or absolutely necessary deduction; its nature does not admit of its doing so; it never can, except perhaps for a step or two now and then by a process of forcing or torture, be reduced to that form. What is called moral reasoning consists, in addition to the historical statement of the necessary facts, mainly of such excitement addressed to the reader or hearer as enables and impels him to supply every thing else for himself to see the subject in the same light in which the writer or speaker sees it, and to come to the same conclusions. There are various ways, we repeat, of producing this effect, according to the circumstances of the case. Almost the only position that can be universally affirmed is, that the thing cannot be done in the manner of a mathematical demonstration; in moral questions that mode of reasoning is at once powerless and, for any continued effort, impossible. It may be accomplished by mere artifice of narration ; by the clear exhibition of the subject in the proper points of view; by passionate declamation; by invective; by ridicule; by epigrams and witticisms; and often, as effectually as in any other way, or more so than in any other, by ingenious analogies and similitudes and other fanciful illustrations. None of these modes of exposition, it is true, are in a strict sense logically conclusive; but any one is nearly as much so as any other; and at any rate no methods more purely logical are possible. An extended concatenation of perfect syllogisms upon any moral subject would be a mere string of truisms and inanities.

We do not admit, therefore, that there is any thing false or hollow in Bacon's manner of reasoning, because he deals largely in figurative illustrations. When in the above essay he represents truth as a kind of daylight, and falsehood or fiction as a candlelight, we contend that he expounds an idea and impresses a conviction as distinctly and completely as could have been done by the soberest and most colourless statement. Nay, much more distinctly and effectually; for there is a life and power in the figure that the plain statement would not have had, awakening a corresponding life and power of

conception in the mind of the reader. Nor is an imaginative manner of thinking, or a figurative style, inconsistent with soundness of judgment or correctness of exposition. The highest of all truths have been expounded poetically. Many of the highest truths cannot be conceived at all except imaginatively. A mind of imaginative capacity is in the region of thought and reasoning to a mind without imagination what in the world of sense the man who sees is to him who is blind. The latter may have a tolerably correct notion of any thing he can touch and handle; but the former alone can embrace the grand panorama of nature.

The question, however, still remains in how far Bacon is a philosopher or sage, as well as an orator—what is the real amount and character of the truth and wisdom contained in his writings. To what extent are his views subtle and profound? to what extent only specious? Ingenuity, fancy, eloquence, fertility of invention, a never-failing flow of thought of one kind or another, even singular sagacity and insight within a certain range, will be denied him by none; but with all this the deepest penetration and widest compass of vision may still be wanting. Whether or no such be the case, the actual examination of his works must decide.

The Second Essay, entitled Of Death,' had appeared in the edition of 1612. We will give the greater part of it :

Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death as the wages of sin and passage to another world, is holy and religious; but the fear of it as a tribute due unto nature is weak. Yet in religious meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars' books of Mortification, that a man should think with himself what the pain is, if he have but his fingers' end pressed or tortured, and thereby imagine what the pains of death are when the whole body is corrupted and dissolved; when many times death passeth with less pain than the torture of a limb: for the most vital parts are not the quickest of sense. And by him that

spake only as a philosopher and natural man, it was well said, pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa ;* groans and convulsions, and a discoloured face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak but it mates and masters the fear of death: and therefore death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honour aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear pre-occupateth it; Nay we read, after Otho the Emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and satiety; cogita quàmdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest.'† A man would die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, only upon` a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to observe how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death make. For they appear to be the same men till the last instant.

Then follow some instances of the composure with which strong or well-balanced minds have welcomed death; among others, that of the Emperor Galba, who is said to have exclaimed, holding out his neck to his assassin, Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani (Strike, if it be for the good of the Roman people); and that of Septimius Severus, whose last words to those about him were, Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum (Be quick, if anything remains for me to do). The essay concludes thus:

It is as natural to die as to be born, and to a little infant perhaps the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit is like one that is wounded in hot blood, who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind that is fixed, and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the

* The parade of death is more terrific than death itself. + Consider how often you repeat the same things; the desire of death may arise not only from fortitude, or misery, but from satiety.

dolours of death. But above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is Nunc dimittis '*-when a man hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also-that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy. 'Extinctus amabitur idem.'†

The Third Essay, Of Unity in Religion,' is an enlargement of one which had appeared in the edition of 1612. It is longer than usual; but, one or two short passages will suffice as samples of the manner in which the subject is treated. Having remarked that "the fruits of unity, next unto the well-pleasing of God, which is all in all, are two; the one towards those that are without the church, the other towards those that are within;" the author proceeds :

For the former :-It is certain that heresies and schisms are of all others the greatest scandals, yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body a wound or solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt humour, so in the spiritual. So that nothing doth so much keep men out of the church, and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity; and therefore whensoever it cometh to that pass that one saith Ecce in deserto,' another saith Ecce in penetralibus;' § that is, when some men seek Christ in the conventicles of heretics, and others in an outward face of a church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, 'Nolite exire,' Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety of whose vocation drew him to have a special care of those without) saith, 'If an heathen come in and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not say that you are mad?' And certainly it is little better when atheists and profane persons do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh them to sit down in the chair of the

scorners.

He afterwards gives the following advice in regard to the true rule or principle of unity :

Men ought to take heed of rending God's church by two

*Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. The same person shall be beloved after death.

Behold, he is in the desert.

§ Behold, he is in the secret chamber of the house.

·

kinds of controversies: the one is when the matter of the point controverted is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction. For, as it is noted by one of the fathers, Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers colours;' whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit,'* They be two thingsunity and uniformity. The other is when the matter of the point controverted is great, but it is driven to an over-great subtilty and obscurity, so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious than substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And if it come so to pass, in that distance of judgment which is between man and man, shall we not think that God above, that knows the heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing, and accepteth of both.

Of the Fourth Essay, 'Of Revenge,' first printed in the edition of 1625, the following is the commence

ment :

Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior-for it is a prince's part to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, 'It is the glory of a man to pass by an offence.' That which is past is gone, and irrecoverable; and wise men have enough to do with things present and to come; therefore they do but trifle with themselves that labour in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honour, or the like. Therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better than me? And if any man should do wrong merely out of ill nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn 'or briar, which prick and scratch because they can do no other.

And here are the commencement and conclusion of

* There may be variety in the vesture, but let there be no division.