"It is time that the sacred name of philosophy should be severed from its long connection with that of one who was a pretender in science, a time-serving politician, an insidious lawyer, a corrupt judge, a treacherous friend, a bad man." This seems to me a depreciation as excessive as are the eulogies commonly current. The truth probably lies somewhere between the two extremes. It is unfair to judge Bacon's methods by thinking of physical science in its present stage. To realise his position we must think of a subject still in its very early infancy, one in which the advisability of applying experimental methods is still doubted; one which has been studied by means of books and words and discussion of normal instances, instead of by collection and observation of the unusual and irregular, and by experimental production of variety. If we think of a subject still in this infantile and almost pre-scientific stage, Bacon's words and formulæ are far from inapplicable; they are, within their limitations, quite necessary and wholesome. A subject in this stage, strange to say, exists,--psychology; now hesitatingly beginning to assume its experimental weapons amid a stifling atmosphere of distrust and suspicion. Bacon's lack of the modern scientific instinct must be admitted, but he rendered humanity a powerful service in directing it from books to nature herself, and his genius is indubitable. A judicious account of his life and work is given by Prof. Adamson, in the _Encyclopædia Britannica_, and to this article I now refer you. * * * * * Who, then, was the man of first magnitude filling up the gap in scientific history between the death of Galileo and the maturity of Newton? Unknown and mysterious are the laws regulating the appearance of genius. We have passed in review a Pole, a Dane, a German, and an Italian,--the great man is now a Frenchman, René Descartes, born in Touraine, on the 31st of March, 1596. His mother died at his birth; the father was of no importance, save as the owner of some landed property. The boy was reared luxuriously, and inherited a fair fortune. Nearly all the men of first rank, you notice, were born well off. Genius born to poverty might, indeed, even then achieve name and fame--as we see in the case of Kepler--but it was terribly handicapped. Handicapped it is still, but far less than of old; and we may hope it will become gradually still less so as enlightenment proceeds, and the tremendous moment of great men to a nation is more clearly and actively perceived. It is possible for genius, when combined with strong character, to overcome all obstacles, and reach the highest eminence, but the struggle must be severe; and the absence of early training and refinement during the receptive years of youth must be a lifelong drawback.