Francis Bacon 223 



As we pass from Elizabethan to Stewart times, we pass, 

 in most branches of literature, from men of genius to men 

 of talent, clever men, but not, to use a Germanism, epoch- 

 making men. In science, however, where England led the 

 world, the descent became an ascent. We leave Dr. Dee 

 and Edward Kelly, and we arrive at Harvey and Newton. 



The gap between the mediaeval science which still 

 obtained in Queen Elizabeth's time and the science of the 

 Stewarts was bridged by Francis Bacon, in a way, but only 

 in a way. He was a reformer of the scientific method. He 

 was no innovator in the inductive method; others had 

 preceded him, but he, from his great position, clearly pointed 

 out that the writers and leaders of his time observed and 

 recorded facts in favour of ideas other than those hitherto 

 sanctioned by authority. 



Bacon left a heritage to English science. His writings 

 and his thoughts are not always clear, but he firmly held, 

 and, with the authority which his personal eminence gave 

 him, firmly proclaimed, that the careful and systematic 

 investigation of natural phenomena and their accurate record 

 would give to man a power in this world which, in his time, 

 was hardly to be conceived. What he believed, what he 

 preached, he did not practise. " I only sound the clarion, 

 but I enter not into the battle " ; and yet this is not wholly 

 true, for, on a wintry March day, in 1626, in the neighbour- 

 hood of Barnet, he caught the chill which ended his life while 

 stuffing a fowl with snow, to see if cold would delay putre- 

 faction. Harvey, who was working whilst Bacon was writing, 

 said of him : " He writes philosophy like a Lord Chancellor." 

 This, perhaps, is true, but his writings show him a man, 

 weak and pitiful in some respects, yet with an abiding hope, 

 a sustained object in life, one who sought through evil days 

 and in adverse conditions " for the glory of God and the 

 relief of man's estate." 



Though Bacon did not make any one single advance in 

 natural knowledge though his precepts, as Whewell reminds 

 us, "are now practically useless" yet he used his great 

 talents, his high position, to enforce upon the world a new 

 method of wrenching from Nature her secrets and, with 

 tireless patience and untiring passion, impressed upon his 



