Bacon’s perseverance was at last rewarded with his discovery of the Secretum Secretorum, and obscure Arabic text which had been translated into Latin in 1243. Though actually of early mediaeval origin, the “Secret of Secrets” was thought to be the work of Aristotle. bacon read eagerly its description of the “science” of Enoch and Adam. This “science” was a mixture of Arabic and Christian mysticism, declaring that alchemy could be used to purify the human soul and that astrology provided a means of controlling the personalities of individuals and nations. Such powers were available only to those devoted to “the virtues needed for integrity of life”. To Bacon, already living in voluntary frugality, the Secretum Secretorum guaranteed him access to more divine revelation than Albertus or Aquinas would achieve through a lifetime of studies.

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When his appointment as magister expired, Bacon returned to Oxford and set out to become a “master” of the sciences. After tapping the well-spring of his family’s fortune, he spent some £2,000 (in 20th Century funds, approximately £10,000) on “secret books and various experiments, and on languages and instruments, and astronomical tables”. He sent to continental apothecaries for alchemical powders and essences which were unavailable in England. His vendors across the Channel also supplied him with prisms and lenses and drawings of instruments such as the astrolabe, which were unavailable, to be shipped to him. He was not always successful: the materials that he sought were “difficult and most expensive, for which reason those who know the art . . . are not able to operate and the books on that science are so secreted that a man car scarcely find them”.

What experiments Bacon performed with his purchases were, of necessity, simple. Using a bell jar, he observed that a lighted candle ceased to burn when he left inside a closed container. He completed drawings of the human eye and began calculations on the effects of the moon upon the tides. Building upon Grossteste’s work on the refraction of light, he sprayed mouthfuls of water into the air and noted that the colours apparent in the tiny droplet were the same as the colours of the rainbow.

Yet Bacon accomplished little of his research by actual experimentation. He depended to a large extent upon the reports of travellers or men who claimed to have performed the miracles described in his sourcebook. His eagerness to verify the Secretum Secretorum led him to believe some rather incredible stories; however, he also discovered many fascinating truths about the world in which he lived. While interviewing a French Franciscan who had recently returned from Central Asia, he learned of the Parliament of Religions which had been held by the Mongol ruler Mangu Khan in order to determine which of man-kind’s religions was most reasonable. From men who had journeyed to Tartary (China), he learned of the substance called “blackpowder”: a device “a size as small as the human thumb” packed with this powder produced “a horrible noise” when set on fire. His fruitful dealings with these and other people led him to declare proudly that “I have learned more truths . . . from men of humble station . . . than from all the famous doctors”.

Bacon’s fellow scholars observed his indefatigable efforts with amazement, but they did not disapprove of his principles. They, and the university officials with them, were more hardpressed to ignore his outspoken criticisms of Oxford’s famous doctors and his mischievous games of rhetoric in their lecture halls. Never one to keep his opinions to himself, Bacon denounced those who accepted “authority unworthy and fragile” as the basis for their knowledge. Among the men against whom he railed was a Franciscan theologian, Richard of Cornwall.

While less irascible men had borne Bacon’s criticism and interruptions with laboured patience, Friar Richard did not. Like his rival, was outspoken and quick to lash out at those who disagreed with him. Both Richard and Bacon were of the temperament which mediaeval physicians referred to as “choleric”. The exact nature of their quarrel is not known, although their ire was great enough that Bacon was still making scurrilous remarks about his rival in his last work some 30 years later. Whatever its cause, the battle seems to have ended only when Adam Marsh intervened by obtaining an appointment for the enraged Franciscan at the University of Paris.

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