philosophy is exalted to the highest pinnacle of praise, as the
greatest boon which any philosopher ever rendered to the world, and
the chief cause of all subsequent progress in scientific discovery.
And thus in brilliant rhetoric we have a painting of a man whose
life was in striking contrast with his teachings,--a Judas
Iscariot, uttering divine philosophy; a Seneca, accumulating
millions as the tool of Nero; a fallen angel, pointing with rapture
to the realms of eternal light. We have the most startling
contradiction in all history,--glory in debasement, and debasement
in glory; the most selfish and worldly man in England, the "meanest
of mankind," conferring on the race one of the greatest blessings
it ever received,--not accidentally, not in repentance and shame,
but in exalted and persistent labors, amid public cares and
physical infirmities, from youth to advanced old age; living in the
highest regions of thought, studious and patient all his days, even
when neglected and unrewarded for the transcendent services he
rendered, not as a philosopher merely, but as a man of affairs and
as a responsible officer of the Crown. Has there ever been, before
or since, such an anomaly in human history,--so infamous in action,
so glorious in thought; such a contradiction between life and
teachings,--so that many are found to utter indignant protests
against such a representation of humanity, justly feeling that such
a portrait, however much it may be admired for its brilliant
colors, and however difficult to be proved false, is nevertheless
an insult to the human understanding? The heart of the world will
not accept the strange and singular belief that so bad a man could
confer so great a boon, especially when he seemed bent on bestowing
it during his whole life, amid the most harassing duties. If it
accepts the boon, it will strive to do justice to the benefactor,
as he himself appealed to future ages; and if it cannot deny the
charges which have been arrayed against him,--especially if it
cannot exculpate him,--it will soar beyond technical proofs to take
into consideration the circumstances of the times, the temptations
of a corrupt age, and the splendid traits which can with equal
authority be adduced to set off against the mistakes and faults
which proceeded from inadvertence and weakness rather than a
debased moral sense,--even as the defects and weaknesses of Cicero
are lost sight of in the acknowledged virtues of his ordinary life,
and the honest and noble services he rendered to his country and
mankind.
Bacon was a favored man; he belonged to the upper ranks of society.
His father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, was a great lawyer, and reached the
highest dignities, being Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. His
mother's sister was the wife of William Cecil, the great Lord
Burleigh, the most able and influential of Queen Elizabeth's
ministers. Francis Bacon was the youngest son of the Lord Keeper,
and was born in London, Jan. 22, 1561. He had a sickly and feeble
constitution, but intellectually was a youthful prodigy; and at
nine years of age, by his gravity and knowledge, attracted the
admiring attention of the Queen, who called him her young Lord
Keeper. At the age of ten we find him stealing away from his
companions to discover the cause of a singular echo in the brick
conduit near his father's house in the Strand. At twelve he
entered the University of Cambridge; at fifteen he quitted it,
already disgusted with its pedantries and sophistries; at sixteen
he rebelled against the authority of Aristotle, and took up his
residence at Gray's Inn; the same year, 1576, he was sent to Paris
in the suite of Sir Amias Paulet, ambassador to the court of
France, and delighted the salons of the capital by his wit and
profound inquiries; at nineteen he returned to England, having won
golden opinions from the doctors of the French Sanhedrim, who saw
in him a second Daniel; and in 1582 he was admitted as a barrister
of Gray's Inn, and the following year composed an essay on the
Instauration of Philosophy. Thus, at an age when young men now
leave the university, he had attacked the existing systems of
science and philosophy, proudly taking in all science and knowledge
for his realm.
About this time his father died, without leaving him, a younger
son, a competence. Nor would his great relatives give him an
office or sinecure by which he might be supported while he sought
truth, and he was forced to plod at the law, which he never liked,
resisting the blandishments and follies by which he was surrounded;
and at intervals, when other young men of his age and rank were
seeking pleasure, he was studying Nature, science, history,
philosophy, poetry,--everything, even the whole domain of truth,--
and with such success that his varied attainments were rather a
hindrance to an appreciation of his merits as a lawyer and his
preferment in his profession.
In 1586 he entered parliament, sitting for Taunton, and also became
a bencher at Gray's Inn; so that at twenty-six he was in full
practice in the courts of Westminster, also a politician, speaking
on almost every question of importance which agitated the House of
Commons for twenty years, distinguished for eloquence as well as
learning, and for a manly independence which did not entirely
please the Queen, from whom all honors came.
In 1591, at the age of thirty-one, he formed the acquaintance of
Essex, about his own age, who, as the favorite of the Queen, was
regarded as the most influential man in the country. The
acquaintance ripened into friendship; and to the solicitation of
this powerful patron, who urged the Queen to give Bacon a high
office, she is said to have replied: "He has indeed great wit and
much learning, but in law, my lord, he is not deeply read," an
opinion perhaps put into her head by his rival Coke, who did indeed
know law but scarcely anything else, or by that class of old-
fashioned functionaries who could not conceive how a man could
master more than one thing. We should however remember that Bacon
had not reached the age when great offices were usually conferred
in the professions, and that his efforts to be made solicitor-
general at the age of thirty-one, and even earlier, would now seem
unreasonable and importunate, whatever might be his attainments.
Disappointed in not receiving high office, he meditated a retreat
to Cambridge; but his friend Essex gave him a villa in Twickenham,
which he soon mortgaged, for he was in debt all his life, although
in receipt of sums which would have supported him in comfort and
dignity were it not for his habits of extravagance,--the greatest
flaw in his character, and which was the indirect cause of his
disgrace and fall. He was even arrested for debt when he enjoyed a
lucrative practice at the courts. But nothing prevented him from
pursuing his literary and scientific studies, amid great
distractions,--for he was both a leader at the bar and a leader of
the House of Commons; and if he did not receive the rewards to
which he felt entitled, he was always consulted by Elizabeth in
great legal difficulties.
It was not until the Queen died, and Bacon was forty-seven years
old, that he became solicitor-general (1607), in the fourth year of
the reign of James, one year after his marriage with Alice Barnham,
an alderman s daughter, "a handsome maiden," and "to his liking."
Besides this office, which brought him L1000 a year, he about this
time had a windfall as clerk of the Star Chamber, which added L2000
to his income, at that time from all sources about L4500 a year,--a
very large sum for those times, and making him really a rich man.
Six years afterward he was made attorney-general, and in the year
1617 he was made Lord Keeper, and the following year he was raised
to the highest position in the realm, next to that of Archbishop of
Canterbury, as Lord Chancellor, at the age of fifty-seven, and soon
after was created Lord Verulam. That is his title, but the world
persists in calling him Lord Bacon. In 1620, two years after the
execution of Sir Walter Raleigh, which Bacon advised, he was in the
zenith of his fortunes and fame, having been lately created
Viscount St. Albans, and having published the "Novum Organum," the
first instalment of the "Instauratio Magna," at which he had been
working the best part of his life,--some thirty years,--"A New
Logic, to judge or invent by induction, and thereby to make
philosophy and science both more true and more active."
Then began to gather the storms which were to wreck his fortunes.
The nation now was clamorous for reform; and Coke, the enemy of
Bacon, who was then the leader of the Reform party in the House of
Commons, stimulated the movement. The House began its scrutiny
with the administration of justice; and Bacon could not stand
before it, for as the highest judge in England he was accused of
taking bribes before rendering decisions, and of many cases of
corruption so glaring that no defence was undertaken; and the House
of Lords had no alternative but to sentence him to the Tower and
fine him, to degrade him from his office, and banish him from the
precincts of the court,--a fall so great, and the impression of it
on the civilized world so tremendous, that the case of a judge
accepting bribes has rarely since been known.
Bacon was imprisoned but a few days, his ruinous fine of L40,000
was remitted, and he was even soon after received at court; but he
never again held office. He was hopelessly disgraced; he was a
ruined man; and he bitterly felt the humiliation, and acknowledged
the justice of his punishment. He had now no further object in
life than to pursue his studies, and live comfortably in his
retirement, and do what he could for future ages.
But before we consider his immortal legacy to the world, let us
take one more view of the man, in order that we may do him justice,
and remove some of the cruel charges against him as "the meanest of
mankind."
It must be borne in mind that, from the beginning of his career
until his fall, only four or five serious charges have been made
against him,--that he was extravagant in his mode of life; that he
was a sycophant and office-seeker; that he deserted his patron
Essex; that he tortured Peacham, a Puritan clergyman, when tried
for high-treason; that he himself was guilty of corruption as a
judge.
In regard to the first charge, it is unfortunately too true; he
lived beyond his means, and was in debt most of his life. This
defect, as has been said, was the root of much evil; it destroyed
his independence, detracted from the dignity of his character,
created enemies, and led to a laxity of the moral sense which
prepared the way for corruption,--thereby furnishing another
illustration of that fatal weakness which degrades any man when he
runs races with the rich, and indulges in a luxury and ostentation
which he cannot afford. It was the curse of Cicero, of William
Pitt, and of Daniel Webster. The first lesson which every public
man should learn, especially if honored with important trusts, is
to live within his income. However inconvenient and galling, a
stringent economy is necessary. But this defect is a very common
one, particularly when men are luxurious, or brought into
intercourse with the rich, or inclined to be hospitable and
generous, or have a great imagination and a sanguine temperament.
So that those who are most liable to fall into this folly have many
noble qualities to offset it, and it is not a stain which marks the
"meanest of mankind." Who would call Webster the meanest of
mankind because he had an absurd desire to live like an English
country gentleman?
In regard to sycophancy, a disgusting trait, I admit,--we should
consider the age, when everybody cringed to sovereigns and their
favorites. Bacon never made such an abject speech as Omer Talon,
the greatest lawyer in France, did to Louis XIII., in the
Parliament of Paris. Three hundred years ago everybody bowed down
to exalted rank: witness the obsequious language which all authors
addressed to patrons in the dedication of their books. How small
the chance of any man rising in the world, who did not court favors
from those who had favors to bestow! Is that the meanest or the
most uncommon thing in this world? If so, how ignominious are all
politicians who flatter the people and solicit their votes? Is it
not natural to be obsequious to those who have offices to bestow?
This trait is not commendable, but is it the meanest thing we see?
In regard to Essex, nobody can approve of the ingratitude which
Bacon showed to his noble patron. But, on the other hand, remember
the good advice which Bacon ever gave him, and his constant efforts
to keep him out of scrapes. How often did he excuse him to his
royal mistress, at the risk of incurring her displeasure? And
when Essex was guilty of a thousand times worse crime than ever
Bacon committed,--even high-treason, in a time of tumult and
insurrection,--and it became Bacon's task as prosecuting officer of
the Crown to bring this great culprit to justice, was he required
by a former friendship to sacrifice his duty and his allegiance to
his sovereign, to screen a man who had perverted the affection of
the noblest woman who ever wore a crown, and came near involving
his country in a civil war? Grant that Essex had bestowed favors,
and was an accomplished and interesting man,--was Bacon to ignore
his official duties? He may have been too harsh in his procedure;
but in that age all criminal proceedings were harsh and
inexorable,--there was but little mercy shown to culprits,
especially to traitors. If Elizabeth could bring herself, out of
respect to her wounded honor and slighted kindness and the dignity
of the realm and the majesty of the law, to surrender into the
hands of justice one whom she so tenderly loved and magnificently
rewarded, even when the sacrifice cost her both peace and life,
snapped the last cord which bound her to this world,--may we not
forgive Bacon for the part he played? Does this fidelity to an
official and professional duty, even if he were harsh, make him
"the meanest of mankind"?
In regard to Peacham, it is true he was tortured, according to the
practice of that cruel age; but Bacon had no hand in the issuing of
the warrant against him for high-treason, although in accordance
with custom he, as prosecuting officer of the Crown, examined
Peacham under torture before his trial. The parson was convicted;
but the sentence of death was not executed upon him, and he died in
jail.
And in regard to corruption,--the sin which cast Bacon from his
high estate, though fortunately he did not fall like Lucifer, never
to rise again,--may not the verdict of the poet and the historian
be rather exaggerated? Nobody has ever attempted to acquit Bacon
for taking bribes. Nobody has ever excused him. He did commit a
crime; but in palliation it might be said that he never decided
against justice, and that it was customary for great public
functionaries to accept presents. Had he taken them after he had
rendered judgment instead of before, he might have been acquitted;
for out of the seven thousand cases which he decided as Lord-
Chancellor, not one of them has been reversed: so that he said of
himself, "I was the justest judge that England has had for fifty
years; and I suffered the justest sentence that had been inflicted
for two hundred years." He did not excuse himself. His
ingenuousness of confession astonished everybody, and moved the
hearts of his judges. It was his misfortune to be in debt; he had
pressing creditors; and in two cases he accepted presents before
the decision was made, but was brave enough to decide against those
who bribed him,--hinc illae lacrymae. A modern corrupt official
generally covers his tracks; and many a modern judge has been
bribed to decide against justice, and has escaped ignominy, even in
a country which claims the greatest purity and the loftiest moral
standard. We admit that Bacon was a sinner; but was he a sinner
above all others who cast stones at Jerusalem?
In reference to these admitted defects and crimes, I only wish to
show that even these do not make him "the meanest of mankind."
What crimes have sullied many of those benefactors whom all ages
will admire and honor, and whom, in spite of their defects, we call
good men,--not bad men to be forgiven for their services, but
excellent and righteous on the whole! See Abraham telling lies to
the King of Egypt; and Jacob robbing his brother of his birthright;
and David murdering his bravest soldier to screen himself from
adultery; and Solomon selling himself to false idols to please the
wicked women who ensnared him; and Peter denying his Master; and
Marcus Aurelius persecuting the Christians; and Constantine putting
to death his own son; and Theodosius slaughtering the citizens of
Thessalonica; and Isabella establishing the Inquisition; and Sir
Mathew Hale burning witches; and Cromwell stealing a sceptre; and
Calvin murdering Servetus; and Queen Elizabeth lying and cheating
and swearing in the midst of her patriotic labors for her country
and civilization. Even the sun passes through eclipses. Have the
spots upon the career of Bacon hidden the brightness of his general
beneficence? Is he the meanest of men because he had great faults?
When we speak of mean men, it is those whose general character is
contemptible.
Now, see Bacon pursuing his honorable career amid rebuffs and
enmities and jealousies, toiling in Herculean tasks without
complaint, and waiting his time; always accessible, affable,
gentle, with no vulgar pride, if he aped vulgar ostentation; calm,
beneficent, studious, without envy or bitterness; interesting in
his home, courted as a friend, admired as a philosopher, generous
to the poor, kind to the servants who cheated him, with an
unsubdued love of Nature as well as of books; not negligent of
religious duties, a believer in God and immortality; and though
broken in spirit, like a bruised reed, yet soaring beyond all his
misfortunes to study the highest problems, and bequeathing his
knowledge for the benefit of future ages! Can such a man be
stigmatized as "the meanest of mankind"? Is it candid and just for
a great historian to indorse such a verdict, to gloss over Bacon's
virtues, and make like an advocate at the bar, or an ancient
sophist, a special plea to magnify his defects, and stain his noble
name with an infamy as deep as would be inflicted upon an enemy of
the human race? And all for what?--just to make a rhetorical
point, and show the writer's brilliancy and genius in making a
telling contrast between the man and the philosopher. A man who
habitually dwelt in the highest regions of thought during his whole
life, absorbed in lofty contemplations, all from love of truth
itself and to benefit the world, could not have had a mean or
sordid soul. "As a man thinketh, so is he." We admit that he was
a man of the world, politic, self-seeking, extravagant, careless
about his debts and how he raised money to pay them; but we deny
that he was a bad judge on the whole, or was unpatriotic, or
immoral in his private life, or mean in his ordinary dealings, or
more cruel and harsh in his judicial transactions than most of the
public functionaries of his rough and venal age. We admit it is
difficult to controvert the charges which Macaulay arrays against
him, for so accurate and painstaking an historian is not likely to
be wrong in his facts; but we believe that they are uncandidly
stated, and so ingeniously and sophistically put as to give on the
whole a wrong impression of the man,--making him out worse than he
was, considering his age and circumstances. Bacon's character,
like that of most great men, has two sides; and while we are
compelled painfully to admit that he had many faults, we shrink
from classing him among bad men, as is implied in Pope's
characterization of him as "the meanest of mankind."