Page:The Works of Francis Bacon (1884) Volume 1.djvu/377

 NOTES TO THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. can assure you, that though many things of grrat hope decay wilh youth, and iniiltitiidc of civil businesses is wont to di minish the price, though not the delight of ci)iiiciii|il:tti(ins, ji-t the proceeding in tint work doth pain with me upon my affi-riion and desire, both by years arid businesses. And therefore I hopi-, even liy tliis. that it is well plc-ising to Jod, from whom, ami to whom, all good moves. To him 1 most heartily commend you.&quot; &quot;To Sir George Villiers, acknowledging tho king s favour. Sir, I am moro and more hound unto his majesty, who, I think, knowing me to Inve other ends than amhition, is con tented to make me judge of mine own desires.&quot; Such was Bacon s inclination : and if, instead of his needy circumstances, he had possessed the purse of a prince, and the assistance of a people,* he in the prime of early youth, Would have shunned the hroad way and the green, And laboured up the hill of heavenly truth. Upon the nature of ambition and great place, it is scarcely p.is-ilile to suppose that he could have entertained erroneous opinions. His sentiments are contained in his Essays on those subjects, and are incidentally mentioned in different parts of his works. He could not much respect a passion by which men, to use his own words, were &quot;Like a seeled dove, that mounts and mounts because he cannot see about him. ... As if,&quot; he says, &quot;man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble objects, should doe nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make himselfe subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are) yet of the eye, which was given him for higher purposes.&quot; He must have contrasted the phi losophic freedom of a studious life with the servile restraints of an ambitious life, who says &quot;Men in great place, are thrice servants : servants of the soveraigne or state ; servants of fame; and servants of businesse. So as they have no freedome, neither in their persons; nor in their actions; nor in their times. It is a strange desire to seeke power and to lose liberty ; to seeke power over others, and to lose power over a mans selfe.&quot; He was not likely to form an erroneous estimate of different pleasures who knew that the great dif ference between men consisted in what they accepted and rejected. &quot;The logical part of men s minds,&quot; he says, &quot;is often good, but the mathematical part nothing worth: that is, they can judge well of the mode of attaining any end, but cannot estimate the value of the end itself.&quot; (See page 177.) But, notwithstanding his love of contemplation, and his know ledge that the splendid speculations of genius are rarely united with that promptness in action or consistence in general con duct which is necessary for the immediate control of civil affairs, he was impelled by various causes to engage in active life. His necessities in youth : the importunities of his friends; the queen encouraging him, &quot;as her young lord keeper:&quot; his sentiment that all men should be active, that man s motto should not be abstine but sustine: that in this theatre of man s life, God and angels only should be lookers on :f his opinion that he was actuated by the only lawful end of aspiring &quot;the power to do good,&quot;J and the consciousness of his own superiority by which he was hurried into the opi nion that he could subdue all things under his feet,} induced him to attempt the union of two not very reconcilable cha racters, the philosopher and the statesman. Forth reaching to the fruit, he plucked, he eat, and, after all the honours of his professions had been succes sively conferred upon him, in the year 1617, when he was fifty-seven years of age, the great seals were offered to him. we have measured out in our mind, and such as really ought to be procured, is a great and royal work, requiring the purse of a prince and the assistance of a people.&quot; t See his beautiful illustration in page 220 of this volume. j &quot; Power to doe good, is the true and lawful end of aspir ing. For good thoughts (though God accept them) yet to wards men, are little better than good dreams : except they be put in act ; and that cannot be without power, and place as the vantage, and commanding ground. Merit, and good works, is the end of man s motion ; and conscience of the same, is the accomplishment of man s rest. For if a man be partaker of God s theatre; he shall likewise be partaker of God s rest.&quot; ( See page 163 of this volume. VOL. I 32 Unmindful of th- f.-eldi-ncna of hid constitution; unmindful of his love of contemplation ; unmindful of his own wurd: he in an evil hour accepted the offer. One of the conse qtiences was, the sacrifice of his favourite work, upon wnicli he had been engaged fur thirty years, and had twelve times transcribed with In- own hand. In hi- letter to the king, dated Kith October, H&amp;gt; 2, and sent with the Novum Or- uni, lie says: &quot;The reason why I have piihli-hcd ! t now specially, being imperfect, is, to speak plainly, because I num ber my days and would have it saved.&quot; The same sentiment vas expressed by him in the year 1007. &quot;But time, in the nterim, being on the wing, and the author too much engaged n civil affairs, especially considering the uncertainties of life, he would willingly hasten to secure some part of Ins design from contingencies.&quot; Another consequence was, the injury to his reputation; a subject upon which, although I hope at e future time to be more explicit, I cannot refrain from subjoining a few observations. When the chancellor first heard of the threatened attack pon him by the very Parliament, convened by his advice for the detection of abuses, he wrote to the House of Lords, re questing to be heard: and he thus wrote to the Marquis of Buckingham: &quot;Your lordship spoke of purgatory. I am now in it; but my mind is in a calm, for my fortune is not my felicity ; I know I have clean hands, and a clean heart ; and I hope a clean house for friends, or servants. But Joh himself, or whosoever was the justest judge, by such hunting for matters against him, as hath been used against me, may, for a time, seem foul, especially in a time when greatness is the mark, and accusation is the game. And if this be to be a chancellor, I think, if the great seal lay upon Hounslow Heath, nobody would take it up. But the king and your lordship will, I hope, put an end to these my straits one way or other.&quot; By what way the king and his lordship did put an end to these straits, is stated by Bushel in his old age, in the year 1659, thirty-three years after the death of the chan cellor. As the tract is very scarce, I subjoin the statement. &quot; But before this could be accomplished to his own content, there arose such complaints against his lordship and the then favourite atcourt, that for some days put the kingto this query, whether he should permit the favourite of his affection, or the oracle of his council, to sink in his service ; whereupon his lordship was sent for by the king, who, after some discourse, gave him this positive advice, to submit himself to his house of peers, and that (upon his princely word) he would then restore him again, if they (in their honours) should not be sensible of his merits. Now though my lord foresaw his ap- proaching ruin, and told his majesty there were little hopes of mercy in a multitude, when his enemies were to give fire, if he did not plead for himself; yet such was his obedience to him from whom he had his being, that he resolved his ma jesty s will should be his only law, and so took leave of him with these words: Those that will strike your chancellor, it s much to be feared will strike at your crown ; and wished, that as he was then the first, so he might he the last of sacri fices. Soon after (according to his majesty s commands) he wrote a submissive letter to the house, and sent me to my Lord Windsor to know the result, which I was loath, at my return, to acquaint him with ; for, alas ! his sovereign s favoui was not in so high a measure, but he, like the phcenix, must be sacrificed in flames of his own raising, and so perished, like Icarus, in that his lofty design, the great revenue of his office being lost, and his titles of honour saved but by the bishops votes; whereunto he replied, that he was only hound to thank his clergy; the thunder of which fatal sen tence did much perplex my troubled thoughts, as well :ia others, to see that famous lord, who procured his majesty to call this parliament, must be the first subject of this revenge ful wrath ; and that so unparalleled a master should be thus brought upon the public stage for the foolish miscarriages of his own servants, whereof with grief of heart I confess my self to be one. Yet shortly after the king dissolved the. pa. liament, but never restored that matchless lord to his i&amp;gt;lace, which made him then to wish the many years he had spent in state policy and law study had been solely devoted to true philosophy : for, said he, the one at best doth but comprelu nd man s frailty in its greatest splendour, but the other the mvi- terious knowledge of all things created in the six days work.&quot; That there was a private interview between the chancellor and the king, thus appears from the journals of the House of Lords, 17th April, 1621. &quot;The lord treasurer
 * &quot;Such a collection of natural history,&quot; says Bacon, &quot;as