESPECTING THE RELI- Gious VIEWS OF BACON.
BACON AND DE MAISTRE.
To be understood superficially and to be judged partially is the very intelligible fate of all philo- sophers. One-sided judgments pronounced by an acute intellect are always suspicious ; for they always regard one particular characteristic more than all the rest of a philosopher’s peculiarities : and by dwelling on this especially render it especially prominent. With regard to the reli- gious position of Bacon, the judgments that have been pronounced upon it constitute a really in- teresting and instructive spectacle. By taking a one-sided view of that which was two-sided in Bacon’s own nature, they necessarily contra~ dict each other to the most violent degree. All the conceivable contradictory judgments that could be pronounced on Bacon’s relation to re- ligion have been pronounced in fact, and serve to
OPPOSITE VIEWS RESPECTING BACON. 325
show what contradictions Bacon combined within himself. Compared with him, their judgments are one-sided; compared with each other, they form a perfect specimen of absolute contradiction. By public opinion in England Bacon is generally regarded as a genuine Churchman; in Germany the correctness of this view is greatly doubted by those learned men who have touched upon the theme; and in France it is so utterly denied, that Bacon’s views are asserted to be in direct opposi- tion to those of the Church and religion. But even in France, where much more attention has been paid to Bacon than in Germany, voices dia- metrically opposed to each other have been heard, specimens of which we will cursorily compare.
I must begin by remarking that the separation between revealed religion and human reason, which had been introduced by Bacon, found its way among minds of a very different order, and served as an expression for diametrically opposite interests. In short, the Baconian formula was greedily caught up by one party as a shield for faith, by another as a shield for infidelity. On this point there is a distinction between the seventeenth and the eighteenth century. In the latter, when progressive “ enlightenment” still availed itself of the Baconian formula, it was
always with an anti-religious view; the formula ¥ 3
326 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
had become a merely formal acknowledgment, of which we may say that it excluded all internal religion, and, indeed, concealed its opposite. In this form does the Baconian principle of faith appear with Condillac, who carries the Baconian philosophy to an extreme point of exclusive and perfected sensualism. In the seventeenth cen- tury, on the other hand, we find in France the same separation between faith and reason main- tained for the interests of faith. But within this positive establishment of faith a further opposi- tion is still possible; for we have still to inquire on what grounds reason is sacrificed to revealed religion — whether this is done by piety or by scepticism? It may be the interest of piety to immerse itself in Divine revelation, unchecked and unembarrassed by human reason. It may be the interest of the sceptical reason to sunder the knots of doubt with the sword of faith; not so much to sharpen the sword of faith as deprive reason of the power of solving its own doubts — that is, to leave reason itself in a state of doubt. Reason is, in this case, sacrificed to faith, after it has surveyed on every side and analysed with sceptical acumen the contradictions of the latter. Such a triumph of faith over reason is, in fact, the triumph of the sceptic; if doubts can only be resolved thus, they are really insoluble, and the
PASCAL AND BAYLE. 327
sceptic has gained his victory. What he truly believes in is the uncertainty of human reason; his creed is, in fact, a disbelief in rational truth, which he translates into a blind faith in the truth of Divine revelation. ‘Those opposite interests with respect to faith—the religious and the sceptical — are both founded on the Baconian separation between religion and philosophy. Two of the greatest and most interesting minds of the seventeenth century maintain this separation in the interest of faith, but exhibit the diversity just described. One is the Jansenist Blaise Pascal ; the other the sceptic Pierre Bayle.
When the Bacon formula had been taken up in such a one-sided manner, so as to appear now | on the side of faith, now on that of infidelity, we cannot wonder that Bacon’s own religious views were interpreted in a similar fashion; so that some explained them through Pascal, others through Bayle, others, again, through Condillac. * Bacon was a decided unbeliever ”— such was the judgment of Condillac and his school, the Encyclopedists and their successors; Mallet, the biographer of Bacon; Cabanis, his panegyrist ; Lasalle, his translator, who openly asserts that Bacon was in his heart a thorough atheist, and
in his external acknowledgment of religion a x4
328 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
mere hypocrite and courtier.* All these persons, who are members of the same intellectual family, regard Bacon as their aneestor, and by the family analogy judge him as one of themselves. At the same time we hear, on the other side, the opposite verdict — “ He was a thorough believer.” Such is the judgment of De Luc, the interpreter of the Baconian philosophy, against whom Lasalle defends the infidelity of Bacon. The Abbé Emery —the same who explained the views of Leibnitz on religion and morality— takes the same side as De Luc in his apologetic treatise on the Christianity of Bacon.
All these views are one-sided, and, moreover, far too vague to comprehend the whole mind of Bacon. But they are all in contact with him at some point or other, though this point is not the centre. Among those enumerated above the nearest akin to him are Condillac and his fol- lowers, who bear to him about the same relation that the Wolfians bear to Leibnitz among the Germans. Freethinkers and believers have alike claimed Bacon as a partisan, each haying looked
* Mallet’s “Life of Lord Bacon” prefixed to the edition of Bacon’s works, published in London, 1740. Cabanis, “ Rapport du Physique et du Moral de ’Homme.” Lasalle, “‘ iuvres de Bacon, préface générale.”
+ De Luc, “ Précis de Ja Philosophie de Bacon? Emery, “ Christianisme de Bacon.”
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 329
exclusively to the side that is favourable to them- selves. Whatever has the appearance of religious -faith in Bacon is regarded by the freethinkers as empty show—a mere mask — deliberate hypo- crisy. Lasalle, who calls himself ‘* Bacon’s valet,” speaks unblushingly, like a valet, of this partie honteuse of his master. On the other hand, what- ever has the appearance of infidelity in Bacon is regarded by his religious admirers as a mere unimportant expression, or an error, that was afterwards detected by Bacon himself and in due time laid aside. “The praise which has been heaped on Bacon by the enemies of the Christian religion,” says the Abbé Emery, “have almost brought suspicion upon his faith, But how joyfully are we surprised by his religious feeling and his pious utterances!” Thus, among be- lievers and unbelievers has Bacon found his apologists, or, to use a modern term, his advo- cates to plead for him. However, to complete the group, we still want the polemic contro- versialist, the advocatus diaboli, whom, in the case of Bacon, we can only find among a certain class of persons —namely, among the fanatics. And here we really do find this advocatus diaboli ; —he comes, as if he were called, in the person of Count Joseph de Maistre, through whom French literature has at last, with a hearty
330 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
good will, sought to fill up the gap caused in its Baconian documents by the absence of polemical controversy. Under the title “ Examen de la Philosophie de Bacon,”* De Maistre has, in two volumes, attempted not merely to attack, but to annihilate Bacon. He is so far right in his thorough hostility that his point of view is diame- trically opposite to that of Bacon. Nothing was so repulsive as religious fanaticism to the tolerant thinker devoted to the study of natural science. De Maistre is a fanatic. To no ecclesiastical theory was Bacon more opposed than to the Catholic. Our readers must have already remarked that when Bacon describes superstition, he borrows his traits from Catholicism. Now De Maistre is not only a Catholic in the Ultramontane sense of the word, but he is a jesuitical Catholic. To no scientific view was Bacon more decidedly opposed than to that of the schoolmen, by whom the theology of the middle ages was elaborated. De Maistre is an artificial schoolman, for his age > prevents him from being a natural one; he is a Romanticist, one of those who attempt an arti- ficial resuscitation of the past by means of a political restoration with medieval institutions.
* “ Examen de la Philosophie de Bacon, ot Yon traite dif- férentes questions de la philosophie rationelle. Ciuvre posthume du Comte Joseph de Maistre. 2 vols. Paris et Lyon, 1836.”
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 331
Therefore, passing over the Baconian philosophy, he takes his stand at a grade of cultivation that Bacon has left behind him; which is an unlucky position for the polemics of Count de Maistre, inasmuch as he only sees the back of the object he attacks, and on the strength of this aspect passes judgment upon Bacon. If we compare them with each other, we find that their points of view, not the ages in which they lived, are opposed to each other. Bacon’s opposition to scholasticism was natural, necessary, decided; De Maistre’s opposi- tion to Bacon is artificial, forced, unsteady, and, because he would be most decided, he becomes, in the highest degree, violent, unjust, and irrational. Thus the crusade which the French Romanticist of the nineteenth century would preach against the English philosopher of the seventeenth is poisoned and corrupted in the outset.
What De Maistre finds most intolerable in the Baconian philosophy is the separation between philosophy and religion —science and theology— that is first introduced by Bacon. What most excites his wrath in the Baconian philosophy is the precedence given to physics, and the secondary rank conceded to moral and political science. Only the second place, he thinks, belongs to physical science; the first place belongs of right to theology, morals, and politics. Every people that does not
Bo2 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rigidly observe this order of precedence is in a state of decline. The Romanticist is dreaming of those ecclesiastical forefathers and schoolmen who philosophised for the benefit of the Church. He maintains, in opposition to Bacon, a similar union of religion and philosophy ; nevertheless he so far forgets himself as to defend this union by argu- ments that do not belong to scholasticism but to “ enlightenment.” One can hardly believe one’s own eyes, when, to prove the accordance of reve- lation with reason, De Maistre advances arguments that have been already employed by Lessing. He speaks of the educational course of Divine revela- tions, and of their natural fitness to the compre- hensive power of the human understanding; and shows that no revelation is anything more than an earlier-communicated truth, an “enlightenment” under pedagogical auspices. Where a De Maistre should rest his defence solely on the authority of the Church, he has recourse to the rational argu- ments afforded by an “enlightenment” foreign to the Church. When the modern diplomatist espouses the cause of scholasticism against Bacon, he becomes a Romanticist; when he defends it as its advocate, he becomes a sophist, and shares the fate of all his party. While resting upon the authority of the Church, which has force on its side, persons of this class may triumph;
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 333
but when they have recourse to rational argu- ments, they inconsistently sacrifice their own principles, and are defeated to such a degree that they voluntarily surrender their weapons to the enemy. However, Bacon is by no means the sole mark for the polemics of De Maistre. In the person of Bacon, De Maistre would annihi- late a whole race —a whole age —the eighteenth century, with all the representatives of the French “ enlightenment.” Every blow that Bacon re- ceives from the hands of De Maistre is intended, at the same time, for Condillac and the Ency- clopedists. De Maistre’s book against Bacon is a declaration of war on the part of the French Romanticism of the nineteenth century against the French “enlightenment” of the eighteenth. ** Bacon,” says De Maistre, “was the idol of the eighteenth century; he was the ancestor of Condillac, and must be judged according to his descendants —his intellectual kindred — and these were a Locke, a Hobbes, a Voltaire, a Helvetius, a Condillac, a Diderot, a D’Alembert, &e. Bacon laid down the principle of the Ency- clopzdists, and these in return spread abroad his fame, and elevated him to the throne of philo- sophy. He was the originator of that ‘ Theo- misia’ that filled the mind of the eighteenth century.”
334 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Such, according to De Maistre, is the historical importance of Bacon, which is unquestionably great and extensive. The advocacy of “ enlighten- ment” has all the more interest in reducing this character to its true value, as a whole hostile century dates from it as from a beginning. From lengthy tirades we will endeavour to bring to- gether the characteristic traits that will show our readers the image of Bacon as it existed in the mind of De Maistre. It is a caricature unlike anything in humanity, that, instead of rendering its object detestable, makes its originator ridi- culous. JF anaticism spoils every talent, even the talent for distortion, destroying the last vestige of similarity with nature, because there is nothing in common between nature and itself.
De Maistre chiefly estimates the object of his criticism from the Roman Catholic point of view, which he calls the Christian. And from this point of view, what is the aspect of Bacon? He was, says De Maistre, what the Encyclopzdists called him, an infidel, a decided atheist. Never- theless, he spoke in praise of faith, and al- lowed it unconditional authority. “ So much the worse,” says De Maistre; “he was likewise a consummate hypocrite.” Here good service is done by Lasalle, who also declared that his lord and master, as he called Bacon, was an
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 335
atheist with a hypocritical mask. But where does De Maistre find the eriteria for Bacon’s in- fidelity and hypocrisy? Here we have a fine specimen of the keenness of De Maistre’s scent in sniffing out such criteria. Indeed, so keen a scent would scarcely allow any one to escape. In the twenty-ninth aphorism of the second book of his “ Novum Organum,” Bacon says that the uncommon phenomena of nature, monstrous births, &c., should be examined and collected, but with caution, and that those above all must be regarded with suspicion that have their source in religion, as is the case with the prodigies of Livy. De Maistre lays violent hands on this passage, in which Bacon is made to confess his atheism and hypocrisy at once. The passage cited refers to remarkable natural phenomena; — not to wonders, but to monsters (monstra), as, in- deed, Bacon calls them. As far as these are con- cerned Bacon would not have implicit credit given to religious narratives, whatever they may be. Stop!” cries De Maistre, “this is flat blasphemy! Bacon here means Christianity ; —he blasphemes the true religion; —he is no Christian; — he is an atheist!” But Bacon adds, by way of example, the prodigies narrated by Livy, and further on he cites the writers on natural magic and alchemy. The Christian
326 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
miracles, which are not even included in the category, never occur to his mind. “Here,” cries De Maistre, “is a hypocrite;—he means Christianity, and he cites Livy. See how the clever actor can conceal himself in a moment, by using Livy asa mask. I can say to him in the words of Madame de Sevigné, ‘ Gentle masque, I know you.’ He says that where monsters are concerned, religious narratives are not to be be- lieved, whatever they may be.* Thus it stands written, ‘whatever they may be.’ He means all, the Christian included.” Because Bacon is doubtful with respect to the records of mon- sters, he is regarded by De Maistre as un-Chris- tian; because he refers to Livy, he is looked upon as a hypocrite.
And what is the scientific rank of Bacon in the opinion of one who has just unmasked him as an atheist and hypocrite in religion? ‘ He preaches science,” says De Maistre, “just as his Church preaches Christianity—without a mission.” Count de Maistre will permit us, in our turn, to use the expression of Madame de Sevigné with reference to himself: “‘ Gentle masque, we know you.” He
* The words in the passage referred to are—“ Maxime autem habenda sunt pro suspectis, que procedunt quomodocunque a religione ; ut prodigia Livii;’ and thus De Maistre’s reasoning is even more inaccurate than appears in the text.—J. O.
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 337
attacks Bacon, not merely as the intellectual pro- genitor of Condillac, as the idol of the eighteenth century, as the philosopher, but also as the— Pro- testant. A Protestant, a member of the rebellious Church, withdraws from the Mother Church the service of philosophy, undertakes the hegemony of science, and hands it over to Protestantism. This unpleasant fact is a heavy grievance to the fanatical Catholic, the romantic schoolman, the diplomatist of the restoration, and he would gladly get rid of such a stumbling-block of offence. Bacon had as much a vocation to be the reformer of science, as Protestantism to ef- fect a reformation of the Church; which, in De Maistre’s language, means he had no voca- tion at all, but in our language denotes that he had a high vocation indeed; and to this high vocation the three centuries during which Pro- testantism has existed and flourished, bear ample testimony. According to the judgment of De Maistre, Bacon was not a scientific genius. Why? Because he made no discoveries him- self, but only wrote on the art of making dis- coveries ; because he was a theorist with respect to this art. We may as well reproach the writer on xsthetics for not being himself an artist. If people treating of subjects only say what they are not, there is no end to verbosity. The number Z
338 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of infinite propositions*, as logic calls them, is itself infinite. Logic should extract specimens of these infinite propositions (which, in point of fact, are no propositions) from the works of our critics. But if Bacon was no more a scientific genius than a writer on esthetics is an artist, what was he after all? He was, according to the deci- sion of De Maistre, a mere writer t of the most frivolous and rudest kind, and, moreover, without a trace of originality; for his language abounds in Gallicisms. His love for science was an un- happy and sterile love — like the passion of a eunuch! His so-called philosophy is a spiritless materialism, uncertain and unsteady in its ex- pression, frivolous in tone, and full of fallacies in every assertion. De Maistre will not acknow- ledge a single spark of truth in Bacon, but con- stantly repeats expressions of the profoundest con- tempt. We see that we are concerned with a mere maniac, who, at every word, plunges deeper and deeper into an inconsiderate and therefore ridiculous rage; and, under the name of Bacon, maltreats a bugbear that is but his own bungling handiwork; as for instance, when we read such propositions as these : —‘* The general impression
* FE. g., “ Man is a non-horse.”—J. O. } ‘Ein belletristicher Schriftsteller.” There is no equivalent for this expression.—J. O.
JOSEPH DE MAISTRE. 339
left upon me after a careful examination of Bacon, is a feeling of thorough mistrust, and, therefore, of thorough contempt. I despise him in every respect — both when he says Yes, and when he says Vo.” “ Bacon is wrong when he affirms; wrong when he denies; wrong when he doubts; wrong, in a word, wherever error is possible to man.” And the basis of this thoroughly false and pernicious philosophy was as vain and des- picable as the philosophy itself. It was nothing but a morbid love of invention, the “ disease of neologism,” that seduced Bacon and the whole modern philosophy in England, France, and Ger- many. A mere desire to oppose the ancients gave to all the so-called systems of modern phi- losophy their ephemeral existence, and to the founders thereof that ephemeral fame, that Count de Maistre annihilates with the breath of his mouth. His indignant glance discovers — not without pity—the greatest and most difficult thinker of modern philosophy — the German Im- manuel Kant— in the ranks of the neologists. It is amusing to find a Kant before the tribunal of a De Maistre, and still more amusing to hear the sentence pronounced upon the greatest of philosophers by the least unbiassed of judges. In the opinion of De Maistre, Kant might have
been a philosopher if he had not been a charlatan. Zz 2
340 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
The incomparable passage is to this effect:— “If Kant had, with all simplicity, followed a Plato, a Descartes, and a Malebranche, the world would long have ceased to talk of Locke; and France would, perchance, have become better instructed with respect to her miserable and ridiculous Con- dillac. Instead of this, Kant abandoned himself to that unhappy desire for innovation that will not be indebted to any one. He discoursed like an obscure oracle. He would say nothing like other people, but invented a language of his own; and not content with requiring us to learn German (and no slight requisition that), he would even compel us to learn Kant. And what is the re- sult? Among his own countrymen he excited a transient fermentation, an artificial enthusiasm, a scholastic commotion, that found its limit on the right bank of the Rhine; for as soon as the inter- preters of Kant ventured to cross this boundary, and attempted to palm off their stuff upon the French, the latter were unable to restrain their laughter.”
I am sincerely afraid that a similar fortune will befall Count de Maistre among the countrymen of Bacon and of Kant; and, indeed, we shall laugh at him on other grounds than those on which the French laugh at Kant; we shall laugh at his expense, not at our own.
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CHAP. XI.
THE BACONIAN PRINCIPLE OF FAITH IN ITS DEVELOPMENT.
THE motives that determine Bacon’s position with respect to religion, and compel it to proceed by a compounded, and, we may say, diagonal path, are many and various. The movement is guided by springs that co-operate in very different directions. To understand the Baconian tendency in matters of faith, it is necessary to resolve it carefully into its original motives. Those who interpret it as merely positive or merely negative, do not under- stand it. As the whole realistic philosophy of modern times has its root in Bacon, in him also is to be found the beginning of all those relations which arise between that realism and religious faith. Bacon’s religious views implicitly contain all those characteristic features that were after- wards propagated by the Anglo-Gallic “ enlighten- ment” (Aufklirung). His natural theology im- plants that germ of Deism which was developed, especially in the eighteenth century, by a series
of English philosophers. And, indeed, this deism z 3
342 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
is determined, even in Bacon, as something that deviates from historical religion. Bacon, on the side of philosophy, professes for historical or re- vealed religion an unconditional veneration that excludes all criticism by the reason, inasmuch as, at the very outset, he admits the impossibility of arriving at positive religion by the way of philo- sophy, and reduces to a formula the blind sub- jection of reason to faith. But while thus sub- ordinated, science is nevertheless allowed to move freely in its own region, unimpeded by religious authority. He would, therefore, place the Church under the control of the State, and deprive it of all those means by which, through its power, it might violently curb the freedom of the mind. The Church is to be respectfully acknowledged, but is not to rule. Hence Bacon desires the de- struction of religious supremacy and the establish- ment of religious toleration ; and zeal against the former, and in favour of the latter, was ever manifested by the “ enlightened” in England and France, however various the positions they might take with respect to historical religion. Bacon, not Hobbes, was the first to insist that the sword of the Church should be taken out of the hands of the priests, and placed in those of the State. Bacon, not Locke, was the first to give empha- tic expression to the principle of toleration, and
MATERIALISTIC TENDENCY. 343
to demand its establishment for the interests of science.
But from the Baconian point of view may be deduced, not only deism and the principle of toleration, but also that decided infidelity which succeeded the introduction of his philosophy in England, and, more particularly, in France. Infidelity, atheism, and the general negation of the religious element is, indeed, the perpetual expression of philosophical materialism. Indeed, between materialism and atheism there is always a logical connection. In Bacon himself, a tend- ency to materialism is as apparent as it is ex- plicable, being only concealed, and, as it were, built over by the metaphysics on which Natural Theology — that first beginning of Deism — is based. The mind of Bacon lived in physics ; his purely physical interpretation of things was, in its very principle, mechanical, and, therefore, materialistic. From the physical point of view he opposed superstition; and when he had to choose between superstition and atheism, he gave every possible reason for a preference of the latter. This predilection for atheism is consis- tent; a consequence of his inclination to mate- rialism. When, therefore, philosophy drops her formal acknowledgment of positive religion, and,
so far, extends her physical interpretation of z 4
344 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
things as to do away with metaphysics and na- tural theology, it will no longer be satisfied with preferring atheism to superstition, but openly set up the former in the place of religion.
If we now compare religion and philosophy as they appeared to Bacon, we are struck by the logical incompatibility of the one with the other ; and to render the contradiction clear, we must accurately define Bacon’s conceptions of them both. Higher or even different conceptions were never attained during the whole of the so-called “enlightenment” that followed him. Religion, in Bacon’s sense of the word, is a divine (or supernatural) revelation; philosophy, in Bacon’s sense of the word, is the interpretation of nature. The foundation of the divine revelation is, accord- ing to Bacon, a divine arbitrary will, by which all necessity is excluded; the natural foundation of things is mechanical necessity, which excludes all operation by final causes, and, @ fortiori, every- thing like an arbitrary will. Thus philosophy knows nothing of uncontrolled will, and religion nothing of necessity. A mere arbitrary will is without a cause, and therefore incomprehensible. Therefore, if Bacon could not find another found- ation for religion than such a will, he was quite right in declaring its incomprehensibility. If reason, when investigating religion, can only dis-
RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY. 345
cern contradictions, which it is absolutely unable to solve, then Bacon was quite right in putting an end to so many aimless disputes, so much idle de- bate with reasons and counter-reasons, by silencing reason altogether, and declaring that it was his duty to acknowledge without condition the divine articles of faith. To see this, we have only to un- derstand the grade of culture occupied by human reason within the sphere of the Baconian philo- sophy; the value which, on the one hand, it assigns to religion, and, on the other, to itself. Religion, according to Bacon, is a positive system of faith, composed of divine statutes, appointed by the abso- lute will of God without any extrinsic cause. And what is the value of reason in its own eyes? In all natural things it is experience; in all super- natural things both reason and all valid conclu- sions cease together with experience. Beyond the limits of experience, it is lost in empty dispu- tations, and in sterile, interminable arguments. Considered in reference to nature, human reason is a science conformed to experience ; considered with reference to religion, a mere sophist, animal disputaz. In religion the divine will despoti- cally rules; in the philosophy of religion, human caprice exercises an arbitrary rule by its argu- ments, This is Bacon’s view of the subject; thus does he determine the mutual rights of religion
346 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and reason; and, therefore, when he makes reason subservient to religion, this simply means that he forces the human will to be silent in the presence of the divine. And granted that this is the true relation of the rights on both sides, how could he decide otherwise between them? Meason arrives at conclusions, and for every one of them a major premiss—a rule—a law is required. The laws of nature we must discover, for they are concealed in the things of the natural world. The laws of religion we must assume, for they are revealed by God. Reason is permitted to draw conclusions from these laws, but not to alter or to test them. They are premisses established from eternity, which are employed, but not made, by reason. How Bacon understands this secondary use of reason, he tells in an incidental comparison, which very characteristically illustrates his views of religion. According to him it may be compared with a game—chess, for instance—the rules of which must not be violated or even criticised by the players ; but which nevertheless may be rationally applied, so that deductions may be made from them. The case of positive religion is similar. It is (reverentially speaking) a game*, the rules of which are established by the Divine will, and
* This singular simile occurs in “ De Augment.” IX., towards the end.
THE “CHESS” SIMILE. 347
communicated by revelation to man. If we have to do with religion, we must not disturb her rules, but simply adopt them as they are given to us, and make no other use of our own reason than in judging according to their guidance.
I. Bacon AND BAYLE.
RELIGION under the likeness of a game, — this in- voluntary simile on the part of Bacon really shows in a very striking manner the weak side of his religious view ; for though it was quite consistent with this view, and was, no doubt, innocently intended by Bacon, it is in reality profane, and its profanity becomes more and more evident as the realistic mode of thought becomes more and more defined and systematic among his successors. An attempt was soon made so to play this game at chess, that human reason could cry “ check- mate” to religion. ‘To compare religion with a game, is, in fact, to treat it as a stake; and the philosophy that was derived from Bacon per- suaded itself, after a few moves, that it had won the game. According to the conception that is formed of the nature of religion and philosophy from the Baconian point of view, they form exclusive spheres, diametrically opposite to each other, and therefore in a state of mutual contradiction. The
348 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
opposition was silenced by an arbitrary decree; it was rather set aside than solved by a formal acknowledgment; concealed it was not. The formal acknowledgment rested to a great extent upon practical motives, political reasons, sub- jective grounds, that were rather prescribed to philosophy than derived from it. These were props that must necessarily fall before long, and with them falls the Baconian view of faith. The bond by which reason and religion are held toge- ther is broken; they fall apart, and their intrinsic Opposition is shown in all the stubbornness of a lo- gical contradiction. It is this contradiction alone that is carried further, and becomes more sharply defined, as the Baconian philosophy is dissemi- nated. Philosophy is brought to this strait, that it must doubt either itself or faith ; and thus arises the inevitable dilemma, that either human reason or positive religion loses its credibility. Reason becomes either sceptical with respect to itself, or incredulous with respect to religion; and of the two powers, one alone still remains firm. The firmness of revealed religion shakes the foundation of philosophy — the belief in the security of human reason, or the security of the latter shakes the authority of positive religion. Scepticism, which for a moment rests upon implicit faith, forms the transition to unbelief; and this point of transition
PIERRE BAYLE. 349
in the progress of the Baconian philosophy is reached by Pierre Bayle, who stands as the intermediate link between Bacon and the so- called “enlightenment” of the French, on the border line of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen- turies.
Bayle, like Bacon, makes repugnance to reason a ground for the affirmation of faith; like Bacon, he considers the contradiction between religion and reason to be irreconcilable; because, like Bacon, he finds the source of religion in the absolute Divine will, the source of human reason in natural laws. The absolute will of a Being subject to no conditions, and the knowing facul- ties of man, subject to natural conditions, bear no rational relation to each other, and, least of all, can the decrees of the Divine be compre- hended by the human mind. They require blind faith and blind obedience. Any attempt at ra- tional criticism of the positive articles of faith can only make evident the contradictions between the two. And it is just in this that the original and remarkable achievement of Bayle consists, that he made the contradictions evident, and em- ployed all his acuteness in carrying them out, and exposing them to the eyes of every one. That re- pugnance of faith to reason, which Bacon had merely indicated, Bayle diligently expounded,
350 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
showing that reason is both practically and theo- retically excluded by religion. Thus Bayle be- came, what Bacon was not, a critic of faith. Practical religion is holiness, theoretical religion consists of the revealed truths of faith. Bayle showed, on the one hand, that holiness would not stand the test of natural morality; and, on the other, that the revealed truths of faith were op- posed to human reason. His critique of reason proceeded according to the Baconian method ; it proved the contradiction between holiness and morality, religion and reason, by pointing it out in definite instances; that is to say, by the way of induction. By “negative instances” he refuted the notion of that harmony that was supposed to exist between religion and philosophy, and esta- blished the opposition that had been acknow- ledged by Bacon. That the holy character was not, at the same time, moral, according to the rational notion of natural ethics, he showed by the life of King David.* That the positive doc- trines of faith were not, at the same time, the doctrines of reason, and, indeed, never could be- come so, he showed by the dogmas of the re- demption of man through Divine grace, and of the fall of man, in consequence of a Divine de-
* Compare article “ David” in the “ Dictionnaire Historique et Critique.”
PIERRE BAYLE. 351
cree. The fall of man was with Bayle a “ nega- tive instance” against all speculation in rational theology. However the latter might endeavour to deduce sin from a Divine decree, every dogma could be opposed by a rational proposition. The fact of the Fall, with the host of moral evils that are its result, appears to Bayle absolutely inex- plicable. Hither man is not free — and in that case his acts cannot be counted sinful — or he is free —in which case his freedom is derived from the Deity. In this latter case, the Deity either willed sin —which is inconsistent with His holiness —or He did not will it, but passively permitted it. But to what does this amount? He did not prevent the actual occurrence of sin. Therefore, He either would not — which would be inconsis- tent with His goodness — or, in spite of His will to the contrary, He could not, which would be in- consistent with His omnipotence. On every side reason is hedged in by a labyrinth of contra- dictions as soon as it endeavours to explain the Fall of Man, and the consequent introduction of moral evil into the world. Without sin there is no redemption, and without redemption there is no Christianity. The revealed truths of the latter are therefore mysteries, impenetrable to human reason. By the philosophical propositions —nine- teen in number — which Bayle opposes to these
352 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
theological propositions, he would prove that they are utterly irreconcilable—that it is impossible to demonstrate a speculative theology. The re- sult of this criticism of faith is the contradiction between revelation and reason. Nevertheless, his intent is to oppose, not the authority of reve- lation, but of reason, which is to bow humbly before religion, believe implicitly, and, from all the contradictions which it has discovered by its acuteness, merely deduce its own nullity — its inability to explain religion, and prove it on ra- tional grounds. Not with religion, but with philo- sophical scepticism, does Bayle conclude his inves- tigations. Scepticism, as the act of doubt with which reason retires and humbly professes its own weakness, is, to him, true Christian philosophy.* Practically, Bacon was honest in his intentions with regard to his principles of faith; he wished to pass for a good Calvinist; and that he might live as such, he remained, contrary to his own inclinations, inastate of voluntary exile. A phi- losophy that ends in scepticism was congenial to his own peculiar mind; which, with its encyclo- pedic interest for historical variety, and its espe- cially critical turn, could not tolerate the restraints of system. But this very talent for criticism which, in the case of Bayle, was combined with
* Compare the article “Pyrrhus,” in Bayle’s Dictionary.
oe
SCEPTICISM OF BAYLE. 353
boundless erudition, did not allow him to make the interests of religious faith a real necessity of the heart. He respected his creed; but faith did not belong to his mental constitution, and was still less compatible with his state of culture. After he had satisfied his critical propensities, given utterance to his doubts, discovered and formulised all the contradictions that can be urged by philosophy against the dogmas of the church, it was easy for him to talk of the subjection of reason to faith. His reason had spoken its last word, and that had expressed the contradiction between faith and reason; in other words, the irrationality of faith. More than this Bayle himself did not know. He could only dis- cover and formulise contradiction; to solve it was beyond his power. Contradiction was to him a serious matter; his mind oscillated with restless activity between religion and_philo- sophy, or among the speculative systems of the latter. Indeed, he himself was the living contra- diction between faith and reason; the spirit of contradiction incarnate, which, without becoming untrue to itself, could at one blow convert all the objections to faith into so many oppositions to reason;—-nay, consistently with itself, could not do otherwise. Thus alone can Bayle be rightly understood; and thus understood, he cannot AA
354 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
be called either a thorough believer or a thorough unbeliever. He was utterly sceptical; he re- mained a sceptic even in religion, even against his will, —he could not help it. With him only one point was firmly established, and that was the impossibility of solving the doubts which reason had introduced into matters of faith. Blind faith” was the name that he gave to this impos- sibility. But a faith that is the result of im- potence, of whatever kind it be, will have this in common with its origin—it will be weak. The infirmity of reason will not give strength to the faith that is based upon it. A want of be- lief in reason will not give security to our faith in revelation. There is, indeed, a faith that is strong enough to do without reason or science, and never to inquire after their doubts and ob- jections. This all-sufficient, primitive, childlike faith is confident in itself, whether it is met by reason, with affirmation, or negation; indifferent whether reason proves it with a “ because,” or concedes it with an “although.” With reference to this faith, which presupposes a childlike frame of mind, the Gospel has pronounced a blessing on ‘‘the poor in spirit.” Of this blessed class Bayle was not one; his mind was so rich, so various, so diverse in its tendencies, that it could not possibly become simple enough to enter the paradise of
SCEPTICISM OF BAYLE. 355
faith. Faith may be strong and lively even when reason is weak, but it cannot become strong through the weakness of reason. Doubt is ine herent in the faith of Bayle, which is the mere punctum finale of the doubting reason —the mute boundary of thought. The faithful will do well cautiously to avoid such an ally as Bayle. The faith which sceptics gather from philosophy and offer to religion is a gift of the Danai, which religion had better refuse. An admission of Bayle’s faith into Christianity would be an introduction of the wooden horse into Troy, and the evils wrought by this faith in the night would soon be lamentably apparent, — there would be mere destructive doubt. Bayle, when, with his criticism, he has dissected and analysed faith, can no more recall it to life, than an anatomist can convert the organ- ised “subject” he has dismembered into a living body ; unless, indeed, he calls Medea to assist him with one of her spells. In a word, Bayle’s so- called faith is nothing but a modified expression of doubt, and the impossibility upon which it is grounded is an incapacity in Bayle himself, which, with the best intentions, he cannot convert into a capacity —even a capacity for faith. Bayle, like Bacon, requires the subordination of reason to faith, and on the same grounds; but the consciousness with which reason expresses her
ci mF
356 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
subordination is very different in these two thinkers. Both are aware of the contradiction between religion and philosophy; but Bacon glides over it, while Bayle dwells upon it, and with geometrical precision measures the chasm between faith and reason. He has far more to say on the subject of this contradiction than Bacon; and, in the same proportion, the consciousness with which he professes his subjection to faith is far less naive, and seems verging on irony. Bacon did not wish to contradict religion; Bayle contradicts it actually ; the former withholds what he could have alleged, the latter retracts what he has alleged already, partly and voluntarily withdraw- ing his opposition, when it is already a fait accompli, the validity of which he could annul, but which he could not undo. The doubts that he had expressed he could not forget, the sharp cha- racters on the tablet of his mind he could not again efface, and with the most violent efforts he could not become strong in faith, after he had brought all his acuteness into play against it. That Bayle, at the end, insisted on being that which, through his own exertions, he could not possibly be —this internal contradiction gives an ironical turn to his confession of faith. However, it is not faith, but himself, that Bayle ironises, when he lays down the weapons of philosophy. The fact that his con-
ANGLO-GALLIC “ENLIGHTENMENT.” 357
fession of faith was honestly meant, by no means destroys this self-irony, but rather strengthens it by refinement. Hence Feuerbach rightly remarks: ** Scepticism was with Bayle an historical neces- sity ; it was the concession that he made to faith ; he was compelled to treat the very virtues of reason as its defects. The consciousness of the strength of reason expressed itself with ironical humility in the name of its weakness.”
Il. Toe Anoio-Garuic “ ENLIGHTENMENT.”
In truth, however, faith cannot be denied with more decided animosity, than when it is affirmed in such a manner, and on such grounds; namely, those of its contradiction to reason. What is left for science, if deprived of every possibility of ob- taining faith by rational grounds, of finding from its own premisses a path that leads to religion ? Now that Bacon and Bayle have established an op- position between faith and reason, nothing is left for the latter but an unconditional acknowledgnient or an unconditional rejection of faith,—nothing but an utter renunciation either of himself or of religion. One thing is impossible; namely, that reason can believe blindly. If it is not blind at all, it cannot become so in particular cases. And, indeed, neither Bacon nor Bayle, who both took so much pains AA 3
358 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
to open the eyes of reason, could seriously intend to render it blind. Therefore, by their demand for blind faith, they could only mean that reason, although not blind, is to assume blindness with re- spect to religion; in other words, that it is to play at blindness. Thus, as it progresses, the Baconian philosophy leads not to a real, but to an apparent faith, to a mere external acknowledgment, behind which a consciousness of superiority is indulged in with greater security, or a cold indifference is concealed. ‘Thus this merely apparent faith is either irony or indifference, if it is not altogether hypocrisy. If reason will not endure such a hollow and unworthy form, it can, on the Baconian basis, merely take the position of utter rejection with respect to positive religion. Following the same criterion by which the superiority of reve- lation has been shown, it now denies the system of positive faith ; and of the very grounds on which faith has been apparently affirmed, it even now makes a ground of serious and thorough negation. Under the auspices of Bacon and Bayle, “ en- lightenment,” if it could not be inimical, indif- ferent, or hypocritical, becomes absolutely and openly unbelieving, losing not merely religious belief, but belief in religion*, which it regards
* “ Nicht blos den Glauben in der Religion, sondern auch den Glauben an die Religion.”
OPEN INFIDELITY. 359
as no more than superstition. Convinced that it must itself become hypocritical to profess a belief in divine revelation, this “ enlightenment” is convinced that all who have ever believed in such revelations are, or have been, hypocrites themselves. As it carries about faith — if it does not openly reject it— as a mere show, it thinks it can have been no more than an empty show from the beginning. Incapable of truly acknow- ledging positive religion, it is equally incapable of giving a true explanation of it. Since the merely apparent faith is destitute of true grounds, it is explained from grounds that are, in fact, the worst, from mere selfish motives. As the so-called “en- lightened ” can only adopt faith for external ends, they fancy that it has never been professed for any but worldly purposes. Thus, in the mind of the Baconian “ enlightenment,” positive or historical religion is transformed into a mere creature of human delusion, to be explained by selfish mo- tives ; and the whole history of religion becomes a pragmatic narrative of superstition, hypocrisy, and priestcraft ; in a word, a record of the maladies of the human mind. These are the features that characterise the “enlightenment” of the last century in England, and, more especially, in France, in its relation to religion. It raised its
voice against positive religion in all those keys, AA4
360 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.,
which, though they had not been prescribed by Bacon and Bayle, alone remained possible. As it could not adopt a blind faith, and saw in reason no foundation for religion, it therefore made religion a mere toy, treating it sometimes with contemptuous irony, sometimes with super- cilious indifference, and, on occasions, with hypo- critical reverence. When it proceeded honestly and critically (after its own fashion), it treated positive religion with all possible contempt, so explaining it, as utterly to reduce it to supersti- tion, hypocrisy, and hierarchical imposture; thus turning all which had been accepted and believed, as a divine revelation, into a sport of the human will. Its explanations of historical religion were as negative as they were superficial and shallow ; indeed, they could not be otherwise on the given premisses. These were couched in the formula already determined by Bacon and Bayle for the relation between faith and reason; namely, the proposition that the credibility of the divine reve- lation was strengthened by its incompatibility with reason. This formula had two sides. Its obverse or positive side was revealed in Bacon and Bayle; its reverse or negative side, in Bo- _lingbroke and Voltaire. © Whereas Bacon had declared that the more a divine mystery was opposed to reason, the more must it be believed
OPEN INFIDELITY. 361
for the honour of the Deity; the other party | said, “ The rather must it be rejected for the honour of human reason.” In the light of these modern thinkers, the casual expression by which Bacon compared the articles of faith with the rules of a game, became more portentous and significant than he had intended. Bolingbroke and Voltaire, with their whole train of adherents, really thought of religion as a game, the rules of which had been devised for selfish ends by the human will, and passed off as divine revelations. Thus they explained religion according to their own notion of it, and such an explanation, for- sooth, was then called the “enlightenment” of the world on the subject of religion.
Such is the relation between positive religion and the Baconian “enlightenment.” Itis only the exponent of this relation that we exhibit. The relation of a philosophy to religion furnishes a standard by which the scientific dimensions of the philosophic mind may best be ascertained ; namely, on what degree of elevation it stands, how far its vision extends, how deeply it pene- trates the nature of things, and, above all, the nature of man. Let it be conceded that religion is the principal representative * of historical life
* “Triiger,” literally the “ bearer” or « supporter.’’— J. O,
362 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
on a grand scale, and philosophy the chief repre- sentation of scientific culture as a whole, and we may lay it down as a canon that the relation of philosophy to religion is the same as its relation to history. If it is unable to explain religion, it is doubtless without all capacity for the interpreta- tion of history, will never be able to appreciate the mental temperaments and motives of others, and will always judge a former age by the analogy of its own, —a proceeding as fallacious as that of contemplating the things of nature “ ex analogia hominis” (as Bacon says) and not “ex analogia mundi.” Philosophy is incapable of explaining religion, when it either denies it as superstitious, or deduces it from motives which are otherwise than religious. Such is the judgment of the Anglo-Gallic “ enlightenment ” as represented by its most audacious spirits. Its mode of thought was intrinsically unhistorical; from its very first beginning it proposed to separate religion from philosophy, revelation from nature, faith from reason, and set them utterly at variance with each other. In the separation effected by Bacon and Bayle there was already a complete though an internal rupture, which of necessity soon had an external expression. According to the Baconian view, religion, which is the central point of human life, lay beyond the boundaries of reason; and
UNHISTORICAL PHILOSOPHY. 363
therefore reason was beyond the boundaries of history, being just as unhistorical in its ideas as it esteemed religion irrational in its revela- tions. Religion appeared to reason merely theo- logical, while reason itself was only naturalistic. History altogether, no less than religion, was to this philosophy, beyond the extreme boundary of its understanding.* The boundary, which Bacon and Bayle have set up between religion and phi- losophy, constitutes, in fact, the boundary that separates their philosophy and their reason from history. And it is clear why the Baconian understanding must have this limit. Its aim is a practical knowledge of the world, a utilitarian science; its scientific method is experimental experience. Tested by this aim, religion must appear an indifferent object; compared with this method, it must appear irrational. Even with its founder realistic philosophy was alien to re- ligion; with his successors its position became hostile, the last (scientific) ground of the hostility being, on the side of philosophy, no other than the incapability of thinking historically.
* Dr. Fischer also says it was the “Ding an sich;” but the passage is complete without this simile, borrowed from the Kantian philosophy.—J. O.
364 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
III. Toe German “ ENLIGHTENMENT.”
TAKING other points of view, the German “ en- lightenment” aimed at different results; in its very origin it contemplated a union between re- velation and nature, between faith and reason. In this respect Leibnitz stands in diametrical opposition to Bacon and Bayle; and for the pur- pose of maintaining and defending this opposition, he wrote his “ Theodicée.” This book was not, indeed, the most profound and adequate repre- sentative of the Leibnitzian philosophy, which, even to the present time, is properly known by extremely few persons; but it was not without reason that it became the most popular of his works, and was read by all the educated com- munity of Europe. It was directed immediately against Bayle, as a “ confession” of the German mind, in opposition to the Anglo-Gallic. That *‘ negative instance,” which Bayle had advanced against the philosophy of religion generally, against all rational faith— namely, the Fall of Man and the introduction of sin into the world— the Leibnitzian “'Theodicée” was intended to explain. It was, at that time, the only explana- tion with which philosophy extended the hand of friendship to religion; and to the very depth of
LEIBNITZ. 365
his thought Leibnitz was thoroughly in earnest with respect to this reconciliation. He had the idea of a rational religion that, far from opposing positive faith, should adopt and, to a certain ex- tent, regulate it. But had not Bacon likewise this thought of a “ natural religion or theology?” Yes, nominally, but not really. What Bacon called natural religion was the notion of a Deity, obscured by the medium of mundane objects; an acknowledgment of the existence of Gop derived from the observation of the orderly arrangement of nature; a doubtful conclusion founded upon doubtful premisses. And, even setting the doubt- fulness aside, this so-called natural religion, this idea of God, is a mere reflection of the human understanding, not a divine revelation. Now it was as a divine revelation that Leibnitz under- stood his natural religion. By him the idea of God was regarded as an eternal original datum in the human soul, as an idea innate in the mind, and derived immediately from God Himself. What Leibnitz called natural religion was the natural revelation of God in the human mind, which could not possibly be in contradiction with the historical revelation ; as in that case, God would have con- tradicted Himself. Hence, to a certain extent, Leibnitz made nature a criterion of revealed re- ligion. He was the positive, as Bayle was the
366 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
negative critic of faith. Whatever in positive re- ligion was contradictory to human reason was not to be believed ; whatever transcended it was to be ac- knowledged. He drew a distinction between the super-rational and the anti-rational—-a distinction well grounded in the spirit of his philosophy, but which could not be made by Bacon and Bayle, who identified the super-rational with the anti- rational, and made the latter their positive criterion of faith. Why ? Because they deduced all positive or revealed religion from the divine will (Will- hihr), because they recognised no sort of neces- sity in the Deity. That which is affected by the mere motiveless will, whatever that will may be, does not admit of any justification by reason, is under no law, and is therefore anti-rational. With Leibnitz, on the contrary, the divine revelations were regulated by a law, and therefore rational, even if this reason was not to be comprehended by that of man. Why? Because Leibnitz ex- plained by the divine Wisdom what the others deduced from the mere will; because, according to his idea of God, there could be no place for a mere motiveless will in the most rational of all beings.
We adhere to our assertion that the relation of philosophy to religion is the same with its relation to history. If philosophy excludes religion, it is
GERMAN ‘“ ENLIGHTENMENT.” 367
incapable of thinking historically ; and in this pre- dicament is the Anglo-Gallic “ enlightenment.” Tf, on the other hand, philosophy comprehends and penetrates religion, it has, at least, a funda- mental capacity for thinking historically ; and this is the case with the German “ enlightenment.” In its foundation it unites religion and reason by the idea of rational religion, which is itself re- garded as a revelation, and seeks a harmony with positive or historical religion, as its ultimate goal. Before this goal was clearly apprehended, an op- position between reason and revelation, between natural and historical religion, was to be found even within the precincts of the German “ en- lightenment.” Here, also, was an age which remained involved in this opposition, and was, therefore, utterly unable to explain history ; although the explanations it advanced were much more serious and profound than those given in England and France. To prove this, we need only compare a Reimarus with a Bolingbroke or a Voltaire! But with us, this opposition, at the foundation of which lay a reconciliation, sought to be reconciled anew, and conduced in itself to a more thorough solution of the problem, which was innate in the German “ enlightenment,” and could only be solved in one way. So long as natural religion was regarded as alone true and
368 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
possible (as in the ordinary “ enlightenment” of the school of Wolf), historical religion could only be regarded as an outward show, to be explained, on closer investigation, by a reference to worldly motives;—so long was it impossible to get beyond a stubborn and exclusive opposition. To terminate this it was necessary to discover the affinity and connection between natural and histo- rical religion, to comprehend the latter in its religious nature. Now the religious nature of an historical faith is never to be discovered by a merely logical understanding, but requires an historical understanding that is able to apprehend its peculiarities, to appreciate notions and emo- tions different from its own, and to explain them from their historical antecedents. An explana- tion of historical facts from historical antecedents, is a recognition of a necessity in history, and is what we call “historical thinking ;” which is, in fact, natural thinking with respect to history. The historical, as distinguished from the abstract logical understanding, comprehends that human “enlightenment” does not date from the pre- sent moment, but consists of a gradually pro- gressive process of culture, and is of a universally historical nature ; so that the actual state of “ en- lightenment” only represents a state of elevation corresponding to its period. Thus all religion,
HISTORICAL UNDERSTANDING. 369
indeed human culture generally, is to be com- prehended and vindicated not from the present point of view, but from the peculiar conditions of its own age. Compared with the state of thought in its own age, historical religion appears not as the opposite of that thought, but as its element and basis. From its very founda- tion, German “ enlightenment” was compelled to think historically; the foundation was already established in Leibnitz, it was developed in Winckelmann, Lessing, and Herder, while no advance could be made during the age that was governed by Christian Wolf and his school. Lessing, above all, liberated the historical under- standing, and in his “ Education of the Human Race” (Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts) com- prehended and vindicated positive religion in a corresponding spirit. The relation of Leibnitz to his contemporary Bayle is the same as that of Lessing to his contemporary Voltaire. In- deed, Leibnitz is distinguished from Locke and Bayle, and Lessing from Voltaire, just as the German “enlightenment” is distinguished from the Anglo-Gallic. The two bases are as different from each other as the two nations. The philo- sophy founded by Bacon liberated the natural understanding, investigating, developing, and es- tablishing it in a sphere from which the histo- BB
370 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rical understanding was excluded. The philoso- phy founded by Leibnitz produced from its own resources the historical understanding, which did not exclude the natural understanding ; but subor- dinated it to itself. In opposition to Bacon and Descartes, it considered nature, according to our human analogy, as a progressive series that rose up to man as its unconscious goal. Thus nature, as it were, “ preforms” history, while it organises man. Thus, from its very origin, the philosophy of nature is destined to become a philosophy of history, and from this point of view the historical philosophy of a Herder, and the subsequent natu- ral philosophy of a Schelling, are to be judged. Herder, in his “Ideas towards the History of Man,” speculates on the hypotheses of natural history; Schelling, in his “Ideas towards the Philosophy of Nature,” speculates on the results of historical philosophy. And perhaps Schelling has not advanced natural science so much as phi- losophical history; perhaps he has not so much explained nature itself, as the religion of nature. While the Anglo-Gallic ‘ enlightenment” was only naturalistic from its very foundation, and therefore remained uncongenial to the historical process of human culture, the German “enlighten- ment” was, in its very purpose, humanistic. It attained its end in Kant. But the Kantian epoch
KANT. 371
is also of import for the Anglo-Gallic philosophy, which, as it progressed, had been impelled to a point where it had found itself compelled to call in question the natural understanding and its knowledge. Here it occupied the mind of Kant, and gave this mind the last and most effectual impulse towards a thoroughly new inquiry re- specting the nature of human knowledge. It was then itself carried out further by Kant, and resulted in the German philosophy.
BB 2
372 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. XII.
THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY CONSIDERED IN ITS RELATION TO HISTORY AND THE PRESENT.
IF we compare the Baconian philosophy with his- tory, its limit, as well as its contradiction, becomes clear beyond the possibility of mistake. The in- terpretation of history is manifestly a necessary problem of a real exact science, inasmuch as his- tory itself belongs to reality. Now the Baconian philosophy is incapable of interpreting history. This incapacity is its limit. Nay, it is even aware of this limit, and by clearly-expressed judg- ments, that show self-knowledge, has excluded from its precincts the elementary ideas requisite for the interpretation of history. These elemen- tary ideas are the human mind and religion. The mind is the subject and supporter of all history ; religion is the basis of all human culture. If we cannot explain the mind, how can we explain the development of the mind, which is, in fact, history itself? Bacon has defined the essence of the human mind as the unknown and unperceivable magnitude, that does not enter his philosophical
LIMIT OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 373
calculations. How can he, to whom religion is a sealed mystery, explain its radiations in art, science, morals, and politics? How can the effects be known without the cause? Bacon him- self has defined religion as an irrational object, and represented it to the human reason as an impenetrable “Beyond” (Jenseits). But reli- gion is no such “ Beyond,” neither is the human mind. Both are powers of real life —the former an essential factor, the latter the sole subject of all history.
The realistic philosophy, which not only origi- nates in the Baconian, but finds in it its widest sphere of vision, should not fall short of the spirit of reality. The unreal it may indeed exclude; but that which is real, which is given, which is an undeniable fact, it is bound to explain. It therefore contradicts itself, when it excludes his- torical reality, and regards the motive powers of that reality as insoluble mysteries. It falls short of the real world. History is the impenetrable residue, which will not be assimilated with the Baconian philosophy. The limit of the latter, which is not set by us, but imposed by itself, constitutes a self-contradiction.
BB 3
374 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
I. BAcon’s UnuistoricAL Mops or THouanutr.
THIS contradiction may be pursued into its details. Bacon, in the well-justified spirit of realistic philosophy, has required an interpreta- tion of history, and explained the nature of his requisition in precepts, than which nothing could be more suited to the purpose. He knew very well what he meant by the interpretation of history. But he has not complied with his own requisitions. When he himself enters the field of history, he does not so much explain as describe ; and even when he does make an attempt to explain historical subjects, his attempts are in manifest contradiction not only with the historical method, but also with his own method of inter- pretation, which was based on the correct prin- ciple that things should be judged, not according to human analogies, but according to their own objective relations; in other words, that we should not accommodate the things to ourselves, but ourselves to the nature of the things. This principle of interpretation, which is alone correct and natural, requires, when applied to history, that the things of history should be measured and judged by their own standard; not as they are
UNHISTORICAL VIEW. 375
related to us, but as they are related to them- selves, their age and its conditions. And how did Bacon carry out this principle, which he had so urgently recommended, in his own historical explanations and judgments? He acted in direct ‘opposition to it. He judged all preceding philo- sophers, the Platos and the Aristotles, not in reference to their age, but simply by comparing them with his own views. Whatever corre- sponded with these was affirmed; whatever was opposed to them, was denied and rejected as absurd. He made his own philosophy the stan- dard of all others, judging and interpreting the historical manifestations of science merely by this analogy, than which nothing could be more sub- jective. In the same spirit he explained the * Wisdom of the Ancients.” He assumed that the old myths were parables, and then assumed that these parables symbolised certain natural and moral truths in order to introduce his own moral and physical views. Thus the fable of Eros was made to harmonise with the theory of Demo- critus, and this theory with his own. But surely these assumptions were no more than a series of * anticipations of the intellect” vying with each other in their arbitrary character. Such “ antici- pations” were made by Bacon himself, who placed at the very summit of his method the declaration BB 4
376 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
that there ought to be no “ anticipatio mentis,” but only an “interpretatio nature,’—a_ tho- roughly unprejudiced and natural interpretation of things! Ought any exception to be made to the application of the general principle? If none, why did Bacon himself make an exception in the case of the myths? He explains these by preconceived notions, by “ anticipations” of the most arbitrary kind. The Baconian interpreta- tion converts these poetic fictions into common- places, and understands nothing of their living peculiarity, nothing of their historical origin, nothing of their poetical and national character. By this allegorical interpretation poetry becomes prose, and Greek imagination is changed into un-Greek thought. Moreover, every allegorical interpretation is necessarily teleological, for it sees and explains nothing in its object, but its didac- tic purpose —a tendency which it either elicits or supposes. Every fable has a moral—is a production with a purpose, and as such must be interpreted. But from the methodical, or se- verely scientific method of interpretation, Bacon has rejected all teleology. Why, then, has he a merely teleological interpretation for the fictions of the ancients; or, rather, why does he turn the myths into fables, by a very unnatural and vio- lent interpretation, giving them a purpose which
MISAPPREHENSION OF POETRY. 377
manifestly does not belong to them? Why, ge- nerally, does he regard allegory as the highest species of poetry? Allegory is a prosaic work, composed for a purpose; a poetical work is a product of genius. The genial creation of poetry is nearly akin to natural generation. Why, then, did Bacon expressly insist that nature should not be explained by final causes, when, according to the same Bacon, the highest kind of poetry re- sulted from a reflection on ends and purposes? We see how unnatural, according to his own view of nature, was Bacon’s apprehension of the essence of poetry, how imperfectly he perceived its natural source. ‘The creative imagination he did not comprehend; he treated allegory as the highest poetry, and lyrical poetry as none at all.*
The contradiction which we have indicated, is obvious enough. Bacon’s historical explanations and judgments are in contradiction to the method of interpretation which he himself introduced. According to this, the facts of reality are to be comprehended with reference to their causes ; but it does not comprehend the sense of poetry, of consciousness, of religion; it confesses that, by its light, the mind and religion both appear irra- tional facts. It requires an explanation of things without subjective prejudices, without human
* Compare chap. vi.
378 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
analogy. But Bacon’s historical interpretations and judgments are according to the exclusive standard of his own philosophy. By this he ex- plains poetic fictions, by this he pronounces judgment on the systems of the past. Will it be said that Bacon could have avoided these con- tradictions; that he could have applied his scien- tific method to historical subjects with greater fidelity and with more success; that, by a mere accidental deficiency, he fell short of his own principles? Such a judgment would be as in- considerate as it would be incorrect. On the con- trary, we must rather maintain that the Baconian method is in itself insufficient for the interpre- tation of history; that it is not equal to historical reality; that through its very principles it ex- cludes the ideas that correspond to historical forces; that Bacon is, in fact, consistent with his method, while he seems to act in opposition to its highest precepts. His method is adapted to nature, so far as this differs toto celo from mind; to mindless, mechanical, blindly working nature — to nature, that can be forced by experiment to reveal her laws, that will allow her secrets to be wrung from her by levers and screws. This me- thod is only intended to be thinking experience ; it unites the understanding and the sensuous per- ceptions, and, through its very principle, excludes
DEFECT OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY. 379
imagination from the contemplation of things. But can that which is made by the imagination be explained without the imagination? Can a mode of interpretation which, on principle, re- nounces all imagination, be fitted for poetry and art? It may serve to explain machines, but not poetic creations. Can religion be explained with- out art, or history without religion? Is history, the living mind of man, to be approached by ex- periments? By what experiment can we explain the plastic power revealed in the poems of Homer and the statues of Phidias ?
In the same degree that the Baconian method is adapted to nature, it is repugnant to history. Where nature has her limit that separates her from mind, there is the limit of the Baconian method—I do not say of the Baconian mind. Bacon’s judgments, through the very circumstance that they are repugnant to history, are consistent with his method, which requires, once for all, that no truths shall be allowed to stand but such as are confirmed by experience in nature and in human life. It rejects, without scruple, every philosophy that misapprehends these empirical truths; and professes to have made the discovery that, in the earliest ages, a philosophy akin to poetry stood nearest to these empirical truths — nearer than any system that followed. In its
380 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
own interest, it assumes the fact that, in the oldest philosophy and the oldest poetry, there was no other foundation than these empirical truths which it had itself approved. These must be found in the myths which must be interpreted from this point of view. Thus it is the Baconian method itself which offers an impediment to his- torical interpretation. Bacon’s methodical inter- pretation of nature is, from its foundation, no more able to afford an interpretation of history than nature, as he understands her, to produce the human mind from her own resources. We draw a distinction here between the interpretation and the investigation of history. The former explains and comprehends the facts, which the latter seeks, establishes, and describes; they are as distinct from each other as description from explanation, history from science, according to the Baconian view. It is only with respect to the science of history that I maintain that the Baconian method is not the proper key. In the investigation of history, as of nature, it serves as an apt guide, as the only possible instrument for the discovery and establishment of facts. The first considera- tion everywhere is, the guestio facti. Facts, whether they belong to history or nature, can only be found by the Baconian method. To find these, the investigator, whether of history or
‘NATURE AND HISTORY. 381
of nature, requires his own experience and ob- servation; he must draw his facts from sources which he himself has tested; and to sift them he must exercise a comparative criticism of sources, which is impossible without a careful weighing of positive and negative instances—a process that may be abbreviated and conducted by the same means that Bacon, in his “ Novum Organum,” has pointed out to the investigator of nature. The discovery of facts is, in all cases, the result of a correct method of inquiry; and this, for every case, is exactly what Bacon has formulised. The facts of history, like those of nature, are only to be discovered by a just experience, the logic of which has been laid down by Bacon for every case. But, on the other hand, there is an essen- tial difference between the interpretation of na- ture and the interpretation of history; they are as distinct as their objects, nature and mind; and Bacon himself, whose understanding was greater than his method, has admitted that the latter is incapable of explaining the mind. Nature pre- sents him only with facts; but history opposes his ideas with other ideas (Begriffe), which he must deny, in order to establish his own. The ideas that have become historical appear to him as “idola theatri;” and, with respect to these, his method and his philosophy become an “ anti-
382 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
cipatio mentis.” The futility of all earlier sys- tems becomes, with Bacon, an historical prejudice; and with this prejudice his historical explanations and judgments are connected. He thinks only of the present and the future, which he will enrich and liberate from the past; therefore he denies the past; but the past is history.
II. Bacon AnD MACAULAY.
EASILY comprehensible and great as this mode of thought appears in Bacon, whose vocation it was to effect a reformation in science, just as strange and just as much the reverse of great must it appear to us when, in our own times, an eminent investigator of history pays unconditional homage to the Baconian mode of thought, and extols it with a fanatical partiality that was altogether foreign to the founder himself: We are surprised, at the present day, to find a mode of thought ad- hered to, in that exclusive spirit that was neces- sary, two centuries and a half ago, to constitute an epoch that was subject to the conditions of its age; to find it adhered to by an historian who, | above all others, should be sensible to the differ- ence of times, and, more especially, should main- tain the historical against the physical point of view; or, at any rate, should not overlook the
MACAULAY AND DE MAISTRE, 383
boundary between them which Bacon himself has observed. Nevertheless, Mr. Macaulay uncon- ditionally takes up the cause of practical against theoretical philosophy, designating the former by Bacon’s name; and in this spirit he repeats, and even heightens, the Baconian criticism of anti- quity. To show the value of the practical philo- sophy above the theoretic, Mr. Macaulay exerts all his energies, pressing down the scale of the latter with every possible weight, to such a de- gree that the theoretical scale kicks the beam and loses all weight whatever. He associates practical interests, as he calls them, with Baconian philosophy, in the same uncompromising spirit that is evinced by De Maistre when he opposes the Baconian philosophy in the interest of reli- gion. The relation of them both to Bacon most happily reflects the opposition between the En- glish utilitarian and the French “ romanticist.” Compared with each other, the two portraits are of very different value, and we have no hesitation as to our preference. Assuredly a De Maistre cannot vie with a Macaulay. Compared with their original, both portraits will be found unlike, and exaggerated in that “ belletristic” style that is ill-adapted for the enunciation of truth. Of the philosopher Bacon, De Maistre would make the Satan, Macaulay the God of Philosophy.
384 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Such exaggerations may answer our modern novel- readers, but they can instruct nobody. With re- spect to Mr. Macaulay, we have two questions to propose : — First, What is the import of that opposition between practical and theoretic philo- sophy of which he is always talking? Secondly, What has his practical philosophy to do with Bacon?
Mr. Macaulay decides on the part of philo- sophy with a ready formula that, like many of the kind, dazzles with words which really mean nothing ;— words which appear the more empty and obscure, the more closely they are investi- gated. He says that philosophy should be for the sake of man, not man for the sake of philo- sophy; in the former case it is practical, in the second theoretic. He is in favour of the former and against the latter; the former he cannot suffi- ciently extol, the latter he cannot make sufficiently ridiculous. According to Macaulay, the Baco- nian philosophy is practical, the pra-Baconian and, more especially, the ancient philosophy, is theoretic. This opposition he carries to its ex- treme, and gives us an exaggerated representation, not in an unadorned shape, but in a figurative disguise, in aptly-devised images, so that practical philosophy always wears an imposing or alluring form, while theoretical philosophy is made to
FINE WRITING. 385
look repulsive. By this play of words he wins the multitude, who catch at images, like children. Of practical philosophy he makes (not so much his principle as) his point, and-of theoretical his target. Thus the opposition acquires something of a dramatic interest, and this involuntarily en- lists the sympathies of the reader, who forgets the scientific question; and, provided the writer is unsparing of the images and metaphors with which he contrives to amuse the fancy, nothing more is required by the understanding, Every one of his words is a lucky throw, a good shot. He who, with a certain degree of facility, with a certain mastery over dramatic effect, knows how to con- vert principles into points, ideas into metaphors, can now-a-days achieve incredible victories over the bare truth. We have seen in Germany how, under such forms, every absurdity can make its way. Indeed, with us, even unadorned absurdity is not safe from public veneration. By the mere art of words, a grain of truth may be so blown out that, in the eyes of the multitude, who only judge by appearances, it may seem to be whole tons in weight. Thus, for instance, sensualism and materialism, which haye a grain of truth, may be so expanded, may be screwed up to such a height, that they seem to leave no room for any- thing else. Feuerbach has found a great deal of Cc
386 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
talent necessary, and has expended a vast number of startling and dazzling antitheses to give a brilliant aspect to materialism; but his disciples, without a spark of talent, can make this ounce of truth infinitely luxuriant in its growth. But as Feuerbach uses the party-cry of sensual, as op- posed to speculative philosophy, so is the ery of practical against theoretical philosophy, raised by Macaulay. The chief object is not that the ideas shall be correct, but that the words shall be pointed. What does Mr. Macaulay mean when he says that philosophy should be for man, not man for philosophy ; when he rejects theoretical philosophy because it makes itself the end, and man the means to that end; when he says that, in his eyes, practical has to theoretical philosophy the relation of deeds to words— of fruit to thorns —of an advancing army to a treadmill, where with all our turning, we still remain at the same © spot? WhenI read dazzling phrases of this kind, I am reminded of the Socratic expression: “ They are indeed said, but are they said right?” If we interpret Macaulay’s words strictly, no philosophy in the world was ever practical; for never was there one that arose merely from so-called practical considerations, and not from philosophical consi- derations likewise. Just as little has there been a theoretical philosophy; for there has never been
WHAT Im, PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 387
one which had not for its motive a human neces- sity —that is to say, a practical interest.
We see to what this reckless play upon words ultimately tends. It defines theoretical and prac- tical philosophy by means of a definition that will not fit a single real instance. The antithesis says absolutely nothing. Let us dismiss the antithesis and confine ourselves to the sober, intelligible opi- nion, that the value of a theory depends wholly on its applicability —on its practical influence on human life—on the use that we can derive from it. Utility alone is to decide the value of theory. Be it so; but who shall decide what is useful ? All things are useful that conduce to the satisfac- tion of human wants, whether they be objects in themselves, or means towards objects. But who shall decide what is a human want? Wetake Ma- caulay’s point of view, and perfectly agree with him that philosophy should be practical, that it should serve the purposes of man, that it should satisfy, or, at any rate, conduce to the satisfaction of his wants; and that, if it does not, it is useless, and consequently worthless. Now, supposing that there are wants in human nature that imperiously demand satisfaction, that, when unsatisfied, render life a torment, is not that which satisfies these wants to be deemed practical? If some of these are of such a kind that they can only be satisfied by
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388 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
knowledge — that is, by theory — is not this theory to be deemed useful? nay, must it not be so in the eyes of the most determined utilitarian? More- over, it is very possible that there are more wants inhuman nature than the utilitarian imagines, and that all these wants will not be contented with the modicum of satisfaction that he offers. It is pos- sible that what the utilitarian terms theoretical philosophy, appears useless and sterile to him merely because his own notions of human nature are too narrow and sterile. The question really is, what idea do we form of man. According to this idea we estimate human wants; and as our view of these wants is narrower or broader, we decide on the utility of science and the value of philosophy. But it is a rash and unseemly pro- ceeding to begin by commanding man to have only so many wants, and then inferring that he requires only so much philosophy. To judge by Macaulay’s examples, his notions of human nature lead to no very great results. “If we are forced,” says Macaulay, “‘to make our choice between the first shoemaker, and the author of the three books ‘On Anger’ (Seneca), we pro- nounce for the shoemaker. It may be worse to be angry than to be wet. But shoes have kept millions from being wet; and we doubt whether Seneca ever kept any one from being angry.”
WHAT IS PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 389
I certainly should not select Seneca for my target if I meant to hit theoretical philosophy ; and still less should I choose those whom Mr. Ma- caulay prefers to Seneca, for my allies, if I wished to drive the theorists out of the field. With such auxiliaries it would be possible enough. Macau- lay throws things very different from the sword of Brennus into the scale that he would make the heavier! However, he ought not merely to doubt, but know whether the meditations of a philosopher (even of a Seneca) are absolutely without avail against human passions; whether they do not confer equanimity on the human soul, and render it stronger in the presence of death than it would be without them. To oppose one example with another, I can mention a philo- sopher far more profound than Seneca, and, in the eyes of Macaulay, likewise an unpractical thinker, to whom the power of theory was far greater than the power of nature and the ordinary wants of humanity. Through his meditations alone was Socrates cheerful when he drank the cup of poison! Of all ills, is there any that exceeds the fear of death in the human soul? There are, indeed, many who would rather get rid of death, than the fear of it; who would rather lengthen their lives, than be so armed in every case that they could look death calmly and cheerfully in the
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390 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
face. All these would have considered Socrates more practical, if he had taken the advice of Crito, and escaped from his prison at Athens, to die of old age in Beeotia or elsewhere. Socrates himself thought it more practical to remain in prison, and, as the first martyr to the liberty of the mind, to mount up to the gods from the height of his theory. Thus, in every case, man’s own wants decide upon the practical value of an action or a thought, and these, again, are determined by the nature of the human soul. The difference of wants corresponds to the difference in individuals and in periods. Mr. Macaulay makes a particular class of human wants—those of ordinary life — the standard of science; and; on this account, he abjures theoretic, and narrows practical philosophy. This standard is as little suited to himself as to the nature of the human mind. If he had not other and higher wants than those which are satisfied by his practical philosophy, he would not have been a great historian, but one of those whom he prefers to Seneca. His practical philosophy is to the human mind what a tight shoe is to the foot; it pinches, and a pinching shoe is a bad preservative against wet.
We do not render human life more easy by narrowing science. ‘The attempt to dam up the stream, however well meant — nay, however ad-
WHAT IS PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY? 391
vantageous it may be for the moment — is, after all, an attempt to destroy the scientific impulse itself in the mindofman. And, indeed, the first attempt can only attain a permanent success, on the sup- position that success has attended the second. As long as the desire of knowledge is an active want in our inmost nature, so long must we strive to satisfy this want, for this purely practical purpose — strive after knowledge in all things, even in those the explanation of which does not in any way conduce to our external prosperity, which are of no use beyond the foundation of that intellectual clearness which is their result. So long as religion, art, and science actually exist as an intellectual creation by the side of the physical ; — and the ideal world will not cease till the material world has ceased also ; so long will man feel a necessity to direct his attention to those objects and to produce within himself a copy of the ideal world, as well as a copy of the world of nature. In other words, he will feel himself practically compelled, by an in- ternal necessity, to attempt the theoretical culti- vation of his mind. This has been the aim of the thinkers of antiquity, the ancients, of the middle ages, and of our own times; though all have proceeded in their own manner. It is true that neither the theories of the ancients nor those
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392 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of the schoolmen are any longer suited to our necessities ; for our world has changed, and with it our mode of thought. But an unconditional rejection of those theories, is only a misappre- hension of the sense that lay at the foundation of them all, as a mental necessity ; that is to say, we say we judge of antiquity in a mind that is foreign to its spirit, and apply to its theories a theory of our own that, being wholly inapplicable and therefore unfruitful, may be ranked among the phantasms of the brain. This non-historical mode of thought was Bacon’s defect, in which Macaulay participates. In Bacon’s eyes, the theories of classical antiquity were “ Idols;” in ours, the Baconian theory of antiquity is an * Tdol” in its turn. To him, the philosophies of a Plato and an Aristotle appear as “ Idola theatri;” to us, these very views appear “ Idola specus et fori ”—personal and national prejudices. Bacon has as much misapprehended the spirit of history as the ancients, in his opinion, misappre- hended the laws of nature.
But by rejecting theory altogether — not merely the theories of the past, but the contem- plative mind, as an entire genus, simply because it has not an immediate influence on practical life, we close our eyes not only against history, but also against man and the wants of humanity —
BACON AND MACAULAY. 393
we overlook an impulse that belongs to the very elements of our nature. This mode of thought, so opposed to nature, is the defect of Macaulay, in which Bacon does not participate. Bacon thought too highly of the practical mind of man to lessen or straiten the theoretical. He wished to raise the former to the dominion of the world ; and therefore he wished to enlighten the latter into knowledge of the world. He was well aware that our power is proportioned to our knowledge ; and therefore, to use his favourite expression, he wished to found in the human mind a temple after the model of the universe. According to him, science ought to be a copy of the actual world, which he could not, indeed, complete himself, but which, he hoped, would be completed in the course of ages. In this copy, according to his view, nothing, however small, should be wanting ; for everything that is, he thought, has a right to be known; and it is the interest of man to know everything. Science appeared to his mind a work of art, the perfection of which was his grand object. His great mind saw that the com- pletest science would establish the completest dominion, and that a gap in science would be a weakness in life. What does science appear to the eyes of Bacon? A temple raised in the human mind after the model of the universe.
394 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
What does it appear in the eyes of Macaulay? A convenient dwelling-house, fashioned to ac- commodate the wants of practical life. Macaulay is quite satisfied if we can carry science far enough to provide a place of safety for our goods and chattels, and, above all, shelter ourselves from the wet. The majesty of the edifice, and its perfec- tion according to the model of the world, is to him a useless appendage— mere superfluous and hurtful luxury. Bacon did not take such a mean view of the subject. In the highest sense of the word, he was earnest with science. He only re- jects those theories by which, in his opinion, the true theory was spoiled. Whatever appeared to him an incorrect copy of the world he flung aside as a ground-plan, in following which, man had for whole ages built nothing but castles in the air. Among these ground-plans he found some belonging to the earliest ages, which, though not copies, he considered symbols of the world; and these he endeavoured to interpret after his own fashion. Macaulay is astonished, in this case, at the morbid degree to which a talent for analogy is developed in Bacon; but he does not perceive the connection of this talent with Bacon’s method; he does not see that Bacon looked to analogy as an expedient by which he might pursue his theory further than his method permitted, and thus ren-
PARTIALITY OF INNOVATORS. 395
der the temple of science broader and more lofty than was possible by the unaided use of his in- struments.
Mr. Macaulay lessens Bacon by trying to aug- ment him and elevate him above all others. If he understood Bacon’s mind, as the latter under- stood the world, he would have formed a different judgment either of Bacon or of theory. His error consists in this, that he would make an historical prejudice of Bacon into a law of nature; that he repeats and heightens this prejudice as if it were now as just and as comprehensible as at the time when it was originally expressed. Bacon’s histo- rical prejudices are to be explained by the parti- cular degree of culture which his age had attained — to be vindicated, above all, by his own historical position. It was his mission to renovate science, and to open to the new spirit of the age a path in the region of science, after it had already made for itself a way in the region of the church. Hence he was forced to reject the theories of the past. The founders of the new are seldom the best interpreters of the old. Indeed, it is impos- sible that they should be so; for the old is in their eyes something foreign to their purpose, and it is their vocation to deprive it of the sanction of mankind, It is not till afterwards that that which has been exploded becomes again an object
396 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of human consideration as something yet to be explained, and then comes the time for a truly impartial judgment. This sort of justice does not belong to the vocation of reforming minds. To know the historical value that is to be attached to the ancient and scholastic philosophy, we must not consult Bacon and Descartes. The greatest reformer of philosophy that ever lived, Immanuel Kant, was the least able of all to explain its past. le only saw and only aimed at one vulnerable point; this he hit, and cared little about anything else. It is just this hard and dictatorial character, that, from its own point of view, heaps together and rejects whole ages of science, that both in Bacon and in Kant aided the work of renovation in philosophy. Leibnitz, who, in spite of his vocation as a reformer, was, nevertheless, most zealous in his efforts to treat the ancients in every respect with justice, is not to be cited as an in- stance to the contrary. His position was utterly different from those of Bacon and Kant. Leib- nitz had not, like them, to create a new spirit, but to reform a new spirit that already existed, having emanated from Bacon and Descartes. This new spirit he wished to free from the one-sided- ness that was displayed in its exclusive and dis- dainful attitude towards antiquity; and thus his renovating philosophy involuntarily became a re-
BACON SUITED TO HIS OWN TIME. 397
storation of the ancient. This reformation was, at the same time, a rehabilitation.
That which in Bacon was right, and suited to the spirit of the times, is not so now. He might de- clare the philosophy of the past unpractical, and confirm this summary judgment by making a phi- losophy of the future. But it is at once wrong, and contrary to the spirit of the times, still to retain Bacon’s opinion of antiquity, and under the banner of his philosophy, to declare war against theory in general. Bacon’s philosophy itself (as, indeed, every philosophy is by its very nature) was atheory, and nothing else; it was the theory of the inven- tive mind. Nothing great, in the shape of inyen- tion, is attributable to Bacon; he was far less in- ventive than the German metaphysician, Leibnitz. If by practical philosophy we mean invention, Bacon was a mere theorist ; his philosophy was nothing but a theory of * practical philosophy.” Bacon did not wish to narrow theory, but to rein- vigorate it and to open for it a wider field of observation than it had ever had before. I do not know with what eyes any one can have read Bacon’s works to interpret their spirit in a nar- rower sense. Besides that manly vigour that feels itself called upon to achieve great deeds, and fully equal to its mission, these writings breathe the irresistible spirit of youth and genius,
398 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
in which a sense of something new is awakened ; and which, conscious of its own strength, every- where expresses its own convictions in plain and unvarnished terms. Not unfrequently does the calm thought speak in the language of imagina- tion; and the end that Bacon pursues — practical and generally useful as it is— often appears in his descriptions as a youthful ideal, accompanied by significant images and great examples. What charms us in Bacon, with peculiar fascination, enabling us not only to think, but also to feel with him, is, in addition to the weight of his own ideas, that freshly awakened passionate thirst for science which carries him along and pervades all his projects; and which, though he cautiously compels. it to bridle its energies, so as not to be borne headlong, he never commands to become extinct, or to be satisfied with little. No, the beverage desired by Bacon is pressed from num- berless grapes, though only from those that are fully matured and prepared. The Bacon that we find in his own writings, knows no bounds to human knowledge within the compass of the universe, no xe plus ultra, no pillars of Her- cules for the mind. These are his words, not ours; and had he thought differently, he would not have written his books on the dignity and advancement of the sciences. These works
EXTENSIVE VIEWS OF BACON. 399
afford the best proof of the wide extent of theory in Bacon’s mind; the best proof that he did not wish to limit and restrain it, but to reno- vate it and extend it to the boundaries of the uni- verse. His standard of practicability was not the mere utility of the bourgeois, but that generally human utility to which knowledge, as knowledge, belongs. In his dedication to the King of Eng- land*, he says: — ‘To your Majesty,-—it is proper and agreeable to be conversant not only in the transitory parts of good government, but in those acts also that are in their nature permanent and perpetual. Amongst the which, if affection do not transport me, there is not any more worthy than the further advancement of the world with sound and fruitful knowledge. For why should a few received authors stand up like Hercules’ columns, beyond which there should be no sailing or discovering, since we have so bright and benign a star as your majesty to conduct and pros- per us?”
This is not the Bacon that Mr. Macaulay would set up as one of the Hercules’ pillars of science; and here, in brief, is the distinction be- tween the two. What Bacon sought was new, and, rightly understood, is eternal. What at the
* In the second book of “ Advancement.” The passage also occurs in “ De Augmentis, II.” —J. O.
400 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
present day is desired by Macaulay and many others, who use the authority of Bacon, is not the new, but at most, the modern. The new is that which opposes itself to the old, and serves as a model for the future; in this sense, there is very little that is new in the world — the new is only the truth of extraordinary minds in extraordinary times. The modern is that which flatters the present, and gains the largest amount of suffrages from the public opinion of the day. As far as I can see, we have nothing new in art or science, nothing that we can oppose to the ancient, and hold up as a light to posterity; and to judge from appearances, all the real innovations of the present day occur and are sought in other fields, where, indeed, they are more required. That which, in our day, would pass for something new in art or science, is, in fact, nothing but an artificial, and therefore intrinsically unsound revivification of the old —an affected repetition of what has been. Its value is that of a theatrical intermezzo, which serves to amuse the multitude while the stage re- mains empty between the acts. The new is achieved by genius that is never guided by the multitude; the modern by the masses. Thus the materialism of the present day is modern; and akin to it and likewise modern are the cam- paigns that are carried on, amid loud applause,
PSEUDO-BACONISM. 401
against all the greatness of our past in art and science. Everybody who courts ignorant ap- plause has the word “practical” in his mouth; everybody, forsooth, will be practical; and so he is, provided he can thus pursue and attain his own ends. Only these interests of the present day, and of special coteries, have no right to appeal to Bacon, who, in science, had nothing in com- mon with them; and who, if he knew of such nar- row and mischievous prejudices, would doubtless have classed them — and very properly — among the “ Idola fori.” If, like Bacon, we consider prac- tical utility on a grand scale, measuring it not by individuals, but by the state of the world, theory becomes expanded of itself; and the passion for knowledge has no reason to fear that an arbitrary restraint will ever be imposed upon it in con- sequence of such a practical point of view.
The genuine mind of Bacon is a wholesome ex- ample for any time. After the purely theoretical labours in art and science have come, as it seems, to a stop for some time, the impulse to an activity and culture of general utility is revived with increased liveliness, philosophy seeks anew the exact sciences and experience, and her desire for knowledge is once more directed to the living objects of nature and history. The exact sciences
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402 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
are applied to public life, that they may stimu- late it to invention, or instruct and enlighten it. ' Thus the physical sciences fertilise history, the historical fertilise politics; everywhere an effort is revealed on the part of scientific theory to become useful, or, at any rate, generally intelligible. The departments of science vie with each other in con- tributing their aid to general culture and serving practical interests. Those among them all that contribute the most, are of the greatest value with regard to that culture that has general utility for its end; and this pre-eminence un- doubtedly belongs to the physical sciences, espe- cially those that by dint of mechanical and che- mical discoveries have elevated the inventive mind, and enabled it by new means of communi- cation and industry to give an entirely new form to ordinary life. Here the spirit of Bacon has imprinted upon the present deep traces that are not to be mistaken. Nay, the whole scientific energy of our times is Baconian in its tendency, and we can easily see why the augurs of the day once more evoke this name with increased urgency. We grant, that any attempt to oppose such a tor- rent, with a dam stronger than itself, would be futile indeed; but then, on the other hand, no one should attempt to convert the torrent itself into a
PSEUDO-BACONISM. 403
dam, and thus to petrify the spirit of Bacon into a Hercules’ pillar. Far from disregarding the example of Bacon, we would oppose a true to a fallacious example. The spirit of Bacon may, indeed, stand as a model for the present; but it should appear in all its greatness, not as a dis- figured or diminished counterfeit, such as the celebrated English historian gives us in his etch- ing. Bacon’s opposition to theory was in a double sense historical. He opposed an historical theory that belonged to the past; he sprang from an historical position that was to decide the turn- ing-point between the past and the future. This opposition was relative, and should not be made absolute ; being mainly adapted to a certain age, it should not be applied to ourselves and all ages without distinction. That which is an “ idol,” though an inevitable one, in Bacon, ought not to be converted into a truth for us; for the light of the Baconian mind would thus be turned into a misleading ignis fatuus, which, at the present day, no one would have been less inclined to follow than Bacon himself. Even Mr. Macaulay shows how little that opposition, which he stamps with the name of Bacon, is really grounded in his own mind. If we set every other consi-
deration aside, the very style shows, that where DD 2
404 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Bacon was in earnest, Macaulay is only in sport. Bacon had experienced within himself and actually felt his opposition to antiquity, and to that which he calls theoretical philosophy. The opposition lay in the very condition of his intellectual nature. Very different, even as to its expression, does this opposition appear in Macaulay, by whom it is reduced to an artificial antithesis, which with the readiest dexterity passes from one party-word to another. This is the language not of simple feeling, but of artificial imitation. Mr. Macaulay, in his essay, bears the same relation to Bacon that a rhetorical figure bears to a natural character. Voltaire would have stood in a similar relation to Shakespeare if he had wished to represent and imitate a Shakesperian character.
History itself has pronounced the final judg- ment in this matter, and the historical fact is the last negative instance that we shall oppose to Macaulay. Bacon’s philosophy is not an end of theories, but the starting-point of new theories, which were its necessary results in England and France, and of which some were practical in Mr. Macaulay’s sense of the word. Hobbes was the disciple of Bacon. His ideal of a state is the direct opposite of the Platonic ideal in every point save one-—namely, that it is an equally im-
PSEUDO-BACONISM. 405
practicable theory. Macaulay, however, terms Hobbes the most acute and powerful of human in- tellects. If, now, Hobbes was a practical philo- sopher, what becomes of Macaulay’s politics? If, on the other hand, Hobbes was not a practical philosopher, what becomes of Macaulay’s philo- sophy, that pays homage to the theorist Hobbes ?
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406 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
CHAP. XIII.
THE PROGRESS OF THE BACONIAN PHILOSOPHY.
SrrictLy speaking, philosophical schools are always the inheritors of systems. Where there are no systems, there is likewise no inheritance ; for this arises when the school takes in hand and further elaborates, formally or materially, the intel- lectual edifice* of the master, if this edifice is not already complete enough to be inhabited in peace and comfort. In modern philosophy such schools have been founded by Descartes, Leibnitz, Kant, and Hegel. The Baconian philosophy has not had a school in the same sense as these; the for- mation of a system belonged neither to its pur- pose nor its constitution. Not in its purpose; for Bacon was a declared foe to every mania for scientific sects and systems, well knowing the mischief that is done to scientific progress by the confinement of forms. Not in its constitu- tion ;. for this, like the mind of the founder, was
* The compound word, “ Lehrgebiude,” is commonly ren- dered “system ;” but to accommodate Dr, Fischer’s image it must be reduced to its elements.—J. O.
THE BACONIAN SCHOOL, 407.
not planned for the formation of a complete and fully developed theory ;—for the establishment of a doctrine simply to be handed down from master to pupil, and to be elaborated in the same scho- lastic spirit. Just as in the strict sense of the word, we cannot say there was a Baconian sys- tem, so we cannot say that —strictly speaking — there was a Baconian school.
The influence of this philosophy extends far beyond the sphere of the learned; it gives a ten- dency of the mind, which once taken, cannot be abandoned. Systems die out, for there is no per- manence in forms; but a necessary tendency of the mind, founded in human nature, is eternal. The nearer a philosophy stands to common life, the nearer its ideas correspond to actual wants, the less systematic it will probably be; but so much the more indestructible will be its weight, so much the more lasting will be its vitality. It “is impossible to banish experience from human science ;—-and equally impossible to banish ex- periment, the comparison of particular cases, the force of negative instances, and the observation of prerogative instances from the region of ex- perience. It is likewise impossible to deprive human life of the possessions that result from experimentalising experience — namely, natural
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408 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
science and invention; and if all this is impos~ sible, the Baconian philosophy stands secure for all ages.
EMPIRIA AND EMPIRISM.
But it is another question whether all science consists merely of experience, whether experi- ments constitute the whole of observation, whether all the wants of human life are to be satisfied — the theoretical by natural science, the practical by invention. If such is not the case, only one hemisphere of life is illumined by the Baconian philosophy. By this consideration the value of experience is not denied, but the worth of the Baconian philosophy is limited. Its limit does not consist in its exaltation and logical vindication of experience, but in its utter subjugation to expe-
rience, in its reduction of all human knowledge wwe wS
without exception to the level of experience. This limit, at the same time, expresses the cha- racter, the specific difference of the Baconian philosophy, which is valid as a special philosophy, and in this capacity will serve as a guide for a series of investigations, which describe* a whole period. Bacon has referred human knowledge to
* “ Describe,” in the sense in which a planet is said to de- scribe its orbit.—J. O.
PHILOSOPHY OF EXPERIENCE. 409
experience by rectifying the latter, and at the same time limits philosophy to experience, by elevating the latter into the principle of all sciences. Now, it is very possible to take the first of these steps without taking the second; and while we unconditionally agree with Bacon in the one case, we may have our doubts about the other, for it is one thing to seek experience, another to make experience a principle. Here is the difference between Empiria* and Empirism. . The former is experience as abundance and en- | joyment, the latter is experience as a principle, | which we may adopt and be very poor in true | experience after all. Experience of the world ° always enriches science and extends it to an im- measurable degree. This is the positive and lasting influence of Bacon. It is true that ex- perience of the world does not satisfy all the as- pirations after knowledge that are to be found in human nature, but then it stands in the way of none. On the other hand, the phzlosophy of expe- ( rience expressly opposes itself to all the specula- tive wants that experience of the world does not satisfy. It weakens the scientific interest in all
* It is needless to state that this word properly signifies neither more nor less than “ experience ;” but as Dr. Fischer uses it in addition to “ Erfahrung” in a definite sense, it must be retained —J. O.
410 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
things that are not objects of experience, and would most readily turn this interest into indif- ference. Thus, for instance, religious indifference was founded in the very character of the Baconian philosophy. Indispensable as experience is to human knowledge, the principle of experience is of dubious value in philosophy:—not merely be- cause it sets limits to the human mind, but because it is a principle assumed, though in itself doubt- ful—a dogma. Knowledge is only attainable by experience—such is the first axiom of the Baconian philosophy. Is even the truth of this axiom known by experience? and if so, by what experience ? Are we not compelled to ask: By what experience is the principle of experience guaranteed? How does experience vindicate it- self? Or are we not allowed, —nay, are we for- bidden to judge the philosophy of experience by its own maxims? This inevitable test was natu- rally applied after the philosophy of experience had gone through its historical phases; and re- sulted in the decision that experience must no longer be received as an axiom, — that the philo- sophy of experience cannot be dogmatical, but only sceptical. This decision does not weaken “ Empiria,” but Empirism.
PROGRESS OF EMPIRISM. 411
EMPIRISM.
The realistic philosophy has now arrived at its last exclusive point of view. It follows the Baconian spirit, not in that extended sense which, conformably to experience, would widen the com- pass of human knowledge, but in that narrow sense which would restrict philosophy; that is to say, all human knowledge to experience. Hence we may foresee that the Baconian sphere of vision will become narrower and more exclusive at every step; but that, likewise, in conformity to its principles, it will be more logically and rigidly defined. Indeed, it is the nature of the philo- sophy of experience to become more narrow, the more it accommodates itself to the logical fetters of its principles. We can indicate the charac- teristics that have been already foreshadowed in the Baconian philosophy, and which become clearer and sharper at every logical step.
If experience can alone pronounce a final de- cision in every case, nothing but what is actually perceived can be accepted as a real object, and this will also be an individuality. On this sup- position “ universals” and generic ideas must be rejected, or, at any rate, merely regarded as names and symbols, which contribute nothing to
412 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the knowledge of things, but only facilitate com- munication, ‘To use the language of the scholiasts, Empiricism regards “universals” not as realia, but as nominalia. Hence the whole philosophy of experience, together with Bacon, is nomi- nalistic in its views. Universal ideas are words, without objective foundation or anything objective to correspond to them; for the individual thing that we actually perceive is alone truly objective. Words are arbitrary signs, coined, like money, for the sake of intercommunication. Thus, language generally is to be looked upon as a work effected by human agreement, as a method of conver- sation; and from this point of view it is investi- gated and criticised by the Baconian philosophy. Indeed Bacon himself had already classed the public credit that is given to words, among the “Tdola fori.” With this view of generic ideas and of language, an anti-formalistic tendency is necessarily associated;—-an opposition to the Platonico-Aristotelian and scholastic philosophy, an aversion to any explanation of the world by final causes. Hence, as a matter of course, fol- lows a predilection for materialism, as opposed to formal philosophy ; for a mechanical explanation of things, as opposed to teleology ; for Democritus and Epicurus, as opposed to Plato and Aristotle. All these characteristics are foreshadowed in
ATOMISM. 413
Bacon, and are common to the upholders of realistic philosophy, who ever bear this Baconian stamp.
Now if things cannot be thought by means of intellectual and generic ideas, the symbols of which are words, nothing is left for us but to think by means of the senses and their impres- sions; and thus experience is limited to sensuous perception. “All knowledge is experience,” says Empirism. ‘Experience is only sensuous perception,” says Sensualism, which has its neces- sary foundation in the philosophy of experience, and already is clearly foreshadowed by Bacon.
And what are things-in-themselves*, if they exclude all generic universality, and are merely ob- jects of our sensuous perceptions? They must be the reverse of genera— individuals of a material kind—that is to say, atoms. According to its positive principles, the nominalistic view is also atomistic, The atomistic view belongs to the very character of a philosophy that deliberately limits itself to experimentalising experience; avoids the abstract ideas of the intellect ; approaches things themselves, instrument in hand, not to generalise the conceptions of bodies, but to dissect the bodies,
* It need scarcely be mentioned that “ Ding-an-sich” (thing in itself) is a Kantian expression used to denote a thing in its own nature, independent of our perceptions.—J. O.
—
414 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
and reduce them to their ultimate parts. This direction has been unequivocally taken even by Bacon himself; and the further the realistic philo- sophy leaves Bacon behind, so much the more definite does the atomistic view become; so much the more clearly, unreservedly, and exclusively, is materialism revealed. This proceeds so far, that it at last gives atomistic explanations even of space and time, which it declares to be composed of simple elementary particles.. The infinite divisibility of space and time is declared to be the greatest absurdity by the same thinker, who con- verts the Baconian philosophy into scepticism.
We shall find that the empirism founded by Bacon is heightened in its atomistic, sensualistic, and nominalistic tendencies, as it logically pro- eresses, and that at last it resolves itself into scepticism.
THE DEGREES OF DEVELOPMENT IN EMPIRISM.
These are the leading points of view taken by the thinkers of the Baconian age. We shall clearly and concisely bring forward the principal characteristics of this age, merely marking those points in the progress of the Baconian philosophy that may really be considered developments”,
* “ Fortbildungen ;” literally “ progressive formations, or elabo- rations.”"—J. O.
DEVELOPMENT OF BACONISM. 415
whether they fulfil requisitions that Bacon has made, or carry out inquiries that he has stimu- lated; I mean such requisitions and such problems as immediately belong to the philosophical prin- ciples themselves. All these developments of the philosophy of experience have their roots in Bacon. To these roots we especially direct our attention here; firstly because they have not been sufficiently regarded, and the later advocates of realistic philosophy have been far too readily con- sidered independent and -peculiar thinkers than they really were; whereas, if they are compared to Bacon, they are nothing of the sort, or, at any rate, only to a very limited extent. Secondly, because we cannot better appreciate and under- stand these later results than by deducing them from their natural and historical origin, and, as it were, drawing them forth by the root out of the Baconian philosophy. Bacon himself, when he speaks of the method of instruction, makes the excellent remark that we cannot teach sciences better than by laying bare their roots to the learners. *
Compare “ De Augm.” VI. 2.
416 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
I. Toe Aromism or Hopspes.
Ir we regard the Baconian philosophy in the direction which it took as opposed to antiquity and scholasticism, in the constitution which it adopted in conformity with that tendency, these points of view will appear most conspicuous: The sciences generally should be brought back to natural science as their foundation ; —natural science should be based upon pure experience, and this, again, upon the natural understanding. Bacon had declared that natural science is the great parent of all the sciences ; on this founda- tion, not only the physical disciplines, such as astronomy, optics, mechanics, medicine, &c., were to be renovated ; but, “* what will surprise many,” the humanistic also, such as morals, politics, and logic. This wasa demand made by Bacon,—and, indeed, he was compelled to make it by the very nature of his philosophy ; — but which he himself only hinted at in morals, left unfulfilled in politics, while he expressly declared it was not to be ful- filled in the case of religion. Here isa gap within the precincts of the Baconian philosophy ; and this consequently is the problem that has first to be solved. Bacon wished to be silent on the subject of politics; and religion, according to him, was to
THOMAS HOBBES, 417
have nothing to do with natural knowledge. If we accurately formulise this problem, we shall find that in its broadest sense it insists that the moral world shall be explained on naturalistic principles, ——that it shall be based on the natural state of man, and deduced from that basis. Hence we have the questions: “ Which is the natural state of man? How does the moral order of things result from it?” or, to speak the lan- guage of Bacon, *‘ How does the ‘status civilis’ follow from the * status naturalis’ of man?” This problem is solved by Thomas Hobbes, the imme- diate successor and disciple of Bacon.
He solves it altogether in the atomistic spirit of the Baconian philosophy. He becomes the politician of this tendency, and on political grounds detests the philosophers of antiquity with a violence still greater than that with which, on logical and physical grounds, they are opposed by Bacon, He wished to banish Plato and Aristotle from his state, as mischievous to the common weal, just as Plato from his republic would have banished
4Homer. In Hobbes the atomistic and nominal-
istic view is sharply and unscrupulously expressed,
and that in reference to politics, All generic
ideas are to him mere names and words; and these
are nothing but conventional expedients for mutual
intercourse. ‘* Words,” says Hobbes, “are wise EE
418 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
men’s counters, they do but reckon by them; but they are the money of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas (Aquinas).”* Thinking is judging; judgments are propositions; propositions consist of words; words are counters. Hence, with Hobbes, thinking is the same as reckoning.
l. THE STATE AS AN ABSOLUTE POWER.
Hobbes’s view of nature, and also of the natural condition of mankind, was purely atomistic. From these principles he deduced the necessity of a natural contract; upon this contract he founded the state, to which he made morals and religion unconditionally subordinate. His conception of morals and religion was purely political, his ex- planation of the state itself purely naturalistic, — that is to say, it was founded on a natural con- tract, which was the necessary consequence of the natural condition of man. Thus that which Bacon either could not or would not effect was effected by Hobbes, — namely, the reduction of the whole moral world, together with the state, to natural laws. The state, in the worldly-political sense of the word, was to him the absolute and om- nipotent total of all human community, of all
* “ Leviathan,” Pt. I, chap. iv.
THE “ LEVIATHAN.” 419
public religion and morality. Hence he calls this state the “mortal god” or the “ great Leviathan,” which recklessly swallows up individuals. His principal work is entitled “ Leviathan, or the Matter, Form, and Power of the Ecclesiastical and Political State.” Humanity, as the sum total of all community, is a product of political right, which, in its turn, is a product of natural right. Hence Hobbes unconditionally rejects the eccle- siastical state, and, likewise unconditionally, in- sists on the temporal authority in the state as an absolute power, altogether unlimited and illimit- able. From this point of view Hobbes necessarily attacks every religion that is independent of the state, or — what is still worse — would be an ab- solute state itself, to which the political should be subordinate. He is the most violent opponent of the Puritans and Independants, on the one side, and of the pope, the hierarchy, and the Jesuits, on the other. His “ Leviathan” is, at the same time, directed against Cromwell — who, with the aid of an unfettered religion, had just overthrown the monarchy in England —and against Cardinal Bellarmin, whose books in de- fence of the papal power he expressly refutes.
BE 2
420 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM,.
2. MORALITY AND RELIGION AS A PRODUCT OF THE STATE.
Religion and morality, properly so called, are, according to Hobbes, only possible through the state, for it is by the state that they are first made. By religion Hobbes understands the general belief in a Deity, and a public worship of Him; by morality, the public system of ethics. It is only through the character of a community that faith becomes a religion, and the moral sense morality.* Hence it follows, as a matter of course, . that without human community there is neither religion as acommon worship of God, nor morality as a common duty. |
But the natural condition of man excludes all community. In this, men are merely natural forces, every one of which seeks to maintain and augment itself at the expense of all the others. Here, as so many unrestrained atoms, the rude impulses and desires, the selfish passions and emotions, predominate, and necessarily change the natural condition of man into a war of all with all. The selfishness of the individual alone decides the value of things, and determines the
* By the use of the word “ Sittenlehre,” in addition to ‘* Moral,” an appearance of tautology, unavoidable in English, is avoided in German.—J. O.
NATURAL SELFISHNESS, 421
category to which they belong. The object of a selfish desire is termed good; that of a selfish aversion is termed bad. I seek what is useful, Tavoid what is hurtful, to— myself. Thus private interest is the sole arbiter as to what is good and what is bad; these definitions are merely relative, according to the standard of individuals, and are as various as individuals themselves. ‘ Nothing,” says Hobbes, “ is in itself good or bad, beautiful or ugly.” There is, therefore, no natural morality ; or, what is the same thing, the natural element of all so-called morality is human egoism. This is the concise proposition which, as the funda- mental theme of their ethics, is carried out by the materialistic moralists of the Anglo-Gallic enlightenment,” such as Mandeville and Hel- vetius. They take root in Hobbes.
The natural man is the selfish man. He only seeks to maintain himself and his own power, and, consequently, to increase the latter. He loves whatever promotes this power, hates what- ever limits and imperils it. What he hates he attacks and persecutes; what he cannot attack he fears. Fear is impotent hatred; it is flight in the place of combat; it is a consequence of the inability to carry on and endure the fight. Hence the natural man hates and attacks the assailable
powers that threaten his own; he fears and flies EE 3
422 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
those which are unapproachable, — the superior forces of nature. Here, with the ability of com- petition, the fight ends likewise; mighty nature with her terrors disarms man, and he stands timid and impotent before her. He does not know how to attack her. Why? Because he is unac- quainted with the causes of her terrible pheno- mena. If he knew them, he would seek to devise means by which he might conquer the dangerous powers, and invention would take the place of fear. But, as he is not acquainted with their causes, a fear of mysterious, unapproachable, de- moniac powers results from his ignorance; and this fear produces religion. MJeligion is a child of fear, which, in its turn, is a child of ignorance. This proposition shows the opinion of religion held by the philosophy of experience, when this is consistent with its own premisses; it is that favourite theme of the Voltairian enlightenment that is repeated with such especial satisfaction by the materialists of the Anglo-Gallican school. The explanation of religion was thus made to coincide so completely with the negation of religion, that nothing was left for the “ cultivated world” but to scoff at religion altogether. As with Epicurus the Gods reside in the interstices of the world, so with Hobbes does religion exist in the interstices of physical science. Bacon had utterly excluded
IRRELIGION OF HOBBES. 423
religion from the natural knowledge of things; and Hobbes does the same. But Bacon based religion upon the supernatural revelation of God, whereas Hobbes bases it upon the natural igno- rance of man, This religion based upon igno- rance and blind fear is nothing but superstition. Thus religion is superstitious even in its natural origin; or, in other words, there is no such thing as natural religion.
Such, according to Hobbes, is the position of morality and religion. The principle of natural morality is human selfishness — the opposite of all morality. ‘The principle of natural religion is superstitious fear — the opposite of all religion. The two propositions are closely and logically connected. All who have endeavoured to deduce morality from selfishness have deduced religion from fear, and vice versd.
By the conversion of the natural condition of man into the state, his life, from being atomistic, becomes social and gregarious. The state by public laws declares what is good and bad for all. It thus marks the distinction between just and unjust actions, and likewise determines what is to be believed by all, what Deity is to be wor- shipped, and in what form. Thus the political sanction, the law of the state, alone pronounces
the final decision between good and bad, between EE 4
424 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
religion and superstition; the law of the state alone determines what is universally useful, and should be universally revered, and thus constitutes both morality and religion. A legal action 1s good, an illegal action bad; the legal worship of the Deity is religion, the illegal, superstition. In the natural condition of man, according to Hobbes, everything is bad that injures me, every faith is superstitious that is not mine. In the state, on the contrary, the fear of such invisible beings as are publicly sanctioned by the legislature is alone religion; all else is superstition. Thus Hobbes plainly defines superstition as “ the fear of invi- sible beings that are not publicly recognised.” The distinctions between legal and illegal, and all that belongs to them—namely, the distinctions be- tween good and evil, religion and superstition — are as absolute as the state itself, That distinc- tion between legality and morality, upon which Kant rested the whole weight of his ethics, does not exist from the point of view taken by Hobbes, who recognises only one standard for the worth of actions,—namely, the public ae ©The public law is the citizen’s only conscience.’ > There is with Hobbes no “ tribunal,” either within or without the state, stronger than the state itself; the state is absolute.
THE NATURAL CONTRACT. 425
38, THE STATE AS A PRODUCT OF NATURE.
But how does this atomistic state result from the atomistic condition of nature? The answer is, by a naturally legal contract. Thus the first question is divided into two: How does a natural contract, in any form whatever, result from the natural condition of man? How does the absolute state, however constituted, result from the natural contract ?
The natural condition of man is a war of all against all, which necessarily arises, because the human forces, by their very nature, are opposed in hostility to each other. But this very war, in the most formidable manner, threatens every indi- vidual with the loss of life and happiness; it is injurious to every one, and, consequently, repug- nant to that law of nature by which every indi- vidual instinctively seeks the enjoyment of life, and fears death. The law of nature counsels every one to seek his own safety; and this en- joins every one to cease a war by which, to the highest degree, his safety is imperilled. It says, “ Do not fight any longer, but let every one, for his own advantage, agree with all the rest.” For this purpose, all those conditions that disturb the general peace must be abandoned. Those condi-
426 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
tions lie in the natural right by which every in- dividual is permitted, nay, enjoined, to increase his own power at the expense of the others. Con- sequently all must abandon their natural rights, or, what is the same thing, transfer them to a third party. The “renuntiation” is, at the same time, a “translation.” It takes place on all sides, because it is required by everybody; it is re- ciprocal, because every one parts with his own right on the sole condition that others shall do the like. This reciprocal transfer of rights forms the contract; and the contract constitutes the essence of the state in human society. It is com- manded by the natural law of necessity, and is, therefore, to be implicitly carried out. Its object is the coexistence of persons in peace and secu- rity. All the conditions required for its existence are natural laws, the sum total of which consti- tutes, according to Hobbes, the only real morality.
The right, once transferred, is irrevocable; con- sequently the social contract itself can neither be rescinded nor altered. This contract is the foun- dation of the state, and holds the position in politics that is held by axioms in science. To contradict an axiom is absurd; and, in like manner, it is absurd and also wrong to rescind the contract that has once been established. That it may be impossible to commit such a wrong, the contract
POLITICAL ABSOLUTISM OF HOBBES. 427
must not merely consist of words, but must be armed with a power that imperiously requires and, in cases of necessity, compels recognition, — that can preserve its consistency, and, in cases of ne- cessity, defend it. To the society formed by virtue of this contract, all the rights and powers of in- dividuals are transferred. Society wields absolute power, and thus forms the state, which unites all rights and all power within itself. The power of the state is sole, unlimited, indivisible; it can neither be divided nor limited. In the pre- sence of the state, all are subjects. The state alone rules, and is alone free. The others obey, they must do, what is enjoined by the laws. * Their freedom,” says Hobbes, “ exists only in that which is not prohibited by the laws.” The state is absolute.
Now, this all-powerful state, this “people” to whom every individual is a subject—in what form does it exist? who is the state? Accord- ingly as the power is lodged with one person or many, the form of the state may be distinguished as monarchical, aristocratic, or democratic; but whatever be the form, the power of the state is, in all cases, absolute and indivisible. According to Hobbes, the legislative must not be separated from the governing power, nor the judicial power from the other two. All the powers are united
428 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
in a single hand, and are best and most natu- rally united in a single person. This absolute monarchy, or the absolute state in the form of monarchy, is, according to Hobbes, the normal condition of polity. “Society,” “community,” “‘pneople,” “state,” “king,” are identical expres- sions. The king is the people, he is the whole; he concentrates within himself all the civil power: it is therefore logically impossible for a people to rebel against the king, for the king, in that case, would rebel against himself. Hence, in this model state, projected by Hobbes, the king might say, with Louis XIV., “ L’état c’est moi.”
It is a natural consequence of the point of view taken by Hobbes in this theory of a state, that he most strenuously opposes the political principles of antiquity, of the middle ages, and of modern times ,—the first, because they are republican; the second because they are partly feudal, partly hierarchic; the third, because they are constitu- tional. As opposed to antiquity, Hobbes is in favour of absolute monarchy; as opposed to the middle ages, he is the decided adversary of feu- dality, of the rule of priests and nobles; as opposed to modern times, he is an absolutist. As Bacon directs his blows against the Aristotelian Organon, so does Hobbes assail the Aristotelian politics. Both lay to the charge of Aristotle
POLITICAL ABSOLUTISM OF HOBBES. 429
the worst evils with which they are acquainted. Bacon makes him responsible for the wretched condition of science, and the word-wisdom of the English universities; Hobbes, for the wretched condition of the state, the destruction of civil order by the revolution, the English civil war, and the execution of Charles I. He desires that the republican writings of the Greeks and Romans should not be read in monarchical states, for they breed a “ tyrannophobia, which is as bad as hydro- phobia.” The advocates of the hierarchy, espe- cially the Jesuits, attack Hobbes as an atheistical politician. Montesquieu and Kant attack him as an absolutist. They make civil liberty depend upon the separation of the powers of the state, whereas Hobbes considers that the state is imperilled by every separation of the kind, and will concede no other liberty than that which is not prohibited by the monarch. Every doctrine in favour of the limitation of the monarchical power is, in his opinion, revolutionary. The royal power should not be limited by anything; no moral conscience, no religious freedom, are to prevail against it; no private rights are to be considered inviolable, so far as the monarchy is concerned. The king, as the embodied law, sanctions the public faith, and is the state and church in one person. What this church prescribes, must be believed in blind obedience
430 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
without investigation. If this church is pleased to sanction the Bible, the Bible is to be taken as the rule of faith without limitation, or so much as a scruple. It depends on this church alone what scriptures are to be deemed holy or canonical —in this church, which is the state, that is to say, the king. Thus does Hobbes understand a Christian state. There is the king, who gives the force of law to the articles of the Christian faith; there is the people, that acknowledges and follows as its religious code the articles that the king has sanc- tioned. With Hobbes, religious faith is nothing more than political obedience, equally uncon- ditional, cold, andexternal. ‘To his own infidelity he gives vent by converting religious faith into a state-edict — that is to say, a royal command; we are to believe not from conviction, but from sub- ordination. With this subordination he is in earnest; but on the inner side of faith, on the conviction of the believer himself, he lays no stress at all. When he talks of it, he scarcely conceals his own coldness and indifference. The simile which is used on one occasion by Hobbes, to illustrate obedience in faith, is highly charac- teristic. He rejects all rational criticism of the canonical writings, on the ground that “ divine mysteries must not be chewed, but swallowed whole, like pills.” Bacon compares the articles
HOBBES AND ROUSSEAU. 431
of faith to the rules of a game; Hobbes compares them to pills: such is the hollowness, and in truth the profanity, of both in their internal relation to that religious faith to which they would give external support. The essential point is, that both accept faith through the medium of worldly policy.
Though he proceeds on similar hypotheses, J. J. Rousseau, in his “ Contrat Social,” appears as the very antipode of Hobbes. Both agree in the theory of a contract, by means of which they found the state, and put an end to the natural con- dition of man. Both would deduce the « status civilis” from the “ status naturalis” by means of a contract, which converts (isolated) individuals into a society. Both take the same atomistic view of the natural condition of man. But here Rousseau differs in a peculiar manner from Hobbes, both by his nearer apprehension of the natural con- dition of man, and his nearer definition of the form of state resulting from a contract. Accord- ing to Rousseau men are not enemies by nature ; hence in a natural condition there is no war of all against all, nor, as in war, does the greatest right consist of the greatest ‘might—in a word, the right of the strongest does not prevail. On such a right alone does Hobbes base the natural right of absolute monarchy, which rests upon a contract
432 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
that perpetuates the right of the strongest. With Hobbes, the contract is really on one side only; with Rousseau, it is truly reciprocal. With the former, all part with their rights, which they consign to an individual, who from that moment is alone all-powerful. ‘ Men,” says Rousseau, “according to the theory of Hobbes, give them- selves away for nothing; and they turn a natural condition to a state, as the Greek heroes took refuge in the cave of the Cyclops.” This state is, according to Hobbes’s own expression, the all-absorbing Leviathan. Rousseau, on the other hand, would, by his contract, unite all to equal rights and equal duties; his social contract forms a state the power of which is lodged in the entire ‘people, which with him consists not of a single individual, but of all. Hence his form of govern- ment is democratic. A state that gives equal rights follows from a contract that gives equal rights; and this results, according to Rousseau, from the natural condition of man. With views that are similarly atomistic, and necessarily lead to the theory of a political contract, Rousseau is, in all essential points, diametrically opposite to Hobbes; for he takes an opposite view of the natural condition of man, of the contract itself, and of the principle of community. With Hobbes, the natural condition of man is a wild chaos of
HOBBES AND VOLTAIRE. 433
contending forces; with Rousseau it is a paradise of happy and peaceful creatures; with the former it is barbarous, with the latter it is idyllic. Rousseau’s state bears to that of Hobbes the same relation that material nature bears to the terrible Leviathan. We do not stop to inquire how far the ideas of both are remote from the truth. This point of difference between Hobbes and Rousseau is important, and opens a further view into the age of Anclo-Gallic « enlightenment.” By his difference from Hobbes, Rousseau is op- posed to the French philosophes, who are the intel- lectual progeny of Hobbes and Locke. Herein consists the strong contrast between Rousseau, on the one side, and Voltaire, Helvetius, Con-. dillac, Diderot, and, above all, the Holbachians (as Rousseau loves to call them), in whom ma- terialism reaches its culminating point, on the other. Here, in the very midst of the Anglo- Gallic “ enlightenment,” arises a mighty reaction. Consistently with his own notions of nature and the natural condition of man, Rousseau finds in nature the source of morality and religion; he does not, like Hobbes and Helvetius, find the source of morality in selfishness, but in love; he does not, like Hobbes and Voltaire, find the source of religion in blind fear, but in pious admiration. To his eyes nature appears, not as a ey
434 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
blind mechanism of forces, but as a moral, loving being, which unites men in brotherhood, instead of setting them against each other as enemies. His view of nature was intended to be of a moral-reli- — gious character, and was therefore to restore natural morality and religion in opposition to the prevail- ing “enlightenment.” Here Rousseau, to a certain extent, unites himself with the German “ enlight- enment,” which tends towards Kant; or, rather, German “ enlightenment” unites itself with him. Nearest akin to Hobbes is Spinoza, on whose political theory the English philosopher probably exercised an immediate influence. The “ Levia- than” of Hobbes and the Political Treatise of Spinoza agree completely in their fundamental principles; but, in results, Spinoza’s reason in- clines him to the democratic, his wishes to the aristocratic form of government, whereas Hobbes, both from theory and inclination, chooses absolute monarchy. In politics Spinoza holds the middle position between Hobbes and Rousseau; in his view of the natural condition of man he is en- tirely on the side of Hobbes. Spinoza does not, any more than Hobbes, discover a source of religion and morality in nature; like Hobbes, he denies both on natural grounds, while, by Rousseau, both, on natural grounds, are affirmed. Hobbes’s conception of the nature of the Deity was likewise similar to Spinoza’s. The Deity was to
IOBBES AND SPINOZA. 435
be conceived utterly without human analogy, determined by no limit, humanised by no pas- sion; all anthropomorphism, in short, was to be avoided. ‘The Diyine will is power; and this power is unlimited action. “ Of God we can only say, in truth, that He is.”* If we place Bacon by the side of Descartes, we may aptly compare Hobbes with Spinoza. Whatever there is of Spinozism in the Baconian philosophy is most clearly expressed by Hobbes.t
If we consider Hobbes in reference to Bacon, we must say that he has solved a problem, pro- posed by the latter in his Organum as entirely new, uncommon, and necessary: he has laid a physical foundation of morality and politics. And, indeed, Hobbes solved the problem in such a manner as to make morality and religion sub- servient to politics, and to reduce them to the laws of nature.
II. Tae SENSUALISM OF LOCKE.
Bacon had insisted that the laws of nature could only be discovered by experience, and that
* The words of Hobbes are, “ For there is but one name to signify our conception of His nature, and that is, I am.”— Leviathan, Il. 31.—J. O.
t On the subject of Spinoza’s politics, and its relation to Hobbes, compare my “Geschichte der neuern Philosophie,”
vol. ii— Author’s Note. FF 2
“a
436 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
experience could only be attained by the natural understanding. Thus the question remained, What is the naturat understanding? Bacon him- self was chiefly interested in the question, How does experience arrive at invention? This in- quiry stands in the foreground of his philosophy ; the “ Novum Organum” is devoted to it. In the background arises the question, How do we arrive at experience? how does experience result from the human mind? Or what is the human mind, if its knowledge, as Bacon has explained, only consists in experience? This is the problem solved by John Locke in his “ Essay concerning Human Understanding.” Locke takes root in Bacon; but, as far as I have seen, those who treat of Locke have not sufficiently recognised his dependent position with regard to Bacon — the historical root of his philosophy. With respect to Bacon, he is, indeed, far less independent than Hobbes. Hobbes has complied with Bacon’s boldest requisitions, and, among all the philoso- phers of the Baconian race, is unquestionably the most original. Locke has merely carried out what Bacon has already explained and promulgated throughout his works. Hobbes found in the Baconian philosophy a mere cursory hint for the establishment of his views, whereas Locke for his views found a frequently repeated pattern.
Whetinnetom he cr psanta fro tm tof j
BACON AND LOCKE. 437
1. THE MIND AS A TABULA RASA.
Bacon had often and expressly declared that the human understanding, to think correctly, must completely get rid of all preconceived notions. From these he had not made a single exception. Thus, according to him, there was not a single notion of which the understanding was unable to get rid, not one that was firmly rooted or innate in the mind. All notions must be first acquired by experience; therefore we have not, or ought not to have, a single notion prior to experience. Thus the mind without experience is destitute of all notions, is perfectly void, like a tabula rasa, This, I think, follows by very simple and evident reasoning, from the propositions of Bacon ; and the conclusion thus drawn forms the starting- point of Locke.
To the question, What is the human mind prior to experience? Locke replies, It is a tabula rasa; for there are no “innate ideas.” Ba- con, in strictness, must have given the same answer to the same question ; or, rather, he ac- tually gave it. It is scarcely necessary to deduce Locke’s principle from Bacon by a course of rea- . soning ; we can find the principle, even verbally expressed, in Bacon himself. The understanding must lay aside all preconceived notions — must,
according to the very words of Bacon, clear itself FF 3
438 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of all notions whatever, render itself perfectly pure and empty, return to its original, natural, childlike state. Not only according to the spirit, but according to the letter, of Bacon’s words, the human understanding in its original state is desti- tute of all notions whatever. He himself calls the understanding, thus purified, “ intellectus abrasus;” he himself compares the mind to a thrashing-floor, which must be cleansed, levelled, and swept out. In this labour consists the nega- tive task of his philosophy ; the first book of his * Novum Organum” is expressly occupied with the restoration of this “‘ expurgata, abrasa, equata mentis arena.” What Bacon calls the empty floor, is the empty tablet of Locke; the thought is the same, and the words are essentially the same likewise. Bacon says that the human mind should be made like an empty tablet. Locke says that it is this by nature. In fact, it must be, if Bacon does not require an impossibility. What Bacon insists upon, as the condition precedent of his philosophy, is made by Locke the principle of his,—namely, the non-existence of “ innate ideas.” Experience is acquired knowledge; “innate ideas” are not acquired, but original, naturally inherent knowledge. The philosophy of experience must, as a matter of course, deny “innate ideas.” The denial is expressed by Bacon, and repeated by Locke with a great number of arguments.
* INNATE IDEAS.” 439
Hence the reason is apparent why Locke is commonly regarded as the adversary par excel- lence of “innate ideas.” It does not merely con- sist in the fact that Bacon is less generally known. The most important contest that has been carried on respecting “innate ideas,” is associated with the name of Locke. ‘‘ Innate ideas” are affirmed by Descartes and Leibnitz, denied by Bacon and Locke. Locke opposed Descartes, Leibnitz op- posed Locke, each party defending a theory that it had not founded, but adopted — Leibnitz the Cartesian, Locke the Baconian, They are, there- fore, to be regarded as the champions that come forward for and against the doctrine of “ innate ideas,” though, in other respects, the relation of Leibnitz to Descartes is altogether different from that of Locke to Bacon. Against Bayle, Leib- nitz wrote the most popular and exoteric of his works, the “ Théodicée ;” against Locke, the most profound and esoteric, the ‘* Nouveaux Essais sur YEntendement Humain.”
Locke, in attacking Descartes, opposes all “ in- nate ideas,” both theoretical and practical. In the human mind there are no innate laws, either of the thought or of the will, neither axioms nor maxims; therefore there is no natural know- ledge, no natural morality, no natural religion. Locke, conformably with the Baconian method,
FF 4
440 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
confutes in every case by means of “negative instances.” He says that, if there are innate ideas, all men must have them, whereas expe- rience shows that most men know nothing of the
ec,
Fhurtd
neo“ | axioms of contradiction and identity —indeed, ~~, never acquire a knowledge of them in the whole p»ee» course of their lives. Consequently there are no
Wav innate ideas, and the human mind is, by nature, » &< jn every respect empty.
2. THE ORIGIN OF KNOWLEDGE.
Hence it follows that all the cultivation and repletion of the mind —as there is none by nature —is produced gradually. But from original emptiness nothing can proceed. Hence human culture arises solely from a continued intercourse with the world, under external influences; it is a product of experience and education; it is ac-
— quired*, as it is not original, the result of con- ditions external to ourselves. The mode in which human knowledge arises is, with Locke, not a “generatio ab ovo,” as with Leibnitz, but a “generatio xquivoca.” As, according to this physiological theory, the conditions from which an animate being results are not themselves animate, so, with Locke, the conditions from
* «Tst eine Gewordene "—-yiyveru. We have not a precise equivalent in English.—J. O.
HOBBES AND LOCKE. 441
which knowledge results are not themselves knowledge. There is no natural knowledge, in the sense of something originally given, but only a natural history of human knowledge, as some- thing gradually produced. To pursue this is the peculiar office of Locke’s philosophy, which de- scribes the natural history of the human under- standing, after it has shown that the natural understanding without history —that is to say, without intercourse with the world, without ex- perience and education—is altogether empty, a tabula rasa. In this character, Locke shows us unquestionably his descent from Bacon, his affinity and analogy with Hobbes.
Hobbes teaches the natural origin of the state, Locke that of knowledge, both as a generatio equivoca. ‘The former deduces the state from conditions that are not a state, nor even analogous to a state, but rather the very opposite; the latter deduces knowledge from conditions that are not knowledge, or even preformations of knowledge, but bear the same relation to it that emptiness bears to repletion. Hobbes takes the natural condition of mankind as his starting-point ; Locke, the natural condition of the human mind. This ** status naturalis” —compared, in the one case, with the state, in the other with knowledge—is with both a tabula rasa,
442 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
3. KNOWLEDGE AS A PRODUCT OF PERCEPTION. SENSATION AND REFLECTION,
The elements of all our knowledge are repre- sentations or “ideas.” There are no innate ideas; therefore all ideas are received from without, or perceived. We perceive that which takes place either within ourselves or externally to ourselves ; hence perception is external or internal, or both together; the former is termed by Locke sensa- tion, the latter reflection. These are the natural sources of all our notions, the canals of the per- ceptions, by means of which representations are brought to the mind. Thus the blank tablet of the understanding is written upon.
When our notions are derived* through perception, they are simple; when they are de~ rived from simple notions, they are complex. Hence in the whole sphere of the human mind there is not a single notion, the elements of which are not perceptions. “ The soul,” says Locke, “is like a dark vault that receives beams of light through a few chinks, and is able to re- tain them.” Our knowledge arises from complex notions, these from simple notions, and these, again, from perception. The simple notions, as they are derived from sensation, reflection, or both
* Te, immediately.—J. O.
4 LOCKE’S DIVISION OF ‘* IDEAS.” 443
together, may be divided accordingly. They may also be divided accordingly as they arise from one sense alone, or several senses together. The impenetrability of bodies is, for instance, per- ceptible by the touch alone; it is, therefore, a simple “ idea of sensation ” arising from one sense alone. The motion of bodies is a change of place ; extension is a definite occupation of space. Bodies must be felt; their figure and change of place must be seen. Hence motion, extension, space are simple “ ideas of sensation” which result from more than one sense — from sight and touch. Thinking and willing are internal motions of the soul. Hence they are ever perceptible by reflection, and are, consequently, “simple ideas of reflection.” Joy and pain are excitements of the soul, occasioned by an external impression. Hence they are perceived by reflection and sensa- tion together, and are “simple ideas” arising from both.
We never perceive the intrinsic nature of things, but only their outward manifestation and qualities. As all knowledge is a product of the perception, Locke is forced to declare that we can only know the qualities, never the intrinsic nature of things. Thus the philosophy of experience, having reasoned itself into sensualism, decries metaphysics, and in its own manner anticipates the
444 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
negative result of the Critical Philosophy.* Here is the point of agreement between Locke and Kant, the point of difference between Locke and Bacon, who had allowed the existence of metaphysics. Metaphysics profess to be the knowledge of the substance of things. Substance is the fundamental idea of metaphysics. What is substance? Not an innate or original idea, for, according to Locke, there are none; neither is it a simple idea, for substance, as a thing-in-itself (Ding-an-sich) is not perceived; hence this idea is composed of simple ideas, is a creature of our understanding, a merely nominal, not a real being. The objective some- thing indicated by the word “ substance ” remains dark ; it is the unknown and unknowable essence of things. We know not the substance of spirit —of the body —of Deity; or, to express these results of Locke in the language of Kant, there is no rational Psychology, Cosmology, or Theology. However, Locke was neither critical enough, nor strict enough, to refrain from every more definite expression respecting the concealed sub- stance of things. In psychology he is almost a materialist, in theology a Deist. In the former he plants the germ of that materialistic doctrine of the soul, that is afterwards adopted by the
* This phrase, when used by German philosophical writers, always denotes the philosophy of Kant.
THEOLOGY OF LOCKE. 445
French philosophy; in the latter he continues the Deism of Bacon, and commences the series of English Deists. Locke was consistent in doubting the immateriality of the soul, and in declaring, with a significant “perhaps,” that it is material. For he conceived the human mind as a blank tablet, which was written on from without, and therefore, in truth, an impressionable thing, which puts on a corporeal nature. Hence arose his controversy with Bishop Stillingfleet, who regarded Locke’s doctrine of the soul as a gross heresy. Hence he was declared to be a decided materialist by opposite parties — by Stillingfleet and Voltaire. This psychological hypothesis of Locke was in evident contradiction to his deistical principles. In theology Locke took for his founda- tion the very point which he had doubted in his psychology, basing his proof of the existence of the Deity, upon the thinking —that is, the spiritual nature of the human soul. The proof, concisely expressed, is as follows: — There are spirits; therefore (as their cause) there must be an eternal spirit, since the spiritual cannot proceed from the spiritless, the thinking from the non- thinking. Either —thus reasoned Locke with great acuteness,— either there is no thinking being at all, or a thinking being existed from all eternity. By thus reasoning he founded a rational theology
446 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
which might be transcended, but was not to be contradicted by positive revelation. He denied that that which was repugnant to reason was worthy of belief, that revelation was to be ac- cepted against the evidence of reason. Thus he rejected the proposition of Tertullian that Bacon had confirmed.
Locke was, however, compelled in strictness to adhere to his assertion, that there is no knowledge of the intrinsic nature of things, and that all metaphysics professing anything of the kind amount to mere word-wisdom. The only knowledge is of the qualities of things, whether of ourselves or of external bodies. Is this knowledge objective or not? In other words, among the qualities capable of being known, are there any that belong to the things, apart from our perception of them? Objective qualities belong to things in themselves (Dinge an sich); other qualities belong only to things perceived, and are consequently relative; that is to say, they are qualities of things in relation to our- selves. Locke calls the former “ primary,” the latter “ secondary.” Hence the question is, are there are any primary qualities?
It is certain that within ourselves there are mental representations and emotions of the will, without any perception of them on our part.
PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES. 447
Thinking and willing are therefore primary quali- ties of the human soul. It is likewise certain that bodies derive some of their qualities only through our perception of them, In themselves they are neither sour nor sweet, but first become so when we taste them; in themselves they are neither fra- grant nor the reverse, but first become so through our sense of smell. These qualities are, as well as sounds and colours, secondary. But that which we feel corporeally does not exist in our sense of touch alone, that which we feel and see does not exist solely in our perception; there are objective perceptions to which real qualities of external bodies correspond, and such are impenetrability (or solidity) and extension, figure and mobility. All secondary qualities, according to Locke, must be deduced from these primary qualities, —that is to say, from the form, number, and motion of minute particles. Locke, therefore, desired that all the qualities of bodies should be mathematically and mechanically explained; and such an explanation was given by Newton. Here Locke’s atomistic view is most plainly revealed; and from this may his theory of primary qualities be explained. He would not allow that there were any qualities in bodies but those that belong to atoms, — viz. solidity, extension, and mobility; and he there- fore could not concede to physics any but a mathematical and mechanical explanation. To
448 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
explain a thing is to trace it to its causes, or to discover the natural causal connection of phe- nomena. Substance is, with Locke, a general idea, a mere nominal being —a word; causality, on the other hand, is a real relation.
If we compare Locke with Bacon, we find that he has given a psychological explanation of expe- rience; and that he has explained it, in conformity with Baconian principles, from sensuous percep- tion. He has defended the Baconian against the Cartesian principles, and expressed the philosophy of experience in the more definite and narrower form of sensualism. The empirical is with Locke identical with the sensuous; and this is the limit- ing criterion of human knowledge. The under- standing never comprehends the sensible. That which cannot be known by the senses, cannot be known at all. Sensuous perception is the root, and sensible things are the sole objects of human knowledge. Of things themselves only the quali- ties—not the substance—can be known; and of ' these qualities, only some are objective and be- long to the intrinsic nature of things. Thus, after Locke has explained and limited experience from a sensualistic point of view, human know- ledge is reduced to a very small residue of ob- jective elements. Nothing objective can be known, but the primary qualities of bodies, and the causal
SENSUALISM AND SCEPTICISM. 449
connection of phenomena. All else is either not to be known at all—as the intrinsic nature of things, —or is mere sensuous perception — as the secondary qualities of bodies. This is the exact) ésum total of Locke’s philosophy. The question now remains, whether a strictly sensualistic point of view can permanently secure the last residue of human knowledge, or whether, on a closer ex- amination, both the constituents, one after another, must be abandoned. First comes the inquiry, whether the primary qualities of bodies are really objective, independently of our perception? If they are not, there are but secondary qualities,— that is to say, sensuous perceptions. Thus we know nothing of external things, but only our own impressions; and all human knowledge is thoroughly subjective, or nothing but empirical self-knowledge. Next comes the inquiry, whe- ther causality is a real relation apart from our perception, and independent of it. If it is not, the last necessary and objective connection that com- bines the representations of the human mind into knowledge is destroyed; and with this copula the last support of our knowledge falls away, ex- perience becomes causal perception, and con- sequently the philosophy of experience becomes scepticism. At these results the English philo- sophy arrives, by pursuing the sensualistic point
GG
450 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
of view with logical consistency. The first step is taken by the Irishman George Berkeley; the second and last, by the Scotsman David Hume. Berkeley transforms knowledge as acquired by experience into empirical self-knowledge; Hume into a mere faith in experience. While Hobbes takes the middle position, and forms the transition between Bacon and Locke, Berkeley is similarly placed between Lockeand Hume. Thus the three nations united under the British Empire, all take part in the history of empirical philosophy. Each, by means of its representative, marks a crisis in the history of empirism, which is founded in England, and when developed progresses to scep- ticism, which is prepared in Ireland, and per- fected in Scotland. We have shown that Hobbes and Locke were consistent Baconians; it will now be seen that Berkeley neither is nor de- sires to be anything but a consistent Locke, and that Hume neither is nor desires to be any- thing but a consistent Berkeley. The three English philosophers are contemporaries of the great epochs in the national history of modern England. Bacon, the founder of empirism, and the immediate follower of the Reformation, began his career with the establishment of the House of Stuart, and the foundation of the United Kingdom under James I. Hobbes sees the de-
THE FRENCH “ ENLIGHTENMENT.” 45]
thronement of the Stuarts, the republic under Cromwell, and the restoration of monarchy in the person of Charles II.*; Locke’s epoch is marked by the second dethronement of the Stuarts, and the establishment of the House of Orange; his work on the Human Understanding belongs exactly to the period of the English revolution, and precedes the French revolution by exactly a century.
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As Hobbes and Locke have their root in Bacon, so the French philosophy of the 18th century has its root in Locke, being related to the Eng- lish philosophy as a colony to the mother country. It is not our purpose here to examine this colony more closely, or to follow out in detail the views of the French “ enlightenment.” Locke’s pro- pagandist was Voltaire, who transplanted the Baconian mode of thought to France, and set it in the place of the Cartesian, which had already been exploded by Pierre Bayle. Voltaire, one of the most fortunate and influential writers that the world ever saw, was at the same time one of the narrowest disciples of Locke’s philosophy,
* His “ Leviathan” is the expression of English absolutism.— Author’s Note,
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{4 R44, as i. 7 OG,
452 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
which in itself opened no very broad prospect. Never was such wealth of esprit combined with such poverty of thought. Never did the so-called ‘‘ enlightenment” extend its conquests so rapidly, so widely, and so playfully. “The world was | astonished,” says a serious student of history*, “to find how wise it had grown within thirty years by means of this man.” Voltaire saw and judged everything through the medium of Locke, to such an extent that he even infected his dramatic personages with the English philoso- phy, and made the heroine of his ‘ Christian tragedy,” Zaire, talk as if she had studied the Essay on the Human Understanding. She speaks of the blank tablets of the mind, that are written upon by the influences of the world and educa- tion. All the contradictions of his philosophical master were adopted by this most docile of pupils, who, by his own talent, was able to make them easy and agreeable. He converted English phi- losophy into a French fashion, depriving it of all that was too solid or too difficult for such a posi- tion. Voltaire was also, like Locke, though in a less serious and inquiring manner, a Deist, whose views were in truth materialistic and sceptical. His Deism afforded him an opportunity for elo-
* Spittler, in his “ Geschichte der Christlichen Kirche,” vol. ii p- 431.
THE FRENCH ENCYCLOPZDISTS. 453
quent effusions; his materialism, on the other hand, allowed him to show the don sens in con- junction with the esprit fort; and the common- places of scepticism, in the mouth of a Voltaire, sounded like critical acuteness. It was Condillac, however, who systematically carried out the prin- ciples of Locke, and in his analysis of human knowledge* brought sensualism to perfection, deducing all human knowledge from sensation alone, and leaving only one result possible,—ma- terialism in its most naked form. Condillac was followed by the Encyclopedists; and his mate- rialism was further elaborated by the Holba- chians, represented by Lamettrie and the “ Sys- téme de la Nature.” The tendency of the Baconian philosophy from the time of Locke is in England towards scepticism, which is finally
attained in Hume; in France towards mate- ~
rialism—the light weight of which is suited to the capacity of light talents, whose extreme rear- guard has come down to our own days, to end, it would seem,in Germany. The less the power of thought required by a philosophical theory, the further will it naturally extend.
* As contained in the “ Essais sur Origine des Connaissances Humaines,” 1746, and the “ Traité des Sensations,” 1754.
@a3
*
454 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
TV. THE S0-CALLED IDEALISM OF BERKELEY.
The appearance of Berkeley among the English philosophers is seldom understood. Most are so surprised to find in the midst of decided material- ists a philosopher who looks like an ultra-idealist, that they are tempted to award the latter a to- tally different position than historically belongs to him. An error of this sort is committed by an eminent historian of modern philosophy*, who transfers Berkeley from the ranks of the English to the ranks of the German philosophers, and places him with Leibnitz, as if he were the perfec- tion of the latter. Berkeley is not the consistent Leibnitz, but the consistent Locke. With Leib- nitz he has no historical point of contact ; he rests upon Locke, as Hume rests upon him. Berkeley takes an historical and philosophical position be- tween Locke and Hume, as the link in the series that marks a transition. It has been said that both - Berkeley and Leibnitz attack Locke; and, from the opposition thus common to both, an endeavour has been made to put them on the same logical level; . but we cannot deduce the equality of two magni- tudes from the fact that they are both unequal to a third. Are not Locke and Leibnitz both ad-
* Erdmann, in his “Geschichte der neuern Philosophie,” ii, 2.
ULTRA-SENSUALISM OF BERKELEY. 455
versaries of Descartes, and at the same time op- posed to each other on the very point which they attack in Descartes, namely, the doctrine of the mind? Leibnitz is just as far removed from Berkeley as from Locke. He opposes the prin- ciples of Locke that are shared by Berkeley, who only disagrees with Locke as to consequences. It seems that this error has been occasioned by a word. The name “idealism,” which has been given to Berkeley’s philosophy, has misled many to assign this philosopher to a family very dif- ferent from that to which he belongs. Some would make him akin to Kant*, others to Leib- nitz. Both are wrong. If by “idealism” we understand a tendency opposed to the sensual- istic, no expression is less suited to the philo- sophy of Berkeley ; compared with that of Locke, it is not less, but more, sensualistic. Locke was not enough a sensualist in the eyes of Berkeley. He was so in his principles, but not in his conse- quences; and this is the contradiction that Berke- ley points out and solves. Locke had laid down the principle, that all knowledge must consist in sensuous perception; and yet he spoke of things that could never be perceived, such as material substances or bodies in general, as objects of
* Garve, in his critical review of the “Kritik der reinen Ver- nunft,” published in the Géttingen “ Gelehrte Anzeiger,” 1782. Q@ag4
456 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
knowledge. He had laid down the nominalistic principle, that generalities are words and not things; and yet he allowed in bodies certain pri- mary qualities, such as extension, mobility, so- lidity. Is not material substance or body an abstract “idea,” an empty generality? Are not extension, mobility, solidity, general abstract “ ideas,” which, consistently with his own prin- ciples, Locke should have declared to be mere words, not things — not objective qualities — not real perceptible existences? But he said the very opposite. He was, tried by his own standard, too little of a sensualist, too little of anominalist. He still held that some insensible things were per- ceptible, that some generalities were real.
1. THINGS AS PERCEPTIONS.
To this point Berkeley directs all his acuteness, —an attention thoroughly schooled by nominalism. There are no general things or bodies, but only individual things, perceptible by the senses. There are no more any general bodies than there are general triangles; the existing triangle is always definite, either rectangular, acute, or obtuse. Neither is there any general extension, motion, or solidity, but every conceivable extension is deter- mined as large or small, every motion as swift or slow, all impenetrability in body, as hard or soft.
NO PRIMARY QUALITIES. 457
But all quantitative differences, whether of ex- tension or motion, are manifestly relative. If I change my point of view, or sharpen my sight with an instrument, things will appear to me larger or smaller. Thus greatness and smallness are phenomena of the human vision, as well as light, figure, and colour; they only exist in my perception; and as every conceivable extension has a definite magnitude, without which it does not exist at all, so extension itself is not an objective quality of things in themselves, but merely be- longs to my own perception. The same may be said of motion and solidity. The latter is either hard or soft; but hardness and softness are merely human sensations, and exist as little with- out our sense of feeling as sounds without our ears, colour without our eyes, sweetness or sour- ness without our taste. Therefore what Locke calls the primary qualities do not exist. Hence, to speak in Locke’s language, there are only se- _ condary qualities*, or, all the perceptible qualities of things are secondary ; that is, they exist in us, not externally. But if everything perceptible is within ourselves, what is external to ourselves? Things —1is the answer. But there are no gene- ral things; there are only individual sensible things. What are sensible things, if I deduct
* Compare the first dialogue between Hylas and Philonous.
458 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
from them all that is sensible or perceptible ? The same that an iron ring is, if we take away the iron — nothing. The things, if I take away human perception, are—nothing. Imperceptible things are no things at all. Such nothings are bodies and matter in general, whether I consider them as the originals of my perceptions, or as their cause, or as their instrument, or as anything else. After the deduction of all sensible qualities, after the deduction of all human perception, matter remains equal to—nothing.* Imperceptible things are inaudible sounds, invisible colours; that is to say, impossibilities. Perceptible things are no- thing but sensuous perceptions, as colours are no- thing but phenomena of sight. Thus, by his nominalistic criticism of the philosophy of Locke, Berkeley arrives at the proposition, there is nothing but sensuous perception; that is to say, there is nothing beyond perceiving and perceived (per- ceptible) beings. The perceiving being, Berkeley, like Locke, calls the mind; the perceived object, likewise with Locke, he terms a representation or “idea;” and, in this sense, he declares there are only minds and “ideas.” This proposition is called the ‘‘idealism of Berkeley ;” but it is, in fact, the sensualism of Locke, the nominalism of Bacon, further carried out. It is the very oppo-
* Compare the second dialogue.
BERKELEY NOT AN IDEALIST. 459
site, and is indeed intended to be the opposite, of all idealistic philosophy on the Platonic model. This converts things into ideas, whereas Berke- ley rightly makes his Philonous declare that he does not convert things into ideas, but ideas into things.* With Berkeley, things are always sen- sible things ; and these are sensible impressions or perceptions. Sometimes he says, in direct words, ideas or sensible impressions. Philonous thus instructs his materialistic friend: “I see this cherry, I feel it, I taste it; and.I am sure nothing cannot be seen, or felt, or tasted; it is, therefore, real. Take away the sensations of softness, mois- ture, redness, tartness, and you take away the cherry. Since it is not a being distinct from sen- sation, a cherry, I say, is nothing but a congeries of sensible impressions, or ideas perceived by various senses.”
But why does Berkeley call things “ideas,” when he only apprehends them in a sensualistic sense? To make it clear that things are facts in ourselves, not external to ourselves.
Perceptions are only in ourselves, and only possible through the nature of perceiving beings. But what are facts after the deduction of their perceptible qualities? They are nothing. There- fore they are and exist only in ourselves ; that is,
* Third dialogue.
460 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
they exist as perceptions only in the perceiving beings. Being perceived is, with Berkeley, the same as existing. As a nominalist, he says, there is nothing imperceptible (or general); as a sensu- alist, there is nothing perceptible without percep- tion, nothing sensible without the senses: and that no perception exists without a perceiving being, is manifest. Berkeley’s so-called idealism is a consequence of his nominalistic principle; if there is nothing imperceptible, there is nothing but what is perceptible, —that is to say, nothing but perceptible objects and perceiving subjects. The former are ideas; the latter are minds: hence the proposition, there are only “ideas” and minds. In the natural validity of human knowledge, for all practical purposes, no alteration is occasioned by this theory. Berkeley can perfectly accom- modate himself to the ordinary view of things, which he even confirms. Only, what are called
things in ordinary language, he calls “ideas,”
or things in us, which, as such, are as real and stand — on as secure a basis as they do in the opinion of the unthinking, who fancy that nature is external
to ourselves.
2. PERCEPTIONS AS THINGS.
We do not perceive things themselves, but only their copies in our minds; we only perceive our
; . PERCEPTIONS AS THINGS. 461
own impressions. ‘This is a proposition that has not first to be proved by Berkeley, as it is already admitted by every one. But most persons be- lieve that the real things stand behind their im- pressions, and are, as it were, the originals that are copied and reflected in our senses. This opinion—this belief in things, the originals of the copies, external to ourselves —is what Berkeley seeks to destroy. ‘The supposed copies of the
’ things are sensuous impressions — our own per-
ceptions. Now, let these impressions or percep-~ tions of ours be abstracted from anything, and what remains? Nothing. What, then, is the supposed thing, the original of the copy? Nothing again. What, then, is the supposed copy? It is itself the original; our perceptions are the real things. Hence Berkeley says, I convert “ideas” (%, e. perceptions) into things. In the nature of things he manifestly alters nothing whatever ; he only corrects our view of it. What all of you, he would say, look upon as images are the real things; and what you look upon as the real things are— nothing. ‘To this point alone are all his explanations and proofs directed. The proof that the supposed copies are the things, and the supposed originals are nothing, is very simple.
If we abstract from the things their perceived and
perceptible qualities — that is to say, our own im-
e 462 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
pressions, —everything, without exception, be- comes—nothing. And yet they must remain what they really are, if the impressions that have been abstracted are only their copies.
Our perceptions are things. This is the clearest and most concise formula for Berkeley’s point of view. If they were only the copies of things, it would follow, as a necessary consequence, that our knowledge is vain and delusive —that we only know the outside show of things, and not © the things themselves. The faith in things with- out us, the originals of our impressions, logically leads to scepticism. Hence Berkeley thinks that he has destroyed the very basis of scepticism. His dialogues were directed against the sceptics ; and he did not know that within his own theory he was fostering the germ of a scepticism that was afterwards to be developed by an acute successor. |
For ordinary refutations Berkeley is prepared ; and he overcomes them with dexterity. If our perceptions are the real things, it may be ob- jected that, as a necessary consequence, the sun really revolves round the earth, the stick is really broken in the water—and the like. To this Berkeley replies, Certainly the movement of the sun is a real perception, a phenomenon well established in the eye of an inhabitant of our
RELIGION OF BERKELEY. 463
planet. But who bids us infer from this that the same phenomenon will also be perceived from another point of view, remote from the earth? In this case it is not the perception that is wrong and without foundation, but the consequence that is deduced from it.
3. THE DEITY IS THE ORIGINATOR OF OUR PERCEPTIONS,
But if our perceptions are “ ideas,” and these are the things themselves, nature seems to be resolved into a mere creature of the human mind, and to lose all its security. How, then, are we to dis- tinguish these “ ideas” from mere ideas — things from fancies — the order of nature, governed by fixed laws, from the sport of human imagination ? Where is the difference between reality and show? Our own fancies, which are mere “ ideas,” we ourselves make; the perceptions or things, which are true “ideas,” we do not make; they are given to us as facts, they are data, of which neither we ourselves nor external things are the cause, and the cause of which can therefore be no other than the Deity. As the belief in external things leads to scepticism, so does the conviction that our perceptions or “ideas” are themselves the real things lead us to the Deity, and, conse- quently, to religion. Thus Berkeley thought he
464 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
had established religion by destroying the basis of scepticism; his dialogues were directed, at the same time, against sceptics and atheists. In a word, Berkeley affirms the knowledge founded on sensuous perception, and ultimately deduces it from the Deity, as he cannot deduce it from material beings, the existence of which he denies. In this respect he has a certain affinity with | Malebranche, with whom we might compare him, as we might compare Locke with Descartes. But in the main point they are opposed to each other, Berkeley denying on principle what Malebranche maintained on principle, the ex- istence of matter external to the mind. This was the difference between the two, that precluded all agreement between them. It is said that a violent controversy with Berkeley, who visited Malebranche on his dying-bed, accelerated the death of the latter.
We have remarked in Locke the double con- tradiction that he denied metaphysics or ontology as the doctrine of the nature of things, and yet (though not without hesitation) pronounced certain decisions respecting the substance of the soul, of the body, and of the Deity; that, on the one hand, he doubted the existence of the human mind, and, on the other hand, maintained the existence of the Deity, which he proved from the fact of
LOCKE AND BERKELEY. 465
the human mind. Thus in Locke Deism and materialism were united in a contradictory manner. Berkeley avoids both these contradictions. He converts ontology into psychology without leay- ing any residue; for he converts all things into sensuous perceptions. He is a decided Deist*, a decided opponent of materialism, which he refutes both on first principles and in its consequences. Here is the difference between Berkeley and Locke. The difference is not, as is commonly supposed, between idealist and realist; but the case, rightly apprehended, stands thus: Berkeley is not less but more sensualistic than Locke, and, consequently, more of a realist. And for this very reason Berkeley is less materialistic than Locke, or, rather, he is not a materialist at all. He attacks materialism, he would prevent the sen- sualistic philosophy from committing the gross error of degenerating into materialism, —an error that began with Locke and was carried out by
* It will be observed that Dr. Fischer uses this word as the opposite of Atheist, and not necessarily to denote a disbeliever in revelation ; for such a character could hardly be predicated of Berkeley. Ambiguity might have been removed by the sub- stitution of the word “ Theist,” which in ordinary parlance is supposed to be without the negative sense attached to “ Deist ;” but as some of the persons called “Deists” in the course of the work were so in every sense of the word, I have deemed it ex- pedient to avoid a distinction which Dr. Fischer has not drawn. —J. O.
HH
466 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the French. With Berkeley sensualism takes a decided position as the antagonist of materialism ; and rightly, for if all is but sensuous perception, matter — such as it is asserted to be by its philo- sophical advocates —is nothing but an empty thought, a mere word, since of this matter there is manifestly no sensuous perception. This view constitutes the fundamental thought, the leading idea of the whole philosophy of Berkeley. It was natural that common sense*, which attached itself to Locke, followed in the train of ma- terialism, and declared itself against Berkeley. Indeed, by adhering to words, there was no great difficulty in perverting Berkeley’s anti- materialistic tendency into an insane idealism, that could be refuted in sport. Voltaire’s wit was here quite in its element. In his eyes Locke alone was a true philosopher; but he never thoroughly understood even Locke, or he would necessarily have recognised him in Berkeley. «Ten thousand cannon-balls and ten thousand dead men,” says Voltaire, “are ten thousand ideas according to the philosophy of Berkeley ;” f and this he thinks is a refutation, as if Berkeley had not known and already answered such objec-
* Der gewdhnliche Verstand ; literally, the “ ordinary under- standing.”— J. O. t Philosophical Dictionary, article “ Corps.”
ULTRA-SENSUALISM OF BERKELEY. 467
tions. Voltaire should tell us what is not per- ceptible in a single cannon-ball; then he will have confuted Berkeley. We will dispense with the ten thousand.
If we would arrive at the sum total of Berkeley’s philosophy, it is deduced from the proposition that sensuous perceptions are things, which pro- position is itself no more than the conclusion and final result of sensualism. If perceptions are things, it follows that all human knowledge is, in truth, empirical self-knowledge, that in all cases we only experience our own given state, and that thus all experience can merely be self-experience. Berkeley has done more than establish this fact. If knowledge altogether is no more than ex- perience, as Bacon has said, if all experience is no more than sensuous perception, as Locke has said, we must then conclude, with Berkeley, that we know nothing but our own impressions, that our impressions are the things themselves, and that, therefore, the knowledge of things, if we rightly investigate the matter, is no more than a knowledge of ourselves, or, more strictly speaking, experience of ourselves. Given facts constitute all that we know. Our knowledge is therefore experience ; and Kant very correctly decided that Berkeley’s “ idealism” was of an empirical kind,
and that Garve understood neither this philosophy HH 2
468 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
nor the Kantian, as he could not comprehend the difference between the two. The facts that we experience are our own perceptions, but not our creations; they are the work of the Deity, and therefore amount, in truth, to a miracle. Thus human experience, after the loss of external things, becomes an incomprehensible fact, like life, in the sense of the “ Occasionalists.” If philosophy will not stop for ever at this point, it must doubt the miracle, and thus destroy the security of human knowledge on its last founda- tion.
V. Tue Scepticism or Hume.
Hume deduces the negative sum total of the English philosophy as it has existed from the time of Bacon. He preserves every result of his predecessors; only he will not, like Berkeley, make good the last deficit of philosophy by means of religion, but sets it down to the account of the human faculty of knowledge. Hume is con- vinced, with Bacon, that all knowledge must be experience; with Locke, that all experience con- sists of sensuous perceptions; with Berkeley, that sensuous perceptions are the sole objects of our knowledge. Therefore, concludes Hume, all human knowledge consists simply in this, that
DAVID HUME. 469
Wg perceive certain impressions in ourselves. Where, then, is its objectivity? where its neces- sity? And if human knowledye is deficient in these two characteristics, where is this know- ledge itself? <
ne
e 1, THE OBJECTS OF KNOWLEDGE. 2
All our representations, according to Hume, are either sensuous impressions or the copies that these have left. They are only distinguished in degree, accordingly as they are stronger or weaker, more or less lively. The liveliest are the impressions them- selves; the weaker are the thoughts or “ ideas.” The impressions are the originals, from which the “ideas,” without exception, are deduced. There is no “idea” that did not originate from an im- pression; this decides Hume as a genuine philo- sopher of the stamp of Locke. Consequently the “idea” is related to the impression, as the copy to the original. Hence the explanation of an “idea” consists in showing the impression of which this * idea” is a copy, and which is con- sequently the original of the “idea.” Our im- pressions are the originals of all our representa- tions; thus decides Hume as one who has turned Berkeley’s investigations to his own advantage. Whether our impressions have external things for
HH 3
470 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
their own originals, is a question with which Hume is but little concerned; for, supposing there are such originals, a knowledge of them would only be possible if clear representations — that is, clear impressions — of them existed in ourselves. But how can we know this? We can only know it by means of an impression, and there is none that decides on the clearness of an impression, or the relation between an im- pression and a thing. In every case, therefore, human nature lacks the criterium which alone secures the objectivity of our “ ideas.”
If, therefore, there is any knowledge, its objects are only “ideas,” which themselves are nothing but copies of impressions; thus we only compre- hend our impressions, not the objective nature of things. In this sense, there is no objective know- ledge. Thus is scepticism already half-expressed. Tt follows, as a matter of course, that there is no knowledge of the super-sensual. The super- sensual makes no impression upon us; therefore we have no knowledge of it. In this sense all meta- physics is an impossible science.*
2. MATHEMATICS AND EXPERIENCE. It is thus established that we know nothing but our own ideas, which are based upon impressions.
* Compare “Enquiry concerning the Human Understand- ing,” i. and ii,
NECESSARY JUDGMENTS. 471
But our own “ideas” only constitute knowledge when we connect them, and perceive their agree- ment or disagreement with each other, All know- ledge is a necessary connection of * ideas.” Now, what is necessary ? That which must be as it is; that of which the contrary is impossible; that which cannot be contradicted. The “ proposition of identity” which declares that a thing is what it is, and according to which all the attributes (Merk- male) that it has, and the attributes of these attri- butes, belong to it—this proposition cannot be contradicted. Therefore those ‘ ideas” are neces- sarily connected, of which one is contained in the other, or can be deduced from the other. There- fore every judgment is necessary which, like the * proposition of identity,” is founded on the mere analysis of an * idea ;” every connection of “ideas” is necessary that is attained by mere syllogistic deduction (Schlussfolgerung). Such are the judgments and conclusions of mathematics. The judgments of mathematics are analytical*; their conclusions are syllogistic; the knowledge belong- ing to them is demonstrative. f
On the contrary, experience judges otherwise than mathematics with respect to nature and
* This, it is scarcely necessary to state, is given as the opinion of Hume. Kant has proved that mathematical judgments are
not analytical, but synthetical.—J. O. ¢ Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iv.
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472 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
history. It combines different facts, different “ideas,” of which one is not contained in the other; of which, therefore, one cannot be deduced from the other by analysis, but is added to it by synthesis. Is there, then, a necessary syn- thesis in experience? Our “ ideas,” according to Hume, are combined or associated in three ways, — by similarity, by contiguity (or a connection in time and space), and lastly by causality, or the connection of cause and effect.*
Of these three means of combination, causality alone lays claim to the character of necessity ; for it is obvious that “ ideas” which are only similar, or contiguous with regard to space or time, are not necessarily connected so that one must neces- sarily follow from the other. The only question that arises is, whether causality is a necessary connection. To this question the whole force of Hume’s investigation is directed. So much is established, that all judgments expressive of knowledge are either analytical or synthetical. The pure judgments of the reasonf and mathe- matical judgments are analytical; the judgments of experience are synthetical, and their synthesis consists in causality. Now, is this synthesis necessary ?
* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iii. t Such as the propositions of identity and contradiction.—J.O.
IDEA OF CAUSALITY. ” “870
3. EXPERIENCE AS A PRODUCT OF CAUSALITY.
The causal connection of ‘ ideas” is necessary, if it is not susceptible of contradiction. It is not susceptible of contradiction, if, by the mere analysis of the “idea” A, we discover that A is the cause or power that affects B. But, however thoroughly we may analyse A, we shall never find in it either B itself, or the power which A exer- cises upon B. B is not contained in A; the effect is not contained in the cause; the power of A is not contained in the “idea” of A. Thus the effect can never be deduced from the cause, or— in other words—the causal connection of different “ideas” is not discovered by mere logical deduc- tion; consequently, not by pure reason. Let us take, for instance, the “idea” of fire. The mere analysis of this “idea” will never explain to me the effect of fire upon wood, will never show me the power and influence of fire upon other things. If I take the “idea” of a ball, I cannot, by any process of logical deduction from this *‘idea,” discover what motion the ball will com- municate to another ball, with which it comes into collision. And so it is in every case. Thus the relation between cause and effect is met wnsus- ceptible of contradiction; for it is not a relation of
474 -FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
identity. Hence causality is no conception of the reason, or—what is the same thing—is not @ priori. There is no syllogistic deduction that will lead us from the cause A to the effect B; for syllogisms are impossible without a middle term. Where is the middle term between cause and effect? Where is the middle term between an experience and a similar experience ? * Nevertheless we require the causal connection in all our empirical judgments. From causes we constantly infer effects; from similar causes, similar effects. On the idea of causality is based all the knowledge we derive from experience. Now, upon what is this idea based? As it is not & priori, it must be based upon a datum a posteriort. But upon what datum? — All “ideas,” without exception, are based upon sensuous im- pressions, of which they are the copies. There is no “idea,” the original of which was not an impression. What, then, is the impression of which the idea of causality is a copy? This question touches the focus of Hume’s problem. Every impression is a fact that we perceive. But the connection between facts we do not per- ceive. Wesce lightning, and we hear thunder, but not the influence that connects them, not the power by which the first phenomenon pro-
* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, iv.
IDEA OF CAUSALITY. 475
duces the second. We experience the effect, but not the efficiency, the cause, the power. We now feel a disposition to a certain “idea;” then this “idea” arises in our minds; then follows a movement of our bodies. But the power itself by which the will produces the “idea” in the mind, and motion in the body, remains concealed from us. Of this power there is no impression, and therefore no ‘‘idea.” Thus there is no im- pression the copy of which could be the idea of causality. This is the great difficulty discovered by Hume—the difficulty which renders the idea of causality dubious. Every “ idea” requires an impression, to which it may be referred as a copy toan original. But there is no impression, either internal or external, of which we could say, * Look, this is the original of the idea of cause — of causality!” Thus this idea, on which all our empirical knowledge depends, becomes a veritable riddle. It cannot be found by mere reason; neither, it seems, can it be found by means of an impression. It is not @ priori; neither, it seems, is it @ posteriort. Whence then does it come? Herein consists the dilemma. We must either give up as impossible, and regard as incompre- hensible, the whole of our empirical knowledge together with causality, or we must deduce this idea from an impression. But this impression is
476 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
nowhere given. If, therefore, there is any such impression at all, it must arise gradually, — must be formed from the impressions that are given. How is this possible ?
4, CAUSALITY AS A PRODUCT OF EXPERIENCE.—CUSTOM AND FAITH,
Granted that the impression A is followed by the impression B, we find that in this single in- stance of succession two facts are associated. They are associated, but not (necessarily) connected. They would be so connected if B were attached to A in such a manner that it would follow from A as a necessary consequence. Now, no one can arrive at the conclusion, that what has happened once will happen always. But suppose the same succession is repeated, that the impression A, as often as we receive it, is followed by B, then the transient association becomes a permanent associa- tion. Through this permanent association which we experience in our impressions, we gradually become accustomed to pass from the impression A to the impression B, so that when the former takes place, we expect the other; that is to say, we expect that B will follow A, because it has always followed it to the present moment. From the transition from one “ idea” to the other arises, by a continual repetition of the same succession, an habitual transition. What has appeared merely
FAITH IN CAUSALITY. 477
associated in a single case, appears necessarily connected when it is found in many similar cases ; but this is merely because we have grown accus- tomed to the association.* This habit, like all habits, consists merely in an often-repeated ex- perience. We have so often observed one impres- sion or fact succeed another, that our imagination) is involuntarily determined, when we receive one | impression, to expect the other—is compelled to — pass from A to B. I find myself involuntarily determined ; that is to say, I feel: every habit is based upon a feeling. This feeling is likewise an | impression, — not one that is immediately given, | but one that is gradually produced; and this im- pression, this feeling, is the original, of which the idea of causality is the copy. By dint of this feeling I can indeed never know or demonstrate the connection between two facts; but I believe in the connection,—I expect, by an involuntary feel- ing, by a sort of instinct, that if one fact occurs, the other will not be wanting,—I believe that one is a consequence of the other. This faith is not evident and demonstrative, like a deduction of the reason ; but it leads to the conclusions of our expe- rience, and forms the ground of all empirical cer- tainty.
* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, vii. 2. t Ibid. v. Compare vii. 2.
478 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Thus does Hume solve his problem. | All hu- man knowledge is either demonstrative (as in the case of mathematics) or empirical, All empirical knowledge consists in the causal connection of facts. The idea of causality is founded on a be- lief, this belief upon a feeling, this feeling upon a habit, which itself consists in nothing else than an often-repeated experience. Consequently, there is no knowledge that is objective and neces- sary. None that is objective, for the objects of our knowledge are merely our impressions and the
“ideas” copied from them; none that ave necessary, »
for the ground of our knowledge is not an axiom, but—an exercise of faith. Here is a perfect ex- pression of scepticism. The doubt respecting knowledge arises from the perception that all the inferences of our experience are nothing but matters of faith; it is upon this faith that the doubt is founded. Hume himself calls his theory *‘ moderate scepticism,” because he does not design to alter anything in human knowledge (so far as it 1s experience), but merely to enlighten our views respecting it.* He will only show us the guide that we are practically to follow throughout the whole of our knowledge. Hume is well aware that “nature is stronger than doubt,” that man- kind will never cease to seek experiences, to draw
_* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, xii. 3.
POWER OF CUSTOM. 479
inferences from them, and to regard these infe- rences as stable truths by which they can regulate their actions, however acutely the sceptic may show that they are without foundation.* He would neither lessen nor depreciate the genuine treasure of human knowledge, but merely instruct us as to the means by which the treasure was acquired, and can also be really increased. He enlightens us as to the true ground of our knowledge. His scepticism destroys nothing but a supposed ground, an imaginary faculty, that can never lead us to fruitful and practical knowledge, but only to apparent truths and fallacious “ ideas.”
These are the limits set to human knowledge by the scepticism of Hume. Beyond experience there is no knowledge whatever; and even within the region of experience our knowledge extends only so far ascustom. Within the region of habit there is no final or perfect certainty, but a mere proximate subjective certainty—or probability. Habit does not prove; it only believes. That which is beyond habit is still possible; that to which we are accustomed is not proved —is not so necessary that its opposite is impossible.
** Custom,” says Hume, “ is the great guide of human life.”t{ Hence, from his point of view, he
* Enquiry concerning the Human Understanding, xii, 2. t Ibid. vi. t Ibid. v. 1.
480 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
could rightly assert that he was opposed not to the conclusions of “ common sense” (das gewohnliche Bewusstseyn), but rather, on the contrary, con-. firmed its decrees by the most immediate formula. For what does common sense desire more than to think and act according to custom? And so far is Hume from depriving it of the power to do this, that his scepticism leaves nothing but custom as the basis of human thought and action. Man has always been regulated by custom. Hume vindi- cates the power of custom, shows in what its right consists, proving that men have not only a right to think according to custom, but that, in fact, this is their only right. What Schiller makes Wallenstein say with heroic contempt, exactly expresses the sober conviction of Hume: — “What we have most to dread
Is common-place, perpetual yesterday, =
That ever warning, ever still returns;
Potent to-morrow, through its force to-day.
For man of common-places is compact, And to his nurse the name of custom gives.” *
This nurse is called by Hume the great guide of human life; and with him it forms at the same time the defined boundary of human knowledge.
If there is no knowledge beyond experience, there is, at the same time, no theology but
* Death of Wallenstein, i. 4.
HUME’S VIEW OF BERKELEY. 481
that which is based upon supernatural revelation. Hume is of the same opinion with Bacon and Bayle, that religious faith and human reason are reciprocally exclusive. There is, therefore, no rational or demonstrative science whatever, except mathematics. All the rest of human knowledge is experience, of which custom is the only guide, “When,” says Hume, at the conclusion of his Enquiry, “ we use our libraries, persuaded of these principles, what havoc must we make! If we take in our hand any volume of divinity or school metaphysics, for instance, let us ask, Does it contain any abstract reasoning concerning quan- tity or number? No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and existence? No. Commit it, then, to the flames; for it can contain nothing but sophistry ~ and illusion.” *
If we compare Hume with Berkeley, we must say that he owes half his scepticism to the latter; namely, so much as affirms that human knowledge does not extend beyond our impressions, that of this knowledge “ideas” are the only possible objects. Hence he says, in a note to his Enquiry, “Most of the writings of that very ingenious author (Berkeley) form the best lessons of scepticism, which are to be found either among
* Enquiry, xii. 3. II
482 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the ancient or modern philosophers, Bayle not excepted.”* But Berkeley declared that orderly experience was a product of the Deity, whereas Hume regards it as a product of human custom. At this point his scepticism is perfected and formulised. It destroys nothing but the illusion which regards that which is only regulated by custom as regulated by fixed laws. To customs there are exceptions; to laws there are none. There are many things extra-ordinary, none extra-legal.
If we compare Hume with Locke, we must say that his view of the origin of our “ideas” is equally sensualistic, and similarly negative as to the possibility of metaphysics. Their coincidence is in the idea of substance, which they both assert to be a mere void; their difference is in the idea of causality, to which Locke gives a real, Hume merely a subjectively human value.
If we compare Hume with Bacon, we must say that he critically established the limits of experience, which the action-loving intellect of Bacon himself had overstepped. And what par- ticularises Hume is the distinction that he makes between experience and mathematics as different hinds of human knowledge.ft The objects of
* Enquiry, xii. 2. + Kant agrees to this distinction, but he changes the criterium.
INFLUENCE OF CUSTOM. 483
mathematics are magnitudes, those of experience are facts; the mathematics judge solely by analysis, experience solely by synthesis. Hence there is demonstrative certainty in mathematics, whereas experience merely attains probability or moral certainty ; for in the one case conclusions are drawn by reason, in the latter they are the result of faith in habitual association.
5. CUSTOM AS A POLITICAL POINT OF VIEW.
From the reasons stated above, Hume was necessarily a sceptic in philosophy ; for a know- ledge based merely upon custom can only have temporary, and cannot arrive at absolutely valid truth. But, with Hume, custom is not merely
the ground upon which our empirical knowledge
is to be explained, but also the « guide of human life.” So far as life is ruled by custom, it comes within the scope of Hume’s point of view. In philosophy principles govern; in life, custom. Our whole life is, as Géthe’s Egmont says, the “sweet habit of existence.” Even the natural movements of the body must become habitual by repeated practice, in order to be involuntary and According to him, the judgments of mathematical science and
experience are both synthetical, but the former judges accord-
ing to intuition, the latter according to logical conception.— Author's note,
112
i i
484 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
free from effort. Thus healthy eating and drink- ing, walking and standing, under the guidance of natural instincts, become habitual functions by repeated practice; thus also is it with reading and writing, under the guidance of education. We must first accustom ourselves simply to live; then we must accustom ourselves to live in a particular manner. Our life and our cultivation are results of our habits; and these are the results of oft- repeated experience. Custom alone produces our morals; and these produce the common public life of man, and its constitution. An alteration of constitution is an alteration of morals and cus- ° toms. But customs arise gradually, and there- fore must be gradually altered. If custom is slowly progressive, so likewise must be the disuse of custom. Here nothing arises suddenly by a mere resolution of the will, a decree, an arbitrary agreement. Human customs and morals in their slow, gradual metamorphosis,—these are the historical processes of cultivation. He who does not understand the nature of customs and of morals habitually acquired, he who does not take into account this power in human life, is incapable of understanding history, much more of making it. ‘He does not understand mankind, much less will he be able to goveyn it. Every sudden “ en- lightenment,” every sudden revolution in a state,
ee eet. m is
HISTORICAL MIND OF HUME. 485
is thoroughly repugnant to history. A faith and a state cannot be demolished, any more than they can be produced, by a single blow. We are made acquainted with the anti-historical view of the Anglo-Gallic “enlightenment.” Among all the philosophers of this “ enlightenment,” David Hume is the only one whose views approximate to the nature of historical life, the only one whose thought is not repugnant to history, because he understood that human life is governed, not by principles and theories, but by customs. The same principle which made him a sceptic in phi- losophy, made him an historian fitted to judge of men and states, a circumspect politician. He thought historically, because he depreciated the value of philosophical principles. In him the philosophical sceptic and the political historian constitute one person. If we would have a pal- pable instance of the difference, in this respect, between the great sceptic and the Anglo-Gallic “enlightenment,” we need only compare the historical works of a Hume with those of a Voltaire.
But the consonance of the views of Hume with history is most plainly apparent with respect to one particular point, in treating of which the other philosophers of his age had established a
dogma repugnant to history. Nothing shows how 113
486 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
far the so-called “ enlightenment” was removed from all historical experience, so much as the theory of a contract, by which an explanation of the state had been attempted. The state and the institutions of public life have an historical origin; but such a contract as is taught by a Hobbes, a Locke, a Spinoza, or a Rousseau, has never existed in the reality, where they look for it. Every one can see that the contract, to be valid, presupposes a human community, or at least a form of existence similar toa state. Hume is the most open adversary of the contract theory, although he also would explain the state on natural grounds. He attacks the social contract theory, as propounded by Rousseau and Locke.* He sees that such a theory is opposed to all historical experience and possibility, and is, in fact, no more than a creation of the philosophical brain. Before men could have been united by an express con- tract, they must have been already united by necessity. It was a result of necessity, without any contract, that one commanded and the rest obeyed. ‘Each exercise of authority in the chieftain,” says Hume, “must have been parti- cular, and called forth by the present exigencies of the case. The sensible utility resulting from
* Compare “Hume’s und Rousseau’s Abhandlungen tber den Urvertrag,” by G. Mertal. (Leipzig, 1797.)
FALLACY OF ** SOCIAL CONTRACT.” 487
his interposition, made those exertions become daily more frequent; and this frequency gradually pro- duced an habitual, and, if you please to call it so, an arbitrary and therefore precarious acquiescence in the people.”* In the place of a contract, Hume puts custom. He gives precisely the same explanation of the state as of knowledge, basing the former upon habitual obedience, as he has based the latter upon habitual experience. Custom attaches men to the form of state to which they have become accustomed, and secures its duration against any violent attack. The continuation of Wallenstein’s speech is uttered in the very spirit of Hume:
“Woe to the impious hand that dares to touch The dear old stock his fathers have bequeath’d ! There is a sanctifying power in years;
What age has render’d grey, appears divine. Be in possession, then the right’s thine own, And will be honor’d by the multitude.”
A principle repugnant to history led to conse- quences equally repugnant. If the state was the product of a mere arbitrary act of the human will, an arbitrary will would have a right to anni- hilate it at a single blow. The contract theory led to a revolutionary theory. If it was once established that the state had arisen from a tabula
* Essay, “ Of the Original Contract.”—J. O. 114
488 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
rasa by means of a contract, it seemed possible, and even just, to bring it back to a tabula rasa by means of a new contract. If one contract pro- duced civil order, another produced civil revolu- tion. The contract theory of a Hobbes became a revolutionary theory in the mind of a Rousseau. The anti- historical mode of thought was followed by an anti-historical mode of action. The moment arrived when the given state was actually reduced to a tabula rasa; the French Revolution came to an incurable rupture with history; the Contrat Social became the gospel of the Convention; the theoretical Rousseau was followed by the prac- tical Robespierre, in whom the anti-historical mode of action became not only barbarous, but even grotesque.
Hume attacks the revolutionary theory, to- gether with the contract theory, on natural- historical grounds. Here his arguments against Rousseau are most felicitous: ‘ Would these reasoners but descend into the world, they would meet with nothing that in the least corresponds to theirideas. . . . In reality, there is not a more terrible event than a total dissolution of government, which gives liberty to the multitude, and makes the determination or choice of a new establishment depend upon a number, which nearly approaches to that of the body of the
HUME AND ROUSSEAU. 489
people; for it never comes entirely to the whole body of them. Every wise man then wishes to see at the head of a powerful and obedient army a general who may speedily seize the prize, and give to the people a master, which they are so unfit to choose for themselves. So little corre- spondent is fact and reality to these philosophical notions.”* If the revolution really became a fact, and converted a Rousseau into a Robes- pierre, Hume foresaw what he would desire— namely, a Napoleon. If we compare Hume with Rousseau, how striking is the contrast, in spite of many points of resemblance! They both stand on the very threshold of the French revolution ; they are both in opposition to the dogmatic philo- sophy of their age and their nations, they both seek to reduce human knowledge to a natural faith, and to purify it in conformity with nature. This common opposition to the same adversary brought them together. They became friends; and Hume afforded the persecuted Rousseau a hospitable asylum in England. A _ difference afterwards arose; and they became enemies, less from any fault in Hume than from Rousseau’s unhappy suspicious mind, which had grown into a fixed temperament. They were opposed to each other, one being a sceptic, the other a visionary
* “Of the Original Contract.”
490 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
Utopian. Rousseau desired an ideal state, which Hiume sneered at as a man of the world, and attacked as a politician. Rousseau advanced a revolutionary theory, which Hume opposed with every argument and every feeling. Where are their spirits to be found in the time of the actual revolution, which neither lived to see? They could not be separated by a wider chasm. To- bespierre studied Rousseau’s Contrat Social; and Louis XVI. read Hume’s “ History of the Stuarts.”
Political theorists do not take into considera- tion the historical conditions with which we are interwoven, and from which none of us can or should—least of all in practice—fully abstract himself. We have a sort of historical pre-exist- ence in our forefathers. As Socrates excellently says, he is obliged to obey the laws of his country ; for he has already pre-existed in his ancestors as a citizen of Athens. The empirical philosophers, who, least of all, should have straitened historical experience, are most in opposition to it. The tabula rasa of which they speak, exists neither within ourselves, nor externally to ourselves. In their theories of the state, they presuppose men who find themselves in a position to make a state for the first time, and come directly out of the hand of nature as a fresh generation. This hypothesis is
CONSERVATISM OF HUME. 49}
false. Those men never existed; if they ever did, there would be no history. The philosophers who maintain the contract theory, abstract from history; this is their pervading fault, which is well understood by Hume. He excellently says, ** Did one generation of men go off the stage at once, and another succeed—as is the case with silkworms and butterflies,—the new race, if they had sense enough to choose their government, which surely is never the case with men, might voluntarily and by general consent establish their own form of civil polity, without any regard to the laws or precedents which prevailed among their ancestors. But as human society is im per- petual flux, one man every hour going out of the world, another coming into it, it is necessary, in order to preserve stability in government, that the new brood should conform themselves to the established constitution, and nearly follow the path which their fathers, treading in the foot- steps of theirs, had marked out to them. Some innovations must necessarily have place in every human institution; and it is happy when the enlightened genius of the age gives them a direc- tion to the side of reason, liberty, and justice. But violent innovations no individual is entitled to make. They are even dangerous to be at- tempted by the legislature. More ill than good
492 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
is to be expected from them.”* Hume is no enemy of “ enlightenment” in itself; he is only an enemy of that ordinary anti-historical enlighten - ment that must necessarily be of an artificial kind, and which, far from educating men, treats them as plants in a hot-house. This non-educational and anti-historical “ enlightenment,” which has been called not inaptly “ spurious enlightenment,” is attacked by Hume from a far higher and more enlightened point of view, which approaches bis- torical thought. For the same reason our Less- ing attacked the anti-historical “ enlightenment.” On this point he would have nothing in com- mon with the Wolfians, and took no interest in the experiments of Joseph II., which he saw were premature. This is the “ Something that Lessing said,”{ which Jacobi willingly heard.
* Essay, “ Of the Original Contract.”
¢ “Aufklirerei.” This modification of the word “Aufklirung ” gives it a contemptuous turn; but “ Aufklirung” itself is used with scarcely less contempt by writers opposed to the philosophy of the eighteenth century.—J. QO.
{ “ Etwas, das Lessing sagte,” is the title of a treatise by Jacobi commencing with these words:—“ I once heard Lessing say, that all that had been maintained by Febronius, and the partisans of Febronius, would be a mere unblushing flattering of princes ; for all their arguments against the rights of the pope would be either no arguments at all, or they would tell with double or triple force against the princes themselves.” On these words the treatise is based. Justinus Febronius is the pseudonym of Johann Nicolaus von Hontheim, whose work on the State of the
GERMAN APPRECIATION OF HUME. 493
While English philosophy, in the person of Hume, perceives that the “ enlightenment” be- longing to it leaves history out of consideration, and therefore fails, the same view is taken by German philosophy in the person of Lessing, after it has gone through a certain period of anti-historical thought, most inconsistent with its original foundation. While English philosophy, in the person of Hume, arrives at the conclusion that the ground of all our knowledge is faith and feeling, and turns this conclusion to the advan- tage of scepticism, the same result is arrived at by Hamann, Herder, and with the greatest clear- ness by Jacobi, and turned to the advantage of religion. The English sceptic agrees in one point with these German genius-thinkers*,—they are all philosophers of faith; or we should rather say that Hamann, Herder, and Jacobi, as philo- sophers of faith, agreed with Hume. It was they who revered the sceptic, in the cause of re- ligion; they joined with him against the dogmatic philosophy, against the anti-historical “ enlighten- ment,” against an insipid and impracticable ration- alism. Here the English and German philoso-
Church, and the Lawful Authority of the Pope, published in 1763, made a considerable sensation throughout Europe.—J. O.
* “Genie-denker.” This expression, I conceive, is intended to denote those thinkers whose thoughts are not expressed in a formal system. At all events, this interpretation will fit Hamann, Herder, and dacobi.—J. O.
494 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
phers shake hands with each other, that they may both in common bring this dogmatic period to a conclusion, and prepare a new epoch.
VI. Hume’s ContTRApDICTION, AND Kant’s SOLUTION.*
If we state the sum total of Hume’s philosophy, we find that he has denied metaphysics, distin- guished mathematics from experience (as analy- tical from synthetical knowledge), and so ex- plained the latter that its judgments must, without exception, cease to be accepted as universal and necessary. But how did Hume explain ex- perience? By the idea of causality, which con- nects our impressions. And how did he explain this idea? By custom. And how this? By oft-repeated experience. Thus Hume explains experience by — experience. He _ presupposes what he has to explain; he therefore thinks dog- matically, and commits the very fault which the sceptics of antiquity had remarked in the dog- matic philosophers; his explanations are in an
* My intention here is only to show the point where the English philosophy results in the Kantian. The dependent position of Kant, with respect to the English philosophy, before he went beyond the latter, I shall not investigate here. Such an investi- gation would be foreign to my theme, and belongs to an account of the Kantian philosophy, to which I am devoting an especial work,—Auithor’s Note,
ORIGIN OF KANT. 495
obvious circle, exactly corresponding to the figure which the ancient sceptics called ‘ dcd\Andos.” A circle explains nothing. Hume thus far has not explained experience; he has not solved the problem, but only made it clear; but, at the same time, he has made it so very clear, has defined it so sharply, that it could not be avoided by any independent thinker who might follow him. Nay, it could not but occur to the philosophical mind that two points were made obvious: one, the necessity of solving the problem; the other, the impossibility of Hume’s solution. Hume has_ plainly shown the next goal that philosophy must pursue, and also, by his own example, the road that will not lead to it. He, who understood the problem, had necessarily to find a new road to its solution. This road must manifestly be different from those which had been taken by the English philosophy since the time of Bacon, and by the German since Leibnitz. Whoever finds the right starting-point for this goal, makes a new epoch in the history of philosophy. The goal is per- ceived, the starting-point is found, the epoch is made, by a German philosopher trained in the Leibnitz- W olfian school, —one in whom the Ger- man mind is combined with the English. This philosopher is Immanuel Kant. His work is an offspring of the German and English philosophies,
496 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
which in the mind of Kant came into fruitful contact. It is remarkable enough that in the very origin of this man the two nationalities were united. His family had emigrated from Scotland; and thus, through his forefathers, he was a countryman of Hume, whose investigations he understood and appropriated to himself, more than those of any other philosopher. By these investigations he saw the problem at which philosophy had arrived ; and at the same time he perceived that by Hume’s process nothing was explained. Ex- perience, which Bacon had made the instrument of philosophy, had now become its problematic object. Hume, instead of explaining it, had pre- supposed it, had made experience itself the ground on which experience was to be explained. At this point he had remained dogmatical, like all the rest of the philosophers. Locke intended to be a sensualist; his defect was, that he was not sensualistic enough; and this was discovered by Berkeley. Hume intended to be a sceptic; his fault was that he was not sceptical enough; this was discovered by Kant. If Hume had been more sceptical, he would have explained experience without presupposing it, he would at this decisive juncture have divided and freed himself from the dogmatical philosophy ; in a word, he would have been critical,
POSITION TAKEN BY KANT. 497
VII. Bacon anv Kant.
Kant was more sceptical than Hume; he dis- covered the critical point of view, and thus brought about the crisis that led to a new epoch in the history of philosophy. The process was really very simple. He took exactly the same position with regard to experience and human knowledge that had been taken by Bacon with respect to nature. He explained the facts of experience as Bacon had attempted to explain the facts of nature. To explain a fact is to show, under all circumstances, the conditions under which it occurs. These conditions must, under all circumstances, precede the fact, and must be sought before the fact itself. Kant sought the conditions of an empirical knowledge, not above it, like the German metaphysicians, nor in it, like the English sensualists, but before it; he neither with the one party presupposed knowledge in innate ideas, nor with the other presupposed experience in mental impressions and their re- peated connection. He analysed the fact of ex- perience, as Bacon analysed natural phenomena. As Bacon had sought the power of nature by which things are effected and formed, so did Kant seek the powers or faculties of knowledge,
KK
Dash STN 3
498 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
which constitute experience. The conditions which, as necessary functions, precede experience, he called “ transcendental,” and by this word designated both his philosophy and the faculty which he was compelled to assume as prior to all knowledge, or which he discovered to be prior to all knowledge in man. Thus that which Kant supposed to be prior to knowledge is not itself knowledge, but consists of the knowledge-forming faculties, that in themselves are empty. These pure faculties are called by Kant the “ pure reason.” This is no tabula rasa, like the human mind according to Locke, nor is it an aggregate of * innate ideas,” like those from which Leibnitz and Wolf sought to deduce knowledge; but it consists of powers that constitute man as man, — that essence of humanity, which no one dis- covered before Kant. It was a new discovery, the greatest that philosophy has made, and one, moreover, which it will neither uproot or surpass.
Bacon sought the right road to find the neces- sary laws of nature, and he discovered empirical philosophy. Kant sought the right road to dis- cover the necessary laws of experience, and dis- covered transcendental or critical philosophy. Bacon asked how and by what means natural phenomena are possible. Kant asked how and by what means are physics, mathematics, and me-
PROGRESS OF KANT. 499
taphysics possible, and he solved his questions in the “Critique of Pure Reason,” the “ Novum Organum” of a new philosophy. To this work German philosophy, rendered fruitful by English philosophy, gave birth. Kant was a dogmatical before he became a critical philosopher; and he accomplished the transition from one period to the other under the influence of the English phi- losophy, especially that of Hume. Starting from the Leibnitz-Wolfian philosophy, and passing through that of Hume, he arrived at his own. The first person who reveiwed the “Critique of Pure Reason ” explained Kant’s philosophy as an Idealism after the fashion of Berkeley. Here- upon Kant explained his own work in his “ Pro- legomena to all future Metaphysics,” and said, in reply to the false comparison, that David Hume, rather than Berkeley, was the philosopher who, many years before, had awakened him out of his dogmatic slumber, and had given a totally new direction to his investigations in the field of spe- culative philosophy. Mindful of this tendency, Kant took for the motto of his « Critique of Pure Reason” the words of Bacon, from the pre- face to the “ Novum Organum ”— words that an- nounce the great fact of which the two reformers of philosophy are conscious.
“Of ourselves we say nothing; but for the KK 2
500 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
matter of which we treat, we desire men not to regard it as an opinion, but as a necessary work, and to hold it for certain that we are laying the foundation, not of any sect or theory, but of that which will profit and dignify mankind. In the next place, we desire that they should fairly con~ sult the common advantage, and themselves par- ticipate in the remaining labours. Moreover, that they should be strong in hope, and not pretend or imagine that our Instauration is an infinite work, surpassing human strength, since it is, in reality, an end and legitimate termination of infinite error.” *
* This is rather a condensation than an exact quotation.—J. O.
APPENDICES.
A.
(Referred to at p. 87).
The entire passage in Spinoza’s letter, which is the second in the collection of Epistles, is as fol- lows :—De Bacone parum dicam, qui de hac re admodum confuse loquitur et fere nihil probat: sed tantum narrat. Nam primo supponit, quod intellectus humanus preter fallaciam sensuum sua sola natura fallitur, omniaque fingit ex analogia suze nature et non ex analogia universi, adeo ut sit instar speculi inaequalis ad radios rerum, quod suam naturam nature rerum immiscet, &c. Se- cundo, quod intellectus humanus fertur ad abs- tracta propter naturam propriam, atque que fluxa sunt, fingit esse constantia, &c. Tertio, quod intellectus humanus gliscat, neque consistere aut acquiescere possit ; et quas adhuc alias causas adsignat, facile omnes ad unicam Cartesii reduci possunt ; scilicet, quia voluntas humana est libera et latior intellectu, sive, ut ipse Verulamius (Aph. 49) magis confuse loquitur, quia intellectus
-
504 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
luminis sicci non est; sed recipit infusionem a voluntate. (Notandum hic, quod Verulamius sepe capiat intellectum pro mente, in quo a Cartesio differt.) Hanc ergo causam, ceteras ut nullius momenti parum curando, ostendam esse falsam ; quod et ipsi facile vidissent, modo atten- dissent ad hoc, quod scilicet voluntas differt ab hac et illa volitione, eodem modo ac albedo ab hoc et illo albo, sive humanitas ab hoe et illo homine; adeo ut eque impossibile sit concipere, voluntatem causam esse hujus ac illius volitionis, atque humanitatem esse causam Petri et Pauli. Cum igitur voluntas non sit, nisi ens rationis, et ne- quaquam dicenda causa hujus et illius voluntatis ; et particulares volitiones, quia, ut existant, egent causa, non possint dici liber, sed necessario sint tales, quales a suis causis determinantur; et denique secundum Cartesium, ipsissimi errores sint particulares volitiones, inde necessario sequitur, errores, id est particulares volitiones, non esse liberas, sed determinari a causis externis ; et nullo modo a voluntate, quod demonstrare promisi, &c.” The complete passage in Bacon (Nov. Org. L, 49), cited by Dr. Fischer, is as follows : —* Intel- lectus humanus luminis sicci non est; sed recipit infusionem a voluntate et affectibus, id quod ge- nerat ad quod vult scientias. Quod enim mavult homo verum esse, id potius credit.
APPENDIX B. 505
B.
(Referred to at p. 125).
Gothe’s characteristic of Bacon, in the “ Theory of Colours,” is as follows :—
** Generally we estimate the works of an emi- nent man by the effect they have produced on ourselves, either by advancing or retarding our cultivation. By such self-experiences do we pass judgment on our predecessors; and from this point of view may that be regarded, which we venture to say respecting an admirable genius, who appears to us at the close of the sixteenth and the commencement of the seventeenth century.
«* What Bacon of Verulam has bequeathed to us can be divided into two parts. The first is the historical part, which is chiefly in a disapproving spirit, pointing out previous deficiencies, reveal- ing ldacune, and finding fault with predecessors. The second part we would call the instructive— didactically dogmatic, urging to new labours, ex- citing, promising.
“In both these parts there is for us something that is attractive and something that repels, as we shall now more clearly define. In the historical part, we are pleased with the acute insight into all that has gone before, and more especially by
506 FRANCIS BACON OF VERULAM.
the great clearness with which the obstacles to science are brought forward. We are pleased also by the detection of those prejudices that gene- rally and particularly hinder the further progress of mankind. But, on the other hand, most re- volting to us is Bacon’s insensibility to the merits of his predecessors, his want of reverence for antiquity. For how can one listen with patience when he compares the works of Aristotle and Plato to light planks, which, because they consist of no solid material, may have floated down to us on the flood of ages? In the second part, we are displeased by his requisitions, which are loosely made, and by his method, which is not con- structive, complete in itself, or directed to a fixed point, but promotes isolation (among the departments of science). On the other hand, we are highly gratified by his encouragements, his in- citements, and his promises.
“Tt is from the gratification he produces that his fame has arisen; for who does not love to hear narrated the defects of former times? who does not feel confidence in himself? who does not place a hope in posterity? On the other hand, that which is displeasing is indeed observed by the more acute; but it is treated tenderly, as in fairness it ought to be.
‘«‘ From these considerations we venture to explain
APPENDIX B. 507
how it was that Bacon should be so much talked about, without producing any great effect, or rather, when his effect had rather been injurious than use- ful. For, inasmuch as his method, so far as he can be said to have had one, is exceedingly cumber- some, there was no school that assembled round _ either him or his remains. Men of eminence ne- cessarily succeeded, who raised their age to more consistent views of nature, and rallied around them all who felt a love for comprehensive science.
** Moreover, by referring man to experience, he caused them to fall— being thus left completely to themselves —into a boundless empiria. Thus they imbibed such a horror of method, that they re- garded disorder as the true element, in which alone science could thrive. We will allow ourselves to repeat what we-have said, in the form of a simi- litude. |
“ Bacon resembles a man who clearly perceives the irregularity, insufficiency, and unwieldiness of an ancient building, and can explain these defects to the architects. He counsels them to abandon it, to relinquish without scruple the soil, the materials, and all the appurtenances, to look out for another site, and to raise a new edifice. He is an excellent orator, well versed in the art of persuasion: he shakes some of the walls; they fall in, and a partial removal of the inhabitants becomes imperative.
:" »,
508 FRANCIS BACON ‘OF VERULAM.
He points out a new site; preparations-are made;
but the ground is everywhere found too narrow. He submits new plans, but they are neither clearly intelligible, nor attractive. But, above all, he speaks of new, and as yet unknown, materials; and now is the world well served. The multitude dis- perse in every direction, and bring back with them infinite details; while at home, new plans, new spheres of activity, new settlements, occupy the citizens, and absorb their attention.
‘¢In spite of all this, and on account of all this, the works of Bacon wiil remain a valuable treasure for posterity, especially when the man no longer influences us immediately, but only historically ; which will soon be possible, as we are already separated from him by centuries.”
The above will be found in the last edition of Géthe’s works, vol. xxix., p. 88. For the remarks on Newton, Dr. Fischer refers to the same edition, vol. xxviil., p. 293.
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