ountry would at length possess
a national literature of its own, and that it would exult in classical
compositions which might be appreciated with the finest models of
antiquity. His taste was far unequal to his invention. So little did he
esteem the language of his country, that his favourite works are
composed in Latin; and he was anxious to have what he had written in
English preserved in that "universal language which may last as long as
books last." It would have surprised Bacon to have been told, that the
most learned men in Europe have studied English authors to learn to
think and to write. Our philosopher was surely somewhat mortified, when
in his dedication of the Essays he observed, that "of all my other works
my Essays have been most current; for that, _as it seems_, they come
home to men's business and bosoms." It is too much to hope to find in a
vast and profound inventor a writer also who bestows immortality on his
language. The English language is the only object in his great survey of
art and of nature, which owes nothing of its excellence to the genius of
Bacon.

He had reason indeed to be mortified at the reception of his
philosophical works; and Dr. Rawley, even some years after the death of
his illustrious master, had occasion to observe, that "His fame is
greater and sounds louder in foreign parts abroad than at home in his
own nation"; thereby verifying that divine sentence, a prophet is not
without honour, save in his own country and in his own house. Even the
men of genius, who ought to have comprehended this new source of
knowledge thus opened to them, reluctantly entered into it; so repugnant
are we suddenly to give up ancient errors which time and habit have made
a part of ourselves. Harvey, who himself experienced the sluggish
obstinacy of the learned, which repelled a great but a novel discovery,
could, however, in his turn deride the amazing novelty of Bacon's _Novum
Organum_. Harvey said to Aubrey, that "Bacon was no great philosopher;
he writes philosophy like a lord chancellor." It has been suggested to
me that Bacon's philosophical writings have been much overrated.--His
experimental philosophy from the era in which they were produced must be
necessarily defective: the time he gave to them could only have been had
at spare hours; but like the great prophet on the mount, Bacon was
doomed to view the land afar, which he himself could never enter.

Bacon found but small encouragement for