now that love him best. This fault I lay to his charge: bicause once it pleased him, though somewhat merelie, yet overuncurteslie, to rayle upon poore England, objecting both extreme beggerie and mere barbariousnes unto it, writyng thus unto his frend Atticus: There is not one scruple of silver in that whole Isle, or any one that knoweth either learnyng or letter.

But now master Cicero, blessed be God and his sonne Jesu Christ, whom you never knew, except it were as it pleased him to lighten you by some shadow, as covertlie in one place ye confesse saying: Veritatis tantum umbram confectamur, as your Master Plato did before you blessed be God, I say, that sixten hundred yeare after you were dead and gone, it may trewly be sayd, that for silver there is more cumlie plate in one Citie of England, than is in foure of the proudest Cities in all Italie, and take Rome for one of them. And for learnyng, beside the knowledge of all learned tongs and liberall sciences, even your owne bookes, Cicero, be as well read, and your excellent eloquence is as well liked and loved and as trewlie folowed in England at this day, as it is now, or ever was, sence your owne tyme in any place of Italie, either at Arpinum where ye were borne, or els at Rome where ye were brought up. And a litle to brag with you, Cicero, where you your selfe, by your leave, halted in some point of learnyng in your owne tong, many in England at this day go streight up, both in trewe skill and right doing therein.

This I write, not to reprehend Tullie, whom above all other I like and love best, but to excuse Terence, because in his tyme and a good while after Poetrie was never perfited in Latin, untill by trew Imitation of the Grecians it was at length brought to perfection: And also thereby to exhorte the goodlie wittes of England, which apte by nature and willing by desire, geve themselves to Poetrie, that they, rightly understanding the barbarous bringing in of Rymes, would labor, as Virgil and Horace did in Latin, to make perfit also this point of learning in our English tong.

CHAPTER IV.

SIDNEY'S "ARCADIA."

SIR PHILIP SIDNEY wrote his "Arcadia" for the pleasure of his sister, the Countess of Pembroke. It was not written for publication, and upon his death-bed he asked a friend to collect all the leaves of the MS. and burn them. His sister, no doubt, interfered after his death for their preservation. He had dedicated the work to her, saying to her, "You desired me to do it, and your desire to my heart is an absolute commandment. For severer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflingly handled." It was written in the years 1580 and 1581. Sidney received his death-wound before Zutphen in 1586, and the "Arcadia" was first published in 1590. The force and simplicity of Sidney's character are shown in the style of his "Apologie for Poetrie," for which he did wish many readers, and which has been included in another volume of this Library.1 The euphuistic style that was the fashion of the day has no more place in that work than it has in the poems by which Spenser wished to be remembered. Spenser amused himself by writing euphuistic pieces,

1 See "Shorter Prose Works," pages 70-86.

which, though there were nine comedies among them, he kept from the press. Sidney amused his sister by following the fashion for her pleasure, and in so doing set a fashion; for his "Arcadia" stands in the literature of Europe first in a series of heroic pastoral romances, especially developed in France, that formed a main part of the light reading of two generations of idlers. Sidney joined to the Spanish and Italian pastoral of prose mixed with verse, a wealth of adventure planned after the fashion of the Spanish romances of chivalry. There was an influence upon him also from the old Greek Romance of the loves of Theagenes and Chariclea--the Æthiopica, written in the fourth century by Heliodorus, afterwards Bishop of Tricca, in Thessaly. It had been recently translated into English by Thomas Underdown, and was specially praised by Sidney in his "Apologie for Poetrie."

Sidney's story is of two cousins and close friends, Musidorus, Prince of Thessaly, and Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon. When young men upon their travels together, they were parted by shipwreck. Musidorus, cast on the Laconian shore, was rescued and taken to the house of the noble Kalander, in Arcadia, where he spoke of himself as Palladius and of his lost friend as Daiphantus. After a time Kalander learned that his son Clitophon had been taken prisoner by the Helots, in Laconia. Musidorus gathered an Arcadian army for his rescue, and found Pyrocles in the marvellously brave captain of the Helots. Clitophon was released, and the two friends, now re-united, presently resolved to make their way to the two daughters of Basilius, King of Arcadia. He and his wife Gynecia had carried them into a forest, and there shut them up in two lodges. In one of the lodges the king and queen themselves lived, and kept watch over their daughter Philoclea; their other daughter, Pamela, was in the other lodge, under care of a clown and his ugly wife, Dametas and Miso, who had a more unpleasant daughter Mopsa. Pyrocles dressed himself as an Amazon, and called himself Zelmane, so he found his way to the lodge of Philoclea, to whom he gave his heart. Here he was courted by Basilius, who took him for a woman, and by Gynecia, who took him for a man, while he with difficulty made his suit to Philoclea, who took him for first one and then the other. Musidorus obtained access to the other lodge as a shepherd, Dorus, and that he might remain near Pamela professed affection for her keeper Mopsa. This is only the beginning of entanglements. Notes of war sound, episodes abound, and among the episodes is one that may suffice to show the manner of the book, and has interest for all who read Shakespeare, since it suggested to Shakespeare his fine interweaving of the story of Gloster and his sons, an addition of highest value to the artistic working out of the design of his "King Lear."

It was in the kingdome of Galatia, the season being (as in the depth of Winter) very cold, and as then sodainly grown to so extreme and foul a storm, that never any winter (I think) brought forth a fouler childe: so that the Princes were

2" Shorter Prose Works," page 73, col. 1.

even compelled by the hail, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seek som shrouding place, which a certain hollow rock offering unto them, they made it their shield against the tempests fury. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speech of a couple, who not perceiving them, being hid within that rude canopie, held a strange and pitiful disputation, which made them step out, yet in such sort as they might see unseen. There they perceived an aged man, and a young, scarcely com to the age of a man, both poorly arrayed, extremely weatherbeaten; the old man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appear a kinde of nobleness, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Wel Leonatus (said hee) since I cannot perswade thee to lead mee to that which should end my grief, and my trouble, let mee now intreat thee to leav mee: fear not, my misery cannot bee greater than it is, and nothing doth becom me but misery fear not the danger of my blinde steps, I cannot fall wors, than I am: and do not I pray thee, do not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchedness: but flie, flie from this region onely worthy of mee. Dear father (answered hee) do not take away from mee the onely remnant of my happiness: while I have power to do you service, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my son (said hee, and with that hee groned, as if sorrow strave to break his heart) how evill fits it mee to have such a son, and how much doth thy kindness upbraid my wickedness? These dolefull speeches, and som others to like purpose (well showing they had not been born to the fortune they were in) moved the Princes to go out unto them, and ask the younger what they were? Sirs (answered hee with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certain noble kinde of pitiousness) I see well you are strangers, that know not our miserie, so well here known, that no man dare know, but that wee must bee miserable. Indeed our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull unto us as pitie, yet nothing is more dangerous unto us, than to make our selvs so known as may stir pitie: but your presence promiseth that crueltie shall not ouer-run hate: and if it did, in truth our state is sunk below the degree of fear. This old man (whom I lead) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungratefulness of a son of his, deprived not onely of his kingdom (whereof no forrain forces were ever able to spoil him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature grant's to the poorest creatures whereby, and by other his unnatural dealings, hee hath been driven to such grief, as even now hee would have had mee to have led him to the top of this rock, thence to cast himself headlong to death and so would have made mee, who received my life of him, to bee the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen, said hee, if either of you have a father and feel what dutifull affection is ingrafted in a son's heart, let mee intreat you to convey this afflicted Prince to som place of rest and security: amongst your worthy acts it shall bee none of the least, that a king of such might and fame, and so unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.

:

But before they could make him answer, his father began to speak. Ah my son, said hee, how evil an historian are you, that leav out the chief knot of all the discours? my wickedness, my wickedness! and if thou doest it to spare my ears (the onely sens now left mee proper for knowledg) assure thyself thou doest mistake mee: and I take witness of that Sun which you see (with that hee cast up his blinde eyes, as if hee would hunt for light) and wish my self in wors case that I do wish my self, which is as evill as may bee, if I speak untruly, that nothing is so welcom to my thoughts, as

the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whom from my heart I wish that it may not prove som ominous foretoken of misfortune to have met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoever my son (ò God, that truth bind's me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath said is true. But beside those truths, this also is true, that having had, in lawful mariage, of a mother fit to bear royal children, this son (such a one as partly you see, and better shall know by my short declaration) and so enjoyed the expectations in the world of him, till hee was grown to justifie their expectations (so as I needed envie no father for the chief comfort of mortalitie, to leav another ones-self after mee) I was carried by a bastard son of mine (if at least I bee bound to believ the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to do my best to destroy this son (I think you think) undeserving destruction. What ways shee used to bring mee to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much poysoncus hypocrisie, desperate fraud, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling envie, as in any living person could bee harboured: but I list it not; no remembrance of naughtiness delight's mee but mine own; and mee think's, the accusing his traps might in som manner excuse my fault, which certainly I lothe to do. But the conclusion is, that I gave order to som servants of mine, whom I thought as apt for such charities as my self, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.

:

But those thievs (better natured to my son than my self) spared his life, letting him go to learn to live poorly: which hee did, giving himself to bee a private souldier in a country here by but as hee was ready to bee greatly advanced for som noble pieces of service which hee did, hee heard newes of mee who (drunk in my affection to that unlawful and unnatural son of mine) suffered my self so to bee governed by him, that all favors and punishments passed by him, all offices and places of importance distributed to his favorites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing but the name of a King! which hee shortly weary of too, with many indignities (if any thing may bee called an indignity, which was laid upon mee) threw me out of my Sea, and put out my eyes, and then (proud in his tyranny) let mee go, neither imprisoning, nor killing mee; but rather delighting to make mee feel miserie; miserie indeed, if ever there were any; full of wretchedness, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltiness. And as hee came to the crown by so unjust means, as unjustly he keep it, by force of stranger souldiers in Cittadels, the neasts of tyrannie and murtherers of libertie; disarming all his own country men, that no man durst shew himself a well-willer of mine: to say the truth (I think) few of them being so (considering my cruel folly to my good son, and foolish kindness to my onkinde bastard :) but if there were any who felt a pitie of so great a fall, and had yet any sparks of unslain duty left in them towards me; yet durst they not shew it, scarcely with giving me alms at their doors; which yet was the onely sustenance of my distressed life, no bodie daring to show so much charitie, as to lend mee a hand to guide my dark steps; till this son of mine (God knowe's, worthie of a more virtuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abominable wrongs, not reckoning danger, and neglecting the present good waie hee was in of doing himself good, came hither to do this kinde office you see him perform towards mee, to my unspeakable grief; not onely becaus his kindness is a glass even to my blinde eyes of my naughtiness, but that above all griefs, it grive's me hee should desperately adventure the loss of his well-deserving life for mine, that yet ow more to Fortune for my deserts, as if he would carry mud in a chest of Chrystal: for well I

know, hee that now raigneth, how much soëver (and with good reason) hee despiseth mee, of all men despised; yet hee will not let slip any advantage to make away him, whose just title (ennobled by courage and goodness) may one day shake the seat of a never-secure tyrannie. And for this caus I craved of him to lead mee to the top of this rock, indeed I must confess, with meaning to free him from so serpentine a companion as I am. But hee finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was born, shewed himself disobedient unto mee. And now Gentlemen, you have the true story, which I praie you publish to the world, that my mischievous proceedings may be the glory of his filial pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merit. And if it may bee, let me obtain that of you, which my son denie's mee: for never was there more pitie in saving any, than in ending mee; both becaus therein my agonie shall end, and so you shall preserv this excellent yong man, who els wilfully followe's his own ruine.

The matter in it self lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not to take to himself the gestures of pitie, since his face could not put off the marks thereof) greatly moved the two Princes to compassion, which could not stay in such hearts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thither with fortie hors, onely of purpose to murder his brother, of whose coming hee had soon advertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credit in such a matter, but his own, and therefore came himself to bee actor, and spectator. And as soon as hee came, not regarding the weak (as hee thought) guard but of two men, commanded som of his followers to set their hands to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sword) how falsly soëver hee was dealt with by others, would not betray himself; but bravely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assay led him, warn his fellows to com more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly becom parties (so just a defence deserving as much as old friendship) and so did behave them among that companie (more injurious than valiant) that many of them lost their lives for their wicked master.

Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if the king of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not com unlooked for to their succour. Who (having had a dream which had fixt his imagination vehemently upon som great danger, presently to follow those two Princes, whom hee most dearly loved) was com in all haste, following as well as hee could their track with a hundred horses in that countrey, which hee thought (considering who then raigned) a fit place enough to make the stage of any Tragedie.

But then the match had been so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and wors-gotten honor should have tumbled together to destruction; had there not com in Tydeus and Telenor, with fortie or fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest hous of that country, brought up from their infancie with Plexirtus, men of such prowess as not to know fear in themselvs, and yet. to teach it in others that should deal with them: for they had often made their lives triumph over most terrible dangers; never dismaied, and ever fortunate; and truly no more setled in valor, than disposed to goodness and justice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could have learned to make friendship a childe, & not the father of virtue. But bringing up (rather then choice) having first knit their mindes unto him (indeed craftie enough, either to hide his faults, or never to shew them, but when they might pay home) they willingly held out the cours, rather to satisfie

him, than all the world; and rather to bee good friends, than good men so as though they did not like the evil hee did, yet they liked him that did the evil; and though not counsellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they having heard of this sodain going out with so small a companie, in a countrie full of evil-wishing mindes towards him (though they knew not the caus) followed him; till they found him in such case, as they were to venture their lives, or els he lose his: which they did with such force of minde and body, that truly I may justly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had never till then found any, that could make them so well repeat their hardest lesson in the feats of arms. And briefly

so they did; that if they overcame not, yet were they not overcom, but carried away that ungrateful master of theirs to a place of securitie, howsoever the Princes laboured to the contrarie. But this matter being thus far begun, it became not the constancie of the Princes so to leav it; but in all haste making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia, they had in few days left him but onely that one strong place where hee was. For, fear having been the onely knot that had fastned his people unto him, that once united by a greater force, they all scattered from him, like so many birds, whose cage had been broken.

In which season the blinde King (having in the chief Citie of his Realm set the Crown upon his son Leonatus's head) with many tears (both of joy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his own fault and his son's virtue, after he had kist him, and forc't his son to accept honor of him (as of his new-becom subject) even in a moment died, as it should seem, his heart broken with unkindness and affliction, stretched so far beyond his limits with his access of comfort, as it was able no longer to keep safe his vital spirits. But the new King (having no less lovingly performed all duties to him dead, than alive) pursued on the siege of his unnatural brother, as much for the revenge of his father, as the establishing of his own quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledg the prowess of those two brothers, than whom the Princes never found in all their travel, two of greater abilitie to perform, nor of abler skill for conduct.

But Plexirtus finding that if nothing els, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humbleness to creep, where by pride hee could not march. For certainly so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft conformed him to all turningness of sleights, that though no man had less goodness in his soul than hee, no man could better finde the places whence arguments might grow of goodness to another; though no man felt less pitie, no man could tell better how to stir pitie; no man more impudent to denie, where proofs were not manifest; no man more readie to confess with a repenting manner aggravating his own evil, where denial would but make the fault fouler. Now hee took this way, that having gotten a passport for one (that pretended hee would put Plexirtus alive into his hands) to speak with the King his brother, hee himself (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in brave defence) with a rope about his neck, barefooted, came to offer himself to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission hee used, how cunningly in making greater the fault, hee made the faultiness the less, how artificially hee could set out the torments of his own conscience, with the burdensom cumber hee had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to live, hee begg'd life in the refusing it; I am not cunning enough to bee able to express: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eye, than as the murderer of his father, and anger already began to paint revenge in many colors, ere long hee

had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon; and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an opinion of a future amendment : while the poor villains (chief ministers of his wickedness, now betrayed by the author thereof) were delivered to many cruel sorts of death; hee so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more com into the defence of an unremediable mischief alreadie committed, than that they had don it at first by consent.

In such sort the Princes left these reconciled brothers Plexirtus in all his behaviour carrying him in far lower degree of service, than the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) & taking likewise their leavs of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enjoy som benefit, both of his wife and Kingdom) they privately went thence, having onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompanie them through divers places; they four doing acts more dangerous, though less famous, becaus they were but private chivalries: till hearing of the fair and virtuous Queen Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselves to her succour, both becaus the weaker (and weaker as being a Ladie) and partly becaus they heard the King of Armenia had in his companie three of the most famous men living, for matters of arms, that were known to bee in the world.

CHAPTER V.

BACON'S "ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING." OON after the death of Elizabeth, under whom he had not thriven as fast as he desired to thrive, Francis Bacon found himself on the road to fortune as a lawyer, and sure of encouragement in the issue of such books as might set forth his ideas for the Advancement of INITIAL. (From Bacon's "Novum Learning. In his youth Organum." First Edition, 1620.) he had become firmly persuaded that there was a way of interrogating Nature far more fruitful of results than any search within the brain for definitions, or ingenious shaping of propositions, that might express man's little knowledge but could never win for him the way into new truth. He had turned at Cambridge from his lessons in Aristotle's "Organon," a group of treatises upon conceptions of the mind as employed in reasoning, for discussion, and the communication of knowledge. Aristotle was proud of his work, saying that "upon Rhetoric much had been written of old, but on syllogizing or reasoning absolutely nothing; the whole of what he had composed on that subject was from himself." A blind worship of Aristotle caused the doctrines of his "Organon" to be applied to the interpretation of Nature. Logic alone had been applied to physics, and men sought to explain secrets of Nature by help of a doctrine of propositions. Logical subtlety, instead of being used as an aid to experimental search after knowledge, had come to be taken as its substitute. Against this young Francis

With his

Bacon, as a student, vigorously rebelled. earliest manhood came in him the desire to bring men to the use of another "Organon" than Aristotle's, a new instrument for the ascertaining of the truths of science, a "Novum Organum." His design was some day to urge upon men a method of invention. In the world about us lie the hidden harmonies of the divine wisdom working upon nature, harmonies that we entitle laws. Taking this outer world as a great quarry from which man may, so to speak, hew out in blocks of knowledge the results of divine wisdom, and make them part of the wisdom of man, Bacon's object was to show in what temper and with what tools we might hope to succeed in such quarrying. All such addition to man's wisdom was addition to his power. This was the one broad

way to the advancement of the human race. As his design took ever clearer shape, early in the reign of James I., Francis Bacon began definitely to work it out in a series of books, illustrating various parts of his idea, and published with no definite order, though each had its own clear relation to the main design. If men would come out of themselves and look abroad, would interrogate Nature by experiment, maintaining throughout a teachable spirit of inquiry, many things would be discovered by system where before only a few had discovered themselves by chance. In one of the writings of this series,' he

said

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 necessarily 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 contrary will happen in the long run. For chance works rarely, and tardily, and without order but art constantly, rapidly, and in an orderly manner. 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 distance, 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 inven tion of silken thread some one had talked in this fashion, affirming that there was a certain thread useful for dress and

1 "Cogitata et Visa."

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-conditioned is the human mind in this case of invention, 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.

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If there could be widely established such a system of inquiry for the gaining of a knowledge of the laws of nature that they might be made to serve uses of man, how great would be the change! There would be a new and great building up of man's dominion and happiness, by the vastly increased forces of knowledge, an "Instauratio Magna," as he afterwards entitled, with a just enthusiasm, the whole body of this new endeavour. We should leave the bounded waters within which all exploration had been hitherto

and the right form of tools, not himself to accomplish all that they were destined to effect for man. He said at the end of the general preface to his "Instauratio Magna "

Of ourselves 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 participate in the labours that yet remain. Moreover, 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.

And towards the end of the first book of his "Novum Organum" he wrote,

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.

new.

To find a way through Nature up to God, by observing outward phenomena, then seeking through experiment to be led in-by Induction-to a detection of the law of nature-the piece of divine wisdom-they express, was the purpose of the inductive part of Bacon's philosophy. But the law having been found, there were to be deduced from it the aids it could give to the power and well-being of man. At one end of such a scale is Franklin sending up his kite into a thunderstorm, and at the other the electric telegraph that joins the old world to the Bacon's main thought had been in a vague way present to many minds in England, in some sense it might almost be called a natural expression of the English character, but the energies of life under Elizabeth that produced Shakespeare among the poets, produced also Bacon among the philosophers, each giving to elementary truths a new strength of utterance. By skill in arrangement, ingenuity in giving force and freshness to the statement of neglected truths, weight of thought and expression, and a fixed intensity of labour with a single aim, Bacon did succeed in establishing among inquirers into Nature an enthusiasm for experiment. He