1.
Outside the circle of systematic thinkers the prevalent theory of
degeneration was being challenged early in the seventeenth century. The
challenge led to a literary war, which was waged for about a hundred
years in France and England; over the comparative merits of the ancients
and the moderns. It was in the matter of literature, and especially
poetry, that the quarrel was most acrimonious, and that the interest of
the public was most keenly aroused, but the ablest disputants extended
the debate to the general field of knowledge. The quarrel of the
Ancients and Moderns used commonly to be dismissed as a curious and
rather ridiculous episode in the history of literature. [Footnote:
The best and fullest work on the subject is Rigault's "Histoire de la
querelle des Anciens et des Modernes" (1856).] Auguste Comte was, I
think, one of the first to call attention to some of its wider bearings.
The quarrel, indeed, has considerable significance in the history of
ideas. It was part of the rebellion against the intellectual yoke of
the Renaissance; the cause of the Moderns, who were the aggressors,
represented the liberation of criticism from the authority of the
dead; and, notwithstanding the perversities of taste of which they were
guilty, their polemic, even on the purely literary side, was distinctly
important, as M. Brunetiere has convincingly shown, [Footnote: See his
"L'evolution des genres dans l'histoire de la litterature."] in the
development of French criticism. But the form in which the critical
questions were raised forced the debate to touch upon a problem of
greater moment. The question, Can the men of to-day contend on equal
terms with the illustrious ancients, or are they intellectually
inferior? implied the larger issue, Has nature exhausted her powers;
is she no longer capable of producing men equal in brains and vigour to
those whom she once produced; is humanity played out, or are her forces
permanent and inexhaustible?
The assertion of the permanence of the powers of nature by the
champions of the Moderns was the direct contradiction of the theory of
degeneration, and they undoubtedly contributed much towards bringing
that theory into discredit. When we grasp this it will not be surprising
to find that the first clear assertions of a doctrine of progress
in knowledge were provoked by the controversy about the Ancients and
Moderns.
Although the great scene of the controversy was France, the question had
been expressly raised by an Italian, no less a person than Alessandro
Tassoni, the accomplished author of that famous ironical poem, "La
Secchia rapita," which caricatured the epic poets of his day. He was
bent on exposing the prejudices of his time and uttering new doctrine,
and he created great scandal in Italy by his attacks on Petrarch, as
well as on Homer and Aristotle. The earliest comparison of the merits of
the ancients and the moderns will be found in a volume of Miscellaneous
Thoughts which he published in 1620. [Footnote: Dieci libri di pensieri
diversi (Carpi, 1620). The first nine books had appeared in 1612. The
tenth contains the comparison. Rigault was the first to connect this
work with the history of the controversy.] He speaks of the question
as a matter of current dispute, [Footnote: It was incidental to the
controversy which arose over the merits of Tasso's Jerusalem Delivered.
That the subject had been discussed long before may be inferred from a
remark of Estienne in his Apology for Herodotus, that while some of
his contemporaries carry their admiration of antiquity to the point of
superstition, others depreciate and trample it underfoot.] on which he
proposes to give an impartial decision by instituting a comprehensive
comparison in all fields, theoretical, imaginative, and practical.
He begins by criticising the a priori argument that, as arts are
brought to perfection by experience and long labour, the modern age must
necessarily have the advantage. This reasoning, he says, is unsound,
because the same arts and studies are not always uninterruptedly pursued
by the most powerful intellects, but pass into inferior hands, and
so decline or are even extinguished, as was the case in Italy in the
decrepitude of the Roman Empire, when for many centuries the arts fell
below mediocrity. Or, to phrase it otherwise, the argument would be
admissible only if there were no breaches of continuity. [Footnote:
Tassoni argues that a decline in all pursuits is inevitable when
a certain point of excellence has been reached, quoting Velleius
Paterculus (i. 17): difficilisque in perfecto mora est naturaliterque
quod procedere non potest recedit.]
In drawing his comparison Tassoni seeks to make good his claim that he
is not an advocate. But while he awards superiority here and there to
the ancients, the moderns on the whole have much the best of it. He
takes a wide enough survey, including the material side of civilisation,
even costume, in contrast with some of the later controversialists, who
narrowed the field of debate to literature and art.
Tassoni's Thoughts were translated into French, and the book was
probably known to Boisrobert, a dramatist who is chiefly remembered
for the part he took in founding the Academie francaise. He delivered a
discourse before that body immediately after its institution (February
26, 1635), in which he made a violent and apparently scurrilous attack
on Homer. This discourse kindled the controversy in France, and even
struck a characteristic note. Homer--already severely handled by
Tassoni--was to be the special target for the arrows of the Moderns, who
felt that, if they could succeed in discrediting him, their cause would
be won.
Thus the gauntlet was flung--and it is important to note this--before
the appearance of the Discourse of Method (1637); but the influence
of Descartes made itself felt throughout the controversy, and the most
prominent moderns were men who had assimilated Cartesian ideas. This
seems to be true even of Desmarets de Saint Sorlin, who, a good many
years after the discourse of Boisrobert, opened the campaign. Saint
Sorlin had become a fanatical Christian; that was one reason for hating
the ancients. [Footnote: For the views of Saint Sorlin see the Preface
to his Clovis and his Traite pour juger des poefes grecs, latins, et
francais, chap. iv. (1670). Cp. Rigault, Hist. de la querelle, p. 106.
The polemic of Saint Sorlin extended over about five years (1669-73).]
He was also, like Boisrobert, a bad poet; that was another. His thesis
was that the history of Christianity offered subjects far more inspiring
to a poet than those which had been treated by Homer and Sophocles, and
that Christian poetry must bear off the palm from pagan. His own Clovis
and Mary Magdalene or the Triumph of Grace were the demonstration of
Homer's defeat. Few have ever heard of these productions; how many have
read them? Curiously, about the same time an epic was being composed
in England which might have given to the foolish contentions of Saint
Sorlin some illusory plausibility.
But the literary dispute does not concern us here. What does concern
us is that Saint Sorlin was aware of the wider aspects of the question,
though he was not seriously interested in them. Antiquity, he says, was
not so happy or so learned or so rich or so stately as the modern age,
which is really the mature old age, and as it were the autumn of the
world, possessing the fruits and the spoils of all the past centuries,
with the power to judge of the inventions, experiences, and errors of
predecessors, and to profit by all that. The ancient world was a spring
which had only a few flowers. Nature indeed, in all ages, produces
perfect works but it is not so with the creations of man, which require
correction; and the men who live latest must excel in happiness and
knowledge. Here we have both the assertion of the permanence of the
forces of nature and the idea, already expressed by Bacon and others,
that the modern age has advantages over antiquity comparable to those of
old age over childhood.
2.
How seriously the question between the Moderns and the Ancients--on
whose behalf Boileau had come forward and crossed swords with Saint
Sorlin--was taken is shown by the fact that Saint Sorlin, before his
death, solemnly bequeathed the championship of the Moderns to a younger
man, Charles Perrault. We shall see how he fulfilled the trust. It
is illustrated too by a book which appeared in the seventies, Les
Entretiens d'Ariste et Eugene, by Bouhours, a mundane and popular Jesuit
Father. In one of these dialogues the question is raised, but with a
curious caution and evasiveness, which suggests that the author was
afraid to commit himself; he did not wish to make enemies. [Footnote:
Rigault notes that he makes one contribution to the subject, the idea
that the torch of civilisation has passed from country to country, in
different ages, e.g. from Greece to Rome, and recently from Italy to
France. In the last century the Italians were first in doctrine and
politesse. The present century is for France what the last was for
Italy: "We have all the esprit and all the science, all other countries
are barbarous in comparison" (p. 239, ed. 1782, Amsterdam). But, as we
shall see, he had been anticipated by Hakewill, whose work was unknown
to Rigault.]
The general atmosphere in France, in the reign of Louis XIV., was
propitious to the cause of the Moderns. Men felt that it was a great
age, comparable to the age of Augustus, and few would have preferred
to have lived at any other time. Their literary artists, Corneille, and
then Racine and Moliere, appealed so strongly to their taste that they
could not assign to them any rank but the first. They were impatient
of the claims to unattainable excellence advanced for the Greeks and
Romans. "The ancients," said Moliere, "are the ancients, we are the
people of to-day." This might be the motto of Descartes, and it probably
expressed a very general feeling.
It was in 1687 that Charles Perrault--who is better remembered for his
collection of fairy-tales than for the leading role which he played in
this controversy--published his poem on "The Age of Louis the Great."
The enlightenment of the present age surpasses that of antiquity,--this
is the theme.
La docte Antiquite dans toute sa duree
A l'egal de nos jours ne fut point eclairee.
Perrault adopts a more polite attitude to "la belle antiquite" than
Saint Sorlin, but his criticism is more insidious. Greek and Roman men
of genius, he suggests, were all very well in their own times, and might
be considered divine by our ancestors. But nowadays Plato is rather
tiresome; and the "inimitable Homer" would have written a much better
epic if he had lived in the reign of Louis the Great. The important
passage, however, in the poem is that in which the permanent power of
nature to produce men of equal talent in every age is affirmed.
A former les esprits comme a former les corps
La Nature en tout temps fait les mesmes efforts;
Son etre est immuable, et cette force aisee
Dont elle produit tout ne s'est point epuisee;
..... De cette mesme main les forces infinies
Produisent en tout temps de semblables genies.
The "Age of Louis the Great" was a brief declaration of faith. Perrault
followed it up by a comprehensive work, his Comparison of the Ancients
and the Moderns (Parallele des Anciens et des Modernes), which appeared
in four parts during the following years (1688-1696). Art, eloquence,
poetry the sciences, and their practical applications are all discussed
at length; and the discussion is thrown into the form of conversations
between an enthusiastic champion of the modern age, who conducts the
debate, and a devotee of antiquity, who finds it difficult not to admit
the arguments of his opponent, yet obstinately persists in his own
views.
Perrault bases his thesis on those general considerations which we
have met incidentally in earlier writers, and which were now almost
commonplaces among those who paid any attention to the matter. Knowledge
advances with time and experience; perfection is not necessarily
associated with antiquity; the latest comers have inherited from their
predecessors and added new acquisitions of their own. But Perrault has
thought out the subject methodically, and he draws conclusions which
have only to be extended to amount to a definite theory of the progress
of knowledge.
A particular difficulty had done much to hinder a general admission of
progressive improvement in the past. The proposition that the
posterior is better and the late comers have the advantage seemed to be
incompatible with an obvious historical fact. We are superior to the men
of the dark ages in knowledge and arts. Granted. But will you say that
the men of the tenth century were superior to the Greeks and Romans? To
this question--on which Tassoni had already touched--Perrault replies:
Certainly not. There are breaches of continuity. The sciences and arts
are like rivers, which flow for part of their course underground, and
then, finding an opening, spring forth as abundant as when they plunged
beneath the earth. Long wars, for instance, may force peoples to
neglect studies and throw all their vigour into the more urgent needs
of self-preservation; a period of ignorance may ensue but with peace
and felicity knowledge and inventions will begin again and make further
advances. [Footnote: The passages in Perrault's Parallele specially
referred to in the text will be found in vol. i. pp. 35-7, 60-61, 67,
231-3.]
It is to be observed that he does not, claim any superiority in talents
or brain power for the moderns. On the contrary, he takes his stand on
the principle which he had asserted in the "Age of Louis the Great,"
that nature is immutable. She still produces as great men as ever, but
she does not produce greater. The lions of the deserts of Africa in our
days do not differ in fierceness from those the days of Alexander the
Great, and the best men of all times are equal in vigour. It is their
work and productions that are unequal, and, given equally favourable
conditions, the latest must be the best. For science and the arts depend
upon the accumulation of knowledge, and knowledge necessarily increases
as time goes on.
But could this argument be applied to poetry and literary art, the field
of battle in which the belligerents, including Perrault himself, were
most deeply interested? It might prove that the modern age was capable
of producing poets and men of letter no less excellent than the ancient
masters, but did it prove that their works must be superior? The
objection did not escape Perrault, and he answers it ingeniously. It is
the function of poetry and eloquence to please the human heart, and
in order to please it we must know it. Is it easier to penetrate the
secrets of the human heart than the secrets of nature, or will it take
less time? We are always making new discoveries about its passions and
desires. To take only the tragedies of Corneille you will find there
finer and more delicate reflections on ambition, vengeance, and jealousy
than in all the books of antiquity. At the close of his Parallel,
however, Perrault, while he declares the general superiority of the
moderns, makes a reservation in regard to poetry and eloquence "for the
sake of peace."
The discussion of Perrault falls far short of embodying a full idea
of Progress. Not only is he exclusively concerned with progress in
knowledge--though he implies, indeed, without developing, the doctrine
that happiness depends on knowledge--but he has no eyes for the future,
and no interest in it. He is so impressed with the advance of knowledge
in the recent past that he is almost incapable of imagining further
progression. "Read the journals of France and England," he says, "and
glance at the publications of the Academies of these great kingdoms, and
you will be convinced that within the last twenty or thirty years more
discoveries have been made in natural science than throughout the period
of learned antiquity. I own that I consider myself fortunate to know the
happiness we enjoy; it is a great pleasure to survey all the past ages
in which I can see the birth and the progress of all things, but nothing
which has not received a new increase and lustre in our own times. Our
age has, in some sort, arrived at the summit of perfection. And since
for some years the rate of the progress is much slower and appears
almost insensible--as the days seem to cease lengthening when the
solstice is near--it is pleasant to think that probably there are not
many things for which we need envy future generations."
Indifference to the future, or even a certain scepticism about it, is
the note of this passage, and accords with the view that the world
has reached its old age. The idea of the progress of knowledge, which
Perrault expounds, is still incomplete.
3.
Independently of this development in France, the doctrine of
degeneration had been attacked, and the comparison of the ancients with
the moderns incidentally raised, in England.
A divine named George Hakewill published in 1627 a folio of six hundred
pages to confute "the common error touching Nature's perpetual and
universal decay." [Footnote: An Apologie or Declaration of the Power
and Providence of God in the Government of the World, consisting in an
Examination and Censure of the common Errour, etc. (1627, 1630, 1635).]
He and his pedantic book, which breathes the atmosphere of the sixteenth
century, are completely forgotten; and though it ran to three editions,
it can hardly have attracted the attention of many except theologians.
The writer's object is to prove that the power and providence of God
in the government of the world are not consistent with the current view
that the physical universe, the heavens and the elements, are undergoing
a process of decay, and that man is degenerating physically, mentally,
and morally. His arguments in general are futile as well as tedious.
But he has profited by reading Bodin and Bacon, whose ideas, it would
appear, were already agitating theological minds.
A comparison between the ancients and the moderns arises in a general
refutation of the doctrine of decay, as naturally as the question of
the stability of the powers of nature arises in a comparison between the
ancients and moderns. Hakewill protests against excessive admiration of
antiquity, just because it encourages the opinion of the world's
decay. He gives his argument a much wider scope than the French
controversialists. For him the field of debate includes not only
science, arts, and literature, but physical qualities and morals. He
seeks to show that mentally and physically there has been no decay, and
that the morals of modern Christendom are immensely superior to those
of pagan times. There has been social progress, due to Christianity; and
there has been an advance in arts and knowledge.
Multa dies uariusque labor mutabilis aeui
Rettulit in melius.
Hakewill, like Tassoni, surveys all the arts and sciences, and concludes
that the moderns are equal to the ancients in poetry, and in almost
all other things excel them. [Footnote: Among modern poets equal to
the ancients, Hakewill signalises Sir Philip Sidney, Spenser, Marot,
Ronsard, Ariosto, Tasso (Book iii. chap. 8, Section 3).]
One of the arguments which he urges against the theory of degeneration
is pragmatic--its paralysing effect on human energy. "The opinion of the
world's universal decay quails the hopes and blunts the edge of men's
endeavours." And the effort to improve the world, he implies, is a duty
we owe to posterity.
"Let not then the vain shadows of the world's fatal decay keep us either
from looking backward to the imitation of our noble predecessors or
forward in providing for posterity, but as our predecessors worthily
provided, for us, so let our posterity bless us in providing for them,
it being still as uncertain to us what generations are still to ensue,
as it was to our predecessors in their ages."
We note the suggestion that history may be conceived as a sequence of
improvements in civilisation, but we note also that Hakewill here is
faced by the obstacle which Christian theology offered to the logical
expansion of the idea. It is uncertain what generations are still to
ensue. Roger Bacon stood before the same dead wall. Hakewill thinks that
he is living in the last age of the world; but how long it shall last
is a question which cannot be resolved, "it being one of those secrets
which the Almighty hath locked up in the cabinet of His own counsel."
Yet he consoles himself and his readers with a consideration which
suggests that the end is not yet very near. [Footnote: See Book i.
chap. 2, Section 4, p. 24.] "It is agreed upon all sides by Divines that
at least two signs forerunning the world's end remain unaccomplished--the
subversion of Rome and the conversion of the Jews. And when they shall
be accomplished God only knows, as yet in man's judgment there being
little appearance of the one or the other."
It was well to be assured that nature is not decaying or man
degenerating. But was the doctrine that the end of the world does
not "depend upon the law of nature," and that the growth of human
civilisation may be cut off at any moment by a fiat of the Deity, less
calculated to "quail the hopes and blunt the edge of men's endeavours?"
Hakewill asserted with confidence that the universe will be suddenly
wrecked by fire. Una dies dabit exitio. Was the prospect of an arrest
which might come the day after to-morrow likely to induce men to exert
themselves to make provision for posterity?
The significance of Hakewill lies in the fact that he made the current
theory of degeneration, which stood in the way of all possible theories
of progress, the object of a special inquiry. And his book illustrates
the close connection between that theory and the dispute over the
Ancients and Moderns. It cannot be said that he has added anything
valuable to what may be found in Bodin and Bacon on the development
of civilisation. The general synthesis of history which he attempts is
equivalent to theirs. He describes the history of knowledge and arts,
and all things besides, as exhibiting "a kind of circular progress," by
which he means that they have a birth, growth, nourishing, failing and
fading, and then within a while after a resurrection and reflourishing.
[Footnote: Book iii. chap. 6, Section i, p. 259.] In this method of
progress the lamp of learning passed from one people to another. It
passed from the Orientals (Chaldeans and Egyptians) to the Greeks; when
it was nearly extinguished in Greece it began to shine afresh among the
Romans; and having been put out by the barbarians for the space of
a thousand years it was relit by Petrarch and his contemporaries. In
stating this view of "circular progress," Hakewill comes perilously near
to the doctrine of Ricorsi or Returns which had been severely denounced
by Bacon.
In one point indeed Hakewill goes far beyond Bodin. It was suggested,
as we saw, by the French thinker that in some respects the modern age is
superior in conduct and morals to antiquity, but he said little on the
matter. Hakewill develops the suggestion at great length into a severe
and partial impeachment of ancient manners and morals. Unjust and
unconvincing though his arguments are, and inspired by theological
motives, his thesis nevertheless deserves to be noted as an assertion of
the progress of man in social morality. Bacon, and the thinkers of the
seventeenth century generally, confined their views of progress in the
past to the intellectual field. Hakewill, though he overshot the mark
and said nothing actually worth remembering, nevertheless anticipated
the larger problem of social progress which was to come to the front in
the eighteenth century.
4.
During the forty years that followed the appearance of Hakewill's book
much had happened in the world of ideas, and when we take up Glanvill's
Plus ultra, or the Progress and Advancement of Knowledge since the days
of Aristotle, [Footnote: The title is evidently suggested by a passage
in Bacon quoted above, p. 55.] we breathe a different atmosphere. It was
published in 1668, and its purpose was to defend the recently founded
Royal Society which was attacked on the ground that it was inimical
to the interests of religion and sound learning. For the Aristotelian
tradition was still strongly entrenched in the English Church and
Universities, notwithstanding the influence of Bacon; and the Royal
Society, which realised "the romantic model" of Bacon's society
of experimenters, repudiated the scholastic principles and methods
associated with Aristotle's name.
Glanvill was one of those latitudinarian clergymen, so common in the
Anglican Church in the seventeenth century, who were convinced that
religious faith must accord with reason, and were unwilling to abate in
its favour any of reason's claims. He was under the influence of
Bacon, Descartes, and the Cambridge Platonists, and no one was more
enthusiastic than he in following the new scientific discoveries of his
time. Unfortunately for his reputation he had a weak side. Enlightened
though he was, he was a firm believer in witchcraft, and he is chiefly
remembered not as an admirer of Descartes and Bacon, and a champion
of the Royal Society, but as the author of Saducismus Triumphatus,
a monument of superstition, which probably contributed to check the
gradual growth of disbelief in witches and apparitions.
His Plus ultra is a review of modern improvements of useful knowledge.
It is confined to mathematics and science, in accordance with its
purpose of justifying the Royal Society; and the discoveries of the past
sixty years enable the author to present a far more imposing picture
of modern scientific progress than was possible for Bodin or Bacon.
[Footnote: Bacon indeed could have made out a more impressive picture of
the new age if he had studied mathematics and taken the pains to master
the evidence which was revolutionising astronomy. Glanvill had the
advantage of comprehending the importance of mathematics for the advance
of physical science.] He had absorbed Bacon's doctrine of utility. His
spirit is displayed in the remark that more gratitude is due to the
unknown inventor of the mariners' compass
"than to a thousand Alexanders and Caesars, or to ten times the number
of Aristotles. And he really did more for the increase of knowledge
and the advantage of the world by this one experiment than the numerous
subtile disputers that have lived ever since the erection of the school
of talking."
Glanvill, however, in his complacency with what has already been
accomplished, is not misled into over-estimating its importance. He
knows that it is indeed little compared with the ideal of attainable
knowledge. The human design, to which it is the function of the Royal
Society to contribute, is laid as low, he says, as the profoundest
depths of nature, and reaches as high as the uppermost storey of the
universe, extends to all the varieties of the great world, and aims at
the benefit of universal mankind. Such a work can only proceed slowly,
by insensible degrees. It is an undertaking wherein all the generations
of men are concerned, and our own age can hope to do little more than
to remove useless rubbish, lay in materials, and put things in order for
the building. "We must seek and gather, observe and examine, and lay up
in bank for the ages that come after."
These lines on "the vastness of the work" suggest to the reader that
a vast future will be needed for its accomplishment. Glanvill does not
dwell on this, but he implies it. He is evidently unembarrassed by the
theological considerations which weighed so heavily on Hakewill. He does
not trouble himself with the question whether Anti-Christ has still to
appear. The difference in general outlook between these two clergymen is
an indication how the world had travelled in the course of forty years.
Another point in Glanvill's little book deserves attention. He takes
into his prospect the inhabitants of the Transatlantic world; they, too,
are to share in the benefits which shall result from the subjugation of
nature.
"By the gaining that mighty continent and the numerous fruitful isles
beyond the Atlantic, we have obtained a larger field of nature, and
have thereby an advantage for more phenomena, and more helps both for
knowledge and for life, which 'tis very like that future ages will make
better use of to such purposes than those hitherto have done; and that
science also may at last travel into those parts and enrich Peru with
a more precious treasure than that of its golden mines, is not
improbable."
Sprat, the Bishop of Rochester, in his interesting History of the Royal
Society, so sensible and liberal--published shortly before Glanvill's
book,--also contemplates the extension of science over the world.
Speaking of the prospect of future discoveries, he thinks it will partly
depend on the enlargement of the field of western civilisation "if this
mechanic genius which now prevails in these parts of Christendom shall
happen to spread wide amongst ourselves and other civil nations, or if
by some good fate it shall pass farther on to other countries that were
yet never fully civilised."
This then being imagin'd, that there may some lucky tide of civility
flow into those lands which are yet salvage, then will a double
improvement thence arise both in respect of ourselves and them. For even
the present skilful parts of mankind will be thereby made more skilful,
and the other will not only increase those arts which we shall bestow
upon them, but will also venture on new searches themselves.
He expects much from the new converts, on the ground that nations which
have been taught have proved more capable than their teachers, appealing
to the case of the Greeks who outdid their eastern masters, and to that
of the peoples of modern Europe who received their light from the Romans
but have "well nigh doubled the ancient stock of trades delivered to
their keeping."
5.
The establishment of the Royal Society in 1660 and the Academy of
Sciences in 1666 made physical science fashionable in London and Paris.
Macaulay, in his characteristic way, describes how "dreams of perfect
forms of government made way for dreams of wings with which men were to
fly from the Tower to the Abbey, and of double-keeled ships which were
never to founder in the fiercest storm. All classes were hurried along
by the prevailing sentiment. Cavalier and Roundhead, Churchman and
Puritan were for once allied. Divines, jurists, statesmen, nobles,
princes, swelled the triumph of the Baconian philosophy." The seeds sown
by Bacon had at last begun to ripen, and full credit was given to him by
those who founded and acclaimed the Royal Society. The ode which Cowley
addressed to that institution might have been entitled an ode in honour
of Bacon, or still better--for the poet seized the essential point of
Bacon's labours--a hymn on the liberation of the human mind from the
yoke of Authority.
Bacon has broke that scar-crow Deity.
Dryden himself, in the Annus Mirabilis, had turned aside from his
subject, the defeat of the Dutch and England's mastery of the seas, to
pay a compliment to the Society, and to prophesy man's mastery of the
universe.
Instructed ships shall sail to rich commerce,
By which remotest regions are allied;
Which makes one city of the universe,
Where some may gain and all may be supplied.
Then we upon our globe's last verge shall go,
And view the ocean leaning on the sky,
From thence our rolling neighbours we shall know,
And on the lunar world securely pry.
[Footnote: It may be noted that John Wilkins (Bishop of Chester)
published in 1638 a little book entitled Discovery of a New World,
arguing that the moon is inhabited. A further edition appeared in 1684.
He attempted to compose a universal language (Sprat, Hist. of Royal
Society, p. 251). His Mercury or the Secret and Swift Messenger (1641)
contains proposals for a universal script (chap. 13). There is also an
ingenious suggestion for the communication of messages by sound, which
might be described as an anticipation of the Morse code. Wilkins and
another divine, Seth Ward, the Bishop of Salisbury, belonged to the
group of men who founded the Royal Society.]
Men did not look far into the future; they did not dream of what the
world might be a thousand or ten thousand years hence. They seem to have
expected quick results. Even Sprat thinks that "the absolute perfection
of the true philosophy" is not far off, seeing that "this first great
and necessary preparation for its coming"--the institution of scientific
co-operation--has been accomplished. Superficial and transient though
the popular enthusiasm was, it was a sign that an age of intellectual
optimism had begun, in which the science of nature would play a leading
role.