good: but these expectations may be the illusions of a lover; and it is not given to man to love and to be wise. There are, however, pleasures of which nothing can bereave me; the consciousness that I have endeavoured to render some assistance to science and to the profession, the noble, intellectual profession of which I am a member. How deeply, how gratefully do I feel; with what a lofty spirit and sweet content do I think of the constant kindness of my many, many friends!
And now, for the last time, I use the words of Lord Bacon: "Being at some pause, looking back into that I have passed through, this writing seemeth to me, 'si nunquam fallit imago,' as far as a man can judge of his own work, not much better than the noise or sound which musicians make while they are tuning their instruments, which is nothing pleasant to hear, but yet is a cause why the music is sweeter afterwards: so have I been content to tune the instruments of the muses, that they may play that have better hands."
To posterity and distant ages Bacon bequeathed his good name, and posterity and distant ages will do him ample justice. Wisdom herself has suffered in his disgrace, but year after year brings to light proof of the arts that worked Bacon's downfall, and covered his character with obloquy. He will find some future historian who, assisted by the patient labours of the present editor, with all his zeal and tenfold his ability; with power equal to the work, and leisure to pursue it, will dig the statue from the rubbish which may yet deface it; and, obliterating one by one the paltry libels scrawled upon its base, will place it, to I lie honour of true science, in a temple worthy of his greatness.
November 17, 1834.
