the faithful sedulity of friendship. Zeal, except it be ordered aright, when it bendeth itself unto conflict with all things either indeed, or but imagined to be, opposite unto religion, useth the razor many times with such eagerness, that the very life of religion itself is thereby hazarded; through hatred of tares the corn in the field of God is plucked up. So that zeal needeth both ways a sober guide. Fear, on the other side, if it have not the light of true understanding concerning God, wherewith to be moderated, breedeth likewise superstition. It is therefore dangerous that, in things divine, we should work too much upon the spur either of zeal or fear. Fear is a good solicitor to devotion. Howbeit, sith fear in this kind doth grow from an apprehension of Deity endued with irresistible power to hurt, and is, of all affections (anger excepted), the unaptest to admit any conference with reason, for which cause the wise man doth say of fear, that it is a betrayer of the forces of reasonable understanding; therefore, except men know beforehand what manner of service pleaseth God, while they are fearful they try all things which fancy offereth. Many there are who never think on God but when they are in extremity of fear; and then, because what to think, or what to do, they are uncertain; perplexity not suffering them to be idle, they think and do, as it were in a phrensy, they know not what. Superstition neither knoweth the right kind, nor observeth the due measure, of actions belonging to the service of God, but is always joined with a wrong opinion touching things divine. Superstition is, when things are either abhorred or observed, with a zealous or fearful, but erroneous relation to God. By means whereof, the superstitious do sometimes serve, though the true God, yet with needless offices, and defraud him of duties necessary, sometimes load others than him with such honours as properly are his.

scope and purpose of God in delivering the holy Scrip- please him not. For which cause, if they who this ture, such as do take more largely than behoveth, way swerve be compared with such sincere, sound, and they, on the contrary, side-racking and stretching it discreet as Abraham was in matter of religion, the further than by him was meant, are drawn into sun-service of the one is like unto flattery, the other like dry as great inconveniences. They, pretending the Scripture's perfection, infer thereupon, that in Scripture all things lawful to be done must needs be contained. We count those things perfect which want nothing requisite for the end whereto they were instituted. As, therefore, God created every part and particle of man exactly perfect-that is to say, in all points sufficient unto that use for which he appointed it so the Scripture, yea, every sentence thereof, is perfect, and wanteth nothing requisite unto that purpose for which God delivered the same. So that, if hereupon we conclude, that because the Scripture is perfect, therefore all things lawful to be done are comprehended in the Scripture; we may even as well conclude so of every sentence, as of the whole sum and body thereof, unless we first of all prove that it was the drift, scope, and purpose of Almighty God in holy Scripture to comprise all things which man may practise. But admit this, and mark, I beseech you, what would follow. God, in delivering Scripture to his church, should clean have abrogated among them the Law of Nature, which is an infallible knowledge imprinted in the minds of all the children of men, whereby both general principles for directing of human actions are comprehended, and conclusions derived from them; upon which conclusions groweth in particularity the choice of good and evil in the daily affairs of this life. Admit this, and what shall the Scripture be but a snare and a torment to weak consciences, filling them with infinite perplexities, scrupulosities, doubts insoluble, and extreme despairs? Not that the Scripture itself doth cause any such thing (for it tendeth to the clean contrary, and the fruit thereof is resolute assurance and certainty in that it teacheth); but the necessities of this life urging men to do that which the light of nature, common discretion, and judgment of itself directeth them unto; on the other side, this doctrine teaching them that so to do were to sin against their own souls, and that they put forth their hands to iniquity, whatsoever they go about, and have not first the sacred Scripture of God for direction; how can it choose but bring the simple a thousand times to their wits' end; how can it choose but vex and amaze them? For in every action of common life, to find out some sentence clearly and infallibly setting before our eyes what we ought to do (seem we in Scripture never so expert), would trouble us more than we are aware. In weak and tender minds, we little know what misery this strict opinion would breed, besides the stops it would make in the whole course of all men's lives and actions. Make all things sin which we do by direction of nature's light, and by the rule of common discretion, without thinking at all upon Scripture; admit this position, and parents shall cause their children to sin, as oft as they cause them to do anything, before they come to years of capacity, and be ripe for knowledge in the Scripture. Admit this, and it shall not be with masters as it was with him in the gospel; but servants being commanded to go, shall stand still till they have their errand warranted unto them by Scripture. Which, as it standeth with Christian duty in some cases, so in common affairs to require it were most unfit.

[Zeal and Fear in Religion.]

[Defence of Reason.]

But so it is, the name of the light of nature is made hateful with men; the star of reason and learning, and all other such like helps, beginneth no otherwise to be thought of, than if it were an unlucky comet; or as if God had so accursed it, that it should never shine or give light in things concerning our duty any way towards him, but be esteemed as that star in the revelation, called Wormwood, which, being fallen from heaven, maketh rivers and waters in which it falleth so bitter, that men tasting them die thereof. A number there are who think they cannot admire as they ought the power and authority of the word of God, if in things divine they should attribute any force to man's reason; for which cause they never use reason so willingly as to disgrace reason. Their usual and common discourses are unto this effect. First, the natural man perceiveth not the things of the spirit of God, for they are foolishness unto him; neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned,' &c. &c. By these and the like disputes, an opinion hath spread itself very far in the world; as if the way to be ripe in faith, were to be raw in wit and judgment; as if reason were an enemy unto religion, childish simplicity the mother of ghostly and divine

wisdom.

*

To our purpose, it is sufficient that whosoever doth serve, honour, and obey God, whosoever believeth in Two affections there are, the forces whereof, as they him, that man would no more do this than innocents bear the greater or lesser sway in man's heart, frame and infants do but for the light of natural reason that accordingly to the stamp and character of his religion-shineth in him, and maketh him apt to apprehend the one zeal, the other fear. Zeal, unless it be rightly guided, when it endeavoureth most busily to please God, forceth upon him those unseasonable offices which

those things of God, which being by grace discovered, are effectual to persuade reasonable minds, and none other, that honour, obedience, and credit, belong

aright unto God. No man cometh unto God to offer him sacrifice, to pour out supplications and prayers before him, or to do him any service, which doth not first believe him both to be, and to be a rewarder of them who in such sort seek unto him. Let men be taught this, either by revelation from heaven, or by instruction upon earth; by labour, study, and meditation, or by the only secret inspiration of the Holy Ghost; whatsoever the mean be they know it by, if the knowledge thereof were possible without discourse of natural reason, why should none be found capable thereof but only men; nor men till such time as they come unto ripe and full ability to work by reasonable understanding? The whole drift of the Scripture of God, what is it, but only to teach theology Theology, what is it, but the science of things divine? What science can be attained unto, without the help of natural discourse and reason? Judge you of that which I speak, saith the apostle. In vain it were to speak anything of God, but that by reason men are able somewhat to judge of that they hear, and by dis-raising up of men's hearts, and the sweetening of their course to discern how consonant it is to truth. Scripture, indeed, teacheth things above nature, things which our reason by itself could not reach unto. Yet those also we believe, knowing by reason that the Scripture is the word of God. The thing we have handled according to the question moved about it, which question is, whether the light of reason be so pernicious, that, in devising laws for the church, men ought not by it to search what may be fit and convenient? For this cause, therefore, we have endeavoured to make it appear, how, in the nature of reason itself, there is no impediment, but that the self-same spirit which revealeth the things that God hath set down in his law, may also be thought to aid and direct men in finding out, by the light of reason, what laws are expedient to be made for the guiding of his church, over and besides them that are in Scripture.

*

[Church Music.]

Touching musical harmony, whether by instrument or by voice, it being but of high and low in sounds a due proportionable disposition, such notwithstanding is the force thereof, and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think that the soul itself) by nature is, or hath in it, harmony; a thing which delighteth all ages, and beseemeth all states; a thing as seasonable in grief as in joy; as decent, being added unto actions of greatest weight and solemnity, as being used when men most sequester themselves from action. The reason hereof is an admirable facility which music hath to express and represent to the mind, more inwardly than any other sensible mean, the very standing, rising, and falling, the very steps and inflections every way, the turns and varieties of all passions whereunto the mind is subject; yea, so to imitate them, that, whether it resemble unto us the same state wherein our minds already are, or a clean contrary, we are not more contentedly by the one confirmed, than changed and led away by the other. In harmony, the very image and character even of virtue and vice is perceived, the mind delighted with their resemblances, and brought by having them often iterated into a love of the things themselves. For which cause there is nothing more contagious and pestilent than some kinds of harmony; than some, nothing more strong and potent unto good. And that there is such a difference of one kind from another, we need no proof but our own experience, inasmuch as we are at the hearing of some more inclined unto sorrow and heaviness, of some more mollified and softened in mind; one kind apter to stay and settle us, another to move and stir our affections; there is that draweth to a marvellous grave and sober mediocrity; there is

also that carrieth, as it were, into ecstacies, filling the mind with a heavenly joy, and for the time in a manner severing it from the body; so that, although we lay altogether aside the consideration of ditty or matter, the very harmony of sounds being framed in due sort, and carried from the ear to the spiritual faculties of our souls, is, by a native puissance and efficacy, greatly available to bring to a perfect temper whatsoever is there troubled; apt as well to quicken the spirits as to allay that which is too eager; sovereign against melancholy and despair; forcible to draw forth tears of devotion, if the mind be such as can yield them; able both to move and to moderate all affections. The prophet David having, therefore, singular knowledge, not in poetry alone, but in music also, judged them both to be things most necessary for the house of God, left behind him to that purpose a number of divinely-indited poems, and was further the author of adding unto poetry melody in public prayer; melody, both vocal and instrumental, for the affections towards God. In which considerations the church of Christ doth likewise at this present day retain it as an ornament to God's service, and an help to our own devotion. They which, under pretence of the law ceremonial abrogated, require the abrogation of instrumental music, approving, nevertheless, the use of vocal melody to remain, must show some reason wherefore the one should be thought a legal ceremony, and not the other. In church music, curiosity or ostentation of art, wanton, or light, or unsuitable harmony, such as only pleaseth the ear, and doth not naturally serve to the very kind and degree of those impressions which the matter that goeth with it leaveth, or is apt to leave, in men's minds, doth rather blemish and disgrace that we do, than add either beauty or furtherance unto it. On the other side, the faults prevented, the force and efficacy of the thing itself, when it drowneth not utterly, but fitly suiteth with matter altogether sounding to the praise of God, is in truth most admirable, and doth much edify, if not the understanding, because it teacheth not, yet surely the affection, because therein it worketh much. They must have hearts very dry and tough, from whom the melody of the psalms doth not sometime draw that wherein a mind religiously affected delighteth.

LORD BACON.

But the fame of Hooker, as indeed of all his contemporaries, is outshone by that of the illustrious LORD BACON. Francis Bacon, son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, lord-keeper of the great seal, was born in London on the 22d of January 1561, and in childhood displayed such vivacity of intellect and sedateness of behaviour, that Queen Elizabeth used to call him her young lord-keeper. At the age of thirteen, he was sent to Cambridge, where, so early as his sixteenth year, he became disgusted with the Aristotelian philosophy, which then held unquestioned sway in the great English schools of learning. This dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle, as Bacon himself declared to his secretary Dr Rawley, he fell into 'not for the worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way; being a philosophy, as his lordship used to say, only strong for disputations and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the benefit of the life of man. After spending about four years at Cambridge, he travelled in France, his acute observations in which country were afterwards published in a work entitled Of the State of Europe. By the sudden death of his father in 1579, he was compelled to return hastily to England, and engage

*Rawley's Life of Bacon.

1695, he published another work, which still con-lead the understanding astray in the search after tinues to be extensively perused; it is entitled Of knowledge-the idols, as he figuratively terms them, the Proficience and Advancement of Learning, Divine before which it is apt to bow-Bacon, in the second and Human. This volume, which was afterwards book of the Novum Organum,' goes on systematically enlarged and published in the Latin language, with to expound and exemplify his method of philosophisthe title De Augmentis Scientiarum, constitutes the ing, indicated in the foregoing extracts, and to which first part of his great work called Instauratio Scien- the appellation of the inductive method is applied tiarum, or the Instauration of the Sciences. The second; This he does in so masterly a way, that he has earned part, entitled Novum Organum, is that on which, with posterity the title of the father of experimental chiefly, his high reputation as a philosopher is science. The power and compass,' says Professor grounded, and on the composition of which he be- Playfair, of a mind which could form such a plan stowed most labour. It is written in Latin, and beforehand, and trace not merely the outline, but appeared in 1620. In the first part of the Advance- many of the most minute ramifications, of sciences ment of Learning, after considering the excellence which did not yet exist, must be an object of admiof knowledge and the means of disseminating it, ration to all succeeding ages.' It is true that the together with what had already been done for its inductive method had been both practised and even advancement, and what omitted, he proceeds to cursorily recommended by more than one philodivide it into the three branches of history, poetry, sopher prior to Bacon; but unquestionably he was and philosophy; these having reference to what he the first to unfold it completely, to show its infinite considers the three parts of man's understanding-importance, and to induce the great body of scientific memory, imagination, and reason. The concluding inquirers to place themselves under its guidance. In portion of the volume relates to revealed religion. another respect, the benefit conferred by Bacon upon The Novum Organum,' which, as already mentioned, mankind was perhaps still greater. He turned the is the second and most important part of the In- attention of philosophers from speculations and disstauration of the Sciences,' consists of aphorisms, the putes upon questions remote from use, and fixed it first of which furnishes a key to the author's leading upon inquiries productive of works for the benefit doctrines: Man, who is the servant and interpreter of the life of man.' The Aristotelian philosophy was of nature, can act and understand no further than barren; the object of Bacon was 'the amplification of he has, either in operation or in contemplation, ob- the power and kingdom of mankind over the world'— served of the method and order of nature.' His new the enlargement of the bounds of human empire to method-novum organum-of employing the un- the effecting all things possible'-the augmentation, derstanding in adding to human knowledge, is fully by means of science, of the sum of human happiness, expounded in this work, the following translated and the alleviation of human suffering. In a word, extracts from which will make manifest what the he was eminently a utilitarian. reformation was which he sought to accomplish.

After alluding to the little aid which the useful arts had derived from science, and the small improvement which science had received from practical men, he proceeds' But whence can arise such vagueness and sterility in all the physical systems which have hitherto existed in the world? It is not certainly from anything in nature itself; for the steadiness and regularity of the laws by which it is governed, clearly mark them out as objects of certain and precise knowledge. Neither can it arise from any want of ability in those who have pursued such inquiries, many of whom have been men of the highest talent and genius of the ages in which they lived; and it can therefore arise from nothing else but the perverseness and insufficiency of the methods that have been pursued. Men have sought to make a world from their own conceptions, and to draw from their own minds all the materials which they employed; but if, instead of doing so, they had consulted experience and observation, they would have had facts, and not opinions, to reason about, and might have ultimately arrived at the knowledge of the laws which govern the material world.' As things are at present conducted, a sudden transition is made from sensible objects and particular facts to general propositions, which are accounted principles, and round which, as round so many fixed poles, disputation and argument continually revolve. From the propositions thus hastily assumed, all things are derived, by a process compendious and precipitate, ill suited to discovery, but wonderfully accommodated to debate. The way that promises success is the reverse of this. It requires that we should generalise slowly, going from particular things to those which are but one step more general; from those to others of still greater extent, and so on to such as are universal. By such means we may hope to arrive at principles, not vague and obscure, but luminous and well-defined, such as nature herself will not refuse to acknowledge.' After describing the causes which

The third part of the Instauration of the Sciences," entitled Sylva Sylvarum, or History of Nature, is devoted to the facts and phenomena of natural science, including original observations made by Bacon himself, which, though sometimes incorrect, are useful in exemplifying the inductive method of searching for truth. The fourth part is called Scala Intellectus, from its pointing out a succession of steps by which the understanding may ascend in such investigations. Other two parts, which the author projected, were never executed.

Another celebrated publication of Lord Bacon is his treatise, Of the Wisdom of the Ancients, 1610; wherein he attempts, generally with more ingenuity than success, to discover secret meanings in the mythological fables of antiquity. He wrote also Felicities of Queen Elizabeth's Reign, a History of King Henry VII., a philosophical romance called the New Atlantis, and several minor productions which it is needless to specify. His letters, too, have been published.

After retiring from public life, Bacon, though enjoying an annual income of £2500, continued to live in so ostentatious and prodigal a style, that, at his death, in 1626, his debts amounted to upwards of £22,000. His devotion to science appears to have been the immediate occasion of bringing his earthly existence to a close. While travelling in his carriage at a time when there was snow on the ground, he began to consider whether flesh might not be preserved by snow as well as by salt. In order to make the experiment, he alighted at a cottage near Highgate, bought a hen, and stuffed it with snow. This so chilled him, that he was unable to return home, but went to the Earl of Arundel's house in the neighbour hood, where his illness was so much increased by the dampness of a bed into which he was put, that he died in a few days." In a letter to the earl, the last

* This account is given by Aubrey, who probably obtained it from Hobbes, one of Bacon's intimate friends, and afterwards an acquaintance of Aubrey.-See Aubrey's Lives of Eminent

which he wrote, after comparing himself to the elder Pliny, who lost his life by trying an experiment about the burning of Mount Vesuvius,' he does not forget to mention his own experiment, which, says he, 'succeeded excellently." In his will, the follow

ing strikingly prophetic passage is found: My name and memory I leave to foreign nations, and to mine own country after some time is passed over.'

which men have accustomed likewise to beautify and adorn with accomplishments of magnificence and state, as well as of use and necessity; so knowledge, whether it descend from divine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish to oblivion, if it were not preserved in books, traditions, conferences, and places appointed, as universities, colleges, and schools, for the receipt and comforting the same.

[Libraries.]

Libraries are as the shrines where all the relics of the ancient saints, full of true virtue, and that without delusion or imposture, are preserved and reposed.

[Government.]

In Orpheus's theatre, all beasts and birds assembled; and, forgetting their several appetites, some of prey, some of game, some of quarrel, stood all sociably together, listening unto the airs and accords of the harp; the sound whereof no sooner ceased, or was drowned by some louder noise, but every beast returned to his own nature; wherein is aptly described the nature and condition of men, who are full of savage and unreclaimed desires of profit, of lust, of revenge which, as long as they give ear to precepts, to laws, to religion, sweetly touched with eloquence and persuasion of books, of sermons, of harangues, so long is society and peace maintained; but if these instruments be silent, or sedition and tumult make them not audible all things dissolve into anarchy and confusion.

[Prosperity and Adversity.]

The virtue of prosperity is temperance; the virtue of adversity is fortitude. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament; adversity is the blessing of the New, which carrieth the greater benediction and the clearer revelation of God's favour. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you Bacon, like Sidney, was a 'warbler of poetic prose.' shall hear as many hearselike airs as carols; and the No English writer has surpassed him in fervour and pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in debrilliancy of style, in force of expression, or in rich-scribing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of ness and significance of imagery. Keen in dis- Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and covering analogies where no resemblance is apparent distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and to common eyes, he has sometimes indulged to hopes. We see in needle-works and embroideries, it excess in the exercise of his talent. Yet, in general, is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and his comparisons are not less clear and apposite than solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy full of imagination and meaning. He has treated of work upon a lightsome ground; judge therefore of the philosophy with all the splendour, yet none of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Cervagueness, of poetry, Sometimes his style possesses tainly, virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant a degree of conciseness very rarely to be found in the where they are incensed or crushed: for prosperity compositions of the Elizabethan age. Of this qua- doth best discover vice, but adversity doth best dislity the last of the subjoined extracts is a notable cover virtue. illustration.

[Universities.]

As water, whether it be the dew of heaven or the springs of the earth, doth scatter and lose itself in the ground, except it be collected into some receptacle, where it may by union comfort and sustain itself; and, for that cause, the industry of man hath framed and made spring-heads, conduits, cisterns, and pools;

Persons,' ii. 227. At pages 222 and 602 of the same volume, we learn that Hobbes was a favourite with Bacon, who was wont to have him walk with him in his delicate groves, when he did meditate: and when a notion darted into his lordship's mind, Mr Hobbes was presently to write it down, and his lordship was wont to say that he did it better than any one else about him; for that many times, when he read their notes, he scarce understood what they writ, because they understood it not clearly themselves.' 'He assisted his lordship in translating

several of his essays into Latin.'

[Friendship.]

It had been hard for him that spake it, to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than is either a wild beast or a god; for it is most true, in that speech, Whosoever is delighted in solitude, that a natural and secret hatred and aversion towards society, in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue, that it should have any character at all of the divine nature, except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathens-as Epimenides, the Candian; Numa, the Roman; Empedocles, the Sicilian; and Apollonius, of Tyana; and truly, and really, in divers of the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures, and