It is painful to turn back from contemplating Bacon's philosophy, to contemplate his life. Yet, without so turning back, it is impossible to fairly estimate his powers. He left the University at an earlier age than that at which most people repair thither. While yet a boy he was plunged into the midst of diplomatic business. Thence he passed to the study of a vast technical system of law, and worked his way up through a succession of laborious offices to the highest post in his profession. In the meantime he took an active part in every Parliament; he was an adviser of the crown; he paid court with the greatest assiduity and address to all whose favour was likely to be of use to him; he lived much in society; he noted the slightest peculiarities of character and the slightest changes of fashion. Scarcely any man has led a more stirring life than that which Bacon led from sixteen to sixty. Scarcely any man has been better entitled to be called a thorough man of the world. The founding of a new philosophy, the imparting of a new direction to the minds of speculators—this was the amusement of his leisure, the work of hours occasionally stolen from the Woolsack and the Council Board. This consideration, while it increases the admiration with which we regard his intellect, increases also our regret that such an intellect should so often have been unworthily employed. He well knew the better course, and had, at one time, resolved to pursue it. "I confess," said he, in a letter written when he was still young, "that I have as vast contemplative ends, as I have moderate civil ends." Had his civil ends continued to be moderate, he would have been not only the Moses, but the Joshua of philosophy. He would have fulfilled a large part of his own magnificent predictions. He would not merely have pointed out, but would have divided the spoil. Above all, he would have left not only a great, but a spotless name. Mankind would then have been able to esteem their illustrious benefactor. We should not then be compelled to regard his character with mingled contempt and admiration, with mingled aversion and gratitude. We should not then regret that there should be so many proofs of the narrowness and sel fishness of a heart, the benevolence of which was yet large enough to take in all races and all ages. We should not then have to blush for the disingenuousness of the most devoted worshipper of speculative truth, for the servility of the boldest champion of intellectual freedom. We should not then have seen the same man at one time far in the van, and at another time far in the rear of his generation. We should not then be forced to own, that he who first treated legislation as a science, was among the last Englishmen who used the rack; that he who first summoned philosophers to the great work of interpreting nature, was among the last Englishmen who sold justice. And we should conclude our survey of a life placidly, honourably, beneficially passed, "in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries," with feelings very different from those with which we now turn away from the checkered spectacle of so much glory and so much shame. LESSON CXXXIX. On the Downfall of Poland.-CAMPBELL. O SACRED Truth! thy triumph ceased awhile, 66 Warsaw's last champion, from her height, survey'd, He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd Firin-paced and slow, a horrid front they form, In vain-alas! in vain, ye gallant few! Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear, LESSON CXL. Saturday Evening.—Bulwer. THE week is past, the Sabbath dawn comes on, Want o'er a thousand wretches waves her wand; While every moment swells the vast amount; LESSON CXLI. God.-BowRING. [Translated from the Russian of DERZHAVIN.] O THOU Eternal One! whose presence bright All space doth оссиру, all motion guide; Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight; Whom none can comprehend and none explore! In its sublime research, philosophy May measure out the ocean-deep; may count The sands, or the sun's rays; but, God! for thee There is no weight nor measure :—none can mount Up to thy mysteries. Reason's brightest spark, Though kindled by thy light, in vain would try To trace thy counsels, infinite and dark; And thought is lost, ere thought can soar so high, Even like past moments in eternity. Thou from primeval nothingness didst call First chaos, then existence. Lord, on thee Eternity had its foundation: al' Sprang forth from thee-of light, joy, harmony, Sole origin;-all life, all beauty thine. Thy word created all, and doth create ; Thy chains the unmeasured universe surround, So suns are born, so worlds spring forth from thee; And, as the spangles in the sunny rays Shine round the silver snow, the pageantry Of heaven's bright army glitters in thy praise. A million torches, lighted by thy hand, Wander unwearied through the blue abyss: Suns lighting systems with their joyous beams? Yes; as a drop of water in the sea, All this magnificence in thee is lost : What are ten thousand worlds compared to thee? In all the glory of sublimest thought, Is but an atom in the balance, weighed Against thy greatness; is a cipher brought Against infinity! Oh! what am I then ?-Nought! Nought! But the effluence of thy light divine, As shines the sun-beam in a drop of dew. I am, O God; and surely thou must be! |