The poetical faculty was powerful in Bacon's mind, but not, like his wit, so powerful as occasionally to usurp the place of his reason, and to tyrannise over the whole man.No imagination was ever at once so strong and so thoroughly subjugated.It never stirred but at a signal from good sense.It stopped at the first check from good sense.Yet, though disciplined to such obedience, it gave noble proofs of its vigour.In truth, much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world, amidst things as strange as any that are described in the Arabian Tales, or in those romances on which the curate and barber of Don Quixote's village performed so cruel an auto-de-fe, amidst buildings more sumptuous than the palace of Aladdin, fountains more wonderful than the golden water of Parizade, conveyances more rapid than the hippogryph of Ruggiero, arms more formidable than the lance of Astolfo, remedies more efficacious than the balsam of Fierabras.Yet in his magnificent daydreams there was nothing wild, nothing but what sober reason sanctioned.He knew that all the secrets feigned by poets to have been written in the books of enchanters are worthless when compared with the mighty secrets which are really written in the book of nature, and which, with time and patience, will be read there.He knew that all the wonders wrought by all the talismans in fable were trifles when compared to the wonders which might reasonably be expected from the philosophy of fruit, and that, if his words sank deep into the minds of men, they would produce effects such as superstition had never ascribed to the incantations of Merlin and Michael Scott.
It was here that he loved to let his imagination loose.He loved to picture to himself the world as it would be when his philosophy should, in his own noble phrase, "have enlarged the bounds of human empire." [New Atlantis.] We might refer to many instances.But we will content ourselves with the strongest, the description of the House of Solomon in the New Atlantis.By most of Bacon's contemporaries, and by some people of our time, this remarkable passage would, we doubt not, be considered as an ingenious rodomontade, a counterpart to the adventures of Sinbad or Baron Munchausen.The truth is, that there is not to be found in any human composition a passage more eminently distinguished by profound and serene wisdom.The boldness and originality of the fiction is far less wonderful than the nice discernment which carefully excluded from that long list of prodigies everything that can be pronounced impossible, everything that can be proved to lie beyond the mighty magic of induction and time.Already some parts, and not the least startling parts, of this glorious prophecy have been accomplished, even according to the letter;and the whole, construed according to the spirit, is daily accomplishing all around us.
One of the most remarkable circumstances in the history of Bacon's mind is the order in which its powers expanded themselves.With him the fruit came first and remained till the last; the blossoms did not appear till late.In general, the development of the fancy is to the development of the judgment what the growth of a girl is to the growth of a boy.The fancy attains at an earlier period to the perfection of its beauty, its power, and its fruitfulness; and, as it is first to ripen, it is also first to fade.It has generally lost something of its bloom and freshness before the sterner faculties have reached maturity;and is commonly withered and barren while those faculties still retain all their energy.It rarely happens that the fancy and the judgment grow together.It happens still more rarely that the judgment grows faster than the fancy.This seems, however, to have been the case with Bacon.His boyhood and youth appear to have been singularly sedate.His gigantic scheme of philosophical reform is said by some writers to have been planned before he was fifteen, and was undoubtedly planned while he was still young.He observed as vigilantly, meditated as deeply, and judged as temperately when he gave his first work to the world as at the close of his long career.But in eloquence, in sweetness and variety of expression, and in richness of illustration, his later writings are far superior to those of his youth.In this respect the history of his mind bears some resemblance to the history of the mind of Burke.The treatise on the Sublime and Beautiful, though written on a subject which the coldest metaphysician could hardly treat without being occasionally betrayed into florid writing, is the most unadorned of all Burke's works.It appeared when he was twenty-five or twenty-six.When, at forty, he wrote the Thoughts on the Causes of the existing Discontents, his reason and his judgment had reached their full maturity; but his eloquence was still in its splendid dawn.At fifty, his rhetoric was quite as rich as good taste would permit; and when he died, at almost seventy, it had become ungracefully gorgeous.In his youth he wrote on the emotions produced by mountains and cascades, by the master-pieces of painting and sculpture, by the faces and necks of beautiful women, in the style of a Parliamentary report.In his old age he discussed treaties and tariffs in the most fervid and brilliant language of romance.It is strange that the Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, and the Letter to a Noble Lord, should be the productions of one man.But it is far more strange that the Essay should have been a production of his youth, and the Letter of his old age.
We will give very short specimens of Bacon's two styles.In 1597, he wrote thus: "Crafty men contemn studies; simple men admire them; and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use:
