generally but improperly called; and this verdict, in the main, has been
confirmed by Lords Macaulay and Campbell, who seem to delight in keeping
him in that niche of the temple of fame where the poet has placed
him,--contemptible as a man, but venerable as the philosopher, radiant
with all the wisdom of his age and of all preceding ages, the miner and
sapper of ancient falsehoods, the pioneer of all true knowledge, the
author of that inductive and experimental philosophy on which is based
the glory of our age. Macaulay especially, in that long and brilliant
article which appeared in the "Edinburgh Review" in 1837, has
represented him as a remarkably worldly man, cold, calculating, selfish;
a sycophant and a flatterer, bent on self-exaltation; greedy, careless,
false; climbing to power by base subserviency; betraying friends and
courting enemies; with no animosities he does not suppress from policy,
and with no affections which he openly manifests when it does not suit
his interests: so that we read with shame of his extraordinary
shamelessness, from the time he first felt the cravings of a vulgar
ambition to the consummation of a disgraceful crime; from the base
desertion of his greatest benefactor to the public selling of justice as
Lord High Chancellor of the realm; resorting to all the arts of a
courtier to win the favor of his sovereign and of his minions and
favorites; reckless as to honest debts; torturing on the rack an honest
parson for a sermon he never preached; and, when obliged to confess his
corruption, meanly supplicating mercy from the nation he had outraged,
and favors from the monarch whose cause he had betrayed. The defects and
delinquencies of this great man are bluntly and harshly put by Macaulay,
without any attempt to soften or palliate them; as if he would consign
his name and memory, not "to men's charitable speeches, to foreign
nations, and to the next ages," but to an infamy as lasting and deep as
that of Scroggs and of Jeffreys, or any of those hideous tyrants and
monsters that disgraced the reigns of the Stuart kings.
And yet while the man is made to appear in such hideous colors, his
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 £1000 a year, he about this time had a windfall as
clerk of the Star Chamber, which added £2000 to his income, at that time
from all sources about £4500 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 £40,000 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 illoe lacrymoe_. 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."