me, in the
main, improvement. But the great defect of the time was that this newly
liberated spirit of free inquiry was not kept in check by any sufficient
previous discipline in logical methods of reasoning. Hence the
possibility of the wild theories that then existed, followed out into
action or not, according as circumstances favoured or discouraged:
Arthur Hacket, with casting out of devils, and other madnesses,
vehemently declaring himself the Messiah and King of Europe in the year
of grace 1591, and getting himself believed by some, so long as he
remained unhanged; or, more pathetic still, many weary lives wasted day
by day in fruitless silent search after the impossible philosopher's
stone, or elixir of life. As in law, so in science, there were no
sufficient rules of evidence clearly and unmistakably laid down for the
guidance of the investigator; and consequently it was only necessary to
broach a novel theory in order to have it accepted, without any previous
serious testing. Men do not seem to have been able to distinguish
between an hypothesis and a proved conclusion; or, rather, the rule of
presumptions was reversed, and men accepted the hypothesis as conclusive
until it was disproved. It was a perfectly rational and sufficient
explanation in those days to refer some extraordinary event to some
given supernatural cause, even though there might be no ostensible link
between the two: now, such a suggestion would be treated by the vast
majority with derision or contempt. On the other hand, the most trivial
occurrences, such as sneezing, the appearance of birds of ill omen, the
crowing of a cock, and events of like unimportance happening at a
particular moment, might, by some unseen concatenation of causes and
effects, exercise an incomprehensible influence upon men, and
consequently had important bearings upon their conduct. It is solemnly
recorded in the Commons' Journals that during the discussion of the
statute against witchcraft passed in the reign of James I., a young
jackdaw flew into the House; which accident was generally regarded as
_malum omen_ to the Bill.[1] Extraordinary bravery on the part of an
adversary was sometimes accounted for by asserting that he was the devil
in the form of a man; as the Volscian soldier does with regard to
Coriolanus. This is no mere dramatist's fancy, but a fixed belief of the
times. Sir William Russell fought so desperately at Zutphen, that he got
mistaken for the Evil O