Novum Organum

“Nor is it an easy matter to deliver and explain our sentiments; for those things which are in themselves new can yet be only understood from some analogy to what is old.”

Bacon uses rhetoric to prepare the ground for his forthcoming arguments. Noting why it is hard to explain his ideas encourages patience and excuses any issues a reader might identify. It also gives an impression of humility and determination in the face of a difficult task, hinting at his skill and legitimacy as a scientific thinker without explicitly stating either (which could seem boastful). An author presenting themselves as likeable or worthy of respect is a rhetorical device to win greater sympathy for their arguments. Bacon also flatters any reader who is convinced by him by implying that they have understood something hard. Finally, the passage frames his endeavor as highly innovative; it is so new that there is not an existing framework through which to explain it.

“The doctrine of idols bears the same relation to the interpretation of nature as that of the confutation of sophisms does to common logic.”

Bacon introduces his four “idols,” or categories of flaws in human thinking. He argues that these are as damaging to scientific enquiry as sophism is to philosophical enquiry, again separating out these disciplines and using an existing debate as a reference point. This comparison gives a clear framework for early modern scholars. His selection of the word “idol” is also significant: It has religious connotations, as does the word “doctrine.” Bacon utilizes Christian language to present these flaws as fundamentally dangerous and bad, which underlines the importance of identifying and fighting them. This places his tract into a Christian framework, implying the truth and correctness of his own ideas in contrast to the “idols” he will dismantle.

“[I]t is the peculiar and perpetual error of the human understanding to be more moved and excited by affirmatives than negatives, whereas it ought duly and regularly to be impartial; nay, in establishing any true axiom the negative instance is the most powerful.”

Bacon describes an innate human tendency to prefer “positive” information over “negative” information. In other words, an observation that strongly suggests something will be given more weight than one that seems inconclusive. This resembles the modern phenomena of publishing bias, in which studies with a significant result are more likely to go to press, skewing the overall picture. Bacon, however, discusses this in reference to an important element of his own methodology as outlined in Book 2: Instances where a phenomena (e.g., heat) is not present where it might be expected are just as important than those where it is present—perhaps even more so.

“The idols of the theatre are […] manifestly instilled and cherished by the fictions of theories and depraved rules of demonstration. To attempt, however, or undertake their confutation would not be consistent with our declarations. For since we neither agree in our principles nor our demonstrations, all argument is out of the question.”

Bacon introduces his “idols of the theatre” by explaining that misapprehensions arising from these are not inherent to human nature but stem from flawed approaches given popular credence. This makes them relatively easy to solve via a complete overturn of such approaches, as he argues for in Novum Organum. Here he also explains a noticeable feature of his tract—the fact that it will not engage in critical analysis of specific theories put forward by competing schools of thoughts. He explains that since his approach differs so fundamentally, there is no common ground on which to debate specific scientific topics, as he will not engage in a style of study or argument that he sees as irredeemably flawed.

“Against it we must use the greatest caution; for the apotheosis of error is the greatest evil of all, and when folly is worshipped, it is, as it were, a plague spot upon the understanding.”

Bacon refers here to the damage of mixing scientific enquiry with superstition, whether that is ancient Greek mythology or the Christian doctrines that he himself subscribed to but maintained should be separate from science. He uses strong wording—“the greatest evil”—and the word “apotheosis,” which has religious connotations of deification; in context, it implies the worshipping of a false god. He argues that bringing Christianity into science is not pious but rather the opposite. His use of the term “plague spot” invokes the symptoms of the plagues that had swept through London during his lifetime. This word would have had a strong sensory meaning to early modern readers; in comparing superstition to a festering, painful sore that was a harbinger of death, Bacon suggests that superstition’s corruption of “the understanding” will eventually destroy it.

“All this is merely popular, and by no means penetrates into nature; and these are but the measures and bounds of motion, and not different species of it; they merely suggest how far, and not how or whence.”

Bacon uses a specific example to dissect The Flawed Foundations of Existing Epistemology, much as he uses the example of heat to illustrate his own approach later. He breaks down current ways of categorizing motion before passing this judgement on them, deeming them shallow descriptions that are incomplete because they do not provide all possible information about it (as he aims to do later, in his tables on heat). He dismisses this approach, using the word “merely” twice in this one sentence, as well as the phrase “these are but.”

“We have now treated of each kind of idols, and their qualities, all of which must be abjured and renounced with firm and solemn resolution, and the understanding must be completely freed and cleared of them, so that the access to the kingdom of man, which is founded on the sciences, may resemble that to the kingdom of heaven, where no admission is conceded except to children.”

Bacon describes the importance of working to overcome the “idols” of error present within humanity. He asserts that this process of resetting the mind is an absolute necessity to study science, comparing it to the pureness of spirit required to enter heaven. Envisaging two kingdoms or realms, one earthly and one godly, was a common theological idea at this time, dating back to early Christianity and the work of theologians like Augustine of Hippo. Stating that “the kingdom of man” is the realm of the sciences promotes Bacon’s cause, framing science as a worthy and noble realm into which entry is desirable, as well as ordained by God. This term also hints at the power that he asserts science can unlock; man will have dominion over nature, as the Bible prescribes.

“For the knowledge of these external signs prepares the way for assent, and the explanation of the causes removes the wonder; and these two circumstances are of material use in extirpating more easily and gently the idols from the understanding.”

Bacon gives his reasons for including two major sections in Novum Organum: his list of signs of the poor state of current knowledge and his list of the causes behind this. Understanding these, he argues, will help remove the “idols,” including, for example the “wonder” of current systems—one of his “idols of the theatre.” His description of the signs as “external” reflects his assertion that humans can only observe external processes and reminds readers to view these signs as observations themselves—pieces of evidence. His examination of the “causes,” meanwhile, is especially significant in the context of his ideas about cause and effect. The implication is that knowledge of these causes will give people power to change them.

“[T]o render it more worthy of astonishment, that it should even now have entered any one’s mind, or become the subject of his thoughts; and that it should have done so, we consider rather the gift of fortune than of any extraordinary talent, and as the offspring of time rather than wit.”

Bacon again discusses the causes of current error and uses rhetoric to depict himself humbly, implying he has achieved a great feat in realizing these causes but modestly ascribing this to luck. He uses the third person when describing the individual (himself) to whom these revelations have come: “one” and “his.” This again enhances his apparent modesty, but it also serves to universalize his experience, placing him alongside his fellow humans as one looking for meaning in the world. His statement that “time” is partly responsible for his realizations serves the same purpose and also refers to one of his causes, the limited time so far available to humanity, from which it follows that more progress can now be made.

“There remains but mere experience, which, when it offers itself, is called chance; when it is sought after, experiment. But this kind of experience is […] mere groping in the dark, as men at night try all means of discovering the right road, while it would be better and more prudent either to wait for day, or procure a light, and then proceed.”

Bacon addresses the current scientific methodology’s use of experience in creating theories. He divides this usage into two categories, neither of which is optimal. The first is mere luck, and though the second, experiment, is more intentional, the current use of experiments is not efficient or fully revealing. He uses the metaphor of a path to signify an experiment that will lead somewhere and bear fruit; creating experiments at random is like hoping to end up on the path rather than using an actual method to find it. Baconian method purports to do this, using a gradual process to work out new experiments directed toward specific knowledge.

“For truth is rightly named the daughter of time, not of authority. It is not wonderful, therefore, if the bonds of antiquity, authority, and unanimity, have so enchained the power of man, that he is unable (as if bewitched) to become familiar with things themselves.”

Bacon again considers time’s progression as an important component in uncovering truth. This reflects what would now be called a teleological view of history—the idea that human history progresses positively toward betterment (or at least a purpose). However, Bacon is also referring to his idea that as time passes, more evidence and information becomes available to humanity. He asserts that this is the source of knowledge, not other sources like authority. He uses poetic, metaphoric language to appeal to pathos, suggesting that these false sources have trapped or captivated humanity, leaving it helpless and weak.

 “The first and most ancient investigators of truth were wont, on the contrary, with more honesty and success, to throw all the knowledge they wished to gather from contemplation, and to lay up for use, into aphorisms, or short scattered sentences unconnected by any method, and without pretending or professing to comprehend any entire art.”

Bacon explains why he uses aphorisms to structure his text. He describes how ancient scholars, preceding the damaging influence of Aristotle, removed the knowledge they wished to investigate from the unreliable confines of their minds by writing it up. They externally listed their information and did not impose a rigid pre-existing approach on to it or leap to claims of having solved large problems. Bacon’s use of this same structure indicates his alignment with many elements of their approach and, of course, with the “honesty and success” he attributes to them.

“A natural history compiled on its own account, and one collected for the mind’s information as a foundation for philosophy, are two different things. They differ in several respects, but principally in this—the former contains only the varieties of natural species without the experiments of mechanical arts; for as in ordinary life every person’s disposition, and the concealed feelings of the mind and passions are most drawn out when they are disturbed—so the secrets of nature betray themselves more readily when tormented by art than when left to their own course.”

Bacon distinguishes between descriptions of things as they are and descriptions designed to be scientifically useful, which he says must involve information gathered through experiments to be comprehensive. He uses the analogy of a person whose thoughts and feelings become apparent under duress, when they can no longer bury them. Nature is the same, he argues, requiring external provocation to reveal its hidden processes. This fits in with his overarching distinction in Aphorism 4 of Book 1 between nature’s external and internal processes. However, where he there states that humans can only interact with the external, he here suggests some internal processes could be made external, increasing human knowledge.

“That which is deserving of existence is deserving of knowledge, the image of existence. Now the mean and splendid alike exist.”

Bacon poetically expands on his idea of the importance of examining everything, not just selected subjects, to truly grow knowledge, and he ties this to his idea that knowledge is intrinsically worthy. He evokes pathos for even the “mean” things that exist—they are still “deserving”—playing into the Christian image of all things great and small being part of God’s creation. Describing knowledge as “the image of existence” gives a secular version of his argument that understanding real things is an understanding of God’s manifest power; it is also a poetic version of his statement that theoretical knowledge will reflect practical reality. He engages with the epistemological question of what knowledge actually is, something that medieval scholars were interested in, debating the nature of a “concept,” for example.

“Yet do we not affirm that no addition can be made to [our precepts]; on the contrary, considering the mind in its connection with things, and not merely relatively to its own powers, we ought to be persuaded that the art of invention can be made to grow with the inventions themselves.”

Bacon closes Book 1 by expanding on his caveat that his work is not intended to represent a complete or impregnable set of instructions, encouraging additions and developments by others to come. He works through his ideas on the page, “considering […] these ideas.” This humanizes him, placing him alongside his readers as a fellow learner of this new method. He invokes the “art” of invention, again highlighting its significance and returning to his idea that invention and knowledge are mutually perpetuating.

“Natural and experimental history is so varied and diffuse, that it confounds and distracts the understanding unless it be fixed and exhibited in due order. We must, therefore, form tables and co-ordinations of instances, upon such a plan, and in such order that the understanding may be enabled to act upon them.”

Bacon explains his idea that the complexities of nature are too great for the human mind to comprehend unaided by tools. He highlights this with his use of two words for each of these ideas—“varied and diffuse” and “confounds and distracts.” This sprawling language adds to a sense of nature as sprawling and complex. This idea is the reason for one of his foundational principles: that information must be written up according to a strict methodology, enabling human comprehension.

“Nor again, would we be thought to mean […] any abstract forms or ideas, either undefined or badly defined in matter. For when we speak of forms, we mean nothing else than those laws and regulations of simple action which arrange and constitute any simple nature, such as heat, light, weight, in every species of matter, and in a susceptible subject. The form of heat or form of light, therefore, means no more than the law of heat or the law of light.”

Bacon defines his terms carefully before moving into the full explanation of his method. He uses the existing word “form,” but this had its own meanings in other schools of thought, including those he criticizes. In Aphorism 15 of Book 1, he dismisses the various notions in current scientific approaches, including form, as “fantastical and ill-defined”—language he repeats here to clarify that he is in fact establishing his own distinct use of this word. This fits with his examination of the problems of imprecise language in his “idols of the marketplace.” He gives the examples of heat and light to give further solidity to his definition.

“There are, therefore, six lesser forms, as it were, of things which assist the memory.”

Bacon describes “constitutive instances”—situations where it helps to break something down into its smaller constituent parts. He uses the example of memory, illustrating how he aimed to apply his method to everything, not just natural philosophy (as he says in Aphorism 127 of Book 1). Seeking to apply a scientific methodology to the workings of the mind suggests the discipline of psychology, though that framework did not exist at that time and Bacon’s approach cannot reliably be compared to modern study. However, Bacon’s broad application of his method indicates the wide-reaching ambition and curiosity of his “Great Instauration.” As is typical of his approach, this instance involves organizing information through categorization into lists—e.g., different ways people remember things.

“The fins of fishes and the feet of quadrupeds, or the feet and wings of birds, are similar instances; to which Aristotle adds the four folds in the motion of serpents; so that in the formation of the universe, the motion of animals appears to be chiefly effected by four joints or bendings.”

Bacon gives examples of “similar or proportionate instances” or “physical parallels, or resemblances” found in nature (83), looking for repeated patterns. He notes that animals’ movements often depend on four limbs or joint-like parts. His inclusion of an example identified by Aristotle, who alleged that snakes move with four curves in their body, illustrates how pervasive Aristotle’s worldview was in the early modern period. Bacon is critical of Aristotle to the point of advocating scrapping his influence entirely, but here he uses one of his observations about the natural world as evidence without closely examining it.

“Hence all the most noble discoveries have (if you observe) come to light, not by any gradual improvement and extension of the arts, but merely by chance; while nothing imitates or anticipates chance (which is wont to act at intervals of ages) but the invention of forms.”

Bacon expands on his assertions in Book 1 that prior discoveries have largely resulted from chance, not good method. He uses the second person to appeal to the reader’s own observations, inviting them to draw the same conclusion as he has based on the list of examples he has just presented. He also explains why his own approach will yield good results: Baconian method will allow the true discovery of forms, as specifically defined on Page 70, which is the only thing that can “anticipate,” or act before, chance.

“The plan to be pursued is this: all the mechanical, and even the liberal arts (as far as they are practical), should be visited and thoroughly examined, and thence there should be formed a compilation or particular history of the great masterpieces, or most finished works in each, as well as of the mode of carrying them into effect.”

This quotation offers one example of the way Bacon’s “Great Instauration” is not as total an overhaul as it sounds elsewhere. Bacon allows that there are disciplines in existence that have some wisdom or valid observations to offer; he even refers to “masterpieces,” imbuing these with authority and significance. The thorough examination of existing works was a central element of a Scholastic education and features in Bacon’s proposals for the discipline. However, the focus on practice rather than theory is a Baconian take on education, and his suggestion of writing existing works up into compilations is in line with his overall principle of cataloguing evidence.

“One would be apt to suppose that the power bears an exact proportion to the quantity; that if a leaden bullet of one ounce, for instance, would fall in a given time, one of two ounces ought to fall twice as rapidly, which is most erroneous.”

Bacon examines the force now understood to be gravity as an example of “the effect of the quantity [of something] in the degree of power” it exerts on other things. Aristotle, whose approaches Bacon is challenging, saw an object’s weight as a property it held—i.e., part of the object. Newton, a key figure in the Scientific Revolution born shortly after Bacon’s time, reconceived of weight as a force. Bacon’s approach grapples with how to explain this phenomenon and could be seen as a stepping stone between these approaches: He is interested in the object itself (the significance of its “quantity”) but also how this affects the “power” it exerts. The discussion also evidences his assertion that examining a topic without recourse to material evidence can produce error, as his practical observation disproves the conclusion that would otherwise be reached by hypothetical reasoning.

“We must next, however, proceed to […] the other matters, which we have enumerated in their order in the twenty-first aphorism, in order that, like good and faithful guardians, we may yield up their fortune to mankind upon the emancipation and majority of their understanding; from which must necessarily follow an improvement of their estate, and an increase of their power over nature.”

Bacon introduces what is to follow in his next work in his “Great Instauration,” referring to Aphorism 21 of Book 2, where he has listed the titles of all the other considerations he plans to explain as part of his tool of induction. He presents this tool as a gift that he is bestowing on the world. He creates the impression of two groups—his own, the “good and faithful guardians,” and the rest of “mankind,” whom he describes in the third person. This departs from his more typical framing of himself as part of humanity via the word “we.” Here, he selects words that create an impression of an elevated entity’s benevolence—“yield up” and “emancipation”—and promises huge benefits will follow the adoption of his gifts. This positions Bacon as a benefactor to humanity—the father of a great movement.